#i think maybe ill reread it again now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bunnyreaper · 1 year

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𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner.

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him.

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are.

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox.

From: squeakycleanscot

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them.

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :)

Hope to hear from you soon,

Johnny.

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind.

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious.

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny,

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound?

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;)

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby.

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay?

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences!

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird?

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up.

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;)

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers.

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind.

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post.

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for.

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting.

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man.

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic?

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay?

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too.

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate.

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach.

Clearly, he's a softie at heart.

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message.

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :)

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere...

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj

holy fuck

Like what you see?

i need a hug from you urgently.

now i feel shy...

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck.

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance.

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal.

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go.

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you.

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie.

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!!

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background.

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep.

Can you do me a favour?

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you.

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah?

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny.

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell.

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible.

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean!

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me?

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave.

okay, but I see how this is going to be :(

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;)

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny...

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now.

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets.

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness.

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight.

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar.

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in.

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you.

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep?

Like a baby. Yourself?

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream.

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do?

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though.

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up.

i'll try harder to be there tonight!!

Promise?

promise.

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into.

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation.

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information?

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day?

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu?

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can.

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there.

You rush to follow up your message with something else.

will you still be able to call tonight?

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it!

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!!

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;)

Aye, but I'm a gent.

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty.

talk to you then <;3

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice.

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears?

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home.

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer.

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you.

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!!

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell <3

Ready to call?

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat.

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too.

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak.

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident.

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?"

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise."

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face.

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet."

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes."

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?"

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..."

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then."

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive.

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite."

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar.

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass."

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten.

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating.

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing."

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more."

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting."

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver.

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy.

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips."

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside."

"No?"

"Nope."

"Might not be gentle with you, though."

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth."

"You have no idea..."

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie."

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone."

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head."

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?"

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight."

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"Already spoiling me, too."

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine."

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?"

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh.

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise.

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life.

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?"

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt.

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you."

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air.

"Hard to come by, I've found."

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love.

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?"

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing.

"That's... horrible."

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story."

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?"

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course."

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye."

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling."

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone."

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow."

"So do I, alarms set for 4."

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand.

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?"

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest."

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much."

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder.

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?"

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy."

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there."

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed."

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken.

"Oh yeah?"

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?"

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me."

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke."

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though."

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!"

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice.

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that."

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling.

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side.

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy."

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked."

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation.

"Mhmm."

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive."

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything."

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs.

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?"

"Love it, more than I probably should."

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?"

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?"

"Sergeant."

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?"

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders.

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs.

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title.

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?"

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir."

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt.

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie."

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready."

"My pouting lips are ready."

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it.

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot."

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake.

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking."

"Me either, but av got bad news."

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on."

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome.

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am.

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?"

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?"

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane."

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'"

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you."

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?"

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime."

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?"

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please."

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday."

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?"

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?"

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass."

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon."

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead.

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #soap mw2 #this is a crime against literature i swear #also a crime against graphic design #crimes all round???#anyway posting and pretending this doesnt exist so the self loathing goes away xox #aaaaaaaaaaah #collars and cages

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localapparently · 1 year

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/ Orv novel ch 489 spoilers

[ Story, 'Saviour of the Star', is having a chat with the Story, 'Insect King' ]

Girl i will never recover from this chapter. the whole "gilyoung is jealous of yoosung" and "gilyoung would also put his life on the line and sign a contract with his sponsor to protect yoosung" breaks my heart and im just AUGHHHH SCREAMS

and now I will ramble about sys and lgy under the cut.

THEY MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME. have you guys ever realised how gilyoung was growing to become so fucked up in the beginning of the story? killing monsters and even people without batting an eye, offering to dokja to leave him behind, and even sangah and dokja were genuinely worried about his development. (sangah telling him she'll kill and he doesn't need to kill anything) and the one thing that sort of grounds gilyoung from this taking over his growth is when shin yoosung joins the party

its only after she joins that he's able to act his age like a lil kid, bickering and fighting and just... aughhh,, THEY ONLY HAVE EACH OTHER AS FRIENDS FROM THE SAME AGE OKAY... like having friends your age is so important when you're a kid, they literally stay together all the time. and they argue a lot but they defend each other and hold each others hands whenever the other needs help.

its SO fucking wholesome. NOT TO MENTION, yoosung was the reason gilyoung signed a contract with his sponsor in the jttw arc, (it was never specified why but i think he did it so she would survive and save dokja? Or like so he could have the power to fend off the enemies on his own and keep them occupied away from sys. Maybe I'll go reread that part again) the whole yellow aura thing yknow. and im like half certain they picked up the idiot-calling from like yjh kdj and hsy calling each other bastard stupid and idiot all the time...its kinda funny..

anyway. they make me so ill. SO ILL.

#orv spoilers #“why did you tag kdj hes not in this art”#well um.. /motions towards the mass of darkness/#orv #orv fanart #omniscient reader fanart #omniscient readers viewpoint #omniscient reader #shin yoosung #lee gilyoung #kimcom #kim dokja #kdj #crit's art: orv

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dangopango00 · 8 months

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ABYSS RAZOR CRUSH HCS BC IF I DONT GET SOME CONTENT I WILL DIE

Abyss Razor x gn reader

Prompt: yall r madly in love he has a crush on youuu (boyfail situationship hcs more like tbh)

A/N: sorry if this is rambly i cant live like this i keep rereading the same 4 or 5 posts over and over again ive been waiting for like a year and im getting teased with the tip PLEASEEE WRITE HIM 😭😭🤞 i cant ever escape the ‘nobodys fave but mine’ curse help

Ily losermen

Ily high ponytail men

Ily abyss razor

more utc

- Im gonna jump he is so kewt. Idek what to say im just ill

- You’d probably often compliment his eyes and you have this image that hes so calm and collected— which he is! But! Not with you! So every conversation with you is him just fighting for his life trying to look cool and not implode at the same time

- ^^^ THIS is one thing. But what really gets him falling for you is when you get a bit closer and have a talk with him, telling him in no uncertain terms that he’ll always have someone to return to if others are cruel because you won’t be leaving him

- Gives you things VERY often, usually little things because hed die if he had to directly give you a gift and then have to explain why, so he shows his affection in little ways like letting you have his best pencils and pens if you need it (lets you keep it too)

- oh he absolutely loses it if he sees you continue to use his pen hes so touched that you’re taking good care of what he gives you it shows that it means a lot to you and that he means a lot to you

- The only actual gift he gives you during this stage are things he has an excuse for like origami (idk why but i feel like he makes cool ass origami) he can just say he made too many so hes giving them away yet you and maybe Abel are the only ones who received some…

- He wants so badly to be useful to you he gets so flustered and happy just hearing you say thanks when he answers your question about the assignment or when he lends you his materials

- Immediately stiffens when you make any sort of contact. Dont stop though, he can count the times hes been hugged on one hand

- Speaking of his touch starvation, he’d let you play with his hair and looks forward to it tbh he’d just rather not initiate anything it’s too much for his heart

- If you have him take down his hair and play with it (like braid it or try different hairstyles) he’d feel so content; ofc he’s nervous but at the same time he just feels so at peace as if it’s only you two in the world and all the people who have ever wronged him never existed in the first place

- He’s a little bit delulu, i fear

- He gets so nervous texting and calling you bc what if you tell him ily. No that could never happen. Wait but what if it did— do you see his dilemma?

- He’s a chronic overthinker and in a way its a bit sweet because he used to worry about you randomly saying you didn’t want to be friends with him but now he wouldn’t even consider that possibility; it just no longer enters his mind

- He’d also find himself drifting off, losing himself in thought and end up daydreaming about if you two were in a relationship

- It’s very innocent, it’s just you two being cute and going places together while holding hands and such until it drifts even further to imagining you two kissing

- His face is on fire and he has to stop thinking NOW but hes in too deep hes imagining kissing ice cream off the side of your mouth and other cliches like that it’s so over

- Abel wondering wth is wrong with his right hand; all he said was that he was going to make mother happy by doing his homework today meanwhile Abyss can no longer be normal

- The kissing is just his guilty pleasure but Abyss constantly imagines holding hands with you like if you walk too close to him his hands will get clammy and his fingertips will get cold because he wants to hold your hand but is scared to initiate it

- God forbid you actually hold his hand even for a second while he’s having his entire internal monologue. He will die. You killed him. How could you?

- He won’t let go though like. Ever . Handholding is his favorite thing 5ever and as soon as he gets a taste he’s hooked

- He likes handholding so much that if you held his hand enough times then one time he’d accidentally grab your hand and initiate for once (immediately gets flustered after but it counts)

- Really really REALLY likes when u trace over his magic lines. Ruins his life everytime and he just melts in your touch; subconsciously leans in and his face softens and EVERYTHING

- Ok i wasn’t gonna say it bc itd probably involve sm sneaking but: Sleepovers. IM JUST SAYING 🤞🤞🤞 I feel like this is where most of the softer moments happen tbh like your roommate being out and you two have a sleepover

- I think this is where the playing with his hair and tracing the lines on his face would happen if not this then when you’re bored in class

- Not a fan of PDA even if ur not dating so he does play with your hair but usually during the sleepovers if you’ll allow him (not quite trying new hairstyles like you do but letting it fall through his fingers, running his hands through it or just rubbing the ends with his fingers to feel how soft it is)

- If you are bald he would slightly hold the back of your head and rub your temples with his thumb to help you relax

- Idk ik i just went on about how hes a loser but I feel like when it comes to affection relating to hair or like anything not affectionate in a cliche sense he doesn’t really pay attention and does it without thinking; only realizes its too affectionate if you point it out (please do not, he feels very comfortable right now. He will stop and never do it again if you point it out)

- You have a lot of deep talks and give him encouraging words during sleepovers tbh it just gives you both time to just… enjoy each other uninterrupted

- Sometimes instinctually distances himself from you because you make his heart do somersaults and his head feels like it’ll explode around you though he doesn’t last long, he needs you with him everyday atp 😭

- Although the above is true, sometimes he gets clingy ish (just by your side all the time) and protective over you even knowing you aren’t his

A/N: a ridonkulous amount of these r based on things ive done erm. Ok. Ig next thing i should write is him with an equally loser gf i def fit the bill LOL

#abyss razor x reader #abyss razor #mashle #mashle x reader #mashle x you #abyss razor x you #mashle magic and muscles #pathetic loser #loserman x reader #boyfailure #ILY ABYSS #Why do i got a thing for men w two seconds of screentime #cutie patootie

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sixosix · 3 months

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END NOTE | THAWED

a little love letter to my readers

to start off, i know that the series is based off the entire reputation album, but i like to think that this whole series was written around call it what you want.

how it started LMFAOOO

This was previously titled ‘melt’ before i was like ‘nah ill make it, like, thaw” and earthtooz went, “Thawed?” little did earth know,, that name would literally take over my docs,,, my tags,,, my ENTIRE account

A message to my readers: From the bottomest bottom of my heart, if you have reached this series until the very end, thank you so, so much for reading. Read that sentence again. And again, until you realize how grateful I truly am as a writer. Thawed is such a big project that I still can’t believe I was able to even start. I genuinely never thought it would garner this much attention, and in all honestly, I was intimidated by it, because I had no idea what I was doing, and I was afraid I would disappoint.

This entire project was intimidating, and I considered so many times to just drop it and end it on chapter five. I struggled so badly to write after I introduced the characters, and I thought: “well, that’s it. I guess it was fun.” I even told my friends that I would do that; and yet 14 chapters later, look at where we are now 😭

Writing it was so exhausting. Working on a series while studying as a student really makes it difficult to remember details about my own story T__T I had to reread Thawed so many times to the point where I don’t even like it anymore.

