#intensity and violence. that is not to be ignored. but there are some comparisons that we can make and exile doesnt strike me as a bad one)

[urmomsstuntdouble]

not to be political but I've seen a lot of people saying that those who call Israel an apartheid don't know what they're talking about and um. As someone who has studied South African apartheid as well as grown up in a Jewish community. This claim has more merit than you think

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

hi to chrom hater anon i'm a professional chrom enjoyer

if you get deranged enough about awakening i think chrom is a very well done character :) he's ignorant but well meaning which meshes in interesting ways. he's not overtly prejudiced to the plegians he knows personally but still *generally* prejudiced because of his upbringing.

additionally in discussions of the ylisse-plegia war he tends to focus on how ylisse came away from it because that state of ylisse is what shaped his formative childhood years (seen particularly in his feelings about emmeryn's early years as exalt). this is UNDERSTANDABLE but still an extremely DEEPLY FLAWED and naive stance when doing politics on a larger scale, which chrom is incredibly ill-prepared for. it's a very childish view of a large scale conflict.

chrom's propensity for violence is a trait that actually deeply fascinates me. he has intense admiration for emmeryn's desire for peace yet he has a very short temper in tense situations (seen in basically all of chrom's interactions with gangrel), and he tends to lash out easily at anyone he views as an enemy. he admires peace but sees no other means to achieve it than violence. isn't that interesting. the implications here. like, he's the inheritor of the falchion, he's the only son in his family, in all likelihood it was expected that HE would take the throne and continue his father's war, but he was so young when the exalt passed that the crown went to emmeryn instead.

it really seems like emmeryn intentionally kept her siblings away from politics, which results in BOTH of them being naive in vastly different ways, with the expectation that she would always shoulder the burden of the crown yet left all the bigger a void when she died.

mind, intentionally being raised to behave this way isn't an excuse either. it's ultimately still something chrom, as an adult, SHOULD examine critically. this is, in fact, a character flaw, and i think its great.

you can then of course do nice little compare and contrast at the shitty dads, i.e. chrom's dad vs validar. robin's first act as an awakened god is murdering validar. robin became the monster everyone saw them as, the one their father thinks they were born to be. it's a neat lil nature vs nurture comparison if you really get into the depths of grima-ology (hi grima ✌️ mutuals).

to dig more into points the chrom hater anon makes.

"chrom is transphobic for killing excellus" do you hear yourself. excellus was an enemy commander. chrom has no personal grievances against the commanders other than they are part of the army with the known intent to raze ylisse.

SAME WITH ROBIN BURNING DOWN THE BOATS. THEY ARE AT WAR. IF ROBIN DIDNT DO THAT THEY'D ALL GET KILLED. they would have to fight the valm forces ON FOOT and BE KILLED VIOLENTLY because they are vastly outnumbered. it would be weird if he WASN'T at least happy about this.

he could stand to be regretful about the massive loss of human life but honestly hashtag robin warcrimes W.

"chrom makes sure to only recruit white ylisseans" i think this is just dev colorism actually. like you know how robin's dad (who is evil) is brown, but robin (who is good) is white? and how that makes no sense and robin should logically also be brown? i dont think chrom would've turned down if like, mustafa joined him. it is simply that intsys was still in their racism era (which is, tbh, only really ended with engage, like, cmon, look at literally all of FE, this isn't a chrom flaw, it's a FE being racist flaw.)

same with the sexism things actually FE is just homophobic and sexist a lot so all the characters are also by extension. this is called doylist analysis

Chrom tells Aversa "One person's life means nothing in the shadow of millions" Chrom is a hypocrite i hope this helps. additionally what aversa is doing is "help the dark god literally causing the apocalypse rn" whereas the sacrifice/save robin choice is "doom people in some hypothetical far off future" which is FAR less personal than "all of humanity RIGHT NOW".

TLDR: the real chrom enjoyers know about his character flaws and love him anyway because it's nice flavor to chew on

also never insult my beautiful daughter lucina ever again. she is deeply compelling even if she is narratively underutilized. anyone who calls themself a chrom fan and hates lucina is a faker and will not survive the winter.

also learn the difference between flaws of the story's writing and flaws of the character otherwise everybody in awakening is sexist.

anon you should read chrom/grima fanfiction unironically we fucking love tearing this dude to shreds for his flaws. this has all been a ploy to say that. chrom is naive and selfish and hypocritical and i love him very much he is my wif e :)

.

[snenbubs]

Okay please don't overwork yourself and please go eat a drink something

But idk if you're request are open if not than I'm sorry

But mammon with a reader who likes their personal space and doesn't talk much and if you do get to close in their personal space they'll wack you with their tail/or claws for the people with oc without tail's

Couldn't find a cute cat picture so you're getting whatever tf this is

HELLOOOO!!! IM BAACK my reqs are always open 4 u dont chu worry

ive just been really lazy and have been rlly slow responding to everything 💀 ITS CHRISTMAS BREAK WHEEEY

ANYWAYS HERE WE GO; HB MAMMON X GN!READER WHO LIKES PERSONAL SPACE

these are hcs BUT LIKE borderline oneshot cuz i got excited writing it

- Well this is awkward, cuz he is the EXACT opposite of personal space. He is a clingy, touchy, grabby man who does not give two shits whether he knows the person or not.

- Four hands amplify this nature too, which makes his overbearing presence so much worse.

- Additionally, he does not understand the words "Hey, could you back up please?" The people around him are far too afraid to upset him to voice their upset, and if they ever did, its highly likely he'd ignore them.

- SO, it's a lucky thing that words had never been your forte. Rather, you'd fall onto the trusted habit of batting and whipping your tail/clawing or scratching at anyone who disregarded your boundries.

- It was an automatic response, too. Often done without thinking when you registered something making you uncomfortable.

- Honestly, it was a recipe for disaster: putting a touchy-feely man who did not like to be disrespected in a room with you, who liked personal space and would take to mild violence if pushed.

- And thats how the two of you met! How sweet!

- It was honestly shocking he even paid any attention to you in the first place. The working environment at Mammon's factories was intense, loud and demanded a vast attention span.

- You on the other hand, were quiet. You got to your work with skill and ease without paying much mind to those around you. In comparison to the large factory, you were but a small detail.

- So, it was odd and understandably alarming when two arms slunk around your body, yanking you away from your intricate work and toward a large figure that yabbed on about something most likely important.

- "Hey, mate, are you the one operating the---"

- By the time you had processed who you had just hit/scratched, it was far too late.

- Oh and he was SO pissed off. Especially because you, a lowly demon, had landed a hit on he, the great Mammon, Prince of Greed in public.

- You don't even know how you lived that experience.

- BUT GOING ONWARD.

- In the early days of this blossoming relationship I don't think Mammon would care too much about how you felt toward personal space. He just does what he wants, when he wants. Which includes grabbing and hugging you.

- BUT, he gets fed up of constantly having bruises and scratches littering his body from where you would claw and bat yourself against him.

- It actually got so concerning that Asmodeus asked him if you were hitting him with malicious intent.

- He had no idea how to say that, no, you weren't trying to hurt him. He just didn't care about your personal space and you reacted accordingly.

- This would go on for a good while, I think. He is so used to being able to just grab at people that he doesn't think anything of it, even if you bat and hiss at him vicously.

- Eventually though, after a good while of injuries and some conversations about boundries and just why you were the way you were, he does back off a little.

- Ultimately, though, I think Mammon is the kind of person to like and desire physical contact within a relationship of any kind. It's one of his love languages, and he especially wishes to apply it to the one he really adores.

- So there's a sort of agreement between the two of you that such contact is fine, so long as he isn't sudden and invasive with his advances.

- Another thing which divides your personalities however is that you are a quiet soul, whereas he could talk for DAYS and DAYS.

- Seriously, if he isn't shut up then he won't stop talking.

- You've always been a listener, and have enjoyed hearing those around you speak of the things that interest and excite them. This compliments Mammon greatly, for he just LOVES talking about himself, and what he's into, and whats happening in his life.

- This will probably end with you in his lap (after a LOT of coaxing) as he runs his hand through your hair and rambles about anything on his mind.

- He's so cute i lobe him

ps. apologies if this is short !! BUT AHAHA I LOVE THE PICTURES YOU SEND THEY ARE ALWAYS SO FUNNY

[yanderes-galore]

Ooh how would Yandere romantic Allura treat a altean reader vs galra reader ? Or would she treat them the exact same way ? 👽

I'll explore this concept a bit.

Yandere! Allura with Altean! Darling vs Galran! Darling

Discussion/Comparison Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Delusional behavior, Manipulation, Dubious/Forced relationship, Slight angst, Kidnapping, Brainwashing, Implied torture, Racism against Galrans I guess (?), Stockholm syndrome.

I feel it makes sense that an Altean! Darling would be treated differently than a Galran! Darling.

Allura would feel more at home with an Altean darling.

You two understand your culture and she can take comfort in knowing that she has another Altean to look after and care for.

Allura would feel conflicted with a Galran darling.

After all, your race of people are known for being bloodthirsty conquerors and traitors.

Allura's obsession over a Galran darling would be more delusional than with an Altean darling.

She holds resentment towards Galrans which would cause her obsession to feel more forced.

With an Altean darling, Allura tries to make her obsession slower.

It feels more natural to her.

With a Galran darling it's like Allura is trying to indoctrinate you onto her side.

With a Galran darling Allura wants to believe you're different from the rest of your race.

Regardless on if you actually are or not.

I'd say the Galran obsession is more intense than the Altean one.

With an Altean darling, Allura tries to court you by the usual Altean means.

She'd take her time with you when trying to make a relationship with you.

Surely you're charmed by the idea of the Altean Princess choosing you as an Atlean partner, no?

With an Altean darling Allura would take her time, putting little thoughts in your head and making you confide in her.

She's playful and full of smiles.

You two share similar ideals and lament the same issues.

Allura would admit that she feels comforted by a fellow Altean as her darling.

You almost have no idea she's setting you up to be the perfect Altean partner.

Not until she finally admits her intentions and coaxes you into a relationship.

When it comes to a Galran darling she's more... aggressive in her obsession.

She doesn't bother using the gentle and caring tactic of slowly planning manipulation.

She'd kidnap you.

That's not all, either!

Allura is under the belief that you have the potential to be different than the rest.

Despite what her Paladins say, despite what Conran says, she uses violence and punishment to make you hers.

It starts as her just venting her frustrations about your people verbally and maybe a bit physically.

Although once she's empty of her resentment and anger, she tries to brainwash you.

The others think what she's doing is cruel, even if you are Galran!

Allura doesn't care, she claims she knows what she's doing.

Allura would force some sort of stockholm syndrome onto a Galran darling.

She's brainwashing you to betray her people and love her.

After all... if she says you're different, you will be different.

A Galran darling makes Allura reveal a darker side while an Altean darling keeps Allura in her usual happy and playful behavior.

If you are an actually good Galran then she may shift her behavior over to her kinder persona at first after some distrust until you betray her or something.

In the end she plans to have formed you into a proper partner for her, Galran or not.

Besides that... when you are "properly dating" the yandere behavior is the same.

She's overprotective and obsessive yet super affectionate.

If others tell her what she's doing is wrong, she ignores them.

If you're threatened she's prepared to defend you.

The two species will be treated the same during a relationship, but before that it's much different.

If I make a general concept for her I'll elaborate more on her basic yandere behavior, this was just to decribe how she'd feel about these two darlings.

Allura is dedicated to her darling.

Altean or Galran... she'll promise to be the best partner for you.

Even after a bit of manipulation.

[eternalssonder]

paragon  [preview]

 | multi part story | nonhuman!reader, demon!ateez, poly!ateez |  supernatural!au, royalty!au, soulmate!au (slight) war!au,  | word count tbd

 (Started 29.12.2022 - posted 01/14/2023 - finished xx.xx.xxxx)

⁀➷  the one where the world feels like it’s ending.

Warning/notes: violence, some platonic soulmates here in there, swearing, slow burn, ongoing war, depictions of slaughtering people, eating their souls, simple things like that you know? A lil yandare behavior from time to time, but nothing too intense on this particular note. A little bit of cannibalism, not a lot, I don’t think, but it will be mentioned here and there.

masterlist [will come back to link

preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

War will always be one of the greatest tragedies in history, but one most won’t ever directly experience. It’s effects will forever be everlasting, but most won’t know how things once were. Those who survive the war will always morn for how things were before and those who come after will never understand the grief the rest feel.

Ignorance can truly be bliss.

The funny thing about you in this scenario is that you lie in the middle. War was always a threat for as long as you could remember the threats of war were always looming around. Your father being gone for more than half of your life before things went into full swing. The constant whispers of war plagued your childhood. You’d always been assured that you’d be safe though. Your little town too far north to be affected by anything.

Oh, how wrong they were.

By the time your twelfth winter came around those whispers were no longer whispers, those little whispers that once roam around this small village seemed like a dream in comparison to the reality.

The south fell quicker than anyone could have ever imagined, the east following suit much sooner than anyone would have liked. The west and the north were the only ones left standing, much of that was because of the fairies being able to placate with the demons.

Placating with the enemy wasn’t the same as stopping them however, as slowed as the demons were now. Everyone knew that eventually death would be knocking on their doors, whether it be by the demons consuming their souls or the complete lack of resources.

People were dying, too many were dying because of the supply chain from the west being too clogged up now. The north could hardly sustain the people that were remaining with the little resources that were left. The winters were far too cold to sustain any crops of greenery or meat, most would freeze before they came to fruition or they’d never even had a chance in the first place.

Your little town was once to remarkable. A winter wonderland, the winters were long, and the other seasons were barely there in comparison, but everyone lived well. The town once had children littering the streets, singing the songs of the north with the people enjoying themselves.

It was a carefree time in comparison to now.

The roads were empty, the few homes that remained were stacked with more people that could possibly fit. It was a necessity; most homes were torn down to make more wood.

Too many froze to death before that decision was made.

If the cold wouldn’t take them, then the famine would eventually.

The mass grave that stood ten miles down the road always served as reminder that that was the best decision that could be made at the time.

It was how you lost your father four winters ago.

This place that was once home was now a shell of what it was once was.

Though your father was hardly ever been with you physically, the knowledge of him no longer being here was something you could hardly deal with for the longest of times.

It was why you choose to leave the north during your seventeenth winter, a whisper here and there to the fairies and they were more than happy to help their lady make it west. You hadn’t excepted the west to be any better than the north, and you were correct.

It was fine however, in the north you were an orphan, a lady, someone people expected too much of and you were unable to provide any of that.

In the west you were just an apprentice baker. Every day you’d get up before the sun even rose, headed down the roads and made as much bread as you possible could. Sometimes it would be an extra special day and there’d be enough resources to make a cake.

There was something so truly special about the way a child’s face would light up upon seeing their first cake.

As much as the north wasn’t your home, the west wasn’t quite your home either. You’d miss the winters greatly, the warmth the west brought felt wonderful, two winters in the west was all you needed before you whispering to the fairies again to bring you north.

What you came back to was not what you were expecting. The devastation the small town had gone through was irreparable. It was overwhelming frankly, the guilt that came over you was something you were still trying to cope with three winters later. While the west wasn’t perfect nor was it in great condition, people weren’t freezing to death.

Mass graves weren’t common.

The population of this town had depleted more than sixty percent.

So many people you had grown up with were gone.

Your home was gone.

Your parents were gone.

There was nothing in the north left for you.

It felt as if the next day would very well be your last.

[ftmtftm]

hello! Anon who sent prev answered ask. In hindsight that was p weird and definitely tinged with some internal bias. Sorry. I was moreso trying to ask how queer people get into this kind of exclusionsticky mindset that’s also tinged with “my marginalization is Thee most important and entitles me to violence to secure my safety at the expense of others”. How transmascs and fems get to “trans[group I’m not in] oppress me” the pipeline and all that, since you’ve spoken on transmed-esque radicalization in the past. However the fact that I turned from gender-based examples to Zionism betrays some inner antisemitism I need to take notice of. My bad

Thank you anon, I appreciate the apology and I do see your intentions now! I'm sorry it took me a couple of hours to answer this follow up.

Admittedly, my guard has been up more lately as I recently I got another round of pretty intense, nasty, TERF anons because a nasty reblog of one of my posts got picked up again - So an amount of my initial response was me being on guard and betraying some of my own personal standards for wanting to assume good intent. I'm sorry for jumping the gun and I'm glad the ask wasn't explicitly ill-intended.

I do see the comparison you were attempting to make in regards to radicalization now, so I'll break down why it didn't necessarily read in the way you intended.

