#i also keep thinking that instead of cowardly dodging having a last pick in the draft | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gh0stiegirlie · 4 years

Text

synopsis: all it took was one glance at the hotheaded boy at the U.A. exam, and you were smitten. for deku, it was a single act of kindness that instigated his immediate attraction to uraraka. several months into school, best friends Skylar and deku are left heartbroken when. uraraka and bakugou start a relationship. when you and deku find yourselves confiding in each other, a question arises; is this love, or loneliness? are you two better just as friends?

a/n: lmao hey im not dead whats gud

word count: 2.8k

<- pt. 2 pt.4 (expect monday, sept 7th) ->

Moments later, the sound Bakugous boots stomping across the linoleum floor echos throughout the hall. He remains quiet as he follows you, not risking the punishment of disturbing other hero classes by spewing his typical demeaning insults or using his quirk But a glance behind your shoulder reveals how threatening he is, even in silence. His grin is sadistic, and there’s fierce passion in his eyes.

The passion to rip your fucking guts out, that is.

Bakugou's animalistic instincts kick in the longer the chase persists, his mind dismissing everything but you, his prey.

A few twists and turns later, you Bakugous fingers grasp the back of your shirt collar. You gasp as he violently pulls you back into his chest, only letting go once he's thrown you on the ground. He looms over you with a crazed look on his face, his smile crooked and his eyes ablaze. He looks batshit crazy, yet you think it’s insanely attractive.

“You’re going to pay for that, you cowardly bastard,” he growls, his vermillion eyes pouring liquid rage into yours.

Perfect.

You hold his gaze and activate your quirk.

Suddenly, wordless cries reverberate throughout the chasms of his mind. Wails and shrieks pound against his head, desperate to escape. He cowers into a fetal position with his hands covering his ears, a fruitless attempt to keep the howls out. All Bakugou can see before the world goes dark is the glow of your e/c eyes.

You push yourself off the floor as Bakugou begins to rub his eyes, a feeble attempt to regain sight. Your attack will keep him at bay for a while, giving you the perfect opportunity to escape to the training grounds.

At the time you arrive on the grounds, Bakugou wearily rises to his feet. The world spins around him while three words spin around his mind.

What the fuck?!

Granted, Bakugou knew you were powerful.

Well, the better word is he was aware you were powerful.

He considered you were a slimy wannabe hero when he caught you knocking out other contestants to steal their wins during the entrance exam, but decided you were just another extra when you practically failed Aizawa’s physical tests on the first day. His feelings only changed when you almost fought in him at the sports festival. He heard your battle was intense, but half ‘n half managed to blow you off the court before you could incapacitate him. Even though you lost that third round, you made it pretty damn far.

But, he didn’t know you were capable of disabling him with a single glance.

You’ve impressed him.

But the cost of impressing and temporarily impairing Bakugou is your strength. Using your special move always takes a physical toll on you. Bakugous throbbing brain keeps him grounded in reality, while your piercing pain keeps you awake enough to make it to the training grounds.

When Bakugou arrives you’ve collected your bearings, your headache subdued by a few Advils.

“Took you long enough,” you jeer, crossing your arms and standing your ground.

Bakugou is heaving, his vermillion eyes communicating what his mouth can’t.

And they say he’s going to fry you like dead meat.

A low, guttural noise builds up in Bakugous chest. It builds and rises in his body like hot air, until finally he releases it with a battle cry, “I’m going to kill you!”

He charges at you with explosions from both hands, baring his teeth like a rabid dog.

The rapid firing of his explosions leave you no time to think of a strategy, so you focus on dodging while getting in close. From this length, you can momentarily harvest some of his thoughts. But honestly, it seems like he’s blind with rage and firing recklessly.

You should know Bakugou better than that.

He’s aware that after the stunt you pulled earlier, your quirk works best at a short distance. The fact you need direct eye contact to activate your quirk effectively is a clear sign proximity is a limitation of yours. He also knows that powerful move must have exhausted you. Not only will his long-range blasts and constant movement make it nearly impossible for you to make eye contact with him, but your attempts to dodge them and get closer will wear you out even more. Then, depending on if you make an attack from this long-distance and how strong that attack is, he’ll know more about the restrictions of your quirk. He grins to himself, thinking how he’s too amazing for his own good.

You also take a moment to smile to yourself. Little does he know you have the ability to briefly manifest the thoughts of others, and heard his entire plan. You have to admit, that clever strategy would’ve totally defeated you.

Too bad it’s completely useless.

If he plans to keep you at a distance until you're worn out, that means you have to get in close as soon as possible. Meaning you have to rush in and run the risk of being hit with one of his blasts.

You know Bakugou isn’t dumb. You notice he never fires from the same position or with the same type of explosion. He’s always moving, constantly searching for your blind spot, and changing how he attacks. One second he’s on your left, using both hands to shoot you with one ginormous fire-ball. The next, he’s behind you and sending a million tiny blasts your way. Finding a way to slip past his advanced combat skills is nearly impossible.

Nearly.

You’ve been playing this game of cat and mouse for a few minutes now. You’re falling into a rhythm; he shoots, you dodge, and he shoots again. He’s falling into a pattern; shoot, move, shoot again, move again. Knowing where he’ll land next is a matter of understanding the when and where of his reactions. When you dodge an attack, when does he decide to change up his behavior, and where does he go to deliver the next blast?

Bakugou is convinced that your sluggish reaction times are proof of his oncoming victory. While, yes, the heaviness of physical exhaustion is starting to weigh you down, the real reason is focusing on formulating a plan. And for someone with a mental quirk like you, thinking is the most dangerous thing you can do.

When it appears that your body is about to give up, Bakugou runs and aims an explosion in the exact place you expected. You manage to meet his eyes and send hundreds of whispered messages into his brain. He falters on his shot, dazed and confused. You surprise him by sprinting straight to his strategically plotted spot, and therefore, face-planting into his chest. The sudden force of his chest mixed with your momentum sends you both flying back.

You planned to land on top of Bakugou, which would not only pin him to the ground and secure your victory, but also gave you an excuse to straddle his hips in the way you’ve spent so many math classes dreaming about. But instead, you both end up rolling across the ground. You land on your stomach, and after taking a few moments to recover, you catch Bakugou sprawled out on his back.

This is my chance.

You clumsily push yourself off the ground and stumble over to Bakugou. You practically fall on top of him, and the sudden weight ontop of his sore core forces a groan to escape his lips. He weakly tries to push you off him, but his failed attempts leave him flailing his arms and legs to try and squirm out from under you. He’s acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"How does it feel to lose, Bakugou?" you smirk. “It’s embarrassing enough that you always lose to Deku, and now you’re losing to his girlfriend too! It’s so pathetic I almost feel bad for you!”

A moment ago, every limb in Bakugous body was screaming at him to sleep. Now, his it burns alive with rage. He uses the rage surging through his veins to generate one last explosion that shoots you into the sky. After a few seconds of soaring upwards, Bakugou launches himself in your direction with the last explosions his tired body can summon. He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you into his chest, one of his hands holding your head in the nape of his neck for extra protection. The two of you spiral in the air like a torpedo.

The sky expels you into the ground like a bullet, and the concrete cracking beneath you.

When you open your eyes, Bakugou is swaying above you. His eyes are half-lided, and blood drips from his nose onto your face.

“Lets… Call it even…” you mumble as he collapses beside you.

You both spend a few minutes slipping in and out of consciousness, desperately searching at the barriers of your mind for an escape through. Eventually, Bakugou gains enough strength to slip his way through a crack. He picks you up bridle style and carries you to the outskirts of U.A. High. Unable to go any further, he slides against one of the buildings walls into a sitting position, resting your head on the side of his thigh once he’s comfortable.

Only now does he see how beautiful you are.

Your resting face is so peaceful, his racing heart calms the longer he stares. Your skin glistens underneath the sun, every bead of sweat rolling down your cheeks looking like a shooting star gliding across the beautiful night sky. Your e/c hair wreathes around Bakugou’s legs like a corkscrew, and he delicately untangles your soft locks. Sometimes your nose twitches as he pulls at your hair, but only when he brushes a stray flyaway out of your face do your eyes finally flutter open.

Your body is bruised and bloodied, and the worst of your injuries are the concrete chunks penetrating deep cuts in your back. Although Bakugou finds every girl looks beautiful after a fight. And you, even with your injuries, are no exception.

It’s not because he’s some kinky pervert, but he sees these injuries as markings of a true hero. A true hero is someone who endures pain but always keeps fighting. He thought since you were dating that nerd you were a pussy, but you’ve proven to him you’re a total badass.

Bakugou’s eyes are inches away from yours. You immediately notice his glare isn’t as… Spiteful, as usual. It’s serene. And it’s making you blush.

“How long have you been staring at me like that for, perv?” You yawn with a stretch. Your forearms rub against Bakugous thighs as you pop your elbows. His face turns a shade of pink, not the angry intense red he’s is accustomed to.

“Hey! I saved your life, idiot. You should be thanking me!” Bakugou fumes, the color of his face slowly deepening to his typical red.

“Yeah, and you’re also the person who tried to fucking explode me! So it cancels out, you asshole!” You yell as you dart up, only to fall back down. You struggle once more to your feet only to collapse in a heap. “Fuck, I can’t---” you mumble, the world around you fading to black. You scream for your mouth to move and demand your legs to stand, but your body refuses to cooperate. Eventually, you succumb to the darkness.

Bakugou’s battered body is only capable of shuffling with you in his arms to Recovery Girls’ office before he passes out too.

You wake up hours later to the feeling of a cold, wet kiss on your back. You “eugh!” in disgust as you flinch away from Recovery Girl’s lips.

“Ah, glad to see you’re finally awake,” she chirps before turning to treat Bakugou. “You two had quite the battle! Hurt eachother pretty bad for a couple of first years.” She fiercely spins around to wag her wrinkly finger in your face. “Mr. Aizawa will be sure to hear about this!”

“No!” you exclaim, before clearing your throat to lower your voice. “Please don’t tell him Recovery Girl!” you plead more rationally, “Bakugou and I were just having a... tactical battle to find out more about eachothers quirks for an assignment, that’s all! I think we just both got a little carried away…” You rub your injured arm awkwardly.

“Get off me, you old hag!” A now conscious Bakugou commands Recovery Girl. She backs away to her desk to take some notes, but not before calling him an “ungrateful and rude young man”. Bakugou turns to face you, and scans his handiwork (aka, your injuries). “You really got your ass handed to you, huh?” he congratulates himself. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t forget, Recovery Girl is smoochin’ you too. Meaning I did some serious damage.” you point out, fighting a smile. You want to keep your face as smug as Bakugou’s.

“Whatever, loser. We’ll call it a tie,” he smirks at you. “Until I get the chance to beat the shit out of you.”

“Trust me. Next time we fight, there won’t be a tie. Only me standing victorious over your dumb corpse.” you challenge with crossed arms. You can’t help but notice the excitement in Bakugous eyes, and how a genuine grin paves its way across his face. Though when there’s a knock at the door, his smile falls so fast you question if you imagined it.

“Oh! Looks you two have some visitors,” Recovery Girl announces, wobbling towards the door.

Neither you nor Bakugou are in the mood to deal with your significant others. You shake your head and cry, “Please don’t let them in!” But Izuku Texas smashes the door wide open and runs to you, Uraraka following close behind.

“Y/n! Are you okay?!” he cups your cheeks, and you nod. He ignores your affirmation and scans your entire body for any sign of harm. “O-oh, you have scratches everywhere!” He gingerly pokes a healing cut on your knee, causing a hiss of pain to escape you.

“Bakugou, where are you hurt?” Uraraka runs her hands down Bakugous biceps, feeling for any bumps or bruises.

“Get off of me,” he growls under his breath, not wanting to draw your attention to them. “I said, get your hands off of me!” Bakugou raises his voice when Uraraka doesn’t listen to him.

“You,” Izuku glowers at Bakugou, “You did this to her,”

“Izuku, leave him alone,” you plea. He ignores you.

“You hurt her again.” Izuku mumbles, Bakugou quirking his head at the word “again”.

“Zuzu, Bakugou didn’t do shit.” you grab Izukus shoulder to spin him towards you, but he uses his quirk to brush you off. But Izuku ‘brushing you off’ with his quirk means with a single finger flick, he propels you into the wall at the other side of the room.

“Oh dear,” Recovery Girl gasps through a hand over her mouth

“What the hell?!” Bakugou barks, darting over to you. Uraraka catches his arm and holds him back.

You struggle to rise. Your legs shake under your weight, but you force them to support you. You glare at the ground, absolutely mortified. Even though you’re disgusted with Midorya, you manage to look him in his eyes.

“We’re done,” you mumble. At this point your whole body trembles, but you can’t tell if it’s from rage or exhaustion.

“Wuh-what?” Izuku’s puppy dog eyes pout in disbelief. He takes a step towards you but you step away.

“Sorry, was I not loud enough? Allow me to be more clear,”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, they’re neon e/c.

You’re using your second, and final special move to announce to the whole school Izuku can go to hell.

Your sonic blast.

“Izuku Midoriya, you and I are done!” You scream into the minds of the hundreds of students attending U.A. You specifically aim your eyes at Izuku, so he receives the worst of it.

Izuku falls to his knees, his green eyes welling up with tears. You might’ve burst his eardrums with that emission. Good.

With that, you run out of Recovery Girls' office and straight to the gym.

All the emotions you've kept bottled up for this entire year suddenly spill out of you. With every punch, your forbidden feelings for Bakugou wiggle back into your heart. Your pent-up rage for Izuku turns into a feeling you've repressed ever since you started dating.

Regret.

You regret twisting your frustration with Bakugou's and Urarakas relationship into feelings for your best friend.

You slam your fists against the bag, more hot tears streaming down your face with every punch.

You regret ever kissing him that night.

You wish you would've stayed just friends.

omg i have taglist now🥺: @soa1eater

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miniaturephantomprincess · 3 years

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You know those times, when your thoughts go flying and your own headcanon gets thrown into an (alternate) bad ending scenario?

Definitely guilty here... ^^‘

The bad ending

„You do realize this is quite your own fault right?“

Neptune came to hate this voice so much during the last weeks and months. Her fists were already trembling by the bare sight of her opponent, while she simply refused to believe any of those words Venus’ whispered to her right now. However, the former Senshi of love was far more successful in this than Neptune would have liked. While manipulating Haruka had been fun but far from any real challenge, Venus had come to particularly enjoyed teasing and driving Neptune over the edge. It had ended painfully for herself on more than one occasion but damn, it had been worth every single moment. Haruka had been easy. There was so much anger, so much hatred for herself buried that close beneath the surface. A small little push and pull, that’s all that had been necessary for the nice little chaos to unfold and things quite naturally following their way. Neptune on the other hand… even Venus had to admit it was way different with her. The senshi of the sea was much more complicated, her feelings much more concealed, but oh how her strength had proven to be her greatest weakness. It shouldn’t have surprised her but still, even Venus found the irony behind this strangely amusing.

„I actually have to thank you, you know.“

Venus grinned as she carefully followed the impact every single one of her words caused. Oh, how she enjoyed having Neptune on this point. Her careful held facade breaking away slowly, giving way for the much more pleasant feelings of hate and anger Venus feed on for her own joy.

„I don’t think I could have done all of this myself. Not that quickly anyway. You did help quite a bunch you know. Poor Haruka. In the end, you broke the very rest of her spirit.“

Venus felt the by now nearly familiar pressure on her chest, rapidly and mercilessly growing as Neptune used her powers, however, none of this stopped her lips from forming into a cold and deeply satisfied smile. Despite everything, this was her victory. They both knew it was.

„Shut up!“

The roaring depths of the sea sparked back through Neptune’s eyes right before a wild hit of energy knocked Venus off her feet. Neptune’s attack sent her crushing against the nearest wall, the force breaking at least two of her rips in the process. Nevertheless, Venus laughed out loud.

„Well, look at who cannot bear the truth!“

Venus coughed, the sharp pain exploding at her side, but the so-called senshi of love grinned. She bathed in the sea goddess’ hatred. In that guilt cracking up Neptune’s soul and seeping through this raging sea of emotions. To Venus, this felt like the most exquisite wine or perfume and it was worth each and every risk she just took.

“Come on! Tell me I am wrong.”

Quite some dance with the devil this was, but Venus had not come this far to let this end without a little bit of fun.

“She asked you not to keep her away, didn’t she? Her only wish not to be a useless bystander on the battlefield. And you...? Tell me again, what did you do exactly?”

Venus never actually was surprised to find her body lacking the ability to move. She knew that part of Neptune’s powers all too well by now. She could also tell what probably would follow, but Venus never actually intended to give Neptune time to call upon the crushing waters of the sea to rise deadly from beneath her feet.

“Don’t worry.”

The pressure on her chest made it more impossible to breathe. It literally cut off her breath and caused Venus to cough. Her mocking words no longer escaped her as easy as before, but nevertheless, she pushed on. The blonde tasted her own blood in her mouth and fought to take her next breath, yet she knew in only a moment she would have won everything there was.

“I fixed your mess.”

The wicked grin on Venus’ face quite successfully drove Neptune mad. She would end this. Here and now. Once and for all.

But along with those last mocking words came a change of atmosphere that made Neptune freeze. The very air seemed to have changed and shifted. The wind picked up and with it came a far too familiar brush not only on her skin but on her soul.

“Haruka...”

Venus forgotten, Neptune turned, instinctively knowing where to look for her partner. Standing several meters across and away from her was Uranus, strong and mighty, her presence so radiant Neptune actually shivered. The aura of her partner choked her and she painfully realized how long it had been since she felt the soldier of the sky embracing her full potential and power like this.

“You know what to do.”

Neptune didn’t even turn as Venus summoned another portal to disappear, maybe to watch in all safety the confrontation that was about to happen. Neptune could not care less about their former leader, retreating once more cowardly and fleeing from their battle. It could not be more insignificant when it was Uranus who caught Neptune’s every attention.

It had been weeks... no months...

Months since Haruka had vanished.

No... since Michiru’s very own actions had driven her away...

Since then, since she had found the crash-site of Haruka’s bike and all traces were grown cold, Michiru had pushed herself to her own breaking point and limits, both physically and mentally, with her powers finally growing (or was it breaking?) to their fullest potential.

Vision after vision she had witnessed Haruka suffer…or get tortured…

As vague as her visions could be, the pictures they brought to her this time always remained crystal clear. Right to the point where Michiru, for all she knew, felt like she too was with them back at that chamber of tortures. A powerless bystander to Haruka’s cries, her screams…to every damage inflicted on her bruised and broken body as well as to her spirit.

At times, Michiru was sure Mars knew she was there as well, for she could feel a grin behind the searing flames occasionally appearing on the edge of her mind. For some reason, they both shared this strange connection to this realm of visions. And Michiru was sure the only reason Mars allowed her to stay was because the senshi of fire knew to have Michiru watch her lover’s endless tortures would do way more damage, than burning down Michiru’s thoughts.

It never made a difference anyway.

No matter how many times Michiru returned back to this living hell, no matter how many times her visions either overtook her out of nowhere, or she forced her mirror to do her bidding, she never got closer to actually find Haruka or reveal her location.

