#PHYSICALLY SCREAMED. GIVE ME YOUR TALENT THIS INSTANT.

[htlattcob]

(1)

Flames soared throughout the imperial palace.

The maids and attendants screamed and ran away, and the sound of swords clashing could be heard from everywhere.

I grabbed my sword and ran to the audience room where the golden throne was.

Please, please, stay alive.

"Your Majesty!"

Reaching the audience room, I leaned against the wall and exhaled heavily.

On the way there, I fought dozens of times with rebels who called themselves revolutionaries, so my physical condition was not good.

“You're late. Did you come to get my head, too?”

White hair that looked like melted platinum and deep yellow eyes that looked like they were studded with gold.

A woman sitting with her back stretched out and her legs crossed as if boasting of her slender body and tall height, looking down at her opponent.

An arrogant and self-confident monarch with a dragon-like impression.

The youngest sword master in the empire, and the archmage certified by the lord of the Ivory Tower.

A person who raised a rebellion at the age of 16, slaughtered her relatives, and won the throne.

A war hero who quelled 9 rebellions and won 5 great wars in 40 years.

A tyrant who bought her revenge with taxation close to plunder.

The emperor of an empire that ruled the continent.

And my twin sister.

Jaylilith Soletaraon Soletaras.

She sat on a golden throne on a platform and looked down at me.

“What are you talking about?”

“Then why didn’t you run away?”

I paused for a moment before answering.

“I have nowhere to go.”

“Nowhere to go?”

“Will the rebels accept me after enjoying all the 50,000 luxuries next to Your Majesty?”

“Isn’t there an alliance of kingdoms, a noble league, and a merchant union?”

“That guy is that guy. I am Your Majesty's closest aide. I’m the number 1 on the list.”

“Who says you're the closest to me? I don’t have anything like a confidant.”

I didn't know if she was joking or serious.

I didn't answer and was silent for a while.

“Then why didn't Your Majesty run away?”

Words I shouldn't have said came out of my mouth.

"That's rude."

As soon as I heard the emperor's words, my shoulders trembled and I looked up.

It was because I knew full well that blood would always flow after those words were spoken.

“But the executioner I appointed has long since escaped, so I can't punish you. I will give you a special pass.”

She chuckled.

“This way!”

“Gather in the audience room!”

“Let’s all go in together.”

“Everyone, get ready! That emperor-!”

“If we’re not careful, everyone will die.”

The voices of a group of rebels calling themselves revolutionaries came from outside.

“You asked why I didn’t run away?”

She said as she picked up the sword lying next to the throne.

At the same time, the wide door in front of the audience room and the eight side doors swung open.

"Let's go!"

Hundreds of people poured in with shouts.

All of them were exuding a fierce energy from their bodies as if they had come out of hell.

You did a good job of gathering such talented people.

I thought so and grabbed my sword.

The tension all over my body stood out.

However, the woman sitting on the highest seat in the throne room laughed like a tiger facing a pack of dogs.

“Where am I going to leave my house?”

She stood up and drew her sword.

The golden eyes and the translucent blade were dyed dark purple.

Energy far beyond human flowed from that slender body.

The man at the head of the rebels took a step back.

It was a man who came in with his face flushed red with hatred and anger.

His face went white in an instant.

“Don’t be afraid. That's right, it's only one person!"

At that time, a group of dozens more entered through the wide door in front of the audience room.

The man in the lead looked at the emperor with the same golden eyes as mine.

“It’s been a while. Jaylilith.”

“Show some respect.”

"Then. Your Majesty. It’s time to step down. Please leave the crown and seal and stand up obediently.”

The man who ran shoulder-to-shoulder with the commoners was my half-brother, a traitor, and a popular hero called the rebel prince.

Justianus Soletaraon Soletaras.

"Alright. I’ve decided.”

Jaylilith smiled like a white devil.

“Your companions will all become food for the dragons. And you will stay by my side for the rest of your life.”

The rebel prince smiled with a determined expression.

The emperor shook her head and came down from her throne.

“Let’s see if you can smile like that even if your leg is cut off and a leash is tied around your neck.”

A dark purple aura overflowed from her body and cast a deep shadow over her face.

In the next moment, a battle of thousands against one began.

The moment the fight started, I raised my sword and charged at the rebel prince.

I had to cut his head first, since sword experts and below couldn't do anything in this fight anyway.

To be honest, it wasn't that I didn't understand him at all.

I also saw everything I couldn't see by Jaylilith’s side.

But I would not allow treason.

“You can’t get past me.”

I wrapped the mana blade around my sword and struck down.

It was a blow that could cut a huge cliff in half.

However, the treacherous prince burrowed into my side with his black hair flying.

It was a speed that was difficult for me to follow with my eyes.

The next moment, his sword burned blue.

Unlike the mana blade I made, there was no shaking or cracking.

It was not a mana blade, but an aura blade.

That’s absurd.

To think that guy has risen to the level of a sword master.

“Get out of the way. Scoundrel. The shame of the lineage.”

The treacherous prince struck my sword.

Sparks flashed in front of my eyes with a crackling sound.

* * *

"Ah."

When I woke up, my head hurt.

I was blown away and pinned to the wall.

It seemed that only a few seconds had passed before the cheers continued.

"Ha."

I staggered up, dusted off the stone powder, and put my missing arm back on.

In front of my eyes, a fight between two demigods was taking place with explosions.

It was a speed that most people couldn't even see properly.

Among the rebels who attacked her, there was a man with a dangling sword.

“Did we try to fight something like that?”

The sword that glowed ominous dark purple and the sword that glowed brilliant blue collided with sparks.

"It's time to pay for your tyranny!"

When the rebellious prince kicked the ground, the floor of the throne room made of marble and crystal cracked and dug.

With his sword at the forefront, he pushed Jaylilith to the thick pillar.

Jay Lilith, who had been hit hard on the back, shuddered.

But there was still a relaxed smile on her lips.

“How dare you argue with me?”

In the next moment, her movements were as natural as flowing water.

The heel of the shoe infused with mana fit precisely between the joints and muscles below the rebel prince's knee.

Perhaps in considerable pain, Justinian's balance collapsed in an instant.

At the same time, she swung her sword around, turning her left foot on its axis.

It was a blow that would have severed the rebel prince's torso with just one quick breath.

He will be suppressed smoothly.

Thinking so, I slashed down the two rebels who rushed at me.

Nine rebellions close to civil war. Minor uprisings were an annual event.

It was amazing that they'd gathered such an army now.

However, the emperor had also won against three of the same sword masters.

I can stop the soldiers from playing tricks.

The traitor Justinian dies here.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

At that moment, I felt an ominous energy in the southern sky.

It was an aura that made me shiver just by being next to it, like an execution site where corpses were rotting everywhere.

"You, you."

Jaylilith also hardened her face, perhaps feeling the energy.

For the first time, the smile disappeared from her lips.

“What have you done!”

It was so urgent that it was hard to believe that it was the voice of someone who was so arrogant and relaxed.

The treasonous prince, holding his bloody stomach, staggered back and laughed.

"Yeah. With this level of skill, I couldn’t argue with you.”

Jaylilith gritted her teeth and ran out of the throne room.

I followed her out of the audience room, too.

The rebel soldiers only looked at us with despondent eyes as if they had already known everything.

The sweltering wind blew our platinum hair like before a storm.

"Your Majesty."

I called her with a trembling voice.

"Yes."

Her voice trembled, too.

Flames and black smoke were soaring throughout the splendid capital of the millennium empire.

Black clouds and fog swept in like a tidal wave, covering the flames.

Between the clouds and the fog, I could see monsters that were neither dead nor alive.

"He’s opened the border."

"Yeah."

"He called the old ones."

"I did."

The rebel prince, who followed us, replied monotonously.

I asked, shaking my teeth with anger and astonishment.

“Weren’t you a people’s hero?”

The treasonous prince said with his dark hair disheveled.

"That’s right. But after I knew that I couldn't win no matter what I did, it didn't matter anyway."

A dragon descended from between the black clouds.

Even though only bones and scales remained, it was still huge enough to cast a shadow over the entire imperial palace.

Blue flames roared from the mouth, huge enough to swallow even a whale in one bite.

As if resisting this, Jaylilith gritted her teeth and gathered mana.

At that moment, the rebel prince rushed at her.

It wasn't something I, a sword expert, could do.

Jaylilith counterattacked urgently.

Her left arm and the head of the rebel prince fell down the stairs.

The creaking sound came a beat late.

“……!”

She spat out a curse that didn't suit her, drawing in mana again.

A translucent aura shield wrapped around her body in a spherical shape.

However, even she couldn't perform a technique that required two hands to be activated with one hand.

The aura shield blinked and scattered.

I stood in front of her, creating a mana blade on my sword.

"Your Majesty. Please step back.”

It can’t be helped.

This will be my grave.

She looked at me with a look that said she had seen all the crazy people.

"What can you do in front of that dragon’s flames? It's Hwang Myung. Leave me and run away. The end of a tyrant is to be alone."

“Jaylilith.”

“!”

I called her name.

It was a name I hadn’t called in 40 years.

“I just wanted to try this once.”

"You…!”

“I’m your older brother.”

It was too late to live by running away.

I gritted my trembling teeth and aimed my sword at the dragon.

"Orabeoni."

Just then, a voice full of awkwardness came from behind.

“I just wanted to call you that once.”

You, the emperor. I, a scoundrel.

Our faces were still those of our teens, but the names we called each other and the places we stood have changed so much.

The dragon spewed blue fire.

It was a fierce flame that my mana blade, not even an aura blade, could not sustain even for a moment.

In an instant, my eyes lit up white.

I didn't feel any pain.

The sword in my hand was still clearly felt.

A distant kaleidoscope unfolded as if looking at a painting.

A child who ran around the lawn of the imperial palace without knowing anything.

You, who took someone's hand and left somewhere.

Your name that has been heard like a legend in the stories of adults.

You, who sat on a golden throne holding a bloody sword.

You, who carried out brutal purges and sadistic rule as if you had become a different person.

I, who couldn't leave your side and couldn't stay properly.

I wandered for a while.

I was ruined by drinking, women, and gambling.

I became a member of the royal family, harmless to power, and overcame numerous purges.

I barely regained my reason and began rehabilitation.

It was too late to learn swordsmanship properly to become a sword master, and to learn magic properly to become a great wizard.

I shouldn't have lived like that.

I should have lived like royalty, not a scoundrel.

Then maybe I could have stopped the fire today.

I felt my whole body burning like iron on an anvil.

If given another chance.

I'll make sure everything works then.

I'll protect you and this empire.

I could say for sure. It was the most intense wish I ever had in my life.

At that moment, I felt all the remaining mana flow out of my heart at once.

It felt like blood was flowing through my whole body.

Is mana dissipating?

Then I’m really dying now.

With the feeling of everything falling apart, I let go of my consciousness.

* * *

“… … nim."

A faint voice called a familiar name.

“Vell-nim?”

Vell. It was a nickname I was called as a child.

“Valen-nim. Please wake up."

Is the kaleidoscope still not over?

It’s longer than expected.

“Your Highness, Archduke Valencianus Soletaraon Soletaras. Wake up!”

There was the sound of curtains being drawn and windows being opened. The dazzling sun and cool wind poured down on me.

It's too vivid for a kaleidoscope.

But not bad.

I opened my eyes thinking so.

A bed with red curtains and an ornate chandelier caught my eye.

“Are you up now? You must have been tired yesterday. You usually get up before I call.”

A lady-in-waiting with glittering emerald-green eyes and softly wavy brown hair neatly tied back spoke to me.

She looked so much like someone I knew that I almost screamed.

“It can’t be.”

"Yes?"

“You’re dead.”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“Rudy is already dead.”

After death, do we continue to recall the memories of our lifetime?

Then it's a very miserable afterlife.

“What are you saying all of a sudden? Have you had a nightmare? Why am I dead? I'm right next to Your Highness, like this."

"No way. How can you be alive? What year is it now?”

Isn't it a kaleidoscope or an afterlife?

Does that mean I'm alive too?

If I am, how on earth could I have survived the fire?

It was the dragon's flame that even Jaylilith couldn't stop.

“This is the 1073 year of the Imperial calendar. It is the spring of the first year since Her Majesty Jaylilith ascended the throne.”

"So I'm seventeen now?"

"Yes. Of course."

Rudy made a face as if asking if I was asking something like that.

I hurriedly got up and stood in front of the mirror.

A white-haired, golden-eyed boy with a youthful look was making a surprised expression in the mirror.

[angstyaches]

Page Sixty-Nine

Lilith Mars Forrester (they/them) and Blake Forte (he/him) belong to my WIP, Madame A’s Retreat for Spellworking.

No sickness or whump. Just a snippet with character vibes.

___

It was late afternoon, and Lilith had just found Blake in the library. He was cradling a leather-bound book in both hands and his back was slightly arched as he sat in the green-and-orange chair that he’d re-established as his designated ‘reading’ spot ever since his return. Lilith would have liked to scoff at his audacity, but had to admit that the tangerine tinge of his hair, and the dark tones that wove through most of his clothing choices, suited the aesthetic of the upholstery. He and that chair looked like a painting.

Unluckily for him, Lilith believed in a firm rift between the art and the artist. Blake and that chair and that book might all look beautiful together, but they knew the bullshit behind the visuals.

They walked right over to him and slapped the book out of his hands.

Its covers collapsed together and it flipped onto its back side before landing on the floorboards with a thunk.

"Hey!” Blake screamed. “You made me lose my page, asshole."

"Page sixty-nine," Lilith snapped. "Same page you've been ‘reading’ for the past two weeks."

Lilith half-expected him to say something snarky about Lilith looking over his shoulder often enough to notice that he never turned any pages. 

“I’m a slow reader.”

“The other day, you had your book upside down. For an hour!”

If Blake had been flustered, it only lasted a couple of seconds before his face corrected itself.

“It’s page sixty-nine,” he shrugged. “It’s the same both ways.”

“Oh, shut... up,” Lilith murmured, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Blake was, infuriatingly, right.

Blake folded his arms.

“So, what are you actually thinking about all day?" Lilith planted their hands on their hips and tilted their head so aggressively that their whole body leaned to the side. "While you're staring a page, pretending to read? What’s going on in that head of yours?"

Blake shrugged. "I don't know. Chickens with bras on? Did you want something from me, Lilypad?"

Lilith almost physically retched in repulsion. Giving out nicknames was one of their proudest talents, and they sincerely hoped this wasn’t a case of their own medicine tasting terrible. “Okay, hate that. Knock that off this instant.”

Blake shrugged as if he couldn’t give a shit whether or not this conversation progressed. Or whether or not Lilith lived or died. 

“What’d you want?” he repeated.

“I wanted to ask you what you came back here for!” Lilith gestured all around them, at the books and the leather and the gentle streams of sunlight that fanned out across the floorboards. It all seemed aggressively at odds with Blake’s icy presence. “Hmm? You’re not here to improve your skills. You’re not here to make friends. So what the fuck are you here for, Blake?"

Blake’s lips curled just a little. He leaned back into the armchair and propped a couple of fingers under his chin. It made Lilith bristle whenever they were reminded of the serene, commanding presence that Blake was capable of exuding; like his body was a golden statue, and he was surrounded by plastic imitations.

“Well?” Lilith asked, emphasising that their questions were not rhetorical. 

They were pissed off enough that they genuinely wanted answers out of this guy. They’d have been lying if they denied being vaguely curious, too. Something had held Blake’s attention elsewhere for two solid years, and suddenly he was back at Madame A’s retreat, acting as though he’d never given a shit about anything or anyone in his life. 

“What is it then? Are you here purely to make the rest of us miserable?”

"You flatter yourself, Lilypad."

"Okay, this is your last warning. Call me that again and I'll -"

Blake snorted. "This'll be good."

Lilith ground their teeth. Even if they could think of a suitable threat, Blake was going to dismiss them anyway. It was thankless work, arguing with this guy. It was better to scrunch your annoyance up into a little ball and store it somewhere within yourself. 

"Blake.” Lilith lined up the tips of their fingers on each hand and pressed them together. “You've got Rex picking up the slack for you on the pairs project. You’re mean to Astrophel...”

“When have I ever been -?”

Lilith parted their hands, demanding to be allowed to finish. “You haven't cooked for us on any of your designated nights. You don't even hang out with us after lessons.”

"Fuck’s sake, is this what you're upset about?” The ghost of a smirk crept over Blake’s face. “That I won't come to your tedious Doctor Who marathons?"

"If you would just give Capaldi a chance - hmph." Lilith stroked their hands through the air to calm themself. "Blake.”

“Lil....”

Orion, give me strength.

“...lith,” Blake finished, his face the picture of forced innocence. The picture of a smug shithead. 

Lilith exhaled. “Forget about hanging out with us. Forget about the dinners. No one missed your ‘plain pasta with salt’ anyway.”

“Harsh.”

“But stop. Taking. Advantage. Of. Rex,” Lilith said. “The only reason Madame A brought back the pairs projects is because there’s an even number of us this year. Thanks to you. Which means the extra work you’re dumping on Rex is double your fault.”

“You don’t give Rex enough credit.” Blake’s tone was disarmingly sharp. Accusatory, even. “If she had a real problem with me, she’d tell me herself. In fact, didn’t it occur to you that maybe she prefers not having to work with me? Do you think I didn’t see those looks all three of you gave each other when Madame A set the pairs?”

Guilt spilled over from the pot of emotions bubbling in Lilith’s gut. Had Blake really just made a series of good, morally impressive points?

“So. How about you shut up, leave me be, and stop trying to be everybody’s hero?” Blake looked nauseated, as though the word ‘hero’ had tasted like petrol on his tongue.

The guilt was abruptly washed away in a tide of anger. The least useful of the emotions, and the very last one you should bring into a conversation with Blake Forte.

Lilith turned away. For a few seconds, they were fully intent on just walking out of the library and leaving Blake’s words hanging, untouched, in the air. But before they could get through the door, they turned back around.

“Fuck you.” They wished their tone hadn’t been so gentle and matter-of-fact. They might as well have just told Blake that the weather was nice today. 

But they were still kind of relieved that they’d said it.

Blake had just leaned down to pick his book up from the floor. “Hey, Forrester, remind me - what page was I on, again?”

[let-them-read-fics]

Ghostin'

Requested By @heyziggy: "Song prompt -- 'Ghostin' by Ariana Grande. Reader is dating Rosé and misses her lost lover."

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,676

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Death, Crying, Some Cursing, Some Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Did I write this between the hours of 1 and 8am? Yes, yes I did. Inspiration struck and I was able to crank this one out pretty quickly for you! I'm happy with it, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There they are again. Those eyes that have haunted you for the past year, turning what little progress you've made to dust within a second. People say time heals all wounds, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

A rough tremble wracks through your body as you toss and turn, your limbs reaching out for someone that'll never be there again. She's calling out to you, her arms outstretched as she waits in vain. Your feet are rooted in their spot and no amount of effort possible can make them budge. Tears roll endlessly down your cheeks, a steady stream that feels all too real in the moment. As you scream out her name, you faintly hear your own being called; it's distant, but accompanied by a strong grip on your shoulders. 

"...Y/N." 

Upon jolting awake, your eyes open to find Rosé hovering over you, propping herself up on her elbow. A thin sheet of sweat has formed on your skin, and you attempt to ground yourself by looking up at her. Slowly but surely, her features overtake the ones still burning in your mind from the dream and you're able to breathe again. She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her cool fingers against it lovingly. 

Despite the darkness, you can see the bags underneath her beautiful eyes. "I'm sorry, baby." 

She simply shakes her head in response, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you." 

In one motion, you pull her into your arms and bury your face in her neck. This isn't the first time this has happened, and you curse yourself for forcing her to grow accustomed to it. She tries to disguise how much it affects her too, but her efforts are always futile; you can read her like a book, knowing that every time that name falls from your lips in a hushed shout, her heart breaks a little more. She doesn't blame you for a second, but neither of you can deny the strain it puts on your relationship. 

