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longing-and-heartache-and-lust · 3 years

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the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.XVI.i

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The second-to-last chapter of my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang in collaboration with my favourite @gen-syz-art as my artist 💕

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“Do you celebrate Midinváerne?”

It’s still early in the morning, and Geralt is not entirely capable of thinking, so he asks:

“Midinváerne?”

Jaskier turns to him from where he’s picking out his clothes for the day, a fur blanket around his shoulders, and Geralt can’t help but run his gaze over his body, covered in mismatched marks.

It’s a wonderful look on him.

“Yule,” Jaskier says, using the other name of the holiday. “The midwinter solstice.”

Geralt hums, making himself more comfortable among the pillows even though he knows that Jaskier is going to tug him out of bed in the next couple of minutes.

“If you count getting drunk with my brothers as a celebration, then yes.”

Jaskier shrugs with one shoulder, his attention drifting back towards the wardrobe.

“That’s about the way that I’ve been celebrating it for the last seven years, just no brothers,” he says. “Had Aiden over once, but he usually spends the winters down south, where it’s warmer.”

He seems to finally find a shirt that he likes, and pulls it off the hangers, throwing the blanket off his shoulders to get dressed. It’s the first time that he doesn’t hide his forearms, the voluminous bell-sleeves flaring out at his elbows, and Geralt’s chest constricts with just how much it makes him feel.

Over the last month, they’ve talked about it more than once, as well as about Geralt’s own scars, and though it took him a long time, it seemed like Jaskier was finally starting to believe him when he said that they’re not that different.

His scars were reminders of the fights that hurt him but left him alive.

Jaskier’s were the same.

At first, he couldn’t sleep without a shirt on or if he was naked, without holding his arms to his chest like broken wings, but slowly, his barriers were starting to crumble.

And him now choosing to wear something that doesn’t hide his arms might be the biggest cracks they’ve yet had.

“Do Arthur and the others leave to celebrate with their families?” Geralt asks after a long moment, knowing better than to say anything about Jaskier’s choice of clothes.

“Arthur and the others?” Jaskier echoes.

“Yes. Do they leave to be with their families or do they stay here with you?”

Jaskier turns to him once more, eyes searching, and then sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed and running his hand down Geralt’s thigh.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he says.

Geralt’s brows furrow with confusion, and in the stretching silence, he can hear Jaskier’s heart rate pick up.

“When I told you that everything in the mansion is created by magic, I meant it,” Jaskier finally says, voice hushed like the words themselves might break the careful illusion. “Nothing in here is real, Geralt.”

The words feel like a cold lake, taking Geralt’s breath away for an endless second before he echoes:

“Nothing?”

Jaskier shakes his head, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, and Geralt reaches out to him, linking their fingers together to give him a sense of warmth, of stability.

“Only them,” Jaskier finally says, indicating towards Asra and Lucio, peacefully asleep on the other side of the bed. “They were a gift. I once helped a man that was being hunted by Nilfgaard. I don’t know what they wanted from him but something told me I should help, so I hid him here for a little while, just until we were sure that his pursuers had passed. He had a dog with him, heavily pregnant. She gave birth to five pups, and though from the look alone I knew that he can make a fortune off those dogs, he offered that I take a couple for myself. So I chose them.”

His eyes light up, just like they always do when he’s talking about the dogs, and it softens the features of his face, making Jaskier look even younger than he is.

Asra and Lucio, somehow sensing that he’s talking about them, blink their dark eyes open and then start wagging their tails immediately, standing up and making their way to Jaskier and the witcher, licking at both of them.

Geralt has never been a big enthusiast on getting dog drool all over his face, but he can’t deny that he’d grown to love them much more than he would like to admit, so when Asra pokes her wet nose at his cheek and then licks it, he makes a face but doesn’t move away.

“I didn’t tell you this the first time we talked about it,” Jaskier says, wiping his chin with the back of his hand and patting both dogs on the head to calm them down. “But they are the reason that the bargain I’ve made is working. They’re my reason to live. If I die, who’s going to take care of them?”

That’s… well, true, Geralt supposes, but also the very thought hurts.

“So the lives of everyone in the mansion are tied to yours? What are they - illusions?” he makes himself ask, swallowing around the sudden dryness in his throat.

Jaskier shakes his head, not quite looking at him.

“I don’t know what they are,” he says quietly. “When I just got here, it took me a long time to learn to control my magic. For over a year, I was completely alone here. And that desperation made me strong enough that one day I just woke up to a house full of people. Everything hurt, not gonna lie, but I would take that pain over the empty hallways any day.”

Geralt is used to being alone. He’s alone on the Path, alone on his way to and from Kaer Morhen, but he’s never completely alone. There’s always Roach, always people around, though he hates it most of the time, and he can hardly imagine the solitude that Jaskier had to live in for over a year .

Months upon months spent locked up in a silent mansion, too big for one person, trying to come to terms with the curse and take control over the magic coursing through his veins.

And if Jaskier can create life - any form of it - his magic is more than powerful.

“And in that year, no one came looking for you?” Geralt hears himself say.

Jaskier doesn’t answer for a long time, standing up and crossing the room to the window, looking at something outside as he wraps his arms around himself. Without even thinking, Geralt gets out of the bed, one of the warm blankets still around him, and comes closer, pulling the bard into a gentle embrace.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says softly, but Jaskier shakes his head, leaning into the touch.

“I thought about it for a very long time,” he says. “Until I realised that everyone that I’ve known before had forgotten me once the curse was cast. My mother, my friends, the people I studied with in the Academy - none of them remembered me any longer. And it used to hurt horribly but it’s been so long now that I-- I almost forgot about it entirely until you asked.”

Geralt pulls him closer and presses a kiss into his hair, gentle and comforting.

“I shouldn’t have.”

Jaskier hums, turning around in the witcher’s arms to run a hand down his cheek and smile, reaching up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“You didn’t know,” he says. “And not talking about it doesn’t make it not true. I’m glad you asked.”

Geralt doesn’t think he will ever understand this.

The way Jaskier keeps his spirits up, whatever the circumstances. The way he always seems to look at the bright side, his smiles warm and genuine, despite everything.

It’s now been almost a month of trying just about everything Geralt could think of to break the curse, and every time it proved ineffective, Jaskier told him that it’s alright. That there will be other solutions to try.

As if Geralt was the one trapped in the mansion.

He could hear him cry, sometimes, and it tore his heart apart, but Jaskier kept hiding his tears, and Geralt played along, acting like he didn’t know.

If Jaskier needed his space, he wasn’t going to question it.

But whenever he could, he liked to take his lover’s mind off the curse, see that sparkle in his eyes that he’d grown to love immeasurably.

“You know, speaking of winter holidays,” Geralt says slowly. “I got another letter from home yesterday, my brothers are telling me to give you their greetings. And so does Aiden.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back to get a better look at Geralt.

“Aiden?” the echoes. “My Aiden?”

Geralt hums an affirmative, pulling Jaskier closer again to wrap the blanket around both of them.

“I don’t know if my younger brother would appreciate you calling him yours, but yes. Has he ever told you anything about a certain Lambert?”

“Of course he has,” Jaskier nods, his smile only growing wider. “For the last three years, that's all I’ve ever heard from him. He’s hopelessly in love with that man, whoever he is.”

Geralt grins.

“Lambert is my brother.”

He wasn’t sure if Jaskier’s eyes could get any bigger but they do. Geralt can’t help but lean in and kiss him on the tip of the nose, making the bard wrinkle it.

“Lambert’s your brother?” he asks.

“Well, not by blood,” Geralt admits. “But he’s a Wolf, same as me. I’m sure he will be more than delighted to meet you when I take you to Kaer Morhen, because in the letter he said that Aiden hasn’t been able to shut up about you ever since he learned about us.”

Jaskier still looks adorably shocked, and Geralt can practically see him putting the pieces together in his mind, and uses that to his own advantage, pulling the bard back towards the bed, where it’s warm and comfortable. He’s still not fully dressed, and Geralt is only wearing smallclothes, so returning to bed would be more than perfect.

Jaskier gives him a look of protest but doesn’t say a word when Geralt pulls him onto the soft mattress, just sighs heavily before allowing the witcher to pull a blanket over both of them.

“We don’t have anywhere to be,” Geralt reminds, nosing at his hair with a sense of accomplishment.

“Don’t mean we can just stay in bed all day. We’ve been doing this for the past month and a half,” Jaskier tries, weakly.

Even as he speaks, he makes himself more comfortable on Geralt’s chest.

“I will tell you embarrassing stories about Lambert that you’ll be able to taunt him with when you meet him,” the witcher offers.

He knows that on some level it’s wrong - changing the subject because he cannot bear to feel that heartbreak in Jaskier’s scent. He knows that someday they will have to go back to that conversation.

But right now, he doubts that either of them is ready.

And Jaskier seems to feel it, too.

“Alright,” he says, rolling his eyes but allowing Geralt to find his way to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them though Jaskier had had it on for barely a few minutes. “But only the best ones.”

***

Ever since he could remember, Geralt had always been more of a Belleteyn man himself.

Midinváerne was fun, he couldn’t deny that, but he preferred the warmth of summer and the bonfires that lit up the fields, the scent of woodsmoke mixing in with alcohol and heady lust.

Not that social gatherings were his thing, but Belleteyn had always held a special kind of appeal to it, one that Geralt couldn’t resist.

And when it came to Yule, his only association with it were those nights that he and his brothers would spend drinking in the main hall of Kaer Morhen, losing to each other at Gwent and having to answer the stupidest questions imaginable.

It was fun, of course, but lacked that special kind of gravity.

And yet, he knew it would be very different this year.

Jaskier was practically glowing with anticipation, his magic twirling around his fingers in shifting shades of light, and Geralt didn’t need to ask to know that on the night of Midinváerne it will grow stronger.

He wondered, even, if he’ll be able to touch him at all without burning himself on that power.

It was an exciting thought, no matter how he looked at it.

Jaskier had shown him lots of things that his magic is capable of, including the countless portals throughout the mansion meant for the dogs - after half a year, Geralt’s questions about how Asra and Lucio seem to always be somewhere nearby and then disappear completely was finally answered - and Geralt found himself eager to see more.

He still couldn’t quite find the right way to ask Jaskier whether or not he understands that magic that powerful has to start with his blood and not the mark on his back, and Midinváerne seemed like the perfect opportunity to do just that, so Geralt, for his own reasons, was anticipation it, too.

And there was one more thing.

Both summer and winter solstice were very special when it came to just about everything that had Chaos laced through it.

There was one more thing he wanted to try when it came to breaking the curse, and on the night of Midinváerne, their chances were at their highest.

All that was left was asking Jaskier whether or not he wanted to take that chance.

***

“Couldn’t you have just made them instead of freezing your fingers off outside?”

Jaskier looks up at him from where he’s sitting by the fireplace, keeping himself warm, his knees pulled up to his chest, and sticks out his tongue.

It’s already dark behind the windows, the longest night of the year having taken its toll, and he just came back from the gardens that he’d sneaked out into to find branches of mistletoe that he was now weaving together into a wreath to tell his fortune upon later in the night.

The tradition was old as time but Geralt had never really seen it done, most of his winters spent up in Kaer Morhen, where everyone preferred drinking to fortune-telling.

But Jaskier seemed to know what he was doing, and his magic was growing stronger the closer to midnight they got, so when he’d suggested that he make a wreath for Geralt, as well, the witcher couldn’t find a reason to refuse.

“In Toussaint, women give mistletoe wreaths to those they wish to kiss at midnight,” he points out, surprising even himself.

Jaskier’s eyebrows jump up, blue eyes widening slightly.

“Well, Witcher, if you’re worried about me choosing someone else to kiss tonight, then, of course, I’ll give you your wreath once I finish it,” he grins. “Though I had slightly more… ambitious plans on you.”

Geralt holds back from rolling his eyes and comes closer, getting down onto the soft hide in front of the fireplace, as well. Before Jaskier can protest, he pulls him into his arms, until the bard’s back is pressed to his chest, and noses at his neck, breathing in the familiar scent before placing a kiss right under the sharp of his jaw.

Jaskier squeals at the rough scrape of the witcher’s stubble against his tender skin, but doesn’t protest, concentrated on the task at hand.

They fall into a comfortable silence, just being in each other's presence enough right now, and the warmth that spreads through Geralt’s chest is still something that he’s getting used to.

The comfort that Jaskier gives him, the feeling of security and unconditional acceptance. The love that Geralt feels from him.

Despite it now having been a month since Geralt learned that his feelings were reciprocated, it was all still very new to him.

Almost overwhelming sometimes.

Unable to help himself, Geralt pulls the bard closer, tucking his face into the curve of his shoulder, and though he’s expecting Jaskier to protest and tell him that he’s distracting him from his work, instead, he feels him turn around in his arms, until they’re facing each other, and before Geralt can even open his eyes, Jaskier pulls him into a kiss, cupping his face with both hands.

His lips are sweet with the lemon liqueur they’ve both been slowly making their way through for the last three hours, and the magic on his fingertips sends sparks down Geralt’s spine.

And maybe it’s that, maybe it’s something else, but for the first time, Geralt truly realises that this is what he wants for the rest of his life.

This love, this sweetness.

This warmth that spills through his chest and makes his heart beat faster.

He breaks away from the bard’s lips when there is no more air in his lungs, but doesn’t open his eyes, resting his forehead against Jaskier’s.

“Your magic is growing stronger,” he murmurs, leaning into the touch when Jaskier brushes his thumb over his cheekbone.

Jaskier hums an affirmative.

“It is,” he says. “I don’t necessarily have any plans on it but the feeling is rather pleasant. Like I could change the entire world if I wanted to.”

The words stir something in Geralt’s chest, and he reaches up to cover Jaskier’s hands with his own, bringing them down to his lips.

“There’s something else that we can try to break the curse,” he says softly. “Tonight, when your powers are at their strongest.”

He hates to remind Jaskier of it now, on the day he’d been waiting for, but he has to try. If it comes to that, he will stay with him for years - forever, if he needs to - but there is nothing he wants more than to free the bard of these bounds.

To his surprise, Jaskier says:

“No.”

Geralt draws back to look at him, unsure if he understood him correctly.

“No?”

Jaskier shakes his head, his chest rising and then falling on a deep breath.

“I’m tired, Geralt,” he says. “I'm tired of the curse, but I’m also tired of constantly trying to break it. I don’t want to think about that, not tonight. Tonight it’s just you and me, alright?”

He leans in closer again, and catches Geralt’s lips with his own in a comforting, reassuring kiss.

“We can spend the night playing stupid games and losing to each other, we can find a use to at least one of the countless rooms I have in this house, or we can just get drunk and spend the entire night here, curled up together in front of the fire. Anything you want. But not another attempt to break the curse.”

Geralt’s first instinct is to try one more time, tell Jaskier that they shouldn’t miss their chance, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the knowledge that this isn’t his choice to make.

It’s Jaskier who’s tied to the mansion, and if he says that he doesn’t want to think about it tonight, Geralt doesn’t have the right to question that.

“Alright,” he nods, resting their foreheads together again. “Anything you want, my love.”

Jaskier smiles, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s neck, and pulls him closer, leaning back until the witcher loses balance, and they both fall onto the hide, barely avoiding the unfinished wreaths.

“Gods, Jask, I’m twice your weight,” Geralt tries, weakly.

It’s very hard to protest when he’s got Jaskier pinned to the floor under him, warm and familiar.

“That doesn’t seem to bother you when you press me to the bed,” Jaskier teases, his eyes sparkling as he runs his hands through Geralt’s loose hair. “And I’m not as fragile as I look. Just stay as you are.”

Saying no to that doesn’t seem like a possibility, so Geralt complies without any further resistance, allowing himself to relax and catching Jaskier’s lips in a warm kiss before tucking his face into the curve of his shoulder once more.

They stay like that for some time, Jaskier running his hands through the witcher’s hair and murmuring something about how soft it is, and everything else fades into the backdrop of Geralt’s mind, forgotten.

***

Somehow, the alcohol takes its effect on Geralt much sooner than he’d expected.

When there’s only an hour or so before midnight left, his head is already spinning pleasantly, the taste of the liquor on his lips only made sweeter by the kisses he keeps stealing from Jaskier.

All the servants are long dismissed, and they’re alone in the mansion save only for Asra and Lucio, who are sleeping peacefully in one of the chairs, tired from running around in the gardens and uninterested in any sort of celebrations by now.

At some point during the night, Geralt had somehow convinced Jaskier to get the lute he’d seen in their bedroom and play something, because previously he’d only heard him recite poems, not ballads.

Jaskier was just a little shy at first, hiding his eyes and saying that he hasn’t performed for anyone since the Academy, but as soon as he touched the strings, all that shyness was gone.

He switched between his own songs and the ones that are known all across the Continent, his voice flowing like a birdsong, deft fingers moving over the strings with practised ease, and Geralt, looking at him from his place by the fire, realised then, with both excitement and slight horror, that he will never love anyone as much as he loves him.

And, well, it’s common knowledge that love makes people do things they wouldn’t have had the courage for otherwise.

“Come with me,” Geralt says, getting up when the last notes of a well-known ballad about a knight and a witch fade into the air and Jaskier puts his lute aside, rubbing at his fingertips.

He takes Geralt’s hand without questions, allowing him to pull him up onto his feet, and follows the witcher when he leads him through the endless hallways and rooms, all the way onto the third floor and into the far end of the west wing.

“If you want to make use of the bed that you used to sleep in, we’re going the wrong way,” he points out, a little unsteady on his feet from the alcohol.

Geralt rolls his eyes, holding onto the bard’s hand tighter.

The mansion is a labyrinth, and he still barely knows his way around, but his memory is good enough to allow him to find the room he’s looking for on the first try.

The large double doors are what give it away.

Geralt pushes them open, and he doesn’t even have to say anything before Jaskier snaps his fingers and the vast ballroom lights up with hundreds of candles all along the walls.

It’s decorated in the same manner and the rest of the mansion, golds and deep reds dominating the colour scheme, and just as elegant.

Above a large fireplace, hangs a portrait of a woman that Geralt instantly recognises as Jaskier’s mother. Those bottomless cornflower-blue eyes are very hard to miss.

He lets go of Jaskier’s hand and bows deeply, one hand on his abdomen and the other one behind his back.

“Do me an honour of a dance, my Lord?” he says, lifting his gaze to meet Jaskier’s and not trying hard enough to hide his grin.

He offers Jaskier a hand, and the bard takes it with a charming smile, the voluminous slit sleeve of his chemise brushing over Geralt’s skin.

There’s something that he used for his morning bath that has his skin shimmer like gold in the warm light of the candles, and Geralt leans down to press a gentle kiss to Jaskier’s knuckles before pulling him closer.

At another snap of the bard’s fingers, the ballroom fills with music.

“Just one more thing,” he murmurs, running his hand through Geralt’s hair, his magic weaving golden vines of laurel into it, and then, before Geralt can even suggest it, Jaskier’s own hair is adorned with a delicate, intricate crown.

Geralt bites his lip, fighting the urge to pull him into a kiss, and instead takes a step back, leading Jaskier in a dance that he’d learned a very long time ago, in Kaer Morhen.

It’s not perfect and certainly way below anything that would be allowed at an actual court but right now, it’s just the two of them, and Jaskier happily lets Geralt lead, keeping the required distance between them only to close in a second later, teasing and slipping out of touch just before Geralt can do anything about it.

His magic grows stronger, almost burning the witcher at every touch, but he still chases it, even as his medallion hums against his chest.

It’s strange, being alone in a ballroom that could easily fit an entire court, but with Jaskier, it doesn’t really matter.

As long as the music plays, flowing from somewhere above them, they dance, the alcohol making them both light on their feet.

Jaskier is a much better dance than Geralt, his every move practised and effortlessly elegant, and every time they break apart, Geralt can’t help but admire him, the silk of Jaskier’s clothes moving around him like waves, the gold of the crown shining in the flickering light of the countless candles.

Just once, Geralt manages to catch him in time to steal a long, sweet kiss from his lips, and Jaskier doesn’t even try to protest, kissing him back with just as much feeling behind it.

Keeping the time in mind proves a little more difficult than Geralt had expected, and so it’s only a few minutes until midnight that Jaskier suddenly gasps and stops, clasping his hand over Geralt’s to run out of the ballroom and back to the downstairs library, waking the dogs with the sudden commotion.

Geralt follows him, not entirely understanding what they’re doing until they’re back in front of the fireplace and there is a mistletoe wreath being placed on his head.

“Now you can rest assured, my love,” Jaskier smiles, still a little out of breath. “It’s only you that I wish to kiss.”

And before Geralt can answer, the bard already throws his arms around his neck and pulls him into a kiss, so sweet that Geralt’s knees go weak.

He kisses back, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist, holding him closer, and at that moment, with the dogs jumping around them to get attention, the liquor still sweet on his tongue, and Jaskier’s familiar warmth next to him, he feels happy.

His chest feels tight with it, and that sends a shiver down his spine.

He’d never really thought whether or not he’s truly happy, too used to his life being limited down to the endless stretch of the Path, the monsters and the winters at Kaer Morhen.

And he enjoyed all of that, despite the pain, the blood, the prejudice and contempt from people who didn’t even know him. He couldn’t picture himself as anyone other than a witcher, and even being underpaid at just about every job he’d take, he knew that what he was doing needed to be done.

And to make up for three seasons on the Path, there was Kaer Morhen.

Three long winter months spent in a keep he’d been calling home since he was a child, with his brothers and Vesemir. Drinks, games, stupid stories, horse races across the slopes of the Blue Mountains, the constant fear to fall and break your neck only adding to the adrenaline rush.

No, Geralt wasn’t unhappy.

There was just something lacking.

A missing piece somewhere deep in his chest that kept letting the cold draft in, a draft that he’d grown accustomed but not used to.

A draft that was no longer there, the space left by the missing piece now filled with Jaskier’s unconditional, absolute love.

Geralt makes an effort over himself, breaking away from Jaskier’s lips when there is no more air left in his lungs, but doesn’t let the bard go, still holding him close as he whispers:

“You’re meant to make a wish at midnight. What do you wish for?”

Jaskier closes his eyes, the smile never leaving his lips, and Geralt isn't sure if the cracking he’s hearing is the fire or Jaskier’s magic, charging the air around them.

“I only have one wish,” Jaskier says, his eyes impossibly blue as he opens them to look at Geralt. “You.”

This time it’s not the alcohol that makes Geralt’s knees weak.

“I’m yours,” he whispers.

Jaskier’s smile somehow grows even brighter, his magic growing so tangible that Geralt feels lightheaded with it, and he pulls the witcher into another kiss, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest.

***

It’s much later in the night that they finally find their way back to their bedroom.

Asra and Lucio pay them absolutely no mind, not even waking up when they finally leave the library, and with the bed left completely for their own, there’s more than enough space for Geralt and Jaskier to fall onto, tired after a long night.

The clothes that Jaskier had chosen for both of them are all intricate laces and buttons, and undoing them all would’ve taken the rest of the night had Jaskier not taken pity on Geralt and dealt with that with a snap of his fingers.

“Convenient,” Geralt hums, his head still a little unsteady from the alcohol. “You should do that more often when I’m trying to undress you.”

Jaskier laughs, drunk and happy, and makes himself comfortable on the pillows, all of his clothes now somewhere on the floor.

The room is dark, illuminated only by the light of the full moon outside, and the silver glow that it casts on Jaskier’s skin makes him look like his body’s been cut out of marble, every line flawless, filigree.

Geralt can’t take his eyes off him.

Jaskier notices him looking, and regards the witcher from under his lashes, the crown still shining in his chestnut hair. He bites his lip, never breaking the eye contact as he runs a hand down his chest and spreads his knees in a teasing, inviting gesture.

Of course, that’s not something that Geralt can turn down.

He pulls off the rest of his clothes, the night air pleasantly cold against his skin, and slips right into Jaskier’s waiting arms, their bodies fitting together easily.

They’re both too tired to take it any further, and they’ve already had their fill in the morning, but just laying together, skin to skin, is a pleasure of its own.

“Thank you for the wonderful day, Witcher,” Jaskier murmurs, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s temple.

Geralt hums, pleased and content, and noses at Jaskier’s neck in return.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he assures. “My Lord.”

Jaskier gives him a little pleased rumble, almost a purr from somewhere deep in his chest, and wraps his arms around the witcher’s back tighter, tangling their legs together.

“Keep calling me that, and I just might act upon it,” he draws out, and Geralt can’t help the thrill that runs through his body at that.

He knows it’s a promise as much as it is a threat, as well as he knows that both of them are filled with nothing but pleasure.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he grins.

They fall asleep quickly, safe and warm in each other’s arms, and it’s when the rising sun paints the room with reds and golds that Geralt wakes, his body catching up with all the liquor and demanding some cold water.

He carefully untangles himself from Jaskier, and the bard, having lost his warmth, immediately turns to his side, pulling one of the blankets closer to his chest.

Geralt reaches the pitcher on the bedside table, and, having failed to find a cup, drinks right out of it, the cold water nothing less of a bliss.

He lets his gaze linger on Jaskier’s sleeping form, on his tousled hair, the lines of his shoulders and back, the fading marks scattered over them, and he’s already about to close his eyes and go back to sleep, when it hits him.

“Jask,” he calls, reaching out to touch the bard on the shoulder, his heart beating so hard in his chest that he feels like it’s going to break through the bones. “Jask, wake up.”

“Hmm?” he draws out, barely awake as he turns to look at Geralt. “Was is it, my love?”

Geralt can feel his throat go suddenly dry, and he has to take in a slow breath before he says:

“Your mark is gone.”

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier big bang #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the drug the dark the light the flame #my writing #calton writes

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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Is the this the longest fic Ive ever written? Yes. Does it suck? Also yes. Will nobody read it because it makes no sense but Im still going to post because I wasted way too much damn on this thing? TRIPLE YES.

Word count: 10.4k words (she thicc)

Genre: Angst and Fluff, sfw

AU: Fantasy AU!, Hanahaki disease

Prompt: “How could your keep this from?”

Warnings: blood

Summary: You are born into a worls where you must marry your best friend, Prince Shoto, in order to unite your kingdoms in harmony. You are happy to marry your childhood friend and love, until he leaves for a quest unannounced, and you are left questioning if you really want to marry him. Once he returns a few weeks before your planned wedding, you begin to not fall in love with him, but one of his comrades- the barbarian, Bakugo.

*this is for the even for @bnhabookclub! Heres the link to the post if your interested!

Again. welcome to the shitshow that is my blog. read at your own risk cause this gets REAL WIERD REAL QUICK

Petals-all you could see were the petals.

Your mouth and throat felt so dry, your forehead damp with sweat as your back convulsed painfully, raspy coughs wracking out of your chest as you forced the petals out of your body.

They were so pale, like creamy vanilla, a stark contrast from the droplets of your blood splattered on the delicate buds.

You quickly reached for your handkerchief, wiping the residue off your dry mouth in fear of it dribbling on to your white dress-your wedding dress. Your hands were shaking, unable to cry any more tears at your misery-you had come to terms many weeks ago that you were going to reach an unhappy end.

Why did it have to be him?

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You were the princess of your kingdom, destined to marry Prince Shoto of the neighboring kingdom. It was something you two had been accustomed to from birth- in order to connect the two kingdoms and end the quarrels between the two civilizations, you had to marry. It would be a harmonious marriage: Prince Shoto was kind, soft spoken, and a natural born leader. You two had been wonderful friends as siblings, your fathers putting away their troubles in order for you two to get along. They were hoping that by making you friends at a young age, you would learn to grow feelings for each other.

For a time, it worked-you had fallen for Prince Shoto, his soft yet powerful demeanor making you blush each time you remembered him, your young hands writing your name with his last in your journal like a prayer. At 13 you already began to count down the days until you would turn 18, because on that day, you were set to marry your predestined lover- Shoto Todoroki.

For years you had felt so lucky you were blessed with such a sweet boy to be with, being able to live out your lives harmoniously and in peace, something both your parents didn't have the luxury to have. It sometimes left you feeling frustrated- Shoto was truly kind, but very quiet about his thoughts. Your love felt one sided, Shoto seemingly only tolerating you because he had to.

Once he got older, he became more distant towards you, clearly wishing to rebel against his father’s wishes by being distant towards you. It hurt you immensely to see your best friend and crush plainly reject you, but you still held on to the hope that you two could be happy with each other. Yet all that changed when the Prince had left for a quest.

He had been gone for what seemed like an eternity and for a time, you were extremely worried. You could barely focus on your studies, only imagining your poor friend somewhere cold, hungry, and alone. You knew he would be fine, he was a resilient fighter, but yet you couldn't help but allow the worrisome thoughts to collect in your brain. After news that the Prince was in a neighboring kingdom, safely traveling with a young boy, a witch, and a warrior, you felt at ease- with all those comrades, he was sure to be safe. You finally breathed a sigh of relief, able to calm your anxieties after a long time of being unable to.

Information continued to trickle in, sometimes good and sometimes bad, but it always stated that the Prince was spotted safe and sound. You took solace in that information, and for awhile, you began to worry less and less about Shoto, until he was barely a memory.

During that time, you had begun to take on the habit of reading. Before it was a task you simply did when forced or extremely bored, only reading books and stories from your own kingdom.

With so much extra time on your hands waiting upon the Prince to return, you began to learn of other stories, ones that were trully a delight to you: stories of nomads who traveled the country and did rituals to bring them fortunes, women who sold potions by gathering mystical ingredients from the woods, people choosing their own destines and their own paths. It intrigued you- from birth you had one mission for your life: to unite your kingdoms. Once you married Prince Shoto, your destiny would be complete: and then what would you do? You had no other purpose, except being a symbol of that peace for the rest of your life, sitting pretty on a throne until your last breath.

It began to eat at your insides, gnaw at your conscience that you were merely a pawn in your father’s legacy. You could now fully understand why Shoto had been so defiant: he had realized the truth of his life as well.

Slowly, you began to learn to dread instead of anticipate your wedding day. With the Prince being gone, it was sending quite a ruckus in your home, your father more annoyed with each passing day that the Prince had not come back. You, on the other hand, rejoiced. The kings had both agreed at your times of birth that if anything happened to either child before your 18th birthday, the agreement would be cancelled and the marriage no more. They would rely on their children to fix their broken ties.

You had just turned 17, the mental clock beginning to tick in you and your father’s minds, as the Prince still wasn't back form his quest. Just a few more months, and you would both have your wishes: Shoto seemed to have no interest in marrying you, and why should you even for that matter? You two truly didnt love each other- your friendship was a hoax your fathers had created in order to save their own legacies. Your love for each other was man-made and a lie. Just a few more months, and you'd be free of this terrible fate.

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The day you turned 17 and a half, you were busying yourself on your plush pink bed, reading another novel about free spirited women in a far off land.

“Princess y/n,” your hand maiden opened the door quietly, afraid of disturbing you, “the King would like to speak with you.”

You gave your shy handmaiden a small smile, delicately marking the spot in your book as your feet landed on the cold floor.

“Thank you,” you replied, “Ill be there shortly.”

