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illyaana · 3 years

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Squiggles - Oikawa Tooru

Thanks to @pocky-writes for this collab! It was so fun to do~ Check out all the other writers involved in the collab here ヾ(•ω•`)o

Tags: Oikawa's POV, Angst, Minor Fluff, Cursing, Kissing, SFW, Manga Spoiler (Oikawa and Iwaizumi's future jobs)

Synopsis: You entered Oikawa's life - and it hasn't been the same ever since. (If I give anymore, it'll be spoilers TwT) (I also named Oikawa's sis Miho-)

Word Count: 4334

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All stories are basically a squiggly line - it has ups and downs with multiple loops in random spots. Some parts might be thicker or shorter than others, but all points of the story make up a giant, huge squiggly line that either brings you joy or sadness. I wanted my story to be as thick and long as possible - to outshine all the other squiggles the world has to offer. It was going to be the best squiggle ever until you came along and made it loopier and uneven.

I remember the first day you came into our class so vividly.

I had rushed to the school to copy Iwa-chan’s homework. The Kitagawa Daiichi blazer I wore was soaked in sweat thanks to me running a few blocks in several minutes. Of course, Iwa was in the classroom, waiting for school to start. He had rolled up his sleeves and was reading the literature component assigned to us - the very book I never touched ever since volleyball practices began.

“You are of a different breed, Oikawa,” Iwa-chan mumbled as he passed his book to me, “This is the last time you’re doing this.”

No, it isn’t.

“Yes, sir.”

I pulled out my book and began to move at top speed, hoping I would finish before class began.

That’s when you opened the door, breaking my concentration.

You were glowing. The school blazer seemed so big on you - as if someone with a bigger physique gave it to you - but you look so precious in it. You had a jump in your step, a wide smile plastered on your face. Your hair looked so soft even from a mile away. You seemed so at peace with everything - even when you entered a new school.

You carried yourself with such confidence it scared me.

I loved being the confident one, the hot one, the cheerful one - yet you stole those roles from me the second you walked into the school campus.

I didn’t know what I felt; was it inferiority or was it just pure admiration? Maybe a combination of both?

All of this… It was so new to me.

I was always surrounded by those who were eager for my approval - to be part of my posse and be connected to me in some way, but I just wanted to be around you. It was the first time I ever took an interest in anyone excluding my volleyball team.

It’s weird, isn’t it? The feeling of warmth rushing through your skin, but your throat just feels tight - it doesn’t want you to say anything you would regret, so it tries to hold you back. Your palms sweat and become clammy, goosebumps rise on your skin - it is so freeing yet restricting.

I wanted to come and welcome you to the school - maybe take you around the school grounds, show off a bit at the gym, find out who you are as a person - if I got lucky, even get your phone number.

“ ‘kawa, are they new? I feel like I’ve never seen them before…” Iwaizumi asked, pulling on my rolled-up sleeve.

Of course, this had to happen, didn’t it?

Iwaizumi tried to cover his red face with his arms, but he was failing miserably. His forehead began to sweat, a trail of water dripping down his chin. His chocolate eyes glowed just like your skin - so much so you could see the hazel flecks within them. His whole arm was covered in raised goosebumps, just like mine.

He was attracted to you.

“I think they are,” I replied, hiding my feelings with a smile, “Why Iwa-chan? Oh my god Iwa, you’re blushing!”

Iwaizumi threw a book to my face, earning a groan from me.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” he says, blushing in a deeper red, “...but yeah, I think I do.”

“Well, if you want them to swoon for you just like how almost all the girls of the school do for me, I can help you. Just with the daily fee of milk bread during recess, I can turn your single ass into a full-fledged bachelor!” I say, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I'll buy you milk bread for lunch, either way,” he mumbled.

“See? It’s basically free, isn’t it? The best part of it all; it comes with a free gift! A box of milk every day so that you can grow taller-” Book number two found its place on my forehead once again.

“You’re such an idiot,” he says midst chuckling, “Thanks for the offer, Tooru. I think I’ll do this by myself, though.”

“Ok, then! Just so you know, the offer is always on the table,” I smirk, teasing the shorter male even more, “Don’t forget the milk.”

“I am never buying you anything ever again.”

Classes went on as usual, but I couldn’t focus at all.

I kept on staring at you from my seat - enjoying every single thing you did. I saw how you’d raise your shoulders in frustration when you couldn’t understand a question, how you’d bite the end of your pencil when you were focusing on the class, how you’d play with your fingers when you were stressed - I was taking mental notes without even realizing it. I loved all the small little huffs you’d make when you’re agitated. Judging by how you were speeding through most of the questions, you seemed to be a smart student.

I kept on playing small scenarios that I would do to get your attention.

Maybe I’d ask you a question and act like I couldn’t understand the whole topic so that you could tutor me, or I should just ask you about your opinions on the essay topic we discussed in class, or I could tease you about that small thing you did in front of the classroom when the teacher wasn’t looking.

But I would never do that to Iwaizumi.

My mind replayed that small scene of him blushing just at the mere glance of you. If he could, he would’ve already gushed about you to me - tell me all the things I already knew just by looking at you. He’d go on and on about how you squinched your nose when you drank that hot drink a bit too early and burnt your tongue.

His squiggle was already slowly moving around you, making a loop fitted for you and you alone - and I will happily watch from the sidelines when you two finally become a thing.

“Welcome back, Tooru!” My sister said from the kitchen, “Give me a minute, I’m helping mom prepare lunch.”

I placed my bag in front of my room and headed to the kitchen.

“Don’t make poison, please!” I tease her, enjoying the annoyed expression on her face.

“Tooru!” Mom sighed, “We’re inviting our new neighbors for dinner today. Go shower and get ready.”

I stuck my tongue out at my sister, earning an anger-filled hum from my mother. I ran to my room and soon headed to the shower to get ready.

Slinging the white towel on my shoulder, I head back to the kitchen area and set the table for the meal.

“Where are they from again?” Miho asked Mom.

“They’re apparently from Tokyo. The father passed away recently, so the mother had to bring the rest of the family to Miyagi to reduce the financial burden. Sad, isn’t it?” she replied.

“We should help them here and there,” Miho started, “We don’t need to give them money, but maybe help them get used to the city?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t present in the conversation ever since Mom mentioned Tokyo.

“Do they have a kid my age?” I ask, hoping that I’m wrong.

“I think there’s one that just transferred to your school?”

Please, don’t be who I think it is.

The doorbell rang, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I slowly headed to the door, gripping the doorknob tightly as I slowly opened the door.

I was right.

“Hello, Oikawa-san! It’s me, Y/N, from your class,” you said, a smile on your face.

“I just wanted to thank you and your family for your generous offer, but we can’t join you for dinner today,” you started, “Mom has to go get some things settled before she can come for dinner. Sorry, again…”

“What about you? Have you eaten anything yet?” My mom asked as she walked towards the door, “If you want, you can eat dinner here and bring some back for your mom.”

“Really?!” Your lips widened, “Thank you so much, aunty!”

You sat right beside me, just like Iwa-chan does when he comes over. I loved seeing you talk so comfortably with my family. I could see my mom’s adoration towards you when you talked about your life back in Tokyo. Your eyes lit up when you talked about your family - even if you were talking about your father.

You didn’t know it yet, but your presence makes my squiggle a little lighter.

“What school are you going to, Y/N?” Mom asked.

“I’m going to Kitagawa Daiichi like Oikawa-san. I am in his class, actually... “ you trail off.

“Do you want me to walk you to school? I don’t mind doing it, but Iwaizumi would be joining us too. Are you okay with that?” I ask, gripping the ends of my shirt.

For the first time in my life, I hated the fact I had to be beside Iwaizumi.

“Thanks, Oikawa-san. It means a lot,” you smiled.

I regret asking you that question.

I had to see Iwaizumi try to flirt with you.

I had to see how you’d occasionally lean your head on my shoulder when we walked to school until Iwaizumi met up with us in the middle of our walk to school.

I had to see Iwaizumi carry your bag - something I wanted to do.

I had to see Iwaizumi make small jokes to you - something I wanted to do.

I had to see you enjoy Iwaizumi’s presence - something I wanted you to only feel for me.

I had to let it happen in front of me, didn’t I?

Books and movies never compare to the real thing; to see the person you love gush over someone you love like a sibling.

But you were closest to me, not Iwa-chan.

You came to me when you had problems, not Iwa-chan.

You stayed over at my place to relax, not Iwa-chan’s.

You watched movies with me, played games with me, told secrets to me - not Iwa-chan.

Your squiggle intertwined with mine more than Iwa-chan’s.

“Tooru,” you said as you played with the rogue strands of my hair as your head laid on my lap, “Do you want to go out on a trip?”

“What? Why?”

“We’re graduating, but we never had a trip together. It’s weird, isn’t it?” You say, slowly getting up.

I pushed your head back on my lap, earning a muffled squeal from you.

“It isn’t, to be honest,” I say, “...but I do like the idea.”

“So, we’re doing it?” you say as you wiggle your feet in excitement.

“Yeap. I’ll ask Iwa-chan if he wants to join,” I say as I grab my phone.

“I was kind of hoping that it would be just the two of us? I haven’t been able to talk to you without anyone intervening for a long time, and there’s a lot I wanna talk about.”

You looked at me, hoping for some reaction, but I couldn’t say anything.

If I was not friends with Iwaizumi, I would’ve said yes almost immediately.

I know I love you - ever since I saw you, I have.

But Iwaizumi deserves someone amazing like you.

I don’t.

“Tell me, then! I don’t think Mom’s coming home anytime soon and Miho is working right now, so there isn’t anyone who’d disturb us now,” I say through gritted teeth.

I felt your disappointment when you sighed and moved to lie down on my bed.

“I guess I’ll tell you another day.”

I felt your squiggle moving away from me - moving on without mine.

Soon, our one-week trip to Tokyo began.

Thanks to months and months of pestering, our parents let us go by ourselves to the city you grew up in.

I could see everything in your eyes, thanks to your stories about this place. The small, quaint shops, the smell of freshly made Taiyaki at the side of the road, the small kids running on the pavement while being chased by angry parents - all of it.

“Oikawa!” you patted my shoulder, “That’s the bakery I talked about last time. You know, the one with amazing cheese tarts? Oh, that’s where my dad gave me my first cup of coffee!”

Iwaizumi chuckled as he focused on the road, admiring your love for the city.

“Why are you laughing, pine cone hair?” You tease Iwaizumi, trying to get more reactions from him.

“Nothing! You sound cute, that’s all,” he said as he focused on the road.

“Oh, really~?” You move closer to Iwaizumi and whisper something in his ear, making him blush instantly.

There it is.

That icky feeling I hate.

Why did it come now? I was with Y/N and Iwaizumi - the people I care about the most.

Go away.

Get out.

I don’t need you.

“Well, I’ll just chaperone Oikawa then, Hajime. Have fun all by yourself in a huge city you don’t know well,” you say, teasing him even more.

Hajime.

They said Hajime - not Iwaizumi.

“Geez, get a room, you two.”

“Sad I’m taking your husband away, Tooru?”

“The fuck, Y/N!” Both Iwa-chan and I scream.

You laugh as you lean back into the backseat.

“What? You both are an old couple,” you begin, “Oikawa is the flamboyant one and Iwaizumi is the man that’s only gay for Oikawa and actually thinks before doing something.”

“Did everyone think I’m gay for Oikawa?” Iwa says under his breath.

“Yeap,” you reply, “Many girls were sad, to be honest. I kept on telling them you’re straight, but they didn’t listen,” you shrug.

“And me?” I ask.

“You were labelled as the hot pansexual, lucky you,” you reply with an eye roll.

“Why did no one tell me…” Iwaizumi said to himself, worried.

“Honey~,” I began teasing the ‘pinecone’.

“Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa.”

“ ‘Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa’ - why don’t you give an actual nice nickname for the brunette over here,” you ask him, playing with the stressed driver.

“No.”

“Do it or I’m calling you pinecone for the rest of your life.”

“No.”

“Do it or I’ll tell them-” I say before getting cut off by Iwaizumi himself.

“Prettykawa.”

“Holy shit, Y/N,” I wiped my fake tears, “He called me pretty! Darling~”

“Oh my god, Oikawa,” you say, laughing as I hug Iwaizumi’s arm.

Our squiggles were intertwined and in a good way - that’s all that mattered.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi looked at me with a serious face, “I think I am going to confess to them tonight.”

Wait, you are?

Please don’t.

Don’t take them away from me.

I need them.

Iwaizumi, please don’t.

“Finally! It’s about time you made your move - I think they like you too, so you have a shot.”

It’s true - I see how they stare at you.

Their eyes are filled with admiration, lips fixed in a soft smile, their hands grazing your cheek - they love you as much as you love them, Iwaizumi.

“Thanks for supporting me, Tooru. It really means a lot to me,” he says as he hugged me, “Thanks for being my best friend.”

I haven’t been a good friend, Iwa.

I fell for the same person.

I want to steal them from you so badly, but I can’t bring myself to hate you.

I want to hate you so bad, but I can’t.

This feeling… I hate it.

“Thanks for being mine, too.” I smiled, but the smile never reached my eyes.

You’re taking them away from me, Iwaizumi.

You could’ve gotten anyone else, but you took them away from me.

I don’t want to feel this - this hatred growing within, yet here I am, cursing you in my head the minute I see you.

“Go! Why are you wasting time?” I say, pushing you towards the door.

I saw the smile you gave me as you ran to her room.

You are such an amazing person, Iwa-chan.

You can care for someone who deeply hates you.

I saw how they were basically draped around you for the next few days. They looked so happy just to be beside you.

Each day, their eyes spoke stories of love for you, Iwa. They used to come over to my place and gush about you every day, like a ritual.

You’re so fucking lucky, Iwaizumi. This isn’t fair.

They’d go on and on about your physique, your personality and the small things you’d do.

Congratulations, they finally paid attention to the things you did for them. I’m happy for you, Iwa.

I am happy for the two of you, truly.

They are truly happy.

I could’ve never done that - never.

I just wish I wasn’t walking towards the gym that day.

I saw your first kiss under that tree - the tree the three of us used to spend under while waiting for practice to start.

I saw how their hands gripped on the back of your head, pressing themselves on you. I saw how you gripped their hips oh so tightly as you showed them your passion towards them. I saw how breathless they looked the minute your lips left theirs. I saw how they grazed your chin whilst staring into your eyes in admiration.

I pictured how it would’ve been if I was in your position.

I would’ve held them tighter, pressed my forehead against theirs so that our noses would brush against each other. They’d play with the ends of my hair, going on and on about how soft each lock was like they usually do. They’d eye my lips as I stared at their soft and supple lips. I’d press the tip of my thumb on their bottom lip, enjoying the view of their parted lips made just for me and me alone. Slowly, I would kiss their cheeks, hoping for some cute reaction from them. From their cheeks, I would drag my lips to their chin, placing soft kisses here and there.

I would then press my lips against theirs, enjoying the soft noises escaping their lips.

But I never will - you’re theirs as they’re yours.

Of all places, why did you have to choose there?

I can’t come back here without thinking about that kiss now.

That icky feeling…

It’s back.

Go away.

Get out of me.

I am happy.

“Damn, Iwaizumi,” Matsun said as he approached the gym, “Y/N’s really in love with them, huh?”

“Shut it, Matsun,” Maki said, looking at me.

Of course, he’d notice.

I am in love with his friend's girlfriend, after all.

“What? He’s telling the truth; they’re so in love with each other they can’t even see that three people saw their first kiss!” I shouted, earning a growl from the black-haired male hugging Y/N.

“Out of all the times, Shittykawa…”

“You better run, he looks feral!” You shouted, laughing.

“You sure he wasn’t feral ever since he initiated that kiss? I saw that hand wandering, Iwaizumi~!” Matsukawa shouted as he ran to the gym.

“Iwaizumi isn’t innocent anymore. You aren’t part of the gang anymore man, stay back,” Hanamaki said, wiping a fake tear whilst gripping his sides, “You’ve grown up too quick, Iwa-senpai.”

“You okay, ‘kawa?” Maki said as he turned to me, rubbing my back.

“I am fine, Maki. Go ahead - go to the gym, I’ll come in a minute,” I gave him a nod as I walked to the toilet.

That day was the first day I cried over someone in school, and hopefully the last.

“Tooru… Tohru…” You mumbled.

“Yes, my name is similar to the main character’s. What about it?” I sigh.

“We should get you a cat. Who knows, you might kiss it and it’ll become a girl?” Iwa chirped.

“That’s a cat version of Princess and the Frog,” I say, annoyed.

“Stupid,” you hit Iwa’s thigh, “Get with the program.”

Iwa groaned as he rubbed his leg, “That was really painful, dumbass.”

“Tohru, he called me dumbass,” you whined.

“I am not Tohru - it’s Tooru.”

“Brown hair, all of the people around them falling in love with them, high pitched voice… that’s you,” Iwa joked.

“Major flaw in your theory - I am not a girl.”

“Alternate universe Tohru then,” you said, enjoying the banter.

“Tohru plays with animals, I play with a volleyball team.”

“How do you know she isn’t in a volleyball team? It was never specified she isn’t part of a volleyball team.”

“It’s never specified that she is part of a volleyball team,” I say, clearly annoyed by this conversation.

“I’m getting you a cat - a ginger one,” Iwa said, grabbing his phone from the side table.

“Don’t get me a cat!”

“Get him a cat, love. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll love it,” you said, leaning against Iwaizumi’s chest to see his phone screen.

“Holy shit,” you said, holding back a laugh, “He’s actually looking-”

“Iwaizumi Hajime!” I scream, making both Iwaizumi and you laugh loudly.

“I was looking at a cat meme, stupid.”

I sign out of frustration and look back at the TV screen, avoiding the mischievous couple.

I eyed the way they were sitting on the couch.

You were seated in between Iwaizumi’s legs, their back pressed against his front. Their hands played with Iwaizumi’s left hand, fiddling with his fingers as they stared at the screen in front of them. Iwaizumi wasn’t looking at the screen though - he was staring at his lover who was fully immersed in the scene unfolding in front of them. His right hand grazed their right hand, enjoying the feeling of them comfortable in his arms.

You looked happy, and that’s all that mattered.

The last episode soon finished and you looked to the ceiling, stretching your neck.

“So sad it’s over,” you said, smiling.

“At least it had a good ending. I don’t think I need to remind you how heartbroken you were when we watching Banana Fish’s-”

“Don’t remind me - I’ll cry here and now.”

You got off the couch and walked towards the kitchen to get a drink.

“So,” you plopped on the couch, leaning against Iwa, “What’s the final plan, Mr Tohru?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your life after high school, of course! What’s the plan? I know Hajime is planning to be a trainer, but you never told me what your plan is.”

Hajime.

Again with the Hajime.

Just use Iwaizumi, for fuck’s sake.

“...Tooru?”

I snap out of my thoughts. “Oh.”

“You’ve been out of it recently. You’re okay, right?” You say as you walk to sit beside me.

I chuckle, looking at your concerned face.

“I’m good - just stressed about life, that’s all. I am not so sure as to what’s the next step, but it’s going pro.”

You hug me from the side, placing your head on my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you, now? Aren’t you scared that you might make Hajime jealous?” I tease.

“I don’t know - I just feel I need to do this, like a feeling that you might do something rash.”

I felt tears wet the side of my shirt.

My eyes darted to the sight of you, sobbing, gripping on my shirt.

“Don’t you dare forget me, okay?” You say through sniffles, “I sure as hell won’t forget you.”

I cup your face in my hands, wiping off the trailing tears.

“I won’t.”

You made a huge loop on my squiggle, Y/N - I don’t I can ever forget you.

TO: Y/N (2:30 a.m.)

It’s been so many years, Y/N.

You’ve blossomed into the amazing person I knew you’d be.

I saw Iwa-chan recently - after all, he’s training the Japan team.

I actually made it into a team - the Argentinian Volleyball team.

I kept on doubting myself, but you kept on reminding me of how good of a setter I was back in high school.

I know you’re busy being the big person in your industry - congrats on all the awards again, I keep forgetting to contact you.

If you’re down, maybe we can call? I miss your voice.

I sent the message, hoping you’d reply as fast as you used to when we were in high school.

I looked from the hotel window, trying to imagine how the scenery is back home in Miyagi.

The roaring fields, the birds flying in the sky as we walked down that small pathway, that traffic light you’d draw on while waiting for the cars to pass - I remembered it all.

I remembered it all just because you were part of it.

Funny, isn’t it? After so many years, I still think of you.

Not as my friend’s lover, but mine.

I shouldn’t have invited Iwaizumi to that trip.

I should’ve just kept you all to myself - protect you from the world.

I should’ve just kept Iwaizumi out of your life - not let him in at any point.

I should’ve just told him how I feel about you.

I tried so hard to get over you, Y/N.

I met so many other people, hoping they could fill up the hole you left when you left me for him. I had so many sour relationships just because I was comparing them to the rhetorical you that I dated. If the world had given me a second chance, I would be standing beside you - I would work to provide for you the best the world had to offer.

But in the end, your squiggle was meant to grow without mine. I had to accept it and move on, as much as it hurts.

Covid 19: Angst train :)

All reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

#⎯ pocky's 500 collab #Illyaana | Oikawa Tooru #Illyaana | Aoba Johsai #Illyaana | Third Years #Illyaana | Haikyuu!!#oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #angelwalker's virtues #oikawa x you #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu x reader #hihqnetwork

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dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3 · 3 years

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TPWP Introspective

Hey guys!! So, as you noticed, there was no update today either, like I had commented that I may try and do if possible. The reason I didn’t post today, though, is because I remembered that I wrote a little introspective thing about TPWP a few days ago that I wanted to post before the next chapter, if possible. I spent the last hour and a half intermittently touching it up (while also talking to friends, ha). I wrote this after waking up at five in the morning and not being able to go back to sleep, so I was fairly tired and rambley when writing it, ha.

Anyway, this is pretty long discussion about something that’s bugged me about TPWP for a little while, which is why I’ve made Taka so sexual despite not really thinking he would be like that in canon. In my attempt to write about that, my exhausted self also went into another problem I have with TPWP, which is the fact that neither Taka nor Mondo are really like their canon selves anymore. And while that was a purposeful thing, I never could pinpoint why, and I think I managed to in this post, so there’s that, ha.

Now, it’s getting late and I’m very tired, so I’ll add my introspective thingy in a read more. It’s about 5k words and goes over a lot about Taka and Mondo’s interpretation in TPWP.

Hey all! So, I wanted to go over something that’s been bugging me for a while in TPWP, though no one else seems annoyed by it. But I kind of am, so I just wanted to… I don’t know. Discuss it in case anyone else also has problems with it, but just isn’t bringing it up in comments. And the thing that I wanted to talk about is the fact that I’ve made Taka and Mondo so sexual in this story, despite this not really striking me as something Taka, in particular, would be like. In order to discuss all that, though, I have to go through a bunch of other explanations about what my main goal in this story has always been, as a kind of backstory. So, buckle up, my friends. This is a doozy.

See, while I didn’t have much of an idea when I started writing, the one thing I knew I wanted to play around with was the idea of dismantling Taka and everything that makes him tick. In the game, he is shown as a strict, passionate, highly motivated character, spending so much time studying and trying to better himself that he lost sight of who he is other than that. He doesn’t have friends and confesses to Makoto that he doesn’t even understand how people make friends through connecting over things like television, since he’s so detached from anything other than his goals. The writers even comment on how he is almost mad with his passion and righteousness.

That whole persona seems so unattainable to me. I’m someone who seeks ‘perfection,’ right? I’m a perfectionist and it burns me so much to know that no matter what I do, there will always, ALWAYS be faults in the things I create. I put myself and my creations against others and always find myself lacking. It burns me and makes me feel so… I don’t even know. Unhappy. Upset. Things like that. And I’ve gotten much better with this over the years, right? I accept that my work will not be perfect, and that anything I can create is enough since I created it and I enjoyed creating it. But the feeling is still there. The unhappiness. The discontent.

So, when I saw Taka and his madness to become better, I wanted to take that and see if I could deconstruct it. If I could break Taka down to his core, expose all of the secret little things inside of him that he must be hiding to present such a ‘perfect’ front, and turn it on its side. To give Taka reasons for his madness to better himself and then take it apart. Or, in other words, the entire premise I had for this story was to take Taka and break him down. And then, then I would build him back up. Into something less ‘perfect,’ less rules oriented, but a hell of a lot happier. Because in canon… Taka didn’t really strike me as happy. Not based on the things he would say to Makoto in both free time events and the school mode.

In order to do that, of course, I had to completely break apart the things that made him so rule oriented in the first place. And to someone who has spent almost their entire life building up this one persona, that sort of thing can be terrifying and uncomfortable. And it can lead to a lot of confusion and scrambling afterwards.

Chapter 17 was where I made the biggest break for Taka. I’d been chipping away at him for the first 16 chapters, and then 17 was the one where I took my sledgehammer and went to town. That chapter was the one in which Taka realized just how unhappy and discontent he had been growing up. He’d always stuffed that down and ignored it in order to keep going, forcing himself to ignore his pain so that he could become all that he wanted to be. He wasn’t even conscious of doing this since it was so deeply engrained in him by that point. Like I said in the very first chapter, Taka would run so fast and so fervently from his insecurities growing up that he didn’t even notice that they were occurring within him. Or if he did, he ignored them until it all went away.

In chapter 17, Taka stopped being able to run. His feelings for Mondo created a huge rift inside him and he didn’t know how to handle it. And then, after his conversion with his father, he realized that he’d been forcing everything down for all of his life, to the point that he didn’t know who he was. He wanted to be an upright, moral individual, but how could he be if he is in love with a man? How can he be when he can feel such impure, base desire for someone, a man especially? And I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with a man loving a man, not at all! Just… it went against the carefully constructed morality Taka, personally, had spent his entire life forcing himself to abide by, and that was a huge blow to him. He couldn’t comprehend it and he just… fell apart.

But he didn’t fall apart alone. Mondo was there to catch him as he fell, was there to help gather the pieces, and Taka latched onto that. He didn’t know what was happening or why, but he knew that Mondo was a vital component to all of it. In a way… Mondo was everything to him.

The main point is that I wanted to break Taka’s character apart, mostly because I cannot imagine someone being that moral and upright while not being completely miserable (or without actually being completely immoral, like all those people who preach righteousness while actually doing horrible things behind the scenes without care). There’s a sort of misery in enforced righteousness, especially considering how horrible the world can be. I liked Taka and I wanted him to be happy. And I couldn’t, for the life of me, imagine him being the way he was portrayed in the game and also being happy. Maybe that’s just me projecting, but… I don’t know.

But deconstructing years of a carefully constructed persona is— like I said— terrifying. And for someone like Taka, whose entire life plan was crafted around a certain image? I can only imagine that would be like jumping off a plane into a black, inky darkness, no idea where you’re going to land. But Taka did that, because the only other option was to continue living with intense unhappiness, lying to himself to keep his sanity. But the problem with lying to yourself is that it gets so much harder once you know the truth. It can be done, of course, but it leads to even more unhappiness and pain and Taka… Taka realized that he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be in pain anymore. He… he wanted to be happy. Which is an incredibly hard thing to accept when you’ve spent years silently accepting your own unhappiness as a fact of life.

As such, everything that has occurred since chapter 17 has been Taka’s attempt at constructing a new personality, in a way. A personality that marries the beliefs and goals he has always had while also combining them with a new sense of happiness and contentment in his life that before now he’s never felt. And this… this is so, so hard for him to do.

And it gets harder when his and Mondo’s relationship shifts. When he gets a taste of something he’d previously not allowed himself to ever, ever feel. Which brings us to the questions of why, exactly, I put so much sexual content into this story, despite it not seeming like something Taka would really want to do in canon.

Because… it’s not about pleasure. Right? It was never about pleasure or desire. It was about Taka allowing himself to feel something that every human feels (or, you know. Not every human. But a lot). It was about making Taka acknowledge that he is feeling these ‘impure,’ ‘sinful’ desires and allowing him to feel it. And, of course, this can be overwhelming. Taka has never allowed himself to feel these sorts of things before, had always pushed them so far down he couldn’t even see them. So far down he could pretend they weren’t there.

But they were. They always were. Taka can feel desire and attraction. He can feel them just fine. The whole point of the sexual content was to show Taka that it is okay to feel like that and that it’s not wrong or immoral. That Taka can feel attracted to someone, a man especially, and not feel ashamed. But more than that, it’s about allowing Taka to acknowledge that can be who is he in general without shame. That he doesn’t always have to be ‘perfect’ or infallible. That he can just be… Taka.

The biggest problem in all of this, however, is the fact that Taka is not the only character in this story. He’s not the only one going through a metamorphosis. Because Mondo? Oh, you can bet your sweet behind I was making Mondo go through his own metamorphosis, too.

Because everything I said about Taka up until now? I also feel about Mondo. I view Mondo’s tough guy, biker persona just like I view Taka’s upright, moral one. It’s a facade. Something that is hiding what is truly going on under the surface. It protects their soft, gooey innards, keeping them both safe whilst also providing them a sense of being. Of belonging.

But it’s not healthy. Hiding behind a persona, not letting your true emotions show. It’s unhealthy and leads to, you know… pain and unhappiness. And Mondo… Mondo also strikes me as a somewhat unhappy character. His disconnect in the game is less towards other people, however, and more towards himself. Makoto acknowledges many times after speaking with Mondo during free time events that he has a hidden side to him. A softer, ‘cuter’ side that he tries (and fails, ha) to keep hidden.

Like with Taka, I wanted to break Mondo’s carefully constructed persona and remove this hidden person inside him. I wanted to bring that person to the surface, finally allowing Mondo to stop feeling like he has to hide behind anger and rage and being ‘strong’. I wanted… I don’t know. To allow Mondo to not feel so ashamed of his weaker side, I guess.

This was a lot harder to do than with Taka, though, for a couple reasons. One, I was not writing from Mondo’s perspective in TPWP, which means all of his metamorphosis was being seen through the eyes of another. Which is not always easy to portray, sadly. For another, Mondo has a huge reason to keep his inner self hidden and locked away. Taka’s reason is shame and a desire to prove himself, right? This, in my eyes, is fairly simple to deconstruct. All you have to do is find a way to remove the shame and realize that it’s okay to feel what you feel. And yes, this is challenging, but… it’s not impossible.

Mondo, though? What’s keeping Mondo back isn’t just shame and a desire to prove himself. No. What’s holding Mondo back is guilt. Mondo feels guilty for his weakness. He feels guilty that his supposed ‘weakness’ killed his brother. He feels guilty that this same ‘weakness’ is preventing him from telling the truth, from accepting the responsibility for his supposed crime. Mondo, in many ways, hates himself. In this story, at least. And guilt is a much, much harder emotion to deconstruct than shame. There’s also the fact that I made Mondo an abuse survivor, which adds another element into this all that I won’t get into since this whole thing is already much longer than I’d initially intended, oof.

Anyway. The point here is that both Taka and Mondo are going through this metamorphosis at the same time. And I did this purposely since I wanted to have them help each other grow. Right? Because I view Taka and Mondo as very similar characters. They both have a need to prove themselves and a sense of inner righteousness that guides them in what they do. They just took opposite paths in their expression of these things. But ultimately, at their core, Taka and Mondo are very similar in my eyes.

Honestly, that’s part of why I had them hate one another in the beginning (on top of the fact that they didn’t get along in the game at first either, ha). That was each of them seeing themself in the other, and absolutely hating what they saw. Because they hate themselves. Because they cannot stand the persona they’ve created. Because it’s such a painfully false front that it’s almost offensive to them to see it on another.

Chapter ten was my way of letting them acknowledge a sense of self love for the first time. By accepting the other as flawed, but still fundamentally good, it allowed them to see themselves in a somewhat positive light for the first time. To accept that this person they once hated with all of their heart is… not that bad when it comes down to it. And not only are they not that bad, but they’re actually kind of amazing, really.

I… hm. I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I am very tired and am kind of just rambling at this point. I guess I just… I wanted to acknowledge that I’ve changed both of these characters a lot from canon, Taka especially. And this change has been expressed in a great way in Taka’s increased sexuality. And that I know this, that I know this isn’t really what canon Taka would act like, but that’s kind of the point. As much as I love Taka as a character, he’s kind of one dimensional. All of the characters in Danganronpa are. I think, in a way, they’re meant to be. But when you spend time with them, during the free time events and the school mode, you begin to see a slightly more well-rounded picture.

But it… it still feels a little flat to me. A little hollow. So, in this story, I just… wanted to flesh out these characters that I like and see so much potential in. I wanted to take them, give them tragic backstories, and see if I could find a way to give them balance. To keep them somewhat the same as they once were, to not fully remove their canon aspects, but not have that be their sole, defining characteristic anymore. Taka is still the Ultimate Moral Compass, and Mondo is still the Ultimate Biker Gang Leader. But that’s not all they are. Not by the end of the story.

Now, did I succeed in my plan? I… honestly, I don’t know. This entire thing was never something I consciously thought of while writing. It was more… a desire of mine, which might be why I’m having such a hard time describing it here, ha. It’s up to all of you to determine if I succeeded in writing these characters in a way that respects their canon characterization, while also adding a sense of balance within them.

Also— not to sound pretentious (though I know I am, oof. I always am when dead tired, sorry)— but in a way, this whole story was a metaphor for self-acceptance and self-love. And allowing yourself to find peace in who and what you are, no matter what. I made Taka and Mondo literary parallels in this story for a reason, giving them similar backstories (Taka was abused by bullies and neglected by his father; Mondo was abused by his father and neglected by his mother. Mondo’s brother died, leaving a hole in his heart; Taka’s mother died, leaving a hole in his heart. Taka watched his grandfather fall from grace and used that as a catalyst to ‘better’ himself, thus hiding all the unpleasant and unsavory aspects about himself; Mondo watched his brother die and used that as a catalyst to ‘better’ himself, thus hiding all the unpleasant and unsavory aspects about himself… etc.) to showcase this metaphor, in a way.

And it… it was to show that them helping the other grow symbolizes allowing yourself to grow, too. It symbolizes taking all the harsh and ugly parts of yourself that you hate, seeing it in another person, and realizing you actually love them, really. It symbolizes showing kindness to yourself for your faults, something I personally struggle with. By having Taka and Mondo love one another so fiercely, even without fully knowing why… it symbolizes, in my mind, letting you love yourself.

And, like… I know how pretentious this sounds, ha. And I don’t think I really succeeded in portraying all of this, unfortunately. But I just… I don’t know. I love the idea of Taka and Mondo and I wanted to write a story where they love one another unconditionally, while at the same time learning to love themselves too.

In many ways, I wish I had made this story take place over the span of a longer amount of time. Three months is just… it’s too quick to do everything I wanted to do in this story. Like I’ve said before, this story was never meant to be so long, word count wise. And a lot of what I wrote about here was not really planned when I started writing. While I wanted to deconstruct Taka, I didn’t really realize how long that would take, oof. Or what it all would entail. I thought three months would be plenty of time in universe, but then more and more things started happening, and by the time I realized it would need more time to progress naturally, I had passed the point of no return, pretty much.

If I could do this story all over again, I think I’d make it take place over the span of a year instead. I’d start the school year in April, like it’s supposed to be in Japan, and extend the amount of time Taka and Mondo were enemies. I’d have them become friends shortly before summer break and when they come back, have them go through the beginnings of their friendship like I had it in the story, but allowing it more time to progress. Taka and Mondo would still have their fight on Halloween, since that’s kind of an important aspect of that chapter, but they’d have had a longer time to be friends before that occurred. And then, after that, they’d have their physical relationship progress a lot more naturally and less hurriedly, the relationship spanning from perhaps right before winter break begins to the end of the school year in Japan, which is March. It would give them more time to come to terms with everything and accept themselves.

Part of me honestly kind of does want to change around TPWP to do this, but it would change a lot of fundamental parts of the story, which would be a lot of work. And if I was planning on publishing this story, I’d definitely do it since I think it would fix a lot of the problems that I have with how this story progresses. Three months is not long enough to completely deconstruct your entire personality, really. A year is a lot better and makes more sense to me. But, as it stands, I… I like TPWP. Is it perfect? No. But… that’s kind of the point? Nothing is perfect and if I allow myself, I’ll keep digging myself into more and more holes with this story, and at some point, I just… have to acknowledge I did the best I could and move on. Also, I do think that having it take place over three months isn’t completely unrealistic. Not with how unhappy both Taka and Mondo already had been. And there are some things that would be unrealistic if it took place over a year, too, so… eh.

I really don’t know where I’m going with this anymore, dear god. I’m going to go back to my original point real quick and hopefully finish this now hour long, rambling rant I’ve for some reason been going on. Jeez.

So. The purpose of the sexual content in this story. It— like a lot of other things in this story— was more meant as kind of like… a metaphor. It’s not about the sex, it’s about self-acceptance. Taka spent so many years denying himself and his sexuality, fearing it and feeling ashamed of it. By allowing himself to be sexual and intimate with Mondo, he’s accepting that aspect of himself and embracing it. But, because he spent so long denying it, he doesn’t quite know when it’s too much. He’s spent his life pushing down his discontent and discomfort to become what other people want him to be, and as such, he doesn’t quite know where his own boundaries lie.

And I’m going to be quite honest with y’all: Taka doesn’t enjoy the sexual acts quite as much as he thinks he does. No, I’m not saying that Mondo is taking advantage of Taka, or that Taka hates what they’re doing, not at all! Just… Taka feels uncomfortable with the things he and Mondo are doing, but because he enjoys the sensation and enjoys being close to Mondo, he pushes down the feeling of discontent, like he’s done all of his life. He just… doesn’t know what else to do. He knows he likes being close to Mondo, knows he enjoys the things they do together, but can’t quite put his finger on the fact that he doesn’t really enjoy being sexual. That he only likes the sexual acts because it’s the only way he can be close to Mondo in the way he wants, both physically and— in a way— emotionally.

And part of Taka does realize this, right? The deep, deep, hidden part of himself that only comes out at night when everything else is silent. I call this the ‘introspective’ part. But this is a hard part of yourself to access and acknowledge. Especially when you’re young. I, personally, am a very introspective person. It’s why I can write about emotions and feelings decently, and why I am currently writing this little introspective about TPWP. But it was a lot harder for me when I was a teen to realize what that introspection meant. It’s why I didn’t realize I had undiagnosed anxiety until I was eighteen and in college, which was ironically a lot easier for me than high school was. It took me being out of the situation I was in to look at myself and realize exactly why I felt what I felt, even though I knew I felt that stuff much earlier.

Taka’s still in his bad situation, though. He’s still struggling with the desire of what he wants and what he’s forcing himself to settle for. And, basically, he doesn’t understand why he’s unhappy at being sexual. He knows on a base level that he is, but he can’t quite place his finger on the why. Which is, as I’ve said, because it’s not really what he wants. He’s settling for having Mondo in whatever way he can because he thinks he has to. But it’s not what he wants, and it’s honestly killing him inside to be so close to his desired outcome, but not have it. He hates that the only way he can have Mondo is in such a shallow, debased way, but he’s forced himself to believe that this is all he will ever have, and that he must be happy with it or else he will lose it, like he’s lost every good thing in his life before that point. And the thought of losing what he and Mondo have is just… it’s too much for him. He’s still figuring himself out, still building his new personality from the ruins of the old, and he kind of needs Mondo to help prop him up as he does this.

(Which is, by the way, unhealthy in a relationship. It’s very codependent and can lead to some negative outcomes in its own right. But this rant of mine has been going on for almost two hours, so I’m not going to get into this right now. Just know that I know, and that it’s not intended to be portrayed as a good thing. None of Taka’s coping mechanisms are, which is why they all fail in the end, leaving him discontent. But as of now, Taka kind of needs Mondo, so he’s overlooking the potential negative outcome and is just allowing himself to have Mondo. Make sense?)

In the end, the only way for Taka to fully come to terms with everything that is swirling within him is to have Mondo acknowledge the love they share for each other, since he can’t accept everything about himself until Mondo does. He needs Mondo to look at him, look at his flaws, and say ‘I love you no matter what. You are not perfect, but I still love you.’ And while Mondo has done this to some degree, it’s not the love Taka not-so-secretly desires. But, like I said earlier, Mondo is going through his own metamorphosis and isn’t quite at that stage yet.

All of this comes to a head in the last three chapters of TPWP. Does everything get resolved by the end? No. Of course not. There’s just not enough time for that. Discovering yourself takes years, really. And you never finish. Even if I had elongated the amount of time this story takes place to a year, there still would be things unresolved when the story ended.

That being said, the main problems both Taka and Mondo are going through reach a conclusion. I don’t want to go too much into this to prevent spoilers, but just know that everything I brought up here? Gets some form of acknowledgment in the last chapters and gets some manner of resolution. And everything else was initially intended to be resolved in sequels, which may or may not be written, who knows. But TPWP ends in a way that even without further writing from my part, I firmly believe that all of y’all can see where Mondo and Taka will go from here. That it won’t be easy, but that they will eventually figure themselves out.

So… yeah. That insanely long and complicated rant boils down to this: Taka and Mondo being sexual is not really about them being sexual but is about them understanding and accepting their love not just for one another, but for themselves, too. It’s a catalyst. And I didn’t go over Mondo’s views on this all, and I won’t since this has gone on so long (plus I’ve not written Mondo’s perspective on those chapters yet, so even I don’t fully know, though I have ideas), but believe me when I say it’s more than just sex for him, too. That’s one of the reasons why I didn’t really want to categorize this story as explicit at first, since it’s never been about the sex to me. It’s… more than that.

I don’t know if any of this made any sense, but I think I’m going to stop now. Maybe I’ll go back when I’m less tired and expand on this (and I’ll let y’all know if I do, writing after this break if I added anything or not) (I added a little to some parts and took out a couple of parts, but mostly this is the same thing I wrote between 5 and 7 am when I couldn’t sleep, ha), but for now, I’ll leave it.

And— final thing (that I added after trying to fall back asleep and failing, ha)— maybe I’m being more pretentious about my writing than it deserves. Maybe I’m saying all of this to try and excuse the flaws in my writing, like I always do internally. But… I don’t know. This is legitimately the sort of thing that went through my head whilst writing. I knew I wanted to put these elements in my story, even if I wasn’t consciously thinking about it, but trying to do all of that is just… hard. And I’m limited as a writer, I’ll acknowledge that. My thoughts are too big for my head and trying to write them all down is complicated for me. It’s why this little introspective is so long and rambling. It’s my way of trying to not just get you all to figure out what I mean, but also get myself to understand it. Because, while I know what I mean on an abstract, metaphysical level, I don’t really understand it all myself in a concrete, definable level. And this rambling is me trying to make sense of that. Does… does that make any sense at all? Or is this just gibberish? I don’t know. I think I understand it, but I have no idea if anyone else will. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway. I hope this didn’t come across as too pretentious or like I’m trying to show off how ~~intellectual~~ I am. That’s not my intention at all. It’s just… it’s how I think. And it’s how I show myself to the world, in a way. My written work is always so personal to me. I put a lot of myself into my work, sometimes intentionally, but often unintentionally. And I’m not saying I went through any of what I put Mondo or Taka through. In fact, almost none of it relates to my life at all. I was never abused by anyone, nor was I bullied in school. I have a fairly good relationship with my parents and was well liked by my classmates, even when I didn’t really go to class often due to illness. I am not impoverished, nor have I ever really faced high expectations from family or the people around me. I’ve never really had to anguish over my sexuality, since I accepted myself as asexual pretty easily, though I still struggle to be open about it with everyone. And I’ve never lost a loved one.

So… no. It’s not that I’ve gone through what the characters have gone through. But… the emotions. The feeling. All of that… it’s me. Even if it’s imagined or created, I feel everything that I write and put down. It’s why angst comes more naturally to me, since I’ve felt a lot of negative emotions in my life. And most of it is self-inflicted. Like… I mentioned that I never had high expectations from family, but I did from myself. I expected so, so much from myself, and I still do. And while I was always well liked by my peers, I still felt alienated from them, like I… I don’t know. Didn’t really belong. And I feared that if they ever got to truly know me, THEN they’d hate me, and that was just… I don’t know. Too much for me. The thought that these things could happen. That I could have good things and then, through my own personal failings, lose them.

These fears are where I come from when writing. My fear of being hated and isolated. My fear of never being enough. My fear of letting everyone down. My fear of always being alone and losing the people I love. I write about it in my stories and I… I find a way to fix it. To show myself that even if something like that did happen, it… it can get better. You can still be loved even if you are flawed and kind of broken inside. And maybe I don’t believe that I ever will find love, maybe I can’t believe that anyone would look at me like that if they truly got to know me, but it’s still nice to read about it. To see my fears in characters I love and have them be okay in the end. It’s why I always like to have at least somewhat happy endings in my stories. I need to see that it’s okay. That even if the worst-case scenario happened… I’d still be okay.

(Also, I know people are going to ask this, but please know that yes, I am okay. I get like this sometimes, where I think a lot about stuff, and it can be overwhelming, which is why I write it down. It’s funny that I’ve never had a diary or journal, since it seems like something that would help me, but writing things down for my personal perusal never made sense to me. It’s why I always post things like this. It’s really personal, but it helps me feel better. Like I’m being understood in some way. So, just… know that I’m doing alright. I just wanted to try and explain something that has been bugging me in this story for a while now that I finally found the words for. And by letting it out into the world, I can remove it from my chest, I suppose. But introspection doesn’t really upset me much. It’s cathartic more than anything. Painful and confusing while going through it but relieving once it’s done. All I ask is to be heard, that’s all. And understood if possible. If you’re willing.)

(Also also, please know that I wrote this little introspective several days ago while very tired, and I’m over this burst of emotions by now mostly. So, again, I’m really okay. And I’m not pulling a Taka, trying to pretend I’m doing alright when I’m not. I do mean it, ha.)

(Also also also, but y’all can see where I get my writing style from when looking at this, ha. This is basically my thought process written down, which is why TPWP is written the way it is. I write like I think, which is long, rambling, and emotive. Just a little fun fact. ^-^)

#Random ramblings #TPWP introspective

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

young & beautiful ⤖ lee felix

❖ genre : zombie apocalypse!au; punk! au

❖ word count : 13,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language, mentions of alcohol & violence

❖ summary : you’ve always thought your soulmate was an idiot to not be there sooner but eventually, everything connects when it started with Lee Felix holding your best friend at gunpoint.

one.

