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shirophantomvox · 3 years

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Hisoka With a Short S/O

Hello, anon! I posted your other request but I’m very surprised that it didn’t receive any traction. I’ll have to re-blog it. It could be that there are a few posts about Hisoka with a tall S/O but I have not seen any posts about Hisoka with a short S/O. I won’t lie to you, this one was a bit challenging because I am not short in real life. In fact, I’m tall; too tall in my opinion. I hope you enjoy! As always, my inbox is open!

Headcanon 1: Endless amount of teasing. As tall as Hisoka is, being with a person that is nearly 3 feet shorter than he is is both amusing and adorable. He is 6 foot 3; he can reach the top of the cabinet, can touch the ceiling, and will hold your belongings over your head if he dislikes your attitude or if he feels like playing.

Headcanon 2: He enjoys being the superhero in most situations. Although he isn’t depicted as a superhero, he is considered to be one of the 5 main protagonists of the show. Unlike headcanon #1, he actually assists you if needed. If you want cereal and it is on the top shelf in the cabinet, he’ll get it for you. If you cannot reach the remote while laying in bed, he’ll toss it to you. During any situation where you need help, he will not tease you.

Headcanon 3: Sometimes his taunting could be rather sweet and innocent than hostile. If you have come from work and you appear to be upset, angry, or neutral, Hisoka will take it upon himself to cheer you up. Still distant from the whole “traditional affectionate phrases or names”, he’ll run to you and scoop you up into his arms. Instead of calling you and traditional pet names, he might call you his “little gnome” or “little Smurfette”.

Headcanon 4: He hates it when you ignore him. When you are feeling affectionate, Hisoka is often amused by what he considered begging. It’s not actually begging, but more of him being a stubborn mule. You’d throw your arms up in anger and walked away. As time went on, you caught on to Hisoka’s game and played it better than him. Whenever he tried to play hard to get, you walked away appearing to be unbothered. Hisoka didn’t mind either that is until he became “starved” or “hungry”. He turned into the beggar (pouting like a kid) for your attention, kisses, and cuddles. It was quite amusing to see him in this state and so tempting to capture the moment. To add insult to injury, a few times when you were watching TV or about to go out with friends, you purposefully applied glossy or matte lipstick 4 inches away from his lips. When he tries to steal a kiss, you jerk away telling him to buzz off until he has apologized. Once you return, you come home to the magician on his knees cupping his hands apologizing.

“Small fry--”

“What,” you ask plainly raising an eyebrow.

“--I mean cupcake.” He chuckles nervously. “I’m sorry for my teasing words. I shouldn’t have disrespected you like that. Please forgive me.”

Boy! Could you imagine if Illumi caught him in this extremely vulnerable state? He’d probably throw up for weeks!

“Fine, I forgive you. Now get off my freshly vacuumed floor, please.”

He jumped up and swept you off the ground. You gasped a little out loud because his grip was heavy and quick, causing air to rush against your face. Meeting the magician’s small piercing golden eyes made your heart flutter, a feeling you hadn’t felt in a couple of months. A smile crept on your face, patiently waiting for his lips to meet yours. The sound of both pairs of lips crashing into each other was a joyful, passionate sound. Oddly enough, the kiss felt different as if Hisoka was actually sorry for his actions. He’d apologize many times before but in the past, those kisses did not feel like the one you were engaged with right now. Once he released, the sound of wet skin made you both blush deeply. Although Hisoka could be quite annoying at times, this particular kiss made you fall in love with him again. Not only did his quirky behavior make your heart pitter-patter but the goofy appearance after every intimate act left you laughing.

“What’s so funny, cupcake,” he asked growing slightly.

“Some of my glossy lipstick smeared on your lips. Good luck removing that!”

Headcanon 5: Pampers you if you ever injure yourself. There has been a bruise on your left shoulder that formed as a result of glass falling on from a cabinet in your childhood home. Your mother was trying t get the cup for you but ended up slipping out of her hand and severally cutting your shoulder. Hisoka found out about this bruise during his usual flirting matches where he pulled down the shoulder part of your beautiful purple blouse. He was shocked. He is so used to using Texture Surprise to fix everything that seeing an actual bruise almost made him cry. He tried to use TS on your damaged skin, but it wouldn’t work. By then your scar shows a permanent line but is healed. On occasion, that shoulder would hurt if you lifted too much, wore a tight undershirt, or burn yourself from hot shower water. Anytime you wince in pain, Hisoka gently presses a few kisses against your healed skin to calm your senses. Trailing kisses up and down your arm, he finished by kissing the back of your hand.

Headcanon 6: He (sometimes) refuses to bend down to kiss you so you can stand on a basketball, stool, or something else to reach him. Just the height difference between you two is astonishing! When you two are out in public, people can’t help but stare because they just can not wrap their minds around he two pf you dating. On a normal day at hime, yes, Hisoka will not kiss you if you are not standing on a stool of some sort. In the public eye, since you cannot carry a stool with you, he will often place his hand around your waist and lift you up nonchilantly.

Headcanon 7: Loves letting you wear his suited shirts. His crop-top shirts always look like a full t-shirt on you and the view is so adorable to him that he takes multiple photos of you and uses them as wallpaper. Besides the height difference, Hisoka is much bigger than you. Everyone loves sleeping in baggy or large t-shirts (As do I IRL) and a plus is the strong, satisfying aroma emitting from his freshly washed shirts. He loves to wear Dior!

Headcanon 8: If you are not tall enough for certain activities, he will not participate. This applies to amusement parks that have height requirements. What fun would it be if he went on the demon drop and he could not witness your terror? If you were to afraid to enter haunted houses, he would be very upset but would pass up the opportunity.

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years

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BeeTober 2020 Day 6

Shards - Foliage

Day 6 of BeeTober brings me back to Xicheng and some simple fluff and misunderstandings.

Jiang Cheng feels like he’s slowly losing his mind. His whole table is groaning under the weight of the letters—the proposals—and Jiang Cheng wants to get up and strangle every single member of his Sect who had a hand in this.

He doesn’t want to marry. He never wanted to marry, and he thought he had made that very clear.

Jiang Cheng puts his head in his hands when he remembers the exact words he uttered all those years ago, and belatedly he realizes that he shouldn’t have put a condition on his refusal.

‘I will not marry until Jin Ling ascends as Sect Leader’ he had said and it’s now biting him in the ass.

But Jiang Cheng counted on Jin Guangyao staying alive long beyond the reasonable age, simply because he seemed to be exactly that kind of petty bitch. Who would have thought that he would get violently murdered by none other than Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang, after all.

“Damn it,” Jiang Cheng mutters, as his eyes yet again fall on the imposing mountain of letters.

Jiang Cheng knows about his reputation, knows what the other cultivators think of him, and so the sheer amount of letters is surprising.

Jiang Cheng had hoped that by now his reputation would work as a repellent to every willing person, but it seems like he can’t even rely on that anymore.

“Have you made a decision yet?” a voice carries inside his study and Jiang Cheng’s head snaps up.

“What do you think?” he yells back, and going by the telling silence his disciple is clever enough to flee at his sharp words.

Jiang Cheng cannot reasonably refuse each and every single proposal, he knows that. There’s not even a way to do it without angering any Sects, because if he chooses one, it will be an insult to the others.

But not choosing at all is also not an option, because then the proposals will just keep coming, and soon enough they will be hand-delivered in person.

Jiang Cheng would rather drown himself than have that happen.

Jiang Cheng puts his head in his hands again, trying to calm himself down with deep breaths, but it’s not working too well.

He only ever wanted to marry for love; wanted to avoid a marriage like his parents shared, but he knows that’s not in it for him anymore.

His heart—his stupid, stupid heart—is set on Lan Xichen after all, has been since the lectures at the Cloud Recesses, but Jiang Cheng has known for just as long that it’s futile.

Lan Xichen has never looked at him in that kind of way; instead he made it a point to stay away from Jiang Cheng for most of the years, not that Jiang Cheng can begrudge him that.

Their personalities do tend to clash and while Jiang Cheng always thought it exciting and invigorating the scarce times it happened, it’s not hard to imagine that Lan Xichen rather dislikes it.

Jiang Cheng mentally scolds himself—not for the first time that day—and forces himself to at least sift through the proposals.

He can form piles: I’d rather not and abso-fucking-lutely not.

The thought amuses Jiang Cheng so much, that he reaches for the next proposal, but as soon as his eyes fall on the seal—the personal sign of Sect Leader Yao—he loses it.

This is the third proposal from his Sect Jiang Cheng held in his hands in the last twenty minutes and it’s enough to drive everyone insane.

So instead of compiling piles like he just decided on, he sweeps his arms over the table, sending all the proposals flying through the room, until they are scattered around him like shards.

Jiang Cheng thinks he would prefer shards over this never-ending torture, and he has half a mind just burning his whole study to the ground, when his eyes fall on a blue proposal, sporting the somewhat familiar seal of the Cloud Recesses.

Jiang Cheng frowns but he can’t help but be intrigued by it. He wonders just whose hand in marriage Lan Qiren is offering to him, and before he even finishes the thought, Jiang Cheng has reached for the proposal.

He thumbs the seal a few times, before he finds the courage to break it, because he knows that no matter whose name he wishes to read in it, it won’t happen. Lan Xichen doesn’t feel that way about him after all.

Jiang Cheng scans the proposal and when his eyes fall on the name Lan Qiren proposes, Jiang Cheng is glad that he’s already sitting down.

This must be a mistake.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is pacing the pier, impatiently waiting for Lan Xichen to arrive, the outrageous proposal still tightly clutched in his hands.

Jiang Cheng has come to terms with the fact that Lan Xichen will never be the one for him a long time ago and so the spark of hurt that Lan Qiren would dangle something that he can’t have in front of him is tiny enough that it’s almost entirely buried under Jiang Cheng’s rage.

He feels outraged on Lan Xichen’s behalf, that Lan Qiren would offer him up like some live-stock and he’s going to inform Lan Xichen about his uncle’s improper proposal at once.

Jiang Cheng is on his seventeenth time pacing the pier when the boat with Lan Xichen finally comes into view.

Jiang Cheng lets out a relieved sigh because Lan Xichen seems to be alone, like Jiang Cheng requested in his letter to the other Sect Leader. He doesn’t want word to get out that Lan Qiren is trying to marry Lan Xichen off to Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Xichen greets him as soon as he steps onto the pier but Jiang Cheng is too furious to bother with niceties.

“Your uncle has gone too far,” he says, proposal still tightly clenched in his hands and Lan Xichen looks at him in confusion.

“What could he possibly have done to make you think so?” Lan Xichen wants to know and Jiang Cheng shoves the proposal at him.

“He’s trying to marrying you off like you’re some—some cattle to be rid of,” Jiang Cheng seethes, and Lan Xichen carefully plucks the letter out of Jiang Cheng’s hands.

Lan Xichen reads it over carefully and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes when Lan Xichen’s face falls.

He seems sad more than anything and Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand that. He should be seething with rage, like Jiang Cheng is.

“Ah, I see,” Lan Xichen says and then takes a step back to bow deeply to Jiang Cheng. “I apologize,” he goes on and now the anger makes way for confusion.

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” Jiang Cheng demands to know and Lan Xichen smiles sadly at him.

“I thought that since my previous proposals have all gone unanswered, I would try the official channels now. But I realize my mistake and I apologize to you for causing you distress.”

Jiang Cheng blinks, because those words in that configuration simply don’t make any sense at all and he slightly shakes his head when his confusion only grows with every second that Lan Xichen doesn’t laugh and tell him it’s all just a joke.

“Your what?” Jiang Cheng asks and his voice is fainter than he would like it to be, but his heart is hammering away in his chest, and butterflies are filling his stomach to an almost dangerous level.

“My previous proposals,” Lan Xichen repeats, and it makes as much sense as the first time he said it. “Of marriage and then later of a courtship.”

“I have no clue what you are talking about,” Jiang Cheng admits and now it’s Lan Xichen’s turn to blink in surprise at him.

“Oh,” he whispers and then Jiang Cheng has to watch as his ears turn red.

Jiang Cheng could die, he loves this man so much.

“Care to explain?” he snaps at Lan Xichen, much rougher than he intended in his need to overcompensate for his truly mushy thoughts and Lan Xichen is trying to kill him, surely, because the blush seeps into his cheeks.

“I have sent several marriage proposals to you, over the years. When they went unanswered but not refused, I thought I should start smaller with the offer of a proper courtship. You never replied to those either, and I am able to take a hint. It might take me longer than other people but I get there eventually,” Lan Xichen explains and there is so much self-deprecation in his voice that Jiang Cheng has to bite back his anger at every single person who ever made Lan Xichen believe that.

“So I kept my distance from you, since I didn’t wish to burden you further with my clearly unwanted feelings. But now your Elders announced that you’ll be looking for a spouse now, and I thought I would have more success if my uncle approved of this union.”

Jiang Cheng feels faint with everything that Lan Xichen has just said and when his silence drags on for so long that Lan Xichen attempts a bow again, Jiang Cheng’s hands reach out to grasp his forearm.

“I have never seen those proposals,” Jiang Cheng promises him, desperate to have Lan Xichen believe him. “I told my Elders that I wouldn’t marry before Jin Ling ascends as Sect Leader and that if I even so much as catch a glimpse of any proposals I would drown them all in the lakes.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes flit to the side, taking in the water, and when he looks back at Jiang Cheng, there’s a small smile playing around his mouth.

“I think the foliage is too thick for anyone to drown here,” he says, a playful note in his voice and Jiang Cheng dares to let out a relieved breath.

“I can throw them really far,” he gives back and it’s only when Lan Xichen laughs at that, that Jiang Cheng releases him.

“I truly didn’t know about that,” Jiang Cheng reiterates again and he thinks he doesn’t imagine the hopeful look on Lan Xichen’s face.

“Your reaction kind of gives me hope that my feelings are in fact not unreciprocated,” Lan Xichen says as he takes a tentative step forwards.

Jiang Cheng wants to do nothing more but to tell him that they are so reciprocated, but there is one thing he has to clear up first.

“I’m not going to leave my Sect,” he says, and he forces himself to sound firm. “If this is going to work, you’d have to come here.”

Jiang Cheng knows that it’s unlikely that Lan Xichen will agree to that, but Jiang Cheng did not rebuild his Sect from nothing only to leave it in the end. No matter if it’s for love or not.

“I know that,” Lan Xichen reassures him and takes Jiang Cheng’s hand in his. “Do you really think my uncle would have allowed this if he wouldn’t approve of it? Lan Jingyi will be Sect Leader; he’s too young now, but the Elder’s will guide him and I will be his advisor. He knows this and everything has already been arranged in case you should agree.”

There’s a heavy pause, during which Lan Xichen doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Do you agree?” he then dares to ask and there is so much naked hope in his voice that Jiang Cheng aches with it.

“Of course I do,” he rushes to reassure Lan Xichen. “Jin Ling was never the real reason I didn’t marry,” he confesses to Lan Xichen and threads their hands together. “I didn’t want to marry because the only one I could see myself marrying was you. And I thought that was highly unlikely to happen, so—,” he trails off with a shrug and Lan Xichen laughs.

“Not as unlikely as I thought it to be that you would answer one of my proposals one of these days.”

“Well, I am answering it now,” Jiang Cheng decides and tugs on Lan Xichen’s hand. “In fact, I’m going to write that letter to Lan Qiren right now,” he tells Lan Xichen, who doesn’t move a single inch.

“What?” Jiang Cheng asks, a tiny voice in his head telling him that of course this was too good to be true, but when Lan Xichen gives him a mischievous look that voice dies right out.

“I think before you write to my uncle we should seal this agreement,” Lan Xichen tells him and tugs Jiang Cheng closer to himself.

Jiang Cheng is embarrassed to admit that he almost stumbles into Lan Xichen’s chest, but when Lan Xichen puts a hand to his hip to stabilize him—and to keep him close—Jiang Cheng can’t find it in him to mind.

“And what kind of seal do you have in mind?” Jiang Cheng asks, now that he finally caught up to Lan Xichen’s words, and he itches to kiss the smirk right off Lan Xichen’s lips.

“I think you know,” Lan Xichen whispers, leaning almost close enough for their lips to brush and Jiang Cheng stops fighting his own wishes and simply leans in to kiss Lan Xichen.

He doubts there has ever been a sweeter acceptance of a marriage proposal.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #beetober 2020 #untamed fall fest #the untamed #mdzs #xicheng #fluff #marriage proposal #love confession #getting together #misunderstandings

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shuturxface · 4 years

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Quarantine has, completely out of no where, compelled me to re-read The Life and Times. I finished three days ago and yes I’m still crying. BUT! to get my emotions out I wrote something of a “review”. It’s really just my thoughts about everything. No one asked but I’m posting it anyway.

Please enjoy, it’s below. Be warned, there are *spoilers*:

Thoughts and Musings:

I don’t particularly know why I’ve been so affected by The Life and Times this go around. I’ve always loved it, but I don’t think I’ve ever cried when Alice Griffiths (now Longbottom) tells Lily that she’s spontaneously marrying Frank Longbottom. And I also don’t think that I’ve ever felt more than fondness towards Marlene Price and Adam Mckinnon. And, I’ve always disliked Carlotta Meloni (especially during the summer and 7thyear), but I never actually hated her character. All until now. The first time I read The Life and Times, I really, really enjoyed it and appreciated the characters and the plot and the realism– like, come on, of course they’re not going to make out in the middle of an escape! However, I was, admittedly, disappointed with the lack of James/Lily action. Not that it was scarce, there certainly was a lot! But this time around, I finally realized why Jewels wrote it in that way. Lily disliked James – possibly resented him – for five years, and more strongly much more recently (I expect her unsavory opinions of him were most prominent during 5thyear, what with his excessive exclamations of “go on a date with me, Evans”). Of course, it’s going to take more than a few weeks to erase that! And it’s not like it could take less time, because, realistically, why would Lily want to spend that much more time with James if she wasn’t fond of him, and if they kept fighting. Honestly, their development as friends is much more interesting, and it shows an in-depth thought processes of fleshing out the characters. I am thoroughly moved by the fact that it doesn’t happen over-night or within a few days.

I’ve also read complaints about how James Potter is acting disinterested in Lily. To them I say: did you even read the goddamnstory?! Did you pass over the parts where he watches her when she’s not looking, and the parts where he is upset with himself for how strongly he feels about her?! If James Potter is anything, he is not an idiot (however idiotic he may act sometimes). From what the (actual HP) books show, James was interested in Lily and kept asking her out in their 5thyear. If I recall correctly, it was implied that he may have done so years prior. It is also stated, by Sirius Black, that they got together in 7thyear. Once again, that transformation from enemies to lovers is not going to happen overnight, and is definitely not going to happen if James Potter kept overtly obsessing over her in 6thyear. Also (!) there is a perfectly reasonable explanation Jewels gives us for why he acted this way: he wanted to get over her. Not only does this prove that he liked her deeply, not just superficially, but also that he got the message. He would have been truly, very thick had he not.

But back to the matter at hand. For some reason, this time around (I don’t remember, possibly third), I’ve been thoroughly engrossed and cried at different intervals of the story more so than before. I sobbed at the end of chapter 30, “The Worst Day Ever” in which it followed each character (Carlotta, Marlene, Donna, Mary, and Lily) on September 1st. I cried terribly during the last two chapters with the attack on the M.F.P. conference – the tension and the unknowing, and worst of all, the death of Sam Dearborn. Quickly, a word about Sam. Somehow, through so few chapters, Jewels created such a lovable character (limited in “screen time”) that his death (and Lily and James’ reaction to it) caused me to cry on multiple occasions. Jewels was able to capture the anguish of her characters so well, that for a moment I forgot it was a story at all and felt it myself. I cried when Sirius Black told Lily Evans that she “fit” with the Marauders, after she asked him why he was so sure she and James belonged together. I have absolutely no idea how she managed to utterly take me apart in the span of 3 days and 36 chapters, but no fanfiction has been able to do that.

I am fully in awe of what Jewels has created – The Life and Times is a work of art, capturing the 1970s in the Wizarding World perfectly. Would I like to see how each James and Lily, how Adam and Marlene, Mary and Reginald get together? No, I would love it. Am I still curious of how on earth all those 87 wizards and witches were murdered at the Magic For Peace convention, leaving no survivors? No, I’m haunted by it. And while there are parts that are frustrating to read (some sexist and misogynistic parts, especially from a few Ravenclaws are particularly uncomfortable), I also think she delivers an accurate representation of the 70s, which were much less politically correct that the world is today. She is not even encouraging this behavior because it’s all made by unlikeable “villainous” characters – not particularly evil, but definitely malicious.

Because Jewels created this story so magnificently, only she knew where it was headed and how it would play out. She wrote it so uniquely, using quick dialogue that made me feel that I was actually there. Phrasing her syntax in such a way that her descriptions were musical and poetic and completely relatable. Her chapter structures kept me on my toes, each one with its own unique flavor, yet all of them unified, flowing from one to the other perfectly.

Not only that, she created characters with strong, redeeming qualities as well as true, trying weaknesses. Lily Evans: she created Lily to be a kind individual that always sought to see the good in others, as J.K. Rowling told us she was. But she also made Lily imaginative and contemplative and romantic and strong, and, yes, sorrowful, fearful, angry, and (most importantly, if you ask me) not willing to discuss her real feelings with anyone, thus slightly hypocritical. James Potter: Jewels created James to be loyal, clever, more-than-slightly arrogant, humorous, brave, and even compassionate. But she also made him brooding, impulsive, hot headed, and many times, a prick. I could go on, but the main point is this: Jewels created complex characters. She didn’t make a wondrous, unfailingly kind Lily (if she were, why did she and James butt heads so viciously?), or a comical, lovesick James, a cheeky, brazen Sirius, a quiet, sentimental Remus, a quivering Pettigrew, or a moody, jealous Snape (yes, even he had more to him than this – drive and hunger to prove himself). Jewels created characters with depth! Characters that made mistakes and don’t just immediately learn from them. Hell, she made teenage characters in a fanfiction that didn’t ultimately think with their primary sex organ – characters that were able to see that there were more important things happening besides who’s shagging who. Of course, there were characters that were interested in this, but they’re not the type of people that would go to a protest at the Ministry of Magic (and, obviously, this just strengthens the certainty that James and Lily truly belong together). Essentially, Jewels created characters that are sometimes hard to like. She showed us real emotions and feelings and struggles like a proper novel. She went further than an exploration of two people’s love life and gave contextual reasons to their coming together, and why their relationship was so important in the greater scheme of Harry Potter. She created multiple storylines, intricately woven together, incorporating briefly mentioned characters in the Harry Potter series and giving them backstory and personalities. Jewels created a world within J.K. Rowling’s universe with complex political turmoil.

