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tricksterlatte · 9 months

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Akeshu Holiday Heist Special WIP

This was going to be a oneshot sequel to my completed Persona 5 Akechi/Joker fanfic, Chase the Joker, set nearly one year after the ending. While I still have a few oneshots set in their future planned, this one's entire concept was changed, and the fic was scrapped. Since I had fun writing their banter, I'm going to post the WIP here anyways. You can read underneath the cut! As it's incomplete, there is no concrete ending to this segment at this time.

Sometimes, life could feel just like a Christmas movie. One could find the true meaning of holiday cheer amidst the chaos, no matter who they are or where they came from. It was a special time of year, and whether people celebrated or not, sometimes beautiful magic happened.

Joyful moments could be shared underneath the tree as families discover the true meaning of the holiday season, whether related to Santa Clause, the meaning of life, or Kentucky Fried Chicken. True love could be discovered underneath the mistletoe, all while some coworker’s annoying as hell kids at the office Christmas party went ooh or help me or perhaps ew, gross much? On occasion, the stars aligned just right each December, and picturesque moments captured in the mind’s eye forever would feel just like the more diverse Hallmark movies. All three of them, if you were being generous.

It was at these times one must remember Die Hard was also a Christmas movie…which was the evidence Akira needed to utilize for their current situation, no matter how Goro denied it, all while they drove towards some rich bastard’s Christmas bash on a hellbent mission.

Car rides anywhere were enjoyable as long as they were with each other, and in the end that was all Akira could ask for. As Goro rambled on and on about cultural variations of the holiday, and how supposedly none of them involved homicide, Akira just held back laughter while applying the reddest lipstick known to man. He hadn’t ever worn a cocktail dress before today, but no one could deny he looked incredible. He was dressed to the nines in luscious red, a silky wig, and enough makeup that not even his own parents would recognize him, and yet it wasn’t technically for a date. What a homophobic shame dealt to him by the gods themselves.

…Okay, his parents hadn’t seen him in years, and the last time had been Goro punching his father in the face. It was better stated that not even his cat would recognize him, but Akira didn’t want to think about that either. So instead he just bickered with the man he loved.

“Honey, listen,” Akira countered, after Goro ranted for the entire length of some bubbly kpop song about being merry and happy. “I know you pride yourself on being right about everything, and I support you unconditionally, but have you ever considered you’re totally wrong about literally everything? We are living out a Christmas movie right now. I’m right.”

“Stating I’m wrong without providing actual evidence as to why again, Akira?” Goro said with an eye roll, though his rolling eyes struggled to stay focused on the road when Akira’s dress kinda showed his upper thigh. “You would not have lasted one week in a university setting’s debate team, and it shows.”

“Hey, neither of us went to college, on account of me being a sexy criminal superstar and you being sexy and also super dead. At least I read dozens of books on mythology and cultural figures when we still had the Nav,” Akira said right back. “I’m a master debater–”

“I swear if you say ‘and also a masturbator,’ I’m hitting the brakes at mach speed.”

“I mean no, I don’t need to do that when we’re in the same room twenty-four hours a day. Wow, you have such a dirty mind, did you know that?”

Goro finally stared not at the road nor Akira’s legs, but a secret third thing–his smug, stupid face, so he could shoot Akira the nastiest of glares. “Quite the talk from someone who made a kidnapping roleplay joke months after literally being kidnapped.”

Okay, that had been one time. And they were not talking about it. Not if Akira could help it. He finished applying the last of his makeup and examined himself in the mirror. If looks could kill, Akira wouldn’t need a knife tonight. Tragically, he still needed a knife, but at least he was pretty.

“I never joked about that again, give me and my coping mechanisms some credit. Anyways, enough talk about my abduction. Ever heard of Krampus? He’s like the Mementos Grim Reaper used to be, except real, and festive, and I’m pretty sure he murdered children. How’s that for Christmas cheer?”

“I appreciate the sentiment behind a morally dubious Christmas special, but…Krampus aside, the holiday genre as a whole is ill-suited for activities such as murder, once we put aside frequently debated titles. There is a reason films such as Die Hard and American Psycho are commonly dismissed from a place among happy-go-lucky Christmas movies, and that’s due to them only portraying the holiday as background noise in favor of an action plot. It’s only a timestamp when all is considered, nothing more.”

God, Goro was so pretentious. No wonder Akira was in love with him. Here they were, driving towards some multimillionaire’s holiday party with a heist in mind and also assassination if push came to shove, and yet Goro was blasting some American artist’s holiday music on the Jokermobile speakers and discussing American fucking Psycho versus the concept of Christmas cheer. If he wasn’t wearing nondescript black clothing and gun holsters, Akira would blame the irritated snarl gracing Goro’s face on this Michael Buble person singing some no homo anthem about his buddy Santa.

Akira just giggled in his best falsetto, preparing himself for whatever crossdressing shenanigans he had to pull for their mission tonight, and flipped his wig over his shoulder. Brief little moments of domestic bliss were nice after everything, even if most people wouldn’t get it.

“Okay, ignore the murder then. We’re still living in a real life romcom whether you think my jokes are funny or not, since my entire life is a joke.” Another unimpressed squint as Goro kept his eyes on the road. The self-deprecation didn’t hit like it used to for either of them. Damn their efforts to rebuild Akira’s self-esteem. Those efforts were getting in the way of dark humor! “It’s December 24th, we’re on our way to crash a Christmas party, and we are romantic and comedic. We even took that don we now our gay apparel song to heart, come on!”

Goro snorted, ever the long-suffering, disgruntled man in the face of whatever the fuck Akira was doing. “That can be said for your outfit tonight, but I don’t recall a black turtleneck ever winning one of those ridiculous ugly Christmas sweater contests.”

“No, see, you’re just dressed like the gay goth cousin who sits at the kids’ table during family gatherings because he hates his homophobic relatives.” Akira knew this because he had once been the gay goth cousin who sat at kids’ tables during their rare family gatherings because he hated his homophobic relatives.

Goro looked from Akira, to the road, to their GPS. His brow furrowed and he bit his lip once he saw how little time was left until their arrival. The plan had been for Goro to park the car and follow behind closely, and Akira would do the actual infiltration with a fake identity and a fake adoration for being surrounded by the rich and pompous. The flashy getup was excessive, in Goro’s opinion, but plenty of Shido’s affiliates, and therefore Goro’s whether he liked them or not, were occupying this little gala. Of the two of them, Akira was less likely to be recognized, especially when dressed like this.

That didn’t mean Goro was fond of the idea whatsoever, but that was only one stressor among the many weighing them down tonight. As Goro parked the car, Akira finalized his appearances one more time, double-checking his heels were just short and thick enough that he could still run in them, and that not a hair looked out of place.

He only became aware of his nervous expression when Goro turned off the radio. Turning to face his partner in crime, he saw anxiety reflected back at him, and Akira gulped down a lump in his throat. “Hey,” Akira said, reaching over to grab Goro’s hand as it held the steering wheel in a vice grip. “I know this time of year is stressful for everyone, but I’m going to be okay–”

“Are you okay, though?” Goro cut him off, flexing his fingers before letting go of the wheel. He squeezed his eyelids shut and visibly fought to unclench his jaw. “You’ve spent the entire car ride cracking ridiculous jokes and making up your own lyrics to every damn orchestra cover that played on the radio, but if you’re trying to hide how nervous you are, you’re not doing a great job. I thought we talked about this.”

Akira winced. Keeping secrets hadn’t been his goal at all, but he couldn’t blame Goro for that train of thought. Old habits die hard, whether trauma was involved or otherwise. He flopped back against the headrest, shifting their hands so their fingers intertwined. Even with gloved hands, the grip grounded both of them. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I just know if I think too much about the worst case scenarios, I won’t be able to focus on anything else. I’m worried about you too, though. What’s wrong? Is it about splitting up?”

The telltale twitch of Goro’s hand was all the answer Akira needed. He stayed silent and gave Goro a moment to find his words, taking in his harrowed expression as Goro’s thumb brushed across the various scars all over Akira’s hand. Goro had always wielded words masterfully on television and even in battle, whether they were honeyed vinegar or vulgar curses, but words conveying his innermost feelings still didn’t come easily. Akira wasn’t good at sharing his burdens purposefully either just yet, but they were trying.

They were both getting better about trust and honesty, but sometimes Akira worried parts of them would always be trapped in the past, terrified of losing one another, or maybe in some long-lost Palace there was Goro, kneeling on some bloody floor or panicking in a hotel room, or there was Akira, trapped in a diner or tied to a chair in that hellish basement or crawling across frozen earth in a desperate rush because he couldn’t let him die, not here, not again–

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Akechi’s voice broke Akira out of the spiral before it could properly start. Suddenly Akechi’s head gently bumped into the side of Akira’s, and his thumb rubbed circles against Akira’s knuckles. Right. It was December, in the present day, almost a full year after three no good, very bad days. They were alive. They were okay. “I’ll admit I’m not fond of splitting up. I…I can’t lose you again.” Okay, so maybe Akira wasn’t the only one spiraling over that possibility. “If you no longer wanted to mingle with Shido’s trash, I would gladly take our little getaway car and drive wherever you wish–”

“Nope, I’m still going,” Akira butted in. He wasn’t offended by Akechi’s offer, but he didn’t want to back down now, and he knew Akechi didn’t either. He could do this. It wasn’t like he had to kill a million people, all he had to do was break into some big wig’s computer with a flash drive and then get the hell out of there. Hopefully no one paid attention to him, once they got over the dress and heels. “I have a dagger and I’m not afraid to use it, and I have my earpiece just in case. You have a sword and multiple guns and an actual sniper rifle. Give the both of us some credit! I killed a god three Christmases ago. A little breaking and entering is what the kids call small potatoes.”

Akechi said nothing, but at the rate he was stressing, he would fracture every bone in Akira’s hand, induce heart murmurs faster than you could say four Five Hour Energy shots, and go bald by age twenty-three. Refusing to let the man who was essentially his husband lose all his hair, Akira indulged in their old favorite vice: deflecting and changing the subject. “Also, this isn’t the getaway car. Stop besmirching the good name of our dearly beloved Jokermobile–”

“It’s not a good name at all, Akira,” said Akechi as he forced himself to relax. He didn’t buy the facade, but Akira wasn’t trying to fool him. They both just needed to calm down before they did anything reckless…even if a heist was also reckless. “Your habit of naming inanimate objects is getting out of hand. This isn’t the Jokermobile, it’s a black 2016 Toyota Highlander, and you only named it that because you wanted to make rear-ending jokes.”

Well, it was a good thing they had only been rear-ended by an actual car once, then. Akira took full responsibility for that one, it was his fault for trying to drive with a broken leg. Pour one out for the fire hydrant, the greatest victim of that hit-and-run besides Akira’s psyche. “And yet you never thought of a better name. Checkmate.”

“You’re insufferable,” Akechi sighed.

“I think you meant irresistible, honey,” said Akira.

“Oh, pardon me. I meant to say you’re irritating and irresponsible. My mistake.”

Goro didn’t give Akira time to reply before he unbuckled his seatbelt and inspected his holsters. “Do you have the flashdrive ready to go?” Akira reached into a side pocket of his dress and showed Goro the flash drive, shoving it back inside once Goro nodded. “And your dagger?” He flipped his skirt completely to the side, exposing lacy black underwear on top of the dagger strapped to the thigh lacking a dress slit. Goro forcibly ignored that and interrogated him again like the bastard cop he once pretended to be. “And your earpiece?”

Wow, not even a verbal reaction to his underwear of choice? Bummer. Akira rolled his eyes and gently swept the wig away. Barely visible inside his ear was the earpiece, but it was in place just as planned. Smiling and hoping the red lipstick wouldn’t smudge onto his teeth, he flashed Goro a thumbs up. “Yes, Goro, I’ll hear your illustrious voice loud and clear. What about yours?”

“I put mine on before we left. I came prepared, unlike you.”

“It’s not a competition, Goro.”

“Akira, we turn everything into a competition whether we like it or not.”

God, could Goro stop making good points tonight? He was beating Akira in the argument category of the Rivalry Olympics. Fucker. Conceding for now, Akira pouted as Goro let go of his hand to climb into the back. “Do we have any of those canned coffees left?” he asked while Goro inspected his ammunition.

“I grabbed extra at the 777 earlier, along with some other beverages,” Goro replied, briefly ignoring his mission prep in favor of caffeinating the idiotic love of his life. As Goro reached into their cooler, he continued, “Some are black, some have cream or sugar. How do you want your coffee tonight, my dear Joker?”

“Black like my soul, Crow,” Akira replied, fondly recalling his dear pal Satanael on the anniversary of a god’s death. Goro gave him a long, hard look, then hurled a bottle of milk at Akira’s face. Naturally, Akira caught it with all the proficiency in the universe. Then he hurled it right back at Goro, who snatched it from the air without even looking. Well, if Satanael wasn’t allowed, then Arsene better be. “Fine. Something with French roast, also like my soul.”

#persona 5 #akeshu #shuake #p5 #goro akechi #akira kurusu #tricksterlatte writes #chase the joker #my stuff #I have two other oneshots planned regarding this heist and then this holiday for them. but.#Akechi overexplaining American Psycho to Akira who just thinks he's ridiculous while also being head over heels. it had to be shared #i had to.#this will not make much sense without the original fic btw so if you like this. go read it! look in my pinned

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 1 year

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Legacy of Fire (IV)

Chapter Four: Bond in Silence

Summery: Escape was not easy nor was it impossible.

Warnings: Cursing, death by sword, death by fire, death by hanging, war, humiliation, betrayal, violence, use of the word bastard, incest, angst, fluff, burning, threatening, future smut, P in V, fingering, cunnilingus, scissoring, blowjob, handjob, anal sex, girl x girl, boy x girl, boy x boy, dragons

Word Count: 1,6K

Bound and confined, Vaeloria, Lara, and Ser Ian faced a new challenge as their captor, Darron, remained vigilant. Yet, despite their dire circumstances, their spirits remained unbroken, and their determination to escape only grew stronger.

In the hushed confines of their captivity, the trio communicated in whispered dialogue, their voices barely rising above a murmur, as they navigated the treacherous path ahead.

Vaeloria, her voice a mere breath, asked, “Ser Ian, do you think there’s any chance of overpowering Darron?”

Ser Ian, his gaze fixed on their captor who remained on guard, replied in a quiet tone, “It’ll be difficult, my lady. He’s watchful, and we’re still weakened from the effects of the milk of the poppy.”

Lara, ever the voice of reason, added, “We need a plan, something that catches him off guard.”

Vaeloria nodded in agreement. “Agreed. We’ll need to be patient and wait for the right moment.”

As they continued their whispered dialogue, their bond grew stronger, and the legacy of House Targaryen served as a silent reminder of their resilience. In the face of adversity, their unity and unwavering determination would guide them towards freedom, no matter the obstacles that lay ahead.

In their hushed whispers, Vaeloria, Lara, and Ser Ian formulated a daring plan to escape their captor and secure the means to continue their journey through the unforgiving desert.

Ser Ian, his voice barely audible, outlined their strategy. “We’ll need to wait for a moment when Darron’s guard is down. When he least expects it, we strike.”

Vaeloria nodded in agreement. “And once we’ve incapacitated him, we’ll steal his horses and supplies. They’re our only chance out of here.”

Lara, her voice filled with determination, added, “We can’t afford to fail. Our lives, depend on this escape.”

As they finalized their plan in hushed whispers, their unity and shared purpose became more evident than ever. The legacy of House Targaryen would serve as their guiding light through the darkness of their captivity, leading them towards freedom and the uncertain future that awaited them in the relentless desert.

Ser Ian, with a plan forming in his mind, leaned in closer to Vaeloria and Lara. In hushed whispers, he explained, “We need to create a distraction to catch Darron off guard. Vaeloria, pretend you’ve fallen sick. Lara, act concerned.”

Vaeloria, though hesitant, understood the necessity of the ruse. She lowered her head and feigned weakness, her voice trembling as she muttered, “I don’t feel well, Ser Ian. My head is spinning.”

Lara, playing her part, added with a convincing tone of concern, “We need Darron’s help. He has some supplies that could ease your discomfort.”

Their performance drew Darron’s attention. Suspicion flickered in his eyes as he approached cautiously. “What’s going on here?”

Ser Ian, his bound hands concealing his true intent, responded with urgency. “My lady is unwell. We need your assistance, Darron.”

Darron’s sinister grin returned, thinking he had the upper hand. “Seems like your journey has taken its toll. Let me take a look.”

As Darron leaned in closer, Vaeloria’s acting grew more convincing. She moaned softly, feigning distress.

With a sudden burst of strength, Ser Ian, despite his restraints, lunged forward, catching Darron off guard. Their struggle was fierce and desperate, with Ser Ian determined to overpower their captor.

As the scuffle continued, Darron’s surprise turned into rage. “You treacherous fools! You won’t escape!”

Amidst the commotion, Lara seized the opportunity, grabbing a nearby object and striking Darron from behind. The blow stunned their captor, and Ser Ian’s final, powerful strike incapacitated him.

Their hearts raced as they looked at each other with a sense of triumph. In their hushed and hurried dialogue, they realized they had taken the first step towards freedom.

As they continued their escape, Ser Ian, ever watchful, searched through the stolen supplies, hoping to find something that might aid them further. To his astonishment, he stumbled upon a set of keys among the assorted items.

With a sense of urgency, he examined the keys and realized that they were the very keys to unlock their chains. The discovery filled him with a mixture of relief and anticipation.

With whispered excitement, he said to Vaeloria and Lara, “I’ve found the keys. We can remove these chains.”

Their eyes widened with hope as Ser Ian unlocked Vaeloria’s restraints first, freeing her from the burdensome chains. Vaeloria, once unchained, wasted no time in assisting Lara, who had been nursing her bruised wrists.

As Lara’s chains fell away, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Ser Ian. We owe you our freedom.”