She adjusts the two of you so that you're laying against her as she soothingly rubs your back. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered into your ear, and the tears you've been holding back soon begin to fall. Some drop from her eyes as well, but she takes comfort in the fact that you're in her arms, allowing her to hold you. Most of the time you push her away, leaving yourself to suffer alone in some cruel form of self-punishment. But now, if only for tonight, you let yourself sink into her warm embrace.

----

1 Week Later -- The Anniversary

12 months ago, today. That's when your world shattered for the first time and everything fell apart. Your heart had been free of such pain until that fateful day, innocent and unaware that sadness like that even existed. That was the first time you ever truly questioned a higher power, baffled that any 'benevolent ruler' could steal such a bright light away from the world. Your first love -- the girl you once imagined spending forever with -- was killed in a hit and run, left to die alone on the pavement. 

A majority of your youth belonged to her: the two of you grew up together, slowly falling until you had enough courage to make her yours. Countless memories were made, back when you had no idea how much they'd mean to you in the future. Life was fun with her: she made the mundane things interesting, and the adventures unforgettable. She was unashamedly herself, never stopping for a moment to give a damn about what anybody else thought of her. The two of you had each other, and that's all that really mattered. She was everything to you.

She was. 

You still find her in the little things. Whether it be a commercial for her favorite cereal, a bottle of her signature perfume catching your eye as you shop, or even just a flash of her favorite color, you swear that she's still around. After spending so many years with her, it's nearly impossible to imagine her gone. She was so full of life and enthusiasm when her presence still graced the Earth that the thought of her being faded, that twinkle in her eye forever extinguished, seems like an insult to her legacy. 

How are you supposed to move on from something like that? Rosé has been one of the only things keeping your head above water ever since she walked into your life, but a limit exists to what even she is capable of. After getting absolutely no closure, not even being able to see the perpetrator brought to justice, you're left to pick up the pieces. You've always been the type to deal with things on your own, finding it selfish to bring your loved ones down with the weight of your pain, but even you have to draw the line somewhere. 

Perhaps that dream had been a sign -- some type of cosmic warning for what was soon to come -- because that line was crossed today. 

Her family requested for you to return to your home town and celebrate her life with them. The invitation was extended to everyone she had touched before her life was taken, and even those who wished to show their support despite not having the privilege of knowing her personally. You agreed, and spent the day surrounded by people just as sad as you.

It was strange, at first; being back in the place you had so desperately tried to run from to escape the reality of what happened. But seeing all of them again reopened wounds that had never really gotten the chance to heal in the first place. Her parents' faces, so tired and troubled beneath the mask they attempted to put on, struck a chord within you. Her brother tried to be strong for them, you could tell -- but upon hearing his stifled sobs coming from upstairs, you could see how much it all still affected him. Your old friends were there as well, and their stories of your shared escapades only broke your heart more. It was a physical pain now, the once dull pinch giving way to a full blown ache. As you walked around her house, replaying all of your experiences with her, you felt empty again. 

She meant so much to everyone she ever uttered a word to, and yet she was gone in the blink of an eye. You'd think that someone as incredible as her would get some sort of divine protection, if you will -- a blanket of defense against such a cruel fate. But life works in ways we don't understand, and we have to find a way to deal with that. You'd hoped returning here would help you on that quest, but you've come to learn that no one really has access to that elusive answer. 

Though the day brought on the reunion of so many of you, it ended just as it had started: none of you any closer to closure. It would take time, no doubt, but you wished more than anything that the road to peace was a little shorter. 

-----

Rosé

Sweet, incredible Rosé. She waltzed into your life two months after the incident. A breath of fresh air in every way, she brought light back into your life. She refused to stand by and watch as you slowly destroyed yourself, letting the walls crash down around you. She made everything secure again, successfully keeping you sane and grounded. 

Falling in love with her was never something you saw coming. The emotions took their time in building up, every considerate thing she did for you adding to your list of reasons for loving her. It all accumulated until you couldn't hide it anymore, and even she could tell that she was getting through to you. Your fragile heart seemed to forget about its brokenness, because it soared at the mere sight of her. 

The day she asked you to be her girlfriend was an emotional one, to say the least. You accepted without hesitation, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggested that being with Rosie was a treasonous act. Trying to move on felt wrong; your confused heart sent mixed signals, thinking it possible to wait for your ex's return. 

But Rosie dealt with it perfectly -- better than you could have ever wished for. Not one time did she try to take your ex's place; she always respected your process and boundaries, and she never drew comparisons between your relationships. Rosé knew from the get-go that times would get rough, but she never shied away. Arguments happened, as they do with any couple, but she watched her tone and always took time to think before she spoke. 

Constantly, she worked to get you to let her in. Sometimes -- rarely -- she succeeded. On the nights that you found yourself crying over her again, your heart aching like usual, Rosie was always next to you in an instant. She hated seeing you so distant and hard on yourself, and she vowed from the beginning that she would be a positive influence in your life. 

------

The Birthday

2 weeks ago, Rosé had requested today off in order to be by your side. Your ex's birthday is today, and Rosé knows you'll need her more than you're willing to admit. 

"Baby, wake up. Let's get some breakfast." 

She rolls over to wake you with a kiss, only to find you already sitting up with tears in your eyes. She reaches up to wipe them away, but you dodge her hand before she can. That's what she can't stand. Having you push her away, effectively keeping her at arm's length, hurts her so much more than you know.

Although she's talented at reading you, truth be told Rosé has absolutely no idea how today will go. You've yet to experience a day like today -- your ex's birthday -- without her here, and even you don't know what'll happen. Your mood is capable of changing in a whipstitch, so you'll have to see how the day plays out.

"Y/N, please." Her eyes are pleading as you look at her again, and they rake over your sad features. Your bottom lip trembles as more tears threaten to overflow, and you sink your teeth into it to quiet yourself. Wordlessly, you do as she asks: you press your forehead against hers and let out a broken sigh as she strokes your arm. Her touch is comforting beyond belief, and you can't help but feel like you don't deserve it. Constantly putting her through the same shit makes you feel like a terrible person. 

"You're too good to me." 

She goes to shush you like always, but you don't drop it this time. 

You gently scoot away from her, meeting her eyes as she mimics your actions and raises her head. 

"I can see that it gets to you, Rose. I hate myself for hurting you… I just keep letting you down."

She's prepared to ease your fears from the start, not willing to get into an argument right now. "Stop, okay? I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can decide when I want to stay and when I want to go. I knew from the beginning that we would have these struggles, and none of it has made me change my mind about you."

Her words make your heart flutter, but you still have plenty on your mind to discuss with her.

"You deserve someone without so much baggage. I can't pretend like I'm not still affected by it."

"When have I ever asked you to do that?" She cocks her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow as she waits for you to respond. 

"You don't have to, babe. Seeing what it does to you is confirmation enough." You shrug lightly, allowing your eyes to break away from hers for a moment as you gather up what other words you want to say.

"You'll never admit it, not to the full extent, anyway, but I know I'm hurting you. That's the last thing I want; you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy." 

"Jagi, do you really think our relationship makes me unhappy? I'll admit that this isn't always easy, but no relationship is, and never once have I even thought of leaving. You seem to forget about yourself in all of this; your happiness is just as important as mine."

She chooses to ignore the self-deprecating scoff you let out at her last sentence, opting to just continue with her train of thought; convincing you to value yourself is a battle for another day.

"So please, let me in. I want us to get through this." 

"I do too, baby. So so much. I just can't help but think you could find someone better. I'm a fucking charity case at this point." You drop your head now, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You know she'll be upset with you for thinking so lowly of yourself, but her disappointment almost certainly pales in comparison to the contempt you hold for yourself.

With a heavy, tired sigh, Rosé hooks two fingers underneath your chin and gently lifts your head. "Y/N, look at me. I don't know how to make it any clearer to you: you are the person I want to be with. I want you in my future, and in order to make that happen I'm more than willing to help you deal with your past. I know it's not simple; I know it's never going to be easy; but I want you. All the strings attached."

You blink at the sincerity behind her words, a bit taken aback that she's so steadfast in her decision to stay with you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you that you were blind to the true extent of her love. It's consistent and unwavering, and you've never felt more valued than when you're with her. To her, you never were nor will you ever be a charity case; she loves you because you're imperfect; because you need her just as much as she needs you. 

"Okay." 

The simple word from you is more than enough to put Rosie at ease, and she doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her cheeks as you pull her into your lap for a hug.

A light squeak from the bedsprings serves as the only sound in your room as you silently hold one another. She knows that 'okay' was your way of telling her you're ready to let her in. 

"I love you." You whisper against her neck, allowing your lips to brush against her soft skin. Both of your collars are wet with tears following the emotional moment you just had, but neither of you care. 

"I love you, too, baby." She returns, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

After spending a moment just holding one another, communicating your emotions through light touches and kisses, you lift up onto your knees and lay her back onto the bed. She cups your cheeks, loving how they feel beneath her fingertips as you stare into her eyes. Your hands sit on either side of her torso to hold you up, keeping you in place as you smile down at her. Intimate moments like these hold a special place in her heart, and she can never get enough of them.

"I'm so afraid of losing you, Rosie. God, you have no idea how much the thought of it terrifies me." You shut your eyes now, willing away the images of a life without her.

For some reason she had never really considered that to be a cause for your unreachability before. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense; losing someone so close to you in such an unexpected way can definitely make you afraid of getting close to people again. What if you lose them, too?

"I can't predict the future, my love, but I can promise you that I'll spend the rest of my days on this Earth next to you. And I'll find you in whatever comes after, too; you're not getting away from me that easy." 

The last sentence is playful, and you smirk at her lightheartedness. She knows just what to say to lighten the mood.

"You're the greatest." You say, leaning down to capture her full lips in a meaningful kiss. She hums into it, pulling you flush against her body as she flips you over. 

"Oh really?" She teases, pressing feather-light kisses to your jaw. She can feel your heartbeat pick up, and she grins cockily at the effect she has on you.

"M-mhm." You mutter out with a slight stutter, tracing your hands down her body before letting them rest on her hips. 

"Why don't you show me, then?" She's straddling you now, and she pulls away from your neck to gaze down into your darkening eyes. 

Soon the room is filled with a high pitched squeal as you pounce, pushing her backwards until her back hits the mattress again. 

"As you wish, princess." You say, giving her a little salute before kissing her again. 

She smiles against your lips and lets out a joyous giggle at your antics. 

-------

The Second Anniversary 

"Are you ready, baby?" She asks, turning to look at you and gauge your reaction. 

You let out a jagged breath, the air leaving your lungs a bit unevenly as you try to steady yourself.

With a nod, you exit the car and walk around to open Rosie's door. "Such a gentlewoman." She says, garnering a genuine smile from you. Her playful tone calms you, and you peck her lips in a sweet kiss. 

"Come on, let's go inside." 

At your words, she slips her hand into yours and the two of you begin your journey towards the house. 

The rest of the day goes by better than you had ever imagined possible: Rosé joined conversations easily, and she offered plenty of comfort to everyone in need of it. Her presence is enough to lessen anyone's pain, but she truly showed her skills today. 

Towards the end of the celebration, your ex's parents pulled you away from everyone else and into the hallway for a private word.

"We want you to come visit her, with us." 

Your first instinct is to adamantly refuse, but the looks on their faces are enough to give you pause. No amount of time can make up for the loss they've had to endure, and you know they wouldn't have asked unless they really needed you there. 

"Okay, we'll be there." 

They pull you in for a hug, and Rosé tears up at the emotional moment. She sends you an understanding look once you eventually meet her gaze from across the room, and you give her a sad smile in return. 

----

The Visit

"Hey, baby; it's us again. Everybody came by earlier and it was so nice."

"You would've loved it, baby girl. We all miss you so much." 

They hold each other close as they take turns speaking to her, their voices a little stronger than you remember them being last year. Slowly but surely, they're learning to adjust to life without their daughter. 

You turn your head to the side, burying your face in Rosé's hair to distract yourself from the sadness creeping in. You hadn't come back to the cemetery since her funeral, so even just standing there causes the memories to come flooding back. Rosie's grip on you is strong, and you thank her for that; without her you'd surely be a wreck by now. 

A few minutes later, her parents step to the side and look over to you in a wordless request for you to say something. 

"Hey, champ." You crouch down next to her tombstone, missing the way her parents smile at the old nickname you used to call each other. 

"It's me. I hope you're happy up there… you deserve to be. You'd better save us some good seats." You tease, reaching up to dust some dirt off of the sleek surface of stone. The material is beginning to become rougher, you note to yourself.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Y/N. I owe you the world." Rosie smiles bittersweetly, resting her hand on your shoulder as she looks down at the picture on the tombstone. 

Something -- some unmistakable force, a gut feeling -- tells you to look up. You listen to it, slowly raising your head until you can see the expanse of the cemetery in front of you. The evening sun is giving way to a breathtaking sunset, and the remaining golden rays filter in through the leaves of the tall trees overhead. A flash of brown hair catches your eye, and you almost gasp at what you see.

There she is.

Your ex -- well, more specifically, the ghost of her -- stands amidst the tree line that borders the property. She raises a hand up to wave at you, offering a peaceful smile as she glances between Rosie and you. You smile your own lopsided grin at her, and soon after, she fades away completely. 

Inconspicuously, you look up at her parents. They have a knowing look on their face as you stand up and loop an arm around Rosé's waist, pulling her in close to rest your forehead against hers. She kisses your cheek before using her finger to poke the soft surface adorably.

"Ya know," her father starts, pulling your attention away from your girlfriend. 

"She visits us too, sometimes." He finishes with a smile.

A content feeling settles within your chest at his words, and you let out a soft sigh. 

She always was a sucker for happy endings.

[kaminobiwan]

inhibition

pairing: obi-wan kenobi  x  jedi!reader

summary: Fluff. Sap. Domesticity with a little bit of plot sprinkled in. Dash of sa(n)d, but that's to be expected at this point. It’s Tatooine, y’all.

a/n: Having not read Kenobi yet I actually have no idea how Obi-Wan’s demeanor is towards young Luke, but it’s fic so who cares. They get FAMILY VIBES

This one got away from me. Positively wrenched out of my grip and flew away, leading to the longest fic I’ve ever written, but I think the end result is so worth it. Requested by @snips-n-skyguy0501 and an anon that wanted breakfast in bed and forehead kisses — I hope your foot feels better, Sam! (Taglist)

In the slick of the heat of Tatooine, there isn’t much you could really do but sleep it off.

Even with tiny windows, the determined rays of the planet’s twin suns never failed to make their way into the small compound that had served as your sanctuary for the better part of the past half decade. You can feel the warmth of the dawn seeping in, lingering on your features, but you’re not ready to come back to the living just yet.

It’s not usually that you lay in bed for more than a couple hours past sunrise, but given the past few days, you definitely deserved it — repeated visits to the Lars homestead had acquainted you with some of their regular customers, other families that lived in the Great Chott. With Obi-Wan being the least inclined out of the pair of you to interact with anyone not in immediate danger (“saving his sociability for you,” as he called it), you’d been the one to volunteer some of your talents when you could in exchange for food or parts. This week had seen a favor to one of the couples that bought water from Owen and Beru, with you helping to repair a lower-end vaporizer that had seen shinier days.

The trips across the salt flat had inflicted more of a beating on your feet than normal, and your shoes hadn’t been enough to protect you from the coarse desert floor. You’d come home the night before looking worse for wear, left hand rubbed raw from tinkering and right foot split open by an unforgiving blister, but Obi-Wan had patched you up without hesitation and insisted that you let him wrestle your weary bones to bed.

Now, your lover lays ever-present at your back, but judging by the heavy unmoving arm strewn across you, he’s not fully up either.

Without raising your eyelids, you turn in his grasp, the weight upon you comforting despite the swelter. You hear Obi-Wan mutter something incoherent, but you pay it no mind as you crane your neck slightly in search of his face. Lips meet a bearded chin first, and a hum escapes him, louder now. Still determined in reaching your goal, you stretch, limbs awakening, but mind lagging as it tries to shake free of the clutches of slumber.

It’s a race to consciousness as Obi-Wan starts to stir as well, evidently joining you in your quest for a kiss, and finally, after a few minutes more of half-asleep fumbling, it happens — mouths moulding together blissfully, weak and sweaty from the blazing heat, but your heart flutters at the taste of him.

When you open your eyes, a blue gaze is waiting. Obi-Wan smiles at the way your noses touch, unwilling to separate much from your embrace.

“Good morning.”

You yawn before responding, jerking as Obi-Wan juts an evil finger in your side midway. You’re not sentient enough to shoot him a half-hearted glare, so instead, you mumble it back and accidentally smack him in the face as you move to rise. 

He stops you before you can, chin hooking onto your nearest shoulder and tugging down, and you slump back to the sheets with a subdued giggle. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you reply, and he nods, obviously pleased. “I have you to thank for that.”

He mouths at the skin behind your ear, only half-listening, but still fully fixated on you. You wonder if you’ll ever completely get used to his unbridled affection, even after more than five years living together in isolation, free to feel and show your love blatantly and unapologetically.

Not without a price that had been paid, but it was soul-healing love regardless.

“The Marstraps and their garden are doing well,” you comment absently, more to fill the silence as he lavishes you in physical worship than anything. “Maybe we should get into hydroponics.”

A sound of indifference.

“Did you know they have a daughter?” At that, Obi-Wan stills, face buried in your hair. You think his hand twitches at your abdomen, but in your groggy state, you can’t be completely sure. He never seems to know what to say when you talk of such things. Not then, not now. 

It’s not like you mean to imply anything by bringing it up, really. It’s more of...a gauge, of sorts. You’re probing. You’re not even sure why.

“Her name is Camie. She’s very sweet.”

Obi-Wan lifts his head lethargically, looking like he wants to utter a thousand words and nothing all at once. This time, he really does grip your hip, thumb grazing your ribcage thoughtfully, but you take it upon yourself to change the subject before things get too complicated.

“What time is it?”

“Still early,” he rumbles, and the gravelly tone sends satisfying vibrations to where your torsos are pressed against each other. “You’ll be able to get a couple more hours of rest.”

“Hmm.” His words trigger your body to succumb to the drowsiness you hadn’t quite gotten rid of, and your eyes droop contentedly again. “Will you be joining me?” 

Obi-Wan slips his other arm from underneath your neck, languidly sweeping over your form and nudging your temple fondly with his nose. “Unfortunately, no,” he murmurs into your hair, “but I think you’ll appreciate why.”

Your eyebrow lifts at the cryptic line, but you’re already falling back asleep as he lifts himself fully from you, and you give into the tiredness as his footsteps fade from your hearing.

———

Moments later — you’re not sure if he’s made good on his promise of extra hours — you feel the pressure of puckered lips against your eyelids, the scratch of his beard poking the thin skin around your eyes as you arise for the second time. This time, however, the enticing smell of food invades your senses, and you realize with a start that it’s not the boiled mealgrain that you usually have in the morning.

“Is that — ?” You shift in bed, reclining upon the headrest, but not yet sitting upright. You’re wide awake now, blinking alertly to find the source of the delectable aroma.

“Iktotch toast,” Obi-Wan announces proudly, setting a tray stacked with plates of steaming food on the table beside your shared bed. “And my attempt at a gartro omelet. Though, I couldn’t get all the necessary ingredients.” He sits on the edge, hand finding your blanketed shin and caressing it like second nature. “Just a fair warning.”

The thin sheet falls to your stomach as you twist to get a good look at his cooking, and you’re rewarded with the sight of brightly colored eggs and buttered bread topped with carbosyrup. Compared to the monochromatic meals you’ve come to expect day to day, it’s a welcome change.

In your excitement, you forget about the abrasions from yesterday, the still-raw skin of your palm screaming out in protest when you try to prop yourself up. Obi-Wan spots the small wince, and reaches for you as you cradle your stinging hand to your chest. “Better doesn’t mean good, apparently.” There’s a teasing to his locution, if only because he knows you too well. You don’t want to make a fuss out of it. You’re bested, anyhow, when he squeezes the blistered foot and you yelp. “Here, too. It still hurts? Shall I redress the wounds?”