I fully and strongly admire the work and dedication that Jewels put into The Life and Times. I feel that it’s wishful thinking that she might return to this story after all these years (has it really been seven already?!), but I can’t help but wish all the same. I do understand because life does have a habit of getting in the way and people move on. I’m truly grateful for Jewels and what she gave to the world. No other fanfiction will ever evoke the feelings that The Life and Times does. No matter the emotional strife this story gives me, I will always be grateful, and it will always be my favorite. Thank you, Jewels.

#tlat #the life and times #jewels5 #Lily Evans #James Potter #jily #jily fanfiction #jily fandom #i literally love this story so much #Harry Potter #james x lily #limes #hp fanfic #hp fandom

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rainbowwing251 · 3 years

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Do you have some headcanons for Ryu and Ken from Street Fighter?

This was, without question, the most difficult headcanon list for me to make for any of the Smash characters. Ryu’s headcanons in particular were the hardest part of this entire list.

I haven’t played any of the Street Fighter games, and from my research, I learned that the plot of the franchise is... insane. It’s a little hard for me to follow.

I probably didn’t need to know the plot of the Street Fighter franchise, but I wanted to make sure that my headcanons were as accurate to the plot and the characters as they could be.

Be warned, there may be spoilers for some of the games in the Street Fighters franchise. Be sure to exercise caution as you read these headcanons.

Ryu tends to be neutral about tickling (he doesn’t really like to be tickled, for the most part), but if he gets dragged into a tickle session, he would definitely be a ler.

If you want to tickle him, then I wish you good luck. His just as ticklish as Simon is. If case you don’t remember what I said about Simon, he isn’t that ticklish. Ryu’s ticklishness is identical.

He only has one weak spot on his entire body: his sides. Good luck trying to tickle him there, though. He is a master at protecting himself from tickle attacks.

You won’t get that much of a reaction from him if you tickle him on any spot that isn’t his sides, but he might let out a chuckle sometimes. If you tickle his sides, then he will laugh a bit. Either way, he probably isn’t going to like it, and he’ll try to get you to stop. There are a few people that can get away with tickling him, but I’ll get to that later.

Pinning him down is next to impossible. Most people can’t even get him down on the ground due to how strong he is, but Ken is the exception. He’s one of the few people in the Street Fighter universe who can truly match Ryu’s strength. In Smash, he’s the only one who can pin him down.

Ryu doesn’t squirm while he’s being tickled. If anything, he’ll trash about rather violently. He does this to all of his lers, but there are a few exceptions. If Ken is his ler, then he will try to reduce the trashing so that he doesn’t get hurt. He won’t trash around if he’s being tickled by the younger fighters of Smash, either. He can’t bear the thought of hurting them on accident, since he cares deeply for children.

He doesn’t want to admit to this, but the reason as to why he dislikes tickling is due to the time that he was brainwashed in the Street Fighter Alpha series, and all of the times that he lost control over the Satsui no Hado within him. Of course, tickling is nowhere near as bad as being brainwashed or losing control over the darkness within you, but it can make you laugh uncontrollably. This doesn’t sit well with Ryu at all, because it reminds him of all of the times that he lost control over himself.

The only ler that he has in his home world is Ken. This doesn’t really change when the two of them are in Smash, but on some occasions, the younger fighters of Smash will target him too, especially Young Link.

Ryu doesn’t really care about being a ler, so he doesn’t tickle people that often. However, when he does tickle someone... well, they’ll be in for a surprise. He has a hidden talent for tickling other people, a talent that even he was unaware of until he tickled Ken for the first time.

As Ken will tell you, Ryu has the ability to dig into your worst spots and make it feel as though the tickling is going deep into your skin. Don’t worry, he’s not trying to hurt you. He’s just really good at drilling his fingers into someone’s tickle spots.

If he’s tickling someone like Ness or the Ice Climbers, then he will lighten up his touch. Like I mentioned earlier, he can’t stand the idea of hurting a child, so he will be even more careful with his tickling if he’s tickling someone who’s in that age range.

He doesn’t even need to pin someone down. All he needs to do is hold them close, wrap his arms around them, and let his hands roam free. When he does this, he’ll regularly check in with his lee to make sure that he isn’t hurting them. He knows that he could easily crush someone with his arms, so he will make sure to stop and ask his lee if he is hurting them in any way before he goes back to tickling them.

Ken is the only lee that Ryu has in his home world. He doesn’t willingly go after any of the other fighters in Smash (other than Ken), but if the younger fighters decide to target him, he might turn the tables on them and tickle them.

I don’t know why, but it was really hard for me to come up with headcanons for Ryu.

Ken was a bit easier, but I’m not sure if the upcoming headcanons are good or not. I’ll let you be the judge on that.

Since Ryu is essentially the same as Simon in terms of ticklishness, then Ken is essentially the same as Richter in terms of ticklishness. Basically what I’m saying is that Ken is more ticklish than Ryu is, and he doesn’t dislike tickling as much as he does.

Ken is primarily a ler, but unlike his rival, he does have a lee side, though it doesn’t show itself all that often. His lee moods will only occur in the presence of a trustworthy ally, and even then, it is still entirely dependent on chance.

Ken has more worst spots than Ryu does, and those spots are his underarms, the palms of his hands, and his neck. He prefers to tickled on the last two spots, but you are allowed to tickle his underarms if he knows who you are.

When he gets tickled, his behavior is the opposite of Ryu’s in that he doesn’t thrash. He squirms about instead, though he tries to restrain himself. He knows that he could easily throw his ler off of him, both on purpose and on accident, and he doesn’t want to hurt his ler by doing this. He accidentally did this to Ryu once, and he wasn’t happy with himself for a few days afterward.

Similar to Terry, Ken likes to fight back against his lers by reaching up his hands to tickle them. If he tries to do this to you, target his underarms straight away (if you weren’t doing so already). He’ll quickly clamp his arms down and trap your hands under his arms. Perhaps he could use this as an advantage, but at the same time, it is an effective method of countering Ken’s attempts to turn the tables.

If you don’t pin his legs down, then he will kick them a bit. Be on the look out, because he can kick you on accident, and it will hurt. A lot. It might even send you flying a short distance if he kicks you the right way. None of this will be done on purpose, even if you were a stranger to him (he’ll fight you off if you are a stranger to him, but he won’t punch you or kick you, unless he deems it necessary for his safety).

In his world, Ken’s lers are Ryu and Eliza Masters, his wife. Ryu is still one of Ken’s main lers in Smash, but he will also get targeted by Little Mac from time to time.

As a ler, Ken is very competitive. Much like Little Mac, he will give his lee a chance to fight back against him.

I should warn you that the above statement is true, but it’s only 99% true. The other 1%? This is when Ken gets really competitive, and he will try to keep you pinned down so you can’t do anything but laugh. He won’t let you move, and he won’t let you get him back. If Ken is ever in this mood, you might want to run.

His competitive side won’t come out if his lee is a child like Mel (his son) or Lucas. He usually lets them win if they start a tickle fight with him, worried that he’ll hurt them on accident if he tried to tickle him back. He would also be a little worried about discouraging them from tickling him if he fights back against them. He’s not about to shatter anyone’s confidence, even if it’s unintentional.

Ken doesn’t dig into a person’s worst spots like Ryu does. Instead, he’ll scribble his fingers all over the lee’s body, searching for a spot that will give him the best reactions.

Turning the tables on him can be quite hard, but he will give you the chance to do this by leaving himself open while he tickles you.

His main lee is Ryu, but he will go after Eliza and Mel as well. In Smash, he will continue to target Ryu, but he will also go after the younger fighters too. Out of all of the younger fighters, Lucas is the one that Ken will target the most. He doesn’t have a reason for targeting the young boy (other than cheering him up whenever he feels sad), he just likes to see him happy and laughing his head off.

At long last, I have finally finished my headcanons for Ryu and Ken! I am very sorry for making you wait all this time. There were several reasons as to why this took so long. First, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I have never played any of the Street Fighter games. Second, trying to stay true to the characters and their stories/personalities was rather difficult for me to do.

The final reason? Well, to answer that, I’m going to have to make a confession to something, and that confession will be written as a separate post. Don’t worry, the confession has nothing to do with you at all!

#tickling #the colorful words of the color gray #tickle tour #I don’t have any ideas for a street fighter tag

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queenjanai · 4 years

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okay so, this is the 4.5k (not 3k like i thought, holy shit) words of unfinished smut i started writing about two months ago and haven’t gotten around to continue. it’s supposed to be part two of roses for your, my love with roses for you being the first part with amaya winning the melee, and this part called and with your kiss, i awoke which has all the smut.

it is my first time fully writing smut so forgive me if it’s not good enough, and also forgive any time changes, i’ll edit everything once i get back to writing this fic. i’m putting it under a read more because it’s super long and again, nsfw warning. please leave feedback (good or bad!), i’ll really appreciate it. i hope you’ll like it!

Janai shuffled Amaya into their chambers at the first opportunity she had, pushing the great door of the room open for them. Noon has turned into evening, and the dark colors of dusk graced their bed chamber through the lave curtains, painting everything in hues of deep orange and soft pink. Everything was as still and neat as ever, something she had gotten used to, even before being crowned.

She turned to Amaya once the doors were locked behind her. Her beloved stood tall and broad as in any other day, though her cheeks were still flush and her clothes clang to her body.

"Thank you for giving me these," she began, touching the petals with the tip of her fingers, soft as silk. "The crowd seemed to love you."

Amaya laughed shortly and took her hand, playing with her fingers. "Theatrics," she shrugged.

Janai smiled, but her smile died off soon. Of course that Amaya didn't care about the show she was a part of. "Did you really mean what you said? About me?"

Amaya looked up at her. "Of course I did. No one deserves this crown more than you."

"Thank you." The color quickly returned to Janai's cheeks, matching it with the seeping sundown. Her eyes traveled to Amaya's face, glistening with a layer of sweat, before they dropped to the lips she kissed before. Janai clenched her hands together at her stomach where she felt the knot tightening, a mere inch away from Amaya.

Amaya gently took her chin under her thumb, fluttering her eyes shut, and brought her beloved into the kiss she desired. Their lips met sweetly, a relief for them both, and Janai cupped the back of Amaya's head almost out of instinct, running her fingers through the short ends of her hair there.

They broke only for a mere heartbeat for air, and stumbled further into the room in each other's arms. Janai longed for this moment. Every waking hour without Amaya felt like a neverending day. Amaya ran her hands on the sides of Janai's body, enjoying the way they dipped with the curve of her stomach, feeling the delicate stitching of her gown.

It was Janai who deepened the kiss, coaxing Amaya's mouth open with her tongue, tasting her. The only sounds in the room were of their kiss, lips parting and meeting again. Even the wind outside had ceased for them.

Amaya's groan after she nibbled on her upper lip was what brought Janai back to reality. "Wait," she placed her hands on Amaya's breastplate, where she traced the slash she had given her a long time ago. "Are you hurt?" She asked.

Amaya shook her head. Luckily, none of the blows landed on her- and they weren't that many- caused her to bleed, unlike some of the contestants who needed to be treated afterward. She glanced down, remembering her state. "I am not slightly clean," she avoided Janai's eyes for a moment as she signed.

The spark in Janai's eyes darkened, and the corners of her lips lifted with a smile. "I've seen you in battle," her hands moved fluently as she gave Amaya a hungry kiss, her nails scraping the fabric emerging under her breastplate, and Amaya could feel her tongue on her lips as she released the strap holding her breastplate in place, letting it scatter onto the floor. "Bruised and bloody," the words spilled from her mouth in a river of lust, and even her hands were eager to remove the steel around Amaya's waist. Finally, Janai drew back just enough, the spark settled but still well gleaming in her eyes. "I don't care," she said, sliding her hands underneath her skirts, and stepped away from her underwear once it's on the floor.

Amaya gaped at her wife. She wasn't so often prone to be bold and teasing at the same time. Janai continued to gaze at her with those waiting eyes, challenging, daring her, the tightness of her gown accentuating the curve of her hips, her generous bosom, and the high cut on the side revealing her thigh.

Amaya took a step forward and seized Janai by her shoulders, kissing her harshly. Janai yelped in surprise, caught with Amaya's hands holding the small of her back, but she responded all the same, weaving her hands through Amaya's hair as they walked back further into the room.

Janai broke the kiss when her ankles hit the foot of the bed. Flushed and breathless, her eyes darted across Amaya's face, who wore the same expression, just wanting, wanting. Her hands came to release Amaya's tunic from her breeches when Amaya reached behind her to undo the laces of her gown, her fingers slipping underneath the strings, quick with experience, and Janai could finally breathe deeply when the tie was unmade.

She released the clasps securing her clean cape to her shoulders and Amaya offered her a hand as she stepped away from the pool of porcelain embroidered with gold. Janai would sooner leave the gown on the floor, but not wanting to ruin the many hours the seamstress had worked on it, she threw it and the cape over one of the chairs, and returned to Amaya.

Without her gown, Janai only had an underdress, matching in color, though made of much thinner fabric, with a shimmer to it. The straps on her shoulders were mere lines, thinner than her smallest finger, the neckline was wide and deep, and the dress only reached a little past her waist. Not leaving much to imagination.

She cupped Amaya's face and brought her into a deep kiss, capturing her lips and letting her tongue in as her hands left Amaya's cheek to begin pulling on the laces of her breeches. Amaya pushed her closer and tilted her head to accept her kiss better, and when Janai finished loosing the strings she forgot what the need for air felt like. She trapped her hands beneath the boiled leather and pushed Amaya's breeches down, grabbing a handful of her behind as she went.

With only the breastband and undercloth masking Amaya, Janai could see the toll the melee had taken on her. There was a red spot on her forearm, spreading halfway to her elbow, and bruise on the side of her stomach, already turning blue, and another one on her thigh. Amaya's skin glistered with the layer of dried sweat underneath her clothes. Luckily, none of the strikes that were landed on her made her bleed, but Janai knew Amaya wouldn't complain about the bruises she had, even if they hurt.

Her gaze wandered down, to the only thing still left on Amaya that wasn't a cloth. The red ribbon she had tied around her hands, decorated with gold threads. Her favor. She reached out with both of her hands, one cradling Amaya's wrist, the other playing with the ribbon. She returned her eyes to Amaya. "Keep it on for me?"

A warm smile formed on Amaya's lips as she nodded, bringing Janai's hand and kissing it. "Only if you keep this on for me," she said, pointing at Janai's head.

The crown. Janai had forgotten all about it. Her fingers came to brush the petals, dainty as silk. Amaya waited with anticipation, and Janai answered her with a gentle kiss, and another, and another, while they climbed on the bed.

As much as Janai wanted to sink into the comfortable mattress, she kept herself elevated on her elbows to avoid crushing the delicate crown. For a moment, she wrapped her arms around Amaya's back, giving in to the wonderful weight of the body, but she had something much more amusing in mind.

She broke the kiss, earning a wondering look from Amaya. "Sit back," she voiced her wife, and Amaya pouted at her words. Janai giggled, and nudged Amaya with her foot until she was far enough on the bed.

She spread her legs then, letting them dangle off the sides of the mattress, and blush rushed to her cheeks as she lowered onto the bed, a nice roughness in them against her bare lips. She broke her gaze on Amaya to glance down at the little dress, barely containing her, and pulled the strings free one by one until it dropped to her lap, baring her completely for Amaya. She beckoned her wife to come closer.

At once, Amaya was on her, kissing her and prying the little dress away. Janai lifted her hips off the mattress, pursing her legs together as Amaya slid the dress and tossed it to the floor, feeling a drop of wetness forming within her. She used one hand to unwrap the band around Amaya's breasts, and she sighed when the pressure disappeared from her chest.

Janai marveled in the way Amaya was holding her, their legs tangled and their bodies aligned, and how soft Amaya's skin was under her callused hands. Amaya left her mouth in favor of her neck, beginning to leave a path of kisses there, but Janai used all of her strength and clarity to flip them over.

Amaya hit the mattress with a dull sound, the air momentarily knocked from her lungs. She opened her eyes to find Janai hovering her, crimson locks spilling free across her shoulders, her crown of roses so different in color. "You fought well and bravely, and won a crown for me," she said. "Let me tend to you first."

Only when the words have already left her, Janai realized how pleading she sounded, almost desperate. Prize or not, Janai disliked those royal events, meant more for the rich to showcase their power and fortune than for the common folk- although she did enjoy this particular celebration of today- and she longed to be by Amaya's side again.

Janai had seen her wife in all kinds of situations: battle against her or as her ally, embracing her nephews after a long absence, laughing and arguing, the indescribable feeling of bliss written on her face as she signed her wedding vows to her, but it wasn't so often for Janai to see Amaya in such a state of shock that all she could do was nod.

Janai grinned. It seemed like she hadn't lost her skills just yet. Her fingers ghosted over the waistband of Amaya's cotton underwear before she pulled it down, her eyes drifting to the muscles of Amaya's stomach working as she lifted her hips, the sight only lightly being shadowed by the dark bruises on her skin.

She leaned over to gift Amaya with a tender kiss and savored the sweet taste of her lips. She moved her hand down the length of Amaya's stomach, careful not to touch the bruises, and stopped just above where she wanted her the most, the tips of her fingers brushing the little black hair there. She descended to her throat and kissed the collum of her neck, leaving a nicer kind of marks there, and smiled when Amaya shifted beneath her and sighed against her ear.

She was quite fulfilled with teasing, as was Amaya, she was certain, but there was one last thing she couldn't help but do. Instead of moving her lips past Amaya's neck, she planted a kiss to her collarbone, and her shoulder, and continued to leave a trail of kisses all down her arm, until she lifted her arm and kissed the inside of her wrist, where the ribbon was still tied, and her fingers, feeling her pulse.

When she opened her eyes, Amaya was red more than before, and her breathing was labored. As much as Janai enjoyed basking in the sight of her aroused wife, she could not withstand it any longer, nor keep Amaya in such a dissatisfied state. She bent over and buried her face in the soft skin of Amaya's breast, taking her nipple into her mouth.

Amaya trembled, raising her hand to Janai's hair, and Janai swirled her tongue around her hardened nipple as her hand squeezed her other breast. Amaya moaned, her voice high, and Janai moved to repeat the action on her other side.

Once she had enough, Janai glided her fingertips between Amaya's breasts, followed by her lips. She made her way down her navel, and even kissed the bruise lightly, along with older, faded scars she knew by heart. She kissed her waist and the inside of her thigh, nibbling on the full flesh there. She took a moment to glance up at Amaya, well-settled between her legs, and thought of how heavenly her wife looked before she dipped her head.

She began with a small kiss to her sensitive spot, followed with a wider stroke of her tongue that spread Amaya's folds apart. With both of her hands hooked around Amaya's thighs, Janai drew back to look at how pretty and pink Amaya's lips were, and brushed her clit with the pad of her finger, ever so lightly touching the overly sensitive bundle of nerves there. A sigh escaped from Amaya, her head against the pillow and her eyes closed. Janai deepened her touch, adding pressure, and warmth engulfed her finger as she slid it between Amaya's folds, collecting the growing wetness around her entrance along the seam to the peak.

Janai had to admit, she was getting lost. The feeling of Amaya was intoxicating, as well as her smell. She drew out her tongue with a lingering stroke and a shiver went down Amaya's spine. She closed her mouth around her clit and swirled her tongue, lapping at the spot.

Despite having her eyes closed, Janai could feel there was something more to the way Amaya held onto her shoulder, thrusting her hips in sync with Janai's movements. She looked up to see something pleading in Amaya's eyes, similar to what she had before, though she didn't sign a word. Janai knew well what she wanted. She leveled herself on her elbows and gave Amaya a kiss, her taste still on her lips. Amaya clung to her, and Janai allowed her to coax her legs apart so they could meet each other while the kiss still lasted.

Once the kiss was done, Janai returned to her task, determined to give Amaya the release she so rightfully deserved. The crown was a light weight on her head as she took Amaya's lips between her own, sucking on them before she reached deeper with her tongue. By the time she alternated between long strokes, circling her bud, and using her fingers, Amaya was a writhing mess beneath her, her chest rising and falling with each earnest moan, tapping her shoulder repeatedly telling her more, more, more.

It was getting difficult for Amaya to keep her trembling legs in place as the demanding warmth of the orgasm built within her, but Janai had a strong grip around her to hold her down without inflicting any pain. Her hand fisted in the sheet opened and Janai slid to take it, intertwining their fingers while Amaya yelled out a choked cry when Janai brought her to completion. She kept her mouth on her as her thighs became weak, shaking with the aftershock, and only pulled back after Amaya's hips settled on the bed.

Amaya's head was spinning, full of fog. Her breathing was heavy and her face was aflame when she blinked her stunned eyes open to see Janai lifting her head from her, a transparent string of saliva stretching from her stimulated skin to Janai's lips. Her wife took a deep breath and sat back on her heels, her chin a mess of Amaya's clear juices. The tingling sensation hasn't stopped in Amaya's thighs, and she felt the coldness clinging to her wetness at the absence of Janai's warm mouth.

Janai left the bed and Amaya remained to return to her senses. Her eyes came to see the pool of wetness where Janai had just been, staining the sheet. The blush she hoped that faded from her face crept back. Janai did a good number on her. She looked to her side to see Janai wiping her hands with a cloth by the table, moving the piece along each of her fingers. The full light of the afternoon shined on her naked figure, flattering her body more than the gown did.

She stepped back to the bed with such a satisfied grin on her face that Amaya failed to wonder if she would have appreciated it if it was any other woman. She was very proud of herself.

She dropped on the bed, one leg folded beneath her, and the light hit on her hair so harshly it seemed on fire. "Want some?" She offered Amaya a glass of water so generously, doing her best to sign with both of her hands occupied.

Amaya took the glass from her and Janai watched her as she drank, finishing the water in three sips. Her lips glistered when she drew the glass back, and her face returned to its regular hue. Janai had finished her cup as well, and took it back from Amaya to place on the floor.

Amaya knew what the act was all about. "You're not getting a compliment," she said, shaking her head.