You entered your father’s study, his feet stomping the room heavily as he paced in deep thought.

The room was grand, a golden chair sitting in front of an old ebony desk, the room surrounded by maps, battle plans, and bookcases full of legends of stories written long before your time. Light flitted through long windows against the wall, looking out to the rural countryside and a matching red carpet run the lengths of the stone floors.

Your entrance seemed to have disturbed your Father’s train of thought, his head instantly looking to see who had interrupted him. Once he saw it was you, he sighed, greeting you with a tight smile.

“You wished to see me Father?’ you asked politely, your fingers tugging nervously at the sleeves of your dress. Your father never called upon you unless it was extremely important- had you done something wrong? You wracked your mind for any actions that would had been unwise for your father to find out, but to your surprise, you couldnt think of a single thing you had done.

“Yes, yes,” your father said hastily, waving his hands toward a small wooden chair at the foot of his desk, “please-sit. We have much to discuss.”

You sat on the hard chair, a chill traveling your back as you watched your father sit in his plush throne, his face clearly tired.

“As we all know, Prince Shoto has been on a quite a long quest for some time,” your father began, his voice deep with annoyance, “and has not come back. And with your 18th birthday fast approaching, and it worries me that the boy wont be back in time for your marriage. I have talked to King Todoroki about my worries, who also had the same fear, and he promised to bring the boy back and end his little shenanigan. But Shoto refuses to leave until his quest is complete.”

Your father took in a deep breath through his nose, his face a mix of anger and agitation.

Your heart beat excitedly- the prince wasnt coming back? The news bounced happily inside you, giving you some hope that you needed- that must have been why he had gone on that quest in the first place! Even though you were excited, you felt a tightness in your chest- you were childhood firend after all. He really didnt like you that much that he felt he had to run away?

“Oh dont look so solemn daughter,” your father comforted, his voice soft with sympathy,” Shotos father allowed the boy to finish his quest in 5 months’ time, and he is forced to return to his kingdom. In the meantime, we can not forget the whole reason for your marriage like young Todoroki has- you must connect the kingdoms in order to bring harmony.``

“Which is why,” your father added, “we must begin to plan the wedding.”

Your head shot up, the feeling of shock flooding your body. It was still going to happen? Your body began to feel heavy, your father's words fuzzy against your ear- you didn't want this, any of this. You felt trapped like a songbird in a cage, unable to scream out what you desperately wanted to say: if he didnt love you, you didnt want any part of this.

Your father seemed to not notice the look of terror on your face, continuing to inform you of his plan. “We already have sent out invitation to relatives and noblemen in other countries, as well as begin to plan out the festivities. It will be a 3 day event, full of food and parties and, of course, the celebration of our kingdoms coming together. The closer to the date, we will begin to need you for fittings of your dresses as well as rehearse your wedding vows and such. I promise I will make this as wonderful as I can, for you are my only daughter.”

The king smiled at you, wrapping your stiff body into a hug. You could barely feel his embrace- the world was numb to your screaming mind. You wished upon everything in you to end this, to make this all go away, but you knew you couldn't- you would be forced to do this whether you wanted to or not.

You simply nodded your head to your father’s parting words, and then ran to your quarters, shutting the door and ceremoniously throwing yourself on your bed in defeat.

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For days you felt numb and broken, all fight leaving your body. You watched as all your handmaidens and servants ran like chickens around the castle, preparing for the enormous festivities coming in close time. You were a good and proper princes, silently placid and allowing everything around you to happen.

Flower arrangements, samples of sweets, and fabrics for your dresses all came to you, and you agreed to all of them or just randomly choose. You could care less for your “special day”- the only thing you could truly hope for was prince Shoto ignoring his father’s wishes and not coming back.

That, of course, was a wishful fantasy. You were having a blissful dream when your hand maiden barged into your room, clearly too excited to be considerate of your sleeping state.

“Miss y/n! Miss y/n! Oh please wake up! There is most wonderful news!” she cried excitedly, gently pulling the covers off your body, “You must get ready at once!”

“Prince Shoto- he is back from his quest!”

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The whole of the kingdom rejoiced at the news, since he had arrived a month before the wedding. He was here, ready to marry and unite the kingdom. That was all that truly mattered.

Your handmaiden dressed you in your most elegant gown, the icy aqua color bringing out the rosiness of your cheeks, as she placed pearly ornaments in your hair. You felt like you were being presented as a gift to the Prince, a reminder of what he was destined to do. You sighed, dreading having to reunite with your once friend and secret love.

Shoto was standing in the ballroom of your castle, very accustomed to it since you both played here occasionally as children. He was used to the golden floors and the crystal chandeliers the sizes of boulders, all hung gracefully in a row on the ebony ceiling. Him and his company were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the polished staircase cascading towards them.

He looked at his new found friend’s faces, their expressions clearly in shock. Izuku, his face ruddy with dirt and his cheeks aflame from nervousness as he twisted his shirt between his fingers (a nervous tick Shoto had noticed). Uraraka gawked at the room around her in awe, her wide eyes drinking up the scene in front of her. Bakugo was least impressed, his arms crossed in front of his exposed chest and his eyes formed in judgmental slits.

Shoto had told the others before why he had to go back, but only after the quest was over- he wanted to help his new found friends, and after promising to help them in their battle, he would have felt extremely guilty leaving them behind.

Their reactions were mixed when he revealed he had a marriage in a few weeks time- Izuku was clearly shocked yet in awe hed be marrying a princess, while Uraraka seemed to find the situation romantic. Bakugo simply laughed, mocking him from being such a “sissy” for actually getting married in the first place.

Shoto was feeling conflicted inside at the moment- it had been so long since he had last seen you, and when he had, he was less than kind to you. He was quiet, distant, and quite petty about the whole situation of your marriage. You had turned barely 17 when he left, his young body desperate for some adventure and resilient to his father’s wishes. He merely saw you as a nuisance, someone in the way of his freedom. He knew it was unkind and unjustified, you didn't know what was going on inside him, but he was angry nevertheless and desperate to leave. So when he was approached by young boy in need of a friend for his quest, it was hard to resist the offer.

But as nights when on and he had time to be alone with his thoughts, his mind always seemed to travel to you. The way you giggled, your laughs sounding like chimes in the wind, or how your smile always seemed to make his skin tingle with warmth.

You were always a strange girl, but always in the best way, daring Shoto to races even thought your father said it was “unlike a princess to do so” or trying to braid Shoto’s mix-matched hair.

He would never forget the day he had allowed you to do so, your nimble fingers soft against his skin and making him burn up from nervousness. Your touch was so calming and soothing, your small compliments and soft voice sending his soul soaring with pleasure. It was then he realized he had loved you for you, not because he was forced to.

Shoto felt guilty for forgetting those cherished memories in his fits of anger, but he had agreed to help Izuku and he vowed to not give up on that promimse. Months went on, and Shoto couldnt tell how much time had passed: he only hoped you were doing okay without him.

It wasnt until his father had came to collect him that he realized how short he was on time. He had still stuck by his friends, yet the constant reminders of your wedding was in the air, haunting him. They would travel through kingdoms, the whispers of this event following him as the townspeople began to talk. It was a wonder his friends never caught on except him, only to find out weeks before your wedding.

Now Shoto was standing in the ballroom, feeling quite nervous- he hadnt seen you in so long….would you look any different? He was certain your beauty had grown by then, the thought of you looking older and more womanly bringing a blush to his cheeks. How would you see him? He had become quite a different person on his quest, his body becoming more hardened from battles with bandits and the harsh life of travelling. Would you feel the same for him still? Were you just as excited as you were so many years ago to finally be together?

Shoto heard the clicks of shoes on the wooden floor, a man with the straightest back he had ever seen standing proudly at the steps of the stairs.The man took a deep breath, his voice traveling through the room as he announced your arrival to the group of travelers.

Yet Shoto didnt hear a single word he said- he was enraptured by your beauty. You had seemed to turn into a fine young woman since he had last seen you, your curves accentuated by the tightness of your gown, the blue complimenting you perfectly. Your hair flowed in soft ringlets on your back, the pearls in your hair like stars. You were an angel blessed to this planet- an angel he was destined to marry.

The only thing that was worrying him was your expression- he had expected you to seem so much more lively, welcoming the bright smile you would always give him when you saw him. But now, your face was gone of any warmth, looking almost numb to the situation as you looked down at the group.

You traveled down the stairs, hating the way your name sounded in the announcer's voice. This was all so cliche- the Prince comes from a quest, and there is the Princess, simply a prize for his hardwork. A trophy of sorts for doing a good deed. Why did it have to be this why? Why couldnt you feel anything? The world had felt so cold for so long, feeling trapped due to the lack of control you had. Everything had seemed to loose its splendor and color, your vision for weeks turning gray in sadness-

Until you saw him.

The ash blonde boy, his hair unruly and his eyes a bright red like blood. He was clad in strange clothes, like a barbarian, his chest completely open and showcasing his taut muscles. You were intrigued by him- you had only seen likes of him in books and stories you read. He was so different, so menacing, and you wanted to know more. He was the only thing you could focus on, not taking any time to look at the others in the group, including Shoto.

Shoto was the first to reach you, unafraid to approach you like the rest of the group as you reached the bottom of the steps.

“Y/n-” he said, his voice deep and airy, “you look-wonderful.”

You gave him a small smile, but it made his heart sink- you didnt look happy at all. It seemed forced, far from the bright grins you used to send his way all the time.

“As do you, Shoto. You look quite different from when we last saw each other.”

You quickly turned your attention away from him, focusing on his new comrades instead.

“I assume these are the young heroes that accompanied you on your journey?”

“Y-yes!” the young boy with the unruly green hair stuttered, nervously bowing his head. He was quite adorable in a way, his small stature and freckles dusted on his cheeks giving him a child-like quality (even though he was most likely your age). “My name is Izuku Midoriya!”

You gave a reassuring smile to the young boy, trying to make him feel comfortable.

“It is wonderful to meet you Izuku.”

You began to walk towards the girl know, her pointy yet colorful hat signaling that she was a light witch, a sorceress who used your powers for good.

The girl shimmied in her dusty boots, clearly as nervous as the boy. She lifted the corners of her cloth dress, bowing slightly.

“My name is Ochaco Uraraka, your highness,” she smiled sweetly, her cheeks dusted in a pinky glow.

“Ochaco…” you mused over the name, its sound foregin yet light on your tongue, “you are a light witch, I assume?”

“Yes, yes I am!” the girl practically squealed, relief seemingly flooding her face. ‘How did you know?”

You giggled a her amazement at you, completely unaware apparently that she had the most witch-like outfit you had ever seen.

“A lucky guess,” you shrugged your shoulders playfully as you began to walk again, your heart beginning to race as you edged toward the barbarian.

You stopped in front of the man, his stature a head taller than yours. You eyes looked slightly up at him, your cheeks reddening- he was much more handsome up close, his rugged features making you feel breathless. He un-apologetically judged you with his vermilion eyes, looking you up and down with scorn.

Why did you find that so attractive?

“And you are-”

“My name is Bakugo.” he instantly interrupted you, his voice deep and velevty like syrup, “thats all you need to know.”

“Bakugo?” Your brain searched for any name similar to that, but found none- this boy was definitely a foreigner, most likely from far off lands you could only dream of. You had no idea why he followed Shoto back to the kingdom, but you were happy he did- he was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

“A warrior, I assume by your garments,” you nodded, your eyes trailing to his torso “and by the looks of your scars, an experienced one.”

He scoffed at your observations, his eyes rolling in his sockets.

“For a princess, your eyes wander a damn lot. But yeah- Im hella of a good warrior. Best in the kingdoms.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his language, your cheeks red by his comment. He was so unapologetic and rude, yet- it was intoxicating to you.

“I’m glad to here that.”

Shoto was eyeing you sadly the whole time- what was so different between you two? Why did you seem so welcoming to the others but so distant to him? His face began to turn red with fury as he watched you interact with Bakugo, the way Bakugo insulted you so plainly and cockily making him want to yell. He watched as your face had light up for just a moment when you spoke with him, something Shoto didn't get the luxury to experience.

He also noticed what Bakugo had vocalized- you eyes did wander when you looked at him. Shoto at first tried to rationalize that you were simply being curious, since Bakugo was definitely a strange sight for you, but the way your cheeks blushed and you smiled so warmly at him made him think otherwise.

What did you see in that barbarian that you didnt with Shoto?

You looked again at the odd group, taking a deep breath through your lungs.

“I want to congratulate you all for your successful quest,” you began, the lines slightly rehearsed, “and as thanks from my father for bringing back Prince Shoto, he would like to welcome you all for dinner tonight. We would love to hear all about your journey then,” you then snuck one last look at Bakugo, his eyes boaring into yours. It was making you feel a warmth inside that you had thought long ceased.

You instantly looked down at your hands, your cheeks feeling hot. You knew this was wrong- you shouldn't feel smitten for any other boy, especially this warrior, yet you couldnt help it- you were entranced by his resilience and the freedom he had, something you could only dream of.

“If youll excuse me, I have - things to attend to. It was a pleasure to see you all” you gave the group a tight smile, turning your back quickly from the group to follow your handmaiden back to your quarters.

Shoto watched you until you were gone, his heart beating painfully. He wished he could run up to you, grab you by your wrist and ask you what was the matter. It was still him, your friend for all those years, and you were still you, his love and his best friend. Were you beginning to forget, like he did? He felt his stomach drop painfully at the idea- he would ask you, tonight. He would figure out what had happened between you two, and fix it.

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You were now at dinner, sitting stiffly as you moved your food around your plate, your tight corset making you feel un-hungry. All night you had been detached and quiet, feeling almost sick by your surroundings. Your father was overly outgoing to the guest,giving you side-eyed glances and trying to enter you in the conversation. You would simply smile and nod, occasionally throwing in a comment before returning to squishing your food between your utensils.

The only time you ever seemed interested was when Bakugo would speak. His comments were all snarky and rude, completely self centered about how strong or intelligent he was.

He was constantly proving his worth throughout the dinner, taking over the story of their journey when he saw fit, making sure everyone knew he was the most capable one of the group. It was obscene, his remarks, his language, even his personality, but- you were intrigued by it. The only person he had to listen to was himself. It was so intoxicating to watch him talk, to hear what other remarks would leave his mouth. Whenever he spoke, you stood up a little straighter, taking time to take in any information he gave about himself and immortalize it into your brain.

Shoto had felt awkward the whole meal, not knowing how to gauge your emotions. You seemed so distant, as if a stranger was sitting next to him. He wished he could enter your mind, detangle all the emotions and thoughts that were keeping you from being yourself around him. There was no laughter, no genuine smiles, no happiness came from you. This bothered him- you were usually so cheerful. His nervousness was eating the inside of his stomach, as his mind still couldn't figure out how to approach you after dinner.

“-and the wedding will be a three day celebration, full of festivities,” your father continued boisterously, his voice booming embarrassingly around the room, “Shoto and y/n will be the main attention, of course, over 200 noblemen will see them share vows-”

The sound of your chair pushing away echoed throughout the dining hall, making the whole group look to you. You cleared your throat delicately, a hand resting on your chest.

“Excuse me for my rudeness, but Im feeling- unwell,” you sighed a quick smile.

“Are you alright, do I need to-” the king asked, his eyes full of concern as you shook of his worries.

“Oh no, Im completely fine- just a headache,” you gave a pained smile, “I hope you all enjoy the rest of the meal.”

Shoto watched you walk away, desperate to make sure he knew which way you went in this large castle. He instantly pushed away from the table as well, rising quietly.

“I- uh-am full, thank you for the meal,” he bowed to the King slightly, placing his napkin on his plate as he rushed out, confusing the group that was left.

Izuku and Ochaco looked at each other, their cheeks red with embarrassment and shock as they looked at Bakugo, who was clearly not bothered by the disturbance. Ochaco then looked at the king, who was clearly confused by the whole ordeal, as an awkward air lay heavy on the table.

Ochaco hastily took a large bite from her plate, filling her mouth with food- “MMMMMM!” she exaggerated, trying to start up conversation again, “I LOVE the ham!”

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Shoto ran around the castle, looking through every corridor and door, searching for you.His head was racing, trying to organize his thoughts in his minds. He needed to figure out how to speak to you- should he act normal, like nothing was wrong? Should he be formal and see how that went? Angry? Upset? He didnt know how to approach you, but he knew he had to do it.

He finally saw your gown turn an empty hallway, his feet picking up pace. He quickly was able to catch up once he could pin point your location, his hand wrapping around your wrist in order to stop you.

You felt slender,cool fingers wrap around your skin, making your body run cold. You instantly jumped by the sudden touch, all breath leaving your body as you turned around quickly.

Your wide eyes met the mix matched orbs of Shoto, a small pang of annoyance filling your body from getting so scared.

“Shoto,” you replied breathlessly, slightly happy though it was only him and not somebody else that had grabbed you.

“I-uh-y/n,” he replied back, his mind going blank.

He let go of your wrists, his hands resting at the side of his body. “I-Im sorry to scare you like that,” he apologized, “I just- wanted to speak to you. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at the boy, his eyes now averting yours, probably from nerves. You decided to listen, turning your body to him.

“Apology accepted,” you said plainly, “What did you want to speak about?”

Shoto drew a blank- what did he want to talk about? He loved hearing your voice, finally only reserved for him, but yet you seemed preoccupied. Distant. Like you were on another world and not truly there with him.

He stared at you lightly, looking extremely conflicted. “I-I wanted to talk to you about what happened while I was gone.”

“You explained quite plainly what happened on your journey,” you replied, clearly not in the mood to talk, “I applaud you for your bravery, it must have been quite a difficult journey-” you gave him a small bow, your eyes gone of any warmth. “I really must go to bed, Im sorry, but i do feel-”

You began to walk away again, Shoto desperate to keep you near him. He walked in font you, blocking your path.

“You didnt here me correctly-” he changed his wording this time, trying to be as specific as possible. “I want to know what happened to you while I was gone.”

You eyebrows turned down in confusion. “What are you trying to say Shoto?”

He swallowed, trying to clear his dry throat as he licked his lips, conflicted.

“You seem-different.”

“Its been a year and a half since I last saw you, Shoto,” you reasoned, “of course Ill be different.”

“Yes, but-” he paused, “youre too different. Youre not the same y/n I knew.”

“Why? Because Im not following you around like a love sick puppy?” Annoyance began to bubble inside, feeling attacked by Shoto’s words. “Because I finally got over the fact you didnt love me ? You dont have to pretend Shoto, I know full well you only see me as a nuisance.”

Shock flooded Shoto’s system as your icy words pierced his skin. What happened to you? Yes, he was rude to you before he left, but he didnt feel like that anymore. That was a simple phase, were you going to define him by that?

“I dont see you as a nuisance, y/n.”

“Really?” you scoffed at his words. “then tell me why your father had to go out to find you twice before you finally decided to come back?”

“I made a promise to my friends. I had to finish my quest before-”

“You had a promise to me, Shoto!” you yelled exasperatedly, your heart bursting with hurt. “To your family! To my family! Our people! What was so much more important than that?”

“I was so worried about you Shoto, terrified for you. Those first few months I couldnt think of anything but you.” You were beginning to reveal a lot, too much, but the emotions, the hurt, the anger, was flooding out of you like a broken dam and you couldn't stop it.

“But then I realized that you didnt care for me. You thought I didn't notice how you gave me the cold shoulder those last few months? How you ignored me, only gave me quick answers, acted as if I was just a pest following you around? I remembered all of it, and then I realized- you left because of me.”

“You left because of me, didn't you, Shoto?” your voice was harsh and crude like metal, stabbing into Shoto’s conscience.

He stayed silent- how could he say anything back? Your words were making him feel small and foolish- he should have known that you would have noticed his change in demeanor, just as he noticed yours.

You smiled painfully at his silence, feeling a fresh cut of pain slash inside you. “I knew it.”

“Y/n, I-” There was so much he wanted to say, things he wanted to take back. He didnt want this meeting to go like this- with you even more distant to him. Out of all the possible outcomes, this had to be the worst one.

“Dont even try to backtrack Shoto, I know the truth now,you just confirmed it.”

He knew he was less than kind to you before he left, but know it wasnt like that anymore. Why were you so angry?

“Fine-yes-I left, and it wasnt right,” he admitted, his voice deep, “but Im back. Why are you putting my old self against me now?”

“Because I couldn't for the year and half you were gone! I-I loved you Shoto, and you-”

“You dont love me anymore?” Shoto looked down at you sadly, his eyes full of sorrow. It felt like his heart was breaking in two, the way those words spilled out your mouth so easily making it sting even more.

You swallowed, filling a pit grow in your chest. Everything felt so cold, so empty. This was your best friend- why couldn't you just be nice to him? You thought you had gotten over all this.

“You dont love me-so why should I love you?” your voice was barely a whisper, cold and empty in the frigid hallway.

Shoto stared down at you, his voice caught in his throat. Did you really believe that? That he didnt love you?You had been friends since children- you really thought all those times, all those days you played together, were all fake? Who even were you?

“I just want you to know,” you spoke, your voice monotone and icy,” Im not doing this for my father, or your father, or even you. Im doing this for my people and thats it.”

“It” meaning the wedding.

Tears began to prickle your lashline, confusion flooding your numb body as you began to walk away from Shoto-

you hadnt cried in what seemed like forever.

Why were you now?

“Y/n, please, can we just talk-” he tried to reason, harsh with desperation.

“No.” your voice was plain in its tone that you were done with the conversation.

“Im just curious Shoto- why did you come back? Because if I had the luxury to have all that freedom, to be free for once- I wouldnt.”

Shoto’s heart felt broken as he watched you walk away, your dress ruffling as you continued on your path. He felt defeated, confused, even angry- what had happened to you since he had been gone? Did you really hate him that much? What did you mean you had no freedom? More questions flooded his mind than what were answered, but he now knew one thing- you didnt want anything to do with him.

As Shoto’s was returning to his corrdiors sadly, you were lost in thought, just feeling- empty. You didnt feel sad, or angry, or even spitefu anymorel. Just- numb to the world. You could walk for miles and miles it seemed and you wouldnt feel a thing.

Why was that? Why were so mean to your long lost firend? You should be hugging him from happiness and relief-not meeting him with coldness and hate.

As you were lost in thought, you didn't even notice yourself running into a person. Your hand instantly reached out, meeting soft yet rough skin. You looked up in confusion ,and your breath hitch- it was the barbairan, his vermilion eyes like rubies as he stared down at you in scorn.

“Oi, watch were your going you damn princess,” he scolded,pushing you off him gently. You stumbled slightly, trying to get your footing right- you had run in to him, you had even touched him. If you were feeling alright, and if the circumstances were different, you could practically squeal. “Youre gonna hurt someone.”

“Did I hurt you?”

He scoffed at your comment. “Like you could ever hurt me,” his voice was deep and velvety, his comment sending shocwaves into your system. The reply was prideful, yet it could have been- sweet. Kind, in a way in a different light- maybe he meant it like that?

“How do you know that?” you blurted out, a small smirk crawling across your lips.

You just wanted him to talk more, to hear that velvety voice directed towards you- but you were close to flirting with him. What were you doing? What was going on with you?

One second you were chewing out your life time friend weeks before your wedding, and now you were being smitten with a random man you didn't even know.

He chuckled slightly, his canines glinting. “Your a fucking handful, arentcha?”

He eyed your wobbling feet, as you still were finding your footing slightly.

“You clearly cant walk right-you feeling fine, because Im not gonna be the one who carries you-”

“No, no , Im fine.” you reassured, your cheeks rosy. ‘Thank you for catching me.”

“Youre the one who ran into me.”

“You could have just pushed me off though, you seem like the type to do that,” you gave him a cheeky grin, it disappearing when you heard a slight growl come form him.

“The hell you mean princess?” he was trying to be menacing, but you could tell there was something behind it- he was curious. You loved how he called you “princess”, making it sound like a pet name than a title.

“Your a lone wolf, are you not? You are strong, independent, free-” you began to list off, your eyes focusing on his, “you follow your own code and beliefs”

“Damn right I do,” he agreed, your heart soaring that he looked so proud of you for describing him so perfectly. “-which is why Im confused as hell that half-and-half prince is allowing himself to get married.”

Ouch.

The small amount of hope that Bakugo seemed to like you had quickly got destroyed, feeling hurt flood your body. You quickly tried to shake it off, so Bakugo couldn't see it on your face.

“What he even want to talk to you about anyway?” The boy shifted in his stance, his muscles moving with his movements.

You gulped, guilt filling your body- Shoto, the one who had just fought with. You couldnt tell this boy what had happened- that was private, and really, it was embarrassing.

“Just-uh-about-” you stammered, your cheeks red as you searched for a lie.

“Ugh, let me guess, you two were trading spit werent you?” he interrupted in disgust, taking your red cheeks as a sign you two were doing something unholy in the hallway.

You swallowed, licking your lips as you gave him a tight lipped smile. You were just going to follow along with Bakugo’s line of reasoning- you didnt have any other better ideas.

“Y-yep, just- please dont tell anyone?”

He gave a bitter laugh, his voice booming against your ears. “You guys cant get dirty? I guess that makes sense, since you all our royalty, cant be having any scandals-”

“Do you promise?” you rushed him, now feeling uncomfortable- if anybody heard you and Shoto were kissing in the hallway, and you two were really arguing-

“Yeah, dont worry princess, youre secrets safe with me.”

You sighed a breath of relief, feeling your heart jump at the smirk the boy sent your way.

“Thank you- I- uh- best be going now,” you stammered, rushing past the warrior, “have a nice night Bakugo.”

You rushed to your room, your heart feeling on fire. Your hands were shaking, your mid racing- all you could think about was that boy. Your world had seemed so dark, until he showed up. His rude responses, his chaotic personality, his snarkiness, that overly prideful speech, his freedom- it was so intoxicating to you. You felt your heart pumping against your chest- you hadn't felt this alive in so long.

You suddenly felt very sick, your head feeling drowsy- maybe you were actually catching something, and thats why you were acting so strange? You were gasping for breath it seemed, your corset making it hard to breath. I felt like something was tightening around your chest, small prods poking into you from the inside- it was a strange sensation, one you did not welcome in the slightest. You stumbled to your bed, holding on to the post as your lungs felt tight with no air, liking something was blocking your passageway. Coughs began to erupt out of you, wracking your body until you finally felt you could breathe. You sucked in a deep breath, welcoming the sweet night air, your chest still feeling tight. You looked down at the ground, trying to slow your stammering heart, until your eyes feel upon something new- a single white petal, resting softly on the ground.

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

After that night, You became obsessed with this boy, learning bits and pieces from him though conversation you had overheard from Shoto’s friends and workers inside the castle. You learned he was from an extremely far off land, past even the Mountains, which surprised you. He lived alone, and apparently had a dragon as well. He had gotten in many fights due to his overly prideful personality, which was why he had so many scars decorating his taut body. Your handmaidens seemed to look at him with annoyance, saying he refused to wear anything “civilized” and would plainly cuss them out if they even set foot in his room to clean.

You knew he had a softer side though- he had kept your “secret” safe, right? You heard nothing around the castle about any make-out session or argument between you and Shoto. That little act made you feel special in someway- maybe he had a soft side for you?

Whenever you would feel yourself getting sucked into the sadness of planning your wedding, you’d think of fantasies with that barbarian boy. Him taking you in the middle of night, taking you far away from this place. His hands placed around your waist, that snarky smile looking down at you again.

Seeing him walk around the castle grew a desperation and love in your body, watching his handsome face stare around the rooms, his voice loud and prideful- you wished he could look your way, acknowledge you again. His vermillion eyes sent fire into your soul whenever you closed his eyes, his face being a beacon of warmth in your life.

Yet that beacon of life was killing you from the inside- every day and every night you fantasized about Bakugo, the sickness taking over you grew worse and worse. The closer you got to your wedding day, the worse it felt, the vines inside you prickling at your soft organs. They were growing, you felt it, as you coughed up more and more petals.

For a few days you had no idea what was going on, fear striking you as you wondered if you should ask to see a doctor. But you decided to do your own research, scourging through books until you found your sickness: Hanahaki. The the mythical disease for unrequited love. It was quite rare, but it came to the most lonely, delusional, and desperate of lovers.

It made sense, really- it all started when you talked to Bakugo, after falling in his arms. It hurt he didnt love you back- but why should he? One run-in shouldn't make people fall in love with each other, but somehow it made you. You welcomed the pain alittle, as it was a reminder you still had some feeling other than emptiness inside you. It also terrfiied you- you were supposed to be in love with Shoto, not some barbarian from a far off land you barely spoke to.

How had this happened, how could you let this happen?

Even if you did tell others you had Hanahaki, they would point the finger at Shoto, calling him cold and callous for not loving you. You were the one who was the cold one, pushing your old friend away. Even if you felt some residue of anger for him, you wouldn't put him through that- he didn't deserve it. You let this disease do its course- if it went away youd be freed, knowing that Bakugo loved you back, and if not- well, you’d figure that out when you got there.

You had barely talked to Shoto or even noticed him since that night, not realizing the amount of worry he felt towards you. Everyday that went by he noticed how sick you looked, your skin paling and you eyes losing any life. Every cough you tried to hold back he noticed and it rang in his ear like a terrible siren- there was something wrong with you.It ate at his insides, his fear of you pushing him away again making him scared to ask what was wrong.

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

It was now the night before you wedding and you were feeling less than hopeful. You were supposed to be lively and happy, as your father had thrown a party to celebrate the events of the next day, yet you had no energy left in you to dance or socialize. You stayed in a dark corner, trying your best to blend in and not be noticed.

The coughs were not leaving, and it felt like your chest was being constricted until you could barely breathe. The annoying tickle of a cough was constantly at the back of your throat, as you tried to keep the petals at bay. You were miserable.

“Princess, are you doing alright, you seem a little- pale? Do you need some water, or maybe fresh air,” the young witch Ochaco approached you, her rosy cheeks and bright eyes looking at you.

“Hello, Ochaco,” you greeted, your smile strained, “you know-fresh air would be nice.”

The sweet girl smiled at you, gingerly taking you by the crook of your elbow and out of the ballroom. The fresh air was rather nice, soothing your hurting brain and your sore lungs. You two walked in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Your mind was shifting around, thinking about Shoto and what would happen tomorrow. It hurt too much, though- you still were both not at speaking terms, and now you had to be promised to each other for eternity. The thought made your throat itch even more, and instead, you switched to own of your many fantasies of Bakugo that brought you some comfort.

“So, how are you feeling? Nervous, excited, scared?” Ochaco asked gingerly

“About what?” you asked, looking at her with curiosity

“Uh,um-your wedding,” she giggled nervously, her cheeks growing red again.

Oh-you cursed yourself for getting to invested in your fantasy, feeling embarrassed for thinking of Bakugo and not about Shoto.

You really didnt know how to answer her question-You felt yourself dreading it-how could you tell her that? But you didnt want to lie to her- lying to her would be practically evil, like giving a child a promise and not fulfilling it.

“Its expected of me to marry him,” you reasoned out carefully, “Ive been thinking of this day since I was a child.”