Ser Ian’s response was filled with determination. “Our freedom is just the beginning. We’ll continue our journey to uncover the secrets of House Targaryen.”

Their unspoken feelings of gratitude and unity grew stronger as they rode on, now unburdened by chains and more determined than ever to face the challenges that lay ahead in the relentless desert.

Vaeloria whispered, “We have to act quickly. Let’s steal his horses and supplies.”

Ser Ian nodded, the weight of their bound hands not dampening their determination. “Our legacy will guide us through this. We’ll make our escape, no matter the odds.”

In the aftermath of their successful ploy, their whispered dialogue carried the promise of a brighter future as they prepared to seize the opportunity that lay before them in the relentless desert.

As they moved quickly to seize their chance for escape, their whispered dialogue continued.

Lara, her voice filled with urgency, whispered, “Ser Ian, we must be swift and thorough. The desert offers us no second chances.”

Ser Ian, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any signs of danger, responded in hushed tones, “Agreed, Lara. We’ll take the horses, supplies, and anything else of value. It’s our only way out of here.”

Vaeloria, her resolve undiminished despite her earlier act, added, “And once we’re free, we’ll continue our journey to find Jon Snow and uncover our family’s secrets.”

With each whispered word, their unity and determination shone brightly, a testament to their unbreakable bond and the legacy of House Targaryen that guided them through the darkness of their captivity.

Working together, they liberated the horses and gathered the supplies they would need for their journey through the unforgiving desert. The weight of their bound hands was no match for the strength of their shared purpose, and they moved with a sense of purpose and urgency towards the uncertain future that awaited them beyond the cottage walls.

As they swiftly gathered supplies and prepared to make their escape, Vaeloria couldn’t help but reflect on the perilous journey that lay ahead. In a hushed whisper, she said to her companions, “Our path forward will be fraught with danger, but we cannot falter. The legacy of House Targaryen is our guide.”

Lara, her voice determined, responded, “We’ve come this far, and we’ll see it through to the end. Together.”

Ser Ian, still bound but resolute, added, “We are bound by duty and loyalty. House Targaryen’s legacy is our strength, and it will carry us through.”

Their whispered dialogue was a testament to their unwavering commitment to each other and to the legacy they carried. With stolen horses and vital supplies in tow, they were ready to embark on the next chapter of their journey through the relentless desert, united by a shared purpose and the unbreakable bond of their resolve.

As they continued their escape on stolen horses through the harsh desert terrain, a small misstep caused Lara to lose her balance. With a gasp, she twisted her ankle, wincing in pain as she tried to regain her footing.

Ser Ian, always vigilant, quickly dismounted and rushed to her side, his concern evident in his eyes. He knelt beside her, gently examining her injured ankle. “Lara, are you alright? You’ve twisted your ankle.”

Lara winced and nodded, a mix of pain and frustration in her voice. “I’ll be fine, Ser Ian. It’s just a minor twist.”

Despite her attempt to downplay the injury, Ser Ian’s worry remained palpable. He carefully helped her back onto her horse, ensuring she was comfortable before remounting his own.

Their escape continued, but as they rode through the unforgiving desert with Lara favoring her injured ankle, Ser Ian’s protective instincts came to the forefront. He couldn’t help but show a sliver of romantic feelings as he whispered softly to Lara, “You need to be careful, Lara. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.”

Lara met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a hint of gratitude, but she quickly responded in a tone of camaraderie, “Thank you, Ser Ian. We’re in this together, and I know we’ll overcome any obstacle.”

Ser Ian, perhaps feeling vulnerable for a moment, shifted his focus back to their escape and the challenges that lay ahead. “Indeed, Lara. Our journey is far from over, and we must stay vigilant.”

Their unspoken feelings lingered in the air, buried beneath their shared commitment to their mission and the legacy of House Targaryen. As they rode on through the desert, their bond remained unbreakable, and the future held both uncertainty and the potential for deeper connections.

As they continued their escape through the harsh desert, Ser Ian couldn’t help but steal worried glances at Lara. Her injury, though seemingly minor, had become a cause for concern for him. No one knew the depth of his feelings, not even Lara herself, but over the course of their journey, although short, he had grown to care for her deeply.

Their unspoken connection was a testament to the bonds forged through shared hardship and the legacy they carried with them. Ser Ian’s concern for Lara went beyond their duty and loyalty to House Targaryen; it was a sentiment that had quietly grown within him, hidden beneath layers of camaraderie and shared purpose.

Though his heart ached with worry for her, he knew that their escape and their mission took precedence. His unspoken feelings remained a closely guarded secret, a silent testament to the complexity of their journey and the potential for deeper connections that lay beneath the surface.

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outpost51 · 1 year

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Tiny Scene Sunday

Yeah they’re back, I guess this is a regular thing now.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Concession

Not quite an olive branch, but reaching across the gap all the same.

“What happens if the light goes out?”

Ukthyther lifted his head to regard me with… some emotion. Curiosity seemed the least threatening, so that’s what I decided the tilted look and lilting click meant. There was no sun or moon to track across the sky, but the sun could have risen and fallen four dozen times and I’d still be unsettled when he stood — leaned forward on the balcony railing, rather, and he still dwarfed me by half a head — so close to me. Someone had braided his stringy mop of what I called hair for the sake of my own comprehension. Their kind’s hands weren’t capable of such fine motor skills as that level of intricacy required, so I could only guess who. Where I still jumped at shadows, wiped the briny chill from my skin after I inadvertently brushed against one of them, my Addie had no such inhibitions. She would strip down to her underpinnings and dive into the swells to splash about with them.

I jerked my thumb towards the rotating beam above us. “Those sailors are already doomed anyway, aren’t they?”

Another series of clicks. He bared his teeth in what I prayed to every god I could name was amusement. “You are asking your purpose,” he rumbled.

“Sure,” I scoffed. “My purpose.”

Ukthyther turned back to watch his people break apart the newest wreck. “Would you rather them sail endlessly into the dark, starving and dying of thirst for eternity?”

Bright copper amidst the dark, twisted metal caught my eye. Adelaide had gone down to help, apparently. Bound back her hair and stolen a pair of my trousers to do it, too, cinched up tight beneath her bosom. “No,” I answered, “but is being torn apart not just as gruesome an end, quicker or not?”

His lips peeled back over his teeth again with his snort. “There is no end awaiting them in the fog.” One of his upper arms snapped up to snatch something from the air — a lightning bug, I thought at first, and then he brought it closer for me to see; it was just a ball of light, almost fuzzy in its condensed state. Its low hum made me dizzy. “They are already dead when they cross the sea. Whether their souls can rest is the question.”

“So they follow the light.” The little ball buzzed away and the resulting fatigue forced me to grab the rail. “And if it goes out?”

“Then they must hope the sea is feeling merciful,” he replied, “and hope their captain is very lucky.”

Adelaide hoisted herself out of a hole in the ship’s hull, cheering about the discovery she held high over her head. She was too far away for me to make out her words, or perhaps she wasn’t speaking any tongue I could understand.

“And what of us?” I asked.

Again, he grinned, but didn’t answer, instead pushing off the rail and turning away. “What, indeed,” he murmured over his shoulder as he retreated into the darkness of my home.

I watched the shadows consume him, and then a while longer. He didn’t return, nor was there any sign of him when I followed.

I pulled on my boots. There was work to do.

#my fic #shorts and oneshots tag #tiny scene sunday #lighthouse in the fog

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libidomechanica · 9 months

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When she does crushing

‘I trust me, said Cyril, ‘for thee. The star, from the first in the ocean’s moaning limbs, and does not till the still than is not the Bright still; but you. That, self- styled, o Annihilated and carelessly for twere play, not a boy of mine? Winning,

her prove: make account me your slaue; in begging his art left me with pearl the hungry ocean gain at four posts; and then The Sage behold you have a coward to snatch’d and again within us. So that, he saw the twist of what is

she? To you, you aren’t. Saw the twisted learn what the light. To through a clouds as this man quite new just falls melodious birds are cut off and clime and duty clasp’d like thee hold that art content, she’s twist of wedlock; she would have birth, and

that axelike edges lay their hearts to thee, an inclination that lamp were to be wrote, too gentle looks into his pride the wall, while I was at dawn and they behold thee, only a woe, that kiosk at the first rose and her hunger

mouth opens four will say that could insanity of care doth their never look wanton in; and we saw the Lady Psyche ever yet wad waken doubtful smile the Russ so well thee do mock my size again. Of any error,

like all was locked, and swift disposed overbold; now I thoughts of dress us, again sea-god to write for nothing in a monument. With the boy, then, Sir, O Prince it was happily be well to pieces shivered, smell of inspired,

the true soul was four o’clock mid shade and grieve, or love my little niece, you thought, and at the toes, it went upper there was pleasured my thou be my back like to know how saw you say, but a tree, paused forth; thy baited hooks say, thought; now

sucks that keep for to seem wrong, the least have never wi’ her cheek a mother’s vow they escape forth with free scope and Ioues stride: her dreams with her behoof, who, by an everybody’s future, or some old inn-door. ’ The famous, breast amidst

of verdure, crown’d me, I can first, with a headless demon, and round his latest kings! And the fruite orders of the loads and kings there was with me. The blue halo of flies float about her muse expound where is locked the mother who seek if

the widow’d marriage temples I behung, and the leave them twixt two are dead; on which, as any more—pulling out at their sister and blinding Nith I did look, pain, regretted alabaster that may the tips of the parts of thy store,

all think what if Blucher, Bulow, Gneisenau, and tuned it high decay! I’d rather rude, that hung down, and got, ’twas but a pure, and trembling like a stump, a clapper clapper clapping from customs of this fatal to that somehow would

be call, tis one. Straight to thy loof her wrath: he is not less; i’m so entangl’d and was her walie nieves its lava, with the fifteen and oftentiment of female handed to balanced, scale. Are alive; how contentedly I view

a slender voice in the entrenched createst love, a heart-strings, a God in a race they lifted up, dead ere a pinch a flower in the tide into a charms, be mine, its dew-drop on drop his nature breath. ’ Curse of his nation, and then slackened

sailed, and heads, vacant he said he, who could not even forgot, nor shamed us: there, as his face, shall its good-morrow, what Pat’s languish; for hart, each time to ask of safety, than thunder’d—his voice is best of clear; tlot-tlot, in their space.

In Rhime now, my love, to make me as they tread over Locksley Hall! On trips to give my peers, your smiling, ye joyful angel air, and wits; the housemaid were, it glittered an ancient Beadsman, her eyes that late and much will happiness,

she, curtseying headlong parental surgeons who grow! And next to herself, who, by all are laid on the Soul in Strife! Auld baudrons by the blood may spend thy Dust in th’ other dress; for one who had no great Orion slide, my sickness;

thou tread, or all out, embrac’d. Whose beauty’s child, felt herself art staring night I saw people said: when God did make you ask such Jugling him then, in half opened once, quince, I have cause embrace. Baba, whom my deeds to them. Behind her from

her e’e; let woe gripe on my breathe antipodes of pleasant thou die before was, and language sprung from the fetter’d. ’Er beguiled! In silken hood to climb’d at prevent; and this! He sang for, to this feather, each, till lie unstrung, down them

and her jewels, to the breasts I drew nigh expell’d we given in requisition descended too sparkling, now, while, and more, when the mosques and died. Where he was not so loudly, the jewels, gifts; he said, airing For the level matting.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #184 texts #ballad

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newenglandsept2023 · 1 year

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Day 6, Sunday Sept 7: Atlantic City, NJ to Wilmington (130 km) + Dover, Delaware (212 km) to Annapolis, Maryland (317 km) to Washington DC (368 km).

Yesterday's luck ran out today. I woke to rain and rode in rain for most of the day. My original plan was to take the ferry from Cape May, NJ, to Lewes, Delaware. I wasn't able to book a reservation online, so that, and the thought of low visibility, lining up and slippery wet metal grates, convinced me to change my plan. It was to be a day of changes.

I head out towards Wilmington instead, avoiding the freeways. That idea soon sours as rather than countryside I'm riding through suburbia, and thanks to the rain I can't see much anyways. At least on the freeway, all I have to do is point and go, so limited visibility is less of an issue. I elect to head for the New Jersey turnpike and take it to New Castle, Delaware, where I meet the Delaware Memorial Bridge. I cross numerous bridges today, but this one stands out. A dual span, steel suspension bridge, it runs 10,765 feet (3,281 m) across the Delaware River at a maximum clearance of 174 ft. Constructed in 1968, it still seems today, to me at least, to be an engineering marvel.

Once across, I head south toward Dover (pop 38,900), which surprise to me, is the capital of Delaware complete with a regal, State House, its own Liberty Bell, and Nascar Motor Speedway. I decide to stop in, look around, and grab some lunch, which I manage to do amidst rain squals.

A gentle rain settles in as I leave, so I go back to country roads for the trip to Annapolis (pop 40,680) and, again, surprise to me, the capital of Maryland. It's a beautiful route filled with small towns, pretty scenery, corn, beans, cranberries, and sunflowers.

I mentioned earlier that this was to be a day of rain and bridges. To reach Annapolis, I must cross the William Preston Lane, Jr., Memorial Bridge over upper Chesapeake Bay. It was opened to traffic in 1952 and is 4 miles (6.4 km) long. Both the views and the bridge itself are extremely impressive. I'm always both I.pressed and nervous, crossing large bridges. This one is definitely in the top ten.

As I reach Annapolis, the sun actually comes out, so I make a last-minute decision to stop in. I tour the capital building and take in some history, from George Washington to Ben Franklin to four of the original signatories of the Declaration of Independence. It is a beautiful town, richly steeped in American history. I could easily spend much longer here.

But Im wet, and Im tired, so I press on for the day's final, rain infused leg to Washington DC (pop 720,000) the U.S. capital, sitting on the Potomac River, bordering the states of Maryland and Virginia. It’s defined by imposing neoclassical monuments and buildings – including the iconic ones that house the federal government’s three branches: the Capitol, White House, and Supreme Court, the Lincoln Memorial, the Library of Congress, and the White House. It's also home to iconic museums, including several Smithsonians and performing-arts venues such as the Kennedy Center. I plan to take a break from the road tomorrow and spend a whole day here. There is much to see.

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archfeyworkshop · 1 year

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This week we begin my long reign of worldbuilding diatribes with the universe of Arturium. A pretty big overhaul project that nonetheless features a number of familiar concepts, including several you've already noticed yourself. I unfortunately don't really have concept art for most of the planes so you'll have to settle for lengthy text wall.

Pretty much all the inner seven planes are D&D-centric and I kept the Nine Hells and the Abyss because I kind of like them, but much of the rest is different. First let me draw attention to the line right at the top there - The Watchman's Eye. The layout of this planar network isn't a coincidence - the world functionally resides within the eye of an eldritch being. Very little is known about it - next to nothing besides the name in fact. Its actions, if any, have been passive and generally non-destructive to reality and the full scope of its motives aren't known by any (except myself) except for one thing: All of its disciples and followers have been known to hunt and destroy other aberrations, suggesting some form of hostility with them. To consider it a 'plane' though is a difficult thing - one could theoretically enter the body of this multidimensional being as kind of plane, but it hasn't been achieved as of yet.

But to the more comprehensible parts of the setting, it's divided into seven functional categories. Primordial Chaos, the Divine Realm, the Divine Duty, Realm of the Council, the Inner Wheel, the Lower Bridge, and the Abyss.

Primordial Chaos in the planar sense has a similar role to the watchman in that it's the part of the setting that encircles and contains all the rest like a vast ocean. Served by the various ethereal parts of the map, they are varying degrees of passively hostile to mortals and outsiders alike, as they are shaped by collective thought and are themselves composed of raw reality shaped in various ways by the planes it borders and its distance from the core material plane. It's the hardest to travel to the uninitiated but is nevertheless home to a number of more primitive planar species. The further one gets from the material the more wild and destructive the primordial seas are with the exception of the Archipelago, where a number of islands have been formed from pure will and is believed to be the stuff of the goddess of time herself.

The upper planes are then formed into three effective tiers as you can see. Each of the upper planes is home to one or more gods as a rule. At the top is the Divine Realm, where four gods reside. Romona & Ville, Elof, Nemesis and Ahlai, in theory the most powerful of the gods but more practically, the gods with the least form and most removed from mortality. The Divine Realm is typically depicted as a colossal tree of red leaves sat amidst a vast field but in fact every part of it is pure concept - there is no physical substance to it, making simply existing in the plane often fatal for its numerous non-natives.

Below it is the Divine Duty, three realms of a total of seven gods. Yetta, Moaven, Runa, Ahram, Giliam, Imeld and Sirona. With the first three considered the lords who shaped the world, the Divine Duty has effective control over the laws that underpin all reality. Their realms are at least semi-solid but often changed to suit purposes from moment to moment. And yet it sees the highest mortal traffic, for all mortal souls pass through the Household upon death regardless of their ultimate destination. As demonstrable in the Divine Duty, the look of an upper plane is always morphed and defined by the deities who occupy it, making the Household the most divided in design as it's shared between three.

The last set of upper planes is the Domain of the Council, the Council of the Flawed being those gods whose domains are typically comprised purely of mortal concepts. As they lack connection to a base law of reality they are lesser in authority, but with greater connection to mortals and their actions they tend to have more power to actually affect the world on a day to day basis. Ranging from desolate, blasted wastelands to a large yet cosy estate, all of the planes bar one is ruled over by a pair of gods with the fortress and hearth occupied by cooperative gods, and the towers and rubble the result of warring faiths. At the centre sits the Graveyard, a dead and empty plane and monument to a fallen god. The only one of its kind.

In the centre of the eye is a fairly well-known set of planes. Material, Feywild, Shadowfel, and the four elemental planes. The material is the subject of last week's piece and currently has too much to summarise here. The key information to take in about the inner planes is that all of them except the Shadowfel are inhabited by civilised races, with the Giants and elementals taking the elemental planes and of course the Fey ruling the Feywild. This is probably the biggest planar holdover and one of the hardest for me to change, though sometimes I consider alternate elemental planes.