The biggest thing set off my bait alarm was actually the power imbalance of the comparisons in your ask. Comparing transmisogynist trans men (a decently sized, but comparatively small, unorganized, broad, and personally motivated category of individuals) to TERFs and Zionists (two large, more organized, specific, and politically motivated extremist ideologies/movements) is really imbalanced and it's a type of imbalance often invoked by people intentionally trying to get a raise out of someone - Hence why it came across as bait.

A couple other more minor things in the ask also contributed, like just general phrasing, but I do think that's less grounded and more indicative of recent biases on my end, rather than a failure to communicate on your end honestly. As previously stated, my alarm system is very sensitive at the moment and I didn't give your ask as much intense thought as I usually would and I do apologize again for that!

(...like the asks I still have sitting in my askbox because I want to give them my full attention - If you've sent me a detailed ask about theory between just before the New Year and now I promise I'm not ignoring you!! I just want to actually sit down and answer your asks robustly)

To actually get to the meat of your actual ask though: I do think that on a base level you're absolutely correct in identifying that the motivation is similar. It is all very "My marginalization entitles me to violence to secure my own safety" and that kind of thinking can lead to even further radicalization that turns into more serious, explicit political extremism if left unchecked.

I'm, honestly, not very familiar with the specific ways trans men are radicalized into explicitly transmisogynist beliefs though - at least not in ways that aren't directly connected to transmedicalism. I can absolutely make some educated guesses, but it's not something I'd feel incredibly confident talking about at length as it's not really something I have a lot of experience with - both personally and academically.

Broadly speaking though, in terms of that kind of radicalization as a whole, there's a lot of insecurity and there's a lot of projection. I think that's one of the roots of most bigotry. Fear and insecurity and lack of stability/support. It's my general opinion that when you become so afraid for your own social position that you trample on the positions others to try at secure your own, it's a sign that whatever system is failing you is also failing them. You wouldn't feel so threatened if you didn't feel like there was a social status you could "fall lower" into. I think that's a large, subconscious motivator in most bigotry.

There's definitely more to the specifics that I feel less confident commenting on just because of my own lack of direct knowledge and experience, but that's my two cents generally speaking!

[zangyo]

@assortedsnacks​ said (inbox):

' just a moment, you there. ' shuwen approaches, hands stuffed into his sleeves and his expression indecipherable, overall demeanor still far from unkind. ' my students, some i've gotten to know for only a little, and some i've known for a long time. you've been here for quite a while already, and i still haven't learned your name. '  he pauses then fondly smiles. ' you are, regardless, a good listener, and perhaps an even better martial artist. yet i can still tell that your spirit is far more tempered and gentle than mine, despite having such a strong body. good men often meet poor ends when they pick up wushu as a discipline. such is why i must ask, are you fine with this? is your intermingling with violence wicked, righteous, or is it simply what it is? '  at his own queries, he can only produce a small, sardonic smirk. ' ... on second thought, there's no need to answer me, so long as you understand the answer within your own heart. in the first place, it's unusual for myself to pry into my students' business, but not to invite them to tea. would you like to have some? if you aren't too busy, we can talk. ' 

     NANAMI HAD BEEN UNWRAPPING the bandage that had protected his knuckles when Li Shuwen approached. The training hadn’t been too intense, but the old man sure knew how to push his students. This was what he had desired, though, and one of the reasons that he had continued to come here as well. Slipping things into his bag, he paused when he heard the other’s voice call out to him, a brow rising just a little question. Oh, yes… He had never introduced himself, had he? What poor manners on his end. However, then again, it was not as if Li Shuwen had asked for his name either. Nanami had just been the stoic, quiet, mysterious student and nothing more. ❝Nanami Kento. Forgive me for only telling you my name now.❞ He bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect ingrained into him at a young age, but the respect he felt towards the elder was genuine more than mechanical. Falling quiet for a moment, he listened to what was said, debating what kind of response he could grant the other. ‘Good men often meet poor ends when they pick up wushu as a discipline.’

     There was irony in that statement.

     Nanami had been close to death’s door two times in his life; one when he was younger, just barely managing to flee from the curse that had killed his friend, and another time right outside of a school due to the quick evolution of another. Glancing away, he continued to put his things into his bag, yet his silence did not mean he was ignoring the old martial artist. If anything, he was merely mulling over their words a little longer. ❝That is…❞ He paused, tight lipped once more now that he was given the option to not answer at all. Nanami couldn’t say that his training was for righteous reasons. Some may see it as such, sure. After all, he was saving lives each time he put his own on the line. It was just that calling it ‘righteous’ sounded so…arrogant. He knew someone who saw what sorcerers did as righteous in the past too…but then that mindset changed after the failure of an important mission. Nanami never asked details. There wasn’t a need to do so when one look at his comrades had said enough.

     Snapping out of his thoughts, he cleared his throat realizing that Li Shuwen was still awaiting his answer. ❝Of course. I was just going to back to my apartment, so I have plenty time to talk if you don’t mind me imposing a little longer.❞ Maybe he could learn more about his teacher as well. If Nanami was unknown to him, then naturally they would be the same to Nanami. He had seen old sorcerers still able to fight as if they were young, moving at speeds that would leave one with mouth agape. It was just that the other man was, for all intent and purposes, normal in comparison. He was old, though moved with speed that took many a student off guard, Nanami included.

[zinzinina]

Hi hi Sam!! 💕 Could I please send a ✨ for ‘Hierarchy of Needs’ (one of my favorite fics, btw)? I am thinking about the part where reader first sees Rex on the Resolute, and she’s senses his energy signature. I’d just love to know what he was thinking about! 💖

Hi Jess! Thank you so much, my love! I had a lot of fun with your suggestion x

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader Words: 950 Rating: Mature (Non-explicit) Warnings: Canon-typical mention of violence and war

This is a reworking of a scene from this fic, told from Rex’s POV.

from a certain point of view ask game ✨

Rex’s mind is so deep into strategy he’s barely aware of the quiet murmuring around the edges of the holodisplay from the figures waiting for the briefing to begin. He needs to mobilise a small detachment without attracting attention from the main deluge of fire; he’s already considering which troopers are most likely to manage to make planetfall without coming to any harm.

But then he hears the familiar, smooth lilt of Skywalker’s voice behind him.

“…is Captain Rex, of the 501st.”

He turns at the sound of his name, and there you are.

Rex isn’t flustered easily. He can’t afford it. It doesn’t help anybody in the heat of battle when the commanding officer is left without a plan, regardless of what happens. His men look to him in the midst of death and dismemberment and horrors beyond anything they could have imagined sitting through simulations in training. It’s his job to stay calm, even if his stomach is turning with the sights and smells of warfare.

Which makes the sheer intensity of his body’s response to the sight of you even more alarming.

His heart jolts like he’s been thrown out of a moving transport without warning. Every thought of flight paths and ballistic vertices leaves him, his head completely empty except for this: what are you doing out here? You’re only supposed to be providing ground support for relief missions; evacuating civilians, accompanying official convoys safely to their destinations. This is an active combat zone. It isn’t safe. But as he watches you tilt your head, listening intently to whatever Skywalker’s saying now, he’s reminded that nowhere in the galaxy is safe anymore. Not for soldiers, not for civilians, and not for Jedi.

Your eyes turn up and meet his, and he’s caught for the first time in your direct gaze. His breath leaves him. Maker, you’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than he remembers, in the way you’d gently crossed your arms over your chest during the last holoconference, your fingers tapping lightly against your own forearm. He could nearly buckle under the weight of this; how close you are, close enough to smell the faint sweetness of incense on your robes and hair. He feels like a cadet again; as though he’s experiencing the same embarrassed, slightly dizzy groundlessness of falling from a height during a training exercise and being teased by his older brothers. He can nearly hear the grin in Cody’s voice ringing in his ears: “Get up, vod’ika! It’s not naptime now!”

Your lips part slightly as you gaze across into his face, and he feels the prickle of heat under the high neck of his blacks as this thought intrudes above all others: your bottom lip looks as though it would be so soft under the gentle press of his thumb… or his teeth.

It only takes him a second to shuffle through this storm of emotion and shove it all down — hard. He knows he was pretty quick, but as your brows draw slightly together in confusion, he worries for a moment he wasn’t quick enough. With a focus bordering on frantic, he draws up thoughts of his DC-17s; mentally disassembling them, cleaning out the interior components, checking over the carbines. He realises that his distracted nod of acknowledgement to you is gruff, bordering almost on surliness, but it’s better than the alternative.

He ignores Skywalker’s sideways glance of amusement, maintaining his concentration as the briefing commences. Even as he directs every thread of his attention to avoiding them, the thoughts still turn over in the hidden quiet of the underneath-part of his mind. At one point, your hand comes up unconsciously to touch your chin, your index finger brushing the side of your mouth. And if he weren’t already watching you, he’d have missed it; but there it is, and you glance at him again for just a second, your eyes darting nervously away.

He’s seen this before. With the soft-spoken archivist on Coruscant. With the funny, glamorous translator aide on that mission to Malastare. Glittering, confident women in bars during nights off, and shy, sweet women on remote farming worlds. He’s not unaware of the presence he carries, and he’s had enough women stroking their own lips while looking at him to know what it means. In the same moment that the realisation swells with joy in his chest, it breaks his fucking heart.

Rex has never allowed himself to want anything too deeply. Some of his brothers relish in their shore leave; glutting themselves on civilian food, drinking and dancing until they’re nearly too exhausted to stumble back to the barracks. He can’t begrudge them this. Not when any night could be their last. He’s never shared in these activities with quite the same level of enthusiasm though, finding it foolish, close to dangerous to want something that he couldn’t have. Every fresh-cooked cantina meal only made the ration packs the next morning taste that much blander by comparison.

So instead he’d managed to almost completely convince himself that everything he wanted, he already had. To serve the Republic with dignity and pride. To protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves. To be a brave, strong leader. A good brother. A good soldier.

But looking at you as you nervously readjust the wide sleeves of your robes, your eyelashes flicking sideways as you glance at the tally marks on his thighplate, he realises how very wrong he was. There was never any danger in food or spirits, cards or dancing. The danger was here all along, right where he’d stumble blindly into it. And now that he’s faced with the one thing so far removed from the realm of possibility as to be almost physically painful, he’s never wanted anything so badly in his entire life.

[bokugaos]

Resistance

pairing: bokuto x f!reader

length: 1.4k

summary: Bokuto is only hot and bothered when he gets to leave a very physical mark on you yet again.

tw — noncon, violence, nipple piercings, gore, serial killer / slasher!bokuto

You try everything you can to avoid thinking back to the night he first took you away, but you can’t help it. Sometimes it just worms its way into your mind and you are back there: exhausted, frail and yielding to Bokuto’s inhuman strength. 

Of course, you didn’t know him at all at the time. He was but a monster who had murdered your friends and saved you for last, apparently to subject you to unique torture.

You were so tired from running that you couldn’t fight or resist him in any way when he began tearing your clothes off of your shivering body. You didn’t think much of it either, at least until his touch expressed more intrigue than ferocity. At first you’d thought he was just trying to get a hold of you and ended up ripping your clothes in the process, but it seemed he wanted you bare for a very sinister reason.

The realization that his intentions were somehow more devious than you’d initially thought filled you with enough vigor to start putting up a fight. Even that brief burst of energy was snuffed out, however, when he easily wrestled you to the ground. Once you were out of strength for good, he sat up and pulled you into his lap, his pair of gold eyes lighting up with curiosity.

The season here sees both temperature extremes, the days are incredibly hot while nights chill you to the bone. You couldn’t help your body’s reaction to the whistling wind, your nipples perking up and hardening even without any stimulation. Bokuto had been particularly interested in your breasts, his cold rough fingers pinching around your sensitive peaks and pulling, squeezing, almost hard enough to draw blood. Eventually he moved on to explore your body in worse ways, but his attention always seemed to stray back to your breasts.

Bokuto liked the sight of your nipples, stiff and standing at attention, so much that he decided he wants to see them like that all the time. After capturing you that night in the woods and savagely fucking you into the dirt, he took you back ‘home’ with him. There, no one came for you. No one heard the awful screams he pulled from your throat when he pierced your nipples with what you hoped was a relatively clean needle. If not, at least death by means other than his hatchet or chainsaw would quickly come to free you from him.

Those hopes were dashed when days, weeks, months passed and you are still relatively healthy. You hate how well your body is taking to its new piercings, like it is wholeheartedly accepting Bokuto’s oppressive presence in your life. While you don’t have the physical strength to fight him, you’ve at least hoped to maintain the mental fortitude necessary to resist him, no matter what he put you through.

You resist him in small ways, like ignoring him when he calls for you or making it harder for him to get between your legs. Bokuto seems to like you to some degree since he is so reluctant to punish you, but you’ve found the end of his patience. If he could just get you to behave, you’d be able to see what a good man he could be.

One evening, you are very begrudgingly straddling his pelvis and riding him. His eyes are focused very intently on your breasts and the way they bounce with each move. By now your piercings are fully healed, and he loves nothing more than rolling the delicate beads between the pads of his fingers. You bite your lip when he grabs them both at the same time. You hate these piercings for a number of reasons, and one of them is that they made every touch that much more intense.

You spit at him to get his attention, somehow finding the courage to be earnest as you feels your body edge to another unwilling orgasm. Bokuto looks up at you but continues thumbing your nipples, enraptured by the way you tremble in response. Feeling like your point isn’t getting across satisfactorily, you reiterate, “You can’t keep me here forever.”

That seems to get a reaction out of him. His back is straight as he lowers his hands from you, slow and calculated. You stop moving to try to get a better look at his eyes but his grip goes up to your waist, keeping you bouncing on his thick cock. When you take the hint to continue riding him without his guidance, you make the mistake of not following where his hands go after he remove them from your body a second time. “I won’t tell anyone. Please... just let me go.”

You are ready to throw out another scathing remark when a painful sensation behind you made you bite your tongue. Your head whips around and you almost wish you haven’t looked. Unbeknownst to you, Bokuto has picked up his upholstered hatchet from the side of the bed and carved a single precise slice into the back of your ankle. You howl in pain and try to twist your body off of his, but his free arm wraps around your waist and holds you still. You can do little more than cry and convulse when he reaches over to slice your other ankle, just for good measure.

Blood bubbles out of the wounds and spills over your dry skin, staining the ratty old sheets beneath you. You fall forward, taking the lapel of his shirt between your teeth and beating your fists uselessly against his chest to cope with the pain. He looks down at you for a moment before tossing his hatchet to the floor in favor of petting the back of your head. “You’re going to be here with me for a very long time. You might as well try to enjoy it.”

Somehow it takes no time at all for your wails to die down into quiet whimpers and for your tear ducts to apparently run dry. You hate to admit it, but maybe there wisas something comforting about the way Bokuto strokes your hair. And as you lean into him, you almost swear his typically hard, gruff body actually feels soft warm enough to be loving. His heart is beating faster than normal and there is a lively flush to his skin. Before you let your mind start accepting that he is the only company you have for miles, however, you try to pinpoint the reason for this sudden change. You remember seeing him like this exactly once before. The night he pierced you, he had a similar air of liveliness to him. The warm comfort that had been getting ready to settle in your stomach was forced out by a feeling of sickness. Bokuto is only getting hot and bothered because he gets to leave a very physical mark on you yet again.

What has calmed down to a throbbing pain abruptly spiked up in intensity when he wraps his arms around your waist and begins thrusting up into you all over again. His harsh movements jostle your mangled legs and make you cry out, desperately clinging to him and digging your nails into his shirt just so you can cope with the excruciating experience. Whether he’s simply decided he wants to finish or the opportunity to mutilate you is just that exciting for him, you don’t know and you don’t ask. You simply continue grinding your teeth against his shirt as he finishes himself off inside of you.

Bokuto continues thrusting even after he comes, though not as fast. But he is forceful enough to punch up against your cervix each time, a dull ache in comparison to the agony that afflicted your ankles. When he finally settles, you think you’ll surely die of blood loss. You hope for it at least, but it is never so easy.

You can tell by the affectionate hand petting your cheek that you will be nursed back to health again, just like the first time, all so he can find another way to ruin you.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 10

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  Neither you nor Din are handling your capture well.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,978

Warnings: captured reader, surprises, plot plot plot, violence, Din goes a bit dark side

Author Note: So sorry this is coming out late 😳 Between making YouTube videos and New Years everything got hectic, but here it is. I attempted writing from Din’s perspective this time so bear with me cuz he’s having a rough time😬 

Links to Part 1 and Part 9 and Part 11

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

When you wake up, you’re lying facedown on a pallet in a dark and cold room. You groan, head pounding, and try to sit up, but your weak muscles protest, resulting in you rolling awkwardly onto your backside. Squinting up at the ceiling, you notice it is made of rock, as is the wall to the right of you.

Your head lolls to the left, granting you a lovely view of a red laser gate trapping you inside this strange cell. The faint glow it gives off produces barely enough light to reveal more rocky walls curving off to the side. You’re in a cave, you realize, processing everything at the rate of a snail’s pace, or some kind of underground tunnel.