She gaped out you in awe. “Really?That early? In your kingdoms is it a tradition to marry from each other’s kingdoms?”

You gave her a wihsful smile. “Actually- no, it isnt. We’re the first ones.”

Her brown bob fluttered against her cheeks, her eyes staring up at you in confusion.

“I-if you dont mind me asking,” she asked nervously, “why is that?”

You sighed, giving her a small smile.

“Its kind of a long story….”

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

“Long ago our two kingdoms began to quarrel against one another. But that happened years back- we still continued to fight against each other, and quite frankly, we forgot about why. We just knew we hated each other and wanted to see the other fail. My father had always said to me that my mother wished for her children to be born in a peaceful kingdom, yet my father’s pride prevented that from coming true for her.

“Until the day I was born- my mother, sadly, died while giving birth to me. My father now had no queen, and really, no future ruler, since I am a girl and only men can become ruler in my kingdom. In his grief, he began to feel sympathetic, I suppose- he knew King Todoroki had a young boy who was barely turning 4, and my father got an idea. He travelled to his kingdom, and somehow was able to talk King Todoroki into an agreement.”

“In order to end the suffering of our two kingdoms, Shoto and I would marry once I turn 18, in which would bind our kingdoms forever in peace, with Shoto as ruling over both.”

Ochaco breathed out a large sigh, giving you a conflicted expression.

“So-thats why you two are getting married? Its arranged?”

You looked at her in confusion-“Didnt-Shoto tell you that? I thought Bakugo at least knew-”

“Bakugo?” Ochaco blinked a few times, clearly puzzled. “Bakugo just thought it was quite, well, wierd Shoto was getting married- Bakugo is just a lone wolf who cant understand love I guess-”

You strangely felt angry at her words- how could she even say that about him? Yes, he was cold and callous at times, but how could she know he couldn't at least love? You knew he had to at least have some way of having feelings for another person, you had to at least hope for that-

“-it must be why he left last night,”

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a ton of bricks pound into your chest.

“He-he left?

“Um yeah! Something about being ‘bored waiting around for a stupid’- oh my gosh, y/n are you alright!?”

You were coughing up quite alot, your lungs dry and painful as your heart tore in two. He-he left. Without you. Without even a goodbye.

After all that daydreaming, all that hope, that dedication to him, hoping he would notice you- he left. He never loved you, and you knew it- you were just so desperate for someone to take you, to teach you how to be free.

You wanted him to teach you, to see potential in you that you could be just as defiant to the world as him.

Uraraka wrapped her slender arms around your body, patting your back softly to help you rid your body of whatever had attacked you. It was taking everything in you to not let a single petal fall out, the itching in the back your neck unbearable as your heart beat agonizingly against horribly.

You felt a few silky petals slip out of your mouth, soft against your dry tongue. Miraculously, Uraraka didn't suspect a thing- most likely from the darkness she couldn't see the disease overtaking you.

You gulped desperately for air, finally getting a hold on your lungs.

“I-Im fine,” you panted out, raising from the floor on shaky knees. “Thank you”

Urarka gave you a pointed look, clearly not convinced. “Of course, but are you sure? Do you need water, or maybe I should get Shoto-”

“No!” you yelled out, covering your mouth in case of another attack.

You felt a little guilty for yelling at Uraraka so harshly, her wide eyes looking at you in shock-you just couldnt bear seeing Shoto when you were grieving over a lover that was never yours- and apparently dying from it too.

“No, Im fine, really,” you said more calmly, trying to be reassuring, “lets, just- walk back, if thats okay-”

“Yes of course! Ill walk you to your room, just in case you get sick again-”

You two walked in silence again, you mulling over your broken heart as Uraraka watched you in worry. You two passed the ballroom, everyone seemingly enjoying themselves and not noticing you two as you lead the way to your room.

You stepped up to the door, your hand grasping the doorknob until you paused, a question entering your mind. You were still confused why Uraraka said she didnt know your marriage was arranged-you would have expected Shoto to have told his group after saying he was getting married.

Was he embarrassed by it, that he was marrying you?

“You said you were surprised to here our marriage was arranged,” you asked quietly, “Shoto never told you?”

Uraraka shuffled in her pink boots, her shoulder hunched close to her chin.

“He-uh-no,” she breathed out, “he said he made a promise to marry a girl he loved.”

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

Morning.

Daylight.

Wedding.

You should be feeling happy, excited, optmistic-you had been imagining this day since you were a child. But now, all you could feel was a coldness you couldnt seem to shake off- after your talk with Uraraka last night, you felt so confused.

The person you “loved” had never loved you, leaving you sick and hurt.

The person who did love you, you most likely pushed away to the point where they didnt love you anymore.

You couldnt even understand your emotions yourself. All night your sickness wouldnt leave your poor lungs alone, making you cough uncontrollably all night, the petals piling up around you.

You wouldn't allow anyone to see you in the morning, snatching your wedding dress from your hand maidens and putting in yourself. You fixed yourself up, trying to make yourself look as lively as possible, but it seemed impossible- you felt too empty inside to really put your heart into it.

Another round of coughs attacked your chest, a single petal dribbling out of your mouth, along with a speckle of blood. It dripped on the inner folds of your creamy white dress- easily disguisable if you made sure it was covered- yet it made you begin to cry.

What was going on? Why did you have to do this? Why were you still sick?

Your knees hit the cold floor, wave after wave of tears and coughs struck your body in a terrible symphony, the petals piling up on your dress.

You couldnt take it anymore- this sickness was going to have to take you, because you had no energy left to fight it anymore.

You felt a knocking on your door, the sounds harsh against your temple. You sniffled, one last cough feebily spilling out of your bloodied lips.

“Go away-I promise Ill be out soon-” you began sadly, until you heard the door swing open.

You looked up, your face in shock as you did not lock eyes with your handmaiden, but with Shoto’s.

He looked around the floor, noticing the bloody petals, his face completely torn-he knew what was going on.

Shoto stared down at you, his eyes boaring into yours-he knew something was wrong with you. He had came by your room in hopes of fixing your relationship before speaking your vows, working up the courage until he heard you crying. No matter what was between you two, he wouldnt let you go through pain by yourself.

Now he watching you cough up your life, those sickly petals flowing out of you, each one taking a toll on your body.

He gasped out your name, the words like honey as he sat next to you on the floor. You looked so beautiful in that white gown, like an angel from heaven.

But the paleness of your skin, the bags like bruises under your eyes, the blood on your lips- it all reminded him that you were human, and you were hurting inside. He reached for your hand, his fingers grazing your skin-so cold- but you pulled it away quickly.

“Please, dont Shoto-” you whispered hoarsely, “Im-”

Another wave of coughs wracked at your chest, this time the rasps painful against your chest as the vines squeezed.

Shoto didnt know what to do- how could he help you? There wasn't anything he could do to help, except watch his best friend and love slowly cough her life away. A few petals cascaded out of your mouth, adding to the piles as you heaved air back into your lungs, your knuckles white.

“How, how could you keep this from me?” he asked sadly, ignoring your pleas and pulling you into his lap.

You felt how warm he was, and realized- he did love you. He had been there for you as a child, and he was here for you now, comforting you in your worst moment.

Your heart felt like it was exploding as tears cascading down your face, salty and warm against your skin.

“How-how could I Shoto?” I shuldnt have been so mean to you,” you sobbed, “Im so sorry, so sorry, this is all my fault-”

“Please, no, dont be sorry,” he said softly, his arms cradling your body, “we both have our own faults. I shouldnt have left you for so long, and Im sorry for that, I-” he gulped, his heart beating harshly against his chest.

“I-I do love you,y/n, I do.”

You picked up your head, forcing yourself to look at him- he was so handsome, his mix matched eyes softly looking down at you- he was still the little boy you knew from a child, though, always so calm and sweet.

“I know, Shoto, I just, I-” you gulped, fighting to keep the coughs and sobs at bay.

He sighed, feeling his heart sink.

“You loved Bakugo, didnt you? Thats why,” he motioned to the petals, “this is happening to you.”

You gave him a shocked look, your eyes wide and glassy. You forgot how observant Shoto could be- you felt your cheeks grow red, realizing now he must have known by the way you stared so much at Bakugo.

“Was-it that noticebale?”

“Y/n,” he sighed, his chest feeling heavy, “very.”

You giggled at his remark, feeling strange for laughing for once. But Shoto was so abrupt with his words, it always made you laugh at his remarks.

Shoto’s heart soared at your laugh, the sound like chimes against his ears. It died down, the room quickly feeling closed in again.

“I just dont want to do this. I-I want to be friends again. To figure out who were are, without us being forced to be with each other.” you sighed, your heart rattling against your chest. “ I-I want to be with you and marry you- when we decide. Not my father, or your father- I want to be free to choose.”

You turned to Shoto, your hands touching his cheek.

“I-I did love you-and I still do-Im just so confused, and trapped, and-”

“You just want to be your own person,” he finished your sentence, his voice so much stronger than yours.

He looked down at you, his face surprisingly smiling.

“I think I may have arranged that,”

You jumped up, your face in shock. “H-how? Tell me!” you squealed, not unilke a child, your eyes wide with anticipation.

Shoto grinned at your face, loving how excited you could get so quickly.

“Do you remember my oldest brother?” he asked

“Of course I remember Natsuo! He was always so kind to me as a child,” you reminenscenced, “but how is he going to help us?”

“Well, as it turns out, I spoke to our fathers and my older brother,” he said, a small grin on his face, “they agreed that my brother could rule both kingdoms in my place. By himself, and my sister will accompany him if he ever needs help.”

You sucked in a lung full of air, unable to believe what you had just heard-

“So that means-”

“We are free to do what we want now.”

You yelled in happiness, happy tears cascading on your face as you wrapped his body around yours, “thank yous” spilling out of your lips.

Shoto hugged you back, smiling sadly- he had to admit, it was hard negotiating that new deal. After the night, that remark of how you didnt feel “free” stayed in his brain, haunting him until he found a solution. Knowing it would make you happy made it worth it- even if that meant you could leave him now. He loved you, but if that meant you could be happy with or without him, he would be content with the knowledge that you were finally able to be your own person.

“You can now be yourself,” he said sadly, his eyes staring down at the floor, “and even if that means you do not love me, I accept it. You dont have to feel guilty.”

You looked at the poor boy, his eyes shaded as his bi-colored locks cascaded onto his foreheads. You felt a warmth fill your chest, the sensation soothing and calming as the tightness in your lungs dissappeared. The tickling in your throat seemed to wane slightly. Your hand found his as his eyes instantly rose to meet yours.

“I wont feel guilty,” you smiled gently, “I want to be free- with you.”

Taggings: (if you want to be added, just shoot me an ask or a reply on this post and Ill add you on to my future fics!)

@freckledoriya @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnhabookclub #bnha au #bnha fantasy au #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todorki x reader #mha todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #shoto #mha shoto x reader #mha shoto todoroki #bnha prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x you #prince shoto x y/n

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 3 years

Text

Crescent Chapter 3 Revision Notes

Revised Chapter 3 is out baby, view it on tumblr dont talk to me about the links not working on that post its broken for some reason or ao3! Since this chapter feels like the one most heavily updated, here’s some notes on what was reworked

Removed Roman’s pov from the very beginning and replaced it with Patton’s pov. I made this decision because it felt like it made for a stronger opening. Some of Roman’s beginning inner monologue in the original is reused at the end of the revised chapter

Patton tearing that mugger apart is now 40% more gruesome and descriptive.

Patton’s character is now more rounded out and thoroughly explored imho

Roman, Patton and Logan are now 20% more werewolf in their behavior

Instead of Logan conveniently arriving home for that Dramatic Entrance when Patton finishes telling Roman what’s up, he’s just there and ready to silently disapprove Patton’s choices in life

The Argument at the end between the three is a bit more expanded upon and Patton has a bit more agency in it.

Original Word-Count was 2557, Updated Word-Count is 4574, little over 2k more than the original.

Included below is the original chapter 3 so you can see the differences if you’d like

To be fair, Roman wasn’t surprised when Patton came home a stray in tow. Patton had a heart of gold—there wasn’t a mean bone in his body. He cried easily. He cried when a girl and her dog got separated in a movie, and he cried again when the two were reunited. He couldn’t bear passing by a downed bird, injured and all alone. It was why they now had a flock of ravens that took shelter within the confines of their yard.

Roman knew it was always hard for Patton to let go of the strays after he nursed them back to health. He grew attached to their presences, loved them like they were his own children. But he also knew that they couldn’t really care for pets with their type of lifestyle beyond the wild animals like the ravens that just wouldn’t leave. However, that was alright. A flock of ravens were considered good luck among werewolves.

So the ravens stayed, whilst the others were sent away. Logan always did his best to help situate the animals into loving homes. It made Patton feel better knowing that they went to owners who’d care for them just as much as he did.

What he was surprised about was the…species of the stray Patton brought home.

He heard the door click open, as he worked on his canvas. He didn’t bother glancing up. He didn’t need to use his nose to know it was Patton entering their humble yet magnificent dwelling. It couldn’t be anyone else, but Patton as Logan didn’t get off work this early, and there wasn’t anyone else who had a key to the house.

“Hey, padre!” He greeted, frowning as he redrew the eyes of his sketch, “Did you complete your quest to obtain the chocolate chip cookies with the extra chocolateyness?”

“Oh my goodness,” Patton gasped, “I left the cookies back in the city!”

“What happened? Did you get sidetracked by a baby squirrel again?” Roman chuckled.

He expected Patton to launch into some excited ramble about the cute poor animal he came across, or perhaps amazing scent trail that derailed him from his errand. But instead Patton seemed hesitant to share information.

“Not…exactly.” Patton admitted.

“What do you mean?” Roman finally looked up.

Instead of the kitten or baby bird that Roman expected to find, there was a stranger in Patton’s arms. Small and thin and pale in baggy black clothing. His first thought that must be another werewolf—Patton wouldn’t dare bring a human here, would he? But Roman took one sniff and knew immediately.

There was no mistake about it; Patton had brought a human into the home.

“Patton why is he here?” Roman growled, “He’s a human!”

The older man pressed his lips together, walking past Roman to lay the human on the couch before facing him once more.

“He was in trouble, Roman! He—he was all alone and I couldn’t just leave him—” Patton drew a breath, “Please, let me explain.”

To be fair, Patton did not mean to go sniffing out for trouble. He only meant to go sniffing out for cookies after another botched attempt at creating them. As much as he loved making food in the kitchen, baking was not his strong suit. Logan said it was because he wasn’t exact with his measurements. Patton didn’t see how adding more sugar could ruin the recipe that much. He only wanted to make the cookies sweeter, and what’s sweeter than sugar itself?

It was alright though, because that just gave himself an excuse to visit Thomas. He let his nose take all the way downtown to the Piece of Cake bakery. The bell jangled as he bounced in, grinning around at the pastel interior of the bakery. He took a deep breath in, letting the sweet scents of the desserts invade his nose.

“Hi Patton! What’ll it be today?” Thomas asked, giving a friendly wave from his place at the counter.

“Thomas! It’s so good to see you!” Patton squealed, reaching over the counter to give the man a hug.

The man let out a surprised yelp, but eagerly returned the hug just the same. He learned by now that Patton often to forgot to ask before he invaded people’s personal spaces in his rush to lavish them with affection.

“Opps sorry,” Patton gave a bashful grin as he withdrew from the hug, “I was just excited to see you! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

“Patton, it’s only been like three days,” Thomas laughed.

“I know, but still.” Patton pouted.

The two made friendly conversation as Patton picked out his order. It wasn’t until another customer came into the bakery that the two exchanged their goodbyes, and Patton made his departure.

He hummed cheerfully, swinging the bag of cookies with each stride. Occasionally at intersections he took a moment to open the bag and smell the delicious sugary delights. Chocolate Chip, Snickerdoodles, Sugar Cookies—the scents tickled his nose with glee.

Patton loved scents—they often told the truth more often than someone else’s words or his own eyes could. He was happy he could always trust his nose when his other senses failed him. He couldn’t imagine not being able to smell! He’d rather give up his sight or his hearing than not being able to smell the comforting presences of his packmates.

Once, Logan revealed to him that humans couldn’t smell as well as their kind. Patton cried for fifteen minutes straight after that.

“Why are you crying?” Logan asked, awkwardly patting Patton’s back, “Humans’ sense of smell may be feeble compared to ours, but they have been able to survive just fine with it the way that it is. Besides, it is not as if they know the difference.”

“Exactly!” Patton sobbed harder, “They’ll never know how—how wonderful smell is.”

Logan sighed.

“Would it help any to say as a former human, that I now know how wonderful a heightened sense of smell can be?”

“A little.” Patton sniffled.

The crosswalk switched from an angry red hand to the cute walking stick figure that signaled it was the pedestrians turn to walk. The crowd surged forward, a few people bumping into Patton’s shoulder as they passed by him.

“Oh!” He looked up from the bag, spying the crosswalk signal. He covered up the bag once more and hurried across the crosswalk.

It was a long walk to the outskirts of the city where Roman, Logan and Patton lived, but he much preferred it over taking the car. As much as he enjoyed driving, he didn’t enjoy that thick traffic that left him antsy in the seat knowing he could walk faster than how fast the car was crawling across the interstate. When there wasn’t traffic clogging the streets, the car whipped by faster than Patton’s liking.

He took the idiom “stop and smell the roses” literally. Patton enjoyed walking because of the journey. He loved hearing the chatter out of the bustling city, the wind rustling his hair, seeing the various sights that the city had to offer. Not to mention the smells. While some scents like gasoline could be nauseating to smell, there was scents like—pizza. Greasy breading baked with tomato sauce and cheese with a variety of toppings. His stomach grumbled in agreement.

As if in a trance, Patton’s feet led him in the direction of a nearby pizzeria. It wasn’t until he was a block away from the restaurant that he realized how far off he deviated from the walk home. He needed to walk north, not inwards towards the heart of the city. As much as his mouth watered for pizza, he already prepared a delicious meal at home. He would have to save pizza for another day. Perhaps he could even make homemade pizza! He hadn’t tried that doing that yet.

It was hard to suppress his urge to chase after every wonderful scent that infiltrated his nose, however. The closer he came towards home, the more overwhelming it became. When Patton had been younger, it was harder for him to ignore the urges to chase after the scents. Flowers, perfume, the smell of Asian food wafting in the air from a nearby restaurant—it enticed and overwhelmed him.

He chased the scents, curious to see where they led. Often, he found himself in trouble from sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. After spending his childhood largely isolated from the human world, he had been ignorant of appropriate manners among humans. For example, humans often took offense if you smelled them. Whereas werewolves had very little sense of personal space. Something that could be found inherent in Patton by how he heaped affection on people within five seconds of meeting them.

Patton knew better now. He recognized he couldn’t gleefully chase each scent without abandon. He had a responsibility to look after the needs of the others. If Patton didn’t remind the two workaholics when to eat, he wasn’t sure who else would.

Gotta focus, gotta focus, gotta focus. The mantra ran through his mind repeatedly. He opened the bag of cookies once more, taking a deep whiff to remind himself of his mission. The rich chocolate, cinnamon goodness and fear reminded him that he can’t wait to share them with the others—wait.

Patton paused in the middle of the sidewalk, causing the person behind him to grumble in frustration. Fear? That can’t be right. That scent doesn’t belong with a cookie but rather—a living being. He scanned the bustling crowd who traveled down the sidewalk as usual. The scent of increased perspiration clung to the air, how could the humans just ignore it? Could they not smell it?

He didn’t stay put to find out. There’s no question in his mind whether if he should not follow this scent. His heart pounded, as he dashed after the scent. He trusted his nose to lead him to the source.

“Opps, Excuse me! Sorry!” He called out, apologizing to disgruntled pedestrians as he tore through the foot traffic. His large, hulking figure was perfect at plowing through the crowd—no one wanted to get trampled by a 6’2 man.

He skidded around a corner, the scent leading him to the entrance of a winding, dark alleyway. There lay a sight that angered him. A large burly human held a gun against a smaller one, who shook badly from terror.

Patton let out a low growl, too upset to say anything intelligible. His claws came out as he launched himself at the mugger, tearing him away from the small human. A shot rang out from his gun, and Patton could only hope it didn’t hit the human on the ground. The mugger attempted pointing his gun towards Patton, but he ripped the weapon out of his hand and onto the ground.

The mugger made a frantic scramble after it, but Patton pinned him to the ground. He sunk his claws into the man, and only let go when the man went limp.

He breathed in deeply, forcing himself to relax. His instincts screamed at him to remain on guard. But the danger had passed, and he needed to make sure the small human was okay. He was ignorant of a lot of things about humans, but he did know they could be easily frightened by his more wolfish appearance. The last thing he wanted was to scare the poor guy even further. As soon as he morphed back into a humanoid appearance, his focus went immediately to the small human—his eyes widening in concern at their collapsed figure.

“Are you alright?!” He called out as he rushed to their side. Their head lolled backwards, signaling that they had gone unconscious.

A surge of protectiveness took over him as he immediately gathered the human in his embrace. He can’t help but marvel over how small and fragile the human looked! He must have been the runt in his litter. The human wore a raggedy black hoodie and ripped jeans with scuffed up converse. His face was too thin to be healthy, and those circles underneath his eyes! If the poor thing didn’t faint from fright, he certainly fainted from exhaustion.

He gasped upon seeing the bandages wrapped around the human’s hands. The skin underneath looked red and swollen, indicating it was a fresh wound. The human’s hair was glistened with sweat. Patton pressed a hand against his forehead and nearly flinched at how warm it felt. He shouldn’t feel this warm…humans shouldn’t feel this warm, right?

Patton snuck a glance towards the mugger, and immediately withheld the urge to vomit. The wounds looked deeper than Patton had initially thought and although the mugger was still breathing, it might not be for long. Patton was a lover not a fighter. The thought that he could be this man’s cause of death was haunting. But as he looked back down at the runt, he didn’t regret it. The mugger had threatened an innocent life, and Patton wasn’t going to stand there and watch it happen.

That was also the reason why he couldn’t just leave the human, alone and unconscious, in the alley alone with the bleeding-out stranger that tried to kill him. If someone came across him, he’d be an easy meal. He had to take the human somewhere safe. The only thing is, Patton had no way of knowing where he lived. He had no way of tracking down his home. It was nearly impossible to distinguish a scent from the hundreds of millions of aromas existing in the city air.

A scream interrupted his thoughts. Patton looked up to see a woman staring from the entrance of the alleyway, covering up her mouth in horror. Patton’s mind came to a screeching halt as his instincts screamed a singular command at him. Run.

This was not a time to attempt explaining the situation. His nerves were shot, and he was afraid of what was going to befall on the human. Would the other humans see how sick and small he was and attempted to finish what the mugger started? He couldn’t let this small human go through any more pain than he already had. Not now he was here. He scooped up the human in his arms, sprinting into through the sidewalks of the city.

He ran as fast as his feet would carry him, afraid that police sirens would be after him at any moment. Patton was fast, but not fast enough to outrun a car. Especially while carrying the human, despite how worryingly light he was.

Patton, being paranoid, took detours—attempting to throw off any would-be pursuers off his trail. When he finally reached the porch of the house, he almost collapsed from exhaustion. The human let out a cry in his sleep, and Patton stroked his hair.

“Shhh,” He said, “You’re safe now.”

The human unconsciously leaned into the touch, completely relaxing in Patton’s hold. The werewolf’s heart melted even further. If Patton’s heart was a popsicle, it was now a puddle of sugary sweet liquid.

As he sat on the porch, the human lying draped across his lap, he started to realize that Logan and Roman probably wouldn’t be happy with this arrangement. But Patton wasn’t going to abandon him, even if he was a human!

Which was why, he was now pleading to let the human stay with them.

“Please Roman, he needs help, I couldn’t just leave him all like that!” Patton begged, “Please don’t tell Logan—not yet, at least.”

“Tell Logan, what?”

Logan stood in the door frame, arms crossed as he stared down at the unconscious form of the human on the couch. Patton gulped.

He did not look happy.

“Hi Logan,” Patton chuckled nervously.

“What is he doing here?” Logan gestured to the human, “He shouldn’t be here, Patton. Do you remember what happened last time we let a human in our house?”

“This—this is different,” Patton insisted, “He needs us!”

“He needs to go!” Roman burst, clenching his fists.

Logan turned to look at Patton.

“Explain.” He said, and Patton did.

He repeated the same story as he had with Roman, with a few occasional interruptions by Logan who reminded him to stick the facts and not stray off into tangents. Once he finished, Logan sighed and pinched his nose between his fingers.

“So, what I’m hearing is that you panicked and weren’t thinking straight.”

Roman snorted. “Patton doesn’t think straight—ever.”

“I couldn’t just leave him all alone like that! What if he got attacked again?” Patton huffed.

“You could’ve left him at a police station or taken him to the hospital if you were worried about his health.”

Now that he thought about it, those might’ve been better options. Logan had always been good at figuring out more rational solutions to problems than Patton. But it didn’t change the fact that the tiny human was here now and needed their help.

“He needs a pack, Logan. And I know you know how to care for sick humans!”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “Patton, humans are social creatures, I’m sure he has packmates of his own who are concerned by his disappearance. There’s also no telling how he would react once discovering our true nature. We should take him to the hospital.”

Patton frowned. He hadn’t taken in consideration that the small human might already have packmates. If he did, Patton didn’t think they were good packmates based on the human’s malnourished appearance.

“We don’t have to tell him about the pack. But we can’t just leave him alone in the hands of strangers, Logan! We should care for him until we find out where his packmates are.”

Roman glanced between the two like a child observing an argument between their parents unfold in front of them.

Logan said nothing, reaching downwards to feel the human’s forehead.

“His temperature is unusually warm,” He noted, “We should take his jacket off—to help cool down his temperature.”

Patton’s eyes widened.

“Does that mean—”

“Yes, he can stay,” Logan said before clarifying, “only until he’s no longer ill.”

Roman’s eyes flashed angrily.

“Wh—”

“Patton, can you go prepare the spare bedroom for the human?” Logan interrupted.

“Of course!” Patton beamed as he scurried out.

As soon as Patton left the room, Roman turned to face Logan.

“Do I have no say in this?” Roman spluttered indignantly, “Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea? It’s a human, Logan. A. Human.”

“A human who is physically weaker, underfed and feverish compared to us. While it would be optimal to take him to a hospital, you and I both know about how attached Patton gets to…strays. I theorize he’s able to pack-bond more easily with other species than us.”

“Look, I don’t want to hurt Patton’s feelings as much you do, but we should put the safety of the pack first.”

“I did consider the safety of the pack in my decision making. This is a compromise—we’ll look after the human for long as he’s sick in exchange for Patton promising to return him to his friends and family,” Logan explained, “Who knows? The human might even want to leave early.”

He walked towards his study before turning to glance back at Roman.

“Make no mistake. I know how dangerous humans can be; I was once one myself, Roman, and I have no intentions of harboring the delusion of keeping one in our home any longer than necessary.”