A shake of your head precedes your response, as you assure him, “No, there’s no need. Truly.” Still, he’s adamant on being of more assistance, and it seems today is a good day. He’s happy, playful, even — it’s instants like these where you catch a glimpse of a different man, the echo of an old friend.

“Anything I can do to ease the pain?” Obi-Wan smirks, but it’s free of sarcasm as he leans above you, his hair falling in his eyes. It’s grown longer now, not quite the lion’s mane of a mullet he’d sported so many years ago, but unrulier than the clean-cropped cut that he’d had during his last years on Coruscant.

Another life. 

Though, you suppose, the rugged desert look is growing on you.

“A kiss on the bandage, maybe,” you quip, just as light-hearted, basking in the mood — what a rarity, nowadays, but always because of each other. “Perhaps it’ll help it heal faster.”

Obi-Wan scoots downwards, ruffling the sheets and uncovering more of your pajama-clad figure to the world, and grabs for your toes —

“Not there! I meant the hand,” you cry, just short of a laugh. “Were you really about to kiss the bottom of my foot?”

He joins in your amusement, chuckling as he traces his way back up to you with light kisses that begin at your legs. One on the knee, then on your navel, and right under your breast — the tease. His hands follow hotly along the trail his mouth leaves, yet it’s a heat you’re all too willing to endure. “Darling, you’d know I’d kiss you anywhere,” he says, grin honest and eager, and you smile suggestively at him from your place upon the pillows.

The moment turns soft, though, when he takes your injured hand, touching his lips to the pads of your fingers, completely avoiding the wrappings. Instead, he marks the exposed skin peeking from the bandages, leaving warm touches where he can reach. You let him make his way up your arm, relaxing the muscle and leaving it pliant in his hold, and these kisses are tender, sincere, adoring.

His lips brush the inside of your elbow, and you catch his gaze then, eyes serious and lacking the mirth of before. He beams, nevertheless, and it takes another four pecks up your shoulder, collarbone, and neck until he finally reaches your mouth. Your lips connect in a quiet climax, tension releasing and hushed sighs escaping the both of you as hands find cheeks and jaws to hold. His beard is longer, too, and a subtle drag of your fingers along his scruff doesn’t go unnoticed as he groans into the kiss.

Sluggishly, as if he’s struggling against the pull of quicksand, Obi-Wan pulls away, your digits still tangled in his auburn locks. “Eat,” he murmurs, placing one last kiss on your bare palm. As he places the tray in your lap, you sit up properly, kicking the last of the covers aside. “Company is coming.”

———

Company was actually more of a child-sitting gig, with the Lars traveling to Anchorhead and reluctant to let their nephew tag along just yet. The four of you had all agreed it was best to shelter the boy until you and Obi-Wan had gotten better at shielding the signatures of three Force-sensitives, and while you were quickly growing used to the strain of the constant use of the Force, there wasn’t a need for unnecessary ventures outside of the community when Luke could just stay with you and Obi-Wan.

On the other hand, if you asked Obi-Wan, he didn’t see why a trip to Tosche Station couldn’t wait until next week, seeing as how you couldn’t walk much without pain. Luke would undoubtedly aggravate the blister when he begged you to play.

But you hadn’t asked Obi-Wan, you dutifully reminded him throughout his musings over the food, unconcerned at the prospect. Breakfast had been as delicious as it had smelled — your taste buds had been assaulted with the flavor, but it had been a gratuitous ordeal that had reminded you of a bustling diner and the toothy grin of a Besalisk. “Just missing the powdered Christophsian sugar,” you’d praised, and he’d barely hidden his glowing simper as he cleared the dishes. You know his apprehension at looking after Luke today is more out of concern for you, rather than lack of willingness.

Just as there were good and bad days of disposition, Obi-Wan’s interactions with his old student’s son were varying. Some visits were joy-filled and vibrant with childish merriment, at the mercy of Luke’s wild imagination, but it wasn’t uncommon for Obi-Wan to retreat to your bed, floored by the striking resemblance the boy had to his father, the memories he tried so hard to forget rushing back in a dark cloud of resignation. Luke was under the impression that his favorite playmate suffered from intermittent cases of sand-fever, trusting enough to believe the excuse. Though he loved you just as much, it was Obi-Wan that Luke idolized the most, and you couldn’t at all blame him for feeling disappointed when Obi-Wan was too unsteady to come out and say hello.

But today, the promise of a happy afternoon rang throughout the air, and you allowed yourself the indulgence of looking forward to the rest of the day. At five years old, Luke was an adoring child, innocent in ways you’d never been able to see, not even with Anakin. He reminded you of a fresh snowbank, ironic as it was, pristine and untouched by the world. Your heart ached to keep it that way.

Luke launches himself at you as expected when he arrives, Owen being kind enough to deliver him instead of letting Obi-Wan make the ride over. Just as well, too — after the doting attentiveness of the morning, you didn’t want to stray too far from Obi-Wan’s side. The former Jedi catches the boy in midair, strong arms wrapping around his tiny frame and swinging him away from you to save you from exacerbating your wounds, and Luke screeches in hysterics as he’s tossed in a wide circle. He attacks Obi-Wan with energetic pokes when he’s finally set down, the older man letting out a surprised oof when he’s headbutted rather hard in the stomach. You muffle a guffaw in your elbow as Obi-Wan shoots you an accusatory scowl, massaging his middle as he assures Owen he’ll return his nephew in one piece. The farmer thanks you both, leaving without a second glance, and Obi-Wan is whisked away by the young Skywalker to entertain his latest fascination with womp rats.

———

They return before dusk, smelling like sweat and death, acrid scents practically steaming off of their robes. You cover your nose as Obi-Wan staggers in through the side door, steadying a chittering Luke as he trips over the trapdoor to the cellar. “Target practice,” Obi-Wan explains, somewhat apologetically. “His aim needs some work.”

“I blew a rat’s head off!” Luke declares boastfully, and cackles while running a victory circle around the kitchen. “It just exploded!”

You turn aghast to Obi-Wan, who ushers the boy into the refresher and instructs him to wash up. As Luke rinses off the trace of the outdoors, you stop Obi-Wan before he can come any closer. You can almost taste the sour aroma that wafts off of your husband. “Don’t tell me he means an actual womp rat. They’re twice his size. If you’re letting him near those predators, Obi-Wan, I’m going to —”

“Relax!” Obi-Wan exclaims defensively, palms raised as if to shield him from your wrath. “It was just a profogg. And we weren’t hunting in the beginning, just setting stink capsules near the hut. Poor thing got too close when we set it off and its friends decided they wanted revenge.”

The clarification does little to placate you, the knowledge that it’s most likely rodent guts contributing to the fumes only further motivating you to stay at a distance. But Obi-Wan has other plans, and a mischievous expression takes over his features as he runs at you, grabbing for your face as you squeal. “Disgusting! Obi-Wan!”

“Not even a peck for your one true love?” He asks, and you bat his hands away. “I was willing to kiss your foot this morning.”

“But you didn’t,” you remark impishly, holding in bubbling laughter. “I’m not kissing you while you smell like an eopie’s ass.”

“Language.” He seizes your wrists as you squirm, though your spirits are still high. You arch backwards, grappling to escape. “Luke might be listening.”

You catch your breath without inhaling in his direction, but it fails when you descend into snickering when a small voice protests, “No I’m not!”

“Go.” While he’s distracted, you push Obi-Wan towards Luke in the refresher, hard. “It’s time for a trim. I think you have profogg gunk in your beard.”

He stumbles back, too late to stop your words from being heard, and Luke yells, “You told me it was a womp rat!”

Another bout of laughter arises in your throat, and Obi-Wan fixes you with a withering glare you’re too perceptive to fall for. “Thanks,” he grumbles, none too grateful, and disappears into the sink.

———

“Careful of your fingers — you don’t want to cut yourself.”

After the bits of wildlife had been safely discarded down the drain and the boys had changed into fresh clothes, you watch as Obi-Wan guides Luke’s wobbly hands down his own stubbled throat. The sight of the shaving cream that covers most of Obi-Wan’s face is priceless, but you opt for appreciation rather than humour as the touching moment transpires.

“Better to cut me than you, but let’s aim for no one, alright?” Luke nods, tongue poking out in concentration as he shucks off more hair from Obi-Wan’s chin. He’s holding the razor with both hands, standing on a stool while Obi-Wan kneels to stay within reach. “Firmly, but with precision. Very graceful.”

Luke’s hyperactivity is nowhere to be found, and you admire his focus. Maybe you should have him shave your husband more often. Both the Lars and you would certainly benefit from the resulting tranquility.

But, no — you’d miss the beard too much.

“Done!” Luke leans back and throws his fists up in delight. Obi-Wan is quick to snatch up the tool to avoid any accidents, and places it back in its compartment as he turns to the boy overflowing with pride.

“Let’s check, shall we?” He rises from his knees with a low grunt and the pop of his joints — one you don’t miss, but refrain from pointing out. For a second, all you see is the back of Obi-Wan’s head as he washes away the lather, then it’s the dismayed twist of his mouth as the uneven patches of missed hair gleam in the mirror.

Luke bounces up and down, making an effort in vain to assess his work. Obi-Wan quickly readjusts his features as you hide your face, silently shaking with amusement. “Did I do okay?”

Obi-Wan squints down at him warmly, brushing the boy’s bangs out of the way. “Yes, An — Luke, you did.” Luke cheers underneath the large hand on his crown. “You did splendidly.”

In a flurry of shouts and whoops, Luke ducks out of Obi-Wan’s arm and exits the refresher, unaware of the almost-slip, but you freeze, more shocked than you have been in months. Years. Obi-Wan’s never done that before.

He meets your wide eyed stare in the mirror, all remains of Luke’s comical shaving job gone, neither of you able to verbalize exactly what you’re feeling.

But eventually, the impact of his blunder fades, and you break free from the fog of your stupefaction.

Your bandaged hand finds his shoulder, soaking up the droplets from his shower, and rubs consolingly, back and forth. You hope it conveys all that words can’t say. A pang strikes you as Obi-Wan lets out a trembling exhale, the unfinished name falling away to the empty room, and you resist the impulse to crush him into a hug.

He needs space.

The watery eyes you expect to see are dry in seconds, and all is well again.

———

You look on as Obi-Wan props Luke’s tuckered form into Beru’s waiting arms, meeting her gaze with a gentle understanding. She secures him into the passenger seat as she mounts the landspeeder slowly, seemingly sensing the hesitance radiating from two of you, uready to let the day end. When they finally depart, Obi-Wan watches them leave from the entrance of the dwelling.

“It’s alright to love him, you know.” You approach him once Beru and Luke are barely a speck on the horizon. You come up to latch around his chest, tiptoeing to kiss his back. “It’s okay to be attached.”

He shifts, rotating so that his back is to the wall after he’s sealed off the door. His own arms raise to encircle you, and you lean your cheek against his bicep before he plants a kiss to your forehead. It spells devotion as you sink further into him, muted ardor enveloping you both. “I know.”

“Do you?” Your voice is quiet to preserve the shroud of calm. “I worry you’re holding back, and you don’t have to. Not here.” Another kiss to his skin. “Not anymore.”

You feel the deep inhale more than you hear it, and his breathing soothes you more than you ever thought possible. It’s proof he’s here, real in your grip. You have each other. “I’m not,” he promises, lips stuck to your hairline. “Though you should know, my heart is reserved for you.”

That brings a laugh out of you, tinkling and bright. You clutch him tighter, warmth swelling inside you in spite of the cooling air of the evening. “You have room for Luke in there.”

Obi-Wan examines you closely, pausing only for a second before he speaks again. “Perhaps more than just him.”

And there it is, the admission you’ve always been curious for yet never wanted to ask. Your breath hitches — only a tad, but you know he picks up on it, and you peer at him cautiously. It’s a conversation you’ve avoided so many times before. 

Admittedly, today was the perfect day as any to prime the subject. You’ve never been sure whether Luke has assured Obi-Wan that he wants nothing to do with parenthood or if it inspires a desire to have a son of his own.

It’s not revisited until you’re crawling back into bed, back to his bare chest, and the ghosting touch of his hand smoothing down your front draws your attention away from the sensation of his body enfolding around yours. He’s trying to be discreet, you can tell.

“Practicing?” You whisper, with only a hint of knowing so as not to scare him off. There’s no need, you realize, when you feel his mouth twist into a lopsided smile against your nape and his fingers spread unabashedly across your stomach.

“Perhaps,” he repeats, and it’s enough.

[elionwriter]

May the 4th be with you all! Ok, so I am late for that. Let's make this a return of the 5th post then. Anyway, I decided to make my personal

TOP 10 CHARACTERS AND RELATIONSHIPS (Part 1)

Fair Warning I'm only considering Canon Characters no legends included ( sorry Starkiller)

1) DARTH VADER

You know a character is powerful when the sound of a metallic, heavy breath approaching is all it takes to start shaking in your boots. Darth Vader with his complex history, his powerful aura and controversial morals is probably one of the main reasons Star Wars became as popular as it is in the first place. What's not to love? His look is amazingly sinister, powerful and iconic; his 'I can't be bothered' tone and attitude while giving displays of ruthless power is chilling and the fact that there is a scared and subdued part of him that's screaming, desperately clinging to light and hope as Luke sudgests is heartbreaking! This is a character that by every intent and purpose was supposed to be the hero, was groomed from childhood to be it and instead found himself turned into the villain and trapped into his worst case scenario. From the moment he discovers that Luke is his son an internal battle starts raging between his loyalty to the emperor, his desire to pull Luke to his side and a selfless paternal instinct to save his son. The fact that he ultimately does indeed prove to be the "chosen one" by killing Palpatine is too good. The fact that Darth Vader has some of the best lines in the series and that in videogames he is a Boss you're glad to be handed your ass by and is LITERALLY unbeatable even with mods are just a few of the reasons why I believe Anakin Skywalker's Sith persona is far more appealing than his Jedi one.

2) DIN DJARIN & GROGU

I know I'm not original but there truly is no better way to sum up these two than "Clint Eastwood in space with a baby and the baby is an irresistibly cute bean with a bastard personality". This sentence alone should explain why they deserve this spot on the list. Add a wicked theme song, a tired 'sigh' and a sweet cooing sound in lieu of catchphrases and one of the coolest Mandalorian armours ever and you have some instant fan- favourites! If Jedi are mystical and fascinating, Mandalorians truly are the ultimate badasses of the galaxy far far away. Nobody proves that better than Din Djarin himself. Also, his interactions with Grogu, Ashoka Tano and Luke skywalker are testament that putting these two powerhouses together is one of the best team-ups you can possibly make. Din is the "reluctant hero" trope personified and the fact that he is surrounded by heroes with a mission and a destiny to fullfil makes him all the more endearing. Get you a man who is perceived as a merciless walking, killing machine and turns out to be a shy, introvert, pure hearted mess with the driest sense of humour possible. Din is a private and secretive man of very few words, to the point that the viewer learns his name at the end of season 1. His absolute adherence to the Mandalorian code make him appear very standoffish and unapproachable. It's the child that slowly, figuratively and physically, makes him come out of his shell and sets him on the path for his own, true purpose. One cannot help but feel and want to know more about Grogu as it's revealed how much suffering and tragedy had to endure. Din's need to protect him becomes the viewer's. While the faith of these two is unsure I can only hope they'll be reunited soon. I'm really curious to know where their stories are going so to quote from Palpatine: "We will watch your career with great interest".

3) LUKE SKYWALKER:

The hero of heroes, the true main protagonist of the story, which amazingly turns out NOT to be the prophecy's "chosen one". While Mark Hamill himself mockingly said in an interview that "even the droids have better lines than me" I think it's safe to say there are plenty of reasons to love Luke Skywalker. His kind and sweet personality, his initial excitable and boyish attitude and his steady evolution in Jedi Master are just a few of those. Luke is the embodiment of hope. When everyone else is ready to sell someone short, Luke sees the best in them and holds onto the hope they'll come around and make the right decision until the end (He tries to kill his nephew and becomes an old shrew? Never heard of it!). His kindness however comes with a wellspring of untapped power and unbreakable will power. He is respectful of his teachers without ever letting their opinions dictate his actions if they feel wrong. The fact that he ultimately strays from the main action to face a more personal quest confronting Vader and the Emperor and doesn't actually save the day only add up to his charm rather than detract from it. While his relationship with Han Solo and Chewbacca is always amusing and heartwarming, it's the growth of his connection to Leia, from teenage crush to deep sibling love, that really sticks. What's for sure is that few things are as satisfying as seeing him brandishing his lightsaber and laying waste of everything around him. Summing up, I believe Luke's charm lays in his inheritance of his father's looks and talents but his mother's heart and strength!

[super-hero-girls-netflix]

I'm back :D

Headcanons on sleepover (Boys and Girls)?

Girls First!

#1: Zee NEEDS to be Host if it's the whole group

Zee hosts as often as she can because she likes sleeping in her own bed and not having Babs' dad knocking on the door every 5 minutes.

It's also hard to coerce convince the girls into magical makeovers if she has to be alert about using her magic.

Also...she is positive that Commissioner Gordon suspects her of murder. (He doesn't, he just has the naturally narrow eyed thoughtful look)

Zee, in other words, prefers to host their sleepovers.

#2: Babs is a Wriggler, Kara is a Thrasher, Jess is a Talker

Diana, Zee and Karen are relatively quiet sleepers. Like sure Diana snores a bit and Karen might drool and Zee might shift in her sleep but they are NOTHING compared to Babs, Kara and Jess.

They are nightmares to sleep with. Babs wriggles in her sleep and babbles too. Especially if she's stressed. She'll be talking utter nonsense. Literally like 'waffles have feelings too' or 'butterfly fart machine'. No one shares a bed with Babs because she is known for stealing the covers and wrapping herself in them. Like a Babs Burrito. And if you try to take some back she will shove you off the bed. Still very much asleep.

Kara, she is a hazard to people everywhere. At least if you don't know how to control sleepy Kara. The girls know the control word 'go back to bed' but that only helps them when Kara tries to fly away. If she's kicking and or punching it's doom. Typically her erratic attacks are sparse and weak, so just like a pro-wrestler but badly aimed, but still...no one sleeps within 5 feet of Kara Danvers.

And lastly Jess. Jess is not much of a physical threat while asleep. She stays in the same position and doesn't even drool or snore or anything. But in the middle of the night you might hear a yelp, or a drawn out very loud groan. That's Jess, she groans a lot in her sleep, regularly. And if she's extremely stressed she'll even mantain conversation. Very poorly. Kara tried once. It went like this.

Jess: The moon, is just a ball of cheese.

Kara: Oh? Can your eat it?

Jess: Like a rock

Kara: What do you mean?

Jess: I'm nice, you're mean.

So yeah...they can share a bed with this chic and they have. That's why most if them sleep with headphones tucked into their ears.

#3 Movie Night

Karen hates horror movies. They creep her out and Kara is obsessed with them.

In fact while Karen and Kara argue about which genre to watch, romance or horror, the rest of the girls watch them fight.

Which is more amusing then it sounds.

#4 Diana can't cook

Diana is a girl of many talents but she can not cook. Not a bit. Not even instant mac and cheese.

Babs has tried to show her how to make a burrito- failed.

Jess a salad- failed.

Karen, some stir fry- failed.

Kara, warning up some pizza- failed.

She just can't cook. Moving on.

#5 Babs is generous with everything BUT her stuffed animals.

These are things she has said:

"Rest your feet somewhere else, Kara"

"Burrito Bat Butch hasn't cuddled with anyone but me, ever. Hands off!"

"Listen, if you wanted a pillow you can just ask- you don't have to treat General George Jennings like that!"

"Give me the bear, Karen. Give me the bear."

"EEY, NO TOUCHIE!"

#6 They can't do a proper Binge Watch with each other.

