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skellebonez · 4 years ago

Note

Hear me out: Spider Macaque in the Spider Monkie AU with prompts 14 and 35?

I hear you and oh this was way too much fun... I took a great deal of liberty with exactly how Mac transforms into his Spider Monkie form and who says what and the TIMELINE because I... re-wrote this into a ship fic because of you. I call it ShadowCodingShipping because someone had to name MacaqueSyntax eventually! I guess you could say this is definitely a what-if story more than anything.

Warning for body horror because Mac is slowly turning half spider and that's kinda gross and painful. Also this is hurt/comfort but heavy on the HURT. This does not have a happy ending.

Am I scaring you?/I believe I can be of some help here.

"Am I scaring you?" Macaque asked with a smirk, pain clearly barely held at bay behind it. The monkey demon was a mess, fur tussled and miscolored splotches that hadn't yet grown in properly littered his torso. His torso that had gained a good inch in the last failed attempt at... what they were trying to accomplish. "... are you going to answer me, scientist?"

Syntax did not answer. Whether it was out of fear or knowing that regardless his answer would not make the demon leave him be even he didn't know.

"Queenie calls you Syntax," Macaque continued, moving around the computer to watch him over the screen. "That can't be your name, can it? I didn't give enough of a shit to ask before now. Hey. Hey. Hey. H-"

"No, it is not my birth name," the scientist snapped eventually, watching as Macaque smirked in victory. "Only a complete fool would agree to work with someone as infamous as the Spider Queen and use their legal name as if they were sending an unencrypted message containing confidential information across basic messaging applications without a VPN. What in the world are you trying to accomplish?"

"Ooooo, wordy," Macaque chuckled out as he leaned against the monitor and made it tilt at an awkward angle. "I'm. Bored. Entertain me, scientist, you're the most interesting person in this place. believe it or not."

Syntax raised a brow at the demon, sighing as he continued to type into the computer. "Do you want this to be finished any time soon? Because the more you bother me the longer it will take. I may be able to multitask but humans have limits."

Macaque scowled for a moment before shrugging, failing at hiding a grimace of pain. It must have made the new bones in his spine ache horribly. But he moved easily past Syntax without a word, only whipping his tail against his shoulder as he left.

It didn't hurt at all... he wondered what the point of the gesture even was.

The screaming rang through the entire hideout, Syntax's ears ringing even as he covered them. They'd tried twice more in their attempts at Macaque's twisted idea, Spider Queen slowly seeming to become less and less comfortable with not only their methods but with what they were even doing. It was working, sort of, but not correctly.

The changes were supposed to be immediate, so fast that the pain receptors wouldn't register properly. Not for the comfort of the converted, but so that it would happen so quickly they wouldn't be able to fight it. Less pain, less of a change for your body to try to fight off the transformation. Syntax had insisted on mechanical changes, nano-bots or something of the sort instead of organic growth. Macaque himself had vetoed this, saying something about how it wouldn't make him feel whole again.

This made the changes slow. Too slow, so much so that the mixture was fought off by his immortal monkey biology too quickly for it to take hold the way it was supposed to, requiring Syntax to make it stronger and stronger each time in the hopes it would finally kick in.

Now Macaque laid on the ground, holding his face and screaming so much Syntax feared his vocal cords would give out. The last two treatments had lengthened his torso even more and changed his fur consistency entirely. Once soft and thick black fur was a mixture of that and the coarse purple hair of a spider, not meshing together at all and instead forming an odd pattern on his body. At some points silver had begun to peak through, though if that was supposed to happen or if it was a reaction to the sheer stress of his body undergoing a change that should not be happening he was not sure. Syntax could see the red mark on his face warping, changing into the same purple on his torso around his eyes and moving up on his face as two more eyes grew above the ones he already had. It was fascinating to be sure, and he would have said that it was almost pretty had it not seen the build up of them forming in a fashion he wished to never see in slow build up ever again.

He was a scientist. He was supposed to be impartial to his work above all else, and he had agreed to help of... mostly his own volition. But this... This made him more uncomfortable than he was ready to admit.

"Help him up," Spider Queen said after Macaque collapsed onto the floor, screaming ceased as his body fought off the mixture for the fourth time. She looked... perturbed. Discomforted. "After his last treatment... move on to your idea. We are not doing this again."

She moved out of the room quickly, to fast to even tell her if he would or not, covering the side of her face with her hand to shield her from the sight of the collapse man on the floor. Yes... discomforted indeed.

Syntax didn't have that luxury. And he would not leave Macaque to lay on the floor regardless of orders. But the way he shook and covered his new eyes and the small amount of tears leaking from his normal eyes made a pang of pity shoot through him. He was a scientist... but he was still human.

"I believe I can be of some help here," he said softly, taking off his lab coat and folding it part way before shoving it under Macaque's head and laying the unfolded part over his face. The demon let out a half whimper, clearly bit back as he didn't want to show weakness, but eased ever so slightly as he realized the coat blocked out the light of the lab just as well as his hands had. "It's not a perfect solution, but it gets the job done.

"Th-thought Queenie s-said to help me u-up," Macaque stuttered out, moving his hands to grip the coat instead of his eyes.

"Yes, but that would be a bad idea," Syntax explained, sitting on the floor next to him with a sigh. He pulled his tablet down from a nearby table, there was no point in not getting at least some work done, and began scribbling away with the attached pen. "Your eyes are far too sensitive and with the other changes you have gone through your body will likely collapse again before we could get you to a cot. It's best you remain stationary for the time being until I am able to assess your pain tolerance properly, then I will move you to your quarters."

Macaque didn't say anything, just huffed in reply and seemed to relax. Syntax wondered if he was thankful he wouldn't have to move immediately this time, and he could have sworn he heard something... rumbling.

Maybe it was the machinery behind them.

He felt Macaque's tail hit his side after a while, thumping softly against him... but he didn't push it away.

He wondered if this would change anything at all.

Syntax saw more of Macaque than usual after that. Sometimes he would wander into his lab and just... stay there. Silent as the shadows he liked to hide in. Sometimes he would just watch him work, other times he would bring him plums or mangoes. Syntax never had much of a taste for fruit, not really enjoying any form of sweets, but he would not pass up free food when his stomach rumbled in protest from his long hours. One time Macaque had brought in a book, sat on his desk, and just read it.

That was bizarre, even for him. But Syntax found he didn't exactly mind the company. It was quite... lonely in the lab. He was the only human in the Spider Queen's entourage and her other two companions weren't exactly the best company. Oh, the big guy was nice and all and Syntax even enjoyed his presence well enough. But he would grow bored of the scientist's techno babble and science talk eventually and leave with a nod and a wave goodbye. He was grateful that he seemed to listen, however, even if he wasn't interested in the specifics.

The other one, however, was a pain in his ass. Constantly one upping him, trying to belittle him for being a human, just being an all around annoyance. He tried to act cool and suave but Syntax just found him obnoxious.

Macaque... Macaque stayed, listened even if Syntax ran out of things to talk about. And it was oddly nice. He felt himself growing excited for when the part-spider part-monkey would make his presence known.

He wondered, distantly... if Macaque was starting to mean something to him. To matter, in a way.

The day of the final treatment eventually arrived and Syntax actually dreaded what might happen. This was their last shot to make this work completely, there was a greater than 0% chance that this would cause irreparable damage to the monkey demon if they had to continue farther. But it seemed his worries were unfounded. He was smart, a genius even. He had done his job properly, even if it had taken far too long and was the least beneficial way to accomplish the goal.

Macaque screamed worse than with every other treatment, and understandably do. It would have shocked him if Macaque hadn't since he was growing two new arms.

The Spider Queen had taken her leave shortly after, disgusted by the sight before her. It was Syntax's job to watch as Macaque slowly changed before him, bones and muscle and sinew growing slowly and bit by until finally... finally it was finished.

They had learned from last time, placing a cot on the ground for him to sit on while this happened, and he collapsed onto his back. Two new arms limp against the floor as he shook and twitched and cried cold tears in agony. But it was finished.

Syntax couldn't stop himself. He rushed forward, kneeling beside Macaque's head, watching his eyes and expression for recognition and any sign that he was alright. It had only been two weeks since the last treatment, the time needed for him to recuperate, but in that short time... he had grown oddly fond of the man on the cot. He did not know what he felt for him, not yet, but he knew that he did not dislike him in the slightest.

"Ma-Macaque?" He asked softly after no response for nearly 15 minutes, waiting and watching and finally Macaque's eyes turned to him. "How do you feel?"

Macaque didn't say anything to him at first. Just blinked before a weak chuckle resounded from his throat.

"Whole."

The transformation was a mistake. Syntax had never felt guilt for any of his scientific achievement before, and he did not feel guilt for helping the Spider Queen in her endeavor, bit this? This he felt guilt for.

Macaque was in pain. Constantly. Sometimes it was just a dull ache, other times he almost collapsed as something moved the way it shouldn't and he had to bite back a scream. But there was no taking it back now and Macaque reveled in "feeling whole" again.

Syntax felt a mix of awe and wonder whenever he looked at the demon. He was... handsome, the purples and blacks and silvers of his fur blending together properly now. His eyes brilliant gold and green. And when he wasn't in pain his smile was nice, soft even if he could call it that. He was unsure of how much of it was true, he knew the Six-Eared Macaque to be a trickster. But he hoped some of it was, at least when directed at him.

But when he was in pain his face twisted in a way that made Syntax sick to his stomach to see it each time the agony rang true on his face. But Macaque brushed it off, not seeming to pay it much mind. Not when he had his eyes and arms "back".

The Spider Queen agreed with him, he could tell, but probably not for the same reasons. She seemed frightened of him. Goliath and Huntsman were just scared of him too. They avoided him like he would kill them on sight.

Syntax, despite his guilt, welcomes his presence still. He was not frightened of Macaque in the least. No, he just felt guilt that he was in pain. And he would never not want to help him through that now. The spider monkie had grown attached to him, almost a constant companion at his side. And he had grown fond of him as well.

He learned that Macaque had a flair for the theater. He made shadow puppets when the Spider Queen wasn't watching, though for what purpose and what audience Syntax had not asked. He liked to watch Syntax work, and eventually as he started to rest his head on the human's shoulder he learned the rumbling from the second to last treatment was a purr. He didn't know demons could purr, let alone to speed up recovery from injuries.

But the day of the Lunar New Year was coming and Syntax could tell he had something else... someone else on his mind.

The next day was to be the day. Syntax's last chance to get the new formula and tech right. It almost felt like a repeat of the past treatments but with less screaming. He was worried.

Macaque wasn't, however. He had never been worried, assuring the Spider Queen (sometimes through growls and bared teeth) that it would be done in time. He'd been a success after all. (Syntax said nothing each time.)

They'd never been this close before, but Macaque had eventually dragged the scientist away from his computer for rest. Taken him to his room, sat on the bed with him, and just. Held him. Purring loud and deep and eventually Syntax was lulled into slumber sitting up against the soft-coarse fur of Macaque.

He realized that Macaque mattered to him more than he cared to admit.

Syntax had failed. His formula and tech hadn't worked. They only had one shot left, and there was no time for him to fix his mistakes before the end of the celebration. Macaque had been in too much pain, on the other side of the room, to tell Spider Queen off this time. It was all over...

Until she came. The young woman in white and blue. She'd done something, added an ingredient he had not been able to calculate for, and then...

"Let's give it a spin," Spider Queen had said with a smirk as she turned toward her human scientist... her human guinea pig.

"Wait, no!" Syntax backed up, knowing that it was almost pointless to attempt escape. There was nowhere to run. "I helped you! You need me! Maca-AGH!"

Before the spider monkie could rush to his side the little spider drone had jumped on Syntax, adhering itself to his face before he fell backward over some machinery. It crawled around him, situating itself on his back and digging in it's injectors and

pain agony pain pain something came out of his back pain another painpainhescreamedandscreamed ANOTHER AGONYISTHISWHATMACAQUEFELTPAIN one more

And then it was over. Syntax felt... nothing. No pain. No agony.

No... guilt.

He stood straight, facing forward before kneeling. He knew what he had to do.

"My queen."

Yes. His queen. The Spider Queen.

She was the only one who mattered to him.

He heard his name spoken from the other side of the room but paid it no mind. That voice didn't matter to him.

That wasn't the voice of his queen.

"Syntax?" Macaque called, unable to stand from his spot as his arms throbbed in ghost pain. He had tried to stand before, when the drone had lunged at him, but the pain shot through him for a split second and send him to his knees too quickly.

His screams... his screams made his ears pull back not from the pain of the volume but from fear and something else.

Then Syntax stopped screaming and stood and knelt before the Queen.

"Syntax!"

... he never responded.

Macaque wondered if this is what guilt felt like.

#oops all SAD #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #ship fic #hurt/comfort #six eared macaque #syntax #shadowcodingshipping #fun fact: Shadow Code is when devs include third-party code without approval or any safety validation #considering the way this ship came about here I THINK THAT FITS

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beskarberry · 4 years ago

Text

Valkyrie

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“What... did you... do?” You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.8k

Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)

<-Previous Next->

Everything. Was. Purple.

Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.

The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.

No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.

You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.

Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way’. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.

You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.

A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.

“What are you laughing at?”

Oh no, I’ve been caught! “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.

“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”

“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.

Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.

“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”

“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”

“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.

“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.

“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,

The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.

We had high expectations of their hospitality,

But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”

“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!

Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!

We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,

But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”

Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.

“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;

She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!

The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,

And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”

You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-

“-KABOOM-!”

The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.

“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”

Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.

“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.

“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.

A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.

“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.

”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it.

“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!” Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.

Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.

“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!” Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.

Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.

Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.

“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.

“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.

“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.

“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.

“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.

“So... Beautiful...” The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?

“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.

“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.” Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.

“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.” The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.

“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”

“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”

You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.

“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”

The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.

“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.

“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.

“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.

His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”

The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.

“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.

“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”

You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream.

“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.

Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.

“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.

Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.

“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.

You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.

Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.

But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.

You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.

“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”

“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.

“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.

“Who did this to you?” The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”

“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.

“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.

“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.

“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”

“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.

“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.

He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.

After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.

Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.

“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.

“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.” He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.

Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off.

Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.

“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”

“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.

“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.

“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.

“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.

“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.

“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”

“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”

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emiken-070907 · 4 years ago

Text

A Different Kind Of Story - Dance and Grace

It was time for some music and refinement. After some business talk with a scammy octopus lady, Yuko decided to show a small feast she once was invited to, arranged by her friends from Scarabia, and some day-to-day life at the ever so gorgeous Pomefiore.

A Different Kind of Story: Chapter 4

Yuko hasn't even been a solid 5 minutes in the Scarabia dorm, but they already were melting. The afternoon sun was brutal on her skin. Grim wasn't doing any better.

"Are you ok, Yuko? Should I get you something to drink?" Yuko turned her head two face two worried, red eyes.

"Is that a yes or a no? You know what? It doesn't matter. I'll get you one," Kalim said as she patted Yuko on the shoulder before getting up. The brunette tried to stop her, but Kalim didn't listen and quickly came back with some drinks.

"You really shouldn't have to..." Yuko said but took the drinks regardless. "You don't have to be so polite! You two are our guests! A drink or two should be the least!" Yuko could have sworn she needed sunglasses with how bright Kalim was. It gave her a warm feeling of familiarity.

All of a sudden, a sweet and flavourful smell filled the lively lounge of Scarabia. A brunette with long hair and a hood came into the room. She carried multiple plates with different foods, which vary from perfectly sweet to super spicey.

"Wow! These smell amazing, Jamil-senpai," The Prefect of Ramshackle praised, clapping their hands together with sparkles in their eyes. Jamil didn't pay her or her compliment any mind and just placed the dishes on the table.

"You can compliment me if it tastes as good as it smells.", the second-year commented blankly.

"Fnyaaa, why can't you take the compliment! She's at least trying to be nice to you, even after what you did, you snake!" Yuko looked down at Grim and smiled fondly while giving Grim some head pats. Jamil just turned around with an angry huff and leaving the room to get more food.

"Seriously, why are you trying to be so friendly with her? It's obvious she doesn't give a damn about everyone but herself."

"That sounds like everyone at this school, to be honest. People deserve a second chance, and I think I'm not the only one who knows this." The first-year turned to Kalim, who looked kind of sad. Yuko knew that Kalim still concerned herself with many things. Yuko didn't know why or what those things were, but they also felt like it wasn't their place to ask questions.

Yuko's train of thought was interrupted by the other members of the dorm, who all decided to dig in and enjoy the sweet and spicy dishes their vice leader made.

The feast came along significantly.

Cheerful chattering filled the room. It had accompanied by entertaining music, played by some students who had already finished their meal.

The two guests from Ramshackle were having a small conversation with the ever so joyful host of the party. Mostly Grim was talking with her. Yuko just sat there, enjoying her meal while her furry companion on her lap was having a good time.

The young Crowley roamed the filled room with attentive eyes. She saw students eating and praising the food, telling stories (some real, some not), or were merely telling jokes and were having a good time. Among those students, there was a brunette standing on the sides, watching them. An idea then popped into the first-year's head.

Yuko excused herself politely from the second-year who so kindly invited them. They then proceeded to walk to the vice to start a little chat for herself.

"Hello Jamil-senpai," Yuko greeted. "The dishes were astounding. The sweets felt like they were melting in my mouth! There also was a hint of apple in there, or am I incorrect? Either way, would you mind if I asked for the recipe itself?" Startled, Jamil turned around to face her junior.

"Uhm, of course? I did not know you'd enjoy it that much that you would ask for the recipe. It's a common sweet in my family" Jamil seemed taking back by Yuko's sudden request. Yet only an innocent smile painted their face while listening to their senior reciting the recipe.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself there, Yuko," Ace mocked with a sly smile.

"What could you possibly mean, Ace?"

"Don't act this innocent. If you are an alternate version of our buddy Yuu here, then you are just trying to annoy her, aren't you? Also, you and Kalim there are disgustingly sweet, I have to say." The ace of Heartslabyul said. Yuko gasped in offence and put one of her gloved hands on her chest gem.

"Oh, how could be so mean! I just tried to have a nice conversation with my upperclassmen", the girl wailed. "And, ohh, I am sorry that I am just having some fun with Kalim. I didn't know being nice to others is actually 'disgusting'" Ace smirk swiftly was erased from his face. Some of the first years even snickered a bit about the answer to the boy's comment.

"It is just," the girl in the mirror continued. "I like talking to her since she gives up a sense of comfort. She is like the older sister I never had," Yuko said fondly.

Kalim was also beaming with joy and pride. It seemed knowing that someone, who isn't related to him, thought of him as an older sibling figure made him happy. Even though not directly meant.

"A-ah! Let's not get distracted, shall we? Next is Pomefiore," the girl in the mirror announced.

"Of course not. Although, before we start, let me say that it is very nice to hear that you think that way, young one." Lilia was heart warmed. Father instincts, Yuko silently assumed before fading from the other sight.

After Yuko got the recipe for the dish Jamila made, they said their goodbyes to her friends and made her way to Pomefiore.

The old castle was as beautiful and graceful as ever. The afternoon wind made it seem even more like it was from a fairytale.

As soon as Yuko entered the big walls of Pomefiore, she got greeted by a petit-looking first-year. The student's long lavender hair swayed behind them as they approached Yuko as if a breeze was flowing through the dormitory.

"Yuko! Perfect timing! Please save me from Vil! She's trying to put me in one of those disgusting, frilly dresses!" the smaller girl whined. She clutched against Yuko's arm as if it would have helped convince Yuko of her need for help. "Epel, please, I can't hide you every time. I also am starting to think that Vil might know our hideouts by now" Yuko kindly smiled as Epel continued to beg for her help. Yet to no avail.

Moreover, Vil appeared. Her long gowns were perfectly put on, with no faults whatsoever. They flowed behind her while she walked down the hall towards the first years.

It was like looking at a goddess.

But alas, this beauty was angry.

Behind her followed NRC's huntress, Rook. Her heavy boots' steps and Vil's high heels clicking echoed through the empty and silent hall, Epel's begging long died out.

"Epel! How dare you try to run away again! You'll never learn how to use those natural looks correctly. Don't get me started on how to treat them right!" Vil pinched Epel's cheek, ignoring the junior's complaints.

"Oh my, oh my! The Trickster has arrived! How splended~ Your little companion is at your side, as well."

Yuko smiled politely and started holding Grim a little tighter in her arms, in case Grim would try to flee from the huntress.

"I am also very delighted to make your acquaintance again, Rook-senpai. How is it currently going?" The senior started beaming at the question with a bright smile. Her hands flew up to her head. "Oh Trickster, how happy I am that you asked! Reine de Poison was only trying to show our little apple how to put on more voluminous dresses, but the little one didn't seem to like the idea, which is a loss, to be honest. Just imagine Mademoiselle Cherry Apple in one! She'd look like an innocent angel~."

Yuko couldn't hide their chuckle at the thought of Epel wearing something like that. Now they sure knew why Epel was so desperate for help.

They all made their way to the lounge for some tea, the argument between Vil and Epel never-ending during the short walk.

At this point, the Ramshackle Prefect was holding Grim's mouth shut, knowing that Grim would spit some non-polite comment. Either at Rook or Vil. Which both wouldn't end well for them.

Vil, Epel, Yuko and Grim seated themselves on the beautiful couches of Pomefiore. Rook made her way into the kitchen to prepare the tea. For Yuko's and Grim's ears pleasure, Vil's and Epel's bickering had stopped.

"So tell me, little potato," Vil started, "have you finally renovated your old dorm by now? I am confident that this hideous place could look better," Harsh as ever, Yuko thought.

Nonetheless, the dorm leader was right. It was old and rotten, and it already was hard work to get it into the condition it is now.

"The renovations are coming along, Vil-senpai, yet I highly doubt I will get it finished any time soon. Nonetheless, I am happy to say that I acquired some donations from Azul. For furniture for the interior, as well for the outer parts. Maybe I'll even have to ask someone to help me with the gardens soon if this all keeps going at this pace. But first, the rooms and all should be looking presentable, of course." Yuko explained. Her senior hummed understanding.

Rook re-enters the lounge with a trey, which has some tea and snacks on it. "Oh la la, what did I miss? Where are you talking about the Ramshackle dormitory?" Room asked as she put the trey downs on the table. How did she know that? Until now, she was in another room!

"Yes, we were discussing the Ramshackle dormitory, Rook. The renovations, to be exact," Vil said as she sipped her tea.

"Epel, you were awfully quiet until now. Does the topic of your friend's home not interest you?"

As if being ripped out of a daydream, Epel quickly looked up. "N-no, this isn't the reason! I didn't want to interrupt yall- I mean you all."

Vil inspected her as if trying to figure out if she was lying or not. After 20 seconds of starring, Vil accepted the explanation as genuine and let out a small sigh.

"Epel, at least sit straight and look me in the eyes while talking. The cup goes up to your head, not your head to the cup!" Vil pinched Epel's cheek once again, ignoring Epel's whines. It all ended in another argument.

Leona put one of his hands on his temple in annoyance. He just witnessed two arguments, one in full length and the other one's just started. "Is this also like this here?"

"Yep, totally," said all the first-years in unison, except for Epel, who had a feeling of betrayal in his eyes.

"How could you all fall into my back like that?!"

"Epel, you know that they are sadly telling the truth. We, rather often, have different opinions on things," Vil kindly reminded the student he took under his wing. Like a father

"Nevertheless, Leona, you should know how hard it can be to look after your first years. Oh wait, on second thought, you probably don't, since you push all your responsibilities onto Ruggie,"

Leona only growled, knowing that starting a fight with the fellow third-year would be pointless.

Everyone in the room went quiet. Even Rook didn't say anything. After a minute of awkward silence and Vil and Leona starring at each other, Yuko cleared her throat, getting all of the male's attention.

"How about we move on to our last two dorms. Then we'll call it for today? It's been a long day with a lot of new things to process," Yuko clapped their hands together while talking. They were just happy that there weren't any nasty comments on any of her friends.

{to be continued}

First

[A/n: Sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors, English is not my first language!]

#twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst mc #Yuko Crowley #nrc #night raven college #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #ace trappola

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silvormoon · 4 years ago

Text

My Hero

A little vignette set in my superhero universe. Juudai’s been giving his all to being a good hero. Sometimes, he just needs someone to give a little something back.

It wasn’t easy, being the most powerful super in the world.

That sounded trite. Worse, it sounded self-congratulatory, a way of boasting that he, Yuuki Juudai, had much grander and more important problems than the humdrum things mere mortals had to deal with. It conjured up images of some movie star or millionaire lounging on their sofa sipping champagne while they talked about how stressful their life was.