Janai's smile fell then. "That's not very civil of you." She crossed her arms, and Amaya could tell her voice was as cold as ice, though fake.

As a gesture of goodwill, Amaya placed her hands down by the sides of Janai's body and leaned to claim her lips. "What I'm about to do to you is much less civil," she said, and Janai laughed when Amaya kissed her neck, wrapping her hands around her back.

Amaya laid on her back then, motioned Janai to come closer, and tapped her lips. Janai stared at her for a moment before the realization struck her. The position wasn't common for them, but it was the only way of ensuring her beautiful crown wouldn't be crushed.

She inched closer, planting her knees on both sides of Amaya's head, hovering above her. Amaya, ignoring her attempts not to smolder her face, yanked her down by the hips, and Janai's surprised gasp changed into a soft moan when she met Amaya's mouth.

She should have expected Amaya wouldn't carry on with teasing her more than necessary. Her hands adjusted in a firm grip on her waist and she opened her mouth further, tilting her head to take more of Janai. Janai let her eyes closed, and felt the tension being relieved from her shoulders as Amaya worked with her careful strokes.

Needing to hold onto anything, she put her hand against the thick headboard, lowering her head. She hadn't realized how aroused she had become while eating Amaya out, and the wet sounds emerging from below her traveled to her ears sooner than she expected. Moan after moan, she found it more challenging to keep her eyes open, and whenever she tried to lift her hips, Amaya pulled her back down.

She didn't even notice Amaya's hand on her stomach until she glanced down. When they had first begun to share each other's beds, Amaya told her she might put a hand on her stomach or chest to feel her reactions better, and Janai was happy to oblige.

Amaya moved her tongue along her folds, igniting the spark growing deep within her. She took her hand, bringing it to her breast, and Amaya started to knit it on her own when Janai fisted the sheet.

Janai let out a choked groan as Amaya spread her hand, fingers digging into her skin. She pushed against the headboard harder, enough to make it rock against the wall, and Amaya took her nipple between her thumb and first finger. She must have felt how Janai's lowered chin brushed against her fingers, because she brought them to her lips, and Janai opened her mouth.

A whimper rose up her throat, cut off by Amaya's thumb inside of her mouth. Janai sucked on it, her attention swirling between Amaya greedily licking her and biting Amaya's finger. She moaned then, and Amaya took the opportunity to pull her hand away and add some moisture to Janai's hardened nipple as she held her breast again.

"Ah, Amaya- yes, yes," she found her words at last, so heated and desperate. Without meaning to, she began to bounce against Amaya's lips, grinding back and forth, trying to give herself the release she craved so much.

The mixture of Amaya sucking so relentlessly on her and her hand still on her breast had Janai lost. She reached down to write a trembling half circle on Amaya's arm, indicating that she was close, and felt Amaya shifting to close her lips around her sensitive spot.

"Amaya!" She yelled out and gave two heartily moans as she raised her other hand to slam against the headboard. She pursed her lips, drops of sweat rolling down her forehead, pasting her hair to the sides of her face. The crown remained on her head. "Ah, fuck, Amaya!" She threw her head back, feeling that burning sensation at her abdomen, just waiting to explode. The world was filled with the sounds of her groans and the banging of the headboard. She wished she could stroke Amaya's arm, signing her. "I'm coming, I'm-"

Her words were cut off when Amaya flickered her tongue one last time and sent her over the edge. Janai's senses were reduced to her frantic panting, the blood rushing to her ears, and the shattering mess the orgasm turned her into. Every ounce of air was stolen from her lungs as she came, clenching her thighs so hard she feared for her wife, shaking breaths that were as good as sobs while the pleasure overtook her.

Her hands fell from the headboard as she tried to regain her breathing, her body so weak and numb she lost control over it, so it was Amaya who freed herself from under her after a moment. Janai blinked her eyes open, her whole body burning as if fire coursed through her veins, and felt herself dripping on the bed.

Amaya came to kneel by her side, her face a perfect mirror of Janai's before they began, a shimmering layer decorating her mouth, reaching her throat. She didn't bother to wipe it with a cloth, and used the back of her hand instead. "Are you alright?" She asked.

Janai nodded, half sober. "I kept it on," she signed with heavy fingers, a tired smile on her face. Before Amaya could respond, she leaned against her, burying her nose in the slope of her shoulder.

Amaya grinned, stroking Janai's hair with her cheek, the delicate petals against her skin. "My beautiful queen," she signed, though Janai couldn't see it, and lowered them both to the mattress.

They lied together, the blanket pushed to the foot of the bed, almost falling off the edge. Amaya's back was against the mattress as Janai rested on her stomach, her head on Amaya's shoulder. With the back of Janai's head closer to her, Amaya picked up the crown gently and set it further on her crimson locks, and chuckled when it was held dangling off Janai's horns like some holiday decoration. She caressed Janai with the back of her hand, drifting from her hair to the end of her pointed ear, the soft skin behind it as she traced the line of her neck, and finally brushed her back with her fingertips. Janai was warm on top of her, as was Amaya, her body slumped and devoid of stress from the orgasm that was coaxed out of her. Her bruises, that would take at least a week to heal, didn't hurt at all.

Selfishly, she wished Janai hasn't fallen asleep. She had longed for the tournament to come to an end so they could spend more time together, and alone. A Queen Consort she was, and sat by Janai's side at all times, but she could not be herself with all the royal Elves watching them. She knew it well from Sarai, and Janai had warned her too. There was an image to maintain.

Much to her luck, Janai turned her head over, flashing her with the peaceful image of her beautiful face, fluttering eyelids and radiating golden marks. Her eyes shined like embers in the strong daylight and Amaya watched her, waiting for her to speak, or say nothing at all.

Instead, Janai moaned quietly, her neck arching in a tender ripple. Amaya felt her legs shifting and glanced down to find that Janai had her legs settled with her knee between them, so her smallest movement made her grind against Amaya.

A thin smile decorated her face. She knew well Janai wasn't to be satisfied with only outer simulation. Her knee was already damp where Janai was against her, and Amaya raised it further, earning another whine from Janai that rumbled from her throat.

Janai lifted herself from Amaya's shoulder, trying to achieve more friction, and Amaya took the chance to gently turn her over, and sneak a hand across her back.

She found that Janai was so soothed from her first orgasm she could barely maintain her eyes opened. Her cheeks were a wonderful hue of bright pink, and her body stretched so far, lengthy and slumped, that Amaya feared she would collapse on the pillow if it wasn't for her arm supporting her.

As beautiful as Janai's face was, Amaya was drawn to her spread legs: one on the bed, angeled so her knee was close to Amaya, the other laid forward, and between her legs her wetness shimmered in the light from Amaya's efforts.

Janai was already aroused and teased enough, so Amaya drifted her fingers down her stomach, and cupped her entirely. A quiet moan escaped from her at the touch, and Amaya gaped as well from how soaked she was. Her middle finger, at the center, dipped without her intention, and Amaya was at once engulfed with Janai's warmth.

Perhaps she couldn't help but worn Janai out a little bit. She moved her palm in a slow circle, earning a shaking moan from Janai, and a tremble of her hips. Her fingers collected the wetness so greatly pooled there, and Janai yelled out when Amaya grazed her bud with full intention as she went up.

Amaya watched the slickness being illuminated in the light, clear and liquefied. Her attention was turned when Janai grabbed her arm, and Amaya kissed the alluring line of her neck, plating kisses and tracing marks she left there with a tongue.

There was a vibration against her mouth, and Amaya raised her head to see Janai looking at her. "Amaya, please," she breathed, her eyes so pleading, and Amaya couldn't deny her wife of anything.

She sank into her warmth and bit her lips at the feeling of how soaked Janai was, to the point of no friction. Her fingers didn't require much guidance as they dipped on their own, and Amaya's lips parted as Janai took her to the knuckles, burying her fingers completely.

Janai yelled out, her shoulders tensing as her hand on Amaya's arm fell. She felt her walls being stretched to accept Amaya, a tingling, burning sensation, and her eyes were shut once again. Her elbows scraped the mattress as she let her head tilt back, and what remained of the world was only Amaya's fingers inside of her.

Amaya must have felt the shiver that went through her, because she tightened her hold around her shoulders, her arm a welcomed weight keeping her in place. Her fingers kept their pace driving in and out of her, making sounds Janai could only describe as wet.

#i am so embarrased please don't look at me #elinor.txt

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swtorpadawan · 4 years

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Breaking Even

“Kriffing Nar Shaddaa.”

Captain Errul Marsh grumbled under his breath as his light freighter, the Devil’s Horn, finally broke orbit from the infamous Smuggler’s Moon. The Zabrak merchant captain – which, sure, made him a smuggler if you wanted to be crude about it – pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. It was getting harder and harder to make even a (moderately) honest living in his line of work, especially where it concerned the Hutts.

But that was the galaxy for you. With war brewing between the Republic and the Empire everyone was quickly picking sides and carving out their territory. The true independents were getting squeezed out or just dying off.

Errul might have done business with the Republic. He might even have appreciated the Republic when they weren’t trying to arrest him over one of their silly ‘law’ things.

But Errul Marsh was, above all, a true independent. He owned his own freighter outright and incredibly he was debt free, even if he was just keeping his head just above water. He’d die with his ship before he gave any of that up.

It was an existence that had its price. He hadn’t seen or even heard from a family member in decades. Friends (the kind who hadn’t tried to stab him in the back, anyway) had been few and far between. Crew and companions aboard his ship had proved fleeting, signing on with him and staying for a time but each eventually leaving when they finally found something better for themselves. Lovers, likewise, came and went. Usually amicably and with no hard feelings, but sometimes only when they realized that the ace smuggler would never be tied down to anything, not even by love.

He didn’t begrudge any of them – family, friends, lovers, all – anything. Everyone in the galaxy was chasing after something and they were welcome to chase it. Many of his old associates – the ones he’d stayed in touch with, anyway – had done well for themselves. Two of his erstwhile proteges were now captaining their own cargo ships. Others were running cantinas or small shipping companies. One had ultimately made a name for herself as a Mandalorian bounty hunter, of all things. Indeed, there were worse legacies a man could leave behind.

Still, as the Zabrak had inevitably advanced deeper into middle age, he recognized that his had become mostly a solitary existence. And he was comfortable with that, but still, every now and then…

Ah, well. Life was too short for regrets.

Regardless, loner or not, he still had to make a living. Paying off those Cartel ‘customs agents’ at the spaceport had cut deeply into his profits on this trip. In fact, after his projected expenses for docking at Carrick Station, what with refueling and the Republic’s precious ‘docking fees’ for non-Republic personnel, he’d barely break even after delivering his cargo of adrenals.

Errul exhaled again. He wasn’t that old for a Zabrak, but he was for an independent smuggler. This life would be the death of him.

Force help him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The ship wouldn’t be ready to jump to hyperspace for about half an hour, and it wouldn’t reach Carrick for a couple of days yet. Still, there was no reason to prolong anything that needed doing.

Errul rose from his seat, feeling his back ache in protest. He’d been in hundreds (thousands?) of firefights throughout his life, and he could still beat any young up-and-comers on the draw if it came down to it. But the price being paid by his aging body didn’t make it any easier.

Silently telling his back to stow it, the old smuggler made his way to the cargo hold. The room was stocked with pallets full of stim-packs and combat adrenals, and his ‘arrangement’ with the Republic meant that this shipment was bound for their military. With fighting breaking out in so many theaters, the ‘Pubs couldn’t be too choosy these days about from whom they received their supplies.

Errul surveyed the stacks. It was all in order. The Cartel agents had threatened to delay his departure as they ‘processed’ the outgoing cargo and verified the contents. Errul knew that game, and knew how to haggle them down on the inevitable bribe he offered them. The delay would have cost him with the Republic, and he certainly couldn’t let those agents spend too much time in his cargo hold, anyway.

“Barely breaking even.” The Zabrak sighed again as he stomped his foot three times on the floor panel to the right between the pallets.

“You can come out now.” Errul called out to the empty room. “It’s safe.”

It took several seconds, but finally, tentatively, the floor panel slid open, revealing the secret smuggling compartment he had installed years before.

Huddled within, looking up at him with a frightened expression, was a young Twi’lek woman.

She’s still rattled. He reminded himself. He’d have to play this carefully. Very slowly, making no sudden movements, he reached down, offering her his hand.

“It’s safe.” He repeated softly. “Nar Shaddaa is already behind us.”

The woman – the girl he should say – slowly reached up and took his hand. He helped her out of the hold, and she looked around anxiously.

Errul regarded her with care. Looking at her now in the normal lighting of his ship’s cargo hold, she was clearly even younger than he’d originally thought, having met her in the darkened chambers of Donje the Hutt’s extravagant sanctum. She was still wearing the yellow jumpsuit he had given her earlier – it was at least two sizes too large for her, but it had been all he had lying around that she could wear. It was certainly more appropriate than the skimpy ‘slave girl’ outfit she was still wearing beneath it that left nothing to the imagination. (There was no way he was going to have her running around his ship dressed like that, thank you very much.) Her face and lekku were adorned with elaborate markings which Errul judged to be natural Twi’lek birthmarks and not artificial tattoos. She was quite beautiful, with a painfully feminine figure and lovely blue eyes almost matching the shade of her skin. But then, physical attractiveness tended to be a much sought-after trait of Twi’leks working for Hutts.

Certainly, with the female Twi’leks. Errul reflected somberly. Rescuing her from that disgusting Hutt on Nar Shaddaa, ferreting her to the spaceport undetected and smuggling her off-world had pressed even his considerable talents. He didn’t doubt for one moment that both of their lives would get very complicated if the Hutt ever found out what he’d done.

“Donje cannot reach me?” she swallowed, finally looking up at Errul, hopefully. Her hands had slid from Errul’s hand to his arm.

The Zabrak shook his head for emphasis.

“No, that giant slug can’t reach you here. In a while, we’ll be in hyperspace. After that, you’ll be out of Hutt space entirely, and you’ll be as free as a bird.”

The girl blinked up at him with her blue eyes, still gripping his arm for comfort.

“I…. thank you, master.”

Errul shook his head vigorously again. He had to put the kibosh on that idea right away.

“I’m not your master, kid.” He insisted. “Call me ‘Captain’. Or Errul, if you like. You don’t have a master anymore.” Errul tried to give her a comforting look. “That’s what being ‘free’ means.”

The smuggler let that sit with her for a moment. He figured she’d probably been born into slavery… or maybe she’d been taken so young that she didn’t remember anything else. The Twi’lek looked down at the floor, and for a moment, Errul was worried he’d lost her entirely. But after a long moment, she looked back up at him with a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Free.” She whispered, like it was all a dream to her.

Errul grinned. “Free.” He repeated, for emphasis. The Zabrak tilted his head. “What’s your name, kid?”

The Twi’lek swallowed, nervously. Probably she’d been forbidden to use her real name in public. Forced renaming was a common enough practice among Hutt pleasure slaves.

“Rhi’kih.”

Errul then gave her his most charming smile. It was a look that had melted the hearts of hundreds of women over the years. (And, Errul reflected, a handful of men, as well.)

“Are you hungry, Rhi’kih?”

“I…” the Twi’lek looked up at him, uncertain, as she regarded his expression. Finally, her features softened and she swallowed again.

“Yes, I am.”

**********************************

The galley wasn’t much to look at. To be honest, with the Devil’s Horn having only one permanent resident who wasn’t a droid – that being Errul himself – it didn’t really need to be anything special.

Yet another benefit of bachelorhood. Errul reflected. Unlike some of his contemporaries, he disliked over-decoration, preferring the utilitarian to any ostentatious aesthetic.

Nevertheless, he had always tried to keep it fairly well-stocked and in good order for when he did have company, and with the help of his Seetoo droid, it was kept clean as well. At this moment, there were exactly two frozen bantha steaks left, and Errul decided now was as good a time as any to break them out of the freezer and grill them up.

The girl - Rhi’kih, he had to remember – had sat down at the small table only at Errul’s prodding. She was still very skittish, taking everything in with trepidation. He couldn’t blame her, given where she’d been living.

Finally finished preparing the food, he served the steaks up on a pair of plates, along with glasses of blue milk for each of them.

“Here. Eat up.” Errul smiled, taking his own seat after distributing utensils.

The Zabrak took up his knife and fork and then tasted the succulent meat, closing his eyes in pleasure. Out of all the skills he’d picked up over the years, learning how to cook – properly, and not like the bachelor he was – easily ranked in the top three in having improved his personal quality of life, going along with how to pilot a ship and how to talk your way out of a tight spot.

(Shooting a blaster? Oh, don’t be silly. He was born knowing how to do that.)

Opening his eyes again, he noticed that Rhi’kih was merely poking the steak with her fork, clearly troubled over something.

“Something wrong?” he asked, concerned. “Its not undercooked for you, is it?”

“Uhm. No.” She looked down embarrassed. “My… my master never let me use knives. No one taught me.”

Errul cringed inwardly. There were a hundred plus one evils resulting from slavery. One of the most underrated was the lack of basic life skills many oppressed people suffered from even after finding their freedom. It could keep them on the fringes of society forever, and perhaps, more likely to end up in the desperate circumstances that had seen them become slaves in the first place. Neither the Republic government nor anyone else seemed equipped to help them acclimate.

“Here.” Errul got up and came around the table. Very gently, he took her by the wrist and helped her grasp the knife. She let him, having apparently grown comfortable with him by now.

“Hold it like this. Good. Now the fork like that – yes. Good. Now cut…. Perfect.”

It took about a minute. But Errul was finally satisfied the Twi’lek had learned how to cut her own food adequately.

“It’ll get more natural with time. Trust me.” He reassured her, observing her progress as he took his seat back.

Rhi’khi finally tasted her steak. Her eyes lit up, and he couldn’t help but think of it as a sign of life.

“Good?” he asked with a grin.

“I…. yes!” she gasped.

Errul was rewarded with a lovely smile from the Twi’lek. It was the first time he’d seen her smile genuinely since meeting her. He’d seen the conditions under which slaves were kept on Nar Shaddaa, and what sustenance they were given. Occasionally, pleasure slaves like Rhi’khi would be fed rich food or wine from the plates and goblets of their masters, almost as if they were pets. The rest of the time they tended to be served an unappetizing gruel back in their pens. Neither option was particularly healthy in Errul’s estimation.

A reasonable nutritional diet – including bantha steaks – was another thing she’d have to adjust to.

As it turned out, Rhi’khi was famished. Her table manners needed some work, but she ate her bantha steak and drank her blue milk with gusto. Errul took it as a positive sign; she’d have to learn to pace herself, but that could come later.

Errul was almost done with his steak when he glanced up, realizing that the girl was eyeing him tentatively as if chewing something over.

He put aside his utensils.

“What is it now?” he asked.

The Twi’lek swallowed, then reached out, laying her hand on his.

“I owe you everything for freeing me… Captain.” Rhi’khi smiled up at him, coyly. It was the same smile she’d worn while dancing for Donje’s visitors back on Nar Shaddaa. Noting her brief pause, Errul suspected that she had had to stop herself from calling him ‘master’ again. “I am… very grateful.” Her fingers gently entangled themselves with his, her thumb brushing against his palm.

Errul felt a sudden but familiar warmth in his belly and down to his loins. This beautiful young woman – with her lovely figure, pretty blue eyes and coy smile – was offering him comfort. Even at Errul’s age, the urges still came, and he certainly couldn’t deny the Twi’lek’s sex appeal.

It was the Zabrak’s turn to swallow, as he looked up into Rhi’khi’s eyes.

Errul Marsh prided himself on his ability to read people. During negotiations. During games at the Pazzak table. During a tense stand-off with guns drawn. And the fact that he was still alive after all this time was a sign that he was good at it. It had always been a talent, but he’d refined it over the years with invaluable experience.

So it was that he noticed things. In particular, the slight tension around the girl’s otherwise enticing eyes.

No.

This was not a young woman who was genuinely smitten or enchanted by him. (Galaxy knows Errul knew what that looked like, even if it had been awhile.) No. This was a girl who was, even now, still worried that he would sell her off to the next gangster he ran into or that he’d otherwise abandon her to some unknown fate the moment she became inconvenient.

In her mind, this was about taking control of the situation in the only way she knew how. Rhi’khi was desperately trying to offer him something to ensure he would protect and look after her, this was only coin she could possibly offer him. It bothered him that she’d been conditioned to think that her sex appeal was all she could ever offer to the galaxy. Errul added that to the growing list of consequences of her enslavement. The fear of going back to Nar Shaddaa or the fear of the unknown would lead her to continue living the life she had been living, even after she had just risked everything to escape that very life.

After all, it was all she knew.

That wasn’t what bothered him the most, though.

No, what bothered him the most was knowing – knowing – that not so many years ago, Errul would have taken her up on the offer in a heartbeat. By now, his lips would have been on hers, she’d have been propped up on the table and soon the clothes would have gone flying. (And few of Errul’s lovers had ever complained about his skills in the bedchamber.) Oh, he’d have shown her a great time; he’d have taken her on a trade run or two to some exotic planets and shown her sights few beings could even imagine. Beautiful beaches, majestic mountains, cities that were clean and comfortable in stark contrast to the filth and grit she’d seen on Nar Shaddaa.

He’d have let it last a week. Or maybe – maybe – as long as a month. (He’d only gone as long as a month with a woman a couple of times. It was better that way.) Certainly no longer than that. Then he’d have found something for the young Twi’lek, letting her down gently and making sure she had something to get her started on the rest of her life.

After all, he’d have thought to himself, what she was offering him had been offered freely and was therefore his to take.

That was one of the lies people told themselves. But with age had come wisdom, and Errul liked to think he had given up lying to himself a long time ago.

“How old are you, kid?”

The words came from his lips abruptly. Rhi’khi looked confused for a moment, then worried, as if she thought she had done something wrong, and might be punished for it. She withdrew her hand.

“I…. nineteen, I think.” She said with uncertainty.

Nineteen. Shavit. He was more than twenty years her senior. Force. He’d lived too blasted long.

“Hold on a second, okay?” he offered.

Errul rose from his seat and walked to the far corner of the galley, right next to the washer. He opened the small cabinet above, being careful to block Rhi’khi’s vision of what he was doing. (He didn’t have any reason to distrust the Twi’lek, but he hadn’t survived this long by being careless.) He removed the panel at the back of the cabinet, revealing a hidden biometric safe box. The Zabrak pressed his hand to bio-scanner, then entered a code into the keypad. The safe popped open.

