#i think he should be fucked by every adult char in the show
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I'm so glad to have encountered a fellow Cecil stan. I freaking love coming up with headcanons for Cecil, platonic or romantic, because he's such an interesting character. For real though feel free to dump any Cecil headcanons (platonic or romantic) on me anytime.
AWAAAA!! YES HAII OTHER CECIL AFICIONADO !!! im so glad theres more of us sprouting out here. my wife is so underappreciated, you have no idea how much he means to me. i'd love to req n swap headcanons anytime !! I have so many thoughts on that morally ambiguous gilf.
[messy, disorganized surface level autism rambling ahead. this will be just random scenes and characteristics i like of him]
BUT YES .. cecil's character is just so interesting to analyze. he does unethical, necessary things. But he doesn't subscribe to idealistic notions of "the greater good" or justifying his actions to make himself sleep better at night. He knows the harsh reality that someone has to make the difficult decisions, no matter how unethical. The psychological toll it takes to calculate how many civilian lives can be spared, and how many are inevitably lost in order to achieve the optimal outcome. He doesn't celebrate after victories like the other heroes do. After the dust settles, his mind is already racing - calculating, strategizing how to prevent future catastrophes. How to minimize casualties next time.
his methods are...questionable,, as ive said,, but there's a hint of nobility to it that just makes you respect him, A SHADY GOVERNMENT CHAR that does the dirty work and takes in all the heat for it so no one else has to? SIGN ME TF UP! i love exploring his character and all the little glimpses of humanity we get to see from him,, especially with debbie, SO SOFT FOR HER, there's so much depth there. that old fuck would MOVE mountains for her if he could,, TRUST. EVEN though he doesnt deserve her .. <<
LETS CONTINUE TO CIRCLE BACK TO S1 with his confrontation w Nolan in the desert, the way he entrusted his survival to the skills of his team operating that teleporter watch (I'm aware he can control it himself, I think this was just my interpretation of it since the employees seemed directly involved here). The margin for error was nonexistent. One miscalculation, one millisecond too slow, and Cecil would have been reduced to a red smear across miles of sand. MY WIFE HAS BALLS ON HIM. (also love walton goggins breathy lil giggles here .. hwaghffhh)
All this, All the whilst Nolan could have ended him with a casual backhand, as easily as swatting a fly. And for what? For humanity's (mostly his) right to know the truth. For Debbie's right to understand what she had truly married because Cecil respects her that fucking much for her to have a part in all of this, and what fate may lay in store for her son.
AND what I particularly liked about that scene is that unlike most SHADY GOV CHARS ™.. Cecil isn't afraid to regularly place himself in life-threatening situations, and for that im just.. FKING obsessed. finally. a hyper competent gov char that gets shit done and occasionally by his own hands instead of always puppeteering in the shadows. Love u .. love u honey snooch, please stop putting yourself in danger for your crazy alien side-hoes .
but ahem ... back to s2.. and some flaws of his that i'm not afraid to point out. the way he's been treating mark is killing me. manipulating my son by comparing him to his dad then keeping him on lock by saying he's not like him??? The breadcrumming definitely didn't work out at all, cuz Mark is too damn stubborn to continue to be swindled by fear tactics he does not give a shit for anymore (homegirl DEBBIE taught him better) hes not gonna listen to a cranky skullet-having side bitch of nolans who clearly has been tryna manipulate him since s1. i HATED how he went "ur broke tyrannical bitch father felt the same way" in the last minute when mark tried to leave earth and yet i still lobve ceci cause ough,,.. my bastard wife knew something was probably up.
Him wanting to keep a short leash on MARKY could be summed up after all that has happened in s1. i'm not going to justify his scummy manipulations or paranoia,, especially after all the shit mark has done and endured to prove himself over and over again that he's not like his father BUT its somewhat understandable for cecil 2 be wary if you look from it in his perspective.
moving on from that, lets dive back into ep 2 ..
Debbie was semi-right in her deduction in s2 ep2, that this is what it's really all about for Cecil - being in control. Not of any situation, but of Mark. To ensure history does not repeat itself in the form of Mark becoming another Nolan. imo He likely doesn’t actually view Mark as his father, Not saying the possibility of it being a part of Cecil's subconsciousness is out of the equation but the way I see it? He was just exploiting that one weakness, that one insecurity Mark has - the fear of becoming like Nolan. And it’s a fear Cecil seemed to prey upon to keep Mark under his thumb and in the fucking GAME.
awaaaa :3 !!!! psychologically damaging teens by comparing them to their abhorrently shitty fathers !! FUCK YOJ STEDMAN (love you snookums..)
,,,,I'd also like to think in my warped deluded perception (aka hcs) that he sees Debbie in Mark, so he can't help but care for the kid too. IVE ALWAYS seen a lot of comparisons between Mark and his dad, plus the whole motif of this new season hasn't helped it allay. But Debbie and Mark share so many similar characteristics as well and i wish that was talked a bit more often < 3 (I will go in depth about it at a later post.)
n umm like ...,,, bck to cici in gen. I guess the safety of earth is one of Cecil's redeeming qualities along with his compassion for side characters like Debbie. His pragmatism and utilitarianism define him. He lacks normal morals but has his own code that cultivates to his character. this ramble could not do justice to him ughfglg..,, what a compelling jezebel.. how can u captivate me so !!
My inbox is always open to discuss this multi-faceted rat man. here's to more cecil content in s2..,... hopefully with more of his dynamic with Debbie because I LIVE for that shit. though its unlikely their interactions could range to anything positive now since they may be hinting to cecil becoming an antagonist and/or taking extreme measures w/ mark. soo.. i dont think debbie's scolding was enough for that slut 2 take in ..
in the mean time i'll be catching up on the comics/re-reading them, look up more of his backstory and hopefully create 10 novels worth of google docs of analysis' of his character < 3 cuz .. he means .. that much 2 me.. and i want to prod at every crevice n brain matter he has inside that megamind head of his .
((hwaghhhhhh << hoping that one day the discord moots ive been keeping in my basement and most invincible fans fall victim to cecil stedman propoganda.. no one should be immune to my girlboss and his awful skullet.))
#invincible#invincible season 2#cecil stedman#omni man#invincible spoilers#debbie grayson#mark grayson#longest paragraph of me saying i want to fuck an old man but rewording it in a semi-melodramatic way ..#SORRY FOR USING THIS AS AN EXCUSE TO RAMBLE !! please go check out superbangelhearts blog; cecil stans . i love their yan headcanons alot .#this was SOOO messy n disorganized#milkyasks#milkyrambles#i think he should be fucked by every adult char in the show#i love him so much .. he has been infesting my fking brain.#I think alot of people confuse his ends justify the means for actual justification n self righteousness . but THERES no indication of that#IN THE SHOW.#hes self aware to a considerable extent over what he does#wrote this at 4am plsss give me a break ...#i would swallow a gallon of acid for him .#so much msgs in my inbox .. i apologize for not being able 2 answer them quickly :( this is still very new 2 me#im like a boomer getting used 2 smartphones... typing w my pinky finger as we speak..#slobbers n chews on his gnarled knuckles#idkfkk whts WONG W ME ! HELP ! MY PSSYS GONE CRAZYY !!! /ref#this was mainly just pinpointing random parts i liked ab cecil not really an analysis
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so i’ve been thinking almost nonstop about this post/video and some of the braindead replies to it and one of the things i got hung up on is the whole “stop being attracted to those 16yo chars once you hit 18″ people. like the people who fully think that after being 18 for a few weeks you should fully be able to turn off the connection and affection you have had for a character you’ve cared about for 2 or more years.
now here’s the thing - speaking strictly about live action characters, because that’s largely what gets brought up, that’s the least “problematic” thing for kids to retain affection for. like think about it for two minutes with me.
