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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends.

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well.

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling.

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in.

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either.

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @the-fuck-up-of-today @slashersdream @chiefwombathoagiepizza @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01

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rikacain · 3 years

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if you remember who they are

a halloween fic for @pinkcatharsis!

title from regina spektor’s call them brothers

summary:

Because it just had to be their luck to suffer an infestation on the way back to Konoha. The Zetsu collective was a known threat to all spacefaring civilizations in the Interstellar Union, perhaps one of the deadliest. Protocols had been put in place for every spacecraft - but sometimes they managed to slip through.

(It leaves you changed, Kakashi had told him once, quiet and withdrawn. His mechanical eye whirred in place, an ominous scarlet in the dimness of the bar. All that doubt and distrust. An infestation is a hell of its own.)

All Tenzou wants is to survive with Iruka.

read it on: ao3

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This is how it ends: Tenzou’s knife on its throat.

He straddles the body as it weakly convulses beneath him, keeping it pinned against the cold metal panels of the spaceship. The space around them was littered with appendages of grotesque shapes and sharpness, each battered and bruised with what seemed like sinew clinging to their violently removed ends. Some of them still twitch as though in response to a phantom nerve; the rest lay still.

Laying still is all that it can do now after all that Tenzou put it through. His plasma knife, the makeshift flamethrower, the now-defunct bulk of the bio-scan machine. To slice, to burn, to bludgeon - he had to use anything and everything that was in his arsenal just to stay on equal footing, and beyond to gain the upper hand. Now, there is little it can do but squirm like a butterfly pinned to the board. Little but for Tenzou to put it out of its misery.

His heart pounds in his ear. All he has to do is to end this. Only to press harder, hard enough for the knife to push through skin and flesh, for it to push through all the lies - and split open whatever laid beneath.

But he has to ask. He has to know.

“How long?"

Tenzou blinked. Across him, Iruka grinned bashfully, the flush of his skin dusted high across the arch of his cheeks.

“How long had you…” Iruka elaborated, his hand gesturing at the space between them as though he could pluck the words he needed from it. “Thought of this? Thought of us?”

How long had it been? Tenzou wasn’t quite sure. Iruka had been introduced to him as Naruto’s previous space cadet instructor, but it had been clear that he was more than just that to the boy. His first impression of him was that Iruka was bold, bold enough to ask him for regular updates on Naruto’s progress.

His previous mentor was dedicated enough to provide them, he told Tenzou earnestly, his eyes bright and expectant, honest. Tenzou knew that Kakashi was dedicated, yes, but he wasn’t quite sure if the man was dedicated to being a mentor. The stars knew how many times the man attempted to weasel out of the job. It was pure irony that his success which landed Tenzou as his replacement was wholly unintentional.

But Kakashi might be weak to a pretty face - and that was his second impression of Iruka, that he was quite nice to look at. Very nice to look at, Tenzou came to think over the following updates he provided Iruka.

"Tenzou?" He was jerked back into the present by Iruka's suddenly anxious demeanour, marked by his hand rising to scratch uncertainly at his scar. "Sorry, that was rather out of the blue, wasn't it?"

Ah. Tenzou shook his head. "No, I was just lost in thought." He reached over and took Iruka's warm and calloused hand in his own. His heart did a funny leap of joy, that Iruka let him do so - that he was letting him do so. "I'll tell you if you tell me?"

"Deal," Iruka said immediately, that smile returning easily to his face. He leant in, conspiring, and like a sunflower turning towards the sun Tenzou couldn't help but lean closer, too. "I've always had a taste for men in uniform."

"You just described all of our colleagues."

"Why else would I enlist?" Iruka asked cheekily, and added, his voice dipping low, "if it's any consolation, you pull it off the best."

"Do I now," Tenzou murmured as a warmth spread across his cheeks.

Iruka hummed. "It's a shame the spacesuit hides it.” He winked. “But when... I can't exactly say. Over all the dinners. I just realised it, one day."

"You mean you find progress reports attractive?" Tenzou teased, only to be subjected to Iruka pouting at him.

"I find competence attractive," he sniffed. "Now you. Your turn."

"Alright, alright." Tenzou closed his eyes, mulling it over. There had been a point, hadn't there - when he had a chance to breathe, when he had a moment to think of the future, that he would think of Iruka. Think of their dinners, with conversation and warmth filling Tenzou up more than any meal ever could. "It was gradual for me too. I only really knew when we hadn't met for several months."

"I guess absence really makes the heart fonder."

"I guess." Tenzou huffed, suddenly feeling all kinds of bashful on his part. "Do you want... after we get back to Konoha. If we survive this. Do you - go out for dinner with me?"

For all of his years of experience, Tenzou had yet to experience an infestation - until now. It had been all so sudden, with nothing happening for several cycles until Hayate's corpse was discovered in the medical bay. They found Asuma and Kurenai's corpses in the cockpit next, bloody and bruised; both of them had put up a fight.

From what Tenzou could recall, the collective tended to work in pairs - so it was safer to assume that there were two in their midst. Protocol dictated the scan of every crew member the moment they suspected a breach, but the ship’s bio-scan machine had been tampered with to the point of being little more than junk metal. Save for stabbing everyone clean through the chest, there was no other way of telling the collective apart from a human.

It meant that he had to keep his wits about him. Keep a sharp eye and ear out, and a knife handy in the slot of his utility belt. Anything to survive - anything to get both of them, him and Iruka, out. Safe.

Iruka's smile had turned sombre and melancholy. "If we survive this,” he echoed. “We'll have as many dinners as we want."

"And lunches," Tenzou added, in a rare impetuous spark of selfishness and hope.

"Lunches and breakfasts.” The laugh was faint, but it was there - it was all that mattered. "Just to complete the set."

Lunches and breakfasts and dinners. The promise felt like a future that Tenzou could reach for.

Tenzou would hold him to it.

“How long?” His voice is hoarse, foreign, unrecognizable. As unrecognizable as the fool he had been. The mass beneath him coughs wetly, and he repeats, “how long?”

It bares its teeth in an approximation of a smile, cruel and bloody and wholly alien. “Janus. Just before you all boarded the shuttle."

The truth does not make him feel better. It was never meant to.

The stars had a cold beauty to them.

They were in the cafeteria, all the remaining survivors. A crew of fifteen reduced to nine. It had been Iruka's suggestion that they all sleep here rather than in the privacy of their easily breached crew quarters; it had been Tenzou's to set up a night watch.

He took first shift, seating himself in the corner of the cafeteria, his back firmly against the wall. Yugao followed suit in another corner. He would have preferred her to sit in the corner further away from the vent, upon which tables and chairs were piled in the hopes that it would prevent ingress, if only for her safety - but her cold and drawn face dissuaded any attempts at discussion. In the aftermath of Hayate's murder, the only thing left on her mind was likely vengeance and a deep distrust of anyone around her.

That latter emotion was shared by most of their colleagues - so it took him by surprise when Iruka sat down next to him. The part of Tenzou's mind suffused with protocols and risks and best practices told him that the watchers should sit as far from each other as possible, to protect both themselves and their chances of raising the alarm -

But then Iruka smiled at him and said, you look like you could use some company - and. And.

Death was only ever a mistake away, and Tenzou was only a man.

So there they sat, watching over their colleagues as the stars watched over them. Iruka was a warm weight against his side, chasing away the chill of the metal wall against his back; when he tipped his head against Tenzou's shoulder, Tenzou could smell pine and musk - could smell Iruka.

The words slipped out, a warning borne out of worry more than caution. "Don't fall asleep."

"I won't," came the steady reply. Then, just a few moments later, quietly: "I don't think I can."

It sent a frisson of discomfort through Tenzou to hear those words, one that brought him to turn his head, just the slightest bit. A movement that brought his mouth incrementally closer to Iruka's hair, that he might press a kiss to it that might reassure the other man if he tilted his head just so. It took far more courage than Tenzou had to do an action that felt unbearably, monumentally intimate - every mission he had taken, every enemy he had faced down, there was no enemy more daunting than to close that gap.