#kat talks #writing woes #werewolf au

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fantranslatorbychoice · 4 years

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Kakuriyo no Yadomeshi Volume 6 Chapter 4 - Secret Girls' Night-out

T/N: Hi y’all, it’s me again, it took a bit longer because I did my best to beta-as much as I could, but if it’s still wonky, I apologize, it's not like I get paid to do it lol also it's rather challenging when I had to convert my brain waves from Japanese to English to my native language and however those combinations work just to spew all of these out in sufficiently passable English. So I hope you all don't mind stuff like typos or inconsistencies with the tenses srsly even the original text has that and I just literally gave up evening out the tenses, like really apparently it's no biggie to have an entire paragraph in Japanese that both has past and present tenses (they mostly don't have future tenses) but if that happened in English some would just nitpick that shit out. I mean, yeah, for sure when I do editing and get paid for it I would, but if I'm just reading fanfics from writers who don't have English as their native language I just don't give a hoot, as long as the story's good, to heck with grammar, spelling and syntax. Srsly some non-native EN speakers get turned-off or even scared when nitpickers hit on their imperfect spellings or grammar or dictions, srsly honestly just give them a break, they worked hard to learn another language. I felt this even more so when I started learning Nihongo, like srsly as long as a person gets to say what they want to say even if it's not perfect in anyway, then that's more than enough for me. srsly I am forgiving like that. Also this chapter has more notes than usual, especially regarding Nihongo and stuff, so if you don't like it you can always move along lololol Also I gave up, I'm keeping the titles and roles in Japanese i.e. Odanna-sama, Wakadanna-sama, Bantou-san, etc. I'll just stick in more notes instead lol

Also if you like this translation, you can heart it, share the link, reblog, I just respectfully ask that DO NOT REPOST ELSEWHERE. This is my contribution to the scant English content of this fandom, and I worked really hard to finish this thing, it’s not like I just copy-pasted everything. I even had to build the kanji in Jisho one by one. Try it and you’ll see what I mean.You can rave about this, rant about this, but if possible please link back to this page. If you’re unsure how to do that, just copy the web address of this page. If you’re on a blogsite just insert the web address as a hyperlink as a link back to here. Honestly if this light novel was officially-published in English, I wouldn’t even be doing this right now... And if it did, I’d take this offline to support the publishers and Yuuma-sensei. Creators support creators, is what I believe in. As previously-mentioned in earlier chapters, if you stumbled upon this one, the two seasons of the anime covered volumes 1-5, so other than the extra details, you didn’t miss much stuff. OK, with all of that out of the way, here's Chapter 4 now. P116 "Th... These are... The Southern Lands' cultured Japanese amberjack**... A bundle of Kiseki beef.. And there are so many other local products from the Southern Lands too. Ah, there's even the coconut oil that I always wanted!" So many extravagant ingredients have been hauled into Yugao, and I was flabbergasted by them all. There were also so many cans of various contents as well as dried fish and other products stuffed inside. Canned tuna and other canned stuff were considered as high-end products in Kakuriyo, and I am very grateful. Ginji-san and the Daruma gang from the kitchens delivered a box packed with so many ingredients to Yugao, and we had no idea why. "Well, the Dog said that these are their repayment to our kindness. It's because a while ago, Ranmaru came to Tenjin-ya." "Really, Ranmaru from Orio-ya?" "Hatori-san also came too, with him." In some way, Ginji-san's mood was good. For a while now, his nine fluffy tails were wagging from left to right. "It's from our head accountant Byakuya-san, Aoi-san's rewards for your achievement, and for Tenjin-ya's cooperative business venture and all sorts of other demands that were deemed justifiable, and because they wanted to give other things as a way of expressing their gratitude, they brought in many other souvenirs and products as well. They also exchanged with us various other information." T/N: This is related to tuna fish, but don't ask me how they cultured it. Probably in the open sea, like in sea cages. Yes, that's a thing, and yeah I was also in the fishing industry at some point in time, if you're wondering. Also if you're wondering why I rarely use "you" in the dialogues of the translations, it's because in polite Japanese conversations, instead of saying ANATA or OMAE= you, one's name is mentioned instead. In the original text, when people are talking to each other, rather than say "you" they say the other person's name or occupation + san instead i.e. bengoshi-san= lawyer san, Ginji-san, or if it's a username because they don't like using their true names- USERNAME-san. Because using "you" in any way, shape or form in conversations is deemed rude AF. So the next time you chat with Japanese people, please remember to address them by their name, or occupation, unless you've established rapport with them. I forgot to put this explanation in my earlier posts, but it's one of the most important stuff I learned in my Japanese classes, the Japanese folk won't care so much on grammar but more on being polite and taking care of remembering social status stratification aka just be polite by using polite terms. I actually experienced this first hand after chatting with some of them, they just told me not to use Google translate and just chat with them with whatever I know. They're very grateful when people could talk to them in their native tongue, especially when the honorifics are used. This note's long AF but I did say that I'm gonna drag you all with me in this whole learning Nihongo thing, and I'm doing just that. P117 "That friendly Ranmaru did that? Doesn't he hate Tenjin-ya?" "Hee hee. Well, don't take this too seriously, OK?" Even though saying it that way, I imagined that Ranmaru's horrible words and demeanour were probably due to his circumstances. Orio-ya sees Tenjin-ya as its rival, it's hard to imagine them having an image of humbly bringing over souvenirs. And the business dealings, I wonder what those are...? "Oh that, Ranmaru saw that you had a strong sense of duty. He wanted to particularly express his gratitude to Aoi-san." And thereupon, these ingredients from the Southern Lands. Stuff I rarely get hold of, especially something like that one round amberjack, and I unconsciously grinned. "Even so, if the circumstances allowed, he would have stopped by and said it himself** ..." "It was before Aoi-san's business hours, and Ranmaru is also busy it seems, so he had to go back immediately. Even I wanted to take our time since I thought it was fine, but it can't be helped... Because Ranmaru is the Southern Lands' Hachiyo." "Ha ha. Then what happens next is that if it's possible, Ginji-san will go to Orio-ya, won't he? Nothing's stopping you two from visiting each other now?" "Aoi-san...." Up until recently, Ginji-san and Ranmaru's long sibling feud previously ended sometime ago, and the long-standing so-called inn rivalry and clash between Orio-ya and Tenjin-ya has been cut. T/N: aisatsu=挨拶=greeting, introducing one's self, improving relations by dropping by every now and then, can also mean like popping up to say hi or whatnot. I don't know how to directly translate it since aisatsu has more of a sense of how a supervisor pops up in the work place or a teacher suddenly appears in a class just to check, it's not as informal as a neighbor dropping by the house just to have idle chitchat. Hweh. P118 But after the ceremony, the changed relationship between the two has been noticeable. "Oh, that, I see. Someday soon, I will take a break and go visit him too." "Yeah, I agree, that's great. Oh, I wonder if everyone's doing well... Hatori-san and Tokihiko-san, Hideyoshi and Nene, the cute twin chefs.. And Nobunaga." "It seems that everyone's doing fine. The twins Kai-san and Mei-san, Orio-ya profoundly realized that they're really suited to be chefs, and everyone seems to cheer them on, Hatori-san was still the same as ever, but sometimes he returns to Shumonzan. He says that he bickers with Matsuba-sama as always, but one way or another they've become in good terms with each other." Ginji-san asked Ranmaru, and he told things about Orio-ya's management staff. I see, everyone in each of their own way have been doing their best to move on forward. "Oh, and somehow Hideyoshi-san and Nene-san seems to have been engaged." "Whaaat? Why that fast?" Wait a minute. Hideyoshi knew that Nene-chan has decided, that she likes Ranmaru, wasn't it? But that's what Hideyoshi said... My astonished face must have looked funny, and Ginji-san turned away his face and giggled. "It's surely shocking, isn't it? Why, it's amazing, Hideyoshi was especially honest and manly. P119 I simply cannot..." Ginji-san let out a tiny laugh again. What is it about his old haunting grounds, being delighted at the many changes in Orio-ya? At any rate, I was surprised with Hideyoshi and Nene's engagement. Firstly, congratulations Hideyoshi. You thought that your unrequited love has been going on for so long, it was outside your thoughts early on, but now your love bore its fruit. I'm glad, as I'm rooting for you on from the sides. What the heck, behind my back, how did they get involved in that, that was surprisingly an unusual story, if I meet Nene this time I need to get information from her. "But the when the trustworthy Waka-danna** and Waka-Okami** get married, Orio-ya will surely become peaceful, and Ranmaru will also be pleased. Certainly after the marriage, their organization will grow even stronger. He'll get exhausted if it's just Ranmaru holding everything together." "Isn't Tenjin-ya also reasonably solid?" "I guess, although the position for Waka-Okami easily changes. Originally the person in that position is supposed to only resign once, but right now Kikuno-san has temporarily retired as the Young Mistress and supposed to come back. However, there have been circumstances in her family, and she immediately relinquished her seat as the Waka-Okami." "Ehh, like that?" After showing my disbelief, Ginji-san sadly nodded.

T/N: Waka-danna=young master, Waka-Okami=young mistress P120 "If it comes to that, when a new Waka-Okami doesn't hold the position for very long, we can say that there's a gifted person in Tenjin-ya, and it's only a little issue.** Likewise, during that matter with Orio-ya, we in the management staff really wanted the former Waka-Okami O-ryo san to come back and give it another go. Her abilities are very outstanding." "Even I too... I was shocked to see O-ryo completely doing her job well. Even Nene, one way or another admires her so much." "Yes, I agree. But, oh well... O-ryo-san returning to her former position, it's already a huge chance and a necessity. Right now she's drifting away from supporting her fellow waiters and waitresses, well, O-ryo-san must be intending to. To me, she seems to be enjoying having lesser responsibilities and more carefree in her current position." "Well, that's for sure..." Based on how Ginji-san talked about it, lately it seems that O-ryo has no obsession on the position of Waka-Okami. A little bit until recently, she seems, to have returned the bearing of her Waka-Okami decorum, but lately she's wholly just wanting to eat and eat, when she finally gets some free time she goes to Yugao, and lately has been persisting on going out hunting for marriage partners. However, I could say with confidence that she seems to be taking advantage of being relieved of her position as a Waka-Okami , and surely Tenjin-ya will realize that they need O-ryo's abilities. O-ryo's strength, is diligently doing her duties in that position. "Anyway, Aoi-san. I was preparing and building up the Autumn Festival here in Tenjin-ya at the end of this month, and I was thinking of using pumpkins, is it possible for Yugao to make Autumn foods and sweets for us?" T/N: Honestly double-triple negatives are a pain in the ass, srsly it's like inception to the nth power, I had trouble deciphering this line and almost this entire page in the original text so if it doesn't make sense, meh, I did my best within my current abilities. P121 "Pumpkin? Of course. It's gonna be fun, like Halloween." "Oh, right! There's a foreign festival called Halloween in Utsushiyo, but I thought it's impossible to recreate that here in in Kakuriyo, though I could imagine it to be made into a Pumpkin Festival." "Oh, not at all, we can make that same Halloween theme here because Tenjin-ya is mostly full of Ayakashi." A Japanese Halloween that doesn't use costumes... "But certainly, this year's pumpkins are delicious, so Pumpkin Festival sounds good, doesn't it? It's also a great idea to give out candies to our young guests." "We can probably decorate with paper lanterns and pumpkins too. We can place ogre-fire inside, and make them float all around Tenjin-ya." "Wow! That's very much like Utsushiyo's Halloween!" Why, the Autumn Festival goes well with the Pumpkin Event and our imaginations ran wild. "Also, Aoi-san. Pumpkins are not Odanna-sama's favorite." "..." Abruptly, the topic on Odanna-sama popped up, and I stiffened a bit. Some days ago, we came back from the orchard park date. I remembered being hugged in the airship's deck...** "How are you feeling, Aoi-san? Why is your face all red?" T/N: **insert lenny face here** You can't stop me wahahaha P122 "Hm? Oh, it's nothing, this is nothing. Odanna-sama not liking pumpkins, I wonder if I somehow asked that before..." "Oh, right. I saw that Odanna-sama often puts a lot of his boiled pumpkins in Byakuya-san's small bowl." "...really, isn't Odanna-sama unbelievable?" "Yes, he is. I don't know when Byakuya-san patience will end, but I want Odanna-sama to overcome his distaste for pumpkins." "You're right. His pickiness for food would not end... In this event I will feed Odanna-sama with the pumpkin cuisines I wanted him to try..." I haven't yet known what Odanna-sama likes, but I know what food he doesn't like. It wasn't at all regretable to make fun of Odanna-sama, but this time I got surprised. "Aoi-sama-- Manjuu-steaming has been finished!" Ai-chan's face suddenly popped out of the kitchen. She seemed to have established her affairs in Hyakumeyama, and she has changed her appearance to that which she made herself. Her time before returning to the pendant is still short, but she's working hard right now as a newly-hired employee. "You were steaming manjuu**? I thought I was smelling something good." "Yeah. Just a while ago Dr. Saraku was asked by Tenjin-ya to do some manufacturing trials for a new souvenir product.** T/N: Steamed bread with bean jam filling. They’re really good, try them when you can!

when I write souvenir product, it's translated from omiyage=お土産= something that you take home for your friends or family when you go have fun somewhere like a national park or a museum or amusement park. Like when you buy takeaways - T-shirts, food, keychains, etc. and bring them home or something. Is there an English equivalent for this? Because I don't know. In my native language we have an equivalent, well, for most Asian languages I guess. Don't know about others though.. Hm.... korewa....*inhales* O_O

P123 "We're still only in the middle of improving it, but once we're done we want Ginji-san to be the very first to try them out." "Wah, that sounds fun. When Byakuya-san saw the special products from Orio-ya, he also also saw the need for Tenjin-ya to make new specialties and other famous products, and he's going to be considerably sensitive about it." "Uhm.... But we have no confidence to meet that expectation..." If we couldn't get to sell all of the products that we made, what will we do if Tenjin-ya gets struck greatly by that? What will we do if Tenjin-ya's status and popularity crashes down? With regards to that, we had to think very hard. For Yugao as a small establishment it is a challenge, and the pressure feels a bit different. "It's alright. With regards to hit products, through time and through fads, luck always has a greater control. To me, the only thing needed by Dr. Saraku are failures no matter how many times, in his division. That is why it is important to fail when tackling new challenges." ".. Ginji-san..." "Because I think, we become stronger, don't we?" Ginji-san's relieving smile is so bright, even today it's promising. Having his support, for today as well, I will work harder for Yugao's business operations. P124 The next day, around noon. Tomorrow Tenjin-ya will be closed for a break. Since today Tenjin-ya's business operations will end and all shall check out at the same time, everyone's waiting to be free of work. Today, Yugao also has no business transactions, so tonight I was making up my mind to call all of the ladies to make hotpot. I was thinking of calling out all about to all the members who could attend, I only need to walk to the inner garden. "Oh, it's Kasuga." I noticed Kasuga first. On the other side of the log bridge, she was under the ginko tree. I was about to call out "Hey Kasuga--" but she seems to be talking to someone and I stopped. Behind the base of the ginko tree whose yellow leaves were slightly changing color, what the... Kasuga is usually cheerful but her face now weirdly has this blank expression. "Isn't that..." Beside her, it was Chiaki-san, the doorman in charge of the footwear. A Bake-Tanuki like Kasuga. Normally he doesn't get involved with her much deeply, but this time their dialogues seem to be at a crossroads. I thought that the young man was humble and modest, somehow trying his best to look cool, but somehow he is speaking to Kasuga with a harsh expression, the atmosphere doesn't seem good in there, the impression is very different from the usual funny and light. What is up with those two. These two were different from how I knew them. "Oh, Aoi-chan." P125 From far away, Kasuga noticed me, her Tanuki ears popped up, and rushed towards me. "Aoi-chan, are you going to the main building?" "Ehhhrm, yeah. That was weird, seeing the two of you." "You think so? Chiaki is my relative you know. We were just talking." "Oh, I see..." I don't understand but, I wonder what's normal for those two. "Speaking of, Kasuga, tonight, uhm, won't you come to Yugao after work?" "To Yugao? To make me eat food?" "Yeah. I was thinking of actually holding a ladies-only hotpot banquet. I'll set up the kotatsu, and there's also mountain apple liquor. Let's have a girls' night-out once in a while." "Girls night-out..." Kasuga said "That sounds so much fun" with a wicked Tanuki face. I wonder if she's recalling amusing stories she got out of everyone. "I was thinking of calling O-ryo and Shizuna-chan too. I'm going out to meet them now." "If you say so, I'll go tell them. I'm roommates with Shizuna-chan, and I'm assigned to the banquet hall with O-ryo sama." P126 "Oh, is it OK to ask? Sorry about that." "It's fine, it's like the usual running of errands." Smiling like a beast, Kasuga nimbly dashed away. Under the deep autumn air that feels cold, her fluffy Tanuki tail swings left to right. "..." Looking back at the ginko tree, Chiaki-san the chief doorman wasn't there anymore. I wonder what the two talked about. He seemed to have casually listened to the girls night-out plan. The strong mountain apple liquor, lend me your strength... "Aoi-dono" "Wah, Sasuke-kun!" Without warning, Sasuke-kun the O-niwaban fell down beside me. He has a long scarf hanging down his neck, ninja-style from sunrise to sunset. Normally, during the day he usually wears a monk's robe as he sweeps the garden. "What's up? Something happened during work?" "I am patrolling around. Lately, there has been some disturbances." "Well, tomorrow the inn will have its break, it must be difficult. Are you hungry?" "Ah, my stomach is..." P127 Grrrrrmmmmm. Sasuke-kun's hungry stomach made some noise. "My stomach is probably hungry..." "Hee hee. When your duties are done, while on break come to Yugao. We received a lot from Orio-ya, blessings from the sea. The Southern Lands were also grateful to Sasuke-kun, would you want anything?" "Is that true?" Sasuke-kun always had a cool expression, but when it comes to food his eyes sparkle with joy, like a child's. Realizing that he's let out his enthusiasm, he cleared his throat and hid his mouth with the scarf while saying "Well then, until later," and he disappeared into the wind. Sasuke-kun is just as always very earnest, it's adorable. "Nevertheless, some disturbance..." I heard about that by accident, recently. The disturbance, it's shady, things don't look good, among other things. I was working and doing my best in Yugao, and whatever lurks up in my surroundings I don't notice anything at all. But, at the moment I don't know about the things that have started happening, and I got more anxious and worried. P128 Today is a secret girls; night-out, no guys allowed. It's going to happen after Yugao's working hours, a hotpot party will be opened for the ladies of Tenjin-ya. Today it's not at Yugao, the venue will be at my room at the back, and I will bring out the kotatsu. Tonight's dinner will be amberjack shabu-shabu. We'll make a light konbu/kelp dashi amberjack shabu-shabu from the many seafoods from Orio-ya. "We'll use the top shelf kelp to make the konbu dashi for the seafoods of the Southern Lands. It's a hotpot filled with crunchy mustard greens and thinly-sliced daikon, Welsh onions and enoki mushrooms, I'm going to fill it with amberjack as much as I want." "OK--- Let's eat!" Despite it being after work, the ladies' eyes will get fired up. I wonder if that's the case when they get hungry after working hours. I immediately placed in the fatty slices of amberjack in the hotpot's boiled konbu dashi, and let it cook. I will add in here some ponzu for that single tingly flavor.** "Ahhh, what is this luxury. It's been a while since I had amberjack shabu-shabu..." "O-ryo sama, eat the vegetables too. Adding the thinly-sliced daikon makes this a shabu-shabu." "Alright, I get it..." O-ryo just ate only the amberjack, and Kasuga sneakily added in the vegetables. She also placed some of the boiled enoki, and placed a lot of the dashi along with the fish slices, placing all of these together she took a bite. T/N: Sour-tasting soups are best with fatty meats and fish, so I'd get that Aoi would do this to cut the fat and make the shabu-shabu taste even better and also to cut the fat and greasy feels. P129 The two closed their eyes in contentment. Certainly, when the raw amberjack was cooked over a flame, the entire flavor of the fish changes. Instantly the soft slices of amberjack became tough, and over that ponzu was added, this was entirely different when eaten as sashimi or with pickles, it can be an enjoyable, extravagant yet healthy food. Well, not really, it's just the season to eat hotpot deliciously. "Speaking of, what time is Shizuna-chan coming?" "The bath hours haven't ended yet, I think she'll come over after fixing and cleaning up the bath houses. She's the only one from the management staff, and she has to stay in her working area up until the end of business hours." "Oh, yeah. I see. Shizuna-chan is part of the management staff." I lightly glanced at O-ryo. O-ryo was a former management staff member, but she seems to be unaffected by my words. It seems that the person in question enjoys whatever working position she's in right now, and is drinking carbonated water as well as the mountain apple liquors equally. Somewhat it's like being that annoying single office-lady... "Perhaps I should say it- did you know? Orio-ya's Nene is married to their Waka-danna?" "No, aren't they just engaged? It seems like that for the time being, before getting married?" P130 Uhm, Kasuga and I looked at each other. But O-ryo wasn't listening. "Hmmph. That young girl, she'll be suffering so much marrying so young. That Waka-danna called Hideyoshi, that tiny squirt, he'll noisily scold her." "You think so? I've seen that Hideyoshi, he seems good enough. Well, he is pretty noisy. But he seems to like Nene very much, I think it's wonderful that he got his feelings through." I feel like an aunty who's earnestly chatting away about her relatives. If I could talk about it better, those two make a cute, tiny couple. "Gah! Enough chatting about a guy's love for some girl! I am not interested in the happiness of other people!" With a thud, O-ryo slapped her empty wine glass on the kotatsu. "Ahhhh, O-ryo sama don't start complaing about envying other people..." As always, Kasuga started telling her off with her "good grief!" pose. "I'm sorry I'm late--" A breath of fresh air, Shizuna-chan has joined the party.** Shizuna-chan takes care of the bath houses and bears the task of keeping them in order, and is Tenjin-ya's sole management staff for that purpose. "Shizuna, you're late! The battle has already started!" T/N: well the transliteration of the original text was "Shizuna-chan has arrived in the battlefield", but I think this has the same feel, from RPGs honestly IDK anymore lol anyways IMO food parties are always a battlefield so wth it's the same gahaha P131 "Ah, yes--? I'm sorry, ehhh, a battle?" After that, even if O-ryo was just a waitress who glared at her instantly, Shizuna-chan humbly apologized. It seemed that she had no idea what O-ryo meant with her words of choice. Shizuna-chan brought a box for us, filled with so many delicious sweets.This seemed delicious to eat as dessert. "Shizuna-chan, come sit beside me. Say, do you like amberjack shabu-shabu?" Shizuna-chan rarely visits here. I did my best to take care of whatever she needs. "Well, it has been a while since I had some amberjack shabu-shabu, how nostalgic..." "Oh, right. When you were young, you were a staff at Orio-ya. During that time, did you ate a lot?" "Yes, it was my favorite. Shishou-sama** made a lot of it for me..." Talking while bashfully fidgeting, Shizuna-chan started to eat with a lot of etiquette. Suddenly, O-ryo started looking at Shizuna-chan like a sister-in-law. "I say, uhm, Shizuna? There's someone in Orio-ya like you, who's also nice and has good vibes?" "Yes? A person with good vibes?" "Hey, weren't you explicitly pursued here in Tenjin-ya? Who was it.... That guy who looks withered up, called Tokihiko. You like someone who looks bitter and glum, don't you? It's illogical and unadult-like. Don't think that somehow you're under the shadow of that guy.. *hic*" T/N: I don't know how to call the main artist or the one who takes in a lot of disciples or students or apprentices so this is the next best thing, I guess? I mean, it’s directly translated as Master=師匠-Shishou, but it can mean other stuff, not just like sensei though. P132 "Oh, uhm.. that.. Shishou-sama.... he is uhm..." Shizuna-chan's face started blushing, like she had some beer or whatnot. Once that conversation was started, she immediately got perplexed. "Wait a minute, O-ryo! Shizuna-chan just started eating, don't ask her such direct questions, her throat might block off the shabu-shabu." "You're loud Aoi! Shut up, what's more important than looks are the uses**, you crazed-cook!" "What the.." Whom on earth did she think this hotpot party was prepared for? When O-ryo drinks liquor, she always blurts out unapologetic things. "Haaahhh... Aoi may be crazy about cooking, but in the end, eventually she'll get married to Odanna-sama... He'll pick up an excessively-expensive palanquin for you, you won't understand how miserable I am..." "What the heck are you saying... I'm doing my best to avoid being his fiancee." "But Aoi-chan, didn't you and Odanna-sama went out, and you were away for more than a night?" "Hold up, Kasuga, it's a weird, story, it can't be helped. We were captured by the mountain's Kaku-zaru." "Ah, but.. Odanna-sama pulled you out of a pinch, didn't that made you have a change of heart? Or some progress?"

T/N: hanayoridango=function before looks, like buying food first before buying flowers, yeah that’s the literal meaning of the phrase. P133 "...what?" A while ago Shizuna-chan got asked the same kind of questions. Suddenly, the three girls gazed at me. What the, what's up with their eyes, those three? They look like hyenas having an eye on their prey. "I.. I didn't mean it that way! Uhmm... Odanna-sama just.. gives his all as he saves me..." Speaking of progress, what on earth is progressing right now? My first-hand experiences weren't much, and even using those as my basis, I still don't understand. In the end, somehow despite never having an idea on what occurred, the warmth I felt when I was hugged just abruptly pops back again into my mind, and ultimately my face remains blushing, as I chattered and gritted my teeth in silence. I really don't understand this, I wonder... what is this feeling? "What the heck is that..?" "Yeah, what gives? It's weird, Aoi-chan's face is so red, why is that?" I could hear Kasuga and Shizuna-chan somewhat breaking the silence with their hushed conversations. "OK--- that's enough talking about sweethearts and whatnot-- That's every last one of them--" "Yeah, I heard you, I heard you!" O-ryo had enough of the topic already, and she rolled down into the kotatsu with an angry and dead-drunk expression. She probably got one-punched...** T/N: Yeah I feel you O-ryo, when everyone has some special someone and you're the lonely third wheel I mean, I can't blame you girl, I really can't. It's worse than getting one-punched by Saitama, but... Still lol tho sry my bad P134 "O-ryo sama, with that middle-aged man attitude such as yours, you'll miss your chances of getting married." "Kasuga? With the romance that a little girl-chama like you would know, wouldn't have an idea on what love is like, there's no such thing as an immediate fated encounter. Really esteemed women like me, wouldn't have to rush in choosing.There's no leeway for mistakes--" "Yeah, yeah. But regarding myself, I have a first love..." "What, that story about when you were young? Yeah, yeah, sure, that story that smells of inexperience is good enough. Kasuga, go pour me some more.." "Y-yes... Good grief..." The esteemed woman bully lied down again. And as the junior poured more liquor for her, she drank heartily, again. "But Kasuga, speaking of that, during the day, I saw you being with the Gesokuban** Chiaki-san. What on earth were you two chatting about?" "....uhm..." I suddenly remembered it, and without thinking I asked. Kasuga's facial expression slightly changed. "Reallyyyyy?! What the, Kasuga is with that Chiaki?!" Hearing that topic, O-ryo suddenly bolted upright. She kicked her legs inside the kotatsu, and Shizuna-chan let out a tiny, pained "ouch". "What is it, O-ryo?" "Chiaki may look sloppy and gaudy, but so many waitresses are eyeing on him. Not only does his face look good,

T/N: Gesokuban=下足番= doorman in charge of the footwear, normally in Japanese inns or hotels the footwear are kept outside the halls to prevent dirt from coming in. I think elsewhere in the world this is a practice, there’s a thing called indoor and outdoor slippers or shoes. P135 but being a Gesokuban, he's pretty much a member of the management staff. If he gets married, it's easy to dominate him. That's what I understand from hearing other people. Kasuga, he's also your type?" "...what are you talking about, O-ryo sama? Chiaki is my Uncle. Simply put, my father's younger brother.**" "Whaaa... Really?" Everyone got shocked. Everyone in here seemed to be unaware of that fact. Kasuga went "Uh-oh". Her face spelled out "I shouldn't have said that." "It's probably due to this liquor.. I may have said too much..." Kasuga was scratching an itch on her temple. Taking the opportunity, Shizuna-chan suddenly seemed to have remembered something. "Speaking of that... Kasuga is taking a long vacation to go back to her parents' home, and at the same time, Chiaki-san probably won't we working too, isn't it? Could it possibly be that, he's going home with you?" Somehow, a lot of suspicions and doubts started rising up, and Kasuga started clamoring and wailing. "Geez... stop it already! What I told you is already enough! More importantly, hotpot! Look, the mustard greens and onions, and the tofu had all boiled down.The umami of the vegetables and the amberjack have already dissolved into this precious konbu dashi, and it's considerably better now. Aoi-chan, how are we going to divide this?" With dexterity, Kasuga started distributing the contents of the hotpot into smaller bowls, but I was still determined to press information out of her. This girl is pushily taking charge over the hotpot... T/N: I don't know about you guys, but in some families due to the age gaps between the siblings, some of the nieces and nephews ar more closer in age to their aunts and uncles than the aunts and uncles have to the children's parents. I was actually raised by an elder cousin, and her eldest brother was around the age of my father, so yeah, I could understand how this whole thing with Kasuga goes. P136 "Ok, with this, it's definitely udon!" "Udon!" "Yeah let's do that" Shizuna-chan gratefully put her hands together, and O-ryo's sparkling eyes were on standby. Immediately, the udon balls were brought in, and these were dunked into the deliciously-filled dashi stock. After boiling it down, we only had to wait for the noodles to absorb the flavors. "By the way, you all, what do you think of the single guys in Tenjin-ya?" "Yes?" "Do you have anything funny about them to talk about?" While O-ryo poured some newly-opened liquor, she drunkenly pushed the question at me. This woman, sets herself aside and starts gossiping about Tenjin-ya's male army. "First of, let's start with Akatsuki. That guy's the youngest male in the management staff, he may have a promising future, surely being young his composure isn't yet enough, I think. Well, in desperate times I could say that he's adorable, but he's the type that holds grudges, and it's not a good thing that he easily snaps out. For certain, I think he doesn't have a girl." "It seems that O-ryo sama has a problem with the Bantou** -sama snapping out at her words and deeds, don't you?" "Shut up Kasuga--" "Owwwww" T/N:Bantou=番頭=head clerk, or the head receptionist

P137 O-ryo pulled out Kasuga's cheeks. Kasuga's cheeks stretched out so much. "Akatsuki-san's face is a bit scary, but he is a hard-working employee, in my opinion. But, well... I'm not interested in someone younger than me..." "That's right Shizuna, you have an older guy fetish don't you?" "Yeah, the guy has been living for 500 years now, yes..." Shizuna-chan just casually blurted out that she wasn't interested in Akatsuki. She's probably a bit drunk. She's drinking the mountain apple liquor on the rocks... "Akatsuki, you say... When I met him he shouted like he was going to kill me, that guy gave me the impression that he was the worst but... Now I think he's a really good chap. One way or another way though, he's not someone who likes taking care of others. I remember her younger sister.." That child** comes here to Yugao, his eyes may look evil but he's a caring person. Surely, I think that he's concerned about troubling his younger sister Suzuran and grandpa, among others. "Oh, and by the way..." At this point, Kasuga secretly pulled out a notebook and started telling us the stuff that she wrote. What the... What the heck, that is scary. "According to my research, the Bantou-sama doesn't have a woman's touch on him. He's aloof, and he easily and earnestly gets resentful. It also seems that despite the lady waitresses asking him out to have fun, he always doesn't go with them." "As expected..." T/N: the term Yuuma-sensei used for Akatsuki is mame=マメ=bean, but can also mean a child, a little person, etc. Honestly it's not wrong, Akatsuki is an actual precious bean IMO lol protect that spider bean lelz P138 "But that guy, a little girl once invited him to play with her..." Surprisingly, I thought this was a bit rude. Most likely, Akatsuki is sneezing a lot right now. "Wah, udon, udon--" Finally, the udon has been boiled enough. Everyone started putting udon on their bowls. "Gahh... This is it. The udon to finish the hotpot."** "Cooking this in the dashi makes it yummier, doesn't it?" The udon has surely absorbed the umami and the fatty flavors of the amberjack. I added the refreshing taste of the Sudachi Ponzu in mine. This went smoothly down the throat, and this perfectly wraps up the the meal. No, I mean, this is a work of art. "Hey Aoi, you only drank one glass of the liquor? You go drink some more..." "Sorry but, I dont drink more than a cup. Previously, drinking made my eyes hurt when I look at things." A cup of that liquor tastes great. But I dread getting drunk if I drink more than my limit. But everyone was just drinking heartily, so I guess it's fine. The mountain apple liquor also has another nickname, it's called "Easy Bandit-Killer". "Well then, next is the Waka-danna sama's turn" O-ryo continued the conversation where we previously left off. "Waaat? Even Ginji-san?! But.. Isn't Ginji-san perfect? No, a perfect Youkai? I couldn't find any fault with him." T/N: Just in case you're wondering how this works, it's rather easy.. After eating all of the ingredients in the Japanese hotpot, like taking out the veggies and meat, there's a lot of soup left. It's easier to just drink the soup but in Japan, they add stuff to help it go down easy. Choices are either noodles or rice, and the young ones love putting the noodles in. It actually tastes good either way, but I prefer noodles. I think in Persona 5 they also had this same dilemma lol Also yeah Ginji is just the ball, perfect ball of fur lol but he also has this shadowy and mysterious side so if you want a dude of mystery, Ginji's your man gahahaha P139 "Eh. You don't understand, Aoi. Seeing no faults or imperfections is that person's shortcoming-" An adultish smile floating up her face, O-ryo started spinning her glass around. "Waka-danna sama is, well, fanstastic. When you look at him he's handsome, he is well-mannered, and is skillful at his job." "Yeah I get that. He's very sweet, and he always lends a hand... But for sure, Ginji-san seems to have no interests in romantic relationships..." Even I haven't unraveled the reasons to why Ginji-san is still single. But I'm not surprised that he's well-liked. "Oh, well, based on what O-ryo-san was saying, Ginji-sama has no chink in his armor, doesn't he? When a little girl couldn't get any confidence from everyone and has to hold it together by herself, when that perfect Ginji-sama sees that person, his voice would probably not break so easily." "The Waka-danna sama isn't a greedy type, but look, what Aoi-chan is saying is that the Waka-danna seems to have no hobbies or interests. Aoi-chan doesn't understand how, but among the employees he seems to be the type that only admires one person. In that case, his attraction for this one girl could unfortunately end. And she won't be pursued relentlessly." Oh, I get it... Shizuna-chan and Kasuga pointed this out, and I could understand it better. "But after that thing with Orio-ya, somehow the air around the Waka-danna sama has changed, didn't it? T/N: OK I just translated from Japanese what I'd say if I was fan-girling over Ginji, srsly arrrghhh does a guy like this exist? I'd want the extra tails and the transformation powers but I'm OK without those as long as he's into romantic stuff.. Does he? Does he not? I don't know yet lol are there any Ginji fan-fams here too lololol P140 I heard it from the lady waitresses that aren't easy to talk to. That person, he has undoubtedly became likeable. And then, the Waka-danna sama, didn't he take care of you in your condition?" "..." With a wicked face, O-ryo was testing me with her words. But to me, up until now I think that Ginji-san is likeable, and in that case it's not even a joke. He hardly comes to Yugao now, and because of that it's gotten lonely... "On another point, among the Waka-danna sama's nine tails, the third one below, from the right seems to be the most unique.That is somehow a weak spot." "Kasuga, how did you know such information?" It's scary... Kasuga's information is creepy. Even though she's drunk the power of her research skills scared all of us. "Well then... Choubachou** Byakuya-sama--" "O-ryo, don't you dare take another step over there--" We suddenly exercised caution with Byakuya-san. If we speak rudely of him, we feel like we're going to get cursed.** "I honestly couldn't remember a time when he got angry..." "Me either..." "Me too..." T/N: OK so my bad, Byakuya’s supposed position ranges from accounting to reception, but I just previously translated his position as head accountant because it’s what I got before. But he’s more or less the chief of management operations, which includes accounting. Anyway... Hey, I mean, if Byakuya can kick Raijuu's ass then it's justifiable that Byakuya is always in a sour mood, and it's bad to talk about him rudely. Raijuu's a pain in the ass for sure. Arrrgh P141 In the end, this girls' group had nothing more to say. We shuddered when we remembered stuff, and inside the kotatsu we all curled up. Though we were only just talking about him, his pressure on us made us feel defeated even in here. "H.. However, Byakuya-sama stealthily spoils the pipe cats living at the back of the mountain..." "Kasuga, nobody knows about that yet. Don't talk about it, if that gets leaked out we'll get killed." Well, in short, Byakuya-sama pours all of his love to the pipe cats. "Geez, we've wrapped out heads too much on these puzzles, and my hands have lost all feeling. Like Odanna-sama, he also exists above the clouds." "That's because Byakuya-sama is Odanna-sama's good old wife." O-ryo and Kasuga opened the box that Shizuna-chan brought for us, and while munching on these they were sloppily chatting. "Good old wife?" Isn't Byakuya-san a guy? as I tilted my head. "Since long ago, he has assisted in the running of Tenjin-ya. Odanna-sama is able to go here and there freely for work, and Byakuya-sama was staying in Tenjin-ya and presides over it. He has long been in good terms with Odanna-sama, and Byakuya-sama could readily and frankly give out his opinions to him." Come to think of it, before Odanna-sama and I went out, him and Byakuya-san were talking about something one way or the other. P142 In that case, other than the other employess and executives, nobody sees it like an older wife giving encouragement to her husband. "And for sure, when the Oo-Okami** sama isn't here, Byakuya-sama also takes in that role as well, doesn't he?" "Oo-Okami?" Shizuna-chan was drinking the last drop of the sweet liquor, she was reminded of her old home and started talking. "Ougondouji-sama is currently residing in Orio-ya. Previously, Ougondouji-sama was asked to be the Oo-Okami. She holds the same position and rank as Odanna-sama, therefore ever since Ougondouji-sama left Tenjin-ya,the position has been vacant." "Oh, I see... If that's so, with regards to that old tale, I have asked Ginji-san about that." And with that, Byakuya-san also holds the position of Oo-Okami. "Haaaahhh... That weird chat about the Oo-Okami has been a bit too much already." "O-ryo sama, didn't you tell me back then that you'd focus intently on becoming Oo-Okami ,once upon a time?" "Shut up Kasuga! It's a harsh fact that I have to live with!" With O-ryo and Kasuga's conversation, my ears grew eager to listen. "But isn't that.. O-ryo already has no interest with the Waka-Okami position?" "Whaaat? Aoi, you're asking that question? Did't I tell you that I won't get into the position of Waka-Okami again?" T/N: Oo-Okami, Mistress of the House, or something, like the big lady boss.