Jisung puffs his cheeks out and stares at his own reflection on the glass table. The bartender quickly comes back, pushing a tequila sunrise towards his direction. The boy takes an awful amount of time to study how the yellow, almost orange liquid bleeds into a deep red effortlessly.

He shakes his bang away furiously, calling out for the bartender. “Uhm, I just ordered a Coke. Not this.”

“Have a drink kid, it’s on me.”

He pushes the glass away. “No thanks.”

“What kind of adult doesn’t drink alcohol in desperate times?”

“Then what kind of bartender doesn’t run for his life when ravenous freaks are lurking the streets?”

The bartender tips his head back and laughs wholeheartedly. “Listen, kid. It’s either beating the shit out of someone or getting wasted to keep the little amount of sanity left on your mind. So I’m staying here for them alcoholics. Business is running low, not taking any risks.” He wipes his hand onto his white apron, throwing him a playful wink. “Call me if you need anything.”

Jisung beams innocently. “Do you have a pencil? And paper too?”

“Jisung you can’t be serious, where are you?”

Minutes later, he’s starting to regret the questionable-looking sketch of a squirrel on the piece of paper that the bartender gave him. Instead, he presses the tip of the pencil harder onto the surface until it snaps in half, leaving the sharp wooden edges sticking out. He can kill the bartender with this if he decides to spike his drink, Jisung figures. He hesitantly brings the rim of the glass to his lips and takes the smallest sip possible. The burning sensation goes down his throat in matters of seconds. His entire windpipe feels like it’s on fire.

“Hey, I need some water..” He chokes out as someone enters the bar.

The bartender averts his gaze onto the new customer. “Cool, what about you?”

The unfamiliar figure sits beside him, murmuring. “I’m not here for the drinks, but him.”

The bartender looks confused. “A water it is then?”

Jisung’s head starts spinning slightly, dizziness bubbling up inside his chest. He hiccups with the pencil held between his fingers. Something’s wrong with this man. He needs to get out of here, now. “Sorry, I don’t feel too well. I think I’ll get back to—“ Just when he slips himself off the stool, two other men appear out of nowhere and block his way as the first one firmly holds him in place by his shoulders. Jisung immediately turns to the bartender, signaling him to run with his eyes. And the bartender does as he insists.

One of the thugs growls gruffly, making Jisung drop the black duffle bag in his hand. “You’re gonna have to pay for what you did, boy.”

“Hi, I’m Jisung. Sup guys?”

“Did you just say ‘Hi, I’m Jisung’?”

Jisung grimaces as you hiss into the earpiece, the sound screeching against his eardrums. In which, it doesn't really help to cool the situation down. He drops onto his knees when a guy kicks him in the shin, face scrunching up in pain. One of the guys surrounded him hides behind a face mask, whipping out a dagger concealed in his sleeve. With a cheerful voice, “There’s nothing to be all grabby and stabby about.” Jisung gulps. He’d be lying if he said that he’s not about to piss his pants.

“Uhm, do you like the color red?”

The one who’s holding him down snaps, pulling his collar backward. “Shut it, twig.” He elbows him at the back of his head, earning a low, painful grunt.

Jisung asks, as light as a feather, he’s trying too hard to form a proper sentence at this point. “What about coding? Do you like coding? You guys look pretty smart, you must be into coding.”

“Jisung, the hell-- CODE RED, JEONGIN, CODE RED! JISUNG’S IN TROUBLE!”

He sighs in relief when you finally understand, limbs growing wobbly.

“Han, get the hell out of there! I swear--”

Your words get cut off when a goon peels the earpiece away harshly, examining the device with an amused smirk. “Look at this toy, it might be pretty expensive.” Then, he looks at his gang member and cocks a brow. “Why don’t we just take him with us? He’ll lead us right back to their hiding spot.” His team quickly nod their heads in agreement, staring down at the blond-haired boy with mischievous eyes.

With his head dangled low, Jisung’s limbs are giving in but the grip on the pencil never once loosens. “Okay..” He slowly looks up and shoots them a look, chuckling darkly. “This is gonna be fun.” In a split second, the sharp end of the pencil goes straight into the goon’s stomach, making him stagger backward and groan aloud in agony. Although Jisung’s frame is quite small compared to what a standard fighter needs to be, he never fails to take advantage of that. If he’s smaller, he’s gonna be faster than them.

He sweeps a leg across the ground, one of the men falls onto his head, easily slipping into a good sleep until the zombies come in and take care of his unconscious body. Jisung catches the earpiece when it falls out of the goon’s hand. “Thanks, I’m gonna need my toy back.” Before he can slip the device on again, an arm sweeps under his feet and he lands right onto his bottom. “Using fire against fire. Smartass.” He mutters and clumsily props himself up from facepalming himself onto a pool of fresh blood that’s slowly seeping through the tiled floor.

The only conscious goon smirks down at him. “I don’t like coding. But I do like the color red.” When Jisung flutters his eyes upwards, he’s met with a shiny metal blade, inevitable to drive down, straight into his chest, right through his heart. He automatically squeezes his eyes shut as an attempt to brace himself for the contact.

“Hey asshole,” His eyes shoot open at the more than familiar voice.

two.

You’re so screwed. You’re all fucking screwed.

You’re not screwed because you completely forgot that you have four finals in a row next week. You’re not screwed because you broke your mom’s favorite mug or accidentally had a scratch on your dad’s car. Heck, you wish they could beat you with a wooden spoon right now. If only they’re still alive. You’d have your parents put you in timeout and fail four subjects all at once just so that everything can be normal again.

In movies, particularly ‘Zombieland’ or ‘The Walking Dead’, humans are being controlled by a virus that turns you into a walking corpse that feeds off humans’ flesh. But, we naturally do have plenty of brain disorders that can do just that. However, none of those things were contagious in the first place. Until Mad Cow Disease came along. Who would have thought? Cows are simply being part of the food chain then an entire square block, forty bedrooms, and nineteen bathrooms; everyone in your neighborhood went apeshit after the steak they had for dinner.

It’s a miracle how you even managed to run away without being bit by your own parents, who are now brainless serial killers. The idea of eating someone’s organs doesn’t seem too far-fetched anymore when you know that you’re only one brain chemical away from turning to a psychotic cannibal. That’s not even the irony of the whole situation. Irony, is how ready your current generation is for the end of the world, but not exams.

Hence, you’re gonna throw a birthday party for one of your best friends like nothing’s ever happened. Except for the fact that you’ll have to lure him out of the sanctuary while the others are working on the surprise.

Now you’re sitting in an abandoned bar, attempting to cheer your friend up with a shot of whiskey. You’ve never really liked the idea of being inside a bar before. Drowning yourself in alcohol and letting the night snatch your consciousness away as you sway your body along with bad EDM, going deaf with laughter and music banging against your eardrums? Not ideal. But now, it’s all empty. The neon lights are hanging by a single cable, wallpapers chipping off with discolorations soaking through the wall. The once infamous bar where students used to get wasted every weekend is now dead. Both literally and metaphorically. You’re not complaining anyway.

“Hey Jeongin,” you speak up lowly. “Have you ever hit a girl before?” You run your tongue over the cut right on your bottom lip, tasting the coppery blood in boredom.

Jeongin stares blankly at the glass of whiskey that you just offered him, studying the yellowish component closely. “No? Why would I?” He looks up and almost freezes to death with the look that you’re throwing his way. He can’t tell whether you’re mad or not because you’re that type of person who doesn’t necessarily need to go all furious or mad to scare the shit out of someone.

“No? Oh, don’t mind me,” you shake your head, low chuckles vibrating through your chest capacity. “I was just gonna ask you how it feels. You know, to kick someone in the gut or punch them in the face when you know they’re clearly not your size.” You sigh and prop your head onto your hand, eyes slightly heavy from the alcohol kick. It’s been a while since you’ve messed with these things. “Right, sorry. Not my point. My point is: stop being a big baby and get out there, talk it out with Jisung you little shit!”

The boy in front of you quickly looks away when you stare him dead in the eye. He swallows heavily, picking at the ripped part of his jeans. “I’m not gonna talk it out with him. That was stupid, irresponsible and reckless. He could have just let it be and not have his jaw broken. He was supposed to sneak in, get out, and act like nothing’s ever happened. Instead, he got caught at a bar, waved at them and even said ‘Hi, I’m Jisung’. He didn’t even get anything but got you in danger! Look at you! Minho would kill us if he saw you with a thousand arrow wounds like this!” He throws his hands upwards and cries out. “I swear to God, I’d never sign up to save his ass, ever, again. I swear—“

You clear your throat, wordlessly dropping a black duffel bag onto the counter with a loud thud. Jeongin’s mouth forms an ‘o’ as his hands automatically unzip the bag, revealing an awful amount of weapons: shotguns, rifles, knives, crowbars, etc. Heck, even some food. God, Jeongin can’t even remember the last time he’s had a proper meal. He subconsciously runs his hand along the matte-finished surface of a firearm, a retort lingering on the tip of his tongue. “Wow,” he utters. “He really— he got them.”

“He did.” You cock a brow, leaning forward and zip the bag up again. “And tell you what, even if you’re not gonna be there when Jisung makes a bad decision again, I will. Because you know damn well that there’s nothing in this world that he wouldn’t hesitate to do as long as your little junkie ass is safe.”

“HEY, WE CAN TALK THIS OUT, CHILL—“

“I said hands up! DROP THE GUN!”

“Chan, DON’T DO IT!”

You and Jeongin quickly collect yourselves, scrambling out of the bar. When the door swings wide open, you’re met with Jisung on his knees, hands behind his head, his Benelli M4 abandoned by a water bottle near the entrance. Meanwhile, there are two other guys who seem like they’re talking amongst themselves as they hold your best friend at gunpoint. Your fingers hover over the pistol in your back pocket, mentally debating if you should engage or not.

The more you’re lost into your own thoughts, the more you find yourself staring at the pink-haired boys standing beside the brunette one, who’s having a handgun, pointing right at Jisung. The freckled boy has you drawn into him like instant gravity because suddenly, it feels like the world stops spinning when he looks up and accidentally meets your eyes. That’s when you take a closer look at his features. Perfect dark eyebrows, bright beady eyes, and prominent Cupid’s bow. His freckles are what throw you off, making it possible to look away because they’re like embers of disintegrated supernovas, scattered across the universe for eternities.

“Everyone calm down!” You snap out of it and break eye contact. As much as you’d love to stare at the freckled cutie all day, you’re gonna cut him in his sleep if he dares to put a finger on Jisung. “Lay off my friend. Now.” You declare and receive attention from the brunette as he tells you off with his eyes.

The guy who you assume is called, Chan jerks his head towards Jisung. “Tell your friend that it’d be nice if he could give it back.”

“Give what back?” You turn to Jisung. “Han, we’ve talked about this. We don’t steal from anyone, besides street gangs.” You tell him firmly, motioning for him to hand over whatever the fuck of a thing that those two strangers need because him getting killed for something as childish as a slice of cheesecake is gonna drive you nuts.

Jisung opens up his left palm and shows you a silver wedding band, smiling awkwardly as you hold yourself back from decking him in the face. “Look, I was just looking around and I found this thing, and I got curious then they just came back and deadass threatened me with their guns!” He adds in. “I don’t know what’s the big deal with this ring anyway. Looks like someone bought it on eBay.”

“Say that again, I dare you.” Chan tightens his grip on the gun and clicks in a bullet. As soon as you hear the bullet being locked in to the chamber, your hand automatically flies to your back pocket and pulls out your pistol. You directly aim at his head, finger trembling over the trigger when you switch off the safety catch. “Give-it-back,” Chan says through gritted teeth.

“Jisung..” You warn him.

Jisung protests. “Like hell I would.”

“I never miss, just throwing that out there,” Chan says indifferently

“I SAID PUT THE GUN DOWN.”

“ENOUGH!” Jeongin snaps, catching all of you off guard. “We are surrounded by mindless cannibals over here! We all went through it, we all were there when our family turned into those monsters, we all had those times where we had no place to go, no food to eat, no friends to be there for us. Don’t we have enough problems? For fuck’s sake look at us! Is pointing guns and yelling at each other gonna bring the good days back? So would you guys just stop it? We’re a bunch idiots trying to kill each other when the end is fucking near! Can’t we just be friends and play some dumbass games like ‘20 Questions’ like decent human beings while we’re driving them back to the safehouse ?”

You stare at him in awe for a moment there, your muscles relaxing and giving up on the gun. Jeongin gives Chan a Look, chest heaving up and down in pure furiosity. Sometimes the idea of surviving does mess with your mind, forgetting that people are still people. They’re just like you. They’ve gone through some pretty bad shits too.

Chan retrieves his weapon, sighing. “Sorry, we really mean no harm. It’s just that we need it back.” He scratches his neck sheepishly as two dimples are fully on display. He’s not so scary when he smiles after all.

“I’m gonna have to confiscate that for the time being.” You snatch the piece of jewelry from Jisung’s hand. “We’ll talk about this when you guys are back at our base.”

“But—“

“Chan, let her. It’s fine.” The freckled boy interrupts him.

You look at him and subconsciously smile. “Oh? I’m sorry, does this belong to you? Aren’t you scared that I’m gonna throw this pretty little thing away later?”

He replies with mild interest. “I don’t think you’d wanna do that, you could have just kept it to yourself.”

“No, Charming. It’s not my style.” You voice as you stare down at the ring, studying every little detail carefully. The silver band is exquisite with a sterling double knot, adding a unique touch to the elegant simplicity of the ring. You think you’re already falling in love, but are you really gonna tell him that? Most definitely not. “Yep, not my style. And I’ll throw it away someday, that’s for threatening my friend.”

He makes a face and takes a few steps towards you. “I have a name.”

“Don’t care. ‘Charming’ suits you pretty well.”

“It’s Felix. You’re welcome.” He grins, offering you a hand. You decide to take it, kind of taken aback when knowing that his hand is a lot smaller compared to the average guys’. “And I wouldn’t worry about that, you won’t be going home with it anyway. ‘Cause I’ll always find you, always.” He squeezes your hand a little bit too tight for your liking, making you flinch.

Little did you know, behind his back, Felix’s counting down from one two three with his fingers, Chan watching him closely with his gun ready.

Three.

Two.

One.

Jisung quickly notices and reaches out to you. “Y/N!” And one single shotgun rings through the area.

three.

On the outskirts of the once stellar city, lies a warehouse in a not so stellar neighborhood. Dead leaves are falling onto the ground, scraping against the concrete surface, and sending chills down people’s spine. It’s like they’re not even trying to grow properly even when it’s not halfway through spring yet. The eerie atmosphere is just another reason for people to not wander around for too long, as if they’d have the gut to come there in the first place. But it’s still a zombie apocalypse, there are worse things that could happen either way.

You’d be surprised at what people can do when they’re dangling off the fingertips of Death.

People would never guess what’s hidden behind the crooked door. A living room fully equipped with an outdated couch and broken TV, a kitchen with everything but a fridge. Further into the safe house is a bedroom big enough for ten people to fit in, a storage room full of firearms and weapons. Last but not least, security cameras and monitors are set up all around the base, to be more secure. No zombies in this household. It took you and the guys forever to collect enough materials. The only thing that you’re constantly running low on is food.

And turns out Jisung calling your name wasn't the last thing you’d heard.

“Ugh, Minho, get me water,” You groan loudly before wagging your hand around like a madwoman. Once you feel the cool metal surface on the nightstand, you quickly check your own reflection. Needless to say, you’re horrified at what you saw. Absolutely terrifying, yes. Hair falling onto your face, tiny scratches scattered across your cheekbones as they leave an itchy sensation of your skin. Fortunately, the cut on your lips is already cleaned, and your bruises are starting to fade. But what sucks is the constant banging effect on your temple, an imminent pain that’s threatening to swallow you whole.

Yeah, this is why you never drink.

“Minho, water..” Your whimper grows smaller and smaller towards the end as your hand gives up on holding onto your phone. “Is this what whiskey does to the human body?” You smack your lips together as the bitter taste seeps through your taste buds more deeply, choking on the alcohol smell in your own throat.

Minho takes long strides into the bedroom with a bowl of piping hot soup. “Whiskey contains almost no sugar, can reduce blood clots, decreases your chances of getting a heart attack, even a stroke, fights cancerous cells and..” He pauses before wiggling his eyebrows. “Helps you perform better in bed.” He chuckles when you bury your face under your blanket, cheeks tinted pink. He will never not get you with his less than appropriate comments.

“You’re gross.”

Minho smirks. “Low blow.” He cranes his neck tiredly, lips curling upwards into a small smile. “You’re quite lucky. Whoever was trying to kill you missed.”

Your brows automatically knit together as you try to gather the small pieces of memories your brain can muster. Everything that happened yesterday seems too cloudy for you to comprehend, but you could never forget the moment Chan’s bullet missed you by a strand of hair, piercing straight into the plexiglass window right behind you to catch you off guard. Next thing you know, Felix kicked the back of your knees, having you land on buckling ankles.

You tell Minho sternly. “If he wanted me dead, I wouldn’t have come back in one piece.” You hold in a breath, in disbelief of your own words. “He spared my life, believe it or not.” Chan let you go, but why would he? You did piss him and his friend off intentionally because you never know what you’re getting yourself into.

Minho figures you might have hit your head somewhere, so he places your food on the nightstand and scoffs. “Eat up, you’re talking a shit ton for someone who almost died.”

“Where’s Han?” You gladly receive the bowl of soup with two hands, mouth watering slightly since you haven’t eaten since yesterday.

As if on cue, you can hear Jisung shrieking from downstairs. “NO NO NO! DON’T SHOOT ME WITH MY OWN GUN!”

You and Minho exchange a look before rushing outside, dashing towards the living room. “Oh, you gotta be shitting me.” The commotion inside has your jaw dropped to the floor. Again, Jisung is held at gunpoint for the fourth time of the week, you’re quite surprised that his head hasn’t been blown into bits yet. With the gun pressed against his temple, beside him is the freckled boy from yesterday. Felix, if you’re not mistaken. Chan’s here too, neither of them is looking too happy. If Hyunjin was here seeing two strangers try to threaten his best friend, he’d definitely go apeshit.

“Woah woah, what’s the problem here?” Your brother, Woojin comes out from the kitchen with wide eyes and two glasses of water in his hands. “Lix, put the gun down.” He tells the younger boy firmly, but Felix doesn’t even move an inch.

He cocks his head towards Jisung, a scowl adorning his soft features. “It wouldn’t have to be like this if your friend here didn’t steal my ring. Twice.”

“Jisung, seriously?” You facepalm yourself. You can still vividly remember how Felix snatched the piece of jewelry away from your palm when your face smacked the ground. And now Jisung decided to take it back? Without your consent? You’re not taking a bullet for him, not this time.

Jisung puts his hands up in defeat. “Okay okay, I have a confession.” He inhales. “I sold it.” Just when you thought things can’t possibly get any worse.

“What?!” You and Felix exclaim simultaneously.

Felix tongues the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “Come here, tell you what..”

The moment Jisung takes a step towards him, Felix takes his hand in a little bit too abruptly. He twists it at a weird angle, making Jisung wince. “That, is for selling the ring.” He presses your friend harshly against the coffee table, the handle of the gun secured on the nape of his neck, and you grimace at the sight. But also, you’re low-key enjoying this. “And that, is for being a little shit. You’re coming with me tomorrow, no negotiation.”

Felix soon lets go when your brother glares at him, smiling softly, warm brown eyes twinkling like a starry night. Jisung backs away almost immediately in caution when he offers to pull him upright and cowers behind Minho. You can tell that he’s terrified of the seemingly harmless freckled boy now. This is what he gets for never learning, he’s made a grave mistake to touch someone’s property in the middle of an apocalypse, where everyone’s more than ready to tear each other apart when they’re pissed about off about something as little as being hangry. “Huh, you’re not very into handshakes then. Don’t you want your gun back too?” He puts his hands into the pockets of his jeans, turning to meet Woojin’s eyes.

“Alright, we’ll have to talk about this later.” Your brother merely sneers at Jisung. “I’ll reintroduce you guys. Y/N, my sister.” He motions towards you before averting his attention to the other two. “That’s Minho, find him if you’re injured or need someone to knock some solid logic into your head.” Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. “And the moron who, uh, robbed you is Jisung. He’s a really good guy, I swear. His hands are apparently faster than his brain.”

Chan speaks up dryly. “So he’s a doctor, and a part-time therapist.” Minho nods satisfactorily. “And he’s an idiot.” Jisung just smiles awkwardly because he’s not planning on getting his ass kicked again. At least not for the time being.

You interject, still drowning in confusion. “Wait, you know him?”

“Yeah, he’s the son of our parents’ former business partners. You guys used to hang out as toddlers.” Woojin says.

You widen your eyes. “What?” You can’t believe it. Felix is ridiculously attractive (you’d hate to admit that in front of him) so hanging out with a boy this cute, even not for long would still definitely leave you with some kind of impression. There’s no way this charming guy had witnessed those times where you’re still taking medicine by swallowing them down with chocolate pudding. You’d rather bury yourself alive at this point.

“The Lees made that?” You gasp.

Woojin nods reluctantly. “They sure did.”

Felix takes a few steps forward and looks down at you, decreasing the distance between your faces. His minty breath fans your face and leaves you flustered within seconds. “Long time no see, Princess. Told you I will always find you.” He throws you a wolfish wink, proceeding to walk past you to go upstairs with Chan following him after.

“Hey! I still want my gun back!” Jisung yells after him.

The pet name that rolled off his tongue effortlessly sends your heartbeat over the edge. It’s beating vigorously inside your rib cage, louder than when your parents were about to eat you alive, louder than when you were kicked to the curb by some random mobs, so loud that you’re afraid everyone’s gonna hear it. It’s only your second encounter and he’s already messing with your heart just by simply existing as he is.

Jesus fucking Christ. Now, you’re really screwed.

Because falling for someone during an apocalypse is just another fucked up version of every rom-com to ever exist. Or maybe a knocked-off version of Warm Bodies, except Felix isn’t a zombie.

Yet.

four.

You wake up today feeling quite at peace for once in a while since the zombies outbreak only to find out that Jisung is heading outside to search for medicine with Minho. Meaning, drum rolls, you’re having the honor to go with Prince Charming aka Lee Felix and retrieve his stupid ring. You’re far too mad at Woojin to even finish the can of tuna that he kindly offered. Instead, you decide to bolt outside as soon as possible before you accidentally murder your brother.

“Get in Princess, we don’t have all day!” Felix calls out loudly as he repeatedly honks his car. Admittedly, you’re quite impressed that he managed to find a whole ass Jeep in the middle of this ghost town.

You enter the car, almost gasping at how good of a condition that this car is still in. Whoever owned this vehicle previously, God bless them because they definitely did a great job at keeping it nice and clean. There are no questionable items lying on the floor or inside one of the cabinets, the AC is still working, the radio isn’t showing those creepy statics sounds that never fail to chill you to the bones.

Felix perks a brow in amusement. “It’s mine, by the way, I did a great job at keeping it clean huh?” When you give him nothing but a scowl, he chuckles lightheartedly and starts the engine. “Buckle up, I don’t want you to suddenly fly out of the window or anything.”

“Oh, you’re pretty shit at driving then.” You comment flatly, making an effort to avoid his eyes. They keep drawing you in even at the slightest chance. You’re not falling into that downward spiral again, nope, never. But you can’t help but notice how he still looks good in a bomber jacket with a simple tee underneath, tucked neatly inside his ripped jeans.

Upon your cold response, Felix’s smile remains still on his lips. “Said someone who can’t even drive.” He snickers somewhat sarcastically. Wow, do you miss bickering with Minho about his three spoiled cats.

“Sure, hand over the keys unless you want us both to play tennis with Hitler in the afterlife.” You protest with as much sarcasm. God, it’s been two minutes into the ride and the amount of willpower you’re mustering right now to not grab him by the collar and yank his ass out of this car is actually terrifying. But doing that can potentially threaten your own life so indeed, you’re starting to wonder if that’s gonna be the wisest decision. “What’s the big deal with that ring anyway? Can’t you just break into some jewelry store and find another one that you like?”

Felix looks into the distance, his smile faltering. “My mom wanted me to give it to the girl that I’m willing to spend the rest of my life with. Even when things are fucked up, like right about… now..” He tells you sternly with a hint of sadness in his tone, his warm brown eyes are now cloudy. It’s hard to break through the wall that he’s trying to build, but you don’t think you both are close enough to talk about these things anyway.

If anything, you should try to lighten up the mood. “Good luck with that. Because the only thing you’re gonna be willing to live with now is a gun and those packets of Tim Tam Slam.”

He turns sideways to make eye contact with you for a split second before averting his gaze back on the road. So you actually pay attention to the little details. “Call it.” Felix smiles again, and somehow, you feel like a weight is being lifted off your chest. “And mind you, I have a fiancé. Well, more like ‘had’ but whatever, doesn’t matter, same thing.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva, eyes as wide as a goldfish’s. “You have a what?!”

“Relax, haven’t you heard of an arranged marriage before?” He looks at you as if you’re some kind of alien species from outer space. “I was gonna give the ring to her but bummer, your friend just had to sell it.”

Arms crossed over your chest, you hold back a chuckle with a hand secured on your mouth. “Wow..” You manage to choke out between giggles. “You must be getting something impressive to be able to agree to marry a goody-two-shoes who owns more money than what she knows to do with.”

“Pardon?” Felix snorts involuntarily. “What does that suppose to mean? Are you insulting my marriage?”

‘Insulting’ is an understatement for an entire lecture that you’ve already planned out in your head that you’re about to give him a piece of but you don’t think he’s ready for that just yet. Instead, you counter softly. “Not quite, but for the most parts, yeah, I guess I am.” He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and proceeds to throw daggers towards your direction with his eyes every three seconds. “But let me ask you this. If you wanna give that ring to your fiancé so badly, then do you really love her? Or is everything just a contract so that you won’t put your parents’ company at risk?”

A comfortable silence falls upon the both of you as Felix starts replaying your words over and over again in his mind. He’s never the type to go out and about, looking for love like it’s the only purpose of his life. He’s never dated anyone before. He used to believe that love always comes at the most unexpected moment for the longest time and he should be waiting, not searching. He didn’t think much about the arranged marriage either. She was a nice girl, but they’ve only talked twice, and nothing really clicked like how he imagined love would feel like. Felix knew, he knew deep down that it wouldn’t work out after all but he was just too much of a coward to admit it. But your words hit differently, imprinting him with a little something called ‘reality’.

Everything’s kinda screwed right now, no one knows how much longer humanity can keep up with this whole survival situation. Living on the streets, and can never get a good night's sleep. Although it does sting a bit knowing that he might die alone on this planet, it definitely gives him another point of view to look at the relationship between him and his fiancé. He doesn’t even want to imagine living in the same house with her at this point.

“Your mom wanted you to give it to someone special right?” You tell him softly, a hand brushing over his as an attempt to soothe the ache in his chest. “Then you gotta find them. It’s not over yet. But that doesn’t mean there’s much time left. You don’t have to keep running towards something that isn’t worth it in the first place anymore.” You pause for a moment, lips curling upwards. “Because if we cease to believe in love, why would we want to live?”

Felix bursts into laughter and brushes your hand off of him. “Ew! You stole that from a movie and it’s not even good. Jesus Y/N, get some counseling.”

“Don’t shit on my pop culture references like that you uncultured swine.”

“Just don’t do that again.”

You roll your eyes at him. “One more word and I’ll burn you down with this Jeep.” And he just smirks at you because he knows for sure that you won’t have the heart to destroy such a good car when the world is literally falling apart. Because chances are, you hate your dad’s old grey Innovator that only pumps lukewarm air inside the vehicle. In which, isn’t the most ideal thing for an apocalypse. But Woojin loves that thing far too much to throw it away so you’ve never had the heart to tell him to.

Felix calmly parks on a random sidewalk before taking the key and exits the car. “We’re here.” You follow him not long after, eyes squinted due to the brightness of the daylight. Even though you’re barely seeing anything, you can’t seem to recognize this neighborhood. And it doesn’t look very sketchy either, pretty mediocre to say the least. You can’t seem to remember if Woojin has taken you here or not. And you’re starting to wonder how many zombies are hiding behind those buildings, seeing your scent as a solution for their never-ending thirst. Who the hell did Jisung sell that ring to?

Felix narrows his eyes and spots something in the distance. “Y/N, are you seeing this?” You quickly stand beside him, and slowly, a slouched figure comes into view. “I’ll take care of that.” He places a hand on your shoulder when the figure picks up its pace, the muscles on your back tense up at his touch. “Trust me, I’m not gonna accidentally blow your head into bits.”

“Down!”

You quickly duck and slide yourself across the concrete surface in time before Felix can swing the baseball bat straight into your face. The bat comes in contact with the zombie harshly enough to knock it backward, onto her bottom. You and Felix look at each other for a solid three seconds before approaching the zombie again, examining her more closely. Her once blond hair is now doused in nothing but blood, sticking to her face and neck. Both of her lips are completely distorted as if another zombie gave her the kiss of Death (quite literally) as a welcome ritual. Suddenly, she jolts up from her lying position, hands wagging in midair to grab onto something.

You jump backward on instinct as Felix brings the baseball bat down again, and again, and again until you can’t even make out the horrendous features of the zombie anymore. He scrunches his nose at the smell of the poisoned blood and tosses the metal bat away. “Never hurts to double-tap, better not get blood on my white Jeep.”

You blurt subconsciously. “Impressive, Charming.” Okay but in your defense, Felix just smacked the hell out of the zombie with a baseball bat, he basically saved your life. Although you’re fully capable of protecting yourself, that was pretty hot.

He’s too busy fixing the sleeves of his shirt but his eyes immediately light up at your words. “Say that again?”

“In your freaking dreams, Lee.”

Felix pulls you in and ruffles your hair, rocking you side to side happily. “Don’t be so uptight! Complimenting me once in a while wouldn’t kill anyone now, would it?” When he’s too immersed in annoying the shit out of you, something falls out of his pocket with a small ‘clang’.

“Wait, you dropped something—“ You manage to wiggle out of his embrace and bend down to pick it up, and your mind just stops. “Felix…isn’t that your ring?”

five.

“Jesus Christ!” Woojin almost yells when he sees a black-eyed Felix exiting the kitchen with an ice pack on his right hand, lips swollen with several cuts across his face. “What happened to you?”

You walk into the living room not long after, tiny scratches are scattered all over your pale knuckles, blood trickling down on your cheeks like you’ve been crying red. “Okay,” Woojin shakes his head, pushing himself up from the beige-colored couch. “What the fuck happened to the both of you?”

“I punched him in the face.” “She punched me in the face.” The both of you confess in sync, exchanging questionable looks before turning away from each other.

“And why is there blood on your face again?” Woojin swears, if Felix dares to touch you, he will put his head on a chopping block, not to mention hurting you.

You shrug back, grabbing a water bottle from the coffee table and chug on it generously. “It’s not mine.” Without turning your head, you hand the bottle over to Felix. The boy gladly receives it, downing the whole thing left in one go. “Anyway, some mobsters appeared out of nowhere and they wanted his stupid ring. I got my ass kicked for a goddamn piece of jewelry, twice.” You merely glare at Felix who’s applying pressure to the cool pack of ice against his bruised eye, wincing every once in a while. He does feel kinda guilty, believe it or not. Maybe lying wasn’t the best option to get you to hang out with him more. There’s no way you two could have died back there, but he would be more than ready to throw the ring away for the sake of your safety.

But either way, Jisung’s gonna be dead meat to you after this.

“You do realize that we just kissed indirectly right?” Felix laughs when you chuck the now empty water bottle at him, hissing in anger. He’s acting like such a Lee, irritating, and carefree most of the time. In which, makes you wanna kill him with your bare hands even more in these kinds of situations. “Come here, a princess shouldn’t have blood on her pretty face.” He manages to turn you around and face him as he pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. When he leans down slightly to wipe the crimson stickiness away, your once tense muscles now relax, loosening themselves.

Within this proximity, you’re able to take a closer look at his starry eyes with long lashes framing them perfectly, his cute button nose, his peachy lips and how his freckles are more beautiful than anything you’ve seen before. One of his hands holds your neck in place while the other is secured on your waist so it’s easier for him to get a better angle. Felix furrows his brows every now and then, being careful and gentle at the same time to get rid of the blood off your face completely. He did pull you into doing the dirty business after all. Might as well make up for it.

You didn’t push him away because this feels...safe, and right. He makes you feel at ease after the longest time, it’s like nothing you’ve experienced before. Not even your brother can possess this sense of comfort in his presence. It almost makes you smile which is seemingly paradoxical because forty minutes ago, you were figuring out ways to hide a corpse since you couldn’t stand his nosy ass for much longer.

“Ew, I’m getting out of here. I can’t bear seeing this.” Woojin makes a gagging noise before stumbling out of the living room with his cup of espresso, leaving you and Felix alone in the living room. A muffled silence occurs for the next thirty seconds.

“There,” He clears his throat before pulling away. “Done.”

You look away. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that though.”

“Anything for my princess.”

You ignore his cheeky smile before rummaging through the wooden drawers. “Sit down.” You demand once you pull out a mini first aid kit, Minho always keeps those randomly around the house just in case. One can never be too careful after all. Felix does as you say, taking a seat on the couch. He watches you taking out a cotton swab with a bottle of sanitizing solution. “Lean in.” You command while dipping the cotton swab into the solution, his hand brushing over your thigh accidentally.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You shake your head as an attempt to hide the coral tint on your cheeks. “This is gonna hurt though…” You warn him, cotton swab hovering over one of the cuts on his cheeks. Felix nods obediently, clenching his fists and squeezes his eyes shut to brace himself for the burn. He can’t gush over how cute you look anymore since he’s secretly terrified of cleaning wounds. But who isn’t?

You smirk internally. “Okay, I’m gonna count down from three to one.”

“Three..” A single drop of cold sweat rolls down on his temple.

“Two..” He holds his breath. But before he can react properly, you’re already pressing the cotton swab onto his wound, your other hand pinning his down firmly. “Felix quit moving already! How old are you for fuck’s sake?!” You laugh wholeheartedly, struggling to hold him in place while cleaning his opened cuts with the solution.

Felix shrieks like a little child. “Ah! Ow! Y/N! Ah! Y/N! Y/N, I SWEAR TO GOD!” He succeeds in pulling away after a good three minutes, the burn from the alcohol feels like there’s fire coursing through his veins, burning a hole right through his skin. He’s not doing that ever again. “That hurt like a motherfucker.” Whimpering, his brows are knitted together in agony when you put a bandage over the wound. “You didn’t even finish counting, I hate you.”

“There there you big baby.” Smiling at him, your hand gently caresses his calloused ones. It doesn’t take him long to realize how soft your hands are, and how cold they are compared to him too. So he decides to link your fingers together, hoping to give you some of his warmth. You completely freeze at his action and choose to look anywhere but his eyes, from the broken TV to the random magazines on the coffee table and his shiny pistol next to them.

Felix brushes his thumb over the back of your hand and chuckles. “See, you do know how to smile. It’s not that hard to smile in front of me after all, is it?” He brings your knuckles to his lips and peppers small kisses over them lovingly. It makes his heart crack a little upon seeing them all scratched up, because of him. Little actions like this always make you feel fuzzy on the inside, especially when it comes from someone like Felix? You’re done for.

“I didn’t see this. I’ve never seen this. I’m not seeing this. I will never see this again.” He pulls away shyly when Jisung starts teasing you both as he passes by the living room from upstairs. Oh right, weren’t you planning on decking his face for setting you on a ‘date’ with a guy you hardly know only after three solid days when he kicked your ass?

“HAN JISUNG GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!”

six.

Falling for Lee Felix is scarier than getting infected with the Mad Cow Disease (or Mad Zombie Disease). It’s official. But knowing the basic bitch that you are, being loopy in love with him is quite inevitable. There’s no use fighting against fate anyway, still, you’re going to postpone it for as long as you can because you definitely don’t wanna get too attached during an apocalypse.

Sadly, having Felix share a room with Chan right beside yours doesn’t exactly help you avoid him. He always roams the house half-naked at night like he’s trying to put his chiseled abs up for auction after every shower. One time he almost gave you a cardiac arrest when you found him rummaging through the fridge at two in the morning without a shirt on. There were some nights where you didn’t even get a wink of sleep because Chan and he were too busy jamming to music even though they know that the walls in this house are clearly paper-thin. However, you chose to let them slide for the sake of Jisung’s and Minho’s so-called ‘beauty sleep’ aka their spontaneous cuddle sessions throughout the day. That’s only an excuse to avoid him even more.

Felix obviously knows what’s up, so he’s been acting extra annoying these days to get your attention. He keeps popping his head inside your room (which was initially a storage room but you insisted on having it since you didn’t want to share your questionable sleeping habits with any of the guys) and asks for random stuff that never seems to make sense. Like who needs a fucking stapler when the whole world is falling into a crisis? You still kept yourself together and didn’t throw hands at him because you’re not planning on giving him what he wanted.

But what Felix wants? Felix gets.

“Good morning Princess..” He half-whispers and half-singsongs after shutting the door of your room with his foot. “Thank fucking God.” He mentally bows to whatever gods up there that’s pushing their blood family feud aside to bless him for the day. You’re still fast asleep, snoring softly with your grey blanket wrapped around your body.

He’s impressed by how you still manage to not wake up early every other day because there’s no curtain unlike his room so the sunlight can easily peer right through, casting a delicate light on your figure. Surprisingly, you don’t sleep like Chan, with his leg dangling off the edge of the bed and his blanket’s on the floor by the time the sun rises again. You sleep with four limbs curled inwards, hands grabbing two full fists of the grey fabric like a puppy.

He also notices how you’re still keeping pictures of your childhood memories on one of the empty bookshelves. There’s one with you and Woojin standing in the middle of Time Square when you both came to the States. And there’s another one where you’re dressed up as Harley Quinn with Hyunjin as the Joker on your right, Jisung as Rick Flag to your left and your brother as Deadshot squatting on the ground for your senior year’s Halloween party. Although you’re more of a Marvel gal yourself.

“Y/N...” Felix whispers softly as he sits down on your bed, careful not to wake you up. His original plan to have you chase him up and down the house is already going down the drain since he really doesn’t want to ruin a good night's sleep. Chan has done that to him one too many times and he sure knows the consequences. Heck, Chan might not even see him after this.

Felix outstretches his hand carefully, caressing your cheekbone like you’re made of glass. He can’t help but act like a creep because you’re too cute for your own good when you’re sleeping. It’s kinda nice actually, to not have you yelling at him for not putting clothes on right after his shower or wrestling him to the floor whenever he headlocks you at the most random times.

Suddenly, your eyes shoot open. The moment you see another human being’s presence in your own personal bubble, you automatically grab him by the neck before pinning him down onto the bed, locking his arms behind his back. “Ow! Ow! Dude, chill!” Felix cries out from underneath you, struggling to breathe properly when you’re practically crushing his lungs. Okay, he definitely did not see that coming.

“My goodness, what are you doing here?!” You gasp in realization, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Woojin- said-“ he chokes out between uneven breaths. “I could- come in- and wake you up.”

You cross your arms and sigh. “Yeah, come in.” You say with expressive hands. “Not touching me without my consent.”

He winces at the red marks across his wrists. “Since when can you fight someone like that?” Yeah, those aren’t going away anytime soon.

“What part of ‘Zombie Apocalypse Self-Learn Defense Basics 101’ don’t you understand?” You yawn tiredly before running a hand through your bed head. “Anyway, what do you want?”

Felix beams innocently, taking in the sight of your pajamas. “Your attention.” And you internally thank your brother for not doing laundry yesterday (water’s also running low), which means you had to borrow Minho’s PJs instead of wearing your Mickey Mouse sweatpants with the tank top from your old basketball team.

You really don’t have time for this, you think. Coldly, “Why?” you fake a lifeless smile.

“You’ve never spoken to me since the day when those mobsters beat the shit out of us.” He pouts like a sad kitten. “Look, I know that it’s my fault okay? I’m sorry. But I really just wanted to hang out with you. If you didn’t play hard to get, you would have saved us a trip to some sketchy neighborhood.”

You stop him right there. “First of all, I did talk to you. Just a maximum of five words per day. And secondly, they didn’t beat the shit out of us, we made them run back to wherever they came from, crying for their mommy while soiling their pants.”

“There!” He exclaims. “You said it yourself. Five words per day. Why? Am I that much of an asshole to hold a civil conversation with? Don’t tell me that you’re still holding grudges from the day we first met.”

“So what if I hold grudges? Do you think holding my best friend at gunpoint is gonna make me wanna befriend you?”

“Okay, bad example—“

“Look, can we talk this out later? I need to go outside and look for some food. We’re running out of those premade, frozen chicken nuggets that my brother’s obsessed with. As always.” You push him aside and place your hand on the doorknob. But Felix catches your hand in time before you can twist it, yanking it back so that you’re facing him, dead in the eye. He’s not letting go of his chance again. “Let-me-go.” You deadpan but receive a frown from him as a reply.

“No,” Felix looks like you just spit on him, his mocha eyes are now unreadable, almost hurt at why you’re acting so cold towards him. Some guys find it hot when girls have this kind of facade on, but this? This shit hurts him, tremendously. You might see him as a spoiled brat at day and party animal at night who just happens to be friends with your brother for all he knows. “I don’t trust your definition of ‘later’. Who knows? You might never let me into your life again after this conversation. I don’t like people shutting me out like this. Tell me, Y/N, do you really hate me that much? If so, I solemnly swear I will never talk to you again.”

Your prepared beforehand witty retort grows dead on the tip of your tongue. His eyes...they’re not lying. It makes your heart crack a bit upon seeing how sad they look right now. Perhaps you were being too harsh on him? Maybe you shouldn’t have judged him from the get-go? “You care about me, don’t you?” Felix reaches his hand upwards to tug a strand of hair behind your ear. He gently grabs your hand and places them on his cheekbone, where a scar is fading by time. “Remember this? You treated me. You do care, Y/N. You’re not stupid enough to think that I didn’t know right?”

You retrieve your hand and scoff. “Why would I care? Did I look like I cared? The only reasons I treated your wounds were because I could witness your pathetic state and I punched you in the face previously. Totally didn’t regret that but still, I wanted to make it up to you.” You say, desperately trying to wiggle your way out of this conversation because you’re not enjoying where this is going.

He inches closer and closer until he’s a breath away from your lips. “Because when you were treating my wounds, you had that dumb look on your face whenever you’re focused.” And you finally exhale when he pulls away, backing out of your room with a smirk. “I’ll wait in the car, your Highness.”

seven.

Going grocery shopping with Felix is rather stressful. Not because there are zombies spontaneously popping out of nowhere every five minutes, but because you quickly, quickly realize that this boy knows nothing about food other than stuffing his face until he can’t even pick himself up anymore. He can’t tell the difference between actually good meat and meat that’s been spoiled for several weeks. You literally can’t even fathom why because the foul smell would definitely give it away but unfortunately, he doesn’t even spare a second to suspect the sketchy hues of green and blue on the red surface.

But hey, at least he can kick some zombies’ asses when you’re too busy deciding between salmon and tuna. You’d always end up getting both anyway because why not? Guess this is what you get for not having to pay for anything. Being stuck with an uneducated fool who’s never once experienced working in the kitchen. The area around here is somewhat isolated so the stores are still pretty stocked up with all of the essentials. Thank God they haven’t run out of Woojin’s favorite chicken nuggets.

“Do you even know what this is?” You throw your hands up midair in disbelief, referring to the pile of grapefruits that are now half-way empty for no particular reason.

Felix makes a thinking face, lips pursing. “I think it’s a flamingo.”

“Lee Yongbok, you gotta be shitting me—“

He stops midway towards the frozen aisle. “Woah woah slow down bro, where did you get that name from?” His Korean name is as confidential as Chan’s secret drawers full of his guilty pleasure food. Not many people call him that because he secretly hates it and whoever takes that advantage to make fun of him deserves the cruelest of punishment. Felix frowns furiously at you before grabbing several packs of the chicken nuggets, fries, and some dumplings to throw them into the cart along with his Tim Tam Slam and your KitKat. “Chan told you right? He’s been on my ass all week since we moved in with you guys.”

You help him with stocking up canned food. “Why though? He seems like such a nice guy.” Okay except for the fact that he almost blew Jisung’s brain out. But you’re not gonna dwell on the past. “No worries though, everyone has probably known your Korean name by now.”

“This is not what I signed up for.”

You aggressively grab him by the neck to ruffle his hair, laughing at his misery. “Look at us, we’re already becoming so civil, I bet my brother is loving this.”

Felix tugs himself free from your grip to fix his hair and huffs. “Could be fate, you know?” He wiggles his brows, making you gag as you both make your way out of the store.

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “And they say I’m the crazy one.”

“No! I’m serious!” He exclaims with two hands up in defense. “One thing leads to another. Are you seeing how far we’ve come?” He pauses for a bit when the two of you reach the car so that he can throw everything to the backseats. “Jisung impulsively stole my ring, which made us run into each other. I met you again because I just happen to be friends with your brother. And since you tried to avoid me so hard, I had an excuse to piss you off so that I’m making up to you right now. How is that not fate?” He ends his speech before entering the car, inserting his key to start the engine.

You jump into the passenger’s seat, scoffing. “Thanks for the pep talk, pretty sure fate’s doing all the work. Now, where are we going?”

“I’m hungry, and I’m craving something.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “And I’m supposed to care because..?”

“Shut up and turn on some music.” He tosses you his phone.

Felix’s playlist consists of a handful of Coldplay’s songs with some other upbeat, trendy ones. He knows enough lyrics to sing along to throughout the drive. You look out the window and loosen yourself up a bit. His voice is surprisingly soothing, a stark contrast to his usual deep talking voice which is kinda nice to listen to. Both of you never start talking because you’re already dozing off to Dreamland because he had the audacity to drag your ass out of bed at eight in the morning. Your head constantly knocks onto the cool glass window every two minutes or so, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering your slumber.