So instead, he murmured, "I'll be here even if you can't."

Iruka did not say anything, only pressed himself closer into Tenzou's space. An answer louder than any reply he could have given.

(He woke up the next day to the numbness in his left shoulder and Iruka's bleary eyes - and the loud and accusatory voices of their colleagues over another dead body in their midst.)

He grips the blade, hard enough that his knuckles turn white, and begins to push the edge of his knife downwards. The stench of burnt flesh rises to meet him, both scent and sight enough to make any man gag. But Tenzou was used to swallowing his own bile down, to taking a life that begged for mercy in its very last moments.

The knife sunk past the weak spluttering of what seemed to be blood attempting to force itself through cauterized veins, as crimson as any human’s. Past the easy give of fat curling into itself into a putrid yellow, past the flesh that for all purposes looked human -

And into a spongey white mass.

There could be no doubt, after this. Not that Tenzou had had any, at this moment.

“He thought of you,” it says, smiling wide as the knife sinks through a flimsy imitation of a vocal cord. Tenzou leans forward when the blade will go no further, when it hits something that has the density of a human bone but in the wrong place. Too high, too hard, too unyielding. “In his last moments, he thought - “

"I thought he was Kotetsu."

Iruka's voice wavered audibly under the unceasing hum of the engines room, the pneumatic hisses of the container releasing more dilithium crystals into the converter for decomposition. Tenzou had dragged him here, away from the rest of the bunch. "I can't believe - I thought - "

"We all did," Tenzou said quietly.

Only minutes ago, they had forced Kotetsu into the airlock. No, Tenzou reminded himself, they had forced what only looked like Kotetsu into the airlock. It had been its testimony against Genma's. Genma, who had found Izumo's body - and, he insisted, Kotetsu standing over him. A fresh kill.

Kotetsu denied it, of course. Claimed that Genma was a liar, that he saw Genma kill Izumo in front of his very eyes. He'd been with Izumo all this time - he would be an idiot to kill the only person who would back him up that he wasn't the killer.

"Not if Izumo wouldn't back you up anymore," Genma spat back. His easy-going grin had all but disappeared, now that there were only five of them left. Now that Raidou was dead. "Not if he knew what you truly were."

"Yeah, that's why you killed him," Kotetsu snarled right back. "Isn't that right, Shiranui?"

Genma's bark of laughter sounded more like it was torn out of his throat. He turned to the rest of them and said, "if you don't put this bastard in an airlock, right now, we might as well die in this ship." His eyes bored into each and every one of them. "Forget about going back to Konoha. He'll pick us off one by one and save our corpses for desserts."

"I could say the same for you, you utter - "

"Genma's right." All eyes snapped to Ebisu, his skin clammy and pallid. He pushed his tinted glasses back up from where it slipped down his sweaty nose, and repeated, "he's right. I've... I've been on the security cameras. Watching." He swallowed, and admitted in a thin, reedy voice, "I saw him kill Izumo."

"Oh, you're both in this together," Kotetsu accused. He turned to Tenzou and Iruka, his eyes wide and beseeching. "Iruka, come on. You gotta believe me. Iruka?"

He took one step towards them. Tenzou stepped forward into his path, automatically shielding Iruka. Kotetsu's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, you fucker," he spat, low and ugly. "You absolute fucker - "

He turned and ran for the open door to the rest of the ship - but Yugao got to him first. She took him down, slamming an elbow into the back of his neck; Genma dragged him up barely a moment later, restraining his arms.

"Get the airlock, before he runs again," he snapped.

Yugao and Genma dragged and shoved him through the open door; Ebisu pulled on the lever and shut it behind him. The sound of banging on the reinforced metal doors resounded throughout the ship, echoing down its corridors; it was soon followed by the sound of insults, of threats, and finally, of pleading.

And then the outer gates opened, and they couldn't hear anything anymore.

"Could we have been wrong," Iruka was saying, babbling. "I know Ebisu and Genma said, but I can't help but think if we've been wrong, and we killed someone innocent - we killed Kotestu - "

"He wasn't Kotetsu," Tenzou said firmly, putting his hands on Iruka's shoulders. "Listen to me. He wasn't Kotetsu."

"I know," Iruka moaned. "I know, I - " He shuddered, and curled into himself. "There could be one more of them. It could be any of us. I, I - "

"You have to calm down." All caution thrown to the winds, he pulled Iruka into an embrace; Iruka clung to him like a man to a plank of wood in a storm-tossed sea. The weight of him in Tenzou's arms was the only thing that anchored Tenzou to reality, and Tenzou could only hold him tighter. "Breathe. Kotetsu wouldn't kill Izumo. You know that."

"He wouldn't," Iruka repeated. "He wouldn't, Izumo, they - "

"So it wasn't Kotetsu." Tenzou murmured. His hand rose up to stroke at Iruka's hair, tousled and messy. Appearance wasn't much of a concern, nowadays. "It wasn't Kotetsu."

"It wasn't Kotetsu," Iruka repeated after him in a daze. "I... I just want to go home."

"I know."

"I want - I just want this to be over, I just want to survive this. I'm... just terrified. So terrified."

"I know."

Iruka laughed, a wet sound. "Stars, you must think me so weak."

"Never," Tenzou answered him immediately. He pulled back and looked at Iruka in the eyes, those bright and brimming eyes. If I could guarantee your survival, he thought, I would do anything. Everything. "Iruka, never."

That was when Iruka kissed him - desperately, like a man drowning.

"Stay with me," he gasped against Tenzou's mouth. "Please, stay with me."

Tenzou would drown in him if he could. He was drowning, now, in the constant beat of the drum within his head, that one singular thought. I'll protect you.

"I will." I'll protect you. "I promise."

The knife makes a loud clang as it hits the metal floor.

Slowly, carefully, Tenzou lets go of the knife. He tenses for another attack, for white flesh to knit back together across the plasma blade, for an appendage to regain sentience and pierce him through. For his death.

But the body beneath him lay still, as still as Tenzou himself.

"It's dead."

Tenzou nods jerkily, once. Yugao lets out a long breath, far longer than a sigh would be.

"Thought you'd take his words over mine," she says. "You guys got awfully close over the past few cycles."

He hears the unspoken question. He had second-guessed himself, even as he remained firm on his convictions - up until it hurled itself at them and began its final assault.

"That was why." He stares down at the cadaver, before dragging himself up onto his feet and away from it. Past the doorway and into the hallway proper. "It was... the timing was too suspicious." Too good to be true. "It felt like an opportunity I would have taken."

It's a truth easier to tell than the whole of it: that it was only the Zetsu's error to overplay his card. That Tenzou had only realised at the very last moment - that it was a realisation that came far too late.

Yugao lets out a scoff, short and mirthless. "Glad you're a still paranoid bastard, taichou."

Maybe it would have been easier if he wasn't. They say that ignorance is bliss - and Tenzou only understood now what it meant. He had been happy, so happy - death would have been sweeter than the bitter truth.

(But it never mentioned Naruto, not even once.)

Tenzou turns away from the door and leaves the corpse that once wore Umino Iruka’s face behind.

#yamairu #teniru #tenzou #yamato #umino iruka #fic #it's a space au #or more accurately #an among us au #mmmhmmm #so guys... is kotetsu an impostor? u tell me ;D

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kariachi · 4 years

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Oh look, more reboot/pern fic! This one set in the future, after the Hatching.

Being a Weyrling is hard you guys.

The only thing that could make you yearn for the days of candidacy, for constant chores and lessons and hardly enough sleep, was weyrlinghood, which came with constant chores, and lessons, and the sole care of custody of a psychic toddler the size of a great dane and growing. It was a lot for someone who could be as young as twelve and, in this class, were as young as thirteen. As it was, Kevin’s day generally went as follows.