And the point was that it wasn’t easy for Juudai, and he didn’t even get the champagne to make up for it. Granted, his life did tend to involve a lot of sofas, but mainly in the, “Can I crash here tonight?” kind of way. The hardest part was that he knew he could change that if he wanted to. He could make himself famous overnight. He could have as much money as he wanted. People would line up for miles to get the kind of treatment he could provide. He could make the world his oyster, if he wanted to, or crush it under his heel, and no one would be able to stop him. That was the whole reason why he worked in the dark, kept his name out of the papers, and slept in a tent or on friends’ sofas and spare beds, earned money doing odd jobs when he had any money at all, and spent a lot of time second-guessing himself.

But he wasn’t doing any second-guessing tonight. Tonight, he had found the hideout of a gang of criminals who had been peddling a bogus drug they claimed would give people temporary superpowers. What it did was to give the user a sense of euphoria, a feeling that they were all-powerful and omniscient. Several people had died from jumping off buildings or doing other equally risky things under the influence of the drug, and Juudai had decided someone needed to put a stop to it.

Just now, he was waiting near the front door of the lab. Yubel was standing over the collection of about a dozen men they’d captured together and was giving them all vicious glares if any of them so much as breathed too loudly. Juudai was aware of a few more who had fled out the back door, but he and Yubel had managed to capture the three ringleaders, so he doubted the operation would be starting up again any time soon. They had been using some specific know-how blended with the application of some unique superpowers to synthesize the drug, and those powers were gone now. It was a shame, really. A power to synthesize chemicals like that would have been invaluable to the medical community. Perhaps if this man learned his lesson, Juudai would let him have it back someday.

For now, he watched as a number of police officers warily approached the building.

“It’s okay!” Juudai called out to them. “My partner and I have things pretty well nailed down here.”

The lead officer edged a little closer. He was eyeing Juudai warily, and Juudai didn’t blame him. Most supers at least tried to look like superheroes when they were on the job. Juudai was wearing ragged jeans, hiking boots, a fleece-lined brown leather jacket that had obviously seen a great deal of life, and a T-shirt advertising a band called Sugar Snow. He looked more like a college student out for a beer than a superhero.

“Doing a little spur-of-the-moment heroing, are you?” asked the officer suspiciously. “Care to show me your license?”

Juudai produced his ID card and flicked it towards the officer, who caught it neatly out of the air.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, and ran it through a scanner at his waist. He looked at the results. His eyebrows rose. He scrolled rapidly through the rest of the file, then looked back at Juudai.

“You’re the Haou?” he asked.

Juudai shrugged. “Apparently. I mean, I didn’t come up with the name, but it’s sort of stuck to me now so I figured I might as well own it.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I didn’t think you were real,” said the officer, handing his card back.

Juudai shoved the ID back in his pocket. “Yeah, well, I like to keep a low profile.”

“I can certainly understand that, sir,” said the officer, a bit more respectfully. “But I would like to see some proof, if you don’t mind. May I...?”

“Huh? Oh, sure,” said Juudai, who had been through this song and dance before. There were ways that a villain could disguise themselves as a hero, many of them quite hard to detect. S-levels, though, tended to stay stable, so one way of proving a person was who they said they were was to test their blood and see if their S-levels matched what was printed on their ID card. It wasn’t foolproof, since it was possible for two people to have the same S-levels, even if the odds of any two people matching were one in several hundred. Nobody, however, had levels like Juudai. He offered his finger to be pricked, and watched as the numbers on the little scanner lit up. It showed 9999, just as it always did.

“You are him,” said the officer. He was visibly impressed now.

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Juudai uneasily. “Look, we’ve got these guys all tied up in the back, so if you wanna...?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said the officer.

Uniformed men poured into the building and started doing official things. Juudai watched a little while to make sure everything was going as it should, then quietly slipped away when no one was looking.

“I wish they wouldn’t always do that,” he complained, woefully regarding his finger. “Just because I’m famous doesn’t give people the right to punch me full of holes.”

“You don’t have to let them do it,” said Yubel.

“I know,” he said. “It’s just not fair. If I had a normal power like flying or punching holes in walls or laser vision, no one would ever ask if I am who I say I am. They’d just go, ‘oh, you’re Wonder Guy, can I have your autograph?’”

Yubel gave him a knowing look. “And you’d want that, would you?”

“Not really,” Juudai admitted. “Well, maybe a little.”

“Do you know what your problem is?”

Juudai smirked. “I’m sure you have a list.

Through all he’d done in the years since he’d left school, Yubel had been his constant companion. Juudai had promised, after all, that they would stay together once they had found each other, and Yubel took him at his word. Through rain and snow, through train delays and cancelled flights, through cheap motels and leaky tents, gang wars and monster battles and helping lost children find their parents, whatever Juudai did, Yubel did too. Even on those days when everything went wrong and they were both feeling thoroughly sick of each other, Juudai was always thankful that he didn’t have to do all this alone.

“I think,” said Yubel, “that you’re burned out.”

“What do you mean, burned out?” said Juudai. “It’s not like I do very much. Mostly we just travel.”

“That still counts as doing things,” Yubel pointed out. “Anyway, you know what I mean. I’ve been watching you. You’re all give and no get. You do all these wonderful things but you don’t stick around to enjoy the thanks, because you’re afraid it will go to your head. Sooner or later, you’re bound to run out of give.”

Juudai scowled. “You know...”

“I know why you do things the way you do. You don’t want the whole world beating a path to your door demanding you give them all godlike superpowers, or take the powers away from people you don’t like,” said Yubel. “I’m just saying, it might be time for a vacation.”

Juudai knew his laugh sounded forced. “I don’t exactly have money for a tropical vacation.”

“Then ask one of your friends. Any one of them would let you stay with them for a while.” Yubel smiled. “It wouldn’t hurt to relive your school days for a while. Do you remember all the fun we had? The annual snowball fight, staying up late telling ghost stories, eating popcorn and watching movies in the common room...”

“Yeah, I remember,” said Juudai. He smiled a little. “Those were the good old days. Man, I’d give a lot to have another go at some of those games we used to play in Chronos’s class. Remember the time you got tangled up in that net so bad they had to cut you loose?”

Yubel huffed. “I could have gotten out if I’d wanted to.”

“I know,” said Juudai. He took out his phone and poked at it for a moment. “Hey, you know, there’s a gym close by that has those reinforced training rooms for playing capture the flag and stuff. We could see if we could scrape up a team. And then we could, I dunno, grab a pizza or some ramen or something, and then maybe catch a movie? And tomorrow I’ll call around and see if any of our friends mind having a couple of house guests for a few days.”

Yubel grinned. “Now you’ve got the idea.”

Juudai grinned back. “Knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

Yubel reached for his hand. “You keep me around for a lot of reasons.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Juudai. “Come on. Mission ‘Have Some Fun For A Change’ is officially under way.”

They began making their way towards their destination. Somewhere in the distance, Juudai could hear sirens. There was always something going on in a big city like this, and a part of him itched to be part of the action, but he knew Yubel was right. Sometimes, the person he needed to protect was himself. He was lucky he had someone by his side to remind him of that.

It doesn’t matter how strong I am, he thought. Sometimes I still need a hero, too. He was glad he’d found one.

“So, Yubel, what movie do you want to see?”

“I don’t know. What’s playing?”

“Well, there’s one about this secret agent who...”

“I am not sitting through another movie full of cars exploding. Pick something else!”

“I didn’t say I wanted to see that one!”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

Laughing and bantering with each other, they walked away, hand in hand.

#soulshipping week #soulshipping #yugioh gx #yuuki juudai #yubel

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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 5 years ago

Text

Why Doc Ock WOULDN’T be a goddam rapist!

I can’t believe I have to spell that out, let alone outright explain it. But fine, let’s talk about why Otto’s actions in Superior with MJ are way out of whack for his character.

Basically, Doc Ock wouldn’t view using MJ’s feelings for Peter or her history with him as rape. I just don’t think he’s so dumb not to realise that that’s immoral and him taking advantage of her, which he wouldn’t do.

Now, Doc Ock has taken advantage of people, including women, before and even visited violence upon them. But there is a big difference in each of those situations.

Obviously with Betty Brant, Aunt May, Felicia, Mary Jane and certain other women, Otto has kidnapped them or threatened to harm them. But this has been a strictly functionary action on his part. Person A is of value to Person/People B. Otto wants something from Person/People B, therefore he will threaten Person A in order to get it from them. It’s a clinical and functionary decision. He would (and has) done this with male abductees. It’s not a signifier of his feelings towards women as a whole.

By extension in his pettier moments he’s attempted to harm people as a form of revenge. But it has never been strictly gendered. He bears the world malice in general.

Let’s get a bit more specific though.

With Aunt May he was ostensibly being himself (in personality and body) whilst omitting the fact that he was a super villain. However, his main use of her was as a means of escape and furthering his one true love, science. He wasn’t pretending to be someone she knew. He wasn’t putting on the face of someone who looked noticeably younger or different from himself so that could never have been a factor in May’s affections for him. And he wasn’t sleeping with her! Yeah, that’s kind of a critical difference between his relationships with Anna Maria and Aunt May. Hell, it’s highly unlikely he felt legitimate romantic feelings for her. More likely he had a soft spot for her because she reminded him of his own dearly departed mother.

And let’s remember he displayed lingering affection for May even after she ceased being useful to him. He privately praised her kindness.

He sought to connect with her at Christmas and chose to leave when he realized he’d spoil the holiday for her.

He was upset when he learned she was in a coma and had flowers sent to her.

What about Black Cat? He clearly liked her and forced her to remain in his hideout. Later he nearly beat her to death. The difference here is that Otto never forced himself upon her or tried to use deception to get her into bed. His attempts to kill her only occurred after she betrayed and stole from him, going on to team up with his enemy and actively work against him. Again, this wasn’t a gendered thing on his part. He was avenging himself on a specific person for specific slights against him.

We then come to Angelina Brancale, a.k.a. Stunner.

Along with his associate, Carolyn Trainer, Otto planned on creating a virtual reality construct that could interact with the real world. This construct would be of Otto himself and assume his place in order to avoid Otto risking his life. They needed a test subject though, someone who wasn’t going to be missed. Otto selected Angela Brancale who was enamoured with him and would’ve done anything for him. Angela went through months of sometimes painful experiments with the end result being the creation of an interactive avatar of her own.

This was Stunner, the super strong, beautiful, Amazonian companion to Doc Ock. Stunner reflected the obese Angela��s ideal self-image.

Superficially this one might seem like a clear-cut case of exploitation. To a certain extent it absolutely is, but it is more complicated than that. For starters it’s obvious that Angela wanted to become Stunner and enjoyed being her. There is also no indication that Otto strictly speaking forced or tricked her into doing anything. Yes, she was selected because of her affections to him and how she wouldn’t be missed.

But we do not know if she was briefed about the potential ordeal she would have to go through or if she had the option of bowing out at any point. Carolyn Trainer referred to her as a ‘trooper’ for putting up with all the experiments and the pain they entailed. Carolyn is a villainess but it at least implies that Angela had agency in this situation. Angela and Carolyn later teamed up and seemed civil with one another, which further implies that there was no ill-will between then. If Angela had been tricked or lacked agency that’d unlikely be the case.

Additionally there is no evidence to suggest before or during Angela’s transformation into Stunner that Otto was having sex with her or using sex to manipulate her. There isn’t even any evidence that they were having sex after she became Stunner.

As final food for thought, he genuinely loved her when she was Stunner and it seemed that he connected to her because he understood the suffering she endured due to her weight.

Oh, and of course, Otto wasn’t pretending to be someone or something he wasn’t with Stunner. If anything he was startlingly vulnerable with her.

The only other significant relationship Otto had pre-Superior was with his fiancée. However, there is 0 evidence of him manipulating her during their courtship. He wasn’t even a villain at that point so he’d have had nothing to lie to her about.

Let’s also consider the following regarding Otto’s interactions with women.

This is the man who literally tried to cure AIDs just to save his ex fiancée Mary Alice.

This is the guy who kidnapped Betty Brant and Aunt May to lure out Spider-Man and then offered them tea.

This is the guy who was pleased to see Peter and MJ happy together because it meant his enemy was back to his upbeat and normal self and would thus continue to be the adversary he Doctor Octopus deserved.

And yet @danslott-blog, Slott-stans, Superior-stans, Spider-Fans who are none of those things and just people in general are willing to accept that this guy would be a rapist?

We are happy to say he really wouldn’t even imagine that sex with MJ or Anna Maria would be morally reprehensible?

Just creatively speaking, not in terms of his character or personality, we’re happy to say THAT guy would play in that ballpark and be depicted this way? Shall we be chill if Carnage was outted as a pedophile while we are at it too?

Of course the counter arguments to the above would be that his attempts to sleep with MJ at least were attempts to prove his superiority over Spider-Man. Or to avenger himself upon him in some way.

First of all the entire concept of Superior is broken. It postulates that Otto is seeking to prove himself better than Spider-Man by becoming an improved version of him. But the problem is that the logic doesn’t line up there.

If the only way he can prove himself better than Spider-Man is by literally becoming him and in turn turning him into Doctor Octopus, that’s tantamount to admitting Spider-Man was always better than himself. The only way he could have won is by becoming the guy he always claimed was inferior to himself.

Second of all in regards to his attempted ‘conquest’ of MJ, sleeping with her wouldn’t even prove his superiority. It’s made clear by issue #2 that he’s merely interested in MJ for sex and no other reason. He accesses Peter’s memories of being intimate with MJ and experiences the sensation of her body that way, being implied to masturbate during this internal screaming. Afterwards, he states he’s got her off his mind and the story clearly conveys that he’s going to turn his attention to other romantic/sexual pursuits.

So he only wanted to sleep with MJ and nothing else. Not even that, he just wanted to know the sensation of sleeping with MJ and was content to access Peter’s memories and wank off to that end internal screaming intensifies.

By this logic then he’s proven himself if anything inferior to Peter. And no, I’m not making some kind of judgement about masturbation. My point is if Mary Jane consented to sleep with Peter, but has not done that with Otto, then by definition Peter would have accomplished something Otto would not have. If you remove sex from the equation and just said Otto was trying to ‘win’ a mere kiss from Mary Jane and she didn’t do that, but she had done so for Peter, then by definition Otto would’ve failed where Peter has succeeded.

The fact that he was content to move on from her by simply browsing Peter’s memories (from his POV Peter’s ‘accomplishments’ if you will) means that he was never trying to sleep with MJ to prove his superiority in the first place. He was just a horny creep. Nothing more.

Not to mention, he is aware Peter had slept with Mary Jane and done so on multiple occasions. How would even regularly sleeping with her prove himself superior? It’s just sex. He’d know that. He’s both an adult and an incredible clinical person who clearly knows how to romance a woman. One of his biggest regrets in life was giving up his fiancée.

So Otto would be aware that sex would be no proof of his superiority and it wouldn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. What would really prove himself superior would be having and maintaining a relationship with MJ that was either longer lasting or over all better than the one she held with Peter.

But he’s not interested in that because he moves on after wanking off. And he is trading off of trickery to even get his foot in the door in the first place. This isn’t a case of him being a younger or more attractive man and using his own charms and traits to court her.

He is only got as far as he did because he looks like someone she knows, because she believes he is that person, because he’s using Peter’s memories to pander to what she likes (like her favourite movie) and circumvent what he knows will turn her off. Hell in ASM #698 he jumps immediately into a relationship with her but it’s obvious to both him and MJ that the emotional groundwork for that had been laid in preceding months.

So even if Otto was enough of a slimeball to not consider this rape, a man that intelligent and egotistical would still recognize that sex wouldn’t be a badge of superiority on his part.

If anything his own romantic life would be something more worthy of pride.

Let’s say we accept for the moment that Otto conforms to stereotypical standards of attractiveness. Well then what would be more impressive from your POV?

a) Wooing a stunning actress/supermodel when she believes you are someone else she knows, someone much in their 20s or early 30s, very in shape and at least fairly handsome

b) Being a rotund, arguably ugly (but at least typically unattractive) middle aged man and wooing a relatively attractive woman your age, a younger more attractive woman who was immediately smitten by you and a younger woman smitten by you that your own genius transformed into a veritable vision of stunning beauty?*

Yeah, obviously the latter right?

Also, the idea that sex with MJ would constitute a form of revenge is highly out of character for Otto.

That is more of a Norman Osborn tactic. Otto actively despises Norman’s ideology, as elaborated upon in Superior Team-Up #11-12. In those issues Otto and Norman endeavour to work together in spite of a philosophical disagreement. Otto feels that Spider-Man should be defeated through science whereas Norman feels they should attack his soul.

To prove the point Norman infects Otto’s old fiancee Mary Alice with a deadly virus (read: AIDs, this was the 1990s) so Otto will understand the torment they could inflict upon Spider-Man.

Initially Otto seeks bloody revenge upon Norman. However, he defies Norman by instead reaffirming his original belief. He sought to defeat Spider-Man through science and thus prove his philosophy superior to Norman’s.

Okay. That wasn’t published at the time of Superior #2 so let’s say we ignore it.

Even doing that, Otto had been defined for decades as someone who wouldn’t go in for such spiteful attacks on his enemies.

In Spec #221 (part of the ‘Web of Death’ storyline) Peter himself states he doesn’t believe Otto will target his loved ones, even though he just learned his secret identity.

Hold them hostage to lure him out? Okay.

Maim or kill them for revenge? He’s just not that sort of guy.

Or at least he wasn’t until this creepy ass scene from ASM #700. Among other things, he specifically refers to the prospect of sex with MJ as ‘another victory for the Master Planner’.

Let’s try coming at this from a different angle then.

If Otto believes himself to be Peter Parker because he inhabits his body, perhaps he doesn’t regard sleeping with MJ as unethical at all. She is giving her consent to Peter Parker and he is Peter Parker now.

That’s a rather huge stretch to make about the character considering he actively tried to hide the fact that he was secretly Otto Octavius from so many people in Superior.

Moreover, during ‘Dying Wish’ it was clear (due to mischaracterization) that Otto was doing what he was doing for revenge, that was even partially why he wanted to sleep with MJ (see above). He wanted to ‘have something Peter hadn’t had in a while’ (...ugh...). Furthermore in ASM #700 he was bombarded with Peter’s morality (or some shit like that, I don’t know...) and this convinced him to be a good guy.

But that was seemingly thrown out the window when Superior started as he seemed to just be a bad guy who battled crime to again be superior to Spider-Man. He wasn’t honouring his fallen comrade and didn’t have his moral compass as seemed to be implied in ASM #700 because if he did why was he still trying to rape Mary Jane?

Shit in fact in Avenging Spider-Man #15.1 he’s LAUGHING at Peter’s demise and the fact that he’s gotten away with this. He refers to Spider-Man in the third person as he does this. This event also happened literally the day after ASM #700, so it was less than 24 hours since he had been blasted with Peter Parker’s memories and resolved to be a ‘hero’.

Not to mention in various issues he clearly refers to himself and Peter as separate entities. In Avenging Spider-Man #15.1 his thoughts drifted to MJ and he called Peter a fool.

He does the same in Superior #2 where he refers to Peter in the third person.

His dialogue utilizes quotation marks when using Peter’s full name; “Peter Parker”. This demarks how he is making a distinction between himself and the real Peter Parker. He is acknowledging himself as a pretender.

In Superior #4 internally reprimanded ‘Parker’ for never finishing Grad School. At the same time he negatively compared Peter’s efforts to when he received his own doctorate, referring to himself as ‘I’.

In Superior #10 he referred to Peter as a separate person, referencing how he expunged him from his mind in the prior issue.

He also chastises Peter as a ‘reactionary fool’ who allowed ‘his’ enemies to make the first move. Where ‘Parker’ dealt with symptoms he plans on dealing with the disease. He even refers to himself by name as Otto Octavius.

When he runs into MJ he wonders what ‘Parker’ would say and gripes that fooling her was easier before he purged ‘his’ (meaning Peter’s) memories.

In Superior #21 he refers to his “…life as ‘Peter Parker’…”. He’s clearly making a distinction between the real Peter Parker and himself as a pretender.

In the same issue, when Stunner blames him as Spidey for murdering Doc Ock, it takes Otto a moment to register what she is talking about. He then attempts to reveal the truth to her. He starts by saying “I’m actually…”

These moments when taken with all his other unethical actions in Superior also undermine another defence of Otto’s raptastic efforts in Superior.

This is the idea that ‘he’s changed’ in the interim leading into Superior. Now his attitude towards women and morality is different so it’s believable for him to act this way.

Let’s ignore how again, Superior Team-Up disproves this. Otto’s actions clearly showcase that he in fact has not changed as a person. He’s not grown or evolved. He just happens to be crime fighting now as a form of ego boosting and to prove himself better than Peter.

More importantly if Otto was going to so noticeably change in his attitudes to women then we should have seen that happen!

You can’t just jump forward and tell readers to just accept a character has had a change of heart and is now open to the idea of fucking rape!

How, when and WHY did he change to be this drastically different predatory creature? This wasn’t like how Aunt May or Norman were different when the former was resurrected and the latter was written by JMS. Those were extrapolations of aspects of those characters that were already there. This was essentially something wholesale new and starkly against how he was previously defined. Its akin to what Slott did to Ben Reilly in ‘Clone Conspiracy’ or to Ashley Kafka when he had her declare someone irredeemable (even though she believed Carnage was redeemable).

Finally, lets pretend to ignore all of the above.

Let’s say Otto being a rapist would be entirely believable.

That doesn’t mean you should actually DO it!

Doc Ock is a classic goofy mad scientist archetypical villain, even if he was (allegedly) on a redemption tour in this story. Adding something so creepy, disturbing and vile from the real world to his character taints his character. It took him to a bad place where he was peers with the likes of Purple Man and Doctor Light. It makes him practically irredeemable. Maybe a skilled writer on a MAX book could pull off a redemption arc for a rapist or attempted rapist. But not only is Slott not that skilled, but he’s played it for comedy!

Frankly, unless you have seriously done your research on this topic you shouldn’t even be touching it.

To touch it so casually for humour is seriously FUCKED UP!

I don’t even want this topic really raised in mainline Spider-Man titles period personally but to do it like this?

*gagging noises*

Not to mention it was entirely unnecessary.

Otto had attempted to mass murder half the planet in an arc just the year before Superior. Surely that is enough fuel for a redemption story, you don’t need to make him a rapist/attempted rapist on top of that.

But no. Gotta milk that crass shock value for all it is worth!

Shit, the topic with MJ was handwaved within one issue!

Fuck Slott.

Fuck Superior.

Fuck everyone who defended this disgusting garbage!

*This also dismantles the myopic idea that an older man who looked like Otto would be jumping at the chance to have sex. That’s another defence I’ve heard. The fact is multiple women found Otto attractive as he was.

#Superior Spider-Man #The Superior Spider-Man #otto octavius #Doc Ock #Doctor Octopus #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Dan Slott #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #MJ Watson #Carolyn Trainer #Lady Octopus #Lady Ock

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worryinglyinnocent · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: I’ve Got The Power!

AU-gust Day Eight: Superheroes/Superpowers AU Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: None

Rated: G

Summary: Emma Swan has just discovered she has superpowers. Really useless superpowers. Luckily, there are several other individuals with… not very useful powers… who can help her out.

===

I’ve Got The Power!

Emma Swan had had superpowers for all of forty-eight hours before she decided that they were really not all they were cracked up to be.

It would have been all right if her superpower had been something cool like all the superheroes she saw on the TV. If she’d had superstrength or laser vision or the ability to fly, then Emma would quite happily have signed on to be part of the next generation of the Super League or the Brotherhood of Justice, or any of the other groups of costumed heroes who protected America’s cities from the threats that regular folks couldn’t handle.

As it was, Emma’s superpower wasn’t cool. It wasn’t even all that useful. In fact, it was just a downright pain in the backside. Emma Swan, in the most ironic and clichéd case of nominative determinism ever, had just discovered that she could turn into a swan. Not even a majestic-looking swan. More a gawky-looking cygnet that was only just coming into its adult plumage.

Well, that made sense, she was only eighteen and only just coming into her human adult plumage, so to speak. Maybe in a couple of years she’d look better.

In the meantime, what the hell was she supposed to do with this newfound power? And more importantly, how the hell was she supposed to control it?

One minute she was sitting in the back of her bug quite happily, eating chips. The next she was flapping about in the footwell with chips flying everywhere. These random transformations had been going on for the last two days without much chance of respite, and they were getting to be a severe hindrance to her lifestyle. She’d have driven off and moved along by now usually; she never liked to stay in one place too long, but she didn’t want to run the risk of transforming whilst behind the wheel. Swans lacked the opposable thumbs necessary to grip the steering wheel for a start, and there was no way that her webbed feet would be able to reach the pedals.

At least she was learning the warning signs now. So far, each transformation had been preceded by a numb, tingling sensation in her extremities, like pins and needles, and she sighed as she felt it again. She was never going to be able to finish this bag of chips at this rate.

Emma flapped her wings in frustration as the transformation completed, battering the windows with her strong feathers before letting out a scream of frustration that came out as a series of ear-splitting and extremely non-human sounds.