There were a number of trinkets located within, some appearing to be mundane while others would have caught the eye of any professional treasure hunter. Errul ignored the rest and took the one object he had sought. Then he closed the safe, putting the fake panel back in place.

Errul turned back to Rhi’khi, setting the item down on the table. It was a small metallic cube, with ornate engravings etched on all six sides.

“Don’t worry. It won’t hurt you. Promise.” He gave her a soft smile. “Go ahead and touch it.”

Rhi’khi tentatively reached out and lightly brushed the foreign object with her fingertips.

After about a second, the cube suddenly lit up with the engravings emanating a blue light. A small holoprojection then materialized above it, revealing a Cathar woman wearing long robes.

“I am Master Juhani of the Jedi Order.” The projection spoke in an accent that was provincial, but the voice was clear and nevertheless confident. “And these are my teachings.”

Rhi’khi cried out in alarm, withdrawing her hand from the cube. All on its own, the object went flying off the table and through the air, ricocheting off the ship’s bulkhead before coming to a rest on the floor. The Twi’lek, plainly rattled, pulled her knees up to her chest, staring down at it in fear.

Errul just chuckled nonchalantly.

“Sorry about that. I had to be sure, and this saved me a lot of time.” The smuggler reached down and picked up the cube, setting it back on the table. It was undamaged from Rhi’khi’s inadvertent outburst, which he took a relief in. Errul knew it was nearly three hundred years old. “Like I said, this won’t harm you.” He regarded her with a satisfied expression, having been proven right. “I figured as much about you, when I saw you talk that Gamorrean out of ‘enjoying’ the company of your Nautolan friend back at Donje’s club.”

“What… what was that?” Rhi’khi asked nervously, still staring at the cube.

“This? This is a Jedi Holocron.” Errul tapped it, nonchalantly. “I’ve been hanging onto it for a while, mostly for occasions like this.”

The Twi’lek swallowed, starting to regain her composure.

“I don’t understand.”

“Hmmm.” Errul regarded her, debating how to continue. “Have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

“I… yes.” Rhi’khi stammered. “My master… Donje, I mean… sometimes ranted about them. He called them ‘meddlesome Republic fools’. And he said that they fought the Sith.” She paused. “I think he was a little frightened of them.”

The Zabrak just nodded.

“Not without cause. Jedi and Hutts don’t really see eye to eye on much.” Errul sat down across from her, stretching his arms. “Jedi are… well, peace-keepers, you might say. When things are going alright for the Republic, they’re like diplomats. They go around resolving conflicts and helping to uphold the law. They’re pretty… noble, I guess. They’ve helped a lot of people when no one else could. Not as many as you’d hope, but a lot.” He chewed that over. “Of course, these days, they’ve been at war with the Sith Empire, even when they’ve had that sham of a peace treaty. So it’s been tough going these last few decades. They’ve got a lot of rules they have to follow, and they can be very pretentious. These days, they have to defend the citizens of the galaxy, uphold their own lofty principles and beat the Sith all at the same time. No one is going to succeed at that. But to their credit, they keep trying.”

“Having said that…” he continued. “I can honestly say that they do the best they can in a crazy galaxy.” Errul paused at a bygone memory, his voice taking a more conciliatory tone, then looked the Twi’lek directly in the eye.

“You’re Force-sensitive, kid.”

Rhi’khi just blinked.

“The… Force?” she asked in confusion.

“Yeah.” The old smuggler settled into his seat. “It’s like this… invisible energy field created by all living things. It binds the galaxy together, or so the Jedi say. And some special people – like the Jedi and the Sith – can manipulate it; it gives them power.”

“You have that power. You’ve been able to talk people out of doing things before, haven’t you? Maybe not Donje or other Hutts, but others, right?”

Rhi’khi nodded nervously.

“Right. Basically, Rhi’khi, it means you have the chance to become a Jedi.” He paused and looked up at the ceiling. “Or a Sith.” He added dourly. “If you like, I can introduce you to someone on Carrick Station, and, if you decide it’s what you want, they’ll test you to confirm what I just told you. The Jedi usually recruit kids young, but they’re less discerning these days. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I’m confident they’ll take you in and teach you how to become a Jedi.”

Errul paused here for effect.

“But I won’t do that if that’s not what you want.”

The Twi’lek stared down at the table.

“I don’t know what I want.” She whispered quietly.

The Zabrak nodded. No surprise, there. Rhi’khi had probably never been given the chance to think about what she wanted.

“Well, I think you’re in shock, kiddo. A lot of stuff is happening to you very quickly. I wish things were different, but here we are.” He gave her what he hoped was a comforting look. “Not everybody can quite get over the things life throws at them. And you’ve had way more thrown at you in the last few hours than a lot of people will experience in a lifetime.”

“But… if you can let go of it – what with growing up a slave, everything that’s happened to you, everything that was done to you – then maybe, just maybe, this is for you. And maybe, maybe, maybe someday you can help some other little girl from having to grow the way you did.”

The Zabrak considered what he had said. She deserved the truth. All of it.

“No promises, though.” He added firmly. “Even at their best, before the Empire came back, the Jedi couldn’t stop the Hutts from trading in slaves entirely. The best they could claim to accomplish was keeping the slugs in check. And like I’ve said, the Jedi aren’t at their strongest right now. It’s a dangerous life, what with the Empire hanging around.”

Rhi’khi seemed to chew that over for a long moment. Despite his reputation for being a fast-talker, Errul was actually quite comfortable with long silences, and gave her all the time she needed.

“What if I can’t do that?” she finally whispered.

He understood. Rhi’khi might seem meek and innocent at the moment, but Errul couldn’t imagine anyone going through her life without building up a sense of indignation, and scars on her soul that ran deep. If she were aware of that, then she was wiser than she let on.

“If the anger and resentment are too much, well, odds are you’ll become a slave again. Except not a slave to another Hutt, but a slave to your own anger. And to your past. I’ve seen it happen with others who’ve been through the kinds of things you have, even the ones who weren’t Force sensitive. They just… can’t be free of it. They can’t be free of what they’ve gone through. Even with otherwise good people, it eats away at them, over time, and it never ends well.”

The Zabrak looked away, not wanting the Twi’lek to see the look on his face just now. He was speaking from experience, but that experience wasn’t something he was ready to share.

“And then a lot of them wind up doing to others what was done to them.” Errul continued, speaking from experience. “They all have justifications, of course. Little lies they tell themselves. ‘Oh, the galaxy owes me this’ or ‘these people deserve what I’m doing to them because their ancestors killed my ancestors’. It’s all a load of druk.”

“People hurt other people because they can’t let go.”

Trusting himself now, Errul took a breath and turned back at Rhi’khi, giving her a hard look in the eye. She was still watching him closely.

“The ones who do that who are Force-sensitive? We call those Sith.”

The girl shivered again, wrapping her arms around herself.

His expression softened at the sight. He’d given her the ice bucket of water to the face. The least he could do was offer her a towel.

“But… if neither of those choices appeal to you, the guy who runs the cantina on Carrick Station owes me a favor. He’s a tough boss, and the pay isn’t that much, but he treats his waitresses right. He doesn’t put up with any flyboys like me messing with them, y’know? I could set you up. You could work for him for a while, just serving drinks and finding your feet, until you found something better.”

“As for this ‘Force’ business… well, maybe it will let you just live your life.“

“I promise I’m not going to make you choose anything. I’m just telling you what I can do to help you, since you look like you need it.”

Rhi’khi was looking up at him again. She probably didn’t completely understand everything he had said, but she seemed comforted by his words nonetheless. Maybe she liked having a third option, or maybe she just liked listening to his voice. That didn’t really matter right now.

“Well. I’ve just dropped a barrel of Hutt manure on you, kid. I’m sorry to do it like this, but I find it’s for the best in the long run.”

Errul polished off the last of his blue milk, then cleared the table. He put everything away in the washer, set the machine to run, then turned to her again.

“I don’t pretend to know what’s best for you. But I’ll give you as much time as I can to think all this over.”

He moved to stand, only for Rhi’khi to reach for his hand again.

“Captain, wait.” She suddenly interrupted.

Errul noted she didn’t need to stop and start again to remember to call him ‘Captain’ and not ‘Master’. He smiled at her progress and stopped, sitting back down.

“How… how do you know all of this?” she asked. “If you are just a ship captain, how do you know about the Force, and me, and… why do you have this?” she looked at the holocron again.

The Zabrak slowly grinned. She was a sharp one. Most people struggled to use their intelligence in tight spots; when you’re threatened and focused on simple survival, it was hard to think things through. He’d seen enough of that in the refugee camps growing up. But if you offer folks just a little security and comfort, a little breathing room, sometimes they could surprise you with what they could come up. Rhi’khi may have been under-educated and naïve, but he was suddenly confidant that whatever path she took, she’d figure things out, in time.

“Well, let’s just say that once upon a time, a Jedi helped me out of a jam.” He answered wistfully. “They took the time to tell me about a couple of things. As for why I have the holocron… well, it just sort of fell into my lap during a little misadventure on Dantooine this one time, years ago. It’s no good to me personally; I’m not Force-sensitive. But it’ll make a useful bargaining chip if I’m ever in a tight spot… or for confirming cases like yours.”

The Twi’lek took that in and released his hand, thinking.

A chime sounded throughout the ship, and Errul cocked his head.

“I’ve gotta get that. We’re ready to jump into hyperspace.”

With that, Errul stood up. Rhi’khi turned and stared down at the holocron, lost in thought. The Zabrak made for the door and then stopped, turning just enough to speak to her over his shoulder.

“Just remember: Whatever you choose, that’s your choice, and yours alone. That’s the hardest lesson of freedom. What’s happened to you up until now was someone else’s doing. What you do after this is yours.”

As Errul stepped out of the galley and prepared to head back to the cockpit, he hung back for a second out of view around the corner, watching the young Twi’lek mull over her future. He certainly didn’t envy her the choice before her, but he needed to make sure she was okay to be alone right now.

Slowly, tentatively, Rhi’kih reached for the holocron. As she touched it, the little holo-image – the ‘Gatekeeper’ – once again materialized.

“I am Master Juhani of the Jedi Order.” The Jedi started again. “And these are my teachings…”

Errul observed as Rhi’khi watched the projection, a look of fascination coming across her features. As she listened to the words of the long-dead Jedi, she seemed to Errul to become more relaxed, a small smile coming to her lips. A natural, organic smile – not the coy put-on she’d shown him earlier.

The Zabrak turned away. He didn’t pretend to know his own destiny any more than he knew Rhi’khi’s, but maybe both of them were about to take the next step on their respective paths.

Errul sighed again as he sat down in the chair of his cockpit, finally pulling the lever and triggering the jump into hyperspace. The stars outside the cockpit canopy shifted as the Horn made it’s jump, as the galaxy seemed to bend around the trusty old freighter. It was a welcome sight. No matter how many times he saw it, it always relaxed him.

This had already been too much philosophy for him in one day. He decided to blame it all on that Reactor Core he’d had at the cantina before he left Nar Shaddaa. That Rodian bartender was a good listener, but he always put too much spice liquor in his concoctions, and no doubt that was making Errul sentimental. It made him reflect back on what he’d thought to himself earlier.

If it wasn’t ‘this life’ that would be the death of him someday, then it would be sentimentality. He didn’t doubt it for one minute.

He thought back to Rhi’kih listening to that holocron in the galley.

“Yeah, barely breaking even.” He whispered with a smile. He shook his head. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Kriffing Nar Shaddaa.” He grumbled.

END

****************************************

Author’s Notes: I’ve never written about Errul before, but he’s my oldest ‘active’ O.C., as I developed him way back when I was on Free-to-Play. I eventually abandoned his game play, as in my mind, I don’t see him as an ‘Outlander’ type figure. But I keep him around. I saw some talk on Tumblr complaining about the player’s tendency to make our O.C.s on the young side. Errul, in my head-canon anyway, is a smuggler on the wrong side of forty.

People do change. They learn and they grow and they don’t stop doing that the moment they turn into an ‘adult’. (Which is totally a made-up word anyway.) True, the changes aren’t always for the better, but they do come. How you feel about things twenty years from now may be very different than how you feel about things now. That doesn’t make your opinions any less valid; it just means that they don’t define who you are.

Juhani is here just because I like Easter Eggs.

The character of Rhi’khi is inspired by a Twi’lek slave in Nar Shaddaa who was planning to escape with a smuggler in a bit of ambient dialogue within the actual game.

I remember reading an article about people who defected from North Korea, and the immense challenges they faced adapting to the modern world. Even given assistance by South Korea and other countries, most of them have no practical job skills and an education that was incomplete to say the least. It was very sobering.

Oh – and spoilers – Rhi’khi ‘grows up’ to be the Barsen'thor of the Jedi Order in this iteration. The first lesson there is you never know what the person you help might go on to do. The second lesson is don’t worry if you feel you’re getting a late start on pursuing your life goals. Honestly, it is not a race. It never was.

Good luck, and may the Force be with you.

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #oc: errul marsh #oc: rhi'khi #zabrak #twi'lek #smuggler #jedi counselor #juhani #kotor callback

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thedistantstorm · 4 years

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Project Compass 22

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This time: Ezra demands answers from Eli.

Next time: Maybe Thrawn was right.

The medbay was quiet when Ezra finally made his way in. There was a lingering fear of what he’d find, but he pushed it back. Nothing could have been worse than what he’d seen. Even aboard the bridge of the Chimaera, when the purgill’s tails held him in place, he’d never seemed truly helpless. And that, Ezra had decided, rivaled the Grysks he’d encountered in terms of terror. Beings like Thrawn just weren’t supposed to be like that.

Ezra quietly opened the door that separated the bay Thrawn had been assigned from the rest of the medical quarter. He wasn’t surprised to see Thrawn asleep, but he was surprised to see Un’hee. She moved fast.

The small Navigator had already pulled a chair up as close to the edge of the bed as she could so she could wrap her hands around the arm that was not being used to administer medications. She lifted her head when she heard him, her forehead bowed to touch the top of his hand.

“Hi,” He said softly to the girl.

“Hi,” She echoed back as Ezra inspected Thrawn. The slightest peek of bandages were visible, but they, like the sheets pulled over him, were a stark, unblemished white. “Did they tell you?”

“Yeah,” Ezra said in relief, grabbing a chair and moving it closer with an easy wave of his hand. He dropped into it on Thrawn’s other side. In Basic, he added, “Thank the Force.”

Un’hee dipped her head, almost seeming pensive, just for a moment. “Yeah,” She echoed. “I was really worried.”

Ezra didn’t reach out to touch Thrawn, not wanting to overstep his boundaries. They weren’t touchy people. He leaned back into the chair and crossed his arms, drawing the Force up and around them. Un’hee, he realized, felt weird. Electric. He’d never felt her like this before. Maybe it was a lingering panic? “Are you okay?” He asked her, tilting his head. “I know that was really scary,” He added.

She nodded slowly. “I am fine,” She said. “I was scared,” She admitted. “I still am. I don’t want anything like this to happen again. Not to anyone.”

“Me either,” Ezra agreed. “I’m going to keep an eye on him. This never should have happened,” He sighed. “I shouldn’t have turned my back on him. I never sensed his ill-intent toward Thrawn, not even at the end when he grabbed me.”

“Chiss are difficult to sense, even to each other,” Un’hee whispered warily. “I felt like something was wrong, but I didn’t know what it was until it happened.”

“You saved him, though,” Ezra said. “If you hadn’t known how serious it was - what it was,” He revised, “They never would have made an antidote in time.”

The Chiss girl frowned, looking into Thrawn’s sleeping face. Unlike Ezra, whose face went slack and serene when he was unconscious, Thrawn retained that same sternness, his lips held in a serious line despite the rest of his face being smooth and impassive. “I’m just glad they did,” She said softly, evenly. She pressed her forehead back against Thrawn’s arm where it lay above the thin white sheet and blanket and remained silent for a long, long time.

That was fine. Ezra used the time to immerse himself in much-needed meditation. The Chiss’s deep-sleeping breaths were a balm for his anxiety, and an anchor to prevent him from slipping down into the Force too deeply. He refused to let his guard down. If Ar’alani was concerned, this wasn’t a drill. Thrawn - hell, both of them were probably still in danger. Ivant might have thought that an attack would be directed at him, but Ezra couldn’t help but feel like an attack on Thrawn was more of a show of their displeasure at the Chiss bringing him back after things with the Empire went wrong.

He exhaled in frustration, all but hearing his master’s knowing hum. Right, Ezra thought. Get back on track. Give it to the Force. There’s nothing he could do about that now. He was here in this moment, and so was Thrawn. It was up to Ezra to make sure nobody got another opportunity to do something like this, antidote or not.

“You need to sleep,” Vah’nya instructed him after a lengthy silence. She tucked her legs beneath her as she sat, having just exchanged his most recent mug of caf for a cup of calming wintermint tea, “Or, you need to get over yourself and go sit with him.”

Commenting on something else entirely, he began, “Where’d you-”

“The Admiral gave me a few sachets,” She admitted, then pressed, “She’s not stupid, you know. For now, all we can do is wait for the remainder of the chemicals to run their course.”

“I know,” Eli looked up at the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Admiral said that, too. I just,” He sighed. “It’s easier said than done.”

The Senior Navigator exhaled slowly. “Do you wish to speak about it?”

“Not really,” Eli admitted.

Vah’nya hummed, rubbing at a scratch in the well-worn mugs she’d managed to get from the Admiral’s office. She didn’t look up at him right away when she spoke. “Your officers said you didn’t panic. That is a big feat,” She finished, gracing him with a smile. It was a bigger distraction than the more obvious topic, the actual big-ticket item: Un’hee and her newly manifested abilities.

He bit hard, and she saw through the mild irritation in his tone, “I couldn’t have panicked, Vah’nya. We’d have had bodies, plural, on our hands.”

She hummed. “Exactly. You are a good commander, Eli. Your actions-”

“A good commander would have seen what was going on before it happened,” The human spat. There was the temper. Vah’nya hid her smile with a pointed sip of tea. “Thrawn never would’ve let something like that happen to one of his officers.”

“Thrawn never would have known what that was,” Vah’nya reminded him. “Maybe he’d seen it in some report, but I doubt he would have known the amount that could kill someone instantly, like you and Un’hee did. It isn’t documented.” Her eyes were wide, their glow bright in the dim light of the empty ready room that would serve as his interim office. She leveled him with a serious gaze. “You didn’t hesitate.”

“No, but now I get the stigma of killing my second officer on the bridge of my own damn ship. As if being this,” He gestured to himself like he was some sort of freak, “Wasn’t enough.” Some of the more prejudiced Chiss definitely saw him that way, and he’d never quite gotten used to their open disdain.

“Well, if you were going to get heat for it,”Un’hee reminded him patiently, “Admiral Ar’alani would have already punished you herself. This is not your Empire. We are flawed, Eli, but I would hope we are better than the worst of what you’ve left behind.”

At that, the Captain leaned forward, finally picking up the mug of tea. “It is,” He began. “You are. I just-” He sighed again. “I don’t mean to be like this,” He said. “Not to you.”

“I know,” Vah’nya said. “Which is why you should go see him. You’ll never calm down until you do,” She reminded him kindly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I saw him already, Vah’nya. I watched Un’hee work. I know he’ll be alright.”

“So?” She smiled again, both soft and understanding. “I know for a fact there is a difference between sitting with someone you care about with and without the Admiral watching. Not that I believe she would judge you, but, some things are private.”

Eli nodded, looking down into his cooling tea, as if the murky green-blue-brown color of it would hold some answers for him. If anyone understood that, it was Vah’nya. Vah’nya who had sat with him for so many of those long nights during his recovery, mindful of the boundaries between friendship enhanced by suffering and polite concern when others were watching. Theirs was a bond forged by mutual pain, by memories remembered if only to prevent the same fate from befalling someone else, and a determination to live when everything else had failed.

“Wanna go for a walk?” He asked her when she’d finished her tea. He was trying to be light about it, so she played along like a true friend.

She inclined her head. “Of course, Eli.” When he rose, she followed, stopping only to place her hands on his shoulders in a show of support. “You are not alone,” She reminded him.

Eli covered her hands with his. “I know,” He said, squeezing. “Thank you, Vah’nya.”

Jerked from meditation by the sound of approaching footsteps, Ezra found himself meeting the gaze of a hesitant looking Captain Ivant. He rose, stiffening to attention. On the other side of Thrawn’s bed, Un’hee was asleep, curled in her chair, still halfway attempting to hold the unconscious Chiss’s hand. Somehow, Ezra knew if Thrawn were awake, he’d very much dislike the clinginess of it, but would probably bear the discomfort for the girl’s sake.

“Any changes?” Ivant asked.

“No,” Ezra said, sitting back down but not quite relaxing. “Any questioning you’ll need to do about what happened will have to wait.”

Eli frowned. “I’m not here to question him,” He assured. “I was just worried.”

“You weren’t worried when it happened,” Ezra accused quietly. “Convenient.”

The older human’s eyebrows rose. “What? What do you mean I wasn’t worried. Of course I was. He’s a part of my crew. He’s my responsibility.”

“Yeah, he is,” The Jedi agreed, careful to keep his voice low enough to prevent him from waking Un’hee. He seemed to consider something for a minute before finally motioning to the door. “I need to talk to you. Outside.”

Vah'nya appeared behind Ivant, her head tilted in a wordless question. Ivant shook his head once, decidedly. “Okay,” He said. “Let’s step outside.” To Vah’nya, he added, “Stay in here until we come back, okay?”

She confirmed she would, and Ivant led Ezra out of the medbay and into the nearest vacant service corridor. When it was clear they were alone, Ivant turned back to him expectantly. “What is it?” He asked, concerned.

“I guess I should apologize now, since you’re my superior officer-”

“Just say what’s on your mind,” Ivant waved away the Jedi’s attempt at formality.

Ezra evaluated him for a few seconds. “Well, why were you coming to see him? You knew he wasn’t going to be awake, so why now?”

A hint of discomfort echoed through Ivant’s tone, disguised as formality. “Is it alright if I worry about my subordinate, Jedi Bridger?”

“Yeah,” He began, “I mean, yes, sir.” He shrugged, then commented mildly, “I guess it’s like this is just… routine to you. Like it’s nothing that Thrawn almost died.”