5:00- be woken up by his own personal bottomless pit. This was better than the first few weeks after the hatching, when the newborn dragons had required feeding every other hour, but still happened about an hour before the rest of the class. Seemingly to counter Kevin’s own ability to collapse anywhere and sleep like the dead as long as he avoided nightmares, Kha’dweith slept like they might have to evacuate the Weyr at any moment. The first weak rumblings of hunger inevitably woke him, and he would pester Kevin until he woke as well and got started on his day. He’d throw on whatever clothes he could get his hands on- at this point nobody begrudged him if they weren’t his own- and lead the way out to the weyrlings’ personal meat locker. There he’d dismantle the freshest corpse they had on hand- basic butchery had been another candidate course- and sit with a cup of milky coffee provided by the kitchenstaff while he made sure his bronze chewed every morsel.

6:00- stage two of dragonet care. While the others were waking up and starting the day, Kevin could be found scrubbing Kha’dweith down in his first bath of the day. This would then be followed with a thorough oiling, to ensure not a scrap of his hide would stretch or crack, but would instead remain supple throughout his extensive growth. Unlike feeding, which would get easier relatively soon, supposedly, as the babies became big enough to feed themselves- first only needing their riders to find them meat and then learning to hunt it themselves from the older dragons- oiling was only going to get worse before it got better. Every dragon in the Weyrling Barracks would be fully grown at the end of two years and during that period their hides would need constant, regular attention until they finally reached full size and could make do with a bi-weekly oiling supplemented by spot-jobs. It was worst for the rankers, who grew much more quickly than the chromatics (Kha’dweith had started out larger than any of his clutch, to nobody’s surprise, and the top bets right now were on him reaching 90 foot easily at graduation) and riders of clutchers were kept near frantic when their dragons were gravid or on the Sands. At this early stage it was practically easy.

7:00- entertain Kha’dweith, because he couldn’t sleep with everyone else awake and needed to be kept from causing trouble. N’fula had been right, the bronzepair were a matching set. As most of the things Kha’dweith liked to do ran the risk or even required him getting dirty, which would just mean another bath and oiling, this often ended up being the two of them sat in the back of the barracks, Kevin working on his projects, teaching Kha’dweith what he knew, and sometimes composing poetry for him on the spot. It was all great fun for the little bronze, he took with especial keenness to art theory, and it took great difficulty to not work him up so much that he couldn’t join his clutchmates in when they returned to sleep.

8:00- finally breakfast. The entire class took it together, while they had some brief respite from their napping dragons. Unlike full riders, who had their own weyrs in which they could make and/or take their meals if they so pleased, weyrlings lived communally, just as they had as candidates, and had their own section of the dining hall just on the other side of the entrance. That way, if anyone’s dragon suddenly needed them, they could quickly and without fuss excuse themselves. Until that moment came though, they all stuffed themselves to bursting on fresh bread, porridge, fish, and the hope that Kha’dweith wouldn’t wake up and organize an insurrection in the barracks or something.

9:00- lessons, part one. There were a myriad of topics Weyrlingmaster A’ila covered in the mornings, when the hatchlings were fresh from their post-breakfast nap but still groggy enough to not be running around like headless chickens. Generally they were lessons dedicated to improving the bonds between the pairs, like building up the distance at which they could speak telepathically, or organizing puzzles where the pairs had to silently work out the answers between themselves. Other times the lessons were more hands on, like dragon-focused first aid to go with the human-focused they learned in candidacy, or physical exercises they were assured would come in useful as their training got more intense.

10:00- feeding and oiling, round two. Generally Kha’dweith would be convinced he was dying of hunger by this point, having eaten before the others, and the class would set out to the hard work of dragonet tending about when the greens started agreeing with him. With everyone awake and dressed to start with, the work went faster than it did in the mornings, but even this was a lesson. The Weyrlingmaster would walk among them as they worked, critiquing everything and giving out praise, criticism, and advice where they were needed. It wasn’t until she was convinced of perfection that the job was done.

11:00- lessons, part two. See: lessons, part one.

12:00- lunch, glorious lunch. In the bright daylight, hatchlings seemed to completely lose the need for sleep, but their riders didn’t lose the need for sustenance. As long as the weather was nice A’ila would let them gather trays from the dining hall and eat out in the Bowl where they could watch their partners as they played amongst themselves. When the weather was bad she insisted they eat indoors, the seemingly-weatherproof dragonets safe and sound in the care of her green.

12:30- lessons, part three. Lunch was always shorter than breakfast, since the babies were up and about, and A’ila always took full advantage of their energy. Noon-time lessons were always active- simple obstacle courses, games of tag, swimming classes. Something to wear the dragonets out while enforcing bonds between them and their riders, them and their clutchmates, or even just getting in early training in agility, or strength training. By the time they were old enough for these lessons to stop being games, they would have already gotten their flightmuscles practice and burned the concept of dodging into their minds like a brand. And because lessons stuck better if they were fresh in both minds, their riders were right there with them through everything.

2:00- more feeding and oiling. This one went much the same as the late-morning feeding, though generally everybody was exhausted by that point. A’ila didn’t take it easy on them, but she had more reassurances on her tongue the later the hour got. Promises that relatively soon, at least, they would be putting their own meals together, and even then only twice a week. The oiling, there were no reassurances for.

3:00- lessons, part four. All the running around left the hatchlings dead on their feet, and while they napped off the hard work and the latest meal the Weyrlingmaster piled on more lessons. This time they were in things like geography, geology, history, and mathematics. Once the hatchlings woke up they’d join in, though to a much lesser extent than earlier. This was when they got their own lessons from green Deidrath, in similar things but from the uniquely dragon perspective.

6:00- yet another session of oiling and feeding. A‘ila was extra hard on weyrlings for this one, as by this point most wanted to rush the job so they could get to their own dinners and some of the babies were perfectly willing to humor them. Moiac’s Ut’th certainly wouldn’t begrudge her, for instance. Kevin didn’t get that luxury. Kha’dweith was more likely to encourage him to stay up late and raid the storerooms for a midnight snack then suffer discomfort.

7:00- dinner, finally. It was the heartiest meal in the Weyr, since there was so long between it and breakfast and everyone in the mountain worked so hard. Especially the younger weyrlings were always served double portions, the kitchenstaff always ready with an exclamation about them being blown away in a stiff breeze no matter what figure they had. S’nicte got the nickname ‘Selkie’ from one of the weyrbrats in candidacy and from the way staff acted you’d still think she weighed less than any of the younger teens. It was nice, especially for those of them not used to being fussed over. Awkward, but nice.

8:00- private lessons with the Queens. Everyone else just had chores, then free time, but Kevin and Kha’dweith had the ‘honor’ of going to the council room every evening to speak with the Weyr’s queens and their riders. Every dragon was different, which was a wonderful thing, but it meant there was precedent. Precedent for Kha’dweith becoming a queen of the Weyr despite his rank due to his biology. Precedent for him not becoming a queen of the Weyr despite his biology, due to his rank. Nobody knew where he was going to end up, and as a result they were defaulting to assuming he would end up everywhere. Which, so far, meant lessons for both of them in running a Weyr, in politics, in finances, in so many things it made their brains want to burst.

10:00- final feeding and oiling, thank fuck. It was their rescue from lessons, the rumbling of Kha’dweith’s belly, and they took full advantage. It was probably the only time Kevin got to use his watch in a day, Rushing down to the meat locker and throwing the bronze’s meal together as quickly as he could to make up for the fact that he still had to take his time with the rest of it. It didn’t do any good in the long run, because as long as people were wandering in and getting settled Kha’dweith wouldn’t sleep, and if he didn’t sleep Kevin wouldn’t be able to sleep, but still.

11:30- everyone would be settled, and finally, finally, there would be sleep. For nearly six hours, assuming he managed to avoid any nightmares, which invariably woke up his bronze even if they didn’t wake him, there was blissful, calm, sleep.

Then, come five-o-clock, it started all over again.

Flying Fall would be like a vacation.