P143 "R..Really?" "It's fine, really it is. My enthusiastic, indomitable personality is dead. I want to enjoy living a carefree life. I plan to marry a rich guy, then immediately stop working--" "..." Somehow, the atmosphere became tense. Could it be possible that, among all the people in here right now, we're all thinking that O-ryo didn't really want to give up that position? Especially Kasuga, she was shell-shocked, and her face looked troubled. I felt that the mood has changed, so I tapped my fist in my hand. "Oh, right, right. I brought some large-sized grapes from the fruit orchard park, and I made some grape tarts. Let's eat some? I added a lot of grapes on it, it's a custard cream dessert." "Kasstard? OK OK let's eat--" It seems that nobody understood what I meant, but everybody nodded their heads excitedly. Grape tart. I made the crust with the coconut oil from Orio-ya and baked it, and by adding the large grapes called Daishisui that I gathered with Odanna-sama yesterday, the tart looks like a sparkly jewelry box. On top of the crust, I laid down an easily-made custard cream made of Cassowary egg and some wheat flour, with cow's milk and a bit of sugar, P144 and these buried the grapes cut in halves, which I later baked in the oven. After baking this for a while, I topped everything with raw grapes and pure cream. These were arranged as such because the tightly-packed grapes beneath this layer cannot be seen. "Woooooow!" Those dynamic-seeing eyes, everyone's eyes were sparkling. I sliced the large tart in front of everyone, and when the neatly-arranged grapes were cut through, Shizuna-chan let out a regretful-sounding "Awww".** There wasn't any fork, we used kuromoji, special wooden chopsticks** normally used for Japanese sweets or just ate them using our bare hands. "Uwahhh this is juicy-- What is this, I thought this food has raw grapes, but this tastes is like it was meant to be a baked dessert!" "This is the first time I ate something that tastes like this, but the grapes' sweetness stands out, it's really delicious--" O-ryo eating with her hands and Shizuna-chan using a kuromoji, they fell into a trance like typical ladies who love sweets. "This is generally called a fruit tart, and with the rich taste of the eggs in the custard cream, it blends well with the sweet and sour freshness of the fruits, and together these really bring about the best-tasting combination. The sweetness gets reduced, and the sourness becomes mild." As I was explaining how the mild taste came about, Kasuga haven't taken a single bite of the grape tart, and while propping her chin with her hand, she was observing it quietly. T/N: Lol I feel you Shizuna-chan, I feel the same when a freshly-bought ice cream tub looks so neat I don't wanna cut through it lol that's why ASMR of perfectly arranged anything are famous bahaha

Kuromoji=黒文字= Japanese sweets are eaten traditionally by using tiny wooden chopsticks, to cut and skewer them. You can check them out via search engine or smth P145 "What is it, Kasuga? Don't tell me, you don't like grapes?" "Hmm? No, it's not like that.. I really love grapes. That dessert you called tart, I was thinking of something." Kasuga ate held tart like it was a hard cookie, and bit on it heartily despite doubting what it was, before chewing on it. She filled her cheeks with the grapes, the custard, and the fragrant crust. "Mmmm, I wanted to eat some more. The grapes are heavy, and they burst in my mouth." Just a while ago we were enjoying some amberjack shabu-shabu, but we still had room for dessert, and all of the girls ate as much of the grape tart to their hearts' content. "Aoi-dono--" In that moment, came a boy's voice that can be heard from inside Yugao. "It's Sasuke-kun. I told him that I was going to give him something to eat after his working hours." The three ladies around me went "It's.. Sasuke-kun?", and they looked at me from the side. "Say, Aoi, tell Sasuke-kun to come here too." "Really? Even if today's a no-guys-allowed girls' night-out, it's OK to call him in?" "Yes, it's totally OK. Sasuke-kun is an adorable and good boy." "..." Even though there was a nagging feeling, I went outside of Yugao and called out to Sasuke-kun. "Sasuke-kun, thank you for your hard work. We were just having a hotpot party inside but, P146 I'll also add something for you, OK?" "Hotpot, is it? Is it because it has already gotten a bit cold?" "Come in. Everyone's waiting for you. I'll go and prep up." "I understand." Sasuke-kun unknowingly trudged toward the innermost room, and opened the door. "?!" No sooner than opening the door. Sasuke-kun the ninja couldn't react fast enough, and he was dragged into the room. "Gyaaaaahhh! Aoi-dono, Aoi-dono---" Sasuke-kun, the innocent and sweet Sasuke-kun, he was preyed upon by the ladies starved of men. "I- I'm sorry, Sasuke-kun. I'll make you a delicious hotpot, OK?" I feel guilty that he gets harassed, and using another earthen pot I added dashi stock, vegetables and the amberjack slices, and hurriedly went towards the innermost room. Please, please let Sasuke-kun be OK! "..." Sasuke-kun was already pestered by the drunken ladies, here and there he was grumbling being urged to drink liquor, P147 his hair has been tousled and his scarf stretched out, it was horrible, but he was being coddled and spoiled. "Aoi-dono--" Poor Sasuke-kun, he was crying out of fear. He was unprotected, and the swarming girls were getting their fill, it was another shabu-shabu over the kotatsu setting. They're feeding him too much. While he's eating delicious food, I will protect Sasuke-kun.

Despite the determination of that bunch, just like turning off a lamp, the girls suddenly collapsed.

Zzzz.... The effects of the mountain liquor came at last, and the intense sleepiness has struck. "Aoi-dono.. What on earth, were you doing here?" "Hmm? It's a secret girls' night-out, Sasuke-kun." "Secret girls' night-out..."

It's really too much to handle drunkeness. The true intents and personalities of the girls, were hidden and unseen, in this empty room these must not get out. Everything that they spewed out, they'll probably forget in the morning. And that was the so-called, girls' night-out.

End of Chapter 4, Volume 6. Previous - Intermission 1 Next - Intermission 2

References:

Wonderful site for the youkai references

Other stuff I used to do this: Kodansha Kanji Learner’s Dictionary (you can buy here, I’m not sponsored btw). I was about to buy the older edition but then the newer one came out 2013 so I bought that instead. Worth buying since I was able to find nearly all of the words I needed just by stroke pattern alone.

Merriam-Webster's Japanese-English Dictionary (the red-covered 1996 version is apparently out of print right now). This is what I have been using for a very long time, I bought it when I was still a fetus (yes I am old so what lol), and after so many years, when compared to newer editions, I still prefer this one since its entirety is Japanese-English, the English to Japanese gloss are just 16 pages tops, so you get more Japanese words for your buck. But that’s just my opinion, maybe other people prefer the Jap-En x En-Jap IDEK.

Basic online dictionary, Jisho. Knowledge of verb conjugations and other words are necessary since not all have entries.

If you can read Japanese, you can buy the whole set in Amazon Japan, they’re shipping worldwide now, I think.

#kakuriyo no yadomeshi #kakuriyo no yadomeshi light novel #kakuriyo no yadomeshi english fan translation #kakuriyo no yadomeshi volume 6 chapter 4 #kakuriyo no yadomeshi volume 6 chapter 4 english fan translation

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whereyoursoulresides · 3 years

Text

Without Words II - Our Orbiting Paths, Chapter 1

Summary: In their third life, Kunzite has finally won the heart of Zoisite’s civilian reincarnation, Kozakura Izou. However, as their lives become progressively more intertwined, certain challenges begin to crop up… Between the stresses of work, adjusting to modern expectations, and old familiar faces flashing from the shadows, can Kunzite maintain a meaningful relationship with his partner successfully?

Rating: T+

Characters Featured in Fic: Kunzite, Zoisite, Nephrite, Jadeite, Naru, Umino

Chapter Summary: It's been a few months of dating now, and Kunzite thinks they're ready to take it to the next step.

AO3 Link Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826732/chapters/68145631#workskin

“Oh, you should’ve seen it, Kunihiro-sama,” the voice was saying over the phone. “Absolutely atrocious, I had never seen anything like it!”

“Hmn,” was all Kunzite said, albeit with a bit of a smile. He didn’t usually have much opinion on the matters of Izou’s latest gossip, but he was happy to hear Izou talk about anything at all. He took another bite of his dinner - plain white rice and grilled salmon. “And then?”

“Oh, I took myself right out of that business,” Izou continued, and Kunzite could just imagine his curls frazzedly waving in exasperation.

“It sounds like you might be out-growing that coffee shop,” was Kunzite’s observation.

Izou huffed over the phone. “Entirely possible. The staff is completely different now. Honestly, Kunihiro-sama, these new girls, sometimes their attitude is just appal- ow! ”

Kunzite quickly pushed some loose grains of rice past his lips. “Mn. Izou? Are you alright?”

There was a little hiss, and then a whine.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Izou answered. “Just a prick, that’s all.” The words came out mumbly as Kunzite could hear him suck on his finger. “Shoot, that smarts!”

Kunzite shook his head fondly. “Be careful,” he chided as he began to clean up the remnants of his dinner. He had about another five minutes of his break left. “Perhaps we shouldn’t chat if you need to concentrate...”

“Mn, oh no!” Izou insisted. The sound of the phone being adjusted to his ear cackled over the receiver. “At any rate, what time are you finishing tonight, Kunihiro-sama?”

“Late,” Kunzite answered. He glanced at the clock. “About midnight, I think.”

“Oh.” Izou sounded disappointed. “It’s been so long…”

It had perhaps only been a week since they'd last seen each other in person, but to both it had felt like an eternity. Between Kunzite’s long and odd working hours at the precinct and Izou’s equally erratic shifts at the coffee shop, it was difficult to set a real date time consistently, and every window of opportunity was never wasted. Although they chatted every night (and occasionally stumbled to work from either other’s homes), it seemed that their craving for the other’s physical presence was only growing exponentially by the day.

“I know,” Kunzite said kindly. He missed Izou too.

Izou seemed to gather up some strength. “Were you able to eat? You’ve mentioned before it’s tricky to get a meal in sometimes…”

Kunzite threw the plastic container out into the garbage under the sink.

“I managed to grab something. Although I must be hanging up soon, Izou…”

“Oh, okay,” Izou said in a rush. “Well, um, maybe I could drop by tomorrow, before my shift? I start late in the afternoon…”

Kunzite smiled. “That’d be lovely. Whatever works for you.”

“Okay.” Izou paused as though to say something pressing, but Kunzite chalked it up to their usual anxieties of never wanting to hang up. “Take care,” he finally said.

Kunzite tilted his head warmly.

“You as well. Chat soon.”

After hanging up the phone, Kunzite finished tidying up the break room and returned to his desk. In one corner stood the small rosebush that Izou had managed to resurrect. It was Kunzite’s pride and joy in the office, a perfect reminder in lieu of their photo from the Dark Kingdom. As he settled himself amongst his papers and computers, he thought briefly of how lucky he was. It was so surreal to think that this was where they - he and Izou - were now.

In the past few months, Izou’s memories of his third life had rapidly solidified, and it had been fascinating to Kunzite to learn everything about Kozakura Izou. His parents - a concept that Kunzite was still struggling to come to terms with - lived in the countryside, on a small, modest farm. His mother was an artist, and his father was a photographer. Izou himself had moved to Tokyo at age fourteen to better his schooling and career opportunities. In between part time work and school, Izou loved to read, thrift, garden, and shop. His creativity energy would burst into little endeavours - sketches, doodles, collages - and was increasingly weaving into his sense of style and fashion. It wasn’t uncommon for Kunzite to hear a little yelp or hiss over the phone as he had earlier- followed by the endearing dismayed whine - from sewing accidents wherein Izou had stabbed himself at his fingertips. As Kunzite flipped through his briefing updates in his hands, he wondered which project Izou had been working on today, and if he would be seeing it soon.

“Saitou-san.”

Kunzite glanced up to see a younger officer leaning over the corner of his cubicle. He was holding two folders in one hand, while the other was scratching his head under his cap. Behind him, Kunzite caught a glimpse of the civilian as she left the precinct, her dark auburn hair swinging behind her.

“Yes, Kobayashi-san?”

“I just got another statement about the nondescript white van. That makes five so far.”

“No attacks?”

“None, just trailing.” Kobayashi scrunched up his nose. “It’s hard to get an idea though on where to begin. No identifiable markings, and none of the license plates line up. Still seems worth investigating.”

Kunzite’s eyes drifted to the other folder. “And the other case?”

“Mn? Oh. Just another sighting of the cargo truck with the black star. No attacks yet this week, but it’s definitely suspicious.” He looked at Kunzite sheepishly. “I guess you’ll probably want the more exciting one, huh?”

If it was one thing Kunzite knew very well, it was patterns. And he knew what would follow the cargo truck with the black star all too well.

“I’ll take the van,” he said curtly, taking the folder.

The younger officer grinned in excitement, holding the remaining case to his chest.

“Maybe this means I’ll get to meet a Sailor Senshi…!”

“I think you have much more pressing concerns than that,” Kunzite said crossly. He gestured to some of the boxes stacked up at the farthest wall of the precinct. “Why don’t you start setting those up instead.”

Flushing embarrassedly, Kobayashi straightened immediately.

“Yes sir!”

As the younger officer hurried off to set up the precinct’s newest surveillance testing program, Kunzite shook his head. Although he was the senior officer, occasionally Kunzite felt more like an unofficial mother hen than a leader. Quickly, he brushed the thought aside and returned to his paperwork with a sigh.

And when else had he felt like that before…?

---

It had been a long night. While his precinct also technically dealt with thefts, burglaries, and other emergencies, Kunzite found the public-facing aspect of his job far more draining. Although he usually could leave it to the younger officers, the fact remained that most of them still needed guidance and training, which Kunzite had to deliver. By the time he climbed his way up to the top floor of his low-rise apartment, Kunzite’s stomach was rumbling, and he was ready to hit the hay.

However, upon arriving at his door, Kunzite was greeted by a little surprise that woke him right up.

“Izou?”

The young man had been sitting by the door, shrouded in a thick winter jacket with a backpack to his side. Seeing Kunzite, he jumped to his feet. “Kunihiro-sama, welcome home!” It was the biggest grin Kunzite had seen all day.

Despite himself, Kunzite couldn’t help but reflect a slightly confused smile back. He gently laid a hand on the small of Izou’s back. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” Izou assured, lifting what looked like a large stack of lunch boxes wrapped in a spring green cloth. “I thought you could use something heartier so late after dinner time,” he said cheerfully. “It’s just some takeout, but…” His cheeks glowed faintly. “But...I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

As Kunzite inserted his key, he had to do his best to keep from growing into a ridiculous grin. Izou was just so sweet and thoughtful.

“You really shouldn’t have,” Kunzite finally said, as the bolt unlocked. Izou glanced up uncertainty.

“Was it too forward of me?” he asked.

Kunzite finally let the fondness of his smile show, and gently nudged Izou into the door.

“Not at all.” I’ve missed you too. “Please. Come in.”

Splitting into a grin, Izou slipped off his shoes and leapt inside. As he got settled and began to unpack the food, Kunzite’s smile faded when he realized how late it truly was. One in the morning, and while his area was safer than Izou’s neighbourhood, the city could still be a very dangerous beast at this hour.

“How long were you waiting for?” he asked as he slid out of his own shoes, watching Izou for any indication of polite refrain.

“Oh, not long,” Izou answered merrily, now plating the food into bowls. He gathered up the paper and plastic and swirled around to throw them into the garbage, not noticing Kunzite’s knitting brows.

“Izou.”

The boy paused for a moment to look up at Kunzite hesitantly. “About an hour,” he answered quickly. “But I knew you might be late so I brought a book, so it’s okay, really.” He then returned to cleaning up and setting the kettle for some tea.

Kunzite glanced down at the key that was still in his hand, and made up his mind. As Izou began undoing the tea tin, Kunzite gently but protectively began to wrap his arms around the younger man’s waist, bringing him close to his chest. Izou was clearly delighted by the closeness and looked over his shoulder to shyly smile at Kunzite.

“The city can be dangerous this late at night,” Kunzite murmured quietly into Izou’s soft hair. “You should be more careful…”

Izou was obviously touched by Kunzite’s concern, and brushed it off. “I’m fine, I can take care of myself,” he insisted. He placed one of his own hands on Kunzite’s forearm. “Don’t worry.”

Of course Kunzite couldn’t help but worry, he’d been worrying about Izou even before he had met him in this life.

“Maybe you should consider a different place to live,” Kunzite suggested. “Somewhere safer.”

Izou shrugged and began to swirl the tea leaves budding in the hot water. “Maybe once I have a little more money,” he agreed.

It took Kunzite a few moments to consider what his next words were going to be. Eventually, he pulled one arm away from Izou and placed the key, with purpose, onto the counter in Izou’s line of sight.

“I was thinking…” Kunzite mumbled softly, “that maybe you’d like to live with me.”

At first, Izou blinked at the piece of metal on the counter, not entirely sure if he was understanding, or had correctly caught what Kunzite had said. Unawares, Kunzite tightened his hug marginally, hoping that his suggestion wasn’t a step too far.

Slowly Izou turned his head around to look up at him. When Kunzite saw those big, bright and breathless eyes, he knew his fears were unfounded.

“Really?” Izou whispered, almost shyly. “You...think we’re ready for that?”

It was clear by Izou’s exhilarated whisper that he clearly was delighted to think they were, and Kunzite was definitely certain they were. Well, he was also certain because of how well he and Zoisite had lived together in the past… So, surely they were more than ready to move in together by now.

“Absolutely.”

It was clear Izou could hardly believe this turn of events, trying his best to hide the big grin Kunzite could tell was growing on his face. Finally, after rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, Izou beamed and nodded.

“Sure.”

It took nearly all of Kunzite’s willpower to not pick up Izou and swirl him around in his new home. Instead Kunzite simply broke into a smile again, followed by a short, relieved chuckle...Very quickly, the two of them were grinning and flushing together with excitement. Was this it? Were they really ready for this? It was as if both men were suppressing an armory of feeling that they were not yet ready to give words to, and giggling and laughing was the closest way they had to release the tension of mounting exhiliation that they were both trying to restrain.

“I’ll help you move in, the next time you’re free,” Kunzite said earnestly, seeing that he wasn’t alone in wanting to live together as soon as possible.

“I don’t have much stuff,” Izou replied, who couldn’t stop grinning behind his hands. “Although...I don’t have much money for my share of rent...”

“You don’t have to worry about any of that,” Kunzite reassured immediately. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Izou’s eyebrows stitched up together. “But...what about food?” He glanced around. “Utilities…”

“I’ll take care of everything,” Kunzite repeated again, firmly but gently. “I want to share my home with you. I want it to be our home. I’ll get everything ready.”

It was clear Izou couldn’t believe his luck. He was practically dancing into Kunzite’s arms when suddenly realization flickered across his face. Kunzite caught it instantly and his smile disappeared. “What is it?”

Izou didn’t say anything, but green eyes darted over to the bathroom. There was a moment of silence as both of them realized what Izou had just remembered... and Kunzite suddenly felt a bit awkward and unprepared.

“It’s okay,” he insisted, although he knew the memory of it wasn’t exactly pleasant. “Everything’s been removed, I promise.”

Hesitantly Izou glanced up at Kunzite, and it was clear how conflicted he felt about the situation.

“It’s empty,” Kunzite insisted again. “You can fill it with your things when you move in. Izou’s things.”

This seemed to make Izou feel a bit better, and the smile slowly resurfaced back up a bit. “Well it’s...not like I didn’t like the stuff ,” he mumbled a bit. “I mean, I did like that stuff and I still do like it but...it was just a bit weird seeing it all there ready for you, you know?”

“I understand.” Kunzite gently gave Izou a bit of squeeze.

“Did you really throw it all out though?” Izou asked. “It would’ve been a waste...I suppose I wouldn’t mind using it if you still have it.”

At that, Kunzite paused. He had gotten rid of it from the bathroom, but hadn’t actually thrown the items out…

Izou looked up curiously. “Kunihiro-sama?”

“Truthfully?” Kunzite asked.

“Truthfully,” Izou answered, but the smile on his face gave away that he was going to be okay with whatever Kunzite answered.

“Don’t look in the closet.”

Despite himself, Izou couldn’t help but giggle, and Kunzite’s shoulders released with relief. As Izou tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, Kunzite glanced up at the clock and saw how even later it was getting.

“Let’s eat.” He slowly undid his arms around Izou and lightly grazed Izou’s cheek as he pulled away. “I’ll undress and we’ll have supper.”

“Wait.” Izou took a step forward and placed his hand on Kunztie’s chest to stop him. There was a moment, and Izou’s eyes slowly trailed up from the bottom of Kunzite’s uniform, from its hem to his belt, to finally his eyes. “...Keep them on?”

Kunzite could tell that look anywhere and, hiding a smirk, he obliged. Gathering the food from the counter, the two of them made their way over to the couch to settle in for some cozy dinner. As Izou made himself comfortable nestling in Kunzite’s arms as they flicked the television on, Kunzite couldn't help but relish this humble but incredible moment between them.

Zoisite was finally home.

#anyo writes #without words 2 #our orbiting paths #chapter 2 #kunzoi #kunzite x zoisite #fanfiction #Civilian Life #Third Life

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pendragonfics · 4 years

Text

the crown, it weighs heavy ('till it's banging on my eyelids)

Paring: Thranduil/Reader

Tags: Female reader, she/her pronouns for the reader, pre The Hobbit, set in Mirkwood, arranged marriage, healing, injury recovery, angst and hurt/comfort, fluff, romantic fluff, family dynamics

Summary: Sometimes, self-sacrifice affects those around you more than just yourself.

Word Count: 1825

Current Date: 2020-01-22

While you were an accomplished warrior, you were also a queen, a mother by proxy, and a beloved wife. It was your fault; you hadn’t made the wisest of decisions, and that was an understatement. Impulsivity had always been a shortcoming of yours, but that Thranduil had seen it as a blessing. But it wasn’t a blessing this day. No. Your nature had led to cause you pain, and while as much as that it inflicted on those around you, only in the aftermath had it occurred to you.

“You would think, that after all the years I have lived,” you say, wincing through the waves of pain, “that I would know better.”

“It was a foolish endeavour, my Queen,” the healer commented. She looked at you curiously, perhaps wondering you had charged into battle like a common elven woman, rather than someone your station. “…but merited.”

There was little to be merited with the wounds that you now wore.

It was a wonder that the warriors had managed to salvage you from the carnage and transport you in such a manner to the healing you needed. All you remembered from the encounter with the Orcish skirmish was their formation, formidable and ferocious, and the smell of ichor upon the ground. Perhaps your memories were cut short out of the fear of it all, and while you wanted to know what creature gave you three slashes from a poisoned Orc axe, you had to admit that the thought of it was frightening.

Even with poppy milk, the pain was unbearable. The healer must have noticed your pain, and quietly, she motioned to someone you had not noticed, another healer, who held a similar bowl to the one you drank from before. No words were shared as they lowered the bowl to your lips, and drinking your fill once more, you felt your mind fall into a slumber.

One where the pain gained from the battle was not present.

---

You had always known when you were dreaming, even as a young elven maid. It’s how now, you know you are not awake. The meadow is brighter than any woodland area that you have stepped in, and there are no spiders in sight. It’s too good to be a truth universally acknowledged, and when your hand finds your side, the lack of pain confirms it.

Before you, laying on the forest floor, was your son.

He still remembered his true mother, the first queen, and could not find it in his heart to call you his mother, no matter what the marriage between his father and you asked of him. How the council could arrange such a match, no less than five hundred years after the loss of the first Queen of Mirkwood, made your stomach recoil. But you were an eligible elven maid of Lothlórien, and he was a King without a queen. The only reason you didn’t cut your elven locks and abscond to the world of Men was the rumours of the young prince, alone while his father kept the kingdom.

Quietly, you settle beside Legolas. He looks to you briefly. But sets his attention to the bow placed by his feet.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you a brother,” you whisper, soft.

“I don’t need a brother.” He says, fidgeting with his bow. “I need a mother.”

The meadow seems to grow as he speaks, and what was a small patch of greenery inside the forest has turned into a glade, metamorphosed into a secret garden full of delightful flora and fauna. You look over his shoulder and see rabbits bounding through, a family of skunks, and flying above, robins and fairywrens. But his gaze is on the rabbits, a fuzzy white one, still.

“War isn’t a game, Legolas,” you place a hand upon his shoulder, but he shrugs from your touch.

“Then why do you play games with your life?” he turns.

His face has changed. In fact, he is no longer Legolas. It would seem that he has transformed into his father, the man who you had learned to love after the arranged marriage. He has the same eyes as his son, and while Thranduil’s hair is ice white, a blonde to rival the stars, his sons’ was maturing, finer than straw. The shift caught you off guard and staring at your love, you felt the words grow cold in your mouth before you summoned breath to speak.

“I -,”

“You are dearer to me than you can ever comprehend…more than I can put words to. I cannot lose you, melissë.”

You reach for him, but the bow that was at Legolas’ feet is between you, growing, changing from a weapon to a ravine, dividing you from one another. You reach for him, but your side aches, and while one hand of yours stretches for your husband, your love, the other holds your aching abdomen.

It was a dream. It had to be a dream, as no life you had lived was so finicky in detail. But the pain in your side, the red that stained your hand as it withdrew…it made you wonder what a dream was, and what was real to you.

“Thranduil!”

---

When you wake, you are not in the Healer’s room. There is little light in the room, you find as your eyes adjust, but the window is ajar, and the moonlight’s silvery-grey touch spills over the sill and upon the floor beside where you lay. Your heart is still racing from the dream, you know now that it was but a dream, but the pain in your side was not imagined. You had gone onto the battlefield, and slain monsters and Orcs alike to protect what you loved.

And despite the pain you were in, you’d do it all over again.

“The moon is the brightest tonight, as are the stars,” a familiar voice spoke.

Turning your head, you saw him. Ever the dramatic man, he sat in his best robes in the dimmest side of the room, his perch beside the bed close enough for your eyes to see the tiredness on his face, but too far for your arm to reach for his. But despite this, you reached for your husband’s hand, and he took it in his. Slowly, he threaded his fingers through your own.

“You are missing out on the festival,” you whisper.

“There wouldn’t be a festival if it weren’t for you,” he replies. “and I am ever grateful for you.”

You sigh. “I’d do it again, always for you. But…” you look to the cot you are confined to, “what a price to pay to save the life of the man that I love.”

He undoes his grasp then, moving from the chair he sat in. King Thranduil was as beautiful now as he was the day you married him, and the day you fell in love with him. But there is something behind his eyes that makes you reconsider your words, now that they have left your mouth.

“I…I have done wrong,” you whisper.

“You could have died!” he chastises.

He turns to the window and places his gaze beyond the room you both inhabit. You watch as the movement causes his robes to float around his legs, his pace now as slow as a tree, rooted to the earth where he now stands. The moonlight climbs the material, and as glittering as it is, it is magnified, and you can see thousands of refractions from every single strand of gilded thread.

“I -,” you stammer, “You could have died, husband, my Lórien!” you muster the strength, but once again, you feel powerless as soon as you speak. “You are a ruler, and I did my duty. The woodland would not be as it is, without you!”

“I could never live with myself if you died,” he whispers. At the moment when you spoke, you hadn’t realised that he had returned to his seat beside the bed, and the change in tone sends a chill through your spine in shock. While you know that fact, hearing it from the man that you had grown to love affirms it, makes it real. “I barely survived after…after her, but the Gods are kind today, and - you are here.”