(i’m gonna use Teen Wolf (2011) as the example here because that was the last teen drama show i was remotely involved in.)
yes, if removed from all nuance Scott McCall is a 15/16yo high school student and remains under the age of 18 all through the show. however. Scott McCall is not a real person. he is played by Tyler Posey, who was 20yo when he began playing the role and was 26 by the time TW ended. Scott is also a fictional teen being written by real life adults. honestly, he’s only a teen on paper. so if you’re gonna get on someone who is 18/19′s case about still having the hots for Scoot McCute because they’re now “older” than him it feels like an awfully empty argument. and we see this sort of thing in live action a lot. like. constantly.
adults play teens almost exclusively. sometimes the actors are as old as 30 playing 17yo and you wanna tell someone who just turned 18 that they’re yucky for finding that person hot still? fuck right off. teens aren’t played by teens, they’re portrayed by adults and written by adults pretending to be teens. there’s no teenager involved in the process. so maybe get off your high horse of performative whatever the hell and start giving a damn about something that matters.
i’m sick of seeing this shit. i’m sick of kids terrifying themselves over experiencing completely normal human things. the world is already trying to kill us all. stop making it so easy by going for each other’s throats over every petty, imagined slight and use that energy to do something productive and good.
#purity culture#anti intellectualism#anti culture#puriteens#both as victims and perpetrators#rant#adventures in Ryssa's life#adventures in shitposting#yall make me so tired
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Starlight - Prologue: Before
Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC
Rating: Mature
Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence
Warnings: Blood, Violence, Explicit Language, Trauma
Words: 2000
Summary: What's past is prologue.
There's a new trend since the fall of the Empire, everyone is rising from the dead.
She's haunted by memories of the Empire that abandoned her, he's plagued with thoughts of what if and doubts of the future. The stars align in a string of constellations which guide them to their fates, decided long before them.
Tortured with echos of before, they're alone in an endless galaxy. But orphans have a funny way of finding each other, and the gods have a sick sense of humor.
Read on AO3 Here
Tatooine was the galaxy’s own personal hell, Mustafar at least had the pleasure of fauna. Demonic nightmarish fauna that was more than likely poisonous, but fauna nonetheless. Tatooine? Tatooine was a barren wasteland that had gone to the dogs, and even the dogs had decided they wanted no part in its misfortune. At least on Mustafar she could go inside and be relieved of the heat, at least Mustafar could be considered home.
Or at least it used to be, before.
“Maker,” An assassin mutters, crossing over a sand dune. The red tracking fob in her gloved hand sounds, it’s light flashing a similar color. To her relief, she was close. The sooner to the target, the sooner she could leave and never set foot on sand again.
She could count the total number of visits to Tatooine in her lifetime on one hand. The first she couldn’t have been more than fourteen, then again at an older age to meet with the Hutts. Nine years ago, her father had sent her on a reconnaissance mission to some abandoned moisture farm. It had been terribly boring, full of memories of family dinners and old beaten up droids.
The irony that that very mission essentially caused her to lose everything wasn’t lost on her.
Five years ago she sat in the very cantina she walks to, warned to run away. A mere twenty-one years old—give or take, her birthday after all was a random day chosen by her and the waking sun. There was no telling her true age, so with her knowledge of human anatomy and development, nine years ago she decided on being seventeen.
“Why seventeen?” He asks her. Entering hyperspace she sits behind him, tracing passing stars on the window.
“Because,” she begins matter-of-factly, “Seventeen is a completely insignificant year to be alive. Sixteen is old enough that I won’t be questioned for traveling alone, but still too young to be taken seriously. I’m not quite ready to be an adult yet, but next cycle I will be. So I am seventeen now, so that I may be prepared to be eighteen later.”
Eighteen hours later, the first Death Star exploded.
The events which follow guide her on a fragile string of stars throughout the galaxy, the culmination of which lead her back to hell. Or Tatooine, as the New Republic liked to call it.
Maybe if she had listened things would have been different.
Or maybe they would be worse.
Either way she would be here. The designer of her cruel fate and dictator of her misery have decided this long ago. Forever would she be trapped in hell with her memories.
And everyone else’s.
Condemned to relive the worst of what humanity had to offer, over, and over, and over again. It wasn’t so bad anymore, it’s easy to get numb to that sort of thing when your entire life was filled with it. Still, out of all the places in the galaxy, why did it have to be Tatooine?
She could understand the appeal for those on the run. Away from the New Republic’s oversight, moisture farms as the only viable landmark, and everyone being too overworked to give a damn. Theoretically it should have been easy to hide, the only issue was every criminal in the Outer Rim had the same idea. Originality be damned.
A detached hood and mask shield her identity, not that she believed anything with a penchant of life would be anywhere near. All that surrounded her was sand, rocks, and sand. Still, she could never be overly cautious. Walking up to the cantina, her eyes roll. It was like they wanted to make her job difficult. She could only assume the bar would be crawling with other criminals. Defected imperials, thieves, murderers.
It could have been a family reunion.
Eyes fall on her entrance, the suns backlight her into a silhouette. She becomes the one cascade of darkness in the light of the desert.
“Boys,” she greets, walking in. Her eyes scan the room, there couldn’t be more than ten men. She counts the passing of ten seconds before one approaches her. Within those seconds her mind remarks on the state of the bar, essentially unchanged. Same busted chairs, same creaking floors, same hideous decorations.
“What’s someone like you doing here?” a man grunts, stalking up to her. The most she does to acknowledge him is an eye roll. He grabs her arm, holding her in place. “Does your daddy know you’re out here?” he asks, leaning down to her ear.
She mocks a laugh. “Does yours?”
The man spits at her boots. “Bitch,” he says, walking away from her. His spit slowly rolls off her toe, leaving a glimmering streak along the leather in its wake. She pulls her blaster out, pointing the gun behind her, she shoots the man in the back of the head. He drops, his body heavy with a thud.
The cantina falls to silence. Nine bodies are now watching her. No one makes a move, even the bartender stops his clinking glasses. She’s almost inviting them to try her next.
“No?” She asks, holstering her gun. “Pity,” she mutters.
She walks up to body number seven, he sits in the same spot she had all those years ago. She places her soiled boot on his seat, grabbing his attention. Motioning for him to stand, she barely makes eye contact.
Her fingers run across the tables’ wood, rubbing over permanent stains and rotting cracks.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says. He always worried too much about her, “Whatever he’s planning, you won’t come out of it.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore,” she says. “I can take care of myself now.”
“I know. That’s what scares me. You’re not safe anymore,” he replies.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been safe.”
Seven stares at her incredulously, slurping his liquor.
“Come with me,” his voice echos around her. If she closes her eyes it’s like he’s still sitting in front of her. Pleading.
“I don’t like making messes inside, it’s bad manners,” she says, reaching for her blaster. “Get up.”
“Am I supposed to be scared, girl?” Seven asks. He scans her appearance and truth be told she was no Rancor, certainly no Hutt. While her build was athletic, her height physically left her the smallest in the room.
“You owe a lot of credits—” Seven stands, “—That’s better.” She drops her foot. “Now—“
“Step aside,” a modulated voice speaks behind her. She catches a reflection of the intruder in the glass of the framed artwork above Seven’s head. A Mandalorian, covered in pure Beskar, stands a whole head above her. Of course a fucking Mandalorian would show up right now, this had to be his doing. Even in the grave he had to fuck with her.