But I know the reason why I decided to continue it! It sounds so horribly cliche, but it’s true. It’s thanks to all your overwhelming support :( Each ask, comment, reblog—they all fueled me more than you think. All those replies of even incoherent gibberish made me realize that, ‘hey, someone read it and liked it enough to send an ask about it. Maybe I am doing something right!!!!’

some thawed extras for readers who are interested

If you haven’t noticed, the chapter titles aren’t actually accurately about the chapter. Those titles were taken from the songs in the Reputation album, in order. And the chapters are loosely based around them!

reputation is, like, widely known as the edgy album from taylor, but in reality its such a big love letter and i know that other people noticed that, too! i think it’s very fitting to the story of thawed: it’s dark and messy, but at the end of the day, it’s a love story. do you get what i mean hehe. i hope that’s how the series came across…

im sorry if aether doesnt appear in the last chapter :( in my head, mc is coming home. and by then i dont think aether would be in fontaine at all! but rest assured they definitely have met up twice or thrice while in the other regions heehee. Also aether will ofc be there for their weeding. 🙏

i have nothing much else to say aside from thank you for reading! i hope u enjoyed thawed as much as i did

#606: THAWED

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carpedzem · 7 months

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under the cut i want to talk a little bit, maybe overshare as well. ill try to keep it short (rereading nat here. i didnt). its a sad post, might make some of you angry but not for the reasons you think

i was staying away on purpose, but a few people asked about me so i wanted to let you know that hey, im lurking, im waiting to see what happens. maybe some things will change in the future but im putting it out here so its all in one place

i think i want to start with saying thank you again for sticking around, supporting my art and my thoughts and having discussions with me. i really opened up about myself and what I created here. im very anxious person and it influences my life on every level, so being heard, seeing people laughing at my jokes, loving my art has been so so important to me

about the situation, the gogcident if you will, i logged out as soon as i saw things going down and been getting updates though different source. and while situation is still on going and i dont know where it will go, as how it ends, theres two or three things im firm on that will always be true for me:

i really hate how believe all victims turns into believe everyone who speaks first, no matter what they say, no matter context, no matter proof. the first statement made in this case was untrue in a lot of important details and while i dont think caitis feeling are wrong or invalid i think her first statement made this situation into something it isnt. i think every victim should be heard but attacking everyone who was accused right away is not a solution

i do believe that everyone who was accused of anything has every right to defend themselves. the way its constantly taken away from dteam is not lost on me and its insane and upsetting

you can be traumatized by the events that werent in its core meant to be traumatizing. sometimes people act shitty and leave scars on you and sometimes you can do the same to other people

edited note bc i want this to be here as well: guilty until proven innocent is a crazy mindset and i cannot imagine situation that i would allow it. some idiots dont even realise how dangerous rhetoric that is. including accusers not being obligated to provide any proof of their claims

twt is the worst thing to deal with any discourse, misunderstanding or any delicate situation. i think no ones there cares for any victims period. i wish that place the worst

okay so what now. i havent decided yet. georges and dreams moves so far confirmed for me that no matter what happened it wasnt with malicious intentions. ill wait to see how this plays out and then ill decide about my next steps. one think i did for sure is i uninstalled twt from my phone (and that already bit my ass the moment dream started his space…) that part of fandom, both people who like (liked?) and hate dream is so damn self-destructive, toxic, manipulative and performative it wasnt worth it anymore. for here, i dont know yet. i dont hate dteam, i think this is very unfortunate and sad and complicated situation that left people very deeply hurt. and i wish it wasnt this way and im pretty sure dteam also wish that. but they cant change it and i cant change it even more

now this is something i dont really know how to tell you but let me try. i never mentioned this bc when i had those realizations, it was too late, everyone moved on and i felt stupid for dwelling on this. i feel stupid now, typing this. the thing is, drituation left me quite traumatized. fucking pathetic, i know. the sudden explosion of fandom left me really badly hurt. i lost a lot of people i genuinely believed to be friends with, and i miss them dearly. i felt, fuck it, still feel deeply betrayed by some of them. i dont want people guess who is who thats not the point, those people moved on long time ago. but that hurt has been really difficult to deal with, especially since realistically i know its quite stupid. crying over some people who were following me back for a few months? but i tried to let myself heal and grow love for this community again and i thought we will be okay. drituation felt like the end of the world but we got through it and I thought we are smarter. and well. im not trying to blame anyone or even a whole community, idk maybe i want to blame the universe for putting me here or society for working this way i dont know. but im hurting and i need to find a better way to deal with things going the wrong way. and it deeply upsets me but im afraid that i have to learn how to love you all less. and i honestly dont know yet what that means, how moving forward will look like. i dont have to make this decision now so i let myself stay away from social media for a while still and then go with presented situation the best i can. i dont try to make anyone responsible for my wellbeing i want to make this clear. im just trying to share my feelings and give you context for whatever happen in the nearest future. no matter what i need more healthy relationship not even with ccs but with community itself (and if you see me rebloging hazbin hotel fanarts. spare me...)

in this place i do want to state that no matter what i dont think dteam are bad people. im not closing myself at possibility of participating in the fandom, probably less though things i mentioned earlier. but if any of those things make you uncomfortable in any way, feel free to unfollow/softblock

im leaving my askbox open if anyone has anything to say, add, or idk, scream at me. not sure if i answer any tho. also if i delete this post in the next 10 minutes out of embarrassment then well, haha

on the final note i want once again thank you all for supporting me when i needed help for my cat. you all did something amazing, something i will never forget and i wish to hug everyone of you in person. thank you

see you around. one day. maybe tomorrow maybe in 10 days. idk

and if you are moving on in different direction, if we ever meet again, dont be a stranger

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neversetyoufree · 5 months

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I started vnc way back when there was only one volume, stopped, and only restarted it last week 🙈 since then, I have reread it twice and will again, once I'm done with exams, as it has turned me insane. And since no one I know reads it, I just wanted to ask what your thoughts are on my theory that the reason not 'didn't reach out to vanitas' thus leading to his death is because of Ruthven compulsion on him? Cuzco after the 'ill never set you free'thing, I just can't see noel not reaching out tonight purpose. Your blog is a joy to read through, and I love your meta!

Hello!! Thank you so much! It's always great to see another person having fun with my favorite manga :D.

My thoughts on Vanitas's eventual death are. complicated. If we keep going down the path we're on now, I honestly suspect Vanitas's death is going to be more assisted suicide than murder. IE, Vanitas asks for Noé to kill him because it's preferable to the alternative.

Per Ruthven's compulsion, I definitely think it's going to come up, and I do like the idea of Ruthven trying to force Noé to hurt or kill Vanitas, but I don't think it's going to be how Vanitas dies. In a way, I think that would feel somewhat cheap.

Noé killing Vanitas because of his oath to Ruthven would make sense on a plot level. It's a nice, logical explanation for why Noé would kill someone he so clearly adores. I can see why it's a lot of people's theory! However, that explanation wouldn't really deliver on an emotional level. It's just not interesting for Noé's characterization.

For one thing, making Noé kill Vanitas when he's not in control of himself would strip away all of Noé's agency. With VnC's opening chapter, Mochijun sets us up so that the entire time we're reading, we're asking ourselves "but why will Noé kill him?" It's a big source of intrigue and suspense. And to me, finally resolving that suspense with "It's not his fault! He was artificially forced to!" feels like a major letdown. It adds nothing to Noé's character. It's answering that all-important "why" with "There is no reason why. He didn't actually want to." I think that would be a cop-out.

Through that denial of agency, I think this ending would also risk losing out on a lot of potential character development for Noé. The core of Noé and Louis's tragedy is that Noé desperately wanted to save Louis, but the only kind of salvation Louis wanted from him was death, and Noé couldn't give him that.

Now Noé has another person close to him that is also seeking salvation through death. If Noé kills Vanitas, but he's not in control of himself when he does, that misses out on a big opportunity. Has Noé come to understand salvation through death? Has his worldview changed since Louis made that request of him? Does he have it in him to kill a loved one if that's what they ask? If Vanitas's death is forced by Ruthven, then we're much less likely to get answers to those questions.

Personally, my favorite hope/theory for how Ruthven's order will play out is the idea that Ruthven will order Noé to hurt/stop/kill Vanitas, but Vanitas will manage to snap Noé out of it in the same way Noé broke Vanitas's self-hypnosis in the amusement park. There's nothing I love more than a gay little parallel.

I can see a scenario where Ruthven's oath is what pushes Vanitas close to death? Maybe Noé will be ordered to try to kill Vanitas, and that will set off whatever horrible chain of events pushes Vanitas to ask for death that final time. But even if Ruthven does order Noé to hurt Vanitas (which is a big if), I don't think it will be what causes the killing blow.

#I think I remember posting some of these thoughts before years ago #but I'm having trouble finding any relevant posts. so here's this instead.#anyway I always feel a little bad when people send me their theories and I end up arguing against them #thank you for the ask genuinely!#it's an interesting theory and I do see why people like it. even if I don't want it to happen for the listed reasons #vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #ask #anon #theory #the vanoé agenda #<<this isn't a ship post but that's my tag for everything about their relationship lol

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milky-aeons · 8 months

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[1] — STARGAZER

a/n: i wrote this story years ago! and while i was rereading it out of pure boredom, i decided i wanted to breathe some life back into it again. this shall be multi-chaptered! take your time with it, and please read the warnings before you embark, loves!

warnings: class differences, oppression of women, mentions of illness, mentions of death, depression, violence against women, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, superstitious natures, spoilers, mdni, w.c 7.4k

౨ৎ . . . chapter ONE of CROWNS OF STARDUST

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜.

— Grace Willows, To Kiss a King.

𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆. Dotted studs of white fire, splattered over a glassy night sky that sometimes bloomed with purples and indigos of rare supernovas, if you were lucky enough to see them.

You could lie here for hours, like this, gazing at the wonders above. Counting as they winked at you from far away, feeling the evening breeze nip at your cheeks and whisper through the field. And above everything; allow yourself to imagine. To think, secretly, what it would be like if everyone thought like the stars did.

They didn't discriminate, stratify, hate or detest. They simply shined brightly, each of them made of that very same material everyone in the world was also made up of; incandescent, special speckles of stardust.

If only they could see that. If there could be some way to force through the social ladders of your society, to break away from the labels placed upon you. Perhaps the world would be a better place if we thought how the stars did — believed that everyone, no matter how rich or poor, was the very same on that fundamental level.

Intertwined within our souls was the stuff of stars that made us no better or worse than the person next.

Perhaps the world would be just as beautiful as a sky on a peaceful, undisturbed night when every person was allowed to shine just as brightly as the stars above. But this stargazer locked that thought up deep within her heart, just like all others that expected too much from her rank, her social label, and staggered to her feet with a heavy sigh.

The Village of Yo, January, 1831

A chipped, wooden horse came down hard against the worn chess board with a force that rattled all the other pieces. Hand-carven, they were fragile and you should have been a little less vigorous. But caught in the grips of victory, you had little room for such caution.

"Checkmate," You smiled giddily, knocking the King piece off the board. "I win."

Your opponent; a willowy old man with lines streaked across his forehead and an impressive beard grumbled with narrowed eyes. Reaching up, he rubbed a hand down his face. "My, lass. I knew one day you'd catch up to me, but I didn't think it'd be this quick."

Still smiling, you reached down to pick up the King from the floor where it'd landed. You brushed off the delicate carvings on the piece with care, hoping you hadn't damaged it any more. A terrible habit of yours it was; becoming too excited about games and strategy. It was bad enough that one of the castles was missing its parapet because you had become angry at a sneaky strategy your teacher had used. And hurtled the poor piece across the room.

But now, you placed it carefully back, it looks as if said teacher has been bested by the student.

"You should take pride," You assured through a grin. "It means you're a great teacher."

"Teachers don't teach to be bested by their students, lass. Maybe it's my eyes. I didn't even see your counterattack in place, at all."