At first you can’t remember how you ended up here, or what happened to you, but then everything hits you all at once.

“Finally,” a voice declares from beyond your cell. The purple twi’lek from earlier steps out of the shadows and leers at you from the other side of the laser gate. “I was beginning to think I misjudged the dosage.”

With monumental effort, you push yourself onto your knees, dizziness slamming into your skull with the brutal intensity of a hammer, and reach a hand out to summon your bow.

Nothing happens.

“What—why isn’t it—” The words are thick and clumsy, slurring together as if your tongue has forgotten how to form them individually. Closing your eyes to stop the room from spinning, you feel nothing but unbalanced and vulnerable. You try to speak again, taking a steadying breath. “What is wrong with me?”

“You’ve been collared. All the pets in the Moff’s collection wear one,” she answers, as casually as if she’s discussing the weather outside. “Keeps you from using your abilities and causing trouble.”

She has no reason to lie, but you still gasp when your trembling hand brushes against the metal band encircling your neck. Panicking, you pull on it without thinking, only for a responding jolt of electricity to shock your fingertips and fry every nerve ending in your body. You cry out at the pain, but the sound is drowned out by the twi’lek’s screech-like laughter.

“That never gets old,” she says, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye.

“Death,” you mutter hoarsely, closing your eyes again and breathing shallowly through your mouth. “Death is going to slaughter all of you.”

“Oh, pet, you just don’t get it, do you?“ Her voice is practically dripping with condescension as she coos at you, “The Moff wants you here because you’re precious to Death.”

Against your better judgement, you open your eyes to look at her, confused by the wide smile you see stretching across her face. At headquarters, Gideon and your superiors had seemed far more concerned about the fact you had a second soulmate rather than who it was you matched with. If Gideon is punishing you for being Din’s soulmate (a fate which you had no control over whatsoever), you can’t help thinking he must be insane or have a legitimate desire to have his body dismembered piece by bloody piece. There is no denying that Din will do anything he can to get you back. Even break the rules of the universe.

You freeze.

Kriff. The puzzle pieces begin fitting together and you loathe the hideous picture they form.

“You are Death’s weakness. And anyone with a weakness can be taken advantage of if the right strings are pulled,” the twi’lek says, confirming your fears. She then winks at you coyly. “Congratulations, pet, you’ve just become Moff Gideon’s favorite puppet.”

You barely refrain from shouting curses at her as she walks away, leaving you alone with your chaotic thoughts.

Lying back down on the pallet, you press your hands over your eyes, tuning out the coldness of your surroundings and seeking out the warmth of your soulmate bond. You call out Din’s name within your mind, a repetitive chant increasing in urgency as you pray against all odds he hears you. But as the silence continues and you start to feel a phantom sensation of pain emanating from your throat, as if you have actually scraped it raw by how loudly you call, your heart breaks as it accepts the bitter truth: he can’t hear you.

You touch the collar again, every internal instinct you have screaming it is to blame for the invisible wall blocking you from reaching out to Din. How long have you been collared? How much time has passed since you were drugged at headquarters? Regardless, you don’t have any doubt Din is losing his mind right now. And his temper.

A few tears leak from the corners of your eyes, but you do not sob or sniffle. Gideon and his minions will not have the satisfaction of hearing you crying. Din wouldn’t like it either, you think, remembering his reaction on the Razor Crest when he’d found you panicking. He had held your hand, offering you any support he could to end your sorrows. Even offering to kill for you.

It’s funny, though, because few people seem to realize the feeling is mutual. You would do anything in the galaxy to spare Din a second’s worth of pain. If Gideon is under the impression you’ll just silently let him use you in order to exploit Din to do his bidding, then he’s going to be thoroughly pissed to learn just how stubborn you can be. Taking away your Cupid abilities might have weakened you, but you’re not going to be a helpless kriffing damsel.

Although, you correct yourself ruefully as you lower your hands and look around your confines, you might currently be a little helpless. You take in the high ceiling above you, thinking you’ll be able to stand at full height once the effects of the drug wear off and still not be able to touch the top. It scares you to think how far your cell has been dug beneath the surface of whichever planet Gideon has imprisoned you on. The twi’lek had referenced he had a collection of others hidden away in these tunnels. How many have died here with no one up above being any the wiser?

Pushing the morbid thoughts aside, your gaze drifts along the walls, noting the varying shapes and sizes of the rocks. They are all different shades of brown except for one odd green one in the corner. You look at the laser gate, knowing it can’t be shut off unless you have access to the generator which severely limits your plans of escaping since—

Your thoughts screech to a halt as your eyes snap back to the corner.

A rock does not have a little green body clothed in brown wool or long pointed ears. Nor does it peer back at you with large, innocent eyes as it clutches a piece of dirty black fabric with tiny three-fingered hands. And it certainly doesn’t waddle up to you and coo curiously in your stunned face.

You rub at your eyes, half-convinced you have now begun hallucinating things.

Nope. That little green face is still there when you open them again. It’s official, your brain isn’t screwing with you.

Your cellmate is a kriffing baby.

~~

Decades ago Din was approached by a man who begged to be killed. He had been separated from his soulmate against his will and compared the pain he felt to the sensation of a thousand needles injecting acid straight into his bloodstream. However, Din had sensed the man’s lifetime was far from over and ignored his pleas.

Thinking about that incident now, Din has determined the man’s comparison to be a gross understatement. Being forcefully separated from his angel is as if an invisible force is holding him underwater, wishing him to drown. His brain is on the verge of exploding, torn between thoughts of bloodthirsty savagery and the overwhelming agony of not being able to breathe without her in his sight. Every hour they remain apart threatens to rob him of his sanity and transform his outward appearance from man to monster.

 Already he has experienced a lapse in control of his powers the moment he’d first felt their bond had been blocked. He’d been forced to teleport away from Kuiil’s farm, lest he risk reaping the Ugnaught’s soul before its destined time, and unleashed his wrath upon an uninhabitable Outer Rim planet. His powers had pierced its core in the same effortless manner a vibroblade cuts through flesh, killing its essence instantaneously. In a matter of minutes, the planet would be nothing more than scattered dust particles floating through the vastness of space, though he did not linger to witness the destruction.

Instead, he returned to his ship and sent a holographic message to his most trusted reapers, assigning them the critical task of searching the galaxy for one specific target: Valin Hess. While they hunted down the bastard, he dedicated his time to searching for his better half. He extended his powers to each individual planet and moon in every region, tendrils of darkness looking through homes and alleyways for even the faintest trace of her vibrant aura amongst trillions of souls.

Now, ten hours later, he is interrupted by the chime of an incoming call.

“Come to Trask,” Bo-Katan says bluntly, not one to waste crucial time with excess words. “I've got him ready for you.”

“Good,” Din says. His own voice sounds strange even to himself. As he reaches for his helmet, his reflection in its visor reveals his eyes have changed from brown to solid black, his true form beginning to break through the human facade he cloaks himself in. 

He had been warned in the past of the grievous consequences that will ripple across the galaxy should he ever lose control of his internal darkness. But if unleashing that force brings him even one step closer to reuniting with his angel?

He won’t even hesitate a heartbeat.

~~

You are quick to learn three important facts about your cellmate.

First and foremost, the baby adores attention. Within minutes of discovering him, he climbs into your lap and snuggles against your stomach, making a strange purring sound of happiness. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest when you notice the tiny collar around his neck, identical to yours. Why would Gideon be keeping a child in his collection? Any potential answer that comes to mind makes you feel sick.

“You’re safe with me,” you tell him gently, stroking your fingertips over his wrinkly brow and the sparse amount of fuzzy hair on top of his head. He coos as if he understands you, ears perking up. “We’ll get through this together.”

Secondly, he is extremely possessive of his belongings. You learn this the hard way when you reach for the torn piece of black fabric he has gripped in his hands, intending to get a closer look at it because it doesn’t resemble a usual child’s blanket, but instead more so a torn bit of clothing—only for surprisingly sharp teeth to nip at your fingers.

You pull your hand away and hold it up, showing you mean no harm. “I’m sorry, bud. I should have asked permission first.”

Brown eyes stare back at you for a silent beat, painfully reminding you so much of Din you almost can’t bear to look at them, before the baby bobs his head with a low grunt. You chuckle at his cuteness. Although you hate the unfairness of the situation, you’re grateful for his presence as it stops you from worrying incessantly about your disconnected bond. As long as you wear the collar, you remind yourself, there isn’t anything you can do to reach Din. So you’ll just have to continue being patient and live with the uncomfortable hollow sensation until you can determine the best opportunity of freeing yourself.

And the baby now, too, you can’t help but silently add, looking down at him.

It is impossible for you within your cell to tell how much time passes as there are not any nearby clocks or windows providing a glimpse of the sky. As a Cupid, nourishment isn’t a necessity like it is for mortals, so you’re unsurprised no one has come by to offer you food or water. However, the same apparently can’t be said for the baby whose stomach growls unexpectedly, startling you both with its loudness.

He looks down at himself then at the laser gate. His ears twitch, as if he hears something, before he lets out a quiet whine. You open your mouth, wanting to console him, only for him to push himself out of your lap and waddle quicker than you anticipate towards the corner you initially spotted him in.

Thirdly, he is a master escape artist.

“What—” you start to ask, only for your jaw to drop when he squeezes himself through a small hole you failed to notice earlier, no bigger in diameter than a womp rat’s body, and disappears from view.

You stare at the corner, a million questions swirling inside your brain, each one focused on the baby. Where the kriff did he go? What is on the other side of the wall? Will he be okay?

The laser gate abruptly vanishes, plunging your cell into total darkness. You immediately press your back against the wall, blinking rapidly to try to adjust your vision, but you can’t even see your own hands in front of you. There is a distinct clicking sound of a button being pressed and then a glowing black blade lights up mere inches away from the side of your face, nearly singing your hair. You’re unable to stop yourself from crying out in terror, flinching backwards and hitting your head hard enough you see stars.

Over the pounding of your heartbeat and the eerie humming of the weapon next to your ear, you hear a familiar chuckle.

You freeze. Dank farrik.

“Believe it or not,” Gideon begins, looming ominously in the darkness. “I remember our first meeting when you awoke after your transformation. You weren’t special by any means, not one detail even remotely suggesting you would become such an invaluable asset to my plans. I’ve come to realize your unmemorable appearance was the universe’s attempt of concealing you from me. It might have worked, too, except the universe is a hopeless romantic, unable to help itself from matching soulmates. How else can it be explained why you were chosen out of all potential Cupids to monitor Death each month, thus increasing your affections for each other, if not for fate’s divine intervention?”

Gideon lifts the blade away from your personal space and holds it in front of him, outlining his features enough you’re able to see him peering down at you, expression blank and giving you no hints as to what is going on inside his head right now. “Your capture has driven Death into quite a frenzy. His influence can be felt in each region of space. Even his reapers have become involved.”

He pauses, as if he’s expecting a response from you, but you’re unable to look away from the laser sword in his grip. You wonder if all seraphs possess them, such as all Cupids wield bows, or if he had it specially crafted for his own pleasure. Regardless, the negative energy it radiates is strong enough that you feel as if dozens of spiders are crawling over every inch of your entire body.

“Your soulmate has no notion of my involvement, but even if it were revealed to him you are being kept here I thoroughly warded this location to hide myself from those intending me harm. Your presence will continue to remain invisible to his powers as long as he desires bloodshed. So I suggest you better make yourself comfortable because this cell shall be your home for the foreseeable future.”

Swallowing against your suddenly dry throat, you ask, “Do you honestly think keeping me hostage will grant you control over him?”

Gideon inclines his head. “I think you underestimate his willingness to guarantee your safety. He’ll commit any sin imaginable if it means not one hair harmed on your head.”

“Death won’t listen to a single word unless he has proof I’m okay,” you say, the beginnings of a risky plan forming in your head. “Which means you have to let me talk to him.”

“I’m not the fool you think I am,” he replies, shaking his head in a reproachful manner, as if you are no older than a child. But your hopes rise when you notice there is the smallest glimmer of intrigue in his eyes.

You position yourself on your knees, eyes wide and brimming with tears, clasping your hands together as you start to beg. “Please, sir, the separation is tearing me apart. I can’t handle the pain anymore. I must see him. I’ll convince Death to kill whoever in the galaxy you want. He’ll do it without question if I’m the one who asks.”

Gideon considers you wordlessly for a long moment. The hum of the weapon and your heavy, anxious breathing are the only audible sounds. And in that moment you pray harder than you’ve ever prayed in your entire lifetime.

Let this work. Please, please let this work.

You know the exact second he gives in to your begging because a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, teeth bared almost predatorily.

“Very well then. Tomorrow I will make preparations for you to contact Death. Think carefully until then about what you will say in order to convince him to be agreeable with me. It would be a shame to use this ,” his sword hovers in front of your face once more, the tip nearly touching your chin, “to cut off your tongue should you fail or if you attempt to be clever and alert him of your whereabouts.”

Step one complete, you think to yourself after he has departed and the laser gate returns. Wiping away the lingering tears, you begin to plan step two.

Getting this kriffing collar off your neck.

~~

Valin Hess is every bit the smug bastard Din predicted him to be. Despite the binders securing his wrists to a pipe high above his head and his bleeding split lip, the high-ranking Cupid still has enough arrogance to smirk at Din when he arrives at the abandoned warehouse Bo-Katan chose as the setting for the interrogation.

“Tell me where she is,” Din demands through clenched teeth as he marches up to the pompous prick without sparing a glance towards the red-haired reaper silently leaning against the nearby wall. He knows Bo-Katan is smart enough not to intervene.

“Just who would you be referring to?” Hess blinks innocently back at him.

His nose crumples beneath the knuckles of Din’s fist, blood bursting from his nostrils and staining Din’s gloves crimson.

“I am not known for my patience,” Din says. “Your suffering will only worsen the longer you keep me from my soulmate. I know you are aware of where she’s being kept. So tell. Me. Now.”

Untamed fury burns hotly beneath his skin, threatening to incinerate his mortal guise and his armor as if both were made of paper. It takes all of Din’s self-control not to give into the wicked desire to break each one of the Cupid’s bones, to peel off his skin layer by layer, to twist and carve and scar his body until there is not a single identifiable feature left.

“I haven’t the faintest notion nor care where she wound up.” Hess’ naturally gruff voice has changed to a nasally sounding one due to his broken nose. If the response hadn’t further stirred Din’s annoyance, he might have smirked beneath his helmet instead of snarled. “As soon as that twi’lek dragged her unconscious body out of headquarters, she became a nonentity to me.”

Din places his gloved hands over the other immortal’s shoulders, resting them there long enough Hess starts to twitch, unable to hide his increasing panic, and then Din squeezes until both clavicles shatter at the same time with a resounding crack . Hess tosses his head back, howling like a wounded animal, but Din is not yet finished.

He slams his fists against Hess’ torso, growling loud enough to be heard over the merciless snapping of each individual rib, “Give me a name.”

When the only answer he receives is agonized screaming, Din decides another approach is necessary to produce the desired results. He rips his gloves off, this time unable to resist smirking when Hess immediately starts to choke on his tongue and blood as he shakes his head emphatically, eyes blown wide with fear.

Din’s fingers reach out towards the Cupid’s temples, the veins in his hands ominously black in color.

“Xi’an!” Hess shouts, blood spraying from his mouth and painting Din’s visor. He doesn’t even notice, already planning the hunt for his next target. “The twi’lek that took your whore is named Xi’an!”

Din stills. “My... whore?”

Every lightbulb within the warehouse shatters, glass and sparks raining down upon them and the concrete floor. Hess starts babbling, a litany of apologetic words, but Din is beyond reasoning. Something sinister and feral has awakened within him, intertwining itself with his powers and enhancing their strength beyond what he ever imagined possible.

Din has reaped countless souls over the span of his existence. He has mastered the precise method of coaxing a soul out of a corpse, persuading them gently with his powers. Once the essence is held within his grip, the universe judges it, deciding either eternal damnation or a glorious afterlife. Most people tend to think Din is who chooses their fates, one of the many reasons why they fear him, but he has never been powerful enough to personally influence anyone’s destiny.

Until now.

He lowers one hand to hover over the center of Hess’ sternum, sensing the soul living deep within. It is a little battered from Din’s assault, but otherwise it resembles every other soul he’s ever reaped: a glowing, fidgety, amorphous bundle of energy.

Usually, he’d patiently guide the soul towards the corpse’s esophagus. But Hess is undeserving of such kindness. Din’s powers sink into the essence like sharpened claws, yanking it into Hess’ throat. The soul puts up a valiant fight, recognizing its host is still alive and thus should not be prematurely abandoned. But Din will not yield to its struggles, his powers manifesting dark tendrils to wrap around it in an unbreakable hold.