Eli’s frown deepened. “It’s definitely not nothing, Ezra,” He relented. “But the situation with Thrawn is complicated, and not really your - or anyone else’s business.”

“Right.” Ezra said. “Well, all I’m saying is that you don’t get to pick when it’s convenient to care about someone. You either do, or you don’t.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Ivant refuted, meeting the steely gaze of his lone human counterpart, assessing how he appeared to be feeling.

“Right,” The Jedi muttered again. “Sure.”

“You’re pissed at me,” He said. “I get it. This happened on my ship, on my bridge. It’s my responsibility.” He considered adding that he was furious at himself as well, but it wasn’t the time. This wasn’t about him.

Ezra put both hands on his hips. His captain was absolutely right. “Of course I’m pissed, and yeah, this is on you!” That wasn’t completely fair, but with a target to direct his anger, Ezra couldn’t help himself. “How did this get under your nose without you knowing about it? He was your second officer!”

Ivant agreed, that was a fact. “He was. Commander Wes’lash’andi was a smart officer, and he would have gone far if not for what he’d done.” The Captain said, focusing only on the facts. Ezra was compassionate and strong. And more than anything, he was well and truly loyal to Thrawn, his entry point into this end of the Galaxy. He cared about helping the Ascendancy, but Eli knew it was deeper than that. Thrawn had been willing to abandon his principles to try and salvage a downright evil situation, for sake of what he believed to be the greater good of the galaxy. He’d lost his way, that was never a question. Still, he wasn’t irredeemable. Ezra’s being here proved that.

“And he almost killed Thrawn.”

“I was there, Bridger,” He replied immediately, an edge to his tone. “As for your question of how this happened, what do you think?”

“Well we can’t ask Commander Slasha,” Ezra’s eyes flashed.

“No, we can’t.” Then, in Basic, a language hardly any of the crew could understand, much less speak, Ivant continued. “He had Grysk poison, Ezra. We found more in his bunk. Not enough to kill everyone on board, but certainly enough to take out another fifty members of our crew. Do you have any idea how that much of something gets aboard a ship like the Compass?” He paused after asking, brows steep, eyes cold.

“I-”

Vanto spoke over whatever half-cocked answer Ezra was trying to formulate. “The answer is not alone. It would have had to have come through another ship. Another crew. Someone brought it to him.”

“What about when we were docked?”

“Doubtful. Copero is a military shipyard. Their protocols are too strict.”

Ezra considered. “Then via shuttle? We would have seen a Grysk ship.”

“It wouldn’t be a Grysk ship,” Eli said, resisting the urge to shake the young man by the shoulders, roughly. “Think.”

It didn’t take the Jedi long to put it together. “They - their client species,” He said softly. “One of them?”

“Correct.” Ivant crossed his arms. “Which one?”

“I don’t… anyone could meet him in the hangar with a non-descript ship.”

“We have surveillance in the hangar. Not anyone.”

“Well, the Chiss don’t just work with anyone,” Ezra sassed back, then recoiled, remembering he was speaking to his superior officer.

Eli didn’t comment on the tone, instead asking, “You understand now, Bridger?”

“Why would someone do this to their own people?” Ezra looked confused. Conflicted. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“There’s never just one.” Eli leaned against the wall. “Emperor Palpatine is willing to work with the Grysks to get Thrawn back. Both sides think they can work over the other to come out ahead.”

“And… you’re saying that whoever in the Ascendancy who is willing to work with the Grysks is thinking the same thing?”

The boy was smarter than he acted sometimes, Eli would give him that. He wondered absently if this was a bit how Thrawn thought of him in their academy days, when Eli himself had to be led point by point to a conclusion. He’d like to think he was a little more analytical, but he highly doubted it.

“Yes.”

“Do you think they can?””

To that, Eli frowned, his expression shifting from wary to stormy and dark. “No,” He said. “I don’t think so.”

“But you did. You and Vah’nya came out ahead.”

Unfortunately, Ezra didn’t miss Eli’s shudder. “Our escape from the Grysks, our ability to kill them at all was a miracle. Our survival even more so. If the Grysks are working with a faction or family within the Ascendancy, they will believe they have control, that they’re capable of the deception.”

“But you did,” He argued.

Eli stopped him there. “I didn’t. I supplied the data to find Thrawn. I gave them the formulas, the tools. I never gave myself enough access to key data, never let myself memorize it. So even if they ripped my mind to shreds,” He paused, something haunted in his eyes making Ezra swallow hard, “They probably wouldn’t have been able to find the Chimaera before Ar’alani got to it. It was just an added bonus that the Grysks were arrogant enough to think I was a mere hireling for the first bit. They won’t make that kind of mistake with actual Chiss. And certainly not with Chiss of any significant power.”

The Jedi toed a scuff on the floor with his boot, obviously trying to process that information, likely to inform Thrawn as soon as the other man was awake. “Ar’alani - er, Admiral Ar’alani asked me to keep an eye on Thrawn.”

“Good,” Eli said. “I figured you would have.” He motioned to the exit to the service hallway. “Can we go back and check on the Commander now?”

“I suppose.”

The look Eli received before the Jedi turned away from him was full of suspicion and defensiveness. Ezra might trust his judgement when it came to the Ascendancy and their enemies, but he clearly didn’t trust Eli personally. Eli sighed silently, rubbing at his temples as he followed along behind Ezra. It didn’t look like he would be able to visit Thrawn peacefully after all.

#thranto #mitth'raw'nuruodo #ezra bridger #ar'alani #eli vanto #un'hee #eli vanto/thrawn #sw fanfiction #my writing

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mayday1284 · 5 years

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That’s All I Need... Maya 10k WTF Writing Challenge

Hey, here ya go! I wrote a Steve x Reader insert of about 1,850 words.

Warnings- not really any, a nightmare but it isn’t described, and wayyy to much cooking!

tagging @prettyyoungtragedy cos she created the prompt and the challenge

Prompt- 5. It’s the middle of winter and you’re stuck in a log cabin with someone you hate, trouble ensues.

Enjoy!

Steve Rogers. A name that makes my skin crawl. America’s Golden Boy gets on my nerves, and if it weren’t for the fact that I need to be a functioning part of this team, I would be so far away from him.

So, you can imagine my delight when I was told we were going on a mission together, in the woods, in the middle of winter, with no one else. Tony Stark I will cut your-

The gentle sunlight moves behind the pine trees dancing in the wind. I’ve spent most of this long, painful, and awkward car ride staring out of the window. Steve’s hands tightly grip the steering wheel painting his knuckles with white.

“That can’t be comfortable, can it?” I shouldn’t have broken the silence; poor Steve looks like he’s gonna have a stroke. Can he even have a stroke?

“Well, don’t ask me, I barely noticed.” He chuckles between the words making the conversation seem less like we’re stuck in a pit with no way to get out. Bad analogy? Maybe, I’m too tired to really think anymore.

Stretching I speak, “How long till we get there? I’m ready to pass out.” Steve glances at the GPS, pondering the roads and the time.

“Shouldn’t be too long.” He glances at the sky before turning onto a dirt road.

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

The door creaks open and dust flies all around, swirling as it falls back to the wooden panels. I flick on the light switch as I cross my fingers that it doesn’t burn down. The hallway illuminates and I peer down to the kitchen. Success.

Steve marches past me, his shoulder blade clipping mine. Jeez how rude is this guy?

The kitchen is mostly empty, dishes and silverware neatly stacked in fives, the pantry filled with canned food and nonperishables, plus some things like flour and sugar. Hopefully I can cook with these things.

There’s two small bedrooms and a living area with a fireplace and a metal door with small windows looking to the outside world. Grey sheets and woolen blankets on each bed and one - count it, one - bathroom. Awesome, this should be fun.

We set out to bringing the bags in, all duffel bags, it’s the easiest way to pack and move. Steve sets his in the bedroom on the right, so I guess I’ll take what’s left. Get it, get… never mind.

Barely three words are spoken that night.

“I’m off, night.” Steve doesn’t waste time lingering in the doorway, walking off to presumably shower and get to bed, something I’ll be doing soon. But for now, tea.

I dust myself off as I stand moving to start my kettle. I’m smart, and bringing an electric kettle is a must for someone like me. Grabbing a mug, I plunk the teabag into it and wait for the water to boil. The sky changes into colors of lavender and baby blue as the sun lowers even further. I miss the woods when I’m in New York. I mean for Steve, it’s all he’s ever known - city, city, freezing ice, and more city.

Why am I thinking about Steve? This is me time, where the only trace that he’s here is the sound of running water. He better not take all the hot water, that jerk.

I quickly finish my tea and wait for a few minutes to make sure I have hot water. Maybe that’s not how it works, but it eases my mind quite a bit. The shower goes my fast, and before I know it, I’m cuddled under fleece and wool, half asleep. And yet my mind moves back to my housemate. Why does he bother me so much? I barely speak to him. Well one thing’s for sure. This is gonna be a long week.

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

The sound of birds wakes me up, funnily enough, Steve isn’t standing over my bed saying, ‘wake up its 4 AM’. Ok, maybe that is an exaggeration, but 5 AM is still too early, even in my book. Unlike the rest of the Avengers, I never received military training. I was a special person with some amazing powers to heal. At least, that’s how Fury put it.

I meander into the kitchen, throwing my hair into a ponytail. Time to make German pancakes.

------ Steve’s POV-----

I awake to the smell of sugar and flour being cooked. Y/N. Well someone’s up early. Pulling myself up I grunt, letting my shoulders catch up to me. The scent drags me into the kitchen as I’m taken aback by the sight of Y/N humming and dancing about the small kitchen, her hair a mess and clothes wrinkled. This wouldn’t be easy.

Since the day I met her, I’ve been crushing on Y/N L/N. And I have no way to explain it. After Peggy, I never thought I would love again, but she ran in and crushed my world. Problem is, I’m too awkward to do anything about it.

She glances up, noticing me for the first time, obviously shocked.

“How long have you been there, creep?” She giggles as the words leave her mouth.

“Not too long, long enough to see you scorching your… what are those?” I smirk, glancing down at the pan.

She glares, flipping the flat disk of flour, then turning back to me.

“For your information, they are called German Pancakes. My grandma used to make them all to time.” Y/N plates one and dusts powdered sugar on it.

Her arms balance two plates on them as she walks over to the small oak table in the corner. “Bon Appetit!” A smile moves across her face as she gestures to the table.

Smirking I sit down. “Finger food?” Confusion flashes before she remembers.

She grabs a fork and sets it down in front of me, clearly anxious to see what I think. I pick up the fork and cut a small bite before eating it. Her gaze remains on me the whole time, awaiting my response.

“Alright, I will admit that you make an amazing breakfast.” She pumps her fist in the air.

“Yes! I will take it.” Her gaze falls, and she sit next to me. “So, why do you never talk to me? Do you not like me?” If only you knew.

“No. I mean, yes. No, I- I mean, I don’t dislike you. Why do you avoid me?” I place the fork down next to the plate.

“Well, you make me mad. I never did anything wrong, yet you avoid me like the plague.” A sigh escapes her lips and she looks at the pancake.

‘’Alright then, let’s change that.”

“Ok, Capsicle- “

“Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Don’t interrupt me. I was about to say I’m willing to try.”

“That’s all I need, doll.”

----Y/N’s POV----

The sun sits low again as I wait for Steve to finish cooking, I’ve been banned from the kitchen till he’s done, something about it being a surprise.

The smell of potatoes, canned beef, and corn wafted throughout the small bungalow. Call my interest piqued.

“Dinner is served.” Steve enters holding two plates, a massive grin on his face.

“Finally, I thought I would starve,” I remarked.

I look down at one of the plates and instantly recognize it as Shepard’s Pie, something my daddy used to make when I was younger. Steve clearly could tell because he was rubbing his hands together in excitement.

“But, how do you know how to make this?”

“My mother made it for me because the ingredients were cheap, and we weren’t exactly millionaires.” An almost bitter expression coated his face quickly.

“Well…” I place my hand on his. “Thank you. And I’m gonna say we eat this masterpiece before it gets cold.” He smiles before going to get salt and forks.

“Oh Steve Rogers, what am I going to do about you?” I mutter under my breath. I would be lying if I said the man wasn’t attractive, but now that I was able to learn about his personality and past in a new light, I was trouble.

----

The dinner was divine, and I showered him with praise for it, all of which he deflected to his mum for teaching him to cook. We both cleaned the kitchen, belting Broadway songs the whole time. The night quickly settled down as both of us parted into our separate rooms for sleep.

However, mine was quickly interrupted as I heard voices in the night, they sound pained and troubled. Knowing there was only one other person in the house, I crawled out of bed and crossed the hall.

“Steve?” My voice came out in a harsh whisper but received no response.

The door creaked open and I looked to see Steve tossing and turning, mumbling unintelligible words. I settled next to the bed and hesitantly reach to his arm, rubbing up and down it.

His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, lifting me then flipping me on the bed, sitting over me.

“I mean, I know I’m attractive, but I never pegged you for that type.” I smile and ignore the pounding in my chest as I suddenly realized I was pinned underneath the 220 pound super solider who could snap me like a toothpick if he so pleased.

“Y/N,” My name was whispered in the dark and I realized he was crying. So much for the toothpick snapping.

My right hand slipped under and out of his grasp, reaching to hold his cheek. I tenderly smiled at him and watched the hero break his walls and fall down, quite literally. I slip him off me before holding his head in my lap, stroking his blond locks.

Words aren’t spoken for at least 30 minutes. He finally looks up at me and gives a weak smile.

“You don’t have to hurt on your own Steve, I’m here, so is the rest of the team.”

“Heh, guess I’m too used to being lonely.”

I give a play smack. “Well stop it.”

His eyes almost change, as does his demeanor.

“May I…” He licks his lips, searching for words. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes, Steve, I would like that very much.”

He sits and wraps his arms around my shoulders before connecting his lips to mine. His lips are chapped, but still soft. It’s gentle, as if testing the waters before you dive in. Arms locked together before his hands move to the small of my back. I gotta say, not bad for the time gap since his last kiss.

Soon we must pull away and his blue eyes stare deeply into mine. The room is silent, and he lets out a sigh, placing his forehead on mine.

“Guess I have to stop hating you now, huh?”

“I thought you already did, doll,”

“Hmm, well I’m warming up to you.”

A laugh escapes his lips, one not held back, to its fullest extent. I miss hearing that float through the tower. It seems more intimate in this small bedroom in a cabin in the middle of nowhere city.

Guess I must thank Stark for sticking us here. That bastard.

#Mayawtf #MayaWTFChallenge #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel #marvel x reader #angst #x reader #x you

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kitsune-translates · 6 years

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SCI 谜案集 [English Translation] Case 1: Number Killer

Number Killer 20 The Third Man

Both of them are equally startled.

Zhan Zhao widens his eyes in shock.

They grew up side by side with each other. So, even though Zhan Zhao dislikes close contact with others, he is comfortable with Bai Yutang's touch. It's just - - this is unlike any usual jokes or pranks. Bai Yutang seems dead serious this time. Zhan Zhao panics for no reason suddenly, but the man in front of him doesn’t allow room for his escape at all.

Bai Yutang is also shocked by his own action.

The moment he realised Zhan Zhao almost got kidnapped, his usually high-speed brain functions come to a complete halt. Once he was sure that Zhan Zhao was safe, he was so overwhelmed by anger and his body moved before his mind could stop himself - - even after his higher brain function kicks back in, he couldn't stop himself anymore.

Actually, Bai Yutang have known since a long time ago that he seems to have a desire to be close to Zhan Zhao. Their closeness comforts him. Sometimes he even feels that he is abnormal, these thoughts, growing slowly but surely inside him. Their overly intimate relationship causes Bai Yutang to avoid those feelings on purpose, ignoring them all these times. But those feelings get clearer and stronger with time.

One can never be truly prepared for certain things even if you thought you were fully mentally prepared.

They hear footsteps closing in, Zhan Zhao pushes Bai Yutang away forcefully.

Backing up, Bai Yutang sees Zhan Zhao leaning against the wall, staring at him in disbelief with widened eyes. He is blushing... Adorable.

"Cap!" The rest of the team sprints into the alley. They have just realised that Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang have gone missing and went on a search in panic. When they charge into the alley, they see that Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang are standing against opposing walls, and glaring at each other... Are they fighting again?

Feeling the bizarre atmosphere between the two of them, the rest of the team are hesitant to go near them.

Bai Yutang suddenly starts to laugh. Zhan Zhao in front of him starts to get redder and redder in the face. He turns and walks away, but after two steps he stops, tilting his head as if thinking about something. He then twirls back around sharply. Bai Yutang studies his actions curiously, eyes glimmers with hope.

Zhan Zhao walks up to him, stops and takes a deep breathe... And punches Bai Yutang on the nose.

"Ouch... Stupid cat... Ouch" Bai Yutang backs away covering his nose. That was really painful.

Zhan Zhao seems to have released some of his anger, he says aggressively, "White mouse, make fun of me again and I will kill you!" And marches off quickly. He was gone so quickly that no one sees the fluster and confusion on his face.

Bai Yutang gazes after Zhan Zhao’s hasty retreating figure and shakes his head with a wry smile – Cat, I’m not making fun of you, I adore you.

He rubs his bruising nose, and feels rather fortunate that cat is such a nerd, if not, that punch would probably have broken his nose.

“Cap. Are…are you alright?” Zhao Hu asks daringly.

Bai Yutang casts him a glance with arched eyebrow and smiles coolly, “Alright? How can I be alright, why would I be alright? Let me punch you on the nose and see if you are alright. Alright? Why wouldn’t I be alright? That cat’s punch is soft like a bun, so why wouldn’t I be alright? Who said I’m not fine? And why do you care about whether I am alright or not alright or you are not alright but I’m alright or maybe there’s something not right with you…” Bai Yutang breathes in deeply and snaps at his frozen team – “Let’s go!” and walks off.

Zhao Hu who is rooted to the ground turns around to ask the rest, “So is he alright or not alright?”

“…” Everyone gapes at Bai Yutang’s departing figure and shakes their head slowly.

Wang Chao remarks, “When did captain learn psychology from Dr Zhan?”

“…” Everyone continues to gape after Bai Yutang’s furthering figure and shakes their head. They reflect collectively, “Captain is a very unfathomable person…”

Bai Yutang scrolls back to the scene and sees that Zhan Zhao is sitting in the passenger seat of his silver Spyker C8, deep in thoughts. That silly cat.

“Xiao Bai!”

Turning around, he sees Lu Fang with Lu Zhen in his arms standing behind him.

“Thank you very much for just now!” Lu Fang says gratefully.

“I should be the one thanking him!” Bai Yutang pats Lu Zhen on the head, “This kid is going place when he grows up.”

Lu Zhen retrieves two packs of children’s milk from his bag and hands them to Bai Yutang, “For you, and the good-looking uncle.”

Bai Yutang accepts the packaged milk with a grin and pinches Lu Zhen’s chubby cheek. He says bye to Lu Fang and walks towards his car.

Seating down in his car, Bai Yutang hands the milk to Zhan Zhao who still has not came out of the daze.

“Kid’s milk?” Zhan Zhao looks at Bai Yutang in amazement.

“From Lu Zhen.”

“Oh… That kid is something.”

“Yes! He is going to do great things when he grows up.”

“…”

“Cat.”

“What?”

Bai Yutang starts his car, “From now on, don’t leave my side, not a single step, until we catch those psychos.”

Zhan Zhao starts to drink the milk and smiles, “Those? Not that?”

“Sneaky cat.” Bai Yutang steps on the gas pedal, “Do you hear, from now on, not a single step.”

….

“Okay.” Zhan Zhao continues to drink his milk, it’s pretty good, “I want the other pack as well.” He reaches out to grab it.

“Hey! Cat, no stealing! One each.”

“Stingy.”

“Greedy cat.”

….

By the time they got back to S.C.I. office, it is already noon. When Bai Yutang steps into his office, he sees Bai Jintang sitting on the sofa blankly. His eyes staring straight ahead, disorientation plain on his face.

Bai Yutang tracks his way back carefully and exits his office, while Bai Jintang stands up and walks out expressionlessly.

At the sight of this, Zhan Zhao bolts into his own office while yelling at the rest standing rooted to the ground, “Run! Don’t go near him!”

Knowing what the older Bai is capable of, everyone scatters immediately. But Bai Jintang just continue to head to the entrance expressionlessly.

“Cap? What…what is going on?” Zhao Hu asks weakly while hiding behind Bai Yutang.

“He…is grumpy when he just wakes up. Especially when he didn’t have enough sleep, he is capable of doing anything.”

Just as Bai Jintang is reaching the entrance, Gongsun steps in with a file, “You guys are back? How did the mission go?”

….

No one answers him, Gongsun looks up at Bai Jintang in front of him and asks in confusion, “What’s up with you…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Bai Jintang reaches out to trap Gongsun in an embrace, nuzzling his head against his shoulder. He then raises his head to kiss Gongsun hard on his cheek.

After which, Bai Jintang rubs his eyes sleepily and greets, “Morning.”

Everyone in S.C.I. gasps, Gongsun’s usually pale face has gone completely dark, he drops his file and reaches into his pocket for something.

Ma Han asks Bai Yutang shakily, “Cap, Is Gongsun…Is he gonna…stab your brother with his scalpel?”

As if answering Ma Han’s question, Gongsun retrieves a gleaming scalpel from his pocket…

“Separate them!” Bai Yutang commands, realising that the situation has gone out of hand. Everyone jumps up, Ma Han and Zhang Long grabs hold of Gongsun and pulls him out of the office.

“Calm down, Gongsun.”

“I’m gonna kill him!” Gongsun struggles while waving his scalpel, “Let go of me! I’m gonna kill him! With three thousand stabs! Not a single stab less!!!”

S.C.I. … is still in chaos…

Zhan Zhao keeps his distance, he strokes Luban in his arm and mumbles, “Don’t go over there. It’s too dangerous!”

Half an hour later, in the level 2 police cafeteria.

Bai Jintang touches the tear on his collar. The scalpel thrown by Gongsun slashed his collar, missing his neck artery by less than one centimeter, “Your job is pretty dangerous…” Bai Jintang comments, still feeling the lingering fright.

“Why did you have to go annoy Gongsun?” Bai Yutang pours him a cup of tea to calm his nerves.

Bai Jintang takes a sip and asks, “Why is that Gongsun so aggressive?”

….