It’s almost noon, and the sun’s probably the only thing that’s keeping Felix awake. He’s hungry, thirsty, sleepy and kind of stiff from occupying the driver’s seat for way too long. He didn’t get any sleep last night, busy thinking of ways to get your attention again. Luckily, he didn’t walk out of your room with a black eye this time. Felix mentally exhales when he pulls up, and his eyes are met with the giant purple and pink neon sign: “Fancy” aka Chan’s favorite place. He shuts the engine off before leaning over to wake you up.

“Meow,” he flinches at the sound and immediately turns to you. You would never possibly make that, would you? “Meow,” there it is again. His eyes shift again to the backseats, squinting hard only to make out a yellow ball of fluff shuffling through the bags of groceries. “Oh my God Soonie, what the hell are you doing here?” He sighs in relief when the cat finally looks up at him, green eyes piercing through the dark.

You stir in your slumber and eventually wake up upon hearing the commotion. “What happened?” A loud yawn escapes your lips when you rub your eyes tiredly. You turn around only to see Minho’s oldest cat pawing at the paper bags. “Are you seeing Soonie in the backseats right now or am I just delusional?”

“Well, that makes two of us. She probably sneaked out again, Minho’s gonna throw hands soon.” Felix scoops Soonie into his arms easily and opens the door. Then, he turns around to look at you. “Come on, I bet you’re hungry, my treat.”

eight.

“Food,” Felix tells you when he shuts the door behind his back. He takes in the cool air of the diner and exhales deeply. God bless humanity for air conditioners.

You nod back without looking at him. “Yeah, food.” And you let him drag you across the diner by the wrist.

The diner is definitely not the place that needs to be booked months in advance. It’s not the kind with large mullioned windows, long embroidered curtains, velvet tables or delicate classical music in the background. It leans more towards the retro style with checkered floor, colorful and fun pieces of furniture, somewhere that makes you feel cozy too. You like it here.

Felix outstretches his limbs and yawns, petting Soonie gently. The cat isn’t as impulsive as she is whenever Doongie or Dori is trying to steal her toy. Thank goodness. “Nayeon!” He smiles and waves at the brunette girl behind the counter.

She quickly catches your eyes with her bunny-like smile, radiant skin, and pretty eyes. When she smiles, her cheeks are bunched up, eyes wrinkling into little crescent moons. The type of smile that will make anyone a little breathless. Then, you hear Felix mumbling that something smells really fucking good when he leans over the counter. You look around the diner once again, although it’s empty, there are still people working as if they don’t mind the given circumstances. These people are all high, they are all insane. They have to be.

Nayeon pulls out a pen along with her notepad, eyeing you with curiosity. “Hey kid, where’s Chan?” And you quickly break eye contact with her, pretending to have some kind of interest in the photo of her with other eight girls right beside the menu. They were on a tropical island, smiling and laughing with the ocean waves splashing against them. All of them are incredibly gorgeous, making you feel small in comparison.

“He’s elsewhere with Woojin today. I’ll take the usual,” Felix slides the smaller version of the menu across the counter, perking a brow for you to take a look at it. “Choose whatever you like.”

You shrug. “Anything will do.”

“Then two of what I already said then.” He nods towards the waitress, earning another warm smile.

Nayeon taps her pen against her cheek, whispering. “Who’s that? Did you find someone?” She looks down at how his hand is holding onto yours and grins mischievously. Felix automatically drops your hand at her words, blushing furiously while looking down in slight embarrassment. “Ah, no need to explain, I’ve got you.” She places a hand on his shoulder and laughs before punching in your order.

“It’s not—“

Nayeon puts her index finger over his mouth. “I’ve got you.” She’s never seen Felix hanging out with any girl other than his sisters before so she’s 90% sure that you’re not just any girl to be able to go to this specific diner with him. By the look of it, there’s gotta be something between you two. How you’re constantly staring into midair and anywhere else to avoid her eagle eyes, how Felix’s cheeks are redder than a tomato. Everything just speaks for itself. “Your orders will be right out.” She beams and walks back into the kitchen. You almost bury yourself alive hearing multiple females squealing and giggling in the distance.

“Sorry about that,” he pushes himself away from the counter before smiling sheepishly. “They just get excited because—“

“Because you’re a coward who’s never been in a relationship before.” You finish his sentence with a smirk, snatching Soonie from his pocket and walk over to one of the round tables.

Felix settles down on the opposite side of the table with a sigh. He shoots you a dirty look before pouting. “God, you’re so mean. Stop exposing my miserable, non-existent love life.”

[1:35p.m.]

meanhoe | uhm hello Kardashians, I’m looking for my eldest daughter Soonie?

woobear | not the living room!

[1:36p.m.]

trashbin | not my room!

drama lama | not the backyard!

old man | not the kitchen either!

[1:37p.m.]

quokka | not the bar too!

meanhoe | tf are you doing at a bar?

quokka | retrieving my sanity…

[1:38p.m.]

meanhoe | you know that my whiskey is wayyy better right?

quokka | DID I STUTTER?

meanhoe | swiped left.

[1:39p.m.]

y/n | she was inside Felix’s Jeep for some reason, we’re at a diner rn, some place called ‘Fancy’?

old man | LEE FELIX YOU TRAITOR!!

old man | YOU BETTER BRING ME SOME WHEN YOU GET HOME.

[1:40p.m.]

meanhoe | bring her home safely, and I’ll make dinner.

meanhoe | if not, I will grab you both by the throat and tear you apart, piece by piece.

meanhoe | there will be no negotiation, no compromise, and no mercy.

You just grin at your phone before putting the device away and shudder slightly. That’s enough Internet for today, boys being boys. This is why you’re low-key terrified of cat lovers. “Well aren’t you busy,” Felix scoffs when he sees that you’re not having any interest in one of the proper conversations with him that rarely happens. “Too busy texting with some cute boy to talk to me instead?” He cocks his head sideways, mustering his best puppy eyes or in this case, kitten eyes because he looks just like ‘Puss in Boots’.

You pinch his nose cutely, making him back off in pain. “If you’re saying Minho aka the freaky dad cat is cute then yes, I am extremely occupied with him threatening my life for having his beloved daughter in my arms.” Then, you allow him to glare at you for as long as he likes while you’re too focused on admiring the view from the window. The sky is oddly blue today, not too cloudy, not too sunny, the air is not that stuffy either. Maybe on a good day, even a zombie apocalypse seems pretty normal. You can understand why these girls still want to run the diner during times like this, simply because they love their job. And they want to help those in need because it’s the least they can do, to give people a heartwarming meal.

“Sorry,” Nayeon walks towards your table with a bowl of warm milk. “The food will be out in a minute, I just don’t want the little thing to starve and be all miserable while you guys are stuffing your faces.” She pets Soonie with the warmest smile and the kitten purrs into her touch, closing her eyes in satisfaction.

Felix pulls her out of your arms and gently places her next to him on the cushioned surface. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that though. Minho spoils her on a daily basis.”

Curiously, “When did this happen?” You frown before running your index finger over a small hole that just happens to be the size of a bullet, cautious enough to not accidentally cut your finger.

“Oh, that,” The brunette waitress' expression mirrors yours, slightly confused and intrigued. “Huh, I wonder…”

And all of the colors drain on your face. “Duck,” you say breathlessly, breaths coming in short.

“What?” Felix can barely hear his own voice.

Nayeon suddenly looks alarmed. “Everyone get down!” She shouts at the top of her lungs, arms flailing like a madwoman. “GET DOWN! NOW!”

Just then, a bullet pierces right through the window, glass shattering into pieces as you see Nayeon clutching onto her own stomach, blood oozing from her fresh wound. You’re ready to yelp aloud when Felix pulls you down onto the ground with him, letting his body cover up your head and shards of glass cut his cheeks. The diner grows uncomfortably silent when no sound is made, but you still keep your eyes shut and your face buried in his chest.

“Hey hey look at me,” Felix tells you, angling your jaw so that you can make eye contact with him although your eyes are quivering in fear. It’s not the first time you’ve heard a gunshot before but he’s never seen you so shaken up about it before. It hurts seeing you like this. “We’re gonna be okay—“

Before you can reply without tripping over your own words, something falls onto the tiled floor, rolling across the surface to reach the other side of the diner. You squint your eyes hard to make out the shape of the object. It was almost the size of an avocado, round-ish, and dark. No one seems to notice it at all until there’s an ear-piercing sound that keeps beeping, echoing throughout the entire diner.

“Shit—“ You breathe out and hold onto Felix tightly, bracing yourself for the blow.

That’s when the entire place explodes, destroying every single thing until there’s nothing left but the grey ashes that are following the wind to reach the burning sky above.

Utterly demolished, you’d say.

nine.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Woojin says softly when he sits down next to you on your bed. He gives your hand a squeeze in reassurance, heartbroken at your state. You look as pale as a ghost, the bags under your eyes more evident than ever, and your lips chapped, starting to turn purple. You haven’t touched the food that Minho offered for the past few days, still refusing to talk to any of the guys. But he was relieved that you were saved from the pile of ruins by one of the workers there - Jihyo, he believes that’s her name. He wouldn’t know what to do if anything happened to you.

“No,” you shake your head profusely. “Not now.”

“So the thought of losing him does scare the shit out of you?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Then you’ve found your happy ending,” your brother ruffles your hair and stands up. “Yes, right in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.” He smiles at you one last time, “Anyway, you better find him then. Godspeed.” before closing the door with a small ‘click’.

Meanwhile, you’re staring at the wooden floor blankly, starting to wonder how filthy rich the previous family living here was. By the look of it, they seemed to be pretty well off but were probably scared shitless when the disease spread like wildfire. With that, they took off running, leaving everything behind to preserve their precious lives. But who knows? They could be some random zombies out there, roaming the streets mindlessly by now.

You space out a lot these days, thinking about random things, but mostly him. You keep on asking yourself where in the world is he, how is he holding up, but it’s all pointless since you don’t even know if he’s still… Anyway, but when you peer at the small mirror on your table, you can see a small glimmer of another presence inside your room. Sometimes you don’t realize how far you can go whenever you’re thinking hard about something. It gets to the point where you don’t even move when Minho or Hyunjin is yelling or screaming about some stupid things right in front of your eyes.

You take another look, eyes growing wide. It’s a glimmer of a pink-haired boy.

“Hey Princess, not gonna choke me to death for intruding your room this time?” Felix jokes before kneeling down in front of you. It takes you an entire two minutes to understand that he’s here. He’s really here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him in person that you’re starting to get emotional just by looking into his eyes. They’re still starry, warm and give you a sense of comfort whenever your gazes touch. “Hey, it’s all good now.” He wipes a single tear away from your face that you didn’t even take notice of.

You choke out, debating on whether you should be bawling your eyes out because he’s safe and sound or kick his ass for worrying you. “You can’t just come back and say that! Do you know how scared I was?! Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights I’ve gone through? And now you’re just gonna come back from the Underworld to tell me that ‘It’s all good now’? Well then if you excuse me, I’m gonna go murder my friends and see if it w—“

Felix figures you still haven’t changed one bit. He knows that you’re a lover, not a fighter. Talking big on the outside but easily hurt on the inside. That’s one of the things that makes you who you are today, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. So he wordlessly leans in to capture your lips in his, swallowing every word, every nonsense, every nag that you’re gonna throw his way until you completely melt into his touch. The kiss makes your head a little fuzzy, and butterflies are tickling at the pit of your stomach. For someone who’s never been in a relationship before, Felix will definitely make you giddy all day with a kiss like this. It’s kind of innocent, kind of childish but unforgettable.

The deeper the kiss gets, the more you think about your conversation with him the other day when he’s driving you to the diner. Fate might be a thing, but still a debatable topic. You’re not gonna say that you believe in fate because that’s a whole lot of commitment for someone who can’t even stay up to date with a short web drama. But maybe, just maybe, fate is doing its job just fine after all because you can’t ask for anyone else to be with you at the end of the world. You know that Felix’s not here just because the universe pities you (or him), or he will love you just for the hell of it either. Everything happens for a reason, but more importantly than ever, he’s not going anywhere this time. You didn’t ask, you’re sure of it by the look in his mocha eyes.

Because like you’ve said before, his eyes never lie. They could never.

You pull away before planting your hands on either side of his shoulders, chest heaving up and down due to shortness of breaths. “How did you...you know, make it?”

“I really thought that I was going to suffocate to my untimely death under the ruins of the diner but the girls found me later on when they were digging through everything. I was knocked out for a good week, some scratches here and there, but no one was hurt severely“ he stops himself before continuing when he sees your glossy eyes. “Nayeon is fine too. She didn’t lose that much blood, surprisingly.”

You let silence fall upon the both of you for a second when a rush of relief runs down your spine. Then, your lips twitch slightly at what you’re going to say next. “Do you know why I treated your wounds that day? Do you know why I stared at the floor when your friend was teasing us? Do you know why I spent the past few days being all depressed and teary in bed?” You ask Felix with such determination that it makes him chuckle.

“Easy,” he grins and caresses your cheekbone the exact same way he did a few days ago. “Because you fell for a spoiled rich kid who knows absolutely nothing about being in love. Just like how I did for you, a girl who’s best at killing the walking dead, not cooking, not cleaning, none of that shit. Weirdly enough, fate brought the two of us together again when we’re both lying on the borderline between life and death.”

You roll your eyes at him and finally crack a smile. The smile that he adores the most. “Then what if fate does us apart? What if it doesn’t want us to end up with each other again? What if this isn’t a happy ending but a beginning to something much more terrifying?”

“In that case,” Felix leans in again, his breath fanning your cheeks. “I will always find you. And look for you, and run to you until I no longer have the strength to lift myself off the ground with my own feet.” He gently slips the silver ring that he treasures with his entire life onto your finger and places small kisses on your knuckles, looking as beautiful as ever.

He’s right, and wrong at the same time. The idea of fate does have some kind of power over mundane mortals like you because you’ve been tied down to the idea of not being able to control your own life since you’re born. But on the other hand, sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hand to be able to get what you want in life. So seeing how determined Felix is to find you even if it means walking to the other side of the planet with his bare feet in spite of being such a naïveté who believes in things that are considered dumb, you know that he’s being serious.

At the same time, you accept the fact that you didn’t find love, it found you because it’s got a little something to do with fate, destiny and what’s written in the stars.

You tell him, voice hoarse. “You’ll find me and never let me go?”

“Not this lifetime, not even in another one.” He says with a smile, eyes crinkling.

#stayshub #stray kids ot9 #lee felix fluff #zombie apocalypse #skz au #skz fanfic #felix fic #lee yongbok #stray kids scenarios #felix x reader #han jisung #yang jeongin #bang chan #kim woojin #lee minho #hwang hyunjin #seo changbin

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gabriel-gabdiel · 3 years

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Youtou Shinnoken: Demon Sword Chapter 58: Living Sin (Part 10)

The B-Class Toguro fights the S-Class Yusuke Urameshi before unleashing a power beyond the one he had before he died.

Tenro, the reincarnation of Makoto Shishio, finally makes an appearance and wreaks havoc against all the Reikai Senshi before facing off against the man who killed him originally: Kenshin Himura.

The original source of this idea comes from Chad Yang. I continued his story idea found here.

The rest of the chapters of my Yuyu Hakusho and Rurouni Kenshin crossover fan fiction are available here and here. Enjoy.

First | Previous | Next (Youtou Shinnoken) | Next (Demon Sword)

About a hundred years or so ago...

In 1878, after fighting Kenshin "Battousai" Himura to a draw, Makoto Shishio died in a literal blaze of glory (through his own spontaneous combustion when his overheating body broke its limits) and went to Hell.

When he got there, he ended up right before the imposing, gigantic figure of Enma Daio, who asked him, "What are you doing here, mortal? Go back to the Gates of Judgment in order to be judged."

Shishio then replied, "Get out of my throne. I'm the new King of Hell."

***

Youtou Shinnoken: Demon Sword

A Rurouni Kenshin/Yuyu Hakusho Crossover Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

Original Concept by Chad Yang

Tenro has finally arrived in Okushiri. How will the Reikai Senshi answer his challenge, especially after learning the truth about him?

Disclaimer: Yuyu Hakusho is the rightful property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha, Fuji TV, and Studio Pierrot. Rurouni Kenshin is the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallop, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted materials that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 58: Living Sin (Part 10)

***

Back at the Okushiri Military Base...

A shouting, crying Yahiko kneeled in front of Botan's unmoving body, seeing the huge hole in Botan's person.

A hole in the shinigami who somehow was also his kendo master from a former life, Kaoru Kamiya (he didn't quite understand it).

Had he failed again? Like before, when Enishi Yukishiro...?

No. He would not let Kaoru down again. Not after what the Kenshingumi had been through right after Kenshin Himura died and...!

"Bloody Rain," said Yumi Komagata, who again made it rain blood mixed with what seemed like scalpels.

Right above the dark clouds filled with the scarlet squall were Houji Sadojima's shikigami (familiars) that looked like grim reapers in and of themselves due to their ragged clothes, faceless voids covered by hoods for heads, and long scythes.

And beyond them was Gatekeeper Itsuki, who had a mini-gun at the ready in order to test the limits of a solidified ghost body before it became incorporeal once more. Knowing that gunpowder had no spirit energy for Yahiko to neutralize.

"DOU GAMI! (GOD ON EARTH!)" Yahiko's earth-shattering technique blasted away the razor-sharp precipitation and Itsuki's suppressive fire into oblivion, allowing him to dissipate the slicing rain bullets around him and the soul-crushing pressure of the borrowed aura of the Onmyouji (Occult Priest).

"Insolent welp...!" Houji said the thing.

"TEN GAMI! (GOD IN HEAVEN!)" Myojin shouted as he did a much more powerful version of the God on Earth that shot him up high into the heavens. Even the nimbus clouds parted from the strength of his slash.

This rocked and shook the military base like an earthquake while the Tokyo Samurai Descendant himself approached the Onmyouji like the resulting tsunami of such an earthquake.

"INGA GAMI! (KARMIC GOD!)"

It was this technique that suddenly turned the poisonous miasma of the Overfiend into something else. Something filled with positive energy and life-giving, nourishing soul power.

Sanosuke Sagara then noticed how the crimson, purple, and black miasma of jaki surrounding them changed in color, texture, and volume. Flickering back and forth from a cool blue wave to a scarlet mess.

He then checked on Botan, only to gasp in surprise despite being a ghost that didn't need to breathe or have sudden oxygen intakes.

The hole in her chest caused by one of Itsuki's black holes had begun healing. The jaki surrounding them, as Sano suspected, was slowly being purified into reiki, which in turn the ferry-girl used to heal herself.

Not only herself, actually. She shared the wealth by beaming the spirit energy she absorbed unto Kazuma Kuwabara and Sanosuke too. Replenishing their depleted spiritual power and increasing their health at the same time.

A full restore for all her allies, if you would.

'What's going on here? Is this Yahiko's doing? Or hers?'

It was actually both.

Yahiko neutralized the overpowering potency of the Chojin's jaki just short of making it altogether disappear. Botan then purified the weakened negative energy into reiki she used to heal herself and the others while also powering them up, as though she filled the role of the Onmyouji for the Reikai Senshi (Spirit World Warriors).

Meanwhile, Kuwabara and Botan exchanged knowing glances.

They'd gone through this incident before. To be more specific, they witnessed Yusuke do the same thing Yahiko (and Kaoru) attempted to do firsthand.

It was when Urameshi got a hold of the Meikai Crystal and attempted to use it against the last Meikai God standing, Yakumo. The negative energy almost consumed him before his sheer willpower (and at the time hidden demonic lineage) turned the jaki into reiki instead.

Yahiko had decided it was easier to weaken the Chojin's overwhelming negative energy so that Kaoru could turn it into positive (spirit) energy instead of attempting to neutralize or seal it all at once.

The tag team of Yahiko and Kaoru allowed them to replicate what Yusuke himself did alone.

Break it down to its core components first, bit by bit.

The samurai boy then said, "BANZEN GAMI. (PERFECT GOD.)"

***

"Great fighters refuse to lose, but you refuse to win just to get back that feeling and exhilaration of conquering something greater than you. So what do you do now that you're in a world where nothing is greater than you?"

Those were Younger Toguro's words even as Yusuke Urameshi effortlessly tanked through and walked down his offense while blasting him to nigh-oblivion with the Renshya Rei-Gan (Rapid-Fire Spirit Gun).

'What the hell was that supposed to mean?!' Yusuke thought.

Was Toguro Ototo right? Had Urameshi become too powerful? Was he holding back his power level in order to drag out fights he would've easily won otherwise, thus endangering the lives of those he protected?

Ha. As if.

Those words truly did sound deep. They'd sound even deeper and more meaningful if said by a guy who wasn't getting his ass kicked care of him.

If that were true, he would've already hunted down and killed the Chojin himself. He wasn't even the most powerful being in Makai (Demon World), let alone all three worlds. He was a level below the likes of Mukuro and Yomi as well as his deceased ancestor/father figure Raizen.

Not to mention Raizen's old comrades having power levels so high they could band together and conquer both the Human and Spirit Worlds if they so chose.

No, instead of it being a case of Yusuke growing too ridiculously powerful, it was instead a matter of Toguro remaining stagnant and weak by comparison.

The martial artist who belonged to the "baby boomer" generation might've been powerful for a demon not trapped in Makai and blocked off by the Spirit World Barrier. However, he was a pissant compared to the likes of the monsters Urameshi eventually faced in the Demon World Unification Tournament.

On top of all that, Yusuke didn't want to hear that nonsense from the King of Holding Back. The Emperor of Power Percentages.

"Rando's Kugai (World of Suffering) is a low-level technique used by monks to empathically feel the pain and suffering of those around them. The fact that you're still suffering from its effects isn't because of its curse but because of how you reacted to it."

Yusuke frowned. Indeed, for quite sometime since his fight with Rando, every punch he threw at his opponents he also felt. For once, he found out what it was like to get punched by himself.

However, it also served as his training. The more he felt his own punches, the more resistant he became of his own power, thus raising his threshold of pain and his ability to take a punch. He could dish it out and take it.

He wasn't sure he could say the same about Toguro.

His ripcord muscles strained to their utmost, the Younger Toguro ended up having his muscle fibers ripped apart, cracked, and shattered like pottery. The anabolic state he used to grow his muscles to absurd sizes ended up completely wasted because he couldn't handle A-Level to S-Level bursts of power.

Yusuke nevertheless conceded one point to Toguro: The teenager did miss staking his life and limb to defeat an enemy, using all his strength to defend his friends and family.

He hadn't really done so lately. Not really. The last time he had a satisfying match was against Yomi.

Ever since then, his enemies mainly resorted to trickery reminiscent of Kido Asato freezing him with his shadow powers or Hiei kidnapping Keiko Yukimura to defeat him.

All of the Chojin's Shin Ju ended up as weaklings compared to Urameshi. Each and every one of them. To go against them with his full powers would be a waste of effort.

Like lighting a candle with a flamethrower or cutting grass with a chainsaw. Complete overkill.

Then again, wasn't this also the reason why Toguro, even though he was only B-Level, tended to hide his power level or only use a percentage of his power?

Huh. They were more alike than he thought.

***

Botan smiled in spite of herself. Or rather, her lips curved upward on their own and then said things not of her own volition due to her astral body's second inhabitant: Kaoru Kamiya.

"There it is. The Perfect God. That's Yahiko's answer to mastering the Mujinken."

A hundred years or so ago, Kaoru originally taught Yahiko the Tenchijinken (forethought-based techniques involving the prediction of an opponent's moves) and taught Yutaro Tsukayama the Mujinken (reflex-based techniques that reacted to whatever the opponent did in the heat of the moment) to fill in their respective weaknesses.

The two were actually more suited for each other's techniques, since Yahiko fought more off-the-cuff while Yutaro fought more methodically.

She intentionally sealed away the techniques that played to the two's strengths so that they could overcome their weaknesses with the opposite techniques, believing that someday they'd figure out how to do each other's ultimate attacks down the line anyway.

While the Inga Gami showed Yahiko's version of methodical fighting (with him focusing on every counterstrike to unleash the best counters without any wasted movement or energy), it was the instinctual Banzen Gami that showed his fullest potential.

Yahiko was more of a natural with the Perfect God than the Karmic God. It was the opposite for the more thoughtful Yutaro (who now went by the name and identity of Natsuki Shinkai/Xinhai).

"INSECT!" sneered Houji, his wide eyes glowing red, his voice booming like thunder as he produced what seemed like an endless stream of shikigami. Only for Myojin to seemingly cut and disintegrate them with a couple of reflexive waves of his sakabatou.

He wasn't even looking at the reapers as every reflexive slice of his blunt sword blew them apart and sent them to oblivion, his gaze aimed solely at Sadojima

The miasma of black jaki turned into white and blue shining reiki as Myojin neutralized it and Kaoru converted it into pure reiki. Once he reached Houji, their respective weapons clashed, the entire area split between the morning light colors from behind Yahiko and the pitch-black darkness from behind Sadojima.

It was like the clash of day and night, with the point of impact serving as their dusk or dawn. Twilight or daybreak.

To Houji's alarm, his scythe then started to crack and break. 'What the HELL is with this stupid brat!? I thought our only real threats are the Youkiri Battousai and Urameshi Yusuke! Chojin-sama, HELP!'

***

Instead of going down from the barrage of Rei-Gan shots, Toguro merely said, "Stop wasting energy," as though Yusuke left the light or electric fan turned on or something.

To Yusuke's surprise (or perhaps disappointment), the B-Class Toguro reacted to the Spirit Gun bombardment the exact same way as he did during the Ankoku Bujutsukai (Dark Martial Arts Tournament): By attempting to charge at the growing spirit energy bullets to stop them with his bare hands and feet as well as his purely anabolic, hugely muscular body.

And just like that, it was over. With Toguro face down on the ground, his body shattered and torn from its exploded musculature. A tall, lean husk of its former self.

Another one bit the dust. Like the rest of Yusuke's revived enemies that came back stronger because of the Chojin but not quite strong enough to take him on.

To Yusuke's mild surprise, Toguro was still "alive". Or this revived zombie version of himself made by the Chojin's own personal Dr. Frankenstein was still moving.

The muscleman mercenary then said, "I'm merely at B-Level and I was able to push you this far? Your fighting senses have dulled, Urameshi Yusuke."

"Oh really? Well, I've discovered that at this point, no one could beat me but myself. You're welcome to prove me wrong, though," said Yusuke.

Again, Urameshi pulled something right out of Toguro's playbook. They both looked down on people who weren't on their level.

Toguro looked up at the night sky, which rekindled his memories. The Shichousei (Death Omen Star, also known as the Lifespan Star, Jumyoboshi, Alcor, or 80 Ursae Majoris) wasn't present near the Big Dipper.

"I can't see the Shichousei in the heavens."

"W-What are you talking about, Toguro? Have you gone cuckoo?"

Legend had it that when two warriors fought to the death under the Star of Death and it shone upon one of them, that person would die.

Was the star missing because he was already dead? Or because this wasn't much of a death match?

Fine. He'd turn this match into a death match then.

On the other hand, other Japanese myths and legends alleged that when a person couldn't see the Lifespan Star, he'd pass away within a year. That was appropriate since Toguro himself was not alive anymore.

Thusly, every broken bone from his body reset and healed, but instead of going back to normal, they formed sharp calcified bone spurs that protruded right out of his craggy, callused body like horns or thorns.

"...I knew it! You still had another form after 100%, you son of a bitch! CHOU REI-GAN! (MEGA SPIRIT GUN!)"

As Toguro got a power boost from the way his body decided to recover from his injuries, he punched back the Chou Rei-Gan Yusuke fired at his changing form before punching the teenager as well with his bone spur claws on his fist right at the moment of impact, quadrupling its effect.

He just jumped from Class-B to Class-A in a mere second.

"Ooof!" The world-stopping punch emptied the air from Yusuke's lungs.

"My former 100% has actually become less than a percentage point of my power, but for the sake of giving you a point of reference, I'll base my power increases on what was 100% of my power."

He grew about as big as his 100% of 100% form, perhaps even a little bigger, but this time around the demonized behemoth's black hair turned as grey as steel along with the rest of his vascular body that was covered with huge bony protrusions.

"So you can call this form of mine as me at 500% of my power."

"Whatever! HYAKU RETSU-KEN! (HUNDRED RENDING FISTS!)"

Appropriately enough, the attack Yusuke then used in response to Toguro's transformation was one he saw on television from his favorite anime show as a child of the 1980s, "Hokuto no Ken (Fist of the North Star)".

The Shichousei or Death Omen Star was, after all, also referenced by the same program.

Honestly, it was just Urameshi going ham on an opponent by randomly striking his heavy-handed punches at every opening available to him, with him naming the "technique" after the fact.

***

The devastation of the Okushiri Military base extended outward, with the pairs of Kazuma and Yumi as well as Sanosuke and Itsuki traveling eastward in a trail of devastation that followed Yahiko's own blaze of glory.

The green comet that was the Tokyo Samurai Descendant clashed and burned through the spherical cloud of miasma protecting Sadojima, like a shooting star entering the atmosphere.

The two pairs of enemies fought tooth and nail for proper positioning. The Reikai Senshi pushed the Chojin's forces back to protect Myojin from their interference.

Sanosuke punched through everything Itsuki threw at him from his hyperdimensional portals and busted portal gun. Sano also dodged the dense scattershot black holes and threw pavement debris at the Gatekeeper for good measure.

Meanwhile, Kazuma fought from afar using his blade that can literally cut through anything and anywhere in order to slash apart every attempt of the wind vampire Yumi to blast tornadoes and energy-absorbing jaki at him.

Finally, Myojin himself struck the Chojin's (and at this point, it was the Chojin controlling the Onmyouji) scythe hard, the blade covered in miasma and dark energy.

The tides of battle then turned.

Using the jaki Kaoru purified into reiki, Yahiko's green aura became denser and denser, creating a white shining void at the center of his body that sucked the darkness of the Chojin away. Acting like a reverse black hole or even white hole that absorbed all of the Overfiend's darkness into his pure light.

'This is it, Botan,' thought Kaoru "telepathically". 'This is the power of Mu (Void). The power of emptiness.'

'Emptiness...?' repeated the ferry-girl.

'Yes. A true martial artist is able to fight with instinct, freeing his mind of all thought and distractions, leading to a Zen State. Yahiko manifested this Zen State into his unique skill: Neutralizing spiritual energy.'

A second later, all energy from everyone dissipated, and from there Houji's scythe shattered like glass as both he and Yahiko plummeted into the docks of the Okushiri Pier.

The samurai spirit fell into Ryu Tsui Sen (Dragon Hammer Flash) stance and slammed Sadojima into one of the metal crates of the pier below them with an emphatic crash.

"You stupid kid! I'll show you! ETERNAL...! Wait, what?! My powers are gone!"

Yumi Komagata attempted to do the Hi-Ougi (Hidden Art) of Vampire Martial Arts—a move stronger than the energy-sapping Blood Wind—but nothing of the sort manifested before her. Her aura, the energy she gathered from sucking many a soldier's blood, had disappeared.

The same happened to Itsuki, who couldn't summon his Reverse-Man or escape into his pocket dimension any longer.

Yahiko's reiki had also went out, which normally was dangerous for a ghost but he somehow reached homeostasis with the way he cancelled out the Chojin's jaki.

His dense green aura had now completely neutralized the powers of everyone near him instead of merely mitigating their flow, including the now unconscious Onmyouji.

Like how no light could escape the event horizon of a black hole, not one shadow of the Chojin's dark energy could exist amidst the blinding green light of Yahiko's converging spiritual aura.

However, as a consequence, even Yahiko's allies lost their powers as well, as though he was acting as the reverse version of the Onmyouji. Instead of boosting the powers of those in his vicinity, he nullified them.

Regardless, Sanosuke and Kuwabara immediately took advantage of the loss of powers from Itsuki and Yumi with their physical strength, with the former beating Itsuki to a pulp and Kuwabara breaking the umbrella and fan of Komagata bareheaded before tackling and pinning her down.

"Give it up, lady. You lost," said Kuwabara. "You can't cheat your way out of this one by resurrecting your goons every time we defeat them. Your precious Onmyouji's down for the count."

Yahiko "heaved" a sigh of relief despite being a solidified ghost who didn't need to breathe. "It's finally over."

Botan giggled in glee. "We did it! You did it! The number one pupil of Kamiya Kasshin! I'm so proud of you, Yahiko!" The last few parts of that statement was Kaoru talking.

Sano looked at his own bloody fists and winced. 'We've won, but why do I feel like it's not yet over? Like there's still something afoot.'

Even though the blood from his right fist wasn't his own but Itsuki's, it burned and ached something fierce. Like he broke his hand or something. 'What's going on? I have a bad feeling about this.'

Sanosuke's bad feeling then turned into reality.

***

At Class-A, Yusuke Urameshi's Hyaku Retsu-Ken would've turned the B-Plus Toguro into mince meat. Or roadkill.

At Class-S, his Hyaku Retsu-Ken would've turned mountains like Mt. Kannon, Mt. Kamui, and even Mt. Fuji into molehills, plains, or even outright trenches and canyons as deep as the United States of America's Grand Canyon.

Like he was a pint-sized Paul Bunyan.

The teenager harrumphed. "Really? 500%? Like I'm fighting 5 Toguros at the same time? So what? That's still nothing compared to the demons I've faced since defeating you, Toguro...!"

The bone-breaking punches cracked the shell of Toguro's chitinous muscle armor bit by bit. However, in turn, Toguro let his fists fly as well but in a more methodical manner.

Targeting his punches at Yusuke's openings rather than punching randomly. Using his martial arts experience to take down the stronger foe.

His bony yet muscular fists pounded on Yusuke's smaller body, cracking bones here and there.

Yusuke's fists ached from every punch he did on the rock-solid body of Toguro, the multitude of Spirit Cuffs holding his power back also getting pushed to their limit. The restraining cuffs and seals he placed upon himself were at their near breaking point from him merely flexing his immense power.

Thank goodness the likes of Yomi, Mukuro, Enki, and the rest of Raizen's friends (as well as Raizen himself when he was alive) put him in his place early on regarding what real power looked like, or else he'd be full of himself right about now.

The Toguro with chitinous bone spurs and keratinous horns all over his muscle-bound body ended up breaking each and every one of his thick, calcified bones from the impact of Yusuke's attacks.

Toguro's bones rattled as micro-tears appeared all over his muscles and tendons. Despite this, he pushed forward. Like his older brother, he healed quickly, which alerted Urameshi that he still had something in his sleeve.

"All right. Then how about this? TAKO NAGURI!"

The Octopus Assault—Yusuke's version of the Kuzu Ryu Sen (Nine-Dragon Flash) that hit 8 times instead of 9 times in an instant—hammered the horned gray body of the zombified and demonized Toguro before he could get the chance to stab, gore, or spear Yusuke with his many protruding bone spurs.

Urameshi once heard that it took either 23,034 slaps to cook a chicken. Either that, or a slap traveling at 1,665.65 meters per second.

He wasn't sure about the math, but he cooked Toguro's goose at a rate of 8-16 punches a second with every punch traveling at 1,000-2,000 meters per second, so it would've took about 20 minutes of non-stop Tako Naguri to get to around 20,000 punches or 2,500 super-powered Tako Naguri.

Or he would've cooked/burned 20,000 whole chickens with his speedy punches at around the same time it took to cook a chicken in the oven.

However, it was at the second minute that Urameshi broke his hand. He hit a hard shell reminiscent of Usui's shield.

From the pile of minced meat, torn muscle cords, and viscera emerged yet another Toguro form.

What stood before him wasn't the spurred behemoth Toguro but instead a fully armored Toguro, with every inch of his body covered in craggy white bone.

As though his shattered bones healed wrong and ended up calcifying right on top of his pulsating muscles. He broke the calcified armor in sections by flexing his limbs in order to give his new outer shell moving joints.

It also made him look like a white lobster man, thought Yusuke in chagrin.

"This is 1,000% of my power. 100 times the power of my 100% self."

***

At the Okushiri Pier, around 9:47 PM...

The mangled remains of a man landed right in front of Reikai's finest from out of the shadows of the dark harbor.

The Reikai Senshi (and their accompanying shinigami) then felt goose bumps form at the napes of their necks—even the ghostly ones that didn't even have tangible skin, blood, or hair to make such a sensation possible.

Even Itsuki, whom Sano beat from pillar to post with bare-knuckle fisticuffs, looked none the worse for wear compared to the person before them.

He was bathed in blood and his torn clothes were dyed crimson because of it. He looked like he'd been ravaged by a pack of wolves.

The only thing recognizable about him was that he was male. Probably.

Sanosuke was the first one to try and poke at the figure to see who it was. If he had a ten-foot pole, he'd prod the man with it. As it was, thanks to Yahiko manifesting his full neutralization powers, Sano couldn't even summon one zanbatou right now.

The street fighter then stumbled back, which made Kazuma ask, "What's wrong? Who is it? Is that one of the Chojin's Shin Ju or whatever?"

Botan gulped, hoping against hope that the man before them was the injured body of one of the New Ten Swords instead of one of the Spirit World Warriors.

Before Sano could answer, someone else answered for him.

"That's what remains of Hajime Saito. The former captain of the Shinsengumi's Third Unit."

"...What? Who said that?" demanded Yahiko.

The Reikai Tantei, the shinigami, and the Kenshingumi then turned in time to see the silhouette of a pony-tailed person from the distance.

There stood a human(?) of about S-Level power with sleeked-back hair, a lengthy ponytail, and a half-undone kimono that showed off his rippling swimmer's muscles on his long build.

As realization dawned on them one by one, their mouths went agape, practically unhinged from their upper jaw.

The blood drained from Kuwabara's face while the three spiritual beings' faces (Botan/Kaoru, Sano, and Yahiko) looked more transparent than usual.

The ghosts all looked like they'd seen a ghost (ironically enough), forgetting they were ghosts themselves. Gasping for air they couldn't breathe anymore.

Even Kuwabara, who was alive, looked like he'd seen a ghost himself or even turned into one.

The man, who himself was a bloody mess with stabs wounds and cuts at every inch of his body, held something in his arms.

It was his trophy. His prize after a hard day's battle.

It was the head of his enemy. It was the head of Hajime Saito.

Botan screamed. Or rather, Kaoru did.

The Kamiya Kasshin Master couldn't believe that Kenshin's greatest rival who was so famous he became a Japanese historical figure later on had been defeated.

On the other hand, Botan—through centuries of being a death goddess—had seen worse things before, so she was desensitized enough to not scream. Her own feeling of dread was around the same level as Kaoru's, though.

The pony-tailed assassin then took one look at the Kenshingumi sans Kenshin, the Reikai Tantei sidekick, and their shinigami babysitter then sighed.

"Oh, no one but weaklings left? Pathetic. Imagine, after such a delicious meal, I'm left with leftovers and expired food."

The new arrival then placed Saito's head beside the rest of his body. Almost reverently. "Rest in peace, Saito Hajime. You were truly a worthy rival. I acknowledge you."

"You killed Officer Fujita! You BASTARD!" screamed Kuwabara, a knife-sized Rei-Ken ablaze with reiki and righteous indignation in his grip.

Kazuma would've produced a full-length Jigen Tou with the rage he felt, but Yahiko's neutralizing presence kept his powers in check.

"Wait. Boke (Fool), he's...!" Sano trailed off, moving in front of Kuwabara to block him from doing anything hasty. 'If anyone's going to do something hasty, it was going to be me!' thought Sagara.

"Who are you?" said Yahiko as he pointed his sakabatou at the stranger.

"I'm Youkiri Tenro (Tenro the Demon-Slayer). Remember that name before I send you back to Heaven."

***

Yusuke quickly checked his Spirit Detector. Toguro was now at A-Level with his Bone Armor form. Around the same power level as the most powerful members of the Reikai Tokubetsu Bouetai (Spirit World Special Forces).

This turn of events definitely piqued his interest. Somewhat. Maybe this time, he'd get the battle he so craved from this new version of Toguro since being defeated by Yomi in the Makai Tournament.

However, the extra layer of bone armor made it harder for Yusuke to break apart Toguro's muscle armor with mere punches, no matter what velocity he reached.

As though Toguro now had double the armor.

Also, in turn, the Class-A Toguro Ototo pummeled and stabbed Yusuke with earth-shattering strikes from his bony fists, horns, and claws as well as shattered pieces of his bone armor that kept calcifying and regrowing over and over. Layer by layer. Like samurai armor or shingles on the roof.

Stubbornly, the bloody and bruised Yusuke kept on punching the armored demon to push him away and give himself breathing room.

The bony yet muscle-bound contradiction of a monster that looked ridiculously gigantic yet unencumbered by his musculature having an extra layer of armor on top of it, turning him into a veritable tank with the speed of a Mack truck. He even hit like a truck.

However, as his wounds healed in Toguro Ani fashion, Urameshi realized that he had long ago surpassed the version of him that could get killed by being hit by a car. Or a truck. Or a tank. Or perhaps even a nuclear warhead. Maybe.

"Rei-Kou-Dan (Spirit Light Wave Bullet)."

One of his Spirit Cuffs broke as he put his hip into his punches and imbued his fists with actual spiritual power. They were already harder than steel because of the spirit energy contained within his body. When he emanated reiki from inside and outside himself, his punches also become explosive.

One reiki-imbued punch was all it took for him to crack the bone armor of Toguro at 1,000%. However, he wasn't done.

Perhaps he might have gone overboard, but he decided to punch Toguro 20,000 times in 3 minutes rather than 20 minutes. But it sure felt like 20 minutes.

Furthermore, these weren't just physical punches. His fists were set on fire with spiritual energy this time around. He shot out 20,000 Rei-Kou-Dan blasts, to be more precise.

Every supersonic punch had the impact of a blockbuster bomb, with it breaking the sound barrier and sending extra shockwaves to Toguro and all. Perhaps he'd become even more explosive than multiple blockbusters.

Perhaps Yusuke had turned into a teenaged nuke or warhead himself.

However, out of the mangled mess of bone armor emerged yet another Toguro. The armor that should've served as his coffin ended up becoming his cocoon for his newest metamorphosis. Which, to Yusuke's surprise, made him breathe a sigh in relief.

Yes! He could still push himself even further!

Was this excited feeling the same one that Toguro felt when, just a few years prior, Yusuke was able to withstand the might of 80% of his power when he killed Genkai in cold blood?

Regardless, a bronze-skinned, taller, and four-armed Toguro emerged from all that mush and burnt flesh he'd become earlier, impossibly towering even higher over Yusuke than before. His current ginormous form made his former seven-foot form look normal-sized in comparison.

His muscles were like taut steel cords now, like those used in heavy-duty tires and conveyer belts. Perhaps even harder. They were definitely harder than the pieces of thick calcified bone armor that they crushed like egg shells with a simple collective body flex.

"This is 100,000% of my power. This is what fighting 1,000 clones of my 100% self looks like."

Yusuke thought for a second what Toguro meant by that, only for him to test the theory out with an additional 20,000 Rei-Kou-Dan blasts in a minute. 20,000 palm blocks later and Urameshi now had a better idea of what his nemesis meant, followed by 20,000 counterpunches in between those blocks.

All in a minute's time.

'100,000% Toguro? He didn't even bother going to 10,000%? Jeez!' Urameshi thought as he got hit with a two-armed lariat that dragged his body across the landscape and river like a trailer home in a tornado.

This was it. This was the A-Plus version of Toguro.

Yusuke couldn't even hide the grin from his face even as this newest form of Toguro beat him to the punch every time.

Toguro at 100,000% had even tighter and tauter musculature with enough strength and torque behind them to break bones to dust. His ripcord muscles could handle punching velocities similar to that of or even faster than Yusuke's.

It also didn't help that Toguro now had a body that could accommodate four arms, thus giving him twice the hand speed and arm speed due to his literal extra limbs.

***

"...SHISHIO!" screamed Sanosuke at Tenro, his blood (ectoplasm) boiling. His right fist, which Makoto Shishio broke, pulsating like a second heart.

Even though Tenro wasn't wearing bandages and his skin wasn't burned to a crisp, Sano could recognize that voice and that demeanor anywhere.

'Shishio?' thought Kuwabara. So Tenro was the man who founded the original Juppon Gatana? Kenshin's greatest rival? The man who ultimately caused Kenshin's demise? The man who might actually be the alter ego of the Chojin himself?

The guy who not only pushed Hiei to his limits, but also possibly two of the Demon World's three kings, Yomi and Mukuro? Was Tenro Shishio's reincarnation or something...?

Before they knew it, they were suddenly faced with the final boss of the game.

The fighting spirit of Sanosuke rose high enough for him to defy the nullifying presence of Yahiko and form half of a zanbatou in his hands, which he swung at the (presumably) non-burned version or reincarnation of the ex-hitokiri and Meiji rebel known as Makoto Shishio.

With one swing of Tenro's Mugen Jin (Unlimited Blade) sword, Sagara's suspicions were confirmed.

"Secret Sword One: HOMURA DAMA!"

Shishio's signature Homura Dama (Burning Soul) technique where his sword burst into flame clashed hard against the 6-foot (normally 12-foot) horse-chopping sword, smelting it in the process like a blacksmith's forge in a shower of sparks.

"A weakling like usual, Sagara Sanosuke," sneered Tenro. "It's been a while, though."

"I don't understand. Wasn't Shishio supposed to look like a mummy or something? He's some guy who was burnt to a crisp and covered in bandages, right?" said Kazuma.

Sano answered, "Yeah, but obviously it's been 100 years. He must've found a way to get a new body, or ended up with a solidified soul, or got reincarnated as this Tenro clown."

Myojin gulped. He considered deactivating his powers to allow either Kuwabara or Sanosuke to attack the youkiri. However, if Tenro was this powerful with his spiritual power nullified, how much more powerful could he get when Yahiko's powers ceased working?

The disheveled Yumi then cackled in the background, the hole in her chest throbbing with a ghostly heart that the man before her had "stolen" from her.

"It's about time you got here, Tenro. What took you so long? Don't tell me the Miburo (Mibu's Wolf) gave you all that you can handle and then some."

Tenro harrumphed. "Perish the thought, Yumi. I merely gave my respects first to the Shinsengumi in the Battle of Hakodate Monument, and guess who I also found there? That's right, our favorite Shinsengumi Captain, Saito Hajime."

