#the trepidation at the thought of killing his own family

[grimalkinmessor]

Was reading tsukinousagi's latest fic (as one does) and xie said that people tend to base their characterization of Light off a certain scene/point in the timeline—and it took me a minute to think about it but mine is probably this one:

[cat3ch1sm]

hii i think this is my first time requesting from you so hopefully I do it right..

can you do sfw headcannons of Hisoka, illumi, and Kurapika with an s/o who has a terrifying nen aura? like stronger and more menacing then theirs? and can you do gender neutral reader? thanks :]

🕷️~ hello!! welcome to my inbox 💚 thanks for your request! if you’re ever wondering what info to put in a request just view the pinned post on my profile! tyy <33

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) gn!reader, sfw

𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐤𝐚, 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐚

hisoka

hisoka isn’t usually fazed by anyone’s aura because his own is so overpowering. his aura is just so eerie and unsettling that he never needs to pay any mind to anyone else’s because he’s usually the one people stay away from. but when you enter the picture, that all changes. the second you even enter a building every person in there is instantly weighed down by the darkness and menace of your aura, including hisoka, and he can’t help but feel fearful because that is simply the only emotion your aura allows anyone around it to feel. but fear doesn’t affect hisoka like it does other people. rather, he’s intrigued.

hisoka obviously has a thing for people who can kill him, so he likes to be around you just for the twisted euphoria he experiences of being actually genuinely scared. he knows that if you wanted to or he made one wrong move, that you could kill him in a second, and that fills him with an uncanny amount of pleasure. as a matter of fact, he’ll regularly push your boundaries just to feel the rush when your aura spikes. it’s like his favorite thing to do

illumi

okay let me just say you’ve gotta be pretty goddamn scary to overshadow an aura like illumi’s. even when he’s not trying he’s still scary as shit 🙏🏾

illumi isn’t someone who normally feels things like fear, anxiety, anything along those lines. but when he first encounters you, he can’t deny the overpowering sense of dread he’s filled with when he’s even near you. it’s not like he’s legitimately scared of you or anything, but it’s more like trepidation is literally forced into him. like he has no choice but to fear your aura. this is a brand-new thing to him, too- not even the phantom troupe or anyone in his family has such an awful presence. and to be honest, illumi doesn’t like having the tables turned on him- he’s usually the one people run away from and go out of their way to avoid.

i imagine he’d watch you from a distance for a while- either by having needle people go keep tabs on you or by constructing some other nen tactic so he can observe you. the dread that comes with being too close to you and that horrible aura is too much for him to handle for now, especially since like i said it’s a new feeling. i think only after illumi has watched you long enough to discover a weakness that he’s able to exploit would he go and approach you, so if you try and pull something illumi can have a better chance at taking you out.

illumi’s next thought, though, is to make an ally out of you- and what better way to do that than have you literally join his family? that’s what causes him to seek you out in a “romantic” way- his goal is literally immediately just to marry you so you become a zoldyck and can’t turn against him.

i feel like during the relationship illumi might be a bit distant for the reasons i listed earlier. also illumi just isn’t a clingy or affectionate person. with how powerful your nen is and the hostile nature of your aura illumi isn’t inclined to be near you often. basically you both just do your own thing, but illumi does keep tabs on you and still doesn’t let you see other people. not that anybody wants to because you’re scary but still😭

kurapika

realistically, i doubt kurapika would be with anyone whose aura is this horrible. it reminds him way too much of the spiders. and in his mind, nobody with an aura as ghastly as yours can mean anything good for anyone. plus, kurapika has destructive tendencies of his own, so having someone even worse than him around would not benefit him at all. so i think he’d want to stay far away from you, and would be protective of those around him when you’re near.

but because these are headcanons and we are supposed to be delusional, let’s say that kurapika isn’t immediately deterred by your nightmarish aura. his mind goes a similar route to illumi’s, so Kurapika is going to want to get you on his side for sure. he isn’t someone who approaches people that much, so he devises a situation in which you both can be alone so he can try and develop some sort of bond which you can build on.

usually Kurapika would be more protective than not of people he’s in a relationship with, but not with you. he kind of keeps his distance, actually. if you want to do something dangerous or deadly he just steps back and lets you. he doesn’t feel the need to protect you at all, more so like protecting other people from you lmao 😭

these were mid asf but it’s 2 am 💔 i hope u enjoyed <33

[veronicaphoenix]

THE UNMAKING OF A WARRIOR — PART VII

Pairing: samurai/ronin!noah x fem. reader | Words: 11.5k

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: tiny bit of sexual content at the beginning, fluff, subtle talks of dom/sub dynamic, mentions of bondage, torture, nightmares, anxiety, mentions of underage sexual experiences, blade to throat, death threats, blood, mentions of supernatural forces, mentions of Noah having killed people before (sorry, he's a samurai, after all), mentions of pregnancy, angst, cliffhanger at the end whoops. so many things, i'm taking this fic very seriously no joke

Author's note: okay everybody, i've done a bunch of research for this fic and I love learning about different cultures and expanding my knowledge about the world, but the entire thing is obviously historically inaccurate (not that this is exactly a historical fic but anyway), also I don't think people wore sweatpants in feudal Japan, but I can't picture Noah not wearing them, so here you go, a samurai wearing sweatpants. 🤭 I haven't done a second review to check for any last typos or mistakes, so I apologize for that.

Additional useful info: - Kami: japanese word for a deity, divinity, or spirit. - Yakuza: individual involved in criminal organizations, thought to have descended from gangs of ronin (masterless samurai) - Rei and Ren are two different people in the story. Rei we like, Ren we definitely do not like.

THE UNMAKING OF A WARRIOR 

PART VII

Waking up to Noah’s serene form beside me felt like a blessing. 

         His peaceful slumber was a sight I’d seen many times in the dark, when he slept by my side and I sacrificed my own hours of rest just to watch him, knowing that with the dawn, he would be gone. 

         But this time, watching him held a special tranquility. His young features, usually marked by a furrowed brow, were now softened in repose, free from the burdens of worry that plagued him even in sleep. 

         During the night, his rest had been disturbed, his subconscious grappling with the lingering echoes of the past few days. Despite the idyllic surroundings we found ourselves in, a part of him remained tethered to the fears and uncertainties of our choices. His dreams were plagued with scenarios of what could have happened days ago, before escaping from my father’s estate. At one point, he tossed and turned so fervently in bed that he flung the sheets off his body. A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead, neck, and chest. 

         Now that morning had unfolded, and sunlight streamed into our modest dwelling, I found myself drawn to Noah’s profile, his beautiful lines illuminated by the gentle glow. Even while sleeping, his features exuded a captivating allure, making him look even more handsome than he already was. His shirt had shifted during the night, when he found himself trapped in a nightmare, and a glimpse of his abdomen was now revealed to me alongside the scars that marred his warrior skin. A pang of sadness washed over me at the reminder of the trials he had endured, being born into a family of Samurai where the path of battle was but an unavoidable destiny. 

         My eyes shifted from one ugly scar under his left pectoral to the tattoos adorning his skin. 

         Noah’s fascination with tattoos had always intrigued me, especially considering the strict code of the Samurai that forbade such adornments. Samurai detested tattoos. Yet, Noah had received his first one at the age of eighteen, during a chance encounter with a group of ronin on the outskirts of the estate. I remember him recounting the tale to me with a mix of trepidation and wonder, describing how he had nearly fled at the sight of the masterless samurai. Yet, he found himself drawn to their stories and the reasons why they had decided to break the Bushido code and now lived in the shadows. A ronin had been the one to ink a small dragon onto Noah’s skin, unaware that Noah would become one of them years later. As he showed the tattoo to me and I traced the red and blue lines with my fingertips, I became aware that he would have to keep it hidden. It terrified me to know what my father would do to him if he found out Noah had stained his skin. 

         This morning, my fingers traced the same path, sliding down gently from the head of the dragon to its ferocious tail. Noah stirred slightly beneath my touch, though he remained slightly lost in his sleep. I shot a wary glance at his face, and as soon as I saw his eyes remained closed, I moved my fingers to his navel and down, towards the line of hair that descended and disappeared under the waistband of his pants.

         He whispered my name, a gentle protest.

         “Stop that. It tickles,” he mumbled, his voice coarse.

         His words only triggered me to continue my tracing, which made him open his eyes and, in an instant, he had flipped me onto my back, his grin infectious as he pinned me beneath him.

         The unmistakable hardness of his morning erection didn’t go unnoticed to me as it pressed against my hip.  

         “Good morning,” I said quietly, but even with my sweet voice I couldn’t hide my intentions. Noah narrowed his gaze on me, his fingers moving a few strands of hair from my face. 

         “Good morning,” he replied. “Someone had a good night’s sleep, I see.”

         As soon as he said that, I subtly arched my hips, seeking out some friction. Noah’s eyes darkened. With one hand on my hip, he kept me pinned to the mattress, but I was feeling feisty enough and I slid a hand down and inside his sweatpants, making my way beneath his underwear and wrapping my fingers around his hard, thick length. 

         Locked in a silent exchange of desire, Noah’s eyes bore into mine, a vein beginning to pulse on his neck. Just as I was poised to take things further, to pump him once, laughter from outside shattered the moment, snapping us both back to reality. 

         Noah immediately flipped back to his side of the bed, both slightly breathless and eager for the privacy we had momentarily lost. We turned our attention towards the balcony door, our sanctuary now breached by the intrusion of the outside world. 

         We had no idea what time it was, but suddenly we were very aware of the noise outside, the chatter of voices, the chirping of birds, the occasional deer call, and the distant clucking of chickens. I was momentarily disoriented. 

         As the chaos settled around us, a sense of clarity began to emerge. 

         We were far from home, —or what home had been—. We were nestled in a humble abode offered by a community we had only just discovered. Surrounded by life in all its vibrant forms, if we got lucky enough, Noah and I could dare to hope for a future together in this place. The laughter of children drifting away outside made me wish with all my might that the opportunity came to us and all the dreams I had with Noah became a reality. 

         Despite the realization that we still didn’t have the privacy we would like, I wanted to embrace this new reality. To wake up to the symphony of birdsong, the joyous laughter of children, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze—these simple pleasures whispered promises of a life yet to be lived. 

         After composing ourselves and tending to the necessities of the morning, I ventured out onto the porch, greeted by the sweet fragrance of nearby flowers and the soft caress of the morning breeze. In the distance, I spotted Rika and Milla’s children, their playful antics adding a sweet touch to the warmth of our new community. 

         Near the door, a package caught my eye, it’s presence a tangible reminder of the kindness that surrounded us. Attached to it was a tag bearing Rika’s name. With a grateful smile, I carried the package inside, closing the wooden doors behind me. 

         As Noah caught sight of me, a softness settled over his features. I could tell he was still living in the short moment we had shared in bed as we woke up.

         I carefully read the note attached to the package in my hands,

         “I thought these clothes might be useful for now. I hope they fit you. I used to wear them before I got pregnant with my first child. There are some from my husband that might fit Noah. 

Rika.”

         Surveying the contents of the package, Noah selected a pair of black trousers and a matching tunic, securing his katana at his waist with a belt of the same color as he finished getting dressed. Meanwhile, I found myself staring in awe at the array of dresses Rika had offered, each one an affirmation of her generosity and kindness. 

         After much deliberation, I chose a delicate white summer dress adorned with tiny blue flowers, its charm a contrast to the uncertainty of our circumstances. But as I held it in my hands and examined it, a sense of determination flooded me. I wanted this to work, and as silly as it sounded, I considered that, by wearing a cute dress, I could give it a start. 

         However, as I struggled with the intricate straps at the back of it, a sense of frustration took over me, and I found myself longing for the assistance of the maids back at my father’s estate. 

         Noah appeared behind me. In a heartbeat, his hands covered mine, his touch gentle yet confident. 

         “Let me,” he murmured, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet of the room as I dropped my hands. 

         With practiced ease, he skillfully tightened the straps and tied a knot. I held my breath, acutely aware of the precision in his touch. 

         His proficiency with ropes, honed through years as a samurai, carried with it a weight of history and pain that lingered beneath the surface. 

         I had witnessed the anguish that haunted Noah’s eyes on those nights we spent entwined beneath the covers, grappling with demons of his past. The torment of inflicting pain upon innocent prisoners that had been tied up with ropes in impossible ways weighed heavily upon him, a burden he bore with a heavy heart. And in those moments of darkness, I knew that I had to find a way to replace the agony with something else. I might not be able to make it disappear, but I could help him deal with it in a different way, build a new memory related to that bondage he was meant to perform on those people considered traitors.  

         The first time, many years ago when I asked him to tie me up, his horror at my proposal was obvious, and his refusal resolute and unwavering. He got very upset, and I didn’t insist any further that night. But I refused to be deterred, though, and patiently waited for the opportunity to convey the depth of my intentions and why I believed it could help him. 

         “I’m not asking you to hurt me,” I whispered. “I’m asking you to show me how much you’re capable of loving; to show me that by being completely at your mercy, I’m safe; that beneath the warrior lies a man of compassion and tenderness; that despite everything, you’re a man of good heart.”

         It was a gradual journey, fraught with a lot of uncertainty and hesitation. But as Noah discovered the profound emotional bond that the bindings on my body provided, there was no turning back, and soon I found myself bound and completely subjected to him in bed, feeling every one of his touches more intensely than ever, every kiss he placed on every inch of my body more devoted than the last. 

         The restraints provided by the bindings seemed to ignite the rest of my senses, making my skin tingle and increasing my ability to feel and understand that Noah was mine and I was his. Never, not once, did I fear him. That confidence toppled the last ounce of insecurity that remained in Noah, and since then, we knew that we wouldn’t be able to live without each other. 

         With Noah, I found a sanctuary where submission was a choice made freely. It had nothing to do with the control that defined my life and that I hated. With Noah I could be honest, and I could submit without fear. And Noah, despite not being able to escape the expectations of his samurai heritage, despite not being able to rid himself of that part of him that yearned for control and dominance, he embraced it when I was in his arms. 

         When we were with each other, the dynamic was wonderful, and there was no moment when we felt more united than when I let go, surrendered to his mercy.

         As I turned around and thanked him for tying the straps of the dress, I noticed that his eyes had darkened, and I understood that the same thoughts had been crossing his mind as he tied the ribbons.

         “Beautiful”, he murmured, but more than a sigh, the way he pronounced the word resembled a growl. 

         With a sheepish smile, I tiptoed to kiss him, my hands pressed against his hard stomach, and for a moment I damned that a few more moments alone together, in that comfortable bed that had been offered to us, had been stolen. 

         I’d had Noah inside me a couple of days ago, but still, the ache of missing and wanting him was too potent.  

         Noah parted his lips to kiss me deeper, but a growl from his stomach interrupted us. A hint of embarrassment colored his cheeks as I laughed.  

         “I’m hungry,” he said.   He traced a strand of hair that fell across my face, his fingers falling to my neck and caressing it in a tantalizing caress. “I could eat you.”

         He leaned in to feign a bite at my neck, prompting me to laugh louder. I squirmed under his touch, laughing and letting out little squeals.

It wasn’t as late as we initially thought. When we left the house, traces of dew still lingered on the plants, and some moisture collected on the stone paths. 

We walked to the main dining hall, warmly greeting the people who recognized us from the previous day, exchanging good mornings with a wave of the hand or a polite nod. In the dining hall, much like the night before, there weren’t many people, but the same woman who served me dinner the previous night was there, delighted to see me in good spirits and well accompanied.     Noah and I had breakfast in silence, occasionally glancing around, absorbing the details of the place and familiarizing ourselves with the community’s routine. The woman serving the food assured us we could eat as much as we wanted, gesturing with her arms to indicate the abundance of fresh fruit baskets, cereals, and other hot delicacies piled up on a long table at the opposite end of the hall. 

I was finishing a cup of hot tea when an elderly couple, around eighty, perhaps,, approached us very slowly, delicate smiles on their wrinkled faces. I exchanged a cautious glance with Noah, unsure how to greet them, whether we should stand up, or if we should stop eating. As soon as Noah made a move to rise from the bench, the woman gestured with her hand and shook her head, then gave him a couple of gentle pats on the shoulder. The encounter didn’t go beyond that.     

Not long after, when Rika appeared on the porch leading to the dining hall, she informed us that they were the oldest couple in the community, residing at the top of the hill at the back end of the village, just behind the temple we had seen upon our arrival the day before. They were very quiet and reserved people, and being older, their community tasks had already ceased, and now they spent their time strolling around the village, helping just in whatever way they could and warding off evil spirits. 

“They are very wise people,” Rika told us. “If you ever need advice or help, you’ll likely find them at the temple. They take care of keeping it clean and orderly, and often perform rituals for the well-being of the community.”

We were leaning on the veranda of the porch when Rei, the man who’d led us into the village the day before, approached. He greeted Noah warmly and apologized to me for not including me in his tour yesterday, to which I replied that it hadn’t mattered and that I appreciated their concern for me and letting me rest. 

I hadn’t finished talking when a gentle brush against my thigh through the porch bars drew my attention, and as I turned around, I was met with the sight of a curious deer lingering near the porch. Its innocent gaze and delicate features captivated me instantly, and unable to resist it, I walked off the porch and onto the stone path, approaching the creature with a mixture of fascination and wonder.

As if sensing my presence, the deer remained still, showing a genuine trust toward me that warmed my heart. Noah, Rei, and Rika observed from the porch.