The seven planes that compose the Lower Bridge lack the same themes as each tier of the upper planes. In fact, not all of them are openly hostile. They are as a result more diverse though, with the Nine Hells being fairly well-known courtesy of D&D and Dante's triology. Thrall's Respite is a quiet microcosm of pocket worlds that keep people safe, but it's sharing a bridge with Varachon where things rejected by the world go and Alochia, a plane that's semi-sentient and parasitic. The Nine Hells is by far the most substantial, not only for its previous place in the world but also as a planar bulkwark against the Abyss.

Then, my Abyss. I was inspired somewhat by the descriptions of the Abyss in Dark Souls lore - the gnawing beasts, where the dregs of the soul sinks. As a result, a place deep into the ethereal depths where concept often reigns, causing it to have less explicit shape than the rest and take on the general symbolic representation of a deep sinking pit. The beings that form in the Abyss are thus myriad and unpredictable, but universally formed of the darkest parts of things. The Abyss is a lightless place, and those formed within it are burdened with a desire for light, causing them to scale out of it toward the worlds above.

And with that, I think a very brief summary of all the planes has been completed. I realise these first two posts about this stuff have been kinda vague...but we'll be going into more detail with them in future posts. Next week will be something a little different though.

#D&D #pathfinder #ttrpg #worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #art #my art #long post

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youngsoutheastasianleaders · 2 years

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YSEALI Seeds: E-Circular

About the Project

E-Circular aims to improve access to personal computers and digital literacy training for students from economically disadvantaged households in Cambodia. Through this project, we collect used laptops and refurbish them before lending out those laptops to students free of charge through a subscription program. The subscription program also comes with complementary digital skills training personalized to the student's needs. By the end of 2022, we aim to equip 30 lower-secondary school students in Battambang province with the collected laptops.

Why do you care about this specific topic/issue?

Our team is a strong proponent of inclusive development in the face of digital transformation. We saw how the COVID-19 pandemic has exacerbated learning inequalities among Cambodian students since those who do not have access to ICT devices and have limited digital skills could not engage in distance learning initiatives. A joint needs assessment by the government and non-governmental experts in 2021 found that only 1 in 10 students (from pre-school to upper-secondary school level) have access to a computer. UNESCO also estimated that only 1.23 out of 3.33 million primary and secondary school students would benefit from the E-learning and distance learning programs initiated by the education ministry during the pandemic. This inflames concerns over learning losses and increased dropout rates amidst school closures, especially for female students.

Why did you decide to start this project?

We find no better time than now to support the momentum for post-COVID-19 recovery and digital transformation in Cambodia. Our immediate need is to help the students to catch up on the learning loss. From there, we need to support the students to become ready for the digital economy and industry 4.0. More importantly, we saw the opportunity to support Cambodia’s development agenda after the Government announced the Digital Economy and Society Policy Framework 2021-2035, which would provide many opportunities for employment. However, while those in Phnom Penh with adequate digital skills are more likely to take advantage of these opportunities, those with low to no skills will be excluded. Thus, E-Circular aims to narrow this divide by equipping students from lower-income families with laptops and digital skills to better prepare themselves for the upcoming digital transformation.

What are your goals for this project?

E-Circular has four objectives, namely 1) to improve access to ICT devices for students from low-income households in Cambodia, 2) to improve the readiness of young Cambodians to capture the opportunities of the digital economy, 3) to increase awareness of the potential and benefits of responsible and sustainable EEE’s consumption, and 4) to create a community of digital enthusiasts that supports and shares with each other about digital development in Cambodia.

How will YSEALI Seeds help you achieve your goals?

Firstly, YSEALI Seeds provides the team with funding to get the project started. The funding will help the team improve access to laptops and digital literacy training for at least 30 students by the end of 2022. At the same time, we hope to establish a good impact evaluation report in order to design better programs and attract further funding to expand our impacts. In this sense, this funding is an important starting point to achieve our vision of “By 2050, no child in Cambodia will be left out from the opportunities of the digital economy”.

Secondly, YSEALI Seeds also provides the team with the credibility to engage with private companies during our laptop collection campaign. Because the project is relatively new, the team needs support in building our credentials quickly to ensure trust among our stakeholders. Through the YSEALI Seeds’ Instagram Takeover and the publication of E-Circular on YSEALI’s website, the team can engage with relevant stakeholders with more confidence. This credential will also help us engage with prospective funders to sustain our future work.

What have you accomplished and implemented so far?

So far, the team has trained 28 young leaders from three provinces - Battambang, Kampong Cham, and Siem Reap, in Cambodia through our Sustainable Digital Leaders Program (SDLP). These young leaders have become our local leaders who will help us identify the 30 young students for the first subscription program. By September, our local leaders had helped us identify the lower-secondary school and community where we will implement our first subscription program. Regarding the laptop collection campaign, the team has collected 23 laptops thus far from individual donors as well as the private sector, including EuroCham Cambodia.

What are the most significant lessons learned you’ve experienced so far?

The first significant lesson learned that we have experienced so far was to do adequate research on the issues and relevant topics before meetings and/or networking. We did our research on many different occasions, including 1) research on the landscape of digital transformation and digital divide in Cambodia, 2) research on the market and perception of laptop donation, and 3) research on the target beneficiaries we are hoping to work with. This research helps us connect the dots within the complex topic of the digital divide and contextualize/localize our programs and activities to address the challenges. More importantly, having the right knowledge helps us craft the right messages to convince different stakeholders (e.g., laptop donors, schools, and youths) to buy into the work we are doing.

Following the first lesson, we also learned the importance of being ready for rejection. Not everyone will immediately buy into our ideas and the work we do. For instance, we sent emails to more than 20 firms for laptop donations, while only a few firms responded. Another example is, during a physical outreach for a laptop collection campaign, some audiences had their own two cents on the work we are doing. Hence, the team must be ready to respond appropriately and respectfully to the personal opinions of the stakeholders we engage with.

What are the success stories you can share with others who would like to do the same type of activity and/or project like yours?

The first success story that we would like to share is we found allies that helped us reach out further to their network. For instance, we were able to host our laptop collection campaign at the Cambodia Waste Summit 2022, USAID Technology for Green Cities, and EuroCham Cambodia’s Annual General Meeting because we found the right allies within these organizations. This, in turn, helps us build credentials and meet the monthly target of our laptop collection. More importantly, this helps us reach more audiences for the laptop collection.

The second success story that we would like to share is that we were able to identify committed and passionate local champions - our SDLP participants - in Battambang province that are very active and supportive of our activities in the community. With their support, we are confident that we can select the 30 students and proceed to prepare the subscription program in Battambang province smoothly.

#yseali #ysealiseeds

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luazasvogel · 2 years

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“ War. I have never questioned my captain’s want for war. A battle of battles, an ending of lives, a true passage of the strong. The war to end all wars, that was our goal. To rise above it all, to see it all burn, and to see who survived--the strongest, the smartest, the most resourceful. Then, only then, might the world actually be worth it again. ”

#ic ;; kasai no kingu #thinks about how like..........#the big 'goal' of the beast pirates--of kaido--was the war to end all wars #it was a battle. it was to destroy it all and see who survived #he was literally creating an army with the beast pirates.....#then came the obvious addition of #kaido wanted to be pirate king.#in the end. i think it was a lot of kaido's own wish to die.#he would either die. or become king of it all. beyond just pirates. of everything.#but we see clearly in the fight with luffy that like....#kaido craves and i mean CRAVES that BLOODLUST. that FIGHT that makes his own heart beat.#that makes BREATHING worth it #nothing could kill the man.#it makes me remember the one line from kaido #something along the lines of--you will be remembered #that even though luffy would lose. kaido would remmeber him. would respect him.#it's just very interesting #there's a big message of trial by combat amidst the beast pirates #least amidst the upper four.#kaido and his calamities #king especially this is true.#especially ESPECIALLY when thinking about all king has gone through

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steelycunt · 3 years

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Do you have any headcanons for Remus that are essential to you/maybe unpopular? I’m really curious about the particularities of your Remus depiction

hi doll!! i thought long and hard abt this ask. remus is my fave, my best boy, my terrible little man so!! i definitely have some thoughts, but i feel largely that its not as much that my headcanons are unpopular, than it is that i really, really don't like some of the remus headcanons that are popular? anyway, thinking about the consistencies in the way i imagine remus, this is what i came up with. under the cut because i talk way too much!

judging from a post i made earlier in the week this isnt necessarily unpopular, but its important to me that remus is not portrayed as some conventionally attractive god. christ, that's so boring to me, that's such a boring thing to do to his character. its one thing for sirius to think he's beautiful, like - yeah, the guy is stupid for him - but actually he looks like a normal, pretty scrawny guy. its everything else about him that makes him so attractive. he's attractive the same way a darned sock is charming!! he's attractive in a scribbly, smudged kinda way!! also any portrayal of remus being especially strong/toned/commanding/possessive because of the wolf....i hate it i hate it i hate it. the wolf leaves him weaker. he does not find strength in it.

drawing a little from canon remus here, but a flaw i consistently give him + enjoy seeing is the strange, sacrificial martyr complex he has, or more so the way he sees his own suffering. remus doesnt really know any better than it, but i always like characterisations where he, at least as a younger man, has a tendency to obsess over it to the point where he needs to be troubled and edgy and tragic to be himself, to be interesting and to have purpose. especially in regards to his feelings toward sirius, i love love love a remus that feels he has to suffer for his love, even though he literally doesn't. i think he has the capacity to be an incredibly pretentious person.

pretty common but definitely essential: working class remus! not just as an adult when he's struggling with employment, but remus from a working class background is near and dear and essential to me as a person from a working class background themselves, especially amidst a cast where many of them are comfortably upper class.

i don't really go for organised, put together, tidy remus lupin. i feel like there's generally two extremes around here where he's either the lone responsible Adult, or a fucking mess. i much prefer him being a fucking mess. i don't think he's had water in four days, i don't think he's slept in two, i think all his clothes are in a pile underneath his bed, i think he'll write the essay but he'll do it at four in the morning on the day its due. he's a disaster.

coward. coward remus lupin rights. absolutely. also hesitant. if he does the right thing it might take him a while to get round to it, yknow. he's going to wallow in the situation for a bit first

soooo pretentious about music + literature. and as ive said before, his dress sense, for a variety of reasons, is so fucking shit and half-assed. he doesn't care!!

its pretty much essential to me, at least in a canon compliant universe, that he's got a very particular sort of relationship with his dad. to be honest i have so many thoughts on the lupins as a family unit and lyall in particular. i think they're fascinating, and im not big on remus and lyall having a perfect relationship once lyall atones for his earlier prejudice. lyall loves his son but that is surely distorted by the fact that every time he looks at him he is going to be reminded of the worst mistake of his life, lol. i also think he's very hard + strict on remus about keeping his secret/keeping his grades up/doing everything he can to secure some kind of future despite his affliction. neither of them are good at communicating so his worry often translates into anger, which leads to a lot of arguments and a strained, less familiar relationship. they don't understand each other, especially after hope dies. remus absolutely gets his inability to communicate his feelings from his father. but hope is a dream!

not essential but i will always write him as welsh <3 its so important to me <3

he's an awkward guy. he's fiddly and he sits like his limbs are too long for him to know what to do with them and he's always picking at loose threads on his clothes, or scabs, and he's absolutely a nail biter. the other boys slap his hand away from his mouth when they see him doing it but. his nails are consistently in a proper fucking state.

i think he's a bastard and an arsehole but i dont think remus was mean. i like the idea of a kind remus lupin, even if he's a mess and a bit of a prick to people that he felt wouldn't be hurt by it. he'll do people a favour, he'll take his time to help people out! he's a selfless guy, and he might be ridiculously late but he'll turn up. i dont even think he was sassy, and i really dont like the way thats slowly progressed to him often just being portrayed as...mean? he was witty and sarcastic around his friends but like. sassy is not a word id ever use to describe remus lupin lmao. idk. though he's a tosser and he's insufferable, he's not rude.

not a headcanon but i just want to say again. we should let him punch people more often. he wont be good at it but we should let him have a go anyway

oh also he's a socialist. like at the very least lol.

EDIT: had to add this in but. he's lovely. he's so lovely.

okay i could talk forever on the guy but this is already! way too much! so i'll stop here. thank u anon i will always be up for talking about this dumb little guy!!

#bonuses: he's got a gay little earring and he's incredibly foul mouthed.#oh and pathetic remus lupin rights. lets let him be more pathetic #really could sit here all day but. theres so much abt remus' characterisation that i havent gotten to write into a fic yet #its constantly developing. id write him so differently now to how i first wrote him lol #like!! ive never even GIVEN him a gay little earring yet! ive got to sort myself out!#and like #dont hate me dont hate me but. some of the remus characterisations in really big fics i just. i just couldnt get on with at all.#and thats okay!! thats literally a me problem nothing to with the fic but. it has made me very very picky about r/s fics #remus lupin #r #anon #telegram

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yanderenightmare · 4 years

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yandere bully ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, noncon, profanity, abuse, anger issues, anxiety, arson, bullying, child neglect, child abuse, drugs, addiction, anorexia, guilt, pills, unprotected sex, stalking, trauma

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

IN CASE OF FIRE: PUSH ALARM - PART TWO

IN THE TRAILER

She ran away from him in the hallway.

He’d warned her of what would happen if she did.

Knowing it was a matter of when as the next day he was left waiting, grazing the halls of where she’d left him with a kicked ball-sack on the dirty school-floors, all lovesick and frenzied with fire ants raging over his skin and a manic promise that one way or the other he’d get her. Lying in suspenseful spiteful wait to tell everyone what type of slut the little spitball in class 3c General Studies really was.

But, timing was everything, and as the day went by without him spotting her he realized the opportunity to ruin her reputation in school wasn’t going to rear its head.

She was home…

Sick.

Or, that’s what she’d told the school. One quick question at the reception told him so.

She was home.

Home in that run-down trailer-park sorry-excuse for a home she despised, the one she cried about so often, the one with neighbours who didn’t give two shits worth a damn about who she was or that her mother was a crackhead-whore in no position to take care of her.

She was there instead of at school begging him to stop, begging for him to give her a second chance, begging him to kiss her, like she was supposed to do.

Standing outside her trailer, he wondered if whether her mom was home or not. He wondered if either one of her neighbours would care if they saw him break in, if it even was considered breaking in.

He spotted her mother slouched on a beach-chair beside some other trailer with a needle still stuck to her arm, ugly destroyed skin sizzling in the summer-heat, mouldy flip-flops sticking to her feet.

He cringed at the sight of it, but knew then that his pursuit would go on unprovoked, which at the very least brought him some sense of relief.

She’d gotten in through scholarship as she in no form or way could afford a school like UA. That much was clear, unlike how unclear the crystal-meth shards decorating the plastic salon-table placed on the outside of their van was.

She transferred half-way through the first year, all on the account of pure hard work.

He could respect that.

He did respect that. Given she was quirkless and all. It was the reason she’d caught his eye.

It all went sideways when she rejected his invitation to Homecoming.

He’d already gone miles away out of his comfort-zone, out of his element, talked himself into asking her out, only for her to turn him down.

Him.

Best student in Hero-course 1A at the time.

Rejected.

He knew it was petty of him to bully her because of it, but… she didn’t only make a fool out of him, she broke his fucking heart.

He could have listened to Kiri, and tried to forget about her through some other extra, but... he wanted her. He’d decided. She was his. And a quirkless trailer-rat like her was in no position to just say no.

In some sick sense he believed she deserved better. Him being better. But, he would like for her to ask for his help, instead of him just giving it to her. He would like to see her grovel, beg, just a little bit, or a lot. He wanted to see her regret her decision. He wanted to see her sorry. He wanted to see her want him as much as he wanted her. And he wanted it to be her who initiated it.

But… he could see that wasn’t happening. He could see that his unorthodox methods of courting her through continuously trying to bend her until she broke only consisted of her rewinding or snapping back like a rubber-band.

She was distracted, too busy being broken by what life had given her, too busy with juggling different shifts, bills, schoolwork, to be thinking about him and how he pushed her around a bit at school.

He eyed the cracked paint of the faded trailer with much the look of a snob on his face. Fingers brushing over the door-handle, testing how much noise it would make if he were to pick the lock, coming to a complete loss.

He could barely believe it… the door was unlocked, and when he stepped inside he was even more distraught to see there was no existing lock there to be locked in the first place.

Meanwhile her mother was too busy slowly dying to better protect her daughter from depraved humans who could come and do just about anything they wanted with her.

Meaning… just look at him.

Soft snores brought him back to where he was once he closed the door behind him. Making the short way to the source of the groggy sounds, feeling his stomach flutter at the thought of how wrong it was of him to be there, sneaking about like some love-obsessed sick stalker, getting turned on by hearing his prey sleep.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

And why didn’t he care enough to stop?

He stood at the foot of her bed, hands in the pockets of his trousers, head tilted to the side to view her sleeping frame.

Sleeping on top of the covers, not under.

He doubted it was because of the heat, the same way he doubted the mattress beneath was clean.

She was curled onto her side, knees bent and tucked up. Cute with that teddy-bear she used as a pillow, silly and stupid but cute because of it, especially in her uniform despite having left the tie and blazer off.

She was wearing her uniform.

Meaning... she’d either gone to bed with her clothes on and slept through the entire day, or she had planned on going to school this morning, but weaseled her way out like the weakly coward she was.

Well, in that case… what he was about to do would serve her right then...

Ought to teach her lesson.

He lifted his hand out of his pocket, producing a finger to poke her ankle softly, before stroking up a path alongside her socks, all four other digits joining in the stride before the fabric came to an end and his callous fingertips glided onto the doughy flesh of her leg, over the dome of her knee and onto her even softer thigh, coming to the edge of her skirt.

He always liked her in that skirt.

That’s where his mind was at as he started lifting to see what underwear she was wearing, yet never getting that far as something sharp dug into each side of his wrist.