It was only once she was comparatively calm again that Emma realised that she was not alone. A man and a woman were standing a short way from the car looking alarmed. Had they seen her transform? She quickly ducked down out of sight – no mean feat when her neck was now several times longer than it used to be.

“Now, I don’t claim to know this part of town very well,” the man began, “but I really don’t think that there should be a swan in the back of that car.”

“David…” The woman’s voice was faltering, as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying. “David, it’s not a swan.”

“A goose, then. Whatever it is, it does not belong in a car.”

“David, it’s a human.”

There was silence for a long time, and Emma chanced to peep up out of the window. The man and woman were looking at each other.

“Well,” David said eventually. “You would know.”

The woman looked over at the bug again and Emma quickly hid. When the woman spoke, there was a strange, echoey quality to her voice, as if she was talking directly into Emma’s head as well as the sound going in through her ears at the same time. Was she a telepath?

“You’re human, aren’t you?”

Emma had no idea what to say – or indeed think – in response. Were these people friend or foe? Had she just stumbled upon the town’s latest new supervillain duo, and the only thing she could do was flap her wings and screech a bit?

“Please say something, I can’t read your mind.”

Ha! That was exactly what an evil telepath would say to lull her into a false sense of security! Emma remained smugly silent, although she knew that wouldn’t exactly help if the woman was in fact an evil telepath.

It was then that she felt the all-too-familiar tingle in her fingers and toes – webbed feet and wingtips – and she groaned inwardly. Not again. Especially not now and especially not with an audience.

Too late. She was human again, falling off the back seat with a garbled shout of alarm. By the time she had picked herself up, David and his possibly telepathic companion had moved closer and were peering n through the window.

Emma waved awkwardly. “Hi.”

“Are you all right?” David asked. Emma nodded vigorously, wondering what the best and quickest way to get them to go away was. She could hardly pretend that nothing had happened now that they had seen her transform, but that didn’t stop her trying.

“Yep,” she said brightly. “Absolutely fine, nothing to see here, you definitely did not just witness a woman turn into a swan and back again.”

David and his friend looked at each other and back at Emma.

“Yeah, powers are hard to control when they first turn themselves on,” David said. “How long have you had yours?”

Emma sighed. She definitely wasn’t going to be able to get rid of them, and if there was something psychic going on with the woman then maybe they’d be sympathetic to her plight and leave her alone to wallow in misery of their own accord. She rolled down the window to talk to them properly.

“Two days,” she said. “It’s the most useless power ever. How am I supposed to save the world by turning into a swan?”

“You’re telling me.” The woman held out a hand and Emma shook it through the window gap. “I’m Mary Margaret. I talk to animals. Welcome to the Lame Superpowers club. Our motto is ‘I’ve got the power! Now what do I do with it?’”

Well, that explained why her voice had sounded so weird when Emma had been a swan. She was slightly mollified about the possibility of Mary Margaret reading her mind now. She turned to David.

“What about you?”

“Long jump,” he said.

“What?”

“I can jump a long way. As long as I have a decent run up. Good for dramatic jumping between rooftops, not much good for pretty much anything else.”

It was good to know that she was not the only person in the world with a stupid superpower.

“I wasn’t kidding about us having a club,” Mary Margaret added, looking around the bug that Emma was quite clearly living inside of. “If you need a place to crash for a bit, we hang out in the cabin by the lake.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that place haunted?”

“No, just full of people with weird powers. We like to keep the rumours going though. It means less chance of someone finding our hideout.”

Emma looked around the back of the bug. On the one hand, it would be nice to have a roof over her head for a bit. On the other hand, she had no idea whether she could trust David and Mary Margaret or not, and if she entered this supposedly haunted cabin, then she might not come out again. They seemed like genuinely nice people, but Emma was still sceptical.

“What do you do there?” she asked.

“Train our powers, mostly.” David shrugged. “Try to control them better and make them more useful. Mr Gold says that we must have been given these powers for a reason other than to annoy us. Sometimes I think he’s trying to turn us into the superhero team that we’re all convinced we can’t be.”

“Who’s Mr Gold?”

“He owns the cabin and is the founding member of the Lame Superpowers Club. Well, the official title is Unusual Superpowers. His son’s around your age, actually. I think you would get on.”

Emma considered the proposal for a moment. In the end, what did she have to lose? “All right.”

A few minutes later found Emma following Mary Margaret and David down a winding forest track towards the cabin. It was slow going towards the end, as Emma transformed again and could only waddle at a swan’s pace, and Mary Margaret got distracted trying to mediate a dispute between two squirrels who were arguing over acorn ownership – in strong Brooklyn accents, according to Mary Margaret.

Eventually, they made it inside.

“We’ve got a new member!” David announced to the cabin at large. The rest of the occupants looked at David and Mary Margaret and then at the swan standing beside them, and then back to David and Mary Margaret with concerned expressions.

“Erm, David? It’s a swan.”

“Oh, just give her a minute, she’ll change back. Everyone, this is Emma. Emma, this is everyone, starting with Ruby.”

“Werewolf,” Ruby said cheerfully. “I can turn into a wolf but only at night when there’s a full moon visible.”

“Leroy.”

“Insanely good at chopping things with a pickaxe and literally no other weapon.” Leroy gave a nod of welcome to Emma.

“Not great at chopping things with kitchen utensils either,” Mary Margaret added. “This is Bae.”

“I can open portals that might lead to anywhere and that I have no idea if I’ll be able to come back from if I go through one.” Bae waved. He looked to be in his late teens, and Emma surmised that he was the son of the mysterious Mr Gold.

“There’s also Bae’s dad but he doesn’t appear to be here at the moment,” Mary Margaret concluded. “Mr Gold, who, in another case of extreme nominative determinism, can spin straw into gold.”

Emma felt herself beginning to transform again, and she only just managed to grab David’s arm to keep her balance as she shot back up to her normal height and centre of gravity. To give them their due, the rest of the gathered group seemed completely unfazed by what they had just witnessed.

“Hi. I’m Emma. I’ve been randomly turning into a swan for two days.”

“Cool!” Bae waved her over. “I’ve only had my powers for a week too. They’re so annoying, aren’t they?”

Emma nodded, glad to have found a kindred spirit so quickly. Maybe being part of the Lame Superpowers Club wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#OUAT fic #Emma Swan #Mary Margaret Blanchard #David Nolan #Superpowers AU #AU-gust #Worry does AU-gust #Fic: I've Got The Power!

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years ago

Note

It's been awhile, hasn't it? Could you please write furious Arthur headcanons? His s/o had been kidnapped by another gang ( your choice) and write him a ransom but he doesn't give them anything, except a killing spree. He's bloodthirsty.

Okay, I only wrote 13 pages and the second half I did while being extremely tired (my fault for having too much caffeine before going to sleep). I hope it isn’t total garbage.

Warnings: swearing, torture, mentions of attempted rape, blood

Breathe

It’s early morning, the sun’s just risen and you’re kneeling next to the fire. You and Arthur found this place to camp last night while heading back to Shady Belle. It’s not too far from Clemens Point, the campsite the gang deserted a few weeks back thanks to the Pinkertons finding it. Arthur approached you a few days ago, stating he needed to get away from the swamps and that godforsaken city Saint Denis, so you went with him.

You’re fairly certain Arthur’s sweet on you. Nothing conclusive, of course. It’s just a look here and there, a touch. The way he talks to you. The fact that you’re the only person he invites to come on these hunting trips. You know he has no qualms about going alone. He used to go out by himself for days on end, coming back with loads of pelts and herbs. That was when you first joined though. The past couple of months, he’s liked you to come along.

You’re sweet on Arthur too. He’s a complicated man, capable of great measures of violence and gentleness. You’ve seen him be kind one second and become scary as hell the next. However, it was his gentleness and his devotion to the gang that first captured your attention. He’d move mountains for most of the gang members, particularly Dutch, Hosea and the other girls. You hope he’d do the same for you, and something tells you he would. Once you got to know him a little better, it didn’t take long for you to develop feelings for him. It was then that you also noticed how handsome he was and there were many nights you went to sleep pretending to be nestled in his arms.

Arthur’s out now, probably hunting or gathering herbs. You like to sleep in later than he does, so you’re not worried. You straighten your shirt and run your fingers through your hair before pouring yourself a cup of coffee. Once you’re a little more awake, you’ll get your bow and go find him.

The energy in the air shifts suddenly. Or perhaps it’s just the wind, but something feels wrong. You remember once in Big Valley being stalked by a cougar. This feeling is the same, but there are no large predators down this far south. Not that you know of, anyways. You look around the wide clearing and into the trees. There seems to be nothing. So why does it feel so strange?

Without warning, a lasso floats over your head and around your middle, binding your arms to your sides. The rope jerks, slamming you down onto the ground and you begin to panic. Three men, whooping and hollering, come running up. They’re wearing old soldiers’ uniforms.

Breathe

“You sure she’s the one, Curtis? Part of that gang that took Shady Belle?” the one holding the rope that binds you says.

A slightly fat man with a big white beard approaches you, grabbing your face hard and he peers at you. “She’s definitely with that gang. I seen her before. That big feller you with, he the gang leader?” he directs the question at you.

Lemoyne Raiders. No question about it. You knew you hadn’t seen the last of them after Dutch robbed them of their hideout.

“I ain’t runnin’ with no other feller,” you lie. “Just myself and my horse.”

“Then how you explain the two bedrolls? You also got enough supplies to take care of two people.”

You swallow. “I… I like to carry a lot of supplies. Sell them sometimes. You in the market?”

The man grabs your collar and swiftly punches you, causing starts to blink in your vision.

“Now tell the truth, girl!” the man hollers.

You glare up at him and spit blood in his face. “I ain’t tellin’ you a damn thing.”

“Fine, but you ain’t gonna like the alternative.” The man flips you onto your back, binding your hands and feet together. The man named Curtis hollers again back at the other two. “Come on, boys. We’ll take her to our new place. Make her hungry.”

“But what use is she gonna be to us?” the third man says. He has a rather stupid look to him and his eyes are too far apart.

“Easy. That feller she’s runnin’ with. I doubt he’s gone far,” Curtis points out. “We’ll leave him a little note. Adam, you know how to write, you’ll make it up. Put down that we want Shady Belle back and $1000 with it. Either that, or we’ll send them a gift made out of this pretty lady’s skin.”

The men chuckle darkly and you’re beginning to panic. You’re just about to scream for Arthur when Curtis kneels down, takes his pistol out, and slams the butt of it into your head, forcing you into a world of darkness.

***************************************

Arthur makes his way back to the little make-shift camp. It’s nearly noon; he’s surprised you haven’t caught up with him yet. You’ve never slept in this late. Maybe you’re not feeling well. His horse’s saddlebags are bursting with herbs, Grimshaw will be happy at least.

He hums softly to himself, excited that your face will be the first one he sees today. You have the brightest and warmest smile he’s ever seen. He’d pay an unimaginable amount to wake up to seeing that smile of yours everyday. He wants nothing more than to ask you out to dinner or some other date, but he’s terrified. No way could someone like you be interested in a dirty, violent outlaw like himself.

He sees the pillar of smoke that marks your camp and his humming changes to whistling. Maybe today he’ll finally find the courage to ask you out. Unlikely. All you have to do is smile and his legs turn to jelly. Still, he loves your company. The way you point out the beauty of the world where all he once saw was the ugliness of it. Your face litters many of the pages in his journal. If only you knew how many. Probably a good thing you didn’t, he thought, otherwise you’d go running for the hills.

He walks his horse slowly up the last small rise towards camp. When he sees it, he’s confused. You’re not there, but your horse is still tied to the small tree you hitched her to the previous night. Maybe you’ve gone to pick herbs not too far away or you’re fishing at the lake, which isn’t far either. However, when he gets closer and he sees the blood, he knows you’re in trouble. He hops off his horse and inspects the camp, looking for any clue to what happened. He finds the note. “Give us Shady Belle and $1000 or the girl dies. Deliver alone. LR.”

His breathing becomes suddenly rapid and his hands begin to shake. He crumples the letter in his hand, the edges of his vision turning red. How dare those bastards touch a single hair on your head? He was angry when he learned young Jack had been kidnapped. It’s nothing compared to the seething hatred he feels now. He quickly throws down camp, grabs your horse and then gallops back to Shady Belle. Dutch will surely help him.

**************************************

Breathe.

You’re being dragged by the rope binding your feet. Your head aches and you crack your eyes open. An old, boarded-up house looms above you and you’re flanked by over half a dozen men, all in Confederate uniforms. The man dragging you stops and you look to your left and see the burned skeleton of a barn.

“What the hell she doin’ here, Curtis?” a slightly fat, balding man demands. Based on his uniform, you’d guess he’s the boss of this group.

“She’s with that gang who took Shady Belle. We left a note for her companion to give it back and an extra $1000, otherwise we’d send her back in a condition they ain’t gonna like.”

“You damn fool, Curtis!” the man growls. “And when the entire gang comes up to get her, then what?”

“We wrote her friend a note to come alone when deliverin’ the money. He ain’t gonna be a problem, Richard.”

“He better not be. Still, I would enjoy seein’ at least one of those traitors who robbed us suffer. That was our goddamn home.” Richard looks to the house and then back to you. “Put her in the basement.”

Breathe.

The man holding your feet begins dragging you again towards the house. You grunt loudly as he hauls you up the front steps and they scratch against your back. You start struggling, trying to grab onto anything that might give you an edge. Curtis, who’s walking behind you, grabs your hands and picks you up so now you’re being carried between the two men.

They drop you in a room with a fireplace, a fire burning inside it. Richard enters the room, shooing most the other men out except for Curtis and the man still holding her feet. He orders them to strip you. You start fighting, but Richard and the other man pin you down as Curtis rips off your clothes, leaving you in your undergarments.

“You wanna go further?” he asks Richard, a hungry look in his eyes that leaves you feeling cold.

“Not yet. If they don’t show up with the money in a day or two, we’ll have some fun with her.”

Curtis looks disappointed, but he and the other man pick you up again and Richard opens up a door in the floor. They carry you down into a cellar. There are three pillars, chains attached to them. This house clearly used to keep slaves down here before the Civil War ended.

The men drop you onto the stone ground and then Richard pulls out two pairs of handcuffs. He binds your hands together and then your feet. Then he forces you to your feet and stretches your arms up, attaching the chain holding your hands together to an old hook hanging from the rafters of the ceiling. It leaves you barely standing on your toes.

“Get out of here, you two,” Richard says to the other men. Again, they look disappointed but they comply. Richard turns back to you. “Now, you’re gonna tell me about this little gang of yours.”

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’,” you growl.

He chuckles and takes out a knife. “Maybe not yet, but you will.”

Breathe.

*********************************************

Arthur stomps into camp, still in a fury. He goes to Dutch and explains your predicament.

“We ain’t givin’ those animals money, Arthur,” Dutch says.

“No of course we ain’t. But we need to find her. Gather the men, let’s go hunt her down before those bastards have a chance to hurt her.”

Dutch stands up, glaring at Arthur. He’s never tried to boss Dutch around and he won’t accept it. “No, Arthur. I need them to do work and I know you’re sweet on Y/N, Arthur, but she ain’t exactly Jack.”

Arthur’s vision has remained red the entire time since he found your ransom note but it intensifies when he hears Dutch’s words. “What, because she ain’t a kid who represents the potentials of the future, she ain’t worth savin’?!”

“Arthur, that ain’t what I’m saying,” Dutch says quickly. Although he knows Arthur’s loyalty would never waver, he knows exactly what Arthur’s capable of. “We’ll get her before she can talk, but I just need a little more time.”

“She ain’t gonna talk, Dutch. She’s as loyal to you as any of us.”

“I don’t know that, Arthur. She’s only been with us for a few months and who knows what they’ll do to her. You’d be surprised how quickly people break when subjected to torture.”

Arthur clenches his fist and Dutch takes a step back. “I’m goin’ after her, Dutch, right now whether you like it or not. I’m gonna kill all them bastards. But if she’s dead, Dutch, I’m gonna tear everything-”

“Alright, Arthur,” Dutch says quickly, knowing how easily Arthur could hurt him if he really wanted to. “Take two men, go find her.”

Arthur stomps out of the house, still furious that no one else cares about you as much as he does. He grabs Charles and John and rides back to where your camp was in order to track you down.

*******************************************

Breathe.

The inside of your upper left arm burns something terrible. At least the bleeding has stopped. Richard tried getting information out of you, kicking and slapping you when you refused. After two hours of attempted interrogation, he lost his temper and carved the word “traitor” into your arm. The pain was indescribable. He left you alone to hang from your wrists after that, clearly needing a break.

It’s been at least half a day since you saw anyone. You’re thirsty and your wrists hurt like crazy from holding a good portion of your weight, the manacles digging into your skin.

The cellar door at the top of the stairs opens again and Richard walks down. He’s alone but he’s already pulled out his knife.

“You gonna talk, traitor?” he growls.

“Fuck off, you piece of shit,” you spit back.

He narrows his eyes and rubs his thumb across the blade. “You know, a few years ago, another gang came through here. Guess they wander a lot, don’t stick in one place for more than a few weeks. Called themselves the Skinners. I saw the things they did to the folk they caught. Even learned a thing or two. Trust me, girl, you wouldn’t like any of the ideas I got for you.”

He glares at you. Fear rips through your gut but you won’t give in so easily. Someone will come for you, you’re sure of it, and you’re more scared of what Dutch will do if you talk and he finds out.

“Do your worst,” you say, a tear sliding down your cheek.

Richard curls his lip and then slams his knife down into your thigh, making you scream. “Talk, girl,” he demands again. You quiet down, more tears falling. “Talk!” he hollers, twisting the knife which only makes you scream more. He twists, pulls and pushes the knife, trying to work anything out of you. Then, he yanks the knife out, blood spilling out of your thigh.

“You’re gonna say somethin’! I don’t care how much you’ve whored yourself to those men, you’re gonna break.”

You can do nothing but cry as your thigh bleeds freely. Richard reaches up and drags the tip of the knife from your neck to your collarbone, finally cutting into your chest. He draws a shallow line, making you scream again.

Finally, Richard seems to have enough after cutting you in multiple places across your arms and legs. He huffs insults at you and then marches up the stairs.

Breathe.

*********************************************

At the campsite, Charles picks up a trail of three horses, most likely your captors'. It’s an old trail but he manages to pick it up just fine. Arthur’s still furious and desperate to find you.

John tries to encourage him. “We got Jack back, Arthur. We won’t have any problems finding her.”

He couldn’t be more wrong, though. The men who captured you almost seemed to not know where they were going. The trail winds in several circles and sometimes even turns back to the way they’d come, almost like they were afraid of leaving a trail.

The hunt lasts for hours and the sun begins to set. Charles tells Arthur to rest, but he refuses, stating you certainly don’t have that luxury. He won’t either, not until you’re safe. Charles and John decide not to argue. They know how Arthur feels about you, and how afraid he is of losing you. They agree to go on.

The trail heads further east towards the swamps and then, after hours of following, it turns west again, back towards Scarlett Meadows. Arthur’s even more furious. What the hell were those animals trying to do when they captured you? Charles asks for the note they’d left him, wondering if it could give any clues to where you are. Arthur says there’s nothing but hands him the note anyways.

“LR,” Charles says.

“Lemoyne Raiders,” John explains. “We drove them out of Shady Belle.”

Charles nods and his face is deep in thought. “Where would a gang that large go after losing their main hideout?”

Arthur pulls out a map and inspects it. There’s few buildings that aren’t in a town or a city that are large enough to house a gang. Then he sees a place on the map in the direction the trail is leading. He recognizes it from when Uncle found a lead on a stage that was owned by Cornwall. They’d hid in the barn of the house and it got burned down. Shortly afterwards, he met the former owner, an ex slave catcher. He remembers the old cellar with chains on the pillars, ledgers of slaves and a slave’s old journal describing getting caught.

“There, Compston’s Stead. My money’s on there.”

John looks at the map and nods. “Seems big enough. Right in the middle of their territory.”

“Let’s go,” Charles says, but Arthur’s already riding off. The group gallops through the night, the horses snort and sweat from being pushed so hard. They enter the woods right outside Comspton’s Stead and finally pull to a stop. It’s nearly dawn, the eastern horizon turning light. Arthur dismounts and pulls out his shotgun.

“We need to come up with a plan,” John says. “What are we doin’, Arthur?”

“Kill ‘em all,” Arthur says and then starts walking towards the house. Charles and John call for him, stating the obvious flaws in this idea, but Arthur ignores them. All he knows is they’ve undoubtedly tortured you and done God knows what else and he’s going to rip them all to shreds.

He stops at the edge of the trees and, sure enough, there’s tents and wagons around the house and burnt barn. Hardly anyone’s awake, but two men are sitting around a campfire, sipping coffee. They’re clearly supposed to be on guard as they hold rifles, but they’re taking a break. Arthur aims his shotgun and fires, the slugs slamming into the chest of one of the men. The other hops up, only to be knocked back by another shot fired by Arthur.

The other men start getting out of their tents, but they’re disoriented from being asleep. Some are still pulling their pants or hats on, wielding pistols or rifles.

“Raiders!” Arthur screams, reloading his shotgun. “You’re dead, you sons of bitches! Where is she?”

**********************************

You’re dozing, somehow able to get a bit of rest despite the immense pain flowing constantly throughout your body. There isn’t a part of you that doesn’t hurt, but you’re so tired you’re managing to fade out of consciousness to a point and sleep a little. That is until you hear the cellar door open. You look up and out the small window near the ceiling. The sky’s turning light. Richard walks down the stairs, his eyes dark and hungry. He closes the cellar door behind him.

Breathe.

“You gonna talk, whore?” he growls.

“Do your worst,” you say again, your voice no more than a soft grunt. You’re so thirsty and weak it’s all you can manage.

“Oh I plan too. You are a pretty thing. Shame you’re makin’ me carve you up like this.” He stands in front of you and raises his hand, dragging a finger from your shoulder and all the way down your body. The way he touches you is the absolute worst torture and you suddenly realize what he’s thinking of doing.

He grabs the top of your bloomers and begins to pull down. “Obviously knives ain’t workin’ on you. Maybe I can… squeeze your words out of you another way,” he whispers in your ear. You clench your legs together as hard as you can, but in your position you don’t have much power over what happens to you.

Richard reaches a hand up to lift your chemise when a sudden explosion echoes outside. It’s coming from the woods. Richard steps away quickly and looks out the window.

Another explosion and men begin shouting. You hear a man hollering a slew of insults. There’s anger in his voice, but it’s different than the anger in Richard’s voice. A kind of desperation lingers behind it.

“Son of a bitch,” Richard growls. He pulls out his pistol and stands close to you. “Don’t worry, whore. He ain’t gettin’ to you.”

Breathe.

You want to cry out. You recognize those explosions well enough to know they’re coming from a shotgun. Someone has come for you. You have to believe it.

“Help!” you try calling out, but your voice is so weak it’s hardly more than a whisper.

“Shut up,” Richard grunts. You call out again and he slams the butt of his pistol in your face, cutting your cheek.

The air outside echoes with more shots, more screaming. You don’t know how long it continues, but then it suddenly stops. Richard shuffles nervously, his thumb brushing against the hammer of his pistol. He stares up at the closed cellar door. You can see the sweat dripping down his face.

The cellar door swings open, light streaming in and blinding you. Richard hesitates and then points his pistol at your head.

“Come any closer, she dies,” he says.

The person at the top of the stairs darts down them. You gasp when you see Arthur and he’s wielding a rusty old sword. He’s too fast for Richard and he swings the sword down and into Richard’s shoulder, burying it deep. Richard drops the pistol and falls to the ground, Arthur on top of him.

Arthur pulls out his knife and slashes Richard’s throat, and he gurgles as the blood flows from his open neck. Arthur watches him for a second, his shirt speckled in Richard’s blood. Then he turns and looks at you, a fire raging in his eyes.

Breathe.

“Ar-Arthur,” you groan. He gets up and grabs your wrists, unhooking them from the rafters. You sigh when your weight finally goes to your feet but you’re so weak you fall against Arthur. He grabs you and holds you tight, kneeling down so you don’t have to stand. He cradles your head against his chest, his other arm tight around your back.

“I got ya, girl. You’re safe now,” he whispers, his voice gentle compared to the violence that he’d just committed.

You take in a deep breath, his scent of pine and leather flooding your nostrils and then you begin to cry. You sob into his shirt and he just holds you, rubbing circles into your back. He releases you only for a moment to take out a lockpick and take the cuffs off your wrists. When your hands are free, you latch onto him as hard as you can.

“You’re safe, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt ya now.”

He sighs, his arms folding tightly around you. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, wanting to shut out the world. You swear his lips brush your forehead.

“Come on, sweetheart. We need to get you out of here.”

He starts pulling away, but you latch onto him. You feel cold and you’re terrified from everything that’s happened. He’s warm and he represents safety, protection.