“You’re killing him!” Din hears someone call out over the harsh choking sounds Hess is making. Their voice is familiar and feminine sounding. “It’s not his time, you have to stop!”

Stop? No. He can’t. Not now when he’s on the verge of fulfilling the oath he’d sworn to his angel.

With one forceful twist of his wrist, the soul is helplessly torn from Hess’ bloodstained mouth and ensnared by Din’s awaiting hand. Without the essence of life, the light fades from the Cupid’s eyes and his broken body hangs limply from the binders.

The afterlife was never going to be an option as the soul’s final destination. However, Din has decided damnation is also too kind a place for vermin like Hess. There must be a third fate, he thinks.

Din squeezes his fist tighter and tighter, generating a cacophony of anguished shrieks from the soul. Ignoring the near-deafening cries, he gradually increases the pressure until at last it lets out one final high-pitched wail before disintegrating into dust that forms an unsuspecting pile on the floor when he uncurls his fingers.

A sharp gasp has Din turning, forgetting he has a witness present, and he finds Bo-Katan staring back at him with blatant horror. “What have you done?”

“What was necessary.”

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[hitory--chan]

Day 5: Queen of the Garden

(Ranked T)

Title: In my withered roses you lay resting

Around the forest there were always legends of all kinds, about fantastic creatures and horrifying monsters beyond human imagination, about nymphs, fairies, werewolves and giant snakes that would devastate the entire town in a few minutes if they wanted to; they were just legends, stories to amaze or scare whoever would listen to them, hypnotizing the virgin ear that listened to them with their magnetism, leading their victim to demand more, driving them mad in the search to satisfy that need.

But there was one in particular, the biggest, the most fantastic, the most sublime and the most terrifying no one ever dared to tell, the one whose existence was only known to the oldest of the town who defended tooth and nail its veracity, but nevertheless only tell each other, remembering and crying the intense agony that each word conveyed.

The legend of Hinata, the queen of the garden in the heart of the forest, and Sasuke, the infamous king who without any army was able to penetrate the invulnerable barriers that protected the queen.

The king who never returned.

“My King!” One of her courtesans shouted. "Please, I beg you to reconsider!"

He ignored her, tightening the draws of his armor as the guards placed the shoulder pads and handed him his helmet, which he took.

It was still dark, the moonlight hanging over the entire sleeping kingdom as he prepared to leave.

"My lord, he turned, now listening to his first officer, Kakashi, who was speaking to him "Are you sure this is a good idea? Going into the forest alone?"

"It's not something I didn't do before, Kakashi, you should know" he replied without much interest as he grasped the reins of Onyx, the majestic black horse that had accompanied him for years.

"I understand, but it's not the same, your majesty, it never got beyond the Stone River" the man said, his voice so slow and dull as if it was something he was trained to say, but Sasuke knew him better than many as to know that there was concern hidden behind those dead tones “It is a great risk to take to find a woman that we do not even know exists”

"People are dying Kakashi, of hunger, of disease ..." He inclined his head a little towards his first officer, not enough to really see him “If that woman, that… witch exists, it will be our chance to solve all the evils that afflict us, if I find her, then I save my people”

“And if you do not find her, my lord?”

“Then we will have to take more drastic actions, actions that I don't think we're ready for right now, Kakashi”

The silence that followed told Sasuke that the man knew what he was referring to.

They had recently fought a war against a rival kingdom that wanted to take over all his lands. They attacked in the middle of the night, cowardly seeking to have the tactical advantage darkness gave them without expecting the surprise that they were ready to fight back with much more violence than would be expected of a small kingdom that barely prospered in comparison to others. Many lives were lost on both sides, but his army had kept the slightest advantage over the invaders and captured the main officers of the intruders, executing him right on the battlefield as he had ordered them to do, closing any openings to negotiation the rival might propose.

They rose above them and conquered, drove the remaining invaders from their lands and proclaimed their victory, but they had not come out without casualties, as happened in any other war.

Their crops were burned and their women desecrated. Bodies of infants who had adventured out of their hiding spots now laying among the corpses of their fathers and men who sacrificed their lives in the name of the king's sovereignty, waiting to be buried or burned while their mothers, wives, and brothers mourned their losses.

Soon after came the diseases, plagues so violent that even the best physicians in the kingdom had succumbed to permanent contact with the infected and were now lying in beds, signaling with weak voices to proceed to their charges.

The only hope was the woman who dwelt in the depths of the forest, a queen in her own right, the oracle told him, whose miraculous fingers brought life to everything she touched. A witch, servant of the devil, counterattacked the priest, who would only bring bliss before plunging them further into misery.

A queen, a witch, Sasuke didn't care, he only wanted her hands to heal his people, determined to cut them off if necessary to save the few that were left.

Then Sasuke mounted his horse and reached out his hand, taking the sword that Kakashi had prepared for him and fastening it to his waist strap, where it would remain with him throughout his journey.

"Itachi will be in charge while I'm gone" he decreed, looking at his court, who looked at him in surprise and disbelief.

“My king, my lord!” The woman spoke again “His majesty is very ill for this task, I fear that his condition is too delicate to carry the role, your highness!”

“My brother already ruled once in a worse state than the one he currently is in while waiting for me to grow up to cede the throne, he certainly can do it a bit more while I'm gone”

“But sir…!”

"In case his condition worsens ..." he interrupted, with a tone of voice as icy as the look he gave the woman "in case he´s not an act to continue, then Kakashi will make all the decisions in my absence and my brother's disability”

Several indignant murmurs were heard from the other members of the court, annoyed by the possibility of a military man would rule them, but with the same look he gave the insolent woman, he quieted them all.

"Kakashi" he called and the man walked with him towards the limits of the kingdom that served as the border of the forest, trotting slowly as his first officer followed him with great ease "I trust you to keep everyone safe, especially my brother” he said, stopping his steed and staring at the man.

"My king's orders are my perpetual la," Kakashi recited, quoting the motto of imperial strength as he brought his right hand to his heart and bowed to him.

Sasuke nodded, but before starting his horse again, he spoke for the last time.

- And Kakashi ... execute her

Kakashi bowed again and Sasuke pulled the reins of his horse to start running, going into the forest when the first rays of dawn hit the ground, and knowing his order would be carried out without hesitation.

-----------------------------------

Inside the forest the thick trees hid any trace of the sun, giving the illusion that it was still night even though Sasuke knew it must be after eight.

Still he didn't back down, mentally reciting the directions the oracle had given him to find the mysterious woman.

“Once crossed the river of stone, the road will split for you, one more dangerous the other, competing for the new prey that appears before them. Be guided by the horrendous noises that make the bones of the strongest of men tremble, by the trail of perdition from which your eyes will not be able to turn away, from the putrid stench of those who defied the sanctity of the earth who stepped on impure feet.

Along the way you will find death's favorite resting place. Do not drink or eat the natural delicacies that will be shown for you, instead you must use your senses, facing the great beast that will attack from the shadows.

If the combat is satisfactory, then the beast will show its respects by leading you to its queen, otherwise, there will be the place of your last rest"

Naturally, oracles liked to be cryptic with their words to the point of making them indecipherable, but the more than a century old woman who had served three generations of her family had put those fanfare behind her, preferring to be as clear as possible in her revelations than risk a bad future for the kingdom because of misunderstandings out of her tongue.

Upon reaching the Stone River, he took a moment to observe the waters peacefully.

That river had been named this way not only because of the rock formation that simulated a natural bridge in the center of that great pool, just covering its surface with a thin layer of water that made it extremely slippery, but also because of the rock at its bottom, arranged in the shape of spikes so sharp that even the slightest fall on them could cause fatal injuries to the unfortunate victim.

He allowed Onyx to drink some of the water before venturing across the stone bridge.

His horse, fearless just like his owner, also had some afraid. On rare occasions he’d tried to cross that path through the waters with the equine, but his partner had acquired a phobia at that particular step when, being very young, he slipped on the stone and it was almost impossible for him to get back on his feet, almost falling to the bottom of the river when with desperate movements he slid to one side before finally reaching the bank of the river and climbing, being completely exhausted on the grass, all under the frightened gaze of his owner who had remained on dry land while his horse struggled.

He remembers that, after that, he had remained with Onyx there for longer than he ever was in that place, being found by the royal guard and brought to the castle only to remain expectant all night at the possibility of having to sacrifice the animal.

Now, Onyx was a majestic and imposing stallion with more history than half his stablemates, but from time to time he would turn back into a fearful foal when they were near that place.

However, while he normally wouldn't push him any further than he considered Onyx could take, this time around he couldn't afford to be understandable to his horse or to be left without a mount for the rest of the way.

“Come on boy!” He encouraged him, shaking the reins several times and smiling as Onyx, refusing at first, approached the rock and put his front legs on it, whinnying loudly as he took small terrified steps.

Even in the slippery material, the new horseshoes he had had his horse put on were being especially helpful in preventing the equine's legs from slipping over the rock even when Onyx's steps were somewhat shaky, leading the horse to gain a little confidence with every step until he was finally on the other side.

“Well done, Onyx!” He congratulated the horse, patting and stroking his neck before pulling out an apple, which he happily accepted.

He wasted no time and continued with the journey, reaching the place where the road divided in three.

At first glance they did not seem dangerous at all, leading him to wonder if the oracle had been wrong with her interpretation or if he had deviated from the correct path himself, but the sudden sound of something sliding on the ground caught his attention and put his whole body on guard again, waiting for any sign of attack.

Instead what he received was the cawing of birds, crows, he recognized, noises of something sliding and the screeching of bats that flew directly to his face at that moment, causing Onyx to panic and stand up on his two hind legs, almost making Sasuke to fall.

When he regained his balance and Onyx was back on all fours, Sasuke looked at the central path, remembering what the oracle had said and thinking that this should be the way to go, so he made the horse move forward, despite the reluctance of the animal.

The putrid stench started only a few minutes on the road before dead animals began to appear on the road, being replaced only a few meters later by human corpses in various states of putrefaction, from skeletons to bodies that should barely have been there for a few days. , and even recognized the uniform worn by the third-rank guards in his kingdom, only stuffed with bones, each corpse wrapped by vines and other local weeds.

He was forced to breathe as little as possible when the stench became impossible to bear, coming to vomit in the section where everything was strongest, without having the opportunity to breathe until the road began to clear of so much death, showing to his sight a great stone plateau clothed with climbing vines and rosebuds.

He got off his horse and gave him another snack, tying the reins to the tree farthest from the ferns and other plants full of fruit that he knew they shouldn't eat.

Slowly and carefully he approached the great structure, gazing at it in fascination. Up close, he noticed the spines that protruded around the roses of different sizes that decorated the plateau, which, he noticed, were deceptively sharp, cutting him at the simple touch and spilling a thick drop of blood that bathed the thorn that caused his wound.

The sudden tremor in his spine appeared as the slight trembling of the earth beneath his feet, accompanied by the sound of something sliding - something that must have been big and heavy, from the way it sounded - and then deafening silence was present. .

“Onyx!” He shouted, turning around when he heard the horse whinny and stop suddenly, expecting to meet the animal where he had left it, however in its place he found another type of animal, giant and with shiny black scales, which were only cut with the three red lines of scales on the tip of its tail, raised in the air with a swaying motion.

The gigantic snake kept its eyes fixed on his, hissing and showing off his forked white tongue.

Eyes wider than they had ever been in his life, he diverted them just a little to the rest of the great reptile's body, almost growling in pain at the bulge protruding from where, he guessed, was the stomach of the immense snake, sure it was the product of his horse swallowing.

Feeling the flame of fury ignite and grow in him, he grasped the hilt of his sword in a slow motion and drew it lightly, as the serpent rose a little higher above him.

With one swift movement he pulled it out completely as the snake lunged at him, barely being fast enough to avoid its jaws, but not fast enough to dodge its tail, which slammed it against a tree and left it stamped there until he nailed the sword almost halfway.

Even his powerful armor hadn't been enough to shield him from that blow, catching his breath cut short by the pressure of the limb that had held him captive, but he had no time to think about that as he tried to get away from the great perimeter that covered the snake.

The injured tail slammed into the ground next to him, causing him to stumble from the din it caused.

The reptile's head also collided with the ground a few feet from his back and then glided at high speed towards him, using its nose to push him up when he collided with him and sent him flying into the air as the snake rose again, now with its jaws open.

But Sasuke was able to hold on to the tip of the animal's nose and avoid being swallowed as he had done with his horse by resting his feet against the bottom of the snake's mouth and giving a little jump before it closed it, being helped by the impulse that the same reptile gave him before the abrupt movement it made while trying to make him fall.

Sasuke stayed on the snake's skull and held onto its scales as best he could before stabbing his sword - which he had clung to as much as he could during the attack - into one of the animal's eyes, which let out a shrill and strange sound before, to Sasuke's immense amazement, it made a 180 ° turn and threw himself hard against the floor, taking him with and crashing him on the flat surface, a blow so violent that it caused him to lose his helmet, his mobility and his strength.

--------------------------------

Only seconds before he lost consciousness he saw the towering snake - now one-eyed - rise above him before launching itself with his jaws open just as Sasuke's eyes finally gave up.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the immense throbbing pain in his head that only got worse when he tried to open his eyes, being hit by the brightest sunlight that forced him to close them again.

Where had so much light come from?

After a while, and when he was sure he could resist it, he opened his eyes again.

It took him a long time to regain the clarity of his sight, but once everything was clear he was astonished at what he saw.

In front of him a large colorful space, green above all, stood proud in all that light. Huge trees were here and there, casting great shadows, covered with fruit in great quantity.

A few meters from him was a lake with crystal clear waters, reflecting everything that was shown from above.

It was only when a slight movement behind him caught his attention that he realized he had been leaning against something cold, and when he turned around he felt as if his entire being had left his body when he found himself face to face with the giant eye yellowish that he recognized instantly.

He backed away quickly, grunting in pain as his muscles protested at his sudden movements, but instead of stopping to ease them, he fought them and reached for his sword at her waist, surprised not to find it.

The snake stared at him for a few seconds before lazily deflecting its head toward the center of the thread that had turned its body.

—You must not fear, it will not hurt you

He turned quickly and looked around, searching for the soft voice that he had said those words.

"Onyx" he breathed out, seeing the mate he had thought he lost, now lying on the grass, asleep on the other side of the lake.

Naturally those words were not said by the animal, but by the other person next to it, who was gently stroking the mane of his horse.

Their eyes met and he forgot how to breathe, incredulous of the moons that were his pupils, beautiful, and that without a doubt were looking directly at him.

The woman stood up and he could see her completely: snowy skin, long dark hair that swayed with every step she took. Her body was covered in leaves, branches and flowers that clung to her like a second layer. The upper part of her was covered by vines up to the middle of her breasts, being enough to cover the most. The lower part was a skirt, much less rigid than the upper one as it was made entirely of green leaves in different sizes, stopping only a few inches above her knees.

A long vine rested in the center of her abdomen, joining the two pieces as one.

She was barefoot and her hair was decorated with the most elaborate flower crown he had ever seen in his life.

As he passed by the lake, he stopped, crouching in the direction of the water, taking from the ground a large leaf of a plant that he did not recognize - and which he had not realized was lying there - and wrapped it gently until it formed a bowl that she plunged into the water until filled it, rising again and resuming its way towards him, now with the makeshift pot that spilled tiny drops from its bottom.

When she finally got to him, he saw her more clearly: thin and natural pink lips, a small and upturned nose, perfectly shaped eyebrows and long eyelashes that only marveled her appearance even more, also highlighting the lack of the slightest freckle on her face.

She offered him the bowl but he did not take it at first, still fascinated and hypnotized by the beauty of the woman in front of him until she pushed it to his chest, forcing him to hold it as she took one by one his hands between her smallest and drew them to the sides of the blade, releasing it when she made sure his grip was firm.

She, with one of her index fingers, touched the surface of the water three times in different parts, and when her hand lowered three different flowers grew in the water: a lotus, a calla and a water lily, which immediately disintegrated and mixed with the liquid, giving it a color that ranged from pink to purple.

"Take it" she said, looking into his eyes "it will help you heal."

He didn't know why, but he obeyed her and took the entire tonic in one gulp, grimacing when the bitter taste of it touched his tongue and she slid down her throat.

She smirked and turned around, walking back to where Onyx was now awake, looking at them wearily.

"It's you" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, looking at her completely uncovered back as she walked away from him “The witch”.

Her walking stopped and she turned around again, looking at him now with a frown, offended.

“That's very rude!. I am not a witch" she protested "My name is Hinata Hyuga, and I am the queen of this garden" she said proudly, turning to resume her march as if her statement was enough to deny his word.

But he would not be fooled; he had witnessed for himself what she had done in the water she had given him to drink.