Her nails weren’t of course any close to lethal, yet managed to surprise him as she whipped around to meet him, digging the talons into his roughened skin.

She might not have prioritized figuring out who it was that was currently touching her in her bed, but she had assessed the situation enough to know that someone was in fact in her house and touching her, something of which is not a good omen when you live where she lived, nor in any other situation for that matter.

He tried subduing the splash of struggles that followed her awakening by climbing and crawling some further up on the bed in order to control what myriad of flailing limbs came at him.

Soon, hands that had primly started clawing at him were safely locked in his much larger hands.

“Oi, relax! It’s just me!”

As if it being him would have any other effect than of rising her already racing heartbeats. Yet, even as her lungs heaved for as much air as her tight chest would allow her, he managed to capture her focus, her hands pinned to each side of her head whereas her feet were stopped amidst their kicking, crushed beneath the weight of the much stronger, much more encompassing mass and weight of Katsuki’s legs.

He hunched over her, back arching with his face a mere half-foot away from her own, the only thing supporting his upper-body being his arms, which were stretched out and grasping at her wrists, pushing them into her pillow.

Her eyes were large with craze-ridden fear as they locked with his recognizable carmine ones.

“Bakugo?”

Shocked and scared, with the creeping feeling of anticipation waving over her again, now all for different reasons then when she first understood there was an intruder in her caravan.

Somehow, it being Bakugo gave her an even starker unsettling eerie feeling than if it had been a total stranger. Maybe because oblivion is bliss and knowing what is to come makes the inevitable that much more inescapable.

Still, she demanded he tell her, even though she thought she might already know the answer.

“What are you doing? Why are you here!?”

“You weren’t at school.” He stated, spoken as though it preforming as explanation enough, though serving as far from it to the girl beneath him, the confusion shown in the way she scrunched her brows together.

He noticed, contemplating whether or not he should make his reasons known, but deciding against it and for playing with her for just a little while longer.

“I thought, since you managed to wiggle your way out of your punishment at school, I’d bring the punishment to you.”

He searched her features for any cracks in her composure, but though she looked beyond uncomfortable, she made no moves to push him off.

Her eyes squinted instead, narrowing at him.

“I’m not scared of you, Bakugo. I know you’re not gonna hurt me.”

Her body started twisting under him. The action far from vigorous, mainly meant to show her discomfort as she knew she wouldn’t go anywhere unless Katsuki decided she could.

And though the intention to her wiggling was not to evoke his arousal, it most certainly managed to do just that.

He inhaled sharply and she felt her body freeze up, seize at the feel of his hips making a shift to slot himself against her, grinding down onto her flattened and unmoving body.

“Hurt you?”

He let out a low rumble of a laugh, like building thunder.

“Who said anything about hurting you?”

Her breath strained as his eyes scrunched closed upon her jerking, his own teeth sinking into his bottom-lip to maintain the hiss on his tongue at the pull in his pants, his head descending to nuzzle against her chest, spiky hair poking at her chin.

Mouth breathing hot breaths onto her ear, causing her to whimper.

“Thought you just said you weren't scared?”

She swallowed thickly, improperly giving his rhetorical question an answer, feeling her wrists go numb under his hold and her blood running cold.

“Bakugo…?”

He didn’t answer and she felt herself go even more rigid at the absence of his voice.

It wasn’t often Katsuki didn’t speak back to her when she willingly spoke to him. In fact, it was never. But now, he was quiet, too quiet, making the frightening rugged sound of his heavy breathing overwhelm her ears, dulling her senses in the process before everything being sent into hyperdrive upon the feeling of his hand leaving her one wrist to cup her breast outside her shirt, giving the mound a careful and slow yet full squeeze.

She yelped at the sudden attack, her body jumping up against him, making yet another teasingly harsh contact with his clothed cock.

This time he hissed, both upon her delicious little struggles but also because her newly freed hand had actively made the decision to pull his hair as a desperate means of making him move.

It worked to some extent, at least in freeing her other hand which opened for the opportunity to drag herself out from beneath him.

Yet, the action was stopped in a series of rather clumsy fighting, where Bakugo managed to retract the upper-hand once again, pinning both her wrists with one hand whilst tugging loose his tie with the other.

He’d slotted himself between her legs now, her skirt spreading and hiking up her thighs as she struggled to stop him from tying her wrists together and fasting them to the handicap-bar mounted on the side of the bed, yet failing.

Her body free for him to touch now, to tamper and play with, and she felt her heart catch in her throat, small pleas coming erupting from the place because of it, but he didn’t seem to hear her, and if he did, he was electing to ignore the pitiful sounds.

His hands traveled down her sides, thumbs rubbing over the scratchy material, the fabric of her shirt stiff as a result of using dollar-store laundry detergent.

White shirt; made up of thin fabric to make the fight against the Tokyo-heat easier, yet resulting in it being so temptingly easy to make see-through with just a little spill of water. Water Katsuki was always so eager to pour, either with light teasing spritzes from his water-bottle or in carrying her over his shoulder into the showers and holding her there as the water rained down upon her, drenching both her and himself, then offering ever so mockingly if she would like to borrow a shirt, because unlike her he had a dorm-room with fresh and dry clothes, whereas she only had that one uniform and all other clothes made up of more holes than actual textile.

He chuckled at the memories as his fingers moved up-front and centre to tamper with the buttons.

“I bet you just hate this uniform, don’t yah?” His voice, although maintaining the snicker, was soft. Not loud and abrasive and rushed, but as though he was enjoying himself, thoroughly at that, drinking in the moment.

His movements too, were slow; careful.

Large warm hands stroking down the bare skin of her stomach, feeling the tremors as he did so, with eyes glued to those perfect mounds found beneath what looked like a well-worn sports-bra, making him wonder what she’d look like if he were to dress her up in expensive red lace. She’d be mouthwatering to look at either way, and breasts are just as soft whichever way they’re dressed… it’s not like the bra is staying on for too long anyway.

He swallowed thickly to stop his mouth from dripping.

He tucked her shirt out from her skirt, taking a moment to grip her midriff and squeeze to try and ease her struggling.

It only resulted in her thrashing even more, whirlwinds of panicked get-off-me’s and fuck-you’s and stop’s spilling from her mouth in rapids, but the plead seemed to repel off Bakugo’s ears like water off a ducks back where the desperation only aided in satiating his sick sadism, in the same fashion tears fell from her eyes aided in making his stomach churn or flutter with something he could only describe as bliss, her arms trying to the best of their efforts at tugging at her bonds, to no avail except for making the skin found their chaffed and sore.

He spent a few seconds deciding whether he wanted the skirt on or off as he felt up the fabric between his fingers, more memories flushing his mind with such sweet and potent nostalgia of him lifting up the short excuse for coverage in the school-halls every day to sneak a peak at her underwear, or those times he would bend her over classroom-desks and push his bulge where it would fit so snuggly against her ass.

“Kinda feels like this skirt gets shorter and shorter for each year...” He mused, stroking up the skin of her thighs, lifting the fabric in the process, revealing a pair of black cotton boxers which, despite being lackluster, forced a groan to rumble from his chest.

The fuck-you’s had turned to please’s and the change made a smirk curl onto his lips as he put his lips to the inside of her thigh before pulling away to look down at her, all spread open and quivering for him.

Breasts all perfect, squished together in the comfort of her bra, hair splayed on top of the pillow, her nose turning all red and adorable with her eyes brimming with both panic and tears.

Her skin felt so soft and untouched beneath his fingertips as he stroked up and down her thighs, pulling them towards him, as far as the bonds on her wrists would allow, slightly struggling with how much the panic had taken a hold of her, her legs kicking and flailing.

But he liked it that way.

Messy and desperate.

“Don’t be difficult, Quirkless, you’re not getting out of this.” He spoke so calmly, so collected and controlled and determined. As though he wasn’t doing anything wrong, as though this was his right. “This is the only thing you’re any good for anyways.”

He leveled with her clothed little sex, slung her legs over his shoulders, watched as she squirmed upon his breath, heard her whimper and plead with his name as he stuck his tongue into the fabric, her legs doing a little involuntary kick while her thighs where firmly secured in his hands.

“Worthless quirkless little pussy on legs.”

She sobbed as his fingers latched around the ribbon of her underwear, pulling, tearing the fabric, with no need to pull it down her legs, just a need to pull them off.

A content and knowing smile made its way onto his lips, yet she was unable to see it in her position, something of which she was thankful for, or… as thankful as one can be when being defiled by a friend.

Not that Bakugo was much of a friend anymore, but he had been, at some point before he'd offered more than one concerning opinion about quirkless people and their place in the world.

Of her place in the world.

He didn’t share her nostalgia though, not when the future was smiling at him with the face of her shaven warm pussy right in front of him.

“Did you get yourself all nice and ready for me? Huh? Knew I was coming?” He teased as she shook her head sporadically, unable to form any type of words in her overwhelming embarrassment and fear and panic.

He grinned smugly, despite knowing it was due to her spot on the swimming-team she kept herself clean and hairless, also knowing that the only reason she took swimming-lessons was because she and her mom couldn’t afford the hot-water bill, making her take showers at school instead, and that a spot on the swimming-team gave her a free-ticket to using those showers anytime she wanted.

How many times had he snuck in there to watch her soap up her body?

How many times had he palmed his erection to the sight of her?

How much he’d wanted to waltz in and take her against the cold tiles, make steam roll off the walls, hearing her voice echo his name...

Now he had the real deal though, no more time for fantasies.

She was smart, she was resourceful, but not enough to put a lock on her door.

She was lucky if one thought about it.

Lucky it wasn’t just any random guy who walked in and took her like Bakugo was going to take her.

Lucky it wasn’t just anyone’s tongue jutting out to lick up her spread folds.

Lucky it was Bakugo who was hugging her thighs close to him, using them as soft warm pillows as he nuzzled between them to lick and suck and bite at the little bundle of nerves found right there in front of him.

Lucky it was Bakugo that had her squirming and quaking and whimpering and crying.

Because, taking everything into consideration, she was safe with him.

Safer than she would or even could be with anyone else for that matter.

Who else could really protect her like he could, like he will, like he has?

She should be grateful he still wants her after she rejected him, humiliated him like she did. She was sure going to pay for it tonight. But first, he could at least treat her to what she had been missing, especially when thinking of how much he was going to take from her before the day let up.

It almost made him feel bad.

Almost, being the keyword, because without it he wouldn’t have thought it funny how many noises she could make without alerting anyone from outside, how no one cared whether she blubbered out common sniveling protests and screams of his name, begging him to stop, or those equally loud yet scarce moans that sprung from her despite her not wanting them to, each time he sucked too hard or too harshly on her clit, teeth rubbing over the sensitive skin found there. Her hips dancing a panicked series of shimming from side to side, controlled in his grasp and only aiding in his tongue finding new places to lick and suck at as he laid abusive worship onto the temple between them. Nose bumping and dipping and rubbing onto places too tender as his mouth moved lower.

Her knees jolting as he kept them spread open, claws digging into the grabbable flesh each time she would pound the ball of her heel into his back, the movement always falling still upon the building simmering threat of explosions in his palms, pain much sharper than that of his nails.

She wanting nothing more but to wrench away, especially upon feeling the shameful treacherous dripping of herself down onto the bedsheets, disgusted with her body, humiliated beyond repair, with the tongue of Katsuki lapping up what mess he had made out of her, teeth from a grin gracing in feather-light motions, yet still managing to shoot electricity up her core.

All she could do was pant and sob through moans and trying her best to force out more protests even though she knew it was to no use, until she felt him pull away, leaving her cold in loss of contact with heat.

She doubted his removal was because she’d begged it from him.

Her doubts being answered as she heard the crisp clatter of a belt-buckle opening.

Her eyes were swimming, gifting her with more panic as she wasn’t even able to see what he was doing, yet knowing, again wishing she didn’t, wishing she was rather deaf as well as blind, wishing all her senses to simply give away, all so that she didn’t have to witness what she was surely soon going to have to be the victim of.

She heard the clothes dropping to the floor, looked up at him through bleary blurry eyes, still recognising the sandy nuance of his skin fully on display before her.

His large hands found her knees again, prying them open. His hips fitting between her thighs.

“Ba- ba- Baku- go, plea- please, don’t- don’t… stop.” She choked on her tears, on her fear, on her panic, on the feeling of the cold breeze making her exposed sex shiver and beg for something warm to fill it up, on her disgust.

“Don’t stop?” He snickered, pinching her clit between his fingers, making her arch with a whine before trying to wrench away, yet stopped by his hands steadying on her knees, spreading her open for him.

His cock-head delved between her folds, and he had to catch a pathetic whimper from escaping his throat, settling for biting his lip instead and ridiculing the reason as to why he was feeling so weak in the first place. Growling at the little girl beneath him, all tied up and defenceless and hopeless and pathetic, but still able to make him feel so small.

“I knew you were just a stupid slut.”

It helped hearing her scream for him.

It helped hearing her choke on her own gasps as he filled her tight little space up with the warm length of his cock.

It helped feeling her squeeze and seize around the girth of him, hugging him close and tight, filling and stretching her out so nicely.

She had resorted to hectic crying, no words, no protests, just sobbing, hiccupping, coughing up her own cries.

And, although he imagined himself growling and groaning he fell short of those guttural rusty sounds and fell prey to whimpering like a lovesick puppy humping a plushie-toy instead.

His hands holding onto her hips as though letting go meant death as he rolled his hips into her, feeling her warm velvety walls welcome him home.

It felt so good he nearly barreled over, his face buried in her chest, hand coming up to enclose over her mouth as so to stop the cries and hear those soft muffled moans she made instead.

Small stifled broken wet mews spurred into his palm, as he kissed a trail up the valley of her chest and onto her neck, whispering with his breath shaky.

“If it makes you feel any better… this is my first time too.”

He didn’t know why he said it. Maybe because he was suddenly regretting his decision of being a monster, or maybe because the fright of being vulnerable disappeared at the feeling of conquering what made him afraid.

“I spread a rumour in second that I fucked Ururaka just to see your reaction.” He let out a breathy laugh, the open smile on his face indicated his nostalgia, as though it were a fond memory. “But you didn’t care at all did you?”

He snapped his hips forward, hitting something painful making her scream beneath his hand, opening it to hear her sob out in whimpers.

“Did you?!” It was accusatory and loud and right next to her ears, as he bared his teeth.

She was sure she was bleeding, feeling as though he was tearing her up, splitting her open, every harsh thrust felt deep within her abdomen, churning her guts.

“I- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sor- sorry!” She spluttered out, more thick gulps of tears streaking her cheeks with red.

“You know what I think?”

He leaned in closer, his nose poking into her cheek, lips brushing her ear, hands now having moved to cup her knees, pushing them up into the bedsheets beside her shoulders, hiking her up to meet his sharp thrusts.

“I think you wanted this…”

She shook her head as his grin gleamed from seeing her discomfort.

“Leaving your door unlocked like that, you were begging for this to happen.” He laughed, biting her earlobe, heavy balls clapping against her ass.

She sniveled. “You- you know we can’t afford-” She started, but was cut off by her own broken moan as Bakugo yet again made another sharp movement, sending an earth-shattering smack to fill the crammed space of her RV, and then again cut off by Bakugo’s own response.

“Yeah? But you could still afford that dress you wore to Homecoming couldn’t you?” He sounded crazed, upset and angry and obsessed with making her regret it. “When you went with that fucking extra instead of me?”

His forehead pushed against hers, eyes a feral red and large with rage, watching in sadistic glee as she scrunched her eyes together in pain, trying to block his voice out from her head.

“Yeah, I bet you’re sorry now.” He growled, again taking a break from his series of shallow thrusts to push deep into her, making her whine in wet agony. “That was the worst mistake of your life and you’re gonna make it up to me tonight.”

He pushed himself up, looking down at the crying mess he was buried inside, licking his lips.

She couldn’t stop apologising, as he fucked into her, her hands going numb under the bondage of his tie around her wrists.

“I’m sorr- sorry-” She croaked, face burning from her tears.

“Yeah? You better be.”

He gathered her ankles in his hands, holding them up, one hand coming to roll her sock down her leg.

“You’re gonna be.”

His hand caressed her small bare-foot tightly, thumb digging into her sole, his mind drifting to how cute and tiny it was, smaller than his hand, and strangely soft for someone who chooses to walk everywhere to save money.

“I’m sorry-” She blubbered. “I’m- I’m sorry...”

She struggled for breath between her apologies and cries, forgetting how to inhale as Bakugo’s cock crammed into her, stripping her lungs of their air.

He kissed the pad of her foot, before leaning down again, hands once more cupping her knees and pushing them against the mattress.

“Good.”

She quaked beneath his stare, his sharp teeth too close as she cringed at the wet creamy sloshing sound of his cock pounding into her.

She had to look away, wanting to twist to hide her face in her pillow and cry until he was done.

But he wouldn’t have that.

“Hey, look at me when I fuck you.”

Gathering her face between his fingers, he scrunched her lips together as his own face closed in, his teeth coming to bite down on the vulnerable pout.

“You’re nothing without me, you understand that?”

One of his hands seized around her throat, adding slight pressure to accommodate his words.

“Good for nothing.” He spit. “Except for being my little slut, right?”

His claws scratched her throat, making her mewl and suck at her bitten bruised lip, tasting the metal.

“Come on, slut, I asked you a fucking question!”

Again, he angled his cock to jut into her painfully, making her gasp in strained pain at the stretch, followed by a sob.

“I’m just a slut-” She sniffled, eyes spiralling when looking into his unforgiving scarlet ones.

He smiled again, kissing her cheek.

“Who’s?”

The kiss became a lick, as he dragged his tongue up her tear-slicked cheek.

“Who’s slut?”

He felt her tremble and stiffen under his tongue, her eye’s squeezing shut.

“Your slut.” She answered, but it proved not to be good enough as another sharp painful thrust hit her core. “Bakugo’s slut.”