The prickling on her skin, the actual shift of the wind should have warned her, but Neptune cast away all instincts of the warrior inside her because they could not matter less.

She still managed to dodge Uranus’ attack, close as it was, but never rose her arms to send the roaring sea down at her attacker in response. Instead, Neptune’s thoughts, ever so calculated even within the fiercest battle, grew blank.

Too many things she wanted to say... too much to apologize for...

But there she was, staring back at eyes clouded by a dark and restless storm, that did not even seem to recognize her and her own regrets and guilt bound her tongue, as she looked at Uranus with disbelief.

„How pathetic.“

Uranus‘ voice was as cold as her appearance and demeanor. It did not bear any emotion other than the ever so small sign of growing impatience.

The senshi of the skies took one single step towards Neptune’s direction and with it came another set of attacks Neptune barely managed to avoid. Uranus always had been fast. Way faster than her and it never took long for the raging winds to cut deep into her skin. Those blows she reflected with her mirror didn’t make much of a difference, leaving Neptune bruised and shaking, way too soon for her own liking.

„This is a waste of my time.“

Again grey, empty eyes looked down on her and if Neptune recognized anything it was the displeased hint marking the end of Uranus‘ patience.

This wasn’t the challenge she had hoped for. Too easy. Too weak. It was a mere mystery to her how no one before her had not already silenced the disobedient sailor of the seas. But it wasn’t her place to question the princess‘ orders. She had been sent her with a clear mission and order she planned to execute without further toying around or wasting her time.

A sudden change of energy washed over Neptune senses, a spark, bright and clear, that spiked the second Uranus across from her summoned her sword.

„You got it back..-“

Neptune watched the scene in front of her utterly puzzled. Seeing the mighty talisman appear in her partner’s hands shocked her in a way she never had expected. It took the ground from underneath her feet and Neptune never grasped the moment Uranus charged at her without further hesitation. Instead, visions flickering in front of her eyes robbed her of the reality. Fast and hectic fragments, all tinted dark and red drilled themselves into Neptune’s consciousness.

Flashes of chains…of pain and suffering…a broken pledge of obedience…the cover of nothing…of strength..and purpose…and power born anew…

Neptune choked, both from the impact of her visions rendering her frozen, as well as the force of the blade knocking out of breath.

„Does it mean, it’s gone..?“

Neptune barely noticed it, the searing blade cutting through flesh and bone, nor the pain exploding from her abdomen to quickly cover and wreck every last part of her body.

„All your suffering and pain....“

Neptune blinked. Her vision blurred from sudden tears and pain, neither of which she could differentiate at this point. But still, the strangest kind of smile flickered across the dying soldiers face.

„I-I … I am glad…-“

She tried to raise a bloodstained hand. Just once... just one last time...but another thrust cut off her words, robbed her of her breath.... her pain...

Her last moment, gone just like that...

The transformation of the warrior vanished, leaving behind the body of the young woman who suddenly appeared way more fragile. The storming sea gone and vanished from deep blue eyes, turquoise locks torn and tattered while the mirror shattered on the ground.

A broken relic to prove the execution of her order.

A useless thing the princess told her to keep, without Uranus ever grasping the reason or intention why.

#personal headcanon #yeah no still not sorry for this piece #i actually like it a lot still #michirukaioh #harukatenou #my writing

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maximumsnow · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Link & Tetra (Legend of Zelda), Linebeck & Link (Legend of Zelda) Characters: Toon Link, Linebeck (Legend of Zelda), Tetra (Legend of Zelda) Additional Tags: spoiler in the tags, The first half of the story is very much a nightmare, There is a character death in the nightmare but it's not real, Also Linebeck says a single swear but I couldn't think of a way around it when he's an actual sailor, I want to emphasize that the relationship between Link and Linebeck is Platonic, Or familial, But you can read whatever relationship you want between Tetra and Link though

Summary: Phantom Hourglass and Wind Waker end with Link fighting and defeating a man at the end, and sometimes nightmares don't like keeping the facts straight with how things actually went.

It was raining. (It shouldn’t be raining.)

Link didn’t know when it had started, but when he woke up to Ciela’s pleas, the first thing he noticed was Linebeck swinging the Phantom Sword wildly around.

The cowardly man had stabbed Bellum. For him. And was keeping the monster at bay while Link recovered. The memory and urgency of the situation drove Link to his feet.

Then Linebeck made an error no experienced swordsman would make and turned his head away from the enemy. To check on Link.

Bellum took the easy opening and grabbed Linebeck’s arms. The horror that flashed on his face was replaced with determination as he struggled against the hold long enough to throw the sword to Link.

It was easy to catch it despite the haphazard way it had left the older man’s hands. But he was forced to watch as Bellum wrapped more tentacles around Linebeck and latched itself onto his back.

Dark energy flowed around them until thick phantom armor materialized on Linebeck’s body and forced him to stand up.

His face was tinted an unnatural purple (like a drowning man), and his eyes were glazed over with white.

Despite the almost dead appearance, he was able to wheeze out, “Link...”

A helmet appeared before he could say anything else, and with far more grace, the possessed Linebeck swung a heavy sword at Link.

The blow was easy to dodge, and Ciela was already shouting instructions at Link about how to deal with their problem.

After a few swings of the Phantom sword glancing off the armor with no effect, Link tried running and tumbling to get behind Bellum. But, no matter how fast he ran, the armored front would always face him in its inexorable march.

Finally, Ciela was able to let loose a Phantom Sphere, and Link stopped time long enough to run behind the large Phantom.

There was no weak spot to attack.

(There was no sign of Bellum’s body that should have been sticking out of Linebeck’s back.)

Ciela tried hovering behind Bellum to see if there would ever be a weak spot, and she was grabbed by a tentacle that was somehow still there.

The fight continued. (Different this time.)

No matter how many times he landed distracting blows and picked up and used Phantom Spheres, no eye ever opened.

He was getting tired.

Bellum wasn’t. (Bellum never did)

The large Phantom started another spin attack, and Link noticed just how unbalanced the helmet was when that attack was performed.

(Oh goddesses, please no.)

Another dodge, another parry.

He called on Neri’s aid to just help him get to the next spin attack. The blue fairy’s power coursed through him in time to block a would have been fatal blow from Bellum (Linebeck).

Their blades met time and time again. Just when Link thought he would never get another hit in, Bellum couldn’t recover quickly enough to avoid a cheap shot that knocked it to Linebeck’s knees.

Ciela took the opportunity to throw another Phantom Sphere at Link, and as soon as he caught it, Bellum stood back up. The way it grabbed the sword told him that it was about to do another spin attack, and Link prepared.

As soon as the attack started, Link stopped time and ran.

With a jump and a flourish, he slammed the helmet upwards and away from the Phantom’s head.

(Linebeck’s head)

Once again, the familiar face was exposed. Still with the purple hue and unseeing white eyes.

No sign of Bellum’s black and orange eye.

There was only one way Link knew how to finish it. But he couldn’t do that to his friend.

(The same way he killed a man a year ago.)

Linebeck (Bellum) staggered as he lost his balance before fixing him with that dead stare and marched towards him.

(Was Linebeck even still in there?)

Link shook his head as he tried to repeat the process with other pieces of the armor.

Nothing worked.

He could faintly see the eyes on the tentacles near the joints, but even when he tried to stab them directly, it was like a forcefield would cover them and make the blade glance off.

He couldn’t keep this going. His arms and legs were burning with exhaustion, and his lungs were begging for a reprieve.

If he kept putting this off, he would die. And so would Tetra. And Ciela. And Neri and Leaf.

The realm of the Ocean King would be destroyed.

(I’m sorry, Linebeck.)

The last Phantom sphere pulsed as he activated it.

With ease, he took a running jump, and plunged the sword nearly to its hilt into Linebeck’s forehead.

(How he killed Ganondorf.)

Link jumped away so that the heavy body didn’t crash onto him, but once he was on his feet again, he could only stare in horror as the armor turned into a purple mist with black and orange eyes staring at him. Mocking him. Before they inevitably exploded into bright yellow sand and fell into the water below.

It left the body of his friend face down on the driftwood.

He wasn’t moving.

Link stumbled towards the body left and collapsed to his knees near Linebeck’s head and tilted the face upwards.

Linebeck’s eyes were green again, but dull and unseeing. Bright red blood leaked out of the wound where the sword was still lodged.

He was dead.

(I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorryI’msorryI’msorry.)

Link didn’t know when he started to scream the words aloud, but when hands grabbed his shoulders, he shoved them away violently.

“Link!? Wake up!” Ciela’s voice sounded wrong, like it was mixed with someone else’s.

(Tetra?)

He stopped struggling, and the scene went dark as he realized his eyes were closed. He was laying down on something instead of standing on wooden planks.

His eyes shot open, and it took a few seconds to see in the faint candlelight. Tetra was hovering nearby, a worried look on her face and her hair in even more disarray than usual.

Link tried take a few calming breaths, and the fact that she didn’t comment on how he managed to choke on air must have meant he looked bad.

“You were shouting.” The words lacked any of their usual bite and contained an unspoken question.

He rubbed at his face, which was noticeably wet, and tried to answer.

The image of a dead Linebeck, that he had killed, came back.

All that came out was a low whine that was cut off by a sob, and he curled his legs forward to bury his face into his knees.

With surprising care, Tetra approached him and sat down on his bunk nearby. “We’re on our ship. We just docked at an island for the night.” She looked at the door before continuing. “We’re all safe.”

Before he could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard accompanied by shouting. It spiked his heart rate briefly, before he recognized the voice.

“Hey, put me down!”

Relief. Link let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and tears threatened to fall again.

Gonzo kicked in the door, and slung over his shoulder was a very much alive, if annoyed, Linebeck.

“Captain’s orders, yeah?” He dropped the sailor onto the cabin floor before looking to Tetra.

Link didn’t pay mind to the silent conversation he knew they were having thanks to zeroing in on Linebeck. The sailor had a hand up brushing his hair out of his face, and that allowed Link to see that there was no injury marring his forehead.

He had figured out by now that it had to have been a nightmare, but he still couldn’t help checking.

Linebeck staggered to a standing position, and without his coat on, he looked even smaller than Gonzo. It didn’t stop him from pointing a finger at Gonzo’s chest and saying, “Just because I’m traveling with you doesn’t mean you can drag me out of my cabin and manhandle me like a dead fish!”

Gonzo just rolled his eyes before turning on his heel and leaving Linebeck without a response.

Linebeck was about to follow him out, offense written all over his face. “HEY! I wasn’t-”

“Read the room,” Tetra spoke up firmly. The lack of sarcasm and playful nicknames must have registered something in Linebeck’s head, for he quickly turned around, and the annoyance vanished.

Link vaguely wondered how pathetic he must look. Sure, Linebeck had seen him hit some lows at night when they traveled together in the Ocean King’s realm, but now he knew just what Link was capable of.

Some legendary hero he was. Wrapped in a blanket with a wet face and faintly shaking in the aftereffects of a nightmare.

“Aw shit. You’re not okay, are you, kid?” Linebeck scratched his head as he asked. The rhetorical question hung in the air as neither teenager was willing to bother with the obvious answer. Waving it away, he took a few steps closer to the huddled mess.

He stopped and gave Link a pointed look that the boy recognized well. Can I come closer?

Link froze. The guilt of literally having just killed the man in his dream was telling him that he had no right to ask for the simple comfort that Linebeck somehow managed to give.

Just knowing he was alright should be enough.

It wasn’t.

While fighting to keep another sob down, Link nodded and scooted closer to Tetra. Permission given, Linebeck sat on Link’s other side, and Link instinctively leaned against him. He felt Linebeck’s arm carefully settle on his shoulders, and Tetra’s hand started to rub circles in his back.

The contact settled the racing feeling in his chest in a way their presences hadn’t been able to. The part of his mind still affected by the nightmare couldn’t ignore the fact that Linebeck was alive and breathing right next to him.

With little preamble, Linebeck started, “So, kid, did I tell you about that time I-”

Link couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at the unexpected topic change and met Tetra’s eyes in mutual sarcasm. Given how often Linebeck embellished his stories and changed them around for fun, Link probably hadn’t heard whatever nonsense he was about to spill.

But, just the segue had managed to stop fresh tears from falling, Link wasn’t going to say no to the obvious attempt to keep his mind off of the nightmare.

The first one hadn’t quite worked. The second nearly did. The third one managed to make him laugh so hard, that he rolled backwards and out of the mess of blankets. By the middle of the fourth story, his eyes were getting heavy, and he didn’t get to hear how that one ended. The sound of Linebeck’s storytelling voice and Tetra heckling every now and then lulled him to a deep sleep.

His dreams were blissfully blank.

#My writing #Legend of Zelda Phantom Hourglass #Loz Phantom Hourglass #Phantom Hourglass #Linebeck #PH Link

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jettingtothemoon · 4 years

Text

Save You; chapter 5

➳ pairing: hector x witch|reader ➳ genre: fantasy, angst, fluff ➳ warnings: violence, swearing, smut, mentions of rape, past slavery, spoilers for seasons 1 thorough 3. ➳ word count: 2701 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: In which y/n and Hector continue to flee from the council of sisters, finding refuge among an unlikely acquaintance with fresh scars and a cold personality. ➳ Part two of, ’Rescue You’.

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09,

Sex and Wine

When you woke, you were still in Hector's arms. He was already awake, his fingers unconsciously stroking through your hair as he watched you come to.

"Good morning, my love."

It was such a simple sentence, such simple words, but nonetheless, it brought a bright smile to your face. Hector thought it was him who was lucky to have you, but you were the one who was lucky to have him. Without Hector, you were just a lonely magician with no friends or family. After what happened with Dracula and the atrocities you had helped him commit, you would have been consumed by the guilt of your cowardly actions. Without Hector, you would have no longer had any reason to live. Without Hector, you thought, you would have probably already been a coffin in the ground because Hector was your reason to live.

Instead of a reply, you simply nuzzled your head further into his naked chest. The slight stir of your body had you feeling things that you really should have washed off last night, but you were so tired that you fell asleep before you had the chance to clean yourself off. You weren't, however, as sticky as you thought you should have been and, with a hand feeling the remnants of the night before on your stomach, you realised that Hector must have tried to wipe at least some of it off.

"We should probably bathe." You admitted.

Hector hummed but didn't once stop running his fingers through your hair, "Probably."

You could tell his answer was him simply telling you not yet because he wanted to stay in bed with you a while longer. He wanted to lie here and hold you, he would have done it all day if he could but he knew the chances of that were unlikely. You had a boy to look after and a sad half-vampire to accompany.

It was so peaceful as you lied there. The first proper peace either of you had felt in, well, forever. That peace, however, didn't last long.

There was a crash from downstairs somewhere, presumably the kitchen from all of the clanging. It was so loud you were certain that it echoed throughout the entire castle.

Both you and Hector sat up and glanced at each other.

"What the hell was that?" Hector inquired.

"I have no idea."

And so, the pair of you jumped out of bed and quickly threw your nightgowns back on to cover yourselves as you hastily made your way towards where you believed the noise had come from.

When you reached the kitchen, you were both surprised to find a drunken Alucard sitting on the floor. His head was in one of his hands as he swayed, in the other, a rather large glass of wine. Around him, the floor was littered with pots and pans, not to mention a few smashed glasses and other bits and bobs. You would have assumed they had been knocked over from his drunken state, but from the way everything was scattered in different parts across the room, you were certain that Alucard must have thrown them.

"Alucard? Are you okay?" Hector was the first of you to speak as he attempted to walk closer to the half-vampire that was sitting on the floor.

His words were only met with Alucard downing the rest of the wine in his hand before turning and quickly throwing the now empty glass towards Hector, "Stay away!"

Thankfully, Hector had managed to dodge the object but halted his movements in hopes of not having his throat torn out by the, clearly very angry, drunken son of Dracula.

"Alucard. What's wrong? Talk to us." You stepped forward this time, also hoping to calm and reassure the man on the floor.

However, he simply launched a bronze pot your way, "I said stay away!"

Instead of dodging the pot, you stopped it with your magic and allowed it to fall on the floor in the space between you and Alucard with a clank.

Hector looked at you, wondering what the two of you should do. You simply rubbed circles into your brows, trying to soothe them as you sighed, "Alucard. It is not even nine o'clock in the morning."

Alucard climbed to his feet, wobbling on his shaky legs as he stumbled across the kitchen and picked up a new bottle of wine. He looked you dead in the eye as he took a swig, well, downed half of the bottle. Then, he pulled the bottle away from his mouth and slammed it down on the side, thankfully without smashing it, as he wiped the dribbling wine from his chin whilst making sure to give you a clear view of his wine-stained fangs.

"So?"

You were amazed. This grown man, not to mention very powerful half-vampire, was stood in front of you throwing a drunken temper tantrum.

You sighed again and spoke firmly, "Alucard."

The man simply dismissed you and went back to his wine, pouring himself another glass before stumbling over to the kitchen table.

"Alucard, this is ridiculous. The boy will be up soon if he hasn't already risen after hearing you smashing and shattering almost everything in here. Please go and lie down." To your surprise, Hector was now the one telling him off.

"The boy?" Alucard questioned, tilting his head to the side slightly before taking another sip of his wine.

"Yes, the boy. You know, that child who's living here. About yea high, fluffy brown hair, never speaks. The one who is scared enough without seeing you in this state. Yeah, that one." You snapped sarcastically, your patience beginning to wear thin.

Although Alucard didn't even bother to look at you or Hector again, he did stop drinking for a moment. He simply sat there swirling the contents in his glass around, watching the red liquid as it circled the glass as if he were hoping it would hypnotise him into thinking straight again.

"The boy." His voice was more relaxed now, quiet even.

After a short moment, he placed his half-empty glass down on the table and stood up, pressing his palms into the table to support him.

Then, he began trying to stumble away. Although, he didn't get very far. He fell onto Hector, who reluctantly caught him, but instantly tried to push him away again.

"Get off of me!"

With a roll of your eyes, you looked away from the boys and at the messy room, then you turned back to Hector who was having a great deal of trouble trying to keep Alucard on his feet.

"Can you take him to bed? I'll sort this mess out before the boy wakes."

Hector nodded and, once again, tried to support Alucard as they left the room.

It was hard enough trying to walk Alucard down the hall, let alone up the stairs, especially when all he did was thrash about demanding that he could walk on his own. When he tripped on the stairs and almost fell, had it not been for Hector catching him, he finally stopped complaining and let the forgemaster support him as they made their way to his bedroom.

"You reak of sex." Alucard stated bluntly, catching the forgemaster off guard a little.

Hector simply sighed, "And you reak of wine."

Alucard chuckled slightly at the response he received and no longer put up a fight as Hector struggled to get him to bed. Not that it wasn't still immensely difficult to support a swaying half-vampire who was almost tripping over his own feet as they transcended up the steps to a higher floor.

Alucard continued to mumble to himself as they walked, although his words were all but incoherent to Hector. By the time they finally reached his room, Alucard once again tried to push the forgemaster away to stumble inside on his own. Hector should have allowed him to and just shut the door behind him, leaving this problem to sort itself out, but instead, he found that he was worried Alucard might hurt himself trying to get into bed. So, he swung the half-vampire's arm back over his shoulders and practically carried him across the room to his bed.