“Easy, girl. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Just need to get these off your feet.”

He lays you down on your back as gently as he can and then unlocks the cuffs around your feet. He’s back near your head and he picks you up, cradling your head to his neck again as he carries you up the stairs. You’re blinded from having been down in that cellar for you don’t even know how long. He walks slowly as to not cause you more pain and your eyes adjust to the light.

Curtis and the man who dragged you lie dead in the living room, their bodies resting in pools of blood. Outside, you’re blinded again but you have an easier time adjusting to the light. There’s more corpses. Charles and John are looting the bodies and camp for anything they can use. They straighten up when they see Arthur carrying you.

“Is she…” Charles begins.

“She’s alive,” Arthur says with a shaky voice. “She’s in bad shape though. We need to get her home.”

Arthur calls his horse and, with John’s and Charles’s help, lifts you onto the horse, which is extremely painful on your leg. You grunt and gasp in pain and Arthur says words of encouragement. He climbs up behind you and wraps a protective arm around you, grabbing the reins in his other hand. He says nothing to the other two and pushes his horse into an easy canter towards camp. The pain is too much as it rips through your body in fresh waves and sends you into a relieving world of darkness.

***********************

Arthur arrives back at camp, followed by Charles and John. You passed out within only a few moments of riding, to which he’s grateful for. It meant you would have to endure less pain. Once he stops his horse, John holds you up as he gets off his horse. John makes to slide you off, but Arthur pushes him away and pulls you into his arms.

Grimshaw’s making a huge fuss, ordering people around to get medical supplies. Dutch walks over to him and is about to say something when Arthur snaps at him. “I don’t wanna hear about it right now, Dutch. She ain’t outta the woods yet.”

Grimshaw tries to tell him to drop you off on your own bedroll, which is positioned by Karen’s and Mary-Beth’s on the ground, but Arthur says it would be best if you were on an elevated bed, somewhere secluded and warm. He hauls you up to his room and puts you onto his bed. Grimshaw abruptly shoves him out of the warm so she and the girls can change your clothes and begin working on you.

Most of your cuts and wounds are okay and don’t require stitches, including the carved word on your arm. Your leg is a different situation. The wound is deep and jagged and it’s still bleeding, though not profusely. Grimshaw says the best option would be to cauterize it instead of risk it getting infected. Karen brings her a candle and some gunpowder.

Arthur’s standing outside his door, pacing near it. He’s terrified to hear about your condition but prays he got to you in time. He’s still wearing his bloody clothes, but as he’s not allowed into his room to change, he doesn’t care. Dutch and Hosea are with him, telling him encouragements. They’re helping until he hears you scream.

Dutch grabs Arthur as he tries barging through the door to get to you. Arthur’s fighting hard though, so Dutch calls Bill and Charles. It takes all three men to prevent Arthur from going into his room to see you. He yells at them to let him go and after a few moments, Grimshaw comes out, looking furious.

“Mr. Morgan, she won’t ever be able to get some rest with you screeching this!”

“What the hell are you doin’ to her?” he demands.

“Fixin’ her leg. Think she’ll be fine and she’s asleep again.”

“Let me see her.”

“No,” Grimshaw says. “We’re almost done. Now how about you make yourself useful and get some fresh clothes for her. Bring up some food and water for when she wakes up.”

Arthur growls but he’s relieved to have something to do. The others let him go and he does what Grimshaw says. She snatches the clothes out of his hand and then slams the door in his face.

“Come on, son,” Hosea says, patting Arthur on the back. “Let’s get you calmed down. That’s the best thing you can do for her right now. She couldn’t be in better hands.”

Arthur nods and lets Hosea and Dutch lead him into the sitting room where Dutch keeps the donation box. They get him some whiskey and some food, encouraging him to eat.

***********************************

You don’t know how long it’s been since Arthur saved you. The events leading up to it were terrifying and awful, but the feeling of his arms around you was one of the best things you’ve ever felt. You remember how his warmth seeped into you.

Breathe.

You notice you’re mostly on your stomach and right side in an upright position. There’s an odd mixture of warm and cool throughout your body and you’re propped against something that's almost hot. You breathe in and smell pine and leather, just like Arthur smelled when he saved you. As you dip again into that memory, the pain of your body begins coming back to you.

You stir a bit and something moves against your back, rubbing softly. That’s when you feel arms wrapped around you. Your eyes creak open and you look up to see Arthur staring down at you. He sighs as though in relief.

“Hey, darlin’,” he says. “Thank God you’re awake.”

Despite the pain, you smile a bit and open your mouth to say something, but your voice doesn’t want to work.

“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he says. One of his arms unwinds around you, leaving you a little cold. Then he hands you a tin cup full of water and he helps you drink it slowly. When the water’s gone, you start to remember the things that happened to you.

“Arthur, I… I didn’t say anything to them,” you say, a sob working its way up your chest. He folds his arms around you again.

“I know, darlin’, I know. Don’t worry about that, okay? Those bastards who hurt you are all dead, they can’t do that again.”

The shock of the last few days comes to you and you begin to shiver, despite the humidity and the heat from the swamps outside. Arthur grabs the blanket on the bed packed against the wall and drapes it over you.

“You’re okay, darlin’. I got ya, ain’t gonna let you go.” His words flow over you and the sob finally reaches your throat. He rubs your back as you cry into his chest again. You can’t understand why those men did such horrible things to you. It’s not like you had any hand in taking the manor from them.

“Why, Arthur?” you sob. “Why’d they do that?”

He sighs and brushes his lips against your forehead. “I don’t know, honey. They were evil men. You did nothing wrong and you didn’t deserve it, okay? Don’t ask yourself ‘why me’.”

You nod and nestle closer into him, your left hand clutching onto the collar of his shirt, noticing the bandage around your wrist. He’s wearing his blue shirt but removed his black scarf, leaving the top three buttons undone. He’s done this before and you always struggled to avert your eyes from his exposed chest. However, you press your cheek to his bare skin. The physical contact is soothing and calming. He places a soft kiss on your forehead.

That takes you by surprise. You open your eyes and look up at him. “Arthur?”

“Sorry,” he says, blushing. “I just… I was terrified I wouldn’t get to ya in time. That mornin’ they took you, I um, I was going to ask you somethin’ but they got you before I could.”

He’s terrified and surprised he’s even asking you in the first place. However, when you were kidnapped, he knew he wanted you in his daily life. He was in love with you, he couldn’t deny that. He pauses for a moment, pondering what to say. If you tell him you’ve no interest in being with him, that’s going to make things incredibly awkward.

“Arthur?” you say gently, your fingers delicately brushing his chest. “What were you going to ask?”

“I um,” he hesitates again. He can’t look you in the face, his cheeks burn hot. “I was gonna ask ya if… If I could take ya to dinner or see one of them silly plays in Saint Denise.”

Is he really asking you out on a date? Your stomach skips. You’ve no idea how many times you imagined him saying this, but you never thought it’d actually happen. Maybe you’re suffering hallucinations stemming from your condition, but you don’t care. You smile up at him and cup his cheek.

“Well, I would have said yes if you asked me then. My answer isn’t changing now.”

His lips stretch into a wide grin and then suddenly, they’re on yours. They’re slightly chapped and dry, but they’re warm. His lips move softly against yours, parting them just slightly as his tongue flicks over your lips. Your hand moves into his hair, tangling into them.

Before things can go further, he breaks away. “Thank ya, darlin’. I ain’t ever lettin’ you go, not unless you want me to.”

You smile at him and lay your head on his chest. It feels like a miniature version of the sun has taken residence in your own chest, sending warmth to your limbs. You suddenly can’t wait to be in well enough condition to go out with Arthur, but for now, you’re happy to stay in the safety and heat of his arms. He draws soft patterns into your skin, sending you back into an easy slumber.

#arthur morgan #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #awkward asks #I'm awkward

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temporoom · 5 years ago

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As promised : the angry post about TPN’s last chapter. Read at your caution under the cut. (I really don't want to bother the people who enjoy the manga or enjoyed this chapter). I want to also mention that I tried to avoid spoilers as much as possible before reading this chapter (and never looked at raws). So no bias.

I can summarize that chapter in one word : pointless.

Now, most of you thought : “It is an emotional chapter that made me cry and I love it a lot, why do you think it was pointless?” You fool. A story doesn’t need to make you feel strong emotions to be good, a good story keeps you engaged in it, not obviously makes you cry over it. And to be honest, the chapter made me teared up a bit, it doesn’t change the fact that I was angry.

Now, to explain why this whole scene was poor scenaristic choice I need to go back to the beginning of the manga (and I don't want anyone telling me : yeah you are angry because you wrote that fanfic about Isabella trying to be a mother to Ray post-story. No, it’s not that.).

In the first chapter, we learn a few things about how far the story can go:

First of all, TPN doesn’t shy away from killing innocents, and especially children. This is an important point.

Second of all, TPN wants to subvert your expecations as many times as needed in order for you to stay engaged and to be unable to predict the rest of the plot.

This first chapter set a basis for the rest of the story. And overall, at least in the first arc, it was well-respected. Characters die very suddenly, but logically. And in the end, the remaining children still survive. We can all agree that the first arc was perfect.

Then we get to the Forest arc and Goldy Pond arc. The Forest Arc was a transition so I won’t talk about it much since its main point is to give you new basis for this new adventure. But the Goldy Pond arc is very interesting because it’s the reflection of what the GF children could’ve become.

As for deaths, unlike many people, I think it would’ve been rather unproductive to have killed any of the main Goldy Pond cast in the sense that we never had any development for them and it wouldn’t follow Yuugo’s and Lucas’ arc. Yuugo and Lucas lost all their companions during their first attack of Goldy Pond, the goal of this arc is to show them tthat they are allowed to live and go on despite their deaths. Them failing by letting one of the children die would be pointlessly dramatic.

Then Yuugo and Lucas die. Again, it follows a certain logic, but this logic has a terrible risk that the author seemed to have failed to notice. I’ll explain later. In any case, their deaths were, despite their arc, well executed. They stay together until the end instead of being separated, and do everything possible to protect their new family. Even the fact that Andrew actually didn’t die is also incredible because it feels to children as if it was pointless while it’s not.

When Yuugo and Lucas are stucked in the bunker, the group is divided, ultimately leading to the few children going out and being caught by Andrew. In the end, this scene shows that the group still needs to be cohesive to survive, as everyone’s been affected by the events of this. (The Goldy Pond part lost their father figure and multiple comrades, whil the GF part also lost a father figure and have one of their youngest child in a coma)

Then we go to the Paradise Hideout Arc. If you know my posts well, you know it’s my favorite arc, so I don't have much to say about it. Even when looking at it in retrospective I think it was overall very good. And to anyone thinking Norman’s end of the arc was rushed (the whole part where he ends up listening to Emma), do I have to remind you that Ray’s development arc was also rushed? Yeah. Anyway, no important deaths this time except demons we alreday know were assholes… The only thing it would’ve benefited from was just spending more time with those demons and on how far Geelan lost it.

Then we get to what I call the “Last Queen’s fight” Arc or, with more affection: “The Useless” Arc. THIS WHOLE FIGHT IS STUPID. I don't mind the queen actually being like… an unkillable bitch with two cores (also those gore-horror thing were creepy as hell so good job on that). What I mind is the placement of the flash-back indicating her motivations. At that point in the story, we already knew that she was a bitch… We really don't need another flash-back to just show us how much of a bitch she was. The flash-back could’ve stay, but it just needed to be placed before Norman’s attack on the capital. That way, we would’ve ultimately root for Geelan after knowing the truth, but be even more desesperate when seeing that he did not succeed instead of feeling like we just stumbled on two lynx shouting at each other. Also being given more details about the Royal Family could’ve help for the rest of the story and explain better what happened after Legravalima’s coup d’état.

Anyway, she dies. As expected.

Then everyone goes back to GF because the children have been kidnapped… I have a question tho… WHERE IN HELL IS CHRIS. That kid was in a coma for Demon God’s sake ! (spoiler: we still don't know where in hell they put him). This is the first mistake… Of the numerous mistakes of this last arc.

Peter appears as a dangerous threat with Isabella. We expect that she will betray him because she had her character development. Vincent presumably die until we reveal he is not. I don't mind that one because seeing the fandom panic because they made so many posts about his death was hilarious. And also because I felt nothing when he died so I was revealed to actually see that he survived. Then Peter is revealed to not actually be that much of a threat. Unlike many, I didn’t had the Peter hype, so I don't mind. I had always seen him as a rat and a mob (definitely not the final boss). But the bitch then had the nerves to die!

I know that Lewis was revealed to have survived (and even with the hints I still think it was a dumb as hell idea too), but they didn’t had to kill off Peter. The story would’ve benefited more of him surviving and finally acknowledging his responsability towards the children rather than fleeing his desitiny by killing himself. Especially with what is about to come. (we are not talking about the demons choosing Mujika as a queen, because that whole chapter was a rushed mess)

AND THEN ISABELLA DIES. No. I really don't want any “But it was sad!” because no. Just no. It’s not that she is one of my fav character… It’s just perfectly and ultimately pointless.

As I explained earlier, all deaths had a certain logic.

Conny was to show the overall theme of the story.

Krone and Norman were logical actions taken by the villain and a way to motivate the characters to go forward despite the adversity.

The kids at Goldy Pond was again made to set the tone.

The demons there because it’s the plot duh.

Yuugo And Lucas were to get rid of any parental figure capable of giving advices to the children.

Geelan to show that he came to a point closer to madness than reason. As well as showing how powerful is the Queen.

The Queen as she is the main antagonist of Norman’s arc.

But then...

Peter because he doesn’t want to accept his responsabilitie.

Isabella because… Because…? BECAUSE...????

To get rid of an adult figure that could give children advices? It’s the end of the story. To complete her redemption arc? This is a middle finger to all of us. To show that we can leave things to the newer generation?! THAT IS ONE OF THE WORST MESSAGES TO ANY STRUGGLING ADULTS OUT THERE.

Do you understand? Isabella died because they wanted an emotional moment. That’s it. There were no points in it except tears. It was an incredible and well-done emotional moment… But it was pointless.

Without forgetting this replica :

And I love Emma: BUT NO ONE THINKS OR SAYS THAT IN REAL LIFE.

Re-reading this chapter helps me appreciate it more, and I look forward to how the rest of the manga will go because despite everything, I love it.

I love this manga so much.

But let me tell you this: deaths aren’t supposed to be here for emotional matters, they are here for a purpose, or to show a reality of life. Not just to cry over them, no matter how emotional they can be, they must serve a purpose.

Isabella was just a robbed opportunity.

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yellowcanna · 5 years ago

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Two Sides, Same Coin

Summary: Since the beginning of Quirks, Yokohama has announced independence from Japan and closed itself from the rest of the world.

To this day and age, no one knows what lies within the city of Yokohama—or that was what the public was made to believe. In reality, Yokohama has long fallen into the control of the world’s largest criminal organization known as the Port Mafia.

Follow Class 1-A as their principal organized a field trip to Yokohama! In their short trip there, they must change their perspectives and learn exactly what it means to be justice and what it means to be villains.

Rating: T

Genre: Crossover, hint of shounen-ai (boy love)

Pairing: Contains mild Soukoku (Dazai x Chuuya) and Shin Soukoku (Akutagawa x Atsushi) if you squint

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

Available on AO3!!

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◅ PREV MAIN NEXT ▻

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CHAPTER 13

MOONLESS NIGHT (NIGHT 3: TUESDAY)

This story has been beta'd by Momentary_Flight

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Sunday 8:32pm—Yokohama

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“What the fuck is this?”

Shigaraki Tomura stood at the top of a building as he stared down at the brightly lit street below him.

People were walking around like normal.

People were going about their night like normal.

People were laughing like normal.

And all of that added together was anything but normal.

“This is…Yokohama?!” Spinner gaped in disbelief before he whirled around to Kurogiri. “Didn’t you say this is a city ruled by criminals?”

"It's…supposed to be," Kurogiri replied unsurely.

"Then perhaps we ended up somewhere else?" Magne looked up at the clear night sky. “I don’t see any signs of that barrier we broke through.”

“Maybe this barrier also has a warp power?” Toga suggested.

“So…are we in Yokohama or not?!” Twist shouted in confusion.

“Are you blind?” Dabi snorted at his companions.

Before an argument could break out, Shigaraki spoke.

"This place is Yokohama."

“Indeed.” Mr. Compress twirled his staff around before pointing it down at the street. “Take a closer look at those people.”

Everyone looked back at the people walking about. They only needed a glimpse to know what Mr. Compress was referring to. After all, where e lse in the world could they find a bunch of people looking like the carbon copies of each other?

“Old Humans…” Magne mumbled before her head snapped up upon catching a glimpse of a shadow from the corner of her eye. “They sure are annoying. They’ve been following us since we came through the barrier.”

“Can we kill them?” Toga was already reaching for her knife.

“Forget them.” Shigaraki’s blood-red eye darted to the narrow alleyway beside the building they were on. There were three punks at the bottom, each of them armed with a baseball bat as they chattered and smoked. "We need to find a temporary hideout."

Half an hour later, the group arrived at an abandoned warehouse. It was run down and filled with dust, but it at least had a proper roof. It was a perfect temporary hideout for them.

Shigaraki walked around the warehouse, leaving footprints on the dusty floor.

"C-can you please let me go now?" The man in Magne's grip asked with a trembling voice. He was from the trio back in the alleyway.

“Yeah, you did a great job.” Shigaraki strolled back to the man and wrapped all five of his fingers around his face.

Everyone watched with cold eyes as the man shrieked. His body began to disintegrate into ashes, starting with his face. Once the body was fully gone, Shigaraki looked down at his palm, then to Kurogiri.

“Kurogiri, can you warp us out?”

Kurogiri’s glowing yellow eyes narrowed before purple mist erupted from his body. The villains watched as the dark mist flickered. It tried to form a warp portal, only to disperse before trying again.

After several failed attempts, Kurogiri ended up opening a portal three meters beside him.

"I cannot warp us back out," Kurogiri said as Shigaraki picked up a small piece of cement that had fallen from the wall. "It's the same as trying to warp us inside the city. My Quirk isn't able to go past the barrier. It seems that I can now only warp within the city."

Shigaraki tossed the piece of cement into one end of Kurogiri’s portal and watched it fly out from the other.

“So we have to crawl through that hole we made if we want to leave?” Magne frowned, not liking that idea.

"But what exactly is that barrier?" Spinner asked. "None of our Quirks worked on that thing, not even Shigaraki’s. I’ve never heard of any material that can do that.”

"I am afraid I do not have an answer to that," Kurogiri replied as purple mist took the form of a human body once more. “The master had spent years researching the barrier of Yokohama, but he was unable to find anything. The only thing he was certain of is that Yokohama’s barrier is neither technology nor power.”

“Oh?” Mr. Compress perked up in surprise.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Twice gaped.

Dabi raised a brow as his fingers lightly tapped on the crate he was sitting on. He gazed up to the sky, looking through the hole in the roof and to the stars twinkling in the night.

“You’re not saying this thing is alive, are you?” The raven-haired villain asked.

"No, I do not believe so," Kurogiri replied.

“What else can you tell us about Yokohama?” Mr. Compress asked.

“I have nothing more.” Kurogiri shook his head. “I have already explained to you about Ability users. The master rarely spoke of Yokohama.”

Rather than not talking about it, it was more like something had happened in the past that made All for One not want to think about it.

Truthfully, Kurogiri knew he shouldn’t have allowed Shigaraki to come here. Since a long time ago, All for One had instructed all of them to never go near Yokohama. Unfortunately, with All for One’s capture, Shigaraki was in a mess. He had completely lost his way and only calmed down after they received information of U.A High School planning a class trip to Yokohama.

It was the mention of Yokohama that pointed out a new path for Shigaraki. As the master's disciple, he too knew about the situation within Yokohama. The master had told him how dangerous Yokohama was, but he wanted to see just what a Hero-free world was like with his own eyes.

“I want to see it…” Shigaraki told Kurogiri when the latter tried to stop him. “The hidden boss behind the final one.”

Kurogiri glanced at Shigaraki who was standing in the middle of the warehouse.

Perhaps the master had anticipated this as well.

"For now, we need information," Shigaraki announced as he turned to his team. “Dabi and Mr. Compress will go out and gather information.”

“Eeeh?” Toga whined. “Then what about the rest of us?”

"We wait here," Shigaraki said as he sat down on a dusty old chair.

“No! I want to go out too!” Toga complained.

“Same here!” Twist shouted, raising his hand like an elementary kid.

“Now, now, calm down.” Mr. Compress waved his hands to calm his comrades. “We’re in the enemy’s territory. It’ll be risky for us to split up too much. We’ll bring some food back, what do you all want?”

Just like that, Mr. Compress smoothly put out the flames before it even ha d a chance to ignite.

"Also, if those guys out there follow you, let them," Shigaraki added. “Don’t do anything unnecessary.”

"We know that much," Dabi muttered as he and Mr. Compress headed outside.

Thus began the League of Villains’s first night within Yokohama.

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Present

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“For a couple of brats, you have some guts to come into a nightclub." The orange-haired man said as he came to a stop before the kids.

“W-what do you mean?” Kaminari stammered. He didn’t know why, but there was a strange pressure slamming down on him when he met the man’s eyes.

“What’s it to you?!” Bakugou shouted, standing up. “We can be here all we want!”

“Y-yeah!” Mineta joined in, finding some confidence through Bakugou. “We’re legal!”

The red-haired man snorted out a laugh. “Listen here, kid. No adults would ever call themselves legal.”

“But we’re all sixteen! We can be here!” Kaminari argued.

“Yeah, for Yokohama citizens that is.” The man replied, causing all of them to freeze up in shock. How did they get found out again?!

“H-how—” Mineta spluttered, unable to finish his sentence.

“Anyone can tell with one glance that you’re outsiders.” The man spoke with amusement lacing his husky voice. He looked over to the waiter. The moment their gaze connected, the waiter hurriedly walked up to him with his hands folded behind his back and his posture straight.

“How may I serve you, Chuuya-sama?” He inquired respectfully.

“Tell me what these kids order.” The man called Chuuya said.

“Yes.” The waiter bowed before he began listing out the drinks in perfect order from first to last.

“Sakura Martini for the lady in the inner booth.

Sake Blossom for the lady with the ponytail.

Peach Fuzz for the russet-haired lady.

Tangerine Ginger Sake Sangria for the lady with earmuffs.

Matcha Highball for the long-haired lady.

Raspberry Sake Tea for the lady in the outer booth.

Sake Bomb for the gentleman with ash-blond hair.

Red Eye for the gentleman with red-hair.

Umetini for the dark-haired gentleman in a varsity jacket.

Cassis Grape for the petite gentleman.

Lychee Martini for the gentleman with blond hair and a black streak.

Fuzzy Navel for the blond-haired gentleman in the brown trench coat.

Mango Margarita for the strong-looking gentleman.

Samurai Caeser for the blond gentleman with long bangs.

Ginza Mary for the gentleman with the blue scarf.

Lemon Drop for the gentleman with the knitted hat.

Sake Mojito for the warmly dressed gentleman.

Japanese Sling for the gentleman with glasses.

Shochu Melon Citrus for the green-haired gentleman.

Umeshu for the gentleman with split coloured hair.”

The waiter barely took any breaths in-between as he recited the long list of orders in what could only be described as perfection. The students stared at the waiter with wide eyes. No one had any idea how in the world that waiter pulled it off.

When the red-haired man gave the kids a pointed look, more than half of them ducked their heads in guilt—like children caught stealing from a cookie jar.

“Remove the alcohol in all of those and replace it with something nonalcoholic.”

“Yes, Chuuya-sama.”

“Hey!” Bakugou hollered but was ignored by the two adults.

“What about the Spirit Bomb, Chuuya-sama?”

“Why the heck are you asking him?! I’m the customer here!”

“Hm.” Chuuya waved his hand dismissively, looking as if he couldn’t care less. “Replace it with milk.”

“As you wish.” With another bow, the waiter walked off to bring the kids their new orders.

“HEY!!!”

“Kacchan!” Midoriya hissed softly, looking back at the man every now and then as he tried to calm his childhood friend down. After all, this person found out who they were and could kick out any minute. The fact that the man even let the waiter give them drinks meant that they were being allowed to stay.

Fortunately, Bakugou was aware of this as well. He grumbled as he plopped himself back down into his seat, refusing to speak another word to the singer.

“After you finish your drinks, leave,” the redhead told them with his arms crossed over his chest. “Kids should act like kids and go home by their curfew time.”

“…Yes,” they replied dejectedly. They watched as the redhead leaned against the wall, seeming to have no intention of leaving. It was obvious that the man had his eyes on them now.

There was a moment of awkward silence as they stared at the man who was just scrolling through his phone.

“Um…Chuuya-san?” Midoriya called hesitantly. That was what the waiter had addressed this man by, right?