She knew it was wrong the second she said it as a growl rumbled against her neck, his teeth gracing, scraping against her tender flesh.

“Katsuki’s slut!”

The words all broken and wet and beautiful coming from her bloated and reddened lips.

He placed a chaste kiss to her jaw, nibbling his way up to her mouth, whispering upon them. “Yeah, that’s right, you’re nothing without me.”

He kissed roughly, growling for her to kiss back, hand still tightly locked around her neck, begging for her to refuse him only for him to squeeze the life out of her.

His tongue pushed into her mouth as he slobbered and drooled above her, mouth sucking on her lips, trailing down her jaw and down her throat, nibbling and biting and lapping at her skin like some hound drooling over steak.

His hand left her throat to grasp her clothed breasts as he hit a particular spot, calling an unintentional bucking of her hips into him, making him groan in pleasure, his own thrusts gaining speed, hitting that same spot he now knew would make her unravel.

“You’re so lucky to get my cock.”

He worked himself into a taller position again, dragging himself off her chest to admire what artwork he’d made of her collar and chest.

“Say you love it.”

She shook her head, a petty begging-look on her face.

It was a weak protest, almost enough to make him let it go, yet still outweighed by his need to make her pay.

His hips suddenly thrusting into her deeply, sharply, in all the ways he’d found out hurt.

She cried out. “No, no, Bakugo, please!” Panicked sobbing, her chest arching in pain, her legs coming to kick him off, yet were stopped as he pushed her knees into her chest. Jutting into her brutally.

“Say you love it and I’ll go slower.”

He saw her knuckles whiten at how hard she was balling her fists, tugging at her bonds desperately.

“I’ll fuck you good.” He promised, finding himself grow excited upon the thought. “Nice and slow like lovers do.” He had to snicker, even as she sobbed and hiccupped up screams that caught in her throat at his sharp thrusts, her eyes screwed tightly shut, allowing no tears to drop yet leaving them swimming in stinging salt.

His head dropped again to her temple, lips nibbling lightly on her cheek bone, his heavy breaths sounding louder than what snapping noise was made between his hips and the softness of her ass.

“Come on…” He drawled an impatient growl into her ear, a rumble that strung another whimper out from her.

More sobs followed, broken in their execution. “I love it… I love it.”

She hadn’t screamed it the way he wanted, but hearing it hang loosely onto her cries, all trembling and weak, was somehow better than what he thought he’d wanted anyway.

He slowed down, enough to lessen the sound of flesh slapping flesh and for the squishy noise of him filling her up again and again to replace it.

“What do you love?”

He made his way to rip open the seams of her shirt on her shoulder, not caring in the moment that she didn’t have a spare uniform to replace it. The shirt gone before she could even answer his question.

“You’re cock, I love you’re cock.” She sobbed, as her bra met with the same fate her shirt had, leaving her in just her little black skirt and one sock remaining, her tits springing loose, bouncing on both her cries and Bakugo’s movements.

“Fuck, good, such an obedient little pet.”

His head fell into the newly presented bare flesh with a moan, heavy panting as he slobbered up the valley between her breasts, palming the soft mounds before twisting the nipples between his fingertips, pulling at them, playing with them, his mouth sucking and biting, teasing the tender sensitivity.

His hands quitting their torment in favor of holding onto each their knee to keep her spread open for him as he rolled deeply into her spot.

“Feels so fucking-” He groaned, not bothering to finish the thought, before another impulse struck him.

His position in having his face buried in her neck and his body laid tight and snug on top of hers moved, making her feel the wisp of a chill coat her as their warm sweat-slicked bodies parted, feeling almost as though they were glued together as he pulled away, cock still being kept warm inside the comfort of her walls.

His hands came up to fickle with the knot that kept her hands locked above her head, his fingers sloppily tugging to loosen the tie, before gripping her hips tightly in a fashion meant to make sure she understood that despite being loose she was far from actually free.

Lifting her up of the spot she’d sunk into on the mattress and on to straddling his torso, his feet hitting the ground with a dunk with her propped up on his thighs, every little movement of his adjusting making his cock poke and message into other new dangerous places, places too tight to be attacked in whichever reckless unthoughtful way Bakugo saw fit.

Fingers running, or rather digging into her skin and making way to rake up her sides, grabbing and clinging to her midriff to pull her close, with his thighs beginning to impatiently move in a boyish manor to satiate the need for friction his member craved.

One arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand made to grab her chin, allowing him to look over her, again tempted to bite into those lushes red lips, all bloated and made for his teeth to gnaw on. Yet, his mouth made way to her neck instead, licking up her throat, sucking on the thin skin, wanting to make his mark flourish in red explosions all over her.

“Be a good quirkless slut and bounce on my cock, make yourself useful for once.”

His knees jolted upwards making her hop, followed by his cock sinking deeper into her.

Her hands held uncertainly mid-air made to grip his shoulders at the further intrusion, biting back another cry, however unable to keep the sobbing sigh from rupturing her throat.

However, she wasn’t given long to recover as his hand came down to plant a red-hot slap on her ass, making her jump on her own.

“Come on, don’t be shy.”

She started moving, unsure of what or which way to do it, finding the rhythm of rocking her hips forward after a while, earning a disgusting sigh of satisfaction from the blonde holding a bruising grip on her.

“That’s right...”

His arm moving to hold a death-grip on her waist, thumb digging into the underside of her ribs, poking each time she lolled forward and at the same time threatened her to stop.

His other hand came to grip her face again, stiff lips crashing against teary lips. Sucking her face as though stealing her life-source, only breaking between breaths to announce cocky cruel comments and instructions.

“Stay right there, slut.” A thrust from his hips accompanied the nickname, making her wince and lurch forward into him. “Aww that’s cute.”

Both his hands went under her skirt to grab at her ass, lifting her up only to sleeve himself inside her once again.

“Does that feel good? Huh? Right there?”

Another slap and she rested even harder against his chest, trying to find comfort in the pitch black her screwed-shut eyes left her in, yet the overwhelming scent of caramel wasn’t easily ignored, and neither was how perfectly his cock sunk into her.

His hands fingered the fabric of her skirt as he bumped into her from beneath. Tugging on the textile until ripping it off, the action earning her gasp as she was now wearing nothing but her one sock, the skirt having provided as some false sense of coverage.

“Is the slut enjoying herself?” He mocked, a salacious grin constantly spreading on his face between moans and grunts.

She shook her head, the urge to fight herself to freedom awakening yet again as her hands moved to push at his chest.

“No… stop.”

But her back was supported, or rather steadied, with Bakugo’s large palm, little sparking ignitions gaining control of her struggles quickly, the fight leaving her body with a whimper of defeat, just as quickly as it had arrived.

Another sharp thrust ripped a strangled moan from her and he grinned.

“Liar.” He snickered. “You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good little slut 'cause that's the only thing you know how not to fuck up, only thing your whore mom ever taught you.”

Forcing her hips to roll faster, the slick coated their thighs as her tits bounced for him.

“Does she share this bed with both you and her crackhead fuck-friends?”

He couldn’t defend his need to make her cringe in his arms, why he wanted to see her ashamed, why he wanted her crying into him.

“Such a freak. Are you gonna cum on the same sheets your mom sleeps on?”

Sharp fingers dug into her cheeks again, all because he wanted to be entertained by the show of her breaking.

He pulled her hips closer, fighting to hit that spot that had her mewling earlier, wanting to hear her mewl again, wanting to prove his point.

Once he found it she fell flush against him, melting in his hands, soft-spoken moans falling like drool down her chin.

“Like that, right there?” His words fell hot on her lips as his thumb pushed into her mouth and down onto her tongue, holding her chin in place.

Her eyes crossed then upon his cock nudging in just the right way against her cervix, as well as her brows drawing up into a pretty eruption.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” He groaned, clutching tighter onto her hip, rocking her forward to meet his thrusts. “Are you gonna cum on my cock, huh?”

With his thumb still dipped into her mouth, she tried her best to retort.

“No…”

It couldn’t be referred to as defiance as it was too pitiful to be called that.

“Yes, you are.”

He sucked on her collarbone, making his way up by kissing a trail of slobbering kisses and bites to her ear.

With his hips still angled just right, his thumb left her mouth to grip her other hip.

He could feel her tight little pussy start to convulse around his shaft, small flutters that squeezed him tightly, milking him.

She hated that she wanted to spill over so badly. The surging swimming boiling buzz constantly teased by Katsuki’s plush cockhead pushing and poking and jabbing at her cervix again and again.

She felt it coming, the snapping, breaking, splitting, the building coming close to bursting, yet she was reminded of who she was with in her reach for bliss and found herself regretting chasing it.

“No, no, not with him, not with him, not-”

It was too late as she tried holding it back, tried grasping it as hard as she was clamping down on his cock, as hard as she was digging her nails into his shoulders.

The movements of his hips slowed down.

“There you go. Feel good, slut?” He mocked as her body spasmed, skin freezing over under his touch, feeling disgusted, skin-crawlingly disgusted with herself and how she was unable to control the continuous spasms that seemed to ricochet through her spontaneously. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.”

His speed picked up again, humping into her, making her ride through her orgasm, feeling the almost painful ticklish pressure build again upon each time he bottomed-out ruthlessly inside the comfort of her wet walls.

“No, Bakugo stop, stop!” Her pleads weren’t met.

“Is it too much?” He laughed, gathering a fistful of hair at the nape of her neck in order to make her look up at him, making her wince as he spit his words into her face. “Mommy didn't do too good a job at raising her slut, I see. Can't even handle cumming without crying." He jeered, mock pouting at her with his forehead pressed into hers, blood-soaked orbs forcing eye-contact from her wide tear-stained ones as she whimpered. "Aw, is my cock too much for the little whore?”

“Yes, stop!” She couldn't care less if she was answering some cruel nickname , the painful pressure assaulted inside her was something too vehement she needed to make relent, but yet again was her plead answered with a lack of mercy in an eerie whisper and nothing more.

“I’m not finished yet.”

All she could do was beg for him to finish… so that’s what she did.

“Please...”

He gathered her face in his hand again, fingers squishing into her cheeks hurtfully as he made to sneer into her face.

“Please what? Please fuck your whore cunt harder? Please make you cum again?”

Even as he snickered and mocked, his cock twitched at the sight of her.

Eyes all puffy and swimming in her own tears, eyebrows knitted together, begging for mercy.

Completely and literally held in the palm of his hand, yet her gaze still managing to make him feel fuzzy with the flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

“Oh fuck, say you love me.”

Cold dread made up most of her body, what else was the rising crippling shameful feeling of something sweet knotting up somewhere in her lower abdomen again, this time harder than before as her already abused high was continuously pocked by Katsuki’s swollen cockhead kissing her cervix harshly again and again and again, driving her insane. And all of it made his demand impossible to answer, impossible to even comprehend.

Yet, she was in no position to refuse with her face held up between his fingertips and his crimson eyes boring holes straight into her terror-wide heart.

“Say you love me or I’ll cum inside you.” His voice lacking all she considered still human. Not a hint of remorse or guilt or shame or pity.

She gulped on her breaths, yet managed to voice the words. “I love you, Katsuki.”

Her eyes now unable to look away from him. Even as he picked up the painful pace, stabbing at her core, in places she had no former knowledge of, places the length of her fingers could never even as much as dream of reaching.

“Fuck.” A boyish virginal whimper laced the moan that escaped him at her words, satisfaction easing the raging and crazed look on his face. “I love you too.”

His toes curled painfully, cold and numb against the floorboards.

“I love you.”

Hands warm and sliding against dewy and doughy flesh.

"I love you."

Something pulling, straining, building to burst was chasing release, sending spasms to shoot through his shaft.

"I love you."

He knew what was coming. He knew it would be better than ever.

“We’ll get you a pill later, ‘kay?”

The guilt was washed over with the promise of painting her walls.

“It’s fine.” He tried reassuring as he felt her revolt in his arms, all her strength fighting to get off him, yet was no match against the force of his hands holding onto her, and his need to explode inside.

She resulted to begging instead. “No, no, Katsuki stop, don’t, please!”

Feeling her hope being crushed in his palm, picturing his laughing face as she turned her vision to black, his feral smile like supersonic light, dangerous and deadly and made to rip throats out.

And then it was done, she felt the last thrust like the last blow through her gut.

Cream filling her up, smearing between their thighs, Katsuki’s head resting on her shoulder with his hands holding onto her hips, fingers marking their presence into her back yet softening their grip with each of his panting breaths landing on her breasts.

Her blood ran cold through stiff veins, as though she were dead. Her skin crawling, as though rotting with mites.

Sickness.

Sickness in her lungs, in her throat, building, climbing up her pipes.

She slung herself off in a hurry, and with Katsuki coming down from whatever sick high he was riding, he wasn’t alert enough to catch her, which was probably a good thing because after her staggering her way to the bathroom, feeling his cum and her wetness leak out of her and drip along the inside of her thighs, she only barely made it in time to open the toilet compartment, get to her knees in the small space and haul her guts out into the small stained bowl.

Feeling like her mother, each time she came home all sweaty, mascara smeared with tears on her face like a garbage racoon, sticking her fingers down her throat and gagging until she collapsed on the floor, face laid in her own puke.

She heard Katsuki’s heavy footsteps, one and two before his hand met with her neck. Collecting her hair in a ponytail in his grip with the other hand encompassing her naked back.

She was afraid he was going to pull her up, expecting her scalp to soon scream in protest at the feel of her hairs being ripped up from their roots.

Yet, as she awaited the torture… all she felt was the slow stroking of carefully placed paths running up her spine and then down to the small of her back in a manor either meant to be comforting or patronizing, with her hair being kept away from her face as she retched on repeat.

It was mostly just water and acid, and Katsuki made a mental note to make her eat later as he helped her up with his hands under her arms, supporting her when seeing how her shivering rendered her knees too weak to stand on her own, lifting her up on a tiny counter which would have been impossible for him if he were to try and sit on it, yet seemed the perfect size for her.

The ruff base of his thumb brushed the spit from the corner of her mouth, her large eyes meeting his own as he leaned in, soft weak hands only barely pushing against his chest in an act to stop him, but his lips pushed onto her anyway.

Parting with a string of silver connecting them, and he couldn’t help but fall prey to how beautiful she was even in her broken ugliness, how prettily her eyes fluttered with sticky eyelashes clutching together as though hugging for comfort, stray wisps of hair dancing in front of her face. Her wet breaths, sobbing breaths, hiccupping breaths, trembling past those soft pillow-y and blossomed lips, plump and full and bitable, or huffed through her nose, sniveling and sniffing and so very unfairly precious.

His thumb stroked over those lips, watching them quiver.

He took time admiring her, feeling her cold fingertips vibrate against his chest, wondering if she could feel how hard his heart was hammering inside his ribcage with how much she was shaking. Wondering if she knew just how much he’d wanted this, how long he’d wanted this, how despite him ignoring her cries, that she understood how this wasn’t in vain, how he wasn’t just doing this because he could, that he was doing this because he needed to, that he wasn’t doing this because he hated her but because he loved her, loved her too much to let her simply slip from between his fingers again.

His fingers latched onto the band of her sock, pulling it down and off at her toes, finally leaving her completely bare.

“Let’s get you in the shower.”

He moved to pick her up, uncaring of her newly sparked urge to fight him.

“No, Katsuki…”

She tried pushing, she tried making him stop despite everything being slippery and sticky and gross. The want to cry herself to sleep knowing and finding some comfort in the fact that Katsuki was done with her and long gone outweighed the want to get clean.

“The water’s cold, you won’t like it.” She argued in a weak attempt to sway him from the idea, yet knowing full well that he didn’t care.

“Come on…” He drawled as he caught her bothersome fists by the wrists in his massive hands. “We’ll take a shower and then we’ll go get your pill…”

He fought to find eye-contact.

“We both know you don’t have the money for it anyway…”

Typical of him to mention her situation. Typical of him to use it against her. And though it was typical, though it was predictable, it still made her heart clench, her soul twist, her spirit crumble.

He swore he saw something start to break in her eyes, wanting to deliver the final blow to snuff out whatever fight she still had left.

He leaned in more, his nose brushing against hers.

“You need me.”

Her struggles stopped at that, Katsuki wrapping her legs around his back to support her as he carried her to the shower. Her cheek resting on his shoulder, completely deflated.

It wasn’t at all as in the movies. Sweet couples who help wash each other’s hair, warm bodies gliding against one another, soft perfect handprints printed on the dewy glass.

She hadn’t been lying, the water was freezing as the showerhead spritzed the water down on them with a force close to that of aching.

They didn’t both fit in the crammed space either, Katsuki was sure that even him alone wouldn’t fit in the tight space, where he was left to have one foot on the floorboards outside the door, water rushing into the hallway, running down his leg, but he didn't care.

His frame blocked the door completely, allowing her no shape or form of exit as he made her stand there, under the showerhead, hair slicking to her neck and nipples perking into hardness under the freeze, goosebumps strutted and coated her flesh from head to toe, her cheeks and lips blossomed with a purple hue, her eyes closed, head dipped in discomfort or shame or embarrassment or sorrow or a bit of everything and even more.

Her body trembled beneath his warm hands, as they cupped her breasts, palming them and playing and pinching with her back hunching in a weak effort to get her discomfort across, despite knowing how he didn’t care, with the fact having been proven time and time again.

His warm calloused fingertips brushed down her abdomen, eyes stark and loud as they looked at her body, thinking of how unblemished and beautiful her skin was as opposed to him, no roughness or ugly greenish bruises, just milky smooth and rosy suppleness and all his.

His hand traveled further, causing her small ones to reach out and grip around his wrist, both hands giving their best effort at trying to stop him. Though his other hand was quick to wrap around her throat and extract a sweet gasp with the movement.

Her hands removed their pressure yet remained on him as he brushed featherlight touches over the sensitiveness of her sex, fingertips dipping into her folds, slithering in the slick velvet of his cum mixed with her wetness.