“Mando,” Seven laughs, he wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I was uh, I was just talking to the missus here,” he grabs the girls shoulder. “Say, now’s not really a good time so how about we—“
“I don’t have time for this,” the Mandalorian says. He drops a bounty puck on the table, in blue holograms Seven’s profile appears.
WANTED: EDI MOURI
“Let’s go,” Mando says.
The girl shakes herself from Seven. “Listen Shiny, I was here first so move along.” The Mandalorian’s head tilts.
“Are you with the guild?” He asks.
She picks up the bounty puck, examining the emblem. “Not yours.”
Mando’s head turns to One’s fallen body on the ground, a growing pool of blood by his head.
“Your work?”
“You could say that.”
Seven clears his throat. Whispers of bets trail within the crowd. “In fairness. She did find me first.”
The pair are incredulous in their stare. “You want to go with the assassin?” Mando asks, a slight twinge of amusement escapes past his modulator.
Seven’s face turns to ice, his deep emerald skin becoming a pastel like hue. “On second thought. I always loved the Mandalorian stories I heard as a kid, I’m a big fan. Let’s go big guy.” He takes a step towards Mando, the assassin pulls out her blaster, pointing it to his head. At the same moment Mando pulls out his own, pointing it to her.
“Drop it,” he says. “I need him alive.”
She cocks her head to the side, pressing her forehead against the barrel of the gun. “Do it,” she purrs.
He’s motionless.
She grabs the Mandalorian’s wrist with one hand, striking the bend in his arm with the other. A blaster shot fires, Three falls to the ground with a hole in his head.
Mando lifts her by her neck and slams her into the table where Seven sits. Her vision flashes white and she groans on impact. Her hands fumble across the wood in frantic search of anything to defend herself with.
“Wait for me, I’ll come for you in two days.”
She smashes Seven’s plate against the table, shattering it. With a jagged edge of porcelain she slashes the Mandalorian’s arm, staining the edge with his red blood. In his stumble back she rolls off the table.
Harsh stabs are swung to the openings between the pieces of armor, he easily blocks but her movements are quick in succession. He ignites the flamethrower on his arm and she flips out of range.
Six isn’t so lucky.
She lands on his table, he’s charred and slumped over. She grabs a baton resting against his chair, cringing at its touch. Jumping of the table she strikes his helmet. The tune of impact horrifically melodic.
Brought to his knees, Mando grabs her leg sweeping her onto her back. The baton falls out of her grasp. They tumble on the ground, scathing for any advantage they could find on the other. She slaps a taser disk on his armor, the shocks malfunction the electronics.
The Mandalorian lays on the ground, emitting heavy gasps for air. Sounds of passing credits come from a back table. She straddles him, pulling out the knife kept in the welt of her sleeve. It’s metal presses against his capes fabric gathered around his neck.
A smile twinges under her mask. “Not bad,” she pants, leaning down over him.
The cantina doors automate open, in perfect eye-line, a green little creature. It waddles in, cooing with bright eyes at the patrons, greeting them all. It locks eyes with her, head tilted. The veil of her mask conceals her dropped jaw.
The Mandalorian takes the chance of her distraction; flipping their bodies over, he straddles her waist, pinning her hands above her head. The assassin’s chest rises and falls heavy from under him. “I told you to wait outside,” he grunts. The green thing coos, waddling to the pair. It reaches out for her. “No,” he says next, raising a scolding finger to it. It whines, plopping on its rear.
Past the visor, his eyes lock onto hers, he clears his throat. Suggestive positioning aside, he had claim to victory. Though, had it not been for the child he would have been a dead man, throat slit under her knife.
He could still kill her, his blaster was in reach, so was her knife.
He should kill her.
But he doesn’t.
“Hey Mandalorian,” she breathes. “Where’s your bounty?” Seven’s seat empty, table broken, shattered porcelain fallen on the floor.
“Fuck,” he swears. He stands, pocketing the knife she held. He picks up the creature, sparing her one last glance. “Stay out of my way,” he warns. Exiting the building she’s left on the floor.
The surviving witnesses avoid her glare. There are holes in the flooring, broken furniture, blood stains splattered on every surface.
So much for not making a mess indoors.
She scoffs, picking herself up. Her muscles ache, bruises are forming under her clothing, her head pounds.
Carelessly, she shoots Five on her way out.
It’s a redemption of sorts.
Officially, Tatooine was worse than hell.
Chapter One: The Meeting
#Mandalorian#the mandalorian#Din Djarin#din djarin x original character#din djarin x original female character#din djarin x oc#mandalorian fanfic#din djarin x reader#Starlight#the mandalorian fanfiction#mando x oc#mando x ofc#mando x original character#mando x original female character#din djarin x female oc
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Part 2! Here is Part 1 f you have yet to read it! I hope you enjoy my little Walmart brand of summer wars as much as I am writing it! Let me know what you think!
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The two of you leave with a small bow before your grandmother answers the phone.
The second you are out of the room Bakugou grabs you roughly by the wrist, pulling you down into the small dimly lit hallway to press you against the dark wooden wall, caging you in much like he did on the train.
But this time with malintent. Small pops ring out from his forearms, one hand threatening to char the wood beside your head while the other grips your wrist harder.
You could understand his anger, it's not as if you had been truthful to Bakugou. He detests liars and although you didn't necessarily lie to him you still told him a half truth. He was still figuring out which was worse.
"Fucking fiance?!" He snarls close to your face, "Deal's off."
You had planned to allow him to bitch and moan about the shitty situation you put him in without argument.
But his refusal to act semi decent towards you for the sake of your grandmother's old heart had rage burning hot in your veins.
It wasn't like you were asking him to fuck you. With a tick in your jaw you drop your precious Kimono. Grabbing onto his chin with your free hand, tilting his face closer to yours to have a better look at those stunning crimson eyes. They widen from both the force of your grip and the proximity of your lips. He swallows thickly, his glare slowly coming back.
"Listen here Bakugou Katsuki. I'm asking you to pretend to be my fiance for two weeks. I'm asking for small shit like sitting close to me, maybe giving a small smile in my direction and at the most hand holding. I'm not asking you to fucking marry me or fuck me in front of my family. My grandmother is a bit old fashioned if you couldn't tell by the house or her demeanor, she has been hounding me about bringing a man to her for approval since I was 16. She wanted to make sure I had a man that deserved me, that I would be taken care of. So I've made up boyfriend after boyfriend since I've never really had time for more than a good fuck but my Uncle called me last winter to tell me her health was beginning to decline and rapidly at that. I called her immediately and told her I had just become engaged and she'd meet him on her birthday. So you've got two choices Katsuki." You let every syllable of his name soak in sugar coated venom, "Suck it up for two fucking weeks and be semi decent to me or break my grandmother's heart and earn a dangerous enemy."
Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest the entire time you were ranting, unsure of why he was attracted to the hard set of your eyes and the ice in your voice. His stomach flips when you say his first name causing him to grind his teeth. He breaks away from your grip with his free hand, quickly pinning your arms above your head. Locking your delicate yet deadly wrists in one of his broad hands while the other presses against your hip bone. Thumb sliding through the loop of your too short shorts, bringing your pelvis to his. The denim was barely able to contain your ass and thick thighs, he is surprised none of your elders have scolded you for such indecency if they were as old fashioned as you say.
The faint blush on your cheeks and the defiant look in your eyes has his voice turn husky as he speaks.
"I should make you regret bringing me here. Maybe have you begging for something else." His lips a breath away as he presses his forehead to yours. Eyes molten with what you think is lust before he tilts his face. Amplifying the sudden magnetism between your plump lips and his own. Your chest tightens with mixed emotions as your eyes begin to flutter closed.