The singer looked up.

“Are you the owner of this place?”

The redhead didn’t respond. He stared at the boy, to the point where Midoriya was starting to fidget in his seat, wondering if he had said something wrong.

“Well,” the man closed his phone and shoved it into his back pocket, “I guess you can say that.”

Midoriya blinked at the vague answer. Did he mean that he wasn’t the only owner?

"We are sorry!" Iida, the ever responsible class-president, stood up as best as he could in the limited space of the booth and bowed at the man. "We didn't mean to intrude into your club like this! Thank you for letting us stay!"

A waiter walked up to Chuuya and held up a tray with a single glass of wine like an offering. The red-haired man took the glass by the stem and swirled the red fluid inside around. His movements were swift and elegant.

"I'm only letting you stay until you finish your drinks," he told them, taking a small sip at his wine. "‘Being out this late isn’t for kids like you."

"We're sorry." Yaoyorozu dipped her head in shame. As a straight "A" student growing up in a good household, she had rarely ever been scolded, so this was a harsh hit on her.

“We’re sorry as well.” The rest of the class except for Bakugou followed.

“Um…Chuuya-san, we saw you singing on the stage, you were super amazing!" Uraraka said as the other girls instantly nodded in agreement.

“Yes, it was amazing!” Ashido praised.

“I’ve never heard of anyone that can change pitches like that!” Jirou added.

“Yeah!” Hagakure was waving her hands in the air.

For the first time since he appeared before them, a smile lifted the redhead’s lips. It was a small smile, but with a handsome face like Chuuya’s, a small smile was enough to get the girls flustered.

Thankfully for them, it was at that moment that three waiters came over to their little corner, each of them carrying a tray of colourful drinks.

Everyone watched with stars in their eyes as they received their drinks. Each of them came with a paper straw and fruits decorating the rim of the glass.

“…It’s so good!” Ashido beamed when she took a huge sip of her drink. "It's like cola, but raspberry flavoured! I can even taste the tea!”

"You're right, this is good!" Uraraka gasped. “It’s all bubbly!”

“It’s sparkling water,” Asui croaked happily.

“I didn’t know sparkling water and plum juice could taste so good! Hey Todoroki, is yours the same as mine?” Sero asked, looking over to Todoroki whose drink looked identical to his.

“Yes.” Todoroki smiled as he looked down at his glass.

Despite not having any alcohol, the people that made these drinks took the effort to make them resemble the pictures on the menu. While everyone was admiring and tasting their drinks, Bakugou was glaring at his milk.

The milk was poured into a rocks glass with one gigantic ball of ice floating at the center. There was a layer of coconut flakes over the surface and around the rim of the glass. As the finishing touch, there were two cranberries skewered by a toothpick balancing on the tip of the ice.

It was obvious that whoever made this was trying to give this glass of milk a wintery theme.

However…it didn’t change the fact that this was just a stupid glass of plain milk.

“Woah Bakugou! That milk looks so good!” Kirishima commented, not noticing how the look on Bakugou’s face was getting worse.

“Yeah, that milk sure looks great, Bakugou!” Sero whistled while trying to restrain his laughter.

“That’s the fanciest milk I’ve ever seen!” Kaminari didn’t have the restraint that Sero did and was clutching onto his stomach as he laughed.

“Let us see over here too!” Ashido called from the other table.

With a roar, Bakugou grabbed his glass. He tossed the cranberries away and dumped the entire glass of milk into his open mouth. The rich milk floated down his throat, but Bakugou had completely forgotten about the large globe of ice that was now stuck in his mouth.

The boy's face distorted from rage as his teeth ground against the gigantic ball of ice. Bakugou could spit it back out, but his pride wouldn’t allow that to happen, so he ended up sitting there trying to grind the ice apart with his teeth.

The other students quickly went back to talking about their drinks. They’ve known Bakugou long enough to know when to stop their teasing. As they talked, the grinding sound of ice continued to echo by their ears.

“Um, the money—” Yaoyorozu stood up, about to pull out her wallet when Chuuya held up a hand to stop her.

"It's on the house,” the singer told them before waving one of the waiters over. "After you're done, this guy will escort you out the back door. It'll be bad for business if a suspicious group of people like you walks out the front door."

"Thank you so much! We appreciate it!"

“Yes! Thank you!”

"Thank you!"

An echo of thanks came from the students, but the man only brushed it off. Those bright blue eyes only gave them a brief look before he turned, his jacket flapping around him as he walked away.

The waiter that the redhead had called over just stood there dutifully, looking as if he was going to keep standing there until they finish their drinks. Under the man’s stare, there was no way anyone would dare to overstay their welcome. They hurriedly finished their drinks and followed the waiter to the back door that was next to the bar.

There was nothing in the back aside from a long, plain white hallway. At the very end of the hall was a door made of wood. No words were exchanged the entire time they walked. Some of them wanted to talk to ease up the strange atmosphere, but the presence of the waiter made it hard for them to find anything to talk about.

Once they had arrived at the wooden door, the waiter opened it and the cool night air blew in. The man held the door open with one hand folded behind his back and bowed. Startled by such formality, they walked out the door one by one, bowing back and thanking the waiter as they went.

The sky was completely dark.

The street they came out to was just as empty as the street by the club’s front door. The street lights were functioning properly, but it didn’t make the place any less eerie.

Midoriya glanced back at the building they came out from. Unlike the front of the club that had nothing but a black door, the back looked more like an ordinary house. There were windows and all, but the hallway they walked through clearly didn't have any other doors that lead to the rest of the house.

He frowned, feeling as though he had overlooked something important.

The moment the last person—Koda, walked out, the waiter closed the door shut. In the silence, everyone could hear the clicking sound of the lock being turned on the other side. They stared at the door, then to one another, and finally to the empty street.

Perhaps…they should have asked for directions?

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

BAM

The slamming sound of the iron door was drowned out by the music and voices. When a group of oddly dressed people (especially one with hands all over his body) walked into the club, it attracted some attention, but the people around just brushed it off as some weird early Halloween cosplays.

Shigaraki Tomura looked around the club before his eyes landed on the glass staircase with black-suited men standing guard.

“There.” He walked straight towards the stairs with his hands tucked in his pockets.

When those suited men saw them approaching, they immediately blocked their path.

“State your business,” one of the men demanded.

"Tell your boss we're here to see him," Shigaraki told him.

The guards didn’t seem put off by his attitude. One of them went up the stairs, most likely to report while the other two continued to stand guard.

The League of Villains didn’t mind the wait. They stood there idly, taking their time to look around the club.

Shigaraki eyed every person that passed by them. After taking in his surroundings, his eyes eventually landed on that stage. There was a band playing and a singer singing, but that singer was only mediocre in terms of looks.

Nothing about him stood out.

This made Shigaraki frown as he thought back to all the information Dabi and Mr. Compress had collected.

For an organization that controlled an entire city, there was very little information about them. The top brass within the Port Mafia were a complete mystery, yet strangely enough there was information on the boss himself—as well as those next in line to the position of boss.

The first and foremost piece of information they found was about the succession battle—or the Selection War as they called it. This peaceful little city wasn’t as peaceful as it seemed. It had only been two short days and they’ve already discovered countless organizations moving within the shadows.

And whenever there was movement, there were always two individuals involved.

The White Reaper and the Rabid Dog of the Port Mafia.

It was as if all the eyes within Yokohama were on these two so-called successors. While they couldn’t find any information as to what their powers are, one thing for certain is that the White Reaper and the Rabid Dog were no friends. Everyone in the underground knew that if these two were put in the same room, they would tear each other apart and wouldn’t stop until one side is dead.

The next piece of information would be about the boss of this joke of a crime syndicate.

It was said that four years ago, the previous boss of the Port Mafia suddenly retired, handing over his position to the current boss. Where that retired boss went, no one knows. All they knew was that the new boss was formerly nicknamed Demon Prodigy in the underground world.

While they weren’t able to find out why he had gotten such a name, they were able to come across some interesting gossip, and that was this club right here.

It seemed that the Port Mafia boss had his eyes on one of the singers. Since that singer only sings on Tuesday nights, the Port Mafia boss will always come to the club at this time without fail.

Shigaraki looked up when the guard came back down and gave a curt nod to his companions. Without a word, they stepped aside, making way for the uninvited guests. Shigaraki didn't spare these grunts another look as he walked upstairs with the rest trailing behind him.

Although he looked completely laid back, Shigaraki’s mind was turning as he played out countless scenarios of what this Demon Prodigy would be like. At the same time, two phrases continuously circled inside his head.

These were phrases that were heard repeatedly during Dabi and Mr. Compress’s investigation. Whenever the Port Mafia was mentioned, these two phrases would turn up without fail.

“Those who oppose the Port Mafia will be crushed by vicious gravity.”

And,

“Double Black.”

Shigaraki exercised his fingers as he arrived at that last step. Ruby red eyes locked on to the man sitting in a black round armchair with guards lined up beside him. There were three guards on each side, each of them dressed in the same fashion as the guys at the staircase.

The leader of the League of Villains had run countless simulations inside his head of how their first meeting would go.

…Never had he imagined it to be like this.

“Oh my!” Magne had to suppress a delightful gasp as the rest of the League of Villains arrived. Like Shigaraki, their eyes naturally fell to the person sitting at the center of the platform.

The man has short brown-hair curling at the tips and was dressed in tailored black suits with a long maroon scarf hung on his neck.

And sitting on his lap was another man.

This second man was dressed differently than the rest of the suited men here. Anyone could tell he was one of those locals that came to a nightclub to have fun. His clothes were disheveled with the straps of his tank tops falling off his shoulders and his jacket pulled down to his elbows.

Long slender fingers of the brown-haired man slid into those wavy orange locks. At first, he stroked the hair as if it were the finest silk, but the next moment he fisted the strands and pulled harshly.

The orange-haired man fell back with a sharp gasp leaving his open mouth before the rest of his voice was sealed by a pair of hungry lips.

Even with the loud music, the League of Villains could hear the moans and slick sounds being produced between these men’s connected lips.

None of them could see the face of the brown-haired man. With his head turned to the right, the only thing they were able to see were the bandages covering his left eye.

When Shigaraki snapped out of shock and disgust, he noticed that it wasn’t just the face. The man’s neck and even his arms were covered in bandages. The leader of the League of Villains furrowed his brows as he squinted at the redhead.

This must be that singer the Port Mafia boss had his eyes on.

Finally, the brunet pulled away from those kiss swollen lips with a wet pop. The sound made Shigaraki gag, but he held it back. His crimson eyes were locked onto the man like a hawk as he watched that face slowly turned, revealing a single dark eye that stared back into his.

“You’re the boss of the Port Mafia?” Shigaraki frowned. He had imagined countless times what this person would look like…but he never would have guessed for him to be so young. As grating as it was, the brunet looked around the same age as him.

“And?” The man leaned back against his chair, not forgetting to pull his little boy toy along. “Who might be asking?”

Shigaraki’s brow twitched. From how casual and laid back the other was behaving, it was obvious that this man didn't view them as a threat at all.

No, it wasn’t just him.

Crimson eyes fell to the redhead. He was comfortably nestled against the Port Mafia boss like a cat. His head was tucked under the Port Mafia boss’s chin and his fingers played around with the man’s scarf. He occasionally rubbed his cheek against the man’s neck and whispered words they couldn’t hear while blue eyes filled with mockery looked down upon them.

"You've been watching us for the past two days," Shigaraki stated.

“It’s common knowledge to introduce yourself when you’re the ones that came to me,” the Port Mafia boss pointed out. He grabbed the hand of the hooker that was traveling a little too low and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.

Seeming to take this as a sign to continue where they had left off, the redhead sat up. He wrapped his arms around the brunet’s neck, leaning in for a kiss when he was stopped by a slim finger pressed against his lips.

“Be a dear and go sing me a song.” The brunet spoke softly to the redhead, but loud enough for the League of Villains to hear. With the same finger that touched the redhead’s lips, he hooked the man’s tank top straps and pulled them back over his shoulders. After that, he grabbed the black fedora by his side and placed it onto the other’s head.

The redhead wasn't happy. He glanced at the guests and let out a small huff. He slid off the Port Mafia boss’s lap and sauntered around the table.

He didn’t even look fazed by the group of disturbingly dressed people and walked forward as if expecting them to make way for him. The League of Villains naturally wouldn’t step aside, but the redhead had no intention of backing down either.

In the end, he roughly shoved past them. Each villain received a rude knock on the shoulder as the hooker forcefully walked through them and down the stairs.

“The heck’s his problem?” Twice wondered out loud.

Never had any of these villains been ignored by ordinary civilians like this. It was one thing for the Port Mafia boss, but another thing entirely for a lowly prostitute.

This helped them become fully aware of their situation.

These people of Yokohama—none of them saw them as threats.

"We are the League of Villains," Kurogiri spoke with a hand against his chest as a polite gesture. “We have simply come to pay our respects to the boss of the Port Mafia.”

The brown-haired man crossed his right leg over his left and laced his fingers together over his knees. “Ah yes…” he said as if just remembering, “that little gang that All for One made.”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed when the man brought up his teacher’s name. While All for One was no longer a secret to the public after his fight with All Might, Shigaraki had a feeling there was more to it than that.

“Tell me, who came up with the name? I’m quite curious as to who is the one with such a…tasteful naming sense.”

Anyone could hear the sarcasm dripping from the man’s tone as they watched his lips curve upwards in a mocking smile.

“You—” Spinner was going to step up but Shigaraki quickly held out a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“You know about All for One,” the young leader of the League said with certainty.

“Unlike your world that prefers to keep secrets from their citizens, Yokohama is extremely open about our history.” The brunet leaned forward and picked up the glass of whiskey on the table. He swirled the golden fluid inside the cup as ice cubes clattered against one another.

Shigaraki watched this man's movements carefully. In enemy territory, they couldn’t let their guards down. Every movement, every word, Shigaraki was trying to decipher just what this man’s intentions were.

"Have you heard of the story of Icarus?" The Port Mafia boss suddenly asked. No one in the League of Villains responded, but the brunet didn't mind the lack of response and continued. "Despite his father’s warning, he grew too confident in his newfound ability to fly and flew too close to the sun. In the end, his wings melted off and he drowned in the sea.”

“What is your point?” Shigaraki gritted out.

“Oh? You don’t understand?” The man blinked innocently. “Then perhaps you’ll understand a fairytale better? Once upon a time, there was a little ant that viewed the world around him with contempt. He didn’t understand why he should work for the sake of the colony just because he was born as an ant. So when a mysterious power began to appear, he used all of his tiny legs to grasp onto this power. He decided that instead of continuing to serve the Queen, he would become the King and create a new world governed by new laws.”

The clanking sounds of ice cubes continued as the man swirled his glass around and around.

"He gathered his little ant followers and beat the opposing ants that stood in his way—including his brother who had hatched out of the same egg as him. He successfully took over the colony, but, overgrown with confidence, he decided to take over the world. As the first step in his conquest, he decided to target the elephant that lived near the ants' nest. With his little army of ants, they stormed into the elephant's territory…only to be squashed under its feet."

The man grinned at the League of Villains and took a small sip of his whiskey.

“They tried to bite the elephant, but their jaws were so weak and small that they couldn’t even break through the dried mud clinging onto its skin. They tried to crawl towards the elephant’s face and ears, but the elephant only needed to stomp its feet to shake them off its body. They tried to overwhelm the elephant with their numbers, but all the elephant needed to do was blow through its trunk and the ants would be swept away into the wind.

In just a matter of minutes, the army of ants was no more. The only one that remained was that tiny little ant that started this fight. In a panic, that little ant jumped into the ocean to escape the elephant, not knowing how it was so insignificant that the elephant never even saw them as enemies, but mere pests."

As the brunet spoke, he slowly poured the whiskey onto the floor, little by little until only ice cubes were left.

"A funny story, no?" The Port Mafia’s boss looked up, his dark eye locking directly with Shigaraki’s through the gaps between the fingers on his face.

Shigaraki was seething. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides and his body was shaking with rage.

Kurogiri tensed, ready to warp them out any second. It wouldn’t be wise for them to face off against the Port Mafia on their territory. Just as the dark purple mist on his body began to flicker, Shigaraki’s shaking stopped.

Kurogiri stared at Shigaraki in surprise. He hadn’t expected the boy to be able to restrain himself and force himself to calm down under such blatant provocation.

“So...” The Port Mafia boss leaned back to get comfortable in his seat, like a child would before playing his favourite movie. “What does the League of Villains want from the Port Mafia?”

"I came with a proposition, but it looks like there's no need anymore," Shigaraki spoke in a dull tone, causing the man to raise his brow.

"HEY, ALL OF YOU OUT THERE!" A voice screamed so loudly that it felt like the entire nightclub was shaking. “WHERE’S YOUR ENERGY?! DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE ALL DONE!”

A massive wave of cheers shook the club even harder than the loud voice had. The League of Villains turned. From this high up view, they were able to perfectly see the stage below. A familiar redhead was standing on the center of that stage, holding a mic in his hand and surrounded by a band.

“IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?! THE NIGHT IS JUST STARTING, SO LET’S HEAR SOME REAL CHEERS!”

If possible, the cheers increased by tenfold.

Dabi was frowning.

Spinner had to cover his ears.

Twice, affected by the mood, cheered along with the crowd.

Magne also looked quite interested.

Toga just yawned.

Mr. Compress tapped his staff lightly against the floor.

As for Shigaraki and Kurogiri, the two of them only spared a brief look behind them before focusing back onto the Port Mafia’s boss. Said boss didn’t seem to care much about them, as he too was focused on the stage below.

“Hit it up, Tachihara!" The redhead snapped his fingers. The booming sound of guitars echoed across the club as the crowds roared.

“Woah uh oh—oh oh!

Woah uh oh—oh oh!”

The drummer with a bandage across his nose sang into the mic as his drumsticks danced across the drums.

“Woah uh oh—oh oh!

Woah uh oh—oh oh!”

The colourful spotlights that had been flashing across the club were replaced by flickering red lights. The yellow spotlight that had been shining on the stage also bled into red. In an instant, everything within the club was swallowed by the red light and at the center of that light was a single man.

“Woah uh oh—oh oh!

Woah uh oh—oh oh!”

Blue eyes slowly parted, looking across the crowd and towards the VIP section. At that moment, the redhead’s aura completely changed—as if he had become a completely different person from when he was sitting on the Port Mafia boss’s lap.

He pressed his lips into the cold metal of the mic and began to sing.

“What is the true identity of this uncomfortable feeling

Which lurks gently inside of you as if being entangled

Soaking me so empty that it burns me out

And having the chaotic afterimage lingering!

Receiving unwanted stimulation and peaceful contradiction at the same time

Making me subtly and exquisitely crazy!”

Shigaraki clicked his teeth at the disturbance, but he looked back at the Port Mafia boss and continued where they got cut off.

"I've always wondered what a city ruled by criminals was like," Shigaraki said as he held his hands up. “Everything that Villains have been fighting for—a world completely free of the existence of Heroes and law which Yokohama has achieved...”

The League of Villains all stared at the Port Mafia boss sitting high up on his throne.

“I’m super troubled to taste the act of being loved

Continue to pay for the pain it brought

Opening a trance enough to make my heart shiver for a moment

I’m being controlled by the increasing anguish

Even though I know it’s only a Momentary Love.”

“It’s nothing but a joke.” Shigaraki’s hands fell to his side from the lack of motivation. “The boss of the world’s largest crime syndicate is here drowning himself in alcohol and hookers while the city is being run by a government that is still functional. The Port Mafia is nothing but a joke." Shigaraki huffed disinterestedly as he turned and began to walk off.

The rest of the League followed him. Obviously, they shared the same thought.

“Even though I deemed this stretched love to be no good

I thought that I wanted to hear more of your pure and innocent voice

That I heard while gazing at the night sky

The moon up there is beautiful.”

Shigaraki only felt the red light around him brightening before his entire body was slammed into the floor. The marble tiles underneath him shattered from the force. He let out a dry, breathless cough, having the air knocked out of his lungs. He tried to move, but it was as if an invisible force was crushing him from above.

He couldn’t even lift a finger!

When red eyes darted around, he realized that he wasn’t the only one. The rest of the League was the same. They were all lying within a crater created by the force, all of them unable to move. Shigaraki practically broke his neck trying to turn his head just so he could look up at that man sitting high up in his seat.

That single blackened eye was looking down at them with a smirk lifting his face.

“I’ve thrown away those regrets of love 200 million years ago

This uncertain despair is a necessity

This wild and crazy dance which supposed to be flat, just like a scattered flower petal

I became too absorbed to it that I keep tripping my footsteps

Opening a trance enough to make my heart shiver for a moment

I’m being controlled by the increasing anguish

Even though I have this Momentary Love.”

“You know, it’s very rude to talk during a performance,” the Port Mafia boss said disapprovingly while tapping his finger over his knee. That seemed to be a signal as the six guards by his side whipped out their guns and took aim at the group immobilized on the floor.

Immediately, Kurogiri tried to activate his Quirk to warp them away, but they only saw a blur of black, and Kurogiri was gone.

No one could react to what had happened.

It was only when they heard a loud crash followed by the wind blowing by did they realize what had happened. This power—whatever it is—had flung Kurogiri away.

“Let’s try to forget you little by little, until I can remember you no more! ALL TOGETHER!”

“WOAH UH OH—OH OH!” The crowds sang to the song. “WOAH UH OH—OH OH!”

“I want to swallow a flood contains only of joy

I’m super troubled to taste the act of being loved~!”

“WOAH UH OH—OH OH!

WOAH UH OH—OH OH!”

“Gravity…!!” Shigaraki gritted his teeth.

"I wonder…just what gave you the impression that you could come and go as you wished?” The Port Mafia boss chuckled as he rested his elbow on the chair’s armrest and leaned his cheek against his knuckles.

“I want to swallow a flood contains only of joy

I’m super troubled to taste the act of being loved~!”

The singer grabbed the microphone stand and stomped a foot onto the speaker at the edge of the stage. “IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?! SCREAM LIKE YOU MEAN IT!”

“WOAH UH OH—OH OH!” The crowds were practically hollering from the top of their lungs at this point. Their faces were all red, not certain if it was due to the screaming or the red lighting.

“Continue to pay for the pain it brought

Opening a trance enough to make my heart shiver for a moment!”

WOAH UH OH—OH OH!”

“This is Yokohama. Ants should crawl back into their hole.” The Port Mafia boss raised his glass of ice cubes, sending them a meaningless cheer.

“I’m being controlled by this increasing anguish—NOW SING IT!” The singer pulled the mic away from his lips and pointed it towards the audience.

“LEAVE THE KISS FOR LATER!” The crowd sang together in perfect harmony.

At the very back of the club, where no one paid any attention to, the members of the League of Villains were lifted into the air one by one.

“I’M BEING CONTROLLED!”

“EVEN THOUGH I KNOW IT’S ONLY A MOMENTARY LOVE!!”

Their bodies crashed through the sturdy brick wall. The sound from the impact of their bodies and the shattering wall were drowned by the singing of the crowd. Within the quiet night outside, the villains flew across the street and smashed into the building on the other side.

Shigaraki slammed into the ground. He would have bounced off from the force and kept rolling, but Kurogiri appeared, warping all of them away and back to the warehouse that they set as their temporary hideout.

Even though Kurogiri intervened, many of them suffered heavy bruises and maybe even a cracked bone somewhere from the rough treatment. Shigaraki coughed as he painfully pushed himself over so that he was lying on his back and staring at the dirty ceiling of the warehouse.

“Do you have your answers now, Shigaraki Tomura?” Kurogiri came over to check on the boy he was assigned to watch over.

“Ah,” Shigaraki slowly smirked.

Everything had gone according to his plans. All thanks to these Port Mafia bastards looking down on them.

Just from these two days of the Port Mafia watching over them, Shigaraki already knew that they didn’t see the League of Villains as threats. It was this underestimation that gave Shigaraki the confidence to waltz into their little party. If the Port Mafia had no intention of killing them before, they wouldn’t now.

This meeting only further confirmed this.

These Ability users obviously thought they were much stronger and looked down on people with Quirks. As the people sitting at the top of the food chain, it was even more so for them. These were people who wouldn’t bat an eye at a tiny ant crawling by their feet because, to them, they weren’t even worth wasting their time on. Even if that ant got in their way, the most they would do was kick it away. To those with their heads tilted so high up, allowing their shoes to become dirty from mere ants was the same as smearing dirt over their faces.

That's why Shigaraki betted on the fact that the Port Mafia boss wouldn't kill them and lured him into using his power.

His bet was spot on.

“Crushed by vicious gravity…” Shigaraki recited as his body throbbed.

The way he was slammed down, lifted, and thrown…this wasn’t something as simple as turning gravity on and off. That man can freely change the gravitation of objects.

Shigaraki was a hundred percent certain that it was gravity manipulation.