He allowed Alucard to flop down onto the mattress, his long, golden hair splayed out over his pillow. Then, he pulled off his boots and tucked his legs in under the blankets. Alucard mumbled something incoherent once again as he finally fell asleep, the morning chaos finally coming to an end.

Hector released a sigh and gently pushed Alucard's messy hair out of his face in slight fear that he would somehow manage to suffocate or choke on the long strands.

The forgemaster watched him for a moment longer. Almost wanting to know why Alucard was in so much pain as he quietly stated, "You don't have to suffer alone."

Once the forgemaster was gone, the door quietly clicking shut behind him, Alucard pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his face in his hands as tears began to spill from his golden eyes.

When Hector returned to you, you were almost done with your cleaning. The shattered glass Alucard had previously thrown at Hector was disposed of in the bin, along with the rest of them. The pots and pans that littered the floor were all back in their cupboards. The only thing that was left was to clean the spilt wine and splattered fruit from the floor, walls, door and table. How Alucard had made such a mess, you were unsure. What you were sure of, was that he had likely been up all night drinking.

"How is he?" You questioned with genuine concern.

"Asleep." Hector exhaled in relief and picked up a cloth to help you scrub the walls.

"Something really terrible happened to him, Hector."

He quietly hummed, "I know."

It was almost silent between the two of you after that for you were too consumed in your own thoughts to talk with one another. You both felt sad, empty even. It was as if you felt helpless. Why either of you even cared for Alucard, neither of you knew. But for some strange reason, you did, and it hurt the two of you to see him in this state. How long had he been bottling it up? Or had he already been like this before you came? Maybe he had just been hiding it because you were here.

In the time between cleaning the walls and mopping the floor, you and Hector had both taken a quick bath to wash up and get dressed. So, by the time the boy finally emerged, coming into the kitchen with Cezar following by his feet, you and Hector were just about done mopping the floor.

"Careful. The floor is wet, you might slip." You warned with a soft tone.

Hector made his way across the room and picked the boy up, carrying him over to the table before setting him down in one of the chairs, "There, no one is slipping up today."

The boy smiled, thankful that the two of you were still looking out for him, and then looked over to you expectantly.

"I know Alucard usually makes breakfast but he's really tired today so he went back to sleep." You explained although the didn't seem to entirely understand why Alucard was so tired since he was supposedly the one who went to sleep first last night.

Both of you tired to hold your smiles as you spoke to the boy, trying to hide the fact that there was indeed something wrong. Not that you could do anything until later. Later, you would need to talk with Alucard but, for now, he needed to get some rest and you needed to look after the boy.

"So, I was thinking eggs and bacon. What do you think?" You grinned at the boy as Hector began to collect what you would need from the cupboards.

The boy nodded, smiling back with sincerity.

"Good. Bacon and eggs it is then."

Cooking didn't take too long and, thankfully, you managed not to burn anything. Hector had already fed Cezar, petting his little dog fondly as he chucked some more bacon his way. The three of you sat and ate happily, although neither you nor Hector could shake the concern you were feeling for Alucard. Something was going on with him, well, you already knew that. It was just that, whatever was going on with him was clearly worse than you initially believed and, after seeing how he was this morning, you really were worried about him.

Thankfully, it seemed as though the boy didn't pick up on the dull atmosphere that surrounded you and Hector. After breakfast, you quickly washed up and headed outside with both Hector and the boy in order to feed the horses. As it turned out, morning chores were not so bad when you had the two of them around, not to mention little Cezar, who followed you all around with a wagging tail. Once you finished tending to the horses, you decided to stay outside for a while. You and Hector opted for sitting down in the shade as you watched the boy run about with Cezar on the grass.

You were sat between Hector's legs with your back against his chest. His head rested on top of yours for a while until he moved so that his head was beside yours, "Do you think he'll ever speak?"

"I don't know. We don't even know if he was mute before I found him or not. Whether he will ever speak or not, I just hope he's okay."

"He looks happy, at least. He seems to like it here and he doesn't fear Alucard anymore. Actually, I think he's grown rather fond of him." Hector sounded relieved to see the boy looking at least somewhat at peace despite everything he has been through. You both only hoped that Alucard wasn't going to disrupt that.

You sat outside for a few hours, just enjoying the sun until grey clouds grew overhead.

Hector helped you to your feet and you called out to the boy, "We should go in. It looks like it's going to rain."

Although the child was sad that he couldn't play outside anymore, he seemed to agree that heading in would be a good idea and so, you all headed back inside. The boy went straight up to his room with Cezar, presumably to continue playing up there with Alucard's old childhood toys, while you and Hector went back to the kitchen to make some lunch.

"Do you think he'll be up anytime soon?" You asked as you began to cut into the loaf of bread.

"Maybe. We should make him some lunch just in case. He's probably hungry." Hector suggested.

Neither of you had noticed the presence at the door until Alucard cleared his throat and walked inside, "I- I'm sorry about earlier. I was- well, it was inappropriate of me. I'm sorry, to both of you for having to deal with that."

You stopped cutting the bread and, like Hector, offered a soft expression to the man in front of you, "It's okay."

"It's not. Nothing about that was okay but... thank you for putting up with me." Alucard spoke honestly, not quite daring to meet either of your eyes.

He just kind of stood there apologetically with his eyes cast downwards. It was clear he felt awkward, uncomfortable even, and that he didn't quite know what to do now that he had shown that side of himself in front of the two of you.

Just when you thought Alucard was going to disappear back up to his room for the rest of the day, Hector pulled out the chair beside him, patting it and offering a smile to try and make him feel more comfortable. Alucard himself faintly smiled back and sat down in the chair.

You smiled, "So, lunch for three?"

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09,

#Castlevania #netflix castlevania #Hector #hector x reader #alucard

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gloves94 · 4 years

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To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 21

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Cursing?

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

MY MASTER-LIST

"Cedric rules!" A Hufflepuff stepped in Harry's way. Wearing a bright yellow badged that spined into a green background with Harry's face which read 'POTTER STINKS' on it.

"You stink Potter!" Another young boy insulted as he ran past him.

Harry kept his eyes on him keeping his head lowered when he suddenly saw the boy trip and eat shit as he scrapped his hands. Harry looked up to see an irritated Slytherin girl on her way to the Courtyard. He halted on his walk when he almost ran into somebody.

“Like the badge?” Hannah Abbot, a blonde Hufflepuff, blocked the way. Harry was about to excuse himself and walk around her when a hand moved him to the side.

Hannah Abbot looked startled at Elowen Saintday came into view and shot a deathly look her way. "Lose something?" She spat at the surprised girl before forcefully pushing her to the ground and out of her way. Instead of fighting back the Hufflepuff shrunk away, she knew when to pick her battles.

“Harry,” Nel greeted with a mischievous smile turning to face her friend. “Thanks,” He flashed her a grateful smile. It was nice to have at least one friend having your back. Especially when your best friend turned your back on you…

Nel could’ve said the same. Existence at Hogwarts had been a little lonelier recently. Theodore was always off with Daphne helping her paint or something amongst those lines and Tracey was often if not always absent. She event seemed distraught in class, often lost in daydreams. Elowen didn’t want to admit it to herself but she had caught her in a lie more than once at this point.

“What are you up to?” She asked him curiously. “I’m just on my way to have a word with Cedric,” He said shrugging his bookbag strap over his shoulder. She nodded and from the corner of her eye saw Cedric surrounded by the Hufflepuff boys that seemed to worship him.

“Have you,” She began hesitating whether she should ask or not. “Have you heard from him? From Black I mean?” She asked concerned that he hadn’t written back to her yet.

“I heard,” Harry began choosing his words carefully. She paid careful attention to them, listening carefully. “That he can’t communicate through a letter. Because the Ministry is intercepting more and more letters every day, so it’s quite dangerous for him,” he said in an apologetic tone.

She sighed her shoulders slumping slightly feeling disappointed.

“Thanks Harry,” She thanked him before deciding to do something bold. “Also,” She stopped him before he walked in Cedric’s direction. “I don’t know if you know this already, but the first task of the tournament. It’s dragons.”

Yes, maybe Harry was her friend, but this was busines, not personal. She only told him because she knew there wasn’t any way he was going to beat Cedric in the tournament. At the end of the day all that matter was that everyone was safe and that she got paid for her work.

Harry blinked twice surprised that she knew.

“How do you know?” He asked surprised.

Now, how did she know…

Gathering this information hadn’t been easy. After pestering and budging many students at the library while she worked on their parchments, homework and other notes. Some gave her some crumbs of information of any happenings that were going on in the castle. Particularly one girl, a Fifth Year Ravenclaw who was gushing about the fact that Charlie Weasley had been spotted on the castle grounds. She was spouting about how handsome he was and how if he had wanted to, he could’ve played Quidditch at a pro level maybe even becoming better than Viktor Krum.

Nel followed her lead and asked Fred and George about their brother Charlie and if he played Quidditch better than Krum. To which her surprise they said that he probably would’ve. They insisted that Charlie could’ve been better than Krum if he didn’t commit to the life of a Dragonologist and move all the way to Romania. They sounded biased, not that she blamed them. After all, it was their brother.

After that she reached the conclusion that if Charlie Weasley a Dragonologist was on schoolgrounds odds were the first tasks involved the taming or fighting of a dragon.

“Yeah, Hagrid showed me.”

Hagrid! She hadn’t thought about him. He was a great resource to keep around.

Nel was leaning under the shade of the tree waiting for Harry to be done talking to Cedric so that they could continue their conversation. Cedric of course already knew everything about the first task of the tournament. Nel and him exchanged a look from the distance. Not that anybody knew the two were friends, let alone even acquainted.

Lost in thought an unexpected flash of black started her. She flinched at the sudden movement and saw Malfoy jump down from one of the tree branches from her peripheral vision. What the hell was he even doing up there?

“Funny, weather forecast didn’t mention it was going to be raining idiots today,” she commented snidely crossing her arms over her chest and keeping her fixed gaze on the Triwizard champions.

He didn’t laugh at her joke, instead stepped forward blocking her view. “You’re not wearing the badge I made you,” He said pulling out one of those nasty badges everyone was wearing. All of those ‘POTTER STINKS’ badges, who do you think was behind them?

She looked at him and at the badge he was holding on his stretched-out hand. Her eyes bounced back from the badge that switched from Cedric’s face to Harry’s and back up to his malicious smirk before taking it in her hand. She hated to admit it, but they were even a better quality than Hermione’s S.P.E.W. badges. Nel brought it up to her face for closer inspection and eyed it intently before tossing it over her shoulder without any care whatsoever.

He looked at her incredulously.

“You need to get a hobby,” She answered in a dead-beat tone getting ready to walk away from him.

“I do have a hobby,” He claimed rounding around her once again blocking her path. “It’s not my fault Quidditch season was canceled this year because of the stupid tournament.”

“Find a new one then,” She groused growing more and more irritated by his presence. She moved to one side trying to dodge him and he side stepped blocking her way. Left, right, left, left again. Damn. He was more agile than he looked. She glared frustrated he wouldn’t move out of her way.

“One that doesn’t involve pestering me!” She raised her voice at him.

Without an alternative she tried to push him over just like she had done to Hannah Abbot just a couple of minutes earlier but instead he caught both of her hands in his. Elowen pulled back but he refused to let go. Draco was laughing as she struggled against his snare grip. He seemed highly entertained, which further infuriated the Slytherin girl.

“Rehearsing for the Yule Ball Saintday?” She heard Blaise Zabini call from behind as he approached them. Following were Crabbe, Goyle and other Slytherin boys. She felt her ears turning red from both the anger and the embarrassment.

“Why won’t you wear the badge?” Malfoy pressed. “Because they’re foul and childish, just like you,” She shot back harshly making the Slytherin boys around them all call out loud ‘oooooohs’ at the offense.

“Leave her alone Malfoy!”

All eyes turned to see Harry Potter approaching the group of Slytherins. Ron stood a couple of feet behind him so did Seamus Finnegan witnessing the scene.

“This doesn’t concern you Scarhead,” Draco snapped back with malice turning his attention to glare at Potter. Nel took this opportunity to push hard enough away from him and liberate her hands, lightly staggering back as she did from the force she had exerted.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for the tournament?” Malfoy began swaggering in Harry’s direction. “You see Potter, my father and I have a bet. I don't think you're gonna last ten minutes in this tournament. He disagrees. He thinks you won't last five.”

The Slytherins around all laughed.

“I don’t give a damn what you or your father thinks Malfoy,” Harry stepped up and shoved the blond back angrily. This time Malfoy didn’t make any attempt to catch Harry’s hands. “He’s vile and cruel, and you’re just pathetic,” he glowered. His green eyes turning to his friend who in turn bumped into Malfoy’s shoulder as she walked past him and joined Harry’s side. She shot him a glare before following after Harry.

Already embarrassed and furious by their indifference, even angrier after seeing the Slytherin walk away with the Gryffindor. Draco did a cowardly move; he raised a wand at Potter’s back ready to curse the Gryffindor’s knees on backwards.

Nobody expected Professor Moody to appear and without a warning turning Malfoy into a ferret.

“That’ll teach you to cast when someone’s back is turned!” Professor Moody rushed to the scene. The Hufflepuffs in the courtyard followed suit when they heard the commotion. Harry and Nel looked at the white ferret in awe.

McGonagall, who was also in the premises, rushed to see what all the cacophony was about. “Professor Moody what are you doing?” She asked alarmed as she eyed the white animal being cruelly levitated in the air.

“Teaching,” was all Mad Eye responded.

The professor lifted the ferret and spun it in the air several times in dizzying loops before stretching out Crabbe’s pants and ramming it in. The ferret let out a squeak before being stuffed into the horror that was the inside of Crabbe’s pants. The Slytherin boy squirmed uncomfortably trying to shake his furry friend off. By now everybody in the courtyard was doubled in laughter laughing at the scene until the ferret slid out down and out of Crabbe’s leg which was when Professor McGonagall turned it back into a human.

“My father will hear about this!” Were the first words from his mouth. He threatened with spite before rushing up to his feet. “Is that a threat?!” Moody snapped stepping forward waving his wand in a menacing matter.

“Alastor!” McGonagall snapped halting the professor from hexing the student. Draco was ready to run away from the mad man.

“We never use transfiguration as punishment. Surely, Dumbledore told you that?” She warned with a look that said she was not meant to be crossed. Then again, overall, Minerva McGonagall was not a woman to be crossed.

“He might’ve mentioned it,” Professor Moody said innocently bringing his wand to his lips.

Harry and Nel were still laughing despite the severity of the situation.

“Ms. Saintday, you look like you’re enjoying yourselves,” McGonagall’s eyes dated towards the laughing duo focusing on the Slytherin. Of course, the Head of Gryffindor would never call on her on House. How typical. Regardless both instantly stopped their giggling.

“Won’t you escort Mr. Malfoy to Madame Pomfrey’s.”

It wasn’t a request.

Draco protested half the short way that the two had to walk to the Hospital Wing.

“Why do I even have to go to Madame Pomfrey’s?” He complained as the two walked in the direction of the Hospital Room.

‘I don’t know- maybe because the last time you got a scratch on you, you wore a cast for a month?’ She wanted to roll her eyes at his question.

“Psychological damages?” She guessed with a small laugh. “I mean after being in Crabbe’s pants,” She shivered not even wanting to think of what the boy kept inside of those pants. She wouldn’t be surprised if there was an old ham sandwich lost somewhere in there.

He scowled at her.

It was bad enough that he had just been publicly humiliated in front of half of the school. First told of by Kennel Nel, the orphan mutt and ill-tempered bitch of Slytherin House, then aggressively shoved by Potter, and finally turned into a filthy mustelid by a professor. It was downright degrading.

“Serves you right for being such an unbearable prick,” She said sounding more than pleased as they continued on their way. (She wasn’t wrong he had it coming).

‘They’re foul and childish, just like you.’ Did she really think that low of him? Why did it even matter whatever esteem or regard she held him in? What about Potter? He cheats his way into a sacred tournament, and she doesn’t bat an eyelash over it? Why was it always bloody Saint Potter? Who makes the Quidditch Team during their First Year? Harry bloody Potter. Who becomes the Youngest Seeker in the Century? Scarhead Potter. Who wins the first match Quidditch match of the year when his own father, Lucius Malfoy, is watching the match with a judging eye? Potter.

Who gets to ride that oaf, Hagrid’s, bloody chicken? Saint Potter.

Who gets to share Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans with Saintday on Sundays? Potter.

Potter. Potter. Potter.

That wanker was and would always be there to take everything and anything away from him.

The Chosen One. The Saint. Dumbledore’s favorite.

He should’ve been the one making the Quidditch Team during their first year. Malfoy not Potter. He should’ve been the Youngest Seeker in the Century. He should’ve won 1992’s first game of the season. He had a demanding father to impress, Potter didn’t. He should’ve been the one riding the Hippogriff off into the sunset. The one with friends. Saintday didn’t seem to like anyone and even she liked him.

And then this year. Of course, Potter couldn’t bear not being the center of attention for a bloody damn minute and just had to make the tournament about himself. His arrogance as always was astonishing. Worst part was that he probably knew he was going to get away with it.

Nel looked at him oddly when she didn’t hear a snarky response which was typical of him. Draco seemed lost in thought a cross look on his pale features. He noticed she was eyeing him curiously. It’s not like he would ever tell her, or that she would ever understand.

“What’s so damn great about him anyways?” He snapped his eyebrows knotted in an angry scowl.

The girl was a little startled by the shift in his mood, even taken aback by his harsh tone, she had never heard him speak like that.

“Who? Harry?” She asked with genuine confusion at his question.

“Why do you always take his side?” He accused absolutely livid. The humiliation of the day, embarrassment, anger and jealousy all biting into him at once.

He didn’t give her a chance to answer.

“You always take his side! You’d pick him over your own house mate. Alright – yeah, maybe the pins were childish – I’ll admit that much, but he cheated his way into the damn tournament Nel. He couldn’t bear not being the center of attention for a bloody damn minute and he had to make it about himself,” She looked at him with astonishment. “Worst part is that, since he’s Dumbledore’s favorite he knew he was going to get away with it. You think I’d get away with that? You think you’d get off the hook after pulling a stunt like that?” He spitefully scoffed at the thought.

Her mouth was open in surprise at his outburst.

“You know it’s true. He does this every damn year!”

Again silence. He didn’t know if she remained quiet because she was at loss of words or if from the shock of his angry words.

It looked like he was done with his explosion. “And worst part is, you defend him!” He hurled at her one last time before growing quiet.

One or two students passing by looked at them awkwardly before skulking away nervously making the silence between the two feel louder. Malfoy, well, he wasn’t completely wrong. Elowen really believed Harry when he said he had no clue how his name had gotten into the Goblet of Fire. Let’s be real, he wasn’t that talented of a wizard. Hermione she would’ve believed, but Harry?

Draco caught his breath as his temper faded and pulse slowed. He anxiously danced on his feet before walking away from her and his embarrassment. Fuck visiting Madame Pomfrey and fuck everything. He was absolutely mortified.