Suddenly he changes direction and gives you a harsh headbutt, hard enough your vision blurs at the edges causing you to growl in response.
"This better not fucking bruise."
He rolls his eyes, dropping your hands as he reaches down for the old Kimino. His heart racing from almost losing control of these odd feelings.
Feelings that had never been aimed towards you until your grandmother stirred them up.
"Would you die for my granddaughter?"
The question drives him mad, mad enough that he places the kimono in your hands speaking the dark thought that he should have fucking kept to himself.
"Did you actually drag me along for your grandmother's sake or did you just want the kimono, Princess?" His voice is all bite, holding your gaze, your eyes widening.
"Don't call me that." Your voice threatens to crack but he walks away before he can see the rest of your reaction to wander the house for his room until dinner.
You're left standing there, eyes glued to the fabric, the deep navy blue and hand stitched cranes and lotus blur in your hands. Before fat droplets fall from your eyes.
Why did you ever think Bakugou Katsuki would be a good partner, fake or not.
You collect yourself quickly, angrily swiping at your eyes before you set to find your normal room.
It doesn't take you long and you're honestly hoping Bakugou stays lost until dinner. His room should be on the opposite wing of the house. Opening the old tatami door to find Mei setting down your stuff and Bakugou's bag. Mei follows your eyes to the well worn backpack with a skull pin on the strap. She knew exactly who it belonged to when she picked it up, having spotted the handsome devil from the hall.
"Mei what's this you know he's supposed to be in the western wing!" You exclaim, trudging past her to hang your kimono on the old rack in the corner of the room. Mei scoffs, eyes glued to her phone as she speaks.
"He was bound to sneak this way anyway. I'm doing you a favor." She rolls her eyes as if she knows everything at the ripe age of sixteen.
You thought you knew everything then too. You sigh, rolling your own eyes.
"What you call a favor I call a headache. Just take his bag to his room." You pass the straps to her, hating that it smells so much like him. Your stomach flips even as you look at the two person futon.
"Just sleep with him tonight no one will know! Plus I hadn't cleaned his room. It's full of spider webs, the floor needs patching and his futon is gonna be dusty." She counters.
"B..but one futon is not modest."
"Wow please tell me you're not a virgin jushi. You're gonna get married anyway! I know I wouldn't have said no to a catch like that either!"
Mei makes her way out of your room while you pinch the bridge or your nose.
"Yea…. Why would I ever say no to such a great catch?" You fall backwards onto the futon hoping that that asshole was still lost for now.
Someone would find him wandering and take him to the great dining room.
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Thankfully someone does end up showing Bakugou to the dining room but of course it would be Mei who also tells him where the SHARED room is. You bite your lip and choose to play dumb.
"Oh good you found your way, babe." You smile sinking next to him on one of the many blue cushions. He grunts in response but pulls your cushion closer to his. Carefully pouring you some water before he yanks down your tank top that was riding up and trying to expose your midriff. His fingers feel like fire as they brush against your skin, igniting a dying ember in your stomach.
You quickly remind yourself of his nasty comment, as you're about to set him straight your cousin Haru walks into the room. He sucks his teeth and sits further down the table across from his sister Mei as people slowly come in to sit or bring in food.
"I don't know why you bothered to bring him here. Sobo is never going to approve of him." He cracks open his beer and drinks prematurely earning an eye roll from his sister. Bakugou and yourself both open your mouth to retort when Mei pipes up. Eyes still glued to her phone as her thumbs fly across the illuminated glass.
"She already did stupid. She gave her the crane Kimono so get used to seeing his face." Mei rolls her eyes as your cheeks blush.
Bakugou regrets his comment now more than ever but sucks his own teeth. An older gentleman sits to Bakugou's left commenting on the conversation as he does.
"Wow the crane kimono! You know she's been holding onto that for quite some time. You must be very special. I'm Sozen, your lovely fiance's Uncle." He smiles, just as you're about pinch the blonde to make sure he answers he gives a small bow of his head.
"Bakugou Katsuki." He introduces himself as aunt Mai rushes into the room.
"Wait, wait! I want to meet him!" She sinks next to your right, all smiles as her eyes are fixated on the young man, "Wow he is as handsome as you said on the phone last night."
Fresh blush creeps onto your cheeks, remembering the phone conversation from when you were too nervous to sleep last night. Bakugou catches on and smirks in response. Everyone but Sobo takes their seats and you decide now is a good time as ever to get the formalities over with.
"Let's just get through the introductions shall we?" You say as you run through the names of each family member on both sides of the three low tables shoved together. Introducing the hot head to well over 12 adults and their children and even children's children. For now Bakugou only makes an effort to remember the ones closest to him.
Uncle Sozen who sits to his left and Aunt Mai who sits to your right. It's becoming quickly apparent that a lot of your family is either much older or much younger than yourself. He can understand why you could feel a little lonely at times. Being more of a black sheep than anything. Then he realises something very important.
"Wait, where are your parents?" He asks lowly to which you shrug.
"They show up closer to grandma's birthday. They are both extremely busy and always have been. Soba more or less raised me."
As if one cue grandmother comes in, looking over the table with the biggest and warmest smile she can muster. It reminds him of the summer sun lazily dancing across his skin in the late afternoon.
And again it reminds him of you. He looks to you and sees you mirroring the exact same smile, happy for your grandmother's happiness causing his chest to tighten and butterflies to awaken in his stomach. He grinds his teeth in an attempt to calm them down.
She sits at the head of the table, closest to Great Oba who he had the pleasure of meeting first thing, before grandmother holds up her small cup of sake.
"To family." She announces, everyone lifts what cup they have, whether it was a kids small sippy cup, their o-choko, or even their cup of tea.
"To family!" They roar back to her all taking a sip.
"Let's eat." She says while the family cries out, "Itadakimasu!"
The tables are loud and full of conversation. Although Katuski's family is not so big, the volume reminds him of his own family. A small smirk comes to his lips as he thinks of his mother and how she would fit in here.
"So no Shoji?" Haru asks with a sneer, almost purposefully stirring the pot.
"No surprise there." Someone else comments.
"Shut. Up. Haru." You bite out, look fierce as if you were to devour him whole. He swallows thickly.
"Great uncle Kodaka tell us about that battle we won here!" You change the subject and everyone groans as Kodaka starts the story they've heard thousands of times before.
"It was almost 150 years ago, when we were still a prosperous nation. Us samarai doing fine on our own. Hired by the wealthy or living by our own moral compass. It was like fish in a barrel…"
The story continues on, mostly the children listen and your grandmother who smiles as she hears her youngest speak.
Sozen leans closer to Bakugou, as grey eyes hold onto scarlet. Bakugou remains quiet, glancing to you and then back to the uncle. Uncle Sozen takes this as an invitation to speak.
"I guess since you're gonna be part of the family now I should tell you about Shoji. There was a time shortly before Grandpa died that he went down a dark path, gambling away majority of the family fortune and just when grams thought she had him under control then came Shoji.He was Grandpa's illegitimate child with a woman much younger than Sobo. But she loved Shoji fiercely anyway. She would take him through the field of wildflowers to the lake in the early mornings of summer. One hot day when he was small and the sun was rising, painting the sky in hues of red there was a crane. Our family's crest." Uncle Sozen points to the wooden crest above the door to the adjacent room that held the family's artifacts. A crane stands tall with a white lotus behind it in full bloom.
"It was the first time in decades that a crane had come to the lake and the lotus were in full bloom. He flew away, causing a gentle ripple in the lake and it was then Sobo knew that Shoji would bring fortune to our family." Sozen peeks your way to make sure you're not over hearing, he continues explaining softly as your loud laugh bellows out, "Everyone is so angry with him because he took the last of grandmother's savings and then ran away to America with no way to be contacted."