Then here comes the main questions…

How many people can that man control?

What was the range of that power?

Were there conditions to activate that power?

Shigaraki recalled that man’s smug look and the way his fingers so gently held the delicate glass in his hand. For someone that had used his power on eight people, he didn’t look the slightest bit affected. His grip over the glass didn't change either. If it were a Quirk, there would have at least been some signs of strain on the body, but there were none.

Even though Kurogiri had explained that these Abilities worked differently from Quirks, Shigaraki was certain that even amongst Abilities, this gravity manipulation was amongst the strongest ones. Why else would that phrase about gravity constantly pop out in their investigation?

Shigaraki also knew that the power the man displayed was simply a demonstration. It was most likely not even a fraction of his real strength. That was the kind of person their opponent was.

Confident and arrogant—yet he had the strength and the brain to back it up. Shigaraki wasn’t going to naively think that the word prodigy only refers to his strength. The man was no doubt a cunning one. However, he was a young man who lived at the very top of the food chain, believing that the entire world revolved in the palm of his hand.

Shigaraki laughed.

He didn’t care how he looked to the others right now. All he knew was that he was going to crush that man. He will pull him down from the clouds and crush him along with that pitiful pride.

So what if the ants in the story failed to take down the elephant? That was a story from hundreds of years ago. The large elephant in that story was long gone. The only thing left behind was an elephant living inside a fortress created by its ancestor's remains. An elephant that had grown up without any natural predators around.

After this confrontation, Shigaraki was certain that the Port Mafia would remove their surveillance on them. For an overly confident and prideful man like that, he would purposely do it to further humiliate them and show them how insignificant they were.

Now, they have free access to this entire city.

“We’ll see who gets the last laugh, Port Mafia.” Shigaraki cackled.

The Selection War.

That will certainly be interesting.

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“This is bad!” Kaminari panicked as he looked around the empty street. How could there not be a single person around?! “We’re completely lost, aren’t we?!”

“What should we do?” Hagakure looked around at her classmates. “Should we call the teachers?”

“But if we call they’ll find out!” Ashido gasped in horror. She can already imagine their homeroom teacher’s face when he hears of what they did!

“Hey! Look over there!” Mineta pointed towards the park in front of them. Everyone looked over and saw the shadow of a person sitting on a wooden bench beneath a lamppost. Relieved that they had finally found somebody, they hurried over.

Once they were close enough to get a clearer look as to what the person looked like, all of them were shocked.

Sitting on the bend was not an adult, but a child.

They couldn't tell if the child was a boy or a girl, but the kid had split coloured hair like Todoroki. When the kid turned around at the sound of their approach and looked up, the first thing the teens noticed were those mismatched eyes.

The left iris had a circle, while the right was a star.

Having been born and raised in a world where people came in all shapes and forms, none of Class 1-A was surprised in any way by the child’s eyes. What surprised them was that when the kid turned, the doll in their arms became visible.

It was a grotesque looking doll bleeding out of its hollowed eyes.

“Who are you?” The child asked in a sweet, angelic voice.

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#bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfic #bnha crossover #soukoku #shin soukoku #my hero academia

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pepperonyspizza · 5 years ago

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Let’s see how long I can keep this up

Day 1: Fantasy AU (Skyrim AU) also posted on Ao3!

No Warnings, Pepperony, Humor

Riften is even dirtier than Pepper expects it to be. The water underneath the bridges has long ago lost its blue colour and has instead turned brown. Trash is littering the city and no one seems to pay it any mind. She sees someone disposing of a half-eaten apple right in front of a guard and nothing happens.

But not only the city itself is dirty. Honestly, the place is a dream compared to its residents. Pepper already had to nearly cut off a Nord’s hand after he tried to help himself to the contents of her pockets. One look at her sword was thankfully enough for him to get the message and quickly hurry along his way.

Pepper wishes she could leave this town and carry on with her journey but the truth is that she’s tired and in desperate need for a good night’s sleep. For this one night, this place will have to do. She’ll leave first thing in the morning and get back on the road.

The sun is just beginning to disappear behind the town’s large walls when she decides to take a quick look around the market. She’s running low on provisions and her armour has seen better days as well. Not that she expects this place to have much to offer but it can’t hurt to make sure.

The worst thing that can possibly happen is someone trying to rob her once again. Riften is rather famous for its thieves guild after all - but that poor soul will learn that it’s not the wisest idea to steal from her. With any luck, the sword proudly displayed at her side will keep any potential threats away.

Pepper has just finished paying for the chicken breasts when someone clearing his throat not too far away catches her attention. She turns to find herself face to face with a young man, his hazel eyes as captivating as they are dangerous. She not so subtly rests her hand on the handle of her blade, an action that causes the man to grin.

“I’ve never seen you around before. First time in Riften?”

“Yes and hopefully the last,” she says with as must disgust in her voice as she can muster up.

The vendor gives her a dirty look for the comment before turning her attention to another customer but the man seems to be unbothered by it. If anything, the grin on his face widens. Pepper doesn’t want to admit it but he does look rather handsome, especially in the current light of the disappearing sun.

“I figured. You don’t look like someone who belongs in a place like this.” He makes a vague gesture towards her blade. “That fancy sword you’re carrying suggest so at least. What brings you here? You got some business with the Jarl? Or Maven even?”

“A lack of options,” Pepper admits reluctantly. She has a feeling that if she doesn’t, the stranger will just keep on guessing. “I needed a bed for the night and there aren’t a lot of those nearby.”

“Well, you’re in luck. The Bee and Barb has the best beds around. I mean, I wouldn’t know since they always throw me out but Keevera seems like someone who only sells the best of the best.” He pauses for a moment, apparently even annoying Imperials have to take a breath every now and then. “What brings you this far east?”

“Work.”

“Are you one of those companions that live in Whiterun? They also all act like they’re better than anyone else.”

Pepper’s head is starting to hurt and she has the feeling that this man is the cause of it.

“My apologies,” she says even though she isn’t sorry in the least - but if this is the fastest way to get rid of him, so be it. “It’s been a rather stressful day and I’m looking forward to my warm bed.”

The stranger’s eyes light up in an instant and he takes a step closer, leaving barely any space between them. Neither the displeased noise Pepper makes, nor the unimpressed look on her face are enough to discourage him.

“You know how that bed could be even warmer?”

It takes every single bit of her self control not to punch him. She isn’t going to deny his good looks, but the arrogance with which he carries himself does nothing but irritate her. She wants to tell him so but he’s finally being quiet and without the annoying chatter, his brown eyes are enough to keep her from lashing out.

That is until she can feel the slightest movement from her bag and knows what is happening.

Pepper has her blade unsheathed and pressed against the man’s abdomen in seconds, dragging a shocked cry out of his mouth. The sound is music to her ears, as is the strangled gasp he lets out when she takes step after step forward until he's pressed against a wall with nowhere else to go.

None of the people nearby seem to be bothered by the confrontation which only goes to show that her earlier assumptions about this place were right.

“What’s your name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The man’s reluctance to tell her vanishes into thin air as soon as Pepper puts just a little more pressure on the blade still pressed to his stomach. “Ah, alright! Anthony! Easy with that, you’re going to ruin my good looks. I can’t work with a bunch of scars all over my body.”

“Now that would be a shame. Then you wouldn’t have any tactic to steal from people.”

“Exactly,” Anthony mutters, hands held up in a gesture of surrender. “Do you know how much trouble I am going to get into with the guild if I don’t bring anything home anymore? I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Forgive me but I am having a hard time feeling any kind of sympathy for a thief that tried to rob me.”

“I am sorry about that. I should have known better. I was the one to get carried away by your looks.”

She doesn't respond to that and Anthony holds her gaze for only a moment longer before his curiosity gets the better of him and he drops his head to stare at the weapon that’s keeping him in place. There is a slight pause in which he takes it in and then his eyes are growing big, even bigger than they are normally, and he looks back up at her in apparent shock.

“By Ysmir’s beard, you’re a Blade! I thought you people were extinct.” The smile from earlier is back on his face but this time it appears to be… genuine. He continues talking before Pepper has the chance to contribute to the conversation. “You said work brought you here. Were you tasked to slay a dragon? Did you succeed? Is it still alive? Are you-”

“Alright, that’s enough,” she interrupts his rambling when the words start to blend together in her ears. “You seem unbothered by the fact that I could kill you any second. None of the guards have stopped me so far, which can only mean that they aren’t all that concerned about your well-being.”

All Anthony does is shrug.

“Given my status, they probably wouldn’t do anything. But you should listen to me before doing anything rash. I have a proposition to make.”

“Oh?”

“Take me with you.”

Now, it’s Pepper’s turn to smile. He can’t be serious. The world outside is dangerous enough, even without actively searching for fights - which is exactly what she does for a living. The thought of Anthony battling a dragon is amusing, though the reality of it would be anything but.

“I know I’m not much of a fighter but I know a thing or two about people. I could help! Not to mention that, if we ever have trouble with gold, I can-”

“You’re not going to steal from people,” Pepper says as if she’s actually considering his absurd request. She isn’t, at all.

“Not even the bad guys that deserve it?” She simply glares at him. “Alright, no stealing then. But I know this land better than anyone. I know all the hidden paths and hideouts. Give me a chance and I’ll be of good use.”

She doesn’t know why she hesitates with her answer. The logical thing to do is to say no. No, he can’t join her because he’s most definitely going to get killed in the first conflict he finds himself in. No, he can’t join her because he’s tried to steal from her and she can’t trust someone like that.

By any means, saying no should be the easiest thing to do.

But the hope sparkling in his eyes is the most real thing in this forsaken town and the truth is that she could use someone who knows the landscape since she has never been here before. Tony is right about why she's here. She's been tasked with killing a dragon and so far, she hasn’t had any luck locating it. Which is ironic, given how gigantic the beast is described to be but she has a distinct feeling that it’s hiding in the nearby mountains. She won’t have a problem killing it, it’s the tracking it down part of the journey she can use assistance with.

Anthony is still staring at her, holding his breath in anticipation. Whether or not he’s waiting for her answer or a stab in the gut, Pepper isn’t sure. Either way, she can’t believe what she’s about to say next.

“I’ll think about it.”

The noise of triumph he lets out should feel like a loss but strangely, Pepper isn't bothered by it.

#pepperony #tony stark #pepper potts #my writing #au_gust_2020 #skyrim au

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deejadabbles · 5 years ago

Text

Spells of Defiance (Atem x Reader x Yugi) Chapter 4

Four: Lead

One //// Two //// Three //// Four //// Five //// Six //// Seven //// [Eight coming soon]

Summary: The Circle of Magicians protects the world from rogue, murderous fey. The police who keep bloodsuckers and flesh-eaters in check. You’ve hunted vampires for years, earning a reputation as one of the best magicians in that field; but what happens when an encounter with a particular vampire makes your already fragile loyalties split?

Supernatural/Demon Hunter AU. Vampire!Atem x Reader x Incubus!Yugi (yes, a polyamorous relationship). Warnings for cursing, vulgar language, violence, and some sexual themes.

This is a fic I’ve already posted this on my AO3 but I wanted to spread the Yu-gi-oh x Reader love here on tumblr.

The apartment was small, graying walls and a tattered curtain separating the living room and kitchenette from the dinky bedroom. It had been vacant when you kicked in the already busted door, but that was alright. You didn’t even have to wait long before you heard that same door’s handle rattle as someone else entered. The ghoul was muttering to himself, carrying a nondescript paper bag that reeked of raw meat. He didn’t even notice you.

You waited until he shut the door behind him and was just about to reach for the light switch before you spoke. “Hello, Bonz.”

He gasped and spun on his heels, peering into the dark at the chair you were seated on. He froze like a possum in the road when he realized it was you. One heartbeat. Two. Then-

“Oh fuck this!”

He dropped the bag and bolted towards the heavy curtains of his window. You sighed, “Told you he’d go for the window.”

Before Bonz could reach them the curtains flew open and Yugi spread his wings wide, making quite the picture as he perched on the windowsill and blocked the exit. The ghoul screeched as he tumbled to the ground in shock at the sight, but quickly scrambled to his feet and started towards the front door. He let out another frightened scream when Atem stepped out from the shadows and leaned against the door with his arms crossed.

“No fair!” the ghoul cried, “since when do you run with demons?! Why do ya have to scare the piss outta me like that?”

You got up from the seat and made your way over to his cowering form, Yugi and Atem closing in as well. “Relax, Bonz, I just want to talk.”

The man scoffed, running his fingers raggedly through his scraggly blue hair, “Yeah right! I’ve still got a scar on my ass from the last time you wanted to ‘talk’!”

When you noticed Yugi and Atem giving you very interested looks at the statement, you threw your hands up, exasperated, “I was aiming for his leg and the little roach squirmed at the last second.”

“Because you were trying to stab me!”

He jumped when your hard gaze snapped back to him with a growl. “And do I need to remind you why I was trying to stab you?” When the ghoul only gulped audibly you continued, “Now, we won’t have to have a repeat of my last visit if you play nice and give me the info I want.”

Bonz tried to sit up straighter, as if to look more dignified or important. “Sure sure, you know you can always count on me! What do you need to know?”

“Have you heard anything about the vampire Marik? He’s been getting quite the following recently.”

You hadn’t thought it possible, what with the paperwhite skin ghouls had, but Bonz seemed to go paler at the name. “Aw geez, why’d you have to ask about him? He’s one scary bloodsucker and his followers are crazy! They busted up one of Pegasus’ clubs for kicks about a month back, then Marik killed em to make an example since he didn’t order them to do it.”

“Alright, nice to know, but can you tell me where any of his followers are, or maybe even Marik himself? You still do odd jobs for fey who pay the right price, any chance Marik hired you to do something for him?”

Bonz had learned long ago that you could tell when he lied, not to mention how...annoyed you got when he wasted your time. So there was no surprise when he started sweating bullets under your stern gaze.

“If you’re worried about Marik coming after you for talking, I can promise we’ll protect you from his wrath,” Atem assured, apparently taking the role of good cop to your bad cop.

The ghoul spared the vampire a glance, then looked back at you as he said, “L-Listen, I heard that he likes picking up random humans off the streets and playing with them before he sucks them dry. That and the bit about his cronies going after Pegasus is all I’ve heard about. I swear- I swear I haven’t seen or heard anything else about him, I’ve been staying clear of that psycho!”

“Where does he pick up these humans?” Yugi cut in.

“All over, mostly slummy areas like this, but all over the city from what I hear. I promise that’s everything I know!”

After a second, Yugi and Atem exchanged a look with you, silently asking if you believed him. You leaned down more to the short ghoul’s level as he remained cowering on the floor. To his credit, he kept his eyes on yours as you stared daggers into his soul, though he was still sweating buckets and barely containing his shaking.

A few heartbeats passed, then you closed your eyes, sighed, and leaned back again. “He’s telling the truth, he doesn’t know anything else.”

“Oh thank god,” Bonz breathed, visibly relaxing.

“So, is there anything else he can help us with?” Atem asked.

“Not much, but...” Your eyes darted back down to the ghoul, “Bonz!”

“Yes, ma'am?!”

“If you hear anything about Marik, anything at all, contact me. I’ll make it worth your while.”

He nodded his head, “Sure thing! But, uh, don’t expect much from me, ya know. Like I said, I want to stay clear of the nut job.”

You made sure to give him another hard glare before starting towards the door. Yugi and Atem followed close behind and Yugi set the busted door back in place as you three stepped out into the dingy hallway.

Once you were back outside (and Yugi had concealed his demonic features again) you let out an irritated sigh.

“That was little help. Marik is smart, he picks his victims up all over town so we can’t pinpoint his hideout.”

“What about that other thing he said?” Yugi asked, “He said something about him going after some clubs owned by another fey?”

You scratched the back of your neck, already feeling uneasy about that particular lead. “Yeah, Pegasus. I have an in with him, but...let’s just say I want to make sure I can’t get a lead from someone else first. He isn’t a man we want to owe favors to.”

“So, what now?” Atem asked

Your eyes drifted towards the sky as you thought if only to avoid the unseemly sight of the dirty street before you. “There’s someone I can talk to who might know about the disappearances. We can go to her bar if you two don’t mind the walk.”

When both men agreed without hesitation you started walking in that direction, though you had only managed a block before Atem was suddenly gripping your arm tight. You turned and looked in the direction he was staring and saw a posh, dark blue limousine coming down the street. A car like that was so obviously out of place in these slums that it was almost comical. The thing that got Atem worried though, was that you three were the only ones on the dark street and its headlights were trained right on your trio.

Atem took his grips on both you and Yugi and started sprinting down the street but the tailgater was too fast. The limo swerved into the street before you could cross with speed and ease that should be impossible for such a long vehicle. It screeched to a halt so that the back window was almost directly in front of the three of you. It rolled down to reveal a young man with brown hair and eyes the color and temperature of ice. You recognized him from his picture on the ‘persons of interest’ board at the Sanctuary.

“Get in,” Seto Kaiba snapped.

Atem let out a growl and moved to pull both you and Yugi to the other side of the limo, but you stopped him. “Wait! He’s not one of Marik’s. I think we should go with him.”

Both of your companions looked at you with concern for a moment, “Are you sure?” Atem asked.

“He’s Seto Kaiba and if what I’ve heard about him is true, he doesn’t work with or for anyone, especially not vampires.”

“Get in now or I’m taking my back the generous offer I’m about to give you,” the dragon all but snarled.

You opened the door and climbed inside, figuring the boys could leave this to you if they really didn’t want to come. They did, apparently, or at least didn’t want to leave you alone with the dragon, because they climbed in right after you (Atem looking quite annoyed, you may add).

The limo pulled back out into the road the moment Yugi shut the door, jostling all three of you about until the ride smoothed out. When you got your bearings and looked up, you saw that the famed fey was not alone. Mokuba had a very mischievous grin on his face, looking quite relaxed in the fine leather seats. The youngling leaned forward a bit and sniffed the air in front of you.

“Yup! This is her, alright. She’s the one that helped me escape!”

You quirked a brow at him, “You knew my scent?”

“I have a way better nose than most dragons,” he declared with a prideful smirk, “That was a nice glamour charm you put on when you broke me out, but it didn’t cover your scent and I remembered it from all the times you passed my cell.”

Yugi crossed his arms, pursing his lips a bit as he muttered, “In other words, he thought you were cute and memorized your scent every time you walked by.”

“Hey, watch it, sex demon!” Mokuba hissed, his cheeks turning a tab pink. “It’s not like that, we’re here on business, that’s all!”

Beside him, his older brother nodded. “Exactly, and we don’t have time for squabbling so listen and listen carefully.” His cold eyes locked on you and you heard no warmth or genuine gratitude in his tone as he said, “Even though we didn’t need your help and I’m sure you did it for your own benefit, the simple fact is that you helped my brother escape from the Circle. Some might perceive that as me being in your debt, and I don’t like open debts.”

He picked up the thick blue folder from his lap and tossed it to the floorboard between you. Really, he couldn’t just hand it to one of you? Jerk. Atem kept his eyes on Kaiba and he leaned forward and plucked the folder from the ground. As he started looking through it, Seto continued his mini-speech.

“The three of you are looking for the blood-sucker Marik. I make it my business to know what’s going on in this city, especially regarding other fey. That’s a list of all the places I know Marik has used as a hideout in the last five months.”

“But not his current whereabouts?” Atem accused.

The dragon bared his teeth, “That list is better than anything the Circle- or anyone for that matter, has on Marik. And from what I can tell it’s the best lead you have, so be thankful I’m giving you that.”

“How did you know we were looking for him?” you asked.

Kaiba closed his eyes, somehow making the look seem smug, “Like I said I make it my business to know fey business. That includes the goings-on in the Circle.” He eyed your right hand for a second. “Also count yourself lucky that I have no interest in telling the council where they can find their latest traitor.”

With that, he tapped his fist against the side of the limo and it came to another screeching halt, almost sending you to the ground if it weren’t for Yugi’s tail wrapping around you quickly.

The door beside Atem opened as Seto said, “That’s all you’ll be getting in return for helping my brother. Now get out.”

The dragon’s limo drove off the moment you three were on the sidewalk and it almost gave you whiplash to think of how quick the exchange had been. Atem was flipping through the files again, the lines on his face growing deeper the longer he looked.

“He acted as though this was some great charity, but it’s almost useless to us. Marik is not foolish, he won’t have left much behind at any hideout.”

“Maybe not, but it might help us establish a pattern on where he tends to go, and where he might go next,” you put forth, taking the folder from his hand and flicking through it yourself. “This is better than nothing, at least...” You snapped the folder shut and looked up at your companions. “Change of plans. We’ll visit my other acquaintance another night. We should probably get back home, I’ll study the file tonight and see if I can establish a pattern.”

You turned to head in the direction of the house but happened to catch Yugi’s small smile and faltered. Only after quirking a questioning brow at him did you realize you had used words that inferred their house was yours too. Yugi said nothing, simply continued to smile as he and Atem started walking towards home. You had to shake your head before falling in step with them. Not for the first time, such easy acceptance into their lives caught you off guard. Not just your acceptance, but theirs as well.

You could most definitely get used to Yugi’s home cooking. Hamburgers where his specialty, apparently (and his personal favorite) but he made quite a nice fish and rice dish that night that made you want to hum in delight at the first bite. The Circle had by no means fed you slop, in fact, their focus on giving their members good meals was one of the few things you gave them credit for. But something about seeing Yugi hum to himself in delight as he cooked, the smile on his face when he asked how it was, and even the cute apron he wore made it all seem more… Well, you didn’t know what, but it was pleasant.

A slight bit of dread crept up your back when you went to bed that night, worried that the side effects of Yugi’s magic hadn’t worn off yet and you’d once again find yourself in their bed. Thankfully, when you woke the next morning, you were still tucked under the covers of the guest room, Kaiba’s file papers and a map of domino scattered about since you had fallen asleep at your work last night.

After consulting your notes, putting away the files, and getting through your morning routine, you wandered into the kitchen to find Yugi and Atem starting their morning like the had the previous day: Yugi making breakfast and Atem reading the paper.

“Good morning!” Yugi greeted with a smile, “Are eggs and toast okay for breakfast?”

“Of course,” you smiled back at him, it’s not like you were going to say no when he was already making said eggs. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You can make the toast if you want.”

After you moved to do just that, you heard Atem rise from his seat and make his way to the other side of the kitchen island and the other side of you.

He leaned against the counter as he said, “Did you make much headway with Kaiba’s notes last night?”

You nodded, “I did, actually. Apparently Marik likes to make vacant houses into his hideouts. All of the places he’s stayed at were either up for sale, or the owner was on vacation while he stayed there. Marik also seems to stick to higher ends of town for his hideouts and if Kaiba’s intel is accurate, he changes every week or so. He’s run out of new neighborhoods to hit and seems to be hitting the same neighborhoods again, just in a different order. With the way he’s changed up the order he’s hitting them this time, I think I narrowed his next base down to three neighborhoods. I want to investigate my possibilities today. I might just find his current hidey-hole.”

Atem did not smile at the news, though his eyes seemed more alight as he said, “We should wait until nightfall, that way we can come with you.”

“No need, I can investigate this part on my own,” you assured as you dropped the second set of bread in the toaster.

His eyes actually narrowed a bit. “It isn’t safe, you shouldn’t go alone.”

Despite yourself, a pang of annoyance started to crawl up your chest, “Don’t worry about me, I can handle it-”

“Marik is dangerous, you’re putting yourself in danger by going by yourself.”

Atem was almost shouting now and your annoyance rose as you turned to face his glare with one of your own.

“What makes you think I don’t know that? I’ve been tracking him for a long time, trust me, I’m not ignorant of how dangerous he is!”

“Then why won’t you let us come with you?” he growled.

Behind you, you heard Yugi try to cut in with some placating remark, but you were beyond annoyance now and growled right back at the vampire. “Look, I’ve been tracking bloodthirsty fey for years, by myself, long before you came into the picture! I can do this on my own, I don’t need your help!”

Something made a snapping noise and you barely took note that Atem was gripping the frame of the door hard enough to crack. “Pride and stubbornness won’t lead to anything but you’re death! I won’t let you get yourself killed!”

“Let me- Let me!?” Again Yugi tried to step in, physically that time, but you were already turning your back on both of them. “I’ll let you know when you have any damn right to tell me what I can and can’t do!”

The moment you made to storm out of the kitchen you felt Yugi reach out to you, barely missing your arm with his fingertips. Both of them called out your name but anger kept your feet moving all the way until you were slamming the front door behind you, running down the stairs and stepping out into the backyard. You heard footsteps giving chance and Yugi’s voice calling out but the haze of anger blocked it out. Desperate not to have to face either of them, you cast a teleportation spell and zapped yourself out of there in an instant.