Zhan Zhao gives Bai Yutang a look who nods in response, “Da Ge (1), I have some things I want to ask you.”

Bai Jintang looks at him, then looks over at Zhan Zhao, “What?”

“Erm… Does dad have any pals that he is particularly close to?”

“Pals?” Bai Jintang is confused, “I moved out ages ago, how would I know about any pals?”

“From twenty years ago.” Zhan Zhao adds.

“…” Bai Jintang looks at the two of them, startled, “Erm…Yes.”

“Da Ge?” Seeing the strange expression on Bai Jintang’s face, Bai Yutang feels something is off, “Is there something wrong?”

Taking another sip of his tea, Bai Jintang says lightly, “I can’t really remember. I think you guys should ask commissioner Bao instead.”

Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang exchanges a surprised look at Bai Jintang’s reaction.

“You can’t remember? Then do you know about Black and White? Were there anyone else other than commissioner Bao and our old man?” Bai Yutang presses on.

Bai Jintang sighs with a bitter smile, “All I know is that there was this guy, Zhao, he shot me here.” He points at his own head, “By the time I woke up again, it was one year later. And memories before I was thirteen were mostly gone.”

Bai Yutang and Zhan Zhao are dumbfounded. Now they seem to recall, when they were young, Bai Jintang did disappear for a whole year.

“Da…Da Ge…” Bai Yutang is at a loss of words, “You…I didn’t know….”

Bai Jintang grins, “It doesn’t matter, I don’t remember it anyways. Oh by the way, I brought a bottle of 1976 Alsace for Commissioner Bao. You guys can use that to bribe him, it should work wonders….”

But what Bai Yutang and Zhan Zhao didn’t expect when they went to see Bao Zheng with the wine awkwardly is that Bao Zheng cut them off before they could even utter a word, “Save it. I know what you two want to ask. Follow me, there’s someone you should see.”

Translator’s Footnote: 1) Da = big, Ge = brother. It just feels a bit weird to me to translate it into big bro haha, Also for future references, the word Da Ge can also be used to address someone of a higher position in like a gang.

#sci mianji #sci谜案集 #SCI 谜案集 #复健。。。居然翻译也会卡文

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littleredroseonthevalley · 5 years

Text

Marred

Summary: Riley reflects on the dark happenings of the last New Year’s party, as storms ravage the palace.

Rating: M - Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Mentions of murder and non-consensual sex. Reader discretion is highly advised.

Words: 1915

Notes: I do not know why I bother to make calls for action, as they are usually ignored, but here we go.

I had a rather... unpleasant experience this New Year’s night, and this is my way of dealing with it. Drop me a line if you want to talk about it, mine or your own.

Furthermore, this is dark. This is horribly dark. Read at your peril.

To mar [mahr]

Transitive Verb

Middle English merren, Old English merran; with Old Saxon merrian, Old High German merren, Old Norse merja, Gothic marzjan.

1. to damage or spoil to a certain extent; render less perfect, attractive, useful, etc.; impair or spoil;

2. to disfigure, deface, or scar.

It was late in the day, it was the New Years’ Eve. The night was chilly but it did not snow, in true Cordonian fashion. The celebration, as was tradition, was being held on the Beaumont Residence, and it was just rambunctious as expected.

Maxwell had brought moderately famous Pop singers from Greece and Kosovo to perform exclusively to the guests, and seemed to be running around, chasing the skirt of one of them, if not in his room with her.

Drake was lying, face down, in some couch around the house. He overindulged in alcohol and would not be a part of the countdown that year. Olivia and Hana were in the music room, playing the night away to their hearts’ content.

As for Liam, her husband, he was off with a few noblemen and selected guests, sharing cigars and brandy, discussing the Parliament’s agenda for the coming Spring.

It was rare for them to spend the New Year’s together, Riley conceded. Not only the events on the social season usually got in the way, and they would have January off, so the royals, especially the sovereign, usually dedicated the last days in December to making sure all was up and running while they rested secluded on a castle far away.

Having been systematically abandoned by her closest friends, Riley then spent the last moments before midnight, swaying around in the dance floor, holding a flute of house sparkling wine.

One could argue she had a little too much of it so far, but Bertrand was stingy as ever with invitations, and so it was unlikely anyone with ill intent to have made it inside the manor.

In her haze, she swung one side to the other, giggling as she twirled dizzily through the ample room.

With a lousy dance step, she tumbles with him.

The glass on the window was shaking with the heavy rain pouring from the milky black sky and wind hitting against it. The trees outside lost quite a few branches for the unforgivable weather that evening, and she feared electricity would be cut off that night.

She had a couple of candlesticks and some matches stored on her bedside table drawer, should she need some light in an emergency. She dreaded the use of them, as she was very afraid of damaging the finely engraved wooden surfaces of her bedroom furniture.

It was very late, but she did not seem to be able to sleep. Perhaps she would not rest, either way, due to her loneliness and the weather, after tonight, it would not surprise her if she were to acquire a distinct distaste for storms.

She tried to read, but the story, for once, could not hold on to her attention for very long, neither could television or music. Her mind was away and adrift, a single thought circled her head again and again.

It has been such for weeks, but tonight… Tonight, it was worse.

The nobleman helped Riley to steady herself, placing both of his hands underneath her upper arms, allowing her to lean into them, so she could stand up straight.

“Whoa, Your Majesty,” He says, an amused smirk on his face. “I cannot say I dislike the attention, but you could just come out and say it.”

The monarch-consort laughs the awkwardness off. “Oh, milord, you know how it is, two flutes of champagne and you forget yourself. Thank you, though, for your assistance.”

“It is my own pleasure, Your Majesty. A service to the sovereign is on public interest, after all.” He responded, shooting her an easy smile.

“I do not suppose they have in mind helping a poor woman who overindulged when they say such things.” The Queen tattled in amusement. “Tell me, milord, are you enjoying tonight’s celebrations?”

“I find them most agreeable, Your Majesty. The Beaumonts have a knack for entertaining.” The man responds, soft.

“That it is, milord.” She agrees. “I have always felt as if they were my own family, and, as such, as if their parties were my own parties. A little forward of me, I usually consider, as I lack that… green thumb, if you must, of theirs.”

He chuckles. “I recall quite a few soirées at the palace that were equally, if not more, enjoyable than tonight.”

“Be certain it was Maxwell the one you owe your praises. I hardly ever get involved with any of the planning.” She said, humorously. “I did not think I would find any noblemen around this time of evening, though. Tell me, milord, would you not prefer to be in audience with the King? My husband is hearing complaints in the parlour, and I daresay he is in a giving mood tonight.”

“I have most that I want.” It was his response. “And what I do not, I should find ways to acquire.”

“It seems conscientious of you, milord.” She conceded. “If I am to take the hordes one surely would find in the parlour right about now, I am to infer you are a minority amongst your peers.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but I do not suppose conscience has anything to do with it. I merely find more pleasure in the struggle.” He dismisses the compliment offhandedly.

“In America, we tend to celebrate those who achieve by their own merits, rather than by birth or favour, but I suppose you are entitled to your own assessment, unflattering as it is.” She points out.

“That I am, Your Majesty, that I am.” He smirks, haughtily.

As he finishes his statement, the clock strikes 11:59.

The guests still lingering around the dining room start cheering the countdown to the new year, while the nobleman leads the woman to a quieter corner of the room, at a mezzanine overlooking the ballroom.

As the seconds go by and they come closer to the new year, so the body of the nobleman close the distance between him and the monarch.

The hairs on the back of her head shiver in alarm, and her arm is covered in goose bumps. She tries to get away from him, but his hand holds her wrist firmly in place.

As the fireworks go out on the lawn, as the night-time sky is coloured with the overt glow, the nobleman tugs her arm and forces her to kiss him.

It was always eerie to her, the dissonance between the hustle-bustle of the palace during the day and the dead silence of the night.

Liam always found it relaxing, the poor man, so deeply traumatized from a tumultuous childhood, could not even nap if not in absolute quietness. Riley, however, used to a life in the metropolis, slept better when in hearing distance of the white noise of motors in a busy avenue.

Her husband more than once offered her the use of a white noise machine, and she has resisted. The King’s restful sleep was more important than the Queen’s, after all, and so their conjoined bedroom was to be tailored to his preferences to perfection.

After more than a few sleepless nights on her part, he brought the white noise machine once again, alongside a change in mattresses and cable television extensions for the room, but she once again refused. It was not going to lull her to any sleep, either way.

Tonight… tonight, the cause for her insomnia was very different and specific. Her shoulders were slumped and aching from the tension she was under, her ears rung painfully, her head was about to explode.

Her ears perk at the sound of heavy footsteps on the staircase near the bedroom, she takes it as a good sign. None of the servants would walk so noisily, not that any would be up at this time anyways.

Perhaps, when all it is said and done, she ought to get a decent night’s sleep.

When he was done with her, he adjusted his trousers, facing away from her and towards the ballroom beneath them. For a split second, his softening, slick member was for all to see, but no-one did.

Not a single person raised their sights towards the mezzanine that night.

“I believe that we are done here.” He turns back to her and raises her face to a small peck on her lips, one she had no strength to fight against.

“Why did you do it?” She asks, weakly.

He chuckles and faces the stairway down. “I thought I told you, I like the struggle to get what I want.”

“You know you won’t get away with that.” She threatened.

“I think I just did.” Without looking back, the blue-blood said, “Thanks for the evening, Your Majesty. It has been great.”

Liam sits down on an armchair opposite to his wife, taking off his shoes, stained in hues of brown and red.

“The maid will burn these in the morning.” The woman says, taking the pair away, to the side of the fireplace.

“Thank you.” He said, rather absent. A moment of silence follows, before he breaks with a, “I did it. I did it myself.”

“I thought you would.” Was the response. “Do you regret it?”

“No.” He countered, almost instantaneously. “I hated that man for what he did with you. I will never forgive him, and I will never think he did not deserve it.”

Riley hummed her understanding, and busied herself on preparing the bed for the night.

“Unless…” He says, slow and dour, profoundly dreading the scenario he built on his head. She stops what she was doing and looks deep into his eyes, as he starts again to speak, “Unless you see me differently for what I did.”

She sighed. “There is nothing anyone can do that will erase what happened. If you did it for me, then you wasted your efforts.”

“I understand.” It was his answer. He knew the truth, that he did it to appease his own anger and frustration, most of it towards himself, but he would have preferred to kid himself a little longer to the cold tell-off.

However, looking at her swelling stomach, he had to concede she was on a difficult position, to say the absolute least.

How could he phrase it not to feel an absolute understatement?

“I still love you, though. I will always love you. It’s just that…” She breathed out and nothing she planned to say made any sense, communicated any of the things she wanted to say.

I was worried about you. I am worried about you. I want to be free of it. I want you to be free of me.

“Let’s just sleep.” She said, instead. “It all should look better in the morning.”

They lay down in bed side by side, Liam making every effort not to touch his wife, as she finds it rather disturbing for the time being.

Riley could not help to let a few tears spill from her eyes, as it usually happens that time of night. She had acquired the rather nasty habit of crying herself to sleep. The morning would bring no good, as no other day since then has never did, nor ever will.

For, from now until forever, she was marred.

Taglist: @boneandfur; @cora-nova; @mfackenthal; @theroyalweisme; @zilch3

#the royal romance #liam #drake walker #maxwell beaumont #hana lee #olivia nevrakis

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mazojo · 5 years

Text

Kiznaiver Review

I just finished the Kiznaiver anime and I am not okay, so I decided to do a review with my opinions and thoughts on it, so beware the spoilers and rants on different aspects of it ;w;

Spoiler Free Overview ~

Before actually going into the spoilers, I wanted to leave a little spoiler free plot overview for those interested but not convinced on watching it. Basically Kiznaiver is about 7 teenagers connected by an experiment to their wounds and pain, making the pain of one, that of the others. The anime follows the story of these teenagers and their friendship with the mystery of the experiment and the future of it in their city, making it emotional and addictive to watch.

Although there is a lot more to say, if you don’t want to be spoiled on the anime do not click on read more but if you don’t mind, go ahead <33

Plot

So as mentioned above, the anime consists on the union of 7 characters (representing the 7 sins) through the Kizna system/experiment which bonds them through their pain so if one gets hurt, the other six will feel the pain too. Each of the teenagers choose represents one of the deadly sins, which I will go into further in my description of each character, and they all have to work together throughout the summer in order to free themselves from their Kizna. Everything is running smoothly and they all become friends until some of them begin falling in love with others and it all kind of crumbles. In the final episodes we discover that the experiments have been running for a while and in the past, they were done to kids but it failed miserably as some gathered too much pain from the others while others didn’t, making them feel numb and emotionless. Our main character, Katsuhira was originally connected to the first kizna experiment but became numb to any sort of pain due to another kid (now leading the project?) named Noriko taking all the pain. In the end, Katsuhira is able to convince Noriko to give back his pain and those from the other kids involved in the experiment through a f r i e n d s h i p speech and the whole group ends up becoming much closer, with Katsuhira and Noriko confessing their feelings to each other.

Characters

okay, so I will admit I kind of may have fallen in love with some of the characters from this anime and I am going to list them in order of which I liked the most explaining a bit on who they are and what I believe they must be protected. I also decided to place a song that reminds me of them in order for you to gather a feel of who they are in my opinion.

Katsuhira Agata (Kacchon)

Rise - Ashes Remain

So this gif pretty much describes his attitude and face throughout the whole series (except the two times he actually cries). His sin is “sloth” but referred in the anime as “the imbecile”. This is due to his apathetic behavior to everything happening around him due to the lack of emotions he has. He is precious and even as a kid he has always been looking for those around him (even in his kind of oblivious way) and I love how even after going through everythingg he went through, he is able to forgive Noriko and even loves her with all her faults and imperfections <33.

Nico Niiyama

Hello Kitty - Avril Lavigne

She is one of those characters you either love or hate, and I absolutely looove Nico! She represents the sin of greed I believe due to her wanting of attention and reassurance. I don't know if its because I see myself in her craziness or just her whole attitude throughout the series but Nico is in top place with Kacchon for my favorite characters. She is much more than the I-am-cute-love-me character as we advance through the series we began seeing her need to find friends in those surrounding her and how desperate she tries to fit into this “eccentric girl” stereotype to fit in (if that makes any sense). I also loved how she was one of the first to come back and unite the group after their Kiznas were released even though she was hurting over Tenga, which I thought was really brave and a bit underrated, thanks for coming to my ted talk.

Yoshiharu Hisomu

Highway to Hell - AC/DC

So hear me out, Hisomu is a bit of a weirdo but through the small things he did and said he was able to win me over. Hisomu represents the sin of lust as he is a masochist and finds pleasure over the pain inflicted upon himself. I was a bit skeptical over his character as he appeared on the third episode unlike the others but he grew on me. Not only do I l o v e his character design but I think he has a personal growth over acquiring friends. He is close to Kacchon and never “abandons” him or leaves after all the others decide to part their own ways. Yeah, he may be a bit apathetic and unconscious towards the situations surrounding the others but I think in his heart he is actually a really good friend and sappy as it sounds, he cares deeply about the others and their suffering ;w;

Chidori Takashiro

Camouflage - Selena Gomez

Chidori is our tsundere-ish character. She represents the sin of envy as she is always second best when it comes to her unrequited love towards Kacchon. I really like her character and I feel bad for her as she often throughout the anime feels things very deeply and through Kacchon’s apathetic attitude, she mostly ends up hurt.I enjoyed her reactions as I know in the situations they face, I would definitely react similarly and she is very lovable overall.

Tsuguhito Yuta

Someone you Like - The Girl and the Dreamcatcher

Yuta is a classical popular kid with a soft side character. He represents the sin of gluttony as when he was little he used to eat a lot thus was seen as the fat kid and becomes kind of obsessed with his appearance after the fact. He may seem superficial at first but he is very caring and notices a lot of things others take for granted (like being able to be there for Maki even though she is a tough nut to crack). Also being a fellow cancer according to the wikia he went up my list :3. That being said I felt his character was all about Maki and he never really shined if there wasn’t any Maki story line involve which was kind of sad as I thought he had a lot of potential, but I still love him <33

Noriko Sonozaki

Never Enough - Loren Allred

Noriko is a weird character to me, as in some moments I really like her while in others I don’t really understand her. She has undergone a lot through her childhood due to experiencing the pain of her friends altogether and the constant fear of being left alone and not being understood even though Kacchon often reassures her of this but whatever. She may seem kind of like a psychopath and cold at the beginning but as we learn about her past I guess her behavior is kind of understandable but honestly I prefer the kid Sonozaki version which is adorableee. I like her relationship with Kacchon however and how they are able to grow from each other through their connection.

Honoka Maki

I Found - Amber Run

Maki and Tenga are my least favorite from the group but I don’t totally dislike them, I just don’t connect with he way they act most of the time. Maki represents the sin of pride as she often acts as if she is above everyone and everything going on around her placing a barrier between her and the other Kiznaivers. She has a rough past as she wrote a manga with her best friend Ruru and through their friendship feelings began developing. Ruru had a terminal illness and as Maki was afraid of getting hurt decided to cut all ties with her, which brings her to be the coldhearted person she is. Throughout the series she often rejects the other Kiznaivers refusing to call them friends inserts dramatic eye-roll until at the end she realizes its inevitable and accepts letting people in slowly.

Hajime Tenga

Counting Stars - One Republic

Honestly Tenga is pretty neutral to me and I don’t have much an opinion on his character. He represents the sin of Wrath as he often acts impulsively and resolves his issues through rage and anger acting with his fist rather than his head. He is quite loud and a bit obnoxious at times with his tough guy act but he means good. We don’t get much backstory on him other than he is afraid of dogs? which isn’t mentioned again after the second episode sooo… I mean he is a good character and has good intentions but I more often than not don’t understand his reactions and think he goes a bit over the top in most of them.

Ships

Although I know Kiznaiver isn’t an anime focused completely on the romance but rather a science-fiction/mystery kind of anime, I still had to mention the ships through the series starting from the one I like the most. Also note that some of them are non cannon so keep that in mind and note that this are my personal opinions ;w;

NicoxHisomu (non-cannon)

You can’t even understand HOW MUCH I WANTED THIS TO BE A THING. From the moment Hisomu appeared and had the first interaction with the group I wanted him and Nico to end together sooo badly. I don’t know if its because of their eccentric ways or how they are often looked upon as the weird ones from the group, but I always thought they would make such a cute couple! Even at the end when Nico is ranting on about Tenga, Hisomu is attentive to her and I honestly think their friendship is so pure and perfect ;w; I will be crying in the corner until this becomes a thing.

NorikoxKatsuhira (cannon)

Although I will forever be frustrated that NicoxHisomu didn’t end up together trigger please consider making a second season, I am actually really glad these two did! It was pretty obvious the two wouldd en up being cannon as the whole show premise basically concentrates in their relationship, and I am glad they did. I feel like both complement each other very well and stabilize one another through their feelings (or in this case, the lack of). I feel like both Katsuhira and Nori are very mature and overall I love their pairing as they both deserve all the happiness <33

ChidorixTenga (Cannon-ish?)

I really like this two together and I feel like through the finale we can kind of maybe say its cannon? I mean they never actually confessed their love to one another like Sonozaki and Kacchon (well, Tenga did), but Chidori kinda implied that she was starting to develop feelings? I totally feel like they work together as they level each other out by their protective mama bear attitude of Chidori and Tenga’s impulses leading to him being defensive of those he cares about. Also can we take a moment to appreciate their red aesthetic, like common they are adorable together.

MakixYuta (Cannon?)

This is also an odd pairing, as we see Yuta’s clear interest on Maki since episode 1 and where she only corresponds his feelings at the end of episode 12. Although they never truly became a couple I believe they both like each other so its kind of cannon? I like how they both have rough pasts and they help each other grow from them (cue to Yuta’s scene at the beach were he runs in the water although he may look like a fool) and they level the other out.

ChidorixKatsuhira (non-cannon)

The following two ships are ones I don’t like but I found important to mention as many people do ship them. I honestly can’t see this pair due to Katsuhira’s strong feelings towards Nori. I feel like he sees Chidori as her best friend and will never be able to see her as more than that. Chidori’s often explosive and overprotective character just doesn’t mash well with Kacchon’s laid back apathetic vibe, which is why I wouldn’t see this pairing working at all.

NicoxTenga (non-cannon)

I do not approve of this. I honestly can’t see this working and lets be honest Nico and Hisomu deserve each other so I am too blinded by that. I think their personalities wouldn’t work as Tenga is too aggressive and Nico much softer. I feel like Tenga is most of the times confused by her behavior or just doesn’t understand her eccentric behaviors which would definitely cause a problem if this were to be cannon. I can’t with this ship and if there is a season 2 I really hope this doesn’t become cannon otherwise ill just go cry myself in a corner.

To finish off this review on Kiznaiver, I would like to point out the things I like and the things I didn't like so much.

Liked…

- The characters is one of the things to really highlight from Kiznaiver. They are all so different but so lovable in their own ways and with their own faults which makes everything 10 times better.

- I haven’t been able to mention this before but I really liked the intro and outdo songs, I think they are catchy and represent quite well the anime.

- I adooored the character designs, specially Nico, Hisomu, Sonozaki and Katsuhira’s. I feel like the tones and designs of the characters with their little quirks really lets the audience gather who they are and why they are the way they are.

- I think the concept of the experiment and the characters being connected by their wounds and pain is very interesting! I dint know what to expect at first but as the story developed It really got me thinking what the Kizna system would look like in the real world.

Disliked…

- I feel like the character development could have been a little better for some of them? Specially Yuta, Tenga and Hisomu which even though we got to know, never really learned much about their past other than some random facts.

- The fact that Hisomu and Nico weren’t cannon

- Sometimes due to the small amount of time the creators had to create the episode, I feel like some things weren’t explained very clearly (like Sonozaki’s reasons to try committing suicide when she was young) but maybe its just me being dumb idkk

All in all, I really liked the anime and would definitely recommended to those who enjoy good characters and a little of science fiction as well as troublesome pasts. Remember this are just my opinions and feel free to ask me my opinions on anything related as well as I would love to hear all of yours :33

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nightslain · 5 years

Text

TAGGED: @breselin ❤❤❤ TAGGING: @notte-la-lagna @lus-a-chalmain @bloodxsong @showxman

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE.