“Oi,” She called after him. He stopped in his way but didn’t turn her way. “Want to see something cool?” Her voice was cool and collected.

He didn’t budge, but also didn’t leave the corridor.

“It’s a secret…” She dangled carefully knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist the curiosity.

He pivoted slowly; she had his attention.

Xxx

“Why on Salazar’s good name would you bring me here?” The boy complained as he inspected the plants in the greenhouse carefully. He wouldn’t put it past him for Nel to feed him to fanged geranium or a massive Venus fly trap.

“To look at plants?” He guessed in a bored tone as he leaned forward to take a whiff of a plant with pink flowers that snarled at him. Maybe his first guess wasn’t too far off…

“Patience…” She said squatting looking under vines, behind pots and in between the branches of several plants. “Where is he…”

“Where is who?”

Draco felt a sudden weight on his foot and looked down to see a large brown snake slithering over his feet. “Merlin!” He yelped in surprise and stepped back as the snake hissed at him.

“Don’t hurt him!” The girl knelt down and picked up the large adder which wrapped its tail around her lower arm. Malfoy watched in awe as she tamed the serpent and the serpent in return answered to its master. “Watch it blondie!” The adder hissed again in his direction which made her laugh.

Draco watched in morbid fascination as she conversed with the snake. The thing was downright ugly. Big, fat, with bulding red orange eyes and a black diamond pattern on its back.

“You brought me here to see that ugly thing?”

“Oi, you’re no Prince Charming yourself,” the snake bit back, making her laugh even louder.

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he glared at the reptile. Was the snake… roasting him?

“What did it say?” He demanded to know.

“Tell him,” Nathair said to her.

“He doesn’t like you,” She explained as the adder climbed up higher in her arm and nestled around her neck where it curled under her uniform greedily seeking the warmth of her body.

“You brought me here to look at a snake?” He asked again in surprise.

She shrugged casually as she stroked the snake’s head with her index finger. Animals didn’t usually tend to like her for one reason or another, but this one was alright. “I thought it would be cool.”

“Want to hold him?”

Draco was officially horrified.

“I’ll bite him,” Nathair chuckled slyly as Elowen walked towards the blonde boy. “Now, not unless I ask you to,” She whispered to the adder even if the other Slytherin in the room wouldn’t be able to understand her Parseltongue either way.

For somebody whose entire family had been in Slytherin, who wore a ring with a damn snake engraved, Malfoy was pretty chicken about touching Nathair. “Maybe, some other time,” He answered in a calm voice while looking at the adder dreadfully. She couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his comical expression before setting the adder down on top of some creeping vines.

“Harry is my friend,” She shifted to the sensitive topic. Nel attempted to pick her words carefully as to not trigger him. It sincerely didn’t matter to her if he had cheated his way into the tournament or not. The two were friends. Harry was lonely and so was she. To her it was only normal for the two to stick up for the other. “We understand each other in a different way. He’s also an orphan so… he understands,” She avoided his prying gaze while tapping her palms awkwardly on a wooden table.

“I understand you.”

Whatever she had been expecting him to say had not been that. She turned and her dark eyes met his silver ones. There was no mocking or sneering. He was being sincere. She didn’t want to think about those rare moments the two shared. Christmas Day 1992, the night at the Astronomy Tower, playing the violin at Hogsmeade. There were things he knew about her, ugly wounds she had never allowed anyone else to see.

She looked away briskly feeling her face turning what was probably an unflattering shade of burning red.

At the same time – who did he think he was? She didn’t think he understood her or maybe he did. Maybe he only understood the unstable two-dimensional version of her he had crafted in his head. “I don’t expect you to be able to empathize,” She added more crassly again changing the topic.

“Come,” He said making his way out of the greenhouse. “There’s something I’d like to show you,” He said stretching out his hand towards her. She pretended not to see it and instead walked on his side.

Xxx

“It’s hidden here somewhere,” Draco said as he opened the door to a dusty storage room in the third floor. The room was covered with cobwebs and old desks, chairs and old books were randomly stacked, clouds of dust went up as the two stepped in. He himself coughing at the dust. Nel waived them out of her wave with a lazy hand.

“What is?”

“It’s a mirror,” he answered. “Some Sixth-Years said that if you looked into it you could see a naked girl- Ow!” He winced at the sudden slap to his arm.

Just what had Draco Malfoy brought her here to do?

“Merlin, Saintday,” he rubbed his arm painfully. “I wasn’t finish,” He shot her an annoyed look, yet couldn’t help but laugh lightly at her reddened expression. “Which was a lie.”

She couldn’t tell if he sounded disappointed by this or not. “Here, it is,” He said suddenly stopping in front of a large mirror. Half of the mirror’s golden trim was covered by a torn sheet. There was a line cracked down one of its edges and overall it looked ancient. There was a large dust coated desk in front of it covering the lower half of the reflection.

The two Slytherins stood in front of it, their reflections starring back at them; confused brown eyes and cool grey ones.

“It’s called the Mirror of Erised. Rumor is that it shows the person standing before it anything and everything they desire.”

Nel stood before it deep in thought not seeing anything beyond her confused expression and Malfoy standing next to her.

“Alright then, move,” He instructed nudging his head to the side asking her to move away from the reflection.

She did as he instructed and stepped back, yet she still appeared in the mirror’s reflection. “Move further back, you’re still in the reflection.”

“Is here fine?” She called standing at a good distance away from both him and the mirror. He couldn’t help but feel his ears burning when he realized the two of them were standing next to each other in the mirror’s reflection.

The girl standing in the room looked at him oddly. He could be so weird sometimes…

He cleared his throat and straighten out his uniform shaking his head praying she didn’t realize what he had just seen.

The reflection changed and Draco saw all of the things he wanted in life. He had friends, genuine friends that cared about him, Potter was amongst them. They sincerely thought he was funny and played Quidditch him. Crabbe and Goyle, yeah, maybe they were his most loyal friends at Hogwarts, but he always felt their loyalty for him rooted in the fact that both of his parents worked for his dad. He saw his parents both of them filled with pride when they looked at him, specially his dad, gripping his shoulder tightly wearing a rare smile on his features.

“Why did you bring me here?” She spoke hoping to break him out of his trance. Whatever he was looking at… Whatever it was that Draco Malfoy desired, it seemed to deeply pain him.

He wiped a hand down his mouth hiding his frown before mumbling for her to step forward. Stepping in front center in the mirror she stood alone and saw no illusion unfold.

“I don’t think it’s working,” She said after a dense moment. “Wait- I think I see something.”

Elowen didn’t know what she had been expecting to see reflected in the mirror, maybe a private safe at Gringotts with a mountain of galleons or maybe complete independence and freedom from her horrible guardians, but instead she saw an older couple standing behind her. She didn’t know who they were, but she knew who she wanted it them be her parents. Both wearing modest muggle clothes. Both happy to see her. Both apologized for everything that had happened. Her reflection in the mirror was beaming, the cruel contrast of reality stark as a frown kept her lips turned down. Her eyes began to water.

She wanted to reach for them and touch them.

“It’s not real,” He warned.

All she wanted was a loving family.

“I see my family,” She admitted with an exhausting sigh. “At least, who I wish would be my family. My mother kind of looks like yours, my dad, strangely like Mr. Weasley, but both with dark hair,” She laughed weakly.

She hadn’t thought about her parentage in a while. At least not since meeting Sirius Black.

Distraught by her current emotions the scene shifted to show a girl standing before her. It was somebody she hadn’t seen in years and hadn’t thought of in a very long time: Lucy.

Lucy looked like Nel had always remembered. With thick, long wavy hair, large eyes and full lips. She was happy in this reflection, smiling, like Nel always remembered her. However, Lucy, well… now she was only a memory that had long ago been buried. Her name and disappearance had simply become another mystery for her to add to her list of enigmas to be questioned and perhaps one day solved.

“Why did you bring me here?” She asked with a painful expression that was similar to the one he wore when he was looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

“I want…” He kept his hung, shifting one of his feet awkwardly as he stood some steps away from her before dipping his hands in his pockets.

“I want to be friends with you.”

Had she heard him, right?

Malfoy seemed like the type of person to collect people. To keep people around him that would freely bend at his will and disposal. Expirable friendships like the one he had with Crabbe and Goyle. What purpose would Nel Saintday serve for him? Somebody to hex people for him? He already had goons to do that for him.

On the other hand, Elowen wasn’t the type of person who kept many friends around. Hell- most people would turn the other way if they saw her walking down the corridor, and presently with Tracey being absent doing… who knows what… and with Theodore spending all if not most of his time with Daphne, well the girl had been lonely.

She let out a laugh that sounded more uneasy than humorous. “And why would I want to be friends with a twitchy little ferret like you?”

He couldn’t be serious.

This was the boy that had tormented her for the majority of her time at Hogwarts. The foul git had just been bullying her and her friend in the courtyard just a couple of moments earlier. But then again, here they stood sharing their deepest, darkest desires to each other. Things that even Tracey and Theo didn’t know. When they had first met, he had both insulted and mocked her for being muggle born and an orphan.

Draco starred at her intently. He was dead serious. Maybe it was too late for him to mend a friendship with Potter, but maybe not with her.

Friends with Malfoy? It left a foul taste in her mouth.

How would that even function? What would they even say to each other? ‘Hello? How are you?’

Act like normal humans?

The thought of it was baffling.

But he was lonely.

She was lonely.

They were both alone and in truth, besides prideful vendettas, what was there to lose?

He wasn’t laughing, he wasn’t sneering, he was sober. He looked at her with woeful eyes standing very still holding his breath.

The two did have those rare moments they shared together. Maybe, things wouldn’t be too bad if they attempted to be civil to each other. Maybe the two would feel less lonely? Maybe it could even be nice?

Stepping towards him she stretched out an olive branch.

She took in a deep breath, hoping, praying she wouldn’t regret her words. Looking at him in the eye holding the promise that she would destroy him if he went back on his word.

“Friends?” She offered with a small, yet genuine smile.

Xxx

AN: Bet. Draco is going to majorly fuck this up somehow. Also it is almost the Yule Ball (excitement!)

Question: What do you think Draco’s Patronus should be?

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ibelieveinahappilyeverafter · 4 years

Text

Writing Commission - Mirror Image

One day I’ll upload a story earlier than midnight, but that day (night?) is not now. So enjoy this writing project I finally finished that deals with Hitoshi and Eri becoming siblings! This can also be seen as a sequel to "How It Goes" which is why these two stories will get their own collection!

(Gifted to Keisan at the request of the one who originally requested this piece.)

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Summary: Shinsou Hitoshi is asked how he feels about having a little sister. The answer is awkward, but he’s willing to try after hearing about the situation that left a little girl looking for a home. A day later and he meets Eri. Now Shinsou is trying to give the girl “her space” so she doesn’t fear his quirk, his controlling quirk, while also struggling with the knowledge that while Hizashi and Shouta would never replace him, it was starting to feel that way – but even if that was true it should be fine, right? Eri needed a safe place and Hitoshi could try and help with that! Then again, things often backfired when Hitoshi tried to help.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Relationship: Shinsou Hitoshi & Eri

Characters: Shinsou Hitoshi, Eri, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count: 8,002

Transaction Amount: $40.50 (USD)

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Check out my writing commission information here! Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content! Or buy me a coffee on Ko-Fi!

Read the story on AO3!

⁂

It had taken three sleepy bites of his oatmeal before Shinsou Hitoshi realized his parents were nervous - both of them. It was hard to tell at first and, if Hitoshi hadn’t been their adopted son for close to a year, it probably would have been impossible, but all the signs were there.

Hizashi was ranting and rambling and nonstop talking without waiting for either Hitoshi or Shouta to respond like he usually did. Shouta, for his part, looked calm and half-asleep as he usually did, but there were no small smiles or little eyerolls at some of Hizashi’s stories. Instead he was just staring at his bowl like there was some answer as to why he suffered so much in his life.

In fact, now that Hitoshi was really paying attention, he noticed that neither of them were fully looking at him. They kept glancing at him, or stealing looks, or looking at the top of his head, but neither of them would look him in the eyes. It was like they were having some secondary conversation about him that Hitoshi had no way of hearing or understanding.

He could admit, if only to himself, that if this was at the beginning of his adoption he would have started panicking. He would have felt like they were thinking about getting rid of him or giving him up. After a year of living with them, however, Hitoshi decided that whatever it was, neither was going to be the first to say anything. For being professional heroes, they were pretty cowardly when it came to serious conversations.

“Okay.” Hitoshi set down his spoon, a little amused at how Shouta’s gaze snapped up to him and Hizashi shut his mouth so quickly there was an audible sound to it. Definitely serious, though. “What’s up?”

“Up? What makes you think something is up?” Hizashi asked-slash-laughed nervously, Hitoshi feeling no need to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Everything is fine!”

“Yeah, the way your voice keeps climbing definitely says everything is fine,” Hitoshi snorted, looking to Shouta, who met his gaze evenly and just stared. “I can always just call Kayama-sensei and ask her.”

The two shared a look, Hitoshi amused as Shouta arched an eyebrow and Hizashi sighed in what was clearly defeat before mumbling a soft, “Alright, alright.” He then cleared his throat, smiling nervously at Hitoshi. “We actually wanted to ask you, ‘Toshi… We- Well, how- Hypothetically, how would you feel about having a little sister?”

Well, then. Hitoshi was a lot more awake than he had been a few seconds ago. It also seemed like the other two had become even more nervous, Hizashi ready to bounce out of his skin and Shouta fidgeting. Somehow, that was even weirder than the question he had been asked.

“Uh, well…” Hitoshi finally spoke, clearing his throat as he looked between them. “I’d start by saying that that doesn’t really sound like a hypothetical question.”

While Hizashi nervously waved his hands around and tried to come up with an excuse, Shouta only nodded at him seriously, “That’s because it wasn’t.”

Giving one last look between the two of them, Hitoshi pushed his almost empty bowl away and sat back in his chair. “Okay.” Hitoshi looked to Shouta because he, at least, didn’t beat around the bush. “I’m listening.”

Shouta mirrored the position, leaning back in his own seat before sighing and looking upwards, no doubt trying to find where to start. “Remember that mission we were on a few weeks ago?”

Hitoshi hid a wince. It was hard not to remember it. It had been easy enough to find out it was something to do with something big, and Hitoshi had heard about some of the students and interns that had been at the center of it, but… The thing he really remembered was just how tired, worn, and banged up his dads were when they had finally come home.

Shouta had packs of ice over his eyes for days after, and Hizashi had ‘talked’ in nothing but sign language to rest his throat while constantly sucking on throat lozenges. Hitoshi had basically resorted to throwing blankets over them wherever they passed out and making sure they were taking all the meds they had been told to.

The thing was, though, that Hitoshi didn’t see how all of that could have anything to do with getting a ‘little sister.’

Thinking about his response for a moment, and deciding the two looked a little too serious, Hitoshi asked ‘innocently,’ “I remember, but is that meant to be a distraction? Seriously, did one of you knock someone up or get a uterus thanks to a quirk or something?” The reactions were beautiful.

While Shouta’s cheeks flushed and he stared with wide eyes as if he had just been hit in the face, Hizashi made a noise that was very close to a shriek as his face grew to be the same red color as Shouta’s. “Aizawa-Yamada Shinsou Hitoshi you know very well that neither of those things have happened!”

“Yeah, I know,” Hitoshi laughed, shaking his head. “But it got you two to stop looking so serious, didn’t it?” The looks of frustration, annoyance, and amusement were wonderful, truly. “Okay, okay, what does that mission have to do with a little sister?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Hizashi admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. “And there are some parts we can’t tell you quite yet.” Ah, one of those kinds of missions, then.

“Thought you were good at long stories,” Hitoshi teased, grinning at Shouta’s laugh. “It is a day off, so why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“Nope, living room first,” Shouta said, standing up and collecting the bowls to put in the sink. “I am not sitting in those kitchen chairs for hours because someone doesn’t know when to shut their mouth.”

“There’s no need to talk about yourself like that, Shou.” Hizashi dodged something being thrown at him the same second Hitoshi snorted. His dads were something else, sometimes.

Still, they were eventually settled down in the living room, and the two did tell him why they were asking his opinion about a little sister.

Apparently, her name was Eri.

There were some parts of the story that were obviously missing or edited, but it didn’t take long for Hitoshi to realize that the past of the child named Eri was far, far worse than his past had ever been. While he had been afraid of his own quirk for years, the idea of having a quirk that someone would use for something like getting rid of quirks? He could only imagine how much she had suffered.

Add all of that with the fact she was in the hospital, alone, and had no home or family to be returned to? Well, it wasn’t much of a leap in logic.

“You want to adopt her.” Hitoshi didn’t bother to make it a question considering how their choice had been obvious before they even finished telling him the story.

“After we talk to you about it,” Shouta said, Hitoshi doing his best not to jump because that was… startling. It was their house, after all. “Tell us, honestly, how would you feel having a young child who needs special care in the house.”

“I…” Awkward was the immediate answer he wanted to give. While Hitoshi had been in houses with younger ‘siblings’ before, his interactions with them hadn’t really been great. In most cases the adults wouldn’t allow him to talk to them because of his quirk or, sometimes even worse, the kids would pick up on that hate and use him as a convenient scapegoat when they did something wrong.

Hitoshi tried not to hold it against them where they were young kids tossed into a system that didn’t really care about them, but, well. He had been happy when being adopted into a home with no other kids. He had been more than happy to stay an ‘only child’ too, but, well, Eri seemed like she needed a home more than he did.

“I think I feel a little weird about it, but I’m not against it,” Hitoshi finally said, knowing he wouldn’t just be able to say ‘yeah, sure!’ and get away with it.

“You can say no,” Shouta said softly. “We can find another home for her and other caretakers if this makes you uncomfortable, Hitoshi.”

Well, yeah it made him uncomfortable, but like hell was he going to say anything. This kid wouldn’t get better caretakers than Yamada Hizashi and Aizawa Shouta. “I know I can say no, but I don’t want to. A place like this… I think it’d be good for her. It was for me.” Aaand there was Hizashi’s happy wiggles and squeaks while Shouta tried to hide his smile and failed.

“Seriously, guys, I’m okay with it – I’ll even do my best to help her settle in and feel welcome. Give her a real childhood instead of the hell she got.” Even as the words left his mouth, though, Hitoshi felt a spike of anxiety.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t shoved the thought down because it was unlikely to the point of impossibility, but, well… one didn’t grow up in the system without that fear of being replaced by a child that was younger and cuter.

It was a cruel thought to accuse Shouta and Hizashi of being the types to do that, but Hitoshi had seen it in almost every home he had been in. Younger kids would come in and be adopted and the older foster children, those labeled in their files as problems, would be shuffled along to yet another house.

And it was stupid. It was stupid to think that his dads would ever do anything like that, but, well… he only had a couple more years until he was a legal adult. Eri already sounded like an adorable little girl the two loved. He doubted that they would just kick him out and get rid of him like that, but the fear that he only had a limited amount of time with them until he was an adult and forced to make another new life of his own… It wasn’t exactly a good feeling.