“They’re quite friendly,” Rika said, her voice carrying a sense of tranquility that matched the peaceful surroundings. “The children love playing with them.”

Indeed, as soon as a group of children noticed me petting the deer, they joined in, their laughter filling the air as they frolicked alongside the gentle creature. It was a scene of pure joy and innocence, a stark contrast to the hardships Noah and I had faced in recent days. It was hard to believe two days ago we had been sleeping in an abandoned and ruined cottage in the middle of nowhere, with barely any food nor water. 

As the children gathered around, their eyes wide with wonder, I knelt down beside them, the soft breeze carrying the scent of pine and earth.

“Did you know that deer shed their antlers every year?” I began to explain, my voice soft yet animated. “They use them for protection and to attract mates.”

The children listened intently, their fascination evident as they hung onto my every word. I had always been fascinated by animals, my knowledge about them being nurtured by years of education and exploration. Close to my father’s estate there was a deer sanctuary, a haven where Noah and I met each other on numerous occasions, allowing the creatures to bear witness to the blossoming of our love. “Really?” one of the children exclaimed, their curiosity piqued. He must have been four or five. His cheeks were full and his eyes a sweet light brown. “So, does that mean they have new antlers every year?”

I nodded, delighted by their enthusiasm to learn. “That’s right! In the spring, new antlers start to grow, covered in a soft, fuzzy layer called velvet. And as they grow, they become stronger and more durable.”

The children exchanged excited whispers among themselves, their eyes shining. 

Rika watched from the porch, her eyes twinkling with pride at the scene unfolding before her. 

“You’re wonderful with children,” she noticed. 

I glanced up at her, and just uttered a simple “thank you”, not knowing what else to say to that. When my eyes diverted to Noah, I caught his gaze fixed on me with a newfound intensity. It was as if a sudden realization had dawned on him, a silent acknowledgment of the future we might share together.

Before he said anything, Rei interjected, “It’s very hard to keep them still these days. The children, I mean. All they want to do is run around,” he said. “You seem to have a knack for handling them,” he remarked, his tone gentle yet inquisitive, and then, “Noah told me you’re very skilled at archery.”

“A little,” I replied, somewhat confused at the change of topics. 

“She’s very good,” Noah corrected, emphasizing his words with a nod of his head, his words flooding my mind with images from the time I showed Noah my skills and he had been shockingly impressed. I had been sixteen at the time, and I had been able to shoot a 25lb light bow straight into my aiming point at a distance of ten yards. 

“My father wanted me to train in the art of archery from a young age,” I explained, with a hint of bitterness in my voice. Talking about my father would always put me on edge after the events that had just transpired. 

“You could continue your training here, or if you prefer, you could teach the children,” Rei suggested as the deer at my side fed on some grass growing between the stones. “It would be nice to have someone else to instruct them. The current instructor is getting too old for it.”

“Oh. Um—I don’t know,” I was not expecting such proposal less than twenty-four hours since we’d set foot on this place. “I’d have to think about it. I don’t think I’m good enough for that.”

But Noah’s raised eyebrow told me I didn’t have to be so modest.

Rei continued, “I think they would benefit greatly from your experience and guidance.”

“It would be great,” Rika added. “My husband has always wanted our son to learn how to use the bow.”

Rei insisted, his voice soft but filled with conviction, “the children of our community are always eager to learn new skills. I can’t help but think that, if you’re as good as Noah says, your expertise in archery would be a valuable asset to them, honestly.”

His words sparked a flicker of excitement within me, “You really think so?” I asked, apprehensive.

“Absolutely,” he affirmed, his voice steady and sure. “If you have a gift, the children would be lucky to learn from you.”

But alongside the thrill of possibility, a wave of self-doubt came my way, threatening to extinguish the flame of enthusiasm. What if I wasn’t good enough? What if I failed to inspire the children, or worse, disappointed them? I had never really spent that much time around children, much less teaching them something. Archery was a challenge, far from a simple task. It demanded perseverance through frustration, disappointments, and physical exhaustion. 

But as I looked up at Noah again, I saw his unwavering faith in me reflected in the depths of his brown eyes. I found the courage to push aside my doubts and embrace the opportunity before me. With a determined nod, I made up my mind to seize the moment and trust in the strength of my own abilities.

The idea was certainly appealing, and teaching archery to the children would not only allow me to share my skills but also contribute to the community in a meaningful way, something totally different from the future that had waited for me at Ren’s estate if I had married him…

“Well, I... think I would like that,” I concluded.

As we continued our conversation, Rei proceeded to explain in detail how the community worked to sustain itself. Each member contributed in their own way, whether it was teaching skills like archery, gardening, tending to the harvest, fishing, construction, preparing food, or other subjects more related to history, mathematics, and literature. It was a system built on mutual support and cooperation, where everyone played a vital role in ensuring the community thrived.

Rika, sensing her duties calling, excused herself with a warm smile, suggesting that Noah and I explore the town market later. “It’s a lovely place and not far from here,” she added before walking away towards the northwest side of the village. “You can buy anything you need there.”

Following Rei’s lead, we made our way to the Samurai training grounds, where he proudly showed us the disciplined regimen of the warriors just as he had showed to Noah the day before. The purpose of teaching combat wasn’t the same as the one imposed to those born into a Samurai lineage like Noah. While Noah and his kin were bound by duty to bow to authority and dedicate their lives to the service of war, the kids and youngsters that engaged in combat training here at this place did it with the aim of cultivating their physical strength, honing mental discipline, and equipping themselves with skills needed for self-defense, should the need arise. It was a practice rooted in self-reliance and empowerment, rather than obligation and allegiance. 

Next to the training grounds, the archery training fields awaited. 

Arriving there, I was met with a breathtaking panorama of lush greenery stretching out before me, the distant mountains standing sentinel against the azure sky. 

 A its center, there was a row of sturdy wooden targets, each with rings painted in red. Along the periphery, racks of polished bows stood in neat rows, the curves catching the sunlight, and nearby, quivers waited with arrows arranged next to them.

It was truly a wonderful place, even though my momentary admiration was broken by Rei’s next words.

“Why don’t you show us what you can do?”

I frowned.

“What?” Immediately, I shook my head. “No. No, I don’t—I don’t think I’m dressed appropriately,” I confessed, feeling a pang of self-consciousness as I looked down at my dress.

“I’ve seen you shoot while dressed in much less appropriate attire,” Noah teased gently, his eyes twinkling.

It took him less than a sentence to convince me to do anything. 

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, my eyes fixed on the bows. I examined them until I choose one that seemed the most appropriate for my height and the length of my arms. My fingers trembled slightly as they closed around the familiar weight of the bow. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around me fading into insignificance as I prepared myself and focused all my attention on one of the targets ahead.

With a silent prayer on my lips, I drew back the bowstring, feeling the tension build in my muscles with eachsecond. And then, with a swift release, I let the arrow fly, watching with bated breath as it soared through the air with deadly accuracy.

The moment seemed to stretch into eternity, the world holding its breath as the arrow found its mark with a satisfying thud. A rush of exhilaration surged through me, filling every fiber of my being with a sense of triumph and accomplishment.

Turning to face Rei and Noah, I was met with looks of awe and admiration, Noah’s eyes shining with pride as Rei’s watched me with respect. Not even my mother had ever shown so much pride and gratefulness in her daughter. 

“Noah was right. You do possess a remarkable talent,” Rei acknowledged. “The children will undoubtedly benefit greatly from the opportunity to learn from you.”

“I would be honored to teach them,” I replied, my voice filled with determination and a new sense of purpose. 

As the soft hues of a sunny morning painted shadows around us, Noah and I set out on our journey towards the nearby town, hand in hand, our footsteps light upon the forest path. The air was alive with the symphony of nature, the gentle rustle of leaves and the sweet delicacy of a birdsong.

It was the first time we walked with my hand clutched in his as two people who were free, although a part of me still felt reluctant. I was so used to the ingrained fear that holding Noah’s hand was a crime that even after deciding to go against all the rules of our society, I couldn’t entirely erase the lingering apprehension. I couldn’t shake the feeling that at some point someone would show up, point us out, and make us pay for the “crime” of falling in love. 

I was aware that Noah was also grappling with similar anxieties, although he had always been more adept at concealing his fears and worries, of course. 

My thoughts were confirmed when, instead of reveling in the liberation of the moment, he diverted our attention to something he had forgotten to mention the night before. 

In the backpack my grandmother had given us, at the bottom of it, Noah had found another packet containing a handful of coins and bills. Enough money to get us out of harm’s way for a while longer. 

With everything that had happened to us in the last three days, I hadn’t even stopped to think about money. For me, it had never been a problem, but by deciding to run away with Noah, I had also decided to forsake a life of luxury in the castles of the royal families, the fortune that would fall into my hands just for being the daughter of a Shogun, or the inheritance that would be left in my name once my parents were no longer here. Noah and I had nothing. No coins to our name, no possessions but the clothes on our backs. It was a cold reminder of the consequences of our impulsive actions —a samurai and a princess reduced to fugitives, stripped of all the wealth and status that had once defined us. 

That just showed how little I cared about money. Still, Noah managed to alleviate some of my unease with the news that at least we had something on our hands, which led me to realize that, in the excitement of setting out to explore the town, I hadn’t thought to take my grandfather’s katana. When I mentioned it to Noah, telling him that I suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed considering we were still being searched for by my father’s army, he made us stop and forced me to look deep into his eyes as he held my face in his calloused hands. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to carry a weapon with you at all times,” he said. “Maybe you should have taken it today, in case you were going out alone, but you’re not. You’re with me. Nothing is going to happen, and I’ll make sure that from now on, you won’t feel the need to be armed whenever you decide to go somewhere.”

That was sweet, the way he implied that he would give me a life of freedom and absent of fear, but they didn’t entirely dispel my anxiety.   

“I’ve got mine,” he said as he noted my angst not subsiding, his thumbs caressing the curve of my cheeks. “I’ll keep us safe, don’t worry.”

Attempting to reassure him more than myself, I nodded, forcing a small smile. 

As I started to resume our walk, Noah’s hand clasped my wrist, halting me in place. When I looked up at him, I noticed a special glint in his eyes.  

“What is it?” I asked. 

“I’m aware I told you how beautiful you are mere hours ago,” he began, his voice a quiet whisper in the forest. The way he was looking at me was tender and adoring, the touch of his touch around my wrist a soothing, honeyed sensation. “But there’s something…” he cleared his throat. “I’ve always wanted to tell you how pretty you look in these dresses,” he continued, more confidence in his voice this time. “Whenever I saw you around your father’s gardens, I was… mesmerized. But I couldn’t say anything.” For obvious reasons. “You look pretty. I just wanted you to know.”

I blushed, but despite the embarrassment I was able to stand on my tiptoes and give him a soft kiss, cupping his cheek in one of my hands.

In about twenty minutes, we caught sight of the first houses that comprised the town. Nestled in the center of the picturesque valley, the town was flanked by towering mountains and crisscrossed by a river, likely the same one Noah and I had followed on our journey. 

At the entrance to the town, a stone structure welcomed us, shaped by two vertical pillar and two horizontal crossbeams.

Venturing further, excitement flowing through me as I held tightly onto Noah’s hand, we found ourselves amidst a bustling scene. The narrow main street bustled with activity as locals and visitors alike moved briskly, carrying bags of provisions and exchanging lively greetings.

The air was alive with the aromas of freshly baked bread and simmering rice, wafting from tiny eateries just beginning to open their doors. Though being daytime, lanterns overhead cast a warm glow and added illumination to the cobblestone path below our feet. 

As we strolled along, I was captivated by the sights and sounds that surrounded us. Quaint tea houses adorned with cherry blossoms stood alongside market stalls offering an array of treasures. 

I pulled Noah to a stop when we came across a group of street performers. 

Dressed in elegant kimonos and covered in vibrant colors, a pair of dancers performed a kabuki-inspired dance, bringing to life ancient tales of heroism and love while a skilled percussionist put on display a performance of taiko drumming on massive drums. The music filled the street with thunderous rhythms that reverberated through the crowd. We watched, enthralled. By the time they reached the heart of their act, Noah’s arms had slid around my waist from behind, and I swayed a little with my back pressed against his chest, my hands resting on top of his over my stomach.And as the final notes of music faded into the air, we were left with a profound desire to belong to this place.  

Even when the crowd started to dissipate, I remained tucked in Noah’s arms, feeling a bittersweet feeling inside of me. I could like it here. I could love it. I was already mesmerized by it all, but the reminder that this what at the cost of my parents put a heaviness in my chest that every once in a while made it difficult to breath. 

As always, so perceptive, Noah pressed a kiss to my hair, prompting me to close my eyes and relish the feeling of being there with him, surrounded by people that accepted our love, that allowed us to be. 

Thankfully, the crowd surrounding me serves as a reminder to keep me anchored in the present moment. My life didn’t belong to my parents, and life was not meant to be perfect, either. I could have paradise at a certain cost, and I would take it. I would take this which was standing in front of me, around me, right now. 

With Noah encouraging us to keep exploring, we stumbled upon a small gathering of locals at a fork in the street, huddled together in animated conversation. They were whispering legends that seemed to dance upon the breeze and that kept children and adults spellbounded by the narratives. 

An old man, his face weathered by years of wisdom, was regaling locals and visitors with tales of ancient warriors and mythical beasts, his voice rising and falling like the ebb and flow of a tide. As he spoke, Noah and I listened and exchanged knowing glances. These tales had been our companions in the quiet of bedtime as children and had accompanied us through our teenage years, intertwined with the poetry and literature of our respective educations. 

As the day wore on and the rumble of hunger coming from my stomach elicited a playful comment from Noah this time, we sought out the nearest food stall, its colorful banners and fragrant spices alluring us closer. We approached the stall with hunger, our mouths watering at the tantalizing aroma that wafted through the air.

Noah’s eyes danced with excitement as he perused the selection of dishes on display, his adventurous spirit evident as he selected a variety of savory skewers and steaming dumplings. 

“What would you like to have?” he asked.

“There’s so much to choose from,” I replied, my eyes darting from one plate to another. “Everything looks delicious.” 

 Noah engaged the vendor, asking about a few specific delicacies before making our selections. 

“Would you like to try these? They’ve just been made and are still warm,” the vendor offered, gesturing to a plate of unfamiliar bites. 

“Sure,” I agreed, accepting the bite from Noah’s fingers. His act of feeding me felt intimate and sweet, and elicited a smile I couldn’t shake as I chewed, my gaze locked on his until his laughter broke the spell. 

“What?” I asked, my mouth still full.

“You look like a hamster,” he teased, his eyes alight with amusement. When he attempted to pinch my cheeks, I punched him playfully on the shoulder before covering my mouth with my hand.

But as I swallowed and tried to avoid his excited expression, I was overwhelmed by a sense of completeness. I had never seen Noah like this, so carefree, so happy. I wanted him like this forever. I would take the good and the bad, but I didn’t want anyone to take this happiness from him. 

I vowed to protect this happiness at all costs. 

As the taste settled in, an unexpected sharp sting spread across my tongue. 

“Gods, this is so spicy!” I exclaimed, feeling the heat intensify. 

The vendor let out a little laugh at my reaction. Noah observed my cheeks tinging red, and without letting his amusement fade, he asked the vendor for a glass of water, which the man quickly offered to me.

After my tongue found some relief and I insisted on avoiding further adventurous bites, Noah and I retreated to a quiet corner to enjoy our meal. Our conversation was light-hearted, focused on the scene unfolding around us and the animate characters populating the market street. We didn’t discuss the situation we were still in for we didn’t want to break the spell of this merry morning. 

A while later, hand in hand and with contented stomachs, we continued to wander through the streets, our hearts buoyant and our spirits lifted by the vibrant energy around. We marveled at the myriad of wonders on display. I couldn’t resist stealing a glance at the elegant dresses adorning one of the stalls, which caught the sunlight and seemed to be calling out to me. 

Ever so attentive to my desires, Noah noticed my gaze and suggested we take a closer look. I was initially hesitant, for the notion of indulging in something as frivolous as a dress seemed quite selfish from my part. But Noah gently took my hand in his and told me that it was perfectly acceptable to indulge in a little luxury now and then, that I deserved it, and that seeing me happy was all he desired.

Already feeling content simply walking beside him, hand in hand and basking in his love, I relented, allowing myself to be swept away by the beauty of the exquisite garments on display. I explored the racks of dresses with Noah following my steps. Each dress was more enchanting than the last, and Noah offered his candid opinion and commented on which colors seemed to complement me best, which I found quite adorable. Who would have thought that a Samurai could be so dept at navigating the world of fashion?

Lost in the array of fabrics and colors, my moment of indulgence was suddenly interrupted by the unexpected appearance of Kenzo, Rika’s husband. Spotting us from a distance, he called out our names, drawing our attention away from the dresses and back to the street. 

With a friendly salute, Kenzo greeted us, mentioning that he had just finished selling some rice to the vendors from the nearby stalls while his brother remained in the fields. Curious about our impressions of the town, he inquired about our experience so far, prompting me to gush with cheerful comments about the warmth of the people and the beauty of the place. 

Everything felt so delightful. Such mundane tasks as shopping for food and clothes were luxuries that I had seldom enjoyed during my time at my father’s estate, which made this experience all the more special for me.

“I can’t help but notice that my clothes fit you well,” he pointed out, looking at Noah’s outfit. 