"She is quick to defend him because she was too young to really remember how much it upset Sobo. That and she believed in him wholeheartedly. She looked up to him because despite his quirklessness he was exceptionally intelligent. She had faith that he would restore honor and fortune to our name." Sozen's chopsticks point to you as he speaks before he picks up a dumpling. Bakugou's eyes follow over you.
"Hello Sobo." A deep voice calls from the engawa reducing the lively roar of dinner conversation to nothing more than the sad song of a lonely cricket.
"Uncle Shoji?!" You call excited, standing from your spot at the long table while the rest of the room holds animosity.
Bakugou downs his sake to which Uncle Sozen silently refills.
"I thought you were still abroad in the states!" You sink next to him and pull him into a crushing hug. He smiles, slowly separating the two of you.
"What the hell do you want trash?!" Uncle Kodaka snarls, to which you produce a deadly glare his way.
"Well yes I was in the states, thank you for asking Princess." He tucks a stay hair behind your ear before rising to speak with grandmother.
He does not address her properly nor does he bow. If anything he stands loosely with an arrogance about him that leaves majority of the room with a sour taste in their mouth. Bakugou watches Great Oba's chopsticks strain in her delicate hand, the distaste for him is becoming more and more obvious by the second.
And then he opens his mouth.
"I made tenfold out of what you let me borrow, Soba." He pulls a stack of money and a check from his pocket as he speaks, "I made a drug to make people powerless and sold it to the highest bidder."
Eyes around the room widen as news headlines flash in their heads about a new drug that made people quirkless. Villains shooting innocent bystanders and heroes in hopes of getting a leg up.
Shoji tosses the money and the check onto grandmother's lap. Dark brown eyes stare into her lap for a long moment.
Suddenly grandmother moves like an agile cat, jumping to her feet and grabbing for one of the divine naginata. She wields it masterfully before shoving the point towards him, fire burning in her eyes.
"Mother!" Half the table shouts, as you begin to see red. You stand stepping next to Shoji, body shaking with rage as your heart drums in your ears.
"I knew my Princess would save me." He says coyly to hide just how shaken he is, sweat dripping down his brow. Even ten years your senior he couldn't hide his fear of the fierce woman before him, shocked that a woman in her nineties could still brandish such a big and heavy weapon.
Your hands land harshly on Shoji's chest as you give him a shove. Shocking the table into further silence.
"YOU MADE THAT?!" Your voice echoes over the dining room, into the empty halls and out into the night but somehow the hurt in it does not reach Shoji.
"Of course, it was going to be a hot seller. Governments offered me billions. Besides I made an anti...." But before he can finish you've got him by the collar.
"HOW CAN YOU BE SO INTELLIGENT YET SO DAFT?!" Bakugou watches your knuckles turn white while your cheeks flush deep red. Shoji barely frees himself, his shirt crumpled but you press on.
"Those were my friends!" A stomp of your foot has the dishes rattling on the table, Bakugou becomes more on edge, "You hurt my fucking friends!"
You raise both of your fists above your head, ready to bring them down with all of your might. Too angry to control your gauge of power uncaring of the consequences. Katuski acts quickly, flicking his wrist to empty the shallow cup of sake high into the air. Igniting it into beautiful dancing fireworks, the kids oo and ah while he hopes to distract you if only for a moment.
It works, slightly. You realize his plan as he jumps to his feet, running along the low tables as you try to beat him to the punch.
Literally.
Bakugou barely makes it, shoving Shoji into the table, food and dishes fly into the air just to stain the freshly mopped wooden floors. The hot head holds out his other arm to take the brunt of your force. He let's off the smallest explosion to soften your blow but a small crack still rings out.
Heated eyes watch as a black bruise blooms from the crease of his elbow to all the way to his wrist as the shock shakes the house behind him. Paintings and pictures fall from the walls in the wake of your force.
"Are you trying to bring down the house dumbass?!" He yells before his voice dips low, soft almost, "What if the roof had caved and Soba-san got hurt?"
Your eyes widen at his words before they are locked with glistening scarlet pools. You look over Bakugou's toned arm, marred in angry shades of purplish black. Eyes darting over the family and the mess that lies beside you. Finally they fall on your grandmother behind your shoulder. Her own aged shoulders heave from the adrenaline, her graying white hair out of place with her lotus pin threatening to fall out. You spy Shoji, your once hero still squishing food beneath his torso and elbows, eyes filled with fear.
"Fuck this." You mutter storming off, leaving Bakugou to stand alone before your family. Shoji stands, rushing out of the house, moments later everyone can hear a car peeling down the gravel drive losing traction once or twice.
After a few moments of silence grandmother fixes her hair and returns the naginata as she speaks.
"This family cleans up their own messes. Now get to work!"
And with that your family and Bakugou begin to pick up the shattered pieces of dishes, pride and family matters.
#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bnha bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bnha x reader#bnha au#bnha katsuki x reader#bnha katsuki#katsuki bakugo#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#katsuki#katsukibakugou#katsuki bakugo imagine#bnha bakugo katsuki#mha katsuki#bakugou x fem reader#bakugo x fem reader#bakugou x you#bakugo x you
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Too Good at Goodbyes
Rating: Teen
Relationship: Dragon x F!Human
Warning: Communication, Breakup, Makeup, Past Abuse, Fluff, Comfort
Word Count: 2370
Breaking up with a stubborn dragon who isn't in agreement and demands confrontation.
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Confrontation is such a scary thing. To verbally or physically confront someone is terrifying. Though I'd rather fight someone than explain my feelings, both are still scary. I just don't want to go over such mundane things like my feelings. If I know what the outcome is going to be then…what's the point?
Dracchus has always been a stubborn man. It's no surprise that he wouldn't take my leaving without a fight. Though leaving without much to say was mostly my bad. Packing up my stuff and walking away with a 'this isn't working' was a coward's way out, but I stand by it. It's true though, things haven't been working out with us lately. We have been distant and closed off from one another, the logical conclusion felt like just end it instead of prolonging the suffering. Right?
As I load into my car and I listen to his huffs and puffs-to put it lightly- I fight off the urge to turn back to him. I could at least talk with him, explain my side. I shake my head from the idea, noticing the redundancy of speaking when it's all over anyway. Dracchus marches around his cave, shouting and blowing smoke from his nose. It's almost cute the way he swats at it. He tries to walk towards the car but clenches his jaw and stomps away. His tail flicks with clear agitation.
I give one last look before opening the car door. As the click echoes up towards Dracchus he looks to me. Smoke bellows out his nostrils like a chimney, giving a terrifying look to his clenched up face.
"This isn't done," he calls out," but you can run for now."
I sigh at his theatrics," I'm sorry, Dracchus, it's over. It was fun while it lasted but now we just have to accept this."
"you are a fool," he sneers," coward above all else." I bite back the urge to yell, to call him worse names, though I know it's what he wants. The stubborn man wants me to react but I can't bring myself to give him the satisfaction.
"Bye, Dracchus," I sigh, getting into the car.
I drive off to my parent's house, trying my damndest to fight off the intrusive thoughts. It's over, it's done, no use thinking over it. I know I'll miss him, I know I'll want him around, but it would be pointless. Forget and move on, that's how all my relationships go.
I shut down as I pull into my parents' driveway, automatically grabbing my things and heading upstairs. I do all I can as a way to distract myself. Putting up my clothes, sorting through social media, playing games, making dinner. It all works for the most part, though I feel rather blank while doing it. My head feels like it's been system rebooted, wiped of previous bugs and glitches to start anew.