Those were worries for another time, though. As it was Eri was a young girl who had been deeply hurt and needed a safe, happy place to try and heal and discover who she was. She needed a place where she could learn to use her quirk and love her quirk - instead of hating it like she no doubt did and like Hitoshi sometimes still did.

He was definitely worried about the future, but, well… It was hard to be upset or scared when it came to someone who might as well have been his younger self.

He knew one thing, though. He was going to do his best to make sure this kid, Eri, felt safe.

⁂

Apparently, the hypothetical question about getting a little sister meant Hitoshi got a little sister the next day. He wasn’t exactly surprised since she had no doubt been ready to leave the hospital for a few days, but it would have been nice to have more than half a day’s warning. As it was, Hitoshi was half-watching Eri explore the house and nervously flit from room to room. He would have been fully watching her, but he was mostly distracted by the fact Midoriya and some upperclassmen named Mirio was there.

Mirio was acting like Eri’s shadow, jabbering on and reassuring her with every step she took, while Midoriya was getting closer and closer and here came the conversation he had been trying to avoid since seeing him. “Midoriya. No matter what delusions you seem to believe about yourself, you aren’t sneaky.”

“I guess you have a point,” he said before immediately striding across the room and standing right in front of Hitoshi. “So we’ll do it this way! Hi, Shinsou, how are you doing?” From the kitchen, Hitoshi swore he heard Shouta laughing.

Finally rolling his eyes, Hitoshi gave Midoriya a small smile. “I’m doing better, Midoriya.” It had been mostly an accident that Midoriya had found out that he was adopted by Shouta and Hizashi, but he was good at letting them have their privacy and not telling anyone. Plus, the kid was such a bundle of cheer and goodwill that Hitoshi knew he wouldn’t be getting rid of him. “Better, but… kind of worried.”

“Worried?” Instead of saying that there was nothing to worry about, Midoriya proved he actually had a brain unlike most of 1-A. “Are you worried about your quirk or hers?” Because they both knew, with Hitoshi, his worries would always stem from something quirk related.

“I’ll give you one hint,” Hitoshi snorted, keeping his voice down so his dads wouldn’t hear. Midoriya was trustworthy enough to keep his secrets when it came to quirk worries, at least. “I mean… She grew up being controlled and hurt and now she’s in a house with someone who can brainwash her? Won’t that bring up some pretty bad memories for her?”

Midoriya gave a soft hum, Hitoshi thankful it looked like he was giving it some serious thought instead of just rushing to reassure him. “Well,” he finally said, tone slow and thoughtful. “I won’t lie. She’s been through a lot, but I don’t think she’ll be scared of you – or your quirk.”

“Really?” Hitoshi snorted, crossing his arms and giving Midoriya a look. Just because he was weirdly trusting of everyone didn’t mean others were like that. “You don’t think the girl who’s been trapped and experimented on for most of her life won’t be afraid of a guy she’s never met with a quirk like mine?”

Midoriya sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck like he always did when trying to find the words he needed. “It’s not… It’s not that, it’s- Eri doesn’t know how to really show her emotions, yet, but she’s perceptive. I think she might be perceptive enough to figure out quick enough how you sometimes feel about your own quirk. And… kind of hard to hate a mirror image, right?”

Right. Hitoshi was going to have to kill Midoriya, soon, because apparently the kid was not only a mind reader, but was a ruthless mind reader. Wasn’t his quirk already powerful enough without giving him mind reading abilities or something? As it was, Hitoshi settled for scoffing and shaking his head, “I don’t need a therapist, thanks.”

Midoriya laughed, giving him a pat on the shoulder that Hitoshi decided not to swat away. He’d only be wasting his energy, after all. “Sorry, sorry, but don’t worry so much! She’ll love you, Shinsou, I’m positive about it.”

“You’re positive about everything,” Hitoshi finally said, giving Midoriya a light shove that the other only laughed brightly at.

It really wasn’t long, though, before both he and Mirio were leaving, Eri clinging and hiding to Shouta who was showing her around her new room. Hitoshi, lingering in the hallway and trying to decide if he should give the girl space or go greet her, had the choice taken from him when he felt Hizashi gently push him forward. “Shouldn’t we give her time to settle in before meeting even more people? That’d be the polite thing to do, right?”

His response was Hizashi giving a snort of laughter and a teasing, “Since when did you ever worry about being polite?” Mm. Well. “It’ll be okay, ‘Toshi. She’s been stealing looks at you all day. Even if she might be cautious, she is curious.”

Alright. Curious was something he could deal with, and, well, Hizashi probably had a point about introducing himself. At least then she would know who was in the house with her.

When they got to the room, Eri was poking at the soft blankets and pillows, Shouta watching her closely while also looking a mixture between fond and protective. It was a look Hitoshi remembered when he had first been given his own bedroom.

“Hey, Eri,” Hizashi greeted quietly, having made sure to hit the squeaky floorboard that would let Eri know he and Hitoshi were in the doorway behind her. It was interesting to see all the same moves the two had used on him now that he had an outside perspective to it. “There’s someone we want you to meet today. Is that alright?”

While Eri looked at him, Hitoshi took the moment to properly look at her. He had seen that she was small when she first came in, but next to Shouta and half-hiding behind him she looked so small. Her expression was utterly blank, but her posture was shy and tucked in and her eyes read wary hesitation that came from shattered trust, and, well… Those were things Hitoshi could understand all too well.

Thinking on the best way to introduce himself, Hitoshi waited until Eri nodded before he was sitting right down where he was in the doorway, Shouta and Hizashi, the nonbelievers, both giving him odd looks. Hitoshi only ignored them, giving Eri an even look and keeping his tone, expression, and everything else even and calm.

“Hello, Eri. My name is Shinsou Hitoshi and I live here just like you do, now.” If he had been this young when the pain was at its worst and he had been taken in like this, he knew how he would have wanted to be greeted.

Emotions were too loud, most times, and they were too much, and too many words said all at once just sounded like lies. He knew that from experience. Add in the fact that he was tall, had a dour appearance, and looked like a caricature of a villain most days? It would be best to get on her level or below it if possible. Let her feel like she had control, even if she knew she didn’t.

It seemed to work, Eri slowly peeking out more and more from behind Shouta before she was tightly gripping her dress and walking a few steps forward. She stared at him, expression blank and tone completely even as she managed a soft, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Honestly, Hitoshi could feel the pride radiating from his – their? – dads. He settled for giving a small, light smile. “It’s nice to meet you too, Eri.” Staying still, Hitoshi thought over his words for a moment. “I’m going to stand up now and go into my own room so you can explore yours more. You can come to my room anytime you need me, though.”

Hitoshi waited until Eri gave a firm nod before he was slowly and carefully standing himself up, making sure to only take steps back before he gave Eri a nod of his own and went to his room. He was waylaid by Hizashi giving him a tight hug, but soon enough he was in his own room with the door cracked as he listened to Eri settling in.

Collapsing on his bed, Hitoshi sighed as he stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the blank expression and the guarded eyes on a little girl who should have been smiling and laughing and screaming as she ran around a new house to explore. It really was like looking into a mirror, Hitoshi mused to himself. That really only left one thing to do, though, and that was to give everyone their space for the next few weeks.

He wouldn’t outright avoid anyone since his dads would just think he was falling back into old habits, but he would be careful to not make things worse for Eri. The last thing he wanted was to give her a reason to dislike him or, worse, make her transition into a difficult or scared one. So, he would just give her the space she needed to settle in and make sure to do the same for his dads.

After all, Shouta and Hizashi were going to be running around like crazy the next few weeks. Not only were they adopting another child, one who had been raised and abused by villains, but they were taking in a little girl. She would be harder to care for and look after than Hitoshi, who was already fifteen and old enough to look after himself.

So. That was that. He had met Eri, tried to make it so she wouldn’t have any reason to fear him, and he would keep making sure she had no reason to fear him.

Besides, how hard could it be? Hitoshi was a master of hiding in his room and avoiding people. If anything, the next week to weeks would be a relaxing vacation.

⁂

It would have been. It would have been a relaxing vacation if Hitoshi wasn’t stressed out and starting to drive himself crazy because, apparently, he used to be a master of hiding in his room and avoiding people. Now, however, was a bit of a different story and he was hating it.

To start with, he hadn’t realized just how much time he spent out of his bedroom and in the rest of the house. From eating breakfast in the kitchen to lazing about in the living room to hiding out in Shouta’s office to going to Hizashi’s office for homework help, Hitoshi was all over the house. Now, though, he was trying to avoid that.

Since Eri typically ate in the kitchen with Shouta and Hizashi so she could get used to eating meals with others, Hitoshi tried to either arrive late, early, or take his meal up to his room if he was ‘busy.’ Used to he would have just skipped a meal, but he knew if he did that Hizashi would track him down and force feed him — maybe. A lot of his attention was on Eri, these days- Which was good!

So, Hitoshi tried to avoid the kitchen as often as possible, which, okay, easy enough. He could do that. Except then he saw Eri in the living room with Shouta who was explaining cartoons to her, and, alright, he didn’t watch television that often anyways and he had a phone and a computer. He was perfectly alright avoiding the living room while Eri found her balance and Shouta explained cute cartoons with cats in them to her.

Just so he didn’t go stir crazy, though, he still kept up hiding-slash-lazing about in Shouta’s office. At least he did until half a week in when he had seen Eri sitting on a chair next to Shouta’s desk and quietly listening to him speak like Hitoshi typically did when they were both in the office. Which, again, it was good. That meant Eri was starting to open up so all of Hitoshi’s avoiding was working, obviously.

And while, yeah, he was forced – while he conceded – most of the house to Eri, he still had Hizsahi’s office to laze about in and the man to ask for homework help or some of their typical language lessons. At least he did until last night when he had found Eri sitting on Hitoshi’s desk and clumsily moving her hands and fingers as Hizashi started to teach her sign language.

And it was fine. It really was. Eri needed their support more than Hitoshi ever did, and he had been shown enough kindness by them. He didn’t need to be jealous and hoard their attention when Eri needed it far more than he did.

That meant he was trapped in his room for he wasn’t sure how long, but that was fine. He still had school and he could still leave the house and go visit other places and half of Class 1-A kidnapped him every other day to ‘bond’ anyways. Plus, he saw Shouta and Hizashi in the halls at school every day.

Everything was going good, and okay, and then that morning Hitoshi had accidentally entered the kitchen when Eri was in there and she had run. It hadn’t been the childish running of just wanting to go do something else, it had been her fearfully running from him.

Hitoshi, since then collapsed face first on his bed, had made a mental note to tell Midoriya he was a lying liar who was wrong when he next saw him at school. He was mentally drafting all the swears and insults he was going to use when he heard three knocks to his door, five seconds of silence, and then the soft sound of the door opening.

“You know, there are more comfortable ways to sleep.” Yep. Shouta. Alright, Hitoshi just had to handle this carefully because there was a fifty-fifty chance between Shouta prying into what was going on or just letting it drop.

“Jokes on you, I’m not asleep,” Hitoshi said back, words muffled by the pillow his face was crammed into. It didn’t last long before he felt the bed dip and his pillow taken away from him, face smooshing into the bed with a huff. “That was mean.”

“I’m a mean person,” Shouta replied, Hitoshi easily picturing the half-smirk on his face. “Now, do you want to confess or should I pry it out of you?”

Hitoshi managed a laugh, finally rolling onto his side and looking up to see Shouta sitting on the edge of the bed, close enough to touch but far enough away to give him his space. “And how many villains have you told that one to?”

“Depends on if they’re still awake after the first punch,” Shouta shrugged, smiling before he was gently pushing Hitoshi’s hair back, look falling into concern and yep. There it was. “What’s wrong, Hitoshi?”

“You know, I’m having flashbacks to the last time you thought I was having a meltdown or something,” Hitoshi said, giving Shouta a look and pleased when the man admitted defeat by looking away. “And, as far as I can remember, my ‘meltdown’ was because I was trying to surprise you for your birthday.”

Shouta tsked, looking back at him with narrowed eyes that were as threatening as their cats when their claws were stuck in something. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” No. He wasn’t.

Ready to roll back over and resume his sulking, Hitoshi paused as Shouta spoke softly and seriously, “‘Toshi… what’s going on?”

Right. Hitoshi couldn’t lie to Shouta, so he would just… have to admit to all of his convoluted reasoning about everything that was going on. That was easy. “I…” Okay. He should start with why he was not-avoiding-but-it-looked-like-avoiding Eri. “I’ve just been having a few social problems in school – not bullying, just… something.”

“Oh.” Shouta blinked at him, staring for a long moment before his eyes slightly widened. “Oh. Um, do you… want me to get Hizashi for you?” What? Why would he- Ah. Right. This was punishment for lying.

“No, no, no, it’s not- I mean-” Hitoshi fumbled with his words, and, hey, at least it made his story more believable, he guessed. “I’ve got a handle on it.” Which was true. He did have a handle on what was going on in his life. And he did have… social problems in school – as long as he counted Class 1-A trying to adopt him.

“If you’re sure,” Shouta sighed, ruffling his hair again and giving him one of those soft, supportive smiles. “You know you can come to me with any problem, ‘Toshi. I’ll always be there to listen or help you. Whatever you need.”

And, aha, wow. Hitoshi was not ready for the guilt that came from straight up lying to Shouta like that. He was used to lying to adults; he was so used to lying to adults it was the first thing he often did. Lying to Shouta, though? That… he wasn’t prepared to feel so guilty at that.

Hitoshi watched as Shouta pulled back, a tight feeling winding itself up in his chest before his hand snapped out to grab the man’s sleeve, and, shit. Shouta was already giving him a narrow-eyed look that was equal parts protective and concerned. Thankfully – blessedly – the universe decided to show mercy as Shouta was then distracted by his phone vibrating with the pattern that meant hero work.

It took a moment to let Shouta’s sleeve go, Hitoshi watching as he was given another look before Shouta was answering his phone with a sharp, “Eraserhead.” It was only a few seconds before Shouta was repeating a rather impressive swear before he was tilting the phone away with a soft, “Don’t let Hizashi know I said that one in front of you.”

Hizashi managed a quiet laugh, that tight feeling only getting worse as he watched Shouta stand, speaking a quick, “We’ll be there soon.” before he was hanging up and looking seriously at Hitoshi. “Mic and I both need to go downtown as emergency backup. I don’t know how long we’ll take, but the news should start reporting in the next ten or fifteen minutes from what I picked up.”

“Got it,” Hitoshi nodded, thankful it was a familiar enough routine he at least knew what to do instead of panicking. When Present Mic and-or Eraserhead were called in for battle, Hitoshi usually managed to find the news story and watch until things were resolved.

“Good, because you and I aren’t done talking.” Ugh. Great. Now Shouta was concerned. “You’ll also need to keep an eye on Eri,” he said, Hitoshi feeling his heart almost stop as he followed Shouta out of his bedroom. “She’s napping in her room, right now, but if she wakes up I don’t want her to be alone.”

“Ri- Right. Got it. I can do that,” Hitoshi managed, keeping his expression straight as Shouta shot a sharp look to him. “No worries. She might not even wake up before you get back, but I’ll be here if she does.”

It was a whirlwind of half-shouted words and movement before Hitoshi was waving the two of them off as they quickly left for downtown. Hitoshi was slow in closing the front door, leaning against it, and, right. He just had to watch the house and… Eri. The little girl who was his sister and apparently couldn’t stand being in the same room as him.

Right. Right! He could deal with that. Afterall, Shouta had said that she was taking a nap and, if she was anything like the rest of the family, that meant she was down for a few hours, at the least.

Which meant Hitoshi could handle a few hours until his – their – dads got back. That was the plan, at least. Just like with his last plan, however, it completely failed.

He had been planning to sit in the living room and watch the news to keep an eye on whatever fight Eraserhead and Present Mic had been called into, but instead he had barely sat down before he heard screaming.

His training kicked in before his instincts did, Hitoshi immediately dropping the television remote and instead grabbing his binding cloth from the hall closet and throwing it around his neck. He was sliding into Eri’s room with his senses on full alert, ready to pound whoever had broken in into the ground before he saw the situation for what it really was – and it was so much worse.

Instead of some robber or villain breaking in and trying to hurt Eri, the girl was sitting up in her bed and seemed to be scared and screaming over herself, curled up in bed with the covers tangled around her heavily breathing and crying form as her small hands clutched desperately at where her horn had grown.

The horn itself was starting to glow and spark wildly and, while Hitoshi didn’t know everything about her quirk Rewind, he knew enough to know that what was happening was not good. He also knew enough to know it would have been a great time for Shouta’s quirk, but instead they were left with Rewind and Brainwashing and fuck. So much for trying to make a good impression on Eri.

Making his way over to the bed and crouching down, Hitoshi tried not to shift uncomfortably or even just run away at the pure power pulsating through the air. It felt like pressure was pressing down on him from above and, as much as he wanted to flee to his own room and call their dads for help… Eri was crying. She was scared and looking at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“Eri?” Hitoshi finally tried, careful to keep his voice and tone low and even as he didn’t dare move. “Can you hear me? It’s Shinsou Hitoshi. Do you know where we are?” Instead of an answer or even so much as a shake or nod of the head, Eri only scrunched down more with renewed sobbing as her horn started to spark even more fiercely and- Okay. Alright. He was a hero (in training). He could handle this.

He couldn’t erase her quirk like Shouta could, but he could at least get Eri to stop using her quirk. She would hate him, but that was okay as long as she was soon safe, “Alright, Eri, I… I need you to answer me verbally, okay? It doesn’t matter what the answer is as long as you answer it. Alright?”

It was a tense minute of silence when the pressure in the room seemed to only grow, Hitoshi ready to try something else to try and get a response when Eri muttered a whisper-soft, “Okay.”

The second the word was out of her mouth and Hitoshi felt the open connection between them, he lunged for it, holding on tightly and watching as her eyes became glazed and blank as he took control. As much as he wanted to ramble off apologies and immediately release her, he had to try everything he could to help her – even if she would hate it.

“Calm down,” Hitoshi finally ordered, keeping his words even and calm. “Let go of your quirk and deactivate it as you take even, deep breaths in and out every five seconds.”

Hitoshi watched carefully, Eri’s powers slowly starting to settle as she took deep, even breaths with a still blank face. It was enough to make the guilt in him claw at his insides, but he promised himself that Eri could hate him all that he wanted once he was sure that she was safe.

“Good,” Hitoshi said softly, very carefully moving a hand to rest against her back, gently guiding her body back against the pillows before he was tucking the blanket around her. “Okay, next, I want you to remember that you are in a new home. It’s a nice home in a busy neighborhood filled with other children that are always running around and out playing.” He hadn’t been told everything, but he had been told enough to fill in some blanks.

“There’s always sunlight coming in through the windows and there are two cats that love sleeping in that sunlight. You have your own bedroom full of soft, warm things. Nothing in this house is hard or edged or makes you afraid. This is a house that, every time you enter it, you feel safe and protected; all because of the two people that live there.”

“Think about Shouta and Hizashi,” Hitoshi ordered, trying to keep his voice calm and warm at the same time and not show any of his worry or panic. “They helped you escape and now they want you to stay with them. They want to keep you.” Something in Eri seemed to respond to that, Hitoshi feeling through the connection he had on her that she seemed to calm down quickly. “You know that, too, right? They love you.