“Yeah, thank you. I’ll make sure to get something else today so that we don’t have to keep borrowing clothes,” Noah replied humbly. No hint of embarrassment. I guess he didn’t care, truly. 

“Do not worry too much about it. The dress looks good on you, too,” he said to me. “I hadn’t seen Rika wearing that dress since she got pregnant.” At the mention, his eyes showed a glimpse of a fond memory, maybe his wife, round with their child in her tummy. “It’s nice to see that we can still give use to things we don’t need anymore.” 

“All the dresses were so pretty,” I said, running my fingers over the delicate fabric of the skirt, admiring its design.  

“She’s got another lot from when she was pregnant. We’re not considering having another baby for a while now, but if you do, do not hesitate to ask her. I’m sure she’ll be elated to borrow you some clothes if you like them. Otherwise, there is a shop down the street, on the left, that only sells clothes for pregnant women.”

While his offer was undoubtedly kind, his remarks about pregnancy and babies only served to exacerbate my internal turmoil. The prospect of starting a family with Noah had crossed my mind on occasion, the image of Noah holding our tiny baby in his long arms, tucking him or her against his chest… I had entertained the thought a few times, but it was a topic I wasn’t ready to confront fully yet. It felt daunting considering the tumultuous world we were living in at the moment. Motherhood could wait for a more opportune moment, when our hearts and minds were truly ready. 

Just as Kenzo was pointing towards the location of said maternity shop, the three of us realized the air was crackling with tension nearby. A commotion was growing, the voices of angry merchants rising in protest over some disputed deal. Noah exchanged a concerned glance with me, then touched Kenzo’s shoulder.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Noah said. 

“Not at all,” Kenzo agreed. 

“Mind if we go and see if we can help defuse the situation?” Noah suggested before starting to leave the clothing stall. 

“No, sure. Let’s go, see if we can be of any help,” was Kenzo’s answer. 

“You stay here,” Noah said to me, extending his arm to grab my hand and give it a gentle squeeze while he smiled a little. “Get a dress you like. I’ll be back in a moment.” 

“Okay, just be safe,” I told him. 

“I will,” he nodded. 

With my heart a little heavy, I released his hand reluctantly and let Noah fade into the crowd, followed by Kenzo. They hurried off towards the source of disturbance, to which I didn’t really pay much attention. I had enough to worry about, and I knew that whatever was going on, would get settled soon, with Noah and Kenzo’s help. 

I let myself be dragged on by the energy of the other people around me, also checking clothes and buying food in the nearby stalls. 

As I stood amidst the colorful dresses, I tried to push aside the worry gnawing at my insides and immerse myself in the moment. I touched the fabrics, marveled at the craftsmanship and attention poured to the details in the designs. Each garment was a work of art in its own right. 

The vendor, a kindly old woman with a warm smile and twinkling eyes, noticed my interest and approached with a gentle curiosity. With a nod of greeting, she began to share stories of the dresses – their origins, the traditions behind their designs, and the meaning woven into every stitch. Her words were like music to my ears, soothing my troubled mind and drawing me deeper into the enchanting world of the shop.

But just as I began to relax into the moment, a strange presence abruptly stopped just behind me, and a chill swept over me, sending shivers down my spine. 

Instinctively, I tensed, my senses on high alert. 

A body pressed against mine threateningly. 

The heat pressing against my back lacked the comforting warmth I felt when Noah was near. My heart raced, and I found myself frozen for a few seconds, staring straight ahead, eyes wide open, my hand still gripping the side of the dress I had contemplated buying.

Around me, people bustled about, occupied with their tasks, chatting with their neighbors and friends as they held shopping bags and carried boxes of produce. As my eyes scanned the crowd panickily, I couldn’t spot Noah. The commotion at the end of the street seemed to have magnified and I couldn’t get a glimpse of his tall frame. 

Even amidst the busy street, fear enveloped me. 

I had no weapons with me, and Noah didn’t know I was in danger. There was no possible way I could tell him that he was, too. 

I was on the verge of screaming when the voice behind me said, “Dare to utter a sound, and I assure you the blade of the knife I’m holding against your side will pierce your skin, deep enough to stain the pretty dress you’re wearing. No one will be able to do anything to stop it, not even Noah. So listen to me: turn around and walk to the alley on the right, and keep going until the end. Don’t stop, and don’t even think about running or screaming for your hapless Ronin to come to your rescue. Understood?”

I didn’t reply, my blood turning cold as my thoughts raced. If I could just be quick enough to grab something sharp from the stall and turn around to attack him first…

The tip of his blade pressed against my side, and a twinge of pain shot through me. I knew the dress was torn, just as I knew there was nothing I could do. 

The lovely vendor that had entertained me minutes ago was now engrossed in serving with another customer, her back turned to me. A lump formed in my throat as I swallowed, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. 

Behind me, the voice sliced through the air as it uttered my name, a dangerous warning dripping from his tone. His wasn’t a familiar voice, but I knew it well enough to know who it belonged to. 

“Understood?” He demanded. 

“Understood,” I replied in a low voice, barely audible over the clamor of the shopping street.  

“Good. Move.”

I turned around, the figure behind me following the same steps, not letting me see his face just yet. 

I turned the corner of the first alley and walked with the tip of the blade pressed to my side, still threatening to slice through my skin. The sounds of the crowd faded away. It wasn’t until we reached a secluded corner, the damp stones beneath our feet and the sun struggling to penetrate the narrow passageway, that the tension seemed to ease if only just a little. 

I cautiously took two steps away from the figure behind me, and then, I turned to face him. 

“Ren,” I said, my voice steady despite the unease that gnawed at me. 

Ren looked just as he had three days ago, when my father had expected Noah to take his own life. Ren wore the same attire, only now it was marred by mud and grime. Fatigue etched lines on his face, and beneath the weariness, simmered an unmistakable anger. 

“Look at you,” he sneered. “All dolled up and parading through the streets as if you hadn’t tarnished your family’s name and fled with a man who’s lost his honor.”  

I ignored his comment. I focused on maintaining my composure, swallowing down my fear. If I could keep Ren talking, perhaps Noah would find me before any harm befell me. 

“How did you find us?” I inquired, my gaze steady. 

“Did you truly think I would grant you the same courtesy as your father and allow you a twenty-four-hour head start to run away with that wretch of a man?” His words cut through the air like a blade, each one laced with venomous resentment.

“Don’t talk like that about Noah,” I shot back, my voice trembling now with defiance.

“I do because that’s what he is—if anything. He took you away from your parents, from your duty as the daughter of the Shogun. From me,” he retorted bitterly.  

“He didn’t take me away,” much less from you, I wanted to say. “It was my choice,” I countered with a rough edge in my voice that betrayed my growing anxiety. “I left because I was not happy with the future that had been decided for me.”

Ren scoffed. “No one is happy with their future, but we take it nonetheless and fulfill our duties.”

“And you don’t think that maybe things should change? That people should be allowed to choose their fate?”

“This is not a fantasy tale,” he retorted, mentioning my name at the end, and piercing me with his cold gaze. “You had responsibilities in your hands, and you dropped them the moment that pathetic excuse of a man got between your legs. Am I wrong?”

I contained the urge to slap him as my cheeks burned. 

“You are wrong,” I said sharply, my chest raising. I wouldn’t let him see my vulnerability. “But entertain me” I continued. “According to me, my responsibilities were that I made sure to choose wisely so that I could secure a future built on happiness, love, and power. Isn’t that what all those tales they tell us as kids say? If you are so sure I did wrong, tell me what my responsibilities were. Tell me how I should have done things.”

I knew. He didn’t have to say. He didn’t have to enumerate them. 

I knew them fucking well. 

But I needed time. I wasn’t certain what Ren was capable of, but the recent threat he imposed on me had sounded all too genuine, and I had a feeling that he would dare to hurt me if as a result he could take me back to my father, even if it was by force.

“Your family is one of the most powerful ones of the province. You are the only daughter of the Shogun, the only heiress to his position and inheritance. You had to respect the order of things, follow your parents’ steps, and marry me.”

I never really like Ren. It wasn’t merely his current presence that fueled my distaste, but rather his embodiment of the quintessential royal archetype—obedient to tradition, entitled, and expecting the world to kneel at his feed and fulfill him with whatever need he had. Ren’s life had been scripted from birth, with every detail set up prior to his arrival. He’d had nothing to worry about. I supposed he had already assumed that I would be his wife one day, merging our families’ legacies to consolidate power across the peninsula. Yet, all those presumptions shattered when I confronted my father and threatened him with his own sword in front of his army while also forcing Ren to return Noah his katana. I had put him to shame in front of the entire province, veneering him of any privilege and igniting a flame of resentment inside of him that he wouldn’t let go. 

I had never found him interesting, either. The times we were forced to meet in my father’s estate or in his, there had never been any connection, not even one that would give way to friendship. It’s also to be considered that by the time I met him for the first time, I was already head over heels in love with Noah. In fact, the first time Ren and I were introduced to each other had been the day after Noah and I had had one of our first sexual experiences. We were still teenagers. We hadn’t slept together, but we had touched each other, our hands exploring those unfamiliar nooks and crannies of the opposite anatomy, attentive to the little noises the other made and the expressions of pleasure that crossed our faces each time we caressed a special place. I had almost died of embarrassment when Ren greeted me, looking at me with that expression that said, “I’ll be the first”, having no idea that he no longer had anything to do. I was still a virgin, but Noah had already touched me, and I wouldn’t let any man other than Noah get his hands on me. Noah would be the first, and the last.

And I was going to keep it that way. 

I felt sorry for Ren, truly, but this was a battle he couldn’t hope to win. I’d sooner face death than live without Noah. It was a truth I’d held steadfast in my mind and heart for as long as I could remember. I would be with Noah, or I just wouldn’t be. I would marry him, or no one else. I would give birth to children that bore the same eye-shape as his and his smile, or I wouldn’t have any. 

“We would have never been happy together,” I said, keeping it simple and practical. I didn’t hold much hope for Ren to understand. Perhaps he believed that happiness was a collective responsibility, one that could be achieved with work and effort, one that could be built the same way you build a house. Or maybe he simply believed that women were not worthy of finding happiness the way I did, by crossing paths with a soldier in her father’s gardens when we were just kids. Of course Ren would have been happy with me, or at least pleased in a way. But I would definitely not have been. Would he have cared? I would never know. 

“Happiness can be attained if you work for it,” was his reply, affirming my suspicions. His ideas aligned with the conventional wisdom: first, you get married, then you toil tirelessly in pursuit of happiness, with no guarantee of success.   

“I don’t believe that’s how happiness is supposed to work,” I replied firmly. “I found happiness without searching for it, I seized it and held on tight,” I told him, referring to Noah. I didn’t have to specify because he already knew. 

“You cannot be referring to that miserable ronin. Do you truly think someone like him is capable of providing happiness?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” I maintained my composure, refusing to be rattled by Ren’s palpable disdain for Noah. “Just because he was born and raised as a Samurai, meant to serve a master, does not mean he lacks the capacity to feel or to please others as he served my father for years, earning his trust as his finest swordsman. You have a misguided perception, Ren, and you’re making a mistake by being here. Noah will notice my absence. He will find us, and I don’t want to witness what he will do to you when he does.”

His eyes widened as the weight of my warning sank in.  

“No,” he retorted, brandishing the dagger and closing the distance between us. His katana was secured at his waist, and I could see his other hand hovering close in case he needed it. “You have made a terrible mistake. You’ve forsaken your life as the Shogun’s daughter for someone who is way below your status. Your future was already written, and you decided to burn down the vellum. What does he have to offer you? He had nothing, and now he isnothing. He’s abandoned the Bushido Code. He’s a ronin now, and he might end up joining the Yakuza. If he betrayed the kingdom, he could betray you.” 

“He won’t,” I said as a matter of fact. “Noah did not choose me for what I had or for my status. He chose me for the things I decided to give him myself—my heart. That’s the only thing I have to offer to him now. I am no longer a princess. I have no wealth in my hands. I only have uncertainty about my future. And yet, Noah still wants me. I know this is difficult for you to accept, Ren, and it was never truly my intention to hurt you, but I’ve been in love with Noah since I was a little girl. He was my first love, and he will be my last.” 

Rage was pouring from him now. It was evident on his eyes, in his expression, in the taut muscles of his body and the veins pulsating in his neck and forehead. His black hair was in disarray from the days he must have endured away from his family’s estate, too. 

In one single step, he bridged the gap that separated us. His hand tangled in my hair, wrenching my head back sharply, eliciting a gasp from me as the blade’s edge pressed against my neck, stinging. 

“Do not speak another word. Whatever he’s done to you, whatever lies he’s spun to persuade you, you are wrong, and someone needs to bring you back down to earth, princess.”

“Ren…” I began to plead, but he cut me off forcefully.

“No! He’s doomed but you still have a chance. Return with me to the Shogun’s castle. Marry me, bear my children, and give an heir to secure the future of your father’s dynasty.”

The realization of his intentions suddenly terrified me. I had always known, deep down, that this was the expectation placed upon royal women. It was the destiny that had been laid out for me. The same one it would be laid out for my daughter. But hearing it articulated so callously, reducing me to a mere vessel for producing heirs, filled me with dread, chilling me to the bone. 

“Ren, you’re hurting me,” I managed to say. Both physically and emotionally. Fear coursed through me. If Noah didn’t find me soon, I would start screaming, consequences be damned. 

“And you think you didn’t hurt me? Or your parents? You think you’re the only one entitled to your pain?” His grip tightened. “You might have run away with that disgraceful man, but you still have a princess complex inside of you. You’re greedy and selfish, and if that bastard hasn’t realized it yet, he will soon.”

“I hope so, because she fucking deserves to be selfish.” 

Noah’s voice cut through the tension like a lifeline, an antidote to cure the poison in my body.

And then, everything happened in a blur. 

Ren was forcefully yanked away from me, the blade grazing my skin as Noah’s strength pulled him back with such intensity that he stumbled, gasping for air. Noah’s grip on Ren’s tunic tightened around his neck, momentarily choking him. 

Ren had clearly underestimated Noah. He had foolishly believed that Noah wouldn’t notice I was gone, that he wouldn’t panic the moment he couldn’t find me among the stalls, wouldn’t suspect that something had gone wrong. 

But Noah wasn’t a fucking prince with a misguided sense of superiority. He was a Samurai—resourceful, cunning, and relentless. He would stop at nothing to find me, no matter where I was. 

Ren was just wrong about Noah in every possible way.

And now he was going to pay for it. 

In a second, Noah had unsheathed his katana, the gleaming blade immediately touching Ren’s throat. Reflexively, Ren extended his own sword towards Noah, the dagger now discarded on the ground. 

“Drop it,” Noah commanded, not an ounce concerned about having another sword pointed at him, “before I slit your throat and drag you to the forest so that the wolves can feast on you.”

“I’m not afraid of you, ronin,” Ren retorted, but the fear in his eyes betrayed his bravado. I could see it just the same as Noah. 

This was not even a battle, and yet, Ren had already lost. 

“You will be when I start cutting every finger that has touched her. I won’t repeat myself. Drop your fucking weapon.”

It took only seconds. My hands had stopped trembling the moment Noah appeared. Now, it was Ren’s hands that shook as he released his katana, his shoulders sagging in resignation as the sound of the blade meeting the ground reverberated in the air. I watched as he struggled to maintain his composure, suppressing the indignation of once again having to bow to a Samurai’s—or rather, a ronin’s— will.  

“If she’s harmed in any physical way, you will pay with your own flesh. If she’s not, you will pay either way.”

After his threat, there was a heavy pause. None of us said anything until Noah, never once averting his gaze from Ren, called my name. 

“Are you hurt?” 

Perhaps Ren didn’t catch it, or perhaps he lacked the ability to decipher the nuances in Noah’s voice as I did. But I heard it—the subtle tremor, the fear. 

Noah was scared. 

Bringing my fingers to my neck, I located the spot where Ren’s blade had pressed, and my breath caught when I felt the dampness coating my fingertips. Looking down, I found them stained with blood. Not much, but enough to awaken the beast within Noah. 

“I’m bleeding.”

In an instant, Noah’s movements blurred with precision and controlled fury. The punishing blow to Ren’s liver landed with the force of a sledgehammer, delivered by the heel of Noah’s boot. With resolve, Noah maintained his grip on his katana, his muscles coiled with a lethal combination of strength and determination. 

The impact reverberated through Ren’s body like a thunderclap, sending shockwaves of agony coursing through every fiber of his being. Gasping for breath, he crumpled to the ground as pain engulfed him in its merciless embrace. 

Through the haze of agony, Ren could barely make out Noah’s figure looming over him, his eyes ablaze with a fierce intensity. In that moment, Ren realized the extent of Noah’s determination to protect me.

I had warned him, but he didn’t listen. 

With trembling hands, Ren reached out in a feeble attempt to plead for mercy, but his words dissolved into a choked gasp as Noah’s steely gaze bore down on him. There would be no forgiveness. 

In the aftermath of the brutal blow, a heavy silence descended upon the scene, broken only by the ragged sound of Ren’s labored breathing and the distant echo of Noah’s heartbeat and mine. And as Ren lay sprawled on the ground, his body wracked with pain, he knew that he had awoken the wrath of a man whose love knew no bounds, and whose fury was as unyielding as the steel of his blade.