When I attempt to sleep that night is when my brain begins to wander. It's hard to escape yourself when all you have is your thoughts. I try putting on background noise, listening to the television in hopes of passing out to a random show. No such luck as flashbacks of our time together attempts to break me into sobs.
I hang on by a thread as I manage to rest, that is until there is a tapping at my window. I ignore it, rolling over with the blanket thrown over my head. The tapping starts again, getting more frequent till I angrily toss the covers aside and lunge for the curtains.
Tossing them aside to reveal the culprit I sigh at who I see. Though shrunken to fit on my roof, it's not hard to tell who it is.
"Dracchus," I sigh. I reach for the curtains, blocking out the problem like I've done all day. Before I get the chance he lifts the window, sliding it up enough to slither inside.
"Don't," he growls as he crawls onto the bed, backing me up until he has room.
" what are you doing here," I answer nearly defeated. It's exhausting to have him here, the feelings and thoughts knocking at the backdoor of my brain.
"to talk, that should be obvious," he answers," so are you going to answer my questions or do I have to drag you out your room to take you back to our house?" ire bubbles in my chest, latching onto the frayed nerves that he set off with his entrance. He has no business coming into my room like this. He is no longer my boyfriend or even my friend.
"What questions could you possibly have that couldn't wait till morning," I fold my arms, glaring at him with as much seething rage as I could.
"What questions? Have you not been listening," he scoffs," why did you break up with me? That's the main question. Why haven't you talked to me if you were so unhappy? Why ditch me so quickly? I thought everything was fine, but clearly, you haven't. so I ask why and what can we do to salvage this?"
"Salvage this," I bark in laughter," it's over, ok? I haven't been happy with you for a while and it felt best to end it. Is that such a difficult concept to understand? None of my exes had an issue with it."
"Because your exes were scum who didn't give a fuck about you, they took the out because they wanted the out. I do not want an out, I want to talk about this like fucking adults but you're too busy acting like a child," he chides. The insult actually stings, feeling more like a child in the tantrum boiling under my skin.
"I'm the child? Bold coming from a guy who sneaks in my room because he's too scared of my parents," I snap back.
"I'm not scared of your parents, they are scared of me. How well you think that will go over if I come to the front door and your dad is cocked and ready to blast off my limbs with his gun? No, this is between you and me anyway," he fires back. Which is true in its own way, my parents are very scared of him. Though it's fair in the beginning, it's rather dull minded now that they know him.
"No, there isn't a 'you and me', we are done. Why can't you just accept that? I don't want to be with you anymore, figure it out yourself," I say with finality. I roll over onto my side, throwing the blanket over myself in hopes he gets the message.
Dracchus doesn't stay down for long, reacting swiftly to my surprise. He grabs my shoulders and splays me on my back. His clawed hands frame my head as he hovers over me in an all too familiar position.
"I'd accept it if it didn't sound like a lie every time you said it," he growls, softening as he watches me a moment longer," please, love, what's wrong?"
Looking up at him is surprisingly difficult. The familiarity of this pulls at my heart. I want to reach up and grab his face, lead him down for a charred kiss. Taste the brimstone of his tongue, feel the heat as he enters my mouth. It's hard not to just grab him.
"Dracchus," I turn away, breaking whatever hold he has on my heart. Before I can continue he drops his hard head to my chest, growling to himself as he nuzzles up to my neck. The growling rolls into a purr as he fits so perfectly under my jaw.
"I just wanna talk, I don't wanna fight with you," he mumbles," what did I do wrong?"
I'm surprised by the shaky breath that comes out of my mouth. My heart is like rocks falling down a hole, echoing in beats but sucking into the chasm below. My body shivers in dread and panic as the door creaks open in my mind. This is what I wanted to avoid, this is what I've been fighting all day.
"Please," he begs again," I love you."
The three little words are what slams the door wide open. My eyes sting and my hands shake. It's almost fitting to have those words thrown back at me when it's what started this to being with. Hearing him say it so casually that day was so alarming. He meant them then as much as he does now. I hate it. I hate what it does to me.
"I-I," I try to speak," I'm scared." the honesty burns my throat like the words just barely scraped by.
Dracchus lifts away, staring down so concerned. "of me?"
I shake my head," of us."
"Us," he asks confused," love, you have to explain." I shake my head, biting my lip to stop the quivering. "I'm sorry but I can't help if I don't understand. It's ok, I won't hurt you or anything. I'm just here to listen." he nods, approving his own words, and gauging my reactions. As I refuse to answer he rolls off me, laying on his side while his tail twists me towards him. I can't help but clench at my shirt as he looks at me with such worry. His eyes drift to my fists before he grabs at a pillow and hands it to me. Like a lifeline, I clench it to my chest so tightly. It's calming, surprisingly. To snuggle around this pillow like a child while the familiar weight of his tail rests over my legs.
"you remember tony," I mumble, looking down at his chest.
"College Tony," he asks," He is the one who threw the book at you."
"yea, he was," I sigh," you know he was the first guy I ever said 'I love you' to."
He tail squeezes around my leg," no, I didn't know that." I take in the warmth of him, stealing courage in such a small gesture.
"Well, when I told him that, he wasn't very nice about it. He panicked and started yelling. I couldn't figure out why," I sniffle," it was confusing and alarming. Shortly afterward we broke up and it just tore me apart. That moment stuck with me for so long that when my next boyfriend said it I felt so trapped. I can't explain the weight that those three little words have over me but… it feels like a book hitting me in the face."
"so," he takes a breath," Is that why you broke up with those other guys? Because you were gaining feelings for them?"
I nod, taking shallow breaths to stray off the stinging in my eyes. It sounds so simple when he says it like it's silly to act that way. That's what relationships are for, developing feelings and growing with another. It just feels toxic to me, like poison corrupting my body with every step. I cared for them all, so I tried to stop caring. I broke it off and felt validated when they left so easily. They weren't worth it, I was right to end things. Now, with Dracchus, it's all wrong. He didn’t validate those feelings, he made it worse. He wanted to hear me, he wanted me to stick around, and that was too much.
"I'm sorry," I snivel, curling over my pillow as the dam breaks in my eyes. I bury my face against the soft fabric, wetting it as I shake and shutter. A warm hand grabs at my arms, hugging me close before rubbing over my back. His rough, warm touch breaks me at that moment.
Without much thought, I throw my leg over his waist and toss the pillow aside. I need him close, I need to feel him. I wrap myself around him, taking all he gives as I ball my eyes out. I didn't want any of this. I didn't want to cry against his chest while feeling utterly undeserving of it. Him giving his affection so freely feels like a trap. Surely no man, human or otherwise, wants to deal with a sobbing female.
"I'm sorry," I mumble against him, hiccupping at the end.
"it's fine, love," he noses at my hair, humming to himself as he does," take all the time you need."
His words are like a balm, though undeserved, it's greatly appreciated.
I cry myself dry and then some. The shutters dwindle the longer he pets at my back. This comfort is so new that I can't help but take it all in with great greed. I never knew how bad I needed this sort of comfort, this sort of care. It's what my heart has craved for years but I couldn't provide.
"Thanks," I say.
"no thanks needed," he licks at my cheek," I will be here for as long as you need me and more. I love you and will care for you always." I can't help but tilt up and grab at his face, pulling him in for a soft kiss. His rough, scaled lips meet mine in an all too familiar dance. It's slow, sweet, tender, everything I've wanted in a kiss.
"I love you," I murmur, stealing another kiss. He purrs, pulling me close as a smile spreads across his face.
"So, you coming back home," he asks. I don't want to answer him, instead of wanting to kiss him again. He keeps out of reach, waiting for my response with a teasing grin.