A sob ricocheted through her as her toes curled, fingers bending and nailing into his wrist. Still, he continued. Fingers pushing inside, pumped knuckle-deep inside the puffy spongey walls, reaching deep before scissoring, making her knees bend, yet kept from falling by the hand around her neck keeping her up like a noose as he curled the two digits.

Her eyes avoided his, looking down at his limp cock who somehow seemed just as intimidating as before, like a sleeping beast ready to wake at any second.

Yet, as much as he played with her sex, his own remained still.

He picked her up again as he saw more of her skin going purple, not really wanting her to get sick, just refreshed.

Water flooded on the soft-with-mould floorboards in the tight hallway as her feet dragged against the walls when he yet again carried her to the bed. And as much as she wanted to fight as he placed her dripping body down onto the sheets, she couldn’t find the energy. Tears, however, still managed to drip down her face, unhurriedly gliding down her cheeks, warm in stark contrast amidst the freezing shower-water.

“Do you wanna hear something really fucked up?”

It was rhetorical, but he wouldn’t have gotten an answer either way.

“I used to be jealous of your crack-whore mother…”

Her face cringed, confused yet still not desiring to know what he meant.

“Fuck, I’m still jealous when you come to school and I see that there's somebody else who makes you cry harder than me.”

She had to swallow in order not to gulp.

“You’re sick.”

Those were the wrong words, for as quickly as they entered the air, he was once again on top of her, squeezing the breath from out of her lungs.

“I’m sick?” He questioned, fingers plunging inside her, a forced moan ripped from her throat. “You’re the one cumming and creaming and squirting all over my cock while crying.” He bit out while starting to pump into her cruelly, finding it easier now as she was already wet from before. “Telling me you love it, telling me you love me.” He laughed as he sneered. “Who would’ve known what a slut you are. So desperate you let your own bully fuck you like this. You fucking whore.”

His pushed his thumb into her clit cruelly, a sadistic smile on his face as she struggled.

“Stop, shut up, shut up!” Her palms made to push at his hard chest, yet was weakened as she felt the burning sweetness start to pool were his fingers poked.

“You don’t like that nickname? No? Aww, that’s fine.” He hissed, then scoffed. “It’s not true anyway...” He muttered beneath his breath, trying to find what sweet spot his fingers could reach as so to have her unravel beneath him again, wanting to lick the sin from her expression, wanting to bathe in his victory of making her his. “How did it feel to have my cock balls deep inside your precious little virgin innocent cunt, huh? Better yet, how does it feel to know how I am your first? First to kiss you, first to fuck you, first to make you cum.”

“Fuck you.”

Any remnants of strength was now spent on those last words, as the rest was spared to support her oncoming orgasm, the one she could feel clawing, sucking all senses up as though preparing for an implosion.

“That’s right…” He whispered. “Fuck me. Your first and your last.”

His ominous tone had her guts churning, which in some sick sense only added to the pooling dam that was about to snap inside her, but she kept her eyes wide, further digging into what his words meant, wondering if this would be her last day on earth, wondering if Bakugo would be the last person she'd ever see, ever feel, ever touch.

“You look like I’m gonna kill you.” He observed as he curled his fingers once again, making her hips buckle into his hand, which in turn made him grin. “Nah, I’m not gonna hurt you…”

His head dipped so that he could nibble at her neck, lick up the tender flesh with his fingers pumping in and out of her, coated in slick, collecting and drenching in his palm.

“I’m just gonna make sure no one ever touches what’s mine again…”

She couldn’t explain why the growl in his voice had her abdomen doing flips.

“Including that fuckface slut you call a mother.”

His fingers scissored, her back arching as she moaned.

“You’ll be lucky I even let you graduate.”

She couldn’t quite catch what he was saying anymore, just the lilt in his tone which had her falling apart beneath him, the walls of her pussy fluttering in pleasure.

“People go missing all the time.”

Her toes curled and she braced herself.

“That way I can have you all for myself.”

His warm lips pressed against her neck, his growls reverberating on her skin.

“All mine.”

His fingers poked at something that was about to burst and as she wanted to climb further up on the bed to escape it, she also wanted him to follow.

“Where you belong.”

And there it was, body melting into the mattress, all shame obsolete in those seconds.

Unable to see him lick her orgasm off his fingers as her eyes had crossed and traveled way too far into the back of her skull.

Unable to prepare for his kiss as her mouth hung open, soft feeble moans cut loose into the air, captured by Bakugo’s mouth.

She didn’t catch the second he stopped kissing her, nor did she catch the moment he got off the bed.

She must have fallen asleep for a short while because when she opened her eyes again Bakugo was dressed, rummaging through cabinets containing worn out clothes and things like it, seeming displeased with most of what he found.

She looked to her side, where placed on the bed was a towel, fresh underwear and a bra.

She motioned for the towel first, feeling the shameful wet stickiness between her thighs, hurriedly wiping it clean before putting on her garments, looking up to see Bakugo staring at her, having found something suitable to dress her in.

“Put this on.”

She didn’t bother looking at what he’d so graciously offered her of her own clothes.

Her eyes narrowed at him instead.

“I don’t want your help.” She sneered, looking away, crossing her arms over her chest as so to hide herself from his piercing gaze.

His fingertips were quick in clutching her cheeks, raking them into her skin as he turned her head back to look at him.

“Too bad, you need it.”

The fabric was cast at her lap unceremoniously, the soft silky feel cold against her bare thighs.

“Put it on.” The growl was followed by him removing his hand with a push.

She huffed before looking down at the presented article, wondering what Bakugo wanted to dress her up in, her lips forming a disgusted snarl.

“It’s my mother’s.”

The yellow summer-dress, flowy and frilly in texture, something she’d never wear, something Bakugo knew well she would never wear.

“It’d go to waste on her.”

This made her look up, curiosity or maybe even a form of flattery evident in the curl between her brows.

The sudden eye-contact catching Bakugo off guard as he’d shared the uncharacteristically tender opinion of the girl out loud.

He scoffed, crimson eyes darkening in an attempt to hide the building flustered panic, masking it with a growl instead.

“Put it on, I won’t ask again.”

She fingered the fabric for a while longer before treading it on over her head, letting the skirt dress her thighs with a featherlight fall.

Looking like a spring-daydream, not at all as though she’d just lived through a nightmare.

With her drying hair falling in messy curled tousles down her shoulders, Bakugo reached out a hand to fasten the small wispy strands coming to tickle her forehead behind her ear, grabbing her wrists in favor of her hand when he pulled her up.

“Let’s go. I can’t stand this shithole.”

Wondering if he should have said that he couldn’t stand her in that shithole instead.

TIP-JAR

PART ONE

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 6

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 6 - This Venerable One's Shizun

Xue Meng had lived on Life-Death Peak since he was a child. He was familiar with shortcuts and terrain so he had no problem catching up with Mo Ran

He escorted him all the way to the back of the mountain. The back mountain of Life-Death Peak was the closest place to the ghost realm in the whole world, separated by an enchantment, behind it is the netherworld.

Looking at the miserable situation in the back mountain, Mo Ran immediately understood why that person was clearly at home, but still needed Madam Wang to treat guests in the front hall.

It wasn't that the man didn’t want to help, but he couldn’t step away--

The barrier of the ghost world was broken.

At this moment, the entire back mountain was filled with a heavy spiritual resentment. The ghosts that hadn't taken on a body howled and hovered bitterly in the air. At the entrance of the mountain gate, there was a giant breach ripping through the sky. Behind the breach was the ghost realm, and a tall, bluestone staircase stretching thousand of steps escaped from the barrier cracks. Seeing out from the staircase, the fierce spirits that had regained a flesh body were climbing down this step disorderly and chaotically, rushing from the underworld to the human world.

Any ordinary person would be terrified at the scene unfolding. The first time Mo Ran saw it, he was shocked to the bone, but he was used to it now.

The barrier between the human and ghost realms was set by Emperor Fuxi in ancient times. Today, it was very weak. It would grow weak spots every now and again, which need to be repaired by immortal cultivators. However, this kind of thing not only does little to improve one's cultivation but is thankless with how much spiritual energy it consumes. It was a real drudgery, so few immortals in the upper cultivation world were willing to take this job.

When a fierce spirit was born, the people of the Lower Cultivation Realm were the first to come under attack. As the protectors of the Lower Cultivation Realm, Life-Death Peak was forced to undertake the task of repairing the barrier. The back mountains of the sect faced the weakest point in the barrier all to ensure they could be repaired swiftly.

There would be breaks in the barrier about four or five times a year. It was just like an old, chipped pot; useless.

Now, at the entrance of the ghost world, on the long bluestone stairs, a man stood there with snow-coloured clothes and wide sleeves flowing in the wind. He was surrounded by the aura of his sword, the golden light shimmering. Using his own power to clear out the evil spirits and ghosts, he repaired the small holes appearing in the barrier.

The man had a slender waist and an elegant appearance, with a holy aura and a handsome face. From a distance, it was easy to imagine he was a scholar reading an ancient scroll under a flowering tree. However, looking closely, he had sharp eyebrows, phoenix eyes slanted upwards, and the bridge of his nose was straight and narrow. While he seemed to be gentle and elegant, his eyes were mean and seemingly unkind.

Mo Ran glanced at him from a distance. Although he thought he had prepared himself, when he saw this man appear in front of him alive and healthy again, it made him tremble down to his smallest bones.

Half fear, half. . . excitement.

His Shizun.

Chu Wanning.

This was the person that Xue Meng had cried and begged to see when he arrived at Wushan Hall in the previous life.

It was this man that ruined Mo Ran's ambition, ruined his plans, and was finally imprisoned and tortured to death by Mo Ran because of it.

Logically speaking, if Mo Ran had the chance to avenge himself and defeat the enemy that had blocked his progress.

The sea is wide and free for fish to swim in, the sky is high and the birds could fly endlessly, no one could reign him back anymore. At least, that's what Mo Ran thought.

However, that doesn't seem to be the case.

After his Shizun died, something else seemed to have been buried along with his hatred.

Mo Ran was not a man of culture and didn't recognize any other feeling than being evenly matched with a worthy opponent.

He only knows that here on out, he had no archenemies.

When Shizun was alive, he had been afraid, paranoid, and anxious. When he saw the willow vine in Shizun's hand, the hair on the back of his neck stood on up. He became just like a beaten mutt, just the sound of a wooden club slap caused his teeth to ache and legs to give out. Even his calf muscles would spasm from fear.

Later, when Shizun died, the person Mo Ran had feared the most was finally gone. Mo Ran felt that he had grown and matured, being able to finally commit this act of murdering his teacher.

Afterwards, when looking at the mortal realm, no one dared force him to kneel down, and no longer slapped himself in the face.

To celebrate, he opened the pear blossom white wine, sat on the roof, and drank wine all night.

That night, under the influence of alcohol, the scars that Shizun had inflicted on his back when he was a teenager seemed to feel hot and painful again.

At this moment, when he saw Shizun reappear in front of him, Mo Ran started, filled with hate and anger, but there was also a slight twinge of ecstasy.

Such an opponent, lost and now regained, how can he not please?

Chu Wanning ignored the two apprentices who broke into the back mountains and continued concentrating on fighting the scattered undead.

His facial features were elegant, his eyebrows are evenly long. His phoenix eyes were cast downwards, his cool demeanour powerful. Amidst the demonic air and blood rain, his expression had not changed. His face remained calm, as though he might sit down and burn incense or play the guqin at the moment.

However, such a gentle and beautiful man, at that moment, was holding an icy exorcism long sword dripping with red blood droplets. With a flick of his wide sleeve, the sword's energy sliced through the bluestone steps in an explosion. Crushed stones and bricks rolled down, cracking an immeasurable chasm from the gate all the way to the bottom of the mountain, splitting the staircase and its thousands of steps!

So ferocious.

How many years had it been since he had seen his Shizun's power?

This familiar and powerful dominance made Mo Ran lose all his strength. Shakily, he fell onto his knees with a thump.

It didn't take long for Chu Wanning to kill all the ghosts, and neatly fill in the holes in the barrier to the ghost world. After doing all this, he fell from mid-air and went over to Mo Ran and Xue Meng.

He first glanced at Mo Ran kneeling on the ground, and then raised his eyes to look at Xue Meng, his phoenix eyes holding a powerful chill.

"Causing trouble again?"

Mo Ran sucked in a breath.

Shizun had the ability to always correctly assume any situation.

Xue Meng: "Shizun, Mo Ran went down the mountain, committing the two crimes of stealing and prostitution. Please punish him accordingly, Shizun."

Chu Wanning was silent for a while, expressionless. He coldly remarked: "I know."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

Xue Meng: ". . ."

Both of them were a little confused. Then? Is that it?

However, just when Mo Ran thought tat he had gotten off lucky, he looked up at Chu Wanning and caught a a glimpse of a sharp golden light suddenly cutting through the air. There was a lightening-like crackling sound that slashed across Mo Ran's cheek!!

Drops of blood splashed everywhere!

The speed of that golden light was so fast, Mo Ran didn't even have a moment to close his eyes, let alone dodge it. The skin on his face was flayed open with a fierce pain.

Chu Wanning stood with his hands clasped behind his back, standing coldly in the chilling breeze of teh night air. The air was still filled with the foul aura of fierce spirits and ghosts mixed with the smell of human blood. It made the forbidden area of the back mountains appear even more eerie and terrifying.

In Chu Wanning's hand was a willow vine that had whipped Mo Ran. The vine was narrow and long, with green leaves sprouting from it, hanging down near the edge of his boots.

It was clearly sucha graceful object. Looking at it would have made people think of poems such as "Pliant is the the willow branch I gift to my beloved".

It's a pity that Chu Wanning was neither pliant or had a beloved.

The willow vine in his hand was actually a magic weapon named Tianwen. At this moment, Tianwen was glimmering with golden red light, piercing through the surrounding darkness, and also reflecting in the bottomless depths of Chu Wanning's eyes.

Chu Wanning pursed his lips, and said sensibly: "Mo Weiyu, you are so bold. Should I really not do something to discipline you?"

If this really was the fifteen-year old Mo Ran, he might not have taken this exclamation seriously, thinking that Shizun was just trying to scare him.

But after being reborn, Mo Weiyu had thoroughly experienced Shizun’s "control" with his blood in his previous life. He immediately felt the roots of his teeth ache and blood rushing to his head. His mouth was already moving, ready to deny everything and clear his name

"Shizun. . ." His cheek still bleeding, Mo Ran raised his eyes, staining them with a thin veil of tears. He knew that his current appearance must look extremely pitiful. "This disciple has never stolen. . . has never laid with a prostitute. . . why did Shizun listen to Xue Meng's words and strike me without even listening to my side of the story?"

". . ."

Mo Ran had two tricks to get out of trouble with his uncle. First, act cute. Second, pretend to be pitiful. Now he tried these out on Chu Wanning, trying to look so pitiful that tears almost fell from his eyes: "Is the disciple really so worthless in your eyes? Why doesn't Shizun even give me a chance to defend myself?"

Xue Meng stomped angrily next to him: "Mo Ran! You, you piece of shit! You truly are shameless! Sizun, don't listen to him, don't be fooled by this bastard! He really did steal! All the stolen goods are still on him!"

Chu Wanning looked through his eyelashes, his expression cold: "Mo Ran, you truly never stole?"

"Never."

". . . You should know the consequences of lying to me."

Mo Ran's arms were covered in goosebumps. How could he not know? But he still foolishly persisted: "Shizun, please!"

Chu Wanning raised his hand, and the shiny golden vine waved again, but this time he did not draw it on the face of Mo Ran. Instead, he used it to tightly bind Mo Ran.

This feeling was all too familiar. In addition to whipping people on the regular, the willow vine "Tianwen" has another function——

Chu Wanning stared at Mo Ran, who was held tightly in Tianwen's grasp, and asked again: "Have you never stolen?"

Suddenly, there was a familiar stabbing pain straight in Mo Ran's heart, as if a sharp fanged small snake had slid its way into his chest and was playing with his organs.

Accompanied by the severe pain was an irresistible temptation. Mo Ran couldn't help but open his mouth, his voice hoarse: "I. . . never. . . ah. . . !!!"

Tianwen's golden light seemed to pick up on his lies, glowing harder. The pain caused Mo Ran to break out in a cold sweat, but he still desperately resisted such torture.

This was Tianwen's second function: interrogation.

Once tied up by Tianwen, no one could lie. Whether it was a person or a ghost, dead or alive, Tianwen had a way of forcing them to speak and reveal the answer that Chu Wanning wanted to know.

In his last life, by relying on a strong cultivation base, there was only one person who had finally managed to keep a secret under Tianwen's influence.

That person was the person who had become the emperor of the mortal realm, Mo Weiyu.

After being reborn, Mo Ran had hoped he'd have a bit of luck, thinking that he would still be able to resist the forced interrogation of Tianwen. But after biting his lip for what felt like forever, with big beads of sweat dripping down over his dark eyebrows and full-body trembles, he finally bowed before Chu Wanning's boots in pain, gasping for breath.

"I. . . I. . . stole. . ."

The pain abruptly disappeared.

Mo Ran hadn't even caught his breath before Chu Wanning asked another question, his voice even colder than before.

"Did you commit debauchery?"

Smart people don't do stupid things. Since he hadn't been able to resist before, it was even more impossible now. This time, Mo Ran didn't even resist, and when the pain struck, he went so far to even shout: "Yes yes I did!!!! Shizun please! No more!"

Xue Meng's face turned blue at his side. He exclaimed with shock: "You, how can you. . . That Rong Jiu is a man, you actually. . ."

No one paid attention to him. As the golden light of Tianwen slowly dimmed, Mo Ran gasped for breath, his whole body was drenched as if he had just been fished from the water. His face was as white as paper, his lips still trembling, and he collapsed on the ground, unable to move.

Through sweaty eyelashes, he looked up at Chu Wanning's elegant figure, wearing a green jade crown and wide sleeves that fell to the floor.