#fanfic

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rottenheartedchild · 6 years

Text

Bayo OC redesign- Vincent

Next in line is my meme-loving boy Vinnie for my bayo redesin, As always, big thank you to @tradramblings for helping me with this one.

Name: Vincent Farkas or Badrul Zulkarnain

Nicknames: Vinnie, Nines, Baddy, Vin Vin, Memer( by Samson), Nerd.

Age: 40(physically), possibly immortal

Gender: cisgender male

Sexuality: asexual biromantic

Pronouns: he

Back-story: Unlike his rambunctious brother, Ariel, Vincent spent his time in the solitude of one of the many libraries available, letting his mind wander at written words on the papers. Sometimes he’d be in the forest, studying animals and plants in their natural habitat. Despite his precociousness, Vincent enjoyed the quiet presence of his brother, his parents and his tutor. Outside of his Clan, he would read stories to younger children, enjoying their awestruck expression as he wove vivid pictures with words. Though he was the son of the Commander of the Inquisitors, he had no interest on joining them whatsoever, preferring to spend his time studying the less physical arts of the Lumen Sages. His father, Kaiser, encouraged his son’s pursuit for knowledge and placed him under the tutelage of of an old friend, Salem, who happened to be one of the Clan’s emissaries. Surrounded by intellectuals and other emissaries, Vincent was on cloud nine, eager to discuss anything and everything that he came across. Unfortunately, not many took the young boy seriously as they busied themselves with other matters, leaving Vincent behind. Salem, a big man with a bigger heart cheered him up by telling stories of his travels to faraway lands, laced with a thrilling sense of adventure and exaggeration. That cheered him up as Vincent excitedly bombarded Salem with several questions, which the Sage was happy to answer. Eventually, the rest of the emissaries slowly warmed up to the boy. He did put a smile on their faces, after all, letting them forget the stress of diplomacy.

Years later, Vincent became one of the most successful emissaries of the Clan. Poised, level-headed and savvy as he performed his duties with a sense of professionalism, tempered with a talent of of reaching out and connecting to other parties. Occasionally he would bring little gifts, trinkets that he picked for his now-elderly mother and his brother, Ariel from his missions. In one of his diplomatic mission to the Umbran Clan, he accompanied Salem for a meeting when he met a young Umbran assassin who went by the name of Gonzalo. The two bonded instantly over the fact they were the younger siblings of the family and curiosity about inter-Clan differences. When the mission was over, he promised to send him letters, making sure to keep Gonzalo updated with what’s going on. Vincent fell in love with one of the Lumen healers, Balqis, who originated from Palestine. Attracted by her gentle demeanor, humility and a wisdom beyond her years, Vincent sought to woo her by following the best advice: being himself.That meant a lot of questions: where she came from from, what Palestine was like,who taught her those skills…in short he asked everything under the sun about her. Balqis was annoyed at first but grew to find it adorable, and found herself eventually enjoying his company. She admired every small details from his determined green eyes to the awestruck expression when she answers his questions. After years of courting, secret rendezvous and dinner dates, they finally married under the watchful eyes of the Clan Elders, their families and his mentor, Salem. The couple then were blessed with a pair of twins, boy named Haikal Iskandar and a girl named Raudhatul Aisya, everything was right in the world.

Alas, those tranquil days were over when news of a child, born under the union of a Witch and a Sage had spread far and wide, corrupting the Elders’ mind with poison as they had banned their kin from ever visiting their counterparts. It also had affected the emissaries negatively, for they were no more playful banter in the air and cheers in the air as they revert to their old ways, cold and emotionless. Even Salem wasn’t immune to this, as he began to grew distant towards his proteges including Vincent, his beloved former student. Vincent understood why his former mentor acted the way he did but it still hurt him greatly, missing his hearty laughs and and cheesy jokes. The tension started to built, and soon, war erupted between the Clans. No one knew what triggered it, but they all saw it coming. Vincent, fought alongside with his fellow Sages to defeat the Witches, albeit with a broken heart as blood, corpses and empty bullets covered the battlefield. Terrified of what became of his family, he rushed back to the Clan only to be greeted with a scene that would haunt him for eternity. Piles of bodies lying on the floor, with signs of terrible battles carved on once pristine walls and pillars, and lost to their Umbran counterpart. He checked every single one of the dead Sages until Vincent found Balqis in the most terrible way. She was leaning on one of the pillars, hanging on for dear life as she struggled to stand up and limped towards Vincent before collapsing, not before he caught her. Tears flown from those hazel beautiful eyes, her hand weakly caressing his cheek, begging to look after their children and told him that their children were taken to safety by his father, Kaiser, and with her last breath, she kissed him goodbye before being claimed by the passage of time. Vincent broke down immediately, despair and anguish filled the atmosphere as he cried for the loss of his love, his comrades and the destruction of the Clan. Doleful, he buried Balqis somewhere nobody can reach before leaving runes, charms and flowers to guard her final resting place before he wailed in pure agony, blaming himself for not saving his family time. Once the war was over, he traveled to his late wife’s birth country, dedicating his life to study the nature of knowledge and it’s limitations.

Centuries passed quickly like grains of sand, Vincent who now goes by the name of Badrul Iskandar is a world renowned scholar, famous for his research on religion, humanity and magic. Living peacefully in the outskirts of Salzburg, Vincent reminisce those bittersweet memories, wondering how his family are now doing . Lately, he often frequents at his brother’s restaurant to catch up with what’s been happening, abusing his status as a sibling for free meals, or cracking up dad jokes much to Ariel’s dismay.

Beasts within : Hound within(West Siberian Laika) Falcon within(Red-footed falcon) Insect within(Asian giant hornet) Otter within(Eurasian otter)

Lead Laguna: Seshat, goddess of wisdom, knowledge and writing.

Extra:

Is particularly fond of seafood and tends to bug Ariel to cook a seafood paella just for him.

Every year on a certain summer’s day, he always went back to Vigrid to pay respect for his late mother, Natalia, and his late wife, Balqis. He would leave their favorite flowers on their tombstones so they won’t feel sad.

Because of his height, he enjoys teasing his brother and calls him ‘little brother’ for fun. Occasionally he gets head-butted by the angry Inquisitor for that remark.

Despite appearing serious and what-not, he’s very fond of animals and currently owns two rescue cats, Minerva, an old Maine Coon, and, Surya, a young Siamese.

Extremely allergic of peanuts and would get terrible rashes should he ever ingested some.

He remains loyal to his wife the point where he closed his heart off from love.

Whenever his father, Kaiser, came for a visit, Vincent would store all of his fragile pieces due to his tendency to wreck stuff up unintentionally.

When he heard that his son, Haikal, is having a relationship with a witch, Vincent is worried about their well-being but overall he gave them blessings.

He is brokenhearted when his wife’s home country is ravaged and their people killed in cold blood but he saw ferocity and resilience in those eyes,refusing to let their land be defiled

He taught both of his children the same way his father taught him, with humility, grace and pride.

Vincent enjoys people’s reaction when his daughter, Aisya, is being her unapologetic self, knowing that they often underestimate her.

He treated Gonzalo like his own brother and often enjoys watching his perfomance alongside his family and Samson.

His family are polyglot and it certainly help Vincent every time he traveled abroad for business.

Will beat the ever-loving shit out of people who refused to respect his personal space.

Despite being a Sage, he’s extremely proficient in firearms, able to shoot from glocks to machine guns. He learned how during his time in WW2 when he fought against the Nazis.

Protective of Ariel especially when the older brother gets approached by a very persistent suitor.

Over the time, he began to appreciate the art of memes and dad jokes which Kaiser seems to be proud. Ariel however isn’t.

#Vincent #Vinnie #bayonetta oc #bayo oc redesign #meme dad #he just love memes #but will knock your teeth out if used for hate #don't provoke him tho #not someone to be trifled with

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greetthedawn · 7 years

Link

AN:

Welcome back to another chapter! With Kataang Week behind us now, I'm dedicating myself to finishing this story before I return to school in September.