'Hakodate?!' thought Yahiko. 'That's four hours away from Okushiri! All the way on the other side of Hokkaido, at that!'

Sanosuke himself snarled at Tenro, his fist burning with pain and fire, as though it remembered how Makoto had shattered it when they'd faced each other back at Mt. Hiei.

'Hakodate is the place that served as the Shinsengumi's last stand. Did Saito go there to pay his respects to his squad? In the middle of our war against the Shin Ju? It's not like him to be so sentimental.'

The street fighter spared a glance at the remains of Hajime Saito. Unbelievable. Just earlier, he pushed several of the Shin Juppon Gatana to their limits, but now he ended up as dead as the rest of the original Shinsengumi.

Well, Saito himself was supposed to already be dead and buried in the first place, but this time around he got killed off for real by Shishio. Or Tenro, which was probably the reincarnation of Shishio.

Kuwabara turned towards Yahiko and said, "Kid, turn off your powers! I'm going to face off with the final boss one-on-one at my full strength!"

"But...!" the ghost kid trailed off before Botan filled in the rest.

"Kuwabara-kun, he can't. He's the only one sealing Tenro's immense power. If he was able to do that to Saito, imagine what he could do to us! Let Yahiko seal his power for now until either Kenshin or Yusuke arrives!" warned the ferry-girl.

"I DON'T CARE!" shouted Kazuma. "Let us face him at his full strength while we're also at full strength! As a real man, I won't back down!"

Tenro smirked. "Fine then. If you're not bluffing then come at me. In this world and beyond it, the same rules of nature apply. Only the strongest survive and the weak are food for the strong."

Sano's eyes narrowed. That convinced him that the man before him really was Shishio. That was totally a Shishio-type line. 'It's now or never. We just have to keep him here until either Kenshin or that delinquent best friend of Boke arrives!'

***

"REI-KOU-DAN!" shouted Urameshi, his Spirit Wave Light Bullets bursting through his fist like bolts of lightning from a Railgun.

The 100,000% Toguro blocked the punch with his elbow, shattering Yusuke's hand bones in the process. "Is this the power of an S-Level? Don't make me laugh. Me at 100,000% of my power is enough for you."

Toguro then grabbed hold of Urameshi's limbs with all four of his arms in a bid to tear the teenager apart literally from limb to limb.

Yusuke considered Toguro's statement for a second and then said, "Fuck that," before flipping the four-armed monster off with his right hand.

The mere idea that someone like Feng Xinhai or The "Beautiful" Suzuki was more powerful than Toguro just didn't sit well with Urameshi. At all.

At any rate, the middle finger he raised at the 100,000% Toguro then flowed with energy he'd been saving for a special occasion.

Yusuke discovered that he could actually save and store his dormant spirit energy as a reserve or extra Spirit Gun blast for use in case of emergencies since it usually took forever and a day to charge his Rei-Gan.

The energy for this one he'd been gathering for weeks' on end.

Also, in order for him to not mistakenly fire off his reserve Rei-Gan, he had this special energy bullet stored in his middle finger. This was how the new technique that he improvised when facing off against the S-Level Xinhai ultimately evolved.

This was his "Fuck You!" Spirit Gun. Also known as the "FAKKU GAN! (FUCK GUN!)"

The 100,000% Toguro chucked Yusuke away like a hot potato in order to better dodge the point-blank spiritual projectile then punted the Fuck Gun back to the teenager who fired it.

However, by instinct borne from his hundreds of fights against spiritually powerful humans and demons, Yusuke jumped away from the Fakku Gan, grabbed Toguro by the ankle, dragged him towards the ball of plasma fire he actually outran, and then threw the monster back into its path.

From there, as the 100,000% Toguro braced himself for impact, Urameshi emerged from behind him. Attacking him from the rear for good measure.

Toguro was now stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or between a demon and his energy blast.

"REI-KOU-DAN! SHOT GUN!" screamed the half-demon prince.

While the Fakku Gan blasted and disintegrated the giant from the front, Yusuke attacked with his Spirit Light Wave Bullets and reiki scattershot from behind, which kept even the four-armed monstrosity from defending himself from the upcoming onslaught surrounding him.

The charged-up blasts of energy in particle and wave forms bore on Toguro like plasma tides or a solar wind. An endless series of reiki tidal waves from the vast ocean of Urameshi's power.

Thanks to the extra pressure brought about by his stored energy blast from many weeks ago, Yusuke's Rei-Kou-Dan was able to penetrate deep into Toguro's core. The technique ripped apart the steel cord muscles of Toguro as they got softened by the comet of energy that cooked him alive.

Then, as Yusuke had hoped deep in his unbeating heart, the mangled Toguro changed form yet again.

The same heart that stopped beating after Shinobu Sensui first pierced it felt like it had started beating again in anticipation. In excitement. In nostalgia, even.

Toguro still had more forms and powers up his sleeve. Just like old times.

And from there, out of the ashes and melted muscle of the 100,000% Toguro came forth the One Million Percent Toguro.

"One Million Percent. This is me at One Million Percent of my power, Urameshi Yusuke."

***

Kuwabara and Sanosuke attacked Tenro at the same time while Yahiko struggled on the spot to focus all his neutralizing powers on the Shishio reincarnation(?) alone.

Botan checked her Spirit Detector again. Hope sprouted anew within her heart. 'Yes! Tenro's power level went down to A-Level. He's still on the cusp of S-Level, but at least he's not as powerful as someone like Sensui or Xinhai! We have a chance!'

Tenro frowned. His aura of jaki had become fainter and weaker due to Myojin's powers.

'Hmmm. The Shin Ju had warned me about this impudent brat. Even Toguro Ani couldn't heal properly thanks to this kid's neutralizing reiki.'

As Yahiko slowly mastered his neutralization powers so that only Tenro was affected by them, the energy levels of Kuwabara and Sanosuke went up higher and higher than before, their auras flaring with spiritual might that was boosted by Botan's healing powers for good measure.

"JIGEN TOU!" screamed Kazuma, summoning his Dimension Sword.

"ZANBATOU!" shouted Sanosuke, producing his 12-foot long Horse-Chopping Sword.

"How appropriate. Isn't this just a reflection of today's society? The weak are using their great numbers to suppress their betters, not realizing that without the strong to lead them or the will to become strong themselves, they will end up extinct. The world stands on the shoulders of giants."

"SHADDAP! I don't know who you are, but all's fair in love and war," declared Kuwabara.

"Not all men are created equal. Like in the Animal Kingdom, some men are simply better than others. Equal opportunity doesn't guarantee equal results. Forcing equal results in an aberration of nature, like forcing animals to act like men, the pinnacle of evolution."

Tenro used a bare hand to grab hold of Kuwabara's Dimension Sword and used his other hand holding the saw-like Mugen Jin to block the full-length zanbatou.

"Ganging up on the strong can lead to the survival of the weak temporarily. However, their own respective weaknesses will sort them out. Their celebration of mediocrity will make them food for other apex predators in the future or have them subjugated by any of their own who decide to become rams instead of sheep."

The Youkiri then broke the Jigen Tou apart like it was made of cardboard instead of pure energy and stabbed Sanosuke's chest with it while also melting the zanbatou with his Mugen Jin's Homura Dama.

"Regardless, it is better to live one day as a lion than one hundred years as a sheep. These are... THE RULES OF NATURE!"

"AUGH!" grunted Sanosuke, his recently recovered soul flickering in and out of existence, his chest spewing ectoplasm, and his aura dissipating into pinpoints of light like a disturbed nest of bioluminescent fireflies.

He felt the light inside him slowly fade all the while.

"Bastard...!" said Kazuma, who repurposed the broken shards of his Jigen Tou and shot it pointblank at Youkiri Tenro's face, turning them into "REI-SHURIKEN!"

He should've hit him with the projectiles from a distance, though. The first few blades bounced off of the intense aura of jaki that covered Tenro's body like armor, which reminded Kuwabara of the aura that Detective Matsudaira developed.

Reiatsu (Spirit pressure).

Tenro's aura was dense enough to become spirit pressure reminiscent of Bui from the Toguro Team. Or Yusuke whenever he unleashed his full power.

So this was the Chojin's secret weapon? If not the Chojin himself altogether?

The demon-slayer then grabbed the teenager's wrist and redirected the shuriken at Sano again, injuring him further. From there, he broke Kuwabara's hand altogether then grabbed him by the collar, declaring, "Secret Sword Two: GUREN KAINA! (CRIMSON LOTUS ARM!)"

Using his Mugen Jin to ignite the gunpowder-laced glove, the youkiri blasted Kuwabara with the force of a bomb.

The gunpowder-inside-the-glove trick that Shishio used on Kenshin was also used against Kazuma, with the explosion violently blowing him away. A hundred years ago, Makoto's hand was kept safe from the blast using a special metal gauntlet underneath the glove full of gunpowder that resisted the impact.

Tenro somehow ended up doing an even stronger version of the Guren Kaina that was imbued with the chaotic negative energy of the Chojin, which made the explosion strong enough to injure a human with the A-Class power level of Kuwabara.

Yahiko's power-suppressing aura didn't help in this case.

Tenro then shot the samurai ghost teen a look that chilled him to his "bones" or "spine". The youkiri then declared, "You will not drag me down to your level. Know your place, child."

However, while Tenro was distracted, the flickering spirit of Sanosuke stabbed the youkiri with hot molten metal of what was left of his sword in a spectacular display of sparks.

This was Sano's one chance of making a dent, so he had to make it count. However, as he attempted to punch Tenro's heart out, his hand ended up crushed with the youkiri's elbow block.

With a harrumph, Tenro proceeded to punch Sanosuke on the forehead, just like when Sano fought Shishio. "You never learn."

"I don't understand," murmured the Kaoru inside Botan's body. "Isn't Yahiko's aura supposed to suppress Tenro's powers too? Why is he still so strong!?"

She then noticed the unconscious Itsuki open his eyes and wake up, which led her to keep her guard up.

The black-and-blue Itsuki chuckled, tracing his finger over the scar Kuwabara had made on his face back when the Reikai Tantei faced off against Shinobu Sensui. "Y-You don't understand. This is him with his power held back."

"W-What do you mean? That's impossible!" Botan checked her Spirit Detector. "Oh no. His power is fluctuating between A-Level and S-Level when earlier it was just A-Level. That can't be! How powerful is he?"

Sneering, Itsuki said, "Who knows? Rumor has it he's about as powerful as one of the Former Three Kings—Mukuro, Yomi, and even the Late Raizen. He might even reach the mythical X-Level like Kurama did when he took hold of the Demon Sword."

Botan's face went pale blue as though unseen hands suddenly grabbed hold of her thin neck. "X-Level?!"

She remembered the event like it was yesterday.

The Spirit World went on high alert when Kurama went Class-X after wielding the Youtou Shinnoken (Demon Sword). They even called the entire Reikai Bouetai in. Not that it would've done them any good, since the Special Forces were composed of Class-A agents and Class-X was a level beyond Class-S.

She couldn't even fathom how strong an X-Level was since Kurama immediately rejected the Demon Sword, which transformed him back into his "human" self.

However, stronger than Yomi, Mukuro, or Raizen gave her a ballpark estimate of what they were dealing with. Someone as strong as or stronger than a Raizen-possessed Yusuke who ragdolled the mountain-destroying Sensui with ease.

All the same, Tenro stood victorious over the beaten figures of Sanosuke and Kuwabara.

"Will you become rams or sheep? Lions or feral street cats? Wolves or mongrel dogs? Can you evolve and turn into apex predators yourselves? It's natural selection. Kill or be killed. Make your choice."

***

The peaceful Tsurikake River had now become a war zone. A swamp in one part and a desert in another.

It was Baghdad. It was bedlam.

The 1,000,000% Toguro was there at the epicenter of the devastation. A nuke all his own. An unnatural force of nature.

An over-muscled demonized human even taller than his 100,000% version. A walking contradiction of chaos and order.

He had no skin now. He was all pure, red muscle and tendons pulsating and wriggling in every which way.

He also had six arms instead of two or four, with him towering even higher than before because he had to elongate his torso to cartoonish levels just to accommodate his extra pair of limbs.

Curious at how strong this Toguro was, Yusuke flipped the bird on Toguro with his other hand.

Yes, he had also stored another Fuck Gun on his other hand, with about the same amount of potential spiritual energy gathered for multiple weeks since he fired his first Fakku Gan at Feng Xinhai.

"FAKKU GAN!"

Again, Urameshi blasted all of his pent-up "Fuck You!" energy at Toguro by flipping him off, shooting the bolt of concentrated lightning that came out with the force of a shooting star.

Again, he outran the modified reserve Rei-Gan and came up from behind the six-armed insectoid Toguro with the intent of making sure he got hit by it.

He then attacked Toguro with both hands using the Rei-Gan and Shot Gun.

"DOUBLE-BARRELED SHOT GUN! DOUBLE BERRETTA REI-GAN!"

Those extra pair of hands on an even bigger and sturdier body made all the difference.

Two of six arms grabbed and held back the charged-for-weeks Rei-Gan. Another two of the arms parried and blocked all of Yusuke's energy-laden punches as well as the projectiles blasting through them.

This freed up the Million-Percent Toguro's two remaining hands that grabbed hold of Yusuke and pummeled him into submission.

The Younger Toguro utilized punches that carved the landscape. Made and destroyed mountains.

The kind of unnatural force of nature (as contradictory as it sounded) that could affect plate tectonics, weather patterns, or change the area forever, like in the case of Mt. St. Helens when it exploded or the nine ghost villages of France that remained wastelands to this day thanks to the Battle of Verdun in the First World War.

If Yusuke's reiki-dense body weren't there to absorb the blows they would've shattered and sunk Okushiri right off of the map.

Even though Urameshi was breathing through his mouth, had lost several teeth, and ended up with a shattered jaw he couldn't close, he couldn't help but grin. Or at least do an open-mouthed smile.

"I'm beating you to the punch at every turn. So why is it...?" Toguro tilted his head to the side in askance. "Why do you have such a happy look on your face?"

Disturbingly, Yusuke's teeth grew back. They weren't supposed to do that but they did. Even accelerated human healing wouldn't allow the return of lost permanent teeth. All his bruises healed. All his broken bones mended themselves. His shut black eye's swelling subsided and went back to normal.

There he hung from Toguro's grip. Smiling. None the worse for wear save for torn clothes that couldn't restore themselves to their previous state.

"Come on, Toguro. You can do better than this, you son of a bitch! Gimme your best shot!"

Toguro then proceeded to smash Yusuke and his own heavenly body of a Fakku Gan together, which resulted in a mushroom cloud of pure destructive power.

Another atomic blast had hit Japan.

Toguro the Younger turned Urameshi into the atomic bomb he was afraid he had become.

***

Back at the Okushiri Pier, two things happened.

Botan, using the wealth of leftover negative energy that Kaoru purified earlier, again started healing the damage inflicted upon the available Reikai Senshi.

Kuwabara and Sanosuke stirred, as if shot by multiple doses of adrenalin.

Also, when the youkiri decided to deal with the shinigami herself to keep her from aiding her comrades, Yahiko himself confronted and attacked Tenro head on.

For all the good it did. Bless his ghostly heart.

"DOU GAMI...! (GOD ON EARTH!)" shouted Yahiko, hoping against hope it'd land on Tenro's head or sword or at least near him so that he'd get pelted by rocks and debris.

'So this is Shishio. The leader of the Juppon Gatana. Kenshin's most powerful rival,' the samurai spirit thought.

Tenro caught the reverse-edged blade between his fingers before it could make contact with him or the Mugen Jin. The God Hammer relied on recoil to give Yahiko enough space to consecutively strike something or someone three times fast in order to break their resistance and apply a zero-resistance strike.

No recoil meant the technique was neutralized.

Myojin's jaw dropped. "How...!?"

"So you're the brat who can neutralize spirit energy," said Tenro with narrowed eyes that traveled from Houji's unconscious form then all the way back to Yahiko.

Readjusting his grip of the sword tight with a gloved hand that smelled of gunpowder and negative spirit energy, Tenro again did the "GUREN KAINA!" on the blade.

The explosion blasted Myojin clear away from (presumably) Shishio, the shrapnel from his own spiritual construct of a sakabatou hitting him at the speed of bullets. His spirit fading and dissipating with pinpoints of energy.

''YAHIKO!" both Botan and Kaoru chorused in one unified body, fearing the worst.

However, the shards of Yahiko's shattered blade also penetrated Tenro's body, sealing his power further away from S-Level.

'What a problematic child this is.'

Myojin got up to his feet and charged with his broken reverse-edged blade, hoping to buy Sano and Kuwabara time. Buy Kenshin and Yusuke time as well.

He intended to do the Inga Gami on Tenro's head, only to revert to the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu ougi for Hadome and Hawatari when his opponent beat him to the punch and struck first with the Homura Dama.

However, as he defended against the downwards flaming strike with a crossed-wrist block, Tenro grappled with him and kept him from parrying the strike. "Do you want to know how your idol, Himura Battousai, died a century ago? Like this. Guren Kaina. Homura Dama."

After the explosion from the gunpowder happened, Tenro allowed the resulting fire to flare and roast the hapless ghost of Yahiko Myojin.

"AAAHH...!" screamed the burning Yahiko.

"YAHIKO!" shouted Sanosuke.

"BRAT!" yelled Kuwabara.

Tenro himself stood in the middle of the conflagration, but like in his confrontation with Hiei, he ended up none the worse for wear from the roaring bonfire.

"Too strong... He's too strong...!" gasped Yahiko. "Even after all this time, I'm still as weak as I've always been."

The bright yellow flames turned green then blue as Yahiko's form reverted to that of a hitodama (will-o'-the-wisp).

Meanwhile, Botan shrieked, fell on her knees, and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Who is stronger? A wolf in sheep's clothing or a sheep in wolf's clothing? Don't deny your true nature. Embrace what you really are. It's either you know your place or claw your way up the food chain. Evolve. Transform. Step up or step aside."

The entirety of Okushiri then started to rumble as Yahiko's neutralizing reiki ebbed away.

Like a dam that was about to break.

***

A nuke did damage in three stages.

It irradiated heat and light, it blasted everything to Kingdom Come, and it scattered radioactive materials around.

The bigger you went, the less relevant the radioactive materials became relative to the other effects as the heat irradiation had a much greater and more noticeable immediate effect. Effectively, when a nuke went off, the temperature of the resulting fireball could go up to millions of degrees, but it dissipated relatively quickly.

However, instead of having a repeat of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1993, Yusuke's dense aura (arguably going at reiatsu level at this point) allowed him to absorb most of the impact of his own Fakku Gan.

The explosion became a blockbuster level blast instead of an atomic bomb mushroom cloud.

Yusuke collapsed on the ground, taking the brunt of his own spirit energy.

Before him towered a behemoth of a demonized man. His exposed muscles bursting out of his skin. His six huge arms giving him an insect-like vibe.

This was Toguro using a million percent of his power. He had become the Demigod Asura, a six-armed demon of war and destruction.

However, even in the face of this absolute unit of a monster, something else from many miles away grabbed Urameshi's attention.

Over the horizon, he felt a suppressed Low S-Level power grow and pulse. Like a leaking and cracked dam ready to burst.

Once that dam finally burst forth, Yusuke broke all of his limits at once. Every last Spirit Cuff. Every last bit of hesitation he had from the Kugai curse placed upon him by Rando.

He caught even the Million-Percent Toguro by surprise at how fast his power level rose.

He summoned his version of the Sei Kou Ki, the golden aura serving as his barrier against Toguro's atomic punches.

His hair grew long and turned white for good measure before he proceeded to punch the Million-Percent Toguro a million times. A glowing golden punch for every percentage.

"SEI-KOU-DAN!" Yusuke cried, blasting Toguro with the Sei-Kou-Ki version of the Rei-Kou-Dan.

He had to. That dark presence in the distance sounded all of his internal alarms and red flags. His primitive flight-or-fight instinct activated.

As though feeling the rise in power from a distance spurred him into action more effectively than the golem before him that, quite frankly, took too long to get to S-Level and beyond.

Whichever Reikai Senshi was out there, they were fighting the final boss. The Chojin himself, even.

***

Botan rushed towards Yahiko's side, doing her best to heal his injured hitodama form. But the damage was extensive on his human soul, the light within his spirit fading away fast. "Hold on, Yahiko-kun! I got you! Everything's going to be fine!"

However, no matter how much spirit energy she used to heal Yahiko's damaged soul, it never healed. His hitodama continued to remain in its fireball state, flickering like a candle in the wind.

Kuwabara was the first to get up shakily on his feet, the Rei-Ken in his hand (also) flickering back and forth between its normal form and its Jigen Tou form.

"You talk too much, you bastard!" said the redhead, who attempted to create a portal to send the youkiri to space, only for Tenro to grab the teenager by his curly regent-style hair and put his face into the portal in an effort to suffocate him.

"What happened to Japan? Is this the best warriors that this new age can pony up? Pathetic," said Youkiri Tenro. "It's so sad. The United States of America turned the proud Empire of Japan into a whipped dog. An island full of losers and weirdoes."

Kuwabara ignited Tenro's glove with a small Rei-Ken on his free hand, which made it explode in the youkiri's face. Gasping for air, the redhead attempted another blind swing at the would-be dictator, only for him to end up stabbed in the lung.

He coughed blood as his eyes watered. His insides drowned in his own blood through internal bleeding.

"Sheep will always be sheep. Wolves will always be wolves. Lions will always be lions. A hitokiri will always be a hitokiri. A youkiri will always be youkiri. It's an aberration of nature to be one thing and claim to be another. If you want to become strong then change yourself for real. Defy or accept your fate. Become the predator or become the prey. It's up to you."

Ignoring the throbbing pain from his right fist that somehow trumped the ectoplasmic bleeding he got from the Rei-Shuriken, Sagara attempted a Futae no Kiwami and aimed it right into the chest of Shishio.

Or Tenro. Or the Chojin. Whoever he was or claimed to be.

Tenro tossed aside Kuwabara's quivering body like trash then blocked Sanosuke's punch with his own punch.

Last time, Sano broke his fist on Shishio's concrete face, his own Futae no Kiwami deflecting back to the bones of his hand. This time, his Douhle Extreme was enough to match Tenro's strength.

Only enough to match Tenro's strength though.

As Tenro again attempted to punch and crack Sanosuke's skull open, something unexpected happened.

"...SANJO NO KIWAMI!"

Sano blew Tenro's fist away with the Triple Extreme, which opened up his chest to a direct heart punch.

The coup de grace.

"FUTAE NO KIWAMI! DORYAAH...!"

Sanosuke landed the Futae no Kiwami right into Shishio's heart. Or Tenro's heart.

A second passed. The youkiri cackled.

"Congratulations. You're a little bit stronger now than before."

As the fading, transparent visage of Sanosuke let out a soundless scream, his pupils constricted into tiny dots on a white expanse, Tenro finally attacked the street fighter with his flame-producing weapon, its Homura Dama splitting Sano's head apart in a spectacular spray of ectoplasm.

"S-Sano..." choked out Kuwabara, his own vision fading along with Sanosuke's soul.

All that time, even in his will-o'-the-wisp form, the soul of Yahiko kept sealing the power of Youkiri Tenro. However, he couldn't contain the immense power of the Shishio reincarnation(?) any longer.

His soul finally succumbed, fading to black before shattering into a thousand pinpoints of light.

"Yahiko, no! No! NOOO!" cried Botan. "Dammit, come back! Oh no, what's going on? Why is everything going wrong?!"

Okushiri rumbled as the unleashed power of Tenro began to expand into a tall pillar of darkness and miasma. His jaki shot up into the sky, which gathered nimbus clouds all around them.

The localized quakes grew stronger and stronger. It felt like the world was about to split apart. This was the power of an Upper Class-S being that somehow ended up in the Human World.

He felt like power made flesh. A walking disaster area. A humanoid cyclone.

Tenro smirked as he surveyed the pier. He felt their presence. They were coming. He felt their power, anger, and desperation travel towards him like moths to his flame.

He could feel their strong presences, spirit energy, sword energy, and aura even from miles away.

One was on land, on foot, going faster than a cheetah. The other in the air, presumably ferried by one of Reikai's shinigami.

Who could they be?

First, there was the one half-demon, half-human mazoku descendant of Raizen, Makai's God of War, who was able to harness his demonic power and lineage. Raizen's true son. The Last Son of the Mazoku.

Yusuke Urameshi.

Second, there was the man who "defeated" Makoto Shishio to a suicidal kamikaze draw. The Hitokiri Battousai who died and then became the Youkiri Battousai, the Guardian of the Demon Sword.

Kenshin Himura.

"Come forth. Show me the best and most powerful champions that this era has to offer. I'll defeat them all!" declared Tenro the Demon-Slayer to his upcoming opponents.

However, before Tenro knew it, his chest tightened. His heart stopped beating.

His negative energy wasn't able to heal the damage in time. He stood there, frozen. His time had stopped care of Sanosuke's efforts.

This happened due to the combination of the Futae no Kiwami and the shards of Yahiko's neutralizing reiki damaging his mortal heart. It kept him from manifesting the full breadth of his power that managed to take down even Hajime Saito.

The Kenshingumi's curse, if you would.

"Before challenging the champions of this era, watch out behind you. The past has a way of catching up with you, Shishio Makoto!"

Speaking of Saito, it was then and there that the headless corpse of Hajime Saito began moving on its own, with his one arm cradling his decapitated head.

As though he were the Headless Horseman. Or a Dullahan of Irish folklore.

That bastard. He was playing possum all this time!?

Tenro willed himself to move, but couldn't. He felt his left arm go numb. The shards of Yahiko's sakabatou might've reached all the way to his coronary arteries.

There was no telling how much cardiovascular damage Sanosuke's punch had done to his heart.

Dammit.

He began to sweat hard while clutching his chest. "Damn you, Saito Hajime."

"I've never seen you so sweaty and pathetic before," the head of Saito mocked before charging with his Gatotsu Ishiki from behind Tenro. "Then again, your sweat glands did get all burned up in your past life."

Instead of aiming at Tenro's head like with his encounter with Shishio, Saito instead aimed his sword right at Tenro's stopped heart while he was in the middle of a heart attack.

Appropriately enough, instead of being defeated by someone stronger than him, it was the desperate alliance of those weaker than Tenro that ultimately dragged him towards his ultimate defeat.

The ultimate irony.

"Go back to Hell, Shishio...!"

"No, I will make this world Hell and feel right at home!"

No. This was the same method Hajime used to "kill" Usui (temporarily). He took advantage of other people's hard work then opportunistically struck at the right time.

There was no way Youkiri Tenro would go down like a punk. Like Usui, of all people. An outsmarted weakling.

Tenro willed himself to move to block the strike.

His Homura Dama melted right through Saito's sword. Apparently, the Shinsengumi Captain was already using the last of his soul's strength to even make the strike, resulting in a vulnerable blade with barely any spirit energy to protect it.

Nevertheless, the rest of the hot blade plunged right into one of Tenro's lungs, spraying his blood all over the empty pier.

Saito smirked and closed his eyes. Instead of a solidified soul, Shishio really was reincarnated into an extra powerful human being. But a human being nonetheless. A mortal one that could be killed.

Tenro awaited the Gatotsu Zeroshiki that never came.

Alas, Saito already spent most of his energy fighting a full-powered X-Level Tenro earlier, with him sacrificing his very life force to just injure him now.

"I win again, Saito Hajime," hissed Tenro, coughing blood. "I survived your attack while you're already as good as dead. I can easily heal this damage and finish off the rest of the Reikai Senshi."

"That's my parting gift," said Saito, his own spirit fading. "You won't be able to reach X-Level in time now."

Before Tenro could wonder any further what Saito meant by his words, a gigaton punch shattered his face from out of the blue.

"Wha...?! GUAAAAH!!!"

Again, the wolf outfoxed him at every turn.

The youkiri realized that he'd just been punched by Raizen's "Son". The Mazoku Descendant. The hanyou (half-demon) that scared the great Enma Daio himself.

His brain sloshed inside his broken skull, leading to a concussion.

Any other impact from a weaker opponent wouldn't have even registered to Tenro. But a punch from an S-Level mazoku? That was a punch that could tear apart entire continents.

He also spotted from behind the long-haired, tattooed, and angry Mazoku Yusuke a warp portal that Kazuma Kuwabara probably made to shorten his best friend's travel time.

This was bad news.

His compromised heart and lungs hadn't recovered yet. Even though his energy levels were rising, his mortal damage kept him from manifesting his full power. He wasn't healing fast enough.

But this also excited him.

Tenro missed out on slaying Raizen—one of the greatest, oldest, and most powerful demons of the Demon World. Fighting his distant half-breed offspring was the next best thing to it.

With Yusuke's white hair and boundless energy, he himself looked to be at the cusp of achieving X-Level.

"Far more important than your power level, you've upended the natural order of things in both the Spirit World and the Demon World," said the gasping yet calm Tenro.

Yusuke picked up the pace, his nuclear-powered punches reaching speeds so impossibly, superhumanly fast that they came with their own eardrum-obliterating sonic booms.

However, the tough-as-nails Tenro absorbed every punch with his hard body and boundless jaki, so his mountain-obliterating punches "merely" made the pier shake and quake like a frightened child suffering domestic abuse.

"When Raizen died, you took over and found a way to keep the warring factions of Mukuro and Yomi from leading Makai into another millennia-long war for power."

Tenro gurgled but laughed with what sounded like a death rattle. Knocking at Hell's Gates with the sea of punches he had to wade through while punching and slashing at the elusive demon spawn in turn.

"You even helped expose the corruption within Reikai and had Koenma Daio depose his father, Enma Daio. Then you saved the Human World again from a Spirit World terrorist group. Imagine that."

The constant battery of kicks, punches, knees, elbows, and headbutts that barely gave Tenro any breathing room took their toll, making him cough and spew blood from many of his body's orifices, like his ears, eyes, nose, and mouth.

"The Chojin views you as a threat not because of your power level but instead of how you affect everyone and everything around you. You're a spanner in the works. Someone who can defy fate itself."

The threat of death made Tenro feel alive. His flight-or-fight instincts were on high alert.

After the thousands of demon hunts he'd participated in for the sake of turning his reincarnated yakuza boss self into someone worthy of housing Makoto Shishio's soul, this was the first time he actually, remotely felt threatened.

It was as he had imagined facing Yomi, Mukuro, or Raizen would've been like when they were still the Three Kings of Makai or at the peak of their power.

"We're cut from the same cloth, Urameshi Yusuke." Tenro sneered, wiping the blood from his nose. "I too exist to spite God. I defied my ultimate fate of death. From one lion to another, I will fight fate itself to write my own destiny. Just like you have."

"What the hell are you blathering on about?" said Yusuke, who kept up his endless barrage of Sei Kou Ki punches and kicks in order to pummel Tenro to submission.

Although he was winning the exchange, Toushin Yusuke's fists ended up aching and bleeding.

They might've even been broken by the dense thickness of Tenro's own reiatsu of negative energy serving as a barrier from inside and outside him, keeping his human body intact in spite of this mauling.

Regardless, the human-demon spawn had to finish Tenro off immediately.

Even though Urameshi was able to best Toguro by going all out, he could still feel his old enemy's presence. The Younger Toguro could still reemerge and possibly go beyond a million percent of his power. Perhaps a billion or a trillion even.

"Let's end this, Tenro. Or Shishio. Or Chojin. Whoever you are. I'll finish you and your Shin Juppon Gatana off for good! SEI-GAN!"

A black-and-blue Tenro grinned as he felt a meteor-sized blast of purest Sei Kou Ki grow bigger and bigger from Yusuke's pointer finger. A miniature sun that glowed gold instead of bright blue.

This was the correct move. In order to finally penetrate through Tenro's reiatsu, Yusuke had to use his ultimate, ultimate move. A Rei-Gan powered by Sei-Kou-Ki shot by his white-haired demonic form.

However, the Chojin foresaw all this. This was why he gave (back) Tenro his original Mugen Jin.

When Yahiko still had his neutralizing reiki activated, the Mugen Jin could only be used the way it originally was made for, which was to create flames through the body fat and human oils it collected.

However, a hundred years later, the sword itself became a cursed sword with supernatural powers like the Youtou Shinnoken. It gained an extra property.

Without Yahiko's powers sealing its supernatural abilities away, it could absorb, steal, store, and release the spirit energy of others.

Thus, Tenro's Mugen Jin absorbed every last bit of the Sei-Gan from Mazoku Yusuke, only for him to do the third secret sword on him powered by Urameshi's own Sacred Light Spirit Energy.

"Secret Sword Three: KAGUZUCHI! (FIRE-BEARING SPIRIT GOD!)"

A fire tornado that mixed Tenro's demonic negative energy reiatsu with Yusuke's angelic sacred energy tossed the teenaged warhead around in a maelstrom of malcontent (since jaki was basically just energy derived from humanity's hatred and grudges).

If the mixture of volatile energy didn't kill the demonized Urameshi, then the centrifugal force of an F5 hurricane that would normally turn any normal human being into liquefied butter would.

"Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu Ougi: AMAKAKERU RYU NO HIRAMEKI! (HEAVENS GLIDING DRAGON FLASH!)"

The void created by the ultimate attack of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu destroyed the red, black, and gold wind funnel that had threatened to rage against Okushiri like a seasonal typhoon.

As a battered Yusuke fell from the sky, an erstwhile Kenshin jumped and caught him in midair before he could've crashed into one of the many cargo containers, if not outright fall into the hard concrete below.

They landed safely on ground zero of Yusuke's fight with Tenro, which was filled with craters and debris. From a distance, they could hear the blaring siren of many an ambulance.

"I came here as fast as I could with Ayame-dono's help," said Kenshin.

"K-Kenshin. S-Sorry. I-I almost had him, but he still had a trick up his sleeve," rasped Yusuke, who had transformed back to his human form, with most of his long hair burned away by Tenro's Kaguzuchi.

"Don't worry, Yusuke. I will finish off what you have started. What everyone had started, that I will," said Himura.

Tenro harrumphed, clutching his side. His chest still ached, his heart beating so fast it felt like it could explode. His brain throbbed and pounded inside his skull as well.

However, his adrenalin and his thrill for the fight coursed through his body, making him ignore every bit of pain he felt. He was about to pass the point of no return, after all.

In the corner of Kenshin's eye, he saw Botan stare at him with her own glistening eyes. He had heard the bad news directly from her care of the Spirit Communicator. She reported that the souls of Sanosuke, Yahiko, and Saito were no more. Also, Kuwabara was in critical condition.

They all fell against the hands of the man... the monster... before him. The wannabe dictator that he should've defeated a hundred years ago.

"I also look forward to fighting you again after all this time, Battousai. Come and die in my hands once more. The only law I follow is Survival of the Fittest. Only the strongest survive!"

"Survival of the Fittest, eh?" asked Kenshin. "Tell me, do you know what the first sign of human civilization is? How humanity became the most dominant species on earth?"

"...What?" asked Tenro in turn. "What are you talking about, Battousai?"

"I believe that the first sign of civilization is a femur that's been broken and then healed," said Himura. "In nature, a broken leg meant death. Kill or killed, right? Humans became the dominant species against stronger animals because of our cooperation and compassion. Helping someone else through difficulty is where civilization starts. We are at our best when we serve others. Be civilized."

"No. Nonsense," said Tenro. "Humanity stands on the shoulders of giants. Normal people are trash. Don't let the weak punish the strong for being strong while they themselves drown in their own mediocrity. Civilization or progress came about because of the strong. The exceptional. The best. The intellectuals. The Superman. The Overman. The Ubermensch. The Chojin."

"So you're the Chojin, huh?" said Himura. While it could be translated as "Overfiend", the name "Chojin" could also be translated as "Superman" or "Overman".

"The fates conspired against me and denied me my destiny to rule. I will write my own destiny now," said the youkiri to his fellow demon-slayer. Fellow manslayer, even.

"Regardless of what you say, both fate and time have already decided that you will not emerge victorious," Kenshin insisted. "You're destined to lose."

Tenro cackled. "Fate and time have chosen poorly, hence the pathetic state of Japan. The state of the world that's being led by sheep in wolves' clothing. Let me correct that century-old mistake. Even now, the weak are depending on your strength to protect them. Let the Ubermensch show the world what it's truly like to be strong! I will show them how to win!"

"It is neither the strongest of the species nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is most adaptable to change," said Kenshin, quoting Charles Darwin himself as he fell into his battoujutsu stance.

Himura had to attack now, while Tenro was injured and recuperating. He would've attacked sooner, but he himself had barely recovered from battling Enishi.

As soon as the Shishio reincarnation healed and achieved X-Level, it was all over for the Reikai Senshi.

"AMAKAKERU RYU NO HIRAMEKI!"

"KAGUZUCHI!"

Kenshin and Tenro—or rather, Battousai and Shishio—finally clashed swords, the Youtou Shinnoken glowing bright-blue against the bright-red Mugen Jin. They picked up where they left off.

On one hand, Yusuke's leftover sacred energy powered up the Kaguzuchi and overwhelmed the initial strike of the Hirameki. On the other hand, the resulting void still formed, which multiplied the power of Kenshin's second strike many times over.

Tenro learned from his mistakes, understanding a century ago that there was a void formed after blocking the first strike of the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki. He sunk his stance low and pierced his Mugen Jin in the eye of the maelstrom so that his technique could be magnified in power instead of Kenshin's.

Kenshin hesitated, his soul remembering how Shishio snatched a draw from the jaws of defeat. He willed himself to slash upward regardless as an image of Kaoru filled his mind. Followed by all his friends and comrades.

He wished the same image had filled his mind a hundred years ago too. Then he wouldn't have died against Shishio.

Reality seemed to split from the lightspeed slash Kenshin did that clashed hard against Tenro's... no, Shishio's... red-hot cursed sword Mugen Jin.

On Kenshin's left was one timeline and on his right was another.

In one timeline, Kenshin found the strength and will to live to block Shishio's strike before he spontaneously combusted and died from overheating. Soon after, Shishio became the new King of Hell.

In another timeline, Shishio finished Battousai off then murdered Saito, Shinomori, Sagara, and the rest of the Oniwabanshu and Shinsengumi before forming a New Juppon Gatana and leading a coup d'etat against the Meiji Government. A second Bakumatsu. Afterwards, he died a despot. Japan's Genghis Khan.

In the timeline they were in, Kenshin and Shishio fought to a draw, with Kenshin dying along with Shishio in a blaze of glory. A hundred years after their fateful battle, Shishio ended up forming a New Juppon Gatana in order to lead a coup d'etat against the Spirit World.

In nearly all timelines, Shishio woke up from beyond the grave and ended up with an army of the undead, leading the charge towards world domination. Like a phoenix reborn from its own ashes. Again and again.

Even after his death, he was inevitable.

Would Kenshin falter like a hundred years ago or would he rise up and correct his century-old mistake? Which timeline would prevail?

A shining star of a whirling convergence of afterimages happened afterwards, followed by a huge explosion far into the distance. Right into the Sea of Japan.

A 7.8 earthquake then rocked the west coast of Hokkaido.

On Monday, July 12, 1993, at 10:17 PM, a tsunami had formed off of the coast of Okushiri, leading to the loss of many lives.

***

To Be Continued...

Oh god, finally it's done. This took years to finish due to real-life things cropping up. Regardless, the arc that's been decades in the making is at last over.

Next up, the Spirit World deals with the aftermath of the failed Okushiri mission. Also, the first sign of civilization speech was taken from a quote from Anthropologist Margaret Mead.

Ciao, Abdiel

#youkiri tenro #youkiri battousai #kenshin himura #shishio makoto #toguro ototo #yusuke urameshi #reikai senshi #chojin #yuyu hakusho #幽☆遊☆白書 #rurouni kenshin #るろうに剣心 #demon sword #youtou shinnoken #妖刀真の剣

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years

Text

Beauty and the Witch - Chapter Four

x x x x

Summary: Deep in the dark forest, there’s a castle filled with magic and mystery, where no one would ever go if they could help it. But an adventurer runs from nothing, and she might come to regret it.Sketchbook BatB AU for reasons

Notes: I hope you like the backstory! It was probably the hardest thing to write so far since it’s very different from the original story but it was super interesting to develop

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4)

She had greatness ahead of her.

That was something she’d always liked to believe. Ever since she was a child, and the enchantress took her as her student when her mother was too afraid to keep a child with magical abilities, Maven saw her future overflowing with success. She would be powerful and wise, she’d discover magic like this world had never seen, and she’d never feel anything less than truly free. And how could it be any different? She was the student of the most powerful sorceress in the land, the path to all she wanted could not be clearer.

So she’d worked her hardest, spent her every waking moment studying. Any book that she could get her hands on would be read in a week at most, and she made sure to always be ready for her lessons. Her mentor became very impressed with her determination, and only fueled her to reach for her dream.

The heavy schedule didn’t bother her at all. Magic wasn’t just the means to an end for her. It was her passion, her greatest gift and her closest friend, and the way she saw it, spending her days making it stronger was the best she could do. And the enchantress granted her a good life as her student, too. She had clothes fit for a lady, even though she’d never really cared for her appearance, and she’d never known hunger. She even allowed Maven to keep three servants of her own among the ones that worked for the enchantress already.

But things had changed ever since she came along. To the enchantress’s absolute delight, her very own niece had shown herself to be gifted at magic. So Marianne had come to live with them, barely out of her childhood, and suddenly she was all that the enchantress could think about.

Maven had never relied on her mistress for warmth, although she’d never been unkind to her, and showed often that she cared. She didn’t need a mother, regardless of what her servants said when they thought she wasn’t listening. But she needed a teacher, and with Marianne’s arrival, she didn’t even have that anymore. Her lessons would be canceled more often than not so that the enchantress could be with her niece, and when they weren’t, she’d try to teach them both at the same time, and she’d always end up focusing on Marianne and leaving Maven unassisted. Even when she’d seek the enchantress out with a doubt or a request to do an experiment, there would always be something keeping the enchantress from helping her out.

It was clear to anyone who saw it that she was falling out of grace.

Maven grunted and reached to her right, grabbing a pillow and burying her face in it to muffle her frustrated scream. She couldn’t sleep. These nights resting had become much harder, as her mind kept her awake with thoughts of where she’d go now. In the last months, she learned nothing new, and it looked like it was only going to get worse as Marianne took to magic. And then, she’d be left with nothing.

She had one idea. It was dangerous, and questionable at best, and it had been plaguing her for weeks. But there was a part of her that told her she had two choices: take her success, or continue watching everything she’d carefully build in life crumble in front of her eyes. And even though she hated to admit it, that voice was right.

She lifted herself up from her bed, putting on her slippers and strutting to the door before she lost her courage. She only picked her robe from the hanger before leaving to the corridor, a cold feeling of dread settling on her stomach.

Fear and magic very rarely mixed well together, but she had no other option.

It was dark outside the palace, but the corridors were always kept well lit and warm by the enchantress’s magic. There was soft tapestry under her feet and covering the walls, and a glow coming from the magically lit candles that hovered near the walls. Quietly, Maven tip toed to her private study. She didn’t have many books and ingredients there, most of them being in the library and in the brewing room, but it was enough for what she needed to do.

Though the hour was late, there was still light coming from under the door, and she opened it to find her assistant still arranging books that she’d taken out of place during the day. When she heard her mistress entering the study, Van Gale looked at her with surprise.

“Mistress!” She chirped, her voice low so as not to echo in the silent palace. “I thought you were asleep. I’m just finishing up for the day, you see.”

“It’s okay, Victoria. Go to bed, you can finish tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about me, I have the energy to-“

“Madmoiselle Van Gale.” Maven locked their eyes, trying to convey her message. “Go to bed.”

After uttering a faint “oh”, the woman made her a quick curtesy and passed by her through the door, making her way back to the servant’s quarters and leaving Maven alone in the small circular room.

It didn’t take her long to find the book she’d need, for she’d already gone through her spell books in search for that spell weeks before, only to discard the idea. But she was so very tired of that humiliation, of fearing her very fate every day.

She didn’t want to go back to being nothing.

So she set the book on her table and lit a fire under her cauldron. Step by step, she added ingredients and layers to her magic, until there was nothing to do but wait. After the last component had been added, she picked up her hourglass, which she used for all her brewing, and set it by the book, knowing that when it ran out of sand, she’d be free at last.

_#_#_#_

The end result was a pink powder that Maven could swear shined if she was in a dim enough ambient. It had a sickly sweet scent and Maven was careful not to touch it, passing it from the cauldron directly onto a mortar which had been lying nearby.

Before leaving, she tidied up everything that she’d taken out of place, returning her book to the shelf and putting away her ingredients. After she used the powder on Marianne, she’d have to return to her room immediately so as not to be caught, and she felt it was safer to clear away anything that could point to her before the hex was cast.

When her study was locked again, she all but ran through the palace’s corridors. The girl slept on the floor above, the same as the enchantress, and Maven had to force herself to breathe quietly as she climbed the staircase. She couldn’t think about what she was doing, couldn’t stop to consider the repercussions of her plan, because she knew that if she did so she’d give up, and then she’d be doomed. A broken soul she could mend over the course of her life, a ruined future could not be tied back together.

She stopped in front of Marianne’s door. It was locked, but with a swipe of her finger in the air and a quick incantation, the lock clicked and opened. Maven slid inside with caution, finding the girl asleep like she’d hoped. Her only problem was that Marianne had her head facing sideways, in a way that Maven would not be able to place the power on top of her forehead without it dropping down on her pillow.

It was a big risk to do so, but she had no options other than to try and pull her head to face upward. However, when her hand reached past the canopy that surrounded her bed she was caught by surprise. A circle of golden light formed around her wrist, like she’d stuck her hand inside a lake and produced yellow waves on the water, and she brought her hand close to herself again in haste, but it wasn’t quick enough.

She recognized that spell, it was used to form a barrier around something one needed to protect, and the moment it was trespassed the owner was warned. In that case, however, the spell was protecting a who, and Maven knew exactly who it was that wanted her safety.

Gasping, she took a step back only for her back to hit against the very person who could never know what she was doing. Maven turned to face the enchantress just in time to see her face clouding over, her expression going from worry to confusion to anger in few seconds.