"Ah, I see. Go on, then. Blame your eyesight." Your lip jutted in a playful frown. "God forbid that a woman beats you at anything. What will the village think? You'd be locked up and subject to a shower of rotten fruit."

"[Name]!" The wood whined as he rapped on it three times. Superstitious to an art form, your Grandfather has always been. Which of course, was why you spoke so loosely to him in the first place. Receiving a rise out of him was one of the ways you loved to keep entertained in this small, handwoven cabin typical to that of common folk.

His cheeks tipped rose when he exclaimed, "You mustn't feed the air with talk of such events!"

You, the victorious Chess Champion, stared your Grandfather in the eye. The pair of you didn't reach the third second before a low chuckle escaped the older man. It was hoarse in a way that spoke of his age, an obvious hallmark of his weakening health you didn't think about so much.

He shook his head. "Aye, my Granddaughter has bested me. Are these lungs of mine finally getting to my head?"

Three consecutive knocks rang through the air. This time, it was you who had copied your Grandfather's superstitious habit and tapped the table. "Now who is feeding the air with bad thinking?" You asked him softly.

"Not bad thinking, lass. Pure truth."

"Grandfather." You frowned even more. Talk of your Grandfather's weakening health sent a thousand small stabs through your heart, opened doors to thoughts of an empty cabin without him there. You couldn't bear to entertain anything but the thought that the new medicine you've received would work. No, it had to.

It must.

The man gave another rattling cough, followed by a scowl. "Rather than wasting money on all that fancy apothecary, why not more food? You're an awful liar, [Name]." His eyes similar to your own — that clear tone which rivalled the smoothest of glass — riveted into you. "You believe you hide your stomach growls, but you doubt the hearing of an old man with poor sight."

On instinct, you placed a hand to your stomach, pressing hard. Through the simple dress tied off at the waist, you could feel the tight skin, the lumps of your protruding ribcage. The hunger spasms had drawn your muscles taut, but the pain was tolerable. Grandfather needed the food more than you, after all. He needed to get better.

"It is nothing," You mumbled. "There has been drought throughout the summer. You know that. Food is sparse. I'm young, I'll live."

The older man studied you with a shaky hand stroking over his beard. It was a long moment before he let out a chuckle. "You've got your Mother's selflessness and your Father's poor deceit. Really, what'll I do with you?"

Images of the young couple that birthed you were gone as quickly as they came. It didn't hurt as much to think about them anymore, as you knew they too, existed in the stars that looked down upon you all. [Name] of the Willows family was strong and always kept her backbone in check, but would be lying if you said you were ready to be completely alone. Not after the sudden passing of your parents.

Even if you had to work in a farm trudging through mud picking up weeds and other unpleasantries, you would keep your Grandfather here on this earth. Your only living relative — one you couldn't bear to let go.

It did not help in the slightest that this drought was financially crippling not only the farming community in the village, but the whole Kingdom of Yo as a nation. They were mainly an agrarian province that got most of its income off of produce. Drought of any kind, especially one lasting this long, was bound to cause chaos in every aspect of the Kingdom. And it had — chaos that was quickly balanced by raising taxes in order to stabilize the economy.

An idea offered by the Royal Family of the Yo Palace.

You ground your teeth every time you thought about the monarchs all were meant to bow down to, to marvel and respect. When they were treated like nothing but cattle to be milked of everything they had? The Miyazawa farm you worked on hardly has any money for themselves in this current climate, not concerning your wages, which had been shaved down as of recently. You had no reason to blame them. No, the people you directed such distaste to were the money-laundering aristocrats that stood on top of it all.

If anyone was responsible for your forced fasting in order to afford basic medicines for your Grandfather's health, it was them.

You were unsure about many things in life; marriage, family, food, but if you could count on one thing; it was that you hated the Royal Family. With everything you could possibly gather within you.

"It's a terrible thing you can't get rid of me," You continued with Grandfather's remark, trying to distract yourself from the depravity of it all. You carefully set up another chess game with the delicate, whittled pieces. Your favourite game. "Who would wake you up in the morning, then?"

"The taxman at the door, that's who." He scoffed.

Whatever water you had in your stomach went sour. "The Royals ought to be ashamed of themselves, taxing us like we have it all to give. Do they not know the people they rule over? How we're struggling?"

A sigh filtered through the air. "Don't be quick to blame the Royals for everything, [Name]. Running a Kingdom is not often black and white. If I had to guess, I believe they don't have a choice."

Suddenly very taken aback by your Grandfather's point of view when his very body was wasting away because of the people he was defending, you shot up. Eyes blazing a bright inferno, neck tight. "How could you defend them?"

"I'm not defending them, lass. But it is wise to think before you project." He rounded his own clear eyes on you. "How would you save a Kingdom if it was falling apart?"

You were about to give into that same habit of reacting when worked up and lash out. They tax us silly, uncaring of how many lives they leave in ruins! But before you barely got a word out, there was a loud commotion outside.

An explosion of high, excited chatter that caught both your attention. Cautiously, you left the chessboard and Grandfather's company to venture to the front door and peer outside. What could it possibly be at this early hour? You wondered with a huff, blinking the sunlight from your narrowed eyes. It was midday; the time of lunch, if one was lucky enough, and perhaps quiet work.

Not an entire gaggle of women hurriedly knocking on doors and running around with their skirts gathered up in their fists.

Wary, you almost scowled at the lady who scurried towards you. The lady was too excited to notice, it would seem.

"Oh, darling!" She gushed, taking you by the hands. "Oh, it's amazing! A miracle!"

"What is?"

The lady shook her clasped hands. "You truly don't know? You have not heard?"

I would have not asked if I did, you wished to remark. Women such as these who were nothing but charm and gossip unnerved you the most. But instead, you remembered basic propriety. "Pray tell? For I have not."

"The Royals, my darling! They've smiled down on us and heard our cries! Recruitment, they have just promised, for all young women under forty and unwedded. With a promised wage! They wish to help those in need in these taxing times! Oh, we've been saved. Saved, my darling!"

Your twitching brows knitted. You were having serious trouble understanding what you had just been told. "Pardon, Miss?"

"The day is wonderful, my Darling!" The lady took her hands away from you and twirled happily on the spot. Her cheeks were stained a delicate rose when she stopped. "I'd place my name down quickly with the Registrar, [Name] Willows! Unwedded and in these troubled times, a servant's job will be a blessing to you!"

Servant's job?

The woman was already scurrying off to the nearest house ready to spill the news when it caught up to you. Your mouth parted to draw a shaky, disbelieved breath. No, this can't be. You turned to look at the other houses along this path. Each and every one of them looked busy, some already ushering their daughters out the door so they could place their names down and help the family income.

Hold on a moment, the Castle is suddenly accepting women to become servants for the Court?

In this financial climate?

Such a handful of women who were desperate for income, like you, were currently taking to the streets with hastily wrapped scarves around their heads. It was a sea of excited commoners, close in age and status to you. Some of which, you were close friends to.

The sight of it all made you suddenly take the severity of what was happening seriously and gather your skirts to turn back into the house.

"Grandfather," It was a hurried whisper on your tongue. "Grandfather, where are you?"

The older man was already standing at the small kitchen you shared, his back turned. Unbothered, he never really was one for dramatics when they arose in the society. "Why do you sound like you've seen a ghost, lass?" He asked while pouring a shaky cup of water. "Don't bring any of that societal malarkey into this home."

"No, Grandfather, this is not—this is," You were having trouble getting coherent words out. Because surely, this couldn't be true. "The Castle—they're—?"

"Use words correctly," A small tap on your forehead that made you blink. You hadn't been flicked as such since your teenage years. But it seemed to do the trick — because your were shaken right out of your startled haze. One tight swallow and you were right back in the room.

"The women," You began quickly. "They've come saying that the Castle is looking for new workers. Servant women, able and unwedded. They promise of a wage, Grandfather." Your expression suddenly grew tight. "Do they mean to mock us? First they take away our taxes, now they take any women who are able for a family?"

Silence followed your obvious open question. It made you frown when he stared into the murky water with quiet contemplation.

"Grandfather?" You pressed, now confused.

It was a few more moments of a now heavy silence before he tipped the water down his throat, followed by a rattled cough. "So, what are you waiting for?" He suddenly piqued, irritated. The cup came down heavily onto the kitchen table. "Where is your scarf, your bags, your birth papers? You'll be a fool to think that they will accept just any woman who doesn't get there first!"

Warmth spread quickly from your chest up to the top of your neck. Like a slap to the cheek, the words from your Grandfather were hard and unexpected in their impact. Your hands clasped into shaking fists at your sides.

"What are you saying? Do you honestly believe I would work as a servant woman in their Castle—?"

"Better a servant girl than pulling weeds up in that Miyataza farm you work on."

"Miyazawa farm, Grandfather. It is the Miyazawa family."

"Does it matter, lass? I could bet a Castle job would pay you far more generously than weeding. Servants are treated well. They are fed and warm when they sleep."

The heat was creeping into your cheeks now. How dare he try to send you away? How dare he even think you would consider being sent away?

"I'm not leaving you." Was the hard-line, final statement. You stood straight and taut, daring your Grandfather to wish you away.

Truthfully — due to the mechanisms of this time and the harsh needs of society; you really couldn't stand in the way if Grandfather truly wished to send you to the Castle. Because you were a woman, and he led the house as a man. Misogyny was the only thing a tomboy, unwedded woman like you could not break down with nothing but her soul and stubbornness.

But you could damn well try. Every day, you could try.

"Grandfather," You put every emotion into the soft plea. Begging him to understand that this would rip a hole in your heart. That you would better uproot weeds from a farm with your skirts bunched than polish a lavish Palace hall. Would rather feel the pang in your stomach from days of foodless meals than not see him every morning and night. "Please, don't send me away."

The answer which greeted you was icy and so unlike the man who cared for you. "That's enough, lass. You're going. It's an opportunity not to be missed."

"I don't want to leave you!"

At that, Grandfather glared at you. But it was softer around the edges — the glass of his eyes now a gentle powdery colour. For a spared moment, you were hopeful that guilt had finally swayed him. Even more so when he reached up to pet your hair; an affectionate gesture of his own. You dropped your eyes and leaned into the pat, knowing that the hope would crackle and burn around you. Like everything else in your miserable life you continued to struggle against.

"Servants of the Castle are permitted to return once a month. You won't miss this ol' shack that much, lass. Tending to me and my rotten coughing. Your parents would have wanted it for you," He spoke softly. The gravel of his lung condition made the words a raspy wheeze. "A servant woman of the Palace. You couldn't ask for anything better when we're all drownin' in poverty."

A choked sob was steadily rising in your throat, but you pushed it down and averted your eyes. In a shaky whisper, you attempted one last time, "The Royals are the last people I would ever serve, Grandfather. Even if they promise of a wage."

You could hear it in his chuckle — the knowing grin he always wore. Oftentimes, it reminded you vaguely of your Father.

"Remember, [Name]. If your Kingdom was in ruins, how would you save it?"

The village of the Yo Kingdom was still buzzing with excitement hours after the news was relayed to every single door. Mothers and Grandmothers alike who did not meet the criteria for work waved their younger daughters off, some with cloths up to their mouths to hide the tears. Of elation or despair, you didn't know.

It was with a heavy heart that you packed your things in the small area you and Grandfather shared for sleep; him on the bed while you took to the floor most nights. Not that it ever bothered you. Something about the musty scent of oakwood and the tuft of hay you treated as a pillow stayed with you as you wrapped the scarf around your head. Home, you thought with lines bracketing your frown, this was your home and you were only permitted to return once a month.

Could you truly serve the family you hated so much?

You didn't let the hope in your heart dwindle. Having spent a generous deal of time arguing with Grandfather while getting ready — perhaps the Registrar was no longer there. Maybe a good number of women had beat you to it first and you were too late. With a deep breath did you continue your walk across the small village street — following some stray women as they hurried along the same route. Constantly, you turned around to look at your Grandfather once more. But you had ventured far into the city now — your home was around the bend and well out of eye's view.