That said, now that we've followed the game's playable missions to completion, I'm going to take small turns away from the Ubisoft-sanctioned ending. You see, there was more about the canon that bothered me than just Mary's death. I didn't find it very compelling, and I hope that you all like the changes I'm going to make. That said, I set out three years ago to write this story for myself, and I intend to stay true to the vision I had when I finished Black Flag for the first time. So please, no negativity if you happen like things the way they are.

I'm going to be posting a chapter tomorrow as well. Originally, they were written as one unit but I decided, for pacing's sake, that they were best broken up into their own parts. I know they're shorter than other chapters on their own, but really you're getting a normal length chapter in total, so it all balances out!

Now let's begin.

We live in the rain, a sea of change

You can't keep anything you take

The lovely face of lives we chase

Is but dust for wind to take

When all is gone, the only loss

To not have loved at every cost

When you can say, and I can say, we loved with every step we take

I'll be okay

The sun cast beautiful gray and pink lights across Great Inagua's port. The early autumn air was pleasantly cool, and the water lapped gently at the shores below Edward's mansion. Sailors and dancers milled about the town, their voices rising up the cliffs in hushed tones. It was a calm, peaceful evening. The young captain felt out of place in it.

He sat on the patio, tracing the lip of his tankard with his pinky finger. His eyes scanned the piece of parchment sitting on table in front of him for the sixth time, and the words made his vision cloud. He blinked hard against the stinging sensation, and the mist solidified into a tear that rolled down his cheek. With a grunt, irritated at his own weakness, he tossed back the last of the rum in his glass and reached for another bottle, emptying half its contents into his tankard.

Caroline was dead. Rose, a member of the Scott family staff whom he'd always been fond of, had penned the letter. He'd fallen too far out of favor with his wife's parents for either of them to bother themselves with responding to him with the news. She had caught smallpox and passed away two years earlier. All this time he'd been worrying about transforming his life, being the man she deserved, but he'd been too late from the very start.

It had all been for nothing. The past year had been for nothing if he hadn't been doing it for her. His efforts were worthless.

He felt worthless. The drink hand numbed every sensation, bar that one. That one, it let riddle him.

To his left he heard footsteps on the stairs. Mary's boots clicked against the stone steps, and he turned to find a concerned look on her face. He ground his teeth and turned away, quickly folding the letter and shoving it in his pocket.

"Can I join you?" she asked. There was a tentative tone to her voice, which was a rare emotion for such an assertive woman.

With a heavy sigh, he nodded and waved a hand toward the seat across from him. She ignored his gesture and settled at his side. "So have you read it yet?"

"Aye." His voice was ragged with emotion, and the tears threatened to spring forth once again. He hadn't wanted to read it on the ship with her and their crew watching. He'd waited until they had arrived in his cove that morning, when he could finally be alone. She'd left him to it all day, though he knew she must have been worried when he never came to find her to discuss its contents.

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but her touch only made the torrent in his chest swell with guilt. "And? What news of home?" And after a after a long pause, "What news of your wife?"

The lump in his throat became nearly unbearable. He gruffly shook off her hand and turned his head away. At his side, he could feel her bristle defensively. "Talking about it will help nothing. Fix nothing."

"Edward, I'm your best mate, am I not?" Her tone was concerned, but slightly aggressive. He'd offended her, he knew that, but he didn't have room in his head to worry about what strain he could be putting on their already-taxed relationship. "You shouldn't sit on this alone. If you can't tell me then who can you tell?"

He whipped his head around to face her, and his voice came out as a low growl. "I can't. I can't tell anyone, Mary, that's the bloody fucking problem. All my friends are dead. My fucking wife is dead, and it's my fault." His voice grew closer to a shout with every word. He shoved his chair back from the table, the wood grating uncomfortably loud against the stone tiles, and he stood sharply.

She was taken aback by the news. Mary's expression softened and she opened her mouth to speak, words of condolence, he assumed, but he cut her off.

"And you," he shouted. "You're not my best mate. You never were just that, Mary, and you know why. Do you know how it eats me up inside that I've wasted my life here with you when I should have been at home, in Bristol, protecting Caroline? Taking care of Caroline?"

That made her angry. He'd crossed a line. She leaped to her feet and was in his face in a second, spitting right back. "Wasted on me? I'm not your fucking gold, Kenway! I'm no prize to be fought for or to be won. I have never needed you. You're not protecting me. I do that myself, and I always have. I don't need your 'care'. If you need a woman to make you feel needed then aye, you should have never left home. You shouldn't have been out here, building yourself up, and for what? For her? It was never about your wife, never about me. You need to get your story straight with yourself before you start blaming those who have wasted years of their energy trying to get you on the right path before you destroy everyone else around you."

The fire, the anger, the hurt in her eyes quelled the rage he felt, but her words reignited it and flipped it right back around onto him. "A great lot of good your efforts have wrought then. Destroy, I have done indeed. You'd best run back to Tulum before I tear you off the face of this earth too. My final failure." He snatched his tankard off the table, knocking over the pile empty bottles, and stalked toward the house.

"Don't you get it, Kenway?" Mary shouted after him. "I'm here for you. When I got sick, I could have easily given in, but I didn't." She got up from the table and chased after him, grabbing his arm so he had to turn and look at her. "I stayed because I wasn't ready to give up on you. I stayed because I had faith that you could be someone great. Someone who helps instead of harms."

"Yeah?" Edward countered. "How can you believe that, Mary? You can see the corpses as well as I, littered at my feet wherever I walk. Time and time again I've proved you wrong, at every damned turn. When are you going to get it? You are wrong about me."

Her grip on his arm loosened. "Belief is not about seeing, Edward. Your actions in the past year have saved a dozen lives for every one you have cost in all the years before. You couldn't save her. You can't save them all. But I have too many reasons not to give up on you. So don't give up on yourself."

In that moment, Edward surrendered himself to his emotions. He sank to the ground, leaning on a beam, and began to quietly weep. "All of this," he mumbled. "All of this was supposed to be for her. This house, my gold, my new life… I wanted to be the husband she deserved. So what am I fighting for now?" He searched her eyes, silently begging for her to give him answers. Meaning.

She shook her head in response, crouching at his side.. "Don't do it for her. Don't do it for the Creed. Don't even do it for me. You have to want it for yourself."

Somehow, that was the answer he'd been looking for all his life. He'd done what he'd wanted for most of his life, to the detriment of those who'd loved him most. But he'd wanted the wrong things, destructive things, evil, selfish things. When he'd made the decision to better himself, he was lost, searching for purpose in all the wrong places because, surely, the only way to change was to live for someone else for once.

But that had been the wrong approach. If he was going to do this the right way, if he was going to be everything he knew he could be, he had to follow his own path, be his own man. Just… a better man than before.

He needed to be complete in himself before he could be any good for anyone else.

He reached up and touched her face. She'd been steering him in the right direction as long as he'd known her, but she never did anything for him. She always stepped back and expected him to stand on his own two feet, and he did the same for her. And that's why he loved being with her. She wasn't the other half to his whole. They were two complete people. And, together, they were unstoppable. "I'm sorry I shouted at you," he muttered. "I'm grieving, and I'm angry. But not at you."

She gave him a soft smile. "I know, Edward. And you'll have to forgive yourself for those things eventually, but no one would expect it all to happen at once." She offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet.

He pulled her into a hug, needing her comfort. "Be patient with me?"

She let out a dark chuckle. "I think I am, don't you?"

He laughed too. "Not always as I'd like you to be, but that's my fault, not yours." He pulled back to look in her fawn brown eyes, and there was a warmth there that he yearned for. With nerves and emotions running wild through his veins and trembling hands, he finally allowed himself to lean in and softly, tenderly press his lips to hers. She leaned into his embrace and kissed back with all the affection and care that had been absent from their frustrated tryst that night on the Jackdaw. When they pulled apart, he held her gaze and whispered, "Do you know, I am hopelessly in love with you?"

She smirked. "Of course I do. Just as I know you've no clue I've been in love with you, too."