He looked around him and his sight fell on his sword and armor, arranged neatly on the grass near the giant serpent's tail.

Slowly and careful not to be heard he approached his things and took the sword at the same time that with difficulty he took three steps back as the snake's tail moved to hit the ground and then returned to its original position.

It took a bit of trouble, but he was able to raise his sword and hold it with both hands, directing the tip in the direction in which that woman - that witch - was, now again sitting on the grass, stroking the back of his horse, looking at him unimpressed.

"Witch, you will come with me" he demanded "Everything will be easier if you do not resist, you will get a decent treatment: you will sleep in the softest bed, you will wear the finest clothes ... otherwise, if you resist, you ... you ..." He stopped for a moment, not for lack of words, but from shortness of breath —If… if you resist… the dungeon… the smallest and dirtiest dungeon will be…

"You’re hurting them" she interrupted, and he didn't understand.

The witch looked down and he followed her eyes, stopping at the sword that was now stuck in the middle of a small group of flowers.

When had he lowered his sword?

“What did you do to me?” He growled, aware of the progressive loss of strength to which he was subjected.

"It's the medicine" said the witch, calmly "for your body to heal, it must first rest”

And as if that were a command, his body fell apart, causing him to fall to the floor on a tall grass bed that he could swear was not there a moment ago.

- Witch! ... You will pay...

Unconsciousness welcomed him.

--------------------------------------

When he woke up there was still sunlight, quite clear, so he thought that maybe he had only slept a few seconds, but the environment felt different from before and he could hear the distinctive galloping and neighing of Onyx, going here and there as his footsteps slightly covered the happy laugh of the female.

He could not move his body freely, only just his fingers, and mentally he cursed himself for having taken that concoction that this evil woman had given him, clearly using her sorcery to weaken him.

“Your body still needs rest” he could have shuddered at the sudden voice if it weren't for the fact that he was paralyzed, shortly afterwards the witch's face appeared in his visual range, tilted from above so he could see her “you´ve been very hurt by your confrontation with Munda, your injuries will take a little longer to heal”

He grunted, annoyed.

“Why have you risked your life to get here, mortal?” She asked him, now in a more serious tone.

Then and once again without really knowing why, he began to tell her about his kingdom, about the moments of wealth and prosperity before the war struck, about the deaths and the lack of food that besieged them, making their situation worse. He told her about his brother and his mysterious bedridden illness, about the sudden barrenness of his lands, and how he had preferred to make this trip alone rather than take away much-needed protection in case they tried again to invade them during his absence.

In her face there was no sorrow, annoyance or joy for their misfortunes, instead it was pure curiosity what he could see while he finished explaining the reason why he was looking for her.

"Okay, I'll go with you" she answered with conviction.

He, who had gradually regained mobility to the point where he could now sit up and the waves of heat attacked him insistently, looked at her in surprise, unable to avoid questioning her decision.

"I'll go with you" she confirmed again "However, the starting path is more dangerous than the one you traveled to get here, so you will have to make a full recovery first" She stood up and looked at him “I cannot be away for long, this place depends on me, so I will help your people and leave immediately, it is my only condition”

He watched her, almost denying immediately that he could leave that easily, but he was quick enough to bite his tongue before speaking.

"Okay, then we have a deal" he agreed.

She nodded pleased and stood up, walking away from him and up a tiny hill where she began to press with her fingers the closed buds and the withered flowers that surrounded her, opening and coming back to life with the simple touch of her.

Despite having accepted, in his mind they only danced ways of how he would interrupt her departure, it would be very foolish of him to let her go that easy, a person with her abilities, whether witch or not, was unique, one in a million , and no self-respecting kingdom would let her go that easily.

He could try to convince her by showing her everything that she obviously didn't have in her "garden", the wonders of modernity, and if that couldn't convince her, well, he had dungeons at his disposal that he could trick her into or even without them, but surely he would not lose those abilities from his hands.

Satisfied with that plan, he began to touch the back of both of his hands, searching and removing the splinters that he did not know how he has nailed himself.

Even though Hinata's tonics were helping him recover faster than he normally would, it felt like it was actually taking forever.

There, the days and nights seemed to last longer than normal, as if the clock had 36 hours instead of 24.

Each remedy that Hinata gave her were different and she healed something different, like the one she used to make his bruises disappear, which were a combination of wild flowers and citrus fruits that melted in the water as soon as she created them and released. Those bruises that would normally take a week or more to fade, she had done it in almost three days.

The problem is that she could only give him a tonic for one thing at a time, along with the first one that she had given him so his body relaxes and rests.

Now he was drinking one that she claimed would help with his internal ailments, and he guessed she was referring to the bruised bones that barely allowed her to walk or breathe. This was particularly bitter and she had to take it several times a day, which was a mini torture considering that these wounds would take even longer to heal.

He was washing his armor when he heard her scream.

“No! Go away, you can't be here!”

His skin prickled when she heard it. Had someone entered that place? An ally or an enemy? The great snake that was supposed to be the only one that could make someone else reach that place, Munda, hadn't moved from the rock it had spread on the day before, almost looking dead if it weren't for the hiss it left escape from time to time, maybe someone had found a way to enter without facing the great reptile?

“No! Get away!”

Wasting no time he dropped the piece of armor he was washing into the water and instead grabbed his sword, gripping it tightly and ran - or rather, he limped quickly - looking beyond the trees and bushes until he saw her midnight hair, covered with small flowers of various colors, and he went quickly towards her, who kept her fists clenched and her arms stiff down, slapping the floor with one foot while she kept yelling at whoever was there to leave.

But as he got closer to her, he still couldn't see anyone else; maybe it was some invisible person? It would not be unreasonable to think about that.

Finally, when he got to her side, he saw whoever caused her annoyance.

"This… creature…" she began, making an exasperated gesture with her hand at the wild boar that nonchalantly ate the blackberries from the orchard it raided "This annoying creature won't go away!" I've tried everything but it keeps coming back”

He looked at her in disbelief.

“So much fuss over a wild boar?”

“Is this the name of this demon spawn?” She asked him, looking at him intensely "Do you know him?"

"It's a wild boar, there are hundreds of them in the forest" he said more calmly, dismissing the accusation of her previous question.

“Hundreds?!” She gasped in disbelief.

"Calm down, just ... get rid of him."

“I´ve tried it! But this ... boar keeps coming back”

He let out an exasperated sigh, thinking of suggesting of making her pet snake eat the animal, but dismissed the idea as he thought the reptile was pretty useless when it don´t came to attacking and killing unsuspecting humans and their horses near the plateau of stone.

Since he first woke up he had only seen it move a few inches and change position, so another idea occurred to him.

“Can you hold it?” He asked him “with your ivy?”

She looked at him curiously and suspiciously, but instead of answering vocally, she raised a hand and made a few short movements with her fingers before clenching her fist, catching the animal that began to screech in panic.

He approached it, and with a certain movement, cut off it head.

When he heard her loud gasp he looked back and there she was, her brows furrowed, her eyes staked and both of her hands covering her mouth.

He looked back at the now dead animal, grabbed it head and raised it before asking.

“Do you know fire?”

.

.

.

Sasuke sat on a rock while at the same time bringing the now cooked boar meat to his mouth, biting off a large chunk and tearing it from the rest so he could eat it.

Sitting on another rock on the other side of the bonfire he had made, Hinata found herself with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed, looking at him with such intensity as if she wanted to make his head explode with just her powerful gaze.

She was upset with him, that was clear. Since he had killed the animal and cut its meat into smaller portions so he could stick them into branches and put them on the fire to cook.

The turning point, however, was when he gathered branches and leaves and started the fire that he had surrounded with rocks of different sizes as a barrier so that the fire did not spread.

Apparently, she could forgive him for killing an animal even if she was clearly against it, but lighting wood and using leaves as a burning material was where she drew the line, practically declaring enmity at the prolonged silence she had maintained.

It was funny to tell the truth, even if preparing that meat and the dressing he had bathed it with to give it a little more flavor had been torture for his sprained wrist, it was worth it if I could see her normally relaxed and smiling face distorted with annoyance and disappointment, her lower lip sticking out childishly.

Furthermore, and despite the wide variety of fruits she had been feeding him - more delicious than he had ever eaten - he had really missed the taste of meat on his palate.

“Hey!” He called her even though it wasn't necessary, since she hadn't taken her gaze from him for a second. "Try a little" he said, spreading some meat even though he was too far for her to reach.

That scandalized her.

“I will not do it!” She vigorously refused, looking quite offended by his proposal “I'm not a savage!”

"Me neither" he said, shrugging even though he wanted to burst in laughs at her expression.

“You are eating a living being”

“You eat the children of your plants, but I don't judge you for doing that”

The expression on her face finally overcame him, making him laugh.

With difficulty and care, he rose to his feet and walked around the fire, sitting next to her and extending with his good hand the piece of meat he himself had previously been eating.

"Try a little" he repeated, but she pursed her lips and turned her face away, refusing.

“No, I do not like”

"You can't say you don't like it if you haven't tried it yet" he told her, repeating the words his mother had repeated so much to the fussy eight-year-old he was.

But she kept refusing, so he took another approach they used to use with him when he was especially difficult to feed: negotiation.

"How about this" he began “If you try a little of this, I promise I won't complain and take all your strange meds even if they taste like hell itself, you don't have to like it, just try a little”

She looked at him scrutinizingly, apparently looking for some kind of dishonesty, but he just brought his injured wrist to the center of his abdomen, in a well-camouflaged dirty little manipulative move, which he knew was working when she looked at his wrist and then again to in his eyes.

“Just a little?” He nodded "And will you take the medicine without complaining?" He affirmed again.

Hinata closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out again in the form of a long sigh.

She opened her eyes again, now with a look of determination and nodded.

He smiled and brought the meat to her mouth.

“W-wait!” she yelled, holding his wrist.

He was really having a hard time not laugh again.

Without letting go his wrist, she barely opened her mouth and bit into some of the meat, chewing it and stopping after swallowing it.

He looked at her expectantly, watching as she frowned again and sudden tears began to fall from her eyes.

Was it really that bad?

He began to feel guilty for forcing her to do so, but he was surprised when she now took a bigger bite, taking the meat from his hand to grab it herself, saying between sobs

"It's good!" she sniffed and cried harder as she ate more of it.

________________________

That night he woke up because of the pain that attacked his healthy wrist, grunting and looking for the reason for that, and when he looked at it, he was surprised and out of breath to see how a bracelet of branches wrapped him, which would not be a problem if it was not for the fact that they seemed to come straight out of his skin.

________________________

Another few days passed and he had kept thinking a lot about his situation.

Due to his suspicions, he decided to do an experiment.

For a few days he stayed especially close to her, touching her skin with his fingertips in the most subtle way he could, leading him to offer help during the moments when she did her self-imposed tasks that were not really necessary - there was not much to entertain herself with, he supposed — and despite confusion at his sudden need to help, she agreed and directed him what to do, frustrating him when any of those tasks kept him away from her.

But at the end of the day he touched her enough without going overboard - tapping her shoulder to get her attention or patted it awkwardly as he congratulated her with a "good job" - and then he walked away from her and went to the makeshift cot she had created for him, leaving her more confused than at first.

The first night he waited awake for something to happen, for the branches to start coming out or for his skin to turn green, he wasn't entirely sure what could happen, but he waited.

And he received nothing.

He repeated the experiment several more times and nothing happened, so he thought maybe it was a side effect of the last potion she had given him to drink? It would make sense that his body is no longer producing more vegetation by changing the type of medicine she was giving him, and it would also make sense that she did not know that effect as something out of the ordinary, since her own body seemed to produce by itself the plants that dressed her.

Then he forgot the topic, classifying it as a one-time occurrence.

Until he wasn't.

That morning, when he no longer had any kind of ailment and was beginning to feel he was finally regaining his strength, he had helped Munda - who, he learned, was really peaceful when he was not protecting the entrance to that garden - to get rid of the little debris that had stuck to him after his last shedding of skin.

"Good work," Hinata said, patting him on the shoulder as best she could since he was significantly taller than her “Munda's shedding of skin is usually a disaster because it is more resistant than normal, so I always have a hard time cleaning it when it's in season” she revealed, now with her hand fixed on his shoulder “you are very good at that”

He accepted her congratulations with a small hint of pride on her chest.

They passed the day with normally, and at night, while taking a bath in the lake, a sudden pain attacked his shoulder.

When he tried to move his shoulder in circles, he couldn´t, the pain and stiffness prevented him from the slightest movement, then he brought his other hand over said shoulder to try to massage himself, but when he felt his fingers prick, He stopped.

Surprised, he looked at his shoulder and couldn't believe what he saw: it was covered in thorns right where Hinata had touched it.

The fire of anger ignited in him and spread like forest fire, was that it? Her hands? Were her hands causing his body to produce leaves and thorns as if it were a simple plant? Although, now that he thought about it, he had been a fool not to realize it before, after all, she was nothing more than a witch whose hands could grow trees and flowers out of nowhere.

He had been fooled. He had let his guard down and this witch was turning him into another plant in her garden.

Who many more had she done this to?

He looked at the surrounding trees for the hint that any of them were once a man, but he had done his job so well that there was not the slightest trace of a previous humanity in them.

Angry, he left the lake and put on his pants, not caring they were dirty and dusty from the activities he had done that day. He dressed in his armor and took the sword with him, searching for Hinata and finding her, as always, in the center of the small flower-covered hill that surrounded her.

His quick and heavy steps caught his attention, turning and smiling at him when she saw him approaching, but that expression quickly changed when he entered, stepping carelessly on the flowers that she loved so much.

"Sasuk ..!"

"In two days we will leave," he interrupted, placing the sword under her chin and applying enough pressure so the tip dug lightly into her neck, hurting her “I have already lost a lot of valuable time with your stupid games, as of today, I command”

He turned around without giving her the opportunity to speak and went to the farthest part of that garden, where he found what seemed to be the oldest tree of all, the most leafy, where he sat down and pressed his back against it, crossing his arms with his sword still in his hand, quickly creating in his mind all the logistics of what he would do next.

______________________

The desperate neighing of Onyx woke him up.

He hadn't realized when he had fallen asleep, but it seems as if the apocalypse had taken place once he closed his eyes.

He blinked, trying to clear the blurry view of him until everything was terrifyingly sharp.

In front of him, Onyx kept crying, rising on his hind legs and then dropping the front legs in heavy blows, kicking up the dust with each fall.

It was daytime, he could tell, but the whole environment was so bleak that his brain had a hard time understanding it.

He looked around him, all the space that had previously been green and colorful had turned to the darkest gray he had ever seen. The trees shed their leaves at an impressive speed, the same ones that were now on the ground, surrounding him.

He tried to take one, but the blades were so brittle they broke with the simple touch.

"Onix, take it easy" But the horse ignored him; instead, he whinnied louder as if urging him to stop and then ran, leaving him behind.

He walked carefully, looking everywhere: the bushes were dry but still held some of their fruits, of which he took one and put it in his mouth only to spit it out instantly, disgusted by the horrible taste of the previously delicious blackberry had taken. As he walked, a foul stench began to fill his nostrils, aggravating the closer he got to the lake, until he realized that was where it came from. The waters, previously clean and clear, were now as black and thick as tar.

What was happening?

It didn't take long for him to find the cause.

Still on the small hill was Hinata, motionless and with her head bowed, the flowers around her were wilted. Munda surrounded the hill, making a great circle with its whole body, as trying to be a wall of protection for her owner.

The great snake gave him a warning hiss, glaring at him, now with both of its healthy eyes, as if it was challenging him to come closer.

Even with the threat of the reptile, he did, he knew how protective he was, but he had learned that in here Munda was more like a puppy playing at being brave than the gigantic and terrifying snake really was.

Already within the circle of protection of him everything was more horrible, here the flowers were not withered, and instead they seemed burned. Hinata's body remained immobile, not even seemed to breathe, and when he surrounded her and was face to face with her, he was surprised by the horrible state that in just a few hours she had gotten.

Her skin was as gray as the rest of the earth, her previously pink lips were now dangerously close to black, almost all the flowers in her hair and crown had lost their petals and the ones that remained would fall at any moment. Her eyes were open and she kept them that way, without blinking, and the only sign that told him there was still life in her was the trail of tears that fell without stopping.

He crouched in front of her and called out, but he didn't get the slightest bit of recognition from her.

He grabbed her face and winced at the ease of movement he had from her, even if her body seemed stiffer than could be possible.

Then the dark green trail that fell from her throat to her abdomen caught his eye, and he felt as if he had been hit with the strongest metal as he remembered what he had done.

Was this his fault?

"Hinata," he called her, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes, which seemed to be empty. "Hinata, I'm sorry."

But his attempts were in vain because she did not respond or make the slightest movement that indicated she would do it at some point.