If the Gods smile down on you, then perhaps you wouldn't have to leave for too long. The Registrar will be full, and you could return right back to where you wanted to be.

Perking a little, you entertained how you would laugh right in his face when you returned home. Ha! Would you look at that, you senile old man. It just wasn't meant to be! A servant woman is not where the Heavens want me to go! A small giggle rushed through you, lifting your spirits ever so. It seemed more probable now the more you walked; there was a high chance the Palace would not accept any more applicants after the previous sea of women bombarded them.

Yes, you told yourself, that's right. And then I can think of what to make Grandfather for dinner tonight. No more will I have to entertain the thought of aiding that horrid, despicable family—

You rounded the sharp bend, only to feel your stomach plummet to the floor.

Sitting in the middle of the cobblestone pave-way was the table you were desperately hoping would not be. Women flocked around it; an ocean of scarfed heads and chattering voices. If it wasn't for another lady brushing passed you would have stayed there frozen and allowed the small sack to fall through your fingers. The Registrar, you quickly realised with dread, he's still here.

You hadn't been too late, after all.

The Gods continued to hold their frown on you.

"Oi, you!"

You snapped to attention when someone singled you out. A burly man, dressed in robes of blue and pure white with a sword at his hilt. The Palace colours. Everything about his demeanour told you swiftly that he was a Royal Knight.

And this Royal Knight was glaring at you intensely.

"I asked you to move into line!" He thrust a gloved hand to the suddenly startled row of women, whose eyes darted frantically. "You block any woman attempting to come through standing there!"

Survival instincts instructed your body to move on command, knowing full well a Royal Knight was not a man to be trifled with. Especially one twice your size and brandishing a terrifying sword. But because you had a stubbornness that could border dangerous in the wrong situations, you projected a tempered glare his way.

"Forgive me, my Lord." You said through tight teeth.

The Knight bared his own teeth and opened his mouth — obviously, he was unused to common village girls who didn't bend underneath his command. Damned Knights, it was a bitter thought quick in your mind as the Knight brought his hand up, everyone attached to those Royals believed they were above everyone else!

Bracing for a crack to your cheek — like so many others you had witnessed, especially when commoners were loose-lipped with those in high command — your eyes snapped shut. Women shrieked and moved away from the scuffle. Your whole body tensed in expectation.

"Sir Francis!"

It was a strong, steely voice that sliced through the air. Because it was taking too long for the pompous Knight to impact, you risked opening one eye. Then the other when your possible assailant wasn't looking your way any more. What in the world...?

The Knight was staring over to where the table was when you trained your eyes there, following every other woman's gawks, also. Seated at the table and the obvious owner of the words was the man that took the names down of possible servant candidates.

The Registrar.

His grey eyes gleamed impatiently underneath the square glasses he donned, mouth stitched.

"—disrespectful, my Lord." You caught the tail-end of what the Knight was saying. "I was teaching her a lesson."

"A lesson, huh?" The Registrar wondered. If you could believe, it looked like he was displeased with the Knight's actions. Surely not, you shook your head minutely amidst the surprise, it was common knowledge that most Knights mistreated commoners. Slapping women was not the worst they could do.

The Knight nodded stoically.

"Bring her here." The Registrar asked with a quick flick of his wrist. "Quickly. Hindrances will only delay the schedule."

"M-My Lord?"

"Are you wasting my time, Sir Francis?"

"A-Absolutely not!" The Knight exclaimed. Then before you could react, he wrapped a strong hand around your frail arm and roughly hauled you forward. Your habit kicked up again on reflex, hurling every disrespectful word you could at the Knight — even attempting to kick him in the shin. But he was Palace trained and you hadn't eaten in days. Any attack you attempted would have been laughably akin to a toddler's in your state.

An unhinged, furious wreck; you were thrown before the Registrar's small table. Your hands flew out to brace yourself against the wood so you wouldn't sink to your knees. No man would make you result to your knees; Royal Guard or the King himself.

But your fumble did result in an ink bottle tipping over and spreading a river of black all over the parchment of names.

"Ahh! T-The names!" One voice wailed. Another Royal Guard. His tone quickly became seething when directed your way. "You useless cur! You'll atone for this with a whipping—!"

"There will be no whipping."

Blinking, you shot up to see the face of the Registrar staring you down. Tall and faintly handsome; he had smooth skin of porcelain that threw his grey eyes into sharp focus. A mane of golden hair was kept neatly in a tail at the back of his head — not a piece out of place. You hated how his heavy stare made you gulp. Especially when there was an irritated tick to his jaw.

But then, he sighed. "Fetch me another bottle of ink," He spoke to the Knight over his shoulder. "There should be a Craftsman nearby. You have two minutes."

"My Lord, this behaviour is uncanny. You should not allow her to—!"

"Whipping is a sore waste of time when we have so much women to get through." The Registrar hissed in a tempered whisper that could very well be a chilly breeze. He tossed his eyes back to the Knight, and you noticed the bob of his throat. "Are you attempting to tell me what to do?"

It wasn't a question. It was a careful, dangerous threat.

And the Royal Knight answered him correctly. "N-Never, My Lord!" And with that, he was spun around and off he scurried to find the ink bottle. You noticed the barest droop in the Registrar's tense shoulders, and couldn't help it when the words came tumbling forth;

"You saved me from a beating."

The Registrar slid his eyes to you. You knew you shouldn't have said it — not because it was improper and lacked propriety, because it did. You had no care for that. It was because he was looking at you now as a human would stare at an insect, and you were reminded of why Royal Court Members were people you'd never show gratitude to.

Straightening, you steeled your spine and hardened your glare. "I don't know what I can offer you." You hissed.

The Registrar may appear as if he is looking at a bug, but now his eyebrow raised. An interesting bug, perhaps. "I do hope you don't believe you can become a servant with no etiquette."

"Oh, I don't want to be a servant." You said proudly. "It was my Grandfather who sent me."

"Surely, he does not place the hopes of income on you?" The faintest ribbon of amusement in his tone. You caught it, and grinned.

"Better on me than a useless airhead woman who has no backbone when expected to serve in a Castle of Thieves."

Were you purposely attempting to jeopardise your chances? Perhaps. Your sharp tongue was more to do with the gleam of jest in the Registrar's cool grey eyes. It rubbed your nerves wrongly, how the Royal Workers thought the people they ruled were amusing little rodents; only to give money and anything else material.

"The Castle of Thieves?" He ventured, albeit lowly. It would surely be odd if the Registrar repeated such accusations of his place of work. You couldn't help but be taken aback by his curious manner, but hid it well.

The Registrar leaned back. No longer an insect, you thought as he regarded you with indifference. You had upgraded to a comical animal. The barest smile on his lips gave it away.

"You speak boldly." Was all he offered.

"Someone in this village has to." You countered.

"Speaking boldly in the Palace will result with your skin being littered with scars. Court Members are everything but lenient."

"Well, then that's that settled! I'm just too improper to be a servant woman. Truly, a shame." Secretly elated, you were preparing to turn right around. "I thank you for listening to me, My—"

"Wait."

Your bones and muscles snapped, froze. With an uneasy feeling in your gut that your habit had just upset the Registrar, who commanded the Knights around him, did you hesitantly look over your shoulder. When he said nothing but stared did you hold back a sigh and turn right around.

"Yes, My Lord?" You got out. A beating? Or perhaps you will be forcefully robbed of your innocence? It was unwise to question the extent of punishment a high-standing Official could mete out. But were you sorry? You grit your teeth, never in an aeon of existence.

The Registrar was quiet for a second, only studying you with everything but a livid expression. It not only made you perplexed, it also made you more nervous than what a glare would do. "Do you have your birth papers?"

You blinked. "Pardon?"

"Your birth papers. I expect you have them on you?"

Indeed, but you weren't about to give them up to this man. Although two Royal Knights had suddenly flanked either side of you — attracted by the commotion and why you were taking so long. So, with a jaw locked and eyes daggering into the man before you, did you reach into your sack and produce the heavy parchment.

He took it in his long, nimble fingers. Studied it with eyes downcast under his peculiar frames.

"[Name] Willows. Of childbearing age," He glanced up. "I assume you are unwedded?"

He assumes. You forced the annoyance down into your gut. Right where the other hatred for the Royals and their henchmen resided. "No." The Royal Knights and their weapons made you spit, "My Lord."

You and the grey-eyed Registrar didn't break the stare-off, not even when the Knight came stumbling back with the fresh ink-bottle in hand.

"My Lord!" He yelled breathlessly. "My Lord, I have fetched the ink. Some new parchment too. Courtesy of the Craftsmen Charlisle."

"He has my thanks," The Registrar opened his palm behind so the bottle could be placed there. When it was, did he spread the new parchment out and dip a fine quill in. "[Name] Willows," He said the name like a condemning sentence. The very end to all of your happiness. Your wide eyes tracked each swirl of the quill, every dot and dab. No way —

The Registrar sat up and smiled at you. It was that unnerving half smile. One that set all your nerves alight and spread fire coursing throughout your bloodstream. "Congratulations. Starting today, you shall be a training servant woman. May you enjoy your stay in the Castle of Thieves."

You let every bit of your pride go in the moment of shock. Mouth gaping, eyes widened. Surely there had been a mistake. There was no way the Castle accepted women who didn't keep their thoughts, voices and tongues to themselves. It was a matter of propriety, and in the Castle — propriety was held at the highest value. The Registrar was still studying you when the red cleared from your vision.

"Miss [Name]," He questioned. "Did you hear me correctly? There are others we must see to."

This damn Registrar, your fists clasped at your sides, practically vibrating with rage, this man was messing with you! He had to be!

"You can't be serious." You whispered. "The Castle would never allow it."

"I'm the Registrar. My duty is to choose what women I believe will make the most able servants. And perhaps, dare I say, you've enlightened me. It's true. Women who, as you say, 'have no backbone' will never survive serving under the Prince and King of the Yo Court."

The sentence was sealed in stone. Due to your habit, your humanly need to not be treated as scum by the higher-ups in society had just landed you in your worst nightmare. A job at the Caste, serving under the monarchs you hated the most. Being given a wage made from the taxes these villagers were being squeezed of. And there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

Already plunged into hell, you figured you may as well go out with a bang while you descended.

"What is your name?" You whispered to him.

His golden brow cocked. "I'm the Registrar."

"You mean to tell me your Mother gifted you with that name?"

A beats silence. The Registrar stayed still, contemplating long enough to deceive you into thinking he would not answer. Of course he wouldn't, pompous Court Official that he was. But after the silence was up, he leaned over the table. This wicked grey-eyed man who had just sealed your fate under lock and key.

"Kunikida Doppo," He said to you. "Secretary to The Throne. I will also be controlling your wages, Miss [Name]. I do hope your time-wasting habit does not carry over to your work."

You met him with a challenging smirk. "My Lord, Kunikida Doppo. How grateful I am to be granted this chance. Of course, I won't waste my time." Then, your voice dipped into a deadly whisper. One that was uncanny to any woman of society. Or any woman who wished to keep alive, period. Yet you, in that moment, couldn't find it in yourself to give a damn. "But I can promise you that I'll do everything to waste yours."

Outside the Throne Room, the Royal Palace of Yo

Court Officials; dressed in their beautiful garments of fine silks and studded gems, waited cautiously outside the Throne Room. The women with fans open in front of their faces to hide their frowns. Frowns, after all, stressed the skin to a point of wrinkles. No woman of the Court should be caught doing such a thing. The men had their hands of the hilt of their swords, swearing under their breaths and chattering in low voices.

"What do they think the Prince will do? If none of us could crack 'em, why do they think a pampered Royal can?"

He was met with violent shushing of another man. This one was a lot older and therefore, not as arrogant. Arrogance in the Palace of Yo got any man killed.

"Idiot!" He hushed. "Don't speak so easily of the Prince! Have you not heard his name in the halls?"