“I won’t give you the chance to touch her again, but if you even conceive the idea of doing so, I will make sure you don’t recover from this pain,” Noah declared. He knelt down briefly, bringing himself to eye level with Ren, whose face was red and contorted with agony, hands clutching his own body. “I was once a Samurai. I killed men in battle. But I am a ronin now. I will not hesitate to kill anything, or anyone, that is a threat to her. May this serve you as a reminder that I follow no code anymore.” 

Though Noah’s words should have chilled me, they didn’t. 

As Ren lay writhing on the ground, noah slowly turned to me, his features softening instantly. 

I extended a hand to him, the one free of bloodstains. 

The fear I saw in his eyes disarmed me. 

His fingers gently lifted my chin to examine the cut on my neck. It wasn’t deep, but it would leave a scar. 

Before I could reassure Noah, he slid one arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his embrace, enveloping me in a cocoon of safety. I wrapped my arms around his torso, pressing my face against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath his skin. 

We turned to face Ren. 

“This isn’t over,” Ren managed to say, one hand on the floor now, the other one still on his stomach. 

“It is for you,” Noah replied firmly. 

Ren’s gaze shifted to me, ignoring him.

“Your father is not far. When he finds you, he will show no mercy to him. Or to you.” 

I swallowed, but I kept my chin held high. 

“Leave, Ren,” I asserted. “There is nothing for you here. I chose Noah. I will marry him. I will bear his children. I’m here today because I have chosen my future. Me. No one did it for me. There’s nothing here for you to fight for.”

Ren spat on the ground; the action tinted with blood. Noah stood his ground. Eventually, Ren managed to retrieve his katana and rise. I doubted he would be able to bend down again to retrieve the dagger, but I didn’t care. 

“You don’t deserve her,” Ren sneered at Noah. 

“I’m aware,” Noah admitted, “but I’ll spend the rest of my days trying my damnest hard to make myself worthy of her.”

Those were our final words to Ren. 

That would be the last time we ever saw Ren. I didn’t know at that time, and didn’t even conceive the thought because a part of me was actually terrified of what could happen in the upcoming days, in the upcoming hours —but we would never cross paths again.

Back in the bustling street, tucked against Noah’s side and still reeling from the shock, we searched for Kenzo, Noah calling out to him without drawing undue attention from the locals. 

When Kenzo arrived and saw the blood staining my neck, he was poised to rally the community’s trained warriors, but I stopped him. Noah told him what happened and urged him to get someone who could tend to my wound. 

Kenzo led us to a nearby house, just a stone’s throw away. Noah never once released his grip on me.

Ascending wooden stairs to the first floor of the modest house, after a couple of polite knocks, the door creaked open, revealing a diminutive, kindly-faced old woman. Upon Kenzo’s introduction and a plea for assistance, she ushered us inside. 

She asked no questions, directing me to recline on a bed in what appeared to be a makeshift nurse’s room. Instructing me to tilt my neck for examination, she diligently tended to my wound, cleansing and dressing it with practiced care. 

Noah stood never too far, a silent sentinel with arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression taut with worry. Kenzo attempted to engage him in conversation, but Noah remained reticent, his attention fixated on the street below as he stood by the window, peering out through parted curtains. 

In that moment, it was as though the samurai had taken the place of my lover, and I didn’t know when I was going to get him back. 

“Should we consider returning to the community as soon as possible?” Kenzo asked, casting a concerned glance in my direction, a consideration he had after noting Noah’s suddenly silent demeanor. 

“Yes,” I said softly, aching to reach out to Noah but held back by the old woman’s ministrations as she applied a strange liquid-soaked cotton pad to my neck. “If my father is nearby, they should be informed. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to your com—.” 

“I’ll take care of him”, Noah interjected suddenly, his tone conveying a sense of determination that unsettled me.  

However, it was Kenzo who responded to Noah’s declaration. 

“No,” he said. “Firstly, this community is not just ours, it’s yours now, too. Our sanctuary transcends royalty and government jurisdiction. There’s a higher power at play here, one that protects us. Besides, we’re well-equipped to handle such situations. Many of us come from similar backgrounds. We’re accustomed to defending our own, and you two are now part of our community.”

Noah was not expecting that, and neither was I. 

“You will be all right,” the old lady assured me, redirecting my focus away from the conversation. Her gentle pat on my shoulder offered solace. I was about to reach for my neck, but she shook her head, advising against it. “It will heal just fine but avoid touching it. Keep it clean throughout the day, and it will soon fade away”. 

A soft “thank you” escaped my lips, overwhelmed by the kindness and care we were receiving. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as I sat up on the bed, seeking out Noah’s attention with a silent plea. 

Finally, he noticed my distress and approached me. His arm enveloped my shoulders once more, while his other hand gently cradled the back of my head. As I wrapped my arms around him, he pressed me to his chest, planting a tender kiss on my hair as I struggled to contain my tears. 

We journeyed back to the sanctuary on horseback, a magnificent creature provided by a local resident keen on making our trip back quicker. Kenzo rode at the front on his own horse. I rode together with Noah, seated in front of him, feeling the tension emanating from his body envelop me. I could sense his restraint in his muscles, on his chest pressed against my back. I could see it at the way his grip tightened on the horse leash, his knuckles whitening. 

Upon crossing the southwest gate, Noah dismounted first, reaching out to lift me down from the horse. As my feet touched the ground, a fleeting sense of relief washed over me, grateful to be within the safety of the community once more. 

However, my respite was short-lived.  

After we secured the horses and made our way toward the main square, an eerie silence hung in the air, contrasting the usual bustle of activity we had found the day before. There were no deer grazing nearby, no children’s laughter echoing through the streets. 

I noticed Rei, Maura, and two others approaching us, their expressions somber, katanas sheathed at their waists. 

“The Shogun is here,” Maura announced. 

The moment the news reached me, I spotted my father approaching us, coming down from the main stone path, his battle armor on, weapons ready, surrounded by an army of at least eight Samurai, flanking him from each side. His stride was determined, and the look on his eyes fierce. 

My heart clenched.

No. I won’t let him get near Noah again. 

I seized hold of Noah’s katana, drawing it from its sheath, ready to fight my father one more time. 

The last time. 

Author's note: I just want to say thank you to each of you that has shown love in any way for this fic. I started it as a oneshot from a random idea i got after seeing a picture of Noah with a katana, and here we are now. I have spent hours writing these chapters and doing research and trying to make my writing as good as it can get, considering the historical aspect of this fic. It means a lot to me to know that you're following Noah's and his princess' journey. I can't wait to share with you the next part very soon and then, the epilogue.

All my love <3

Readers tagged: @thescarlettvvitch | @girlfromrussia-universe | @kankuurohs | @somebodyels3 | @missduffsblog | @respectfulrebel | @badomensls | @darling-millicent-aubrey | (let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part and the epilogue <3:)

[cryoculus]

— guard dog 04 ⟢

pairing: thoma x assassin!reader

summary: the chance of a lifetime comes to you one quiet afternoon in the kamisato estate. except ayaka proves why she shouldn't have her blood spilled on your hands without even meaning to.

word count: 2.7k words

notable characters: thoma, kamisato ayaka

tags: found family, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

warnings: allusions to past trauma, homicidal thoughts

header art cr: ueauwa on twt

masterlist

Archons, you were never drinking again.

The moment you’d woken up, you felt like your eyes had been encrusted together in your sleep, and you rubbed away the annoying gounds as you sat yourself upright on the futon. Thankfully, you didn’t have that hangover-warranted headache. But your mouth tasted as if you’ll have to get well-acquainted with the mint extract in the communal baths before speaking to anyone else.

However, the moment you’d gotten your bearings straight, you realized all the other attendants had already gone outside—leaving you alone in the room, much to your horror.

“Fuck,” you muttered, scrambling to your feet as you rolled up your futon messily. 

The feeling of responsibility that’s been gradually easing into your routine was a bit…unsettling. You were, by no means, obligated to operate under the same biorhythm as the rest of the Kamisato retainers. In fact, you were a prisoner here. The least you could do to be a thorn on your unknowing captors’ sides was to go against their pre-set routine. 

But here you were, combing the tangles out of your hair as you made your way to the lockers lining the edge of the room. 

It’s not like you had a lot of possessions to your name as Kira of Sangonomiya, really. You only stored a few gifts from Ayaka inside, namely: two sets of kimonos that you wore interchangeably with the one you’re wearing now, and a ceramic fox figurine she’d purchased from Ritou. 

But those gifts weren’t really the reason you treaded to your personal locker first thing every morning. 

Once you’d removed the complicated lock latched onto the door, the little fox figurine stared at you from where it was perched atop your clothes. You paid its beady, lazurite eyes no mind—gently setting it to the side as you lifted the neatly folded kimonos off the surface.

Kujou Sara’s feather laid inconspicuously in place.

You breathed out a sigh—of relief or lingering trepidation, you couldn’t quite decide. 

Ever since the day Ayaka had invited you out to Konda Village, carrying it around started to make you feel agitated. Like it meant that you still wished to kill the princess in cold blood, so long as it was on your person. 

Well… You did! 

You weren’t just going to turn tail and desert the Tenryou Commission. Only idiots would dare cross the shogun’s military forces like that. Besides, you’ve assassinated big-name merchants and noblemen alike in the past. Though you were taking a bit more time than usual, you’ll see the Tenryou Commission’s job done—no matter what it takes.

…But why did your chest twist so much at the idea?

In your contemplation, your eyes flickered back to the spot where you’d temporarily placed the little fox. A frown etched its way on your face when you realized something else was sitting right next to it. 

You smoothed down your kimonos once more to conceal the dark tengu feather from sight. Then, with just a hint of careful curiosity, you plucked the strange amber jar that had not been there the last time you’d checked your locker. 

A small note was tied to the lid.

Hangover meds imported straight from Liyue. They work — I promise. I’ve taken them a few times myself! Also, I told the rest not to wake you up. Consider it a treat from yours truly~

You sighed, folding the note in once again. The only sign you could ever tell it was from Thoma was the lousy doodle at the corner, depicting a cartoonish chief retainer with his tongue sticking out. 

“Treating a criminal like one of your own?” you scoffed, yet you were unable to suppress the smile that inched itself on your lips. 

“Bunch of goddamn fools…” 

The next time you saw Ayaka again, she collapsed on her way to her quarters.

Your reaction time was immediate. Though you’d been preoccupied with sorting some of the Commissioner’s books at the end of the hall—you bolted to Ayaka’s side the moment you heard the thud of her body against the floorboards.

“Milady,” you called out, slightly shaking her in your arms. “What happened?”

To your relief, she didn’t pass out unconscious. Ayaka sighed, burying her face in her hands as she leaned into your embrace. You frowned. You’ve never seen her lose composure like this. 

It took three, deep breaths before the princess slowly peeled herself away. 

“My apologies,” she sighed, yet remained in your grasp. “It seems that I lost my balance for a second. Thank you, Miss Kira.”

Today was her first day back from the Tenshukaku, and saying that Ayaka looked a bit worse for wear was an understatement. As always, not a single hair was out of place; not a wrinkle to be seen on her noble garbs despite what just happened. 

But you’ve been observing her long enough to tell that she was beyond exhausted. 

Her silver irises—normally so bright and determined—have dulled into a lethargic gray. The dark circles underneath her eyes were too conspicuous for you to not notice. And from the way she’d carelessly handled herself like this out in the halls, where no one else but you could see… 

The perfect moment to commit the perfect crime. 

It would be so easy, too. Ayaka didn’t have her sword, and whatever the higher-ups at the Tenshukaku had assigned for her to deal with, it was obviously taking a toll on her well-being. And here she was, deliberately letting her guard down like she wanted you to go in for the kill. 

You didn’t need powdered crystal marrow or a sword to kill someone. You had two hands, and Ayaka had such a pretty, fragile throat… 

“M-Miss Kira?”

The princess startled as you struggled to help her back to her feet. You sighed, hoisting one of Ayaka’s arms across your shoulder before guiding her back to her room.

“You should really learn when to take breaks, milady,” you chided, sliding the door open with your foot as she stared at you bizarrely. “If the other retainers can slack off when no one’s looking, who’s to say you’re forbidden from doing the same?” 

“But…” 

Whatever protest Ayaka was about to rebut with, it melted into a forlorn sigh. Satisfied, you managed a lopsided smile as you helped her seat herself on her low mattress. 

“Do you want me to get you a drink?” you asked. 

Ayaka bit the inside of her cheek. Then, softly:

“Yes, please.”

On the short trek to the kitchen, you found yourself in another bout of self-introspection. Naturally, the logical, more rational part of you was having an internal meltdown. She’d been right in front of you with no one else to bear witness to the crime! And you just let that opportunity slip from your fingers? Voluntarily?

“Miss Kira, hey!” 

You jolted when you heard Hina call your (fake) name. She waved you over to the little circle she and some other attendants huddled in by the entrance. 

“Uh, sorry I need to do something for Lady Kamisato,” you apologized. “Another time, maybe?” 

Hina waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, no, no. I just wanted to thank you. I’m the estate’s resident healer, yet I hadn’t the slightest clue how to effectively cure a hangover. The pills you gave me and the girls worked like a charm the morning after our get-together!”

You blinked. Right. After taking a small dose of Thoma’s little present, you’d decided to give the rest to Hina and her friends when you noticed them looking a little green the other day. 

“It’s nothing. You helped me the day I arrived, too, didn’t you?” 

“That is true,” she laughed, one eye dropping into a wink. “But we were just wondering if, when you’re not too busy, you could join us for a couple of drinks sometime?”

The other girls nodded encouragingly, smiling with a hint of anticipation. You…didn’t know how to respond. 

This was the first time someone’s invited you for drinks outside of an illegal transaction.

“I…” Just before you could let yourself mull over it, you remembered you had a princess waiting for a glass of water on the second floor. “I’ll give it some thought. Thank you for the invitation!” 

Hina nodded in understanding. “Sure! Just let us know anytime.”

As you grabbed a jug of water in the kitchen, you couldn’t help the fizzle of excitement prickling your chest. In the instances you found yourself hanging around Inazuma City, you always wondered what it would feel like. To be laughing with some girlfriends of your own as you all got wasted in an izakaya. 

You slapped your cheek a couple of times once you caught yourself daydreaming.

Relax. You hadn’t even formally accepted the invite, yet… 

When you finally got back to the Ayaka’s room with the promised drink in hand, your heart still wouldn’t stop pounding. Thankfully, the princess was too caught up in her own stress to notice.

“Thank you so much, Miss Kira,” she said, nearly gulping the entire glass in one fell swoop. Ayaka detached her lips from the rim with a satisfied sigh. 

You wondered if she'd mind if you snooped around a little.

“Do you need any, uh, help?” You felt a little sheepish for some, archons damned reason, but you pressed forward. “As you’ve probably already noticed, my assistance is quite useful around these parts, milady.”

Ayaka was silent for five whole seconds before she stifled a laugh.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” she insisted, yet her shoulders were still quaking. “It’s just…you sounded exactly like Thoma for a moment there.”

Your jaw dropped. Did she just…? 

“Hmph. I know I’m actually here for you in your time of need,” you huffed, folding your arms together. “If I may ask, milady, what are you so busy with in the first place?”

Slowly, the glee on Ayaka’s face dissipated and you almost felt bad for asking. You totally just overstepped your boundaries, didn’t you?

“Well… I’m sure you know about the Vision Hunt Decree, yes?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I, uh. Yeah. I’ve heard some…stuff.”

No good stuff, that’s for sure. 

Ayaka flashed you one of her kind, signature smiles, patting the vacant spot on her bed. Something about the gesture was oddly familiar, but you followed her lead nonetheless. 

“It’s no secret that the Yashiro Commission is the closest to both the Raiden Shogun and the people of Inazuma,” she explained. “And in that regard, we also serve as mouthpieces for each entity. What Her Excellency wishes to impart to the people, they shall hear. And what the people wish for the Raiden Shogun to know, we will deliver.” 

“The Vision Hunt has been kind to no one. Both the enforcers and victims alike suffer in their own ways because of it.” The princess clenched her hands on her lap, lip quivering with something akin to desperation. “This is why Brother and I ask for frequent audiences with the Raiden Shogun, in hopes of changing her mind about the matter. Though we’ve successfully mitigated their progress in some way, it…still won’t be enough. 

“Inazuma is the nation of eternity, but if Her Excellency believes that seizing Visions is the only path to achieve that eternity, then the Yashiro Commission won’t stand for it.”  

Ayaka looked up at you the next second—smile never wavering in spite of the expectations of hundreds, or even thousands, weighing on her lithe shoulders. 

Was…was this the person you’d been sent to kill?

“So, there’s that,” she sighed once again, letting herself fall onto the mattress. “I hope I didn’t bore you with all the gritty details, Miss Kira. I’m sure someone like you already shares the same sentiments I do…”

All of a sudden, the pieces finally started to fit. 

You never would have been able to tell that Ayaka wasn’t just some noblewoman whose poise and etiquette could put anyone else’s to shame. During your week-long stakeout of the mansion, you had assumed that’s all there was to her. A noblewoman with world-class poise and etiquette. Maybe even a snobby rich girl who had no idea what was happening to the rest of the world.

But…you never expected her to be this.  

A dignified woman who fought for what she believed was right in her own, silent ways. A public figure that might even influence the tides of the war.

A hurdle in the shogunate’s plans to seize complete control.