“What is going on?” She hissed, and then her eyes locked on her apprentice’s mortar. It couldn’t have been a spell she was unfamiliar with, because Maven could tell she understood her plan as soon as she saw the powder.

“You ungrateful traitor!” Maven felt herself cower at the exclamation, trying to hide the powder even though she knew the enchantress had already seen it. “After all I’ve done for you, this is how you act?!”

“I had no choice!” She said, begging with her eyes for the enchantress to try to understand her.

The woman shook her head. Waves of anger rolled off of her, making Maven notice why she’d always been so afraid of angering her. Her master or not, this was the most powerful sorceress of their land, and she should never have forgotten it.

“This is something you’ve had trouble understanding ever since you were a child. There is always a choice. And now you’ll pay for yours. Meet me in your study in ten minutes.”

Saying that, the enchantress snapped her fingers and transported her to her room.

Her windows were locked, and no spell could get them to open. Knowing that the same would happen with the doors to leave the palace, Maven spent the time she had resigning herself to the fact that there was no coming back now. If the prospect of her future had been bad, in just a few seconds it had become uncertain that she would have a future at all, and the best she could do was curl herself into a ball on her bed and rake her fingers through her hair.

When she did eventually get up, figuring that enough time had gone by and headed to her study, the door was open, probably busted open by her mistress. Inside, sitting in a semicircle, were the enchantress, her niece, and all three of Maven’s servants. Marianne looked sleepy, but there was some curiosity in her eyes. Her servants all looked like nervous wrecks, though, and the unfamiliar sting of guilt pierced her heart at seeing them in that state because of her.

“Here you are.” The enchantress said when she entered, making all of their gazes focus on her. “Close the door and stand right over there.”

She did as she was told, standing completely still in front of the enchantress. The position of the chairs around her made her feel like she was in a jury.

“I am a merciful woman, Maven. I will give you the chance to explain what happened tonight.”

Regardless of what she said, there was no mercy in her eyes. They were stone cold like the ice that covered the lake in the palace’s garden in winter, so hard that it didn’t break when they tried to cut through it. This wasn’t a chance for her to receive compassion. This was a way to force her to admit her guilt. But even knowing it was a trap, she began explaining.

“I attempted to rid mademoiselle Marianne of her magical abilities.” She flinched when she heard Albert gasp, but continued nonetheless. “So that you would continue to teach me.”

“But my aunt never stopped teaching you.” Marianne said, not sounding angry, but Maven didn’t think she was imagining the smugness in her voice. That was another thing that angered her about the girl. She was always so certain of herself that she’d never have the curiosity that one needed to be great. She would never even try to go beyond, and yet it was she that the enchantress chose. “That makes no sense.”

“Exactly, my dear.” The enchantress agreed with her, then turned to her servants. “Unless one of you thinks otherwise? Have you noticed something I haven’t? Have I ever treated my apprentice unfairly?”

Maven closed her hands into a fist, so tightly that her short nails left marks on her palms. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at them. She knew their opinions on the matter, it wasn’t unusual for them to try and cheer her up after a forgotten lesson, or send her a compassionate smile as they passed the dinner table when they realized she’d been excluded from the conversation. But they’d never say so. They didn’t care about her enough to put their lives on the line, and Maven couldn’t say she blamed them.

“N-no, mistress. Of course not.” Stuttered Victoria, while Albert and Courbeau remained in silent assenting.

The enchantress waited one more second to give one of them the chance to stand up for their mistress, and when none of them did, she got up. From her flamboyant green robes, she took her wand, a slender thing that was only used for the most powerful of her spells. The sight of it made Maven restrain herself not to tremble.

She walked right past her apprentice to the brewing stand, where she picked up her hourglass, and then returned to stand in front of her chair.

“Maven, despite everything I’ve tried to teach you, you are selfish and ambitious to the point of thoughtlessly sacrificing others, and today you’ll pay the price.”

As she spoke, Maven’s body began to itch, a painful sort of sensation that made her skin feel wrong. It made her twist herself in horrific contortions, and she saw that the same was happening to her servants, making them fall on their knees on the ground.

“I curse you for your treason. Until the end of your days, you will be a mindless beast, and your servants useless objects.”

She stared at her hands with horror as her nails darkened and grew into claws, and feathers sprouted from her skin, the shock of watching the transformation beating its pain.

“Auntie, are you sure this is-”

“I will, however, give you a chance.” She said, waving her wand over the hourglass. It gained an eerie glow, and when she turned it upside down the sand ran much more slowly than it normally would. “This is connected to your life, now. And only when it runs out will the change be irreversible. Don’t even think about turning it upside down when the time is coming, though. It will not work.”

“What?” Maven breathed, feeling her energy being stripped away by the curse. There was a sudden weight on her back, and she had to hold back a scream when she realized that she had wings now.

“Tonight you have proven that there is no love in your heart for anything but knowledge and magic. However, if before the sand runs out you can learn to love another, and earn their love in return, the spell will be broken.”

The enchantress set the hourglass on the ground in front of the beast, who grabbed it with shaking hands. Her servants weren’t there anymore, just a clock, a candelabra and a teapot, making her terrified with their utterly human expressions. Even Marianne looked creeped out.

“How much time do I have?” Maven panted, even as her mind screamed at her that the task she had been given was an impossible one.

The enchantress seemed to be deliberating, but Maven had known her for long enough to know she’d already had all of this planned out.

“How old were you when I took you in, again?” She asked, making tears sting at Maven’s eyes with the reminder of exactly who she had been without magic: nobody. “Ah, yes. Seven. That shall be your limit. You have seven years to bring love into your life, or everything that makes you and your servants yourselves will be gone forever.”

Turning to Marianne, the enchantress put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll be gone for a second, dear, but I’m coming back soon.”

That sentence was all the warning they had before they found themselves surrounded by completely different walls. They were suddenly in a great hall, the air colder and more humid. Books were stacked all over them, and everything was covered in a fine layer of dust.

As if on instinct, Maven tried to reach for one of the books. She quickly fell after trying to get on her feet, her wings throwing her off of her balance and her feathery, clawed feet feeling more like the useless type of shoes that monarchs wore when they wanted to show off their wealth than like feet. It was this that made her realize that during the transformation, her slippers had been torn and so had the upper back of her nightgown.

Nevertheless, she crawled on her hands and knees to get closer to one of the stacks, and emitted a howl of pain as soon as she managed to touch it.

“Ah, yes.” The enchantress said, materialising out of thin air next to Maven. “You see, this is the place where I store all my knowledge! Ancient, forgotten magic, academic knowledge I stole from people who wanted to burn it, this matter of thing. It would be quite against the exercise if I let you have them, wouldn’t it? You should also know that you’ll have no magic during your stay here.”

Maven gasped, then flexed her hands in an attempt to summon sparks, an object, any sort of magic, but the enchantress hadn’t been exaggerating. She had nothing, and the realization made her feel herself breaking apart.

“Not so nice when it happens to you, is it?” The enchantress whispered bitterly. Nearby, the three servants seemed to be having as much of a hard time accepting what they had become as Maven was, but it was hard to tell as it was practically impossible to read their body language.

A broomstick that had been leaning against the wall walked closer to them, and it’s cable twisted as it bent down to help Albert get up. Maven looked at the enchantress in askance; it didn’t look like she was controlling it.

“You’ll find that this castle is filled with other people who once did me wrong.” She explained, making Maven gulp. She’d never realized her mistress could be so fearsome. “They won’t ever turn completely into objects, but they can’t speak either. You know what, why don’t we make a deal? Should you break your curse, theirs will break too. If you fail, you will just be one more mildly interesting happening in their monotone lives. Yes, that sounds good.”

The enchantress took one last look at her apprentice, running her eyes through what she had become.

“I’ll leave you to it, now. You have a lot to do if you are to break the curse.”

After Maven blinked again, she was nowhere to be seen.

#I feel like I owe toh fans an explanation #cause after you read this it is prob going to remind you of... something #but i literally only noticed while writing it #and the chapter had already been planned exactly like this since before I even started watching toh #I hope this doesnt stop you from liking it :(#anyway they say the writer is always the person who is the most critic of their work so #i may be overreacting #fic: batw #my fic #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship fanfic #hilda librarian #the hilda librarian fanfic

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imjustkindafloating · 4 years

Text

Starry Eyed Boy, Part 1

PROMT FROM @writing-prompt-s, I DIDN’T COME UP WITH THIS CONCEPT

Summary: Virgil’s mother hid things from him, and only after she passes away, does he start learning the truth.

Pairings: Pre-Romantic analogical/Eventual analogical

Word Count: 1,078

Warnings: Mentions of death, death (minor character), cancer mention(?), Logans a scary boi, Virgil is a scared boy, cursing,

Notes: I had no intention of it getting this long, or having more than one part but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, I had fun with this. If you want, PM me or shoot me an ask to be put on my taglist for this. I have no clue if the people already on it want to be tagged in this. If you have questions about the au, shoot me an ask too, I love talking to new friends!

Virgil’s mother would often tell him to draw on the walls. Virgil often asked why. Virgil’s mother would always say, “To protect you from the things in the dark. The drawings you make will come to life in the dark and protect you from all the evils in the world.” When Virgil was thirteen, his friends told him it was most likely that she said that so he wouldn’t be scared of the dark. Virgil’s friends told him that he should stop drawing on the walls, they would say it would ruin the house and that the landlord would be furious.

When Virgil started college, he stayed at his mother's house, as the house was close enough to the school. Once his mother started to get sick, that's when he knew things were going to change.

---

Walking down a brightly lit corridor. The LED lights made his eyes hurt as he tried to hide behind his bangs, but he continued to walk. Each step he took sounded like a drum and each step felt like he was walking through molasses. He had stayed up too late studying for an exam in his astronomy course making him feel drowsy and heavy. He reached the door, room 103. He stood in front of the door, hesitating. He jumped when he heard his mother's voice.

“Kid, come on in, I’m not infectious.” Her voice sounded tired, strained even. He sighed as he pushed the door open. He paused in the doorway, looking at her frail form in the bed. Her body had a thin, sickly, malnourished look. He could see her eyes as he moved closer to the chair next to her bed. Her brown eyes looked glazed and distant. Her lips were chapped. She titled her head as he sat down in the chair, it creaked under his weight.

“...Hey, Ma.”

“Hi, baby.” Her thick country accent flowing through the two words. His lips turned slightly.

---

The conversation had started slowly but ended rather quickly. His mother suddenly felt tired, her breath was labored, and she had refused the water Virgil had tried to help her drink. While Virgil was getting ready to leave, his mother said something he had heard a thousand times before.

“Don’t forget the drawings, kid. You ain’t allowed to miss me if you forget your drawings. You have so much to stay here for, so all you got to do is keep on drawing.”

“I only have you here, Mama. I don’t have much else.” She only gave him a sad smile and he was on his way. Later that night, he would get a call saying his mother had died in her sleep.

---

Only after three years, moving three different houses and apartments, losing contact with the few friends he had, and graduating college with an astronomy degree, did he forget what his mother told him. The first night in his fourth apartment, he forgot to draw something. He fell asleep before he remembered.

---

Virgil woke up around five am. He stretched and yawned before glancing around his room and flicking the lamp on. He jumped when he saw a tall man standing at the foot of the bed. He shot up against the headboard and hit his head while doing so. He tried to scream but nothing left his throat.

“Do be careful, you could hurt yourself if you act irrationally.” The man said, a robotic tone filling the tense atmosphere.

“Who- who are you? What are you doing here?” Virgil stammered, sinking impossibly further into the wooden headboard.

“So, he was right. Figures, he usually is,” the man mumbled to himself, looking off to the side before looking back at Virgil. “Pardon my intrusion. Your father has been waiting for a very long time to see you again. He is a busy person, so instead, he sent me. My name is Logan. Logan Croft.” The man held out his hand, stepping fully into the light. Virgil's eyes widened in shock. The man- Logan, he had stars in his eyes. He literally had stars in his eyes.

The sclera, the iris, and the pupil where all melded together, it looked like the components didn’t exist. His eyes where shades of blue, purple, and black, overlaid with hundreds of small specks, that Virgil knew where stars. While Virgil was staring, he could swear that he saw a shooting star shoot past both eyes.

Virgil didn’t feel scared. He felt uncomfortable, yes, but not scared, not anymore, so he took the man's hand after snapping out of his trance. Virgil was half convinced this was a fever dream and that he’d wake up any second now.

“I’m V-Virgil. Sanders. V. Sanders.” Virgil stumbled and quickly let go of Logan's hand.

“Yes, I know who you are. Your father-”

“My who-now? My dad's dead, I never knew him.”

Logan gave a quizzical look, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He shook his head and continued.

“Your father is very much alive and well. He is most likely not who you expect him to be, however.” Logan explained slowly. “You can relax, sir, I mean you no harm. I’m under no order to cause harm, and even then, it is against my nature to do so.”

“Nature? What? I still don’t- I don’t understand what’s happening.” Virgil said, more confidently, leaning forward. “And please don’t call me sir. I’m only twenty-five.”

“Your mother did not explain much to you, did she?” Logan said, almost sadly.

“What, about weird shit happening? Like a random guy showing up at five am, in my own home, saying my dad's alive and stuff? No, she didn’t, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, a bad move on my part, but you see, he was in a rush to see you- to meet you. He and your mother never got along well. She took you away from him, mostly to hurt him.” Logan stated, pushing up the glasses resting on his nose. “There is quite a lot more. I doubt you will go anywhere unless you know everything.” Virgil paused at his matter of fact- and quite true- statement. Virgil slowly nodded.

Logan sighed, nodding. When he looked up, Virgil could see the glint of exasperation and amusement swimming in the other man's eyes, even with his starry eyes.

“I’m guessing this is going to take a while, huh?” Virgil asked, Logan, nodded. “You can sit down at the end of the bed.” Virgil said, and Logan did.

“Let's start with the beginning.” Logan said.

#starry eyed boy au #ts logan #ts virgil #logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #pre-romantic analogical #romantic analogical #alien!logan #alien!virgil #half!blood virgil #human!virgil #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides writing #sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts sides #part 1

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 4 years

Text

6 Weird Tracks of IPKKND

Version: What were the creatives thinking? - wait - poor guys and women knew what was happening and with the way ITV (Indian Television) works, we know who might have stuck their nose and ruined things #ilovenandsupportwritersandcreators #letIndiantvcomeinseasonsandworkwonders

TL;DR The Taming of Lavanya Kashyap

- Why dress up as Khushi 2.0? Why forget that Lavanya is a damn suave working woman? (Saved by Lavanya & Khushi’s friendship).

The Whole Arnav-Is-Murderer, Suicide, Arnav’s Misunderstanding Reveal Track

- Arnav, an atheist, would murder his wife because of astrological implications in his birth chart?

- If a woman is convinced that her husband can kill her, it’s not funny.

- Suicide is NOT funny.

The Kidnapping Track

- Khushi as Bond? Replacing petrol with water (no... I know she can save him but no...)? The hut? Masala Mama? Private Detective?

Let’s do Rasam & Suhaagraat Attempt 1.2

- When logic was missing in both of their heads.

- Also, there’s a DIFFERENCE between DISCOMFORT and being BASHFUL.

Aarav - Arnav 2.0

- When the whole family thinks it’s cute to tell a woman how her husband’s ex’s child looks similar to her husband. Aww.

The Mrs. India ‘Contest’

- The dresses, ‘rounds’ and Khushi’s amazing disbelief in herself. Wasn’t this the same woman who once said that life is not measured by a mere challenging win and loss to Lavanya, Sim & Pam? Was this not the same woman who was proud to be the way she was? The curious case of Khushi losing her intelligence *cry* And every 4 Lions show post this has had fantastic fashion sense... why?

The Taming of Lavanya Kashyap

Alright, before anyone gawks at me let me put it out that I know this was Indian television and this was the time when the poor writers were kind of forced to make this show more family friendly as this romantic (and initially dark) show was aired on Star Plus and not Star One.

So I don’t have a problem with the idea per se. In fact it’s a fantastic, clever and ingenious way of getting Khushi into Shantivan. What I have a problem with is with the values they impart on what being a woman is.

Anjali, for me, is the quintessential sanskaari yet lovable character. She smiles and is elated at the thought of tradition. Although she complains and pushes her brother to follow rituals - it’s all done in light humor. When things get serious, she is more concerned about the grey aspects of his life and is painfully aware that her brother is still haunted by the shadows of his past.

So perhaps after crafting a character who can be adorably traditional yet sensible, it puzzled me to no end as to what crap in the world was Khushi teaching Lavanya; tea bags v/s tea leaves, marry if you want the man to stick with you, marriage is the only important social marker of a woman (?), no man wants to marry a modern woman so dress up like a bride to be seen as a bride (wtf). And alright, we can excuse Khushi on the fact that she has been raised in a highly conservative society, it’s extremely troubling when ASR tells Lavanya to chose between being at home or working in the office (if I am wrong, please correct me). All of this could have just been more... appropriate. Yes, Lavanya turning out as this lovable, slightly goofy yet terribly honest and perceptive woman stole my heart. I loved that part from the bottom of my heart. But the journey to being there - not too much.

- I would have loved a scene where Khushi would get to know Lavanya. About her boundaries. Her lifestyle and upbringing in London (? - she gives NRI vibes). The way her family isn’t connected (the gasp everyone has when Lavanya says she isn’t connected to her cousin is NORMAL, people don’t keep connections), Lavanya’s own struggle to rise in the fashion industry and her eventual friendship and love to ASR. This scene would give growth to Khushi to not judge a woman by the length of her skirt and Lavanya too that just because Khushi came from a conservative household does not mean she’ll keep her judgements.

- ONE scene where Khushi would have asked the family to change Arnav, just as Lavanya is changing for Arnav. It would be nice to see the Lavanya and Khushi growing protective towards each other over time as this is the first time either would be making honest friends. And a nice mirror to the society’s refusal of changing their boys (we had Balika Vadhu at the same time so this wouldn’t be too difficult. If going religious then men too should idolize Shri Ram and be virtuous if they expect all the women to be Sitas).

- Lastly, a mature conversation about Arnav’s reluctance to marry (not the weird Shivanya Sharanya - marriage does not guarantee character or fidelity - *cough* Shyam Manohar Jha *cough* Arnav’s dad?). Lavanya’s worry should have stemmed from Arnav’s reluctance to marry her. [One wonderful scene to throwback is when Anjali quickly perceives that her brother is not so much against marriage as he is against marrying Lavanya - the first time Tu Hi Bata Mere Maula plays].

#thissectionrantisover

The Whole Arnav-Is-Murderer, Suicide, Arnav’s Misunderstanding Reveal Track

What in the Lord’s name was that? I... I don’t have words. First of all Khushi believing that a clearly atheist Arnav married her because of astrological errors in his birth chart? Just because she saw it on news? There’s one thing about Khushi being cute and other being idiotic.

Also... I did not crack a single smile when she imagined Arnav to have poisoned her tea or smother her in her sleep. The belief that your husband can murder you for his own benefit is VERY TROUBLING. This is what a lot of spouses fear in a relationship where there’s constant domestic abuse. Maybe I’m being picky because I’ve seen a lot of victims terrified, truly, because of how their partners could kill them and it is far away from being hilarious.

Nobody in a marriage should be convinced that their spouse can kill them - if they are convinced then this is RED FLAG for something serious. It’s never funny.

And oh dear, Khushi trying to attempt suicide. WHO THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY? I refuse to believe the writers weren’t intelligent because from whatever little I’ve read from Gautam’s thoughts and interviews - he’s an amazing intellectual with the sharpest of minds and someone who knows and is sensitive about mental health among other things. And in fact as what phati-sari (a fantastic IPKKND blogger) said, writers are paid and trained to bring great things on the table.

So yes, for whatever reasons they know best, this scene was off the hook. I could not laugh and felt like there was a stone lodged in my throat for all of the episodes. A person attempting suicide is NOT funny.

And honestly it didn’t make sense that in front of Arnav’s eyes Khushi was going to commit suicide because she believed Arnav loved someone else and then he thought that of course, she totally does not have feelings for him.

The fight - independently - is fine. I get it that something explosive had to have happened for Arnav to spill why he married her and I so sorely wish it was something else.

The Kidnapping Track

So by now you know that I don’t blame the people for how they handled the track because unlike Western content Indian television shoots for 12-16 hours daily, hats off! So the writers, actors, production - all did their best.

Again, NO problem with the idea of getting Arnav kidnapped - AMAZING. And may I say I was a little happy to see him get into such a big trouble because she told him to believe her and he didn't. Sorry, I am evil.

The biggest problem is everything else. While it’s amazing to see Khushi and Manorama unite in this crisis, it was a cringe fest with Khushi and Manorama all going Detective James Bond over this. On top of that Masala Mama and the Babli hangover was... pointless?

If anything, I think this would be a great time for Khushi to realize all the lies that could have been fed to Arnav. Like of course Arnav saw them on the terrace, but how could he have been so sure that Khushi loved Shyam passionately, was ready to have an affair until these vile thoughts were supplemented by Shyam?

A good time to fester Khushi’s hatred for Shyam to an extent that she doesn’t follow the typical Indian code of avoid-your-molester-and-keep-quiet-of-his-harrassment. Also, instead of having Akash and Payal as separate components to this story, it would have been great if Akash and Payal started having doubts on Khushi’s marriage on the first place.

It would be great if Akash already got a sense of Payal hiding something and he would keep on reassuring her with the belief she could tell him anything and then when the Shyam thing blew up it would have explained that Akash would have supported Payal and Khushi had Payal trusted him.

Anyways, it was wonderful to see Khushi rescuing Arnav - a nice knight in distress and damsel in shining armor. I liked the dreams they shared - the Teri Meri was stunning and hot and I was in no hurry to see an awkwardly executed consummation sequence where honestly the tension fizzed and both looked like they were drunk to perform near rapey scene (honestly the closeups were weird, the ones where you can see both of them kinda looks hot). Also, the logic to keep your wife buried in hay in the middle of nowhere and not attempt to keep running - ?

And I wish she once told Arnav that she knew he was in trouble because if everything was normal, he would have not said it. He preferred to not see her face in most occasions. *angst*

I honestly loved the initial things that Khushi was doing - her fear, inability to not think of anything except Arnav, logging London hours and times of his meetings, suspicion on the one man who hates them both - everything a woman can do when everything seems ‘normal’. The desperation totally built to a full blown making out session whenever they would meet.

I am pro Arnav Khushi consummation - duh - like if they literally did it in the boxes after that nose touch and intense eye sex while hiding from all the goons - yup, do it in those boxes!

Let’s do Rasam & Suhaagraat Attempt 1.2

There are many ways to propose to your husband to marry again. Telling him their marriage is invalid because they didn’t do rituals and hence might end up being inappropriate to the society - talk about a turn off.

This also happens after they’ve shared a bed, shy moments, and consummation attempt 1.1 (ugh, the hut). Also I think Arnav is experienced, at least more knowledgable than Khushi when it comes to sex so I think he would get consent?

There is, again, NOTHING FUNNY about teasing your spouse to have sex when they’ve NEVER had it and are VISUALLY TERRIFIED about it.

Arnav, you know foreplay - the dancing, Diwali, nose brushing by boxes while goons run around, the passion dancing at your *weird* Honeymoon (bang worthy moments) - SO WHY FREAK HER OUT!

It hurts because Khushi looks so damn gorgeous in those curls and red/pink ensemble. It’s also weird because just for those moments Khushi turns into a passionless, freaked out woman.

It’s very natural. I just so wish it was mutual attraction and Khushi putting a pause to the consummation despite her body’s desire to do so because she wants to marry him and wants to have some beautiful memories associated and probably knows what’s her status in his life cause he does interchange “you’re my wife” and “you’re nothing” often.

Also, never got the Radha Krishna reference. They’re the paramount of love. So... the topic of remarriage could’ve been stronger with Akash getting Payal a marriage gift for their six month anniversary and Khushi getting afraid of that because we all know what’s going to happen at the end of six months.

Also this episode hurts because both Arnav and Khushi look so hot. He’s in his black best with the perfect amount of gel to let a few stray hair strands flicker and Khushi is *dreamy sigh*

Aarav - Arnav 2.0

I, for the life of me, could not understand this track at all. Khushi’s fears were made so dramatic and illogical that I honestly cringed the way she approached this. Like honestly she was panicking for nothing and ready to set her bags. (The moment where Arnav hugged her and told her not to leave was very sweet, but apart from that everything was very weird).

The revelation was like one weird sudden fact build up and I’m like... ok? And infantilizing Khushi in front of Aarav was very weird. I felt bad for Arnav over here. The way Khushi confuses him, confuses me to no end! Also what’s with the double standard of Sheetal being all modern and there’s no problem and Khushi looking very weird, dated and honestly immature as hell in front of her (I’m not going to talk about the embarrassing basketball scene, nor of Khushi being a peon).

What irked me the most was the whole family suddenly clinging to Sheetal and Aarav FOR NO REASON.

It’s like Sheetal became a part of the house FOR NO REASON. EVERYONE LOVES AARAV BECAUSE HE’S JUST LIKE ARNAV and Aarav has done nothing to be remotely attached to anyone so I’m just lost here.

Aarav is honestly very mean to Khushi and really disrespects her and I find it weird that his temper is praised - which can all evolve to problematic behaviors as an adult.

Aarav doesn’t know how to take no. Has issues in dealing with obedience, respect and is pretty disrespectful to women (except his mother) and nowhere is it even showed that things get better as he feels more acclimatized in the house but no he just has a sudden bout of ‘oh she’s my mum’.

I find this troubling because all in all Arnav was always immensely respectful of his family and especially the women in his family and we can say that true Aarav is also scarred on learning his ‘mother’ utilized him against a man he considers his father - who is not his dad... but, to stop rambling, Aarav had a lot of potential of growth too.

To think about it, Lavanya’s rudeness with the househelp (even after she was drenched in water) was immediately taken as that she’s a terrible human being and Aarav’s temper is taken as a great attitude.

Anyways, according to my head cannon I think Aarav grows up to be a sweet, fun boy who is highly intelligent, slightly naughty, introvert but internally loves his family to bits and pieces - like young Arnav.

The Mrs. India ‘Contest’

What happened here? What’s with all the ‘models’ and ‘trainers’ and Khushi’s self confidence? The way she keeps on repeating “I am no way close to the other women,” wait... when did she lose her self confidence or esteem?

*sigh*

Also Khushi was very blind over here, so much so that it felt like Khushi never worked in his company and never had a taste of working in a fashion house. Phati-Sari wrote an amazing alternative to this - you should check her Tumblr!

Notable qualifier:

Mr. I Will Bulldoze Your House Singh Raizada

Why did he think that threatening her paralyzed father, aged aunt and mother to face the fact that she was forced to elope to a six month marriage and basically now getting divorced which can cause her only family to suffer a heart attack romantic? I don’t know how she goes back home and is ok with it. The power play over here is kind of dirty and sad. ‘Cause the 24 hour track was fantastic, a pity to end it in this humiliating conversation - I wish another important one took place as well where they could sort out their things. It’s not romantic to coerce a woman to go home you know... *sigh*

P.S: I have the most love for this show and writers and creators! If you have some thoughts feel free to share. <3.

#thought #ipkknd #Arnav Singh Raizada #khushi kumari gupta #iss Pyaar ko kya naam doon #random ranter #probably not completely qualified to rant #oh dear #I love the show though

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monstersdownthepath · 4 years

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Spiritual Spotlight: Grandmother Spider

True Neutral Goddess of Weaving, Illusions, and Family

Domains: Charm, Community, Darkness, Luck, Trickery Subdomains: Curse, Deception, Family, Fate, Night, Thievery

Faiths of Golarion, pg. 11~15

Obedience: Spend an hour weaving something clever and useful that you will use to better your community, incorporating the stories or symbolism of Grandmother Spider. This can be any sort of “weaving,” such as weaving blankets, clothing, or tapestries, or “weaving” a tall tale, elaborate story, or confidence game that teaches someone a valuable lesson. Benefit: Gain a +2 sacred or profane bonus on Bluff and Perform (oratory) checks and on saving throws against illusions.

Aww, how cute! Spending an hour each day crafting a cute little doodad for for your... ... Wait, your community? Adventurers don’t have a community! Oh no!

Nah, kidding, that’s not too much of an impediment unless your DM is especially pedantic. Just making something useful to drop off at the next civilization you visit, or even just for your party members, will likely count for the purposes of this Obedience. Just make sure that whoever receives your gift actually needs it, because otherwise you’re not only not bettering your community, but you’ll likely look like a loon. Also, the fact you can ‘weave’ some tall tales gives you an excellent in-character excuse to actually write little short stories and vignettes to convey moral lessons and share them with your party. It’s an excellent roleplaying moment and can sharpen your skills as a writer and storyteller!

It also means you’re very hard to disarm. Even bereft of materials or bound by rope and chain you can compose your stories in your head to connect yourself with Grandmother Spider, and it also means keeping yourself hidden from unwanted attention (such as that from Asmodeus and his followers) is pathetically easy. Your physical weaving must bear the Grandmother’s markings, but enemies of your faith can’t exactly see your stories as they’re being composed, unless of course you’re writing them down in-character.

Sadly, this benefit is pretty wimpy. Bluff is nice, and a bonus to saves against any and all illusions is pretty sweet, but this bonus is only half as powerful as benefits typically are. I can appreciate you becoming better at actually telling the stories you’re creating, though! It’s cute!

Boons are gathered slowly, typically obtained when a given character has 12, 16, and 20 hit dice. Unlike fiend-worshipers, servants of the Eldest, and devoted of the Empyreal Lords, characters worshiping Neutral gods do not have catch-all classes… but Neutral-aligned characters can enter the Evangelist, Sentinel, and Exalted Prestige Classes earlier than Evil characters, classing in as early as level 6 (they need +5 BAB, 5 ranks in a single skill, or the ability to cast lvl 3 spells); entered ASAP, one can gain the Boons at levels 8, 11, and 14.

———-

EVANGELIST

———-

Boon 1: Charming Sort. Gain Sleep 3/day, Eagle’s Splendor 2/day, or Glibness 1/day.

Good news! Entering Evangelist as early as possible means that Sleep is still useful against encounters you may face, knocking out up to 4 HD of enemies in a single cast and keeping them in dreamland for 1 min/level. Bad news! It’ll struggle to remain viable once you’re up another two levels, because at that point, the DM may begin throwing meatier and meatier encounters after you. It’s certainly a good spell to keep as backup, though, at least until you reach into the 11s and 12s and so on, though by that point you likely have more efficient ways to knock foes out of the fight.

Like avoiding one in the first place. Glibness is, one could say, a strong spell. A +20 to Bluff checks to convince someone what you’re saying is true is usually enough to counteract the penalties you’d normally suffer from, and in fact is exactly enough to cancel out the -20 penalty you’d take trying to convince someone of an impossible lie (beware of telling lies that are instantly disprovable, though). With an absolutely endless 10 min/level duration, Glibness will let you lie your way halfway into a dungeon, and not even magic that forces the truth from you is a guarantee since it must first pass a caster level check against a DC 15 + your caster level to do so.

That being said, I wouldn’t advise trying to use it to, say, convince the local king that you’re the true heir to his throne, because at that point the court wizard (there is always a court wizard) will likely catch on that something’s wrong and club you over the head with Dispel Magic... especially if this is the second time you try doing something like that. Still, though, it’s a spell whose usefulness is difficult to understate or undersell, especially since Grandmother Spider already prompts you to be deceptive. Eagle’s Splendor’s comparatively paltry +2 to your Bluff is basically nothing when compared to it.

And the best part is that, unlike Sleep, it’s useful at every level!

Boon 2: Storyteller: You gain the Bard’s Fascinating Performance class feature and a number of rounds of Bardic Performance per day equal to your Charisma modifier + your Hit Dice. If you already have Fascinating Performance, your HD is considered to be your Bard level for the purpose of your Fascinating Performance’s save DC and your Bardic Performance rounds per day.

AAHHRUM-hum! Stay a while, and listen.

The save DC to avoid becoming Fascinated is 10 + 1/2 your HD + your Charisma modifier, by the way. You also start with ((HD x 2) + 4 + Cha mod) rounds of Performance! For those of you who’ve never played with or against a Bard, this means that you can now hypnotize entire crowds of people at once, provided they can see and hear you (and aren’t immune to mind-affecting effects, natch). While any immediate threat to your listeners’ person breaks the fascination effect, it does mean you’re the unrivaled king/queen/royal of distractions among your party. You can technically walk into a room and immediately capture them in your web, because so long as combat isn’t initiated and your party doesn’t do anything especially suspicious, any enemy that fails the save is transfixed for however long you can maintain the performance.

While the second part of this ability--merging your total HD together to make sure your performance scales even as you multiclass--seems good on paper, it’s entirely redundant due to the Evangelist’s Aligned Class ability, which merges the Prestige Class and your base class together anyway, earning you an amazing net gain of one (1) additional HD and meaning this ability doesn’t really exist. HOWEVER, if you’re NOT going into Evangelist and are instead keeping the Deific Obedience feat while multiclassing into a different combination, the primary benefit here is that it continues to tick your rounds of Bardic Performance up, one of the most important scaling abilities Bards have. Sadly you get no access to the more advanced performances, but that’s the sacrifice you make to serve the Grandmother.

Also, if you’re remaining a pure Bard, this ability indeed does not exist at all. oof.

Boon 3: One With The Night: You gain darkvision with a range of 30 feet, or extend your existing darkvision by 30 feet. You need only half the normal amount of sleep or rest each day to avoid becoming fatigued.

...

really

I don’t want to be nasty to dear Grandmother Spider, but with such an ominously named ability, you’d be lead to believe it grants some form of invisibility or somesuch. Not so; it merely grants you darkvision, something you’ll either have or have easy access to by level 14, and while needing only half as much rest to keep yourself running is nice, it’s severely underpowered compared to most final Boons.

Especially since the rest of your party likely requires their full 8 hours of sleep anyway, so it can be difficult for you to find a way to make use of your extra hours. I suggest taking up crafting, to be honest; you’re doing it anyway, may as well craft magic items too! Especially potions, some of which can be crafted in just 4 hours!

Despite that, though, this is still a disappointing and tragically weak Boon, especially compared with everything else Grandma gives to her followers...

———-

EXALTED

———-

Boon 1: The Weaver: Gain Silent Image 3/day, Minor Image 2/day, or Borrow Fortune 1/day.

I’m not going to comment on Borrow Fortune, as it’s just a plain terrible spell. You can reroll a single d20 at the cost of causing Misfortune (roll twice, take lower) on yourself on every single roll you make for the next two rounds. No thanks!

SIlent and Minor Image both fill a similar niche, one that greatly rewards creative thinking. Their enormous areas of effect (four 10ft cubes + one more cube per level) lets you cause some serious shenanigans. Silent Image alone can be used, among other things, to create fields of statues, walls where there weren’t, the image of several siege engines or monstrous backup soldiers (in case an enemy is viewing you from afar), thorny or hazardous barriers, impossibly deep ‘pits,’ and other such hazards that can make your enemies hesitate to approach you. I especially enjoy the possibility of squeezing your party against a wall and then projecting the image of a wall in front of you to hide from pursuers--it’s an old trick, but an effective and reliable tactic!

Minor Image allows your projections to make noise, meaning “summoning” illusory monsters, fires, machines, or other such things becomes far more viable. Even in combat, an enemy suddenly having some horrifying monster appear in front of them can make them pause when they can’t be sure it’s an illusion. Since spell-likes have no components onlookers can be more easily convinced that what they see is real, especially if you mime casting a more dangerous spell. You can even have your illusions pop up in your wake without moving an inch! The applications of these spells are limitless for people who enjoy playing tricksters and deceivers, and both of them have their advantages (Silent Image, mainly, being usable one more time each day), so pick the one that works best with your shenanigans!

Boon 2: Inspired Illusionist: Illusion spells from the Figment and Glamer subschool that you cast last twice as long, as if affected by Extend Spell. They cannot be affected by the Extend Spell Metamagic feat. In addition, the following spells are added to your spells known: Silent Image, Minor Image, Major Image, Hallucinatory Terrain, Persistent Image, Project Image, and Screen.

All of those spells are figments and glamers, of course.

Mmm, free feats! Sort of! It’s not really a feat, but imitates one, doubling the duration of your illusions to give them some serious staying power. While you’ll rarely need an illusion for such a long time, some spells require you to concentrate on them to maintain their effects but have a small window of time where their effects sustain themselves when you lose concentration, typically just 2 or 3 rounds. Doubling this time means anything you conjure in combat will likely stay in place for its duration, allowing you to ‘fire and forget’ your figments and concentrate on ones that will actually cause pain.

Alternately, this will let you mix your illusions with other spells you cast to make it even more realistic!

Also, note that while most projections are figments, glamers include such treasures as Disguise Self and Invisibility, as well as all of its offshoots (Greater, Mass, etc). Doubling the duration of Mass Invisibility without needing a higher level spell slot can absolutely trivialize some stealth missions, letting you and your party stay hidden until everyone is in position. Invisibility already lasts for a full minute per level, and doubling that just makes it ridiculous.

ALSO also, free spells! They’re added right to your spells known list so Oracles don’t even have to worry about giving up their precious spells known slots! AND they’re some of the best Illusion spells you could ask for! If only she gave you Mirage Arcana... Oh, it does bear mentioning that the spells are added to your spell list; they’re not spell-likes! In fact, it’s up to the DM whether or not your illusory spell-like abilities are actually affected by this ability, because normally you need the Extend Spell-Like Ability feat to do so, while this ability only replicates Extend Spell. Something to discuss!

Boon 3: Willful Weaver: 3/day, you may use illusions to mimic certain Conjuration or Evocation spells, as if using Greater Shadow Conjuration or Shadow Evocation.

I love Boons like this, because they’re powerful! But I also hate Boons like this, because they’re difficult to talk about! It’s like someone handing you a toolbox filled to bursting with whatever you could ask for and then telling you to describe the functions of each one and what sorts of problems you could solve with it. Rather than going on for eighty paragraphs about it, I’ll simply cover two or three spells each one can replicate, and leave the rest up to you! And always, always remember that spell-likes can be cast without components, meaning that even if you’re tied up or at the mercy of a villain, you can still call for aid from the Plane of Shadow.

Greater Shadow Conjuration lets you mimic any 6th or lower Conjuration (Creation) or Conjuration (Summoning) spell from the Wizard or Sorcerer spell lists, such as Wall of Iron, Summon Monster VI, or Acid Fog. Creatures who succeed on the Will save needed to see through the illusions only take 60% of the damage the spell would normally deal, or are only affected by the special effects and abilities of the spell (or creature it summons) 60% of the time. If the poor fool fails its Will save, however, it treats the conjured creature or item as if it were completely real. Note that Greater Shadow Conjuration does not require any components of the original spell, letting you replicate spells that normally have costly components for free!

Shadow Evocation can mimic the effects of any 4th level or lower Evocation spell from the Wiz/Sorc list, such as Wall of Fire, Fireball, or Resilient Sphere. Sadly, it’s much more gracious with people who manage to see through it; people who succeed on the Will save to see through the illusion take only 20% of the damage they would have been dealt, and have only a 20% chance to be affected by any non-damaging effect it may have. This is in addition to whatever reductions may be in place if they succeed the save against the original spell, as well. Failing the Will save makes them treat the spell as real, of course, and as with GSC, your illusory replication requires no components, letting you throw around spells you’d normally hesitate to because of their price tag.

Now THIS is how you do a Boon! Excellent! Now, lets see about the Sentinel...

———-

SENTINEL

———-

Boon 1: Trapper. Gain Animate Rope 3/day, Web 2/day, or Spiked Pit 1/day.

Animate Rope’s a bit niche here, and it’s competing with Web, so unfortunately it’s going to have to get pushed off the table a bit. Its uses out of combat aren’t particularly astonishing, and its uses in combat are done better by Web in almost all situations, anyway.

Few things can gum up a pitched battle than a huge swath of the terrain suddenly being replaced with an impassable tangle of sticky fibers, grappling anyone who fails a Reflex save and becoming difficult terrain and partial cover for all creatures who succeed. The fact it needs to be anchored between two points means it can’t be used in every situation, but more often than not, combat scenarios you get trapped in will likely have plenty of spots to hang your webs from. Two walls count as anchor points! As does a ceiling and a floor--your Web doesn’t need to be places horizontally!

Spiked Pit is a nasty spell, conjuring a 10x10 extradimensional hole that’s 50 feet deep, lined with deadly spikes. One can think of it like a pseudo Save-or-Suck, capable of taking any foe that fits inside the entry hole out of the fight for its entire duration if they aren’t good at the whole climbing bit. The DC to scale a Spiked Pit is 20, and few creatures--especially humanoids--will actually bother putting the ranks in Climb they’ll need to make their way out with any sort of expediency. Not to mention, the spines will be clawing 1d6 chunks per round out of any creature that remains in the pit; it’s not much damage, but it’s damage they cannot avoid taking so long as they remain in the conjured hole.

Plus, you can throw more people into it! 50ft is a lot of storage space!

One niche spell, and two really good area control spells. The Grandmother certainly blesses her Sentinels!

Boon 2: Net Master: You gain Net Adept as a bonus feat, ignoring its prerequisites. If you already have Net Adept, you instead gain a +1 sacred or profane bonus to attack rolls with a net. In addition, if you are wielding a net one-handed and have nothing in your off hand, you gain a +1 shield bonus to AC.

As with the case of Ahriman, if you’re truly the kind of person who wants to use your god’s sacred weapon, you likely already have the feats you need to make it effective, especially since Net Adept can be taken as early as level 1.

Net Adept lets you use a net as a melee weapon with a 10ft reach, meaning you possess an huge threat radius (for a player)... with a weapon that deals no damage. Don’t get me wrong, nets are handy! They tangle and impede anyone you hit with a ranged touch attack, potentially tethering them to you until they manage to escape, but there’s only so much you can do with just a net on its own. While this ability encourages you to avoid wielding another weapon to get that free AC, a net is best used with something small and stabby/large and crushy that you can malice your trapped target with. A bludgeoning instrument is especially useful here, as it’s less likely to actually tear at your webbing while you slowly render your tangled foe into a fine paste. The +1 AC usually isn’t attractive enough to give up when compared to actually doing something about your snared victim.

Being a Net Master does mean that you’re amazing at keeping anyone from getting away from you. with people trying to flee your 10ft reach drawing your Attacks of Opportunity and getting snagged for their troubles... But, again, you can be a Net Adept as early as level 1 compared to this ability coming online at level 11 at the earliest, at which point all this ability really does is give you +1 to your attack rolls with nets and encourages you to not wield a weapon in your offhand. Not a good look! Unless you plan on taking people alive, of course, but pfffpt, who does that?

Boon 3: Binding Strike: Upon confirming a critical hit against an enemy, you can choose to entangle the enemy in sticky webs rather than dealing any extra damage. This acts as Hold Monster, with a caster level equal to your HD. You may use this ability a number of times per day equal to your Charisma modifier (min 1).

No saving throw, by the way! Confirming the critical hit is good enough in this case, the monster ending up smashed by the effect even if they’d normally have sky-high saves. Hold Monster lasts 1 round/level, essentially meaning whoever you hit with this is out of the fight for good, especially if you or an ally can follow up with a coup de grace afterwords. Its uses per day are unfortunately tied to Charisma, a stat the Sentinel will likely have little use for, but knowing you’re going to get this ability ahead of time allows you to plan for it! Don’t dump Cha!

Unlike with Yhidothrus’ second Sentinel Boon, it can be quite easy for a Sentinel of Grandmother Spider to justify giving up the juicy extra damage of a critical hit for a secondary effect, since this secondary effect more or less deals infinite damage--in that whoever’s hit by it is gone for over a minute. LIKE the Ravager Worm’s Sentinel Boon, though, Hold Monster simply fails to work against a lot of enemies you’d often really like it to work against; once you hit the middle-high levels, you’re likely to start facing threats from less human adversaries. Constructs, Dragons, Oozes, Plants, Undead, AND Vermin outright ignore this ability, a full 6 of 13 creature types! (and one common creature subtype--Elementals!) While you’re likely to be facing mostly Humanoids or Monstrous Humanoids, the fact this ability falters against such a huge number of different foes can be discouraging.

And piling on top of all of this, again, is the fact you have to land a successfully confirmed critical hit to see it come into play at all, something that’s entirely luck-based. When it lands it’s GLORIOUS! But if the dice are against you, you may never see it when you really, really need to. I’m not a fan of Boons that trigger randomly!

Looks like the Exalted win this round!

You can read more about her here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Neutrality Notes #body horror #sort of #ask to tag #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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foxtophat · 4 years

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another long one, coming in at 9k words because i am goddamn trash

HEY GUYS SORRY ABOUT THAT UGH today just didn’t go the way i wanted it to. you ever feel like that? well anyway here is the 11th chapter!!! fun fact: hurk and sharky show up! second fun fact: i am 90% sure that it is not moonshine they’re peddling. 3rd fun fact: i don’t know if they know what an apple looks like any more

i don’t have much to say about this chapter, although i will say it involves casual drinking if you’re not into that. i think i’m gonna go have a newcastle myself once i’m done writing this up... which i guess means now!

as usual my dudes, i want to thank you all for being so tolerant of my bullshit and so open to my dumbassery! it’s so nice to feel MOTIVATED to post for once, which might not come through when i get delayed like i have the last 2 chapters, but it’s true! i have so much trouble working on things without feedback, so you guys really have been awesome.

if you wanna contact me, my askbox is always open! as always, i appreciate any and all comments, kudos, likes, reblogs, casual links, private discord messages, idk whatever i don’t even use discord

below the cut is the full chapter for those of you who don’t wanna go off-site! thank you again for reading guys, and i will talk incessantly about this fic soon!!!

The next three days are marked by a surprising peace. Nick had suspected that once the cat got out about John, they would be fielding a flurry of calls, or maybe even some in-person confrontations, but so far they've been left completely alone. Maybe telling people on their way out of the county has something to do with that. Maybe they'll need to wait for Hurk and Sharky to come back and spread the news if Jerome's decided not to do it himself. Nick's not sure if that's even what he wants , but it feels like the inevitable next step. Eventually, if the community is going to come together, the cat's gonna have to get out of the bag.