NAME. Leon Belmont EYE COLOUR. Pale blue HAIR STYLE/COLOUR. Blonde and curled with a very soft, almost wispy texture despite its fullness, parted over to the right hand side and kept trimmed to nape length HEIGHT. 5′11″ CLOTHING STYLE. He has two distinctive modes of dress; the first is his knightly garb which most prominently features the blue and white surcoat he wears that is emblazoned with his coat of arms on its front (originally a dragon in the games, changed to the Belmont family crest in the anime.) The surcoat is held in place by a large brown belt, and he also wears a long white cloak over top. Beneath all this, he wears a brown aketon with buckles at the throat as well as his chain-mail. The typical additions of armour that he wears include a breast and guard plate, pauldron, stop-rib, mail skirting, couters, greaves and sabatons.

The other outfit he wears is arguably the more iconic of the two but is very different, only sharing another aketon and a breastplate in common with his former code of dress. He wears with these a sleeveless red and white garment with a large collar and long, split, flowing coat tails. This is fastened in place with two belts (sporting a chain and a hook for his whip) and is emblazoned with the design of a cross down the back. He also wears black pinstriped pants, knee high boots as well as what appears to be a type of poleyn on his right knee. The left leg only has a belt strapped at his thigh. One hand bears a glove that stretches to his elbow whereas the other wears a gauntlet of equal length and leaves his fingers bare. BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE. I’d definitely argue that it’s his bouncy, curly hair that draws the eye first.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

YOUR FEARS. Though Leon is celebrated as fearless and clearly seems to prove it given the fact he charges head first into danger literally unarmed without a second thought, his fears are much more of the things he can’t always fight or control. Loss of his loved ones, what few he has, is a big one as well as failing to continue keeping the promise he made to Sara when she died. YOUR GUILTY PLEASURE. Sentimental literature. While his reputation is one of undefeated ferocity on the battlefield, Leon is undeniably gentle at heart and has a penchant for romantic literature, especially poetry; the habit of reading and writing the latter especially is one he keeps rather to himself. YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE. Being demeaned or talked down to. He has experienced it multiple times being one of the youngest knights of his company despite eventually becoming the most proficient of them all. He finds condescension and arrogance to be very unlikable traits in most people and strongly dislikes being spoken to like he is somehow beneath another person. YOUR AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE. Leon’s key ambition is arguably his defining trait as the patriarch of the Belmont family; and that is, but of course, to find and kill Dracula one day. Although he ultimately fails in this endeavour (for more reasons than one, especially given his relationship with Dracula), his legacy lives on in a very long line of vampire hunters who carry his work almost a millennia into the future.

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP . His duties, mostly. Whatever the verse, as soon as he wakes up, he’s beginning to think about the day ahead and what tasks need doing. THINK ABOUT MOST . The future, especially in his main-verse where such is currently very uncertain and his life has been completely ripped out from under him. He needs to start afresh and build the legacy he swore he would to Mathias, albeit still being so young and unsure of where to even begin crafting the Belmont family into a fearsome bloodline of vampire hunters. So definitely, the future plays on his mind a great deal with this huge responsibility he’s found himself with and agreed to undertake. THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED . Mathias and Sara, mostly. When he isn’t thinking about his work or his future, he is constantly thinking of and missing those two, and his thoughts always take a turn for the sober when he prays and lays in bed before finding sleep. WHAT THE BEST QUALITY IS . Debatable! It’s definitely a toss up between his bravery and his unshakeable compassion and purity for me. I constantly laugh at the fact he ran into a dangerous, monster infested forest to fight a vampire with nothing but a dagger and the intention to steal a dead man’s sword--but that to me definitely highlights the fact this man will walk backwards into Hell blindfolded if he has to, without even flinching. Which is quite admirable in its own right! But I do think I am most taken in by his gentle and compassionate personality, especially since it remains untainted by all the death he’s seen and experienced. He remains a humble, kind, loving man till the bitter end which is a purity I don’t often see in people that have been wronged and hurt so deeply as Leon has in his lifetime.

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES. Single (though that changes to group in a certain AU lmao) TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED. Loved BEAUTY OR BRAINS. Brains DOGS OR CATS. Dogs

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU…

LIE. No BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. Almost entirely. BELIEVE IN LOVE. All too much. WANT SOMEONE. Deeply.

LAYER SIX: EVER BEEN…

BEEN ON STAGE. Neither in the literal or the metaphorical DONE DRUGS. Medicinal ones, yes. CHANGED WHO YOU WERE TO FIT IN. Never.

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

FAVORITE COLOR. Red FAVORITE ANIMAL. Horses or falcons since he spent a lot of time working with them. FAVORITE MOVIE. It’s gonna blow his mind when he sees a movie for the first time in the modern AU you guys. FAVORITE GAME. Again, mindblown.

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

DAY YOUR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE. UNKNOWN. HOW OLD WILL YOU BE. 23 (at least in the present of his main verse) AGE YOU LOST YOUR VIRGINITY. He technically hasn’t. DOES AGE MATTER. For a partner, it does. For general company, not really.

LAYER NINE: IN A PERSON

BEST PERSONALITY . Leon very much enjoys intelligent and well-spoken, charismatic individuals. Calm, worldly, knowledgeable types with a hint of ‘spice’ as it were that can still be energetic, engaging company and aren’t afraid to laugh, but share his love of enjoying the peace. Generosity and kindness never goes amiss in a person either. BEST EYE COLOR . He likes bright, clear eyes like blues, greys and greens most of all. BEST HAIR COLOR . He absolutely likes darker hair colours on other people. He finds it very sleek and elegant looking. BEST THING TO DO WITH A PARTNER . Spending time in and of itself is precious, however its done. He could be equally as happy laying in bed at home with a partner as he could be doing something special or extravagant. One of his favourite things to do though is go on walks, especially at night when the stars are out. That, or drinking wine by the fire.

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I LOVE. Endlessly. I FEEL. Tremendously. I HIDE. Poorly. I MISS. Painfully. I WISH. Hungrily.

#{ ⚜ :: Person of Sinterest ; OOC }#{I LOVE THESE MEMES LOL ANYTHING THAT GIVES ME AN EXCUSE TO RAMBLE ABOUT MY CHILDREN I WHEEZE}#{i find it very funny that his coat of arms used to be a dragon when mathias becomes dracula later honestly.}#{I have a lot to say about Leon MEGAPURE Belmont i love him so fuckin much}#{him looking at a movie being played and just shortcircuiting like crazy IM LAUGHING}#{I love his beautiful fluffy hair even if its the bane of every artist's existence that ive spoken to LOL INCLUDING MY OWN}#{SO MUCH FLOOF....}#{i could talk about him for years literally dont let me}#{he was going to be celibate but that didnt work out LOL FOR MULTIPLE REASONS}#{it hasnt been decided on yet when he did T H E D E E D}

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n00dl3gal · 6 years

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Quirks (Saiibo Exchange)

Hi @iciclequeentrishna!! I'm your giftee for the @saiiboexchange! I went with your request for Shuichi dealing with Kiibo's quirks, with some other elements mixed in as well. I hope you like it!

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761913

Dating a robot meant adjusting to a few quirks, but Shuichi was OK with that.

He already knew about the inability to eat and the recording function, Kiibo had been up-front with those the first day of class. And whatever features Miu gave him during maintenance were no secret either, what with how loudly she broadcasted them. So even if there was some other oddity Shuichi wasn’t aware of, he’d be well-equipped to deal with it.

Or so he thought.

“You… don’t blink,” he said, subconsciously blinking himself.

Kiibo nodded. “No. I’ve approached both Miu and Professor Idabashi on the subject, but they both agree that it would be a needless feature. Since my eyes are electronic, there’s no real evolutionary need.”

The logic was sound, Shuichi reasoned. Kiibo’s eyes didn’t need to be moistened and his crying was mostly superficial. Blinking would just be a waste of resources.

As he thought, Kiibo’s lower lip quivered. “Is… is that a problem?”

“What? N-no! Kiibo, it’s fine! I was just… surprised, is all,” Shuichi answered quickly. “Although, do remind me to never challenge you to a staring contest.”

“I can do that! Is there a specific date you want me to remind you on?” Kiibo said, smiling again. He was so earnest that Shuichi couldn’t help but laugh behind his hand. “What’s so funny? Shuichi, are you making fun of me? That’s robophobic!”

He laughed even harder. My boyfriend is adorable.

. . .

Shuichi sat at his desk, jotting down a few notes from his investigation. Part of Hope’s Peak education system was “allowing the students to explore their talents,” which meant he would work alongside the local police department. It wasn’t necessarily a confidence booster, but it got him off campus for a while.

Kiibo was lying on Shuichi’s bed, playing with the Helping Yacchi he bought at the school store. Shuichi couldn’t deny he was a bit jealous of both the whale and his boyfriend. But work came first. He only had a bit more to do before-

“Nyahaha! Hello, Shuichi! Hello, Kiibo!”

The detective jumped and his pen flew out of his hand, rolling under the bed. “A-Angie, what the- what’s going on?”

She skipped over to him and tugged on his sleeve. “It’s time to work on our science project! Don’t tell Angie you forgot!” Truthfully, he had forgotten, or at least he wished Angie had. He’d rather work on detective stuff than whatever “science” Angie had in mind, and that was a rarity.

“N-no, I hadn’t, but it’s not polite of you to j-just barge in like that,” he said, peeling her off of him. “I could’ve been… indisposed.”

Angie nodded, smile not wavering one bit. “Angie is sorry, and Atua is too! But you’ll come over and help, right?”

Kiibo sat up and watched them, Yacchi held close to his chest. “If you need to leave, Shuichi, it’s alright. I can go back to my dorm,” he said.

“If you don’t mind. I’ll be over in a minute, Angie. I just need to find my pen,” he explained. Angie laughed and left, and both boys exhaled. “I think it rolled under the bed…” Shuichi bent down, feeling across the dark carpet. “I can’t see anything, dammit!”

“Here, allow me!” There was a quick flash as light filled the void.

Shuichi mumbled his thanks and began his search again, this time successfully. As he stood back up, though, he was nearly blinded by the brightness emitting from Kiibo’s chest. “Ah- could y-you please turn that off?”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Kiibo cried as the light vanished. “Are you alright, Shuichi?”

The detective nodded, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m fine, that was just… very bright. Since when did you have a flashlight function?”

“Miu installed it last week! I haven’t had a chance to show it off yet, and I didn’t feel it was worth bringing up… I’m guessing Miu hasn’t mentioned it, either,” Kiibo said, twiddling his fingers. “I hope that’s not a problem!”

Shuichi shook his head and laughed softly. “It’s not a problem at all, Kiibo. In fact, it was very helpful. Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around the robot, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll stop by your dorm after I finish with Angie.” He stepped away, still holding Kiibo’s shoulders, expression suddenly solemn. “If I’m not there in two hours, call the police.”

. . .

Shuichi was well aware he spent an inordinate amount of time in the Hope’s Peak library. It came with his Ultimate; the logs of case records and legal files rivaled that of the police department’s. Even if he wasn’t a detective, he’d still be in there to do research for class or find a new novel to enjoy in his few free moments. So yes, he was thankful the library existed and he was always welcome there. But it also made him easy to find.

Not that he minded when Kiibo interrupted him, but still.

“Kiibo, what’s wrong? Wh-” Shuichi’s eyes flicked up at the robot’s hair. “Where’s your antenna?”

“Kokichi stole it!” Kiibo whined, eyes watering. So it’s detachable, then, Shuichi thought. But Kiibo seems unhappy that it’s gone, so maybe it’s not meant to be removed anyway. But I suppose it’s good to know his new crying function works... “He s-said something about u-using it as a scepter o-or- can you help me get it back, Shuichi?”

The detective nodded, shutting his book. “Of course. Where were you when he stole it?”

“Our classroom, he ran towards the right wing a-afterwards,” Kiibo said, still sniffling. Shuichi reached into his backpack and pulled out a pack of tissues. “Th-thank you,” he mumbled, blowing his nose. Not that anything would happen, it mostly just calmed Kiibo down and made him feel more human.

The pair jogged along, heading to the stairwell, when Shuichi noticed a third party. “Gonta, have you seen Kokichi anywhere?”

“Oh! Shuichi, Kiibo! Gonta just see Kokichi!” the larger boy said, waving at them. “He said he had to hide from you and not tell you which way he went…”

Kiibo sighed. “That sounds like him… Gonta, Kokichi took something very important from me and we’re trying to get it back. Could you please tell us where he went?”

Gonta blinked and frowned. “Kokichi… steal from Kiibo? That’s not what gentleman does!” he said, curling his fists.

“No, it’s not,” Shuichi agreed, tugging on his hat. “But a gentleman would help us recover what was taken. So please, which way did he go?” he asked with a smile.

The entomologist nodded and pointed towards the dining hall. “Kokichi go that way!”

“Thank you Gonta!” Kiibo yelled as the pair dashed forward. Shuichi glanced backwards to see him wave goodbye before focusing on their location.

It’s unlikely that Kokichi headed for the dining hall, seeing as Kirumi would be in there and she would likely stop him. Maki is in charge of the school store today, which means Kokichi would avoid it at all costs. That only leaves-

“He’s in the warehouse!” he said, grabbing Kiibo’s hand and pulling him to the door. Sure enough, when they entered the warehouse, Kokichi was there, waving the antenna like a conductor’s baton. “Kokichi, give that back!”

“Hey guys!” Kokichi laughed, drawing out the last syllable. “I was wondering when you’d get here, I was so boooorrreeed waiting for you,” he whined. “But maybe that was a lie and I’m really pissed to see you, who knows?”

“Kokichi, please give me back my antenna,” Kiibo pleaded. The robot stuck his hand out. “I don’t want to drag this out.”

“Aww, don’t want to spend time with lil’ ol’ me? I’m so hurt, ahhhhhhh!” The smaller boy burst into tears which evaporated as soon as they started. “But it’s not surprising, really. After all, robots can’t really make friends with humans, can they?” Kokichi asked, arms behind his head.

Shuichi could hear Kiibo’s blood- well, oil- boil. “That’s incredibly robophobic! You know very well I am able to form bonds with all of my classmates!”

Shuichi nodded. “And you’re aware that Kiibo and I are… are d-dating,” he sputtered, managing to suppress his blush. “B-but that’s not the point. Kokichi, give me the antenna back or I’ll be forced to involve the faculty.”

“Fiiinnneee… it’s not fun stealing from you guys, anyway,” Kokichi conceded, tossing the antenna to Kiibo. “You always do exactly what I expect and it’s so boring.” He skipped over to the door and opened it with a flourish. “Or is it?” The supreme leader glanced back at the pair of lovers. “You dating was a surprise… maybe you are entertaining. Nahhhhh, I’m just kidding! Nee-hee-hee!” And with that, the door shut with a resounding thwang .

Kiibo exhaled deeply. “Thank you, Shuichi,” he said earnestly, smiling at the other boy. “Do you mind helping me fix it-”

“Ah, no problem!” Shuichi yelped, taking the antenna and re-attaching it to the robot’s head. “There, did I do it correctly?” Kiibo nodded and he grinned. “Good. I’d hate to cause you additional harm.” Something about that comment, however, must have upset Kiibo, as he teared up a moment later. “Wh- Kiibo, are you alright? Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“I-I’m fine, it’s just… nobody’s ever been as kind to me as you are,” Kiibo sniffled, fat drops rolling down his cheeks. “A-aside from Professor Idabashi, of course, but- you’re incredibly nice, Shuichi…”

“Oh Kiibo,” Shuichi whispered, pulling his boyfriend into a hug. “You deserve kindness, alright? Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.” In a moment of bravery, he bent down and pressed a quick kiss to Kiibo’s cheeks. While he expected the wetness, the saltiness of traditional tears was nowhere to be found. “Kiibo… what are your tears made out of?”

“Coolant, if I remember correctly…”

Shuichi paled and pursed his lips. “Ah… do you mind escorting me to the nurse’s office?”

(He made a mental note to never kiss a crying Kiibo again, no matter how much it hurt him.)

. . .

As much as he enjoyed attending Hope’s Peak, Shuichi still disliked gym class. He reasoned he’d dislike it no matter the school, simply due to his less-than-athletic nature. But as far as gym classes, free day in the pool wasn’t the worst option.

Admittedly, he was uneasy having his bare chest exposed, but having all his classmates in their swimsuits too lessened the discomfort. Well, almost all of his classmates. Kiibo sat on the bleachers alone, unable to swim due to his weight. Shuichi was a bit lonely without his boyfriend, truth be told, even if Kiibo insisted he’d be alright. “I do wish I could swim with you, but my bulk, even without my armor, would just cause me to sink. But I’ll be cheering for you from the bleachers!” Shuichi wasn’t sure what he’d be cheering him on for, but he appreciated the sentiment.

He waved at Kiibo from the waters, smiling when the robot waved back. “Pity we don’t get to see him shirtless, too,” said a voice from behind him. “Everyone could see his lack of nips!”

“Ah- Miu, don’t scare me like that!” he chastised, turning to face her. “Wait, what did you say?”

“What, are your ears as clogged up as your asshole? I said he doesn’t have any nipples!” Miu yelled, jabbing at his chest.

Immediately, Shuichi blanched. “N-not so loud… But are you serious?” His voice dropped a decibel. “He doesn’t have n-nip-nipples?” He could barely get the word out, each syllable a stutter from embarrassment.

Miu shrugged, flicking some hair behind her shoulder. “Course I am, dickweed! I know Keebs better than anyone, inside and out! Kyahahaha!”

“Fascinating,” Korekiyo said as he floated past. “Although logical, really. Kiibo would have no need for them.” He’s right, Shuichi thought, seeing as they’re already useless on human men. It would be silly if Professor Idabashi had built them. “But just another difference between humans and robots, it seems,” the anthropologist added.

“Th-that’s robophobic,” Shuichi mumbled, glancing back up at Kiibo.

Miu began cackling again, legs kicking up gushes of water. “Holy shit, are you two that close? What, did you swallow a bunch of his cum and oil and turn into a robot too?” she teased, poking his chest. On instinct, Shuichi reached for his hat, only to be met with his bangs. Instead, he settled for sinking deeper into the pool.

Korekiyo rolled his eyes, and Shuichi imagined he was frowning under his mask. Wait, he still wears that even while swimming? “Miu, stop being quite so vulgar. Some of us are trying to enjoy our time here.”

Miu immediately recoiled and flushed, stammering. Kaede swam over from her game of volleyball with Tenko to grab her shoulder. “C’mon, Miu, let’s go over here, yeah?” the pianist said quietly with a smile. Miu nodded. “Alright. Sorry boys.”

“Not at all,” Korekiyo drawled, while Shuichi just nodded in their direction.

“Y’all wanna talk about nips, talk about these two beauties right here,” Miu said to herself as she and Kaede swam away.

Korekiyo looked at Shuichi closely. “Shuichi, I would like to ask a small favor of you.”

“A-ah? What is it?”

“Your relationship with Kiibo… it’s quite interesting to me, given my area of expertise. Human and robot relations are a relatively new field and it’s possible I could be the first to report on the subject. Would you be opposed to granting me an interview about you two? Kiibo could join, of course, I’d rather welcome his input,” Korekiyo explained.

Shuichi scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll have to ask Kiibo first, but I suppose it wouldn’t be a problem… truth be told, I’m still learning a lot about him.”

“Kehehe… only natural. We learn new things about our lovers every day. Please, do let me know when you have a definitive answer.” And as quickly as he came, Korekiyo disappeared.

With a sigh, Shuichi kicked and began floating on his back. He truly loved his classmates, but they were all a little bit odd.

. . .

Strictly speaking, students weren’t supposed to have guests overnight in the dorms. They would turn a blind eye to same-sex sleepovers, but no co-ed mingling was allowed. Shuichi knew it was to prevent anything naughty that would soil Hope’s Peak’s reputation, but… well, maybe it was just his class that was abnormally non-heterosexual.

Kiibo shuffled closer, laying his head on Shuichi’s shoulder. “Statistically speaking, it was inevitable for you to one day accuse the wrong person. Mostly due to your inexperience and age,” he said quietly, intertwining their fingers.

Shuichi sighed and pulled off his reading glasses. “I know, and I agree, but… it would be nice if you just gave me some general comforting platitudes, Kiibo.”

“A-ah! I’m sorry! Um… you’ll get them next time!” Kiibo chirped, and Shuichi couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, it’s already working! Should I continue?”

The detective shook his head. “I’d rather just go to sleep, if you don’t mind. Although having you around to c-cuddle will help,” he added, kissing Kiibo’s nose. Their faces mirrored each other in scarlet. He stood and turned off the light, lips upturning when he heard Kiibo shift beneath the covers. A moment later, he joined the robot. “Do you want to be facing in or out tonight?”

“In, so I can protect you from your personal demons!” Kiibo announced. “I realize that’s not how it actually works, of course, but it’s a symbolic gesture…”

Shuichi laughed and rolled onto his side. “I understand, Kiibo. I really appreciate it.” Truth be told, he really did enjoy being the little spoon. He felt safe with Kiibo’s arms. And those arms wouldn’t be sore and and potentially dislocated the next morning, unlike Shuichi’s.

Kiibo hummed and buried his face in Shuichi’s hair. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy,” he whispered. “Within reason, of course.” His nose brushed aside a few strands to reveal the nape of Shuichi’s neck. “Huh? Shuichi, you have some kind of mark on the back of your neck!”

“Wh-what? What does it look like?” Shuichi asked panickingly. He started to twist around, but Kiibo’s grip held him in place.

“It’s sort of pink and blotchy…”

Shuichi exhaled. “Oh, it’s my birthmark, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Birthmark? I apologize, but I’m not entirely familiar with that term,” Kiibo mumbled.

“It’s essentially a discoloration or raised portion of the skin, present since birth. The little dot by Maki’s eye, that’s a birthmark. I believe the particular mark I have is called a ‘stork’s bite,’ colloquially.”

Kiibo nodded, face still rubbing against Shuichi’s skin. “I see. Professor Idabashi did once mention something about babies being delivered by storks, perhaps this is related!” Shuichi opened his mouth to protest and explain the truth- do I really have the mental fortitude to explain human reproduction to my robot boyfriend?- when Kiibo continued. “Still, I’m glad to have learned about this additional human experience; maybe I’ll ask the Professor to give me a birthmark.” And then, in a movement that surprised them both, he pushed aside the hair and kissed the mark.