"His name?" The other man wasn't impressed. "'Course I have. It's common knowledge to know our Prince's—"

"No, his nickname. 'Demon Prince' is what the walls call him! You would be wise not to doubt his abilities of cruelty. Especially during interrogation."

The nickname of the Prince, the only Prince of Yo and heir to The Throne, sent violent shivers down each spine in the room. Women recoiled further behind their embellished fans, men cast their faces to the shadows with thin lips. It was all except for the gaudy original man, who had recently only joined the Court and was foolish in his thinking.

"Pwah!" He scoffed. The soft whisper of metal as he took out his sword. "I don't believe for a second that a spoiled Prince could do what actual Guards couldn't do! He was a lapdog his whole life — an only child!" There was an arrogant smile on his face. Perhaps the reason why he didn't notice the heavy sounds of doors opening behind him, or the desperate quiet pleas of the Court Members, was because he was so caught up in his bragging.

Whoosh, his sword sliced lazily through the air and he declared loudly, "I wager I could knock the brat on his behind with just one match!"

"Truly?"

It was a new voice that filtered through the air, stiffening everyone's bones in the hallway. Soft and mellifluous, the tone of the Yo Prince was rumoured to send men to their knees, women shaking with uncontrollable sobs, and government officials to tighten their jaws.

Today, his voice was echoed by the hiccups and tears from inside the Throne Room. The man that every Guard was interrogating without success was resulted to a blubbering, pathetic mess with just ten minutes alone with the First Prince.

The man brandishing the sword swivelled right around.

It wasn't only his voice that could break even the most hardened souls with wicked words. Rumours circled that it was his eyes — the shade of mahogany, of whiskey mixed with deep coffee. They bore into your spirit. Scanned deeply until you were stripped bare of everything you attempted to hide.

There was a sudden clang of metal on the tiles. The Prince didn't even flinch. He continued to stare at the now defenceless man, who was shaking in his boots.

The Prince cocked his head. "Would you be so kind to repeat yourself? I don't think I heard correctly."

Perspiration broke out everywhere along the man's skin. He was shaking so much now that he was sure of collapse. No one in the hallway was surprised, and braced themselves for the fate of the arrogant Court Official. He barely had lasted a week, and proceeded to insult the Prince to his face. Death, or something far worse, was imminent.

"N-N-Nothing—Nothing, My Liege." The shaking man regurgitated the words. Unashamedly, there was a growing patch of wet taking form in his tights. "I-I-I assure you."

The Demon Prince let absolutely nothing change in his expression. Silence befell over them, heavy and thick, coating everyone in a layer of sticky oil. No one dared breathe, blink or even move. Not when an execution was about to be sentenced.

But the Prince did something more than that, and objectively a lot more terrifying.

He smiled.

"Ah, is that so? Forgive me, Guard-san. It appears the interrogation has left me tired~" His eyes blinked once, twice, and the dark coffee was now a bright whiskey. That was the other rumoured thing about the Demon Prince; his usual persona was calm and silly, yet underneath there housed a terrible monster no one should get in the way of.

He turned to another Guard. "Officer-san?"

"Y-Yes!" The older man stood to stoic solute.

"He's a spy of the Ko Kingdom," The Prince said easily, gesturing to the man who was crying on the floor in the Throne Room. No doubt his soul had ben fractured into thousand irreparable pieces. "Was sent to gather information on our economy. Word is spreading quickly that our drought is near crippling. He was due to report back to the Kingdom yesterday," He let out a light, almost playful sigh. "But you see, the man got greedy and enjoyed himself too much in a brothel house last night~! Spilled his entire guts to a lovely whore he was accompanying. What do you say to that, Officer-san?"

The man almost turned green with pressure. "I—I have nothing to offer, only that it was a life threatening mistake on his part, My Liege."

"Ehhh, you think brothels are 'life threatening', Officer-san?"

"T-That is not at all what I was—"

A peal of perfect laughter rang out when the Prince threw his head back. His mass of brown curls fell perfectly over his eyes when he straightened, those eyes decorated with long dark lashed were shut in happy moons. Deceitful, that was the First Prince of Yo, and God love anyone who fell for his blindingly attractive charm.

"My, my, Officer-san. You're like an innocent school-girl! How about we go to a brothel and find a lovely lady to not tell your wife about~?"

"M-My Liege!"

"Come now, don't be nervous. Life if all about new experiences."

"I can assure you that I have—I have—!"

The atmosphere around the hallway was gently eased until the air was at least breathable again. Some brazen women snapped their fans shut now that their lips were upturned into a smile. Many of the men engaged in the Prince's easy banter. It was no small secret that, when he was in the correct mood, that the Prince had his way with people. Those who never touched or saw the other side to him naturally flocked to his presence.

The only remnants of his commanding, terrifying side was the sounds of wails in the Throne Room; a spy who stood no chance against the Prince's careful questions that everyone decided to stay ignorant to.

That and the shaken man who had been on the receiving end of the Prince's stare. The man who stared death right in the face through eyes of the darkest brown, and escaped, but was now resulted to a soiled, sword-less mess. Frozen to the spot, staring at the open Throne Room and unable to escape from the nightmare the Prince has traumatised him into.

"Were you successful?"

The Prince of Yo, nicknamed the 'Demon Prince' by many of those who were unfortunate enough to encounter that side, strolled into the Quarters he was summoned to. This room was laved in gold and expensive jewels, silk bedsheets and grand oil paintings. In those paintings was the man who ruled over the entire Kingdom of Yo. And, the owner of the voice that called to his visitor.

The King of Yo; King Dietrich. He rarely uses his family name, although the house they lived in was brandished with the surname Dazai.

With a sigh, the Prince waved his hand. "The man was like an open book. Too easy to read, I got him to talk within a minute."

The King turned from the window to gaze at his son. His only son, and yet, there was a rift between them that was too cold to be one of family. They were simply King and Prince, and their fondness never extended past those titles.

He raised a brow. "Officer Hijikata told me you were in there for ten minutes."

At that, the Prince smiled. It was a bone-chilling smile, one that sucked the light from his eyes. "There are other things to do to a man's mind when you take away all his secrets."

The King regarded his son for a long moment, through the brown eyes so similar to his. Then, let out the most regal of sighs. "Such an unsightly habit you have, Dazai. You'd be careful not to terrorise the new servants being trained. It's taxing enough that your branded with a nickname."

"Nicknames are commoner games. Do you think they use them to feel power? That brandishing another with labels is how they humanise?"

"There you go again, speaking so unsightly. These manners will slip out to the public."

Dazai Osamu, the Prince of Yo and Heir to the Throne, waltzed lazily over to his Father's desk and picked up a tumbler. It was gorgeously carved out of magnificent glass, intended truly to be a gift for the King.

He poured himself a healthy serving of whiskey and downed it in one go. Alcohol never did much to fill the indescribably gaping hole in his existence, but it made him feel something.

"Then let them. It'll only produce more labels. More ways of pointless humanising," He brought the empty glass to his lips and stared distantly. Through those eyes that broke men down, that instilled fear into those older than him, that yearned for amusement to distract himself from his outlook on life. "It matters not. I don't deserve the title of human, any way."

ྀི. Chapter Notes:

↣ "The Registrar" is a title I gave to Kunikida as he was taking names from the women who were registering to become a servant of the Castle. It's not his official title, however. His official title is The Secretary of the Palace. ↣ A "Secretary" to a Throne is someone who supports many aspects of a monarch's private affairs; such as finances, schedules and correspondence. The main duty of The Secretary is to communicate the monarchs wishes to different areas of Government. Sometimes, a Court Secretary can also be The Secretary of State. ↣ Prince Dazai's nickname; "The Demon Prince of Yo" is a direct play on his nickname "Demon Executive" of the Port Mafia during the Dark Era arc of the anime. And the Fifteen Light Novel arc, I think? I tend to mention these plays throughout the book as I don't want to discredit Asagiri and make it clear what are my ideas an what is parody. ヾ(≧▽≦*)o ↣ Dazai's closing dialogue of; "I don't deserve the title of human, any way" is drawn from both Osamu Dazai's book No Longer Human and his ability in the anime, No Longer Human.

ʚɞ . . . 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

ʚɞ . . . 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄

#bungou stray dogs fanfiction #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #kunikida doppo #crowns of stardust #headers by astralnymphh #dividers by saradika!#port mafia #armed detective agency #🪄— milky writes

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benzakii · 2 months

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my debut from the shadows and love letter to the fandom

this is my first attempt at graduating from lurker status..

dear kidstar and soma content contributors ,

while you don't know me, i've been familiar with you all for a REALLY long time. that sounds so creepy but i've been a silent supporter, saving your art and rereading your fics.

as i've watched the fandom get smaller and the archives get dryer year after year, i've been increasingly grateful to those whose passions haven't died. your content has gotten me through a lot of hard times and has allowed for me to maintain my own passion through consuming your great works.

even though i've had plenty of ideas and head cannons of my own, i've been content as a viewer. i check the archives every other day with baited breath hoping for any chapter updates or new stories but again, they've become few and far in between. and that's okay. we all have our own lives to live. but in that same breath, i don't think it's fair for me to expect people to create, when i myself have been hoarding my own ideas and (very few) creations. and while i am not (ever) a fan of my own work, someone else may appreciate some more contributions to the fandom.

all this to say that i'm gonna use this blog to try to contribute more and publish any of my prior creations even if i'm inconsistent and they're imperfect and incomplete. i'm also doing this in hopes to rekindle my own dead passions and as a way to honor all of my countless ideas that have now passed haha.

anyways, ill stop my rambling and i'm looking forward to being apart of this.

ps. i would @ specific authors and artists but that makes me too nervous lol, maybe later.

#soul eater #soma #kidstar #death the kid x blackstar #soul x maka #black star #death the kid

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autismprotocol · 7 months

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Hey, sorry if this is long, but I really like what you guys are doing and have nowhere else to put my theories, so...

Firstly, sorry to be that person, but I actually think you mislabeled the entities for two episodes. Needles reads like an avatar of the slaughter to me. It's like Lietner said, the physical description is less important then the emotional or metaphorical. Needles' thing isn't "look at this scary trick I can do with my flesh body." It's "I am going to cause you intense pain at random by stabbing you with my needles. Please be scared of me :)"

I was also surprised you didn't mark Putting Down Roots as a filth statement. Illness, rotting alive, swarming flies, a deeply unhealthy romantic love. All reads as corruption to me.

Now let's get to my fun crack theory. Episode 7 almost reads to me like the point the powers breached into the new world. Think about it, hilltop road was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of artifacts and "people" (avatars) that map to many different powers (I counted stranger, slaughter, dark, filth, and possibly hunt among the artifacts present). The timeliness doesn't quite match up (we have a statement from the 1800s), but maybe the powers are capable of having retroactively always existed. Or maybe the fan theory that the entities are now the "hungers" that feed on obsession was true until the fears intruded into the world.

Omg thank you so much for the ask I absolutely love over analyzing this goofy lil podcast and i really wanted to have this board be a collaborative and community thing for all of us TMAG/TMAGP fans out there!

starting with the board corrections you pointed out you are absolutely right after reading this I ended up rereading the wiki entries about the Entities because its been a hot second since I've read up on those goobers and I've kinda forgotten how many little nuances that each one has. I had no idea how we missed the clear corruption tie-ins that were occurring in Samuel Webbers journal (Putting Down Roots) especially when you brought up his toxic relationship to his partner.

As with Needles before doing my reread about the fears I just assumed flesh because body modified with needles. but looking into it, sudden piercing needles more cleanly falls into slaughter.

I actually have this ongoing theory originated by my roommate and other blog contributor that the fears might have been scrambled when crossing dimensions. maybe because of this many minor powers have begun to branch out from the main 15 and with that hybrid avatars and entities have been created. With needles I think maybe they fall under the umbrella of slaughter and spiral because of the way they mentally toy with their victims. also could explain why needles has to convince the man on the phone that they're scary because this hybrid power may be new and people have not gotten fearful of it yet.