Desperation began to fill him and he didn't know what to do, stroking her face and trying to wipe the tears away, but they kept falling and instead, sliding over and around his thumbs, mocking his unsuccessful attempts to stop them.

Then, in a moment of utter despair he did something he had only thought would happen in his dreams, and kissed her.

His lips froze over the cold, chapped of hers, and all ambient sound that he had previously not actively noticed disappeared. He made no move, just stood with his lips joined, praying inside his mind for a reaction, until her lips trembled.

One sob left them, then two, until it was totally a symphony of wailing.

He hugged her and pressed her to his chest, quietly apologizing to her and preferring to hear her cry than remain in the deathly silence of moments ago.

----------------------------

Recovery was slower than he could have imagined. While it took less than one night to produce the disaster, fixing it was a matter of a long time.

She avoided talking to him and he couldn't blame her, not after all that he´d caused.

She was just getting back to her normal color and at the same time so did her garden, slowly returning to the green it was when he had arrived.

He hadn't given her a reason for his action in the first place, and he didn't think he'd do it sometime soon - never, if he could.

He just helped her silently, discovering that when he kissed her, she recovered a little more.

So he kept doing it, morning, afternoon and evening, until the pink on her cheeks appeared and the flowers in her hair began to bloom.

That, however, came at a price, and it didn't take long for him to realize that the mere touch was more powerful than that of her fingers.

It first reflected on his nails, which turned brown and their textures became like that of a tree trunk. Then on his chest, where leaves and thorns came out again.

It was a much faster process than he had thought.

"I think we can leave tomorrow" were the first words she spoke to him after days of silence, smiling shyly at him, speaking in a low voice.

He nodded as best she could, his neck stiff from the changes taking place in him.

That day his feet stuck to the ground, and pulling them off felt as if he had lost a limb.

"Sasuke" Hinata called him the next morning, worried about what she was seeing. "Since when has this been happening?"

He looked at her, but he didn't answer.

He was still lying on his grass cot, trapped by the ivy that had tightly encircled his arms, torso, and legs to keep him in place.

"Wait." The desperation in Hinata's voice was palpable, but he could barely recognize anything.

With her hands, Hinata touched the plants on top of him, but was surprised to see that instead of obeying her and disappearing, they seemed to tighten around Sasuke.

She looked at her hands without understanding what was happening and tried again, her eyes clouding over as she obtained the same result as the first time.

The tears left her eyes and the sobs soon appeared the more she tried and failed, becoming more energetic and miserable with every second more.

"Hinata," he called out, barely a hoarse whisper as he felt a new plant grow from his stomach and slide its roots through his esophagus, slowly exiting his mouth "There is no time for me…”

“Do not!" She shouted shakily" Don't say that!”

“S. Save them ... my people ...” he said, barely breathing.

"I-I will, but-but first ..." A sob interrupted her "you first..."

Sasuke wanted to deny, but he had neither the strength nor the mobility to do so.

"There ... there is ... no time for ... me" he repeated.

“Sasuke”

“Please”

Without finding the words to answer him, she just nodded.

Sasuke smiled and looked at her, grateful as a single tear slid down the side of his face as more roots came out of his mouth.

"Thank you" he said, his voice cracking, closing his eyes, "I lo ..."

But he couldn't finish his sentence, losing the last breath he had and finally letting the roots slide out of his mouth and dig into the ground beneath him.

A heartrending scream came from Hinata's mouth, the loss, for the first time in hundreds of years, completely ripping her apart.

She cried over his body, feeling a pain much worse than that of a few days ago completely invade her, feeling again how she was fainting rapidly.

But she still had one last promise to keep.

Unwilling to leave him, Hinata placed both hands on the ground and gathered all of her strength, screaming as she transferred her power beyond the forest, filling all around with the life that he had come looking for.

The earth shook and great thorny walls rose above all of her garden, joining in the center without closing completely, and leaving a small gap through which the sunlight entered.

Exhausted, she walked to where Sasuke's body lay covered in roots and she dropped down beside him, placing a hand on his chest, slowly closing her eyes and melting into him.

------------------------

From the highest tower of the Uchiha castle, the cries of the courtesans invaded the room of King Itachi, whose body was covered by a white sheet as his court surrounded him.

"You did it, my king," Kakashi whispered, watching from the window as the kingdom began to fill with the vivid green of the growing plants and the colorful buds of flowers and fruit that followed them, though his attention was really fixed on the large bud that it had formed in the farthest part of the forest.

While, at the gates of the kingdom, Onyx the steed without his king arrived.

@sasuhinamonth

[morgana-ren]

I noticed you write a little for overhaul! Could I get some yandere overhaul?

Efficiency. He likes your efficiency.

Your hands, quick, methodical, precise. Your movements, calculated and sure. No unnecessary flair, no exaggerated nonsense. Quiet. Meticulous. Obedient.

The bird mask latched to your face signifies your position as his subordinate, a uniform carefully chosen to make your individuality invisible. An extension of his own arms, his own will. That’s your purpose, your duty. One you fulfill to the letter.

So why is it when he looks at you, he can still see your face beneath the contraption meant to veil it?

Only once has he seen it, but it was enough to carve a notch in his memory. The curve of your cheeks, the sharpness reflected in your eyes. Something no doubt of importance lost to the space your countenance has taken up on the shelves of his mind. It’s infuriating, how you make a mess of the simplest part of the job while exceeding at all others.

Don’t distract him. Make yourself a tool, useful but replaceable. Able to be tucked away and ignored when your presence is no longer required. Don’t linger. Extend his influence, not your own.

How are you failing so miserably?

He knows the distinct sound of your footsteps in comparison to the rest of his men. Timed, careful, almost soft. While others move with a brashness, an almost unearned intensity, you are loud in your silence. You stick out in that you try so hard not to, filling your role as you are supposed to but drawing his attention, his ire, no less.

His eyes watch you when they’re due somewhere else, keeping you close even when you’re unneeded. Your council is foolish, unwarranted and uneducated, yet he seeks it no less if only to analyze the timbre of your voice when you speak. You know better than to ask him to explain his process but he will do it regardless to make certain you understand.

You tend to Eri with kindness, a certain softness that dries up the moment it’s him addressing you. The girl cries less when it’s you attending, makes less of a fuss when he runs his experiments. She holds your hand so tightly, the tack of the rubber glove against her childish skin making a distinctive and distracting squeaking noise every time her grip tightens. The needles pierce her skin and he doesn’t need to see your face to know you’re scowling. If you disapprove of his goals so much, why is it you stay? If his method is madness in your eyes, why do you work for his vision?

Is it because you know that he’d rather see you dead than beside another man?

It leads his mind down avenues it would be better off not treading. You don’t respect his strength like Rappa and he is not beholden to you like Chrono. So why is it you attach yourself to him, following like a shadow that mimics his own movements? Why do you obey his orders?

Overhaul has thought over his blueprints of the future, painstaking and detailed, yet he has purposefully avoided contemplating just where you fit into it all. At his feet or at his side (truthfully, in the dead of night, he dreams of both.) Even with the sterilized existence that keeps his body clean, his mind is not immune to the sickening licentiousness that plagues the common vagrant. It’s not a mess that can be cleaned with ammonia or bleach, a stain that won’t disappear with boiling water and steel wool.

Are you as efficient with your mouth as you are with your hands?

The line of thought disgusts him, but he crosses that valley in the sand regardless, morbid curiosity and self loathing close in tow. There’s a million ways he could destroy you, yet he fantasizes about the one that leaves you breathing. The rise and fall of your sweat-glistened chest, blown out pupils and quaking legs should make the bile rise in his throat but it makes him salivate instead, a disgusting Pavlovian response courtesy of his biology. The thought of your filthy little mouth on him, lips pulled taught around places so intimate gets his heart pounding but not with thoughts of violence or righteous indignation. A foul little boil he wants to lance into again and again and again until that sloppy hole between your thighs runs dry and he’s covered in your contamination, smeared in your sticky sweet juices, tainting his outside as he has the inside of you.

It’s hard not to rip that mask off your face and give you a taste of his own corruption some days. It’s only by the grace of his carefully honed self control (not to mention the watchful eyes of his disciples who’s respect he cannot afford to pollute) that he restrains himself. You’ve wormed your way beneath his skin, flowing through his blood like a virus; a fever he can’t sweat out no matter how he tries.

If he has to suffer, he’ll make it contagious.

He wonders if the satin of his gloves could even get a sturdy grip in your hair, heel of his hand pressed into the base of your skull while your fetid drool pools on his desk. The thought of the warmth you offer grinds his teeth, makes his skin crawl, churns his gut and yet he wants it for his own enough to go to war with his own mind. The lovely curve of your arched back, pulsing body clamping around him as he burrows inside of you like a parasite just like you did to his brain. 

You belong beneath him, body and mind and soul nothing but a playground for him, a sponge to soak up and cleanse him of his frustrations and his desires. That’s what you are, right? A tool for him to use? You simply have other uses than the rest.

If he allowed himself to take you, give himself a taste of what he so desperately craves, would he build up an immunity or would he find himself even more infected? He’s despised filth and muck and disorder his entire life and it’s spreading from within his own body, a self inflicted illness with no culprit to blame but himself. 

He’ll purge you from his body, one way or another. 

He’ll sit quiet, lips pursed behind his mask and eyes wandering where they shouldn’t. Study you, the way you move, the subtle breathing and the tenseness in your shoulders that only presents in his presence. The muscles in your neck that move as you bite your lip in focus and the way your steady gaze rips from his own anytime it meets. There’s something rippling beneath the surface in you; whether it’s lust or fear, he’s uncertain.

Either way, he’ll cultivate and harvest it, carefully tend it until it blossoms in your lungs and chokes you the same way it does him. Replace your essence with his own and watch you writhe and squirm, open and pliant beneath him, either too afraid to tell him no or too needy to not say yes. He’ll inject you full of his venom, his cure, until you become dependent upon him to live, to breathe, your very existence only flourishing because he allows it.

The thought of drowning himself in you both sickens and excites him, wants to feel your heart thrum against his palm as he cradles the rounds of your neck. He needs you to understand that it only continues to beat because it pleases him. He could take you apart and bring you back together wrong, damning you to an uncanny existence. He can give you life only to take it away again and again until whatever soul inhabits your body bends and breaks to him.

You’re treading dangerous waters, walking a razor’s edge. It’s too late but you don’t even realize it. He’ll be there to watch when you falter, quick and ready to utilize your mistake and wield it against you. You can either give yourself to him, or give yourself to misery, losing your mind again and again until it comes back in a way favorable to him. He can work with either.

The choice is yours.

[likealittleheartbeat]

Okay, but this whole sequence!! First off, the series moves from an entirely red palette to full black and white as Zhao assaults the moon spirit. Like, what full-bodied choices for a 28minute per episode show on Nickelodeon to make. And then the iconic “No, it’s not over.” The first time we hear the Avatar speak in that the multi-voice style! And it’s the first time that the Avatar state doesn’t begin with a display of shear elemental bending force. Instead Aang simply speaks and walks with intense clarity of purpose. It’s the first time Aang’s supernatural rage is contained, directed, and dutiful. It’s not a tantrum nor a self-preserving feat. In fact, it’s only since the Northern Air Temple episode that we’ve actually started to see Aang display any kind of anger or intensity outside of the Avatar State. And it’s all the more terrifying for that reason. There is a sense that Aang invited the wrath of the Avatar state this time. When the next season begins and Aang for the first time can recall what happened while he was in the Avatar State, why should we be surprised?

Also Also Also, though, in the previous episode Aang gets to witness Katara’s struggle and willfulness against the patriarchal rigidity of Master Pakku. “I’m not finished yet,” she declares after he says the fight is over. It’s more than a classic ATLA parallel. It can be seen as a direct inspiration for the way Aang deals with Zhao’s act of imperial patriarchal violence. And yes, Zhao’s assault of the moon spirit NEEDS to be read in explicitly gendered terms because of a trend Joseph Campbell notes (and remember that the ATLA creators have explicitly cited Joseph’s Campbell’s mythological studies as influential to the show). Now bear with me as we dig into some mythological analyses here. Within the Greek-influenced and Abrahamic cosmology traditions, both patriarchal, the sun has been assigned masculine while lunar features have been associated with femininity. So, right off the bat, Zhao’s attack could be read as display of masculine power over feminine spirit. And the Water Tribe’s eventual victory, along with Katara’s victory over Zuko in every Zutara shipper’s fav fight, as a win for girl power and water peasants. But Avatar’s blessedly never so basic.

It’s not tryna engage in a comparison between male and female power nor is it avoiding it. Instead it’s interested in the ways imperial power ignores and even requires the defilement of BALANCE. Imperial ideology requires it’s members to work within strict categories, which allow for comparison and therefore hierarchies and subjugation. It does not simply ask for men and women to be seen as standing on equal footing in which girls can subjugate the boys, too, or where water and fire can coexist as long as they either stay far away from each other or accept their sexual tensions (read: open antagonism and inability to communicate with one another) and just make out already! ATLA is interested in how an individual can nurture a sense and respect for the Other within their self. Preceding and outside of the traditions I mentioned, there had and have been mythological perspectives which not only aligned lunar and solar aspects with the opposite gender but that assumed each person contained within themselves feminine and masculine qualities and should seek support to cultivate these different traits without concern over what gender the deity or teacher might be. That a man might easily and expectedly see or work to cultivate his feminine aspects and that he might feel in no sense different to seek inspiration from the plights and abilities of a goddess than he would seeking them from a god!

This is why I think it’s important that Aang so clearly imitates Katara here and fuses with the coy fish ocean spirit in the Northern Water Tribe and why we hear the Avatar multiply voiced here. Instead of seeking his own power, he is embodying a kind of humility, an openness to influence across gender, tribe, history, species, even between animate beings (his human form) and inanimate(the ocean), until he comes to resemble a god from Hayao Miyazaki’s Princess Mononoke that is the very line between life and death. But he doesn’t enter into that position simply because he feels he has the authority as the Avatar. He has been welcomed and invited to be there and resist alongside these people and within their sacred space. Then, it’s one of the people’s leaders, Yue, whose hopelessness spurns on his choice to act (and we know facing problems is pretty famously not easy for Aang). And finally, it’s his relationship to Katara and her actions in the previous episode that inspire him to the radical openness and persistence that allows him to invite the Avatar State and repel the Fire Nation’s navy, giving Yue the vital time she needs to save her people’s way of life and thus the world.

[quinncupine]

Obscured Chapter Four: Enter Mask

Chapter Word Count: 5, 629

Link: AO3

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Previous Chapter: Three

Next Chapter: Five

MASTERLIST

Warnings: Language, violence, blood, drugs

...

The house was quiet. No one wanted to speak, especially you. The entire ride home you sat in the back and fumed, refusing to talk to anyone. Childish, yes, but you felt like you were being treated like one. It was bad enough that Izuku was treating you like some frail little doll that would break the instant anyone touched it, now your friends saw you as some pathetically useless civilian. He didn't even bother to explain his reasoning, he was more paranoid than you've ever seen him.

Ochaco and Momo were sitting across from you, on the couch in Inko's living room, each trying their hardest not to acknowledge the awkward tension in the room. Ochaco was buried in her phone, typing away. Momo was staring into her teacup with such an intense focus, you'd think it was revealing some deep secret to her. You could smell whatever delicious food Inko was whipping up in the kitchen. She'd kicked everyone out of there, said dinner was her treat.

Inko was the only one you weren't mad at. If anything, she should be just as upset as you. She hadn't been allowed to leave the house for those two weeks either. Izuku claiming it was for her own safety. It was like he couldn't see how much of an overbearing blockhead he was being. You loved the man, but sometimes his fears outweighed his senses.

You'd been effectively ignoring everyone for the past few hours, scrolling through articles on your phone. You'd been sent a link to an article about a possible gang war creating tensions in the Agamar Quarter. You didn't recognize the sender, some obscure online blog that you'd never heard of before. It didn't really interest you and you were about to click out of it, but saw something that caught your eye. It was a picture of Izuku, well Deku.

With a renewed interest, you read the entire thing. Apparently, the Hashira gang had been found murdered in one of their stash houses. It was a massacre and it could possibly lead to more gang violence over territory. Deku had been called in to help with the investigation which you found odd. He didn't normally investigate gang crimes, especially something so far from his sector. The information in the article was scarce so you focused on Izuku's face in the photo. It was a side shot of him leaving the scene, and he looked nervous.

"Would you like some more tea?" Momo broke the silence.

You glanced up. You'd been so engrossed in the story that you almost forgot they were sitting across from you.

The cup on the table was untouched and probably cold by now. "No, I'm fine."

You went back to the article, but Ochaco spoke up next.