Babs drinks a lot of soda and munches on a lot of snacks so she has to constantly use the bathroom. Insisting they can keep watching but of course they pause anyway.

Zee cannot step away from her phone. It's always vibrating with emails and messages and she is too invested in her rep to put it down. She is the type of gal who likes texting while watching a show. This drives the other girls up a wall because then Zee insists they catch her up.

Kara cannot, for the life of her, sit still. Even though they are curled up on the couch, one of the girls leaning into Kara's side, or having their head on Kara's lap. Or anything, really. Kara breaks the comfort because she cannot sit still. She shifts too often, changes the legs she tucked under her, stretches her back. It is annoying because then the girls around her need to shift too.

Jess gets restless quickly. She predicts the ending or loses interest when the plot becomes to predictable. So then she starts, trying to be subtle, looking through her schedule and doing school work. Its more infuriating because when the girls ask pointed questions she almost always gets it right.

Diana is of course knew to the world of man and stills doesn't get everything that is happening. Sometimes she misunderstands the plot completely and they have to rewatch the episode, explaining everything that time. This makes the watching chunky and somewhat less enjoyable. Usually Zee is the one to do the explaining. No one blames Diana of course, but still.

And Karen? She just wants to see if her ship lives. She is a fangirl through and through and has to scream into a pillow every time they have to press pause. Which is three to five time throughout a single episode.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Now for the boys,

✨✨✨✨

#1 Food Competition

Barry eats a lot. Barry is never sure how much is enough. Barry can eat a supermarket out of business if he was particularly hungry. Hal knows this. Still his pride won't accept it so every time Hal challenges Barry to eating some disgusting amount of sauce or drink.

Sometimes Hal wins.

Barry has a sensitive stomach.

But usually not.

#2 NO HOMO

Steve doesn't really care how close any if the dudes sleep to him.

Barry doesn't either. In fact its likely he'll fall asleep on someone else's sleeping bag with his feet propped on one of his teammates stomach.

Garth will probably end up trying to cuddle up to Hal or Barry or Steve or any of the boys.

Hal will most definitely fight him on that. What can you say? He's the Type A male. But he really won't bat an eye if Garth does it when Hal is already asleep.

Oliver will sing love songs to his bro's, flirting hard as hell...up untill Hal, Carter, or Steve smack him. Where he pouts and let's Garth and Barry soothe him.

Carter doesn't like being touched in general so like hell he's going to let any of the boys near him. Or hold a conversation with him. He will just sit in the corner of the room, quietly observing. (He is most definitely trapped in the home where they are hosting the sleepover).

#3 Make Him Laugh

Another challenge.

Whoever makes Carter smile or *le gasp* laugh is deemed royalty.

Usually it's Barry. Who didn't even try. He just tripped over something.

Barry wins a lot.

#4 They Order In

Hal refuses to cook on principle. Rather be fed.

Oliver doesn't like getting butter on him since it'll 'destroy' his complexion.

Garth can't cook.

Carter refuses to feed anyone. He'll cook for himself and no one else.

Barry always offers but he is a forgetful cook and they feel bad throwing out whatever abomination he makes so they force it down. Of course, they learned to order in before Barry offers.

Steve can cook but he is very precise about the recipe, double checking and stuff so being fed takes forever if they let him start.

They arm wrestle to decide who chooses what they eat so yea...Carter always picks. Steve usually pays. Barry too. Everyone else is broke as hell.

#6 They butt heads.

All the dam time.

Hal is stubborn and Oliver is prideful.

Carter refuses to cater to anyone.

Garth is immovable if he wants to be.

Steve is trying to compromise but no one listens to the voice of reason over their own shouts.

Barry eats ice cream. They'll tire themselves out eventually.

#7 They Reprimand Hal

These are things they have definitely said at least once during a sleepover.

"Goddammit Hal! She's my science partner! How am I supposed to look her in the eye now?"

"Do you value your life? Yes? Then please refrain from speaking."

"Shut! Up!"

"Who are you calling stupid, stupid!"

"I'll tell Carol."

"The hell, man? Were you born with the unexplicable urge to be an asshole?"

"Go to bed, perv!"

Ah well, imma close it off here. Very lovely prompt. Headcannons are always fun. 👍

[dailybeastarsthings]

Chapter 6 - A Wind Of Change

The Grim Reaper and a distressed mistress were running quickly through the dark forest. As they were moving, branches and leaves kept brushing them wildly as if they were trying to hold them captive until the chasers would eventually reach and capture them both.

‘Why are they chasing me, Grim Reaper?’ the mistress asked.

‘Because you were supposed to have died three days ago” the Reaper said without even looking back.

Suddenly, the Reaper flung his sword and cut one of their chasers in half. The poor soulless demon let out a lifeless sigh before its death.

‘Water, Wind, Fire… The forces of nature all want you dead.’

‘Then… These entities are a part of them?’

‘Yes… This is a fight against fate.’

Our heroes were cornered. As the demons were closing in, the Reaper hid the mistress behind his cape to protect her. He took out his sword and looked their enemies in the eye.

‘Stay behind me. Killing you… is my job. Until then, I won’t let anyone lay a finger on you.’

And with that the Reaper lunged out to fight!

‘Okay, that’s it for Scene 15. We will now take a break’ said Sanu, the president of the Drama Club, shattering the tension into a million pieces. Sanu was a third-year Pelican student in Cherryton Academy. He was elected to be president just as he became a second-year but has known many of the members from way before. He used to be a background actor in many plays but never appeared again after becoming president. He always made sure to let the creativity and emotions flow freely in the club while maintaining its integrity and improving the relationships of the members.

‘What? Why, Sanu?’ Louis asked with audible dismay in his tone. ‘We’ve never taken a break in a rehearsal before.’

‘Oh… Well, it’s just going to be 30…’ he swallowed his words after seeing Louis’ expression ‘I… I mean 15 minutes.’

Sanu walked up on stage to Louis. He leaned close to him and started whispering.

‘You know, Louis, we’ve known each other for a long time now. I can tell that your movements are... how should I put this… a bit stale. Are you feeling well?’

‘Quit whispering Sanu. I’m perfectly fine.’ Louis replied. He then turned to the other members present on stage. ‘This performance is the most important part of the New Student Welcome Event. We need to show all of the new students the importance of the Drama Club, so we have no time to worry about our physical condition’ he said while he wiped the sweat off his forehead and neck with his towel.

Louis hanged his towel on his antler then bent over a bit, to rest a little. He turned his head towards the other students on the stage and glared at them with flaming irritation in his eyes.

‘Next time attack me like you mean it. I’m a deer as Adler, and you’re all carnivores, attacking Adler with the intent to kill. That’s what we are going to portray when we get on stage, so we need to be as fierce as we possibly can.’

Taking advantage of the break, Louis walked backstage to relax his foot a little. It was still sore and while the medications were certainly helping, the fact that he didn’t put on his bandages in order to avoid any awkward questions definitely didn’t help. He was in a lot of pain. He could feel his ankle pulsating, radiating the pain from the injury to nearby areas as well. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t.

‘Sanu is right… My movements are not perfect this time. I can’t put too much weight on my leg if I want to avoid any further problems. However, a perfect performance is expected from me, so I’ll give them just that. Even if it means that I’ll hurt my leg even more!’ he thought.

He suddenly heard Sanu’s voice.

‘All right everyone, break is over, we’re beginning from Scene 16!’

And with that, Louis put on his act of being completely fine and went back on stage to play his other part, Adler, the Grim Reaper.

***

Meanwhile, the stage crew was busy making the finishing touches on the costumes backstage.

‘What? A break from rehearsal? We’ve never had a break before!’ Dom said with surprise in his voice.

Dom was a third-year peafowl student. He was the leader of the Drama Club’s stage crew. Although he was a long-time member, he never had any ambitions on becoming an actor nor the president of the club. He was always perfectly fine with sewing costumes. He had great talent at it. His costumes always turned out to be vibrant and lively – and yet, comfortable. He had aspirations on becoming a fashion designer in the future.

‘Well yeah, but I haven’t heard all the details. Kibi hurried me because the boxes we were carrying were really heavy’ Legoshi said.

‘Yeah, but Louis is always excited when the performance is coming close. I can’t even imagine how frustrated he must have been’ Kibi, an ant eater member said.

As the conversation was going on, Kai’s face – who was directed to be part of the stage crew instead of the acting crew – became more and more red by the second. Deep down he was still sure that he should’ve been approved as Tem’s replacement as he knew the script by heart and had way more practice in acting than Zoe.

‘Damn it!’ he yelled ‘I was supposed to be rehearsing with all of them, not sewing in this dark place!’

‘Oh, Kai, I think you have a good sense of design. I’m happy that you’re part of the stage crew’ Dom said with a soft smile on his face.

‘Oh… Really? Do you mean it?’ Kai asked excited.

‘Of course!’

In the meantime, Legoshi was digging for some extra yarn in a box next to him, when he suddenly found a white and gold vest, which was part of Tem’s costume.

‘This is Tem’s costume’ he said. The others looked at him in surprise. ‘What should I do with it?’ he continued.

‘Well…’ Fudge, the red panda began ‘We can’t just keep it here forever, you know.’

‘Look, Legoshi, Tem is dead so it’d be creepy if we still kept it around!’ Kai yelled at him in frustration. Legoshi’s ears drooped.

‘Tem was killed and devoured by one of the carnivore students in this school’ Legoshi thought. ‘That is the biggest taboo an animal can commit in this world. That’s why none of the others want to dwell on that incident. There’s a bottomless pit of darkness lurking in this world. Now I understand the meaning of what Louis said. The meaning of why he is acting so fiercely as Adler. He must be the one, who is confronting the reality of that incident the most. He has the ambition to be the next Beastar, so he needs to take center stage in the world of carnivores and herbivores. I can’t even imagine the pressure he must…’ his thought was interrupted.

‘Legoshi! Legoshi!’ Dom yelled at him. ‘Were you listening?’

‘Oh! Umm… Yeah!’

‘You were spacing out again, weren’t you?’

‘Maybe…’ Legoshi said, while looking to the side. His ears drooped a little, too.

‘All right, well, we were talking about bringing flowers from the Gardening Club. I want to use roses as the motif for the final act and decorate the assembly hall and entrance, too. Look.’

Dom held up a drawing of what he imagined. It was beautiful. Large bouquets of red and white roses – ones with only a singular color, others mixed together to symbolize the two sides of the play, good and evil. It looked wonderful and grand – and Legoshi believed that it would’ve smelled amazing, too!

‘There should be plenty of roses in the Gardening Club, and I want you to help’ Dom said.

‘You mean… with decorating?’ Legoshi asked.

‘That and with getting the roses from the Club.’

‘Are you sure that I should go? I mean, this whole incident and all… I don’t want to scare anyone…’

‘I think you should’ Kibi said. ‘You’re a second-year high school student, so you ought to improve your social skills.’

‘Well, okay then. But you’ll have to come with me, too.’

The Gardening Club was a long walk from the Drama Club, since it was on the rooftop of a building at the other end of the school. While Legoshi had no problem walking such distances at high speeds, Kibi had to jog alongside him, if he wanted to keep up with him. By the time they were climbing the steps to the rooftop, Kibi was already exhausted.

‘Was it absolutely necessary for me to come with you?’ Kibi asked almost breathless.

‘Sorry, but I think the members would be scared to see a lone wolf asking for flowers’ Legoshi said.

There were only a few steps until the end. When they got to the top, they were greeted by a large green iron door. It had rust around the frame and near the doorknob. The building definitely had to face water damage a good few times.

‘I never knew there was a garden on the rooftop’ Legoshi said, while reading the sign on the door, which said ‘Gardening Club’.

‘It’s probably not well-known among carnivores. It’s a pretty plain club anyway. They rarely appear publically. They only sell flowers at events and festivals.’

As Legoshi was reaching for the doorknob, he became aware of a very familiar smell. But how did he know it? Why did he notice it? It suddenly sparked the memory in his mind. The smell belonged to the student he almost devoured just yesterday!

‘I have to get out of here, quick!’ he thought.

‘Wait, that smell is…’ Legoshi said but he was interrupted by Kibi.

‘Probably the flowers. Pretty amazing isn’t it! Well… let me just go ahead and open the door.’

As the door opened, a beautiful view of a thousand colorful flowers of all shapes, kinds and sizes greeted them. Under an arch near the entrance, a small white rabbit was holding a hose, watering the plants around the area. Legoshi recognized her at an instant. It was the rabbit girl he attacked. It was Haru. When she heard the steps, she closed the water and looked at her visitors.

‘Hello. Do you need something?’ Haru asked, smiling softly.

Legoshi was still in shock. His heart was beating fast and he began to sweat. He couldn’t believe that their paths crossed once again. But one thing was sure: he entered a place, which he should have never gone to. It was heaven… in hell…

[bug13underscore]

I’m absolutely in love with your writing! And was wondering if you could do #17- ‘Tugging on the bottom of someone’s shirt’, from the Physical Affection Promts. (I imagine that this gesture is their way of silently asking for kisses/cuddles when they don’t feel good, but maybe that’s just me).

I’d love to see you try your hand at 90’s Ot4 (Alex x Bobby x Luke x Reggie), cause young Bobby is a sweetheart in my mind. But if not it would also be cute with Alex x Luke x Reggie.

Ahhhhh I loved writing for Bobby, thank you for this request and for the compliments ����🥺🥺 Although this certainly didn’t end up taking place in the 90s, so this is like a modern AU I guess? So we’ll pretend Trevor is Bobby’s like dad or uncle or something, and the boys all know Julie!! 

I also went with the autistic Luke headcanon here and then added in Bobby with depression and Reggie with nightmares (and ADHD), although the nightmares aren’t explicitly talked about. 

As always found on AO3 here or below the cut <3

It was no secret that the four boys of Sunset Curve shared casual touches as a love language—although few people outside of their immediate friend group knew that these touches were not as platonic as they may seem. 

The four boys themselves had come up with a system, for days where words were too hard, everything was too loud, or simply not wanting to ruin a moment with speaking, they could signal to the others what they needed. One gentle pull for cuddles, two gentle pulls for kisses and one sharp pull meaning just a little space. 

-

Luke, personally, tends to favor the sharp tug. Days where everything was just a bit too much but he still wanted to soak in the reassuring presence of his boyfriends, he’d give a sharp tug on Bobby’s shirt, the boy would quietly nod before silently gaining the other boys’ attention, everyone congregating within the “living room” of their garage. 

Hushed conversations were swapped, occasionally, but generally the boys all fell into their own silent activities. Alex draped across the couch, reading from whatever book he’d picked up that morning. Reggie haphazardly sat in a way none of the boys could, usually focused on the sudoku book that Julie had gifted him. Bobby was usually the one closest to Luke, scribbling into his own personal songwriting journal, the boy had mastered writing without making any noise. He pretended it wasn’t because of the one time Luke had nearly had a meltdown when his pencil kept making a skritch skritch skritch on a day much like this, but they all knew that was exactly why. 

After some time, Luke took a deep, shuddering breath and extended his limbs out, stretching and popping from being stuck in one position for so long and inched his way over to Bobby, hooking his chin over the boy's shoulder. 

“Thanks, Bobert.” The guitarist murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his boyfriends jawline. 

“Never a problem, Lulu.” 

-

Alex, undeniably, used the one gentle tug the most out of all of them. Although the system had been designed with Alex’s panic attacks and Luke’s overload days specifically in mind, Alex had begun to use the system more liberally. 

During band movie nights, or nights when he’d gently shake the others awake, or just random times throughout the day. Cuddles slowly began to include hugs as well, or just vaguely touching in some manner. 

Alex never said anything, but the others knew that their weight and pressure eased the drummer’s nerves. They’d notice how much quicker he’d wind down if one of them even had just a hand rested on his shoulder, or a pinkie threaded through his. 

It was a Sunday when Alex had stomped in, his duffle bag being thrown to the side the second his body was through the door, and he collapsed against Reggie’s chest and gave a gentle tug to the bassist’s leather sleeve. 

“Bad time at church, love?” Reggie hummed, carding his fingers through the short blonde hair, other hand drawing patterns onto the taller ones back, sharing a look with Bobby and Luke. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” Alex muttered, burying his nose further into Reggie’s neck and winding his arms around his waist. Within minutes the blonde was asleep, but Reggie didn’t mind, he just tightened his hold on the boy and promptly followed suit, their two other boyfriends laughing lightly as they continued about their business.  

-

Bobby was a frequent user of that gentle double tug, using it to gain short, loving kisses whenever he needed. Before a show, after, during rehearsals, passing by then in the hallways (when they chose to attend school that is), or even just going about their normal domestic activities. He never said it, but his boyfriends knew him well enough by now that they knew it was usually when his depression decided to kick in, making him doubt them, doubt their love, and so they tried to make him feel as loved as possible when these times struck. 

A few days after Alex’s bad day, Bobby was coming up behind Alex while he was standing by the microwave, reheating one of the many leftovers they had, when Bobby gave the two soft tugs to the hem of Alex’s shirt, his arms wrapping around his waist. 

The blonde spun around in his arms, pulling the rhythm guitarist all the more closer and slotting their lips together sweetly. They stood there, hands wandering and lips locking until the microwave went off, breaking the two boys apart. 

“You know I love you, right babe?” Alex hummed, pressing another kiss to Bobby’s lips. 

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.” Bobby smiled back. 

“Do you wanna watch Tangled?” The blonde brought his hands up to brush stray hairs behind Bobby’s ears as he gave a small nod. “Alright, let’s go get the other two dorks.” 

-

Reggie, much to the other three’s shock, used the system the least out of all of them. They weren’t sure if it was because he had the strangest talent of being able to practically sense when one of the others needed affection, or something else, but on days where he did use the system, they made sure to make that whole day about him. 

When it happens next, it’s not even quite daytime. They’re all quickly woken up by Reggie, although not by any intention by the boy. He woke up thrashing, a short scream ripping through the air before he gasps deeply and struggles to catch his breath. His boys are on him in an instant, cooing to him softly, pressing into him to calm him down and mumbling soft words of reassurance. 

He calms down enough to find the hem of Luke’s muscle tank, giving it two sharp tugs. The brunettes brows crease in confusion, hand reaching to entangle itself with Reggie’s. 

“What’s two sharp tugs mean?” He murmured, not completely awake yet but also not quite sure if he just missed the memo.

“Talk. Please. Too quiet.” Reggie choked out, eyes beginning to glaze over as they nervously searched the three faces crowding his vision. The boys all share quick glances before they all start murmuring, their voices overlapping in a spoken symphony, full of love and warmth, harmonies intertwining as they went on. 

Reggie quickly drifted off to sleep, the others continuing to mumble until they drifted off themselves, pressed even closer together than before, limbs crossed and tucked wildly so they were each somehow touching all three others. 

Two sharp tugs, Luke thinks to himself as he begins to drift off, admiring the softness of the features of the three boys surrounding him, fill the silence. Got it.

[forgotten-daydreamer]

in defense of Allura

Disclaimer: I do not accept any kind of hatred under this post. I expect all readers to act politely toward those who don’t share their opinion, and I expect you to expose your own ideas respectfully. Toxicity is forbidden on my blog. I don't hate any character, and this is just an analysis. Anything that stimulates a mature debate is welcomed, as long as you do it politely. Thank you!

The time has come. Long enough I’ve dwelled upon the choices that the writers of VLD have made, especially in the last seasons: in this post, I’ll focus on the decisions concerning Princess Allura. 

We were introduced to Allura in the pilot of the show, and it only took a few minutes- should I say doboshes?- to understand her overall personality. The Princess stumbled out of the pod, disoriented and confused, and only an instant later- the time necessary to snap out of her groggy state- she defended herself against a possible threat, being Lance in this case: she physically overwhelmed him with only a few rapid moves, her grip on him steady. Everything about her body language and verbal language screamed “strength”, in the following scenes as well. As she remembered about her father’s death, and about her homeplanet Altea being destroyed, the initial shock faded rather rapidly, and in a few instant she recovered from it. This doesn’t mean that if she hadn’t done it she would have been weak, not at all; it means that Allura, being a leader, knew how to put her feelings aside for a better situation, in order to better focus on the mission at hand.