Shuichi immediately shivered. “A-ah…” he gasped, shuddering against Kiibo.

The robot immediately recoiled. “Shuichi, did I hurt you?”

“N-no… that actually felt really nice. I guess that spot must be sensitive,” Shuichi admitted. Tentatively, Kiibo kissed the spot again. Shuichi rolled over and grabbed Kiibo’s hand. “Kiibo… I. I l-love you.”

He had thought it before, of course, but saying it was an entirely different matter. What if Kiibo wasn’t prepared for such a confession? Would their sleepy cuddles evolve into something more risque? Were either of them ready for that sort of encounter?

But Kiibo, despite all his blushing, managed to squeeze Shuichi’s hand. He inhaled, despite it not being necessary, and breathed out “I-I love you, too.” He pressed his forehead to the human and smiled.

Dating a human meant adjusting to a few quirks, but Kiibo was OK with that.

#noodle writes #saiiboexchange #iciclequeentrishna #saiibo #danganronpa fanfiction #saiibo exchange #danganronpa #fanfic #saikiibo #shuichi saihara #k1-b0 #kiibo

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dazzlingfantasiesblogs · 6 years

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Love Kills Chapter 1

This is a person story of mine that I have wrote awhile back and have not finished. At one point I wanted to tweak it/edit it and use it as a base for a published book.

Maybe one day!

XoXo Dazz

I stood there, looking around. My breath was rigid, small little steam bubbles escape my mouth. I feel lost, scared. I returned to my old ways. The one thing in life I didn’t want to do. I fell to my knees, the pain of the cement hitting my knees on impact should have hurt. Instead the pain gave me a slight pleasure like I deserved the pain, I deserved any pain that was to be inflicted on me. In the distance there was a siren. I needed to move, I need to get out of here. My breath shortened with panic filling my dark, cold, so deeply pained soul. I cough, feeling as if I need to puke. The urge soon disappears when I see him lying on the ground. That is right, I must have blacked out and lost control. He.. The only thing I truly treasured in this unforgiving world. I crawled over to the beautiful man who had been stuck trying to protect me. I rubbed his cheek as tears filled my eyes. Soon instinct took over. I needed to get this treasure out of harm’s way once again. I could care less about myself. I have escaped from prisons all over the world. I grabbed the man that I loved more than the feeling of my sword slicing through a body and picked him up. I ran down the alley. He was heavy, it felt like I had cinder blocks attached to my feet as I ran. My body was ready to give out from blacking out and losing control the way I did. I ran around the block, careful to avoid the diverse and busy streets of Las Vegas. If I believed in a god, I would have prayed for him to help us get out of the situation. I see a hotel that lit the night sky not far away. Was I thinking through this clearly? Running into a hotel with a man over my shoulder and blood all across my shirt. Probably not. I then remembered that we parked the car not far from this hotel. I ran even faster, my breath was getting shorter and shorter and soon I started wheezing. This was clearly a test of my strength and endurance. I see the car insight. Just a few more feet and I could drive and get him safe, away from this place and as it pained me and will possibly be my demise, away from me. That thought shot pain through me. I wanted to puke once again.

Chapter one: Who am I?

Being happy was never in my vocabulary. The things that brought me happiness is what most people would call a nightmare. I did not love, I simply like. I liked simple things. Driving my car, staying awake at night watching a move, sharpening my sword and practicing how sharp it was on enemy’s bodies. “Ms. Mia, you have a call on line one.” My receptionist entered my office to tell me, she smiled sweetly at me. I nodded and smiled back as she once left again. I reached for the phone and put it to my ear, I pressed line one. “Hello, Thanks for calling Reserve Industries, Owner Mia speaking.” The silence on the phone makes me smirk. “Mia, we have another mission for you. Either you or one of you people can take care of it. It is local. I am going to fax you the details on the secure line. Please take care of it as quickly as possible. I will deposit 200,000 dollars in the account. Thanks Mia. Bye.” I slowly hung up the phone. My eyes where intense. My business is unlike any other. On the front end it is just big end security business. It is a multi-billion dollar company. The real money maker is not the security business we provide; but the assassination and recon missions my people do. Including myself. Our technique is unlike any other. Even the government ask for our assistance quite often. Of course we are more than willing to help. The phone rings again “Mia, I got a mission the fax, do you want me to take care of this one?” It was Kline. His voice husky and deep. He was my best agent who was beyond good at what he did. He was an ex-marine and very efficient. The truth is I wanted to take that mission, I wanted to spill blood. Although, I knew I had meetings booked for the whole week. It pained me because the edge for blood shed was becoming over whelming. I bit my lip and made my decision “Go ahead Klein. Let me know if you need anything. Thank you, be safe.” I said gently, yet slightly stern. “Yes mam. It will be done by the end of Tuesday.” Klein hung up the phone. I put the phone back on the hook. Tuesday huh? That was two days from now. Klein liked to get things done. If I know him as well as I think, he is already on the road to do recon.

I stood up from desk and walked out of my office. Lina, my receptionist sat at her desk drinking her coffee and was typing up a report. “Lina, I am going to leave for the rest of the day. I have some personal things to take care of. Remember the banquet is tonight. Do you need anything to wear?” Lina looked surprised as I asked her. I am usually very stern, cold. The way I was brought up. I disliked small talk, people in general really. Since I started this business I had no choice but to become good at discussing things with people. “Mam, I mean Ms. Mia. I have a small cocktail dress.” She said almost worried that would not be good enough. To be honest I didn’t care much of fashion. “Lina, take my card and go get yourself something nice. If you need anything else go ahead and get something. I know your birthday is coming up.” I grabbed my card out of my dress pocket and handed to her. Her mouth dropped in astonishment. I guess me being nice is something that does not happen very often. To be honest, being nice or stern did not matter to me. I did not really care how people viewed me all together. “Have fun.” I said quickly. As I turned away Lina spoke. “THANK YOU! What is my max?” Lina said calling over to me. “50,000.” I said as I continued to walk away. Money was not a big thing to me. There was always going to be people who needed to be protected, but more importantly, bad people that need to breath there last breath. The thought made a smile spread across my face. I walked to the elevator and went to the bottom level. I walked towards the door and out to my car. Valet was waiting for me to come and pick up the car. I tipped the nice young kid who was probably fresh out of high school. The tip was big enough to buy him a new laptop. I had never seen him before. “Thank you Ms. Mia!” He said in a surprised yet cautions voice. I drove to my condo. I breathed easy as I entered. I walked to my bed and stripped of my business clothes. I looked in the mirror to see scars mark body, like a canvas of tragic. I smirked and then walked to the closet. I put on my dark jeans and a black tank top and leather jacket. Then the doorbell rang. I froze immediately. That doorbell needs to be changed. My first instinct is to grab a knife. I pushed that instinct back. I opened the door to see a man standing in front of me with a big box. “Mia?” The man said in a lower voice. I looked at him, I was stopped by this man’s beauty. He looks up at me and stops looking me in the eyes. I look back into his. His Carmel colored irises staring into my iced blue ones. “Yes, that is me.” I spoke in almost a whisper. “This package came for you, may I set it down in your apartment so you don’t have to carry it. It is sort of heavy.” I held back a chuckle knowing it would be no issue for me to carry the package. I nod. “Sure. Thank you.” I step aside from my door way, allowing this man to enter my home, originally I would have demanded him to put the package down. I dislike people seeing my place. For obvious reasons. I would not want someone to come in and it be an assassination attempt. Too many times have I dealt with those? I watch carefully as the man put the package on my dining room table and turns back to me. I look this man over. He is around my age at least 23. He has a strong jaw, tall and sort of muscular. He had eyelashes so full that any women would kill for them. His skin a beautiful light brown. I look him in the eyes and can tell he is looking me over. For a second it makes me feel self-conscience. Of course it shouldn’t, I should feel no feelings like that. I take a deep breath, it feels like an eternity intel one of us talks. I take a deep breath and almost choke on it. Snap out of it Mia, you have no time for lust. “Mrs. Mia?” the man’s voice says calmly. “Just Ms.” I correct him in a calm tone. If it was anyone else I would have cracked a rib. “Yes Mr.…” I trail off remembering I did not get his name. That was a bit troubling to me, sort of embarrassing. I am not one to feel this feeling. The man. Who is he?

#Personal written story #Dazz writes

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damn-daemon · 6 years

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Healing and Heartache (Part 3) - Nick Jakoby x Female Reader

See Part 1 here See Part 2 here

A/N: Ohhhhhhhh my gosh, you guys. I am actually super nervous about how this one gets received. I’m not really sure how far into the ‘reader’ background you’re supposed to go, and the writer in me just kinda got really carried away. But personally, I love it and I hope you will too.

Warnings - no smut, language, angst, overuse of sake

Sometimes, happiness is not so hard to believe in.

You lose all track of time in that little restaurant. Admittedly, you had not planned on spending that much time with Nick. With the next day off, you had hoped to find a comfortable position in your bed before the real soreness kicked in, but once Nick got comfortable, you realize his is pretty great company. He can purposely be charming and funny, and damn it’s been a while since you’ve had a good laugh.

“Wait, wait,” you say, hand held up, noddles dangling dangerously between you and the bowl. “You seriously garden?”

Nick nods, mouth full. He offhandedly mentioned earlier how much easier it was eating this way. You thought he meant without the tusks, but he might have meant the chopsticks too. He wielded those things like a pro.

“Compost too.”

“Now you’re shitting me,” you say, feeling your eyebrows comically rise to your hairline. He chuckled deeply, like the sound was emanating from his chest. It was a nice sound.

“I shit you not,” he replied with a grin, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Actually, there’s no shit at all. It’s mostly weeds and bad vegetables from my garden.”

For some reason, that line really gets you. It’s just the right amount of nonchalant to make you lose it. You drop your noodles back in their bowl and have to cover your mouth a moment until the laughter subsides.

Nick thinks your laughter sounds wonderful. The fact that it’s directed at what he’s said rather than at him or what’s been done to him makes it all the more beautiful. He had almost started to dislike laughter before you. Now he’s starting to remember that there’s something beyond the petty hate.

“You might be one of the strangest orcs I’ve ever met,” you admit, playing with the remaining food. “But, hey, credit where credit is due. I don’t garden. Can’t keep anything alive to save my life.”

Nick leans in, as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear, and for a moment you marvel at the different patterns on his skin. You hadn’t thought orcs were capable of indicating anything with their skin color, but you could swear Nick looks slightly flushed. You eyeball the empty glasses at the table. There were a lot more than you remember drinking.

“I hate to tell you this, (Y/N),” he whispers, “but you work in a hospital.”

“Well, if a cucumber comes in with pulmonary edema, they better not give him to me.”

And there you go again, laughing. There are tears in your eyes. It really brings out the color in them, and Nick decides that he likes them. They’re so expressive. Not like his. Orc eyes have evolved for a predatory nature. They didn’t crinkle when he laughed or have this strange ability to twinkle when something was on his mind. Other races thought human eyes weren’t much to marvel at. Nick though they were wrong.

“Ow,” you mumble as your back spasms against so much effort. Your body would be a killjoy.

“Are you okay?” Nick asks, voice all concern. That was more than what you got at the hospital. It was mostly ‘what were you thinings’ and ‘are you crazys’ there.

“Yeah. No. I will be,” you manage to say, stretching your back ever so slightly. “In case you didn’t notice, your race is incredibly strong, and apparently they don’t take well to waking up with strangers on top of them.”

Nick’s ears twitch. “Uh...look, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that.”

You smile. “Not what you think, I promise. This orc came in, not breathing, no pulse, nothing. I did the first thing that came to mind. Hopped right on the gurney and stared administering CPR. Turns out, last time he was conscious, someone was trying to kill him. So, when he sees me applying very uncomfortable pressure to his chest, he’s got no problem forcefully relocating me to the parking lot.”

Taking advantage of the brief silence, you shove more ramen in your mouth, not caring in the slightest that you look like a glutton, mostly because you are one. “Guess I should be grateful he didn’t punch me. I’ve had more black eyes than I can handle. You’re actually getting to see me in relatively good condition.”

You’ve almost finished your bowl when it occurs to you that Nick has been silent the entire time. Slowly, you glance up, and your gaze meets a stare of utter disbelief.

“What?”

“You did all that...for an orc.”

Nick had been enjoying your company, honestly it was probably one of the best experiences he’d had in some time, but he’d be lying if he said he had no doubts about you. There was always a voice in the back of his mind, whispering things. People are only nice because they want something, this is all going to end in a prank, something like that. It was his defense mechanism, that paranoid part of his mind protecting him when everything inevitably went wrong. It can’t hurt as much when he sees it coming.

But right now, that voice has gone completely silent.

“Of course I did,” you say, almost offended by the notion of the answer being anything else. “The people who come through those hospital doors, they aren’t human or orc or dwarf. They are my patients, and I will never do anything short of my damnedest to make sure they get cared for, that they don’t die without every possible avenue being exhausted to save them.”

And just like that, Nick has irrevocably placed all his trust in you. It won’t occur to him until later that night, when he can’t sleep because all this thoughts revolve around this conversation, but in your hands, right now, is more than he has given anyone in a long time.

You take a breath as Nick remains quiet. You’ve done it again; you’ve gone too far.

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I, uh, I don’t mean to sound so...extreme. It’s sort of an automatic reaction these days. The number of times I’ve had to explain myself to people over giving a damn about someone who isn’t human is...infuriating really. So, I’m sorry if-”

Nick places his hand on yours across the table. You’re not sure if it’s the touch or that determined spark in his eyes that cuts you off.

“Never apologize for doing what you do,” he says in a stern voice that sounds so unlike him. “Do you have any idea how many humans I know who would defend others races like that, without a moment’s hesitation? I can count them on one hand, and that includes the orcs, dwarves, elves, what have you who would do the same. You have what the world needs to become a better place. Don’t be sorry for that.”

You turn your hand over in his.

“You have it too, you know.”

Nick shakes his head. “I don’t know about that.”

He tries to pull his hand back, but you hold it in place, insisting he meet your gaze again. That determination is gone, you see, because when the subject is about him, there’s always so much doubt. No one has ever given him reason to be confident about himself. Old men in suits would argue he was hired for diversity, not for skill, not for competence even. To them, he was a poster boy for a liberal agenda, not an orc who just wanted to do what he believed was right, despite all the odds.

It was so wrong.

You squeeze his hand. “I do.”

You don’t know it yet, but something has transpired between the two of you, a deeper connection that at some point in your life you had given up on ever knowing.

Some time later, the waitress has placed the bill on the table, a not so subtle hint to hurry up and get out of the restaurant. You snatch the paper away before Nick can get his hand on it, and smile at the slightly annoyed look on his face.

Your eyebrows raise slightly. “How much sake did you drink?”

Nick looks at the table. Most of the glasses had been cleared. He hadn’t meant to drink much, but when you first arrived, his nerves would not calm. It wasn’t until the conversation had really taken off that he had been able to sit back and enjoy himself. However, the sake still flowed and he still drank it. It didn’t seem so bad.

“I didn’t drink that much.”

You bite your lip, reexamining the placement of the decimal point. “Yeah, okay, you stay there, maybe drink a little water, and I’ll go pay the bill.”

But Nick is not about to have that as he moves to stand. “Hey now, I’m an orc, remember? We can handle our alcohol better than hu-”

And there it is. The look. You knew it very well from your college days, that wide-eyed, sudden realization that you clearly should have stopped drinking at least five drinks ago. Sake wasn’t known for being strong, but this sake was, which was why you ate here as much as you did.

Of course, Nick hadn’t known that.

You stand and put a hand on his shoulder as he sways slightly, barely choking out “-mans.”

“Okay, big stuff, sit back down,” you say, pushing lightly on his chest. He practically collapses in the booth. “I’ll come back for you when I’m done.”

One payment (and mental negotiation that you won’t go to the mall this month) later, you and Nick are standing on the sidewalk, squinting at the last light of the day. You herd him slowly to your truck, opening the door for him like the chivalrous woman you are.

Unlike most under the influence guys (and girls) you have dealt with, Nick clearly understands that he is in no position to find his vehicle and drive it home for the evening. That’s a breath of fresh air you hadn’t realized you needed.

You hop in the driver’s seat, fumbling with the keys slightly. “Alright, so where do you-”

As soon as the engine turns, orcish music blasts over your speakers.

You hit the power on your radio so fast, you think that maybe Nick didn’t catch it. But you refuse to look over to check.

The brief silence feels like an eternity to you.

“...you listen to orcish music?”

“Well, no, I-”

“I’ve never met a human who liked it. Well, besides the ones who like to hang with the Fogteeth at their clubs.” You glance over at Nick, and he manages to look a little sheepish. “Not that you seem the type.”

You roll your eyes, pulling out onto the street. Nick lamely mumbles his address. The cab is silent.

Guilt starts to eat away at you. He hadn’t meant any harm, and honestly, you can’t blame him for asking.

“It’s...it’s not that I listen to it often, and certainly not them,” you say eventually, referring to the particular band on the radio. “They’re tryhards who think if they say fuck the police every other line, they’ll become some kind of lyrical legends.”

There’s a beat.

You blink and sigh. And there you went and did it. The whole point was to make it look like you didn’t have some strange fascination with orcs. Good going.

There was just something about Nick that made you want to just spill your guts every five minutes.

You aren’t sure if you love or hate that.

Nick leans back in his seat, looking at you and feeling remarkably sober all of a sudden. “Do...do you speak orcish?”

He watches you glance between him and the road multiple times, fighting some mental battle over what to say.

“A little...a lot,” you admit, shrugging. “Look, part of the reason Cedars-Sinai accepted me is because they needed someone fluent in orcish to help them with patient care.”

Nick blinks slowly. ��That’s not something they teach in school.”

Not in high school certainly. None of the teens had ever wanted to speak his language. Everyone wanted to learn elvish. In certain colleges, there were courses, but a medical student was hardly the type to add that to their already busy schedule. It was a language that was difficult to learn as it was, and usually hard to pronounce for anyone who wasn’t an orc.

“I didn’t learn it in school,” you say, sighing. “It’s not that I’m...ashamed or anything. It’s just that when people find out, it brings up more questions than I’m willing to answer is all.”

He gets it. Oh, does he get it. Questions were all he got for months as he was trying to become a cop, questions about every aspect of his life that certainly weren’t part of the normal requirements. He liked getting to know people, not being interrogated about what he thought about a particular event and if it made him angry, or why he liked this band and did he know they said terrible things against cops. Of course he knew. He hated that song. It was never ending.

“I won’t ask,” Nick says earnestly. “But, if you ever want to tell me, I’ll listen. People tell me I’m good for that, at least.”

There’s something in the tone of his voice that depresses you, and you can’t help but feel like you owe him the story as your chest starts to tug again. What he said to you back in the restaurant was probably the greatest thing anyone has told you since...well, long before you came to Los Angeles.

“My dad was a farmer,” you start, choosing to focus solely on the road. “He hired only orcs as farmhands. I always assumed it was because they were stronger, made for a faster workday, stuff like that. I, uh...I must have spent hours out there with them, each and every day. Sunrise to sunset, I’d be throwing tiny bales of hay right alongside them. They taught me the language, that way I could listen in as Tommy complained about his wife nagging at him or Walter talked about how he was going to retire in one more week. He never did.”

Nick’s eyes widen slowly as he listens to you confess your childhood to him. He can hear it in your voice, can see it in the way your lower lip quivers ever so slightly. This is something deeply personal, something few people ever got to hear.

And you were telling it to him.

He gulps, the nerves suddenly returning.

Your eyes take on a different look, he sees. The distant, glazed look of a woman caught in a memory.

“One day these punks from town came over. They were the kind of people who were never going anywhere in their lives, you could tell from one look. They started messing with the farmhands, going on about how useless and ugly they were, how they’re taking jobs from good, hardworking humans. But, of course, they don’t fight back. An orc attacks a human, he’s bound to be run out of town like he’s some feral dog.

“And that’s when my dad comes into the field. He was never the most emotional of men. He’d respond to I love you with a grunt. But he steps right in front of those orcs, his guys, and points a shotgun at those boys. And he tells them ‘these are some of the hardest working men I have ever had the privilege of meeting. I can walk away from them and trust that everything will be okay. I can leave my daughter with them and know that she is safe. I can’t do that with the likes of you.’“

Now you’re crying again. You miss your dad so much. He had the emotional range of an old school cowboy, but he never tried to crush your dreams, and he never spoke poorly of anyone who did not deserve it.

“When he died, five orc clans came to his funeral. Five.” You shake your head. “I’ve never seen the likes of it before.”

And then after, your mom fired all the orcs and hired those same punks who dared think they were better, but you don’t mention that to Nick.

The truck falls silent as Nick absorbs everything you said to him. Your father reminded him very much of his, a hardworking, stand up guy who was both respected and hated. It seems they both had died before their time.

He wants to do nothing more than reach for your hand and hold it, to show you he’s here and he cares that you told him, that you opened yourself up to him and bore a part of your soul that you clearly keep so close.

Instead, he just mumbles, “Thank you.”

You finally pull up to his house. It’s small and has only one level, but it’s far better than your cramped apartment. He’s got a yard, a small porch, and...

“Well, there it is,” you say with a small smile. “Your garden.”

There’s something about the look in your eyes, the curve on your lips as you stare almost lovingly at the garden on the side of his house that prompts Nick to say it. Either that or it’s the sake.

“Do you want to do this again some time?” he blurts, slightly unnerved by the sudden confusion on your face. “I mean, maybe not me drinking so much that you need to drive me home, but everything else that is.”

He just wants you to say yes, because suddenly he’s so afraid he won’t see you again after today.

“You mean, like a date?”

Oh.

Oh that was what he asked for, wasn’t it?

A date.

Oh.

OH.

He rubs the back of his head. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be that. You and I can just hang out together, somewhere, doing...something.”

Smooth.

You lean in, grinning. “Like a date?”

Nick blinks. “If you want to call it that. Are we calling it that?”

And you laugh, but Nick can tell it’s not at him, not really. There’s a warmth to it, like happiness is bursting out of you and this is the only way you can express it. He finds it calming.

In perfect orcish, you reply, “It’s a date, then.”

Okay, guys, I’m crying. Please be kind.

Tags! @xxdarkdarlingxx @homra-the-red-clan @frankie2902 @littlemessyjessi @ivannesque @isisnicole @notaliteraltoad @cheshagirl @annwoods91 @ever-hungry-aria @robotic-loser

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