"Uh, so," She put her phone down. "Did any dresses catch your eye today? We can always try another shop if you didn't like any of those."

With a sigh, you dropped your phone. They weren't going to leave you alone now that you finally started talking again.

"I don't even know if I want to go anymore." You murmured.

Ochaco frowned. "To the gala?"

To be honest, you didn't feel like going anywhere with anyone at the moment. You hadn't had a moment to yourself for over two weeks and it was really starting to get on your nerves. You especially didn't want to go anywhere with Izuku either. You were angry at him, at yourself, at the entire criminal industry. He was taking this whole protective thing way too far. There was a limit to how much coddling you could take and he'd already surpassed that a long time ago.

It might have bothered you less if you didn't keep comparing yourself to how he treats Momo and Ochaco. You knew for a fact that he treated them as equals when facing disastrous circumstances, that he could count on them to handle themselves. It wasn't a fair comparison, you knew that. They were heroes. They trained for years to fight villains and had quirks to protect themselves. You had nothing like that. All you had was your experience running a busy E.R. They weren't the same, but he could at least give you some credit on handling stressful situations.

There was a small voice in the back of your mind telling you that it was because you were born quirkless. He didn't see you in the same light as the others because you had a disadvantage, a weakness.

You shook that thought away. Izuku respected you, he always had. He would never look down on you because you were born without power. He used to be the same as you. He would know how it felt better than anyone, it was what made him so determined to be a hero in the first place. You two might not have had the same career goals, but you did share one motivation; helping people.

You brushed the hair out of your face and finally looked up at them. "Are you bringing anyone?" You asked Ochaco.

She blinked. "Um...maybe."

"You found a date?" Momo smirked. "When were you going to tell us this?"

Ochaco blushed. "No, it's not a date! We're just going as friends."

"Come on," Momo elbowed her. "Spill the beans."

Your phone buzzed as you got another email, but you ignored it. This was actually getting interesting. Ochaco didn't date all that much, and she usually just went to the gala with Tsu and some of the other girls. But if she was bringing someone to the gala, a highly publicized event, then it had to be serious.

Ochaco rubbed the back of her head and shrugged, covering her burning face. "It's um..."

The attention in the room shifted as the front door opened. You jumped out of your seat and zoomed to the door, the girls trailing behind you.

Izuku stepped through and closed the door quietly. He wasn't expecting you to torpedo straight into him, almost knocking him off his feet, in a fierce hug. As quickly as you slammed into him, you jumped back and slapped his shoulder.

"Ow, what was that for?" He rubbed his shoulder.

"For worrying me!" You crossed your arms. "And for making me angry. And all the other dumb stuff you did."

Guilt flooded his eyes as he stared at you, but you'd been waiting for hours to chew him out and you weren't stopping there.

"You gave me some ominous demand to come home and then leave me to worry all day while you've been out doing who-knows-what!" You shouted. "You've been running around crime scenes with your little secrets while you force me to stay here like some sort of pet! I've had it!"

Izuku shrunk as you finally sucked in a breath. "Y/N... I didn't realize th-"

"No, you've had your head stuck too far up your ass to realize anything!" You stepped closer. "Now tell me what the hell is going on."

He glanced behind you. The others had gathered at the end of the room, looking very stiff and out of place. You'd forgotten they were here again. It was already embarrassing enough that they had to play bodyguard, now they had to witness your tantrum.

You rubbed your face and stepped away from him. "Please just explain what's going on."

Izuku was silent, almost like he was afraid to speak. You'd gone too far and you were too embarrassed to even admit it to everyone. What the hell was going on with your moods lately? You were like a compass that had gone haywire.

"I'm sorry." He finally whispered. "I'll explain everything."

He lead everyone into the dining room. Izuku sat at the head of the table and Inko sat at the other end. He scanned over everyone, looking so uncomfortable, squirming in the hot seat.

"I'm sorry," He said again. "I didn't want you to worry."

You held up your hand. "I don't want excuses, I want answers. So talk."

His green hair was frizzy, he kept running his fingers through it, a nervous habit. "I think....I think Tatsuya, everything about him, was orchestrated by someone else."

There was silence. He locked eyes with you, waiting for some type of reaction. When you showed none, he continued.

"The Hashira gang was murdered early this morning. I think the same person was behind it as well."

"What makes you say that?" Momo asked.

"It was a message." He frowned, staring a hole into the wood table.

Ochaco leaned forward. "They left you a message?"

"The entire scene was a message." He whispered. "I think this was personal. Someone I must have wronged in the past, someone that wants revenge."

He threaded his fingers together, nervously fiddling with his thumbs. Staring at him, you lost that fire of anger that had been squatting in your stomach for so long. He was scared. This case was getting to him. You'd been so caught up in your own little ball of emotions, you overlooked just how much he was carrying with him, and it was a lot. Guess he wasn't the only one acting like a blockhead.

"Do you have any idea who?" Momo asked.

He shook his head. "Not at the moment...It's a long list."

Silence enveloped the room in cool tension as the information was processed. If this was personal and they had been behind Tatsuya and these other mass murders, then you could see why he'd been so freaked out lately.

Dammit. This was supposed to be over.

"What happens now?" You locked eyes.

"Whoever this person is, they won't hesitate to attack anyone close to me. They've proven that already." He paused. "But I refuse to let that happen again."

"How can I help?" Momo asked.

Ochaco nodded. "Yeah, we’re with you. Tell us what you want."

Izuku gave them a small smile. "Kacchan and Kirishima are working together on this. So is Shoto. They have some leads we're following." He glanced at the door. "Tsukauchi stationed some uniforms outside the house." He looked back at you. "I can station a hero with you here too, someone we trust."

You turned to Inko. She'd been sitting quietly this whole time. No one had asked her what she thought of all this. She would be in just as much danger as you, so she should have a say. Plus this was her house.

"Inko, what do you want to do?"

She sniffed and looked at her son. "I trust your judgement Izuku."

He nodded, looking slightly relieved. "Okay, I'll start making calls, see what the others have come up with."

A timer went off and everyone flinched. Inko waved everyone back down. "Dinner's almost ready." She scurried off into the kitchen.

"Y/N," Izuku leaned towards you. "Can I talk to you?"

Ochaco stood up, pulling Momo up with her. "We should get going. I'll check in with you later."

Momo nodded. "Yes, let us know what we can do to help."

"Shoto has the case files. You can talk to him."

Izuku walked them to the door where they gave quick goodbyes to everyone. Once they were gone, Izuku pulled you into the living room and sat you down.

"You have every right to be angry with me." He said quietly. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

He looked so hurt, like a puppy that had just been kicked. Damn, you could never stay mad when that stupid baby face of his looked so sad. Why did he always have to look so adorable, it was maddening sometimes.

"I'm not angry with you." You cocked your head. "Well, I was. It's just that you're treating me like a kid. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself you know."

His eyes grew wide. "Of course I know that! You keep proving that."

"Then why are you treating me like some kind of glass doll." You narrowed your eyes.

He shook his head and leaned forward. "I'm sorry. I just keep thinking about what could have happened. What can happen, if a villain gets to you. It, it terrifies me."

You stared at him for a moment. His hands had curled around your own, squeezing gently, as if you might disappear if he let go. His head was bowed, the edges of his curls were brushing against your neck as he rested against your shoulder. You leaned your head on top of his and closed your eyes.

Well, I'm not worried." You whispered. "You should have more faith in your abilities honey. In case you forgot, you're pretty outstanding."

You brought a hand up to run through his hair. It amazed you that it always still retained its softness even through the frizz. He loved when you would rub his head, so he curled up next to you, laying his head in your lap and staring up at you. His giant green eyes scanned over your face, as if trying to memorize every little detail.

"How the heck did I ever find someone as amazing as you?" He smiled, tracing his fingers along your arm.

You booped him on the nose. "You landed yourself right into my E.R."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you down for a quick kiss. "And I'm so glad I did."

You hummed in agreement and leaned back on the couch, shutting your eyes and relaxing for once. Of course the real world never stops, and so once again, your phone buzzed. You were hoping that one of your colleagues would get back with you about what's happening at the hospital. They've been reluctant to keep you updated while on your temporary leave. You were itching to get back to work.

"Izu," You nudged him. "Can you grab my phone?"

His eyes were shut, but he fumbled his hand around on the coffee table before he found it and handed it to you. Then he went back to snuggling in your lap, burying his face in your stomach. You absentmindedly played with his hair while you looked at your notifications. There were a few of them, all from that same blogger. The first one's subject line read; For your viewing pleasure. You clicked it and an image popped up.

"Oh my god!" You dropped the phone in your shock, straight onto Izuku's face.

He bolted up, rubbing the spot where the phone landed. "What?"

You blinked, staring at your phone, now lying facedown on the couch.

He grabbed it and turned it over. "Who sent this?" He asked in quiet disbelief.

"I don't know," you sat up straighter, "some blogger."

The email contained only pictures. A lot of them. They were all from the Hashira crime scene, except these weren't from some forensic photographer. These were taken while some of the members were still alive, taken by the killer. Now, you'd seen your fair share of bloody scenes at work, but nothing so brutal and....personal before. You could hardly stand to look at them, but one thing that you did focus on was one common element in all of the pictures, all the victims were being done up in Deku attire.

The phone buzzed again, with another email. Izuku opened it up this time. There were no pictures, just a short, simple message.

Change is happening. Get ready.

.

Ground Zero bit his tongue as he listened to another dumb story Red Riot was telling. He was half tempted to mute the comms, but that could jeopardize the stakeout. He hated stakeouts to begin with, but he absolutely loathed stakeouts with other people. Red Riot was a people person and Ground Zero was, to put it simply, not. So two hours in, he was ready to blow up the entire block.

"Anyway," Red Riot went on. "So now my foot's suck in there right? Kaminari's short-circuited and I still got half a pie left," He cracked up. "So then-"

"Shut up!" He finally exploded. "We're supposed to be quiet and I can't take any more of your shitty stories!"

"Ah, your just mad cause you weren't there." He said through the communicator.

Ground Zero grit his teeth and put his hand up to the comms, but forced himself to let it be. Instead, he focused his attention on navigating the rooftop he was on. It was narrow and the gravel crunched softly under his feet as he made his way across. Once he got to the edge, the building offered a nice view of the district. Red Riot was a few blocks over slowly making his rounds.

He was sure this guy would show tonight. He'd been pretty consistent with his appearances. Not so smart when your running drugs, but helpful to the hero who has to catch him.

"You know, maybe if you actually came to our get-togethers, you wouldn't miss out so much," Red commented. "I know the gang would like to see you again."

Ground Zero rolled his eyes and glanced down at the street below him. The building he was on was almost twenty stories up. "I don't have time to mess around."

"Dude," He sighed. "You've been working this case non-stop. Why is this so important to you?"

Ground Zero leaped off the building over the almost 5-meter gap and landed neatly on the other side. "They're criminals. Isn't that reason enough?"

Red was hesitant. "Yeah, but it seems like lately...I don't know."

"Exactly." He retorted. "You don't know."

Ground Zero scanned the surrounding buildings. The night was clear and the moon shone brightly overhead. Even though it was nearly two in the morning, the city lights made it easy to navigate the maze of buildings. He still had to watch himself, the rooftops were still pretty dark.

He ended up at the edge of the building, ready to move onto the next when he saw a shift in the shadows on the next roof over. He watched the spot like a hawk until he saw the faintest of movements. A figure darted between air conditioning units and paused on the ledge of a building, turning to face Ground Zero. A slight glint of metallic shined off a mask in the moonlight.

"He's here." Ground Zero smirked. "86th and 7th, heading east."

"Copy that. I'm close."

Ground Zero took off with a running start to jump over the huge gap separating their buildings. The figure didn't run, which he thought was strange. He only stood there, watching him as he landed in a roll. It was only after Ground Zero stood up and they locked eyes, well eyes to creepy Kabuki mask, that he finally took off.

Kabuki leaped off the ledge, down onto a smaller building below. Ground Zero was hot on his tail, practically flying off the building in his excitement.

"Oh no you don't!" He said still sailing down towards him using his explosions to control his flight. "Ha! Got you now!"

He slammed down towards him and almost managed to hit him. Kabuki was slicker than he thought and barely dodged. He jumped over Ground Zero as he stood back up and landed behind him. This guy was moving around with such agility that every time Ground Zero tried to swing around and clip him, he was already behind him again.

He growled and shot out a huge blast, using the momentum to spread it completely around him in a circle. No way someone could avoid an attack like that. When the smoke cleared, Kabuki was already on the next building.

Ground Zero narrowed his eyes and jumped after him. He landed on the slanted roof, almost slipping as some of the loose tiles gave way. He launched himself into the air again, scanning the rooftops in search for him. It was hard to find him when he was wearing all black in the dead of night. After a few tense seconds, he spotted movements a few buildings over. Damn, he was fast.

"He's headed your way, get ready!" He yelled into the earpiece.

"I'm ready." Red Riot answered. "I think I see him!"

Ground Zero boosted himself towards the villain, coming up fast. As Kabuki prepared to jump off the edge, a flash of red tackled him from below and pushed him back onto the building. Red Riot landed on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

Ground Zero quickly caught up and stood over the two. Kabuki struggled for a moment before deflating, choosing to turn his head and look up at Ground Zero.

"Katsuki Bakugo." Kabuki's voice was distorted with electronics. "What a pleasure to see you again."

Ground Zero reached for his cuffs and restrained his wrists.

"Why so silent?" Kabuki asked as he was hauled up. "Could it be that you’re afraid?"

He ground his teeth as he tightened the cuffs. "Shut the fuck up psycho."

Kabuki cocked his head. "Or is it that you're afraid to hear the truth?"

"I wouldn't keep talking if I were you." Red Riot said, grabbing one of Kabuki's arms.

"Oh, I'm not here for you." A spike shot out from the folds of his clothes, straight into Red Riot's stomach. Red Riot tumbled backwards, his hardening quirk the only thing saving him from being impaled. "I'm not here for either of you. "A second spike shot at Ground Zero who was quick enough to dodge it, but he had to let go.

Kabuki used the opportunity to escape, running towards the edge, hands still cuffed behind him. His fingers found the metal of the cuffs and in an instant, they seemed to melt right off him, drooping into a shiny puddle on the roof.

Red Riot was slow to stand while Ground Zero raced for Kabuki. He fired off a dozen mini blasts, all scattering around him until one found home, slamming into Kabuki's mask just as he turned to look back. He lost his balance and tumbled off the building.

"Shit." He hissed and ran to the edge.

Luckily, there was a building below that caught Kabuki. He landed hard, a small impact in the loose gravel around him showed that much. He turned over and pushed himself up to his knees.

"I don't think so!" Ground Zero hopped over the edge and fell on top of him, pushing him back into the ground.

Kabuki groaned, which sounded weird coming through the electronic mask. He stilled again as the knee guard drove into his back. Kabuki grasped at the gravel, trying to find a hold to squeeze out of his position.

"Let's see who's under that mask." He reached for the mask, but as soon as his fingers touched it, the mask sparked, sending a jolt of electricity up his arm, numbing it.

Kabuki pushed him off in his moment of weakness and rolled to his feet, pulling out a sharp metal spear from somewhere in his robes.

"Come on then," Ground Zero stood, flexing his hand. "Let's see what you got!"

Kabuki stepped towards him, the spear moved so fast, that he couldn't even see it in the dim light. The only thing that stopped the spear from smacking him in the side of the head was his arm brace. The brace took the brunt of the impact, almost cracking in half from the sheer force of the swing. The spear disappeared, only to reappear on his other side. He blocked again, but rolled with the blow this time, lessening the damage.

Red Riot jumped down to join the fight, running straight for the man. Kabuki reached into his robe and threw out a dozen little daggers. Red Riot easily batted them to the side and continued to charge. Or they should have been swatted aside, but when he looked down, he saw the daggers had melted down and wrapped around his arms and chest. He suddenly lurched backwards, almost loosing his footing, as the metal crawled up his skin, towards his face.

"What the-" Red Riot shook his arms, trying to scrap the warped metal off. The metal had a mind of its own and with sudden force, manipulated his arms, trying to pull them behind him in a makeshift cuff. It took all of his strength to counter the metal. It looked as though he was struggling with an invisible enemy.

Ground Zero focused back on Kabuki, firing an explosion at him. Kabuki used the spear to jump above the blast and drop behind him. The spear jabbed at his back, but he was quicker this time. He leaned to the side just as the spear was about to pierce him and wrapped his arms around it. He used the momentum to twist it around, throwing Kabuki off his feet.

Ground Zero gripped the spear, ready to use it against his opponent when the metal started melting. He wasn't an idiot, he'd seen exactly what would happen. He let go before it could crawl up his hand and blasted it away for good measure. So metal manipulation was his quirk.