“So, remember that you’re in a sunny, warm, safe house with two dads who will do everything to protect you and that love you so very much. Remember that everyone in this house loves you and wants nothing more than for you to feel safe here. That we want nothing more than for you to be safe. Okay?”

It was slow – it was so slow – but Hitoshi finally saw Eri’s horn begin to shrink to its smallest size, Hitoshi near breathless as the pressure in the room started to disappear, everything calming down and jeez. If that’s what it was like having a kid with a crazy quirk, then Hitoshi was pretty sure he never wanted kids.

Finally, though, Eri’s tears trailed to a stop, Hitoshi really hoping that it was from her feeling better and not his mind control just trapping her in her panic. Letting that connection server, Hitoshi was sitting up, worry clawing at his insides, “Eri, I’m so sorry. I know my quirk probably brought back some bad memories, but I was trying to help-”

“Is that true?” Eri’s voice seemed to kill his in an instant, Hitoshi simply staring at her as she looked up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes. He had a feeling she wasn’t talking about him using his quirk on her.

“I…” Okay, he had no idea what she was talking about, he just had to keep calm and stay calm so as to not freak her out like he was freaked out. “Is what true, Eri?”

“If…” Eri trailed off, looking down and away from him before slowly, so slowly, looking back up with eyes full of emotions. “If everyone in this house loves me.”

Hitoshi was pretty used to being speechless the way his life had gone, but he couldn’t say he had ever been speechless as guilt and self-hatred ate at him because… that’s what she thought? Hitoshi had been trying to make her feel safer and instead he had made her think he hated her.

“I… You don’t think I love you like Dad and Pops do?” Hitoshi watched as Eri looked away from him and oh. Oh, he had really fucked up, hadn’t he? “Have you thought that this whole time? Ever since you got here?”

“No! I-!” Eri cut herself off, tears building up in her eyes and it was official. Hitoshi was a monster for making this little girl cry; a little girl who was meant to be his baby sister and needed the help he had needed at that age. “You- When we first met, the way you greeted me made me feel really, really safe. But then… you started avoiding every room I was in, so I thought you didn’t like me.”

Eri looked down at her lap, a few tears slipping own her cheeks as she continued in a softer voice, “I’ve been trying to keep out of your way, but I still made you come all the way into my room and deal with my quirk. I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble.”

Hitoshi let himself move before he could even think it through, scooping Eri and her blanket all into his arms before hugging the little girl tightly, hand settling on the back of her head as he held her close. Eri didn’t fidget or kick or struggle, merely sitting in his arms peacefully as if waiting for him to say something.

After what felt like a lifetime, Hitoshi managed to begin talking, “I haven’t been told everything about where you came from, but I know enough to know that you were controlled for a large part of your life. I wasn’t avoiding you because of your quirk, Eri, I was avoiding you because of mine. When I was your age my quirk was revealed to be Brainwashing. What you just felt? That’s what my quirk does. If I ask a question and get an answer, then I can control someone and tell them to do almost anything.”

Eri was silent for a long moment, finally pulling back to look at him properly, rubbing at her cheek to wipe away a few of her tears. “That sounds like a powerful quirk,” she finally said. “Like mine. It sounds scary at first, but it’s not, and it sounds like you can do a lot of good with it, though, like you did for me- Ah! You’re like Aizawa-san! You can neu- null- um, you can stop quirks and then help people that way.” Eri didn’t give quite a smile, but her eyes said so much. “Shinsou-san… You’re crying.”

Oh. He was. “Sorry,” Hitoshi managed, rubbing at his own cheeks and oh, man. He would happily die for this little girl. “Sorry, Eri, I just- A lot of people don’t think that way. When I was your age and growing up, others were actually scared of me because they thought my quirk could do a lot of harm.” There was a deep, sorrowful understanding in Eri’s eyes that shouldn’t belong there. A little girl shouldn’t understand so much.

“I was called a villain for most of my life,” Hitoshi near whispered, brushing hair out of Eri’s face. “I don’t know what it must have been like for you to go through so much, but I know what it is to suddenly feel like everything is too good to be true. I know what it’s like to suddenly be in a place where you can do the things you want, but you’re too scared because what if…”

“What if it’s actually not allowed,” Eri finished just as quietly, looking at him with wide eyes as something seemed to come to her. “You’re… like me.” Yeah. Hitoshi had a feeling she would have recognized that, too.

“I wasn’t avoiding you to make you feel bad.” Because she needed to understand at least that much. “I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t care. I was trying to give you space so you could adjust at your own pace without any fear and figure out who you really are and who you want to be in this family.”

Eri went quiet, Hitoshi simply holding her in his arms and letting her think over whatever she needed to. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Eri asked a near voiceless, “What if I want you to be my brother like I want Aizawa-san and Hizashi-san to be my parents?”

And, okay. Okay, Hitoshi could never again make fun of Hizashi always crying or being dramatic because Hitoshi had no control when he started crying and hugging Eri close because that was so sweet and this little girl had been hurt so much and had thought he hated her and she still wanted him in her life.

He held her close, half-laughing and half-crying, “I guess it’s a good thing I want you to be my sister, then, isn’t it?” Because he really, really did. It wasn’t just about pleasing Hizashi and Shouta or wanting to have a good relationship with a foster sibling, or anything else. Maybe a little bit was a part of that, but mostly…

Mostly he just wanted to help this scared child who had been through so much and deserved a home and a good family. Hitoshi didn’t want to see her turn out like him, bitter and jaded and scared and angry at the world. He wanted to see her learn how to smile more and more each day. He wanted her to be his sister.

“I’d like that,” Eri said back, voice watery and tearful as she latched onto the binding cloth still around his neck, near burrowing herself inside and okay, that was really, really cute, and, alright.

Hitoshi supposed he wouldn’t use all of his insults on Midoriya when he next went back to school.

⁂

When the door finally opened to show their dads walking in from another successful villain fight, Hitoshi was spread out on the couch and half-asleep, Eri already asleep on his chest, curled up right over where he was pretty sure his heartbeat was and still tangled up in his binding cloth and using it as a blanket and pillow in one. There was also a cat squashing his hair down and another trapping his legs. He was pretty sure he would never be able to leave the couch again.

The only thing that made him move at all was when he saw Hizashi open his mouth to give his usual loud greeting, Hitoshi reacting on pure sleepy instinct and throwing a pillow at the man’s face. The indignant look was great, as was Shouta’s sharp snort of laughter.

“Eri’s sleeping,” Hitoshi explained before Hizashi could complain, watching the both of them look surprised when they saw Eri on his chest quietly sleeping. “How’d the fight go?”

“As usual, they could have done it without us,” Shouta scoffed, kicking his boots off and keeping his voice quiet as he walked forward and knelt down to give Hitoshi a serious look. “Do we still need to talk?” Ah, right. That mess.

Ready to deny, Hitoshi paused. Now that everything was worked out with Eri, or at least starting to get worked out, he probably did need to talk about how he had basically preparing himself to be replaced. It wasn’t quite to the level as some other incidents he had gone through when learning to live with the two of them, but it probably was something he should talk about.

“Not… right this second, but I think we should probably talk soon,” Hitoshi finally said, hiding a smile at the gentle ruffle to his hair.

“And how’s the little princess,” Hizashi cooed, leaning over the back of the couch and running his fingers through Eri’s hair. It was too adorable to watch the little girl scrunch her nose up before blinking her eyes open. “Eri? Did you enjoy your nap?”

Eri was quiet for a moment, leaning into the soft touch cautiously before looking between their dads. “I had a nightmare for a while. My quirk acted up.” Ah, and there was the red alert panic on both their faces. “It’s okay, though. Hitoshi-nii used his quirk to save me and make me feel better. I’m okay, now.”

Hitoshi was ready to explain further about using his quirk before his brain completely shut down because she just- She had just- Eri had just- Hitoshi-nii. “Is that…” Eri looked shy, gently tugging on his binding cloth. “Is that alright if I call you that-”

“Yes. Absolutely.” Hitoshi squeezed his baby sister close and it was official. He was doomed. There was no more winning. He now understood why everyone was charmed by this little girl. “You can call me whatever you want.”

“Hitoshi-nii, huh?” Hizashi was grinning and Shouta was no better and oh, god, he was never going to live a life of peace again, was he?

“Daddy, Papa, I’m… hungry. When is dinner?” Eri barely finished her question before Hizashi was bursting into sobs and yelling something about how it wouldn’t be long, barely making it into the kitchen. Judging by the way Shouta scurried after him, he was just as emotionally broken. Eri, on her part, only looked up to Hitoshi and while her expression was even, her eyes screamed smug. “I don’t think they’ll tease you, now.”

Hitoshi was laughing before he could even stop it, hugging Eri tight and moving them around on the couch so she was safely nestled in his lap and facing the television, “Hey, how about we watch some cute shows until dinner is ready? Your pick since you just saved my life.”

“Okay,” Eri noded, crawling over him to get the remote before settling right back down. “Is it okay that I call them that?”

“Of course.” Hitoshi brushed her hair back, looking down into her eyes with a soft smile. “They’re your parents, after all.”

The small, soft smile was probably the most beautiful thing Hitoshi had ever seen.

#bnha #shinsou hitoshi #eri bnha #bnha eri #boku no hero academia #how it goes #original #my writing #adopted shinsou hitoshi #mha #my hero academia

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beevean · 4 years

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逆転裁判　逆転姉妹 Part 5 (開廷 1)

This part goes from April May giving her first testimony to the end of the trial. Here’s the first part of the trial, and here’s the first part of the entire case.

Sorry if this post is a little longer than others, but I managed to find very interesting things :D

1) Small difference. If you keep pressing April on her first statement Edgeworth will eventually come in and say to Phoenix “Mr. Wright! I will not have you badgering my witness!”. In Japanese he’s more insulting, saying “Defense! I want you to stop this despicable/cowardly conduct!” (“弁護人！卑劣な行為はやめてもらいたい！”)

2) I vaguely referenced it in previous posts, but now I can confirm: April is more “kawaii desu ne” in the Japanese version (for example she talks in third person, elongates vowels at the end, and sometimes uses childish words), and only slightly sexual, while in the English version it’s flipped and she’s much more sexually charged - a small example is how they replaced stars ★ with *wink*. It makes sense considering the different values in the two cultures - in Japan cuteness more appealing than sexiness, and it’s the other way around in the West. The English version put a lot more jokes regarding her, for example her being called “a big far liar” and taking offense only to being called “fat”.

3) Instead of asking “which hand do I hold my knife with”, April asks which hand does she hold chopsticks in. Of course :P

4) Another small difference that I liked. In English, Phoenix says, in response to the Judge asking him to withdraw his question, “But questions are all I have!”, while in Japanese he says “This method is my weapon!”. I like both versions, the English one flows better while the Japanese one highlights how asking questions is Phoenix’s most important asset in the courtroom.

5) If you mistakenly say that April couldn’t have heard the clock from the hotel, in English Edgeworth says “Without [proof], you have nothing. You ARE nothing.” In Japanese he doesn’t insult Phoenix at all, besides calling him rookie. (I guess it’s to compensate for calling him despicable earlier)

6) When Phoenix reveals Maya’s cellphone in court, and Edgeworth gets furious and mutters that he will cut Gumshoe’s salary for his incompetence, Phoenix thinks to himself “My heart goes out to you, Edgeworth. Not.” In Japanese, he simply says “Oh dear, poor thing” (“おやおや、かわいそうに...”), which might be about Gumshoe himself? It’s another case of the English version taking an ambiguous like and translating it to paint Phoenix as more antagonistic towards Edgeworth.

7) This has just been bothering me: the last time April snaps on the stand, she says “Shut up, all of you! What gives you the right to talk to ME like that! You... you LAWYER!”. In Japanese, at the end she says “このタコがぁ！” and... for the life of me I can’t understand the meaning. Does タコ here stand for “octopus”? “Kite”? “Callus”? What slang am I missing??

8) This one threw me for a loop. The GBA version of the game lacks a lot of dialogue compared to the DS port - and therefore the English version - after you ask April if she is the killer or why did she use the wiretap.

if you choose the first option, as soon as Phoenix asks if she did it, April says that at the time of the incident she was getting room service and they can try asking the bellboy, the Judge asks for Phoenix’s next course of action, and then you have to choose whether you want to call the bellboy or keep cross-examining April.

if you choose the second option, the dialogue immediately jumps from the Judge saying “While this court does not condone the defense's tone of speech, he has a point. Well, Miss May? Do you have an explanation for the court?” to April explaining her alibi like above.

In the DS version, there are extra tidbits like April insulting Phoenix, her accidentally revealing she used the wiretap, her guessing what Phoenix was thinking about her and swearing she can prove her innocence, or her saying that she asked for iced coffee and then explaining what it is (plus a bit of a joke where Phoenix repeats in hiragana the English nouns April says in katanaka, because I guess in Japan back in 2001 iced coffee wasn’t well know yet).

This surprised me because up to this point, there haven’t been significant differences in structure! Especially not between GBA and DS! I wonder why they felt the need to do this, and how much they re-wrote the script for the DS port.

8) The infamous “Objection! That was... objectionable!” is in Japanese “Objection! I raise an objection right away!”, with the Judge replying “Objection overruled right away”. とりあえず can mean “right away”, “for the time being”, “first of all” or “at once”, and every one of these options make Edgeworth sound delightfully awkward

9) At the very end of the trial, Edgeworth, instead of saying “T-these accusations are... ludicrous!” (because Phoenix just rubbed in his face how he manipulated the bellboy’s testimony), says “I cannot believe this”, which can either mean “I cannot believe these accusations” or, as I think, “I cannot believe I’ve been upstaged by this amateur”, which would mean that at least my boy is honest with his dishonesty. He also stops calling Phoenix キミ and uses キサマ, because he hasn’t been rude enough apparently.

Enjoy you boob-bouncing nightmares.

襲う　（おそう）　to attack

ちっちゃい　tiny, person with poor character

攻撃　（こうげき）　attack, assault

止め　（とどめ）　finishing blow

ぐったり　 limply, listlessly

それだけ　 no more than that. that is all

疑問　（ぎもん）　doubt, suspicion

ほぼ　almost

弟子　（でし）　pupil, apprentice

粗　（あら）　 flaw, fault, defect

卑怯　（ひきょう）　coward

どうやら　 possibly, apparently

弱点　（じゃくてん）　weak point

何気ない　（なにげない）　 casual, unconcerned, nonchalant

逸らかす　（はぐらかす）　to dodge

探りを入れる　（さぐりをいれる）　to probe, to investigate

突っ込む　（つっこむ）　 to delve into (a matter), to press (someone) about

きっかけ　 excuse, motive

卑劣　（ひれつ）　 mean, foul, cowardly

行為　（こうい）　act

すらっと　slender, slim

体型　（たいけい）　figure, body shape

完全に　（かんぜん）　completely, perfectly

ありえない　impossible, improbable

先ほど　（さきほど）　a short while ago

しかたない　it’s no use

反省　（はんせい）　 regret, remorse

参る　（まいる）　 to be defeated

いけない　 wrong, must not do

とってつけたよう　 out of place, forced, faked

取り上げる　（とりあげる）　to pick up

しんみり　quiet, solemn

遂に　（ついに）　finally, at last

尻尾を掴む　（しっぽをつかむ）　 to have something on someone, to catch someone out (lit.: to catch the tail)

教え込む　（おしえこむ）　to train to, to give an idea to

口走る　（くちばしる）　to blurt out

目くらまし　（めくらまし）　distraction, deceptive means

却下　（きゃっか）　rejection, dismissal

意義　（いぎ）　objection

納得する　（なっとく）　to agree, to consent

新人　（しんじん）　rookie

直接関係　（ちょくせつかんけい）　direct relation

切り替える　（きりかえる）　 to change, to exchange

空っぽ　（からっぽ）　empty, hollow

嘘つき　（うそつき）　liar

楽しませる　（たのしませる）　to amuse, to delight, to entertain

抜き取る　（ぬきとる）　to pull out

何やら　（なにやら）　some kind of

見落とす　（みおとす）　to overlook, to fail to notice

ぶつぶつ　grumble, complaint, mutter

筋が通る　（すじがとおる）　to make sense

保険する　（ほけん）　to safekeep, to keep in custody

どうだっていい　 not worth worrying about, trivial

とっとと　 at once, right away

死刑　（しけい）　death penalty

冷静　（れいせい）　 calmness, composure

マジ切れ　（まじぎれ）　being truly angry

傑作　（けっさく）　masterpiece, funny mistake

大失敗　（だいしっぱい）　massive failure

話にならない　（はなしにならない）　 not worth considering, out of the question

ごく　quite

要求する　（ようきゅう）　to demand

気安い　（きやすい）　relaxed, familiar

話しかける　（はなしかける）　to address someone

素顔　（すがお）　real face, face with no make-up

止めを刺す　（とどめをさす）　 to finish off, to deliver the coup de grace

無関係　（むかんけい）　unrelated

物凄い　（ものすごい）　extreme, incredible

寒い　（さむい）　 uninteresting, lame, dull

条件　（じょうけん）　condition, term

飲む　（のむ）　to accept a condition

崩す　（くずす） to destroy, to demolish

��料　（ざいりょう）　material, evidence

自動的　（じどうてき）　automatic

いかにも　indeed

招待　（しょうたい）　invitation

畏まる　（かしこまる）　to obey respectfully

きっかり　precisely, punctually

お仕舞い　（おしまい）　the end, being done for

管理　（かんり）　management (of a business)

気取る　（きどる）　 to affect, to act like (something one isn’t)

目を付ける　（めをつける）　to have an eye on, to zero in on

念を押す　（ねんをおす）　to make sure of, to emphasize

接吻　（せっぷん）　kiss

ホの字　（ほのじ）　the L-word*

印象付ける　（いんしょうづける）　to impress someone, to leave an impression

ご苦労様　（ごくろうさま）　I appreciate your efforts

食い下がる　（くいさがる）　 to refuse to back down, to persist

時点　（じてん）　point in time

言い分　（いいぶん）　one’s point, objection, excuse

痺れる　（しびれる）　 to become numb, to get an electric shock, to be mesmerized

取っ捕まる　（とつかまる）　to be caught

いい気味　（いいきみ）　 serves you right, it’s what you deserve

* basically the bellboy says that April might have given him a kiss because of “the L-word”, too shy to admit he thought she fell in love with him.

#ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #逆転裁判 #japanese #単語 #beev plays gyakuten saiban #i'm starting to get used to the boppy rudimentary objection theme #but only because it slaps regardless of anything #also i find april's transformation creepier than it should be #that snarl would be very hard to reproduce in a 3d game #but now that i know that there are differences between the gba and the ds version i'm afraid i'm going to miss stuff

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mx-ishikawa · 4 years

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Pieces of Us (1): Special

Hey there! more fanfiction from me, this time for The LEGO Movie! it was long overdue, but better late than never lmao. this franchise means so much to me, and I've been wanting to write out how my self-insert fits into the story for the longest time, but I wasn't sure how to do it. so I decided to break it up into snippets! this is the first, taking place during the speech scene in Cloud Cuckooland. after this, we'll start getting into the events of the second movie (and yes, Rex will eventually show up), but for now, here's the first meeting with Emmet!