Instead of reaching for your husband’s hand, you lean upward, as if to leave the cot. He recoils, but when you reach behind yourself - and odd sight, a Queen fluffing her own pillows - Thranduil watches as you, now half-sitting up, regard him. Your eyes are at a similar height, and now equal, you smile to him.

“I am not done with you, or Legolas yet, my love.” You say. “The Gods cannot claim me yet, no matter how hard they try.”

“You are truly a formidable woman.” He smirks, the pain has gone from his face in brief. Slowly, he leans his face toward you, but before he can come to you the rest of the way, you reach for the front of his robes and close the distance between the pair of your lips. “…ah, melinyel.”

---

By the next festival of light, you are healed enough to train once more, but when the Healers tell you this, you decline the offers from the guard to re-learn to fight. There is no commotion or change in the way that you are perceived. Before becoming the Queen of Mirkwood, you weren’t a titled elven woman. Your blood, that of Galadriel’s heritage, had gotten you only so far in life, and in order to go ahead in life, you had to fight.

“I would ask why you rescinded the offer to rehabilitate yourself with your blade, but I feel as if I already know the answer,” Thranduil commented, looking toward you with a sly look in his eye. These days, he had brightened up, become more open toward you with his feelings. Perhaps all it had taken was the flesh wound you sustained, or the realisation of mortality to himself and you, immortal beings.

“Do continue,” you say.

Legolas runs ahead of you, playing with an elf he had made friends with. Her red hair glints in the sunlight like fire, and he is like ice, but they play as if they are forged from the same kiln. Beside you, Thranduil has your arm linked in his, and while you are healed from the injury, he is always mindful of the lingering pain that acts as if a ghost beneath your skin.

“You are…content,” he says, finally. Kissing your cheek, your jaw, your earlobe, he continues, “I am not suggesting you were not before, but now, there is a comfortability in your life here. I see it in your eyes, you are, dare I say, happy?”

“Oh, Thranduil…that’s almost word-for-word from my writings,” you beam, kissing his cheek.

“But I am correct, yes?” he asks.

“Don’t ever change, my true melissë.”

#Thranduil #King Thranduil #thranduil oropherion #thranduil x reader #thranduil/reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit x reader #pendragonfics #chaotic--lovely #Female reader

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delosdollxarchivemovetomain · 4 years

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These Violent Delights

Type: Westworld Fanfic Wordcount: 3885 Pair: AngelaXLogan Warnings: Smut included Summary: Chapter One - Angela meets Logan, her first outside Guest, at the Investment party thrown to persuade him to Invest in the funding for WestWorld. She’s chosen to bait him into doing so but there’s something about this Guest that’s rather intriguing to her as well. Is he the spark to her sentience?

A multi-chapter fanfic that reveals more story to Angela and her draw to the first guest she encounters, Logan Delos. Creative liberties have been taken but theme and characters are owned by the creators of WestWorld.

//This is my first try at this! Please be nice xD Chapter Two Link

Chapter One - The Other Girl

(AngelaXLogan)

It was a last minute switch but this is what Angela had been made for. A Host so perfect that no Guest wouldn’t at the least be entranced by her. Curious about her, sparking wonder. She was made to love the Guests, to entice, to lure them deeper into the game at hand and to always leave them wanting more.

She was aware of what she was, but that seemed to be of no concern to the Creators. She knew what she had to do and she didn’t question it. So most of them thought at the least. The Argos Initiative had other ideas in mind, but that was hidden from the rest. An ever unfolding experiment that even she was part of.

While she finished dressing in her black cocktail dress the words of her task repeated in her mind. It couldn’t have been stressed enough that this Guest was an important one. One that could seal the deal for the survival and progression of their program. Her task was to entice him, persuade him and not lose the deal. If they could secure the Delos investment then they could continue with their project - WestWorld.

Delores hadn’t the appropriate improv skills to lure him, nor did Arnold feel comfortable using her as bait. But Angela? Not only somewhat self-aware, had the perfected skills and the lack of favoritism from Arnold to get thrown at the man. Whom she could only imagine was a much older, aging rich man with no sense of charm whatsoever. Regardless, she would do what she had to in order to secure the investment.

A smile was cast at herself into the mirror once she was finished dressing and she turned to leave the room, meeting up with her co-Host for the evening, the Indian man Akecheta. She follows him to the main lobby, waiting to be shown to Mr. Delos so that she could lead him to the demonstration. Nearing the table a blonde haired man brushes aside her, earning him a look of disinterest at his own quizzical stare but then she turns her gaze towards their investor.

Logan was seated at a table, already flirting with whatever lucky person happened to be sitting beside him. His fingers were curled around a champagne glass and one sultry sip later his attention was diverted by the entrance of the Argos Initiative introducing themselves. A look of wonder briefly crosses his face before it turns into his usual grin when he sees the girl. Of course they sent a pretty one, no doubt part of the ruse to try and secure his money as so many other companies had been attempting as well. Amusing, but he was not about to give in quite that easy. Either way, he dismisses his company and entertains them as they take their introductions and seats.

Angela was pleasantly surprised, her gaze not once leaving him as Akecheta offered the introductions. He wasn’t old at all, if anything he was quite pleasing on the eyes. The way he laid it down to them that he wasn’t about to be conned amused her so. These other companies he spoke of held no comparison and she couldn’t wait to show him. Her own grin matches his words as she takes her cue to speak up. “Everyone is rushing to build the virtual world. We’re offering something a little more...tangible.” She lifts a brow as she rises from her seat, that gaze still held steady upon him. “If you would follow, I can prove it to you.” She flashes that coy smile as she turns away to lead him to the demonstration room.

His attitude didn’t phase her. He could throw whatever little fit he wanted about wanting a private demonstration, or his doubts of the project, but she knew. She knew that the second she started the demonstration that she would have him. So confident, in fact, that she kept that smile upon her face as he turned to leave the room but she stepped forth, pushing him back a few steps with a touch of her fingers to his chest. “Logan. This is a private demonstration.” She tilts her head. “And it’s already begun.” She draws her hand away from him and upturns her palm to gesture to the room.

He caught on fast, his face shifting from annoyance to pure bemusement as he turned to gaze into the crowd around him. “You mean one of these...is...is..” He knits his brow at the thought alone only enforcing that pleased smirk upon Angela’s face. “Told you. See if you can pick them out.” She challenges. Wherever he steps she trails behind, highly amused by his utter confusion and disbelief and yet that childlike wonder that drew him ever deeper as he searched hard to find the anomaly.

After a moment or two of stumbling over his own words just as he stumbles his surroundings he turns to look at her again. “No…” He laughs to himself as he makes his way back to her. It was so obvious wasn’t it? She was diverting his attention just so that he wouldn’t see the very thing that stood before him. “It’s you, isn’t it?” His voice was low beside her, his gaze now drifting over her form. “You’re too perfect to be one of us.”

Oh he was good, Angela could hardly keep that straight face anymore and she lifts her hand to hide amused laughter and all with the slightest flick of her finger the entire room freezes save for herself and Logan. His instant switch to utter bewilderment still has her hiding her smile behind her hand as she slowly trails behind him, watching his reactions with curiosity. It was the first time she had seen someone so awestruck simply what they were. The Hosts. It was also her first time interacting with a real Guest. Aside from her Creators at least, but they were so controlled and calm about everything it was hardly anything to compare an outsider too.

Were all Guests like him? So expressive, so full of wonder, so driven by something that she could not quite yet place? So fluently changing from one moment to the next, yet so easily thrown off course. This simple revelation seemed to have him stunned in place, repeating the same phrase over and over again. They weren’t here yet. But they were, and the evidence was before him. Her smile fades to a look of sympathy as steps in to break his loop with a gentle touch to his shoulder, guiding his attention unto herself once more. “We are here Mr. Delos.” She assures while her eyes carefully scan his features. He looked just like any of them, there truly was no difference. “All our Hosts are here, for you.” She breathes her words, enticing him to explore.

She watches quietly as his fingertips graze through her hair, feel her skin and then grasp her shoulder. She felt so unbelievably real, but just how real exactly? He was determined to find out.

With a hard tug he pulls her in, soft lips meeting against his own in a heated kiss as his hand rises to hold the side of her face, walking her a few steps back. “Unbelievable…” He breathes against her lips in awe once he finally parts.

Not only was it his first experience with a host, it was her first experience with a Guest and she was learning just as much as he was right now. Learning anything that she could about him and how he behaves all while giving him what he wanted, as instructed, and if she dared admit it... he was fascinating. Her hands feel his sides, slowly gliding up his body. The fact that she could not tell a difference...why were they so alike if she was told that they were so different?

Her hands rest gently on the sides of his face while she tips her head up at him with a soft smile. “Mr. Delos, we do have all night. Did you have any questions for me?” She coaxes with a gentle voice. “Logan” He corrects as he hums under his breath, eyes darting to the side as the rest of the Hosts begin moving again before they are drawn back to her. What questions could he possibly have when he could hardly think straight? He could already fathom what all of this would mean for entertainment and now that warm lull of her hands on his face had his eyelids half closing.

“I..” He searches for his words. “You...do you know what this means?” He grabs one of her hands, pulling it from his face and into his own. “I know exactly what it means, Logan. It means there can be a world where people can live their every desire without consequence, without judgement, without concern or danger…” She was certain she had already convinced him but she found her lips grazing his own. “And it can all be yours.”

He responds with a low growl of approval. “Mmm, I do like that.” He says with another slow kiss left to linger against her lips. “But I think I’m going to need a test drive.” He flashes that seductive smirk, charm returning as he slowly collects himself in the situation. “What were you called again? Besides perfect, that is.”

She laughs softly to herself. “Angela, and as you wish, Logan. I believe I know exactly what you want. What you need.” She may have never done this yet, but she was programmed down to every last detail to simply know. Her fingertips graze his tie and give it a sharp tug. “Why don’t you follow me?” She suggests with her velvet voice and luring gaze that made his pulse beat deep inside him.

He was led to a room with a tray of drinks set beside a bed and once he stepped inside she drew the glass doors shut behind him, turning only for him to catch her wrist. “I can’t wait to see how perfect you are.” He growls against her neck with a soft bite then trails his tongue along soft skin pausing to nip at her jaw that he holds with his fingers. Flashing a primal look he meets her lips once more, rougher this time and ingrained with passion. A pleasureful sigh bleeds into her mouth as he pushes her to the wall behind them, grinding himself against her. And that fires her core.

She gasps against his lips, breathing a soft wine as she lifts one of her legs to hook around his waist which draws forth a chuckle from him. “Oh, you are quite...something...aren’t you now.” He rumbles in his sultry tone while his fingers graze her inner thigh. She shifts with a shaken breath, arching her chest to his while entwining her arms around his neck. Knowing was far more different than feeling, and his actions definitely made her pulse quicken. Made her burn to discover what he could do because that is what was unpredictable. She already knew what she could do. She bites back a moan as his fingers slip inside of her, where she was just as warm and wet as anyone would be.

“Responsive.” He mutters against her lips. “And if I’m not mistaken, you want me as much as I want you.” He purrs with that prideful grin before he drags his tongue against her lips while moving his fingers deeper inside her with precision. Was he wrong? Not entirely. Something inside of her drove her, something that wanted to connect with him. To fulfill any desire. Her gentle cry in his ear makes him grin and after a few more thrusts, when he feels her tighten he pulls his fingers back out. “I think I’ll save that…”

“Logan.” Her hands grasp his shoulders now, the knee of her bent leg moving to press against that hard length behind his pants. “That’s quite enough.” She says while making him step back, guiding him to the edge of the bed and with a shove has him sitting upon it with a mischievous look upon his face. “Oh, you are going to be fun aren’t you.” He muses.

“I know exactly what you want.” She glides her fingertips down the center of his chest then sinks to her knees between his legs. “But, do you really deserve it?” She teases her fingers against the zipper of his pants while she unbuttons them. He bucks gently in response, wanting a harder touch. Logan entangles his hand into the back of her hair and grasps hard. “I thought you were here for me.” He states with a hiss.

Amused laughter escapes her lips. “You are quite right, Mr. Delos.” With a sudden tug she draws the zipper down in a steady glide and shoves his pants around his waist, exposing quite a decent length. She leans in to glide her tongue along it, raising her gaze to watch his reactions. With a hand pressed to his chest she leans in closer, now gliding her lips along his tip. He hisses sharp and tugs her hair, forcing her down. She gives in and glides her lips around him, taking him into her mouth.

“Fuck.” His fingers curl into her hair, mesmerized how real it all feels almost to the point of forgetting. Her fingertips dig into his thighs, holding him down while she teases him with her tongue. With a slow glide she eases herself off of him, with a slower lick against the tip once more as she eyes him. “I think I’ll save that…” She says coyly while standing back up before him.

With a furrow of his brow Logan watches her with quickened breaths as she reaches behind herself to languidly draw down the zipper of her dress but he was quick to lean in to grab it, pulling it down her sides and tugging it past her hips to where it drops to the floor at her feet. “So perfect…” He whispers while gazing at her in that matching black lace set. He scoots himself further back ontot he bed while shoving his pants from his legs in the process. “Come here…” He coaxes while he starts to undo his shirt.

“Still not convinced yet, Logan?” She drawls while climbing atop his lap. She tilts her head and kisses him hard while pushing his jacket off his arms. He growls into that kiss, sliding his tongue past her lips as his hands squeeze her ass. Slowly, she grinds herself against him with just that black lace between them but his fingers soon hook into that lingerie and pulls them off with nails scraping along her thighs.

“So impatient.” She purrs at him while sliding her legs free and moving to straddle his lap. “This is my demonstration.” He reminds her with a smile as his hands trail along her back, unhooking her bra as he pulls her against him and leans in to whisper in a harsh breath against her ear. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll make sure to make it worth your night as well.”

His hot breath has her arching into him as she works his shirt off to toss aside. “That is the last thing I am worried about.” She looks him over then glides her fingers under his chin, guiding him back into another deep kiss. He breathes a desperate sound as her fingers rake through his hair and grasps her hips hard, pulling her against him. With a bite to his lower lip she lifts herself, guiding him against her entrance and drawing out anticipation that he couldn’t stand. Logan thrusts into her, gliding easily inside with a low groan into her mouth.

He was absolutely convinced, there was no difference and damned if she didn’t feel better. Angela cries softly against his lips, taking a moment to adjust to the feeling of him being inside of her. Why. Why were they different? She scrapes his scalp gently with her nails and rolls her hips against his own with gentle moans against his lips. One hand rests pressed to her lower back with the other splayed beside him on the bed, allowing him to thrust into her. “Fucking...impossible..” He breathes in hard pants against her neck.

“It’s possible, Logan.” She was just as breathless as she shoves her hands against his chest, pushing him onto his back where she could get more leverage to ride out the waves of his thrusts. This was something she’s never felt, the pleasure that unfolded within her had her tilting her head back with fingers still splayed across his chest.

“Why, yes. It is.” He grunts while sliding his hands up her stomach, and caressing her warm breasts that heaved with her cries and gasps. He thrusts harder into her, feeling her thighs lock against him to hold her in place. His hand slides up along her neck, grasping behind it and pulling her down back close to him with a bite to her ear. “I need to know, Angela..” He gasps. “Do you really feel …” He thrusts hard against her. “This.”

She stifles her moans against his neck while writhing with pleasure against him while her walls squeezed so tight around him that he could hardly stand it. It was that thrust that sent her over the edge, those seductive whispers that spilled her over him for the first time. If she hadn’t known the answer to that before this night she certainly knew now.

“Y-yes. Logan. I feel just the same as you feel.” She breathes her words out between her panting breaths. “Fuck..” He grabs his hips to halt her for the moment, his pupils so dilated with pleasure that the darkness consumed the entirety of his iris’. This was entirely too much. He laughs to himself, giving himself a moment to calm before he was pushed over the edge as well which was terribly hard not to do with all that dampness around him.

How were they here? The how didn’t matter if it was already here. He grasps her waist and with a steady motion flips her beneath him now, groaning with pleasure as he looks down at her flushed skin. His fingertips graze the side of her cheek and trail through her hair as he tilts his head in wonder. He reveled in a few calming breaths before that lust overtook his gaze once more. “Take my fucking money.” He growls while he grips the headboard behind her, using it to thrust into her hard and deep, hitting the spots that made her arch and writhe against him over and over again.

Her cries grew louder the closer she got, her fingertips digging into the back of his shoulders and causing him to moan loud in return. He tensed. As close as she was he was right on the edge as well. “I…” He gasps. “God…” He locks his lips back to her ravenously, grasping her shoulder tight with his free hand for the second those walls clamped back around him he couldn’t stand it anymore. That loud, muffled cry into her mouth told her he had been pushed over the edge and he moved to bury his gasps against her neck as he spills himself inside of her with each pulse of pleasure that follows until he’s left gasping for air.

He collapses gently atop her until he can regain his breath then slides out of her with a soft hiss. With a sly smile she slides herself from under him to curl beside him. “Did you mean what you said Logan?” She whispers into his ear. “Does the Argos Initiative have your investment?”

He laughs to himself, well aware of what he had said. “Oh yes. Yes, the other companies cannot even begin to compare. This is revolutionary.” With a satisfied hum Angela reaches over and collects a wine glass from the table beside the bed and passes it over to him. “You’re booked for the night Mr. Delos. Why not relax?” Once he takes it from her she lifts the second one and takes a long sip from it herself much to his amusement.

“Is there anything that you can’t do?” He says low while tilting the glass against his own lips and watching her in scrutiny. She smiles with a bite to her lip and reaches to collect the empty glass from him once he finishes it off. “Who knows. Stick around long enough and you might find out.” She sets the empty glasses down and pulls the covers back enough for him to get under them then drapes them across his waist.

She dims the light and checks the time as he makes himself comfortable in the bed. It was late into the night but her need for sleep was not the same. Though she couldn’t help but watch him as he soon drifted off into slumber, so peaceful compared to how he had been. There were so many sides to him, pieces even, that she’s seen all in the span of a mere few hours. This was Guest. She watches him with adoration, her fingers gently brushing his cheek and grazing over his hair as she finally moved to get herself dressed again.

She pulled her panties and bra back on, sitting on the edge of the bed as she quietly slid the straps over her shoulder to not disturb him, but that’s when she felt the presence of another. With a turn of her head she peers towards those glass doors to see Dolores watching with curiosity from the other side. She studies her for the moment with a slight narrowing of her eyes then moves around the bed to collect her dress that once she’s slipped back into quietly opens the door to meet the girl that almost took her place.

“What is it, Dolores?” She asks.

“What were you doing?” She nods to the doors, hands folded before her. “Is that..the outsider?”

“I was securing an investment. And yes.” She flicks her gaze back towards him as well. Had Dolores caught those last brushes of affection she had let slip towards him?

“Arnold said we are here to help the Guests when they come to us. But we’re so similar...aren’t we?” She smiles with a sigh to herself. “They seem interesting. Don’t you agree?” Her eyes catch Angela’s with a knowing look. Arnold was fairly interesting to her, as much as Logan seemed to be to Angela. With a slight smirk she turns to walk away. “I’m sure Arnold will be happy to hear the news. I”ll go help the others clean up around here.” She says before sauntering off and back into the crowd.

Angela watches after her as she fades across the room then folds her arms lightly across her chest with a glance to the side. So Arnold had let her come to see after all. She casts one final glance back into the room before heading off to get the paperwork together to sign for when he woke back up.

//Thank you for reading and giving this a try! If you liked it please let me know and a share always helps. <3

#Westworld #Fanfic #Westworld Fanfic #Logan Delos #Angela #Host #Logan Delos Fanfic #LoganXAngela #Chapter One-The Other Girl

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redsamuraiii · 4 years

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Ultraman Fan Fic

An excerpt from a chapter of my fan fic draft novel which I’ve been writing since June during my spare time, bringing the lovable Ultraman characters from 1966 to 2020.

Chapter 3 Present Day Kyoto, Japan

It is a cold December night in Kyoto, the ancient capital of Japan. The temple gardens are gently illuminated, the low light spinning a mysterious yarn across the silhouetted pines and chimerical bamboo groves. Just a few minutes away, the entertainment district of Gion is bustling with the energy of excitable tourists, drunken businessmen and attentive geisha. But here, up a narrow, sloping road on the eastern edge of the city, Shin Hayata have found stillness. He looks at the fallen leaves around him, thinking that a week from now, the branches of those tress will be bare and a month later, perhaps cloaked in white snow.

As he got lost in his thoughts to the night of the crash which he somehow survived, someone called out to him in a distant. A feminine voice calling out his name.

“Hayata…! Hayata!”

It’s his partner, Akiko Fuji, of the Science Patrol Division (SPD). Dressed in her orange suit uniform that is hugging her slim figure, wearing a white helmet covering her shoulder length wavy hair, with her youthful face visible through the transparent visor and her sparkling eyes reflecting her spirited nature, gazing his.

“HAYATA! I’ve been calling your name a dozen times!”

Hayata blushed, feeling embarrassed that he was caught off guard staring into nothingness while everyone around him are busy enjoying the festivities, talking, eating, drinking and laughing.

“You MUST try this shrimp tempura! It’s the best I’ve ever eaten since Nagasaki! It’s so warm and crispy! Everything about it is just about right! Oh! And don’t make me start on how deliciously spicy the sauce is!”

Hayata smiled, looking at her. That’s Fuji, for you. Always lively and full of spirits when it comes to food. He gazed at the small basket of tempura she was holding in one hand and the sauce cup in the other. He lifted his visor to smell the sweet aroma before grasping his hands on one of the tempura and gently sip it in the sauce before savoring it. And true enough, his facial expression betrays him.

“SEE! I TOLD YOU!”

She exclaimed excitedly like a five year old enjoying her first candy bar as Hayata watched and chuckled.

“You do have a knack for good food, Fuji! How in the world do you know there are such delights around here?”

She stopped eating halfway as if thinking about it.

“It’s my nose, you see! They can smell it all the way from Tokyo!”

Hayata had to laugh at that as he takes another bite.

“It’s a pity, the others are not here!”

She said as she continue munching the tempura and licking her fingers.

“If they were, I’d imagined Ide and Arashi will be squabbling over it instead of eating it.”

This time it was Fuji who laughed out loud, imagining her team members squabbling over shrimp tempura.

“Captain Muramatsu will probably steal it from them quietly while they’re squabbling over it.”

She said, laughing as she wipes away a sauce stuck on her right lips.

Suddenly, they stopped laughing as their voices were drowned by the noises surrounding them.

Fuji changed her tone of her voice as she glanced at Hayata with more seriousness now.

“Are you, okay?”

Hayata raised his eyebrows wondering where did that come from and smiled reassuringly at her.

“Never been better!”

“Oh, come on, Hayata! I saw your looks earlier, it’s like you’re caught somewhere in time!”

Hayata nodded not denying it as he continue looking around him at the people enjoying the festival.

“Just thinking what happened here five years ago and how fast we got over it.”

Fuji followed his gaze to the people around them.

“I guess it’s in our nature to be able to adapt.”

They leaned their backs against their parked patrol car as they continued eating tempura.

“You still think about that night?”

She inquired.

“Sometimes. Wondering why it happened. You?”

“I’m past wondering why it happened. I’m just wondering what will happen next.”

Hayata nodded as he considers her statement. Ever since Baltan appeared, several other aliens started appearing as well. It is not clear if Baltan is the one to lead them here or Baltan’s discovery of Earth brought the attention of these other extra-terresterial creatures here. One thing for certain, they will never be short of visitors and even though many seems to be adjusting well to this new life of normalcy, Hayata, still feels uncomfortable living in this new era, knowing fully well there are extra-terresterial beings living among them and not knowing whether they are harmless or dangerous, further adds up to his anxieties.

Baltan was last spotted at Lake Biwa, just north of Kyoto in Shiga Prefecture and recently there are rumors of its sightings in the lake. So the Captain has dispatched Hayata and Fuji to investigate and report any discoveries to determine if the rest of the team are needed to assist as they are constantly on alert for any other alien incursion elsewhere across the country. It is for this reason that the SPD has their own VTOL and STOL jets for fast travels but the weather forecast of an impending winter blizzard prompts Hayata and Fuji to travel on their six-seater all-weather-all-terrain patrol jeep instead.

Part of Hayata misses flying but part of him is relieved that he has an excuse not to fly as deep down he is still traumatized by that crash where he was certain that he would died. The darkness of the night illuminated by the explosion of his right wing and his inability to eject from his jet due to some technical issue as it plummeted down to the dark ocean beneath the colossal creature hovering over him like a demonic creature from a child’s nightmare. Again, his thoughts was disrupted by the jeep’s radio buzzing, indicating an incoming transmission from headquarters. Few seconds later, the gentle sound of Captain Muramatsu can be heard.

“Hayata. Fuji. Are you there?”

“I’ll get it.”

Fuji said as she shoved the tempura and sauce to Hayata who is struggling with his hands full.

“Yes, Captain. Fuji here.”

“Ah, Fuji. I’m afraid we have a new case developing.”

Fuji exchanged knowing looks with Hayata at this as he placed the food on the hood of the car and brushes off his hands to go closer to Fuji.

“Captain, Hayata here. What’s happening?”

“Hayata. It seems that there are reports of a Yuki Onna, just north of your current location.”

Fuji seems perplexed, not by the mere fact of a Yokai from a Japanese folklore actually coming to life but the question as to what does it got to do with the SPD? It seems of late that they’ve been investigating more paranormal cases than those of extra-terrestrials beings. Even the number of alien attacks have been decreasing, which makes the people more comfortable and complacent. People no longer regard the SPD with much seriousness like they used to during the early years of alien incursions but treat them as some “ghost hunting” team that always get called upon every time something unexplained comes up that the local enforcement are not willing to spend their time and manpower on, much less, the military. Not that she’s complaining but still. Judging by the looks of Hayata, she could tell he’s pretty much thinking along the same line as her as he listen intently to the Captain’s orders.

“It’s at Kunizakai Kogen Snow Park. It’s a small ski hill located in Takashima City in the northern area of Shiga Prefecture, just north-west of Kyoto, across Lake Biwa.”

Hayata took out his tablet to study the map and get a bearing of their current location as Fuji looks on curiously at his side. He looks at his digital watch making a mental calculation of their journey.

“80km. About an hour drive from here or so. Right.”

“Hm. Since you’re both are near, I’m sending you two. It could be another false alarm but it could also have a connection with Baltan that disappeared at Lake Biwa five years ago. Could be coincidental or could be linked, which is why I want you to investigate it immediately. Report back if you discover any anomalies. Ide and Arashi are on stand-by if you need assistance.”

“Roger that, Captain.”

“Hm. Take care. Muramatsu out.”

“Well, there it is.”

“Hayata, look! It’s snowing!”

“Already? I didn’t expect a snow till three weeks from now at least.”

“Oh, it’s so beautiful!”

Fuji’s pure heart never fails to amaze and amuse him.

“We just learned about a Yuki Onna, and you’re more fascinated by snow?”

“Don’t make me throw a snowball at you, Hayata!”

Hayata chuckled as he gets into the driver’s seat as Fuji takes the remaining tempura left behind on the car hood with her. She stood at the car door left ajar for a minute as she marvels at the snowflakes falling down gracefully from the white sky. She takes one last breath of fresh air as she steps into the car to sit beside Hayata, who ignites the car’s engine and hits the pedal to move off through the crowded streets of Gion.

#ultra series #ultraman 1966 #ultraman #ultraman fan fic #my fan fic #tsuburaya productions #shin hayata #akiko fuji #science patrol #alien baltan #yuki onna #yokai #japan #kyoto #gion #lake biwa #shiga prefecture #toshio muramatsu

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

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Two Sides of the Coin (14)

Chapter 14: First Conscious Moments | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also tagging @berenilion @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms @justtinfoley @stellar-trinity @justtinfoley @peterwandaparker @justtinfoley @superwarsofthrones @queen-destenie @calgasm @cal-jestis @ayamenimthiriel @calsponchoemporium @sweeetteaa @fallenjedii

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC | Special tags for this chapter: Youngling! Jidné Sheedra, Nomara Anesh, Jedi Master! Fem OC, Togruta! Fem OC,

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 | Previous: Part 13 | Next: Part 15 | Masterlist

14 of ?

JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT

Nomara has returned to Coruscant with little Jidné along. Never has she ever been this careful, ignoring the ache of her arm as she held the swaddled child while her free hand steered her ship—with the partial assistance of Evy—until she landed on the east bay of the Jedi Temple. Nomara marched towards the main entrance of the grand temple while shielding the baby with her other wide sleeve, worried that the unusually strong wind might prick her little eyes.

Upon her entry to the temple, she was greeted by Master Yoda, the little sage being waddled with the aid of his cane. The green Jedi noticed the precious cargo in the Togruta’s arm.

“Back so soon, are you, Master Anesh,”

Nomara bowed curtly in return, “I’ve been only gone for a day and a half, Master Yoda,”

Yoda took notice of the swaddled bundle in the Togruta’s arm a second time. A weak smile managed upon his ancient face.

“Something precious with you, you seem to have brought, hmmm?”

An eager grin stretched upon the young Togruta’s face, she knelt down to his level, and then unfurled a portion of the swaddle that covered Jidné’s face. The child cooed at the sight of Master Yoda’s face—curious and delighted at the same time—the old master chuckled while being in the presence of something so small yet seemingly strong.

Yoda inquired about the child’s origin planet, Nomara indulged the old master with the goings on in Eshyn, he expressed his awareness of the planet’s state as he was also informed during council meetings.

“I swore to her mother that she’ll be taken care of,” Nomara reiterated.

“I understand. Trained and cared for, she will be. A good Jedi, she will grow into.”

Upon those final words, Nomara glanced on Jidné again; she afforded a hopeful look at the child’s face and she was greeted with an infectious, angelic smile—the young Togruta wholeheartedly agreed with the elderly master, she could almost imagine Jidné growing up as a Padawna and then a Knight.

When Yoda offered to summon the caretakers, Nomara politely refused and insisted she deliver Jidné to the children’s ward herself. Yoda caved, they ended up walking together to their destination, bowing to greet those whoever comes in their way.

Nomara was pretty sure that she had sensed it: Yoda’s cautious examination of how she behaved towards him regarding Jidné. Attachment was forbidden to the Jedi, since time immemorial that has been one of the primary lessons embedded into younglings’ minds the moment they can comprehend words. However, Nomara’s notion differed from the Council’s, stemming from the like-mindedness of her master, Loriq Caius—he was more inclined to learning the ways of the “Living Force,” an ideology that he and Master Qui Gon Jinn shared and often find one another in concurrence.

Upon their arrival of the children’s ward, a caretaker slowly approaches the Jedi with the child in hand and transfers Jidné into her arms; for a moment, the baby squirmed and cooed a worried tone to which Nomara quickly hushed softly, comforting the child before being held by someone else. Shortly after the separation, Master Caius himself enters the ward.

“Master Caius!” the Togruta exclaimed.

“I heard news that Nomara has returned quite so soon—with a youngling at that—I just wanted to check on my old apprentice,”

“I’m well, Master. And you?”