It’s immediately clear to us that she wasn’t minimally interested in Lance’s advances: she considered him as a teammate, and later as a dear friend, but nothing more than that was  shown in the first seasons. When Lance got badly injured, she didn’t seem too worried- though she immediately jumped into action to secure the perimeter. A couple of episodes later, when Lance exited from the healing pod, she spoke to the teen kindly, relieved that he was alright. Yet, this is not a sign of being in love: all of us would be happy if a friend of ours who was at risk was said to be finally out of the woods. 

Allura was very practical, focused on her mission: she wanted to save the universe at all cost. At the beginning, her continuous arguments with the paladins may have given the impression that she was annoying and too strict, but she was simply driven by passion and desire to prove to everyone, herself included, that she could do the right thing for the universe. Though she never made it explicit, it was obvious that Allura cared about the opinion that the others had about her (even when she simply insisted on thanking the Arusians) because she tried to overcome her own insecurities by making herself as useful as possible to the cause. Even when she “just” flew the Castleship, she always offered her support and ideas to improve training, strategies and team bonding. 

Throughout the seasons, we learnt that Allura had the tendency to blame herself, like when she thought that the Galra were tracking the team through her, for example. Allura also threw herself into battle if it meant saving the others, like when she pushed Shiro out of the way and ended up prisoner, or when she saved the Balmera and risked her own health, pushing herself too far to do the right thing and help the innocents that she couldn’t protect during the 10’000 years of absence. So, according to the evidence we had collected in the first seasons, Allura was selfless and caring, despite everything. 

And then, just when we thought we’d seen it all, Allura became the paladin of the Blue Lion of Voltron (I’ll talk about this event in Lance’s p.o.v. in a different post, don’t worry). She was uncertain at first, but ready to dive head-first into the battle, willing to learn and improve her skills. Being an Altean, she immediately connected with Blue, and everything seemed rather easy; though at the beginning her piloting skills weren’t the best, she learnt in the matter of a single episode, and if you don’t consider it quick learning, then I don’t know what it was. Added to that, Allura was also talented, “progressing a lot faster than any of [the other paladins]”, as Lance said some time later.

When Keith confessed his Galra lineage, her attitude towards him was childish, but it was how someone would have normally reacted in a similar situation. People often have a hard time accepting someone that is unwillingly part of a group whose members caused them any harm; it’s one of the principles of racism, and that’s a synonym of ignorance as well. Human minds work like that, because we all tend to associate trauma with a certain group of people, or day, or any other input: it’s despicable, and sadly most people think like that. Luckily for all the Allura stans (me included, though I stan all the main characters of this show) she overcame this issue quickly. What I like about it was that she didn’t brush it off, but she apologised to Keith in person, evidently mortified for her behaviour, and after that she moved past it, accepting her friend and overcoming their differences happily. Mature people apologise, while childish ones pretend that their mistakes didn’t happen: by making amends for her mistake, Allura showed us just how mature she is for a 18/22 year-old (we do not have an official age, so my guess is as good as yours). 

Things seemed to be going well for her: she learnt how to better manipulate quintessence, she gave Keith space when he needed to find Shiro after his mysterious disappearance, she learnt how to better pilot her Lion and so on and so forth. It was all going well, until Lotor’s arrival: then, it all started to go downhill.

Lance became inexplicably obsessed with her again, and at the same time, Lotor slowly  manipulated Allura. Now, I don’t personally like Lotor since he willingly commits genocide for his own purposes, but I will not dwell further on the topic for it’s not my main discourse now.

Lotor tricked the Princess into believing him, she played into his hands, blinded by love. Mind that when I wrote “love”, my left eyebrow rose impossibly high. In fact, Allura had never shown to be interested in love; surely enough, she was romantically (and sexually, apparently) interested in people as we have witnessed, so the possibility of a love interest wasn’t odd at all. It was just sudden. Too sudden, for my personal opinion. 

The problem I have with Lotura (Lotor x Allura, and I specify because I had to google the ship name) is that it’s based on nothing. The team was wholly against Lotor, except for Shiro who was not himself, quite literally. Allura never gave any impression of trusting people easily: not only when Keith said that he was half Galra, but also when Shiro begged her to trust Ulaz. She was hesitant and not happy about having someone she didn’t trust on board. Thus, her sudden burst of trust toward Lotor was odd, especially when it was quite obvious to most of the audience that the Galra prince was not telling the whole truth. I also wish that we got to see more interactions between Pidge and Allura and Hunk and Allura in s6 and beyond, since they rarely talked anymore despite being on the same team. Even Allura’s interactions with Coran were so diminished in number that they looked like complete strangers in the second half of the series, and it hurt. 

I mark this point as the start of Allura’s downfall: from iconic character to mere love interest, which is not wrong at all per se, but it is when any other trait and development is purposefully ignored and forgotten by the writers “for the sake of the story”.

Thankfully, Allura seemed to recover quickly after Lotor’s betrayal (the scene when she flips him like a coin? Priceless), declaring all of her hatred towards the cruelties he’d committed and how he let her down irreparably. One good thing that Lotor did- and I have to admit that it was good-  was that he made Allura discover new abilities and become stronger, powers-wise speaking. Yet, all of this was secondary to her being a love interest with no other apparent purpose. Why do I say this? Because as soon as she got rid of Lotor, she got together with Lance, and to be honest it’s not quite clear to me how or why. 

I can’t deny that when I watched s1, I was an Allurance shipper; I was sixteen, a hopeless goofball who believed in all the clichés. Now, however, I do realize that Lance’s advances were annoying and obnoxious (and he’s my absolute favourite character, so this shows you just how honest I’m being, hopefully), and that I’m so grateful that Allura didn’t give in. At least, she didn’t do it at the beginning. In the last season, however, she fell in love with Lance in a single episode: when he asked her out, she seemed hesitant and only accepted because Romelle pushed her to give it a try. The dinner sequence was where Allura understood that Lance wasn’t the womanizer she thought he was, but I don’t believe that in reality that would have changed anything. You don’t simply fall in love in one evening only because your date’s family tells you that this person isn’t what they seem; in fact, that would worry me even more, personally, because it would mean that my date is a total stranger.

Lance’s “I love you” was not completely uncalled for, but simply very confusing: he seemed to be over her, but he became jealous when Lotor showed up. I tried so hard to see this as a “protective brother/friend” dynamic, but that sentence leaves no space for speculation (again, I’ll talk about Lance another time). What shocked me was Allura reaction’s to Lance’s confession.

She’d never looked at him with any kind of romantic interest, and even if some scenes may be seen as such (when she resuscitates him. And proceeds to hide it from the team. Yeah, another huge disastrous plotline), it’s undeniable that the Princess had trust-issues, and for a good reason too. That one time that she went against her team’s choice and trusted Lotor a bit too much, she got used and heartbroken. So why was she suddenly so in love with a boy that she’d always treated as nothing more than a good friend? My answer is: bad writing.

If Allura had shown any romantic interest in Lance for at least three consecutive seasons out of eight- to create a deeper connection- I would have taken it without complaining much. If Lotor hadn’t committed genocide and didn’t proceed to use Allura, I would have accepted Lotura too (friendly reminder that I don’t do ship hate unless ships involve rape, pedophilia and incest. So I’m not hating on Allurance and Lotura, though Lotor is a villain and I don’t like him, but that’s just my opinion). If Allura was allowed to be both strong and romantically interested in anyone, I would have taken it. But especially in s8, the writers erased her personality, turning a bright and iconic character into dating material. It wasn't fair to her nor to Lance, honestly.

The last straw was her sacrifice: Allura died to save the universe and since it was her main goal, I’m okay with it, though it hurt as she’s my second favourite character. What I didn’t like about it was that the villains got a happier ending than she did. Lotor, who committed genocide, got to live happily ever after with his parents, a violent conqueror and an abusive hag who ripped the universe apart to be with her son (I get it, mothers love their kids, but this is far too extreme). And furthermore, Lotor didn’t even like his parents, but still for some reason he was happy to be with them again, maybe because at least he got to spend eternity with someone that loves him despite everything. 

Allura, however, died without saying goodbye to Coran, the man who stayed by her side for all their- but also ours- adventures, the one who believed in her the most and who did everything to protect her. She died without getting a last look at the universe she left behind, at the people who weren’t there in her final moments but that cared for her and vice versa (Shay, Romelle, even Krolia. Even the mice, Kalternecker and Cosmo, really). Each character had about a half a minute to say their goodbyes, except for Lance, whose goodbye was the longest but also the least impactful, in my opinion. The writers played too much with the dramatic idea of it and the result was sloppy- as much as I love dramatic scenes, this was purposeless. 

Allura’s last act of kindness- as if saving the whole universe and every existing reality wasn’t enough- was gifting Lance with the Marks of the Chosen. Though, I’m not sure how to interpret it. In a fic I recently wrote, I theorised that “Allura gave you [Lance] these marks because she knew that you had greatness within, and they can actively remind you of it in your darkest moments [...]”. Of course, I’m far from sure that this is the real reason. My question is, was there even a real reason, or did Allura give him the Marks for dramatic purposes? If so, I’m glad that it wasn’t confirmed officially, because at least we get to make our own theories that surely are more satisfying than “we wanted fans to cry more”. Still, I see those marks as scars, and I will talk about it thoroughly in Lance’s analysis. 

In conclusion, I don’t think that Allura was bad at all. I think that, in the end, she was simply badly written, which is entirely different.

s1-s5 Allura was a strong, compassionate, empowering, trustworthy, bright, lovable and fun character and for that, she deserved a better- much better- ending. She’ll always be in my heart, and I hope that future reboots will treat her right. 

I will always remember Allura dearly. As Coran said in the final episode, “Just around this table I see so many lives touched by her actions. For some of us, she was a diplomat, a teacher, a leader, and a friend. But to those of us around this table, she will always be family”. Raising an imaginary glass, I just want to say... “To Allura”.

[flamingo-writes]

I just discovered your blog, all I've read so far are warming my heart... could I please request a X Zoro thingy for fluffvember? A new strawhat is tasked with gathering medicinal herbs on an island for Chopper, and Zoro intends to meet up with his s/o later, but finds her hanging onto a very high branch, unable to get back down after retrieving a specific plant.

A/N: It is 2020 And I am still posting fluffvember requests omg I’m so sorry XD I suck at sticking to a schedule or a plan. I am so sorry!! 

Posted: 01.14.2020 (second post of the day! Make a wish!! This happens once every four to eight moon cycles!!)

Words: 1.6 K

Warnings: none

Ever since joining the Strawhwat Pirates, you noticed this certain affinity towards two of your crewmates. Feeling a great admiration for Chopper, and an instant attraction with Zoro. So, throughout the day you were always with either of them. Serving as Chopper’s nurse whenever he needed a helping hand, and being in an unofficial relationship with Zoro. 

By the time you reached a mysterious autumn island hidden in the mists, Chopper immediately recognised it from one of his herbal medicine books. Excited to have reached this island, Chopper asked for your help to find a very specific plant. Since you were the infamous smuggler known as Tracking Hound before joining the crew, you were known for being able to find anything you were requested to find, Chopper asked you to help him search for something.

“[Name], you think you could help me find this?” The little reindeer said showing you a picture of a very peculiar flower. Orange with long pointy petals. “This plant is great as an antibiotic! You can either make tea or ointment out of it. There isn’t a single infection that has lasted through treatments with this plant” 

“Sure…” You answered taking a closer look into the book, reading about the properties of the flower. “Where exactly can I find this?” 

“It says it grows at the top of The Orange Pine, which is said to be among the tallest pine trees” You grabbed Chopper’s book and looked at both the picture of the flower and the tree.

“Okay” You said trying to memorize the description of the tree “I look for really tall trees, and I climb them” 

“Please! Would you help me?” Chopper was slightly incredulous, since his book read the tree was approximately 260 feet tall, and cimbing that would not be easy. 

“Sure thing!” You smiled as Chopper jumped into your lap and hugged you. 

“Thank you! Thank you very much!” He squeaked happily as you hugged him back as he rubbed his cheek on yours “I’ll share my cotton candy” 

“It’s alright, You don’t have to. Besides, cotton candy is too sweet for me” You giggled breaking the hug.

After packing up essentials in your backpack, the crew soon got dispersed and swallowed by the cozy island. The gentle howling wind made cold shivers run down your spine, however it wasn’t cold enough to be a problem. All sorts of tones ranging from green to red colored the whole island. And a small town striving deep within the woods. 

But, unlike the rest of the crew, you weren’t precisely interested in the town. You were wandering, your sight climbing up the trees. Noticing how each and every tree looked ridiculously tall. But neither of them looked like the pine tree in Chopper’s book. 

On the other hand, Zoro who was going to help you find the pine, soon got lost. His usual clumsy self wandered through most of the island, accidentally coming across pines just like the ones Chopper was looking for. However, he did not know the appearance of the tree, he only knew how the flower looked like. But since the flower only grew at the very top, he remained clueless for the entire day, not realising he had before him the pine in which the rare auumn flower grew. 

As the sun reached the horizon, reay to set underneath the sea, Zoro started wondering if you’d already found anything. You had this natural talent to find things, almost as if you had a sixth sense telling you where to find anything and everything. Up to this point, you should’ve already found the flower Chopper wanted so much. 

On his way back toward the shore, Zoro couldn’t help but get more and more lost inside the woods. However, if it wasn’t for his poor sense of direction, he wouldn’t have walked by one of the tallest pine trees in the island. And if it wasn’t for his keen senses, he wouldn’t have heard your cries for help.  

“[Name]?” Zoro asked recognising a soft whimper coming from the top of the trees. “[Name]!” He shouted. 

“Zoro!” You shouted back. “Please help me!” You cried as you clung to the pine. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, worried, walking around and looking up trying to spot you among the endless maze of branches. 

“I-I...I am. B-but…”  He heard you cry as he tried looking in the general direction your voice came from.

“But what?” He shouted, as he finally saw you sitting on one of the branches holding on with everything you had to the trunk.

“I-I’m stuck! I can’t get down!” 

Zro couldn’t help but burst out laughing loudly. A keen fighter like you, and an excellent tracking hound, stuck on top of a tree. 

“Don’t laugh!” You barked “It’s embarrassing!” 

“I’m sorry [Name]” Zoro said chuckling, trying his best to stop his laugh. “How are you stuck?” He said knowing you weren’t physically stuck, since you were very swift on your feet. 

“Well...I am not stuck-stuck...I-I just don’t know how to get down” Your voice became lower and lower with embarasment as Zoro tried to listen to the very last part of your sentence. 

“Let go” He shouted.

“Are you crazy?!” You snapped at once, looking down and spotting his green hair right away. 

“I’ll catch you!” 

“I’ll get hurt!” The vertigo you felt as ou looked down made you dizzy as you hugged the trunk and shut your eyes closed. 

“You won’t!” Zoro assured you as he looked at the tree, analying the height and the few branches it grew. 

“I’m scared” You cried defeated. 

“Let go for heaven’s sake!” This time, Zoro said more annoyed than before.

“No!” 

“You’re leaving me no option!” He shouted, and the next thing you heard was the sound of him yielding one of his katana “I’ll cut the tree down!” 

“Are you nuts?! You can’t do that!” You said snapping your eyes open and trying to look back down. 

“Then let go!” 

Silence. You took far too long to answer Zoro, as he stared at you. However, you were unable to speak as the fear clung to your shoulders like a corpse. 

“[Name]! You hear me?” Zoro asked, and it took you another few seconds to answer with a shaky voice. 

“Yes” 

“Then? Will you let go?” His patience was growing short, and since you didn’t seem to answer any more, he stood back, getting ready in a comfortable position before blowing an attack and cutting down the tree.

“No” You barked.

“I’m cutting the tree then” He threatened one last time, and as you saw him from the top, in a single second, the possible outcome played in your mind. 

“No! No! Wait!” You cried scared at the high chance of you getting badly hurt. 

“Goddammit, woman!” Zoro hissed looking back up, and somewhat looking at you as you exchanged stares. 

“Alright! I will, okay?” You finally yelled “Promise me you’ll catch me!” 

“I promise” He said putting down his katana back in its case and standing closer to the tree.

“You sure?” Your voice shook once more.

“Do you not trust me?” He said, measuring the distance of your exact location. 

However, he waited for our answer. And for a brief second he got distracted, only to be pulled back to reality by a high pitched scream. He looked up and saw you falling. A sudden burst of adrenaline hit him as he stretched his arms and bent his knees a bit, getting ready for the impact. 

Your voice getting closer and closer very fast. You fell into his arms as he swiftly caught you, and fighting the force from the fall. He held you close to his body as he kneeled and put you on the ground. 

“For fucks sake, [Name]” He sighed deeply “You’re unbelievable” He said in a low voice.

“Stop it” You cried, holding on to your backpack and refusing to look at Zoro.

“Fine. I’m sorry!” Zoro hissed “I’m sorry, darling. Are you okay?” His voice softened. 

You nodded, as Zoro leaned forward kissing your forehead and standing up. You looked up at him as he offered you his hand, helping you up. 

“C’mon. Let’s head back” He said.

“Zoro?” He started walking, god knows where he was heading, and stopped until you called his name. 

“Hm?” He hummed.

“Thank you” You said, as he turned around and looked at you.

“It’s nothing” Your eyes were fixed on him, and he tried keeping up with the sweet stare you were giving him. However, the overflowing tenderness was making him shy “What?” 

You walked closer to him and leaned closer. You kissed the corner of his lip and hugged him tightly. He looked at you before looking away, feeling his face grow hotter.

“C’mon. Everyone must be waiting for us” Zoro whispered as you nodded and silently and broke the hug. 

You grabbed Zoro’s hand gently and pulled him into the right direction. You kept thanking him every now and then as he’d simply squeeze your hand. 

“It’s nothing” He said a few times. 

Before you made it back to the Sunny, Zoro stopped you, still inside the forest, and pulled you closer, stealing a very needy kiss. A kiss he’d been avouring since you teased him by kissing the corner of his mouth. 

He was a blushy mess, and he could tell. However, the sunset hitting the autumn island filled the entire view with orange. The golden lighting made it hard for you, or anyone, to notice the blush in his cheeks as he walked back to the ship with you. 

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [9]

Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

➜ Warning: Intoxication. 

cr.