That took him aback. One of his greatest sources of dissonance for months, the question of her love, and she treated it as obvious. "You have? For how long?"

"Since that speech you gave to your men before invading this cove," she answered. "You remember?"

He chuckled, fighting back a face-splitting grin. "I had no idea it was such a good speech."

She shook her head in mild amusement at his self-flattery. "It was the first real glimpse I saw of the man you could become. The man who wanted more than simple gold and drink, but a life of peace and prosperity for those who placed their safety in his hands. Your men believed in you, and because of them, so did I. I grew to admire you, and then, to love you."

Her words warmed his heart in a way it hadn't been since Ah Tabai had placed the letter in his hands four days earlier. His throat tightened again, with joy instead of grief this time. "I hope I can honor the faith you place in me." His voice shook.

She leaned in and kissed him again. "You already have, ever since I wrote to you last year. The man you were would never have come without an explanation or incentive. But you took a chance on a nothing."

He looked down at the brave, fearsome, dedicated woman in front of him and he felt small. She knew him so completely that he felt naked under her gaze, vulnerable and unable to hide any part of himself from her. For all his mistakes, for all his shortcomings and failures, she saw him for what he was, and somehow still deemed him worthy to stand at her side. It was for that reason that he knew he had to trust her above even himself. He knew no one with clearer sight than her.

How do you love when your heart is broken?

How do you speak when you feel outspoken?

I can forgive, and be forgiven

By learning to heal with a heart wide open

Edward awoke early the next morning. Soft, gray light streamed through the gap in the curtains, signaling the first hints of sunrise. As he came to, he realized gladly that his headache was only minor, in spite of all the drinking and crying he'd done the day before.

He looked to his right and blinked until his eyes could focus on Mary's sleeping form. Her hair was down, cast across her shoulders and back which were turned to him. He reached out to trace the line of her boyish figure under the covers. He didn't want to wake her, but he needed reassurance that he wasn't still dreaming.

They hadn't made love that night. He'd always imagined that when he could finally have her the way he'd dreamed he wouldn't waste any time making her his in every earthly way. But it hadn't been like that. They'd stayed up late into the night, talking about Caroline, and of Bristol. He told her about his parents, whom he missed dearly. His father had passed some years ago, but he hoped one day his mother, Lisette, would be able to meet her. He wondered what his mother would think of his choice in partner, if they lasted that long together. Caroline had been exactly the kind of woman they'd predicted he'd marry: intelligent, sharp-tongued, elegant. Mary was the first two things, undoubtedly, but she challenged the third with her habit for piracy and murder. Edward considered it important for love to be born of common ground, but he doubted his mother would understand or approve of their bonding over such things.

He swung he legs over the side of the bed and made for his study. On his way through he snatched a biscuit off the dining table that was left uneaten from the previous night's supper and munched on it lazily, leaning against his desk and watching the sun creep over the horizon. Color spilled into the cove.

When the sun sat about a finger's-width above the sea, footsteps from behind him announced Mary's entrance. She perched on the desk beside him and took the biscuit from his hands, breaking off half for herself before handing it back. "Morning," she whispered peacefully, rubbing the small of his back with her free hand.

"You're up early," he commented, leaning his head against her shoulder.

"You roused me getting out of bed. Couldn't get back to sleep."

"I suppose we're going to have to adjust to sharing a bed," he remarked hopefully.

She sighed. "In due time. I'm quite fond of my little cabin on the cliff."

"Oh?" he questioned, glancing up at her. "More fond than you are of me?"

She smirked. "Depends."

"On?"

"How much you irk me on a given day." She placed a small kiss on his forehead.

"Ah, so your love for me is changeable then."

"I don't have to like you to love you, mate."

He chuckled softly. "Suppose I'll have to up my game, then." He placed a hand on her neck and pulled her in for a kiss.

"I suppose you will," she agreed with a light smile before their lips connected.

They sat there watching the sunrise and eating their breakfast until it was too light outside to be considered dawn anymore.

Mary turned to him after a long few minutes of silence. "Are you ready?"

He nodded, the sadness beginning to swell back up in him. "Aye,"

"And you've picked a place?"

"Aye." He straightened himself and she slipped off the desk. He lifted a small wooden box from a shelf as they exited into the main house and then out into the gardens. The dirt crunched softly under their bare feet as they trudged up the slope on the western side to the highest point of the yard. Together, they lifted the table there and moved it to a lower tier of earth. Edward relocated the chairs while Mary ran down to the shed to retrieve shovels

The view from the spot he'd picked was beautiful. To the left sat the waterwheel atop a lightly bubbling creek. Facing front were the gardens and house spanned out before him. At to the right, just a glimpse of the sea.

Mary returned, handing him a spade, and they set about digging a hole roughly half a meter deep.

From his pockets, he procured every letter that Caroline had written him since he'd left for the West Indies. Twenty-seven letters over the course of ten years, including the last from Rose. They'd only been married for a few months the last time he'd seen her. By all rights, he'd hardly known her.

"I'll leave you to it," Mary brushed his shoulder with her hand as she passed, taking the shovels back to the garden shed.

Edward knelt and opened the box he'd brought outside with them. He removed the key from inside and gently replaced it with the pile of letters. He'd read through them all one last time the previous night with Mary. The ink was fading badly in the oldest few, the parchment deteriorating with the years just as his marriage had. The gaps between the dates on each grew larger and larger with each letter as their correspondence became strained and unfamiliar.

He locked the box and lowered it into the earth.

For a long time, he sat and stared at the hole. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what he could say to Caroline in death that would absolve his sins against her in life.

Finally he sighed, and spoke what he was thinking in spite of the reaction he imagined she might have. "Two years. I promised you two years, and it turned into ten. I often wonder if I should have let you marry that hotheaded son of a merchant that your father had picked out for you. I know you disparaged the thought of attaching yourself to him, and I loved you for having the bravery to follow your heart. I wanted more for you than that, though. My love was enough for you, and I didn't listen. I never listened." The tears were flowing freely by that point. "I hope you lived in love. I hope you found the happiness that I was never content enough to give you. I'm sorry I didn't come home to you all those times you pleaded with me to leave this life behind." He grabbed a fistful of dirt and tossed it on top of the box. "I wasn't there to bury you, but now I bury the record of my failures on your behalf. I'm becoming the man you wanted me to be, a satisfied, respectable man. I hope you've found a lasting peace, down among the dead."

He set about pushing the rest of the dirt back into the hole. To his right, Mary returned, carrying a large circle of wood in her hands.

"Do you mind?" she asked softly.

He shook his head and wiped away a tear, smearing his face with dirt. "Please, come." He waved her closer. "What do you have there?'

She passed the object to him. "We can make a more permanent marker, but I figured she needed something to start with."

She'd handed him the top of a barstool. Puzzled, he flipped it over and, realizing what it was, began to laugh.

Caroline Scott-Kenway

Beloved Wife

1691-1720

"You broke a chair to make my wife a headstone?" he asked her between sad giggles.

She gave him a lopsided smile. "Just until we can have a proper one fixed."

He did his best to wedge the wooden circle into the small mound of dirt and then stood. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she draped hers over his shoulder. "You're a wonder, Mary Read."

"And you're a good man, Edward Kenway." She nodded at the stool top. "I know she saw that as well as I."

He took her hand. "Come on. Let's get this dirt cleaned off us."

With open hearts, despite the stakes

We take a chance on our mistakes

A brand new day, we will embrace

An open wound that heals with grace

All the fears that we will face

In this time and in this place

When you can say, and I can say

We loved with every step we take

I'll be okay

Song: I’ll Be OK - Nothing More

#Assassin's Creed #Edward Kenway #Mary Read #James Kidd #Kiddway #Come With Me Now #CWMN Full Chapters

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kyuu-rereads-umineko · 7 years

Text

Ep5, Chapter 14 (Part 2) & 15

It’s been four months, let’s get back to this. I think I can get through the rest of this okay.