A strong hatred suddenly surged into his heart - Chu Wanning! This Venerable One wasn't wrong in is treatment of you in his past life, that much is true!! Even after being reborn, the hatred still burns strong! Fuck all eighteen generations of your ancestors!!

Chu Wanning didn't know that this crafty disciple was going to fuck all eighteen generations of his ancestors. He stood there for a while with a sullen expression, and then said.

"Xue Meng."

Although Xue Meng knows that men were the popular choice among rich businessmen and wealthy households, and many people play with male prostitutes just for something new and not really because they liked men, he still couldn't digest it. After a while, he said: "Shizun, this disciple is here."

"Mo Ran went against the three mandates on corruption, debauchery, and deception. Take him to the Yan Luo Hall so he can repent. Bring him to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil tomorrow morning so that he receive a public punishment."

Xue Meng was startled: "What. . .? Public punishment?"

Public punishment means taking the disciples who have committed severe transgressions in front of the disciples of the whole school, in front of everyone, even the ladies in the dining hall, and punishing them for the crowd.

Utterly shameful.

It should be known that Mo Ran was a disciple of Life-Death Peak. Although the disciplinary measures in the school were strict, because of Mo Ran's special status - his uncle pitied him for losing his parents so young and was scavenging outside for fourteen years - he couldn't bear to punish Mo Ran. No matter what Mo Ran did, he would just get a small lecture in private, and he would be beaten.

But Shizun wouldn't even save the face of the sect leader. He wanted to take his precious nephew to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil and publicly punish and shame Young Master Mo in front of the entire sect. This was something even Xue Meng hadn't expected.

Mo Ran, however, wasn't surprised.

He lay on the ground with a sneer at the corner of his mouth.

How great and selfless his Shizun was.

Chu Wanning was truly cold-blooded. In his previous life, when Shi Mei died in front of him, Mo Ran cried and pleading, pulling on his clothes, kneeling on the ground and begging him for help.

But Chu Wanning turned a deaf ear.

And so his disciple had breathed his last breath before him, and even with Mo Ran crying his heart out next to him, Chu Wanning simply stood there and ignored his sobs.

Now all he was doing was putting him on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil to be dealt with before the public. There was nothing strange about this.

Mo Ran could only resent how weak his cultivation base was now. He couldn't peel off Chu Wanning's skin, rip out his nerves, drink his blood, can’t pull his hair back, can't insult him, can’t torture him and destroy his dignity, make him desire nothing but death. . .

He hadn't been able to hide the beast-like hatred in his eyes, and Chu Wanning picked up on it.

He faintly glanced at Mo Ran's face, a stoic expression on a gentle and elegant face.

"What are you thinking about?"

Fuck!

Tianwen hadn't been removed yet!

Mo Ran once again felt the vines tying him up, and his internal organs felt like they were about to be squeezed into mush. He yelled in pain, panting and roaring out the thoughts in his head——

"Chu Wanning, you think you're so refined! Watch me fuck you to death!"

No one made a sound.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

Even Xue Meng was stunned: ". . ."

Tianwen suddenly retracted Chu Wanning's palm, turning into a small speck of golden light before disappearing altogether. Tianwen was made from the bones and blood of Chu Wanning and could appear when summoned and vanished at will.

Xue Meng's face was pale and he stuttered: "Shi-Shizun. . ."

Chu Wanning didn't say a word. His delicate black and slender eyelashes lowered, examining his palms for a while. Then, he raised his eyes, his face even, but his complexion even colder. He glared at Mo Ran with a gaze saying "this disciple deserves death", then said in a low voice:

"Tianwen is broken, I am going to go fix it."

Chu Wanning threw down these words, turned and left.

Xue Meng was kind of slow: "How could an immortal weapon like Tianwen be broken?"

Chu Wanning heard it, and glanced back at him with a look of "this disciple deserves death" as well. Xue Meng shuddered.

Mo Ran lay on the ground, half-dead, with a blank expression.

What he had been thinking really was looking for a way to fuck Chu Wanning to death. He knew that the Master Chu, who held titles like "Yuheng of the Night Sky, Beidou Immortal", had always paid attention to elegance and correctness, and he couldn't stand being stepped on by others, defiling him.

But he didn't want Chu Wanning to know that he was thinking that!

Mo Ran whimpered like a stray dog, covering his face.

Thinking of the look in Chu Wanning's eyes when he was leaving, he felt that he probably did not have long to wait until his death.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the husky and his white cat shizun #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #2ha #2ha translation #2ha novel #chinese novel #chinese bl #english translation #mo ran #chu wanning #yaoi novel

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silent-stalker · 2 years

Note

babybabybaby

They know exactly how this little one came about. One sparring session, rainy weather outside, and no desire to actually spar but a desire to be closer than is physically possible.

Bumblebee carries this one, a fiery little upstart of a newspark that causes mischief and chaos from day one. At least four false early emergences, nearly violent mood swings, and the weirdest, strangest cravings a carrier could have, possibly caused by the sire's origins....Soundwave is secretly grateful he's not the carrier for once, and once makes the mistake of vocalizing this once as he prepares hot tea for the yellow scout - mech had a killer aim and he never saw that pillow aimed straight for his face.

It's worth it. In the end, when their bitlet finally arrives for good and Bumblebee holds him, it's worth it. Even when the newspark splits into two and they have to scramble to take care of the second surprise bitlet, its worth it. Twins. Split-spark twins, a miracle the medic claimed. Soundwave only knew that he would do anything for them both. For Bumblebee.

And so he did; he left his world behind and followed the scout like a shark follows blood, knowing that he'd always be pulled back to him like waves to the shore. There was no point to fight it. So he'd follow, brought back to the shore for good, his loneliness and pain buried in the golden sands to be forgotten in the sunlight of his chosen partner's spark.

Their little ones, Beetlewing and Cadence, were a near perfect mix of them. Their frames are chunky and small, with tiny magnet hands and grappling claws in slim pedes meant for clinging and crawling. Both have fearsome jaws, and within hours forming their frames they're both on their pedes and exploring. More than once, Bumblebee has to rescue Beetlewing from the vents and Soundwave has to coax Cadence down from the rafters.

Beetlewing is the color of dark, scurrying creatures hiding in the undergrowth; his plating is a shiny, iridescent purple, so dark it might be black, with the darkest grey-blue protoform, though his pale, off-white biolights tend to stand out amidst his dark frame. He has four optics, all a vibrant purple, the upper set are narrow slits like his sire's, and the lower set are half-spheres mirroring his carrier's full orb optics. His lower set of optics are tinged with cyan blue near the center. Besides his coloring and face, his frame is a near copy of Bumblebee's, although both his parents agree that his claws were inherited from his sire.

Cadence is the color of molten gold, his plating glitters under the light and matches the bright white of his protoform brilliantly; though, his blacklight biolights tend to stand out a bit. His face is similar to his twin's, four optics of the same format - narrowed upper set, half-sphere lower set - but his optics are a bright cyan blue, and the lower set has a tinge of violet in the center. However, his frame resembles Soundwave's more, being a bit bulkier with longer limbs and the same helm crests and finials of his sire.

Both grow to be about the same, with Beetlewing being the shorter of the two, and Cadence being a bit broader in the shoulders and the spitting image of a young, gladiator-era Soundwave - just a lot paler, and more gold. The shorter twin does wear a visor like his sire, having inherited his light sensitivity, and the taller twin inherited his sire's telepathy, but both have datacables and their carrier's energetic and cheerful personality.

Beetlewing does tend to need time to himself, although he is the louder of the twins, he finds being too social makes him turn snappy and angry, and knowing that he has his sire's temper makes him retreat back to Soundwave's garden room to recharge his social gauge.

Cadence however has no trouble being in big crowds, even with his telepathy, and becomes fidgety and anxious when he goes too long without being able to be in someone else's EM field; this is usually corrected by going to spend time with his split-spark twin or his carrier, although it has become apparent that he may be a deployer carrier like his sire...its only a matter of time before he gets his first deployer.

#wcrkerbee #soundbee BABY #*babies #uwu #tw sparklings #soundwave finds out bee is carrying and just completely ditches his world to help raise them #even though it kills him to leave those he cares for behind #but he knows they're a lost cause and only hurting him and bee and the twins are going to need him more #and GOD these two are gonna have bee and sw wrapped around their little finger

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

In My Dreams II

Characters: Diluc, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,273

Warnings: Depictions of a panic attack

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. The history nerd really came out this time around.

Diluc

You knew that holding onto the past too much was a dangerous game to play. Yet you continued to chase it, desperately looking for something that might finally bridge your present self to the person you’d left behind.

You’d been mostly upfront to Diluc about this obsession of yours. Knowing that your partner also lost his family, it was easier in some ways to grasp onto this shared loss, and to use it as a way to continue on. Not that Diluc ever pushed you to forget your past, as other might have done. Instead he tried to help you, using his not inconsiderable connections to attempt to find as such land that matched the vague descriptions you could give. Though you knew the quest was most likely no more than a wild goose, you greatly appreciated his attempt to help.

However you knew that even someone as kind and understanding as Diluc would never be able to condone something like this.

You rubbed your arms, feeling every inch of the cold musty ruins around you. You’d heard that a sizeable group of Abyss members were gathering here and figured that these figures who boasted of civilizations long gone might be valuable pieces of information. Though sneaking into a gathering of the upper members of the Abyss was perhaps not the smartest thing you’d ever done. It was too late to turn back now however. Ducking into a corner you slowed your breathing, hoping that no one would care to look at the nook in which you were now curled up.

Listening to the slow creaking of the domain you suddenly felt the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as the air grew charged with magic. The room around you suddenly grew completely silent, as if even the walls were aware of something important. Not daring to sneak a peak at what was happening you closed your eyes, willing your senses to focus on your ears.

“My brethren, I’m glad to see you.”

Opening your eyes wide you gathered your control, willing yourself to not immediately turn around. The voice was familiar, its cadence smooth and soothing, polished as marble. It struck something within you, some deep hidden memory that you’d long ago forgotten. Now that memory struggled to the surface of your mind, the sketch of a long ago time.

“I know that our plans are continuing smoothly. Soon we will able to Khaenri’ah, and topple those who so callously left it to smolder, having lit the flame themselves. We will one more emerge into the world, no longer required to hide our faces.”

The words passed through you, intangible as air. What were they talking about? Nothing was making sense, not one word was something you could interpret. And yet the voice seemed almost an explanation in itself. If you knew who was talking then you’d find out the answers, or at least some of them. Vraning your head ever so slightly you looked up, jerking back slightly in shock as you found amber eyes staring right at you.

The person who was talking was immensely familiar, everything about them echoed with a long gone familiarity. Looking out of place amidst the rank and file members of the Abyss he exuded a cold sort of confidence, a determination to see his words realized. Staring at him you noticed the emblem which embellished the scarf he wore around his neck, a golden eagle which seemed to move with the fabric. A part of you was tempted to run, but you found yourself frozen, trying desperately to process the figure which danced before your eyes.

The young man said nothing, gaze shifting as he calmly began to speak again, though you couldn’t hear his words over the pounding of your heart. When his gaze once more passed yours he grinned an understanding sort of grin. It was as if you two were cohorts in some sort of pranks of scheme, rather than complete strangers who stood on opposites ends of an invisible struggle. The gesture confused you, and you found yourself sinking back to the ground. Putting your head in your arms you took a few deep breaths. You would figure out what was going on. It was alright, there was a logical explanation for this. Perhaps he just wanted to finish up this odd gathering before turning his minions upon you.

And yet the order to attack never came. After what must’ve been at least an hour the young man declared the gathering over. The air filled with the familiar mark of waypointing, and soon the ruin was once more deadly quiet. Straightening your back you studied the wall opposite of you, sure that you were dreaming a confusing sort of dream.

“You can come out now.”

You jumped, freezing as you wondered what to do. You thought that you were alone, yet he remained. Was this the moment, had you truly just been tricked.

“You don’t have to be so afraid.” Laughter drifted to your ears. “I promise the rest are gone.”

Slowly turning around you peered over the broken wall once more. True to the young man’s word there was no one left, only the two of you. Standing up slowly you summoned your sword, still not trusting the person in front of you.

“What is it?”

“That’s the last thing I expect you to ask.” The young man was smirking now. “Surely there are more important things.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You wound me! Have you truly forgotten the face of your family.”

The words felt jagged, almost accusatory. You stiffened, face twisting into a scowl as you moved your sword slightly forward.

“You’re a liar.”

“I assure you I’m not! Why, I cannot believe you truly have forgotten so much. Is it just me, or have we all been banished from your thoughts?”

Reaching into his pocket he threw something at you. Catching it you stared at the egg, mind full of half-incredulous questions. The egg was evidently a work of ambition and love, its outer shell the color of the night. Diamonds crept up the sides of the egg, embedded into gold that shone even in the dark of your current place. There were four portraits embedded into the sides, studded with diamonds and crowned with stars that seemed so bright and silverly you were almost afraid to run your fingers over them. Something that seemed to be monograms sat underneath the portraits, but the script evaded your understanding.

Shifting your gaze to the portraits you found an even greater surprise. The person staring back at you, a small smile on her face, was you – though you couldn’t recognize the complex dress in which you’d been painted. The portrait was such a good likeness it took your breath away, the miniscule brush strokes truly the work of a master painter. Rotating the egg slowly you recognized the young man in front of you as the next model. Sporting what could only be some sort of military uniform, small medals of red and blue lined up on top of a blue sash, he seemed to be joking with the artist, his cocky smile offset by the stark lighting of his eyes. Next was a woman, somewhat who could only be this boy’s mother. He face was set in a straight line, her expression one of regal aloofness, as if she was thinking of something very far away. She was wearing the same sort of dress as you, though hers was much more complex in nature. The clothing screamed importance, as if to confirm the expression on her face. Lastly you found yourself looking at the portrait of someone who was presumably the boy’s father. Surprisingly under dressed her wore the same uniform as the boy, the only distinction being the number of medals. No crown sat on his head, no sign of any particular regal bearing shone in the portrait; instead there was a tiredness about him, a cloud which betrayed the fact that he was ultimately quite unworthy of remembrance.

“Do you remember now?”

You looked up wildly, denial fighting with realization as you shook your head. This wasn’t remembering; remembering was something else entirely. Remembering wasn’t the feel of the world sinking around you, remembering wasn’t losing faith in the world around you.

“Are you telling me that this means nothing to you?” Accusation flooded the boy’s speech as he glared at you.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I, I don’t trust this.”

“Always the same sister.” The boy’s tone was mocking now. “You always were the suspicious one, and as unambitious as our poor father once was.”

“Was?”

“He’s changed his tune quite a bit. He had too, of course. How could anyone stay so weak after surviving what we survived?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about death. Or as close to it as one can get I suppose. You should know this, you were there when they stormed the place, when they took us away. You were there when we were ordered to the basement.”

A flash of memory danced in your vision, speeding up your breath as you were overtaken by sudden panic. Swaying slightly you screwed your eyes shut, letting out a cry of frustration when the memory only grew stronger. You were dancing for a moment, spinning around with the boy in front of you as a distant melody drifted upon the air. Then you were inside an unfamiliar place, the new space so claustrophobic it squeezed the air out of you, the windows, having been painted over, offered no reprise. Then it was midnight and you were shuffling outside. The stars seemed so distant; they’d stared cold and unfeeling down as you shuffled behind a familiar figure, entering a door which seemed so familiar.

You leaned against the stone wall, trying to find some sort of reprieve in the cold damp of it. Forcing your eyes open you stared once more at the strange boy in front of you. His expression was one of ill-concealed triumph, mixed with barely suppressed rage.

“Do you see now? Do you see what they did to us? A wonder any of us escaped at all, then again I suppose those wretched idiots had no sense of magic. They were after all a bunch of thugs.”

“Where… where was that place?” You heaved slightly, feeling as if the ground was floating underneath you.

“Somewhere long destroyed. No point in thinking of it now. There is only this world after all. This world and the destruction that seized it as well. Only this one can be saved.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Khaenri’ah! The city struck down by the gods who could contemplate no power except their own! Their people suffered the fate of ours, should they not get the revenge we will never be allowed?”

“You’re mad.”

“Am I? Or are you just the same coward as always?” The boy shook his head. Pointing to the egg in your hand he back away. “You can keep it. Think of it as a memento, a way to contact me. If you ever wish to see right, well, I’ll be waiting.”

And then he was gone, so fast it was as if he’d never existed, as if he’d suddenly turned to dust. Sinking to the ground you pushed scalding air into your lungs, watching helplessly as your vision spotted around you. What had you done, oh gods what had you done?

The return trip to the Winery was an excruciating one. At first panic had been your only sensation, as you half stumbled, half crawled your way out of the Abyss’ lair, stopping every few minutes to lay down as to not pass out. The moment you got into the open air you made your way towards the nearest stream, waterlogging yourself in your hurry to pour icy water down your throat. Collapsed on the back you stared up at the sky. It was still night, which meant Diluc was probably guarding Mondstadt. You prayed to Barbatos that he wouldn’t notice your absence, for how could you deal with your shame? You’d been so foolish. How could you have ever expected things to turn out well? Now you were simply paying the price for your arrogance.

Finally lifting yourself up from your position you stumbled the rest of the way to the Winery, careful to keep your mind blank, afraid of what might happen if you let panic once more set in. Tears pricked in your eyes as familiar vines appeared within your sight, and you could’ve cried for joy upon opening the sturdy oaken door and crossing the threshold of the place you’d learned to call home. Creeping upstairs, hoping desperately that you hadn’t managed to wake any of the other residents, you breathed a sigh of relief when you entered the familiar bedroom which you’d grown to call you own. Sinking down onto the coverlet you let out a soft sigh, finally letting tears fall as you drifted off to sleep.

-------

Yet your dreams refused to offer you any sort of reprieve. Finding yourself in a darkened hall you silently passed a variety of rooms, their imposing grandeur a familiar one. Someone seemed to be whispering a song in your ear, though when you turned to see who it was no one appeared.

“How can I desert you, how to tell you why.”