"yes," I sigh," I'm coming back home."
"good," he smiles," seems we could have strayed off this unnecessary unpacking and repacking if you just talked to me to begin with."
"shut up," I pap his chest," it's part of my process, you know I have the flair for the dramatics."
He laughs," as we both do." the teasing is nice, like falling back into a comforting routine. I snuggle up to him, a smile gracing my face along with his. I rest my eyes, a finger picking at the scales on his chest as I fall into sleep.
"I love you," he says lazily into the dark room.
"I love you, too, Dracchus."
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If you haven’t noticed the dragon is named after a character from a Tiffany Robert’s book. Dracchus was a dope character.
Also, I have like a serious kink for communication in relationships. love me some non-toxic romance!
Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog
#Dragon boyfriend#Dragon#Fluff#Enigma-IM#exophilia#monster boyfriend#communication is key#dracchus#too good at goodbyes
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I know its 2021 and I havent written for death note since 2007 but like, ive been up all night so here meronia fandom, no more lurking in the reblogs lol
Rated T for swearing and like, implied possibility of nsfw?
Drabble 1
With the soft click of his door, Near let out a soft sigh.
Kira was unmasked and defeated, he had won.
No.
They had won.
His hand instantly went to his neck, almost on instinct by now, and held the cheaply made beads and wooden red cross he hid under his shirt.
Near had never been religious, and he knew these beads were just symbolic, the first one he could buy at midnight on that night, when grief kept him up and walking through the unexplored city, needing something tangible. So he could deny.
Denial was normal.
This... Was normal.
He winced slightly as the cheap wood splintered a bit, poking his pale finger. He let go of the effigy and held his still clenched hand at his side.
What would he do now?
Logically, he knew. He was L.
“Nate River” died with the man named Lawliet. Died with the thunderous slamming of the orphanage door that a 14 year old boy should not have been able to make.
L.
“Near” was dead now too.
Died with that man. Light Yagami.
So L he was.
A predictable future for a perfect boy whose only flaw was not worshipping a strange adult who came to visit. His apathy, which before gave him freedom, was the final bar in this jail cell of a title.
Did he enjoy being a detective? Probably, in some way. The battle against Kira thrilled him.
No, it wasn’t the one against Kira that kept his attention.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out the puppets. He let them all fall to the ground. One by one, their tiny rubber bodies bounced a bit. There was L, first dead. Near never cared for him much. Took him five minutes to throw together something of a resemblance.
There was Kira. Honestly he was thinking about the hamburgler for this one. Petty killer with petty burger thief. Fitting.
Then Misa... Mikami... The others. Names he couldnt wait to just file away in some police report and forget about.
Then himself.
The white puppet, which he didn’t put too much energy into, but still made look a bit like him. He was simple. Monochromatic and bored.
Then him. He picked up the blonde puppet carefully, remembering how it took all night to get it right. He painted every detail he remembered from their one meeting at the headquarters. From every hidden camera quick shot of the man who was as bright as he was loud.
He couldn’t bear to even think his name.
Near picked up the puppet of him, putting them in their usual spots on his index and middle fingers. He would enjoy the thought of being on Nears middle finger. He was vulgar enough to.
He stared at them, and stood up. They needed a better home. The puppets didn’t have to be thrown away, like the real counterparts. Near opened his best toy chest, one he put his favorite toys into, and laid the two puppets, side by side. He put the blonde puppet slightly higher than the white one. A little victory. One the real man couldn’t claim by his side.
Near closed the toy chest, then looked back around his room. His toys were scattered, dice piled high, and cards strewn about.
The sight disgusted him.
It looked so... Normal.
He kicked over the dice, letting the clatter as they fall echo through the silent room. Kneeling down, he picked up the finished puzzles and dumped them out, one after the other. Their perfect completion being ruined by the destruction, and wet by the falling tears the boy didn’t even know he was capable to make.
Near knelt in the middle of his mess and grit his teeth, letting more of those rare droplets fall, tainting all his toys.
Why did such a win feel like such a loss? Like it had no meaning? He always did what was told. Kept quiet, did well on tests, become a detective. Catch Kira. Save the day. Save the world.
But he didn’t care at all. He had only loved one thing in his life, and in the process of fulfilling his duty... Their duty... He lost him.
Taking in a shaky breath, Near picked up the toys and pieces of puzzle and dice and cards and put them in his bigger chest. He took his time. He usually had the others do this for him, but he hated the person who was reliant on everyone to do everything. That man fucked up. He was foolish. He could die along with the rest of the casualties.
At one point, he heard his door open. He mentally chastised himself for forgetting to lock it.
“I thought I requested the night alone.” He said sternly, trying to not let his emotions show.
However, he got no response, only footsteps closer.
Footsteps with a heavy walk that none of his associates used.
Footsteps that should be six feet under.
Hallucination wasn’t one of the stages of grief. And it wasn’t on his agenda. He bit his lip, not sure what to think about. He didnt want to turn around. If he was wrong about who it was...
So he put more toys away. Methodically putting away robot after robot.
Soon another hand joined him. Taking a stuffed sheep and tossing it on the bed.
Only one person would know that goes there.
He reached for another toy. But hesitated. His mind was racing, trying to put together the puzzle. Figure out what was real. What was a lie.
A charred, bandaged hand grabbed the toy and put it away.
“Are you going to ignore me forever, or just until your toys are away.”
Near’s breath hitched a bit, the voice was deeper, damaged, but unmistakable.
He finally looked behind him, eyes a bit wider than usual, but still doing his best not to show his emotions. He had to have some cards left in his hand, for whatever game this was.
He looked like shit.
His hair was uneven and singed, his scar had gotten deeper and he could tell from the bandages he got more scars in new places. If he was here, he had to have survived a gasoline based truck fire.
He had to have survived the Death Note.
The man smirked.
“Sorry to interrupt your pity party, but it just so happened a kidnapped girl under immense pressure couldn’t accurately write a slavic name.”
Near stood up, walking over and gently touching his scar. He felt the other recoil, but he couldn’t care less.
He pressed harder, and earned a wince. He felt the warmth, a bit of blood from the wound staining his pale white fingers.
Blood.
Fresh blood.
He was alive.
“Mihael.” He said, under his breath, only able to be heard by the man before him.
He stepped closer. He pressed a hand on his chest, felt his heartbeat. He closed his eyes and counted... Steady, not in danger. Warm, quickening?
Near closed his fist a bit, gripping the leather under his palm. His fingernails would leave marks. But he could mark him. He was here to mark.
“Mihael...” He said, slightly louder. A reminder to himself.
Mihael snorted. “What, did you just remember it?” He said, a bit of a flush on his pale face. He could flush. He was blushing.
Near gripped his collar roughly, pulling him down and pressing his still lips to the others. It was awkward and obviously full of inexperience.
He felt the other snort, and could imagine him rolling his eyes. Probably savoring that he was going to obviously beat him at this. Near could care less.
The blonde held his face and tilted it into a proper kiss.
Ah.
This was actually a lot better.
Near kept the contact, using the new angle to press further against him, closing his eyes now, like he figured he was supposed to do. He was out of his depth here. There was no swell of orchestra or butterflies in his digestive system... But it was enough.
He pulled back, looking at him proper now. They were still holding each other, Near by his face and Mihael by his collar.
“Youre not better than me. For kissing me first.” He said, an uncomfortable look on his beet red face.
“I never claimed to be.” Was his response. “About anything. That was you.”
Mihael glared. “Stop it. Stop saying that. Not... now.” He looked down. It seemed Near wasn’t the only one feeling a lost sense of something.
Near looked at him and pulled back, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the bed.