...WHO AM I KIDDING NO I CAN’T AAAAAAAAA

“A plea bargain. If you acknowledge that Krauss is the culprit, Erika will suspend her pursuit with regards to Natsuhi.” bernkastel really is true neutral right

Beato hesitates, and Natsuhi rejects the offer entirely. Bern points out that if Beato loses here - if Natsuhi’s found guilty - then she’s as good as dead.

Ronove and Gaap argue that, since Bern and Lambda are really just bored and want to be entertained, it’d be in Beato’s best interests to concede and put the blame on Krauss, while Beato refuses to abandon this kakera’s Natsuhi.

“I won’t abandon her! Even if everyone believes that Natsuhi is the culprit, I will still claim that I, the witch, am the culprit...!! If I can’t even make that claim, my existence isn’t worth anything...!!” Maybe I’m reading into this too much, seeing as this is coming from Natsuhi’s piece-Beato instead of Yasu-Beato, but... This is really sad and painful to read.

Beato boldly proclaims that Krauss isn’t the culprit, and Bern responds in red: “Ushiromiya Krauss is not the culprit. And he was killed long ago, shortly after you heard his voice over the phone, get it?” jeez lion is absolutely ruthless in ep5. I’m really curious as to what Land of the Golden Witch’s version of Lion/Yasu as the man from 19 years ago would’ve been like...

“[Natsuhi] had now lost her daughter and husband... and everything she had gained since marrying into the Ushiromiya family.”

While the circumstances are obviously different - Yasu didn’t marry into the family, and she didn’t have children - it occurs to me that in a lot of ways, Natsuhi is a “parallel” of Yasu herself.

I mean, just off the top of my head... They both get “shabby form” or some such used against them at some point or another, they both have some sort of physical problem preventing them from having children (though it’s temporary and of a far lesser magnitude for Natsuhi), they’ve both “lost everything,” they’re both reliant on magic and mental gymnastics to keep themselves going day by day, they’ve both got issues (again, of differing severities) regarding Kinzo...

“Even wrapped up in so much sadness... Natsuhi would do all she could to protect [the family’s] honour... With this final bit of strength...” ...and while their goals are very different, I feel like there’s a parallel to draw between Natsuhi here and Yasu putting such a dedicated effort into her murder setups, despite how overwhelmed with grief they are.

And with that, everyone except Natsuhi has an alibi for the first twilight, leaving her as the only possible suspect...

Lambda proclaims that Natsuhi is responsible for the murders of the first twilight, and Bern says, “Let me add something. Due to circumstantial evidence, include the murder of Krauss.” TRUE NEUokay i’ll stop now

“From this point onward, the defendant will be treated as the true culprit.”

Lambda also denies Beato’s existence... oh noooo

“Even if her alibi is not proven... I will believe in Natsuhi’s innocence!! No matter how much you try to pin your fake truth on her!!” Thinking about it, this is indicative of how Beato and Battler are playing into each other’s character development, isn’t it? We just had Battler declare that he’d believe in Natsuhi no matter what, and now Beato’s saying the same thing. The two of them have more in common than either of them realize.

“The truth is known only by the master of the night on this island, Beatrice the Golden. I am Ushiromiya Natsuhi! Now that my husband has passed away, I am the head of the Ushiromiya family!!” natsuhi...

Natsuhi repeats her claim that Kinzo said she has the One-Winged Eagle engraved into her heart, and Bern says she’ll leave one last red truth as a parting gift. Beato immediately catches on and begs her not to...

“Natsuhi. When did Kinzo ever say it was okay for you to engrave the One-Winged Eagle into your heart? [...] You know, the real Kinzo... Not once in his entire life did he ever trust you from the bottom of his heart, and not once did he ever consider letting you bear the family crest!” Kinzo stands up and shouts at Natsuhi not to listen...

“The real Kinzo wouldn’t say that. Disappear. You, the illusion of Kinzo inside Natsuhi’s mind, beautified by her to suit her own purposes.” MAGIC 101

In hindsight, though, this is really painfully obvious. The scenes with Natsuhi & co. on the board in Ep5 are framed similarly (imo at least) to Ange & the Stakes in Ep4, which is also paralleled in piece!Beato ruthlessly erasing Gaap after returning to the study (when Battler fails his test). Bernkastel’s flat-out explained what magic is. She’s done it in a completely loveless manner, of course, but it’s still right there.

“Some last, faint element that had cheered her up until today, that had allowed her to endure as an Ushiromiya, as the wife to the head’s representative... and as the final family head... had been torn to bits.” Again, I’m reminded of what happens to Ange and Yasu when they’re cornered and their magic isn’t enough to get them by anymore. They break under the weight of everything, and it’s... really tragic and painful to watch.

The audience applauds, “and so... the ‘truth’ of this tale... was decided.”

And we see the introduction as it takes place, only chronologically this time. Eva starts attacking Natsuhi, and everyone just... stands back and lets it happen.

Everyone except Battler, who tries to intervene only to get brushed aside. I might have ragged on the guy a lot in the past, but Battler is really a good guy.

Erika intervenes, asking Natsuhi to provide her motive. She screams that she’s innocent, but “because Lambdadelta had acknowledged that the culprit of the tale was Natsuhi and woven it that way, none of the pieces would pay and heed to Natsuhi’s... to ‘the culprit’s’ words...”

Beato faintly appears and screams that she’s the culprit, and Erika denies her existence, because of course she does.

“Goodbye, Beatrice. I made you a witch expecting that you would either become my friend or help distract me from my boredom. And you’ve answered to my expectations... The second one, that is.”

Oooh, I’d completely forgotten this exchange. Beato proclaims that she’s still a witch, “even if Lady Lambdadelta doesn’t acknowledge it,” and Lambda replies that Beato “wouldn’t even be capable of believing that” if it weren’t for her assistance in the first place. That’s right, Lambda acknowledged Yasu’s catbox and allowed her to ascend to the Meta-World as Beatrice, didn’t she?

Beato’s thrown to the crowd of goats so they can devour her, but Dlanor intervenes.

“My apologies, but I have something to SAY. There is someone who has an objection to this RULING. His name is... Ushiromiya Battler.”

Battler’s at a loss, and Dlanor says, “There is nothing that is not healed with TIME. And there is no truth that cannot be reached if you spend enough time SEARCHING.” GO BATTLER

...Oh yeah, she immediately points out that the time limit for the trial is almost out. NO BATTLER

“...I have no plan. I don’t know the truth. However... If I don’t jump in now, I won’t get another chance to fight...”

“Begin, Battler!! Ready to let those goats turn you into a pile of meat along with your beloved Beatrice?!” something someth-

“Oh, and I’ll mix the leftovers from your precious sister into that pile.” BERN BEAT ME TO IT

Battler tries frantically to penetrate Erika’s seals somehow (lol duct tape), but since he doesn’t have an actual explanation, it doesn’t amount to anything.

“...Do you have any chance of winning...?” “...I left it at home. Mind if I go back and get it?” even in circumstances like this

“I promised that I’d kill you. So I won’t let anyone else do it. I’ll definitely keep that promise...!!” battler

Beato, of course, immediately calls BS, and Battler’s confused as to what she could be talking about. It’s easy to lose in the atmosphere and tension of the proceedings, but that’s definitely a big clue as to the nature of Battler’s sin, huh?

“Heh... After hearing you say that, hell might not be so bad. [...] Kill us! Bernkastel, Lambdadelta...!!” And Beato sobs and laughs hysterically. I really wonder - How much does this piece Beato actually know? Is the “truth” she doesn’t know just who the culprit of Ep5′s gameboard is? Is it the truth - the heart - of Umineko’s gameboard as a whole (i.e. Yasu)? I certainly thought it was the latter, but with lines like this... I’m not sure.

Battler frantically starts throwing out completely invalid blue truths, which Dlanor & co. effortlessly cut down since they violate either previous red truths or Knox’s Decalogue. Battler...