He was too focused on the spear, he didn't catch the dagger Kabuki had thrown. It struck him in the shoulder and he stumbled back. It was small, but twisted around as if it had a life of its own. He grabbed his shoulder, gasping as the dagger dug deeper. His shoulder screamed in pain and blood gushed from the wound as the thing tried to burrow straight through.

To manipulate something so small and precise, that took a great deal of skill and training. He wasn't dealing with an ordinary drug runner, although that didn't surprise him all that much. A person who could eliminate an entire gang alone wasn't someone to piss off. But if Ground Zero had a specialty, it was pissing people off.

"What?" Kabuki dusted off his coat. "Is that all you got?"

Ground Zero dug his fingers into the wound, searching until he found the tiny hilt and pulled it out. The thing was stubborn and seemed to grow thorns locking it in place, but he managed to rip it out of his shoulder with a sharp groan.

Red Riot was in a dilemma of his own. The metal was trying to crawl its way up his arms and around his neck. The only thing he could do was keep scraping it off, but it was like glue.

Ground Zero charged again, but Kabuki only pointed to Red Riot. "Ah, ah." He wagged his finger. "I wouldn't move if I were you. It doesn't take much to break a neck you know."

He faltered, warily eyeing Red Riot, who had sunk to his knees. This metal wasn't like ordinary metal. The one that found a home in his shoulder was heavy, much heavier than metal should have been. He was betting it was stronger too, probably strong enough to break through Red Riot's quirk.

"Let's have a chat, shall we?" Kabuki put his hands on his waist. "Now, as I recall, you're only the number two hero. What happened to your dream of being number one?"

"What does it matter to you?" He spat out.

"It matters very much to me." Kabuki put a hand on his chest. "Your dreams were crushed as soon as he entered the playing field. What right did he have to take away something you worked so hard for, something that would help society as a whole!"

"The only thing that's gonna be crushed is your head."

"You know as well as I do that he shouldn't have been given that power." Kabuki growled. "He should have never become a hero!"

The metal on Red Riot had wrapped around his throat and he clawed at it, but even his quirk couldn't hold out for long against it.

"What do you have against him?" He asked. "what did he do to you?"

Kabuki waved his hands. "You're nothing like Midoriya, are you?" He took a step closer. "Always one step behind him. Always second place."

He had to mentally tell himself not to react. He wanted a reaction out of him and that would just put Red Riot in danger. He might also be able to get some answers out of this guy, if he kept calm enough.

"You know it's the truth." He went on. "But I can change that. I can help you change that."

"What are you on about?"

"I know all about you too, Mr. Bakugo." Kabuki casually crossed his arms. "I know what your life should have been like. We're very similar, you and I."

"Like hell we are." He barked.

Kabuki shrugged. "Think on it." He slipped out a gun and aimed it at Ground Zero, who tensed up. "In the meantime, I think this will be a suitable test run."

He released the metal that flew back and sunk beneath his robes. Red Riot gasped and fell forward, taking in heavy breaths. In a slight move, Kabuki redirected the gun and fired at Red Riot. The bullet struck the ground just beneath his hunched form and exploded into a cloud of blue dust.

Ground Zero charged him again, but Kabuki used the metal to springboard him off the roof. He was about to jump after him, but Red Riot gagged on the dust as he tried to move away from it. The blue powder seemed to cling to his skin, coating him. He waved it away from his face, choking on whatever substance it was supposed to be. It was a loosing battle and he crumbled back to his knees.

Ground Zero glanced back to where Kabuki had jumped off too. He put him in a bind. "Fuck!" He turned back to his friend who was struggling to breathe on the ground.

Red Riot's eyes were darting everywhere as panic overtook his senses. If blue powder wasn't already covering his face, Ground Zero was sure, he was turning blue from lack of oxygen.

He searched through his belt for something, anything, that might help. All he had was water. He gave it to Red Riot who tried to swallow the water, but only ended up gagging on that too. He fell forward, Ground Zero catching him before his head hit the ground.

"Hey Red Idiot," Ground Zero gently laid him down. "Keep fucking breathing!"

Shit, this was not how this was supposed to go. He'd let Kabuki escape and his teammate get hurt.

Red Riot suddenly lurched forward, throwing up all that blue dust that clogged his throat and rolled to the side with a groan. His fingers were twitching and his face was pale underneath the dust. He looked so out of it, eyes staring right through Ground Zero, as if he wasn't even there. Something was definitely wrong.

"Hey Eijiro," Ground Zero grabbed his shoulder. "Look at me."

With a low groan, he pushed himself off the ground, shaking his head. He was breathing heavy and his arms were trembling, but at least he was getting back up. That was good, right?

"Hey-" Ground Zero was cut off by the sudden punch to the jaw and fell backwards.

Stunned, he blinked in surprise as Red Riot tackled him with a ferocious growl. The two rolled in the gravel until Ground Zero caught up with what was going on. He shoved his friend off him and jumped to his feet.

"What the fuck man!" He yelled, but Red Riot wasn't listening and charged again.

Ground Zero grabbed his head and arm, twisting downward and out, flipping him onto his back. Red Riot's face was bent into a permanent growl as he lashed out, swiping at Ground Zero's legs. He blasted him before picking him up by his shoulder straps and bringing him face level. When he looked into Red Riot's eyes, he saw almost completely black. His pupils were blown, which meant it was definitely some sort of drug at play. He was just hoping it wasn't the long lasting, damaging type.

"What the hell is wrong with you," He shook him. "Snap out of it!"

Red Riot held up his arm, trying to harden it, but only half of it worked. Two of his fingers hardened and half his forearm. He swiped down, slamming it into Ground Zero. He let go, letting Red Riot stumble backwards. His balance was off, he could hardly stand straight, and it didn't look like the light was really on in the attic. That didn't stop him from coming back for more.

"That's it!" He waited for Red Riot to come to him. He was a few feet away before he hit him with a huge blast. "Time for a nap!" He grabbed his head and slammed it into his knee guard so hard that the guard bent.

Red Riot's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped down. Ground Zero laid him out and cuffed his hands in front of him, just in case. He didn't want either of them to get hurt while he was acting like this.

Ground Zero stood up and glanced around, trying to see if Kabuki had stayed to watch the show. No doubt he did, but it wasn't like he could run off now to try and find the villain. That would be irresponsible and he was slightly worried about his teammate. He requested an ambulance through his earpiece as he inspected the area. Whatever was in that bullet had done this. He searched the ground for the capsule while he made a another call. He was met with a groggy hello on the other end.

"We need to talk," he said as he picked up the fragment of the bullet.

Tag List @miriobaby @awilddreamerwrites @hmm-cats @thecindy @sailorstupidsblog @kehlaniwwe @kenmaskitten10 @slytherintothedms

...

Chapter 5

if you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know Loves!

[animeyanderelover]

I've been having some Kimimaro feels lately, so I'd love to see him with prompt 75. “I need you to stay with me. Forever! Without you I feel empty and lonely.” (Keep on the great work darling!)

Kimimaro! I was dying to write for him!

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, overprotective behavior, punishment, violence, isolation, mentions of kidnapping

Prompt 75: “I need you to stay with me. Forever! Without you I feel empty and lonely.”

It hurt. It hurt so much. But at least he had stopped. But that still didn’t change the fact that he had harmed you. He, who had told you since the very first day that he would always protect you. His words from back then and his actions right now didn’t really work together. But that wasn’t even the thing that ticked you off so much right now. It was the apathetic expression he had worn during the whole “lesson”, giving you the feeling that your suffering hadn’t meant anything to him. But then again, he had been the one who had inflicted it on you in the first place. He hadn’t just beat you up brutally like some savage, he had been very precise about the whole thing, making it not too long, but also not too easy. You guessed he had from somewhere, perhaps his old life, picked up the one or another trick on how to torture a person without spilling much blood. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and you were blinking in an attempt to get rid of the black dots dancing in front of your vision. Your throat hurt from all the screaming and your hair was sticking to your sweaty forehead. Tears were still spilling out of your eyes and your lungs felt like it was too much for them to even take the slightest bit of air.

For a few moments you just sat on the ground, trying to blend out the fact that he was still standing right in front of you, staring from above with those empty green eyes at you. You wanted him to go away. You didn’t want to be with him. But he had never given you a choice in the first place, taking you away from everyone you loved and cherished. And all that because he saw you as the purpose for his existence. His reason for living was to protect you. That’s what he had always told you. There were moments where you realized that it wasn’t his fault for acting this way. It was the fault of whoever had raised and teached him. He was misguided, not fully understanding what real love was. And he was desperate. He wanted to know why he had been born in this world. And now he had found the reason for his existence. He believed that it was you. In the end that guy was just messed up from a terrible childhood. So it wasn’t directly his fault for being his way. He didn’t know it better. Hell, to some degree this was even your fault even though you liked to think differently. But you guessed trying to escape a third time had guaranteed for him to lose his patience with you. The first few times he had just dragged you back and warned you to not test his patience too much. But you had been desperate as well, wanting to have your freedom back. So you had ignored his warning.

“Let me help you with standing up.”, you heard him saying, making you tense up. You weakly slapped his hand away. “No thank you. I don’t want your help. If you wouldn’t have done this I wouldn’t have to be helped to get back on my feet in the first place.” Your voice sounded just like you felt. Exhausted. You tried to heave yourself up with the helps of the walls, but in the end you just collapsed straight back to the ground. You hadn’t enough strength left to even stand. And you knew that Kimimaro knew that as well. But he hadn’t said anything so far. Either because he wanted you to admit that you were too weak and needed his help or because he decided to be nice after punishing you. Truly, what a gentleman he was. But you refused to admit that you needed help. Not from him. So you tried a few times more, but it always ended in you collapsing as soon as you tried to not support yourself on the wall. It was honestly frustrating that you couldn’t even show a bit more strength in front of him. How were you supposed to show him that you didn’t need his “protection” in order to be safe when you couldn’t even stand on your own? When you tried another time, without success, you didn’t fall back on your knees like all the times before. Instead Kimimaro catched you in his arms so that you leaned with your chest against his.

“(y/n)”, he began, giving you a serious look,”how long do you plan on trying to stand up and falling back? You might hurt yourself even more than you are already.” You looked up to look in his eyes. They were so terribly empty in your opinion, always looking like he had a hole inside of him. “Then why did you hurt me? I thought that you wanted to keep me safe. ”, you asked him quietly. You were by now beyond the point of yelling and trashing around whenever he touched you. Thinking back now you should be thankful that he hadn’t already done something against it like he had done today. “I told you the last two times what would happen if you would try to run away from me. Wasn’t I clear enough back then? Don’t you realize how dangerous the outside world is? You’re just too naive to know how cruel this world can really be. You didn’t see what I saw. You don’t know how cruel this world is. And I want to make sure that it stays that way. This right now was nothing in comparison to that. If a bit violence helps to protect you from everything else I’m willing to do it again. I-I just want to protect you. I need to do it. If I lose you...then I have no reason to live anymore.”

His grip had tightened more and more during his small speech and you also noticed the trembling in his voice, his calm and neutral voice sounding more and more like that of a scared kid. The slight shaking of his body also didn’t went unnoticed by you. “If you disappear as well, than what am I supposed to do? Do you know how painful it is to have no reason for life? I was searching for a purpose in life as long as I can remember. And for a short while I thought I had found it. But that wasn’t true. It was just an illusion. But then I met you.” His voice went softer when he spoke the last sentence, gazing with a passion at you that gave you chills. “And that’s when I realized that my purpose of life was to protect you from this wicked world.” He sounded so convinced. It was always a surprise for you to hear that he really believed the reason for his life to be to keep you safe. And you had never been able to talk him into thinking otherwise. “I need you to stay with me. Forever! Without you I feel empty and lonely.” His words were silently whispered, but the intensity they held were, to put it into one word, terrifying. It reminded you once again how far he was ready to go to make sure that you reminded unharmed. As long as he was so highly dependent on you, there were little chances that you would be ever able to escape him. At least not without guaranteeing that many people would be slaughtered by him until he would find you again. “Let’s bandage your wounds now, shall we?”

[sheeepdog]

Kind of a dissection of the c!dream smp folx and their viewpoints?? Yea

Almost every memeber involved in the primary plot of Dream smp, is in fact, selfish.

Not a single Character can, or refuses, to understand a perspective different from their own.

Most notably, Tommy and Techno refuse to understand each other’s side, which although could be shoved in a closet and shut for a considerable amount of time, eventually breaks out through a catalyst, and tears them apart.

Techno is right! He has been seen solely as a weapon by every member on the L’manberg side dubbed "The Blade" unwillingly and has been taken advantage of for his skill and blood god tendencies. Techno has always been upfront with his intentions, never ignoring them, and has never truly done an act of betrayal. Government can be bad, and in his eyes, chaos is the only answer to this.

Tommy is also right! He is a child abused by years of political warfare, manipulation, and has grown into intense trust issues, needing attention, and extreme loyalty and protection to those he deems worthy of it. Tommy never dreamed of siding with techno when his home was destroyed by him on November 16th. But when Tommy came to his lowest point ever, he crawled his way to the only protection he knew, his brother. Like I said, Tommy and techno could sweep their political views aside for the time being, and I’d like to believe that they really loved each other’s company. Tommy’s helmet, sneaking into L’manberg, being deemed "worthy" of the Axe of Peace, Tommy put the past behind him. I think that when Tommy told techno that he betrayed him again today, it wasn’t necessarily from his home being destroyed in totality. It was that he let himself trust techno again, and his brother hurt him. Just like every other brother he’s had. Just like his father. Tommy is allowed to be upset at everyone for ignoring him in exile, and while I’m sure that some of the peoples intentions when seeing him weren’t pity, they only visited him once and never again. Quackity simply came to make fun of him, not consoling him when he clearly needed friends. He’s right when he says he was abandoned, and if Tubbo missed him so much, he should have gone and seen him.

Tubbo struggles with being president, being completely destroyed by others comparisons to the first President of L’manberg, and his manipulator. He’s been kept under the thumb of Dream since his country has been rebuilt, and has no other option but to comply with exiling his best friend when pushed too far in one direction. Tubbo wanted to see Tommy in exile. He realized it was a mistake. But Tommy never fully disclosed to Tubbo what happened to him in exile. Instead of understanding, Tubbo gets angry when he realizes that Tommy is still alive. Tommy gets upset that Tubbo never visited him. Tommy says some things that root from anger and abandonment, that were meant for someone else who wears a mask and holds tnt in one hand and obsidian in the other. Tubbo was never graced with the knowledge of Tommy’s exile trauma, and therefore can’t know what Tommy’s been though.

Philza refuses to understand Ghostburs pain, simply saying "youll understand one day", instead of consoling his son who has to pay for the destruction of his home and belongings his father caused in favor of his brother, who worked for peace and love and was met with the cold response of his father not even apologizing nor sympathizing his sons pain. He can’t put his own anarchism ideals to the side for a second to allow his son to FEEL.

Niki is left behind. She’s talked over, had everything stolen from her, has her kindness used as a weapon against herself, and has been met with nothing but harshness from the people she gave love to. She has a right to be angry. She has a right to hate Tommy.

Ranboo is seen as a traitor to the country that he never sought alliance to. He’s seen as an indecisive amnesiac who can’t understand the basic concept of a country (when in reality he does, and he still doesn’t care) ((If you ask me, Ranboo is right. You should chose people, not countries. ))

Most of these problems stem from c!Tommy, we can all agree. Tommy is tunnel visioned, and has been purely seeking the discs for quite a long time. The thing is, that if people just TALKED, to one another, maybe L’manberg wouldnt be gone right now.

These people are selfish.

If Tommy realized that techno is tired, and wants to be seen as a friend more than a weapon, that Tubbo deserves to be a kid again, just like himself, that Niki deserves fucking respect, and that ranboo isn’t a traitor for having friends, then maybe L’manberg would still be here.

Techno doesn’t fully understand Tommy’s trauma, and is concerned only with the destruction of government (which frankly shouldn’t have been built right in front of him), to which would never have affected him in retirement. He doesn’t understand Tubbo trying his best to lead the country handed to him at too young of an age, but instead sees him as a ruler of a government, therefore he =bad.

Niki doesn’t know that Tommy went through absolute hell in exile, that he wasn’t going to be there for the festival if things got any worse, and that he is genuinely trying to be better.

These people are selfish. While their causes matter, they will never look at the other side. They will never understand why there’s conflict, why someone is angry with them. And that’s why we will always have interpersonal conflict between almost every character on the smp. They all refuse to cast their own views aside, to understand how others are affected by their actions (aside from Niki, I don’t think she’s ever done anything wrong on the server)

President Wilbur used to have a rule, a law in place for dignity and integrity. To always fight violence with words. You see what happens when you hold a sword, a wither skull, a parcel of tnt, rather than the hand of your opposite.