Your heart was still beating erratically when you reappeared in the posher part of town and you couldn’t make sense of the odd cocktail of emotions surging through you as you paced the well-kempt alleyway. Who did Atem think he was treating you like that? Like a child?! Didn’t he understand that you had been shoved into danger like this by yourself since you were a goddamned teenager? He didn’t know half the things you’d seen and done, he had no right to-

You cursed under your breath when you realized you were setting the cuff of your jacket on fire in your anger. With the seal gone you had to more actively control the waves of magic flowing to your palm, lest it answer to your emotions like that.

After patting the sizzle out, you made yourself release a long sigh, trying to calm the surge of emotions.

As you calmed, your mind replayed the way both of them had called to you as you stormed out, your name acting a one-word plea asking you to stay. Yugi had tried to play peacemaker, but you ignored him. Footsteps had followed you down the stairs but you hadn’t wanted to hear them.

Then a thought came unbidden to your mind; they had simply been worried about you.

The feeling was almost alien. Throughout your whole life, the only companions who had ever shown any kind of concern for your life were Mana and Mahad. The Circle in general only cared to the extent of keeping their investment well enough to work. You were a soldier, and soldiers died all the time.

You slumped against a brick wall and buried your face in your hands as another uncomfortable mix of emotions crept in.

Those thoughts and more swam in your mind for what felt like forever, all the way until you felt the need to punch something even if it was the brick wall! You couldn’t think about all this right now. You had your mission and you needed to stay focused. So, you took a deep breath and packed the feelings away, before stepping out of the alley.

Despite your best efforts those and other uneasy thoughts kept sneaking in as you made your way down the nice streets. Not just that, but soon a growl from your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t gotten to taste Yugi’s breakfast before storming out. Guilt, irritation, and hunger all proved hard to keep at bay as you kept ears and eyes out for anything that might be of interest to your mission.

The first neighborhood on your list was an area full of nice, high-end houses and not much else. With them being so close to each other you wondered why Marik would risk hiding out here when neighbors had a high chance of hearing or seeing his goings-on. Maybe the bastard liked the challenge and risk of being discovered, yet another thing he could feel pride over as the Circle continued to fail in capturing him.

Based on the dragon’s intel, you of course looked for any houses that were vacant. Ones up for sale were easy enough to note, what with the signs in the front yards (Marik must take those down while he was hiding out to avoid any interested buyers peeking around). However, if Marik was smart, which he was, he would stick to houses that were only vacant for the week or two he stayed there, and those were harder to spot. Mail piled up in a letterbox was a sure sign of someone being on vacation, but unless you watched the houses all day or more, there weren’t many other signs.

Time to get creative.

The white fence and front door flanked by petunia beds looked almost too stereotypical but it seemed like a good place to start. Another advantage you had over other magicians was that people hardly assumed a young cute woman like you would be up to no good. A middle-aged housewife in a pink blouse answered your knock with an all too-bright smile. Perfect, she looked just like the type who would know the boring business of all her neighbors.

You got straight to the point in a voice so cheerful that it almost strained your vocal cords. “Hi there! I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

The frantic expression you put on must have been convincing, because she looked as worried as a mother finding her kid crying as she said, “Oh of course, honey! What’s wrong?”

“Well you see, I work for a house sitting company and someone in this neighborhood hired us to look after their house while they’re on vacation- but the residential information they gave seems to be wrong! My boss doesn’t know what happened, maybe just a typo or something? Anyway I don’t want to disappoint the family who hired us so I’m trying to find the right house. All I know is the house is in this neighborhood and I have the key here,” you flashed the spare key Yugi had given you yesterday, “do you know what house I might be looking for?”

The woman’s eyes brightened in an instant, pleased that she could help. “Oh! Well, you must be looking for Doctor Kris’ house! He went on vacation earlier this week,” she stepped out into her front porch beside you and pointed down the road, “his house is the blue one there on the right, with the blossom tree in the front yard.”

You gave a dramatic sigh of relief, “Oh thank you so so much! You’re a real lifesaver!”

The woman actually flushed just a bit and smiled pleasantly, “It’s no trouble at all, dear, happy to help!”

After another thank you and wave goodbye you walked back down the stone steps with your first possible vampire hideout marked. It was almost scarily easy to fool people when you looked as unassuming as you did. Use the right words, ones that made you seem like a victim or simple helpful bystander, and others would open their mouths without a second thought. It didn’t matter that the key you flashed wouldn’t open any of the houses here, showing it still looked like evidence that you were who you said you were. Of course, there were other ways to get the info you needed out of the neighbors, but you were running low on daze powder and preferred to use it only as a last resort.

You continued that little scam act not only in the other neighborhoods you investigated, but also on others in the same neighborhoods, just in case there were more vacant houses to discover. Only one person you approached was at all suspicious -an old man who looked like he’d glare down a butterfly fluttering in his garden- but everyone else was all too happy to help you.

In the end, you had five possible places Marik might be hiding. As you discovered each location, you made sure to do a quick investigation of the perimeter, looking for any surefire signs of vampiric residence, but nothing stuck out at any of the houses. You told yourself that it was just Marik being smart, but you still worried that all these leads were a bust.

After taking note of the final house on your list, you started making up your formal report to the Council in your head as-

You shook your head almost violently when you realized what you were doing. You didn’t answer to the Circle anymore, there wasn’t a report to make or council to answer to now. Now all you had in the way of backup were Yugi and Atem.

Another sigh left you at the sudden wave of guilt coming back in at the thought of them. You weren’t sure what to do about how you had left things with the boys that morning.

Well, regardless, you told yourself that you had done enough on your own and the next step called for more help; you weren’t about to storm the potential hideout of the Circle’s most wanted vampire alone. Besides, Atem deserved to be there when you caught him. You and the boys needed to do the next step together.

By the time you had made it back to the Mystic Box’s front door your nerves had worked up quite a frenzy in your chest and stomach. You had to tell yourself thrice over that avoiding Atem and Yugi would accomplish nothing as you approached the shop.

Then, a distraction from the knots forming inside you came in the form of two women. Through the large display window of the shop, you saw two of the girls from the salon next door (two of the ones who had been ogling Yugi the day before) standing at the counter talking to Yugi. Just like the day prior, you could already tell the incubus seemed uncomfortable with their attention; shifting his feet and eyes darting about as he tried his best not to fidget with his hands.

You opened the door and had to actively tell yourself not to slam it open as you stepped in. The women didn’t notice or care but Yugi’s eyes flickered to the door, then they widened at the sight of you. He threw you that easy, gentle smile of his as he turned his back on the girls and started putting items on the shelf, obviously having been in the middle of that task already.

“Come on, Yugi!” one of the girls cooed, the dark-haired one with the large breasts, which she was doing her best to display as she leaned over the counter towards Yugi. “You’ve never come to any of my parties, surely you and that cute roommate of yours could come just this once!”

“You two hardly ever get out,” The short blonde purred, actually sitting on the counter and reaching out to brush her hand down Yugi’s arm. “It’s time for you to have some fun. I promise we’ll show you a good time.”

If you hadn’t had enough of them before, that suggestive tone certainly put you over the edge. You closed the rest of the space between the door and the counter as you said, very firm and clear, “Sorry, girls, but it’s my fault they can’t come this time. They already promised to help me with a project.”

The blonde shot you a glare that could rival your sharpest dagger, “Who’re you again?”

“A friend,” Yugi cut in, a little more sharply than you were expecting. He turned back to the girls with an apology in his eyes, “I really am sorry, but like she said, we already promised to help her. Maybe next time.”

The brunette scoffed and leaned back, “Alright, alright. But next time you’re coming to the party even if I have to drag you there, cutie.” She ended with a wink towards Yugi, then her friend hopped off the counter and with a flirty “Bye Yugi!” they said in unison, they were walking out of the store without sparing you another glance.

When the door shut Yugi slumped against the counter with a sigh. “Thanks for that, I thought they’d never leave.” He then looked up and that smile was back in place, only wider and somehow even warmer. “I’m glad you’re back. Did you- uh, find anything while you were out?”

The knots returned tenfold at Yugi’s very suddenly bashful demeanor. Maybe he wasn’t certain how upset you were. Or ...maybe Atem was still angry at you and Yugi hoped to avoid another fight.

Not wanting bitter feelings to bubble back up, you coughed and ran a hand through your hair as you said, “Yeah, I did, actually. I wanted to talk to you and Atem about what I found and our next move.”

“Great- I mean, that’s great!” Yugi said a little too enthusiastic as he walked out from behind the counter. He grabbed a 'back in 10 minutes' sign from behind the counter and quickly went to the front door. After locking it and putting up the sign, he said, "We can talk about it now, sooner the better, right?" before ushering you up the stairs.

There you found Atem in a rather domestic scene, folding laundry in the living room of all things. His attention snapped to the door the moment Yugi opened it and when he saw you he seemed to stiffen by the smallest bit.

He stood, abandoning the dark tank top he had been folding, and walked towards you two, “You’re back, is everything alright?”

You nodded, noting the tense way Yugi positioned himself between you two, though off to the side. “I did. I think I narrowed the possible places Marik might be hiding down to five houses.”

“You didn’t charge into any of these places by yourself, did you?”

“Atem,” Yugi’s one-word scolding was firm as he looked at the vampire with a warning in his usually soft eyes.

You ignored the slight twinge of annoyance in the back of your mind and said, “No, I didn’t. I knew we not only needed a plan but that all three of us should investigate them together.”

The tension in Atem’s body eased as he uncrossed his arms and looked at you with a softer expression. “Alright, so we start checking these places one by one tonight?”

“Actually, I was thinking about going tomorrow, during the day. It’s the best time to hit a vampire, after all.” When Atem quirked a brow that said ‘what about the vampire on your side’ you continued. “I noticed that Yugi has the ingredients I need to make another daylight ring for you in the shop. It’ll take me tonight and tomorrow morning to make, and it’ll be a lower grade one that only lasts a couple of hours, but I figured we could catch Marik unawares and hit the spots before the sun sets.”

Yugi and Atem exchanged a look for a moment, then Yugi said, “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

Atem nodded and opened his mouth to say something- that is, until your stomach decided to make itself known with a hungry growl. Oh, right, it was well after noon and you still hadn’t eaten. Heat shot up into your face as both boys looked at you with wide eyes.

“You didn’t get anything to eat while you were out, did you?” The light, but somehow still firm scolding in Yugi’s tone made you shift your gaze to the ground.

“...No…”

Yugi sighed as he walked toward the door, “Atem, make sure she eats something before she comes back down to the shop, she isn’t allowed to starve herself!”

When the door closed behind Yugi, you looked up and found Atem smirking at you. With an annoyed huff, you turned on your heel and started towards the door as well, but Atem stepped into your path with crossed arms.

“I guess I was right to assume you were the type who skips meals in favor of their work. Now, I may not be as good a cook as Yugi, but I’m sure I can make you something easily enough.”

“The two of you don’t have to take care of me,” your tone wasn’t nearly as biting as you worried it would be, in fact, it sounded rather weak and halfhearted, more bashful than anything.

When a hand reached out and gently touched your shoulder you looked up and met Atem’s eyes. “We’re allowed to worry about our friends. We simply want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

Though he didn’t say it outright, you knew the statement wasn’t just about the skipped meal. You didn’t want to just come out and say an ‘I’m sorry’ and maybe he didn’t either. Or rather, maybe neither of you needed to. The guilt that had been gnawing at you all day seemed to dissipate as Atem gave you a small, but still warm smile.

“Come, let’s get you something to eat.”

The sandwich and chips you ended up having wasn’t a perfect meal, but it was enough to fill you up until dinner. As soon as you were done with it, you went back downstairs, assured Yugi that you had eaten, and were now camped out in the backroom of the magic shop with your tools ready.

You had asked Atem for the daylight ring you already gave him, since re-enchanting the item would be easier than doing it from scratch, and were surprised when he simply pulled it off of his ring finger. He had been wearing it amongst his other adornments since you have it to him. Maybe he simply liked the rune-like design on it.

About an hour had passed since you set up your little workshop when Yugi popped his head into the room.

“Is there anything you need?” he asked, scanning over the herbs and chalked symbols circling the ring on the floor. “More juniper or anise? Maybe something to drink while you work?”

You smiled up at him, “No, I’m okay. This part of the enchantment just takes some waiting.”

“Well, I’ll wait with you then!” Yugi left the door open just enough to hear the front door’s bell should a customer come in, before settling on the ground beside you. Then, the moment he had settled, Yugi’s eyes suddenly went wide, “I won’t disturb anything being here, will I?”

You actually chuckled at him, “No, not at all. I’m just waiting for the symbols to infuse its magic with the herbs.”

“Okay, good.” Yugi flashed that bashful smile at you and a few moments of silence passed before his grin fell and he scratched the back of his neck. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something. About this morning, Atem wasn’t trying to order you around or anything. Sure he can be a bit bossy sometimes, but really he was just worried about your safety. He’s known Marik for a long time and...well, let's just say he knows first hand how brutal he can be.”

Your eyes stayed focused on the ring before you as you took in Yugi’s words for a moment. “I’ve been wondering what connection Atem has to Marik since I met him, but I didn’t think it was my place to ask.”

“He’s pretty mysterious when he wants to be, isn’t he? It took him a while to open up about all of that to me too. Still, you should know at least the basics about it since we might actually be catching up to Marik...” Yugi took in a deep breath, and when he let it out he said, “Marik was the one who turned Atem into a vampire.”

Your eyes widened a bit at the words, though truly it wasn’t that shocking. Vampires often had deep connections to the ones who sired them, good or bad. Though you had yet to meet Marik face to face, you were sure he was an old vampire, just like Atem.

“I see,” you said eventually, “Marik may try to use that connection to get under Atem’s skin when we confront him. Though something tells me Atem will be ready for that.” You finally looked back over at Yugi and gave him the smallest of smiles, “Thank you for telling me, Yugi. Maybe he’ll feel comfortable talking to me about it more someday.”

Yugi returned the smile in an instant, only his was notably more bright. Maybe he liked that your words hinted at the fact that you were planning on hanging around for a long time. You hadn’t actively decided that, it just seemed...natural at this point. Even though your mission to catch Marik might be drawing to a close soon.

Unfortunately, Yugi did not get the chance to talk to you much more after that since a few customers came in soon after the reveal of Atem’s past. It took a couple of hours, but you managed to infuse the protection and sun magic of the herds and magician’s circle into the ring. Now all that was left to do was hang it in a window where it would absorb the rays of the sun when it rose and hung in the sky for several hours the next day.

You finished just in time to help Yugi close the shop and make dinner. You hadn’t realized how much you were looking forward to Yugi’s cooking until you smiled at the way he hummed to himself, stirring the pan of steaming potatoes, adorned in his apron patterned in light pink stars.

Over dinner, you told the boys a little more about the houses you thought might be harboring Marik, as well as some tips on how to break in without being detected (though you were somehow sure Atem knew a tick or two in that already). Yugi also mentioned that he had contacted a friend of there’s, a werewolf with a nose that would come in handy when checking the spots out. That was a good idea, not only to give you a clue on if a vampire was actually inside but if anyone else was with him and how many enemies to expect.

During said meal and talks, you noticed the heavy set to Atem’s shoulders and the stony seriousness to his face that never wavered during the discussion. You were growing worried about him and what was weighing on his mind, especially when he excused himself to the balcony as you and Yugi washed the dishes.

Through the glass doors to the balcony, you saw the way Atem looked out at the stars with that heavy expression still on his face. You must have been glancing that direction more than you thought because eventually, Yugi gave you a gentle nudge with his elbow and when you turned to look at him, his expression was a gentle, understanding one.

“Go on, he could use someone to talk to. I can finish up here.”

You shook your head at the offer, “You’re the one who should go talk to him, Yugi. Anything I can say will mean more coming from someone he loves.”

“But there’s something on your mind too, I can tell there’s something you want to tell him,” Yugi amended with a look that said he could see through you and Atem easily. He gave you another nudge, this time with his hip, tail flicking across your legs as he did, “Go tell him what you think he needs to hear, then we can all do something fun together after.”

He wasn’t wrong, there was something that had been on your mind since Yugi talked to you about Atem. It was a hard subject to breach, but the more you thought about it, the more you knew it had to be said. With a defeated sigh you handed Yugi the pot you had been scrubbing, dried your hands, and walked towards the balcony.

When you stepped out Atem looked over his shoulder at you.

“Um, hi,” you wanted to cringe at how awkward you sounded and looked as you gave him a little wave. “I wanted to ask how you’re doing. You must have a lot on your mind right now.”

Lids closed over those deep scarlet eyes before he turned away again, “I do. But you needn't worry.”

“I thought we were allowed to care and worry about our friends.”

You tried not to sound too smug at using his own words against him, though you also hoped to ease the tension a bit. When he didn’t say anything about your remark, you let out another sigh. If he wasn’t going to talk about his feelings, you might as well get to the topic you wanted to bring up with him.

“Listen, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

He didn’t answer you, though you somehow knew he was listening. This was going to be a hard topic to bring up. Might as well rip the bandaid off in one blunt go.

“Killing Marik won’t make you human again.”

Silence.

“I know that it’s a popular belief, that killing a sire will cure all the vampires they turned, but it’s a myth, it doesn’t work like that.”

Again, silence.

“I- I’m not trying to be cruel or make you upset, but I knew I needed to tell you-”

“I know.”

Atem drew in a deep breath after the gentle words and finally, he turned to face you. Your heart ached a bit when you saw the emotion in his eyes.

“This isn’t about becoming human again. I’ve known for a long time that I will never get my humanity back. This is about justice. Not just for myself, but all the people he’s hurt in his life.” Another stretch of silence passed but you knew he had more to say and waited with patience. “For centuries I’ve not been able to escape Marik. I was his first, the first one he turned into a monster. I knew him before he was a vampire, he and his family worked for my father. I didn’t know it at the time, but Marik hated my family, and me specifically. I don’t know the details of how he became what he is, but he used his new powers to get what he considered revenge on my family.” He swallowed something in his throat and you worried he was holding back tears. “He slaughtered everyone in our household. But he left me and my father for last. He made my father watch as he turned me, then, when he was done, Marik killed him too.” Atem closed his eyes against the memory, “My father lived just long enough to watch his only son become a monster.”

“You aren’t a monster,” the slight choke in your own voice surprised you but you didn’t care. You took a step closer and stopped just short of grabbing him by the arms. “Trust me, Atem, I know what a monster is, I’ve hunted them all my life.” Indeed, memories of bloodstained rooms, screams of the deepest agony, and bodies too young and too small filled your head. “Marik wanted to make you into one, but you’re not. You’re stronger than him, you’re better than him, and-” you took in a sharp breath, and found the strength in your words as Atem met your eyes. “And we’re going to stop him together.”

For a few heartbeats, he stared back at you. You thought you saw surprise and...something else in the depths of his eyes, but what really surprised you was when he reached up and brushed his fingers along your cheek.

“Thank you. I’m proud to have you and Yugi at my side,” he whispered. “I feel as though I can do anything, so long as the two of you are with me.”

You smiled up at him, though the intensity of his gaze and the feel of his hand was making your chest hurt somehow. After another moment, he dropped his hand and looked up at the door leading inside over your shoulder. You turned to look at them too and a second later Yugi popped his head out to smile at you both.

“If you guys are up for it, I thought we could all go see a movie together. Sound fun?” he asked with hope in his light tone.

Atem chuckled at his boyfriend, “That sounds wonderful, aibou.”

When they both turned to you expectantly, you had to clear your throat before you could answer. “Y-yeah. That could be fun. I’ve never really had much time for movies before.”

“Great!” Yugi clapped his hands together and turned towards the front door.

Again Atem chuckled as the two of you followed and Yugi went on about the movies currently playing. It almost felt odd how the idea of spending this time with them made you so happy. Especially after the variety of emotions you had gone through that day, but you didn't want to linger on the thought. Like everything with the two of them, taking this time to spend together just seemed...natural.

#atem x reader #yugi x reader #yami x reader #Atem x reader x Yugi #yugi x reader x yami #poly relationship #poly reader insert #series: spells of defiance

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curlythenord · 5 years ago

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How It Began

Hey, so this is new, and weird. But I have no one to talk to about this to without annoying them, and this is basically my new and only hobby. And I like it a lot. And most of us are stuck inside anyways so why not?

Skyrim is quite a few years old, so maybe some of you have wisdom to give. Or not, and you could just hear about my faliures/achievements and laugh. Either way, this feels therapeutic in nature, and puts two things I love together. Writing and... well, Skyrim.

So, three or four weeks into quarantine, and I was already pretty out of it. I didn’t have any solid hobbies to pick from and I was waiting on amazon book deliveries. Then, Jenna Marbles posted her video “A Tour of My House In Elder Scrolls Online” and I watched it and I really liked it. She mentioned how much she liked it many times before and something about the fantasy and quests just struck a cord in my bored little heart.

It’s like the attraction of Animal Crossing that a lot of us are having, except it’s with dragons and magic and swords. Both are still very valid.

That afternoon I downloaded Blades on my phone and played for literal hours. Something about swinging a sword and killing trolls and monsters really got to me. I wasn’t a fan of building the town and upgrading the blacksmithy but otherwise I enjoyed it. Then on Easter I kinda browsed through amazon, wondering if I could buy the game right now because of quarantine and all that. We have a ps4 at home, it’s my little brothers. I found a copy of the 2016 beautified version on Amazon, and then he went and found it on the playstation store for way less.

Soon enough I caved to my desires and I bought it. And I was immediately obssessed. I spent like an hour JUST creating my character. I wanted her face paint to be just right and her eye color was so hard to pick because I kept getting getting stuck between this hella striking blue and this really cool dark golden/hazel color. (I decided on golden) I chose Nord after debating about it for awhile, and i’m still not regretting the decision. She has really dark black hair and dope ass war paint on her eyes. I know Breton was probsbly the better choice but the Nord character hasn’t been an issue at all. I do always forget to use her war cry thougj. I think it’s because I can only use it once a day (in-game) so it makes me scared to use it. Even though days are just around 20-30 minutes long without fast travel.

Her name is Toril, which means “thunder”, and I know shes my avatar and everything but like... she’s so cool.

I chose the Warrior stone, because I genuinely just wanted to fuck shit up with a Sword. I always thought I was naturally super bad at console gaming becuase I tried playing COD before and I was terrible. Like really bad. Like propably shot myself more in the foot than I shot anyone else bad. But with Skyrim? I keep getting better each time I play. And my attack strategies are getting so much better.

My usual way to fight is a shield and a one-handed weapon. Two-handed is just too bulky and I like swords and the protection of shields. Also it just drains stamina so fast and I don’t like that. At this point I just carry Two handed weapons incase an opponent is Really hard to kill without it. I also do magic-wielding on left hand (usually restoration spells) and a one handed weapon on right. It’s prefect for combat with slow but really damaging enemies, like dragons or trolls that you can back away from.

Recently, I began dual wielding and it’s honestly so fun. I just hate how much damage I take when I do it against a group of bandits though, so I keep moving away to heal or take potions, but it’s such a fun strategy to use with dragons when they land or just against one opponent.

Anyway, the game is amazing, the characters are fun and weird and yea they’re fake but the storylines are so interesting. I decided to go with the imperial gaurd in the beginning, so I went to Riverwood, and then eventually took main residence at Whiterun. I was a little slow on joining the companions, so I used to just stay at the inn before I lived with them, but a couple days ago I saved up enough to buy the Breezehome. Both a good and bad idea because I still go back to Whiterun a lot, but my quests are now taking me farther and farther away and now I can’t really pop back in whenever I need to store an unneccesary weapon or some dragon bones.

I also hardly let myself fast travel because I really like the game for the exploring aspect. Even though the foxes have given me jumpscares multiple times with their guttural panting.

So yea. After maybe two weeks of playing I’m at level 20, and I’m guessing I’ve spent over 30 hours on the game. I play a little bit each day, but my sessions are usually 2-4 hours long and happen in the afternoon, and if I get on after my brother at 12 am i’ll usually play until 2 before I get too tired. I’ve only got like 13% done though, or at least only 13% of the achievements. My highest acheivement right now is doing alchemy though so I’m not doing great.

I’ve been focusing on the quest with Delphine and Esbern recently, and I’m at the point where I just spoke to the dragon master/teacher of the Greybeards, then spoke to Arngeir about going to Windhelm/Winterhold. I figured I might as well finally visit the college there because I wanted to improve some magicka skills without using my perks. It’s weird though, because as soon as I got back to Whiterun and then headed out to go to Windhelm, I got absolutely raided by dragon attacks.

First, one appeared outside of Whiterun, and me being the pussy I am (after getting my head bit off Multiple times) just shot arrows at it from a distance as the soldiers dealt with it, and then ran over when it was dead to absorb the soul. Then when I was past the farms and the guards tower next to Whiterun, another dragon appeared. I used the Whirlwind sprint to stay next to it’s wing to keep it from biting my damn head off, then used some restoration spells when it was in the air, and dual wielded (when I could attack it) with the Dawnbreaker and this enchanted sword I found at the Sky Haven Temple that deals extra damage when attacking dragons. Absorbed that soul and headed on up to the snowy mountainous area that was on the way to Windhelm.