The phone rings.   It wakes you, deafeningly loud. It shakes you in the middle of your slumber. Usually, you’re the one dialing, but you don’t dwell. With one eye open, you grab your phone off the nightstand.   “Hello?”   “Hello?”    The voice on the other line is unmistakable. “Hi, is this Ms. Y/N?”   “Yes, it is.” You clear your throat, trying to rid of the grogginess. “How may I help you?”   “I’m the casting director for the original production of When Summer Meets Winter here in New York. We were wondering if you were still interested and willing to set up a convenient date to meet and audition for a main role.”   “W-what?” You sit up, hauling the rest of your limbs that are still asleep. Your mouth opens and closes, brows furrowing, wondering if this is a dream. “I mean….I would love to!”   “Great, I look forward to meeting you soon.”   “I just—” You rub your swollen eyes, utterly confused. The opportunity fell straight into your lap out of nowhere. “I didn’t even put in an application. I didn’t sign up, so I’m just wondering how you got in touch with me….”   It’s not possible that the director would actually give you a referral. But why would someone reach out to you like this? It’s never happened before. It’s never happened to anyone before. No one like you without any fame or recognition.   “Well, aren’t you the voice of Erik, the Phantom in Phantom of the Opera?”   The line goes silent. Your mind is reeling.   “Pardon?”   //   “The Phantom of the Opera production proved to be a lackluster performance and has an even more uninspired director—” Seokjin looks away from his phone, jaw dropped to the ground. He’s offended to no end. “Lackluster?! Lackluster?! She complimented me! What the hell is this?!”   Taeyeon takes away the phone from his hand and continues to read for herself.   Her eyes skim along the blog post to pick up where he stopped. “The casting was severely shortsighted and purely on appearance alone without consideration for talent. They were unable to cast a sufficient troupe and failed to see that it is talent that makes audiences stay.”   “Oh my god. This is ridiculous!” Seokjin slaps his palm against his forehead, turning around in complete disbelief. He is stunned to silence.   “Now I am able to understand how one of the most popular musicals known to the mainstream could do so poorly in Broadway theater here in New York. But the production...doesn’t go without surprises.” Taeyeon pauses and everyone around is on the edge of their seats, breaths held in their throat. She inhales and continues to read, articulating carefully. “The only redeeming quality of the production was the wonderful and rather charming singing. But all the credit is not due to the dull actors or stale taste of the director. It is credited to the ghost singer, Y/N…”   Heads turn. Eyes pinpoint to you.   You hold the spotlight that’s coloured red — painting you into a demon that’s crawled from out of hell, someone worthy of their hatred and disgust. This is the attention you never desired.   They regard you with spite, animosity, malice.   Director Kang swipes the phone out of Taeyeon’s grasp. He looks at it and continues reading silently. A muscle in his cheek twitches. There’s murmuring amongst the crowd. He swallows hard and decides to repeat it out loud, as if to let the simmering anger purposely over-boil.   “The real singer of Phantom is disguised as an innocent intern who sweeps the floor and does coffee runs. It was revealed to me after the show while I was still recovering from the physical torture of being seated in such a corny performance. Y/N approached me out on the street when I was caught unaware. While I was unable to make further contact with the ghost singer afterwards, the claim was indeed confirmed by inside sources I was able to obtain.”   All of it is exposed — how Seokjin has a speaker within his clothes, how the pitch is turned down, how you’re the one behind the curtain.   The secret is out. It’s been revealed to the world.   The curtain’s been pulled while you’re in the middle of a lyric, and now you’re suddenly center stage with the red spotlight and the faceless audience watching.   Director Kang scrolls to the end of the critic’s article. His voice is quiet, a murmur, slow to read like he wants everyone to hear. He wants you to hear.   “I found myself constantly wondering when it would be over. Ultimately, even the tender singing of the ghost singer could not make up for the empty performance. However, it is spectacular how they could turn such a beloved, well known musical into a boring travesty. I would recommend it to anyone who would like an inauthentic experience and who suffers from insomnia as it would certainly put them to sleep…”   The director suddenly slaps the phone to Seokjin’s chest.   The actor winces and takes it back. You flinch as well.   The pointed glare is narrowed in on you. His jaw is clenched, teeth gritted.   It’s a mistake — you can fix this. You didn’t mean what you said. It came out when you were furious and not thinking. Maybe you can go see Min Yoonji, tell her it was all a misunderstanding and she’ll take down the blog post!   Yet, you can’t utter these things. You can’t beg your way out of it.   It was chaos when you came, people staring, murmuring. It’s been spread everywhere already, not just contained within this production. Everyone knows now — the entire community of Broadway.   You’ve single-handedly ruined this production with your recklessness. You’ve illegitimized their production, and with the anger in their stares, you know you’ve destroyed their livelihood.   You’ve wrecked it all.   But there’s no noise of the destruction. There is deafening silence in the studio.   “Clean out your stuff.”   “Director—”   “Enough. Get out.” He points to the door. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”   It’s the worst. There’s no yelling, screaming. He doesn’t even throw a chair like he once did to an actor with a supporting role who failed to show up during dress rehearsal. There’s nothing.   You’ve always envisioned yourself leaving this job with a role in hand, having a secure future, knowing you’d make it on Broadway like they did. You’d be able to walk with your head held up high. You’d hear people’s reluctant praises, grumbling about how you actually did it. The director would nod his head in approval. Seokjin and Taeyeon would offer a small smile.   It was your dream — what you imagined on hard days. It’s what Jimin had accomplished.   But the reality is that you’re cleaning out your belongings while crying. You empty the locker you were once so excited to have. There’s no acknowledgment, no pitiful stares or goodbyes of the people you’ve worked with for the past year.   Twelve months. Three hundred sixty five days. Eight thousand sixty hours. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. Thirty-one million five hundred forty thousand seconds.   It was the job that you hated. The one that you loved. The one you were so happy to get.   You’re fired just like that, gripping your cardboard box, absolutely humiliated.   Even as you leave the studio, up the stairs and into the lobby, you can hear the whispers. You can feel people’s eyes following your backside.    In the snap of a finger, the span of one morning, you are fired.   //   The rosette wine tastes disgusting.   It sits heavy on your tongue, bitter on your lips and dries out your mouth to the back of your throat. It’s a taste you have yet to acquire, but maybe you’ll find at the bottom of the bottle.    You grip the neck, taking another swig. It’s a disgusting mouthful as if you’re downing mouthwash after making out with a stranger at a club and you’re still able to feel their bad breath on your own. But instead of making those reckless decisions in an attempt to find instant gratification, you’re sitting on the floor of your bathroom in the dark.   It’s comforting. You can’t see anything. Hopefully, if you drink enough, you won’t feel anything either.   “Bitch, who do you think you are?” you ask yourself, and respond to yourself. It’s a one woman show. A one way conversation. “You’re talentless, poor, and now jobless. Congratulations to a new low.”   You toast yourself with another swig.   This wine is probably the last thing you’ll buy in a while. It’s your final purchase, one you shouldn’t have gotten, but that you desperately needed. What you have saved isn’t even enough to pay the rent at the end of this month.   You should go home.    “Home? Fuck.” The back of your head hits against the wall and you sigh. “They don’t want me there.”   But if you don’t go home, what are you supposed to do here?   Oh yeah...you have that one audition. They called you this morning.   But they don’t want you for you. You didn’t earn it through merit. It’s because you’re popular news, a scandal they can capitalize on and use as a method of publicity. You didn’t get it because of your own talent or skill.    You start sniffling. “Oh shit…”   Quickly, you take another drink before you can burst into tears. You swallow past the thick lump forming in your throat, letting your eyes sting. You won’t cry — you already did enough of that earlier.   You don’t want something like that. To go to an audition where they won’t take you seriously, where their sole purpose is to satisfy their own curiosity. Where you’re Y/N, the ghost singer. Not Y/N, the aspiring actress.   Fuck — you take another sip — you have no job, no real auditions, no work. If you stay, you’ll have to give up on Broadway. Maybe you’d find work elsewhere, at some company, an office job at a cubicle. It doesn’t sound so bad halfway through the rosette.   A nine to five job would be stable. You’d hate it. But at least you’d have some income.   You take another drink with a sigh, and another, and another. Until you come up empty. Until the bitter liquid doesn’t meet your lips anymore. You tip the bottle over your lap with a giggle, and when nothing is spilled, you realize that it’s all finished. Perhaps you could go to the convenience store and find something else to drink…..   But your train of thought is suddenly interrupted.   It’s perfect timing.   You can hear the sound of water running between the walls of your apartment, trickling down the pipes in steady streams. But the noise is joined with someone’s muffled voice. It’s faint, but audible, a sweet tone leaking past the walls.   Jimin’s singing in the shower.   His bathroom is placed right next to yours, both a coincidence and a rather big invasion of privacy. The wall between your apartment seems to be especially thin here too despite it being a place where pipes should run. But it’s echoing, his singing melody quiet, though still discernible.   “In my life, she has burst like the music of angels, the light of the sun. And my life seems to stop as if something is over and something has scarcely begun.”   You gather your knees together, listening carefully. It’s nice. But Jimin’s voice has always been pleasant to the ears.   “In my life. There is someone who touches my life. Waiting near.”   “Waiting here…” you finish singing the phrase, closing your eyes to savour the melody.   “A heart full of love. A heart full of song.” You murmur after him, a duet that he’s unaware of. “I'm doing everything all wrong…”   You hate that you hate him. You hate that it turned out this way. You hate yourself for hating Jimin.   And with that hatred, you find the strength to get on your feet again, stumbling upwards.   He once came pounding at your door when he heard your voice. Now it’s you who’s coming after hearing his voice. It’s close to midnight, but you knock on Jimin’s door like a crazed man.   “Jimin! Jimin, come out!” You drum against the surface of his door with your closed fist. You miss him. You miss him so much that it hurts. “Right now!”   Jimin opens the door and finds you staring at him.   “Y/N?”   You reach over to hug him, wasting no time to envelop his torso in a tight embrace. Your arms wrap around his body, uncaring that the dark strands of his hair continues to drip — he’s always toweled off his head haphazardly; you often worried he’d get sick from it.   He’s shirtless, just in his pajama pants, but you don’t care about that either. It’s actually kind of nice to see him without his shirt, but you don’t want to admit that out loud. Instead, your cheek unabashedly squishes against the skin of his chest. He smells of shampoo and orange soap. And he’s as warm as you remember. Toasty like a sizzled out campfire that just had a roaring flame.    You’ve been wanting to hold him again ever since he held you in the backseat of that taxi.   He’s caught off guard, stiffening automatically. But his senses pick up the scent of something familiar radiating off of you. Alcohol. “Are you drunk?”   Oh yeah. You’re supposed to be pissed at him.    “What’s the matter with you, huh?”   “What?”   You let go, stepping back and pointing your finger right at his face. It’s hard to point when he keeps swaying back and forth, or rather it’s you who’s swaying, balance completely off. But you manage to bring your index finger right between his eyebrows where that knot usually forms when he frowns. You hate that knot. “The hell’s wrong with you, Park?”   Your voice is slurring. You’re tipping from side to side. Jimin is utterly confused.   You lower your arm with an exasperated sigh. You wish he just got it — that he could read your mind. You hate having to explain. “Why’d you stay with me when I got this removed, huh?”   You point to your stomach, finger circling the general area of where your stupid appendix used to be.    “You’re not making any sense.” Jimin cringes at how loud you’re being and looks down the hall to see if there’s anyone there. He takes a sigh of relief when there’s no one angry enough to make a noise complaint and his hand reaches out to take you inside his apartment. “Y/N—”   But you flinch back and wag your finger at him. “Nuh-uh. Don’t touch!”   “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”   “Don’t wanna get confused,” you scold him. He was such a sly dog. “Naught, naught, Minnie. Wanna make my head more of a mess than it already is...”   “Can you at least come inside?” he coaxes gently after realizing you’re completely barefoot in your pajamas, your toes sticking out from the end of your pants. It looks cold, and he quickly steps back to give you space.   You oblige, but enter only enough to shut the door. You wanna be able to escape if you need to….though you’re not sure where the door knob is. He could probably stop you if he wanted to.   “Were you drinking by yourself?” he asks, searching your expression.   “Why?” Your head quirks and your lips pout. “Why’d you care about me?”   He swallows hard and scratches the back of his neck. “I’ll always care about you, Y/N.”   “You oughta hate me.”   Jimin holds your stare, completely calm. His brown eyes are gorgeous. They remind you of a puppy’s. And you kind of want to ruffle his damp hair with your fingers. “I don’t hate you.”   “But, but,” you blubber. He still doesn’t get it. “You’re supposed to! It’s only natural.”   He smiles softly, eyes lit with mirth and amusement. “Why is it natural?”   “Cause I’m so mean!” you cry out. It’s official. Park Jimin is dumb and needs you to spell everything out for him. “Told you I hate you. That you were annoying and bothersome and, and irritating, and that I regret teaching you, and how we’re not even friends, and we’re strangers, and that you’re annoying, and bothersome, and irritating—”   “Okay, okay. I get it.” He laughs tenderly, like he’s having fun watching you, and that’s annoying.   “Does that not bother you?”   “It does.” Jimin locks his eyes with yours again. His voice softens. “It does…”   “But you don’t hate me?”   He shakes his head. He didn’t even need to think about it.   But you already knew his answer.   Automatically, you burst out into tears. Jimin’s alarmed at once, eyes wide, nearly falling out of their sockets. His palms lift, but he remembers your warning of not wanting to be touched, so he doesn’t lay a finger on you. But he’s still at a loss, not knowing what to do, reduced to awkwardly fumbling the air.    “Y/N, a-are you okay? W-What’s wrong? Are you hurt?!”   You hiccup, numb to the feeling of patheticness. But then you feel a sudden urgency. “T-There’s something I wanna tell you. It’s really, really, really important!”   Jimin nods slowly and puts down his hands as you wipe your eyes with the long sleeve of your pajama shirt. “What is it?”   “I!” You point to yourself and then point to him. “Love! Your! Voice!”   Jimin blinks.   You continue like it’s something you must get off your mind before you forget, “I never got to say — you have such a good tone. It’s sweet. Like sponge cake. And it’s natural. I’m jealous.”   Your sniffle and sigh, lolling your head to the side. You think about it for a moment and then hum, once again confirming your own opinion. There’s no way in this world that you can be wrong. You’ll stand with your beliefs until the end of time. “Your tenor is so nice. It’s purple.”   “Purple?”   The corner of Jimin’s mouth curls, brow lifted.   “Purple!” you tell him quickly, as if you’re afraid of dying and fearful that no one gets to hear this secret. “The colour of your voice is purple.” You pop the ‘p’s with your lips and giggle tearfully. It bubbles out like the fizz of the wine and instantly, Jimin smiles. “You have beautiful voice colour.”   “What’s your colour?” he asks quietly, all too curious.   “Orange, obviously.” You can’t believe he doesn’t know. This wasn’t new news.   “Duh.” Jimin plays along with a heartfelt laugh.   “Duh!” you repeat after him with an enormous grin. “But I don’t like it as much.”   “Why not?”   “Cause I love purple!”   Your finger peeks out of your sleeve again. This time, it isn’t to point at his face but to jut at his chest, poke right over where his heart is. You smile up at him and Jimin notices how moist your eyes are, glassy almost. He can see each of your lashes when you’re this close, and he can’t help letting his eyes run over the slope of your nose to your cupid’s bow.    Your lips look soft. A bit stained from the wine. You have an intoxicating scent that isn’t from the alcohol alone. He has an urge to pull you in close by the waist, the small of your back, to breathe in deeply, and to kiss you.   Jimin wants to kiss you. He has since the first time he heard you sing and wanted to hear your voice muffled between his lips. He hasn’t — only yearned to. But it’s difficult to push away the longing at this moment. Though he swallows hard and dispels the thoughts away.    He won’t kiss you. Not tonight at least.   For now, he’ll hang onto how your voice calls his name, the slurred sound of you telling him you love his voice, the way your lips form when you say that his voice is purple — and the noise you make when you giggle and confess how much you love that colour.

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 44: Gangsta’s Paradise - Part 2

Time becomes strange. Things seem to move painfully slow, but also faster than Shizuka can react. All she can do is watch the curious, organic glow of the chandelier’s pulse.

She had jumped to kick the preacher man in the face, and was satisfied to feel her shin connect with his jaw. But in the next instant, she faltered, sensing none of the familiar feedback. The old man didn’t reel back or yelp in pain. Instead, Dust keeps smiling, though the predatory look remains in his eyes. The wrinkles on the left side of his face become clear; the skin around his jowl is now smooth, a little strip of his beard now colored dark a light shade of grey instead of white, incongruent with the rest of his aged appearance.

The organic chandelier that is his Stand pulsates, as if a ghostly heart beats within it.

Brother Dust reaches out a lazy hand, and as she descends to the ground, the old man gently strokes her calf with the back of his hand. Sick chills run up Shizuka’s spine, and a CRACK fills the air. She thinks first to look for broken glass. Then the pain crawls up from her leg and fills her brain.

Shizuka hits the ground, and GANGSTA'S PARADISE flashes at its brightest. She hears a scream that may be her own, but she has no time to consider it as an explosion of colored light ripples out from the unearthly chandelier. Shizuka turns her face away as the ripples extend outward, shutting her eyes.

When she opens them, she yelps and raises her fist at the face that appears right in front of her. But instead she finds her own visage staring back at her, reflected in something that appears to be glass, but definitely isn’t.

She leaps away and howls when her broken leg bends beneath her weight. Her back strikes the opposing wall and the wind is knocked out of her. She fights to catch it and her bearings. Once she readjusts herself, Shizuka is stunned at where she finds herself.

It is a room of mirrors. Not only the four walls, but also the ceiling and floor are perfect, clear mirrors. Shizuka pulls herself up to stand on her good foot, keeping one hand pressed against the wall. When she looks at the wall, her twin in the mirror presses her palm against hers. She looks down and the reflection looks up. They watch each other become dizzy, as their only footing is the sole of the other’s foot. At the center of it all lingers the glowing chandelier.

WELCOME TO MY WORLD.

The voice is a dreadful whisper which batters her eardrums and makes her scream in shock and pain. She falls to the floor again, and the voice, Brother Dust’s voice, speaks again, seeming to come from inside her own head.

This is the world created by GANGSTA’S PARADISE. In this space, EVERYTHING is turned on its head. Time. Space. Matter. Even reality itself. No-one has ever seen this place and lived to tell about it. But you can, Shizuka Joestar… You still have a chance. But if you reject it.... you will die here. Alone. And afraid.

Shizuka staggers to her knees and stares all around. She cannot see Dust. He is a disembodied voice, untouchable. She looks down at her leg. A shard of bone pokes out from the flesh, and blue fluid drips from the end of it. With a shivering hand, she dabs at the dark blue that runs down to her ankle.

“Is that… my blood?... but, I... why is it...?”

She is now very afraid. She does not understand what’s happening. She shivers and her breath is wild and unsteady. A familiar impulse calls out to her, one she has known since before she can remember. The urge to turn invisible. Almost beyond her control, she feels the ability take effect, ACHTUNG BABY manipulates the light around her to make her disappear.

And then a cloak of darkness covers her sight and she goes blind.

“Aaah…!!” she shrieks. “What’s happening now…?!” She grasps the air in front of her, trying to find purchase. Her fingers brush against something like a curtain, then she recoils. Still, she can’t see, but the movement of the cloth reveals to her what is standing in front of her. Brother Dust has emerged from whatever realm he disappeared into and stands before her in physical form.

Unbeknownst to Shizuka, rather than turning invisible, her body shines from within, becoming a human beacon. He stands over her and looks at his reflection in the mirror wall, touching the newly youthful portion of his face while muttering to himself.

“Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him… I must say, though, very nice,” he says, looking down at Shizuka. “It's been quite a while since I've had skin this smooth. Hey, do you think you could get the other side of my face? Just to even things out…”

“What did you do to me?!!” she yells. She keeps her fists up, but makes no attempt to lash out at her unseen enemy.

“Oh? I thought that I said so already. This is my power: GANGSTA'S PARADISE. An extraordinarily weak Stand, with no destructive power at all. All it does is put things in reverse. But don’t misunderstand, I don’t mean ‘reversing’ in the way one might rewind a video tape! GANGSTA'S PARADISE does not affect the actions themselves, but rather, the intent that drives them!”

When Shizuka doesn’t respond, he continues, “I can see you’re still confused. Allow me to instead demonstrate: I’m going to shatter that leg of yours even worse,” he declares, a dark menace entering his tone.

She senses him raising his foot, but reacts too slowly. Her mind is shuddering, the shock making her limbs slow. She feels the rush of air as Dust brings his foot and screams before he makes contact with her leg, stomping right on her exposed bone. “AAAAGHH!!”

But the strike doesn’t hurt. She feels a burning sensation in her leg, but not the white-out agony she expected. “What…?” she whispers as Dust steps away from her. When she reaches down and touches her leg, she feels the bone retracting back in place. Even the dark blue blood has returned to her veins, as she feels her leg is dry and whole.

“When you strike at someone, your intent is to cause harm,” Dust says, crouching over her, “whether with fists, blades or bullets, in your heart, you desire to cause harm to your neighbor. GANGSTA’S PARADISE turns that desire on its head: transmuting the intent to harm into an action that heals.”

“Th-that doesn’t explain the mirror world…! Or my eyes…!!!” Shizuka spits, shrinking away from the preacher.