John is just as nervous than before, although it only shows whenever they hear distant engines or a far-off gunshot. The night after the caravan, he and Jerome spend a full thirty minutes on the radio, but it only makes him more pensive and reserved. Nick wouldn't mind so much if Carmina weren't also acting bummed out — sure, she's just upset that she lost a friend before she could make one, but it still sucks to see his daughter acting as morose as John.

At least Kim's optimism hasn't been phased. She's been determined to look at the situation from every positive angle available, and none of Nick's uncertainty has put a hamper on it. She rallies them all for a second day-trip down to the river, hell-bent on cheering each and every one of them. It's a day of sunlight and clear water, and the fish are jumping like mad. It must be spawning season, or something, because the suckers are easy pickings.

The nice weather and the easy fishing both do wonders for Carmina's mood, which is becoming more and more fickle every day. Nick dozes in and out with a rod in hand, and although John spends most of the time staring at the water, he touches base with reality once in a while. Mostly just when Kim includes him in conversation, but it's still enough.

It's... nice. Nick doesn't know the last time he felt so relaxed. He doesn't think that memory exists anymore, lost to time like so many other positive thoughts, but he's enjoying the reminder to relax his shoulders and turn off his anxious brain for a few minutes. With the sunshine just as warm as ever and the water a bright, nearly unnatural blue, Nick figures all they need is an umbrella and some beach towels to drive the point home. Hell, at this point, they might as well claim this as their private waterfront.

Grace shows up after breakfast the next day, ready to take Carmina for some target practice at her range. She isn't strictly speaking to Nick yet, but she keeps it cordial, even friendly with Kim. Maybe Jerome talked with her, or maybe she came to accept the situation on her own, who knows. Either way, Grace ignores the sight of John out on the back porch and treats Carmina to a genuine smile when she comes downstairs, rifle in hand. Finally, three-quarters of the year later, the situation with Grace has finally returned to normal, taking one more weight off of Nick's shoulders.

She promises to have Carmina back before sundown. She also promises to leave her radio on, just in case. Nick knows what she means by just in case , but he can't say no to the added security.

Nick retreats out back, letting Kim have some time with Grace without the awkward tension of his presence. John pointedly refuses to look at him, sorting through a box of components as though he hasn't already picked it apart.

It isn't until after Grace and Carmina leave that Nick remembers he has an out — well, now it's just a regular chore. He's got to deal with the so-called freezer in the hangar, which is full of fish and sucking up all the fuel for the generator. Either he has to make it viable to use long term, or they're going to be shit out of luck for food preservation beyond salting and pickling.

From the look on his face, John wishes Nick would ask for his help, but Kim has already called on him to help harvest the last of the spring planter, so he's shit out of luck there. Nick doesn't have any damn sympathy for John — gardening is boring, and Nick will do anything to avoid it, especially something as easy as throwing John under a bus.

So, the good news is that the freezer still turns on. Nick hadn't expected much after finding it under part of the collapsed roof, but it hasn't shorted out once since they hooked it up to the generator about a week ago.

The bad news is that it's not a good use of power at all. The rubber seal is nearly worn off, so it keeps losing coolness, and there's definitely a coil burnt out or something in there because it barely manages to keep its temperature lower than the air around it. Sure, maybe it'll come in handy around winter , but that's not going to help them with summer around the corner.

As it is, Nick's only sure that the fish from yesterday are still good. There's a covered pot of stew underneath that they put in after the caravan left, which is probably fine, too... but Nick wouldn't put money on the rabbit they put in at the start. After all, it hadn't been all that fresh to begin with, and it's been wrapped in cloth for a little too long.

Well, maybe once they get some chickens and find a post-apocalyptic appliance repair center, it'll be worth being the energy sink that it is. For now, Nick has to figure out what to do with these goddamn fish and the leftover stew from the other night. It's their own damn fault, thinking they'd still have company after revealing John, but that doesn't change the amount of food they have on hand.

At least when Grace comes back, they'll have something to repay her with, although Nick isn't sure she's willing to eat any of their food yet. She'd been okay about seeing John in the backyard, relatively speaking, but there's no way she actually believes any of the progress being made. And as much as Nick would like to tell her that her distrust is unwarranted, he can't exactly tell her how to feel. It's just gonna have to take time, and she's going to need a different kind of proof than Nick.

They aren't expecting any visitors, so the sound of engines on approach shakes Nick out of his thoughts and puts him on immediate high alert. He can't make out the number of vehicles, but it sounds like a goddamn posse, which can't be good. When he goes out into the yard to check on Kim, he finds her missing; John is the only one standing there, waiting nervously by the planters and looking for any sign to bolt.

"Stay here," Nick tells him as he approaches, heading straight for the front.

"Yes, I know ," John snaps, but Nick isn't going to stop to argue with him. He slows his anxious jog as he comes around the side of the house, catching sight of Hurk's motorcycle through the trees coming down the drive. Kim is standing in the front yard, arms loosely folded over her chest; she looks cautiously excited for the company, although neither of them are sure if this is strictly a social call. Nick sure hopes it is — he's not sure they could hold their own against a group with an RPG and a whole lot of crazy.

Hurk kills his engine once he sees they've got an audience, leaving his bike with the others in the drive. The big, blissed-out guy and the smaller, wild-card one stay on their bikes, while Sharky talks to somebody sitting on his ATV briefly before following his cousin's tracks.

Kim greets them with a warm smile as they come up. "Hey, you guys. We weren't expecting you to stop by again."

"We radioed ahead," Sharky grouses. "But nobody answered."

"Sorry, I wasn't near the receiver. We've been out back all day."

Hurk pulls off his sunglasses with a dramatic flair. "Yeah, I figured it was something like that," he says, with a tone that implies Sharky had a different theory, one Nick imagines involves John staging some sort of coup. "Well, whatever, we're here now!" Looking around coolly for a second, Hurk realizes he still needs to explain himself and bashfully elaborates, " Somebody oughtta know we got back alright, so we can get hired out again and whatnot..."

"Everything cool?" Sharky asks. He makes no effort to hide how he's looking for a fire that he can blame on John. Well, at least he's trying to find a good reason to beat John up this time.

"I should be asking you that," Kim counters, wearing a smile that's enough to disarm Sharky's gruff posturing. "How far did you get?"

"We hit Great Falls before we figured any further was a one-way trip. They're probably past Missoula if they kept up the clip."

"And how'd everything look?" Nick asks. "I mean, relatively speaking."

Sharky shrugs. "A whole lot of the same," he replies. Hurk rolls his eyes in his cousin's direction, fixing him with an annoyed stare that eventually wears Sharky out. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he opens up semi-reluctantly. "It wasn't the, uh... wild wasteland I was expecting. Lots of empty land and road stops. Some friendly, some... uh, not so much. But that group can handle it."

Nick is happy to agree, and not just to placate Sharky. "Yeah," he says. "Hope County breeds tough people."

"Did you guys pick up somebody along the way?" Kim asks, having just done a headcount of the remaining posse. Nick remembers the two on their bikes; the new guy, he remembers from the third car, quiet and quick to leave but otherwise unmemorable.

"Oh, that's Mud," Sharky says, pointing at the three who probably can't hear much over the rumbling engines. "He was with the caravan, but he changed his mind." Sharky's chest puffs up as he confidently tells them, "He's ridin' with us now."

"That's great!" Kim exclaims. She's genuinely excited by the news and the chance to socialize, and the effect of her positivity is hard to fight. Sharky can't help but smile back, even if he's trying to act tough, rubbing his hands together as he casts another approving glance back at his gang.

"Are you going to do anything to celebrate?" she asks.

"Not much to celebrate, he's kind of a nerd."

"Come on," Kim laughs. "You left home and came back with more people than you started with. I think most people these days would count that as a win." She rubs her hands together, looking briefly at Nick and suggesting, "We could have a fish fry?"

"Hey, that's an idea," Nick replies. "We caught some bass yesterday and they're just gonna get composted if we don't do something with them."

"I dunno about that," Sharky says, cutting off Hurk just before he can excitedly agree.

Kim presses her hands together. "Come on, stay," she pleads with a smile. "At least let us feed you. When's the last time you had something more than jerky and booze?"

"Well..." Sharky trails off uncertainly.

"Kim's right," Nick cajoles. "We got plenty to spare."

"Grace is going to be back with Carmina in a few hours," Kim adds. "I'm sure she'd be glad to see you guys."

Sharky rubs his beard, looking back at their waiting posse. "Grace, huh?" he repeats. He trades a few unsubtle glances with Hurk before finally turning back to Kim and Nick. "Yeah, that should be okay. Except — ah, shit. We promised Wallace and Tiny we'd start doing things democratically now that we won't keep tying over everything. Hold on, gotta go confer with the boys."

They only spend a minute talking it over before the two motorcycles kill their engines, which is all the confirmation Nick needs to know they're hosting company. "I'll go tell John," he tells Kim under his breath. "Somebody should give him a heads up before Sharky punches him again."

Kim sends him off with a pat on his shoulder as he heads for the backyard. John is still waiting by the planters, although he's staring longingly for the safety of the hangar. Nick can't blame him — he's still sporting a dark and noticeable bruise from the last time Sharky socked him. Hopefully, seeing his lingering handiwork will satisfy Sharky, otherwise, John might wind up with a matching set.

"Sharky and Hurk are back," Nick says. John doesn't exactly relax, but knowing he doesn't have to prepare for another ugly reintroduction keeps him from bolting. "They're, uh, gonna stick around until Grace gets back."

"Then I probably shouldn't be around," John replies.

"What, you wanna go hide all night?" Nick rolls his eyes. "No, don't be a baby. Worst that'll happen is you'll get knocked down again." John doesn't look convinced, so Nick tries another route. "Come on, we went through all that just so you wouldn't have to hide out every time we have company. And people are gonna have to get used to you eventually — at least Sharky and Hurk already know you're alive." Finally, when none of that seems to work, he sighs and promises, "I'll make sure nobody decks you for no good reason, c'mon."

John finally relents, sighing and gesturing vaguely. "Fine," he says, "Whatever you say."

And, even though Kim isn't around to force him to it, John sits back down at the planter and resumes pulling carrots. It's probably entirely out of spite, but at least it keeps him busy while the posse of would-be raiders filters into the backyard. Nick stands awkwardly at first as Wallace and Tiny stare aggressively at John's back, but when Kim rounds out the group and nobody takes a shot at either of them, he forces himself to ease up on the suspicion. From here on out, Nick is going to try his damnedest to act like everything is absolutely normal. Well, as normal as it can be.

Kim has Sharky talking from the outset, which makes it easy for him to avoid acknowledging John at all. It helps that she's genuinely interested in what he's been up to since they last saw each other — other than open-channel conversations on the radio, the Ryes haven't seen them since the world ended. With only one car and not a lot of fuel, they haven't had a chance to go exploring the east side of the county since climbing topside.

As it turns out, Sharky and Hurk have shacked right back up at the old trailer park. They'd met up with Wallace and Tiny sometime after coming topside, and right now the four of them are in the middle of making the park more hospitable. Sharky keeps mentioning a reception area, and Hurk says something about expanding the lot, so Nick suspects they're looking to cash in on the heretofore abandoned hospitality industry.

For now, though, it's just home to four wildcards and one multi-use distillery made from old airplane parts. "It's pretty much fucked," Sharky says, although truthfully, Nick thinks it sounds kind of badass. "But with enough elbow grease, we'll probably be able to make it livable." He looks around, craning his neck to eyeball the mostly-intact hangar and their secure house, and offers a genuine compliment. "You guys got lucky. No hate, just glad you had somewhere to hole up in. It would suck to really have to rough it with a kid around."

"Tell me about it," Kim agrees emphatically. "Although, it took a lot of work to make it this nice, and there's still a lot more to do."

Sharky and Hurk settling in around the fire-pit is all the invitation their crew needs to make themselves more at home. It's no surprise that they pretend like John isn't there — nor is it a surprise that John returns the favor. It's a little tense and a lot awkward for Nick, but for now it's at least a peaceful holding pattern.

"It sorta sucked, seeing everything as trashed as it is here," Tiny says somewhat morosely. "I mean, at least we ain't alone, but..."

"Hope Valley got the best of it in general," Wallace says. "Right in the sweet-spot. Ideal Collapse."

"He means most everything else got blasted," Tiny clarifies, a sort of post-Bliss interpreter. "You can tell when you leave the county. Eases up after a couple of miles, but there's, like, a big old ring around us."

"No doubt, no doubt," Wallace agrees. "Protecting the good stuff."

"It's pretty fuckin' weird," Hurk says. "But I don't know nothin' about nu-clear thermodynamics and whatnot. Could be normal as the albino deer and shit."

"Uh, you think that the caravan's gonna be okay out there, if everything's just as wrecked?" Nick asks.

"Oh, sure," Hurk drawls. "There were all sortsa people makin' due out there, one way or another. They'll be fine ."

Sharky sighs, opens his mouth, then thinks better of whatever he was going to say and changes course. "They made it pretty clear they would be happier without help," he says. "Hope that works out for them. Me? I'm ride-or-die Hope County. At least 'til Hurk here goes international again. Then, uh, I guess I'm gonna be ride-or-die Miami."

"Hell yeah!" Hurk shouts. "Gonna get the business back in business, y'know what I mean? First stop: check in on mama and Xander. Second stop: top of the world, baby!"

The posse rallies around Hurk's promise with excited whoops. Nick doesn't know what Hurk's job was before the apocalypse, but considering the contraband he used to get his hands on, it's probably something that will only flourish here in the apocalypse.

"'Course, she's probably dead," Hurk adds somewhat morosely at the end, sort of ruining the whole vibe.

Sharky slaps his shoulder a few times out of sympathy. "Don't know 'til we go lookin'," he says, which manages to prop Hurk's mood back up for the time-being. "Anyway, we got a whole slew of islands and mountains and shit to explore once we get established. Spending the rest of my life riding around Montana sounds like a waste of a good apocalypse, if you ask me."

The new guy, Mud, looks more confused than Nick about these future plans. "So, what'd they offer you for joining up?" Nick asks him. "Ten-percent of Boshaw-Drubman LLC?"

Startled, Mud shakes his head frantically. "No way. Uh-uh." Bashfully, he says, "I just, uh... got cold feet. But I don't got much out here, not since the, uh..." He glances past Nick, definitely eyeballing John, then swallows and edges around the truth. "Well, um, Sharky let me ride back, on account of the — well, uh, I didn't wanna get left behind either direction. And since I don't got anything, I offered to join up." He frowns, "Except I don't have a bike, or gas for a bike, or a gun, or bullets for a gun..."

"I told you," Sharky scolds like a mother hen, "We'll figure that shit out later."

"It's smart to stay together," Kim says when Mud fails to pick back up again. "It's what we should all be doing. Does that mean you're staying with them at the trailer park?"

Mud nods, while Tiny goodnaturedly jokes, "Not that there's much left to stay at..."

Sharky is quick to defend their home, even if he doesn't sound super convinced by his own argument. "Hey, we just haven't had time to, y'know, clean and all! We've been busy, man, you know that! Gathering ammo, building the still, brewing ..."

"Would be nice to have a roof over our heads, that's all," Tiny laughs.

"Where do you want me to go, the roof store ?"

The argument is mostly playful, but Nick knows it's only a matter of time before that playful resentment becomes real. Hurk already looks bored by the ribbing, which tells Nick a lot about how long this joke has been running. Even John is paying attention, although Nick only catches an uncomfortable backward glance.

It's a contentious problem for the gang, for sure. But Nick doesn't have to reach far to come up with an easy solution, one that he figures will benefit everybody involved. After all, even considering their own needs, they've got more than enough spare scrap to spare, and Hurk and Sharky's goodwill comes with guns and alcohol, so...

"You know," he says, "John and I found a lot of scrap cleaning this place up. Maybe you can use what we can't."

Sharky opens his mouth to say something, probably pretty rude, but he catches himself before he gets that far. "Wouldn't want to put you out like that," he mutters.

"Hey, we're all in it together, right?" Gesturing towards John, who looks like he'd rather fade back into the dirt around him, Nick offers a sort-of compromise. "We've been trying to figure out what to do with the surplus. This seems like a better use than anything we came up with."

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt," Sharky admits reluctantly.

Kim recognizes the need for some decisive action, and so she claps her hands together and takes the reins from her grateful husband. "Nick, you and John should take Hurk to look at what we've got. Then, all three of you can bring some wood back so we can get the fire started."

Sharky opens his mouth to object, but Hurk speaks up before he can. "Sounds good!" he exclaims, throwing himself to his feet with ease. Nick can't help but envy him — the guy's got twenty years on him, but Nick doesn't hear his knees popping randomly when he stands up.

"Y'all don't go startin' trouble," he warns his gang, waving Nick on. "Let's do it!"

John turns and heads immediately for the hangar door, disappearing inside without a backwards glance. Hurk lingers once they reach the door, casting a wide look around the empty wash of dirt leading out to the old landing strip before following John inside. He doesn't seem concerned in the slightest that John might be waiting to ambush him.

"Sorry about Sharky, by the way," Hurk says once the three of them are standing in the shade of the tarp overhead. "He's been real stressed is all, tryin' to act all fuckin' responsible and shit. John here making it after the deputy beefed it just hit hard, I guess."

Well, if that's the way Hurk's been referring to it, then no wonder Sharky's sensitive about it. "It's, uh. It's fine. We figured there'd be some... y'know. Reasonable resentment."

John does that thing where he pretends he can't hear he's being talked about, going straight to the log pile stacked against the back wall. Hurk doesn't seem to notice the silent treatment, turning to the organized junk spread out over the cracked concrete. From broken two-by-fours, bent fence-poles, chainlink scraps, and stacks of not-quite-moldy plywood, there's gotta be something here that can help fix up the trailer park. Nick makes sure to highlight the best scrap for Hurk's consideration, although he avoids mentioning their surplus of nails and stripped screws for now. No use showing his whole hand, right?

"Damn," Hurk says at last, looking around in mild astonishment. "Can we hire y'all to do this to our scrap?"

Nick laughs. "Yeah, like I wanna do all this again ."

"What about you?" Hurk asks John's back, ignoring the way he tenses at being directly addressed. "How do we rent you out?"

"You don't," John says, his tone briefly icing over as he turns, regarding them coolly over his armful of logs. He's more petulant than angry when he explains, "I don't owe you my life, so I don't owe you my labor."

"Fine, I'll just save you from a burning building or some shit," Hurk replies, as if he couldn't care less that it's John Seed he's bantering with. "I guess we gotta talk trading, now," he sighs reluctantly. "Man, I fuckin' hate this barter-system bullshit. You know, actually, I got a box full of bottle caps if you wanna..."

Nick waves away the extremely bad offer to invest in an unbacked currency. "Hey, don't worry about it," he says. Hurk frowns heavily at that, so Nick suggests a compromise. "Look, if you and Sharky wind up with your own microbrew, you owe me a case — and yes, I will take payment in installments. That sound fair?"

"If ?" Hurk replies. He lets out a big laugh. "Buddy, I got news for you."

Hurk, John and Nick each take an armful of wood back to the fire pit, where Kim seems to have everything under control. Sharky is less openly hostile when John reappears, anyway, which is a good sign. Mud and Tiny have apparently been given fire-starting duty, jumping to the task as soon as they drop off the wood. Sharky, a true pyromaniac, manages them from his seat by shouting directions at them as they stack the wood in the pit.

Before they can sit back down, Kim turns Nick and John back around for the fish. It's a one-person job, but John doesn't complain about being sent away.

"You okay?" Nick asks John when they reach the freezer.

"Yes," John replies automatically. Nick stares at him for a solid five seconds before he cracks with a frustrated sigh. "I'm just a little overwhelmed. That's reasonable, isn't it?"

"Sure," Nick agrees. He picks up the old bin they've been using to cart fish back from the river. "You can stick around here for a bit if you want. Take a breather."

John scoffs at the idea of taking a break, as per usual. "I thought the point was not to hide," he replies tersely. He reaches out to yank the cracked plastic container from Nick, a frustrated and instinctive reaction that he curbs at the last moment, fingers curling briefly into a fist as he forces himself not to just take things from Nick.

Taking pity on the dumb bastard, Nick pushes the bin into John's arms, flipping open the freezer door and staring down at the slimy, not-yet-smelly fish. "Well, if you need a break, just say you're gonna get more firewood." Nick shrugs. "Someone's gotta check on you eventually, but Kim knows the drill."

John doesn't respond as Nick loads up the bin, but Nick hopes he takes the out to heart. There's not a social obligation out there that Nick hasn't gotten out of by dedicating himself to some dumbass chore nobody else wants to do.

They return to find a roaring fire that is... hopefully under control. The mismatched seating has been pulled back to accommodate the fire's larger-than-average size, accompanied by a couple of chairs from inside to make up the difference. Sharky and Mud have disappeared, although they return just after Nick, each carrying a variety of bottles and jars of different sizes.

"Shit, I didn't think you brought the entire brewery with you!" Nick exclaims, not in the least bit upset by the development.

"Not until you clean all those up," Kim says before Nick can get ahead of himself. "You don't want to be handling a knife right after a shot of... whatever that is."

Nick groans, but she's right. As much as Nick would like to get drunk off his ass on torpedo juice, he has to get his priorities straight. Still — there's a lot more fish than Nick's willing to handle by himself, so he enlists a willing Wallace and Tiny to help out. He picks them mostly because they're openly carrying hunting knives, and because John is just plain bad at deboning fish. John stares at him resentfully, but since he hates handling food as much as he hates gardening, Nick's sure he'll get over it before dinner.

Nick doesn't have much control over the food once it's been cleaned, as Sharky and Hurk have some kind of bet going about who's the better cook and they don't need anybody else throwing their hat in. As far as Nick's concerned, their cooking tastes delicious but indistinguishable. Of course, Nick's waiting for his own dinner, so other than a few bites to try and judge the difference, he doesn't get to eat much of it.

Tiny and Wallace split and down an entire mason jar of mysterious dark liquor while they wait to eat. Nick wants to join them, but Kim's waiting until Carmina is home to start drinking and really, Nick should be doing the same. From the way John's watching distrustfully from the side, he's not likely to get into any moonshine himself.

Nick manages to hold out until after he's finished eating, but then Hurk offers him some moonshine directly and he can't say no. It would be in bad taste, right?

Oof. Turns out the moonshine is in bad taste, but that's what he should expect from something that's easily 120 proof. Nick takes one swig and immediately regrets it as it turns his chapped lips to fire and carries the heat all the way down the back of his throat. There's no taste or anything, just an intense, full-mouth burn and this lizard-brain instinct that everything is going to go horribly wrong if he drinks more of whatever that is.

"Jesus Christ !" he gasps. It's only Hurk's quick reflexes that keep the jar from crashing to the dirt, but Nick doubles down before Hurk can pry it out of his hands. Even as he struggles to form a sentence more complex than, " Poison ," he's got to go back for a second sip. As if somehow a second one would make things better — but of course it doesn't. At least, not to begin with; first, it's gotta turn his shredded lips inside out and throw his tear-ducts into overdrive better than an overripe onion.

"Well don't drink more of it," Kim huffs, way too late.

"Now be honest," Hurk asks, "Can you taste any apple?"

Nick pushes the jar back into Hurk's attentive hands, choking disbelievingly on the word, "Apple ," although now that he thinks about it... No, nope, no after-taste whatsoever. It does , however, warm him from the inside out, leaving him feeling a decent buzz for two conservative swigs.

"Whatever it is," Nick sighs at last, after a big swig of water, "It's great."

"You know," Kim says, "The sooner we put the stew on the fire, the sooner you can eat. Maybe then you could handle more than a couple of baby sips."

Nick clicks his tongue, taking some childish offense at his wife teasing him about his tolerance. At the same time, she's right — and Nick is getting hungry. There's still enough uncooked fish left for when Grace and Carmina get home, but if he wants them to have as much as everyone else, he'll have to settle for the three-day-old stew. At least Kim and John are stuck in the same boat as him.

Before he can get started on that, though, Grace surprises him by returning early with Carmina. Admittedly, it's still pretty late in the afternoon, but he hadn't expected her back so soon. She isn't surprised to find company, which is also a surprise, although she eyes the whole group somewhat distrustfully as she and Carmina round the side of the house. When she sees Hurk and Sharky drinking from their unsanitized brewing bottles, she finally relaxes, letting go of Carmina's shoulder so that she can join the not-necessarily child-safe group.

"Grace!" Sharky exclaims, leaping from his seat and almost grabbing her for a hug before remembering personal boundaries are a thing. "Holy shit, the world literally ended last I saw you!"

Grace returns Sharky's enthusiasm with her more subdued version of it, smiling fondly and following through the rest of the hug for him, the same way she'd grabbed onto Nick and Kim when they'd first come back topside. "Sharky, it's good to see you," she says, her voice deep with emotion.

"I radioed her while you were getting firewood," Kim mentions to Nick as Hurk takes his chance to get a hug from the usually reclusive sniper. "I thought she would appreciate a head's up. And, you know, it cheered Sharky up."

"Hey, good thinking."

Carmina approaches gleefully, carrying the rifle over her shoulder triumphantly. For a nine-year-old, she's pretty natural with the thing, which is a mixed blessing as far as Nick's concerned.

"Aunt Grace made moving targets!" she exclaims, excitement overriding her confusion momentarily until she looks at the group. "I didn't know we were having people over today..."

"It was a happy surprise," Kim tells her. "These are the guys who were helping that caravan heading west, remember?"

"Yeah," Carmina says. She looks immediately to John, who is way too busy staring tensely at Grace and Sharky's reunion to notice her.

"Don't worry," Nick says. "Everything's fine."

"Uh-huh," Carmina says, unconvinced. Thankfully, she doesn't seem too worried about another fight breaking out. That probably has something to do with her attention being focused in an entirely different direction. "Do we have pulleys? I wanna make a shooting range here! It's really easy!"

Nick's gut reaction is to say no, but Kim interrupts him. "Maybe while your dad is getting the stew, he can check," she offers, looking from Carmina to Nick significantly. "Then we can have some dinner and talk about it."

Although it looked like John hadn't been paying any attention before, he stands as soon as Kim mentions going to the hangar. "I remember seeing one," he says.

"You can help me look, then," Nick offers. "Maybe get some more firewood?"

"Yeah," John says absently. Nick barely steps into his line of sight, but that's all he needs, turning and making his way to the hanger down the same invisible path he was glued to before. Nick sighs, rolls his eyes at Kim entirely for show, and follows. Maybe once they get some food in him, John will stop being such a cagey bastard about the whole thing, and they'll be able to actually put things to rest with Grace and Sharky at last.

When the world ended, Nick had figured that meant the end of life as he knew it. In some ways, he'd been right — things will never be as easy, as safe, as peaceful as they used to be — but when his expectations had been wrong, they'd been completely off-base. He'd expected a nuclear wasteland, only to find a lush and thriving field. He'd expected roving gangs of murderers, and instead, he's only encountered desperate, decent people who would rather not waste the bullets. Hell, he'd expected to spend every day struggling to survive, and here he is, sitting in the backyard with a full belly and a shot of liquor to wind down. Sure, the gathering is a primitive knock-off of a barbeque, but Nick knows now that all they need is time and practice. Maybe someday, they'll even have a grill — burgers, corn on the cob, the whole works.

But hey. That's for the future, and right now, Nick isn't going to complain about some bad liquor, mediocre food and Hurk's stripped-down Slayer's cassette blaring from his beat-up stereo.

Carmina finally gets a chance to show off her skills to people other than her family, and so Hurk's boys take turns calling out targets for her to cap in an attempt to take her down a peg. Nick isn't sober enough to trust his daughter with a gun, but Kim hasn't gone back for another taste of "apple" moonshine yet, and Grace is sober as a rock, so they're more than capable of handling things. Mostly, they nix any particularly dangerous targets, keeping Carmina's shots focused out in the yard. Well, for the most part — neither of them can resist watching Carmina shoot the wind-vane still clinging to the roof, even if it means going right over everyone's heads.

It's all in good fun, of course. And, to their credit, not one of the guys even jokingly suggests taking aim at John as he sits apart from the group. It's a good thing, too — John looks uncomfortable at how good a shot Carmina is. Maybe Nick would be uncomfortable with it too, if he hadn't drunk a bottle-neck's worth of moonshine beforehand.

Nick doesn't have to drink a lot to feel downright tipsy, which is great. Back in the day, he used to like getting buzzed every so often, but he'd given up ever feeling safe enough to get inebriated as another lost memory from yesteryear. This... this is nice. And once the guns get put away, it'll be even nicer.

"I think you might be a better shot than Tipsy over here," Wallace tells Carmina, gesturing towards Tiny, who is indeed too tipsy to be a decent shot at all.

"Only one way to find out!" Tiny shouts, failing to move after his declaration.

"Maybe another time," Kim replies uncertainly. "When alcohol isn't involved?"

"Hey, Carmina," Hurk coos, pulling his battered gun into his lap, "This is a Kalashnikov, you ever shoot off one of these?"

"Ooh, no!"

Grace is much less diplomatic than Kim, cutting him off before he can feed Carmina's excitement any more. "Hurk!"

"What? Oh, uh... she's probably too young for an automatic, huh? What is she, nine? I got a Magnum in my saddlebag..."

It's not long after that they run out of targets, forcing an end to Carmina's demonstration of skill. Kim thankfully takes the gun so that nobody gets hurt, and Carmina spends the next twenty minutes peppering the crew with questions about their guns, their tattoos, their trip out with the caravan, and whether or not they have a moving target range like Grace does. Nick relaxes when he realizes that none of the guys are keen on giving a little girl another weapon, more interested in spinning drunken tall-tales that, truthfully, might be a little too PG for Carmina. At least Grace is listening in to fact-check any of their more problematic bullshit.

John isn't any less tense now that Carmina is disarmed, but Nick's not surprised. Sitting on the opposite side of the fire from everybody else, he might as well be hiding in plain sight. That goes against the entire point, but it's also his modus operandi these days. Normally, Nick would just ignore it, maybe even avoid John on purpose to show him how bad it feels, but tonight calls for a more direct approach.

"Need to get some firewood?" Nick asks him, coming to stand in his line of sight.

John squints up at him around the firelight. "No," he mutters, lying through his teeth before changing the subject. "Carmina has good aim."

"That's all Kim's genes. I'm more of a spray-and-pray kinda guy."

John doesn't quite hide his sarcasm, replying, "You don't say."

Nobody's offered John any liquor yet, he's pretty sure, so Nick holds the bottle out in an easily declined gesture. "Wanna try?" he asks, just in case he's being more subtle than he thinks. "Supposed to take like apples."

John gives the bottle an unimpressed once-over. "I don't think so," he decides, not sounding entirely sure about it. He adds defensively, "My tolerance is shot."

"If you say so," Nick replies, pulling the bottle back. "It's not like I'm gonna peer pressure you. This isn't high school. But, uh, try to relax. If anyone was gonna take a shot at you, they would've done it by now."

"Easy for you to say," John sighs.

It is easy for Nick to say, but he hopes John actually listens to him for once. He's not expecting miracles or anything, but if John's going to stick around, he's going to have to learn how to relax. Well — at least that's one learning curve that everybody is struggling with. Baby steps, right?

Nick leaves John alone for now; maybe he'll warm up into the idea of mending some metaphorical fences before everyone leaves, which would be ideal. For now, Nick goes back to the rest of the group, taking a few more sips as he listens to Carmina start to spin her own tall tales. Now that she's recognized the pattern in all of the stories the adults have been telling — larger-than-life enemies, intimidating names, lots of Foley work — she's attempting to match their vivid stories with a highly interpretive retelling about the turkey she saved her mom from a few months ago. The way she tells it, Nick would've expected the turkey she'd brought back to be at least the size of a car, but if Kim is playing into her part as a damsel in distress, Nick isn't going to ruin things by being the cynic realist.

They trade a few more stories. As they do, Kim takes a few extremely sour drinks of whatever the dark stuff is. She's been on hosting duty all day already, and Nick hasn't done much to help, getting tipsy right away with the rest of the guys like he had. But, with things starting to get late for a family of three, Nick decides it's his time to step up to the task of parenting.

Carmina hasn't had enough life experience to have many stories to share with the encouraging group of drunken manchildren, so once the attention turns to Tiny's story of his first swim after the world ended, Nick uses the out as a chance to usher her away.

"I think we oughta get you ready for bed," he tells Carmina, who boos under her breath but doesn't put up a fight, mostly because the story involves lots of nudity that she isn't at all interested in hearing about. Nick can't blame her — he doesn't wanna hear about Tiny almost getting his nuts bit off by a demon fish, either.

"Okay, but I want a good bed-time story," she demands, reasonably enough. Nick doesn't have anything as funny as Hurk's story, or anything as action-packed as Sharky's retelling of the first roadblock they encountered out on the road, but he has to at least try.

The good thing about Carmina not knowing anything about life before is that Nick can stretch some truths without repercussion. So when he tucks Carmina in, he decides to tell her the story of when she was born — this time, though, he doesn't leave out the roadblocks, or the deputy's shitty driving, or the narrowly-missed explosions. Couched in a long line of tall tales and exaggerated stories, Carmina doesn't believe most of the true stuff and only playfully believes in the bullshit.

Between Nick's bedtime-story voice and him gently stroking her hair, it's a wonder Carmina stays awake for as long as she does. Eventually, though, well before he finishes the story, she closes her eyes and finally stops resisting the chance for a good night's sleep. Nick stays put, lying next to her for a few minutes as he listens to the faint sound of conversation outside. He tries to make out the voices, to decipher who might be talking to who, but he only hears a dull hum.

He'll get up in a few minutes, go down and have a real drink with his wife for the first time in nine years, but the alcohol he's already had entices him to lie still just a little longer.

He doesn't know how long he dozes for, but when Nick is next aware of his surroundings, the light has changed in the room from the rising moon and the conversation outside has shifted in tone and pitch, the way any party might as it enters the late-night phase. Sitting up, Nick immediately knows he needs two things — more water, and one or two more swigs of that awful moonshine, just to keep the hangover from starting before he actually goes to bed.

The back porch is still wide open. The fire has died down, although it's still enough light to see by as Nick reappears. Kim sees him immediately, lifting a half-empty jar of dark liquid in his direction and waving him down with her free hand.

"This one is much better," she tells him as he approaches, holding out the jar. Well, Nick isn't about to reject his wife's kind offer, although he immediately regrets it when he takes a swig.

" Ugh ," he chokes around the harsh burn, feeling it drain all the way back into his throat. "That tastes like paint thinner!"

"Trade secret!" Hurk exclaims, adding immediately after, "Not that there's any paint or thinner in there, or anythin'. Nope. It's 100% organic malt liquor!"

Nick has no idea how Hurk would manage to find barley, but sure, he'll buy it. Another sip doesn't do any better, and to his surprise, he realizes that he actually prefers the moonshine.

As he hands the jar back, Nick does a quick head-count, coming up two short. "Uh, where's John?" he asks.

"Oh," Kim says. She points towards the hangar. "We needed firewood," she says. "Except, eventually, we really needed firewood. I sent Sharky to get some." It seems like only when she says it does she realize what a bad idea it is. "Well, we were in the middle of something, and I was distracted," she explains reluctantly.

"I wasn't," Grace utters next to her.

Kim rolls her eyes. "You should go check on them. I mean, it's fine. But maybe you should, anyway."

Nick looks over at the hangar. There aren't any lights to speak of out here, but Nick can see the glow of the lantern through the open doorway, shadows moving around behind the worn-out wall. "Yeah," he agrees, turning and heading across the wash. He only thinks of grabbing a drink for the journey after he starts walking, but he's already halfway there and he doesn't have time to turn around and come back.

Sharky appears in the doorway, forcing Nick to pull up short to avoid running into him. He looks — fine? There's too much beard and too little light to see his expression clearly, but Sharky doesn't seem phased in the least to find Nick in his way. He passes by Nick with a few logs under one arm, patting Nick heavily on his shoulder with his free hand.

"It's cool, bro," he says, "We're all good."

"Uh... okay," Nick replies, deeply unsure as Sharky casually heads back for the fire. Briefly worrying that he might find John knocked out on the ground, Nick tries not to stress out as he heads inside.

John is sitting on a discarded chopping block by the woodpile, the lantern settled by his feet. Nick doesn't see any blood or a new black eye; just John, rolling a nearly-empty glass bottle between his palms as he drifts in thought.

Nick almost feels bad interrupting, but John catches sight of him before he can retreat undetected. He looks surprised — genuinely, openly surprised to see Nick standing there, sincerely confused when he says, "I thought you went to bed."

"And miss out on all the action?" Nick chuckles. He gestures at the bottle. "So much for your tolerance being shot, huh?" he teases.

"Oh, hmm?" John looks down at the bottle like he'd forgotten about it. "Only enough to get them off my back." He sighs, following it up with a swig that he barely winces through. "After all, saying no ain't my thing ." Nick isn't sure if that drawl is for sarcastic quotation purposes, or if John's had enough moonshine to play at being white trash. "Then again, I only quit drinking because of Joseph. No point resisting now."

"I guess," Nick agrees reluctantly. "Is that, uh, what you and Sharky were talking about?"

John rolls his eyes. "No," he says. He holds out the bottle, waiting until Nick takes it to elaborate. "Kim suggested they sleep out here tonight. He was making sure there's room."

"Oh." Nick takes a drink; maybe it's just the malt liquor talking, but now Nick can sort of taste the apple around the burn. He takes one more swig, just to make sure, then hands the bottle back. "Well, as long as he wasn't hassling you."

"No more than I deserve," John says. Nick must make some kind of face, because he sighs and placating adds, "It's fine, Nick. I'm more than capable of handling a few sarcastic comments from some hillbilly outlaw." He looks down, tipping the bottle a bit to swirl the moonshine inside.

"He... means well," he says eventually. "Everyone means well."

"You don't have to sound so bummed out about it."

John chuckles. It's the first time Nick's heard his laugh and not mistaken it for a cough or wheeze. "I don't mean to be," he says. He takes a drink and looks up at Nick with a... weird look on his face. Open. Genuine? Nick's not sure. But despite the topic, John's expression radiates a deep, contemplative peace. "It's more generosity than I can bear from people I genuinely thought of as the enemy."

He is definitely drunk. "Oh, boy," Nick sighs, reaching out for the bottle before John drops it or finishes it off himself. "To be fair, uh, it's easier to be nice to you since we won, and all."

"Oh, I do not doubt it." John relinquishes the drink, seemingly aware enough to admit, "I've had more than enough."

"I think everybody's had enough," Nick says, proving his own point by immediately regretting his next swig. "God damn . Okay, well — we should probably get some wood. I gotta feeling those guys are gonna be up for a while, and we wanna keep them happy."

John nods, but he doesn't rise from his spot. "Wait," he says when Nick goes to pass him, so Nick obligingly stops, raising an eyebrow at John's half-lifted hand.

"You have to understand," he says. "I'm not — I don't know how I'm supposed to express my gratitude towards you. With Joseph, with — well, everyone , I've always known how to express my loyalty. I knew what they expected from me, what would make them happy, what... wouldn't. But with you, with Kim... I don't know anything. I feel like a child. I don't know how that makes me feel, other than like an idiot."

He heaves a frustrated, heavy sigh, ducking his head towards his nervously entwined hands. "Just — thank you," he finishes miserably.

"Wow," Nick utters in response. He doesn't know what else to say, really, except the obvious, but he genuinely means it when he replies, "Well, you're welcome. Man, and here I always figured you were playing me for a sap."

John laughs, shaking his head. "Manipulation has never been my strong suit," he admits. "I'm too heavy-handed for that crap. Intimidation and brute force, on the other hand..." He lets out a relieved sigh. "Thank God I was too sick to revel in my self-destruction."

"Yeah, I'm glad I didn't have to shoot you," Nick chuckles. "Sorta would've gone against everything I'm trying to build, you know?"

"I do now," John says. "I only wish I'd realized it before the end of the world."

"Hey, the world hasn't really ended," Nick points out. "There's still a whole left to do." He gestures towards the woodpile. "We can start by making sure Kim doesn't leave me for the raiders giving her free alcohol."

John stands, shaking his head as if he could clear the smile from his face. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, not until they figure out how to brew a decent beer. Kim was going without for the baby. She probably would've murdered me if it meant she could've had a case of Newcastle in the bunker for a few months there."

Then again, she had also been freaking out about the nuclear apocalypse occurring above-ground, so Nick really should cut her more slack.

"You definitely have nothing to worry about," John reiterates. "But fine. No more back-talk."

"Yeah, fat chance of that. C'mon, give me a hand."

Nick leaves the bottle on the chopping block and utilizes John's uncanny strength, loading him up with an armful of wood before taking a few logs for himself, to give the appearance of helping. John doesn't complain, which isn't unusual by itself, but tonight it feels like genuine complacency, not just something he's doing to survive. And when they return to the fire, dropping off the wood for Mud and Tiny to utilize, John doesn't retreat to the safety of the other side of the fire. He instead lingers by Nick, going so far as to play along whenever Kim asks him questions, just to make him feel included. He, unlike Nick, is smart enough to refuse any more of the malt liquor Kim's taken a liking to, but he holds the jar for show from time to time, just to keep Hurk happy. In a weird way, Nick feels like he can actually see John taking those wobbly steps Kim is always hoping to see, and even weirder than that, the anxiety that maybe he's making a mistake fails to manifest, leaving Nick with a warm, fuzzy feeling that could very well be pride.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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1980s-robin · 5 years

Text

robin x reader

pairing: robin x fem!reader

fandom: stranger things

requested: yes

summary: the summer of 1985 had ended, robin has some new friends and she’s back in school for her senior year. while robin has come to terms with her sexuality more and more throughout the summer, she hasn’t found someone to date; until she does. robin plays the tuba in band, but reader? well she’s the captain of the girls soccer team, popular for her school spirit, kind smile and determination. but robin starts developing feelings for her, and she starts feeling nervous around the girl.

a/n: this request stuck out to me, i absolutely loved it so i just can’t wait for everyone to read it ! i did take some liberties since i set it after season three, i also made the reader popular but kind because plot. also i really enjoyed writing this and have so many ideas of how it could have more than one part, so if you guys want another part please let me know ! also posted on my wattpad @/chiefhargroves

warnings: some language, not much though. fluff, and discussions of sexuality. minor season three spoilers.

word count: 2.3k words

Robin had quite the summer, but it’s not like she could tell people about it. The people who knew what she encountered, the people who were there when she dealt with the Russians and the monster, were the only people she was able to tell. So when school came back, she was basically alone. The kids were entering high school, but they had their relationships and their friend groups and she was a senior, so befriending sophomores wasn’t the most normal thing that she could do during the day. For everyone else, it was business as usual, going back to school. But that one summer changed everything for Robin.

Not only had Robin seen things that she didn’t even think possible, gained a job at a mall and then had the mall destroyed, and then have to hide her secrets from the entire town leading to many conspiracy theorists coming through to figure out what had actually happened. But she had fully come to terms with the fact that she was a lesbian, she had no desire for men and he was encouraged to accept this by, none other, than Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington, who wasn’t even there to help her and be a friend to her because he had graduated before she had. It’s not as if Hawkins was the same as it had always been, the incident with Starcourt had caused quite a stir in the town and the people of Hawkins and adjacent areas were beginning to figure out that strange things were happening in the town. But, no one’s summer had been as strange as Robin’s had been, and she knew that and couldn’t say a thing about it.

The girl didn’t think she would have a normal senior year, she didn’t think she would have crushes or best friends or any of that, but then she started paying attention to you. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the captain of the soccer team, one of the most popular girls in the grade not because you were rude or snobbish, but because you were kind, full of spirit and compassion. It was a month into school and Robin had already attended every single soccer game the school held just to see you. You took notice, but you thought she was just being supportive of the team. That changed when you two were paired together for a science project.

“Robin? Robin!” You called, waving your hand in front of her face which drew her out of her thoughts. “What?” She asked, clearly lost in thought about the summer or… you… she didn’t even know anymore. “I asked when you want to meet after school for our project, I’m free tonight.” You said, a bit of suspicion on your voice. “Are you alright? You’ve just been zoning out a lot this week.” It was true, Robin had copied notes off of just about every single person in class that week because she hadn’t been paying attention to anything. At that point, she hadn’t even been thinking about college because she had been so distracted by everything that she had been going through, everything that she had been through.”I’m fine I just haven’t been sleeping very well.” Robin said, trying to put on her most convincing smile. “To answer your other question, I’m free later too. Where do you want to meet?” She asked, knowing she’d have to cancel plans with Steve but since he’d been encouraging her to make a move, he would understand. “Come over to my house, my parents have work until ten tonight.” You told her, a smile on your face. A smile that made Robin’s heart race, a smile that gave her too much hope that it was something more than just a friendly smile. She swallowed those feelings back; “See you then.” Robin answered, her statement quickly followed by the bell that signaled the next class.

Little did Robin know, you had been going through your own struggle however you were in it completely alone. The thing was, you were one of the popular kids for being kind however most of the people that were friends with you were either assholes or just wanted to be friends with your public persona and not who you are as a person. They wanted to be friends with the captain of the soccer team, they didn’t want to be friends with (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a young girl who was going through a sexual identity crisis and felt like she might only be attracted to women. You didn’t tell anyone, because you figured you were almost finished with high school so there was no point in risking everything just to be happy and yourself in front of the entire school.

A knock at your front door was heard, causing you to drop the book that was in your hand and walk to the door, immediately being greeted by Robin. She looked flustered, you were about to greet her before you heart the car horn behind her and looked over her shoulder only to see none other than Steve Harrington. “Remember what I told you, Robin!” He said, before driving away, leaving the two girls alone.

“S-Sorry about that,” Robin said, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ve ever stuttered before, Steve must have really done a number on you with whatever it was that he said.” You commented as you moved out of the way so she could come in. “Um… since it’s raining just take your shoes off, my parents don’t like it when I track mud through the house.” You said before you moved towards the kitchen.