“Fuuuuck…” 

“Hm? What was that, Miss Kira?”

Shoving down the inner turmoil that’s beginning to blossom in your chest, you cast Ayaka a smile too tightly wrung to be real. “I’m just honored you chose to confide your troubles in me, milady. That must’ve been a pain to bottle up.”

She groaned. “If you only knew…”

Ayaka was an overflowing dam thereafter.

She told you about their parents—how they’ve always put the good of the people first before anything else, how they wished to continue their legacy. She told you about her dream to attain the Shogun’s envisioned eternity the right way, but you lost her a little on that part. Way too abstract for a commoner like you.  

“Oh!” she exclaimed all of a sudden, and you realized that the sky had already gone dark outside. “I forgot… I left Thoma in charge of the festival preparations. I promised I’d go to Amakane Island to meet him.” 

“Wait a minute,” you blanched. “On top of those peace negotiations with the Raiden Shogun, you’re…organizing a festival?”

Ayaka sighed. “It’s not as if the people of Inazuma are aware of what we’re doing behind closed doors, Miss Kira. We still have to commit to our year-long schedule to avoid suspicion.”

“But wouldn’t letting them know be easier?” 

For a moment, she considered your inquiry—finding the right words to respond with.

“I’m not very certain how Lady Sangonomiya does things in Watatsumi Island, but…” Ayaka met your eyes, and you didn’t miss how their usual glimmer was finally back in place. “I’m sure our objectives are somewhat similar.”

You craned your head in confusion, but the princess was kind enough to elaborate. 

“We rally against the decree, not because we want the praise and recognition of the citizens. Rather…we do it so they would never have to worry if Inazuma would live to see another day.” 

The princess took both of your hands in hers, and you nearly startled at the contact. 

“We fight in their stead, so they don’t have to,” she murmured. “Tell me, have you ever fought a battle close to a residential area, Miss Kira?”

“Um…no.”

“Exactly.”

You were about to tell her that you didn’t quite get it, still, but then you remembered Futaba and Takeru. How, in spite of the dreadful state Inazuma has been plunged in, they could still live peaceful lives in Konda Village. Aside from your…slip-up last year, there was no semblance of the war to be found in their humble community. 

And it was all thanks to the people fighting in the shadows. People like Ayaka.

She even thinks you’re one of them, a lone voice hissed in the back of your head. You’re horrible.

The words echoed over and over. 

Even when the princess wrapped up your impromptu heart-to-heart—

You’re horrible. 

Even when she invited you to come to Amakane Island—

You’re horrible. 

Even when you forced a grin and followed her outside—

You’re fucking horrible.

You thought of the time you spent in the estate. Of Ayaka’s wellspring of kindness. Of the fact that Ayato silently let his sister’s potential murderer live in their home. 

You didn’t belong there. You didn’t belong with them. 

Those people have done nothing but good things for you, and you still had the gall to play house? You knew the clock was still ticking even if the Tenryou Commission never gave you a deadline. 

If you take too long, they might just hunt you down.

Worse, they’ll take matters into their own hands. 

These were the thoughts that invaded every niche of your mind as you and Ayaka made the trip to the island along with a couple of her guards. If she noticed the barebones distress that you couldn’t quite mask, she didn’t speak of it. 

And you silently prayed she never did.

<- previous | next ->

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms.

[attackfish]

More avatar Kanna au please? I really love how you write Kanna!

Continued from: [Link], [Link], [Link], [Link], [Link], [Link], [Link], [Link], and [Link].

1. There is no escaping the reality that they have to leave Kunzang's room and start the day. They can't stay holed up there forever. They have no idea what Bumi might do if they try. The first thing Hama and Kanna do is head to their own rooms, to collect themselves, to have a moment of privacy, to give Kunzang a moment of privacy. But when Kanna steps inside, an unwelcome surprise is waiting for her: an invitation to dine with King Bumi that morning. With some trepidation, she shows it to Hama and Kunzang, and asks if they got one. They did not. Whatever Bumi has planned, it's for her alone.

2. She trudges to the cozily appointed little morning room that Bumi takes breakfast in. It has high windows and skylights, that send sunlight pouring in, without ever letting Kanna forget she is in a fortress palace. It makes her feel as if she were in a deep hole in the ground, looking up at the sky, with no way out. She doesn't know how Bumi can stand it, with all these defenses around, just opening the door and letting Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation in. By the time she has reached her destination, the worry that Iroh might be waiting for her on the other side of the door has shifted to a cold knot of certainty and dread. Which of course means it's a pleasant surprise when she is ushered in to find king Bumi alone.

3. Alone he might be, but unarmed, mentally or otherwise, he never is. Kanna sits down from a cushion across from him and serves herself some of the royal bounty spread in front of her (a definite perk of sharing a table with a king) and waits for what he has planned. It feels like a joke, a particularly nasty joke. They thought they wod be safe here. Bumi grins at her. Her stomach clenches. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry I sprung Iroh on you, but to be fair, you sprung yourself on me."

4. Kanna glares. She spent all night comforting a man panicking because men like Iroh had killed his family and kept him in hiding hie whole life. But Bumi's grin only turns into a smile. It doesn't go away. "But you know what," he tells her. "You are the Avatar. You have a job to do. You have to bring balance to the world. Have you thought about who is going to rule the Fire Nation in your new balance?"

5. Kanna hadn't really. She hadn't really thought about what the world would look like after her victory, should it come. This, Bumi tells her, is the hardest part about winning a war. After the war is won, the real work of rebuilding, and making a lasting peace begins. And if she doesn't want a new war every five minutes, she will have to resign herself to working with Iroh, or people like him. And after all, Bumi's been doing it for years. Bit how, Kanna asks, is she supposed to work with him when he believes the Fire Nation conquest is right and good? He can learn better, Bumi tells her. He already is, a little. She has to open her mind to the possibilities, including the possibility of people changing.

6. Kanna leaves tired, defeated, her righteous anger drained away, and heads off to find Prince Iroh, in the room he uses for Firebending practice when he is here, another stone room full of sunlight pouring down, as if it were a hole in the ground.

[bittlebarnes]

Late night thoughts about The Last of Us (it's literally 2am, so forgive the spelling):

One of the things I love about the narrative progression of the show is the scaling of Joel's propensity for violence:

From episode 1 we're shown that Joel is capable of or at least okay with the idea of violence when it comes to protecting what he feels is his (smacking the shit outta that grandma, leaving the family, willing to run people over)

We're also told that people are afraid of him and the things he's apparently willing to do

Episodes 4 ans 5, we get hints the Joel's past is even more unsavory than we thought and then Ellie outright asks-setting up that Joel has totally killed innocents and the past and could totally do it again if need be

Episode 6, we get (biased) accounts of Joel's violent past and the absolutely heinous shit he's done, as well as Tommy and Maria's fears that he may still be capable of even worse. We even get Joel's account and can begin to incorporate into our understanding of him just how traumatized he is.

Episode 8 tees us up for the finale. We get glimpses of what Tommy and Maria were afraid of, the lengths Joel is willing to go to making what happens next even more believable

Episode 9, we tie it all together. The violent inclination, the determination to protect what's his, and the willingness to execute innocents for his own agenda (I know the fireflies aren't innocent, I'm talking about the idea of shooting someone who can't see you coming, is surrendering, or doesn't have a weapon). The rampage feels believable. Add in his relationship with Ellie, and that rampage feels earned.

I just really like that narrative thread and payoff.

Sidebar: There’s also something really interesting about Ellie's fascination with Joel's violence in episode 1 evolving to her trepidation in episodes 8 and 9 after inflicting similar violence (kneeling on top of someone and caving their skull in), to the evolution of what we know she becomes in tlou 2. Cycles of violence aren't just reflected in abusive dynamics.

[bluestar22x]

Chapter 5

Baby Fever - Chapter 5

Series Summary: It all started with a classic case of baby fever

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!(Wife)Reader

Rating: 18+ Series

Warnings: Angst, miscarriage concerns

Word Count: 2,454

Author's Note: I promise this ends happy

xxx

"Movie in?" you inquired, settling down on the middle seat of the couch, one leg temporarily tucked under you. You had a bowl of popcorn in your hands (the brand Dr. Harrington had recommended for you with olive oil on top) and as soon as you were seated you shoved a fistful into your mouth, a few wayward pieces falling onto your lap in the process.

Marcus couldn't help but grin at the sight. It had taken a while, but your morning sickness had finally faded to almost nothing in the last week and because of that your appetite was much better than it had been before. You'd struggled to maintain your weight at first, but since entering your 14th week of pregnancy you'd gained a few healthy pounds and with that had come newfound energy.

He was relieved you feeling better, that you were out of your first trimester, having fretted over you every day, not completely convinced Dr. Harrington was right about your symptoms being normal. It wasn't like he knew much about pregnancy outside of what he’d learned from the few articles he'd read online and the movies though.

"Yeah, the movie's ready to go," he answered, joining you on the couch, remote in hand. He'd sat to your right, alongside the armrest, and you leaned on his shoulder as soon as he was comfortable. Once he pressed play you offered him the bowl and he snatched up a handful of popcorn for himself, plucking pieces out of his hand and throwing them back instead of shoving them all into his mouth at once.

The popcorn wasn't bad, but it wasn't great either. A little too bland for his liking, but it was what was best for you and the baby and he wasn't going to eat the buttery saturated fat kind when you had to put up with this one. Besides, he wasn't that young anymore; it wouldn't kill him to eat a little healthier too.

"What's this one called again?" you asked as black and white credits filled the TV screen.

"Casablanca," he informed you.

"What's it about?"

"You'll find out."

You pouted at his reply and he chuckled. You loved watching movies like he did, but you'd never seen a film that was made earlier than 1970 until you’d started dating him. Since then you'd grown to appreciate some of the older films he'd shown you, but it was hit or miss. You always tried to give them a chance, but some just weren't for you. You'd taken to asking him for a summary when you started to figure out what type of classic films you enjoyed most, but he didn't always like giving them to you. Sometimes when you went into watching them with no previous knowledge the films surprised you, even when they weren't in a genre you usually cared for. He'd learned it was best not to foster bias before the movie started.

By the time you both had emptied the popcorn bowl you were as engrossed in the film as Marcus had hoped you'd be, but your back was starting to get sore (old couches) so after plopping the bowl onto the coffee table you rolled onto your side, your head on his jean clad lap and an arm curled around your own waist.

Without a word he wrapped you up with his left arm and placed his hand over yours. Your lips twitched and you moved to switch the position of your hands so his was the one resting against your cotton t-shirt covered belly.

The rounded curve between your hips was subtitle, but unquestionable, especially when he traced the outline of it with his fingertips. The firm feeling of it made his heart swell with joy, with the knowledge that the baby inside you was growing.

There was a little trepidation that sneaked in too though, as it always did when his thoughts turned to the future. He'd wanted a family for so long it wasn't until it was fast approaching that he had come to worry about how good of a father he'd be. You'd already assured him he'd be great, but being told that and believing it were separate things. He knew every dad had been a first-time dad at some point, but he still couldn't help but wish he'd at least had experience with younger siblings or cousins when he was a kid. It would've put some of his concerns at ease if he'd had previous experience looking after a wandering child.

He refused to let his concerns eat at him though. He knew of the two of you that you felt the most pressure. Not just facing concerns of what kind of mom you'd be, but also worrying over doing everything right while pregnant. There was a lot to be mindful of and Marcus wasn't sure how you managed to remember all the precautions you had to take.

Marcus had just pulled out of his thoughts to focus his attention back on the movie when you sighed heavily and sat up. "I've got to pee again," you declared regretfully to him.

Honestly, he was surprised you'd made it fifty minutes into the movie without a break. Your increased hormones had really done a number on your ability to hold off on bathroom breaks recently.

"I'll pause the movie."

You rushed off without another word and he did as promised, screen freezing on Ingrid Bergman's pretty face.

He waited patiently for you to return for ten minutes before he started to get concerned. It wasn't like you to take so long.

Eventually he stood and strolled down the hallway to knock on the closed bathroom door. "You okay in there, honey?"

There was no reply, and a sixth sense had worry etched into his face. He knocked again, more insistently.

You finally opened the door, eyes filled with tears, and his stomach dropped, thinking the worst. "Is something wrong?" He couldn't get the words with the baby out.

"I don't know," you sobbed, breaths hitching. You had both your arms around your abdomen, like a protective embrace. "It might be nothing."

"You're too upset for it to be nothing," Marcus retorted, reaching out to squeeze one of your shoulders, trying to help you collect yourself, to comfort you if he could. If he wanted answers, he had to help you. He wanted to; in whatever way he was able to.

You sucked in a deep breath. "I'm bleeding. It's not a lot, more like spotting, and I read online that can happen, it doesn't mean...it doesn't mean...but I should probably go to the hospital to make sure, right? Cause what if it's not nothing?"

Marcus felt like his heart was in a vice grip, seeing you so afraid, being so afraid himself.

You both had been well aware of miscarriages, that up to twenty percent of pregnancies ended that way, for one reason or another (often due to genetic or developmental issues). Your mother herself had one before she'd adopted you.

But it had taken enough time for you to get pregnant and you'd been so anxious to be that the reality of the possibility had been pushed to the back of both your minds.

Especially after you'd hit the second trimester milestone when the possibility of it officially dropped significantly.

You were supposed to be out of the woods.

"Better safe," Marcus agreed with you, gently guiding you out of the bathroom. "Let's get you to the Emergency room."

He knew the doctors there probably wouldn't be able to do much for the baby if you were miscarrying, but they'd at least be able to make sure you were okay physically and they'd be able to confirm whether or not that was what was actually happening. Those were important reasons for going.

x

You were unusually but not unexpectantly quiet on the trip to the ER. Marcus, of course, drove you, glancing at you at regular intervals, unsure of what to say to you. There really wasn't anything he could say yet, not until one of the doctors examined you and ran tests.

You clung closely to Marcus' side as you both walked into the main entrance of the ER minutes later, making a bee line for the front desk where a couple secretaries were seated.

"My wife needs to be seen by a doctor," he informed the one closest to him, voice unsteady. "She's pregnant and noticed she's bleeding."

You looked up at him gratefully for explaining for you as the secretary told you both to wait there and left to fetch a nurse, and as soon as she showed up, the nurse led you both into a private room.

"The doctor will be here in a minute," she promised you both as you sat down on the edge of the bed. "In the meantime, can you answer some questions?"

Marcus sat down beside you to hold your hand and you nodded at her.

"Are you in any pain?" the nurse inquired. "Any cramping?"

You shook your head slowly. "No."

"Is the bleeding light, spotty, or steady?"

"Spotty."

The nurse continued to ask questions and jot down notes until the doctor, a kind looking salt and pepper haired man named Harold Winters, entered and she shared her notes with him after he introduced himself.

You kept a tight grip on Marcus' hand the whole time and he took to rubbing your back between your shoulder blades, not sure what else to do to ease your stress.

Dr. Winters did a general physical exam on you then had an ultrasound tech enter the room with the portable machine in tow.

"Bailey here is going to check on your baby," he said gently. "From what you've told us, I don't think you're miscarrying, Mrs. Pike, but this will definitively tell us something about what's going on."

Again you nodded, and Marcus could feel you stiffen beside him. Feel your arm muscles twitching. You surely wanted to know as much as he did how the baby was doing, but you were also terrified the answer wouldn't be good, even though the doctor didn't think the worst case scenario was happening. You both still needed to know either way.

You laid back on the bed and Marcus pulled a chair out of a corner of the room so he could sit beside you as Bailey prepped the machine.

You shivered as she pressed the gel covered ultrasound wand against the slight swell of your stomach and Marcus clasped one of your hands in his, eyes already scanning the dark screen anxiously.

Both Dr. Winters and Bailey were quiet as she moved the wand around over your belly, eyes studying the screen intently.

It was a long twenty seconds, if that, before the imaging cleared up and everyone could see the baby on screen. They looked a lot less like just a lump with a big head and a lot more like a newborn baby would look like, limbs easily identifiable even for someone with untrained eyes like Marcus.

The sound of their heartbeat filled the room, definitely louder than the last time you'd both heard it, and you exchanged hopeful glances with each other. Your baby was still alive.

"Your baby appears to be healthy right now," Bailey told you, "But I have found what caused your spotting."

"What is it?" you asked, lips tugging back into a frown.

Bailey used the ink less end of a pen to point out a dark spot just above the baby's head. "That's what we call a subchorionic hematoma. It's a bleeding under a membrane that surrounds the baby in your uterus, probably caused by a tear."

"That sounds serious," you said, biting your lower lip out of anxiety, your free hand pressing a little harder against the side of your tiny bump.

Marcus gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, trying to remind you that you weren’t alone.

"It can be," Bailey stated honestly. "They can increase the chances of miscarriage or preterm delivery. But this looks like a small tear. As bad as it sounds, something like this is not that uncommon, and since it's not too large, it should heal up on its own after a few weeks."

"Your doctor will want to see you after a month for another ultrasound to be sure," Dr. Winters inputted. "Otherwise, there's not much else to do. This is a monitoring situation."

You nodded solemnly, a bit more relaxed knowing the baby wasn't in immediate danger, but something was still clearly eating at you.

"Was it something I did?" you questioned softly, and Marcus was about to say of course not when Bailey beat him to the chase.

"It's not something you could've prevented," she said quickly. "These things just happen sometimes and we don't know how or why. It's not one of those things we can give a definitive answer to. There's just still so much we don't know, unfortunately."