“Places have intent as well,” Dust answers, explaining slowly as if talking to a small child. “GANGSTA’S PARADISE acts upon the space around it, resulting in this dizzying place. An impossible world, where I hold sway… As for your eyes, you mustn’t blame that on me. It’s simply your own power working against you. How pitiful…!”

“What do you mean…?”

“You need to think about it! I heard you were clever…! Did you know that you’re glowing right now?”

“Eh…?” she says, confused.

“Ah, nevermind! You’re under some stress right now. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, eventually. Let’s come back to harm and healing,” Dust stands and straightens the front of his long coat, sounding vexed. “You may ask, who in this world can attack another without harmful intent behind their actions? And what can a person do when their intentions are constantly turned on their heads? The answers are: nobody, and nothing. There is nothing you can do. Nothing except surrender, or die.”

“Wanna bet…?!” she blusters, standing up and testing the strength of her newly healed leg, but still shining and blind. “You bastard… I told you I’d kick your ass… now I’ll do it twice as hard!!!”

“My parents were happily married, thank you!” Dust laughs. “It seems you’re still too stressed to understand. You’re only alive because I allow it to be so. And I allow it because I’m trying to give you another chance.”

Dust moves away from Shizuka, pulling a little black book out of his tunic. She pants in pain, and hears the shifting of paper as he opens it up.

“How well do you know the Good Book?” Shizuka doesn’t answer, her blind eyes shut in spite of him. “Ha…! No matter. You’ll know all you’ll need to before too long.”

The old priest walks towards the mirrored wall, then stops just before his reflection and turns to face Shizuka again “One hour. That is the time you get to make a decision. You can either join my cause, or die here. I hate to waste a talent like yours, but the decision is up to you.”

As he steps backwards into the mirror, he performs the sign of the cross and recites a Latin chant. “In nomine Patris, et Fili…”

Spiritus Sancti.

Shizuka is alone again, with nothing but her frantic breath and fear. She grips her leg, healed by a punch, and squeezes it hard. She cannot see. Yet in the darkness, she sees Dust’s smirking face. She grits her teeth, feeling a black pit hollow out her insides.

And then the voice returns. It whispers right next to her, but when she throws her hand out to strike, there is nothing but air. She puts her hands to her ears, but doing so only penetrates her ears even worse, the sound seems to broadcast directly from her palms.

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

She sees him. Her eyes are blind, but she can see his face, leering at her from the infinite mirrors. The same sneer, repeated over countless lenses. Like the infinite staircases of MC Escher, imagery that boggles the mind and confuses the senses. Shizuka was trapped in this world distorted by Brother Dust, where he is lord and master.

[nitholites]

Assuming someone in the BatFam is the end game:

It's been only a week or so since Tony figured out who Ladybug is

She's captured everyone's hearts, but has to go to Gotham soon

For help, but also because of her internship

The Stark Gala becomes a 'you better live and come back one day, Mari or I STG' party, hosted by Tony Stark, of course

She makes all the outfits of the Starks, her parents, herself, Jagged, Penny, Luka, and Kagami (the last two friends minus Chloe from Paris) and she makes extra in case someone has a wardrobe malfunction

Meanwhile, the Waynes have heard a lot about the newest Stark: MDC

Tim is a fanboy. He's found everything related to his favorite rock star's designer/niece there is to find ("I'm not obsessed! They're just super talented, and I'd like something from them! Stop laughing at me, Dick!")

Dick has no room to tease him, as both him and Jason are pretty much in the same boat

Kor'i and Mar'i love MDC, as well

Every one of the Bats are huge Jagged Stone fans

Like... Nearly rabid

(Damian, Bruce, and Alfred redact that statement)

They're invited to Tony's gala thing (he only started it to surpass the Wayne Gala, like the Lil Shite he is)

The night of the party, only Bruce and Jason go, since the rest of the bats are busy

Bruce, Jagged (who brought Fang), and Tony are all chatting in the middle of the floor, 2/3rds of the group are just talking up Marinette

Jason, meanwhile, accidentally runs into this small, adorable child who proceeds to spill her punch all over his suit

He insists it's fine, but she won't take 'no' for an answer ("I am so sorry, please let me make it up to you" "Kid, it's fine, accidents happen" "No, seriously, let me help")

There's a look in her eyes that insists she do something, and he eventually agrees

Cue to Marinette having a suit jacket that matches and fits Jason because "You look like you're the same build as Mr. Stark (she's all for joining Peter in calling Tony 'Mr. Stark' to get under his skin)"

"you know Tony?"

She shrugs, and doesn't comment anymore on it

"give me your address, and I'll bring this back when it's clean again. I'm moving to Gotham for a while soon, anyway"

He does, she doesn't realize he's a Wayne, and they part when the party ends

Cue the entire BatFam sprinting into Jason's room, chasing after a full on scream

Like, they didn't know Jason's voice could get "so high and squeaky, what the hecc?"

They pause as they see Jason litterally jumping up and down

"What the hell, Todd."

Instead of answering, he shoves the jacket in Tim's face with a shite-eating grin

It takes a moment, but Tim scowls and pulls out his wallet

When the rest of the family only look confused, Tim sighs and explains

"He got an MDC original first."

"...you had a bet on that?"

Jason freezes, eyes widening

"HOLY SH*T, I MET THE MDC! SHE WAS SO TINY, OH MY GOD, BATS, WE HAVE TO ADOPT HER!"

They're confused for a solid minute

"YOU DONT UNDERSTAND SHES AN ANGEL AND HAS BLACK HAIR AND BLUE EYES!! SHE'S OBVIOUSLY A WAYNE!"

It takes all of Bruce's willpower not to adopt her on the spot when she visits them

Like, he almost brings up adoption papers

But he knows Stark would fight tooth and nail to keep this baby

So he restrains himself

(for now)

(he swears if one of his children doesn't marry her, he's bringing the adoption papers to court)

She doesn't stay long, only meeting all the Waynes at the house and going back to her hotel

The next day, a villain goes after Mar'i, near the park/mall/something Marinette is by

Instead of becoming Ladybug, she heccin kicks arse

As Marinette

She gets both her and Mar'i out of danger without a scratch using a yo-yo of all things and meets Batman and Robin as they clean up the rest

She's all like "no, it's alright, I'm sure anyone would do the same please stop thanking me, my family's gonna kick my ass to next year for scaring them like this"

Bats comes up and takes her statement, and she happens to mention the situation in Paris

"oh, this was nothing compared to some of the Akuma I've faced" "What's an akuma?" She paled, eyes widening in shock. "You don't know? About Ladybug, Chat Noir, Ryuuko, Viperion, Queen Bee, Red Wasp, Multimouse, Hawkmoth, Mayura, Carapace, Rena Rouge, and all them?"

She explains a little, giving basic information everyone knew, then shows him the app she made a while ago

The Akuma Alert app that held much more than just akuma-related things

She leaves soon after, and Batman has a goal in mind

Within the day, Diana is furious at the lack of response towards the Paris situation

"This Ladybug was left alone for all this time?! Shame on you all, leaving my mother's successor alone!"

When Ladybug is later spotted (hehe, get it?) in Gotham, the entire BatFam finds her and gets her in touch with the League

She explains how she asked both the League and the Avengers for help, all those years ago, and was pushed aside with warnings not to send in prank calls anymore

Of course, Iron Man has already looked into it, but he's not exactly a detective and the more brains on this, the better

Meanwhile, as civilians...

The normal shipping stuff happens

With the exception that nearly every criminal in Gotham low-key adopts Marinette

They may think she's the next Wayne, but the Angel of Gotham is off limits

And not because the little Wayne chases after anyone who even looks at her wrong with a katana

Not just as Robin. As Damian

Marinette actually meets a few villains on the street

She was going to a commission, carrying some hero, vigilante, and villain themed macaroons when she got lost

(before meeting the Waynes officially, actually)

She was in a park, looking lost when Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn came up

She offered treats, and ever since she's the Angel of Gotham

Once, when on a date with her romantic interest, Killer Croc tried taking the restaurant hostage after robbing a bank

Key word: tried

Marinette calmly slipped behind him, grabbed his tail, and dragged his butt outta there

(he blames the fast French girl and the tile on the floor, which didn't let him get a good grip)

By the time Bats and the police got there, Croc was in tears as this tiny French girl lectured him about manners and interrupting dates

(the BatFam can't think of a funnier time)

When the Joker actually kidnaps her as a way to get to Batman, literally everyone rages a rescue mission

Harley, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze (Marinette reminds him of the daughter he's always wanted, with his frozen wife), Two-Face (Marinette talked philosophy with him, showing him he still had choices beyond the black and white), Killer Crock (who was impressed by the tiny French girl who threw him out of a restaurant by his tail that one time), Batman, Robin, the Teen Titans, Red Hood, Red Robin, Wonder Woman (she could feel Tikki's influence on Marinette and guessed her identity), Nightwing, all the Avengers, Red Wasp (Chloe, with the Bee Miraculous because she earned it back ages ago), Sabine (no one messed with her baby. No one), a teenage boy wielding a potato gun (who let this kid here?), Pepper, Penny (the two women were fast friends, bonding over their husbands' eccentric ways), Jagged with Fang, Audrey Bourgeois, and the entire police force storm the Joker's hideout

He didn't have a chance

Later, they admit it was kinda funny watching the small Sabine beating the crap out of the deranged clown

Fang, who was usually a puppy with scales, didn't hesitate to bite off the Joker's hand, reminiscent of Captain Hook and the Croc

Marinette's fine (or not, depending on how much angst you want in the story. It's easy to have her tourtured and nearly killed in the Joker's clutches {or actually killed and focused on angst from everyone who knew her [possible heavy Lila/class salt]} and see her move past her PTSD) and she gets home eventually

Around this time, she's made the Guardian of the Miraculous

She eventually goes back to Paris with her huge family (or everyone she thinks could keep their emotions in check)

They kick Gabriel's arse, but Adrien gets away with his mother (who was healed by Ladybug)

Possible second book

Marinette's ship becomes the Black Cat

Time skip, fiveish years later, some of Marinette's classmates see her for the first time since she left

They insult and sass her, not changed since school

Her S/O scowls and debunks them easily, defending Marinette

When they don't stop, Marinette's S/O calls Bruce, Tony, Jagged, and the rest of the League and the Avengers to destroy the morons in the class because they know how long they've waited for this moment

Mari puts her head in her hands, but doesn't stop them because she knows how long they've waited for this moment

Three hours later, the speeches and lectures aren't done yet

Lila eventually goes to Gotham or wherever Marinette is, and tries to warn the person on her arm about Marinette's 'bulling tendencies'

That gets another lecture

Or, her class gets a tour at either SI or WE, depending on when in the story you write it (could be both, and the class just doesn't learn or Tony, Pepper, and their kids were visiting WE to talk about Mari Protection Measures when they overhear it)

Lila goes off on how Mari's S/O is actually Lila's, or how she's BFFS with Batman/Iron Man/ Bruce Wayne and his kids/ Tony Stark and his kids/ the Avengers/ the Justice League

Cue the class seeing Mari

Instant bullying

The resident children and billionaire steps up, insulting and embarrassing the class while defending Mari

Lila tries to turn it around, but they're having none of that

First the kids jump at the chance to defend their little sister and/or girlfriend, then the big guns show up

At WE, it's Bruce, a highly protective Jason, and Tim, who has every single sin/mean thing/lie pulled up in a folder

It's thicker than his hand, and hard to hold

It's both in digital and physical form and sent to every single member of Mari's family- blood related or not

At SI, it's Tony and Pepper

FRIDAY steps up, too

Harley shoots Lila with the potato gun mk 3 until she leaves

The class don't know what they did wrong, but they swear to make it up just to get the scary CEOs and relatives

Also, if anyone knows the AU where Marinette was a street kid with Jason and his little sister (I can't remember who made it or what it was called, but I fell in l o v e), that could work with this one too. Jason would be so proud of his Lil sister being so famous and awesome and "how dare you let me think you were dead!! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!" "I made you worried?! You up and nearly got killed last I checked!"

Jason swore not to tell her he actually died once. He prays she never finds out.

@tired-butterfly @evil-elf16 @doggiediva13 @krispydefendorpolice @mochegato @legallyspawned @kryptored

[benjaminkido]

Wrote this about a a year or so ago, should I finish it?

He sees all within his path

Past, present, future

Not many have been able to undermine his ability

Realities play in his head like songs, each predictable. Verse, chorus, bridge, end.

He was waiting for the right tune.

There was a song he saw that he could not ignore

The tune could not shake him

He knew that this had to play out, no skipping, no saving for later.

He had to cross paths with the Seeker of Limitless Passion

The seeker would not give up on his quest. His love almost infinite, only relenting to the fact that it could not be returned fully. The seeker was granted many abilities to achieve his goal. The voice of a siren, the eyes of a hawk, the legs of a gazelle, all arranged and aligned to allow him to travel great distances, impress those who may have been worthy, and to find any flaw that would be unacceptable. The seeker knew not of the future like the Ruler did, but knew that his goal would be achieved through faith.

The seeker left the land he called home for his quest was not over. It was a xcx dparadise. Water and fruit was abundant. Riches were at his disposal for the man the seeker last embraced was a King. He reigned over swaths of land filled with gold, silver, and people of many talents. The king was grateful for his bounty and ruled fairly. Thus the flaw came for when his love for his people wained against his love for

the seeker, it caused the king to view his lands and people as possessions and not responsibilities. The seeker knew that the king's love was not limitless for he could forsake his own people for him. In the dead of night, under the three moons that race across the sky like shooting stars, he fled. He was not fearful of the King's wrath for he knew that he would place his heart back unto his people and that vengeance was not a trait of his now former love. He traversed the barren desert that extended for miles and miles trying to escape the heartbreak and move onto his true mate. Then he is suddenly stopped in his tracks. A figure approaches and strikes him with a feeling he has yet to grasp. The seeker could not move, for he knew this figure was important. The ruler was coming into view, and the seeker was drawn into his aura. The ruler stopped feet away from the seeker, his hands clasped together and robes fluttering across the landscape like an apparition, making him seem all the more mystical, intriguing.

The ruler gestured calmy and spoke

"I know who you are and what you need. I come bringing just that" the Ruler said with a reassuring smile.

"Who are you? What brings you to me and makes you this confident that you are what you say you are" the seeker says inquisitively, still frozen

"I am a Ruler, unlike the one you are fleeing now"

The seeker is now even more mystified by this creature that has appeared in front of him. The red robes almost envelope all of his line of sight. He stands in front of him with a confidence that he cannot describe. He does not understand how he knows him, but his instinct tells him to listen more, he is no threat. His skin smooth like silk, almost blending in with the sands surrounding them both. His eyes were like topaz surrounded by onyx, nothing like he had ever seen. The seeker is not easily impressed, yet He wanted to know what this ruler has that the last one didnt.

"What land do you rule? If you are what you say, where are your armies? Surely you come to take the King's most prized possessions, including me." Says the seeker, trying to match the Ruler's confidence.

"I rule destiny, my kingdom is not physical, yet it takes form with every second that passes and comes. I sense your hesitation, and understand your hearts journey. I've come only for you and do not see you as a possession, but as a companion."

"Destiny?" The seeker scoffs.

"Riddles are futile, I see past flowery words and phrases. How do you know I flee my King and what I seek?"

"You are the Seeker of Limitless Passion. Your heart cannot fully love if you cannot find one who loves equally like you. You flee your King as his love was only enough for you and not his people. I'm here first to assure you that you have made the right decision, and second to give you the love you seek." Says the ruler, with a voice that nearly weakens the seeker. The ruler does have a way with words, he doesn't want to give away too much, but just enough to sway the seeker into his understanding.

"Are you a spy? A medium? How do you know this"

"I am the Ruler of Cosmic Vision." He gives in to the seeker

"I have already seen the effect you will have on me and I, you. I have seen all realities with you and know that you will be mine, and I yours. Can I be any clearer?" The ruler says with a smile that's returned by the Seeker.

"I'm not convinced" the seeker says, testing the ruler to see if he can predict his next move

"You plan to test my strengths, ok" the ruler says, and in an instant he is only a breath away from the seeker

The seeker turns to run the opposite direction as he never seen anyone move like this. He no longer feels safe and begins to run. He turns back after 10 strides and the Ruler never leaves where he stood. When he turns back around the Ruler grabs him by his waist, the momentum of his run throwing his lips onto his. At this moment the seeker sees everything. The Ruler of Cosmic Vision has existed since the beginning. There have been many forms of him, his current lasting the longest. The seeker sees a lifetime a second and is so overwhelmed everything goes black. The seeker awakes to a beautiful melody. He remembers everything in an instant and leaps from the bed he lays. His clothes had been changed. He turns and sees a harp taller than 3 men, playing on it's own as if an invisible giant had been playing. The room is bathed in indigo, canary, and rouge, like the new clothes he wears. The fabric felt like the clouds he touched in his first home on the peaks of the greatest ranges in the land. He too much didnt care for the colors, but he felt a strange peace where he was. Reality kicks in.

"I know not where I am or who this man is to keep me like this" the seeker ponders to himself

"There must me truth to him for no man could move like he does, but why me? He could have anyone. What makes my goal so important if he can see all realities and all lifetimes?"

"It is because my destiny cannot avoid yours" says the ruler.

This time he has a piece of fabric that completely encases him, showing every curve and angle of his frame. The same shades of indigo, rouge and canary are splayed across his body. All that is exposed is his face, his hair, and his hands and feet. He had locs that cascaded down to his knees and his eyes were more piercing than ever.

Again checking back into reality the seeker exclaims

"Is this how you show love? Stealing me away like a thief in the night? What is this trickery you do. How do instruments play without hands? What do..." the seeker is cut off by the ruler who again is in front of him without taking a step..

"You wanted to be stolen. You seek limitless passion and I have it for you here in my home. Your heart is destined to belong to me. It's like a song I cannot stop hearing. This melody, is my love for you. I made this to represent what you have, are and will be to me, for you have strummed me long before you could lay one finger on me. This reality, this life, is what you have already asked for and been given, and I cannot avoid this any longer, and neither should you"

The seeker cannot understand.

"I believe what you are now, but why now, if you love me like you say, why allow me to lie with the King? With the Hunter? With the Sorceress?"

"Would you know what you seek had u not been with them? I cannot interfere with what you are meant to experience, only guide you to what you are deserved" the ruler says, arms open showing the seeker the true expanse of his realm.

"Your treasures mean nothing to me for it is the heart that I cherish more than anything else"

"My heart is where you are my love"

The seeker is frozen. What does he mean? He thinks to himself

"The King took you for he knew you would flee him. He poisoned you and knew that the harder you ran, the faster you would perish" says the ruler, with a tear trickling down his face"

"You are not dead, yet you are not alive in the physical realm"

"BLASPHEMY!!!!" The seeker screams. This is becoming a nightmare for him and he does not want to continue with this anymore, and just like that he wakes up.

"My love" whispers the King as the seeker jumps out of the bed startled.

"Have I frightened you? My love dont be afraid, you had a bad dream, come lay with me. I will bring you back to the world you belong to"

The seeker is still startled, thinking to himself it felt so real....

The seeker was distant for most of the day. He sat on the throne with his King while the daily duties were taken care of. The smile that the seeker loved to share with his people was nowhere to be found, and the king was not pleased with this as his heart was attached to his. Whatever the seeker felt, so did he.

"What disturbs you my love? My heartaches when yours does, I cannot allow you to be this way... what can I do to make you feel at ease?"

"I feel that I have overstayed my welcome" the seeker says, completely taking the king from anguish to anger

"Your welcome? You have stayed too long with me? The love of your life?"

"You look too much into what I care, why do you not tend to your people out west? Beyond the river? They need you more than me. Why wait on me like a servant?"

The king is now enraged

"Surely you dont mean this? You question my authority and scold me for making you my companion? For making you king of my heart?"

"No, I know your love for me, but you have forgotten your people in exchange for it and I cannot allow it."

"Who has your heart? For I feel you have given it to someone else! I never hear u speak this until now!"