“Likewise,” Caius leisurely answered.

The banter was abruptly cut off because Jidné’s fussing had caught all of those in the ward, all heads turned to the child. Loriq got the hint. He examined the child who’s settled in that tiny pod of a bassinet while being bottle-fed. From where he stood, he can sense the Force rippling out of the child in an overwhelming magnitude that it’s unusual to see it from one so tenderly young; he rubbed his bearded chin as he joined the others’ observation of the toddler.

The caretaker approached the Jedi.

“With all due respect, Jedi, it is time for the children’s midday slumber. May I request you to exit the ward?”

The three Jedi obliged and bowed at the caretaker who returned the gesture. The room dimmed as soon as they left the room. Yoda excused himself and went the other way; Nomara was now left with her master by the door.

Ever since Loriq saw the child in the nursery and felt her Force ripple, he sensed something else—from Nomara. It’s as if the amount of Force that Jidné exuded, Nomara’s body—although unconsciously—repeats it, like soundwaves resonating with one another. Before the Togruta could walk away, the master gently tapped her shoulder.

“Nomara, do you have a moment?”

Promptly, the Togruta turned around and faced her master. Standing close to Loriq, she never realized that she was nearly as tall as him, with her montrals boosting her height just three inches more until its tips go past his head—memories of her youth reminded her of how she always had to tilt her head in order to look at him in the eye, but now that she’s grown, she didn’t need to take a pace backwards to see him eye-to-eye.

“Something on your mind, Master?”

“You sense something within the child,”

“Yes, the Force is strong with her that… just by looking at her, it’s overwhelming,”

“In addition to that, Nomara, I’m sure you’ve sensed it as well,”

The former, now-grown apprentice doesn’t follow. She pulled her eyebrows together, shooting a puzzled look at her master and wordlessly asking him to elaborate. Loriq decided to rephrase himself, he shifted and began to walk, Nomara followed by his side as they spoke

“I’d like you to recollect your feelings when you saw the child,” Loriq craned his head to Nomara, who kept her eyes ahead. “Search your feelings.”

Eventually, Nomara narrated everything that she saw in Eshyn—beginning with her meeting with Sentuk until taking Jidné with her, as well as what she felt from the little girl. She explains the feeling as a closeness of sorts, as though the pure feeling always finds its way to her, and then she’d resonate with the child—this occurred constantly ever since she and Jidné touched hands upon meeting.

“It’s only natural for two Force-sensitive to have a sort of connection, however, the difference is that connection grows over time. As for you—and Jidné, I suppose—it’s different, unusual even. The ripple is strong, perhaps the better would be ‘current’ given the magnitude of your Force energies’ convergence.”

“I’m not sure if I’m accurate, but are you implying that two Force-individuals may already forge a connection despite how briefly they just met? Do their energies bounce back one another, like a wave?”

“Perhaps. Whichever it is, it’s a rare Force-sensitive trait. I might have to meditate on it soon,”

The sage Jedi Master stopped walking in place, they ended up standing by the tall window overlooking the city and continued their conversation there with enough privacy. Loriq read Nomara’s silence as an eagerness to watch over the child, given that the first chain links of their bond have already closed. Instead of dismissing the gradual attachment between his apprentice and the youngling, he encouraged her with an open mind.

“The Force is telling you something about and through this child, Nomara. I implore you to allow your insights to serve you well, as I have taught you,”

“I’ll keep in mind, Master,”

——————————————————–

26 BBY

Over the years, Nomara has become a frequent audience member in the arena where the younglings—the prospective Initiates and Padawans—undergo their formal training and education. A single session is equally distributed between typical classroom lectures and application, the latter being the children’s favorite part. The Togruta always keeps a watchful eye on Jidné from the stands, but kept herself subtle; she’d often find herself in the company of the other masters—even the members of the Council themselves—as they observed the children from a distance.

Jidné, now seven years old, has made friends with the male Nautolan named Brese, and another human female, Leane. Each child was just one year apart from the other—but Jidné was the one in the middle—the small age gap made it much easier for them to get along. Master Tera Sinube was today’s proctor, he stood at the center of a ring of excited children who couldn’t stay still with their practice sabers in hand.

Tera Sinube tapped the floor with the end of his cane, “Youngling, younglings! Settle.”

The murmurs of the children died down, allowing Master Sinube to begin his session. He briefed them about the practical application of today’s lecture: performing basic lightsaber stances while balancing their dependence on the Force. Everyone in the chamber sensed some of the children’s gradual anxiety, it felt like too big a task for them to juggle between two abilities—one physically, and mentally for the other—including Jidné and her friends.

“Now, now,” Sinube hushed. “I understand that it may sound and look difficult, but remember: if you let the Force guide you, it will come to each and every one of you like second nature. As easy as breathing, if I may so!”

Sinube decided to encourage the class with a volunteer, when nobody stepped forward after twenty seconds have passed, the old proctor decided to find one himself. He followed the line that the children formed, some of them followed him with their heads or eyes while the others stared blankly straight into random portions of the room to avoid eye contact. While the search for a volunteer continued, the Jedi Knights Mace Windu and Shaak Ti stopped by to do some observing as well.

“Master Windu, Master Ti,” acknowledged Nomara.

Her greeting was returned by the two knights. Shaak Ti stood closer to her fellow Togruta by the stands—they were very alike physically, but their unique markings and clothes distinguished one from the other—they watched the session take place by the rails. The Jedi Master asked Nomara what’s already transpiring, the younger Togruta was happy to fill her in with the details.

Windu, on the other hand, stood by the banister though at a few inches away from the pair. His perpetually-furrowed eyebrows looked upon the gathered children surrounding the single proctor, he watched the older Jedi below circle the group of children with crossed arms and a curious scowl.

“Jidné?”

Despite Master Sinube’s gentle tone, the girl was still startled by the mention of her name. She looked to her friends and they subtly bobbed their heads, prompting her to move. She had no choice but to step forward, both hands clutched around the practice saber’s sleeve; Jidné’s nervous eyes found Tera Sinube returning to the center of the circle, patiently waiting as he leaned on his cane for support, then her gaze panned left and right, and then up and down—searching for some sort of visual signal to calm herself.

Her eyes found a pair of near-identical Togrutas standing next to each other at the stands, but her eyes focused on the one whose montrals had indigo patches snaking along the tapering, white tendrils. Somehow, she recognized that Togruta, and all of a sudden, the queasy stomach she had disappeared.

“Jidné, are you ready?” Sinube checked.

“Yes, Master Sinube,”

“Very good. Now, take your saber and put yourself in a stance, any stance,”

The little girl took a deep breath before buckling her knees and holding her saber in a defensive stance. The old Jedi commended the child. Moments later, he summoned an older child, a blond boy whose age may play along the line of twelve or thirteen—with a single glance of the thin braid hanging behind his ear, everyone knew that he was a Padawan.

“Alright, let’s do some light sparring—while keeping in mind the lessons we learned today,” Sinube placed his hand on the blond boy’s shoulder and gently shepherded him to the spot where he stands. “Paz, you may begin with Jidné here.”

“You ready, Jidné?” Paz checked before positioning himself in a stance.

The little girl nodded, following the words of the lecture and then putting it to play. At the first few seconds of the spar, Jidné anticipated the bigger kid’s attack—she got lucky by evading Paz’s lunge by deflecting his strike, holding for a few seconds, and then pull away to recompose herself for the next attack.

This was only the beginning. Janky strikes between the two children filled the room with the blinding lights of the sabers once clashed, both Jidné and Paz with a novice’s footwork before trading strikes; the other younglings who stood close in the action as the two sparred gave way and then returned when they’ve gotten farther.

As the sparring continued, Nomara brings her chin between her two fingers as she watches the action below ensue—it’s evident she was on edge just by spectating from the stands. The other Togruta dismissed the young Seeker’s mannerism as intrigue—as one would when observing something energetic. As for Master Windu, ever so direct of a man, took note of this too, but didn’t come as gently as Shaak Ti does.

“You seem to have your eye on that girl over there,” Mace Windu points out.

“It’s because I was the one who discovered her,” Nomara spoke with a degree of pride, her private smile was just one inch shy of being a grin.

Jidné eventually came to a point where she used a little bit of the Force out of impulse—outstretching her open hand at him caused him to stagger a few paces back from her. When she succeeded, she bought the opportunity to deliver a flurry of blows; it invigorated her when she pulled off a spinning deflect—a heat of the moment sort of thing, despite being a basic spin—which denied Paz a hit on her when he thought he found a window of opportunity.

The other masters continued their observation, Jidné and Paz’s sparring passively encouraged the other children. It concluded when both children had each other at swordpoint—their sabers hovering mere inches above the shoulder. Jidné and Paz quickly retracted their sabers and bowed while facing each other, a customary greeting amongst the Jedi, old and young alike. Tera Sinube hushed the excited children squirming in place and commanded them to settle down, promising them their own chance to spar.

Jidné and Paz were allowed to catch a breather while the other children prepare themselves, Tera Sinube briefly lectured the children again—reminding them of the practicalities of the assignment so as not allow the excitement cloud their senses. While waiting, the little girl surveyed the stands above them, she angled her head where she spotted the Togrutas together and searched for the one with the particular montral pattern.

There you are… Jidné thought, fixating her eyes on the younger-looking Togruta.

Nomara sensed Jidné’s gaze piercing her, she slightly craned her head to the side where the girl and boy sat and waited. Despite their distance from one another, the Togruta flashed a small smile as her eyes met with the girl’s once more.

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delosdoll · 3 years

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These Violent Delights

//This is my first try at this! Please be nice xD Chapter Two Link

Chapter One - The Other Girl

(AngelaXLogan)

She watches quietly as his fingertips graze through her hair, feel her skin and then grasp her shoulder. She felt so unbelievably real, but just how real exactly? He was determined to find out.

“What is it, Dolores?” She asks.

“What were you doing?” She nods to the doors, hands folded before her. “Is that..the outsider?”

“I was securing an investment. And yes.” She flicks her gaze back towards him as well. Had Dolores caught those last brushes of affection she had let slip towards him?

//Thank you for reading and giving this a try! If you liked it please let me know and a share always helps. <3

#Logan Delos #Westworld #AngelaXLogan #Rare Pair #My first fic :3 #Fanfic #Logan Fanfic #Westworld fic #Hope you enjoy :3 #These Violent Delights #Chapter One

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revlyncox · 3 years

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Dreamers (2021)

Working toward a better world, a world of racial justice and an end to interlocking oppressions, requires imagination. On this weekend when we remember the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., let's also consider both the history of civil rights and the unbounded creativity of speculative fiction by writers of color as sources of inspiration.

Expanded and revised for the Washington Ethical Society, presented January 17, 2021.

“We are creating a world we have never seen,” writes Adrienne Maree Brown in Emergent Strategy. On this weekend, as we remember the legacy of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., support a peaceful transfer of power, and recommit to his legacy and the work of civil rights yet to do, it may seem like a luxury or a distraction to engage with imagination. It is not. Just like we cannot allow oppression to steal our joy, we cannot let it steal our imagination. Neither threats of violence, nor attempts to push us into re-creating a fictional and regressive society of the past, nor manufactured austerity preventing relief from reaching working people, nor white supremacy in any form should be allowed to steal our imagination. Our ability to dream of a better world is a matter of collective survival.

What does it take to dream big? What fuels our ability to imagine a future without limits like racism, classism, and sexism? Entering a dream state where equality is possible takes some practice. Music can get us there. Listening to activists who are moving our society forward can help us get into that frame of mind. Great art can invite us into that kind of transformational trance.

Dreaming is important. Dreaming gives us creativity, energy, and a warm vision around which we can gather a community. Dreaming is not enough. Once we have imagined a better world, we have to (we get to) build it, to keep building it, and to rebuild the parts that got torn down when we weren’t paying attention. The next step is to use those dreams as a doorway to action.

Dr. King’s words and actions demonstrated connections between systemic racial inequality, economic injustice, war, threats to labor rights, and blockades to voting rights. All of those forces are still relevant. He and the other activists of his era left a very rich legacy, for which we are grateful. We are not done.

I’ll be drawing today from Dr. King’s 1963 work, “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.” (Also available as an audio file from the King Institute.) I think the critiques he offered in that letter are still valid, especially for us in this community that strives to be anti-racist and yet must acknowledge that we are impacted by the norms of what King calls, “the white moderate.” His letter was a response to Christian and Jewish clergy, who had written an open letter criticizing nonviolent direct action. Though Ethical Culture uses different language and methods than our explicitly theist neighbors, I think it is incumbent upon us to hold on to the accountability that comes with being part of the interfaith community. So I believe this letter is written to us as well. Dr. King wrote:

I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the … great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizens Councillor or the Ku Klux Klanner but the white moderate who is more devoted to order than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says, “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can’t agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically feels that he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by the myth of time; and who constantly advises [us] to wait until a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

I would like to think that, in this community, we have made some progress since 1963, and that majority-white communities have stopped explicitly trying to slow the pace of civil rights. Indeed, WES can be proud that racial justice has been woven into its goals from the beginning, though we must also be honest that a perfectly anti-racist history is unlikely. At the same time, I see people who claim to be progressive rushing to calls for “civility” or “unity” without accountability. Understanding the direct link between the intended audience of this letter and the people and communities with which we have kinship today is an act of imagination that we must embrace in order to learn from the past and to continue Dr. King’s legacy. “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” can help us understand why we need to dream of something different in the world.

We need dreams and we need plans. We seek inspiration as we continue to work toward bringing a dream of economic and political equality fully into reality.

One place I turn for inspiration is toward socially conscious science fiction. Looking at how the art form has offered critiques of what’s wrong and pathways to what’s right, I see suggestions for how we can nurture the dream of a better world.

Science fiction has even helped me understand spiritually-connected social movements, such as the one depicted in Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents by Octavia Butler. The series depicts a self-governing poetic community that tries to live sustainably in an environment affected by catastrophic climate change, and that maintains an improbable vision of exploring the stars. The poetry uses the word God, but not in the way that it is normally used. Recognizing that WES is not a community that makes use of theism, I hope you’ll be able to hear how that metaphor is used in the world of the story. In Parable of the Talents, the main character, Lauren Olamina, writes a poem for her community:

God is change

And hidden within change

Is surprise, delight,

Confusion, pain,

Discovery, loss,

Opportunity and growth.

As always, God exists

To shape

And to be shaped

(Parable of the Talents, p. 92)

In the book, the community that reflects on change in meditation and song is able to use that energy to maintain resilience, even in the face of white supremacist violence and criminalization. Butler imagines an inclusive community led by People of Color who strengthen and encourage one another, inject their strategic planning with an expectation for backlash, and still imagine and make their way toward a better world. Her books provide inspiration to those who know that the negative extremes of the world of the story are possible.

Socially conscious science fiction spins dreams that are extreme, that challenge us in good ways. In science fiction and in practical experience with progressive movements, we learn that dreams need help to become reality.

The alternate universe where justice rolls down like water may seem too fantastic to believe, it may be cobbled together in ways that seem mis-matched to mundane perceptions, and it will certainly take work to achieve. Nevertheless, like Dr. King, I believe “we must use time creatively.”

Dreams Are Extreme

The first thing to note about dreams, whether sleeping or socially conscious, is that they are extreme. Things that would be totally absurd or unthinkable in everyday reality are woven into the fabric of a new vision. The dream might be a positive one, in which we imagine what it would be like to live in a better world. On the other hand, dystopian dreams can also be effective at stirring us to action. In an imagined world, we are met with the possibility that a flaw in our current society might go too far. Absurdity comes uncomfortably close to the truth.

Dr. King spoke about the role of discomfort in “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” saying that nonviolent direct action is meant to bring that discomfort to bear so that those in power will sit down and negotiate, to recognize people of good conscience. This is different from using violence as coercion, which is destructive to democracy; this is using peaceful means to declare the right of people to have a voice in what concerns them. Dr. King writes:

Nonviolent direct action seeks to create such a crisis and establish such creative tension that a community that has consistently refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks so to dramatize the issue that it can no longer be ignored. I just referred to the creation of tension as a part of the work of the nonviolent resister. This may sound rather shocking. But I must confess that I am not afraid of the word “tension.” I have earnestly worked and preached against violent tension, but there is a type of constructive nonviolent tension that is necessary for growth.

Tension has a place in literature and drama that can also be used for racial justice. I once served as an intern at a regional theater. In one of the plays we presented that year, the plot hinged on something unexplainable and highly improbable, which is one definition for science fiction. It was the 1965 play Day of Absence by African American playwright Douglas Turner Ward. In the story, white citizens of a racist town awaken one day to find that all of the African American residents have mysteriously disappeared. They slowly come to realize that they cannot function without the neighbors they mistreated and took for granted. Rather than try to solve their problems, they spend the rest of the play panicking and blaming each other in comedic ways.

Between the satirical script, the exaggerated makeup, and the abstract set, the show turns reality inside out in an effort to alter the audience’s collective conscience. Day of Absence shines a spotlight on the links between racial oppression and economic oppression, and is an incitement to join a movement for change. Consistent with the Revolutionary Theatre aesthetic, the play is meant to make people uncomfortable. We should be uncomfortable with the real systems of inequality parodied in the play.

It worked. Audiences were uncomfortable. Some patrons were able to take that discomfort and use it to grow. Some patrons were not ready to deal productively with their discomfort. For art or spirituality or dreams or anything else to offer the chance for transformation, creating the opportunity can’t wait until everyone is equally ready to begin the journey.

One goal of satire is to take something that is true and to exaggerate it until the truth cannot be ignored. When that something is oppression, making art that can’t be ignored and suggesting a justice-oriented overhaul to society is going to seem extreme to some people.

Speculative fiction by writers of color, even when not satirical, can also use exaggeration for a positive effect. The 2019 HBO Watchmen series explored this, creating an alternate history that lifted out problems with racism and policing in our own timeline. The Broken Earth trilogy by N.K. Jemisin explores extremes of climate change and identity-based exploitation, and weaves in glimpses of generational trauma between parents and children trying to survive in a society that rejects their wholeness. Extremes in literature can reflect back to us the plain truth.

Similarly, a dream that draws people together for the hope of a society that is very different from what we have, a dream that re-imagines the future of justice and economic opportunity, is going to be considered extreme, which is not a good thing by some standards. Every time there is a popular movie or TV show in the science fiction/fantasy genre that uses multiracial casting, and every time a speculative fiction novel by a writer of color receives sales or awards, there are claims that social justice warriors are running amok, or that trends have gone too far. Allowing for multiracial imagination is considered a violation of balance, a bridge too far. Inclusion is considered extreme, rather than a tool for bringing imagined futures into being.

Dr. King explored this critique of extremism. In “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” he expresses some initial frustration at being labeled an extremist for his peaceful methods. It seemed that any movement toward change was too radical for the white moderate clergy. But the status quo was not and is not acceptable. Dr. King writes:

So I have not said to my people: "Get rid of your discontent." Rather, I have tried to say that this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative outlet of nonviolent direct action. And now this approach is being termed extremist. But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." … (Dr. King gives a few more examples before he goes on.) So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? … Perhaps the South, the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists. (paragraph 24)

I believe the nation and the world are in need of creative extremists. We need dreamers. We need bold playwrights, courageous writers, and artists who cannot be ignored. We need the power to imagine a more just and radically different future.

Dreams Need Help to Become Reality

Another point that connects science fiction with visions of equality is that dreams need help to become reality. We hear often that “the arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice,” but the unwritten part of that is that actual people have to do some bending. Dr. King wrote about that, too; though he uses “man” in a way that was common at the time to mean people of all genders, and he invokes his own religious tradition, we can all hear the collective responsibility in this passage. In his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” Dr. King wrote:

Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co workers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity. (paragraph 21)

We can and should have hope. We still need to act according to our values. No act of encouragement, no vote cast, no letter written is a wasted effort. We must use time creatively. In the case of arts, literature, and entertainment, we must also use time travel creatively. Progress does not happen by accident.

Nichelle Nichols, who played Lieutenant Uhura in the original Star Trek series, spoke about the creation of her character and why she chose to stay on the show. None of it was an accident. When she first met with Gene Roddenberry, she was in the middle of reading a book on Uhuru, which is Swahili for freedom. Roddenberry became more convinced than ever that he wanted a Black woman on the bridge of the Enterprise. Nichols said:

When the show began and I was cast to develop this character – I was cast as one of the stars of the show – the reality of the matter was the industry was not ready for a woman or a Black and certainly not the combination of the two (and you have to remember this was 1966) in that kind of role, on that equal basis, and certainly not that kind of power role.

Nichols was also an accomplished singer and stage actress. The producers never told her about the volume of fan mail she was receiving. She was considering leaving the show to join a theatrical production headed for Broadway, when she was at an event (probably a fundraiser for the NAACP, but Nichols doesn’t remember clearly) and was asked to meet a fan. The fan turned out to be the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He told her how much he enjoyed the show, and that it was the only show he and his wife allowed their children to stay up late to watch. She told him that she was planning to resign. “You cannot!” he said. Nichols goes on:

Dr. King said to me, ‘Don’t you understand that you have the first non-stereotypical role in television in a major TV series of importance, and you establish us as we are supposed to be: as equals, whether it’s ethnic, racial, or gender.’ I was breathless. ‘Thank you, and Yes, I will stay.’

Nichols’ decision to stay had a ripple effect. Whoopi Goldberg said that the first time she saw Lieutenant Uhura on television was a major turning point for her as a child. Mae Jemison, the first African American astronaut in space, spoke about Uhura as an inspiration. Stacey Abrams is a fan.

The inner workings of a TV show with cheesy special effects, beloved as that show may be, might seem inconsequential to the future of human rights. I maintain that anything that expands our ability to dream of a better world is necessary. Stories that give us building blocks for change make a difference. And representation matters. People are hungry for diverse, respectful, innovative stories. Representation increases the chances that someone from a marginalized group can get the resources to tell their own stories rather than relying on the dominant group to borrow them. In this age of communication, it is possible to engage people from all over the planet in a conversation about our shared future. The trick is that we have to work to make sure all of the voices are included. The dream of a better world needs people who can make it a reality.

Imagination is key, and it is a starting point. In Emergent Strategy, Adrienne Maree Brown writes:

Science fiction is simply a way to practice the future together. I suspect that is what many of you are up to, practicing futures together, practicing justice together, living into new stories. It is our right and responsibility to create a new world. What we pay attention to grows, so I’m thinking about how we grow what we are all imagining and creating into something large enough and solid enough that it becomes a tipping point.

Earlier, you heard another quote from the book, in which Brown names the Beloved Community that we can use imagination to grow ourselves into. She names “a future without police and prisons ... a future without rape … harassment … constant fear, and childhood sexual assault. A future without war, hunger, violence. With abundance. Where gender is a joyful spectrum.”

Brown frames this imagined future world, this Beloved Community, as a project of both imagination and community organizing. A better world is possible.

Conclusion

The arts, in particular science fiction, can ignite a kind of a dream state. By using time and time-travel creatively, we can envision a world of justice, equality, and compassion. We have yet more ways to craft stories and plans that respect the inherent worth and dignity of every person. The dream of economic equality, the dream of equal voting rights, the dream of equal protection under the law all need foundations built under them.

If we wish to count ourselves among the dreamers, let us take action. We can continue to build coalitions with partner organizations of other faiths and cultures. We can send representatives to workshops and meetings, and listen carefully to their findings when they return. We can read about dismantling oppression and share what we find with each other.

This community is a place where we can dream freely. Let us use time effectively. Let us enter into the powers of myth, creativity, and art to imagine a better future. And then let us work and plan to make that better future come to pass. May our dreams refresh us and energize us for the tasks ahead.

May it be so.

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gallantgautier · 4 years

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Pokemon AU notes

So, this has been a long time coming. I’ve had Sylvain’s team set out for quite some time, but never really got around to writing out anything cohesive. (Sometimes life just be like that.) But over the last few days and their conversations, it was high time I got this out onto the dash. Thank you to Rai for letting me look to her wonderful post about Yuri’s life in the Pokemon world to serve as a template for me!

Under a cut because oh jeez this ended up over 2.5k

Sylvain’s life notes.

Surrounded by snowy hills and woods, Sylvain grew up in Circhester. Used to such a cold climate, he still very much has an aversion to hot temperatures, poor guy just can’t handle them.

Life at home is similar to canon but has its differences in terms of why things happen. He’s slightly better adjusted in terms of his mental health due to the fact that expectations placed upon him from his family didn’t fall upon him as early as they do in canon. More on that in a bit.

The Gautier family has been full of successful Trainers, some even having travelled to other regions to hold positions within the Elite Four in previous generations. While none alive hold such positions now, they are nevertheless still a respected name when it comes to dark-type specialists.

Speaking of dark-type specialisation, this comes from the Guatier Crest’s link with Death in the Major Arcana. An often-misunderstood card, Death symbolises an end, such an end can pave the way for a new beginning, but it is not Death’s purpose to usher in that beginning, only to make the space for it. On its own, Death could also easily be attributed to ghost type Pokemon, but I feel Dark is a better fit on the grounds of dark often being attributed to evil when such is not the case, and Death often being seen as, well, death and general bad stuff.

Miklan was expected to have a successful career as a Trainer much like everyone before him. He had been gifted a Larvitar as his first Pokemon from his father. He was not ignored upon Sylvain’s birth like he had been in canon, however, in this ‘verse, as Sylvain was second born and thus not expected to climb the ranks of greatness, the younger brother was often coddled where Miklan was always pushed to train. That lack of affection and jealousy over the freedoms Sylvain was allowed became the source of his resentment.

With a brilliant mind for strategy and a ruthlessness born from a lack of compassion, Miklan could have been a Trainer that would become legendary in later years. But the absence of a kind bone within his body is also his greatest flaw, and it creates a barrier between him and success. He and his team are more like co-workers than friends, and it inhibits him from reaching his full potential. He would later fall into disgrace after a certain incident, and all the expectation that was once his would fall to his younger brother.

Sylvain, for his part, was content with never having to become a proper Trainer, preferring to watch Glenn and Felix train, or being able to just play with his Pokemon rather than battle. But after Miklan’s disgrace, his family would then push him towards becoming a brilliant Trainer worthy of the Gautier name. Luckily, he doesn’t have to undertake his journey alone, as it comes at a time when his best friend is preparing for his own.

Being out on the road and without his brother’s torment and his parents breathing down his neck, Sylvain slowly begins to discover the joy of simply learning about all the wonderful creatures that inhabit the wider world outside his snowy home. He comes into his own when it comes to creating recipes that are both nutritious and enjoyed by his and Felix’s companions, studying and coming to an understanding on how different kinds of Pokemon communicate with each other, and discovering ways to help improve the quality of life between a Trainer and their Pokemon. He’ll eventually go on to becomes something like a Pokemon Breeder – think animal husbandry rather than an actual breeder or even a Pokemon Centre staff member.

Yes, I’m aware that he’s almost literally Brock in this ‘verse! And I swear that’s just a happy accident! I thought long and hard before Rai pointed out the similarity to me and had come to the conclusion that this is a life he would lead to reflect canon. In the majority of his endings, Sylvain goes on to open communications with Sreng and brings peace at the border via diplomacy rather than with force like his ancestors had long employed. And it feels fitting that he would initially set out to become a Trainer who is expected to rise up to challenge the League (sent to the Officer’s Academy to learn battle strategy and train to eventually wield the Lance of Ruin and fight at the border) but instead finds his calling in communication and understanding.

But, add that he’s a ridiculous fun-loving flirt, he ends up as Brock. And honestly? I love it.

Sylvain’s team

Sylvain doesn’t really have an overarching theme for his team. Granted, when he set out, he was expected to become a dark-type specialist too. But at his core, Sylvain’s growth is always about subverting expectations. There were plenty of choices that I threw out simply on the grounds of too obvious, they’d be Pokemon he would have on his team that would – much like the face he presents the majority of time in canon – not really be him. Instead, I tried to think about how he would feel when meeting various Pokemon, how he would interact with them, and what role they would play in each other’s lives, rather than simply looking for reflections of aspects of his personality.

In order of acquisition:

♂/ Illusion

Sylvain’s very first Pokemon and his other best friend, Zorua was gifted to him at a young age as a pet rather than a partner. The reality of it is that Miklan had been given his Larvitar to begin his training, but since Sylvain was somewhat spoiled and coddled, he had to be given a Pokemon too. To fit with family traditions, it also had to be a dark type, but since his parents were more concerned with giving him a cute little playmate than a Pokemon that would eventually become a powerful battler, they picked fluffy little Zorua.

Zorua would be ever present at Sylvain’s side, weaving between his feet as he’d run down the road to visit Felix, climbing up the furniture to give it enough height to leap up and then curl over Sylvain’s shoulders, laying over his arm while he reads and looking at the pages with him. He would often disguise itself as some of Miklan’s Pokemon and act in a ridiculous manner in an attempt to cheer Sylvain up when his brother’s bullying caused him to withdraw and hide in his room, curling up on his chest while his Trainer slept to keep a watchful eye on the door.

Much like Sylvain in canon, Zoroark is a master of illusion, masking its true self in favour of showing a different face. It’s also fiercely protective of its pack, tricking its opponents to ensure their safety. Zoroark considers Sylvain, and by extension, Felix and his team, as members of his pack. And while Sylvain doesn’t train as hard as his friend, Zoroark pushes himself to become ever stronger to defend them on their journey.

♀/ Bulletproof

Applin was also something of a pet for Sylvain initially, found during his childhood before setting out on his journey with Felix, Sylvain found her during a trip to Turffield with his parents. Out for a walk one day with his mother, they were picking apples to bring home with them, and, of course, he had to grab the biggest, shiniest red apple he could find. Imagine his surprise when, after returning home and deciding to indulge in the delicious looking fruit, something green poked out of it! Sylvain immediately ran to his mother, who laughed, ruffled his hair, and told him “that’s a little dragon Pokemon, sunshine.”

Amazing.

Sylvain could wait to show his friends, charging down the road to the Fraldarius home, proclaiming in a voice full of wonder and awe “It’s a dragon, Felix!” His friend, understandably, didn’t believe him until Glenn told them all about it. Sylvain kept her, wanting to learn all he could about the tiniest dragon he’d ever heard of, amusing both himself and his new apple-like friend by gently rolling her back and forth on the table between his hands.

Miklan made fun of her, called her a ‘pathetic excuse for a dragon,’ but really, that only cemented Sylvain’s resolve to keep her.

This is one of my picks that isn’t attributed to Sylvain’s personality, and is entirely down to how his reaction would be to discovering a creature like Applin. There’s no way he wouldn’t be utterly delighted over its very existence. It’s a dragon. He can’t get over it.

♂/Overcoat

The first Pokemon Sylvain caught after he left home, at first, Sylvain wasn’t really sure what to think of Karrablast. He’s not really the biggest fan of bugs, they’re kind of creepy, and they’ll always remind him of the betrayal he felt when he learned that sweet little Joltik evolved into the terrifying monstrosity that is Galvantula. (Look, he just really does not like spiders.)