"What can I do to help it heal?" you inquired.

Bailey shut off the ultrasound machine and helped you wipe your stomach clean of the gel. "You don't need bed rest, there's nothing to suggest that that increases the chances of it healing up, so just keep doing what you've been doing. Get in lots of rest. That's all there is to it."

"Okay," you said quietly. "I'll do that." It was clear that you were still very concerned but knew expressing it wouldn't matter. There was nothing more the doctors could say or do to make you feel better. There was nothing Marcus could say or do either, and he knew it.

All he could do was continue to support you, in whatever ways he could think of.

x

That night you turned in early, not in the mood to finish the movie. Marcus wasn't either, and as soon as he picked up the living room and closed off all the lights, he joined you in bed.

Since the lights in your bedroom were off, he couldn't see if you were still awake, but he could feel you shift as he rolled into bed, onto his side, facing you, and pulled up the blankets over you both.

He felt you tuck your head into the crook of his shoulder, and he pulled you in closer, letting your legs intertwine with his, ignoring your typical case of frozen feet, allowing you to warm them against his.

He knew he couldn't snuff out your lingering concerns about the baby, he certainly hadn't been able to do it for himself, but he could do this. He could embrace you, share his strength, be your furnace.

So that's what he did the rest of the night.

xxx

Tagged: @amy172 , @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[p3ski]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 3.3K

As they pulled up to the crime scene, cornered off by a strip of police fencing, Gavin spotted a familiar face amongst the patrolling officers.

"Well, look who it is", he mumbled, grinning broadly through the window. As the car came to a stop, Gavin quickly unbuckled himself before swinging the passenger door open. "I'll go and see what's happening. You wait in the car, and I'll call you, okay?". 

Gavin did not bother to wait for Nines' response, as he was already out of the vehicle and striding down the sidewalk. His target had their back turned to him, talking with a set of pedestrians, likely trying to steer them away.

"Chris!" He called out, trying to get their attention, "Long time no see".

Officer Chris Miller turned around, smiling nervously as he saw Gavin approach. He extended a hand politely towards the older man, which Gavin took graciously, squeezing tight. 

"Nice to see you, Gavin", Chris said, wincing slightly at the firmness of the grip. "Yeah, it's been a minute. I saved up my vacation days to spend some time with Ange and Damien. Since I came back, I've mostly been on desk duty". 

Gavin scoffed in disbelief before folding his arms. "Four years on the force and already pushing pencils? Come on, man, do better". 

"It isn't like that, really. I love being on the frontlines, but after what happened last year..." Chris was overcome with a far-off look as if preoccupied with something deeply troubling "I can't take any more chances. I have a family to care for now". 

"Nah, I get it", Gavin assured, nudging Chris playfully on the shoulder. "I mean, I don't get it get it. Not a family man myself. Seems boring as Hell - but whatever works for you". 

"Oh," Chris said, seemingly taken aback. "What about you and that Jack guy? I thought you two were getting serious". 

Gavin felt a pang of bitterness at the mention of his ex. He nibbled on the inside of his mouth, struggling to fight the knee jerk instinct to chew Chris out for his blunder. "We were. Until he decided to trade me in for a younger model". 

"Ahh, I see...sorry to hear that", Chris apologised, rubbing the back of his neck, "At least you've got Tiffany to keep you company. How is she doing these days?". 

The conversation was cut prematurely by the loud slam of a car door. Nines had emerged from the driver's seat, its already severe expression marred with a deep grimace. Its eyes were trailing its surroundings, studying every detail closely, before locking onto Gavin and Chris. 

"Apologies for intruding on such a touching reunion, but I would appreciate it if you could refrain from idle chit-chat, Detective Reed. We have a job to complete". 

Chris stumbled backwards. He stared at Nines with trepidation, no doubt intimidated by its intense stare and imposing stature. Gavin knew that Chris had lost his nerve when it came to androids. Following his encounter with a group of revolutionaries that had almost killed him, it was more than understandable. 

"Hey, I, uh...I don't think we've met," Chris managed to stumble out, trying to stay as courteous as possible. 

"Officer RK900, Serial Number 313 248 317 - 87", Nines titled its head sharply, looking Chris up and down with severe judgment. "You appear to be nervous, Officer Miller, so I'll keep this brief. There is no need for drawn-out introductions". 

Gavin cursed under his breath, the persistent migraine that Nines was giving him making him question his entire career path. "Could you not have stayed in the car? For five fucking minutes?". 

Nines snapped around to face Gavin, the movement unnaturally rigid and stiff. It raised its eyebrows in a bemused expression as if daring Gavin to elaborate further, "You have no authority over me, Detective. There was no reason to oblige to your request". 

They were at a standoff, as Nines seemed to will him on, and Gavin tried desperately to avoid rising to the bait. The android could taunt him all it liked, but there was nothing he could do about it. 

It had already proven to him its physical capabilities. Outside of the protection of the precinct, Gavin didn't feel like testing how much the assertion that it 'wasn't willing to fight him' actually rang true. After the week he'd been having, all Gavin wanted was to go home to his shitty apartment and drink himself stupid. The sooner he could get there, the better. 

Chris cleared his throat, trying to break the tension brewing in the silence. "Do you want me to show you to the victim Gavin?".

Gavin sighed in relief, eagerly turning his attention away from his partner. "You read my mind. Nines, feel free to do your analysis thingy - or whatever you android detectives like to call it". 

The two human officers walked away, leaving Nines to stand alone by the perimeter of the barricade. For a moment, Gavin was confident that the android would follow. If anything, just to spite him. To his relief, however, it crouched down and ran its fingers across the loose gravel, seemingly preparing for a scan. 

Gavin watched over his shoulder, only truly relaxing when they had turned a corner and left Nines out of view. He was relieved to get away from it, if only for a little while. 

"Gavin" Chris began, sounding more than a little uneasy, "Who the Hell was that?". 

"My new partner. An RK900", Gavin deadpanned. "It's like Connor, but they dialled its 'Pompuous Prick' setting up to a-hundred-and-ten". 

"Why does it look like it wants to rip you apart?".

"I think that's just its face. Having said that it fucking hates me, so I guess there's some merit behind it". 

"I don't mean to be rude, but he's kind of...creepy. How did you upset the Captain enough to get paired up with him?"

"It's part of my 'tolerance boot camp'", Gavin said with air quotes, mimicking his Captain's tone in a poor impersonation. "Which is  horseshit,  incidentally. I'm plenty tolerant of these plastic pricks. I just don't buy into this 'androids are people too' bull". 

"I mean, the revolution changed a lot of things" Chris responded back, clearly trying to stay diplomatic despite his own reservations. "But this guy is - I don't know. What's that old movie you're always going on about? The one with the killer robots?". 

"Terminator ", Gavin clarified, snickering to himself. "I've always said that CyberLife is just babies first Skynet". 

Chris led Gavin to a sectioned-off alleyway before encouraging him forward. The asphalt turned into a narrow strip of loose cobblestone, framed on either side by tall graffitied walls. The floors were covered in food waste and other garbage, leaving Gavin to wonder why anybody in their right mind would ever wish to go down there. 

"The report came through about an hour ago: The victim was supposed to meet a friend for coffee but never showed up, so the friend got worried and decided to investigate. That's when she found the body". 

What's an android going to do on a coffee date?  Gavin silently pondered before getting himself back on track. "How did the friend know where to look for them?" 

"The victim was very methodic. Took the same route every morning ". 

"I mean, it's an android. Guess that figures. Sure didn't pick the scenic route, though". 

As they walked further down the alleyway, Gavin focused in on a crowd of forensic investigators. In amongst mummers of discussion, distressed whimpers could also be heard. They were distinctly inhuman. 

Gavin felt a nervous tug in his chest - like he was about to walk into something far more unpleasant than just a broken android. 

"What was that?".

As if clocking the concern in Gavin's tone, Chris looked at him reassuringly, "The victim's dog - but don't worry, it's not hurt. Poor little guy is just really freaked out". 

The investigators began to clear a path for Chris and Gavin, allowing them a better vantage point. When Gavin finally saw the victim, it was total carnage. 

The android was lying face down on the floor, the back of its head wholly caved in. All that remained was a fractured mess of plastic and blue blood - intermingled with synthetic hair. One of its arms had been ripped from its torso and was nowhere to be seen. The second arm had been mostly amputated but was left partially attached by a few strands of cabling. 

"Jesus, what a mess..." Gavin remarked, leaning in for closer inspection. The victim had been bludgeoned, no doubt about it, with deep indents and crevices grooved into its central processing unit. "Looks like the fucker bashed its head with a brick or something". 

The victim's dog whimpered helplessly as Gavin attempted to touch the android. One of the attending officers held it back, attempting to soothe it best they could, but it was continuously trying to struggle away. It was a tiny animal, fitting snuggly into the officer's arms. Its large black eyes were filled with immeasurable sadness, and Gavin felt his heart aching. 

Throughout his years of service, he had become well-versed in detaching himself from human suffering. With animals, though, he found this impossible. There was something profoundly tragic in a pet mourning the loss of its owner, and it never got easier.  

"Hey, little guy," Gavin said, voice uncharacteristically soft and gentle. He approached the dog slowly, careful not to startle it, and crouched down to its level. He held out a hand in invitation, waiting patiently for the dog to respond. It took a few tenuous sniffs before seeming to calm down. 

"I'm sorry about your friend," Gavin said, giving the dog's head a gentle pat. "We'll find someone else to take care of ya, I promise". 

The officer looked back at Gavin and smiled sadly. "We've called the local shelter and explained the situation. I'd take him home myself, but my husband would kill me".

"Yeah, I can relate", Gavin chuckled. "It's tempting, but I don't think my cat would be thrilled."

He noticed the copper tag hanging off the dog's collar and held it up for closer inspection. Engraved in CyberLife sans was the name 'Marshmallow' - alongside an illustration of a bone. 

Gavin smiled.

A cutie like you will get adopted in seconds.

When he brought his attention back to the crime scene, Gavin noted how the alleyway seemed to hit a sudden dead end. He stared at the wall confused and began searching for other exit points. 

"There's a cut-through further down", Chris informed, pointing to the end of the alley. "It takes you through a yard and back to the streets, but it's walled up for another block or two".  

Gavin placed a hand on the wall that Chris had pointed to and trailed his fingers across the brick, slowly moving forward. He was met with a sudden dip and the cold sensation of metal wire. As promised, a break in the wall was sectioned off by a chainlink fence. Alongside this fence was a gate, pulled slightly ajar. 

"Isn't that convenient? Perfect place to change their clothes" Gavin peered through the fence, pulling it further back. A low creak emanated from the rusty hinges. "The bastard must have bashed that android's skull at least a dozen times. They would have been covered in blue blood by the end". 

"The victim was struck precisely forty-six times", A calm voice swiftly corrected him. "So more than a dozen. The first two blows will have been enough to incapacitate it. Anything beyond would have served no purpose but to satiate the killer's sadistic pleasure".  

"Oh goody, the fun is back", Gavin mumbled sarcastically, making no attempt to look behind him. "Had enough of licking the sidewalk?". 

Chris stepped to one side, allowing Nines some room. Gavin sighed despondently as the android settled beside him, inching closer as if refusing to be ignored. 

"Your description of my analytical capabilities is both crude and wildly inaccurate. I was analysing DNA traces that may prove significant to our investigation. Having found nothing, I can assure you that this was a contained attack". 

"Yeah, no shit," Gavin snorted. "The guy wasn't about to start cracking skulls in the middle of the street. What I want to know is how the android didn't clock that someone was following it". 

Nines looked down at the victim, gaze narrowed in concentration. It was silent as it scanned the body from head to toe. Once finished, it turned to Gavin with a frustrating air of confidence. 

"Isn't it obvious?".

Gavin sneered, "No, it isn't. My inferior human mind cannot comprehend. You'll have to enlighten me, o' plastic messiah". 

Nines crouched next to the victim and picked out a small, black object from the fragments of its synthetic skull. As soon as the android picked it up, the thing in its hand blinked to life, illuminated by a small ultraviolet ring. 

"Wireless headphones". 

Gavin cursed inwardly, kicking himself for missing such an obvious detail. Despite this, he feigned disinterest, pulling the gate back and stepping through the threshold. "Still, it didn't hear  anything ? I thought you things were supposed to have super senses". 

Stepping into the yard, there were remnants of mechanical parts and old discarded vehicles everywhere he looked. It had clearly been used as a scrap yard at some point but was long since abandoned, judging by the levels of rust and decay. Amongst the wreckages, nothing initially stood out as having any significance. That was until Gavin spotted what he initially assumed to be a black cleaning rag tucked under a car windscreen wiper. 

He picked up the fabric and noted the broken, melted edge of the synthetic material. Despite this, it seemed new - and was placed far too conspicuously to simply be there out of coincidence. 

Like a shitty note left by a neighbour, whoever had left the material there had wanted someone to find it. 

Taking it back to the primary crime scene, Gavin arrived just in time to see Nines standing up from beside the victim. It seemed ready to say something, but Gavin quickly cut it off before it had a chance, abruptly pushing the material into its face. 

"Hey, Robocop, do an analysis on this", he demanded. 

Nines was visibly taken aback. It zoned in on the material before it raised its eyebrows questioningly. "This appears to be litter, Detective. I think you'll also find plenty this side of the fence". 

"Oh no, I don't think it is", Gavin corrected, waving the material proudly. "I bet good money it's a little present left behind by our culprit". 

Synthetic eyes rolled back into the android's skull. It chuckled condescendingly before turning back to Gavin as if ready to humour him. 

"Very well". 

It examined the material with dull, unfocused eyes - until something lit up inside them. It seemed, at that moment, to be in utter disbelief as it shot an accusing glare back to Gavin. 

"Where did you find this?"

"Tucked under a windscreen wiper".

"Impossible", Nines shook its head. "Our killer would never purposely leave such incriminating evidence...unless they are truly so confident we will never catch up to them".

"Oh, so it is important?" Gavin's mouth twisted into a large, saccharine grin "Not garbage after all?". 

"Quiet", Nines demanded, holding out a hand. "Give it to me so I may pass this on to the forensic investigators".

"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast", Gavin teased, holding back his arm and keeping his find well out of the android's reach. "I want you to tell me what it is first. Don't be shy".

Nines pursed its lips, clearly reluctant to give Gavin his desired satisfaction. Eventually, it conceded, closing its eyes in frustration as it spoke.

"100% waterproof polyester. There are traces of Thirium belonging to an MJ100 android. No doubt our victim. It has been purposefully singed at the edge, likely with a lighter, to detach it from a larger garment ".

"Hmm, 100% polyester..." Gavin repeated, tapping his chin with his finger "...Detached from a larger garment...." He purposefully drew out his words, enjoying his momentary victory over the android. "Gee, with the blue blood and all, you would think it might have belonged to our killer". 

"An astute deduction indeed. I am sure that you are exceptionally proud of yourself", Nines' tone was flat and unenthused, as it continued to hold out its hand toward Gavin, fingers tensed impatiently. "Forensics may be able to determine some greater specifics. Give it to me". 

"Not unless you say please".

Having clearly exhausted the minuscule supply of patience it had, Nines reached forward with lightning precision and snatched the material from Gavin's fingers. It all seemed to happen faster than Gavin could process, leaving him feeling thoroughly cheated. 

"Hey, what are you -". 

"I have information of my own that I wish to share with you", Nines clipped back, cheeks tinged with a subtle blue. It looked a little disheveled, with some of the stands of its meticulously styled hair falling out of place "An effective partnership is built on the merits of cooperation and cohesion. Not childish attempts at one-upmanship".

Gavin scowled back at the android, his momentary good mood quickly dissipating. He moved to snatch the material back, but Nines counteracted, maintaining a distance between them. Realising it was pointless, and with a sigh, Gavin soon relented "Go on, Stretch Armstrong. We haven't got all day".

Nines nodded, seemingly pleased by Gavin's cooperation. It regained some of its lost composure, smoothing its hair back into place, and placing its hands behind its back. "I thought about what you said regarding the victim's hearing. Even with headphones on, a functioning MJ100 would have been tuned in acutely to its surroundings. It would have known it was being followed -

The issue is, our victim was not functioning at full capacity at the time of the attack". 

"In what way?", Gavin pressed.

"My postmortem analysis indicates that the android's audio processors were critically damaged".

Gavin gasped dramatically, holding a hand to his mouth in feigned surprise. "You mean to tell me that when you smash something with a brick, it breaks? What a revelation". 

Nines frowned back at him, clearly unamused by the Detective's theatrics "Try not to be so obtuse. The audio processors were damaged before the attack: The result of a factory defect that affected many units in the same batch. It will have caused distortion, making it difficult for the victim to pick up on more than one auditory stimuli at any given time". Nines reached into its jacket pocket, retrieving what appeared to be a small slip of paper heavily stained with blue blood. "Aside from the prerequisite anti-android slogan, I also found this tucked into the remnants of the victim's central processing unit". 

Gavin studied the paper, unsure what exactly he was looking at "I can't see shit".

"You wouldn't. The Thirium is still fresh, making it extremely difficult for the human eye to detect anything else. There is, however, a hidden message - written in pencil".

"What does it say?"

"69 20 77 69 6c 6c 20 73 6c 61 79 20 74 68 65 20 6d 65 63 68 61 6e 69 63 61 6c 20 64 65 6d 6f 6e 73". 