I had never seen anything like it in all my life.

Cloud Cuckooland, filled to the brim with Master Builders from every realm, more excited than they had been in years. Joyous shouts of “The Piece of Resistance has been found!” echoed over and over. And I stood in the middle of all the celebration, completely bewildered.

“I’ll be damned,” I breathed. “She actually did it.”

When I first heard the news, I assumed Wyldstyle had found the Piece. After all, she was determined to become the Special, and had just left for Bricksburg, the last place in which the Piece was searched for as it was the riskiest, the day before. And now it had been found, who else could’ve done it? I was relieved that she didn’t get arrested, and looked forward to whatever plan she had in store to stop Lord Business.

I discreetly made my way into the Dog, trying not to be noticed by the Master Builders. Even though Cloud Cuckooland claimed not to have any rules, I wasn’t sure if I’d get in trouble for being at a Master Builder meeting when I wasn’t actually a Master Builder myself. Despite my dad being a skilled Master Builder, I never could pick up the talent. I think the biggest reason is because a lot of Master Building involved clearing your mind to focus, and Man Upstairs knows I was never able to do THAT. If I can’t even turn my brain off long enough to fall asleep at night within a reasonable amount of time, how the hell was I supposed to do it to learn an entire skill? But that didn’t stop me from trying, as I continued to train whenever I could, which was hard when you risked capture by Lord Business.

I picked a spot at the edge of the stands, sitting down in front of them and making myself as small as I could. I spotted my dad seated more obviously in the crowd, keeping mostly to himself as I did. I pulled out my sketchbook and began to doodle as I waited for the wizard Vitruvius to arrive with the Special. I looked around the Dog once more, and it was sad how few Master Builders were left uncaptured. I only hoped that the rest of them, led by Wyldstyle, would be able to free everyone.

In many ways, I was jealous of Wyldstyle. She was so much cooler, smarter, tougher, stronger, and more attractive than I could ever hope to be. If anyone was fit to lead the Master Builders, it was her. It was no wonder she managed to get Batman of all people as a boyfriend. But my jealousy only gave me more reason to admire her, rather than hate her. No, I could never hate her, she’s done far too much for me. Though I couldn’t help but wish I could even begin to compare to her. Hell, wishing was all I could do.

I was soon snapped out of my thoughts when Vitruvius made his way to the stand and addressed the crowd. Behind him, I saw Wyldstyle, Batman, Princess Unikitty, and an average-looking construction worker. Where had he come from? I didn’t recall seeing him at any previous Master Builder gatherings. He was looking around in innocent wonder, so he had probably never been in here before. He was then jolted out of his daze as Vitruvius spoke the words that many Master Builders had been waiting to hear for the past eight and a half years.

“The Special has arisen.”

Gasps and whispers were tossed back and forth as the news of the Special was officially announced, and I was shocked to see that all eyes were not on Wyldstyle, but the construction worker. He found the Piece? I couldn’t believe it wasn’t Wyldstyle. He looked up at everyone and appeared nervous, shifting his wide eyes a bit.

After a brief tiff with Gandalf and Dumbledore, Vitruvius spoke once more. “The Special will now give an eloquent speech.” He moved out of the way to make room for the construction worker. He was hesitant to step forward. I noticed how unsure he looked. He looked down at his feet, messing with his hands a bit, before looking back up at the crowd. He just seemed so shy. Perhaps that’s what first drew me to him, as I had always found shy guys to be adorable. Vitruvius poked in one more time, probably to reassure the Special, who then finally stepped forward rather cautiously. It was unusually silent as he made his way to the stand. I could hear the echoes of his footsteps and small grunts as he made it up to the stand. His chest heaved as he braced himself to speak.

“Hello!” he finally spoke, raising his hand in a wave. He began to rock back and forth on his heels a bit. “I’m Emmet.”

Emmet, huh? That name was kinda cute. He was kinda cute. A small smile crept its way onto my face.

“Oh, and this is the Piece of Resistance.” Everyone cheered as Emmet turned around to reveal the Piece of Resistance, stuck to his back! I was silent for a moment, wondering how that happened, before joining in on the cheering and clapping. Emmet looked around in amazement, as if he hadn’t expected so much praise. “Thank you…” And then, his nervousness seemed to fade away. “Well, uhhhh, I know that I, for one, am very excited, to work with you guys! To get into the Octan tower, find the Kragle, and put this thing on the thing! And I know it’s going to be really hard, but—”

His speech was cut short when the sound of clanking metal suddenly filled the room. It was Metalbeard. Oh boy, he was probably here to tell the story of how he tried to sabotage Octan and ended up losing his body again, wasn’t he? As it turned out, he did just that, leaving Emmet in a state of mild distress. I tuned out most of Metalbeard’s story, having heard it multiple times before, and focused on Emmet. I had noticed how much more confident he had suddenly appeared right before he was interrupted, and just how expressive he was. But now he was recoiling, presumably wary of Metalbeard’s hulking stature.

“So if ye think it be a good idea to return to that forsaken place, Special,” Metalbeard finished, “what idea have ye that be better than the ideas of one hundred of our fallen Master Builder brothers?”

Emmet shuffled, struggling to find the answer. “Uhh… well technically, I’m not a Master Builder yet, but—”

“WHAT?!” Metalbeard cried. The crowd fell into chaos, and my own mouth hung agape. He wasn’t a Master Builder? But I was sure that only a Master Builder could be the Special! Heck, I could’ve tried to become the Special! Not that I would be a good fit for that role. I didn’t have adequate leadership skills. I was snapped from my daze when Emmet spoke again.

“Please, everyone, please!” he tried to calm everyone down. Something was thrown at him, but he dodged it. “Yes, it’s true.” His face took on a rather sad expression as he continued. “I may not be a Master Builder. I may not have a lot of experience fighting, or leading, or coming up with plans. Or having ideas in general. In fact, I’m not all that smart. And I’m not what you’d call a creative type. Plus, generally unskilled. Also, scared, and cowardly.” I was amazed at how strong Emmet’s voice was as he made all these self-depreciative claims. If he really was everything he said he was, then at least he had the balls to admit it. “I know what you’re thinking: he is the least qualified person in the world to lead us!” He paused for a minute, giving the crowd an unfittingly cheerful grin. “And you are right!”

The crowd fell into whispers and gasps once more, but they weren’t hopeful this time. “This is supposed to make us feel better?” the Gill-Man hissed as the other Master Builders began throwing things at Emmet.

“Well, there was about to be a ‘but’—”

“You’re a butt!” Gandalf sneered. A sick feeling rose in my chest as the crowd became increasingly angry, some even walking out. This isn’t right! He might not be a Master Builder, but he did find the Piece! Qualified or not, at least give him a chance! Was I really the only one who admired Emmet’s honestly and hopefulness in his speech?

“Why is everyone leaving?” Emmet cried, dodging everything thrown at him. “Come on, guys! We can still do this! Right?”

The knot in my stomach grew. I saw Batman whispering something to Wyldstyle, who appeared unsure of this mess herself. Any trace of hope was drained from Emmet as his brows knitted together. He looked like he was about to cry. I heard the word “disappointment” from somewhere in the crowd, and that was when Emmet finally turned and trudged away, shoulders slumped in shame.

That’s. It.

I wanted to punch every Master Builder left in this room! I wanted to shout for everyone to stop and call them out for their harshness! What did Emmet do to be so cruelly rejected?! But I didn’t dare open my mouth. Instead, I made my way over to the shunned Special, making sure to tread lightly and avoid tossed objects. I had no idea what I was doing, but I had to do something.

“Hey,” I began when I was close enough to Emmet. He looked up at me in surprise, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“I uhh… I have faith in you.”

“Really?” Emmet gasped.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not a Master Builder either, nor am I smart or skilled, but I’m also not as hopeful as you are, so… I think you’ll do good. Sorry everyone’s being a bunch of jerks.”

Emmet made a small, sad chuckle. I wanted to hug him so badly. “It’s alright. At least it can’t get any worse.”

That’s when I heard the sound of a giant orb crashing through the roof.

#my writing #self ship #the lego movie #self shipping #emmet brickowski #self shipping community #f/o: Emmet #everything is awesome with you #Pieces of Us

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homogrimoire-archive · 3 years

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The Remnant Branches

CH. 2 - Vile Toxic Intent

Part 1: Wanna Start A Massacre?

Tyrian arrives in a place known as The Aerie. He meets a like-minded individual, and begins his journey to appease his Queen across worlds.

AO3 Link

Tyrian woke up, seeing nothing but a cliff in the distance. As he got up, he noticed that he was at the edge of a cliff, which brought a chuckle out of him. One feels most alive when closest to death. Looking around, there were no noticeable features, nothing that would help him in his search. He knew that he should be near some inhabited structure, so he looked over the cliff’s edge.

“Biiiiinnnggoooooo!” he exclaimed when he saw structures built into the cliff faces. Began to run along the cliff’s edge towards the settlement. He hoped they wouldn’t cooperate with him. People who easily cooperated were never any fun to him. Once he was above a platform, he jumped off the cliff’s edge and dug his weapon into the cliffside as he fell down. He landed with a solid thump on the walkway.

The place was windy and cold, and very drab. If the place didn’t look so neat, he would think it was abandoned. Faint whispers almost masked by the wind told him this place definitely had life. He walked over to a nearby house, making sure every one of his footsteps was heard. He had a feeling the people here would be more terrified of a lack of silence. He knocked, one, two, on the door.

“Who’s there? What do you want?” the quivering voice asked.

“Oh, I am but a siiiimple traveler, looking to expand his knowledge of the magics. Would you happen to know where I would be able to do that?” Tyrian questioned as he leaned in closer towards the door.

“Umm, I- I don’t know man. I hardly ever l-leav-ve my home.”

“Oh that’s a shame. A reeeal shame. How about,” he started as he began to tap the end of his stinger against the door, “we take a little walk. Together. I can show you all sorts of things the world has to offer. Soo many things.” Tyrian could practically feel the man trembling through the door. What he wouldn’t give to see the stranger’s face.

“No! N-no. I’m alright. Maybe ask- ask our chief. He lives in the highest building. He- he might know something.” Tyrian removed his stinger from the door, ending the tapping, and thanked the person. Looking around, he easily found the building. Getting to it would be another matter. The place was a maze of walkways, platforms, and bridges. He realized that this place is what was referred to as The Aerie. A town full of cowardly recluses. Tyrian imagined how he could tear this place to shreds, but knew he had orders to fulfill first.

Instead of trying to navigate the place, he made his way to a walkway directly beneath the chief’s house, and began to scale the cliff face by digging his weapons into the rock. It took more time than he liked, but knew the alternative would have taken more time. Besides he could imagine the man quaking as he heard something unknown climbing the cliff towards his house. With a flip, he landed onto the walkway. With loud footsteps, he walked towards the door, and knocked, one, two, three.

“Go away! You’re not wanted here!” the voice yelled.

“Now, is that any way to treat a weary traveler?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Yes. Now go away!”

“But I’m soo tired.” Won't you at least let me rest here? I can show you my wonderful weapons as payment. They slice through my enemies so beautifully. Or maybe, perhaps, you can tell me about magic. Hearing about it would put my soul at such ease.”

“Go visit that monster in the mines at the entrance. You’ll get what you want there. Begone with you now!”

“Thank you! I’ll be sure to repay your kindness.” He replied with a malicious smile. Now where the fuck is the entrance at? … There! Not too far away was the entrance to What looked to be a cave. From a higher vantage, he could see the path he would have to take. Salem’s reports had no mention of a girl living there. He figured that time had passed since. As he walked with heavy footsteps, he thought about how the place is perfect for a massacre. The dull surroundings stained with bright red blood would be a beautiful sight.

Years later, some traveler would wander in to find the place full of death, only able to wonder what transpired, and what sort of monster could do such a thing. It brought a smile to his face. Once he reached the cave, he kept on the lookout for the monster. He imagined some hulking, shadowy beast with magic emanating from it. To his left, he saw an opening. In it, sunlight entered, feeding a layer of grass. There is also a small hut with a lone woman resting in the light.

“Rise and shine, Sunshine.” Tyrian whispered in her ear in attempts to scare her awake

“Shut up Tyrann. Can’t you see I’m trying to fucking sleep.” she said groggily turning in her bed. Wasn’t me. You’ve gotta visitor Sunshine. Kaine was all too awake now, and all too aware of the all too familiar, but distinctly separate presence nearby. Quickly, she turned in her bed to bring down a slash of her sword. It was swiftly dodged with maniacal laughter.

“Is that any way to treat a guest, Sunshine? And the name’s Tyrian. Not Tyrann.” he said, balancing on his tail.

“I don’t give a shit. Now get lost or I’ll take your tail, cut it into a million pieces and shove it down your throat.” she shouted, unleashing an intimidating wave of magic. That’s it Sunshine! There’s the hate I like to see! Show this bitch what happens when you look like the thing that killed your granny! Remember that hate!

“Perfect .” Tyrian said deviously as he unsheathed his weapons. He rushed towards her, firing as he ran. However, the bullets were all blocked by a magical barrier. When he was open, she unleashed a wave of energy that he barely dodged. Now they were in close quarters. She was quick, but Tyrian was quicker, though just barely. It was a thrill! Their weapons clashed, grinding against each other.

“Once I’m done with you, I’ll destroy that little village over there! Every single one of them will scream in agony as I rip them to shreds piece by piece!”

“They can rot in hell for all I care. And you can too shit hole!” With immense power, she sent him flying back, knocking him against a wall and causing him to fall to the ground on his stomach. Before he could even react, she rushed towards him. She stabbed one hand with her right sword and pinned the other down with a foot, causing Tyrian to curse in pain. She removed the sword and stomped on the wounded hand, inciting even more yelps of pain. Tyrian tied to attack with his tail, but it was caught with a single hand.

“I heard you like the sounds of screaming. Well I hope you like your screams too!” she brought down her left sword to cut the tail off, but was stopped just before it could connect. Change of plans Sunshine. This hate is nice and all, but. I'm gonna go have some REAL fun. “HEY! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING YOU ROTTEN PIECE OF-”

Darkness swirled around her, and Tyrian could feel the pressure being lifted off his hands. The dark mist moved to the center of the clearing. It began to solidify, and Tyrian could make out the shape of the woman. From the ground, it rose up revealing a shade in Kaine’s form. Tyrian picked himself up as it walked to him. It held out a hand, to which Tyrian refused. It rolled its head, and pointed to the wounded hand. He didn’t have any other choice really, so he held out his hand to the thing. He felt a wave of energy pass through him, sending shivers through him. When he pulled his hand back, it was miraculously healed.

“So, you’re Tyrann?” he asked, still wary.

“Of course I am! And you must be Tyrian.” spoke a voice sharp and rough like glass scrubbed with tough sandpaper. “Tyrann and Tyrian… I think we're gonna do great things together.” Tyrann would have been smiling wickedly if he could. Tyrian recognized that tone. It was then that Tyrian knew he was in the presence of a kindred spirit.

“How about we start with a little massacre? I’ve been dying to end that village the moment I saw it.”

“Now you’re speaking my language! Hey, lets spare a few so they can live to tell the tale! Imagine how much fear will be passed down from generation to generation! Imagine how much hate will be born!” Tyrann could feel the energy within him about to burst. This was the most excited he had been in a long time.

“You’re right, my friend! We are going to do great things together!”

“That day, their maniacal laughter and the screams of family and neighbors was the last thing many people heard. The last things many of them saw are best not described. Though if you want that description, please refer to the Gestalt timeline, branch REMNANT, sub-branch TYR. Hmm. I’ll be sure to keep a close eye on this sub-branch. The threat of The Flower is miniscule in the Gestalt-Replicant Timelines, but still present. And with a Remnant interloper like this, who knows what the chances really are. Further reports will be incoming shortly. Accord signing off.”

“Hmph. Another massacre. Y’know, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen people from different universes get along, but these two… These two get along too well. With their sadistic tendencies, that isn’t a good thing. They only fuel each other’s love for killing. I know our primary function is to record, but there are times when we have to intervene. This may be one of them.”

“Ahhhh. That was the most fun I had since yesterday.” Tyrann let out as they walked, clothes drenched in blood. He and Tyrian had just run into a group of shades hiding in an abandoned building. He learned a lot from that slaughter, and knew his queen would be pleasantly pleased at the knowledge he gained. Tyrann found shade’s screams to be delightful. He particularly loved how they pleaded to be spared. He was so grateful he could understand them, and found that killing with a like-minded friend to be such fun. He thanked his goddess that she had given him such a joyous opportunity.

“And unI alfortunately, it’ll be a while before we get to kill anymore of them. Aren’t many shades where we’re going.” Tyrann sighed sadly. “Only just some old machines.”

“Bummer.” Tyrian replied, sharing the other murderer’s lack of enthusiasm. “Where are we going anyways?”

“Some place where you can find the information your queen wants, and where I can see about making a replicant for me.”

“Replicant? Tell me more.”

“Eh.” Tyrann said with a shrug. “I guess I can give you a basic rundown of it all.”

“I’ve been running the schematics, and there is a high chance one of them will die at the facility. Machines, androids, betrayal, stray meteor, uhh, what else… oh, yeah, or tripping and falling down a flight of stairs. Personally, my money is on betrayal, but who knows. However, if it comes to that, intervention will be necessary in the event that Tyrann’s death is the outcome. If he dies, so does Kainé, and she is too important to these timelines to die so soon.”

#Tyrian Callows #RWBY #Tyrann (NieR)#NieR #The Remnant Branches #Vile Toxic Intent #Tyrann & Tyrian was a highlight of writing this series for me #2k words

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joyfullynervouscreator · 7 years

Text

Guard-Recruit

Imagine Dwalin hurting your feelings and, when you run away, he chases after you, growing extremely worried when he hears the sounds of orcs and wargs in that direction.

word count 2300

“It’s no a verra good edge, lass,” Dwalin says, inspecting your effort at sharpening the axe you’ve been assigned for weapons practise today. You give him a sunny smile, though your grey eyes remain stormy.

“Yes, Master Dwalin,” you sigh, returning to your task. It might not be a good edge, but it’s not as bad as Hargo’s for example, you want to complain, but you’ve long-since learned that it’s better to keep your head down if you don’t want the other recruits to punish you for it later. There’s a hierarchy in warrior-training, and you’re pretty much at the bottom. It’s not that you’re a bad fighter, really, you’re not the best, of course, but who could expect to beat out Prince Fíli who has been training since birth? You’ve only been in Ered Luin for a year, after all, born on the surface to parents who are now dead and left with no proper kin to welcome you.