I'll be making those changes for next weeks board so thank you for pointing them out :D

on to your theory that would make sense especially since this episode (EP 7) is kind of serving as the catalyst for the story to shift into high gear. I think that if the Hilltop charity shop was the entrance point for all of the fears to enter the world it would make complete sense. Hilltop is the one place in the Magnus canon that people have reported traveling to different dimensions. also the date of the incident falls right about the time that Archives started early 2016 so the fears may have also gone back in time to when Jon became the Archivist in TMAs universe (since Jons death is the catalyst that forced them to jump dimensions.) I'm really liking where your theory is heading

also real quick if anyone has more info about the theory that Protocols world lived off of hunger and desire pre the fears appearing I'd love to hear more about that because I've never heard of the until now.

Again thank you so much for the ask I'm so happy you're liking what we're doing here and I hope you continue to share your thoughts and theories with this blog.

-Echo

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ace-antagonist-writes · 1 year

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Maybe someday soon,

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: After your team’s plans literally go up in smoke, a tense car ride leads into a much tenser situation with a certain natural disaster. (Vash and Reader are both hopeless romantics)

A/N: First actual post on this acc and I’m here to help clear out my Trigun brain rot, might make a part 2 if anyones interested. Also, I wrote this with the OG/ Badlands designs in mind but you could probably imagine other Vash to this as well! (this is also unedited since i hate rereading my own work-)

You’d think it was deadly for a human to run this hot. Maybe it was and maybe you’d drop dead from embarrassment if this would continue, who was to say?

The day had started any other way it had for the last few months. A lone desert horizon staring back at you as your little caravan traveled to a nearby city to take refuge before nightfall hit. Boredom hung over your head like a cloud of dust, so you began to look sound in the small enclosure. The van was high-strung with bated breath, the tension a cough away from popping poor Meryl’s temper. If you hadn’t been so terrified of the feisty woman, you could’ve snorted at the red vein barely visible on her cheek from your backseat angle. Desperate to find something else to focus on, your eyes drifted to Milly in the passenger seat blissfully unaware of the situation. You flashed her a smile when your eyes met in the mirror and she happily returned it before spacing off again on who knows what.

Now here came the hard part.

It was a wonder the silence had managed to dwell so long with the noisy blond and priest sitting beside you. Perhaps the two brain cells the three of you seldom shared–one of which you held on to the longest and the other bounced between the males– sparked together and formed a quiet game of who could outlast Meryl’s rage the longest. Nevertheless, your confidence held strong as you looked to cast a glance at Wolfwood in the opposite window seat. He was turned fully to the window, wispy stripes of dark hair obscuring most of his profile and hand holding up his chin. Thinking you were in the clear of not breaking into laughter looking at him you flicked your gaze onto the window.

Oh no. The two of you had formulated the same idea and were now staring at one another’s blank-faced reflection in the window. The dark tan of his skin pinched together and furrowed at the crease of his nose, clearly taken aback by the reflection as he struggled to re-straighten his face. You quickly turned your head as conspicuously as you could and placed your forehead on the warmed glass. A hearty smile had slipped its way across your face, what a goofball. It was embarrassing how attached you had gotten to everyone in such an objectively short time. Even with the scoldings included, you never once lost any amount of love for any of your friends. There was nothing you would trade for moments like this, despite having grated on Meryl’s nerves the entire morning before now. But to be fair, it was a bit of her fault as well for carrying a humanoid typhoon across No Man’s Land for this long. Insurance company be damned if you were in her place, the amount of times you’ve almost gotten stitched up would’ve put you into early retirement long ago.

….Speaking of the Humanoid typhoon,

Snapping out of your pondering state, you came to realize the silence had strangely returned. You glanced to your left, trying to spare a peek at your agitated driver to see if she was still ill-tempered. You got you answer with haste as her eyes raced to meet your curious ones peering at her through the side mirrors of the vehicle. It was like the devil himself snagged your heart out of your chest as your eyes spasmed trying to grasp at anything else within your range of view. How was someone barely up to your shoulder so scary?? The peeling leather of her seat is what dragged you back away from her wrathful glare, and even then you could’ve sworn the heat from it dug a hole through the sweat of your brow. Maybe it would be best if you didn’t follow your mind’s wonderings and left Vash in the back of your head. Yet as the harsh red of his mangy jacket appeared for a split second in your peripherals, you knew you were a goner. To make things worse, a subtle scraping made itself known alongside the white noise of the van. It was dull and flaky, not unlike the scratching of… a paint brush? Your noise scrunched up in thought as you looked for the source. Milly met you halfway when turning to her, casting a copy of your pensiveness right back as she peek over her shoulder. A honeyed eyebrow rose in a silent question before her gaze shifted up.

A loud clap sent a jolt through the backseat riders up and into a state of alert as Milly slapped a single hand over her mouth. Your own eyebrows kissed the beginnings of your hairline as you reared back in your seat a bit, slowly ascending your head to what she was turning an alarming shade of red at. On the way, you made eye contact again with the equally wired priest across from you. Only briefly sparring a single glance, you both looked up.

You don’t know whether it was due to the unbearable lack of entertainment or if it was just that funny, but only the lord knows how hard of a cacophonous laugh erupted from you either way. Poor, poor tall and lanky Vash sat stiff as a board between Wolfwood and you, caked in soot from the disaster the group had just come from. Wherever the dark graininess hadn’t settled, a brilliant red matching his iconic coat painted his sun-kissed skin. And his hair, the bristled blond strands smushed and sprang outwards, creating the illusion of an angry red pineapple as he slightly swished back and forth with the swaying of the van. Vash looked to be struggling more than you and the priest had–seeing as he had to stare at his reflection through the rearview mirror the entire time since you all had. However, all hell had broke loose upon your cracking up as Vash and Wolfwood burst into cackles and hollering. Tears poured out of all your eyes, soaking dried and dusty faces previously chapped from the heat. And if you had any sense left, you would’ve looked to see the expression on Meryl’s face beside the giggling Milly. Unfortunately, you didn’t get the chance and had to live on without knowing the exasperated smile inching across her face.

——————————————————-

"Why am I the only one in trouble?!" You found yourself wailing into the dark night as you trudged to the bar. "They laughed too Meryl!"

The woman's stride never paused as she walked in front of you with her back straight. Meryl scoffed back at you and dished out a single glance, "But who laughed first?"

"But-"

"Besides! We need someone sober enough to find the motel, and that will surely not be me after the little stunt you guys pulled in the last town!” She huffed a piece of her dark fringe away from her eyes and took a sharp turn, “I pray they weren’t set up with the company’s insurance plan, if so, this might be the last drinking session we can afford.”

You’d have to admit even though she was joking, you felt a little bad for Meryl. Maybe thats why for the rest of the way to the bar, you quietly sulked in front of the batch of traitors behind you. The two bubbly blondes and sleek priest were quiet as mice up until you all entered the bar– trying to camouflage into the darkness to avoid getting a ban on their drinking as well. Yet as soon as you all set foot in the bar, all four of your comrades hauled themselves to the bar and sparked the whole atmosphere of the room.

It was endearing in a way, even though you were a bit bitter you couldn’t be drunkenly stumbling over your words as you chatted the night away. But also if you had, you wouldn’t have been able to be fully enamored by a blond “maniac” who had managed to convince an equally drunk patron to dance with him on a table. You brought the back of your hand to your mouth and stifled the laugh building up in fear of being dragged up while sober enough to remember it happening.

However, all was in vain as you met a pair of teal downturned eyes looking straight at you. Vash was clearly plastered, but somehow managed to start working his way to you without stumbling out of his boots. His laughter made your brain work overtime to keep up with your heart running like a bat out of hell. You were certain that someone could hear the noise as you frantically darted your eyes around to divert your attention away from Vash. The drunken man was not even a foot away from you when he tripped on his way to you. And you could swear for a split second, a brown pair of dress shoes was the object in question. The blonde, dazed and confused, limply fell forward and clung to you tightly. You could’ve died at that single moment.

He was warm, and not in the way the sands were. It was such a comforting warmth that your mind blanked when he had wrapped his arms around you. The noise from the bar faded into a dull hum as Vash fully engulfed your senses. His right arm slightly twitches around you, as if trying to pull you impossibly closer. A rhythmic thumping pulsed inside your chest, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to feel it through layers of clothes and burning skin. Your breath hitched as he grazed the side of your neck, slowly moving up and stopping just below your ear. You were sick with anticipation and he slowly opened his eyes to look at you before speaking,

“I really have to use the bathroom.”

Dear lord.

So here you were, holding up a blazing hot Vash who was thoughly struggling to find the ground beneath him. You tried not to look at him too long–you fear if you did you’d let him fall in the chilled sand after the stunt he’d pulled earlier. Your face was still scorched with the heat of embarrassment that should’ve been drunkenness. Nevertheless, you trudged forward and led the train of dazed insurance company workers, a buzzed priest, and a totaled outlaw. It seemed everyone lucked out since the walk wasn’t long at all, the rickety building coming up just short of 3 minutes away.

You reered your head around to shout the news, earning disgruntled groans and a half-hearted cheer from Milly. Old and tired wooden boards wailed underneath yours and Vash’s feet as you both stepped up at the same time. He losely threw his right arm out to reach the door handle, and even though he missed it by a wide mark, you appreciated the effort. Soft lights brighten and illuminate the small motel lobby as you all piled in. The front desk attendee was a pleasantly aged woman, gray wisps spiraling from under her hat and kissing the faint wrinkles of her forehead. You gave an exasperated smile as you lugged Vash forward, “Reservation for Stryfe?”

“Stryfe you say? Okay my dear, let me just look and see-” She leaned forward a bit towards the registry booklet, “Ah! There it is, let me get your keys sweetheart.”

You nodded as you felt a slight tug on your sleeve, glancing upwards you come face to face with a teary-eyed pout. A single brow of yours hitches up, signaling him to continue with whatever he was trying to get at.

“...I need to use the bathroom again.”

“You just went!”

“Please!!” The lanky man twisted you around the best he could, “You don’t want my bladder to explode do you??”

You bit your tongue to not mutter a yes and send the blonde into a crying fit, instead slamming your hand over the first key you saw presented. With a labored huff you turned to Milly, currently the least drunk of the trio bracing themselves against the wall, “Mills, you think you can manage getting you three to your rooms while I’m gone?”

To which she reply with a lazy salute and a “You can count on me!” before grabbing two other keys and darting off with Meryl and Wolfwood draped on her shoulders. What a sweet girl.

And now to deal with your not-so-sweet outlaw that you hurriedly pull to the room where he would be staying. You’d nearly dropped and lost the key in hand when he dramatically clutched his stomach and shouted in the long hallway. Scared out of your skin, you turn to him in fear he actually wasn’t playing with you earlier about the bladder situation; but were met with a sly smile at the shocked expression displayed on your face. You huffed and tugged at him again, trying not to indulge in his antics. Undeterred, he let out another shrill yell as you dragged him closer to his room,

“HELP, HELP! It’s Vash the Sta-mmph!”

You slap a swift hand over his mouth and shove him into the newly opened door, locking it behind you. Red-faced, you shoot a dead glare at the spindly man currently splayed out in front of you. Vash’s lips twist into a playful wobbly smile as he stares up at you, only to shapely point downwards when you point to the bathroom door. His eyebrows crease his sunburnt skin in a sad attempt to imitate a kicked puppy–yet he relents and gives up when a vein makes itself present on your temple. Well after he’s settled into the bathroom, you lean against the wall to catch your breath for a brief second. How in the world was he this hopeless? You’d have to give it to him despite how agitated you were at his earlier stunt, his hopelessness was endearing in a way. A tired hand swiped the sweat from your brow as you flush faintly, god he would be the death of you. A muffled thunk from the other side of the bathroom door rips you from pondering about the culprit at hand. Hopefully Vash would be competent enough to figure out how to survive on his own until daybreak. You push off the wall and leave the room, starting off back down the hall to claim your room key so you can finally retire to bed.