Gavin stared back at Nines, utterly bewildered, before blinking slowly. "Did you just have a stroke or something?". 

"Machines are incapable of hemorrhaging. I also lack arteries". 

"Well, do you need to reboot then?" Gavin pressed, "Because I don't know if you noticed, but what you just said wasn't English". 

"I suspect it is. Simply encrypted". 

"This guy thinks he's so clever, huh..." Gavin remarked, biting his thumbnail. "Leaving behind all this cryptic bullshit". 

"They clearly enjoy toying with law enforcement", Nines agreed, "Having said that, they wish to make their views quite plain to the public. The written slogans leave very little for interpretation". 

"So what was the message this time?"

"ANIMALS ARE FOR HUMANS. PROPERTY CAN'T OWN PETS".

[ultfreakme]

Jon Kent’s multiple Daddy Issues: A Ramble

As the title suggests, this will be about Jon’s relationship and his feelings with regards to Clark.  I’m dividing this into 2 phases. Phase 1 is pre-SOKE, Phase 2 is SOKE and holding the Superman Mantle.

PHASE 1

At the moment, Jon is in a very difficult position with the Kent family and the world in general. He has missed out on about 6 years of his life with his family and friends, but the world had moved a mere three weeks. But his problems didn’t start here, they started even before that.

Pre-Volcano torture, Jon had two major issues

Being perceived as a threat rather than a hero, and having to live up to Superman.

On multiple occasions, Jon has been either used by someone with evil motives to take out their mission(Manchester Black) or he’s been deemed a threat to earth(Saviour!Tim and Parallax, Damian for a while because of the Goldie killing and kidnapping thing). His days as Superboy started off great, but on many occasions he’s expressed insecurity with his powers and realized that being Superboy means living up to his father’s name and finding a place for himself. Now I dislike Bendis’s decisions, but he did bring up Jon’s doubts, something that has plagued him for a while.

I love Super Sons & Superman Rebirth but Jon’s emotional issues are rarely explored or taken forward. He has a realization, and it’s left in the dust primarily because he was never the center of any story up until SOKE. After a while, Jon’s sorta getting that being a hero isn’t as easy or cool as he once thought and the idea that he has a legacy to live up to is sinking in. On top of this, a person tried to kill him because he has the potential to be evil. He also has insecurities with being half-kryptonian and half-human(Eradicator, it’s made worse in SOKE).

Point is, Jon’s trepidation started when he was young.

Next thing that caused a HUGE, GLARING problem, is the volcano torture, which I’m going to talk about in two-parts

Jon was not saved

From SOKE #9, we know Jon’s been stuck in the volcano for about 5-6 years. During this time, he called for help and he says he even called for Nightwing. If I were Superman’s kid, I’m calling dad first, but at some point, he must’ve gotten exhausted enough to call upon anyone, anyone, even Nightwing who literally cannot fight someone as powerful as Ultraman but this is was a kid desperate to be saved.

It’s even worse, because Jon must’ve seen Clark saving multiple people day-to-day. He knows what his dad’s capable of and seen it first-hand. His father is his hero, he’s the universe’s hero and he failed.

Jon was tortured not by an imitator or someone sharing his father’s face, that literally is his dad but in a different universe

See, if Jon was tormented by someone in the likeness of his dad, he can tell himself “this will never happen, this means nothing” because the differences are surface-level. Ultraman is simply Clark Kent gone wrong, and to a kid, even as smart as Jon, that must leave an impact. Ultraman was using the same power-set as his dad, and when he had first gotten to that Earth, he actually thought it was his dad. So to not only be abandoned, but to be trapped and tortured by a version of his dad for years must leave some long-lasting and unshakeable trauma. 

Jon was never sent help, he escaped on his own and found his way back home.

 Superman, his dad, isn’t infallible and he failed him. To truly understand the weight of this, read Superman: Up In The Sky. The entire arc is about one human girl who gets abducted, and everyone’s telling Clark to not chase after this one child across the universe because the Earth needs protection, but he does it anyway because there’s a kid waiting for him and he can’t let that kid down. The run explains the guilt he feels, the lengths he’d go to in order to save one soul even if it sounds like a fools errand. He goes through hell.

This is what Jon’s expecting.

Now despite all this, Jon clearly still loves Clark and all his interactions with Clark are casual and warm after the age-up. Still, he’s lost time with them and is seeing his family after so long. The lasting effects of the time lost comes through in Bendis’s(derogatory) next arc with the Superfam where Jon temporarily returns from his summer camp with Legion of Superheroes(LoSH) with Brainiac 5, and the second he sees Kon he’s like “dad did you guys replace me with a cooler son?”. Bendis probably used it as a “haha the funny!” joke thing but I’m taking it as Jon’s immediate and deep insecurities with regards to being Clois’s kid. He was gone for a while and he had no idea what was happening during those 6 years. For all he knew his dad Superman could be dead, captured, or maybe they forgot Jon and thought him dead and moved on. He has issues about his place on Earth, and its so much worse than before.

I frankly don’t want to discuss LoSH, I’ve read it twice and I still remember nothing. Anyways, his reasoning for going, and the reason why LoSH invited him was because he was supposed to show them how 21st century heroes work and to help LoSH reconnect to og superhero roots. The worst pick of a candidate for this but whatever. So he goes because he has purpose there, but he returns promptly because, most likely, he doesn’t find any need to be there. His place isn’t in this far future.

So he comes home, everything’s settling in, the family’s together, Conner has been confirmed to not be his replacement. It’s going great!

Not.

Right as things calm down, his dad leaves on another mission and gives JON the Superman mantle.

Thus begins Phase 2 of Jon’s daddy issues

PHASE 2

Things are terrible. Jon’s not had the time or space to really explore what kind of hero he wants to be, what kind of Superman he wants to represent. With the realization that his dad can fuck up and being a Gen Z teenager, he’s realizing his dad’s not perfect, hence the “Why don’t you do more?”.

Most people I’ve seen shit on Jon for saying this and not having done more than Clark in these 13 issues. The point of SOKE and Dark Crisis at the moment isn’t to say Jon is better than Clark. He isn’t, but he can be. He’s potential that needs to be realized, not the immediate answer to Jon’s own question. SOKE is about Jon figuring things out and on his way, he is going to fuck up.

So he starts off all confident, but quickly realizes he’s been given a task far beyond his capabilities.

He’s not ready. The narrative makes it clear, Jon himself has his doubts. His biggest villain in SOKE isn’t Bendix, it’s the shadow of his father. Jay’s arc is about Bendix and is very action-oriented. Jon gets the emotional arc, and it’s peppered in everywhere.

We start with re-establishing that Jon cannot rely on Clark anymore(#3 and #4). His dad has abandoned him once again to help someone that isn’t him. There’s a simmering, subtle bitterness Jon holds towards Clark which he can never express. It starts with the Annual where he’s talking to his dad’s hologram, continues with Nightwing #89 where he goes to his dad for advice but gets nothing and would rather be left alone, and keeps going in #12 when he says he knows what it’s like to not be saved and says he won’t let it happen again.

Jon’s new definition of his Superman is surrounding what Jon wanted out of a hero. He wanted someone who would be there, someone who’ll answer the call but he’s so hesitant with it because much like the entire world, Jon knows it is an uphill battle trying to be better than Clark. With all the insecurities from phase 1 in mind, it’s even worse for Jon.

His father is his challenge, but also the person he wants to make proud because at the end of the day, that’s his dad.

The worst part is he can’t direct any of his resentment towards Clark because ‘technically’ it is not Clark’s fault. He didn’t know those 3 weeks meant 6 years for Jon. He wasn’t the one who tortured Jon. Clark shows how upset and angry he is at Jor-El for subjecting his son to this. Clark isn’t at fault.

To the rest of Jon’s universe, Superman is still perfect.

So what the hell is Jon supposed to do with all this emotion?

Say nothing.

He will say absolutely nothing, he will continue to be a good son, he will carry on his father’s(the one who the world sees as great) legacy. He won’t and can’t say “actually my dad wasn’t that great” because who the hell is going to take him seriously?

No one.

Jon’s going to be on his best behaviour and be the best son ever. “Dad, will you be proud?” “Dad are you looking?” “Dad do you approve?”

The saddest part, is that it’s kind of pointless.

Because Clark doesn’t see the Jon in front of him anymore.

In Action Comics, Clark’s like beaten to a bloody pulp and he’s sorta hallucinating or dreaming and he says “my son’s turning 12″(sir your son’s 17 going on 18). In a more recent issue he talks about this toy he made for Jon when he was a kid, and makes it for these two other young kids. In World Without a Justice League: Superman, it’s very clear he doesn’t know who Jon Kent is anymore, and he’s living out this dream where he gets to see Jon grow up. And this Jon is absolutely nothing like the real Jon.

This Jon has no fear, no need to gain his dad’s approval and he’s confident. Clark makes a speech about how proud he is of the dream Jon and envisions him in a suit that’s basically a copy of his own.

Clark’s image of Jon, even if it’s unconsciously, is of a child. A 12-year old kid. Not the 17-18 year old. He’s simply refusing to look at the current Jon and Jon rn doesn’t know this.

Jon’s fighting against the mantle of Superman and the ghost of his past self, and at almost every turn, he’s losing. Jon doesn’t know about Clark’s opinion, but even without direct insight, he’s constantly fighting to show the world he’s worthy of being a hero and is trying make people look at him. Not Clark, not the 10-12 year old him, but the current him.

I think Dark Crisis made a conscious choice when Jon’s first battle there is with Cyborg Superman. His biggest problem is assembling a Justice League. Jon can’t resent his father for being such a good person that he went out to a place called “Warworld” to save people, he can’t. How can anyone be annoyed that Superman’s helping people?

So he shut up, bottles it all in and works even if he’s scared shitless(because of the volcano trauma, the murder accusation, everyone calling him ‘Superteen’, multiple people all over the world cowering in fear when he wants to help, pre-existing far from the Goldie death issue, him being used by Manchester Black to attack his family, fear of endangering his lover and family,  failing his dad and therefore the earth if he doesn’t respond right). He can’t afford to do anything else because as Superman he doesn’t have the time.

Thus, Jon’s stuck in this emotional prison, unable to find any place to express his problems.

[strawwritesfic]

Asexual!Q x Female!Reader: Logical Fallacy [Ch. 19]

Summary: Q’s got one hundred and two problems. His girlfriend is, technically speaking, every single one.

Challenge:  “102 Things A Guy Should Know About Girls” challenge by Miss Chocobo on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (foul language; sexual references; asexual!Q; sexual!reader; a running gag about sexual harassment; double standard: sexual harassment, female on male; sexual harassment played for comedy; James Bond & Reader friendship; civilian!reader; artist!reader; complicated family relationships; reader has a really big family; miscommunications; MI6 would not behave this way in reality; set post-Skyfall; joking references made to Bond/Q)

Pairings: Q/Female!Reader; James Bond/Eve Moneypenny

Tag List: @imaginesfire; @rory-cakes​

Master List

Rule #19: Remember: Girls are pretty, but yours is the prettiest!

Two days later, Bond killed the cause of the security breach, and you were released. Not without any sort of ado, of course; MI6 wanted a full debriefing. That wasn't even getting into your not-so-little breakdown, which in M’s opinion warranted a complete psychological exam before he could feel safe in releasing you into the general public. Needless to say, this hadn’t exactly put you in the best state of confidence for your first meeting with head of the entire program.

Q couldn’t help much with that. All he could do was walk you to M’s office door, then give your hand a gentle squeeze as you walked inside. He could feel your pulse pounding as he did so, but he couldn’t even offer you a smile before the door snapped shut and the light above it flashed on.

“You’ll be fine,” he muttered to no one. 

Even Miss Moneypenny was away at the moment. Q was left all alone, with nothing but the painting behind her desk to distract him from his nerves. In a fit of anxiousness, he paced over to the corner water cooler and poured himself a cup. It wasn't tea, but in this case it would have to do.

“Knock knock.”

Q very nearly jumped out of his skin. Given the impossibility of such a situation, though, he only managed to spill water down his front. Of course, there was Bond, sidling into the room, looking bruised but cocky–and, as usual, pleased to be present to see Q embarrass himself.

“007,” Q spluttered as he attempted in vain to dry himself off with nothing but the bottom of his jumper. “What are you doing back already?”

“I caught an early flight back into London,” Bond answered. He placed his hands in his pockets and nodded his head once toward M’s door. “Is [Name] in there? Eve said she wasn’t looking too well earlier.”

The water wasn’t coming out. Q dropped his jumper and gave a shaky nod, his own eyes too jittery to focus for long on any one thing inside the office himself. He swiped an arm across his chin to get the dripping to stop. “M wanted to debrief her. Not that she really knows anything, I don’t think. But for procedure's sake, I suppose.”

Bond seemed to sense Q’s own trepidation, which had only been worsened by all those recent sleepless nights. He clapped Q once on the back–with a little too much force, but Q didn’t have it in him to glower this time. 

“M will treat her fine. He knows she’s not an employee, or a threat,” said Bond.

“I assumed as much.” Q took off his glasses and rubbed his fists into his eyelids. “It’s just the exhaustion talking. He’ll let her go in a bit and she’ll head home.” 

A ragged thought drifted through Q’s head: And then, this time, you might even break up with him. Normally he would have voiced such a thought aloud; it helped his snarky demeanor considerably. But this time it was true, and he was surprised by the ache in his chest at the thought.

The man next to him nodded slowly, then leaned one shoulder on the wall. “She’s a pretty woman, your girlfriend.”

The ache grew deeper; Q felt his blood run slightly cold. When he looked up at Bond’s face, he had to work his tongue several times to unstick it enough for speech. Even then, he was quite sure the horror in his voice was plain. “Did you sleep with her?”

Why the thought bothered him so much, Q couldn’t say, except that in this case he couldn’t blame the exhaustion. He’d worried about it before dropping you off, after all. But he knew that Bond had slept with damn near every woman in the office, and that didn’t bother him. It didn’t bother him that Bond and Miss Moneypenny certainly acted as though they slept together all the time, whether or not they actually had. But with you, it was different. And he couldn’t put his finger on why.

The casual smirk Bond threw Q didn’t help matters. “Are you jealous, Q?”

Q broke eye contact and cleared his throat. “No. I–Of course not. I just wondered if that should be mentioned to the psychologist. I wouldn’t want [Name] failing because there were facts deliberately left out of the background details.”

He heard Bond shift away from the wall then walk over to Miss Moneypenny's desk, probably to look at the pictures she had set up there. Q didn’t look behind him to see for sure. But maybe Bond wasn’t doing that, as he said, “As I was saying, your girlfriend is pretty. And she made it quite plain she wasn’t going to sleep with me as soon as she set foot inside my flat.” There was a laugh in Bond’s voice, barely concealed. 

For once, Q couldn’t even be bothered that Bond was making fun of him. He turned. “Really?”

Bond grinned. “I think she’s a little in love with you.”

A smile flitted across Q’s face, but it couldn’t stay for long. The next moment, he was serious again, and his tired eyes found the light above M’s door. “I hope it stays that way,” he said quietly. 

Bond nodded. “For your sake, I hope so, too.”

[tratserenoyreve]

doing some hidden quest stuff in genshin and im still like. experiencing tonal whiplash in inazuma. (spoiler talk up to latest chasm quests and such)

there are so many sidequests in inazuma where the characters are discussing just how severe the impact of the vision hunt decree was on everybody, even tho a majority of people aren't vision bearers. the resulting civil war caused families to divide and neighbors to turn on one another.

the one i just completed was a questline where you help an injured samurai. after you fight off bandits that are trying to finish him off, he leaves a final letter to his family and friends. in it, he describes how he is feeling the weight of the lives he's taken, how people he saw fall in battle were likely friends he'd shared drinks with. how he thought himself, naively, as being like a hero serving their god in a "just" war but the reality was that he was killing his fellow neighbors, regular people.

that's some serious weighty conflict!

and yet, in this same quest, he goes out of his way in his final letter to say that he does not blame the electro archon, their god, for causing this. that the burden of the sin falls to the people. which is very unfair! which may be the point?

while i don't like seeing ei's involvement in causing her own people to die being handwaved, the sentiment of the consequences of a god's actions falling to their people is a recurring theme in genshin and does also fall in line with lines of questioning the traveler can have in some main story quests.

that it isn't fair that entire nations are to bear the brunt of consequence for decisions made by flawed higher beings. the traveler actually really seems to resent that! in the latest story quest with the twins, the traveler is very against the idea of higher powers deciding what is "right" to do with others' lives.

what makes inazuma funky tho is how the citizens themselves are complacent or complicit in this cycle of gods making choices that lead to mass devastation. like, going from doing a quest where they're talking about how children were starving and they're still trying to find time to bury all the dead and notify their families to just having Ei walk thru town like it's no big deal is so odd.

i would think that the normal response, even considering the people's reverence for their archon, would be to at least express -some- fear and trepidation to the god that was perfectly ready and willing to let thousands die for her ideals?

like, i am not making up how bloody the civil war apparently was! gorou's friendship stories and teapot dialogue is him talking about how he saw his general die and he and other rebels were trapped in a ditch while the shogunate army, their neighbors, tried to kill them. that situation is how he got his vision! he tells the traveler about his experiences in trenches!

so the game's writing does at times acknowledge how severe and dire the situation was in inazuma, it just. doesn't follow through with it in a satisfying way during the main plot that feels consistent. instead, the serious examinations of what went on is all in sidequests.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Last Chance (short story)

Aldereyes stuck to his promise.