The king cannot take anymore from his love. The logic the seeker gives is unsatisfactory and he feels his heart breaking, slowly turning cold. His jealousy rarely shows its face but he can only come to this conclusion based on his past loves and does not know how else to react. He has the seeker taken back to their room and locked away until he understands that he is his and his alone.

The seeker never wanted to end it like this. He knows that some men cannot be confronted with their flaws for they only fight back in an uglier way. Now he, too is heartbroken.

"Was it all really a dream? I don't understand it, any of it, will I ever find what I seek? How long will I be in this room? How could I escape?"

The king suddenly opens the door, carrying a large flask of the seeker's favorite wine.

"I've come to beg forgiveness my love. I do not know where your heart is, but I know mine is in your ownership, and I cannot allow you to return it"

The seeker feels slight relief, then the dream comes back to him

"I accept your apology my love, but my soul has been through a great deal today. Just lay with me, all is forgiven"

The king hesitates "Are u sure my love? My token of gratitude will go to waste if we just lay with it full"

"Yes my King, I have no appetite for wine" The king relents and they lay together, yet the seeker never closes his eyes.....

Title: The Ruler Of Cosmic Vision

[cake-writes]

Activation (Part Two)

Pairing: Soldat x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Sexual Slavery, Dubcon, Smut, Sexism, 18+

Summary: At first glance, the Winter Soldier’s activation code sounds like a nonsensical string of words. In reality, each word has been carefully selected to break him just a little bit more. His behaviour is half-compliant at best and fully erratic at worst – and to keep him in line, you put him to use for your own... needs.

Part One / Master List

Rusted / Ржавый

In the morning, you discover that the Asset is entirely compliant. For the first time in months, he doesn’t resist you or your team while you conduct all sorts of tests and experiments. No matter however painful it is or how much he suffers by your hand, he doesn’t even attempt to resist. He just tolerates it. 

Even so, you can tell that there are still shreds of the real him in there, just like you found the night before. Stunning blue eyes follow you around the underground laboratory, tracing your every feature and curve as you go about your work. It’s almost unnerving, but for some reason, his keen scrutiny doesn't bother you at all. Instead, it makes you wonder if he's only complying because you asked him to.

Every now and then, there's a slight delay before he obeys; a muscle tenses in his jaw, or his eyes harden on yours before he finally does as he is told. His rebellious nature is still there, still ready to break free at any moment. You can see it on his face, but no one else seems to notice the way he’s toeing the line between compliance and disobedience.

Your nighttime visits continue over the next week. It's not a reward for him so much as you following your own selfish desires. You dominate him every night, but it's only because he lets you. He lets you do whatever you want to him.

He doesn't resist when you ride his face; instead, he devours you with such talent and fervour that you know he’s done it before. He lets your hands wander all over his body, and your mouth, and every night you grow more and more addicted to not only the taste of him but the way he fills you so perfectly. 

He knows exactly what to do to make you scream, but he doesn't know how he knows. He just does. 

You love it.

Although you use him for your own release, you always make sure he gets his, too. You're selfish and broken, corrupted by Hydra – but it turns you on, the power and the knowledge of being able to reduce him, the strong, unbreakable Asset that he is, to a gasping, panting mess beneath you. You love the way his cock throbs no matter where he comes: in your hands, your mouth, your core. He's ruggedly attractive, always has been, but never more so than when you catch the expression on his face as he falls apart. 

At night, the Asset doesn’t belong to Hydra. He belongs to you.

You aren’t entirely sure why your visits inspire good behaviour. Perhaps it's gratification, or affection, or companionship – or maybe it's all three, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that he is finally compliant. 

You’ve done your job well, and it isn’t long before your supervisors get wind of it. Your reports are detailed and thorough, even when you choose to omit the one little detail that seems to be keeping him in line.

You.

After eight full days of one hundred percent compliance, a military officer in a red beret comes down to the laboratory to observe your work. What he sees must be to his satisfaction, because he sends him on a mission – or at least, he attempts to. 

This time, your Asset doesn’t obey. His vibranium hand wraps tightly around the officer’s neck, but he doesn’t make the kill because, in an instant, you command, “Release him.” 

He listens to you. He always listens. 

He lets him go. 

The officer immediately drops to the floor, gasping for breath atop the many scattered papers strewn about from the file he’d been holding. When you stoop to help collect some of them, he barks an order at you to leave the files alone. He sounds weak, his voice rough and strained from harsh strangulation.

You have a top-level security clearance just like everyone else in the room – all men – but these mission details are not for your eyes. No, you’re a woman. If it was one of your male counterparts, he wouldn’t have said a thing. 

It’s a disgusting reality that you despise, but that’s just how the world is no matter how much as you despise it. 

The officer slowly pulls himself back to his feet and dusts off his trousers in an attempt to make himself look every bit the presentable military officer he should be, like he hadn’t just been taken down so easily. He holds his head high, despite the ugly bruises already starting to form on his neck.

You can’t help but scoff at him under your breath. A pathetic man with a pathetic ego. Despite your good work, you’re still just a woman and he clearly sees you as a lesser individual – especially when, in response to your mockery, he backhands you. 

It sends you flying. 

The hard concrete floor is cold and painful when you hit your knees. Blood soon drips from the corner of your mouth, and you can taste the coppery tang of it on your tongue where your teeth must have ripped into the inside of your cheek. Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you hold them back. You won’t give him the satisfaction. 

Instead, you glare up at the officer in defiance only to find that he’s already pinned to the wall, a metal hand right back around his throat. This time, your Asset is merciless. You hear the familiar crack of bones breaking – his neck – and you don’t even flinch.

He deserved it. Good riddance.

One of your male colleagues wraps an arm around your shoulders and helps you up off the floor, but you barely even notice. Instead, all you can focus on are the heated blue eyes upon your own – eyes that trail down to the blood on your lips. He sees red, but he doesn’t act on it. He lets your colleagues take care of you.

Even with the haze of confusion clouding his mind, he knows better than to do anything else. Hydra is always watching. He knows that. You do too. 

As one of your female assistants uses a tissue to gently dab at the blood on your lips, your Asset calmly collects the files. He skims through them, uses them as a distraction until you speak again. You sound entirely too normal, not shaken in the least, when you order, “Complete the mission.” 

He slowly takes in your face once more, this time focusing on the discolouration on your delicate cheek. Your skin is an angry red, with some spots starting to turn blue from the brute force behind the backswing. He finds himself wanting to comfort you, but instead, he offers you a single nod, face some iteration of blank and emotionless. 

Then he leaves just as you instructed him to do, ever the obedient soldier.

Yours. 

You wake with a start in the middle of the night. Something is off. When you reach for your bedside light, though, it turns on before you even get the chance to even touch it. 

It’s him.

You don’t jump. Instead, you slowly sit up as you take him in. He’s still in his tactical gear and leather vest, weapons strapped to what seems like every inch of his body, but what catches your attention is the blood spatter on his face and neck. 

You don’t need to ask the question, but you do anyway, voice hoarse from sleep. “Did you complete the mission?” 

His eyes trace every feature on your face, and you notice that he’s most focused on your cheek.  It’s swollen and bruised, you know; the bruising became more and more evident as time passed until you had no choice but to excuse yourself from your work to cover it with makeup. 

Now, you’ve washed it all away. Your face is bare. Naked. He’s not seen you without makeup before. Even when you went to see him in the dead of night, you still wore it due to societal expectations. 

This time, his scrutiny makes you feel self-conscious. 

“Soldat,” you say, more firmly this time, to which his eyes snap back up to yours. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” he responds, before he reaches out to gently stroke your bruised cheek. You wince when his warm fingers make contact – not because it’s him, but because the skin there is tender and sore. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

“You don’t need to lie,” he tells you. “Not to me.” 

Those words shatter something inside of you. He’s right. Why lie to him when you and he already share so many secrets? Over the past week, the two of you have gotten closer, and not just physically; you actually found yourself missing him before you went to bed tonight – missing his touch, his taste, his presence. 

The same reason he came to your bedroom to begin with – just to see you for a moment before he went back into containment. He knew he’d see you in the morning, but that would have been far too long to wait, still hours away. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, you woke before he could leave. 

You’ve put up a facade for so long, now, that you don’t know yourself anymore. You aren’t sure what parts of yourself are real, and what parts aren’t, other than the fact that he makes you feel things that you didn’t think you could feel. Not here. Not now. You’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and it’s dangerous.

“Kiss me,” you order, breathy, wanting.

Despite the many times you’ve fucked him over the last week, you never let him kiss you. Not for lack of trying on his part, of course. You chalked it up to his muscle memory taking over.

His fingers hook under your chin to raise your bare face to him, and then he leans down, his lips finally meeting yours for the first time. A spark, almost like electricity, immediately ignites within you and all you can think is that it feels real.

The kiss is sweet and gentle, but not for long; desperation takes over, and you find yourself pulling him into bed with you. You can taste the blood on his lips, but you aren’t sure if it’s yours or his or his victim’s and you don’t really care. All you can focus on is the welcome weight of his body on top of yours as he settles in between your legs: another first. 

His tongue sweeps into your mouth with such familiarity that it takes your breath away. Somehow, he knows what he’s doing. Muscle memory.

Your fingers fumble with the buckles on his tactical gear, but you can’t quite figure it out in the heat of the moment. His kisses make you feel like you’re in a daze, full of lust and longing. 

Real. 

That’s when you hear it: a soft laugh against your lips. His laugh. Quiet, and only for a split second. A fleeting dream.

You pull away to stare at him. You’ve never heard him laugh before. 

The expression on his face is soft, amused, and anything you might have said or done is quickly forgotten. He pulls back just enough to let you see exactly how easy it is to unbuckle his gear, almost like he’s teasing you for not being able to figure it out. It takes him just seconds before his chest his bare, and you can’t help but smooth your hands against hard muscle and soft skin. 

Because his temperature runs much higher than yours, he’s always so hot and you relish in the burn of his skin against your palms.

He noticeably shivers at how gentle you are with him. It’s a stark contrast to the version of you he sees in the lab, the public you, the one who runs awful tests and painful experiments on him. He likes this you, along with the affection and gentleness you offer him behind closed doors – almost like an apology. Even when you dominate him and use him for your own gratification, it still peeks through.

When your hands trail further south, you slide his pants down just enough to free him from the constraining fabric. Your fingers wrap around him and he sighs, resting his forehead on your shoulder. Your strokes are slow and teasing despite how much you want this, want him; he knows because the smell of your arousal permeates the air in your small bedroom, and it quickly makes him lose control.

He rucks your nightgown up around your waist, and then your panties are ripped to shreds before he shoves himself inside of you all at once. It’s rough, almost brutal, but you’re entirely too wet, so hot and slick and wanting and he can’t hold himself back. The sudden fullness makes you gasp and dig your nails into his shoulder-blades, but your mind is blissfully blank. 

Tonight, he’s the one dominating you. Claiming you. 

His thrusts are hard and unyielding, and you wrap your legs around his waist, completely on instinct. You can’t help but surrender your body to him just like he’s done with you so many times in the past. His metal hand is a cold chill against the sweat-slicked skin of your thigh, and his warm one cups your unbruised cheek, pulling you in for another kiss. This time, it’s messy and wet, all tongues and teeth and it brings you higher far too easily.

He swallows every one of your moans until you break away, gasping, “I’m— I’m about to—” 

But you can’t even finish the sentence because his mouth is hot on yours again, and you fall apart beneath him, your legs squeezing tightly around his waist. That coupled with the feeling of your walls attempting to milk him dry sends him over the edge, too, and with a groan against your lips he bottoms out inside of you, filling you to the brim with his seed. You feel every pulse, and you relish in it. In him. 

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and when he pulls out of you, you can feel some of his cum slide out along with him. It’ll make a mess of your bedsheets but you can’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you find yourself wanting him to stay – but you know he can’t. 

He knows, too, because he’s already pulling on his gear. 

His face is flushed and his lips are kiss-swollen. You’re sure that you look the same. It’s obvious what he’s just done, and you tell yourself that he can’t go out there looking like that – but deep down you know that’s just an excuse. 

“Stay,” you say, and he looks over at you, lovely blue eyes full of surprise and confusion.

“Why?”

It catches you off guard, because he usually complies without question, and that’s when you realize that you’ll have to reset him in the morning. You’ll have to make him forget. He’s shown far too much of the real him to you tonight, and you can’t let it slide.

That bothers you. 

“You look…” you start, trying to think of a good word for it but all you can focus on is the fact that you’ll have to make him forget. For the first time in over a week, you’ll have to make him forget and with it, he’ll forget this. You. 

No other words come. 

He studies your face as if he can’t make sense of the conflicting emotions upon it. Instead, he complies despite your lack of explanation. He hesitantly lays back down next to you, almost like he’s invading your space, but you let him. 

Of course you do. He’s yours. You’re his. 

Not Hydra’s.

An unspoken truth.

You curl up next to him and rest your head on his leather-clad chest. The way he threads his warm fingers through your hair is sweet and gentle, soothing, and you just can’t help but fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

Part Three

[pulaasul]

Vengeful Captain

Ryuji found a box inside his room.

Out of curiosity, he opened it.

Ao3 I FFN

--------

Its Ryuji’s Birthday, so in honor of his birthday, here’s an AU where Ryuji discovers his Persona-related powers a year before Akiren went to Tokyo.

Happy Birthday Ryuji! You deserve justice against Kamoshida, if Atlus won’t give it to you, I will

--------

It has been a few months since that bastard Kamoshida broke his leg.

Months since his club had been disbanded.

Months since his reputation took a turn for the worse.

All because he can't control his anger.

All because he can't take all the insults hurled towards his mother.

Ryuji Sakamoto was in his bedroom on an imposed bed rest. He wasn't allowed to put stress on his legs, meaning no walking and no running for the foreseeable future, not unless he was doing physical therapy.

He was simply reading his manga when he noticed an inconspicuous box in his bedroom. His current bedroom was his father's former storage room back when they first moved to Tokyo from Tatsumi Port Island.

If he remembered correctly, they had moved away from Tatsumi Port Island at the urging of his father's boss.

Not soon after, the death of one Shuji Ikutsuki was announced.

That was when their relationship with father had gone sour.

Beatings took place instead of hugs.

Harsh words took the place of praise and encouragement.

Everything had gone south, not even his Track accomplishments in middle school assuaged his father's treatment of him and his mother.

Not long after, his father left the family.

Hopefully for good.

Maybe the inconspicuous box was something his father left behind.

Morbid curiosity got ahold of Ryuji, to satiate it, he used his elbows to crawl towards the box and opened it.

--------

Now that he had finally successfully disbanded that pesky Track Team, thanks to Sakamoto, he can finally reign the school as he pleases.

The principal was easy to please, he was obsessed with the school's prestige. Kamoshida knew how good Kobayakawa's name would smell if it'd become public knowledge that he was the one responsible for bringing such reputation to the school.

Kobayakawa wasn't exactly happy when he broke Sakamoto's leg.

A good sob story about defending himself did the trick and brought him to his side.

Kamoshida was currently sorting through the papers of the school's volleyball teams. He looked at them thoroughly and examined which of these students would be easily persuaded to do his bidding.

When a single envelope fell out from the table.

Curious, he opened and saw an ornate ring inside, alongside a note.

Kamoshida-sensei, I know this must be sudden.

But please take this ring as my appreciation.

For teaching at Shujin.

Your Secret Admirer.

A grin was plastered on the teacher's face as he read through the note. He was only a few months in and he already had a secret admirer from the student body.

He immediately took the roster of the girls' volleyball team and tried to think which of the girls would've sent the note.

----------

A few more months had passed since Kamoshida had received the ring and note. He was still far from figuring out who from the student body would send such a note.

In any case, Kamoshida decided to wear the ring every time he was about to go home, where there were no students or fellow teachers around. He knew it'd be easier to figure out his secret admirer if he had worn the ring everywhere he went.

He can't have his reputation sink so low, so early in the game.

As he stepped outside the school, suddenly his surroundings turned green, the small puddle by the walkway turned blood red.

"What's going on?!" Kamoshida growled. "IF this is a joke, you better cut it out."

Kamoshida tried to walk back inside the school but somehow the doors refused to budge. That was when he noticed a coffin standing near the door, sealing it from the inside.

He looked around the school and the walkways and the street, everywhere he looked he could always see a standing coffin.

--------

Ryuji looked at his former teacher with morbid glee. It wasn't long ago that he discovered this new power, this green-red reality.

Who better to test his new abilities on than the one person who destroyed his chance at life in the first place?

As soon as he saw Kamoshida step down the stairs he immediately announced his presence.

"Kamoshida-sensei" Ryuji mocked. "I thought you were above panicking?" He questioned.

"Sakamoto!" Kamoshida growled at the Sakamoto. "What have you done?!" He demanded. "Get me out of here this instant!"

"So demanding." Ryuji yawned. "Or what Kamoshida?" He glared at his former coach.

"Or what?!" Kamoshida scoffed. "Have you forgotten what I did to you, you punk?!" He glared at the young boy. "Or would you like another demonstration and leave you a cripple for life?"

As soon as the inevitable threat left the perverted teacher's mouth, Ryuji couldn't help but guffaw and laugh as hard as he could. Kamoshida was in unknown territory and he still had the gall to blurt out threats.

"What's funny Sakamoto?!" Kamoshida seethed. "Get me out of here this instant!"

It took a few moments for Ryuji to calm down, but he eventually did.

"You know what Kamoshida, you should be begging for your life." Ryuji stated. "You are in an unknown territory, you are talking to someone who you have wronged, and well the entire surrounding is creepy." He continued. "And yet here you are blurting out empty threats."

"Beg to whom?" Kamoshida scoffed. "You?"

"Who else?" Ryuji gave out a feral grin. "You see anybody else here?"

"I didn't peg you to be a comedian Sakamoto." Kamoshida scoffed once more. "Did a broken leg gave you that talent?" He mocked.

"Comedian eh?" Ryuji raised a nonchalant eyebrow. "Let's see you laugh at this!"

Ryuji kneeled down and clutched his head, as if he was having an intense migraine, while he glowed red. He screamed silently as he pulled his hair in an attempt to ease the pain he was feeling.

Suddenly, something eerie just happened, something in red hue appeared behind the Sakamoto.

It looked like a skeleton with a noose tied around its neck area while his upper limbs were bound by together by another piece of rope. It also wore a pirate-themed clothes complete with a hat on its head, hiding the upper part of its skeletal face. It was standing on an old-looking ship that was used back in the day.

"Is the light show supposed to frighten me?" Kamoshida mocked.

"You may mock me Kamoshida, but I can see your legs shaking." Ryuji smirked as he stood up, wincing in the process, and glared at his former coach. "But I guess, that's just you." He sneered.

"Give'im hell Captain Kidd!"

---------

Everyone was abuzz and panicking.

Crumpled on the street, sobbing uncontrollably, was one Suguru Kamoshida. It looked like he went through hell, his clothes were burnt, and even his jogging pants had burn marks in them.

Different shades of purple decorated the Kamoshida's body, in fact some people commented that some of his body parts weren't supposed to go that way.

The emergency response team that arrived tried to gain information on what had happened, but all they can hear the Kamoshida say were words of apologies and begging for his life. No one could make sense of the PE teacher.

It was a miracle that Kamoshida didn't end up being a cripple, but his days as a volleyball coach was over. He needed time to rest his body from the beating he took.

A few weeks went by and Ryuji was accepted back in Shujin. People suspected that he had something to do with the assault on Kamoshida but no one could really prove it.

Leaked interrogations proved his alibi. He was at the hospital doing physical therapy when Kamoshida was found on the streets.

In time, those accusations never came to fruition. They found out that Sakamoto had changed a lot. He doesn't even get angry at the people who antagonize him, even to the people who brought up his father.

A year later however, those very same people were suddenly found on the streets, sobbing uncontrollably, but couldn't remember what happened to them.

Some had even soiled the pants they were wearing.

Of course, the media pinned those as done by the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.