“Erika didn’t personally examine the corpses, right?! It should be possible for people who aren’t the detective to make a mistake when examining the corpses!!” Cornelia replies, “Know that no examination of the corpses could have been mistaken!”

This wordplay is one of the meanest parts of Ep5, in my opinion. While the red is carefully worded to avoid saying that the victims of the first twilight are already “corpses” when they’re found, it’s certainly implicit, especially this line here, from Beato earlier in the Ep: “At a glance, anyone could confirm that these corpses are dead, so it is absolutely impossible that they are just people playing dead.” It’s hard to see a way around that, unless you already know what the trick is!

Beato asks Battler to stop, and let the two of them die together. “I don’t... want to see Beato like this...”

“Her majesty as the ruler of the Golden Land... her enthusiasm as my rival... are completely gone. She’s just a pitiful woman who’s been trampled over and who has last all hope, with tears streaming down her face and a tragic smile that I can’t bear to look at...” Beato...

Battler resigns himself to oblivion by using his trump card, hoping that someone will eventually show up who’s able to break through Erika’s truth. “Well... it looks like I’ll have to break my promise to kill you after all.”

Beato begs Battler not to do it, and to let the two of them die together. I’d forgotten this...

The music kicks back into high gear, and... “Ushiromiya Natsuhi is not the culprit!!!”

Only to stop immediately. “Knox’s 2nd. It is forbidden for supernatural agencies to be employed as a detective technique.”

“See...? Real truth... is a very fragile thing. ...Does real truth exist...? And is it necessary...?”

Dlanor asks Battler to either prove his statement, or it’s over. “Then... goodbye. ...Sorry, Beato.”

“...Don’t say that. Thanks for sticking around with me. ...It was such a blood-stained tale... but it was fun...”

And so Battler gets skewered by the giant longsword, and Beato vanishes.

Back on the board, Erika’s about to lay out Natsuhi’s motive. i... am not ready for this.........

She explains that Natsuhi was basically forced to marry into the Ushiromiya family, and uses Natsuhi’s old diaries to support it. Natsuhi concedes that while she did resent the family as a result before, Krauss’s support eventually changed her mind. Erika argues that she didn’t accept Krauss’s feelings, since there’s a passage to that effect in one of the diaries.

“D... Does anyone need evidence to say they’re in love...?!”

Erika says. “Statements that aren’t red don’t count as evidence at all, and they can’t be trusted at all! All non-red letters are falsehoods that exist to deceive me!!” That’s pretty telling, isn’t it?

Similar to Eva’s diary in Ep8, it’s mentioned that Natsuhi’s diaries don’t exist for the purpose of describing her true feelings, but for catharsis - she wrote down what happened and how she felt at the time so she could let go of those emotions and move on. I dunno if that’s an intentional parallel, but it’s an interesting one.

Everyone accepts Erika’s reasoning, though Battler still hesitantly asks if Natsuhi’s really the culprit. Erika says there’s one other person it could be - Kinzo.

Erika says she’s got more than enough evidence to provide a motive for Kinzo. I’m curious as to what that motive would be, tbh... Assuming it’s not “ceremony to revive Beatrice.”

Natsuhi, of course, rejects Erika’s proposition entirely. “If they were going to call her the culprit... she would let them.”

“I think... Truth is a fleeting thing. Even if I am a good person until my death... If some heartless person after my death overwrites the records and says that I wasn’t a good person, and if that is shared with everyone else... Then even all the goodness in which I lived my life will be overwritten easily.”

Back in the cathedral, the witches and Natsuhi are the only ones left. Even though everyone there knows Kinzo’s dead already via red truth, Bern still wants to force Natsuhi to admit it herself. oh no...........

“Lambda. I’m going to make Kinzo’s location from 24:00 until the morning absolutely clear. From 24:00 until morning, Kinzo stayed in the same room.”

She also adds that Kinzo doesn’t exist outside the mansion, because lol detective’s authority (aka Erika couldn’t find any trace of him outside).

On the board, Erika lays out that they’ve searched everywhere in-depth except the second floor. Bern elevates that to red, saying “The only place Kinzo could possibly exist is the second floor.”

Erika takes everyone to search the second floor in-depth, starting from one end and checking every single room, until only Natsuhi’s is left. oh no.........

”Kinzo does not exist anywhere outside Natsuhi’s room!” “In other words, from 24:00 until morning, Kinzo was always holed up in the same room. And that was Natsuhi’s room!”

Bern offers her one last chance to pin the blame on someone else. “Call the Ushiromiya family head a criminal and crush the head’s honour to protect yourself. If you show that you have the guts to do that, I’ll change the plot into one of a tragic heroine taking the blame to protect the family head.”

“During the night, between 24:00 and morning, there exists no place for a living Kinzo to exist except inside your bed. [...] And last night, Natsuhi also slept in that same bed.”

“Blue truth. Therefore, it is suspected that Ushiromiya Natsuhi and Ushiromiya Kinzo had sexual relations with each other. Why else would a man and a woman share the same bed all night long?”

Natsuhi, of course, vehemently denies it. This is really hard to read... Natsuhi...

“By my name as the Game Master, Lambdadelta! I acknowledge that Lady Bernkastel is the victor of this game. ...If anyone has any objections, state your name now!!”

Of course, there are none. Battler’s dead, and Beato & co. have been erased. Bern proceeds to weave a kakera containing the “truth” of the story.

I don’t have a lot to say about the crime outline here. The important additions are 1) that Natsuhi disguised herself as Beatrice to get close to Kinzo, and 2) that Kinzo hid the corpses of the first twilight.

In this kakera, of course, Bernkastel has Natsuhi confess to the crime. Natsuhi...

In the parlour, Natsuhi screams and cries. At this point, even Battler seems to be accepting Erika’s “truth.”

“This is... your revenge, isn’t it...? You, the man from 19 years ago...!!”

“Are you happy now? Has a bit of that pain and suffering you’ve endured for 19 years gone away...?! I finally understand... The reason you’ve cornered me so far... is because you wanted to make me acknowledge that, right...?”

"...I will confess to a murder that occurred 19 years ago.”

And so Natsuhi begins explaining what happened in 1967. Unlike her earlier recollection with Beato & co., the servant carrying baby Lion followed her around.

The two of them arrive at the cliff, and Natsuhi reflects, “If by taking that baby... and throwing it down onto the rocky beach far below me... I could undo it all...”

The servant stumbles, falling against the fence, and Natsuhi commits her sin - when the servant fell against the fence, she reached forward and pushed her away, off the edge of the cliff.

“I didn’t even hear the sound of them crashing to the rocky beach. No, I’m sure I heard it. But because I wanted to think that they’d disappeared... I must have erased that sound from my memory...”

“I must have been wishing that the child would fall from here so much that I just had a daydream...”

Even though Natsuhi reflects on having stolen two lives, she realizes that the baby must still be alive. Well, she’s not wrong - the moment the servant went over the cliff, “Lion” as a possibility was killed.

“Right here, right now, I’ll confess to my crime! I, Ushiromiya Natsuhi... did 19 years ago... push you off a cliff... and try to kill you... But... you didn’t die, did you...”

“For these 19 years... You knew that the one you should have called your mother pushed you off a cliff... and you must have lived a very hate-filled life...”

“How’s that...? Is this enough... for your revenge...? My husband and daughter have been killed!! I’ve been made to look like a murderer... like an adulteress, even... After seeing me living in disgrace like this... Are you satisfied...?!”

Natsuhi breaks down in tears, and Erika callously brushes it off, because of course she does.

“Can you hear me?! You, the cursed child from 19 years ago...!! Are you satisfied now?! You’ve stolen everything from me!! What else could you want?! ...Please, just... forgive me...”

The screen fades to black, and then...

“...It’s useless, isn’t it... It’s all useless. ...Yeah. ...It’s useless, isn’t it... It’s all useless...”

Natsuhi lets out a short scream, and the credits roll.

#kyuutext #umineko #umineko no naku koro ni chiru #end of the golden witch

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