His heart beat so quickly he began to worry that it would burst. At the same time it felt like it already had, splattering with a cold blood that coated his ribs and drowned his lunges. But he refused to say anything that might make Myrtlewing change his mind. He had to see.

He followed closely behind Myrtlewing, who too casually padded through the pine trees and onto open grass. 

Every so often, Myrtlewing would ask him if he wanted to turn back, and everytime, Aldereyes had to tell him ‘no’ quickly enough so that his trepidation didn’t answer for him first and cause him to race back to his nest in the warriors’ den.

He had never been part of someone’s murder, not deliberately or with planning. He was going to allow Myrtlewing’s killing of a completely innocent cat, he was going to watch and do nothing. He was going to allow someone’s life to end, someone who might have a family expecting them to return home, just to calm his own thoughts.

He should be revolted with himself. He should need to vomit at simply seeing his own reflection in a puddle for what he will be allowing to happen. But in spite of the anxiety, it didn’t feel that that was the case at all. If anything, it almost felt like….excitement. 

Aldereyes pushed that thought away as soon as that word entered his mind. No, it was just an unfamiliar feeling that he wasn’t used to, so his brain is trying to put a name to it. 

He was walking with Myrtlewing, something they had done again and again for moons, but it was so different now. Then, he didn’t know the horrors the medicine cat was capable of. Then, he was only his goofy, well-meaning, clumsy friend. Then, he hadn’t watched Myrtlewing walk, knowing that he had the intention of killing someone. It almost felt as though he were walking with a completely different cat. Every movement he made, the soft way his paws landed on the ground, his gentle breathing, the quiver of his whiskers, were all the movements of a killer.

But this was still Myrtlewing, and even though a large part of him is vastly different than the Myrtlewing in Aldereye’s head, he still somehow manages to be the closest thing to a friend that Aldereyes has in the Clan. He is the one, when the camp is attacked, that Aldereyes checks first to make sure he’s okay. He is the one, when Aldereyes gets hungry, that he wants to eat with. He is the one that Aldereyes goes to first when he’s upset, he’s the one he drags on hunting patrols or training sessions even though Myrtlewing is a medicine cat and doesn’t technically need to fulfill those duties, because it’s Myrtlewing and Aldereyes always wants him there with him and no one else, even if Aldereyes was never able to admit it to himself until that damned flower.

It was that flower that caused Aldereyes to realize just what he felt for the stupid medicine cat, but now that he had come to terms with his own feelings, it felt right. There was no other way to say it, wanting to be in a romantic relationship with Myrtlewing caused his body to feel grounded and allowed his soul to fly above the clouds.

Then he found out what he did.

He wished so badly that he could feel differently, but even knowing–even seeing–he still felt the same way. That’s what makes it all the more harder.

“Earth to Aldereyes!” Aldereyes jerked up to see that Myrtlewing had stopped and was now facing him.

“What?” Myrtlewing gestured ahead. Aldereyes joined his side. A holly bush blocked their path. “We’ll have to find a way around.” 

Myrtlewing shook his head. “No. Look over.”

Giving Myrtlewing a confused look, Aldereyes raised onto his hindlegs and peered over the bush. About two tree-lengths away was a small, probably abandoned Thunderpath. Beyond it was an open grassy field, and–oh Stars–a cat.

They were too far to see if they were a tom or a she-cat, but close enough to see that it was a grey tabby, and that the butterfly they were chasing through the long grass was purple. Aldereyes decided to focus on his breathing and not on the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him. Lowering himself down, he noticed a gap in the leaves at the bottom of the bush that he and Myrtlewing could crawl through. Taking a deep breath, he began to crawl under.

“Hey!” He hissed when his tail was pulled. Whipping around, he glared at Myrtlewing.

Myrtlewing met his eyes, a shadow over his own. “You know what’s going to happen to that cat. I won’t judge you for wanting to go back, or hold it against you for judging me for wanting to stay. You can go back to camp, and take me with you if this is too hard. Last chance.”

Aldereyes began to speak, but no words came. This time, he allowed for the full implication, for the full everything, to soak in. Did he really want to see this? Did he really want to be part of this? Even if he didn’t take part in the murder himself, he was still allowing it to happen. 

He looked back to the bush. “Whoops, chance gone.” With that, he slipped underneath.

[frauleindermorgen]

Edward hates the edge of trepidation that, for a second, accompanies the sight of silver hair, fearing that cold, blackened silver blade with it — But Leonardo had found him first, and the boy lets that encounter, his dry throat, achy body and grumbling stomach comfort him back into reality.

The nightmare dulls to an echo of fear, before dissipating at the sight of her, real and tangible, in the face of his dearest family. How did he even conceive of her attacking him with intent to kill in the first place? Sure, sometimes even family hurts eachother, but that's just how it is, living with other people, but that... No matter. Now, all he feels is relief. Tired, profound relief.

Its expression comes in form of the boy half-draping himself over her with a little content grumble, between a hug and purely loafing on her.

"Hi, Micaiah. You look rough," he starts, by way of greeting. "But I think we all do." A pause. He tucks his head in against her shoulder with a heavy sigh. "'m glad you're here."

im glad youre real.

Coming back to reality for the dreamers had not been pleasant, malnourished and as far from home as they all were; but then again, it seemed neither had any of their dreams been the best either.

She wants to find them all - Edward, Leonardo, and Pelleas - but her stamina was never great to begin with and once the Seiros knights begin to find order again, ushering both students and teachers back to camp and then Garreg Mach, she falls in line with the ardent hope they will make it back to her if she does not first find them.

Edward does, he finds her — but something in the air is amiss, and when Micaiah realizes what Edward's first response had been upon seeing her, that it had been one of fear, it feels like her mouth is full of ash, like her skin is made of the blasted stone that seemed to stretch forever in that crater in the Ruins.

"Edward..." She had never met anyone who could trust in another like Edward, for while he was always amazed by Micaiah's abilities Micaiah in turn was astounded by how much faith he had. She had never been proud of her fortune-telling or Farsight for they were simply things she'd done to survive or gifts she'd never asked for but if Edward did not make her feel proud, he had made her feel needed and responsible.

(They said she was the one who had kept the Dawn Brigade together but that wasn't true, not really. They all did their part. And if Edward had not shown up when it was just her and Sothe and extended his hand to them both and Leonardo, had not smiled so admiringly at Nolan; she cannot imagine where they would all be.)

"I'm back," she manages, putting her arms around Edward when he comes to her despite her own fear bubbling to the surface now, "I'm here, I'm sorry, I'm here..."

Edward had been the first person beside Sothe she'd thought of confiding in regarding her brand, for she could not imagine a look of hate from the man. Neither, however, had she ever imagined a look of fear. She swallows the ashes down and holds onto him. Again, he lets her and just as when she had taken his hand the first time it's Micaiah who is saved.

"I'm home."

[velvetwarfare]

A wicked and vile upturned grin would be the first thing seen. A rather unseen sight made by an otherwise divine and ‘holy’ creature. Adam had his weapon with him, he was free and he was out for vengeance. But he wasn’t going to kill the woman, oh no, not yet. He had to pay her back for her wonderful ‘hospitality.’

“Betty…” His teeth would bear the resemblance of a predator about to tear into its prey and oh how he was about to pounce. With a snap of his fingers, golden, angelic chains would coil and wrap tight around the woman, resembling his own capture.

“Thought I’d pay you a visit and share my plans for the next Exorcism.” He took a couple steps towards the woman “You see, I learned some shit about you. Informations easy to get when you squeeze it out of the right Imp. And oh, do I have dirt on you.”

Another snap of his fingers, a monitor popping out of thin air that would display the Vee’s tower. “Got’ told these idiots are apart of your leetle family down here or some shit and you know, you were so kind to look after me while I was down here…” He would suddenly get very close to her and show her the rage he held in his eyes before finishing.

“I thought I’d return the fucking favor.”

“ The FUCK? “

TAKEN BACK BY HIS SUDDEN APPEARANCE, BETTY LET OUT A CHOKED SCREECH, COLLAPSING BACKWARDS. THE ANGELIC BINDS SEARED DEEP INTO FLESH AS IF BEING BRANDED BY MOLTEN IRON, HER BODY PUFFING UP IN DEFENSE AND EYES FILLED WITH UNBRIDLED, LOATHING HATRED.

“ You have fucking BALLS showing yourself AGAIN. I swear to FUCK, the second I get out of these chains, I am going to FUCKING TEAR YOU — “

All bluster went out the window the second he finished his NAIL HITTING THREAT, her muscles TENSING UP PAINFULLY. There’s no way he’d FOLLOW THROUGH — it’s got to be an EMPTY THREAT. SOMETHING TO MAKE HER PANIC AND PLEAD MERCY.

Her doubts were ERADICATED the second the monitor was displayed, FLITTING BETWEEN DIFFERENT ROOMS IN THE V TOWER. VELVETTE’S FASHION DISTRICT, VALENTINO’S STUDIO, VOX’S OFFICE, EVERY PERIMETER OF THE TOWER SHE ONCE CALLED HOME. HER STOMACH TENSED WITH NAUSEA, THIN PUPILS SHRINKING IN A NEW EMOTION SHE HAD LONG FORGOTTEN —

UTTER TREPIDATION.

She wanted to be ANGRY. INFURIATED. BUT THE FEAR OVERSHADOWED IT ALL. SWALLOWED HER UP WHOLE LIKE A COWERING DOG, CHEWED HER BONES TO PASTE AND SPAT HER BACK OUT.

Several Antichrists rushed in with AXES risen, PREPARED TO ATTACK THE ANGELIC INTRUDER —

“ ANTICHRISTS, CEASE ATTACK! “

The soldiers FROZE, BAFFLED by the sudden command to REFRAIN FROM MAULING. Picking up on the ANXIETY-INDUCING ATMOSPHERE, the sinners took a step back, keeping a distance.

“ …What do you want? “

Betty finally spoke, FORCING HER BODY TO RELAX. The BURNING HATRED still resided in eyes that LOCKED WITH HIS OWN.

“ What do you want from me in order to LEAVE THEM OUT OF THIS. “

Her voice STUTTERED.

[kudossi]

Hollypaw/tuft and the Problem of WindClan!Hollyleaf

Part 1 (Lionblaze and the Problem of WindClan!Hollyleaf)

Part 2 (WindClan!Hollyleaf and the Problem of Hollykit/tuft)

—

“Hollypaw,” Lionblaze says imperiously, his head held almost absurdly high, “meet your aunt, Hollyleaf.”

Hollypaw stares. Hollyleaf stares back.

“She looks exactly like me,” Hollyleaf complains.

“You look exactly like me,” Hollypaw throws back, indignant.

Hollyleaf snorts disbelievingly. “I came first,” she says.

“I came last! It’s mine now!”

Lionblaze grins. “Well, I’ll leave you two to figure this out on your own, shall I?” he asks, moving to leave.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” the older version of Hollypaw says. “I had to find out about your daughter's name from Dovewing. Dovewing, Lionblaze!”

“Sorrelpaw?” Hollypaw’s father’s expression is serious, but the twitching of his whiskers gives him away. “What's wrong with Sorrelpaw's name?”

“I’m going to kill you and I’m going to enjoy it.”

“What, you don’t like your gift?”

“A kit isn’t a gift!” Hollyleaf nearly shrieks. Several heads turn toward them. Most of those do double takes when they see Hollypaw. “It’s a curse!”

Hollypaw tries to protest that she isn’t a kit, thank you very much, but she’s ignored by both parties.

“She,” Lionblaze corrects mildly. “She’s a curse.”

Hollypaw stares. “What the fuck, Dad,” she says with vehemence.

“Language,” Lionblaze chides, but he doesn’t seem too upset about the whole situation.

Hollyleaf scowls. “You’re legacy named,” the black she-cat informs Hollypaw. “Except there’s one problem. I’M NOT DEAD, so it DOESN’T COUNT.”

This last part is directed to Lionblaze, who only grins.

“Technically you are dead, according to ThunderClan law,” comes Jayfeather’s voice from behind her. Hollypaw jumps forward, hitting her WindClan aunt in the chest.

Hollyleaf lets out a small oomph, but she’s taller than all three of them, a whole head taller than Lionblaze, and she doesn’t stumble. “You see me every Gathering!” she protests. “Every single one! I’m clearly not dead!”

“And now you get to meet your legacy!” Lionblaze exclaims sunnily. “Most dead cats don’t get to do that.”

“I’M NOT DEAD!”

“I don’t know,” Hollypaw’s mother says, startling Hollypaw some more, “you’re looking pretty dead to me. On your feet, at least.”

“OF COURSE I LOOK DEAD, I’VE BEEN GIVEN CONTROL OF HALF THE APPRENTICES’ DEN WHILE—I’M NOT EXPLAINING THIS TO YOU,” Hollyleaf yell-decides, her claws sliding out to meet the grass by Hollypaw’s paws.

“Violence,” Lionblaze chides idly. Literally no one around them looks the least bit concerned, which really doesn’t bode well for the collective sanity of Hollypaw’s family. “I always thought that was more my speed.”

“I will kill you. I killed your mentor, your powers never worked on me, and I will kill you.”

“At a Gathering?” Cinderheart says lightly. “Under the light of StarClan? Well I never.”

Hollyleaf slumps. “You’re all the worst. You murder one cat—”

“Two cats,” Jayfeather corrects.

Hollypaw… is beginning to wonder who exactly she’s named after.

“Three if you count Cinderpelt,” Cinderheart adds. “Which I don’t, but if we’re covering our bases…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Hollyleaf interrupts, annoyance lacing her tone. She stares down at Hollypaw, and Hollypaw looks up at her almost-reflection with something like trepidation. Or terror. Maybe terror. “Well, thanks for the gift.”

“Wait—” Hollypaw protests, but Hollyleaf is already somehow lifting her by her scruff — I’m almost full-grown! Hollypaw thinks indignantly — and dragging her off toward WindClan.

“Hold up—” Lionblaze starts.

“Where are you taking her?” Cinderheart exclaims in the same breath.

Hollyleaf drops Hollypaw unceremoniously. “You gave her to me,” she explains. “Face the consequences.”

“What consequences?” Hollypaw asks.

“I didn’t give her to you!” Lionblaze argues.

“You actually did,” Jayfeather says, helpful as always.

“Hello?” Hollypaw says into what’s apparently a mass of cats deliberately not hearing her. “Is anyone listening to me?”

“THIS IS WHAT YOU GET,” Hollyleaf repeats, and then proceeds with the kidnapping. A white she-cat falls into step next to her, then a brown one, and suddenly she’s surrounded by a distinctly amused-looking WindClan.

Hollypaw kind of wants to bite someone, but… eh, maybe her parents deserve this. WindClan sounds like a nice sort of vacation. Warrior apprentices don’t get a lot of those, after all.

She can still hear her parents’ protesting and Jayfeather’s cackling as she’s set down beside a WindClan apprentice.

“Holy shit, you’re a fucking clone,” the apprentice exclaims, looking from Hollypaw to Hollyleaf and back again.

In response, Hollyleaf seems to radiate an aura of distinctly unimpressed.

Hollypaw giggles despite herself. Yeah, this should be fun. Weird, but fun.

[montymollusk]

first original post on here in a while because i’ve been watching encanto on a loop since it came out and i have THOTS.

my major one is how dolores’ verse in we don’t talk about bruno is so centered around bruno’s pain and struggle within the family- how no one ever understood him or his gift. she doesn’t demonize him, unlike some people (cough cough resident theater kid) and needs mirabel to understand that bruno is not and was never a bad guy. her desperation in the line “do you understand?” gets me every time

and why would she? even aside from knowing that he’s listening, dolores understands better than ANYONE how it feels to have knowledge you didn’t want and that people resent you for. dolores just has no way to turn it off.

there’s also the fact that we never see her really helping the town throughout the movie. abuela seems to have pretty limited ideas for what her family’s gifts can do for people, and i doubt she would have many ideas for how dolores gift would benefit the community, same with how she shows some trepidation with figuring out what to do with antonio’s gift, mostly just focusing on her relief that the encanto is working properly again.

it makes sense to me that after a while, abuela probably left dolores to her own devices. not trying to completely demonize abuela here, i have complicated thoughts on her character but i do NOT think she’s a monster, i just think that she would try to focus on more concrete and simple ways to help the community in day to day life, where dolores’ gift is pretty specialized. maybe every now and then she relays messages from the townspeople when there’s an emergency or someone doesn’t feel like coming all the way to the casita, but i doubt abuela would come up with anything else.

all this to say- i think dolores understands what bruno went through with his gift, being deemed either useless or actively malicious. dolores was probably terrified of people targeting her for knowing too much, the same as bruno being targeted for not always having happy visions. she knows what happens to people when their gift isn’t helpful enough, so she melted into the shadows.

i think bruno probably appreciated having someone in his corner even before mirabel came to him, someone who gets it like no one else in the madrigals can. though i bet it probably killed him that his niece had to go through what he did, especially after giving her the vision of mariano. i definitely agree with the hcs that dolores snuck him notes or food any chance she got, she probably misses the shit out of bruno and wishes he could sit with everyone at dinner for real.

anyways. bruno and dolores solidarity.