The walk was ten times short without dragging drunken extra luggage on your shoulder throughout the halls. You stop at the front desk, which was now missing the woman attending it just a few minutes ago. It was eerily silent in the lobby, with no one being up and lounging about the area. At a sudden creak, your head swivels to a door not far away from the desk. Seemingly oblivious to your figure standing awkwardly behind the table, the young man glides to a drawer obscured front desk. He pulls out a booklet resembling the registration sheet the kind woman had checked form. The new attendee acknowledges your existence with a sparring glance,

“Name?”

The suddeness of his statement was enough to spike your nerves, “Ah! Oh, registration for Stryfe please! I’m here to pick up the fourth key?”

His eyes narrowed for a split second, “Four? There’s only three in the registry for Stryfe.”

“What?? Surely there must’ve been a mistake, there’s five of us with two sharing a room!” You mentally made a note to hide Meryl’s handover medicine if what the attendee said was true, that you would have to bunk with a clingy blond for the night. The man behind the counter just sighed tiredly at you,

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any more openings left for the night. You’d have to sleep in one of the other reserved rooms.”

Your ears burned with embarrassment, “Can you at least tell me the other two room numbers?” Maybe you could bribe Wolfwood with the promise of another pack of cigarettes in exchange for a room to yourself.

Unfortunately, the attendee had made it his momentary pleasure to crush your pipe-dreaming. He slowly blinked at you, “Are you Meryl Stryfe?”

“...No?”

“Then I am sorry, we cannot disclose room patrons without consent of the booker themselves. Have a nice night.”

“You’ve gotta be joking me.”

“Not paid enough to do so, unfortunately.” He looked a good decade older as he muttered the statement to you through gritted teeth, “Have a nice night.”

And with that, your one-sided argument came to a close as you had no choice but to secede. In all honesty, you could pass out in the hallway and call it a day with all the walking going on. You wish you knew why this felt so nerve racking, he was your friend and the same went for you—or at least you hoped. Yet, the blonde had such a baffling way of turning your whole world upside down without even trying. It intimidated you just as much as it made your heart flutter. He was so breathtaking, enough to piss you off in a jealous haze if you weren’t his friend. You were set in stone on this revelation, and nothing would be able to shake that away from your perception of Vash. The door knob contrasts your warm palms as you open the frigid door.

Upon opening it, the world seems to instantaneously freeze when you come face to face with a half-dressed outlaw. You didn’t even have time to truly process his reaction, and dignity be damned at this point. Your eyes nailed themselves to Vash’s torso like they were meant to be there; and if you were actually cognitive, you would’ve chastised yourself for staring so shamelessly. But in all honesty, could you be blamed for looking?

Yes, you were hurt by the mangled skin of his body with pink skin coating the sunny canvas of his chest. And yes, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind you would shed tears for every one of them you hadn’t saw happen admits your journey together. But dear lord above, was he ethereal. The lankiness you normally associated with him was heavily disproven from what you could clearly see now. He was sturdily built—even with his arms frozen in a pose reaching for his backpack— and astonishingly lean. There were so many words you wished to say, to voice your unconscious fawning over him. You opened your mouth slowly and dazed,

“Vash, yo-”

“DON’T LOOK DON’T LOOK!” He shrieked out, arms flying up to cover anything they could.

Your hands sounded like gunshots as they collided against your eyes. Stupid, stupid! Everything that had echoed dully in your brain crashed together in a cacophonous tragedy as you came to your senses. And by the sounds of it, Vash found himself in the same predicament. Audible thrashes and shrill “eeks!” were the only way you could tell he still remained in the room. He quieted down a bit as he rummaged through his bag—for a shirt you predicted. There was no doubt in your mind he was sober from your shared mental breakdown, albeit one was far more vocal than the other. You felt ashamed in your actions, and were no better than a peeping Tom!

You scrambled to make an apology, something to atone for the embarrassing act you just committed against him. But before you could, he beat you to it.

“…I’m sorry you had to see that, I really am, it’s not a pretty sight and I’m sorry you-”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking at all,” You exhaled. “I was thinking about how pretty you were… in the…moonlight?”

It came out as a doubting question but the words you spoke couldn’t be any truer. Vash was extremely beautiful, far more than your words could ever tell.

…Meanwhile, he looked at you like you had just shot him in the foot at point blank range. His cheeks were a hazy flush and his eyes darted around your face crazily, looking at every single feature sitting upon it. You slightly shrunk under his intense surveying, a bit confused on what he was doing.

“Sooo, are you gonna say som-”

“YOU LOOK PRETTY TOO!” He jumped to cut you off and leaned forward a bit to accentuate his profession. The blush sitting on his cheeks flowed bashfully to his neck and chest—at least what wasn’t covered by his loose shirt— as he shifted nervously. “In the moonlight as well, I mean.” A cheeky smirk appeared after he spoke, as if he hadn’t fumbled as hard as you did.

What a tease.

“Is that why you were looking at me so hard? You liked what you saw as much as I did, hm?” You leaned forward a bit, mirroring his anxious actions.

“What’s not to like?” Vash’s smirk turned into a charming smile, “Women all across town would want a chance to get with the Humanoid Typhoon, you know!”

“Oh I know alright.” You roll your eyes in exasperation, “So what about me, I got a chance with Vash the Stampede?”

His face blew up in a furious blush again at your teasing tone, you got him. A snickered laugh bubbled from your chest as he tried to come up with something else so that he could win.

You can believe you were nervous to bunk with him for the night, did you seriously forget who he is? The laughter smothered all the attempts he made to make a jab at you, but you couldn’t focus on them anyway. Everything in your mind at the moment was swarming with him instead. Of his genuine laugh, of his jokes, of his lanky arms throwing themselves around you to give you a hug. Memories, thoughts, and words unspoken you always wanted to say just made you giggle all the more at him for just being. With all your heart, you wished he would have the same thoughts as you at least once.

And yet, if you weren’t so oblivious maybe you would’ve seen it.

Another lovestruck fool looking longingly at the one they fell head over heels for.

#vash x reader #trigun x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun 1998 #trigun stampede #vash x you #vash the stampede #trigun

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nobody-for-sure · 2 years

Text

Language Barrier

If you didn’t pay attention to the interludes, they’re going to start tying in now. Also, if you have yet to read the story’s important notes (I don’t know why you wouldn’t have, since I’ve already asked on a previous chapter as well as the masterlist), it’s never too late to correct a mistake. It’s been semi-updated recently as well, so another quick reread/skim is never a bad idea.

Chapter 14

(~3.2k words, see chapter list here)

You didn't expect this.

Maybe you should have. But by all accounts, your life has always been... pretty average. Things happened. People came and went. You were there, but not really. Sometimes, you seemed to be an outside observer of your own life, just watching things happen with no control over them. Sometimes, nothing felt right. You were the sort of person who wouldn't mind getting isekai'd, because you didn't have a ton of attachments to your world... at least, that's what you always told yourself.

So then why are you crying?

You lift a hand to your tear-stained cheek as your companions snooze away nearby. The sky is getting lighter, but the sun has not yet broken over the horizon as you rise from your borrowed sleeping bag and take a few steps away from the camp. You take a seat on the riverbank, watching the water lap gently against the shore.

There's no 'if's, 'and's, or 'but's about it: you're homesick.

You had a dream again. Like before, you can't remember all of it, but you cling to fragments, trying to piece them together.

You were back home again... though the word 'home' feels funny on your tongue, as if it's not quite right. You remember a bunch of people: friends and loved ones of yours. You can't recall if they were gathered for a specific event or purpose, or if they were just all there by coincidence because that's how dreams work. Nor can you recollect what anyone said to you, which leaves you the most ill at ease, because you have a feeling it was something important.

Even Autumn was there. You don't know what Autumn looks like in real life, but your dream had assigned them a random figure, and you knew instinctively who they were. Who else could it be? They gave you a sad smile from across the room as the others were talking, and it haunts you. Why are you sad, my friend? Why am I?

Answers. Liyue will have answers. It has to.

Your first encounter with slimes happens around mid-morning. You haven't quite reached the Stone Gate outpost when you pass a rich vein of Cor Lapis, and out pop several small geo slimes.

They're cute, just as you expected. Not quite as cute as the official art made them out to be, but very small and squishy. Very... squeezable.

You want to hug one.

Luck must be on your side, because the slimes start bouncing directly toward you. Your companions ready their weapons, and Noelle moves to shield you. She succeeds in blocking most of them, but one of them slips past her and bumps against your leg.

"Ouch!" It wasn't a hard bump by any means, but even without the thick armor of a larger geo slime, the little rock-horns on its head are sharp enough to scrape your leg. The slime seems a little surprised as well, and nudges against your leg more gently. Aw... that's kind of sweet.

"Xaue kigxm, kxg aue egqu?!" Amber exclaims frantically.

You imagine she's concerned for your welfare, so you wave your hand dismissively. A little scratch is far from what it takes to do you in; but your companions are here to take their escort mission seriously. Fischl twirls her bow with dramatic flair and gestures to Oz. "Ujrgbfu, rxalta enz ymtoc jtg kmtarv kyknz yjtkol uzto rgtxkzk yyktqxgj!"

"Es ymtoc kxg ejgkxrg jkrxalta, toks tokragxl," he responds, swooping up next to Noelle as the outrider and the princess take aim from a short distance. Meanwhile, Bennett rushes over to you, preparing to defend you from the slime currently rubbing against you.

You wave your hands frantically at him. "Wait, no! I think they're friendly!"

He pauses, giving you a searching look. "You... ztuj ztgc us uz qigzzg?" he says, sounding unsure of himself. The others stop to glance at you as well. In response, you lean down to pet the slime. It's got a bit of a dusty texture, like a box that's been in the attic too long, but it's not wholly unpleasant. It's also really...

......really......?

For some reason, your mind feels hazy as you search for the right words. It's...?

You slump to the ground, causing shouts of alarm from your companions. Simultaneously, the slime puffs up, expanding to more than half the width of the walkway and gaining a rocky plate of armor. Amber and Fischl unleash a volley of arrows, and Oz starts firing off bolts of lightning. With a sweep of her claymore, Noelle bats what's left of the smaller slimes into the stream nearby and rushes back to you, inserting herself firmly between you and the still-growing slime. "Kygkrv kbgkr yonz uz ya, xaue kigxm!" Bennett also steps up, his eyes narrowed in fiery determination as his sword starts to glow with pyro.

You clutch your head, too dazed to stop them. What the fuck just happened?

With difficulty, you try to focus as your companions whack away at the giant slime. You're tired... no, not tired. You're weak, like all the strength has left your body. But how? And why? Are you such a weak god that you're so easily bested by a slime of all things?

Nope, you're pretty sure this is the clincher. No way are you a god. Goodbye, cruel world. I hardly knew you.

The fight is over almost as soon as it began. You don't know who deals the final blow (or shot). One second the slime is there, getting battered from all sides; the next, it's gone. You can feel the difference, though. It's like a change in the air. A sudden wave of energy washes over you, and the fog in your head clears abruptly as your strength returns to you.

You feel... fine. Better, in fact, if that's even possible. But your confusion doubles now that you can think clearly again. Did that slime absorb your energy somehow? Did you just absorb energy from a slime?? ...Come to think of it, the game had those elemental particle things... have you charged up your (nonexistent) elemental burst??? Can you-

"Xaue kigxm!" The collective voices of your companions snap you out of your thoughts. Now that the danger has passed, everyone crowds around you anxiously.

"Sorry- I'm fine, thank you... sorry," you repeat. You're not quite sure what you're apologizing for - you didn't manifest the slimes; but you seem to be to blame for making the battle of greater difficulty than necessary, so it feels like the appropriate thing to do.