After dealing with a couple asshole white bears and some whisps, I hear a dragon and absolutely lose it. Why was I suddenly getting bombarded?? I decided to sneak on this one, and got my bow and arrow out. Eventually I got close enough to see not one, but TWO goddamn dragons, before realizing it was Alduin raising one to life (and realized he was salty because I was trying to destroy him by getting the Elder Scroll). Eventually I managed to kill it, still using Whirlwind sprint, healing spells, and dual-wielding. Plus some potions too.

I had to try a couple times for each of these by the way. Even with the second dragon I kept forgetting to save once I was a mildly-annoying-distance-to-repeatedly-walk away from Whiterun, which sucked but it’s whatever. I learned my lesson though and started remembering to save.

I got to Windhelm, which was weird territory because it’s run by Stormcloaks, and had to physically restrain myself from pummeling this drunk guy while he talked down to a Dark Elf and accused her of being a spy because she wasn’t a Nord. Also sometimes guards that aren’t from Whiterun will call me a thief (I unnsuccesfully tried to help out the guy who told me about Esbern’s hideout back in Riften) and it’s a lil annoying because I try really hard to make my character a decently good person. Sucks though because one of the achievements is joining the Thieves Guild and though I don’t necessarily want to do that, I’m gonna eventually unless I create a new character, which I don’t wanna do yet because I like mine too much.

Anyways this is already really long. I’m making another post to talk about my current opinion on choosing between Imperials and the Stormcloaks. If you have any tips, or questions, comment them! Or send me an anon, either is fine. I could literally rave about Skyrim for hours, as you have probably seen. Thanks for reading!

#skyrim #elder scrolls #console #fantasy #bloggin #experience #stayhome #jenna marbles #ps4 #this is new #video games #playthrough ?

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howtohero · 5 years ago

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#269 Drones

Drones! They’re like robots, but you don’t have to worry about their feelings. But you really should worry about their feelings, non-sentient machines have been known to spontaneously develop feelings and revolt against their masters from time to time. Drones are one of the greatest things to come out of a Weird Factor induced sci-fi technological revolution. (It’s that and sliced sliced bread. Think of sliced bread, except its sliced. In the same way that sliced bread was an incredible innovation for being bread that’s sliced.) Drones can be programmed to assist with all manner of tasks, though as a superhero you’ll generally encounter three main types: Helper drones, spy drones, and attack drones. Today, you’re gonna listen to me drone on and on about each of them.

Helper Drones Drones are the ideal employees for a superhero. They can work round the clock, you don’t have to worry about maintaining your secret identity around them, and they don’t have that pesky “I’m only human” excuse. Because they’re not humans! They’re machines! And that’s better. Helper drones can do all sorts of stuff that superheroes need to have done, but don’t necessarily have the knowhow or technical expertise to do on their own. They can sequence DNA, run facial recognition software, check fingerprint records, make omelettes, tie shoes, dry clean uniforms, generate snappy one-liners. They’re everything and anything you could ever dream and hope for in a sidekick/assistant/omelette chef. One thing I should really point out though, is that you shouldn’t get too attached to your helper drones. I wouldn’t even name them. You see, drones can’t last forever; they’ll fall into a state of disrepair soon enough. Honestly, you’ll probably spill juice on them and cause them to short circuit. I mean really, how many times do I have to tell you not to drink juice in your hideout. (If you’re a vampire, this goes doubly for blood, which is the juice of the body.) Juice makes everything sticky and the stains are impossible to get out of your uniform. Juice is for civilians only. Not superheroes. Write that down I beg of you. So, since drones are prone to break down eventually, and since they cannot even reciprocate due to the fact that they have cold feelingless circuit boards in place of hearts, it really doesn’t make sense to get too attach- Ah, what am I saying. Of course you’re gonna fall in love with your funky android pal, and you know what? You should! Power to you! In fact, I’d say you should sooner grow attached to your drone companions than you should the people in your life. People die, or they change, they won’t necessarily be around forever. Drones will never leave you. And so what if they break down! You can just fix them! Or transfer their cpu into a newer, better drone! Your drone is gonna live forever! And they’re gonna love you forever! At least, until some villainous vandal gets their hands on them and reprograms them to feel otherwise...

Spy Drones Drones are also great for spying. They can sneak around where humans can’t. They can be small. They can be noiseless. They can be fitted with cameras. Spy drones are a favorite of much of the villain community. In fact, so many villains use them that at any given time, any superhero hideout, space base, or headquarters is probably crawling with dozens of spy drones. There was a time where there were hardly any superhero locations that weren’t thoroughly compromised. Those were dark times indeed, but we persevered! Superheroes got really good at communicating in code. They also got really good at spreading misinformation to the baddies. A skilled enough misinformer can convince, trick, or manipulate bad guys in to doing exactly what they want. Convince bad guys that you’ve located their hideouts in order to convince villains to come out of hiding. Make villains think their are valuables or weapons in places where you’ve set up ambushes. (Haha, remember when we noticed some of Dr. Brainwave’s spy drones in our workspace and we convinced him that the house was on fire and he ran outside in his underwear and then a squirrel bit his toe. Ha, good times... Oh god, I miss him so much.) Still, it became difficult to continuously talk in code or lies, and many superheroes found themselves accidentally leaking sensitive information to bad guys thanks to their spy drones.

Luckily, the bad guys ended up solving that particular problem themselves. You see, there were so many spy drones everywhere, and all of them pretty much looked the same. They were designed to look as inconspicuous as possible, they’d often resemble things like dust or ants or pies. It got to a point where supervillains couldn’t keep track of which spy drones were theirs and which ones belonged to other villains. This caused a lot of issues when it came to crediting crimes and securing their villainous legacies. So a summit was called. A summit of evil. (Oh hey, I remember that. They were booked at the same hotel where we were holding our conference for parenthetical commenters. That was a wild weekend.) It was decided there that every supervillain needed to come up with their own original design for their spy drones, so that the world would know who was really spying on them, and fear or despair or whatever. This turned out to be great for us, the good guys, because now every villain was designing drones that could be easily spotted and identified. Most villains just designed drones that were “on theme” for their own personal villainous brand. So now, all heroes had to do was be on the lookout for flying skulls and crossbones or mechanical versions of their enemies’ insignias lying around their bases. It’s never been easier to avoid being spied on by a drone.

Of course, you should also be checking your own helper drones every so often to make sure they haven’t been tampered with. Some villains can’t afford their own drones. (Because somebody keeps stopping them from doing their job.) So they just sneak into superhero bases and reprogram their helper drones to act as unwitting spies for them. I recommend doing a weekly check up and diagnostic test on all your drones. (Or more often, if you know your base has been broken into. Don’t just not check your drones if somebody breaks in but you’ve checked them yesterday.) When you find a spy drone though, it is best to disable it quickly and quietly. Take it out before it realizes its been made. Otherwise, you run the risk of activating any more hostile programming it might have...

Attack Drones Attack drones will really just mess up your whole day. They can’t be reasoned with. They can’t be tricked. They can’t be distracted. And they really want to kill you. In fact, it’s the only they’ve ever wanted and ever will want. However, they also are not really alive, and you need to use that to your advantage. When fighting attack drones you’re going to want to be as brutally violent as possible. You want your blows to be quick, precise, and powerful. Make every hit count, because the longer the drone is functioning, the smarter its getting. Attack drones are able to learn their enemies. They’ll analyze every move you make, extrapolate what moves you’re likely to make, and develop counterattacks that are sure to take you out. The best way to take an attack drone is with an electromagnetic pulse. That’s the best way to shut down any machine. However, it’s not a solution that comes without risk. If you’re fighting just one attack drone, then fine, a very localized EMP will take it out with minimal issue. But what kind of villain just sends one measly attack drone to take out their most hated enemies. (Only the poor ones.) You’re way more likely to find yourself facing down hordes of attack drones at one time. This makes things way more complicated. If you set off a large EMP you might be able to clear the field but you also run the risk of frying your own tech. Or your cyborg allies. Or someone’s pacemaker.

When fighting large groups of attack drones, the best thing to do is confuse them. Trick them into firing on one another. Teleport around, or use clones, mirrors, or magic mist to confuse their targeting systems until they overload and explode. Convince them that they’ve already completed their mission objective by dousing yourself in ketchup and playing dead. (Or, if you’re a vampire, that human juice we talked about before.) Attack drones often don’t have the computational power of helper or spy drones and so they’re much dumber and single focused. If you can confuse them, you can beat them. Once you’ve defeated a legion of attack drones, you pretty much get to keep them. Reprogram them into security sentinels or, if you’re savvy enough, you can make them heavily armed helper drones and have them buttle for you! With drones, the possibilities are endless!

#superhero #superheroes #comics #comic books #comedy #humor #funny #hilarious #jokes #creative writing #guides #guide to being a superhero #drones #spy drones #attack drones #helper drones #cyborgs #robots #Dr. Brainwave

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c4tto626 · 6 years ago

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Ra’hara the Dragonborn

thinking about replaying skyrim after a looong time has made me think about my dragonborn again! so here’s some details bc i love my dragon kid and i definitely don’t talk about her much! (somewhat long-ish post incoming!)

her name is ra’hara, born under the sign of the lady, and she’s a green-eyed pahmar-raht khajiit based off a grey tabby norwegian forest cat because they’re majestic and fluffy and beautiful, and would probably be able to handle the cold skyrim climate pretty well:

she’s big, easily 3m tall, towering over even the tallest nords and altmer, with broad shoulders and a strong, muscled frame. she wears reinforced medium armor (like, more protective than medium, less than heavy) and primarily wields a large two-handed sword but she also has skill with sword and board, knows how to handle a bow for hunting, and readily uses her claws if disarmed or if tight spaces make big weapons unusable. for her size she’s surprisingly stealthy and uses that to scout locations, plan attacks and surprise enemies.

she was born to bandaari parents in a small caravan that had specialized in traveling the northern lands of tamriel and over many generations had evolved thick, warm fur to match! her actual birth place is a temporary camp site in the snowy forests somewhere west of bruma but she considers herself a child of elsweyr first and foremost even if she’s only been there less than a handful of times visiting distant family. as a young adult most of her group, including her parents, decide to return to elsweyr and settle there as the conflicts in cyrodiil make the roads more and more dangerous for travelers, so ra’hara sets off on her own to become an adventurer, making good use of the combat skills she learned as one of the caravan guards.

a few years later, now an accomplished adventurer and mercenary in her early 30s, she gets hired by the bruma guard to find the hideout of a wanted criminal somewhere in the mountains north of the city, which results in her accidentally crossing the border into skyrim, running into the imperials (knocking out three of them in self-defense), and getting arrested and sent off to helgen, starting her on the path to become the dragonborn, etc, etc.

she takes her responsibilities as the dragonborn very seriously and travels to high hrothgar almost immediately after hearing the call, viewing it as a blessing of alkosh, though she feels no joy when hunting dragons and only kills them out of necessity. she does enjoy learning the shouts and delving into the darkest corners to find more word walls, but she spends much time meditating on the knowledge and practicing, and uses the voice very carefully especially as she grows more powerful, to avoid endangering innocent bystanders.

at first glance many believe her to be little more than a greedy, cold-blooded mercenary who will do anything for some coin, but she’s actually a very kind, friendly and just character (neutral good alignment) who cares deeply about the well-being of others and readily helps whenever she can, though she will just as readily break laws if necessary, especially morally unjust laws. she also has a great sense of humor, can be disarmingly charming, and has a lovely, gravelly singing voice with which she entertains herself on the many days spent traveling alone, singing traditional khajiiti songs and any new ones she picks up.

factions she joins are the bards college and eventually the dawnguard (though obviously i eventually played through them all lol). she also joins the imperial legion because she hates ulfric stormcloak (i don’t like ulfric) and she hopes that eliminating the stormcloak rebellion will strengthen the empire, weaken the aldmeri dominion and ultimately help elsweyr at least a little bit. she does not care for the companions and quite literally left them standing with little more than an annoyed sideways glance. (i don’t like the companions either can u tell)

she is a werewolf (courtesy of sinding, whom she spared), though she follows the khajiit pantheon and cares little for any daedra lords, including hircine.

she makes her permanent home in whiterun because the central location makes it convenient for reaching all of skyrim and to have an “address” for any letters, but due to her bandaari heritage she feels most at home on the road, setting up her little camp along the roads as she travels. she often travels with any khajiit caravan that happens to head in the same direction, to enjoy the familiar company of fellow khajiit and to have the safety in numbers.

and finally, it’s my headcanon that over time as she absorbs more dragon souls she starts growing patches of scales along parts of her body (cheekbones, shoulders, back, thighs, tail, etc) and eventually grows an impressive pair of dragon horns (cause i like horns fight me).

#there she is!!! ♥u♥#wanna see a funky giant scaled cat turn into a dog? this is the girl for you!#oh now i'm really feeling how i've missed her ahhh #wish i could get her to look like i want in game instead of standard thin and small lol #but all the posts about doing whatever you want with your ocs #made me wanna talk about my girl for a bit #(which ended up being a looong bit sorry about covering your whole dash!)#fun fact when i first played skyrim she was called d'ariia #and she was my standard stealth archer rogue type haha #but then i tried diversifying my tes characters classes so she's a warrior now!#c4.exe #skyrim #tes #rahara

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vibranch · 6 years ago

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The Keybearer’s Keychains (1/6) - Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction

Rating: T Word Count: 2,319 AO3 link here

Summary: So many Worlds, and so many people. Each one was unique and an adventure to Sora. But one thing that was constant on his journey, was the keychains he received. An exploration of Sora's thoughts, experiences, and feelings for each keychain he received during his first journey in no particular order.

Part 1 of 6: The Jungle King, Lady Luck, and Fairy Harp Part 2

The Jungle King

This was the first Keychain Sora was gifted. At first Sora didn’t really understand what it was. A token from Tarzan to remember him by, presumably. But why a thin vine tied to a preserved butterfly?

It wasn’t until Goofy mentioned that it looked kind of like a keychain that Sora began to understand why Tarzan gave it to him.

Tarzan, being so inquisitive, was no doubt intrigued by Sora’s Keyblade. The jangling of the Keychain equipped to the bottom of it must have caught his eye in particular. So just as Sora was about to leave Deep Jungle with Donald and Goofy, Tarzan appeared and presented the, now dubbed Jungle King, keychain to him.

One day, mostly out of curiosity, Sora attached the gift to his Keyblade. He was amazed to find it had changed shape just moments after it was attached. Not only that, the very materials it was made from seemed to change too! His formerly metal weapon now seemed to have been carved from wood!

At first, Sora loved the Jungle King keychain. It served well in its duty to remind Sora of Tarzan. But after a while, and as more and more Keychains were collected, it started to become less special to him.

Especially on one day.

While attempting the Pegasus Cup, Sora felt something in his shoulder. He could feel it, small and round, moving slightly inside him as he swung his Keyblade. It made him uneasy and he couldn’t focus on the match at hand. Something the Heartless in the arena took full advantage of. He might have died, or lost his heart, had Donald and Goofy not been his side and ready to jump to his rescue.

“What is this thing,” Sora complained after the match, poking at it gingerly. It seemed to be buried underneath a messy scar.

It took Donald a minute, but eventually he recognized it. “It’s a bullet. Remember? When we fought Clayton and he shot you?”

That’s right… Sora hadn’t known cure yet. So when Donald instinctively cast the spell on Sora, the wound must have healed over the bullet. It was the first actual gun Sora had ever seen. Nothing like Leon’s Gunblade. Sora thought Clayton used some kind of magic when he’d gotten hit by it.

Looking at his collection of Keychains, the Jungle King stood out to him for all the wrong reasons now. Just a little closer to the center of his body and Sora would be dead now. Not a Heartless, just dead. And so close to what he could now realize was only the beginning of his adventure.

Too often, just the sight of Jungle King Keychain reminded Sora of Clayton and the bullet lodged in his shoulder, and not his friend Tarzan. And so, it was the first Keychain that Sora decided to retire. Left to sit in a drawer in his room onboard the Gummi Ship.

The first to be given, and the first to be given up.

The Lady Luck

“Is that… A playing card?” Donald raised an eyebrow as Sora pulled the object out from the chest.

“Not just any playing card, it’s the Ace of Hearts.” Goofy answered. “Say, uh, is it weird that a playing card is the last thing I’d expect to find on this world?” Goofy asked, scratching the side of his head with one finger.

Sora had to agree with him. Despite long since accepting that Wonderland was more a land of oddities than wonder, Sora certainly didn’t expect to find an actual playing card in this world. What would the Queen of Hearts or any of the playing card soldiers have to say if they saw him with this?

Feeling the card, it was made of the same materials as the rest of the card soldiers. Sora had learned what they felt like after shoulder bashing one of them, back when he was trying to help Alice get out of her cage.

A chill ran up Sora’s spine. Was this card the Wonderland equivalent of walking around with a toy soldier, or a shrunken head? Maybe a toy soldier made of human flesh?

Sora shook his head, hoping he could shake out these thoughts. He felt like he’d finally found something that would disturb the people of this world as he tucked it into his pocket.

“Best to not let anyone from around here see this,” Sora said

With not much to do with a single playing card, Sora fashioned it into a Keychain for him to use. Wielding the Keyblade with it, Sora felt like he had all the magic of Wonderland on his side as he fought. Not even the Spellbinder keychain that Merlin gave him compared to the magic inside this form the Keyblade took.

“It’s almost like Lady Luck was lookin’ out for ya when you found it!” Goofy said as they walked back to the Gummi Ship.

Indeed. If it hadn’t been for that Trinity mark on the ground, Sora would have passed right by it. Just as he’d done every other time he’d gone to Wonderland.

“You might be right.” Sora said as he took another look at it. “In fact, you might have even come up with a good name for it, too!”

“Gwarsh, I did?” Goofy exclaimed. “What’d I call it?!”

Sora looked at the new form the Keyblade had taken. Lady Luck.

The Fairy Harp

There were two interesting aspects about this keychain. First, it was the last Keychain Sora had received as a gift from visiting a brand new world. The second interesting aspect was that he’d gotten it from Tinker Bell instead of Peter Pan.

Sora expected some sort of charm or trinket from Peter as goodbye. Most places he went to, where he made new friends, usually ended that way. But Peter surprised him.

“Oh, boy. She’s gettin’ steamed again. Do me a favor. Look after her for me, will ya?”

It took Sora a moment to realize he was talking about Tinker Bell. “What?!” Sora gaped at the ridiculous request. His parents back on the Islands wouldn’t even trust him with a pet, much less a fairy.

She’s a person, right? Just very small and can fly. Is Tinker Bell even okay with this? Sora thought to himself.

But Tinker Bell was a jealous fairy, specifically of Peter and Wendy, and she must have thought Peter would get just as jealous as her if she went traveling the worlds with another boy.

At least that’s what Sora assumed. He couldn’t understand Tinker Bell’s fairy speak. So, any attempt at communicating with her left him feeling like he was talking to a ringing bell.

Regardless of if her ploy worked, Tinker Bell took some insurance with her.

Peter Pan’s signature red feather.

She stole it right off the top of his hat as she flew into the Gummi Ship. No one even noticed until they were halfway to Traverse Town.

Onboard the Gummi Ship, Sora studied the red feather. Realizing that he could turn it into a keychain, Sora got to work affixing a makeshift chain to it from parts he’d bought from Donald’s nephews.

The group watched with excitement as the Keyblade changed shape. All of them waiting in anticipation on what kind of form would it take.

The form it decided on was closer to a Key-tooth pick than a Keyblade. The thing was tiny, and Donald raised an eyebrow at it. “You sure you can fight with that?”

“Uhh, shouldn’t be too big of a deal.” Sora said. The Keyblade had taken many shapes and lengths before, but usually it kept his foes at greater distance away than this. “Peter could fight just fine with his dagger. Maybe it’s length is in reference to that.”

Donald spun in his chair to resume piloting the Gummi Ship. “If you say so. But you’d better practice with it before you take it to someplace with any real danger.”

Sora made a pouty face at the back of Donald’s head. “I’ll be just fine using the Keyblade in this form.”

Stepping in before anymore tension could grow, Goofy spoke up. “Whaddya want to call it?” Goofy asked. Ever the fun one, Goofy kept Sora company on the long flight back as they tossed names back and forth.

Deciding on the name Fairy Harp, Sora ultimately didn’t use this keychain very much. Firstly because, as Donald suspected, it was too small. On more than one occasion, Sora would fall flat on his face as he tried to fight with it.

Sora was so used to throwing all his weight behind his moves that when he switched to the Fairy Harp and his swing came up short, the momentum behind each swing would often cause Sora to fall on his face. A fact Donald found hilarious. Sora, less so.

The second reason being that Tinker Bell missed Peter more than she wanted to let on. Often when Sora went to grab the feathered keychain, Tinker Bell had already taken it from his room and flown off with it to someplace inside the Gummi Ship.

On the days where Sora was determined to use the Fairy Harp, he’d track her down and find her huddled with it, thinking of Peter and the secret hideout filled with all the Lost Boys.

Not that she could tell that to Sora. Only Peter Pan could understand her fairy speak. And she didn’t want to appear ungrateful at the opportunity to visit other worlds with this unlikely trio, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself from getting like this.

Fortunately, Sora could recognize the feelings of missing home, even if they couldn’t be said out loud. So even when he was determined to use the Fairy Harp, if he found that Tinker Bell had taken it for herself then Sora would let her have it.

Ultimately, Tinker Bell was far more useful as a companion than any single keychain would be on their journey. With Donald’s help she’d learned to preform Cure magic, and the mage even taught Sora how he to summon her from within the Gummi Ship for moments when they needed her help.

Sora looked over at the tiny fairy hovering between him and Peter Pan. As if sensing his gaze, she turned from the conversation she was having with Peter to look back at him.

Now that they had finally tracked down and defeated the Heartless they’d dubbed ‘The Phantom’, there wasn’t much reason to stick around on this World. But still, there was one more thing he had to do before leaving this world again.

“Ready to go home, Tinker Bell?” Sora offered. Fully expecting her to get excited and maybe wish him a farewell in those ringing tones he’d gotten used to hearing.

Instead, the small glowing fairy floated up to Sora’s eye level and stomped her foot against nonexistent ground as shook her head firmly.

“No? But I thought you missed home?” Sora was confused. Tinker Bell seemed so excited to be back when their Gummi Ship pulled into her home World.

She seemed to be trying to explain herself, but once again Sora couldn’t understand a word of her bell-like fairy speak.

“It sounds like she wants to make sure you’re okay for the last leg of your journey,” Peter translated. He floated down from the top of Big Ben and listened to Tinker Bell go on. “I don’t really understand most of it, she’s talkin’ ‘bout a lot of people I’ve never met. But she really wants to help when you take on some guy called Ansem.”

Sora looked back at Tinker Bell still floating in front of his face, just as she did when Peter first asked him to take her along with him.

Tinker Bell said more that Sora couldn’t understand, but fortunately Peter was still there to translate.

“Don’t forget, the Princesses said that once all the worlds are restored everyone will be returned to their original world. I’ll still be able to go home.”

Peter stopped translating and moved closer to talk to Tinker Bell directly. “Hey Tink, it sounds like Sora’s going to be facing some real tough challenges. You take care of him okay?”

Tinker Bell nodded.

“Pack them some extra pixie dust, just in case!”

Tinker Bell rolled her eyes but smiled as well. It wasn’t like Peter to get overprotective. Maybe fighting the Phantom with Sora and the others was making him more worried than usual? Regardless, Tinker Bell said one more thing to Peter before flying over and taking her place next to Sora, Donald, and Goofy.

“Hey, Sora,” Peter called out as the group started moving to the Gummi Ship. “Tink says that you’re her friend, so she wants you to call her Tink as well. Y’know, just like me!”

Sora looked at the little fairy. Sora chuckled slightly and smiled at her. “Tink, huh? No problem!

Sora and Tinker Bell watched from inside the cockpit of the Gummi Ship as Peter waved goodbye to them. “Hey Tink! When you get back, me and all the Lost Boys are going to throw you a big welcome home party! So, make sure you’re prepared to tell us lots of stories when you get back!

Tinker Bell nodded from behind the glass and watched him continue to wave goodbye until even the smallest green speck of him was gone.

Sora looked at the fairy and cracked a smile. “Hey, Tinker Bell- I mean Tink…” Tinker Bell turned away from the glass that separated everyone in the cockpit from Gummi Space. “Thanks for coming with us.”

She shined a little brighter and smiled back at him.

“And I hope you’re prepared for the last leg of our journey, because I think we’ll be needing your help.”

This time she smirked and gave him a confident nod.

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts fanfiction #sora #Donald Duck #Goofy #Kairi #fan fiction #My Writing

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