Joining the Guard was an attempt to make friends, to find a place here in Thorinuldûm, but you’re beginning to think it was a bad choice. Unfortunately, your Craft is music, and you can’t make a living singing in taverns these days – though you can earn a nice little bonus. Staring glumly at the axe, you wonder what he’ll remark tomorrow. Yesterday, your stance was bad – meaning Dwalin moved your left foot about a centimetre. The day before that, you were unfocused – meaning Dwalin attacked you without warning when you were headed for the water barrel and you barely got your sword up to block his axe. Tomorrow, you’ll probably go the wrong way on patrol, or maybe you’ll forget to tie your boots, or shine your shield. There’s always something with Dwalin as your instructor, and frankly, it’s beginning to wear you down. You’re well aware that the old nobles from Erebor look down on those born under the sky, but you’d spent so much time and energy on simply getting here that it seemed cowardly to give up and become a wandering tinkerer like your parents had been. Instead, you’d found a small house, no more than a bedroom and a kitchen, but it was yours and it even had space for a few potted plants which meant your food was always tasty. Being surface-born wasn’t all bad, you thought, having learned many things about herbs and hunting over the years, and more than able to survive in the Wilds. It was company you’d missed, once Adad had passed to the Halls to follow your Amad, but you hadn’t really found what you’d missed here, in this place. Dwalin’s comments weren’t the worst, not really, though that wasn’t saying much.

“Hold your sword higher, Recruit Arnfrith,” Dwalin barked, demonstrating the proper technique by stepping behind you and moving your arms like you were a doll. Compared to his bulk, you might as well be. For a second, you wondered what Dwalin’s hugs might be like. Humiliation burned in your cheeks. The dwarf opposite you grinned, mouthing the word surfacer at you with a head-shake.

“Recruit Arnfrith, remain,” Dwalin commanded, when practice was finally over and all you wanted was to cool down and forget about this whole day. Your instructor had been relentlessly picking at your flaws, and you really didn’t want another lecture about your inadequacy right now.

“Yes, sir,” you held back the sigh, as the training grounds emptied, watching enviously as those released poured cool water from the barrel down their parched throats.

Later, you didn’t even remember what Dwalin had actually said, hearing nothing but the blood rushing in your ears as you stared at his frown. You did remember that you’d thrown down your sword – it belonged to the Guard – and your helmet at his feet with a snarl.

“I quit!” you’d snarled, turning on your foot and striding away from the stupid Dwarf and his stupid comments. You couldn’t see where you were going for the tears that began pressing in your eyes and you broke into a run, thinking of nothing other than getting away.

“Arnfrith!” Dwalin called behind you, but you were a much faster runner than the warrior and you’d soon left him behind. You had also left anything familiar behind along with him, of course, though you didn’t notice that until you found yourself walking straight off the edge of a small cliff, sliding down the steep slope of the riverbank. You didn’t think you’d been here before, the tall trees blocking out much of the sun’s light. Pulling off your boots, you splashed your feet in the icy mountain stream, enjoying the coolness. Convinced you were alone, you stripped off the rest of your sweaty gear, jumping into the small stream with a cry of equal parts delight and freezing. Letting the water soak the sweat from your hair and skin, you floated in the last rays of the sun. when the golden orb sunk behind the trees, you got up, wiping most of the water from your skin with a handful of grass and wringing out your hair before redressing. Your clothes were not particularly clean, but they were the only ones available. You didn’t think you’d wandered too far from town, but you might have trouble finding a path up the steep hillside.

Dwalin was worried. He’d never seen that look in her eyes before, her usual defiance replaced with complete sadness. Following her was difficult – she might not be the best swordsdwarf he’d ever met, but the lass was a champion runner. When he reached the edge of town, he caught her tracks again, following a winding path that hugged the slopes until it reached the river. Loosening his axe, Dwalin carefully scouted either side of the path as he moved among the trees. Thorin had had reports of orcs in the area as recent as yesterday, and he’d no desire to come across a roving band of marauders. The thought of the Orcs spurred him on. She didn’t know there might be danger lurking, and – he grimaced – she had left her weapon at the training grounds. Dwalin wondered why she’d snapped at him. Normally, she’d grin at him when he corrected her, mocking defiance in her eyes, making his heart do funny things in his chest. He had wanted to apologise, fearing that he’d been too close to her in sword practice, but he’d been affected by the hair oil she used, unable to stop himself leaning against her back for a closer sniff. She was small, only just reaching his shoulder with the top of her head, but he knew that if he ever managed to catch her attention, her heart, as she had his, she’d be curvy in all the right ways, fit perfectly in his arms, in his bed, in his life. Until then, he’d spend every day making sure she had the best chances of surviving a job that might not be as dangerous as it had once been – the settlement had fewer criminals these days and Guards were no longer walking targets.

Something snarled ahead of him. Dwalin’s heart raced. That sound… only one thing made that sound. Wargs. A scream rent the air.

“Arnfrith!” Dwalin bellowed, panicking. Where had the scream come from?

“HERE!” she screamed, and Dwalin was running again. He didn’t even remember having pulled out his axes before he watched his arm swing in front of her, lodging Keeper in the skull of the warg that jumped at her. Pulling the axe back, he met the attacking Orcs with a fierce bellow.

“DU BEKAR!” To Dwalin, battle was mostly instinct and muscle memory. His body knew how to move, how to dodge, hit, and swerve. His axes were an extension of his arms, dealing death with each slash he made. He was vaguely aware of snarling and heavy thuds, but he paid the sounds no attention, focusing on the next enemy and the next, until the small clearing counted seven dead Orcs and four dead wargs.

You were breathing hard, staring at the blood-streaked Dwalin. His mighty forearms were still taut with adrenaline, his whole body primed for war. Leaning on the war-hammer you’d liberated from him – you didn’t think he’d noticed, but the war-hammer, which was almost too heavy for you, had been the only other weapon in reach aside from your eating knife, and you had managed to bash a few Orc-skulls with it.

“Are you hurt?” you whispered, suddenly fearful. Losing your grip on the borrowed weapon, you took a step towards Dwalin, who was trembling all over. Carefully, you reached out to place a hand on his tense arm, hardly daring to touch him, but needing to check that he wasn’t badly hurt. Most of his tunic was streaked with blood, and you couldn’t tell if it was all Orc. “Dwalin?” you whispered gently. “Can you hear me?”

“Mahal…” he breathed, turning to face you. You didn’t think he saw you. The next thing you knew, you were being crushed against his broad chest, squashed against him so tightly you could hardly breathe.

“Dwalin?” you said, confused but willing to accept the offer of comfort. Dwalin might be an arse, but he made you feel safe.

“I could have- you could have..” Dwalin babbled, still hugging you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. “Mahal, lass.” There was a plea in those words, though you didn’t understand it, your world narrowed to his anguished blue eyes staring at yours. Remembering yourself enough to dare wrap your arms around his shoulders and return the hug tentatively, you were unprepared for the forceful kiss he pressed against your mouth. You were equally unprepared for the surge of lust that had you instantly wrapping your legs around his hips as you returned the kiss with all the passion you could muster, clinging to his broad shoulders and whimpering against his mouth when he broke away with a loud curse.

“Dwaliin,” you moaned, pouting when he set you down, easily breaking your hold. Confused, you stared up at him, both of you breathing hard. Lust swirled in the blue depths, but it was mingled with an odd sadness you didn’t want to see.

“I apologise. I shouldn’t have done that,” Dwalin whispered hoarsely, and you watched sadness defeat lust just before he turned away from you, picking up the axes he’d dropped and cleaning them meticulously before returning them to their harness. Then he started to look around, a puzzled frown on his face as he saw the two wargs that had clearly died from a blunt object crashing into the skull rather than a sharp axe. Silently, you pointed to where you had dropped the war-hammer. You knew that if you opened your mouth, you’d regret it. You didn’t want to hear him list the reasons he didn’t want you; he might want you physically, you were rather certain of that fact, after all, but he wouldn’t want a little surfacer. You feared that opening your mouth you’d make him the offer anyway, because you certainly did want… but no. Self-respect, Arnfrith, self-respect. You repeated it like a mantra, even as you watched him collect his discarded weapon and pick up three of the wargs, leaving the smallest one for you. You scowled. You were not weak, no matter what he thought! Picking up the last warg corpse – you didn’t think he’d deny you the fur from your own two kills, even if he carried it home – you stomped angrily past the stubbornly silent Fundinul.

Returning to Thorinuldûm had meant letting Dwalin take the lead again. You were silently seething as you followed him to the house of Thorin Oakenshield. Fíli opened the door. He grinned widely when he spotted you, but his expression blanked quickly when he noticed the bloodied state of yours and Dwalin’s clothes as well as the four corpses you held.

“Fetch Thorin for me, lad,” Dwalin said gruffly. Fíli nodded, following orders with no protest.

“Dwalin?” Thorin said as he walked through the door, staring at the gory sight of his old friend and the three wargs he’d dumped on the doorstep. Behind Dwalin stood the little recruit, who had so ensnared Dwalin’s heart that Thorin felt more than a little nauseated when Dwalin began waxing poetic about her beauty. She was pretty, he’d grant Dwalin that, silver-grey eyes and dark hair, a well-kept beard that she plaited into her hair and generous curves on her small frame.

“Killed seven Orcs and this lot,” Dwalin gestured, and Thorin suddenly realised that Recruit Arnfrith was also carrying a warg carcass. “I’d say that was all of them, but I’ll take a patrol out to check for tracks.” Thorin nodded.

“I’ll go with you,” Fíli said, appearing behind Thorin. Thorin sighed. Kíli popped up too, nodded his head and already pulling on his mail and a quiver of arrows. Dwalin nodded.

“I’ll send someone to get the beasties down to the tanner’s,” Dwalin said, and he would have left with that, if not for the dwarrowdam behind him Thorin knew, feeling a spark of amusement when she began berating his old friend.

“You’ll do no such thing to my kills, Dwalin Fundinul, you great overbearing lummox!” she shouted. “I’m not some fragile geode, I’m perfectly able to skin what I kill!” With that, she picked up the two smashed-in wargs and turned on her heel, haughtier than a born Queen and strode off, leaving the four of them gaping after her.

Thorin chuckled.

“If you don’t marry her, Dwalin, I will,” Kíli piped up, oddly serious. The axe Dwalin suddenly pointed in his direction was equally serious.

“She’s mine,” Dwalin growled. Kíli threw his hands up, backing away in surrender.

chapter 2

#dwalin #dwalin/reader #ered luin #Guard

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notbecauseofvictories · 7 years

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Anything about the line 'sext: people died for you. i bet you liked it.' from How to Make Love to the God of War for Leia Organa pretty please, your writing is so gorgeous and it would fit Ashe Vernon's poetry so beautifully. ILY thank you so much I hope this promptathon is fun for you.

War—what is it good for?

….well, you.

Mostly you.

Almost exclusively you.

(This is not an apology. It is maybe an explanation.)

Something you don’t realize until you’re standing in the control room, watching the battle for the Death Star: there’s very little screaming.

You’re intel, not military; the only experience you have of a warfront is battle sims and holos. The stories you’ve read have all been infantry battles—sentients dodging blaster fire and scattering their blood on the earth, calling for a meddroid even as the concussive missile shakes the air. The sound of AT-ATs, all creaking joints and thunder; clone troopers calling out commands. Droids, screaming. War was loud, full of mud and blood, you knew.

But here, from the control room on Yavin, there’s just the quiet whir of the servers, orders given and received. You can’t hear the chatter of the squadrons—they’re talking to the controllers, who are bent over consoles furiously reading out data. Sometimes one of the sensors beeps—but quietly, as if it’s worried about making a fuss in the huge, heavy silence. Blue Squadron goes down in a rain of fire, their ships immolated against the vast shell of the Death Star, but all you know of it is Lieutenant Rula’s announcement in a cool, flat voice.

It’s all very civilized.

Somehow, even in victory, you feel a little—cheated.

(This is not true. It is not all battle sims and holos; you remember war.

You are eight when you dream of your father on the battlefield. He is holding a sword of fire, and he breathes too loudly, harsh in your ears—you are scared, and so you reach for him, seeking comfort. He turns on you, and he is shadow and death and that awful sword of fire, not your father at all.

He says in a breath of smoke, who—?

You wake up to your father’s arms, real and warm, cradling you to his chest. It was only a nightmare, Bail says, as you cry wracking sobs. Shh, it wasn’t real.

You can still taste it on the inside of your mouth sometimes, ash and fear. Later—after you kiss your brother and find blood in your teeth; after you watch Darth Vader’s corpse burn from the safety of the treeline—you will learn this is your inheritance.)

INT. HANGAR ON YAVIN IV - NIGHT

LEIA

is trailing her fingers along laser burns deeply-scored into the side of an X-wing. HAN SOLO approaches, and leans against the body of the ship. He clears his throat pointedly, startling her and making her turn. For a moment, they look at one another, their faces shadowed by the half-dark.

HANAren’t princesses supposed to need their beauty sleep?

LEIAYou need it more than I do, Solo.

HAN(clutching his chest in feigned agony) You wound me, your worshipfulness.

Leia snorts, turning back to the X-wing. Han watches her, and when her back is turned, his expression is something tentative, on the verge of adoring. He seems to catch himself, and swallows, ducking his head and scuffing his shoe against the duracrete floor.

HANSo—uh, you ever flown one of these things?

LEIAI learned once, when I was young. My father gave me lessons on an old A-wing, my mother hated it. But…not much since.

HAN(hesitantly) Probably for the best, right? You’re an—asset, too valuable to risk.

Leia’s expression twists, and her hand spasms on the side of the X-wing, almost curling into a fist.

LEIA(bitterly) Don’t you think I’m willing to take the same chances as everyone else? That I’m not—I’m not willing to fight, or die for the Rebellion?

HANWell, I don’t think you were on that Death Star for kicks, no.

Leia relaxes slightly, mollified.

HAN (con’t)But you don’t…have to, you know. That’s what I keep trying to tell Luke, you don’t have to. The galaxy is a big place, not all of it belongs to the Empire. You could go, you could run—find some…handsome farmer somewhere, have lots of kids. Live happily ever after.

Han glances at her. She is staring at him like he’s grown a second head.

LEIA(slowly, incredulously) Is that…is that supposed to work?

HANWhat?

LEIAAlderaan—my planet, my home—was burned out of the sky. Everything and everyone I have ever loved is gone. Even before that, I spent five years in the Imperial Senate, listening to heartless men condemn entire species to extinction because they were greedy, or afraid. Even if I could run, even if that wouldn’t be the—most cowardly, evil thing I could think of, what makes you think—why wouldn’t I want to see them all dead?

Leia’s voice has been gradually getting louder, until she is almost shouting. The hangar is silent in the wake of this pronouncement, all but for her uneven breathing. Her eyes might be wet, but she she is staring at Han with such fury that he knows better than to bring it up.

LEIA(breathlessly) I would kill them myself, if anyone would let me.

HAN(swallowing, looking away) I’m just saying, you’ve got a choice.

LEIAFine. I choose this.

Han watches her walk away, into the dark of the hangar.

[FADE OUT]

It would be inappropriate to return from your first battle—really only a skirmish, with a cadre of stormtroopers you weren’t aware were scheduled to refuel there—dancing on the balls of your feet, still humming to the awful song of concussion-blasts and shouting. Your arm and shoulder ache from holding a blaster, bracing against the kickback.

There are things you are allowed to be pleased about, and you are: you brought all your squadron home, Luke is safe; the mission was a success and the people of the planet will be able to better mount a resistance of their own. You’d have to be spice-addled, cruel, to love how unerring your sight was, watching bodies in white armor crumple. There’s blood on your uniform from the officer, who took a blast to the chest and coughed up scarlet and bile as you interrogated him—you wear it like a badge of honor, all through Ra’vik Base.

You’re glad to have served the Rebellion, even if the means were violent. Any other reason to be glad would be fucked in the head, wouldn’t it?

….well, would it?

When you are ten you hide beneath an antique chaise and listen to your father plot rebellion, with strangers who come and go through palace carrying the smell of blaster discharge in their clothes.

At twelve you will stand very straight beside your mother as she mother focuses the power of her name, her crown, and the institutions she upholds into a laser-shield in defense of her world. (It wasn’t strong enough, in the end, but then the Death Star wasn’t finished in those days.)

At fifteen, you are a Junior Senator in the Imperial Senate, where no one is elected and the floor votes are perfunctory—everyone knows the Emperor will have the last word. You don’t know if Palpatine even bothered to buy or coerce them anymore, your fellow senators are so desperate to please him regardless.

In hindsight, all this gives you very confused questions about whether power is a good thing, or bad, and when the exercise of it is just. Given the war you fought (are fighting) you probably should have sat down and figured out your answer at some point.

Or at least picked a better one than (b) I know the difference between right and wrong, stop asking me.

There is no passion, there is serenity, Luke recites solemnly. He’s growing a beard these days, and the light is slanting into his eyes—he looks like he could be a Jedi of the stories, a knight.

Neither of you lasts more than a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

The worst part of the New Republic is how much you try. You do, you try, you contort yourself into a dozen unnatural painful shapes, trying. You are the daughter of Bail Organa and the New Republic is a dream you’ve fed since infancy—you fought and killed for the concordance, for the constitutional charter, for words stronger than the beam of the Death Star because the Death Star is dead and the words have survived. You try so hard to be proud at ‘peace’ and ‘justice’ and ‘right’, with Organa written beneath them.

(Somehow, you are still that little girl, chasing her father down the halls of the palace, trying to get him to come back, trying to make him to stay.)

You’re never sure whether the trying made failure harder to stomach, or if it would have almost killed you either way.

Addendum: At some point between wars, you bear a son with a battlefield inside him. (This is also your inheritance.) He is loud, full of mud and blood and horrible violence, and if you were a better woman, you would have loved him less for despite it.

The second war has swallowed you up before you realize that’s what’s happening—though you probably should have guessed, based on how much better you’ve been sleeping. Still, it was by the grace of the Senate that you began building the base on D’Qar, and it was to the Senate you reported First Order movement in the Outer Rim, and it is the Senate that funds, feeds, and keeps this little defense initiative of yours—

You thought you’d finally found some aspect of being a senator that didn’t make you want to tear at your skin. You were grateful.

It’s Poe Dameron who slips up. (You really should have figured it out earlier, not even the kriffing names have changed.) He’s the first to call you ‘general’ instead of ‘senator’ and it spreads like a fire, clings like starship oil, and you aren’t strong enough to resist accepting it. You hadn’t realized how long you had been holding your breath, waiting for it.

When Han stops by, hauling a cargo he won’t talk about and looking older than you remember, he makes that face you hate. The tired, grieved expression you associate with late-night arguments, Ben’s absence, and the horrible irony that was your marriage. (You were fight and he was flight and after the adrenaline wore off, there was nothing left.)

What happened to peace in our time? Han asks lightly, half a joke, and your throat aches with how much you want to scream. If you think of all the people you’ve failed in this, in loving this, you really will.

I didn’t have a choice, the First Order—you say, and his mouth turns down at the corners.

No, he says, you told me truthfully, once. You have a choice, princess. This is…this is just it. What will you do, I wonder, once there are no more Imps to kill?

It is your turn to watch him walk away because it is always your turn to watch him walk away these days. Only this time, he doesn’t return, except to kiss you, and then die on the battlefield in your son’s soul.

You might have grieved more, if you had lost less.

People have died for you. This isn’t an apology—after all, you liked it.

#ME @ MYSELF: I can get real pretentious with this right? right.#anyway leia organa is bail organa and anakin skywalker's daughter and has been a member of a violent revolutionary group since childhood #she's got some signals crossed when it comes to war #the warry stars #star wars #this is a thing I made

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