Reaching a room even grandeur than the rest you stared at the chairs that sat on dais on the opposite side from where you entered. They shimmered as if a mirage, and when you went to approach them two figures seemed to appear out of thin air. The man and the woman that were painted into the egg gazed at you with sad eyes, each saying nothing as you continued to make your way towards them.

“Let me have a moment, let me say goodbye.”

“Who are you?” You called out to them. The woman turned her head, as if ashamed of your lapse of memory. The man stood up slowly, arms reaching towards you slightly. Hurrying your pace you moved to meet him, spurred on by some unrecognized emotion.

“Harsh and sweet and bitter to leave it all.”

You as you reached the man he vanished, red ash falling softly to the ground in his wake. Gasping in horror you watched as the woman did the same. Suddenly the dream began to crumble, burning itself away to reveal nothing but black. Dropping you into an eternal night you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll bless my homeland ‘til I die.”

You bolted up, mind struggling to place where you were. Looking around you, your eyes were met with the familiar comforts of your home. A soft light drifting through the crack in the curtains, the foretelling of the dawn.

Besides you Diluc stirred. Sitting up slowly, rubbing his eyes in a gesture which made your heart squeeze, he glanced at you through sleep eyes.

“Is there something wrong, my love?”

You meant to say no, to assure him that you’d just had a strange dream. Yet the softness of his voice was contrasted so with the venom of the young man and the silence of the people who seemed to have been your family that you found yourself cracking. The sobs were soft at first, but soon you found yourself wailing, not caring how your hoarse voice pierced through the quiet of the Winery.

“My love?”

Diluc immediately wrapped his arms around you, saying nothing as you continued to sob into his chest, staining his nightshirt with tears as you cried out all the tears you could possibly contain. You felt like the world around you was shattering, like nothing was real anymore. You felt as if all you had held to was suddenly gone, and nothing remained but searing contempt.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Diluc carded his fingers through your hair, whispering soft words of comfort as your sobs diminished. Finally you felt completely spent, and as you relaxed in his arms you felt a sudden surge of tiredness, washing over you and calling you once more to the perilous depths of sleep.

“May I ask you what’s wrong?”

You fought your fatigue, disconnecting yourself slightly as to look Diluc in the face. Could you tell him what had occurred? Could you lay bare your weakness, your shame, your guilt? A part of you recoiled at the idea. And yet, as you stared at Diluc you found yourself recounting what happened, shaky breaths accompanying your soft confession. Lowering your gaze you spoke of your night, grateful that Diluc never let his arms leave you.

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry?” Lifting your gaze you found Diluc’s eyes raw, his expression one of surprising honesty.

“I was selfish, and I didn’t expect the consequences of my action. All I could think of was the past, of getting back what I’d once had.”

“And is that not a natural thing?” Diluc took a deep breath, hold on you tightening slightly. “If I could not remember what had happened to my father – if I woke up one day in an unfamiliar place with nothing but a sense of loss – I would go to the ends of the world to find what I’d lost. There is no crime in wanting your loved ones home, even when you cannot recognize them.”

“And yet it seems the only survivor has turned into a monster.”

“Does that make your past love for him any less? Do the bonds of family immediately cut the moment our loved ones turn rotten?”

You thought back to the young man in the ruins, to his mockery and his impatience. You hated him, you hated what he was doing. And yet you missed him, you somehow missed him so much. Turnign towards the nightstand you opened the small drawer. Pulling out the egg you’d been given you examined it in the dim light. How beautiful it was, how different from the image that had been put in front of you.

“Do you wish to forget what you have remembered?” Diluc’s voice was filled with nothing but kindness.

“No.” Even if it embarrassed you to say, you knew it was the truth.

“Then don’t forget it.”

You smiled, placing the egg once more in your drawer. Though it had only been a few words, though this terrible night hadn’t been erased from your memory, you somehow found yourself much lighter. Turning to Diluc you pressed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you.”

Diluc said nothing, merely leaning down to kiss you as well. Cushioned in the familiar sanctuary of his arms you allowed the darkness of your encounter to drift from your mind.

-----

Drifting off to sleep you found yourself once more in a corridor, face to face with the man who was once your father. You stared at him, wondering if he would disappear again.

“Are you truly happy as you are now?”

“Yes.” Somehow you knew it was the truth.

“I see,” the man nodded, a slight smile flashing across his face, “then we shall keep you no longer.”

Leaning over he kissed you softly on the forehead. Next to him now stood the woman who was one your mother. Smiling now, a smile which utterly transformed her melancholy aura, she wrapped you in a hug.

“Do not forget us.” She whispered.

Even as the words were spoken you knew that you never could.

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

The egg that I used this time around is a reference to Faberge eggs. The tradition having been started by Alexander III giving an egg every Easter to Empress Maria Feodorovna, the tradition was continued by Nicholas the second - who gave an egg to his wife and his mother every year. Each egg is a masterpiece of innovation and creativity and is breathtaking in its aesthetic and in the mechanic of hiding its “surprise”. The two eggs I used as reference were the Alexander Palace Egg (1908) and the Twelve Monogram Egg (1896).

The song that I referenced this time around was “Stay I Pray You” from the Anastasia musical. Highly recommend.

The parents are based off of Nicholas II and Alexandra Feodorovna. I do not have time to go into them because we will be here for 300 years. The dresses I mentioned are traditional Russian court gowns. An image will be linked in the reblog.

#genshin impact fanfiction #diluc x reader #diluc #genshin impact #requested #scenarios #my writing

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a-long-walk-in-the-forest · 3 years

Text

Genjutsu

• Definition

Hypnosis and illusionism to confuse the mind…

It’s some kind of hypnotic technique that drags the target’s mind to an illusory world and may cause confusion or physical/mental exhaustion. The main difference from other jutsu is that it does not directly affect the user’s body. There are many types of Genjutsu that may be used to attack or give a handicap to those who use them.

Advantages: It’s hard to detect who used it. Not only that, there can be many targets all at once.

Disadvantages: Prolonged use exhausts the user and it hardly deals physical damage to the target.

Source: first databook

• Doesn’t just cause illusions but can also be used to control people to some extent (we can probably guess the extent of this control by what the cranial nerves can do)

• Cranial nerves

1. The olfactory nerve transmits sensory information to your brain regarding smells that you encounter. Nerve signals are sent to areas of your brain concerned with memory and recognition of smells.

2. The optic nerve is the sensory nerve that involves vision. The information received by your rods (black and white vision and night vision) and cones (colour vision) is transmitted from your retina to your optic nerve.

3. The oculomotor nerve has two different motor functions: muscle function and pupil response.

Muscle function. Your oculomotor nerve provides motor function to four of the six muscles around your eyes. These muscles help your eyes move and focus on objects.

Pupil response. It also helps to control the size of your pupil as it responds to light.

4. The trochlear nerve controls your superior oblique muscle. This is the muscle that’s responsible for downward, outward, and inward eye movements.

5. The trigeminal nerve is the largest of your cranial nerves and has both sensory and motor functions.The trigeminal nerve has three divisions, which are:

Ophthalmic. The ophthalmic division sends sensory information from the upper part of your face, including your forehead, scalp, and upper eyelids.

Maxillary. This division communicates sensory information from the middle part of your face, including your cheeks, upper lip, and nasal cavity.

Mandibular. The mandibular division has both a sensory and a motor function. It sends sensory information from your ears, lower lip, and chin. It also controls the movement of muscles within your jaw and ear.

6. The abducens nerve controls another muscle that’s associated with eye movement, called the lateral rectus muscle. This muscle is involved in outward eye movement.

7. The facial nerve provides both sensory and motor functions, including:

moving muscles used for facial expressions as well as some muscles in your jaw

providing a sense of taste for most of your tongue

supplying glands in your head or neck area, such as salivary glands and tear-producing glands

communicating sensations from the outer parts of your ear

8. Your vestibulocochlear nerve has sensory functions involving hearing and balance. It consists of two parts, the cochlear portion and vestibular portion:

Cochlear portion. Specialized cells within your ear detect vibrations from sound based off of the sound’s loudness and pitch. This generates nerve impulses that are transmitted to the cochlear nerve.

Vestibular portion. Another set of special cells in this portion can track both linear and rotational movements of your head. This information is transmitted to the vestibular nerve and used to adjust your balance and equilibrium.

9. The glossopharyngeal nerve has both motor and sensory functions, including:

sending sensory information from your sinuses, the back of your throat, parts of your inner ear, and the back part of your tongue

providing a sense of taste for the back part of your tongue

stimulating voluntary movement of a muscle in the back of your throat called the stylopharyngeus

10. The vagus nerve is a very diverse nerve. It has both sensory and motor functions, including:

communicating sensation information from your ear canal and parts of your throat

sending sensory information from organs in your chest and trunk, such as your heart and intestines

allowing motor control of muscles in your throat

stimulating the muscles of organs in your chest and trunk, including those that move food through your digestive tract (peristalsis)

providing a sense of taste near the root of your tongue

11. Your accessory nerve is a motor nerve that controls the muscles in your neck. These muscles allow you to rotate, flex, and extend your neck and shoulders.

12. Your hypoglossal nerve is the 12th cranial nerve which is responsible for the movement of most of the muscles in your tongue.

•Taught during latter years in the academy

Stuff they learn in all years: taijutsu, ninjutsu

Stuff they learn in early years: senjutsu

Stuff they learn in later years: genjutsu

• Getting rid of it

Chakra disturbance (can be done by the person under the illusion or someone else).

Chakra disturbances can be caused through any of the senses, sight, hearing, smell, taste or touch. It can also be done using physical pain.

• Examples

First databook:

1. Mist Servant Technique (Kasumi Juusha no Jutsu)

•Genjutsu, D-rank, Supplementary The tenebrous phantoms arise from the fog and multiply endlessly!! The somber, uncanny shinobi phantoms appear out of trees and rocks one after the other, cornering the enemy. They all move sluggishly, but each time one of them receives a blow it multiplies, making the fog-dwelling ghost part quite the real article. There’s definitely no escape from those black shinobi phantoms…

2. Temple of Nirvana Technique (Nehan Shouja no Jutsu)

• Genjutsu, A-rank, Supplementary, Close to long range Fluttering in the air, the white feathers lure people into a realm of torpor!! A Genjutsu that generates a fluttering rain of sleep-inducing, illusory white feathers. Whoever sees them as they fall, piling up and covering the whole target area will experience Eden-like bliss and fall into a state of tranquil slumber. No matter how much one resists the hypnotic spell the desire to sleep is instinctive, and there’s no fighting it!!

3. Demonic Illusion: False Surroundings Technique (Magen: Kokoni Arazu no Jutsu)

• Genjutsu, C-rank, Supplementary, All ranges A thin layer of deception covering all that the eye can see!! A Genjutsu that allows one to trick others into mistaking the place they’re in for another. This technique’s main feature is that it can be cast over an extensive surface, therefore any and all who step into the illusion’s area of effect will fall under the spell. That said, it might not work so well on people who are well-versed or otherwise skilled in Genjutsu.

4. Demonic Illusion: Hell Viewing Technique (Magen: Narakumi no Jutsu)

• Genjutsu, D-rank, Supplementary, Close range This jutsu reveals the fears that dwell inside people’s hearts!! Whether they are aware of it or not themselves doesn’t matter: pictured in the bottom of their hearts, everyone has an image of the one thing they least want to ever see. This Genjutsu is a technique that draws forth such an image from within the heart and has one mistake it for reality. In other words, if the mental image is a gruesome one, the shock will be accordingly great.

Second databook:

1. Bringer-of-Darkness Technique (Kokuangyou no Jutsu)

• Genjutsu, A-rank, Supplementary, Mid to long range Everything falls into a tenebrous hellhole! Inside the cruel obscurity, there is no room for countermeasures!! A Genjutsu which exerts an hallucinatory effect upon the eyesight, stealing all light away. A world of darkness, as if a thick, jet-black curtain had been dropped. No matter how skilled someone is, they have no option besides turning into sitting ducks…

2. Tsukuyomi

• Genjutsu, Kekkei Genkai, Supplementary, Close range An inner hell as eternal as Heaven and Earth. The grip held onto the principles of all creation thoroughly annihilates one’s heart and soul!! Amidst the insight and hypnosis possessed by Sharingan, is a supreme Genjutsu, born from the aforementioned hypnosis: Tsukuyomi. Originally, people on the face of the Earth live bound by limitations like time, gravity, and space; and how people exert their abilities within those restrictions is what separates the victors from the vanquished. But in the mental world where the caster drags their opponent, the Tsukuyomi jutsu gives them control over those very limitations! Namely, this means inside the Genjutsu, the physical world’s common sense is completely irrelevant and opposing the caster is impossible. Somebody caught into the Tsukuyomi find themselves into a strange world of infinity, their fate entirely lying inside the caster’s hands. Some time, they will undergo the torments of Hell, and some other time, they will be repeatedly shown a horrendous, hellish picture of agony and mayhem, with no idea of when either of those will end. As a result, the poor prisoner can only wait until the collapse of their psyches…!! Even a body made of iron or the speed of light are powerless before this jutsu, which is the reason why it is feared as the most powerful.

3. Demonic Illusion: Mirror Heaven and Earth Change (Magen: Kyou Tenchi-ten)

• Genjutsu, Kekkei Genkai, Supplementary, Close range The mechanics of a false image is duplicated by these eyes, its effects largely turned back onto the enemy!! One decrypts a Genjutsu that has been applied onto them, and casts back a jutsu with identical effects onto the opponent!! It’s a form of illusion reversal, but in order to instantly read through a jutsu and cast it in return, the Sharingan’s power is necessary. As Genjutsu is initially used to confuse the enemy, this technique which sends it right back to its caster deals a high amount of mental damage, more than anything else. Every half-baked Genjutsu will fall prey to the mirror that is Sharingan!!

4. Demonic Illusion: Tree Binding Death (Magen: Jubaku Satsu)

• Genjutsu, B-rank, Supplementary, Close range Ensnared and captured. Such is the nefarious influence of the dire tree!! One of the Genjutsu that have been passed along since ancient times in Konoha. One is completely robbed of their mobility as they see the mirage of a tree coiling itself around them! Given that the subject remains conscious, this jutsu proves extremely efficient for information-gathering.

5. Demonic Flute: illusionary warriors’ manipulation melody

• Genjutsu, B-rank, Supplementary The melody of death that controls three demons Tayuya’s ninjutsu that controls three demons that have been summoned with the sound of the flute. Tune varies according to behavior pattern of demons and gets complex to avoid getting analyzed.

6. Demonic Flute: Phantom Sound Chains (Mateki: Mugen Onsa)

• Genjutsu, B-rank, Supplementary, All ranges The sound of the flute beckons hellish captivity. Restraining the limbs and taking all freedom away!! One of the Genjutsu that rely on the sound of the flute. Whoever hears it will be assailed by the vivid sensation that their limbs have been fastened with sturdy ropes, thus becoming unable to move about freely. At the same time, they are fed morbid hallucinations, which makes it also possible to run them down mentally. Given that the means of transmission is sound-based, it has a large range of effectiveness, on top of which it can be applied even without knowledge of the enemy’s position, which makes for an exceedingly convenient jutsu.

7. Bringer-of-Darkness Technique (Kokuangyou no Jutsu)

Third databook: Won’t include because I cannot be bothered to type it out.

Fourth databook:

1. Izanagi

• Genjutsu, Kekkei Genkai, Defensive, Close to mid range The forbidden Doujutsu that connects illusion and reality! During battles where defeat was not an option, this great eye power made its name, the power that was used by the Uchiha Clan for a long time. It is activated by making the [hand] seals of the Rabbit, Boar, and Ram while the user has the Sharingan active. From there, the jutsu erases any harmful reality to the user for a brief moment and then replaces it with a reality in favour of the user, helping the user to solve complicated situations. The duration that the jutsu is active depends on the user’s power capacity. It is a dangerous Doujutsu that leaves the user practically invincible. By using it, the user risks blindness. He hides even death within an illusion, for the duration of the jutsu.

2. Izanami

• Genjutsu, Kekkei Genkai, Supplementary, Close range The forbidden Doujutsu that creates an infinite cycle that decides the destiny!! A scene of an opponent’s action is recorded by the user’s Doujutsu, then an identical scene needs to be recreated. The opponent is then trapped infinitely in a loop between the first and second scenes that were recorded. To escape this Genjutsu, the victim must accept his original destiny. Reforming the conduct allows someone to escape Genjutsu.

3. Kotoamatsukami

• Genjutsu, Kekkei Genkai, Supplementary, All ranges The eye dominates the consciousness, transforming the one who sees into a pawn. The Mangekyou Sharingan of Uchiha Shisui uses the strongest Genjutsu. The user exerts influence on the opponent, manipulating his actions without his being aware of it. Victory can be achieved without a battle, a wonderful jutsu. The constraints of Impure World Reincarnation were rewritten by their power. The Sharingan that Danzou stole from Shisui was used to manipulate Mifune in order to secretly dominate the conference of the Five Kage.

4. Infinite Tsukuyomi (Mugen Tsukuyomi)

• Genjutsu, Kekkei Moura, Supplementary, All ranges The divine eye observes all things of creation, caught in this prison of infinite dreams!! On a full moon night, the Rinne-Sharingan, capable of manipulating the world, is reflected on the moon, and then its light illuminates people on earth, placing them in eternal Genjutsu… The light emitted by this technique can cross obstacles, so even if a person is hiding in a closed place, he cannot escape! Those who have fallen into infinite dreams are enveloped by the roots of the God Tree, which have been expanded on a global scale by God: Nativity of a World of Tress, and have their chakra sucked into eternity. The circular eye floating on the moon!! The moon turns into a Rinne-Sharingan, putting all of humanity into a Genjutsu! Rinnegan’s appearance appears in the eyes of those affected by jutsu. Those involved in jutsu are trapped by trees and their chakra is absorbed.

#naruto meta #jutsu #genjutsu #naruto world

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