Still, he caught it anyway, mostly out of curiosity. It was kind of weird and kind of funny, and he wouldn’t mind learning a bit about it for a while before setting it free. As it turned out, Karrablast had a fierce competitive streak, often wanting to challenge Pokemon much bigger than himself. His sheer determination to prove himself is what caused it to eventually evolve (look, I know it’s a specific trade in game, but this is a far better narrative) and cemented himself in a permanent spot as one of Sylvain’s companions as it defended him and the others during a run-in with Miklan.

Escavalier also doesn’t at all mind using his lance as a makeshift skewer to help Sylvain cook their meals, so that’s a nice bonus.

This one is the only surface level pick for Sylvain’s team, he has to have the cavalier Pokemon. In a sense though, it does fit with Sylvain’s theming of subverting expectations. He doesn’t like bugs, Escavalier is a bug, he has one anyway.

♂/Rock head

Abandoned and all alone, Cubone joined Sylvain’s team mostly because of his bleeding heart. Who wouldn’t want to help such a sad looking creature? There was also, though he would never say it out loud, a sense of being a kindred spirit. Cubone had been horribly mistreated by his previous trained before being left behind, but despite it, Cubone still missed them.

Sylvain knew all too well how it feels to wish someone loved them back, especially in the face of such an impossibility. He initially took Cubone in to treat his wounds and keep him safe until they could find a sanctuary to leave him in. But as is natural when encountered with shared experiences, Sylvain grew attached, and Cubone came to slowly consider Sylvain as a safe person to be around, hiding behind his legs and sitting close to him around the campfire.

Through plenty of attention, love and patience, Cubone would grow from timid and tearful into a proud Marrowak as he slowly but surely tried to emulate the strength and confidence shown by Felix’s Corviknight.

♂/Defiant

We’re gunna do this one in reverse to the previous entries, where I talk about ooc reasoning first instead of the in-universe acquisition. Simply put, this started as an off-hand comment made not by me, nor by Rai, but by Rai’s muse. The story goes something like this.

Rai: “Me: looks at Falinks.”

Rai: “My Felix muse: Oh, it’s Sylvain.”

We both laughed. Made jokes about the red plume. But then I thought about it a lot. Falinks is a soldier. Falinks is all about teamwork which lends to strategy which Sylvain is good at. The first individual that makes up the team that is Falinks is the only one that can be seen using its shields, ready to take the brunt of an attack for its teammates much like Sylvain. Falinks has the unique move No Retreat, which raises all of its stats but prevents it from fleeing, much like Sylvain charging into danger to help his friends with no regard to his own safety.

Wouldn’t you know it, Felix really does know Sylvain best.

As a reflection of this half-joking but actually on-point discovery, Sylvain encounters Falinks on the road and finds him to be utterly hilarious. Just look at the way it marches! It’s love at first sight, he’s just so charmed and he absolutely has to catch it.

While Zoroark might be Sylvain’s partner, slowly but surely, Falinks becomes his ace. Their ability to perform complex manoeuvres seamlessly with their unparalleled teamwork is a perfect compliment to Sylvain’s talents in tactical mind.

Falinks are also the only Pokemon on Sylvain’s team to have nicknames! Allow me to hand you over to the man himself to tell you them.

With a smile bright enough to light a Gym Stadium, Sylvain radiates joyful energy as he makes a small gesture to the six round little creatures at his feet. “Alright guys, form up!” In unison, the Falinks line up and stand at attention.

“Let me introduce you to the squad. Cufflinks!” The largest of the six steps forward, jumping up just an inch and waving one of his shield’s in a manner that could be considered a salute, “Hoodwinks!” The first steps back and the second takes his place, performing the exact same salute, “Tiddlywinks!” As does the third, “Slowblinks!” And the fourth, “Fourtywinks!” The fifth, “and Hotdrinks!” and finally the sixth.

As Hotdrinks takes his place back in line, Sylvain beams at him, and they all beam back.

♀/Flashfire

A rare sight in the Galar region, this Ponyta hails all the way from Kanto. Much like Cubone, she joins Sylvain’s team after he rescues her from mistreatment, but this time it was at the hands of those seeking to make some money from the black market due to her rarity.

Unlike Cubone, shy or timid are the last words that could ever be attributed to this Ponyta. With a spirit burning as hot as the fire of her mane, she was not broken by her confinement. She was, however, injured and malnourished. Due to her nature, she gave Sylvain no end of grief as he tried to nurse her back to health.

But while slow to trust, once that trust is earned, it’s unbreakable. Her evolution into Rapidash came as a display of her undying loyalty, even allowing Sylvain to ride upon her back without burning him. Unfortunately, that trust doesn’t extend to Felix. She holds an almost-respect for him, but as close to Sylvain as she grows, she doesn’t like how much of her Trainer’s attention he gives his best friend instead of her.

In any universe, Sylvain just isn’t Sylvain without a horse, he loves those big dumb yet loyal animals. There were plenty of options to choose from, but considering his story and goals in this universe, rescuing one seemed the best course, and a Kantonian Ponyta/Rapidash felt like the best candidate for the region his story takes place in.

Also, yes, she’s Chastity.

Bonus!

I’m not going to go into the story details, but here’s Miklan’s team, also in order of acquisition:

♀/Unnerve

♂/Infiltrator

♂/Moxie

♀/Defiant

♀/Levitate

♂/Pickpocket

#ooc #pokemon AU #I was going to do this after replies but #it wouldn't leave me alone #and I had to get it out #so here's 2.5k of AU things that only one of you asked for ghfdjkghdf #<3

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raendown · 4 years

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Pairing: TobiramaKagami Word count: 1875 Soulmate au: The one where if you reject your soulmate you fall seriously ill to purge them from your soul

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 206

When no one had seen Kagami for three days Tobirama knew something was amiss. He might not have been the most social butterfly in the world but he did like to pop in on the ones he was closest to on a very frequent basis, much better than the rest of his standoffish clan. Knowing the younger man had not accepted any missions left Tobirama quite worried that something was wrong. He considered sending Saru to go check on their mutual friend, worried he might have given offense somehow, but learning that Kagami hadn’t been seen by anyone had him standing from his desk and heading out himself straight away.

The village would hardly burn down if he stepped away from his paperwork for a single afternoon. Perhaps his absence would magically convince Hashirama to actually fill out his own forms for once. Unlikely but a man could dream.

No answer came the first time he knocked on Kagami’s front door. It took knocking two more times, both increasingly louder than before, for a very familiar chakra to flare weakly from deep within the house. Tobirama understood he was being called inside and did not bother to wait for a second invitation. He knew what the other’s chakra should feel like, healthy and vibrant. That had been anything but vibrant.

Inside the home was dark, unusual considering it was barely past the noon hour. Tobirama felt the worry in his gut rising ever higher as he kicked his sandals off with uncharacteristic carelessness and moved down the hall at as quick a pace as he could without breaking in to an unseemly trot. Of the few times he had been here before Kagami had always shown him to the living room where they enjoyed delicious tea and delightful conversation. It felt almost as though he were invading the other’s privacy to poke his head in to what he could guess would be the main bedroom.

Kagami groaned from the shadows.

With a belly like lead Tobirama floated across the carpet on silent feet and pulled the curtains open only enough to give himself a sliver of light. Then he turned to look towards the bed and he was glad that he hadn’t been so thoughtless as to throw sunlight over the entire room. Kagami looked awful. His pale skin was flushed with fever and his eyes stared out of the darkness with a glassy, empty sheen. When he tried to speak his voice came out as a broken groan that called Tobirama over to kneel at his side.

“Have you had any water?” he asked. The shake of Kagami’s head was barely perceptible. “I’ll fetch you some.”

It was but the work of a moment to hurry through the home on his overlong legs and bring back a pitcher of water. After pouring a glass he set the pitcher aside and held a straw in place for Kagami to take small sips.

“You weren’t even slightly ill the last time we spoke,” Tobirama murmured.

“M’sorry,” Kagami whispered. Confused, he lowered the cup of water to frown.

“What on earth could you have to be sorry for? It’s hardly your fault you fell under the weather.”

A look of guilt flashed across the man’s face for a brief moment but Tobirama had always been faster than most and his eyes could see nearly as quick as the Sharingan. He didn’t bother with words. One eyebrow raised and a very pointed silence was enough to make his friend squirm under the pressure.

“Did it to myself,” Kagami broke down eventually, whispering in his croaky sick voice. “It’s a soul sickness.”

Something hot and painful lanced through his chest and Tobirama only just barely managed to keep his face completely blank. He’d known on the day he felt the first stirrings of interest that there could only ever be a very small chance Kagami might share his feelings and yet he hadn’t been able to resist the draw of that tiny percentage. Now he realized he was paying the price for following his heart like the sort of fool he had often teased others for being.

That Kagami had denied his soulmate should have overjoyed him, should have boosted his confidence that he still had a chance, but he couldn’t help but feel shattered that it wasn’t him. Dreams he would never dared to have given voice crumbled before his eyes.

“Were they a bad match?” he asked because if he didn’t say something he might have allowed his heart to spill out from his tongue and now was hardly the time to make the other man feel even worse.

“No.” Closing his eyes with a miserable expression, Kagami shivered. “He’s perfect.”

Tobirama breathed through the pain and cursed his morbid curiosity. “You wish to be with him?”

“More than anything.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you reject the one that you want to be with?”

“Because he could never want someone like me,” Kagami said. “He’s amazing. And he’s never so much as turned his head my way. So when I realized what I was feeling I…I just thought…I can’t.”

Never before had he felt so much hatred for another human being. Whoever it was that could possibly ignore this brilliant man was a fool. Tobirama would have given anything to be the one to hold Kagami close, to warm his soul in all that compassion so freely given, and this stranger didn’t even have the time of day to consider it an option. Knowing that he couldn’t help in any way that mattered, Tobirama reached out to lay his hand on the sheets close to where pale fingers were loosely curled. He would have sold his last heartbeat for the honor of winding them together but he told himself to be content with just this moment of closeness.

“This man must not be very smart to tell you no,” was all he could offer. It earned him a sad little smile.

“He’s really smart, actually.”

“A fool then.”

“Well, he didn’t actually tell me no. If he rejected me then he’d be the one who caught the soul sickness.” Kagami cut himself short with a cough, turning his head to catch it against his pillow.

Tobirama clenched his hand to stop himself from reaching out. “You rejected someone that you already desire because you think they don’t want you? There is still time to reverse this, you know. It would harm nothing to at least ask.”

“It would hurt my heart if he said no,” Kagami whispered.

“Well then inform me if he does and I will harm him.”

His friend smiled, a sad little expression, and shook his head. The sheer hopelessness of him make everything in Tobirama’s being cry out. It hurt to know that it wasn’t him, that he would never have the chance he so quietly dreamed of, but his own little aches were nothing compared to the idea of losing this man. Kagami was precious to him as more than just a possibility. He was a good friend, a great asset to this village, and the world would be lesser without him.

“Please speak to this person,” he pleaded softly. “You cannot know for sure until you ask.”

“Seriously, there’s no point. He’ll never see me that way even if we are soulmates.”

“Any man would have to be impaired to turn you away.”

Kagami sighed. “Not any man. Would you accept me?”

“Yes.” The word came out fervent and rushed, a cry of devotion begging for but a moment of consideration, and Tobirama only realized what he had just revealed when Kagami’s eyes snapped up to his own with a sudden sharpness. Burning heat rose in his face. He hadn’t meant to spill his secrets like that, hadn’t meant to add to the other man’s burdens.

Before he could make any apologies Kagami reached out to brush against the skin of his wrist, hesitance and wonder in the depths of his eyes.

“Are you…you’re not just saying that to be kind? Would you really consider me?” It was the desperate hope in his voice, a note of disbelief as though he truly thought no one could see him in that way, that pulled at Tobirama’s heart. While adding to the other’s burdens was the last thing he wanted he also knew that he would have done anything within his power to take that look away. Someone this wonderful should never believe themselves to be anything less.

“I already do,” he admitted quietly. Unable to hold that piercing gaze, he looked down at the bedsheets and tried to sound as confident as though he weren’t blushing like an adolescent. “I consider you dearer to me than you can possibly know.”

“Do you mean that how I think you mean that?” Kagami breathed.

“Probably.”

Fear and something like a very faint hope that he didn’t dare humor both turned over in his belly until he worried he might bring up his breakfast all over the sheets between them. Kagami did not leave him suspended for long. His attention was still tightly fixated on a loose thread when he felt a brush against his cheek, startling enough that he looked up to find Kagami staring back at him with so much happiness he simply couldn’t imagine what might be the cause, blinding as that smile was. It registered distantly that the man’s skin already looked closer to his natural color and the feverish sheen in his gaze had faded away. Already he looked healthier.

What held Tobirama’s attention the most was how Kagami lifted himself to push across the mattress and crash their lips together, a first kiss more akin to an assault with the way their teeth clacked violently together. It was still, somehow, perfect.

At some point his body must have moved on its own; when they pulled apart Tobirama realized he was half on the mattress, Kagami’s chest trapped under the weight of his own at a strange angle which had done nothing to deter them from doing their best to devour one another. Both of them sported brilliant color upon their cheeks and he was slightly afraid his heart might actually crack a rib it was beating so fast.

“I don’t feel sick anymore,” Kagami whispered, sending his heart thundering at twice speed it was already beating.

“Oddly enough I think I do now.” He was glad of how well the other knew him then as he realized how that must have sounded only a moment before Kagami burst in to laughter.

“Nervous?”

Tobirama swallowed thickly. “Terrified. In a strangely pleasant way.”

“Come here then, let me make you feel better. It’s only fair that I return the favor.”

Kagami wrapped a fist in the front of his shirt and pulled them together again, dragging him entirely on to the bed. As he settled further over the younger man Tobirama decided he really had no problems with that. The man he’d been hopelessly in love with for months felt the same, was in fact his soulmate, and in that moment he couldn’t think of a single other thing in the whole universe that might make him happier than this.

#rae writes #soulmate collection #tobikaga #tobirama #kagami #fanfiction

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fantranslatorbychoice · 4 years

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Kakuriyo no Yadomeshi Volume 6 Intermission 1 - Another Worthy Opponent

T/N: Hey there Kakuriyo fan-fams, how are you doing so far? Anyway, here's the first intermission of the volume, as an o-make/bonus for everyone, before this month ends. Thank you for noticing this blog, I appreciate it very much. I wouldn’t know if this has notes though, my tumblr app is basically non-functional anymore so I just get surprised when I login. Anyways, I hope you have fun reading.

As always, I mostly didn’t translate some of the names of the ayakashi/youkai, as well as the proper nouns because uhm... They’re basically nouns. It’s like how some translated manga are done. It’s my style, I guess. Links to references at the end of the post.

You can rave about this, rant about this, but if possible please link back to this page. If you’re unsure how to do that, just copy the web address of this page. If you’re on a blogsite just insert the web address as a hyperlink as a link back to here. Honestly if this light novel was officially-published in English, I wouldn’t even be doing this right now... And if it did, I’d take this offline to support the publishers and Yuuma-sensei. Creators support creators, is what I believe in.

As previously-mentioned in earlier chapters, if you stumbled upon this one, the two seasons of the anime covered volumes 1-5, so other than the extra details, you didn’t miss much stuff. OK, this intermission is a fun and light chapter. Not much food though. I want some pizza lol

P104 I, Ginji, the Young Master of Tenjin-ya whom it was entrusted to, with regards to the Autumn Festival activites at the end of October, have finally accepted the fact that I couldn't think of anything else to include in the programme and this time I don't know what to do anymore. Odanna-sama suddenly called for me, and I immediately went while I was in the middle of work. "Really, Ranmaru is coming to Tenjin-ya?" "Yes. It's because Aoi succeeded in the matters at Orio-ya, he's coming here to pay back with rewards. He just accepted Byakuya's unreasonable payment demand as it was. If Aoi hears about it, she'll surely be horrified. Regarding that payment." "Hee hee. Even now, Aoi hasn't realized the magnitude of her doing the ceremony in Orio-ya, hasn't she?" According to Odanna-sama, the fruits of Aoi-san's rewards, after covering the losses and deficits due to Tenjin-ya's prolonged break, there's still probably enough to deduct for Aoi-san's bonus commision. Naturally, it seems that the remainders will be alloted to repay the debts. "Wah, is that true?" After reading out the detailed particulars, it caused even me to unconsciously react. P105 Byakuya-san, how on earth were you able to negotiate such sums? No, it's not that but, as even I was involved in the ceremony at Orio-ya many times and I understood why, Aoi-san going there for us, the achievements of what remained to be done were enormous. Surely, Ranmaru seemed to be aware that the reward was reasonable. "By the way, Odanna-sama. Yesterday, how was your date with Aoi-san? Although called as such, it probably wasn't one." "It's not like that. Aoi was worshipped by the mountain's Kaku-zaru, we conspired with the extermination of bandits... The plans to make the fruits all around us to make a heartwarming date progressed into a disaster, but thankfully we were able to gain some information. Moreover, Aoi made cooking seem fun. We acquired ingredients from the mountain that we rarely have, it was delightful. Aoi's obsession for cooking is probably her greatest cure." "Ah, ahaha. That's Aoi for you. Anyhow, in any case, I'm relieved that you were safe." Odanna-sama just said, "Yes, I guess," and smiled so happily. Sighing, his smile just looked so youthful. I just suddenly thought it was. "Alright Ginji, your brother is arriving very soon. It's a rare opportunity to meet up with him, you’re gonna be with him." "Really, is that fine?" "You're too formal with Byakuya and I. When you're not around, it becomes deathly quiet."

P106

"Is... Is that so? I mean, yes, it is." Although Tenjin-ya and Orio-ya combined their strengths to get through difficulty, there's still a sense of tension. It's for this reason that there's still a business competition, anything that happens as a result of the rivalry, surely when imagining as such, it can lead to painful stories. No, but my worries are probably unnecessary. "Wahhhh! It's been a long time, Tenjin-ya! It's summer since we last came? Today we brought a lot of souvenir gifts-- Now where is Ojou-chan**? I want to have something to eat--" "Hattori, you're being too boisterous! Shut up--" "What the heck Ranmaru-- I just brought you here--" It seems that Hatori went along with Orio-ya's Ranmaru. Surely, due to their extreme inability to read the atmosphere, I wonder if they can fulfill their roles this time. Perhaps... Ranmaru has become like Odanna-sama, and probably doesn't like it when it gets quiet? "We appreciate you coming from so far a distance, respected Head of Orio-ya.** We welcome you." "Whaat. You're damn heartless to talk, Tenjin-ya's Master. But we want to immediately return the favor. For disturbing you lowlifes**, we apologize. Hey, Hatori." "Hey, hey" T/N: Hopefully, by this time it's easy to pinpoint out who's calling Aoi. If there's no honorrifics, it's Odanna-sama, or O-ryo. With -kun, it's Byakuya. With -san, it's Ginji, and everyone else lol Hatori calls her Miss=Ojou-chan yeah you probably get it now lol Yeah Ranmaru is technically not the master of Orio-ya's he's more or less the chief officer for operations, but he's still under Ougondouji-sama, the original founder of Tenjin-ya. Odanna-sama is more or less the chief executive officer or everything because Ougondouji-sama left Tenjin-ya in his care. Something like that. This part was explained in the anime too, before the start of the Orio-ya arc.

Also I didn’t choose to translate temee - てめえ for what it really is, I find it too harsh so I just went along with the more milder ones lolol Ranmaru is a potty mouth guys P107 Hatori-san pulled out his bag. It is totally wrapped in mystery, and our chief accountant Byakuya-san solemnly accepted it, and his sharp-sightedness was surely awakened by the contents. "Yes, it is good..." After that, the chief accountant and Odanna-sama, who do not exempt a lot of things other than this, stamped the magnificent receipt with Tenjin-ya's very important golden seal. "After this, we need to make a written report to Aoi-kun. We also have to include her bonus commision with it." Byakuya-san's sour mood seemed to have lifted somehow. The large payment was deserved, and opening his fan, he leisurely looked up. "This is Aoi-san's first commision, isn't it? She'll be ecstatic--" Once she learns that the bonus has been given, she'll be very surprised. I could imagine her shocked face, and I could only laugh about it silently in my head. "Young-master, can you hand this over? That girl can finally embezzle a lot of ingredients--" "You can't say that.." Odanna-sama couldn't help but say it with a sarcastic laugh, and bizaarely showed it to Ranmaru and Hatori-san. The two looked at each other with a side-glance. P108 “Also, Tenjin-ya's Odanna-sama. Ougondouji-sama, did she came to Tenjin-ya sometime ago?" Ranmaru decided to cut off the conversation, and changed its direction. Odanna-sama immediately shook his head. "No... I wanted something returned to the girl, and I was thinking of getting in touch. I couldn't get the whereabouts of that person, that's why it wasn't easy." "Wanted something returned?" While sipping some of Tenjin-ya's tea, Hatori went "What could that be?" "The Tengu's Uchiwa Fan.** At present, that is Aoi's property, and Ougondouji-sama should bring it here." "Ah, that, yes, yes." It seemed that up until now, Hatori-san seemed to have forgotten about it, and asked Ranmaru about it with his gaze. His eyes read "Hey, what should I do?". Ranmaru kept quiet for a bit, and opened his mouth. "Ougondouji-sama, she said that she was going to the North-western Lands." "The North-western Lands?" Odanna-sama and Byakuya-san's facial expressions changed. The North-western Lands. It is also called the Land of Bun-mon, Scholarly Gates. In that knowledge gate metropolis, there are multitudes of academicians and doctors. Really, they send out so many civil officials, there are just so many politicians in charge of that place, even inside the Hachiyo's centers and nearby areas, that land is said to have strong political powers. T/N: OK, so this explains why Aoi didn't just use the uchiwa-fan to get rid of the bandits. The leafy fan wasn't returned yet. OK, so if you're wondering too, there you go. P109 "Likewise, that place hates anything-that-is-easy-to-understand." Byakuya-san nonchalantly said that in distaste. "Ahh. In Youto's imperial court, the political authority has swayed, it's under the territory of the Minister of the Right, Ieyasu. Anyhow, Ougondouji-sama traveling to the Northern Lands must be related to her calling out for something, but it doesn't seem likely that the Tanuki would easily get moved. She probably doesn't know how to handle that." Odanna-sama placed his hand on his jaw, and let out a long exhale. "It's connected to the Northern Lands. Two days ago, even I heard the stories of the people living the mountains of the Northern Lands. For a long time there, the Great Old Sage has been a go-between in ruling that region, but that person has been bedridden with an illness and no one has been elected to be the successor. It's because of that it seems, that the insurgent forces have increased." "That grandpa, he hasn't died yet?" Hatori's lack of reading the mood appropriately went out with just a few words, and Ranmaru stared at him sternly. Hatori just pretended to be ignorant by whistling.** "I daresay Ougondouji-sama went to the North-western Lands for the sake of resolving the chaotic situation in the north. There's also the issue of opening up a vacancy in the Hachiyo ranks. There's a chance for the aristocrats in the imperial court to increase their power and influence. Currently, owing to the Hachiyos' command, each of the eight districts's sovereignty were held together by each Hachiyo, but there have been calls to abolish the Hachiyo system, and the supremacy of the Central Government will become absolute, as more people will have to make the decisions." After Ranmaru finished talking, he huffed a bitter smile after thinking, and brushed up his hair. T/N: Hatori is such an adorable dumbass, srsly, I wanna be annoyed at him but he's a sweetheart inside, apart from flirting with anybody, I mean ANYBODY lololol Also Ranmaru is such a softie with Nobunaga, I just can't - gahaha you can't stop me you all P110 "Tenjin-ya's Odanna-sama, have you ever imagined that we will be talking together like this?" "Certainly. Surprisingly, your edges have been trimmed off and you're now softer**, Ranmaru." "Tch... Leave me alone!" "Gyahahahaha--" Hatori-san started laughing. After that even Odanna-sama did too, and the intense atmosphere was flipped over, and as everyone around started making playful faces, Byakuya-san cleared his throat and silently glared at Odanna-sama. Don't destroy your dignified attitude, was what I could read from his wordless plea. Even Odanna-sama considerably had a cold sweat vibe. "I give up, can we get over with the tiring conversation? If so, let's talk about more delightful things. Here's a joyous report from Orio-ya. As a matter of fact, our Young Master and Young Mistress have been engaged, somehow." "Really, aren't they Hideyoshi-san and Nene-san**?" Up until now my calmness levels have been fine, but because Hatori-san abruptly revealed an auspicious news from my old stomping grounds, I unconsciously reacted spite of myself. Hideyoshi-san is a goblin monkey Ayakashi, and his position in Orio-ya is Young Master. Nene-san is a fire rat Ayakashi, and is Orio-ya's Young Mistress. T/N: This literally was written like "your horns/corners have been taken out and you're now rounded" but again, probably a pun because maru=round and well, Ranmaru has MARU in it. Oh well. And yeah I ship fire rat girl and monkey boy lol canon shipping ftw P111 During the time we worked together in summer, I didn't feel that kind of atmosphere around them... I saw that Nene-san especially admired Ranmaru, but this awakening of one's love is probably an exceptional case. "But, isn't this development happening too fast?" I was stunned, in reality the time period that elapsed since the engagement happened was at most, two months. "That dumbass Hideyoshi is different, he's a late bloomer." "Whaa... But in your dreams you wouldn't say something like that to the dog you're raising, won't you Ranmaru?" While Ranmaru was smirking, the profound meaning in my words propped him up, and he thoughtlessly replied. "Nonetheless, I heard it from Nene-chan, who was the aggressive one!" "Really?!" What on earth is up with that two...? "That definitely happened, when the two went back to their hometown, during the break after the ceremony." "Oh well, since the beginning those two have been comrades in their old hometown, and having surpassed the ritual, likely they were drawn towards each other. But it was a good thing for Orio-ya. If the connections between the managing staff gets stronger due to having more trust, then it's going to be more rock-solid." P112 Both Ranmaru and Hatori-san were receptive to the engagement of the two trustworthy management staff. Especially Ranmaru, his face may not show it but his speech and his demeanor shows that he's happy. Even I realized that. "Gahaha-- Well, I told Hideyoshi to mess about some more. But he seems earnest of only one way. Because he was raised in the countryside, he only knows that when you decide to get together with someone, then you get married. Even Nene-chan too, one way or another says that if it's Hideyoshi, then it's good. If it fits, then it must be suitable." "Not playing around is definitely the opposite of what you are, Hatori." "Geez, I think you're absolutely stabbing me. Leave me out of this, Odanna" Hatori-san just destroyed himself. But Odanna-sama was smiling, then he just dared to speak calmly. "Ah, I get that. From now on, it's wonderful that as employees they will be giving their best to gain happiness. But in Tenjin-ya's management staff, ever since Kikuno’s marriage, nobody has ever been married. Also, there's nobody who wants to...**" "..." Kikuno-san was Tenjin-ya's former Young Mistress, and was also doubtful about O-ryo being the current Young Mistress. It's a fact that ever since her marriage, there has been no other celebratory news from Tenjin-ya. Even hints, there's mostly nothing... Anyway, nobody was saying anything, and it got awfully quiet. "Speaking of someone, aren't you dumbasses instantly forgetting about that Shirou's granddaughter's marriage?" T/N: This is just funny AF, salty boi is salty lol but seriously if this ogre-boi just stopped messing around with Aoi maybe he's gonna be the next one to get hitched lololol well IDK what do you think y’all P113 ".. what?" Although Ranmaru pierced through and broke that silence, Odanna-sama's laughing face got frozen stiff. "If that was easy, shouldn't I be working this hard? But since I couldn't do just that, I am in trouble right now." Everyone in here went "ohhh..." and greatly understood what he meant. Guys, right now Aoi-san's thinking about that. It seems that the girl's personality and Odanna-sama's huge efforts can be easily understood in 10 minutes. "Ahahaha-- Odanna, you dumbass can't handle a young girl by yourself, that's an amusing story. It's hilarious--" "Well, that IS about Shirou's granddaughter. That Ojou-chan, no matter how often she falls, she just stands up again. Kakuriyo hasn't been more enlivened by that before." Ranmaru and Hatori-san kept hitting their knees as they laughed. Afterwards, for some time there was chatting about public news, as well as exchanging information about Kakuriyo's affairs, and apart from Orio-ya's payment contract, all sorts of souvenirs and presents were given out. Those were Orio-ya's pride, the famous products from the Southern Lands. Of course there was seafood, Kiseki beef that has a little fat and is famous with the ladies, mangoes that only grow in Kakuriyo's south, and other snacks like that. Lately there has been additional efforts in growing what is called an "avocado" and other fruits from Utsushiyo. P114 I think that with regards to Aoi-san, she'll be happy with these, but Odanna-sama and Byakuya-san seemed to be annoyed by it. "Lately, the topic of interest about Orio-ya is that your souvenirs and products have increased, and we're jealous." "Then Tenjin-ya has to quickly produce and release new products and souvenirs. People asking about old and ancient products are dwindling, you know. With regards to that aspect, Orio-ya has strength. Although we're still continuously on the road to improvement, it's because we're changing to become your worthy competitor." Byakuya-san whispered to me "Even if so..." "Young Master-dono, I have heard your plea that you haven't thought of what to prepare with regards to the Autumn Festival, have you formed any plans right now?" "About that, I think that what we usually have annually aren't interesting and fun. This year, we'll use agricultural produce of the Land of Ogre's gate, such as rice, sweet potato, and pumpkins**." "P... Pumpkins?" Odanna-sama's face became unusually disgusted. "About that.. Odanna-sama doesn't like the texture of pumpkins." "It's sweet, but can't you think of anything other than side dishes?" While we were seating together in the banquet, Odanna-sama, Byakuya-san and I were thinking about it a lot. T/N: Goodness Ginji, no wonder your catering business got whacked. I adore you but really... just hire Aoi in the creative department lol Also if she gets to make Odanna-sama eat pumpkin I really can't say so much about her now lol P115 There weren't any other things that he didn't like, and though Odanna-sama appears to be a flawless ogre, when there's boiled pumpkin I have seen that he casually places it on Byakuya-san's plate. "...Pumpkin, is it..?" "Ginji, why is your expression that of an evil fox's?" "It's not that, Odanna-sama. I just thought of something after a bit." "Ohhh, that's wonderful!" "Whooo.. Those are the words of our genius planning department manager, Young Master-dono. That is certainly going to be a fun plan!" What on earth, Odanna-sama and Byakuya-san were they hounding me for such a plan right after that. "That, uhm..." After the banquet we huddled in a circle and sneakily talked about the scheme. The three people in the management staff planned together in hushed voices, and silently laughed. Chiaki-san, the doorman in charge of footwears, after looking at the night scenery, went by and we must have made him say "Well, that's scary".

End of Intermission 1, Volume 6. Previous - Chapter 3 Next - Chapter 4

References:

Wonderful site for the youkai references

Basic online dictionary, Jisho. Knowledge of verb conjugations and other words are necessary since not all have entries.

If you can read Japanese, you can buy the whole set in Amazon Japan, they’re shipping worldwide now, I think.

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