“I set some stuff aside for the project, it’s in my room I don’t know if you wanted to work there or down here… do you want tea or something before we start?” You asked her, noting that Robin had taken off her shoes and was wearing Star Wars socks with red lightsabers on one side and blue lightsabers on the other. “They were a gift from one of Steve’s kids.” She said, noticing your stare at her socks. “No, no I like Star Wars. I think they’re cool.” You said before you motioned to the coffee pot and the tea kettle. “There’s some coke in the fridge too.” You said, turning to her.

After a few hours, you two had your project for science laid out, the goal was to make the chemical that was assigned without blowing everything up. Of course, the first group to do this needed to present it to the class so chances are you were the only group that was actually doing the project. “Okay, okay. Trial four.” You said, holding one of the components to the beaker and turning to Robin. “You ready?” You asked her, just hoping it was going to work. “Yeah, go,” Robin said, but you caught her small step backward in case it blew up again. You slid your goggles down and poured the component into the beaker, it seemed the bubble normally for a few seconds before simmering.

“We did it!” You said enthusiastically, Robin high fived you and stepped closer to look at it herself. But, you hadn’t done it. Because right as you both went to look at it the beaker quickly started bubbling again and exploded out of the top of the beaker and onto the both of you. “Shit!” You yelped as you jumped back, Robin following you but both of you slipping on the newly wet floor and falling next to each other. The chemical wouldn’t hurt either of you with it getting on your skin, it didn’t smell great, though.

After the initial shock wore off you both turned to look at each other both you started laughing. “Oh my God, we’re complete idiots aren’t we?” You said, in between laughter, removing your chemical covered goggles so you could actually see. “We’re not idiots we’re just stupid-” Robin replied, cutting herself off when she realized that didn’t make any sense.

Robin and you took turns with the shower, “You can take some of my clothes.” You said as Robin walked out in a towel, handing her a bathrobe however the blush on your cheeks was hard to miss. “I put your clothes in the uh… the washer so they don’t stain.” You said, trying to keep your composer as best as you could. “Steve probably wouldn’t like it if I saw you like this.” You said, a hint of jealousy in your voice.

Robin let out a laugh, “I’m not dating Steve, we’re friends.” She said, oh if only you knew the truth. “B-But you two are so close.” You said as you turned to face her as she put the bathrobe on over the towel, just to make sure that she didn’t get any water anywhere. “I- Steve knows why we can’t be together. He’s actually been encouraging me to make a move on the person I like.” She said as she sat down on the other side of the bed, but you just swung your legs over and scooted over to sit next to her. “Oh. Who is he?” You asked, but you noticed that she seemed a bit caught off guard. “He… is a she,” Robin responded simply. Your eyes widened, “Who?” You asked again. Oh God, you were just going to be jealous that it wasn’t you.

“I can’t tell you, you’ll only be mad.” You raised your eyebrow, “Why would I be mad? Is it my mom?” You asked, which caused her to snort. “(Y/N), I’ve never met your mom.” Robin verified. “T-Then why would I be mad?” You asked her, of course, you would be mad that it wasn’t you but she didn’t know that. “She’s uh, well she’s this girl with (Y/H/C) and (Y/E/C), and she’s funny and popular and really sweet. She’s also very accepting like, the only other person who’s as accepting as she is, is Steve.” Robin said, which caused you to nod. “She sounds nice.” You said, looking away to hide the obvious sadness on your face.

“Yeah, Yeah. She is, she’s really nice.” She told you, and you looked over at her. “What’s her name.” You asked her. “(Y/N).” Robin responded and you tilted her head. “Yeah, what’s her name though?” You asked her and she snorted yet again. “She’s you, I like you (Y/N). Haven’t you noticed that I’ve been coming to all of your games and… practically running away every time you come by?” Your heart was pounding at that point, “I guess I should have, you’re the calmest person I’ve ever met I just- didn’t think you’d feel the same way, I haven’t told anyone that I like girls.” You responded before you realized you had confessed how you felt. “I’m sorry, did you just say the same way?” Robin asked, and you nodded.

The world seemed to slow down as you both kind of looked at each other, processing the fact that you had both just confessed your feelings for each other. You started leaning in, and Robin followed your lead before your lips met, your hand finding her forearm as you shared a very light kiss. As you both pulled back you both noticed the goofy smiles on the others face. “I can’t believe my first kiss was with someone who isn’t even wearing clothes.” You replied, and she raised her eyebrows. “That was your first kiss?” She asked and your cheeks turned red. “I- There was no one else that I wanted to kiss so I… didn’t.” You responded. “Well then, I’m honored to be your first.” She said causing you to let out a giggle.

“Do you um, do you want to go out to dinner tomorrow night?” Robin asked you, rather awkwardly. “Of course but I have to ask; when Steve dropped you off is this what he was encouraging you to do?” You asked her curiously, causing her to nod. “Y-Yeah he’s kind of been encouraging me to make a move for the past month.” She said, causing you to nod.

After Robin got dressed you both made your way down to the main room, where the small bubble television was rested on the stand. You turned the television on and turned it onto a new episode of Cheers but you both just let it play in the background. You turned to Robin, “So, you said that you haven’t met my mom. Do you want to wait for your clothes, because if you do you’ll probably meet her.” You said, to which she shook her head. “I do, but I can’t Steve’s going to be here any minute, I’ll get them tomorrow.” She said with a wink causing you to laugh before you heart a horn from outside. It had to be Steve. You both stood up and made your way to the door, opening it and both of you stepping outside before she pulled you into one last kiss before making her way to the car. “See you tomorrow!” She called and you grinned, “See you tomorrow, Robin!” You said before you went back into your house which a giant, goofy grin on your face.

As soon as Robin sat down she was met with a giant hug from Steve, “You did it, I’m so proud of you!” He said over enthusiastically causing Robin to laugh and push him lightly. “Stop it, Steve.” She said, however, she couldn’t fight the smile on her face. “So, I guess you rule then?” He asked her, to which she rolled her eyes as she put her seat belt on. “You already knew that I rule, Dingus.” She said before they both drove off.

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thebibliomancer · 4 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #204: Claws Across the Water!

February, 1981

Welcome back, true believers! ... Eh, true believer?

I hope at least one person out there is still into this.

It has been nearly two years. I let this sort of series slip into forever hiatus. My at the time job was really eating all of my energy.

That plus the yellow peril villain two-parter that’s this and next made it hard to get motivation up to get back into it.

But in the time between then and now, I wrote a fixer-upper draft of a pretty okay novel for nanowrimo and started learning crochet. So the time not Avengersing wasn’t entirely wasted.

But now I don’t have a job!

Thus, the Avengers.

Our roster of Captain America, Iron Man, Scarlet Witch, Wasp, Vision, Beast and Wonder Man are going to fight an enormous Ming the Merciless and many fuchsia Laserbeaks from Transformers.

Its a weird but gutsy concept for a crossover.

(Three cooks in the kitchen, writing-wise. Not an auspicious start.)

The issue really starts with a woman named Shu Han sending a secret message for help because she is being held captive by THE YELLOW CLAW.

Yellow Claw has offered Shu Han “honor, unlimited power, a pivotal role in the new history of the world” in exchange for something. He gives her three days to make up her mind, leaving Shu Han unsure of how much longer she can continue to resist.

And a day later, in Avengers Mansion, the Avengers say goodbye to Hawkeye. He had been hanging out with them a couple issues through the Red Ronin thing, the shudder Avengers #200 thing, and yet another Ultron thing.

And then Jarvis comes in with the mail.

Despite the Avengers being the Avengers, all of their mail fits neatly on one tray. And one piece of mail dramatically marked LIFE AND DEATH gets Cap’s attention and he pauses their meeting to read it.

It seems that Shu Han’s secret distress message was picked up by a ham radio operator in Hong Kong.

Imagine. Two hundred and four issues in and ham radios are still a relevant plot point! And yet Rick Jones no longer is. Goes to show...

Anyway, the ham radio operator’s letter says that Shu Han says that she’s being held captive by the Yellow Claw. And since Jocasta doesn’t know who that is, it lets Cap exposit.

Captain America: “The Yellow Claw is a biochemical genius. Well over a hundred years old, he retains his youth through secret scientific methods of his own devising. Unfortunately, he’s also a tyrant intent on destroying every last vestige of western civilization -- at any price! The Claw and I have fought several times in the past. I’d hope we wouldn’t have to again.”

So as you might guess from this, Yellow Claw isn’t a new character. He first appeared in a self-titled book in 1956. And opposing the Yellow Claw in the Yellow Claw was FBI agent Jimmy Woo. Which is slightly better.

Anyway, Iron Man chimes in that he’s heard of Shu Han. She’s a gold medalist in track in the 1968 Olympics. And Beast has heard of her too! She won the 1974 Nobel Prize in Physics!

Both of these things! Shu Han is quite the accomplished person.

And Cap isn’t sure why the Yellow Claw wants an Olympic gold medalist who is also a physicist but it can’t be for anything good!

Vision points out that the Yellow Claw’s island is in contested waters and that actions by the Avengers could cause an international incident. And also it might just be a trap.

I mean, ham radio operator? Really? In 1981?

Captain America: “That might be true, Vision, but the fact remains that someone in trouble has asked for our help. And as acting chairman, the only thing I can say in response to that is -- AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!”

Good attitude, Cap. That’s a good attitude to have.

And the Avengers Assemble, which in this case means run out the door like they’re racing for shotgun in the Quinjet.

Running right past Jarvis who was bringing coffee and ginger cake in. Leaving him to eat the cake himself because heck, no sense letting it go to waste.

I tell ya, Jarvis is underappreciated. Do you know, I don’t think they even invited him to move into Dead Alien Mountain in the current book? Instead they got a man trapped in a gorilla to be their butler. I mean, valid, but you do Jarvis a disservice.

LATER ELSEWHERE

The Yellow Claw stands villainously on a balcony talking with a Dr. Liu and asking him about the status of a project.

Dr. Liu says that there’s almost enough “formula” to begin distribution.

Yellow Claw: “Your words please me, Liu, for I have waited long to grasp this moment. Others may have their kingdoms, their countries, even their continents. But soon, doctor, I... shall have a world!”

But the Avengers’ Quinjet appearing on radar takes some wind out of his sails and he orders the base locked down and defenses activated.

As the Quinjet circles the island, Cap decides to send Wasp and Vision to try to find a way to snoop around undetected.

Vision can just intangible through walls and Wasp can find small entrances.

Of course, when Yellow Claw says lock the base down he means lock it down because even the air vents have been covered up with plexiglass. But Wasp decides to just blow it open and fly inside.

Somehow, even with that, its Vision who makes the more conspicuous entrance, as he manages to intangible in right where some guards happen to be staring at a wall.

Good work, Vision.

For whatever reason, solid snaking through a dark air vent makes Wasp wistful for some time that she and Hank went in a tunnel of love. And he was so shy that she had to teach him SOMETHING.

I’m almost sorry that she stops her internal monologue anecdote when she spots the Yellow Claw.

And here our two sneakiest Avengers both prove that they need to intern with Black Panther for a weekend or something because they both make a goofus.

Vision beat up the two guards that spotted him and just left their bodies where they fell, causing alarum when they were found. See, Black Panther would have told Vision that you need to hide bodies in a locker.

And Wasp falls off the wall while trying to eavesdrop and is spotted by the Yellow Claw.

He doesn’t recognize her as a tiny woman, tiiiiiny woman, but the fact that a bug is in the base at all means that the base isn’t airtight which means one of the air vents has been compromised.

Meanwhile, the Quinjet has continued to circle because there’s no good place to land on the whole island. So Cap decides to land off the whole island and makes a water landing.

Apparently Quinjets are like seaplanes in that regard.

And then as they are trudging through the surf to come ashore, -battle transition music- A SLIME ATTACKS!

Wait, this isn’t a dragon quest. This is an Avengers. They’ve got a man in power armor and a robot woman. We’re sci-fi. Okay so its a cyborg slime.

Or a jellyfish. Or, you know what? It has a beak. Maybe its a kraken. A cykraken.

And it drags the Avengers underwater, which is just what a jellyslimefishkraken cyborg would do, if you think about it.

Beast and Scarlet Witch are SOL. Scarlet Witch’s arms are tentacled to her sides and all of her spells require a somatic component. And she hasn’t taken the feat yet to let her ignore that requirement.

And Beast doesn’t have any leverage underwater to apply his strength and agility.

Cap isn’t doing much better because he’s trying to hit the thing with his shield underwater and the water drag isn’t helping.

Jocasta is doing alright. Her eye beams work perfectly fine underwater at cutting the tentacles. Although the narration calls her a “robotrix” which... what?

And Wonder Man does fine too. Even underwater his super strength is enough to just tie the tentacles in knots.

But Iron Man goes completely limp and the jellyslimefishkraken cyborg grabs him up and sticks him right in its mouth.

But it was a ruse. He baited the thing into eating him so he can repulsor blast it from inside and destroy it, freeing the other Avengers.

Good job, Iron Man. You killed a unique, horrible lifeform.

I think we can see that the real monster is Man. Comma Iron.

Meanwhile, inside the evil villain base, Vision runs into the evil villain. Who asks sincerely what the fuck Vision is doing here.

And Vision responds by immediately firing a laser at Yellow Claw.

Which. Good hustle, Vision.

Buuuut. The guy has an energy field that rebounds the energy back at Vision and knocks him out. Its a proven fact that the villain will always have something to stop Vision from soloing the plot.

Kryptonite, so to speak, is everywhere.

Yellow Claw has Vision taken to his lab to be dissected. FOR SCIENCE!

Outside, Beast goes ahead of the other Avengers to scout.

In his Beasty way, he’s goofing a little, singing the Loch Lomond song. And then he’s attacked by just so many flying blades. A lot many.

And so are the rest of the Avengers.

Wonder Man: “No kidding! One just clipped a lock of Jocasta’s hair -- and that stuff can take a bazooka blast!”

I really like imagining the Avengers testing that.

More than that, I’m amused imagining Jocasta’s deadpan expression as they shoot bazookas at her head.

‘The things I do to socialize.’

Anyway, the Avengers scatter to make harder targets because the blades are clearing the jungle to deny any cover to the heroes. Cap spots the blade launcher and throws his shield at it. Because that’s what he do. And it works. Because that’s what he do.

And since the jellyslimefishkraken cyborg and the “death crescents” hadn’t given the Avengers the hint, Yellow Claw appears before them towering several stories high and tells the Avengers to GTFO his island! GEEZ!

Jocasta notices that giant Yellow Claw casts no shadow and announces that it must be a hologram of some sort.

AND THEN THE METAL DEATH BIRDS

They get very angry when you point out special effect failures.

And then the Avengers do their various Avengers things.

Its an action scene. Avengers fighting robot death birds.

Iron Man jumps upside down in front of Beast to protect him from a missile. And Cap does the same right side up with his shield to protect Wanda.

I do appreciate the teamwork with immediate protecting the squishy members of the team.

Wonder Man hits one metal death bird with another. Because hitting an enemy with an enemy is great. I love grievous harm with a body.

Only thing better? If some Jedi force pushed General Grievous to smash some droids. Grievous harm.

Anyway, Jocasta does her eye blasts again, to great effect again.

Captain America throws his mighty shield and even a metal death bird must yiiiiield.

And Scarlet Witch gets to do something this time because everybody is doing a thing this time. Its a real team showcase.

She. And this is totally what probability alteration is. She changes the probability that a launched missile will just turn around and blow up the robot death bird that launched it. That’s just math.

Iron Man says that since his armor powers were originally based on magnetism, he can just remotely magnetize two of the metal death birds and cause them to smash into each other.

BUT THE BEST ONE OF ALL? And the reason I bothered to synopsize the individual actions instead of just saying “and then an action scene happened”? The best one of all.

A robot death bird launches a missile at Beast and he catches it. He catches it between his toes and throws it back, blowing up the robot.

Spectacular.

So spectacular that we can assume that it instantly ended the battle just because of its sheer majesty. I can draw no other conclusions from the juxtaposition of panels.

The Avengers finally reach the base after spending most of the issue traipsing up from the beach. And the base being locked down is swiftly solved by Wonder Man and Iron Man punching the door down.

My only regret is that neither of them make a joke about knocking. C’mon guys, I can’t be writing your snappy dialogue for you decades after the fact. Publishing doesn’t work that way! I’m not writing a redub!

A bunch of Yellow Claw’s goofy guards all prepare to be ineffectual mooks in a mob brawl but Yellow Claw stops them over the intercom.

See, he’s got Vision prisoner. And while he had intended to dissect him FOR SCIENCE, hostage is equally good. So if the Avengers don’t surrender, Vision will be sliced to bits by dissection laser scalpels.

Anyway, Dr. Liu shows up through a secret door to show the Avengers in to talk to Yellow Claw.

And Yellow Claw says politely ‘why the fuck you on my island??’

Or:

Yellow Claw: “Welcome, Avengers. I am pleased to have such illustrious visitors in my humble home. In fact, there is one thing that could possibly make my bliss more complete -- the reason why you’ve invaded my island, and my privacy!”

Which in less polite terms is ‘why the fuck you on my island??’

At this point, Wasp secretly flies up to Cap and tells him she’s okay.

It’s good to reassure him that she’s not a second hostage but. There was no reason in the plot for her to have entered the base. She accomplishes no things. She arguably makes things worst but its only arguably because she didn’t alert the Yellow Claw any more than Vision already did.

I would have liked if she had tried to free Vision or sabotaged Yellow Claw’s security system or something but that’s not the direction the plot was going.

Anyway.

Yellow Claw asked a question so Cap answers. He tells Yellow Claw that the Avengers are here because they received a distress call from a woman named Shu Han who says she’s being held captive.

Yellow Claw is actually surprised. Possibly dismayed.

He recovers himself quickly and has Shu Han brought in so the Avengers can see she’s not under restraint.

She wasn’t brought to this island to be a prisoner! She was brought to be his bride!

Easy mistake to make, honestly!

Wonder Man points out the should-be-obvious that hey kidnapping is kidnapping even if its for nuptials but Yellow Claw is like ha ha kidnapping no no, Shu Han fill this dumbo in.

And it is. A story.

Shu Han: “I... I wasn’t exactly... kidnapped. You see, when I was very young, a man came to my father’s farm, and, as was custom in my country, an arrangement was made. To be less delicate... I was bought!

“Over the years, I all but forgot the arrangement, as I turned my thoughts and energies towards excelling in athletics, and in science.

“But then, some weeks ago, I was approached by agents of Master Claw, and was brought here. I was frightened, but didn’t know what to do. And so I secretly sent a message, hoping for you help.”

Shu Han has that mix of super good at science and sports you see in superheroes but she’s a normal genius person living her life. It’s going to be weird if she just never shows up again. But also: good for her.

Yellow Claw is just so disappointed that she dragged some randos into their interpersonal drama. And we can see now that the proposal he was proposing at her was “marry me.”

Yellow Claw: “Shu Han, I wished you no harm. I am old -- even my potions cannot stay the hand of death much longer -- and I fervently desired an heir to carry my name when that hand fell.

“Thus I offered you wealth, power, the prestige of sitting at my side. And now you repay me with treachery, with cowardice... with dishonor.

“You wish your freedom that much? Very well, then -- you shall have it!

“Go! For I’ve no desire to take an unwilling bride!”

Yellow Claw: May be a supervillain but is big into consent. I mean, except for the part where he bought a child.

Yellow Claw: May be a supervillain but is big into consent when the alternative is superheroes hanging around.

Shu Han doesn’t look super burned by his speech so maybe that’s why he does what he does. He klaps to bring out a bunch of backup wives to prove that he’s not so hurt by rejection. And that he’s got ‘mad game.’

Yellow Claw: “As you can see, there are others more amenable to that lofty position! So, Avengers, you have what you came for. Please don’t let me delay your departure any longer.”

Or in less polite terms ‘GTFO!’

Cap points out that obviously they’re not going to just leave without Vision so Yellow Claw has some goons carry out Vision like a potato sack.

Iron Man and Wonder Man carry Vision with Iron Man warning that he’s not just going to forget Yellow Claw even though the guy claims he just wants to spend his final years in peace with his pile of wives.

And a good call to not take the guy strictly at his word.

As soon as the Avengers are gone Yellow Claw all about mwahahahahas and says that now his evil plan can commence.

Yellow Claw: “No, Dr. Liu, having one less wife should not effect the project appreciably. For the others, hand-picked like Shu Han for their superior genetic traits, will all give me sons, strong sons whom I will train in the arcane ways.

“Then, when they reach manhood, they shall fight each other, until only the most worthy, the strongest, survives! And it shall be he who shall inherit my destiny! The conquest and eradication of the western world!

“Yes, the plan is still sound, and there shall be no defense against it! For my children, doctor -- SHALL BE THE LAST CHILDREN ON EARTH!”

As far as evil plans go, having a bunch of babies so they can fight to the death is pretty evil even before the conquest thing. And the last children on Earth thing.

Follow @essential-avengers. Or don’t. Honestly, I can’t blame you if you don’t. Throw me a like if you read and liked so I can get a sense of how many people read and liked, if you like.

#Avengers #Yellow Claw #Vision #Wasp #Captain America #Wonder Man #Iron Man #Scarlet Witch #Jocasta #beast #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #honestly one of the reasons i started this up again #is i've been reading slott's iron man and thinking 'wow jocasta is great'#'wasn't i right in the middle of the era she was on the avengers?'

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cenobiavigantzky · 3 years

Text

Wraith's Last Flight

EMISSION WARNING

The warning tone that accompanied those words echoed in the mindscape of the diminutive pilot. His shell smiled in the enclosed cockpit, a mental command diverting power from the main reactor to the supercapacitors in the cargo hold.

“Etel, they’re inside maximum range.” Rence exhaled nervously, finger hovering over the button that’d release the magnetic clamps holding his craft to the underside of his partner’s, his other hand firmly gripping the control yoke.

“I know.” The voice coming over the comms was synthesized- it could only be, after all. Still, the mischievous tone told his fellow mercenary all he needed to know.

He was going to pull that stunt. Again.

“Could you go a single job without giving me a gorramn heart attack out of worry?” His Remora-class Interceptor’s sensors were cold, but the datalink with his partner’s Cetorhinus-class Transport told him all he needed to know. The red dots were getting concerningly close.

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I just want to make your job easier, after all.” Four chimes let the support pilot know that their trap was ready to be sprung. He chuckled darkly, watching the activation prompt overlap his sensor suite.

“Etel!” Before the taller pilot could argue further, the cargo bay doors atop the small transport starship flung open violently, barely preceding a thunderous discharge of directed radiation covering the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Four sensor signatures changed from red to gray.

Dozens of kilometers away, raider crews cursed and swore at the middling, seemingly innocuous escort craft that’d just fried every component in their ships. Even the main reactors entered their safety shutdown mode to avoid loss of plasma containment, a system present in every spacefaring vessel to save the lives of the crew in case of catastrophic system failure.

Sadly for the meticulously designed machine, its efforts would soon be made moot.

“See? Perfectly safe. Go get them, tiger.” The flirtatious voice was Rence’s clue to bring his Interceptor’s own modules hot and maneuver out from its hiding position. He felt the carefully calibrated resistance of the main trigger under his right index while the acceleration pushed him into the seat.

A thought from within a composite coffin opened up a new communications channel. “Logistar Three-Three-Seven-Four-Niner, this is Cormorant One. Bandits are no factor. You’re cleared for thruster relight, over.”

On the other side of the small transport from the currently ongoing one-sided massacre, three circles of blue light came to life, each dwarfing either of the escort craft. From Etel’s point of view, the very horizon seemed to be shifting thanks to millions of tonnes of spacecraft laboriously changing relative velocity to himself. Slowly but inexorably, the worn but well kept engines pushed the lumbering metal giant onwards through its journey.

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

Unruly brown hair whipped in the wind against a young man’s face in the mild bustle of the Starport. Distant announcements echoed off the featureless gray walls, people and cargo moving about in the typical languid pace of a small, far-flung colony of a budding agrarian world.

His task of hangaring the ships finished almost a quarter of an hour ago, there was nothing for Cormorant Two to do but wait.

Halfhearted daydreams of distant retirement were interrupted by a smaller arm touching his for a second, the holographic display of his personal wrist computer showing the infusion of funds to his account. If one were to look closely, they’d notice the synthetic nature of the body that barely came up to his chest- as it was, its owner smiled up at him.

“We got a nice bonus from the salvage crews. Next job is in four days.” Etel’s silver hair bobbed in front of him while the fellow pilot skipped ahead happily. Rence sighed, removing himself from leaning back against a support pillar with a groan of effort to catch up.

It would be nice if his body didn’t feel twenty years older than it actually was.

The fake leather of his worn aviator jacket rustled with each step- perhaps something that could be avoided were him to take his hands out of its pockets. Too bad, they were warm, and would stay warm.

A lithe arm from his longtime friend wrapped around one of his the moment they were side by side, falling in step with the practice of a dancing duo. Which he supposed they were, in a generously metaphorical way. “Just dealing with that took you so long?”

Gentle, androgynous features sharpened in mock offense when looking up at him. “Of course not, doofus. Networking, negotiating, mingling with the locals- you know this operation isn’t just blowing up helpless idiots. Your job is the latter because you have the social skills of a recluse porcupine.”

A beatific- and notoriously fake- smile now coloured Etel’s face. “Little people person me’s job is to keep this whole thing running. Which is why you have to make do with my absence for an hour or two every once in a while.” A hand came to his forehead in mock despair. “I know, it’s a peerless tragedy, my love. But I’m afraid fate has cursed us so.”

Rence didn’t bother rolling his eyes, relying on the utterly flat tone of his response to convey the necessary sarcasm. “Yes, my pain is unimaginable every time.”

Truth be told, he couldn’t help but worry when his partner was alone. But said partner already knew that, so admitting it would be pointless teasing fodder.

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

“I’ll get a large house’s special. Thanks.” The lights of the small colony clawed futilely at the dark abyss through the windows of the small family diner. Perhaps one day, they would be a match; but that day had not arrived quite yet.

“And you, kid?” The older woman behind the front bar turned to Etel, whomst happily sipped his sweetened drink- made with something local, he didn’t quite ask. -while still leaning against his partner in crime, even while both were sitting at stools.

“Oh, don’t mind me Ma’am, I’ll just steal some of his.” The apparent young teenager shook his head, smiling happily. Said happiness coming from the fact that Rence’s jacket was wrapped around him, taking the worse off the chill that still bit through the connection suit.

He could have gotten his civvie clothes out of the Cetorhinus, but there was little reason to when the option of simply abusing his wingman’s kindness was available.

That, and the jacket with the names of every member of Cormorant cheaply printed on its back held a very special meaning for both of them- slowly falling apart or not. Perhaps the universe’s way of displaying metaphorical irony at its own tragedies.

Before long, the brown haired pilot leaned closer still, doing his best to appear inconspicuous- and failing horribly at it, but perhaps the intention is what counted.

“Another one giving me the side-eye.” At least his whispering skills were not so bad to have the entire establishment hear it.

“Well, to be fair, to the unattentive eye it does look like you’re planning on doing something exceedingly illegal with me.” Etel smirked, offering a sip of the pink coloured liquid in his cup to the other man, who warily took a small sample before grimacing.

“Spirits, I’ll never know how you manage to find the most sickeningly sweet thing in every place we go to.” Rence gladly returned the glass to its rightful owner.

“And yeah, the whole ‘funny misunderstanding’ angle kinda lost its luster to me after the fourth time someone called the police. We’ve had the credits for an adult-type shell for years now, you know.”

“I know.” The flight leader responded nonchalantly. “But it’s not my style. It just wouldn’t be me.” He winked at his partner. “Besides, you wouldn’t like it as much either; I know what makes you tick.”

“I wouldn’t mind. It’d still be you.” The silver haired ‘kid’ looked at his companion, sighing wistfully. “I guess you just can’t help it when your heart is wrapped around my finger like that, can you?”

Despite the teasing tone, his eyes held genuine fondness towards the taller man. Quite how he managed to make a shell express such complex, minute emotions; would forever be a mystery.

“It’s fine, I’ll just do the usual.”

Turning around, Etel made a show of stretching his body, one hand deliberately holding his shoulder length hair aside from the back of the neck. He smiled in success at hearing the small pause in cooking noises.

It meant the older woman had noticed the data ports that marked his body as, without a doubt, artificial. The surreptitious way he’d developed to disarm thoughts that Rence was some sort of abuser without bringing up the topic itself and making a scene had yet to fail them once.

Truth be told, convincing local constabularies to let the man go had indeed gotten somewhat old.

The first drops of rain touched the ground outside, refracting the meager lights of the colony on their way down. Distant points became blurs, joining the white noise of the mounting shower. Rence turned around on his stool, noticing his partner’s lost gaze into the distance. He knew why, of course.

It always rained in Pascia. An eternal downpour that hid the military spaceport where they’d met, both having been offered a better life in exchange for their efforts in the war. Them, and dozens more children, none older than twelve cycles. Innocents to be turned into pilots, to push the limits of what humans could achieve in the heavens-

-or so they’d been told. Sometimes the taller pilot wondered if the small, unmarked graves he and Etel had made in one of the hills overlooking the landing strips still stood. The members of Cormorant deserved better. They all did. Rence wrapped an arm around the shorter man, gently pulling him closer and rubbing his shoulder.

His flight leader might still blame himself for it. He’s just glad the graves stopped at six.

The sound of ceramic being placed on hardwood brought the pair’s attention back to the front bar. “Here you go. And I’m sorry for-” The older woman trailed off, embarrassed to admit her initial misconception by name. A wistful sigh preceded a warm smile framed by silver hair. “We understand, Ma’am. It’s not the first time.”

The other pilot nodded in agreement, taking the warm plate filled with a mix of vegetables and meat, local and not. “Thanks.” He didn’t even know what most of them were, but Etel had picked the place- that was reason enough to trust it.

The hours of the night passed inexorably, further diminishing the number of people inside the diner. Most had either left or moved upstairs for the night, but the pair couldn’t quite bring themselves to just yet.

It possibly had something to do with the way Rence held him, arms wrapped around from behind, pulling his smaller body close in the comfortable booth. It was his place of peace, of being able to actually enjoy the soothing sound of rainfall with the one person he loved at his side.

The spell was only broken when the sound of ice clinking against glass interrupted the comfortable silence- one that came from his right arm starting to shake. A disappointed huff escaped his plump lips. He could feel a larger hand enveloping his, diminishing the unwanted movement.

But not stopping it.

“Getting bad?” It wasn’t the first, tenth, or hundredth time the issue had reared its annoying head, but the sweet, caring fool’s voice held just as much concern as the first happenstance of the event.

At least by now he understood it, so Etel didn’t feel so guilty about making his partner worry pointlessly- though at this point he also knew that it could keep happening for a hundred years, and Rence would still worry to some degree. It was just one of the conditions of their relationship.

“Yeah. I should still be able to walk, but it’s better if we turn in now. I don’t want to have you snapping your spine carrying my shell upstairs.” A shaking elbow poked the taller man’s midsection, the usual cocky smile adorning the flight leader’s face once again.

No matter how many times he told his wingman that the episodes didn’t trigger actual pain, they’d still probably never believe him.

Two taps on the table and a hand signal was all the brown haired pilot needed to inform the owner that she could close shop. Etel preempted her offer while Rence helped him walk towards the stairs to the side of the bar.

“N-not real-lly. B-but thank-k you. I’ll be fi-ine.” The words were stuttered and clipped, but at least came out. He was thankful for her kindness, but there was really nothing she could do to help. It’d spread to most of his body by then, but at least his legs were still working.

For now.

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

For small blessings- not that such beliefs were common anymore- the pair were able to make it to their assigned room for the night before the silver haired flight lead lost complete control of his body, cybernetic as it may be. The taller of the two held him close in bed while the shaking worsened to the point where it was easier for Etel to simply use his auxiliary speakers.

His teeth were clattering too hard to do otherwise.

“Thanks, Rence.” The voice was less natural than his normal one, but the other man didn’t mind. He just continued to hold his partner.

“I just wish I could do more.” The wingman whispered.

“You’re already doing everything that you can. It really helps, and you know this doesn’t actually hurt; it’s just annoying.”

Slowly, the shorter pilot managed to fight the shaking enough to wrap his arms around his lover. Even though his own body was thermally controlled to match a human’s- a perk of this specific type of shell- Rence’s warmth was still immensely soothing.

A sudden, synthesized chuckle cut through the tense atmosphere of the room.

“Sometimes I wonder what the two of us back in flight training would react like if they could see us today.”

Etel could feel the smile forming against his hair. “I’d be very confused. You’d probably just grin.”

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

Ten Years Earlier

The young pilot to be groaned at the display showing the results of the latest Electronic Warfare aptitude test. He hadn’t placed badly by any means- second place out of several dozen participants was more than respectable.

The other kids around him chalked the reaction down to an overdeveloped sense of competitiveness- which he was known for almost as much as his inability to socialize in any way, shape or form.

The real reason being he’d placed just below his roommate, therefore losing the bet they’d made. Their egos had clashed from day one, helped in no small part thanks to opposing personalities. Time only made the issue worse by having the two leapfrog each other in every test, whether practical or theoretical.

They had finally been able to come to a ceasefire of sorts by using bets to disarm the tension, the latest being that the loser would need to obey a single order from the winner, no matter what. Rence had been the winner of the last one, using his wish to have Etel clean their room- childish, perhaps, but he could not come up with anything else.

The taller teenager steeled himself for the inevitable revenge, stepping into their shared dwelling. He was met by silver hair that framed an expression of a metaphorical cat that had caught the canary.

“I see someone checked the results.” The shorter trainee’s voice was overflowing with mirth- which only made the other more nervous.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get it over with. Want me to get stuff done this time?” Rence closed the door, leaning back against it and crossing his arms in an unconscious effort to show resistance. Grey light illuminated the small room through the window, having fought valiantly through the eternal clouds that covered Pascia.

Quite why someone had picked a planet like this for a military aerospace base would forever befuddle him.

Long eyelashes blinked mischievously at him, the purple eyes behind them studying him from below from several angles while their owner hummed in thought. After a long moment, Etel spoke.

“A kiss.” His smile broke into a full-on grin.

The brown haired roommate blinked for several seconds, running the absurdity of the request over in his mind. His response was peerlessly eloquent.

“I- what- why!?”

A head tilted in front of his chin- they’d been around the same height at the start, but his growth spurt was leaving the other teenager behind easily.

“Because it’s what I want. Or are you going to back off the very first time you lost?” The sheer self-satisfaction emanating from his rival was almost physical in its intensity.

“I just-” Rence sighed, looking away while blood slowly crept up to his cheeks at the thought. “If that’s all you want, you could literally ask any of the girls. Or half of the guys. They’d all jump at the chance.”

An index pressed against Etel’s cheek theatrically, looking up in fake thought. “I guess that’s true.” It was, and they both knew it.

While most people steered clear of the antisocial prodigy, the other trainee who led the rankings in just as many exercises was a magnet for people, both thanks to his ability to easily talk with anyone about seemingly anything, and the way his appearance seamlessly mixed male and female characteristics- a recipe to being the object of affection or desire to many in the training program.

That fact only made his specific request all the more odd.

“But they’re them. You’re you.” Somehow, that explanation made complete sense for the shorter kid. How, Rence had no idea.

“And why me?” His confusion had reached a peak.

“I have no idea.” Etel smiled innocently, closing his eyes in cheekiness. His rival groaned, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead in frustration. It was always like that with him, which was no small part of the initial friction between the two.

At least he was getting used to it. Or so he thought.

Rence sighed. “Fine. Let’s do it, I guess.” From a completely neutral point of view, he had to admit that the silver haired teenager was attractive- but with his focus entirely on personal performance, what anyone looked like was simply not something the taller kid cared about; hormones be damned.

The way his heart rate skyrocketed when Etel physically placed Rence’s arms around his thinner waist, at the sensation of smaller hands wrapping themselves around his shoulders and an unfairly androgynous face tilting up to reach his own-

-said neglected hormones were merciless in their revenge for being ignored for so long. Still, he tried his best to swallow away the desire to hold the smaller form in his arms tighter.

Brown eyes widened in puzzlement at the touch of a small tongue against dry lips, fruitlessly trying to find explanation in half-lidded purple orbs. Was that how kisses worked? It’s not like he had one before, but the few times he’d seen them in vids were decidedly not like this.

That’s not to say it didn’t feel nice, rather the opposite.

Softer lips started making contact with his, causing a sigh to escape his nose; the larger body slowly relaxing and adapting to the new situation- like it always did.

While Etel achieved his performance through analysis and solving of problems, Rence’s forte was instinctively doing what ‘felt right’ instead of any explicable line of thought. Much to the frustration of many an instructor.

When a smaller tongue started caressing a larger one, neither cadets were paying attention to anything else but the sensations of their bodies together, their warmth flowing from one another, the combined scent. What both thought would not last 20 seconds had gone on for far longer- just how long, none could say.

Judging at how swollen both sets of lips were when they finally came apart, gasping for air; far too long and at the same time not nearly long enough.

Etel smiled with a mix of mischievousness and satisfaction, carefully wiping errant saliva from the kiss away with his thumb. “Not bad. I’m looking forward to next time.” His voice left no questions that there would be a next time.

By the time Rence’s mind had cleared, the shorter male was already laying in the lower bunk that he’d long since declared his possession, nonchalantly browsing the base’s intranet in his portable comm. The taller teenager cleared his throat and tried to busy himself with something, anything in his rucksack.

“What do you mean by that?” His voice cracking was bad enough, he didn’t need his rival seeing that his face was still as red as a tomato.

“Hmm, I wonder.” A lighthearted, musical tone was all the answer he got.

There was a next time, of course. If there was something Etel was better at than piloting, it was always getting what he wanted. Before long, the pretense of bets was dropped entirely, rivalry replaced by tentative connections which further evolved into genuine affection- and further exploration of said connections, of course. They were teenagers after all.

Teenagers about to be sent into war.

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

Six Years Earlier

“They’ve got a lock! I can’t-” Garbled noises interrupted Cormorant Six’s final transmission before her craft broke apart under sustained autocannon fire. Etel’s teeth nearly cracked from the tension they were under.

What was once a squadron of eighth fighters was now down to two units, and only because the jamming support and its wingman were to stay outside direct engagement range to safely act as force multipliers.

All around them, peerless works of engineering, from nimble interceptors to kilometers-long behemoths broke up under sustained assault by equally beautiful machines, masterworks of humanity set alight in the dark seas of space. Its masters and guides offered in sacrifice with their creations to the species’s never ending struggle with themselves.

A sight equally beautiful as it was tragic.

The worst part is that he’d warned command about this. Their jamming was getting less and less effective with every new battle, while the enemy’s was only improving. It was only a matter of time before their biggest advantage was nullified, no matter how much he fiddled with the frequencies and settings of his craft’s electronic warfare suite.

The silver haired squad leader had simply been able to delay the inevitable.

“Wraith, what should we do?” Rence had dutifully covered his six during the entire flight, not that it had been necessary for once. With its main capability neutered, a single craft maneuvering just outside the furball wasn’t an especially important target.

Unfortunately, said furball, now firmly dominated by the enemy, was their only path out of the slaughter. The sheer amount of weapons fire and debris all around the remains of Cormorant Squadron made any other avenue of escape implausible at best, impossible at worst.

“Etel?” For the first time, he heard something in his- what were they, even? Partners? Boyfriends? Neither of them had bothered to find a word to describe their relationship. They simply never thought it necessary.

But for the first time, Rence’s voice was tinged by fear.

A support fighter and a space superiority craft against eight dedicated interceptors. No matter how good they were, those odds would end with the complete destruction of Cormorant Squadron. He would die.

But most importantly, Rence would die. Just like Peton, Clouise, Thilly, Mildra, Tera and Ryne had before him.

In the heart of a maelstrom of steel, polymers, fire and ceramic that stretched for hundreds of kilometers in every direction, Etel pulled out the onboard systems access keyboard of his craft.

“Fang, stay outside of their weapons range. I’ll clear a path.” His wingman’s stomach turned to ice when he noticed the jamming module passing by above his cockpit- ejected from his flight leader’s craft.

Said leader hovered a finger over the button to activate a batch file he’d prepared one day. ‘Leaf on the wind.’ It was completely suicidal, but he never figured he’d need to actually use it. Perhaps the mere existence of it tempted fate. More likely, it was simply a consequence of the lives they’d chosen.

Either way, it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Etel, what are you doing? You can’t take them on alone! Let me help!” Cormorant Two tried increasing engine power to get back in a position to protect the other craft, but his throttle refused to move. The message in one of his displays felt like a strike to the gut.

LEAD CRAFT OVERRIDE_

“I’m sorry, Rence. I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Etel felt his body be pressed painfully against the back of the seat while his targeting solution switched to manual. His systems were awash with warning messages, many of which were supposed to be a death sentence to both spacecraft and pilot.

He’d just need to find out for sure.

FLIGHT ASSISTANCE OFF

G LIMITER OFF

ENGINE LIMITER OFF

OVERVOLTAGE PROTECTION OFF

REACTOR LIMITER OFF

THERMAL PROTECTION DISABLED_

‘Fang’ watched in mute horror while the craft he was supposed to protect sped towards the waiting enemies- glowing specks of thrust chamber lining trailing in its wake, mingling with the stars beyond even while the fighter they came from slowly but surely began to come apart from the inside out.

Machine and man flew together as one for the first, and last, time- a bittersweet song of violence and art, unbound by future or fear. Writing their hope of survival for their beloved with glowing tracers and leaking plasma against the cold of the abyss, creating maneuvers with no names for the sake of simply staying alive just one more moment, dodging one more round to open a path.

But for each opponent fallen, the price was paid with draining shields, glancing blows, failing systems and venting atmosphere. By the time Rence saw a second burst of metal and sparks cut their way across Cormorant One’s cockpit, the warnings about pilot heart rate and erratic inputs no longer reached his ears.

He didn’t know when the datalink with Wraith finally failed, only that the override was lifted and the one remaining enemy who hadn’t disengaged was lining up for a firing solution on the one person he had left in the world- on the wounded spaceship with more parts missing than not, desperately trying to maneuver with one engine and failing systems.

Trying to make sure the taller pilot would survive, at the cost of itself. The most selfless act of selfishness- for the living are those who need to carry the sorrow. Leading the nose of his fighter ahead of the Interceptor about to end Wraith’s tale, a man at the heart of a storm shouted ‘No’.

Weapon mounts shuddered while the machine compensated for the violent forces trying to steer its pilot’s aim off course. Autocannons, machineguns and missiles sang in fury- a payload intended for an entire mission, depleted in a couple of seconds.

“Rence?” The voice on the radio was pained, much like the signal itself. So many warning chimes coloured the background of the audio transmission, the brown-haired man couldn’t even tell them apart. “I guess long and midrange comms went out.”

Etel tried his best to focus on the screens lining the walls around his body, finding it more difficult than it should be. Whether because of the fact most were broken, his vision was slowly failing, or the mixture of black and red fluid covering them, he couldn’t quite tell.

Probably a mix of all three.

“Oh. A lot of things are out.” A shaking finger flipped through options until its owner could finally hear something.

“Cormorant One, do you copy? Wraith? Etel, answer me!” He could almost see the other man’s frantic face when Fang entered formation off his left wing- metaphorically, of course. There were several layers of ceramic and steel separating the two enclosed cockpits.

That, and he didn’t have much of a left wing anymore.

“Hey big dummy. Are you alright?” An unbidden smile came to his features, silver hair matted in red clinging to the seat while his head turned weakly to the side.

“Am I-” Utter disbelief stopped the response temporarily. “Yes! What’s your status!?” The sheer desperation in his lover’s voice hurt to hear.

“I’m- I’ll be alright.” Rence was safe. Everything would be fine. “I’ll be slaving-” his voice shivered in addition to being barely above a whisper. “-Wraith to you. I’m cold. I think enviro is down.”

The wingman’s heart sank further at the reestablished datalink.

WRAITH -> FANG

AUTOMATIC FORMATION ENABLED

EMERGENCY MEDICAL ATTENTION REQUIRED

EMERGENCY MAINTENANCE REQUIRED

PILOT INPUT REQUIRED - NO DATA

The incessant chimes of the combined alarms that would haunt his soul for the rest of its days echoed through the silence, joined only by the distant sound of the largest, and last, battle of the war fading behind the two.

“Rence, get us-” Etel’s voice faded for a second. “-get us home, alright?”

“I will.” Cormorant Two wiped his eyes, leading the stricken craft as fast as he would dare without risking it to fall completely apart. The only response he got to any further comms attempt were the deafening alarms of Wraith’s systems.

The flight back to base was the longest he’d ever had. Too long, a voice inside him said. He shut it down by focusing further on the gentlest slope down into Pascia’s atmosphere that his hurry would allow, keeping a close eye on the other craft which struggled to maintain control, the onboard computer doing its best to fly with the mangled remains of control surfaces.

“Pascia Tower, Cormorant Two. I am declaring an emergency. I have Cormorant One’s craft with me, we need a clean runway and emergency vehicles for landing.” He never thought about one day remembering those procedures- they were Etel’s job after all. Yet they came to his mind as fresh as the day he’d learnt them.

“Fang, Pascia Tower. We were wondering what the other radar contact with you was- but all our strips are full. Go around, I repeat, go around and hold pattern.” Rence’s teeth clenched in anger.

“Pascia Tower, Cormorant One needs immediate medical attention. We will be landing on first approach. Clear a runway or I’ll pick one to crash into.”

“Damnit.” The ATC operator stood up from his chair, trying to see which one was the least full with damaged spacecraft in one form or another. The entire airbase resembled an emergency field hospital more than anything else.

Rence grimaced at the grisly sight after finally dipping under the everpresent cloud cover- damaged or destroyed crafts as far as the eye could see, including several in flames which seemed unperturbed by either the rain or the efforts from the fire crews.

“Fang, Pascia Tower. 21 is the best we can do right now. Good luck.”

Lining up for the landing attempt, he could see several other fighters being hurriedly moved into the barren dirt, either by engine power or just human desperation.

It was still a shorter length than he’d like, but it’d have to do.

A harsh flare-up of the nose and full reverse thrust got his spacecraft onto the ground just after the warning lights, the landing gear groaning in protest but holding. He looked back at Wraith doing its best to emulate the maneuver, tyres hitting the wet tarmac with more force than they were ever designed for.