Bennett translates while rapidly shaking his head, as if disagreeing. "No 'sorry'!" he says when he finishes, obviously trying to use words you'll understand. "'Thank you'... yes; no 'sorry'!" It's awkward phrasing, reminiscent of Razor, but it gets the message across. You give him a small smile.

Amber puts a comforting hand on your shoulder while Noelle kneels and starts digging around in her bag. "Yzgnz znmox, yzo zut xaue zragl, xaue kigxm! Ztuj exxuc zauhg g mtonz, krrkut rroc kbgn aue jknizgv va to ut ksoz!" the outrider says cheerfully. The maid pulls a cloth and a roll of bandages out of her pack and starts dabbing at your leg. Now that your initial shock has worn off, you realize that the slime's horns gouged you a little deeper than you originally thought. You wince as she gently fishes a pebble out of the shallow wound.

All in all, not a great start to your day... and your disappointment that you won't be gaining a slime companion is immeasurable. But as Noelle sets the cloth down and begins diligently wrapping your leg, you realize something good did come of the situation.

The cloth is stained a vibrant gold.

Your mood picks up considerably when you reach Dihua Marsh, and Wangshu Inn looms in the distance. With your destination in sight, the party is rejuvenated, and everyone picks up the pace. Truthfully, it's bigger and even more beautiful than you imagined, especially with the afternoon light hitting it just right - but that's not why you're excited, of course.

"Eh knz egc," Amber ventures as you cross the bridge, "yonz yo erhghuxv g jgh ksoz uz qyg, zah... uj etg lu aue qgkvy kykaeor? O zyap cutq tgoxksay."

"I cutq g zoh," Bennett replies proudly. "Knz yjgj kbgn tkkh mtonigkz me. You xkbkt cutq zgnc kxaue mtoum uz xkztauitk mtoxaj tg kxaztkbjg!" He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "Na, zgnz jogy... uy xgl yzo erzyus ioygh tuozgyxkbtui jtg rgtuozgazoy llazy zauhg ykosktk, uy so zut kxay cun ralkya zgnz rroc kh."

Fischl gives a closed-mouth laugh that reminds you of an anime villainess, minus the ill intentions. "Xgkl zut, es rgeur yzikphay! Enz jkskkzyk toyykftoxv yo jkztogawig nzoc etgs ykamtuz to xkjxu uz erxkvuxv kzgiotassui nzoc rrg xkn jkzubkj yxkcurrul."

"Knz zygr quuh to xkn kzoxubgl ykoxky ztjoj zkm jkzgrytgxz, uy kny jkojazy kzoaw eryauoigxub uz kky zo uz yzo tuoyaritui."

"Fu!"

Noelle clears her throat. "Errgazig, o uyrg cutq kzoaw g zoh. O ztjrauc um uy xgl yg uz rrgi lrkyes ztkarl, zah o tgi kzgmobgt zyus ytuozgyxkbtui."

"Qtgnz yyktjuum!" Amber breathes a sigh of relief. "O ztjoj cutq zgnc kc kxkc mtoum uz uj xul g kzatos kxknz."

As she speaks, a man hurries down the steps of the inn. Spotting your group, he rushes over, planting himself in front of you in a deep bow. "Xy wy ro varal ax uf ry veai ugruwuvs, veai uryzyh ugovk. Uzub ruuf kryxguscu eai hro veai huquuxwu wuxipago, hro ub hpeab uf huwoups hraiuf uvewouq ax vujja vea upfqel wugyzvuw aw xolx eai xlkyq xwuv iwou kryveh veai wpuzovx."

Blankly, you look to your companions, waiting for one of them to handle it. Fischl steps forward. "Veai ixypoxyswal wy xwaq huxoyguvsso," she says, and is it your imagination, or does she sound slightly less confident than normal? "Vyulx ugovk wxsuggo ilx- veai weavuruk vujja, hro hpealw unyp ax ukpehry ry o pouq hro o wxlkyr xwuv uvajuf iulx hro vyulx ueryxuv ueryxrag vyulx rayxoryvkuvus- iurveam."

"Erkiot ktuj, toks tokragxl," Oz murmurs, and she puffs out her chest a bit, looking pleased.

"Ja uwveag, ja uwveag!" The man rises, sweeping a hand toward the building. "Vuzuxolb vyulx ugovk wuvywuh, jy xy wy rylxyb vea vubas ax uhyzavs, ub ppolw. Uwoups, bappo uq ax balw eai ax ulx vaxozupu." It would seem you're being offered a formal invitation. Fischl's gaze flickers to you, and you dip your head cautiously. She gives him a dignified nod, and Noelle waves you forward when he turns and starts walking. The others fall into step behind you.

When you get to the wooden platform, the man heads left toward the elevator. You pause. It took you forever to get the commissions to fix the stairs, so you're damn proud of them. But if no one's going to use them, what was even the point?

So be it. You'll use them, if no one else will.

You extend a finger in that direction and tip your head to your companions, indicating you want to go that way. They look at each other, shrug, and nod amicably. Everyone changes their course to see the fruits of your (aka the traveler's) labor; but as you reach the bottom step, you notice Bennett hanging back warily. "What is it?"

"Sa... ykxknz no mtorogx tu ktu kjoy," he says, licking his lips nervously. "Zo yquur jtoq lu- I zyap qtonz- zo znmos kh xkzzkh xul me uz kqgz knz xuzgbkrk yonz ksoz, gngn. Sorry." He points apologetically to himself, and then in the direction the other man disappeared. You're confused. He wants to take the elevator? Everyone else looks like they understand his request immediately, though, so you give him a nod.

Fischl falls back as well. "To zgnz kygi, enz toyykftoxv rrgny etgvsuiig aue to knz ztkbk lu... skng... tkkykxulta ykitgzysaixoi." She puts a hand on his shoulder and gives you a wave as the two of them round the corner, disappearing from sight.

Well... alright then. Their actions strike you as a bit strange without further context, but you assume they have their reasons. Even if they're just tired from walking the whole day, that's good enough for you.

You turn back around. Noelle gives you a supportive smile, and Amber gestures eagerly, already climbing the steps. The three of you set a leisurely pace, stopping to lean against the railing and admire the new view every time you round a corner. Mondstadt is no less scenic, but it’s full of rolling hills; Wangshu Inn is perfectly positioned between the flat marsh and the plains, providing a rare and spectacular view of nearly all of Liyue. Amber is enthralled by the floating Statue of the Seven in the distance, pointing and gawking in excitement. Meanwhile, Noelle seems content to simply enjoy the way the sunlight glints off the water as the first autumn leaves flutter past.

...Autumn.

You shake your head. Think about something else. Think about... think about Xiao. The thought spurs you on. Wangshu Inn might be a convenient place to spend the night, but you didn't come all this way to not see the yaksha. In fact, you'd been privately hoping to stop here for that very reason. With renewed vigor, you urge your companions onward, taking the steps two at a time in an effort to leave your less-than-pleasant thoughts behind you.

In no time at all, you reach the landing, and you round the corner without stopping, ignoring the gaping passerby and giving a wave to an unfazed Verr Goldet as you continue up to the second balcony. Your excitement grows with every step. If your friendship level theory is correct - as it seems to be - you should be able to understand Xiao better than anyone else you've encountered so far.

...In fact, being who he was, he'd probably know you were coming, wouldn't he? Do you dare to hope that he might be... waiting for you? You put on a burst of speed, stumbling up the last couple steps. And, sure enough, standing by the overlook waiting for you is-

-no one. But up on the roof-

...also no one.

In your dreams, a voice taunts in your head.

This is just not your day.

You purse your lips, reluctant to give up so quickly. There's still one option. Should I call him?

You don't get time to think about it. Amber and Noelle finish pounding up the last flight of stairs behind you, looking mildly winded from the sudden exertion. "Xaue kigxm-" Noelle starts, but doesn't get any further before Oz swoops over the balcony.

"Toks tokragxl ygn ztky ks uz sxulto aue zgnz knz xuzgbkrk yo qiazy," he says calmly. "Kny yegy, jtg o kzuaw, 'yg jkzikvdk'."

This draws a sigh from both of them. Amber brings a dismayed hand to her forehead. "Qig, kc kxkc zyap zauhg kaj xul mtonzksuy kqor yonz, ztkxkc kc? Zo kxay ztjoj kqgz mtur xul yon jgh qiar uz qioq to kitu kn jkzgxgvky suxl xoknz kigxm."

"Xuuv zzkttkh," Noelle says sympathetically. "Rro zkr knz xkvkkqtto cutq yzgnc jktkvvgn, aue kkxnz um qikni tu sknz." Amber nods and takes your hand. With some disappointment (which you do your best to hide), you allow her to guide you back down the stairs at a brisk pace, with Oz leading the way. This time, you cut straight through the inn and onto the opposite side of the landing, where the elevator and the teleport waypoint are.

Where the elevator should be, anyway.

Amber lets go of your hand and leans over the railing. "Kxg aue yeam znmoxrg?!" she shouts down.

You hear Bennett's awkward laughter as you peer over behind her, and you're alarmed by what you see. The elevator is stalled, dangling halfway between the two platforms. Even further down, the man who greeted you appears to be frantically checking over some sort of pulley system. Immediately, your eyes dart to the rigging at the top. Fortunately, nothing looks like it's about to snap... for now.

"Ztuj exxuc, yonz yo zyap xknzutg egj to knz klor lu tg xkxaztkbjg!" Bennett calls back up. He gives you both a thumbs up through the open doorway, though you notice he's otherwise pressed snuggly into a corner, looking cheerful as ever but not taking any chances. Fischl has made herself comfortable leaning against one of the walls, seeming almost bored with the whole affair. Justifiable, since you can only imagine how many times she's been through something like this. Oz glides back down to join his mistress.

"Ykrrkut mtozzkm knz xkvkkqtto," Amber responds. "So gttum qikni knz mtommox - o qtonz o kky mtonzksuy jkmmgty to kxknz." She gestures for you to stand back near the waypoint before shimmying up a post and beginning to fiddle with something out of your range of sight.

You do as she says, absently running your fingers over the waypoint as you look on uselessly. It's yet another instance where you can do nothing, and you're reminded again of just how much dead weight you are. It's beyond frustrating, and all the more so now that your golden blood has been revealed to you. What you thought would be a blessing is now seeming like a curse in disguise. Being a weak human mistaken for a god is one thing, but being a weak god? Why can't you do anything? Ugh, at least if these teleport points actually worked like they were supposed to, you wouldn't have to bother people with the mundane task of escorting you, if nothing else!

......Actually, wait a minute.

Do the waypoints work like in the game? When you cool your head a bit, you suddenly realize you haven't tried. Excluding the statue at Windrise, you haven't been this near to any until now - at least that you were paying attention to at the time.

You don't have the map, of course, but maybe you can just... think really hard about where you want to go? It's worth a shot. Best case scenario, you wind up exactly where you want to go. Worst case, it only works for the traveler (or as a game mechanic) and nothing happens. Either way, there's no harm in trying. If it works, you can just come right back and inform everyone.

You reach up to press your hand against the floating device. It's higher off the ground than it looked in the game but still easily within reach. The bluish material has an odd feel to it, one you're not quite sure how to describe. Magical, perhaps. The waypoint pulses with energy, and you feel confident it has to do something.

I want to go to Liyue Harbor, you think to yourself, trying to picture it in your mind's eye.

Nothing happens, but you're undeterred. Maybe you need to say it out loud. "Take me to Liyue Harbor," you say firmly, visualizing the overlook by the waypoint just outside the city.

...Still nothing.

You let your hand slide to the bottom in disappointment. This really isn't your day. First the ominous dreams... then I touch a slime and end up nearly fainting for some reason... and after that, I want to see Xiao, but he's not here, of course... and now all of this. What does it take for something to go my way, for once?!

And then everything goes white.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #genshin noelle #genshin amber #genshin fischl #genshin bennett #lbbynfs

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