And the entire frame of the machine finally failing.

A shower of sparks defied the film of water that perpetually covered every surface, following the main cockpit and reactor shell while they slid their way down the runway, debris bouncing off of Fang’s shields. Rence disengaged the brakes, letting his ship roll along with the remains of what was once a proud electronic warfare fighter-

-Hoping against hope he could still find Etel inside.

His boots hit the dark surface before either machine had fully stopped moving, climbing atop the broken form of Wraith and yanking the external emergency canopy ejection handle. Before the smoke from the explosive bolts cleared, the taller pilot had leaned inside.

A part of him wished he hadn’t.

“Etel? Etel!?” His hoarse pleas fell on deaf ears against the bloodied, unmoving body inside the cockpit. A pair of fingers against the side of a slender neck confirmed his fears. Before he could start any attempt at CPR, a warbled electronic tone caught his attention.

Only two screens inside the cockpit still worked, presumably off the emergency power supply on the main shell. One had a simple but darkly appropriate message.

E.O.L._

But the other seemed to be desperately trying to catch his attention despite intermittent failures.

WRAITH -> Lt. Rence

CORE BREACH IMMINENT

EJECTION SYSTEM FAILURE

MANUAL PILOT EJECTION REQUIRED_

It took him a second to process what the dying machine was requesting, followed by frantically undoing the clasps of the harness holding Etel’s body to the seat and doing his best to carry the smaller body, slick with oil and blood.

He could see an ambulance heading towards him while he sprinted full speed away from the remains of the craft with his lover’s unconscious- just unconscious. Nothing else.- body in his arms.

“CORE BREA-” A wave of heat and force stopped his shout, flinging both forms forward and into the air.

Before his vision went dark, he could feel the hard ground meeting his back with large prejudice, and a softer impact on his chest- his arms still wrapped around the other pilot.

Etel was safe. He had to be.

Good.

Goo-

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

A gasping breath and frantic eyes mark Rence’s return to consciousness. Before he could whip his head around, a soothing whisper coming from his chest took his attention.

“I’m here. I’m here, everything’s fine. I’m fine.” The smaller body laying beside him, still firmly wrapped around his arms, caressed his hair gently with a delicate hand.

“You fell asleep after relaxing when I got better.”

A long sigh escaped the taller pilot’s lips, leaning his head down to nuzzle against soft silver hair, a rougher hand carefully caressing the covers of Etel’s connection ports in his nape.

“Sorry. I should be the one helping you, not the other way around.”

The flight lead pinched the top of one of Rence’s ears in a swift movement.

“None of that, mister. We’ve been in this together in one way or another from the very start. I worry about you just as much as you worry about me.”

A small but meaningful smile coloured the brown haired man’s expression. “Fair enough.”

Etel nuzzled back happily against his lover’s chest, taking in his warmth, touch and scent. While they made his heart melt like always, a slender finger poked the other man regardless.

“And as much as I love your smell, you do need a shower.”

A moment passed in which the shorter pilot could hear loud sniffing from above his head. “Yeah, that last job did go on for a while. Coming with me?”

Purple eyes met brown ones, the perfect definition of the word ‘smug’ being encased in the synthetic orbs alone.

“Technically I don’t need to. But I suppose I can grace you with my presence, yes.” Rence rolled his eyes.

“Well excuse me, princess. Not every peasant has a self-cleaning body.” If only because they were the second most expensive variant of shells, only behind military-focused versions. Let alone a teenager type with that feature.

For perhaps understandable reasons, younger-looking synthetic bodies with the suit of options that led themselves to the more carnal type of activity were still illegal in many places, though public opinion was largely divided in more recent years. It still made the price for one of them eye-wateringly high thanks to low supply and high demand.

“We could get you one, you know. You don’t have to keep suffering for no reason.” Etel’s expression softened while Rence groaned in discomfort at the effort of getting up from the bed after enough limbs were untangled, further proving the point.

“Eh, not yet. We’re the same age, you know. I’m not some washed up old man.” He yawned, stretching his back while walking into the bathroom. The ‘boy’ followed.

“You know that’s not what I meant, your body’s just worn.” Synthetic hands indistinguishable from natural ones caressed a somewhat lean but toned body pockmarked with scars from shrapnel.

“Oh thanks. That makes me feel so much better.” Rence helped undo the clasps of Etel’s connection suit, most of his own clothing having been removed the moment the pair had entered the cheap but homely suite.

Body warmth and touch was one of the few things that helped deal with the silver haired pilot’s spikes of PTSD, rooted in the endless, penetrating feeling of cold he’d experienced before dying. The fact that his brain was able to be recovered at all after almost an hour without blood flow with only minor damage was almost miraculous, even with interstellar-age medical science.

The radiation burns, overpressure damage and puncture wounds that Rence had suffered in the core breach event, at least, were mostly healable without lingering effects.

Mostly.

“You’re just scared of the operation.” Etel’s unfairly beautiful face pouted, poking the taller man in the chest.

“It’s not exactly getting your ears pierced, you know. It’d take me months to get back up to speed. It took you more than a year to get that shell adjusted just right. And still-” His voice trailed off, a mix of consternation and concern colouring masculine, but refined, features.

The expression of the shorter member of the duo softened, a look of regret and pity that could bring the most unemotional of creatures to a halt, caressing the side of Rence’s face softly.

“You know the problem isn’t with the shell, love.”

His fellow pilot sighed, wrapping his arms around the smaller form. “I know. But wanting to help you more and not being able to makes me feel so-”

“Like I always say, you already help. If it makes you feel better, I can look for another doctor next time we’re in a major hub. Is that better?”

That would make it the twelfth doctor ever since they left the military.

“I- Yeah. Sorry I keep bothering you about it.” Etel stopped his bout of guilt with a kiss, caressing Rence’s tongue with his gently while their lips were locked together.

A flick of the foot sent their clothes back in the general direction of the bed, before turning on the shower and enjoying his lover’s jolt of surprise at the initial stream of cold water before the heating element did its job.

“No need to say sorry, you silly. You bother me because you worry, you worry because you care.”

The silver haired ‘teenager’ poked his partner in the chest, looking up at his face with a smile.

“And you care because you love me.”

Said partner couldn’t help but smile back, warm water cascading down his messy hair. “You make it pretty easy.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just that irresistible.”

Rougher hands wrapped themselves around Etel’s body when he turned around to close the shower box, pulling him back gently against Rence while the taller man nuzzled into the side of his neck, his slim but soft mechanical body following the instincts of the biological brain controlling it to lean back further into the touch, long eyelids fluttering closed over purple eyes.

“I love you. Please never leave me.” The whisper held such few words, but carried so much meaning from the very depths of the wingman’s being - the shorter of the pair, still melting under the sensation of the embrace and caresses, knew that.

The haunted look he could see in the deceptively warm brown orbs of the taller man every single time he felt him awake in a cold sweat proved just how deep their connection went.

“I love you too, Rence. I promise I’m never going away again.” Etel tilted his head up and to the side, their mouths connecting once more. The flight lead smiled faintly into the kiss while he felt his lover’s body slowly relax against his back, the arms around him showing no sign of letting go.

To the disappointment of both, the notification that they’d used 20% of their allocated daily water chimed just after hands had begun roaming around sensitive places and desire had joined love in the mixture of the kiss.

Through great willpower, the silver haired pilot managed to disentangle himself from his lover’s advances, even though it hurt his soul to do so. “Lat- later, later.” He turned around, grabbing the sponge from the recession in the wall and smacking Rence in the face with it playfully. “Shower first, sex later you horndog. Even if I have to scrub you myself.”

A muffled sigh of disappointment could be heard behind the cleaning implement, followed by an equally muffled whine.

Despite their best efforts- or Etel’s, at least -further kisses, embraces and caresses did inevitably take place. Perhaps to be expected, as it had been the case with every shower they’d taken together as lovers to one degree or another. By the time the water allotment ran out, Rence was softly running his fingers along silver hair.

Hair that was slowly moving back and forth given that its owner was currently kneeled in front of him, letting out rather indecent moans- muffled as they were thanks to the taller of the pair’s member filling the mouth they were coming from.

In all fairness, they had managed to finish a thorough shower first. Just.

Not that Etel was thinking about that at the moment. Rather, higher thought processes weren’t really present in general- not when he had Rence’s heat and taste filling his mouth, combined with the scent of the man he loved, clean and pure.

Having his hair petted while doing so only served to send him further into the realm of base instincts, letting his feelings be translated through the pleasure he was giving.

Not that he didn’t enjoy it himself.

Much the opposite, the firm heat sliding against his lips, tongue and throat; the knowledge that it was Rence’s length that was taking him in that way, the reassuring sensation of his lover’s hands on him, they all combined into gentle but constant waves of pleasure running down his body.

The clipped moans he could hear from above whenever his lips wrapped themselves around the base of the shaft certainly didn’t hurt either. It was one of the several things his shell allowed him to do that his original body couldn’t quite handle despite repeated attempts.

The combination of no gag reflex and secondary air intakes made for a very useful party trick.

“Etel, if you keep going-” Rence’s attempt at gently nudging the shorter pilot’s shoulder back was interrupted by a synthetic hand grabbing his firmly and holding it, and a further increase in the intensity of the act.

“I know. Gimme.” Through auxiliary speakers or not, the pleading whisper from the one person he loved the most only served to hasten his peak, the heat that’d built up behind his length flowing forward in bursts and being happily swallowed, the shaking of his body and gasps of breath happening in time with them.

A flurry of kisses followed, the taller pilot once again embracing Etel tightly- and caressing his body, one hand specifically sliding down his back before massaging his plump rear and finding the self-lubrication almost dripping from the entrance.

The silver haired ‘teenager’ held back a moan when a finger started teasing his entrance, caressing the sides slick with excitement.

A breathy whisper was able to escape their kiss, just. “I’m already pretty close, dummy. I want to keep going in bed after we towel off.”

Rence deliberately slid his finger inside, gently rubbing against the sensitive bundle of synthetic nerves he’d long since memorized the placement of for a moment, stopping his lover’s swear of pleasure with another kiss before pulling away and grabbing a towel, doing his best to feign innocence. “Fair enough.”

His smile easily betrayed the lie.

Etel’s stare could burn a hole through reinforced carbon weave- metaphorically of course. That option was not allowed in civilian shells.

However, the muscular weave necessary to give a one hundred and fifty centimeters, two hundred kilogram body normal mobility was more than enough to carefully tackle the taller man into the bed the minute they’d both towelled off most of the water- and maneuver them so said man was on top.

Rence was familiar with this song and dance by now, not needing to reorient himself before kissing his lover again, tongues caressing eachother in a feeble attempt to convey the intensity of the feelings between the two.

The pair could kiss for the rest of time, and it’d still be a pale demonstration of the undying flame their souls burned together with. A hypergolic bond refreshed every single day for near on a decade.

One might ask why not be officially married at that point, and the answer was merely that neither felt the need to- after all, marriages are until death.

They were long past such trivial difficulties.

Powerful legs ending into slender feet locked themselves around Rence’s hips, further enticing the man while a pale hand caressed the engorging length pressed between the two, gently stroking it into full attention.

The wingman had once asked why Etel kept his own member, mostly because of the strong reluctance the other part of the pair felt about it being touched at all, let alone used in any way, shape or form. After all, to change it for a female type would be trivial with his new body.

“I’m not sure, honestly. It’s not like it even fully works anyway. Even if it did, it’s definitely not big enough to be of much use. I guess it’s just a part of me I don’t mind being there, and our preferred option isn’t even a hassle to prepare anymore.” A familiar grin coloured his features at the mention of the benefits a synthetic shell provided.

It was one of the many quirks of the smaller person that he’d simply accepted. They were more than worth it, after all.

That, and Rence was pretty sure the little minx just really, really liked their ‘preferred option’.

A notion that was further proved with the way the flight leader downright purred in anticipation the moment his entrance was touched by his lover’s length, the blunt tip spreading it open thanks to the plentiful lubrication counteracting just how tight the silver haired ‘teen’ always was.

Striking purple eyes gazed lovingly at Rence through halfway-closed eyelids, hints of perspiration- unnecessary as it was -covering flawless skin painstakingly customized to recreate the original body his beloved inhabited.

The taller pilot, for the umpteeth time, thanked every possible god that might exist for just how lucky he got to not have his little demon ripped away from him.

‘Angel’ wasn’t quite the right word after all.

Willpower fought the instinct to close his eyes at the sensation of Etel’s tight folds slowly swallowing his shaft when he carefully pressed their bodies closed together, all for the chance to watch his lover’s reaction.

The way those beautiful violet orbs rolled back, the way he gripped whatever was available- most of the time that being Rence’s hair, a feeling he simply adored -to try and handle the sensation while his back arched, even the way a breathless moan was often coupled with an expletive.

It was all quintessentially Etel, and there was no force in the universe that could stop Rence from showering his shorter partner with growling kisses in a desperate attempt to convey what he was already saying between them.

“I love you. So fucking much.”

Said beloved smiled while the words sent shivers down his spine, mixing with the electric waves spreading from his insides thanks to the deliciously hot and thick member filling them. The moment when he could feel his lover all the way inside him just before either began moving was perhaps his favourite, for one main reason.

He could feel Rence’s warmth and heartbeat. Around him, inside him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Much the opposite.

He had the love of his life happily giving him all the intimacy he possibly could, every time he possibly could. The life they’d led wasn’t easy, but this-

This made it worth it a thousand times over.

“I love you to-” his response was interrupted by a mix of whimper and moan rising in pitch thanks to the combined waves of pleasure spreading around his body- coming from his insides due to his lover having started to move, deliberately angling their bodies to make the tip of his length rub against the most sensitive spot Etel had.

The other point of origin was his chest, thanks to Rence happily caressing one of his nipples with his tongue while sucking it, and using a free hand to play with the other.

“Come on, all my weak points at once-” His whining was met with a stronger thrust, paired with a stronger suction and harsher flicking of the tongue. More than enough to force another moan out of him. “Godsdamned cheater.”

He simply got another passionate kiss for it, with the taller pilot sneaking a hand behind one of his shoulders to hold him close while continuing to thrust inside.

The smaller body instinctively wrapped around his lover, hanging onto the man with legs and arms both, needing to be with him as much as humanly possible.

Etel melted under Rence further while the waves of pleasure got more and more intense, manmade muscle fibers twitching in the overload of the sensors.

Sensors purposely set by their owner to near maximum gain to reflect the way his original body wasn’t yet experienced enough to have the whole ordeal be anything less than overwhelming the few times it had the chance to do it.

“Rence-” Etel’s gasping voice, coloured by the sensation of his body melting in pleasure, repeated the name without stop- a mantra to deal with just how strong the sensation was, of his body peaking while feeling his lover all around and inside him.

As close and intimate as they could physically get, two souls seeking eachother, to become whole.

Even under the onslaught of physical signals, the shorter pilot’s heart fluttered when Rence slowed down somewhat while holding him back just as tight. Sacrificing his own pleasure just so Etel could enjoy his own climax more, fall even deeper in love.

If that was even possible.

The flight lead had no idea how much time had passed filled with breathless, shaky moans accompanied by a shivering body until his lover kissed him deeply again, deeper tones joining his song before liquid heat coated his oversensitive insides.

Every bit of instinct left in his mind ordered shaking limbs to further lock around Rence, to not let him go. To never, ever let him go.

To simply bask in the warm, messy wetness and sweaty ball of hormones that the remains of Cormorant Squadron were at the moment.

Not that he had much of an option, considering the taller man was clinging to him just as tightly. Etel wouldn’t have it any other way.

The continuous kiss was only broken by his wingman nuzzling into the crook of the neck where silver hair came to a stop, three words being repeated once more yet not losing any of their power.

“I love you.”

Shivers of pleasure instead of anguish still emanated from his core at random intervals, but not enough to stop Etel from caressing Rence’s hair gently, coddling the man with all the affection of a newlywed bride.

Maybe the flight lead would decide to be one someday, who knew. But for now, the relaxed smile while the two settled into a position more conducive to long-term comfort was physically unable to waver during his answer.

“I love you too, Rence.”

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

Strange wildlife cried in greeting of the rising sun, shrill tones emanated from odd, small lizard-like creatures breaking the peaceful silence of early day. One weary eyelid cracked open, protesting the rays slowly but inexorably marching their path across the two forms tangled in bed.

“Morning, hon. Slept well?” Etel’s light, melodic voice came from the body the taller pilot currently held close to him, both laying on their sides. Rence couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t slept with his lover’s back glued to his form, the one fit they’d settled in early on simply because it just felt right.

A groan slowly morphed into actual words, vocal chords as worn as the rest of his body taking a while to kick into gear. “Mm- yeah. Did you?”

He knew that brains placed into full-body shells didn’t have- nor could even achieve -the same type of rest normal humans had, but they still underwent a sort of ‘preventative maintenance’ to fulfill many of the same tasks.

Deleting useless information, organizing useful data, resetting chemical balance.

But androids did not, in fact, dream of electric sheep.

Still, Etel used the time to practice a sort of self-reflection and meditation. That and watching shows on the extranet- after all, there is only so much mental self-care one can do every day for several hours while being held tight against a snoring man.

Gods be praised for AI-powered noise removal of audio inputs.

“Yeah, my night was nice.” Carefully crafted synthetic fingers caressed the rougher hand wrapped around a slim midsection and chest. “Also, you got a message a few hours ago.”

Brown eyes slowly focused on the desk nearby, the blinking light of his wrist device giving merit to the claim. A sigh followed.

“Who the hells messaged me in the middle of the gorramn dawn?” Stiff muscles stretched themselves under electrical orders from a brain protesting having to reach wakefulness, before curling themselves around the shorter pilot again.

Bright orange dots of plasma hovered in the air in front of Etel, tridimensional pixels being created by the laser emitters in his wrist. Rence had long since given up on trying to stop his partner from invading his personal messaging system.

Or any other system for that matter.

Etel chuckled airily at the small huff coming from behind his head, a mix of fondness and incredulity at the specific sender having kept in contact for so long.

FANG -> PILOT

REQUEST STATUS REPORT

REQUEST Flt.Lead Etel STATUS REPORT

TEMP. PILOT UNSATISFACTORY_

Rence couldn’t help but smile at the sheer stubbornness of the Combat Intelligence. This was its eight ‘temporary pilot’ after the couple had left the military already.

The previous seven had also been deemed unsatisfactory.

“We also need to refuel-” The silver haired lover brought up a list in the holographic projection. It looked far too long for Cormorant Two’s tastes, so he simply groaned and hid his face in said locks of silky synthetic strands.

“- rearm-” Etel continued. Rence groaned more.

“- run maintenance checks-” The taller member of the pair whined in protest. “Can’t we do that tomorrow? We have four days.”

Cormorant One turned his head around as much as he could while still tangled in his partner’s limbs. It wasn’t much, but it served to convey his stance on the matter.

“And if we find any issues, we’ll need these extra days to deal with them. Never do tomorrow what you can do today.”

“I hate you.” The response lacked any of the venom or hurt such words would be expected to. Both knew why.

“No you don’t.” Etel grinned, teasing.

“No, but I can pretend I do.” Rence pouted in response.

“No you can’t.” Etel grinned wider.

“Gods, you’re insufferable.” Yet the wingman smiled.

“That I am. And you love me anyway.”

An annoyed yet amused face confronted an impossibly smug one. Neither mattered once their lips touched, parted by tongues seeking contact for the millionth time, to be followed by a million more.

#fiction #science fiction #short story #mxm #transhumanism #space opera #mature

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mysterious-prophetess · 4 years

Text

I ranted about this on another post, but I really have nothing nice to say about 7,8, and 9 now that I know what I know about behind the scenes bullshit.

The thing that pissed me off the most was finding out why my favorite of the new characters-Finn-was turned into a useless character, but I digress.

So, how could I have fixed this inconsistent trilogy to be more my liking (and a little more consistent) without getting rid of any of the new primary characters?

Edit added later by more awake me: This is going to get long AND There are bound to be sleep-addled mistakes.

Starting with 7 Set it farther into the future.

If Disney wanted to avoid Lucas’s legacy characters at all costs (as it would appear) then setting it in a time where all should be dead would be the easiest side step.

Like instead of 30-some-odd years into the future, make is 130 or 200 years. That way, Luke fading into being some sort of mythic being would make a lot more sense. Han Solo too.

BB-8′s map now leads to Luke Skywalker’s tomb. The reasons to find it could be a)proof jedi existed, b) rumors of a hidden weapon of great power, c) rumors of it hiding a terrible secret that could shake the galaxy to its core, or d) some kind of combination of all of the above.

Kylo Ren can still be a Skywalker descendant. He can even still be Leia’s direct descendant. He just doesn’t have to be her son (who should have been named for Bail Organa and not Obi-wan “Ben” Kenobi).

Rey and Finn’s backstories don’t have to change all that much. Rey was abandoned on Jakku. Finn was stolen to be a storm trooper. Finn defects. Rey find him and BB-8 etc.

Poe can even still be the dashing pilot just no former drug smuggler backstory because that was a yikes. Instead, he could have had a past as a street racer or a regular circuit racer.

They can even still find the Falcon. it’d make even more sense for Rey to call it garbage and think it couldn’t fly. Poe isn’t a damsel this time. He gets separated from Finn but meets up with him and Rey in town and they have to book it. He’s still too dazed to fly, so Rey has to do it. He could then be the one to suggest getting to Mazz’s place. Rey can even still find Anakin’s lightsaber.

Kylo can still catch her. All the other stuff can still happen, except no Starkiller Baser. No Death Star planets. No death stars period. Instead Finn knows which is the main base but is too frightened to go, but Poe could inspire him to face his fears for Rey or something.

Maybe there’s a heist/rescue mission planned with Resistance HQ. They need Finn’s intel and he can still be janitor but people don’t realize how much janitors see or what they know, which makes him vital for planning this heist. Because aside form Rey they’re after a McGuffin. IDK maybe R2D2′s CPU/memory components because R2 will still have most of the map, and a fragment that was found will be stored in BB-8 like before.

We can have a tet-a-tet between Finn and Phasma, Finn nearly losing but new friends helping him. Rey can still free herself after she witnesses Kylo using the mind trick on a fellow prisoner (who he killed afterwards once he’d gotten what he wanted). Rey is cautious as she steals a blaster and nearly blasts a fleeing group of Resistance fighters who managed to purloin R2′s parts and falls in with them. They end up cornered a la the end of Attack of the Clones, but this time their reinforcements is Finn using the base’s own security against it with shields like from the Phantom Meance snapping up and trapping the majority of the First Order troops. Rey gets a moment to shine too as she summons the lightsaber to her hand after Kylo cuts down on of their allies as they’re fleeing because the security didn’t kick in with enough time to block him.

So, she’s on defense the whole time as they flee. Kylo does something to hurt Finn or Poe or both and Rey gives into the dark side for a bit before Finn, Poe, or both snap her out of it and they manage to work together to injure Kylo enough to flee to the waiting ships to scram.

Cut to the Resistance attempting to retrieve the data, but Rey as a junker/scrapper realizes that it’d be easier to put him in a new astromech shell. So she does so, and R2 is back and after several back-and-forths in binary between BB-8 and R2 the map is projected and BB-8 completes it.

But, in a twist, they have no starting coordinates, which means they’ve only half gotten what they need. Poe looking at it points out there are only three or four possible places in the galaxy they could start from which means there are only three or four possible destinations: Jakku, Tattooine, Utapu, and Ahch-Toh.

They can rule out Jakku. The First Order had been there. If Luke Skywalker’s tomb was on that planet, it would have been found. Plus the last map fragment was there, making it all the more unlikely it was there. Tatooine is also out because Luke was from Tattooine, or so the legends said, and it was the first place people looked. Leaving Ahch-toh and Utapu. End 7 there.

8 picks up with a year or so having passed. Utapu, it turned out, was a dead end. Ahch-toh, on the other hand, while not containing Luke’s tomb did have a bunch of evidence he’d been there. In fact, there was evidence of some of what happened to his New Jedi Order and why they vanished.The problem is, as Rey struggles with learning the force from the sacred texts and avoiding the temptation of the Dark Side after tasting it in the previous story, has to also avoid Kylo Ren hunting her as well as the First Order’s dogged pursuit of the Resistance Fleet. Plus, she also has to deal with the other Knights of Ren--fellow force sensitives recruited and trained by Kylo Ren’s master. Only, they all want her dead. Their ambitions are why. No new Knight=less competition for advancement in the Knights of Ren. They also sabotage one-another often. They’re Sith. Backstabbing is what they do. 8 is essentially a race against time since the First Order managed to have a spy steal intel they’d gotten from Ahch-Toh that essentially led them on another hunt for the Tomb of Skywalker and this time they would not be denied.

Also, Rey is trying to find out what happened to her parents as well and why she was left on Jakku. Finn is also looking for his family. Poe is doing what he can to help. Finn was much easier to track intel down on, and finds his missing person’s report in the holonet equivalent of the “have you see me” database. It’s still hard to find his parents but they have a home world: Corellia. Which actually was harder because Corellia is a very populated planet. They do eventually find out his parents were spacers and he was stolen right off their ship while they were stopped for repairs. They were still looking for him. Finn’s plotline could come down to him choosing between finding out who he was in the past, or staying with building the person he wanted to be in the present. Finn chooses to stay Finn, for now.

They think the Tomb’s on Endor’s Forest Moon. The wreckage of Death Star 2 looms in the distance (what little of it didn’t blow out into space or get burnt up in the atmosphere or pulled into Endor’s own atmosphere and destroyed because gas giants are no joke) when they land and they’re led into the forests where they find a simple cairn marked with the name “Anakin Skywalker.” After confusion over “Who the Sith is Anakin Skywalker? I thought his name was Luke?” occurs, the First Order shows up to ruin their day. They had the right idea, but the tomb of the wrong Skywalker after all. They had misread the coordinates and were off by approx two kilometers. They need Rey, however to help open the tomb because it was locked in such a way you need light side and darkside to open it and the Knights of Ren are fresh out of Light Side techniques.

This could also play into Rey’s struggles with the dark side being a problem at first too. She could grow as she sees what the dark side has done to the Knights of Ren. Playing off her psychometric vision from the canon trilogy, that could be her special talent and she can see visions of who they were before being twisted by their master and the dark side clouding their minds. This could be something that gives her the strength to reject it later. They go into the tomb of Luke Skywalker and Rey is plunged into the mother-of-all visions from the past. It shows fragment of what happened to the new order, and how it all went so wrong. It could even show Luke withdrawing from the galaxy out of some misguided idea of “no one can misuse my teachings if they can’t find me or them” Luke dying alone and Leia finding him later and burying him on Endor. but seeing he wasn’t wrong so, with a sense of the dramatic she inherited from her biological parents set up the trails and maps to try to weed out those who would seek the knowledge for power and domination. It’s then that Leia’s force ghost makes her presence known to Rey but not Kylo. Leia leads Rey to a hidden cache.

Kylo tries to tempt her after she finds that within the cache are merely two kyber crystals and a holoprojector that had an image of Luke, Leia, Han, and Chewie together with a golden thumb at the bottom edge of the image. To Rey with her powers, there are memories encoded within that she can access, but to anyone else, these appeared useless.

Kylo has noticed her skills and tries to say the dark side could help her find out what happened to her parents. that it could amplify her powers enough for her to see the past of herself. Throughout, the film she’s seen Finn struggle with his choices and realized along the way through the trials and such with Finn and Poe that she doesn’t need to know who her parents were to know who she is. She’s Rey of the Resistance and that’s enough for her.

There’s a showdown, the tomb gets destroyed and Poe ends up injured enough to need a bacta coma and Finn shows force potential for the first time. Poe had thrown himself in front of an underhanded attack meant for Rey who’d taken her eyes off the Knight thinking they were down. The hero part of the film ends with Finn and Rey outside Poe’s tank worriedly watching him.

Unbeknownst to the heroes, Kylo did manage to find something in the tomb: it was a piece of tech Rey overlooked and a way for the First Order to find more force sensitives than ever before: a fabled Midichlorian Tester. A device thought lost to the ages now within his and the First Order’s grasp. Soon, they would crush all who’d oppose them and end the Light Side’s teachings forever.

End 8

9 will start with Rey and Finn force training with their limited texts and a few holocrons they’d managed to find thanks to the texts mentioning that they were a thing and what they looked like. It’s been a year and Poe’s slowly recovering. He was kept in the bacta coma for most of it and is in physical therapy now. He’s dealing with the possibility that he’ll never fly again.

Rey and Finn are dealing with the fact that more knights of Ren are appearing than ever and every time they try to find a new recruit for their light side order, the knights scoop them time and again and with their superior numbers and better training, it’s a near scrape for Rey and Finn to get away. On the bright side, they’d managed to make new lightsabers and Rey had modified her old staff into a light staff, making her fighting style a lot more smooth after she stopped trying to emulate what she’d seen Kylo and his knights do. Their arc is about building forwards and standing up to evil in spite of their overwhelming odds. It’s hard for both Rey and Finn. Finn, who still has some buried fears of the First Order and Rey who is still somewhat traumatized from what happened to Poe because of her inattention. She has to realize that it’s not her fault, that Poe has his own choices to make in life, and that the result was because Poe cared and her guilt was because she cared too. Rey’s over all arc would be about realizing why the old jedi were against attachments and finding that she can still love Finn and Poe, but she has to be able to handle letting them go.

Finn’s got to learn to let go of his fears and learn to trust in the Force as well. After escaping the First Order, he has trouble with trusting authority and doesn’t join the Resistance per-say, but is there because Poe and Rey are there.

She has to trust in the force, and trust in them too. She could show this by being over protective of Finn and Poe.

His Master will finally show his face and it’ll turn out he’s possessed by an ancient pre-Banite Sith Lord but it’s voluntary. The self-taught darksider had wanted power and this Sith spirit offered it. The dark sider like the feeling of power he felt when possessed and agreed to be this Sith’s new vessel. It was through this body that the Sith ghost used his superior knowledge to ruin Luke’s New Jedi Order. Some seduction here. Some manipulation there and the order tears itself apart without Luke realizing what actually caused it since the Sith managed to block Luke’s foresight.

The Sith Ghost’s so attached to life, he’s holding onto his vessel like a black hole’s hold on matter past its event horizon. The Knights of Ren are so attached to their feelings of power they can’t consider another life and Kylo Ren is so attached to the myth of Darth Vader, he can’t see who he was anymore.

It’d come down to a final fight and the few new jedi Rey and Finn managed to find would be pushed back at first but letting go and embracing the Force would help them start to push back the Knights and destabilize them enough for disables/knock outs until it was just Kylo Ren and his Master Darth Eterantus vs Finn and Rey. Rey goes head to head with Eternatus (yeah I know that’s a pokemon. I’m writing this off the cuff). Finn with Kylo Ren, one of his greatest fears. Eternatus taunts Rey with knowledge of her past. How in another time and place she’d have been from a fine pedigreed force user family line but thanks to him, she’s a desert guttersnipe playing at being a jedi.

Rey is a descendant of Obi-Wan Kenobi. This would be shown by visually cueing it with his force ghost flickering into existence at the Sith’s taunts.

Kylo would reveal that Finn and he are kin.

Finn’s a descendant of Leia and Han too. One of their kids married Lando’s kid. Han was not pleased to be in-laws with Lando at first. Finn’s father is a chip off the old Han Solo block with some Calrissian Swagger. Kylo had seen Finn’s face but had no idea why, but this prompted the Master to have the First Order take kid Finn--whose real name will be Jax Solo. Kylo’s name will have been Ben Solo like in the canon films. Kylo is ten years older than Finn. Kylo would try to use this family connection to manipulate Finn, but it won’t work. Finn could even quip about “not seeing any resemblance” between him and Kylo.

Poe, he would fly again at a crucial moment to turn the tides for the B-plot of Resistance vs First Order. A last stand.

Rey manages to break the hold the Sith ghost has on life.This kills his vessel too since without the ghost using the darkside the body turns to dust. Finn manages to defeat Kylo Ren and Poe helps the Resistance win. Kylo Ren is all but shattered by his defeat. He the proper inheritor of Darth Vader’s legacy! He’s forced to realize that maybe that’s not who he is. That maybe he’s always been simply Ben. Those who were still alive are taken prisoner with force null cuffs taken from their own belts and their conscripts freed to choose whether or not to learn about the force. It ends on a positive note with the new trio celebrating together with the Resistance. Finn’s parents arrive and he gets to reunite with them. Rey’s are nowhere to be found but she’s ok with that. Obi-Wan’s ghost reappears with a smile with other force ghosts and we end with Rey and the others happy.

Is this a good alternative? I don’t know. It’s just an alternative that doesn’t discard characters like they’re trash. It also tries to keep things more consistent.

#disney star wars #long post #star wars

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hellsbovnd · 4 years

Text

what its like to pretend.

wc: 2719 focus: leonnaux altoix a/n: caught a writing bug. first installment of probably a three-part series, but i have other stuff i wanna work on before i continue this! thanks ebonguard for sprinting with me and encouraging my Mess lol

and i swam in the wakes of imposters just to feel what it’s like to pretend;

[ PDF MIRROR ]

One of the greatest skills that Leonnaux possessed was the ability to blend in, despite his burning desire to stand out. It hadn’t been easy to forge these skills, and the early days were rife with trial and error while his makeup work steadily improved, while he picked up little tricks to alter his figure or the way he carried himself—gait being one of the most difficult things to consciously alter. These days, he felt as comfortable in the skin of someone else as he did in his own.

The best way to test his disguises, he’d found was of course in the midst of other people—parties, nights out on the city streets. While he always asked for at least passing approval of his disguise ideas from Edda—“I’m asking you if you think this is convincing, not if you think it’s attractive,” he would occasionally remind her for his zanier ideas—the only way to really tell was among strangers (or better yet those he knew before, but he honestly would feel bad for deceiving his friends in such a way).

If no one was suspicious, it would get added to his repertoire—filed away for future use.

Tonight he’d chosen a dive bar in one of Ul’dah’s seedier areas: far away from the sort of establishment he would usually frequent, but the food was good, at least. Never tried a drink before, didn’t want to risk it at the time just in case drinking made it harder to maintain a façade. He had used this establishment to test disguises before and the bartender remained unconvinced of his authenticity for the entire night. That had been over a year ago, though, and he liked to think that he had improved substantially since then.

As Leonnaux made his way inside, he found the bar was just as smoke-choked as he remembered it. The lanterns on each of the tables were forced to cut their way through a thick curtain of smoke to illuminate the space. Leonnaux wrinkled his nose at the smell, his hands buried in his pockets, a wry smile pulling at the corners of his lips. The establishment was very nearly filled to capacity, with a number of patrons drinking their sorrows at the bar or engaged in a merry night of banter at one of the tables.

One or two parties were even engaged in some heated card games on the balcony above, but he wasn’t in the mood for cards tonight—he was in the mood to get even.

The disguise of the night was on the subtler side of things; unlike his adventure in Ishgard during the Fury’s Moon, he tried to keep his appearance fairly close to his actual appearance. It was often the subtle changes that were the easiest to pull off, even if they went against his usual philosophy of every impression you make on a stranger should be wrong.

In Ishgard, that philosophy meant making drastic changes in both appearance and manner. Tonight, however, the policy was applied more loosely. He didn’t change the color of his hair, or even the length tonight—though the character that he had constructed presented herself in a more feminine manner than Leonnaux typically did in his day-to-day life—and more rough and tumble besides. He donned a pair of leather pants that he had picked up recently, and threw on a leather long coat on top of it. He settled on compromising with well-fitted, cropped halter top that would hide the fact that his cleavage was fake while still exposing enough abdomen to be provocative. He shed his usual gloves in favor of armguards and feathers reminiscent of a magpie’s iridescent blue-green plumage were intertwined with short braids just in front of his ears.

A little makeup work smoothed down sharp angles and strong lines in his face; eyeliner, mascara, and kohl framed his eyes—glamoured to be mismatched shades of hazel—for a suitably intense look when paired with dark lipstick. And of course, a pendant was tucked into his shirt to change his voice so that he would not have to strain to maintain a higher timbre for the night—which without magic would be the one aspect of his person that was unlikely to pass muster while wearing a feminine guise.

“Evening,” the bartender greeted with a smile, tossing the rag he was using to dry newly-cleaned glasses over his shoulder. “What can I get ya?” He was an scrutinizing fellow, a Duskwight with a discerning eye. The sun had given his skin a little more color over the years than he would have had naturally, stealing enough of the grayness from his skin that were it not for the clan tattoos running up his arm and neck—etched into his skin with a blade, not a needle, and highlighted only in certain spots with white ink—he would pass for a Wildwood. His dark gaze settled on Leonnaux, his lips twisted in a smile that was—procedural, somewhat sarcastic even.

Leonnaux tapped a manicured nail on the counter as he hauled himself up and onto the bar stool. When he spoke, it was not with his own voice, but a more feminine one—albeit one on the sultry, low side, as he figured that that sort of voice would fit the character he created for the night the best. “Sazerac. On the rocks.”

His gaze rose to the bartender as he slid some gil coins forward to provide payment for the drink—and a tip, of course.

The bartender nodded and set about making the drink. It wasn’t done with as much finesse as Leonnaux would employ if he were the one on the other side of the bar, and the ingredients here were subpar—catered towards people who were more concerned about getting nice and drunk than people who wanted a high-class experience. That suited him fine, and he tried not to watch the bartender too closely as he muddled the sugar, the water, the bitters. The cognac, the whiskey—stirred, not shaken—then slid over to Leonnaux after a lemon peel was lazily tossed into the glass and left there.

Leonnaux let it sit for a moment before bringing the glass to his lips, leaving some dark plum-red lipstick on its rim once the glass was lowered back onto its coaster. It was good—for the components used. It was what he paid for, anyway; he knew that a place like this probably didn’t have the wherewithal to obtain the nice Ishgardian cognac, and he knew that it wasn’t really ‘in-character’ to complain.

So instead he mumbled a thanks, casting his gaze about the bar. A drunk Seeker whose arms and chest were almost completely covered in tattoos was about six shots in two stools to his left. The stool immediately to his right was vacated soon after he ordered his drink, a midlander woman with eyes like daggers and a scar running down over her right eye having apparently had her fill of listening to the men upstairs gamble their paychecks away.

“So… Friendly bunch,” he started, somewhat awkwardly as the midlander held his gaze until the heavy door had fallen shut in her wake and she was back out on Ul’dah’s streets.

“Friendly’s a word. Think most of our professions down here kinda exclude us from the category,” the bartender replied, setting the Seeker up with another shot even though he definitely did not seem conscious enough that that would be a good idea. The bartender’s voice carried with it a thick accent—caught somewhere between what he had grown up hearing in the depths of the Black Shroud and what might be expected of Coerthas natives.

“I… Don’t think I could have guessed,” Leonnaux replied, squinting a bit. For the disguise he’d gone without his glasses—it wasn’t really possible to navigate around them for every single disguise he wanted to try. Thankfully the low light of the bar didn’t impact his vision too much, and he only had to deal with distance-related issues. The bartender right in front of him was just barely out-of-focus, and the rest of the room? A blur. “Between the scars and the tattoos. You got word of the street?”

The bartender huffed a laugh. “Depends on what you’re lookin’ for, missy.”

“Call me that again and I’ll break your fingers.”

“Oh, oh, this one has spunk! I like it!” The huff turned to something heartier, this time the bartender laughing from deep within his chest, shoulders heaving. “Most interesting thing anyone’s said to me all godsdamned night. Well, then, what’s your angle?”

Leonnaux’s shoulders rose and fell in a half-hearted shrug. “Just new here, just lookin’ for some fun,” he replied, setting his sazerac down on the counter and retrieving a silver cigarette case from an interior pocket of his coat, along with a box of matches. He places a cigarette between his plum-colored lips before offering one to the bartender across from him. “Looks like you are, too?”

The bartender scoffs before taking a cigarette, producing a very different implement for lighting his cigarette—a well-crafted lighter, like the ones that Leonnaux had often seen crafted through the collaborative efforts of the Goldsmith’s Guild and the Alchemist’s Guild, a small fire shard producing a small flame once it was flipped open. He huffed a bit at the sight before striking a match and using that to light his cigarette. The match was blown out before being discarded in a nearby ashtray, overflowing with ashes and cigarette butts and similarly-discarded matches.

“You could say I’m looking for a little entertainment, yeah,” the bartender replied, “It’s all the same shite ‘round here.” He blew out a cloud of smoke to punctuate the statement, a sigh. “Fun’s dried up if that’s what you’re looking for, though. Jobs, though. Plenty of jobs. Jobs that you gotta be really fuckin’ down on your luck to consider takin’, though.”

Leonnaux couldn’t help a little bit of laughter at that. “Well, let’s say I’m down on my luck then. City’s not real easy to get started in, unless you’d rather give me tips than work. But I’d really prefer the work.”

“Not a whole lot for a pretty face like you to do besides hook on street corners.”

His eyebrow couldn’t help but twitch a little in response to that—a brief expression that didn’t go unnoticed, since the bartender burst out laughing in response.

“Oh, oh, lighten up. If you can’t take a joke then you ain’t gonna last five ticks out there.”

“Rest assured, you’re not the only one who’s lacked enough sense to tell me that. Lucky for you, though, you can make a decent drink. The other ones couldn’t.” He lifted his sazerac, then, removing his cigarette from his lips and blowing out the smoke to take a sip from the glass. “Guess you have a half-decent face too. Hate to ruin it.”

“Well, color me honored.” The bartender ashed his cigarette, poured the Miqo’te gent another shot—absinthe this time, Leon realized, and though now he was wondering if the bartender was just steadily making his way up the ladder in terms of alcohol strength, he couldn’t help but think the man two stools down might need to stop if he didn’t want to end up worse than passed out in a ditch. “Laraunt, by the way. So, if you’re looking for work… Well, got some postings over in the back. But if I’m being frank, there’s been some shite going on that I’d love for someone to look into. What’s your trade, missy?”

“Call me Reine,” he corrected. “I’m serious about your fingers.”

“Sure, sure, right, right. Anyway, what’s it you do?”

Leonnaux clicked his tongue, considering for a moment, lowering his gaze to the lemon peel floating in his drink. “… This and that. Anything for the right price. Ran some drugs when I was up in Gridania—sonmus, snow, you know, that shite. Prefer to work more discreetly where I can, though—stuff what won’t give folks a paper trail to look for… Information, a favorite.”

His gaze returned to Laraunt , then, watching him carefully for any sign that he wasn’t convinced—pinning his preferred trade as information was a risk, but it was the only risk he could feasibly take. He couldn’t offer any answer that would be easy to verify; he couldn’t describe in-depth what it was like to work a job that he had no experience with whatosever, not even by proxy. To say nothing of if Laraunt decided to cross-check him, or press for more details than he had.

Laraunt considered for a moment before offering Leonnaux a half-shrug. “Information’s honest enough trade, I guess. You just a broker, or do you do groundwork?”

“Depends on my mood…” Leonnaux trailed off, then, somewhat uncertain before he nodded to Laraunt’s tattoos: raised scars and white ink against his dark skin, etching intricate runes and designs and occultic symbols into his exposed forearm and extending up his sleeve to his neck. The designs themselves were, of course, pleasing to the eye—but the runes were chiefly Duskwight in usage, sigils of power similar to the ones etched into pomanders. “But you could say I’ve always to ears out, eh?”

The bartender arched a brow, then, before nodding his assent. “Ah, more than just a pretty face, then! Seems you have some keen eyes, too. Well… Well, I suppose you’ll do, Reine. If you think you can get the job done. I’ve been through a few brokers, kind of need a dedicated investigator if I’m being honest. They all chickened out once they got a handle for the situation.”

Leonnaux perked up a bit, folding his hands in front of him on the table and ashing his cigarette. He looked the bartender over, but without his glasses his eye for detail was somewhat limited, even this close. “Well, running drugs up to the Shroud ain’t exactly a cushy fucking job, as long as no one’s gonna try and drain my body of its blood I think I can stomach getting my hands a little dirty.” He scoffed, then, as if it was a joke. “So what is it. I can’t say for sure unless you tell me what the job is.”

Laraunt met Leonnaux’s eyes, then, his lips pressing into a thin line. “My sister’s missing.”

Oh—oh.

Leonnaux had to fight off the shock when the bartender’s voice suddenly becoming quite grave, going from somewhat condescending and sarcastic to a sobering baritone is no time flat. He took a breath, considering those three words as he drew his cigarette back to his lips, puffing away quietly.

“If it’s a missing person case, I think you’re gonna want the Blades instead.”

“Not considering what all my sister was getting up to before she went and vanished.” Laraunt tapped a fingertip—hard—on the surface of the counter, pulling Leonnaux’s attention back up to his eyes. “This ain’t the best place to give details though—or time. How can I get in touch with you after this? Sit down for a more proper talk. Client to broker.”

Leonnaux paused, offering a shrug. “I’m new here. You think I already have an office? Just pick a day pick a time and—I’ll meet you out back. After a shift, maybe. So we won’t be interrupted.” He tilted his chin up, then, before he snuffed the cigarette out, grinding it in the ashtray and leaving it there in a crumpled heap. With a grimace, he slammed back the rest of his sazerac in one go, chewing on the lemon rind left behind once the glass was emptied.

“Ah, eh… Should be free at the end of the week.”

“Cool. I’ll see you then—see if I can’t turn up any leads on a missin’ Duskwight in Ul’dah in the meantime.”

“I’d appreciate it.” There’s a pause and Laraunt takes a breath, watching Leonnaux as he starts to leave. “Hey, say—this is bugging me, but have I seen you before?”

Leonnaux’s heart skipped a beat, and he paused mid-step to look over his shoulder, one hand against the heavy wooden door, poised to make his way out.

“I don’t know. Have you?”

––to be continued.

#crystal data center #ffxiv rp #balmung rp #crystal rp #ffxiv balmung #ffxiv crystal #hellsbovnd #( c: leonnaux; )#( writing; )#[ i keep saying leon is cis/gender nonconforming but honestly w how i write him he might actually just b straight up genderfluid ]#[ i just dont want transphobes crawling into my mentions to call me gamer words so i'm gonna keep him as cis on paper lol ]#[ no harm in having little a noncanon headcanons about my own character.... as a treat ]

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