“Prove youre better then. Unless you accept defeat..” He said, a coy grin creeping onto his face.
Mello went with him, smiling.
Nothing was solved, pieces weren’t clicked together in a perfect fit, the world didn’t suddenly make sense, and neither of them had a plan. However, they had a start.
And it looked promising.
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What movie or tv show scared you the most?
OH HEEHEEHEEEEEE MY TIME HAS COME
I think this was probably the sign I was meant to be a horror fan, because I'm gonna talk about two movies here and neither one is a standard horror film. Now, I avoided horror films like the plague, but I now realize that's because of my aversion to jumpscares and gore, which have very little to do with actual scary stuff. I feared actual horror imagery as a small child, but basically once I read Coraline it all just turned around because that book gave me nightmares but I actually WANTED those nightmares and kept going back to the book. So what are the movies I just COULD NOT contend with?
First up, I have found that a lot of people have said this one, but really and truly, fuck Chicken Run.
I was...maybe ten when I watched it. Signed up for a goofy claymation adventure. What did I get? First of all, a whole lot of bleak color palette that warned me that this was not going to be a happy story. We are then shown the stakes right away: our entire main cast lives in a dystopian prison and if they do not find a way to escape, they will die. One DOES die. This is where a lot of people say they noped out right away, but actually, the execution of the dinner chicken in the first scene was tame for me compared to what would come next.
The pie machine. It's assembled, it's talked about, and eventually our two leads fall into it in a way that is designed to be fatal. Look, there are a ton of horror tropes in this scene alone. I haven't seen it SINCE THE ONE AIRING and I can still vividly tell you a lot of this. And if I walked into a horror film and asked for this, I'd come out super satisfied, but I was not expecting horror from this. First of all, I remember vividly the shot where you're looking from Ginger's POV falling down the shaft and the divider comes up to shunt her into the "meat" line. It's incredibly claustrophobic and you just get this almost jumpscare reminder that the character through whose eyes you see is regarded as nothing more than meat to be consumed. There is then an array of blades designed for close calls, and dough that essentially glues the lead characters down to a conveyor belt so they have to helplessly watch the death machines that are coming. Sticky stuff that roots you to one spot; that's another thing that just REALLY unnerves me and I love it if I'm reading CreepyPasta but I was not reading CreepyPasta; I was watching a children's film. The leads escape certain death by jamming the gravy system, causing the machine to overload on pressure, and here I feel like I should've been relieved that they escaped but instead I was the most unsettled of all when the pressure meter started climbing. I don't know if this film *gave* me a phobia of industrial accidents or if it just awakened what was already in my OCD little brain, but suffice to say that after this movie, I was hyper-aware of my own fear of things like hissing steam, rising pressure meters, and being in a room where large metal things were clanking. (I'm since over it; I've been exposed to it in enough things.)
Now, I was no quitter. I should have just noped out. But I didn't. I continued to traumatize myself. The next part of the film until the climax I don't remember so well - it wasn't as traumatizing - EXCEPT for the part where Ginger finds and rebuilds Rocky's circus poster. And now, as an adult, I can see how that was kinda supposed to be funny, like, "The goddamn chicken padded his résumé and the way they found this out was a circus poster." But little me was invested in these chickens, I wanted them to be happy, and what I saw was basically their death notice being signed with that scrap of paper with a cannon on it. I FELT that in my bones.
STILL NOT HAVING THE GOOD SENSE TO JUST EJECT THE TAPE ALREADY, I proceeded to the climax, in which what happens to Tweedy might be one of the most fucking awful things I've seen ever? Pinned upside-down in a superheated, confined space with rising liquid from below as the pressure meter starts climbing again. And her husband arrives just in time to see her like this but not in time to actually stop the explosion. Thank God it didn't actually kill her because even though I was already traumatized, that would've absolutely made it worse.
Thing is, ever since this movie scared the absolute shit out of me - and was probably the cause of the weird stomachaches I had for A WEEK after - I've kinda had this thing about reclaiming the scary parts and stomping on them while laughing maniacally. I feel like every time I've done a crossover project, there's been a temptation to write in an arc where the mains go up against THE PIE MACHINE and fucking win. And also there's whump with tons of comfort in my version to mitigate it all. I haven't done any such thing for TBTC...YET. But I know what I must do. I know who must destroy the machine and the Tweedys along with it. Buckle your seatbelts.
My final word before I move on is that as I ascend into adulthood, I think that for the most part, a rewatch of this film wouldn't traumatize me so badly. It'd still be gross and creepy in a way I think shouldn't be sent to children without warning, but I could deal with the imagery, maybe enjoy using it as whump fuel even more, maybe my horror side would really get into the peril this time. But the one thing I've realized is that this premise is fucked EVEN MORE if you're a grown-up, because as a child, you're sympathizing with the chickens. You want them to get free of this death camp environment. But as an adult, you start to realize that all Tweedy wanted to do was be a chicken farmer who sold pie, and her supposedly nonsentient animals ganged up on her in a display of unheard-of intellect among farm stock. This would then lead to her undergoing at least one near-death fate. Think about being a farmer in our world and the animals you keep GANG UP ON YOU LIKE PEOPLE because you're killing them for food. No thank you, no THANK you.
But surely this was a one-of-a-kind phenomenon. Surely, after this...after so many other people agreed with me; "Fuck Chicken Run"...no animation studio would ever pull shit like this again.
I had hoped that was the case until Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs.
This is one I don't actually see lambasted as often. Maybe because the Chicken Run trauma crew grew thicker skins before this movie. I only sort of did. Maybe because no one ever actually invested in this film, having already predicted how much it would be garbage from the dumb humor in the trailers. Oh, but not me. I was a fool. Also my family picked it for a movie night so my fate was sealed anyway.
The original book is actually pretty frightening on its own. Food falls from the sky in such great numbers that it starts to destroy the world. Okay, that's terrifying. But kind of in the alluring way. I would keep coming back to the one page about the giant pancake on the school because the way it was drawn unsettled me so, with something huge and immovable blocking off the way to a building that usually has hundreds of innocent children inside. The film built on this and made it a thousand times worse.
Let's start with the goddamn Spray-On Shoe. Our main character is a mad scientist (but the good kind, apparently) whose list of bumbling failed experiments dates back to when he was a child and invented a spray you could put on your feet to coat them in shoes. He then gets laughed at because he didn't engineer a way to get the shoes off, and runs home in humiliation. Guys, the teasing/bullying factor is...not the most worrying thing about this story. There's a throwaway line about how Flint wears THE SAME SHOES into adulthood because to that day they simply cannot be removed. This seems like an incredibly urgent medical problem? Having your feet encased in the same rubber for years? The same rubber as when you're a kid? I just found myself thinking "What if my shoes never came off one day" and that terrifies me, okay? It's stupid and it's silly and it scares me. Even more than that, though, is the canonization of a polymer in this universe that can be sprayed on sticky and will literally never break no matter what you do to it, because that goes back to the pie machine dough principle. Being glued to a surface permanently is inherently terrifying and we'll go over this later because this is not the last fuckin time the glue shoes get brought up.
Flint invents a food-spewing machine. It ends up in the sky. He rides his popularity as it rains larger and larger food down upon the town and also the world. Most of this film up until the climax is unsettling but not AWFUL. Where it starts to go to shit is when Flint realizes his machine is too dangerous and shuts it off, only for the town's local greedy politician to switch it back on into an apocalyptic mode. So can we start with "Local town finds out its elected official is willing to sabotage their well-being in order to capitalize on the fame of a disaster-causing object?". Like, the whole film would've been solved so much sooner if there hadn't been a saboteur in the works - not a fun campy villain, mind you, but a saboteur who exists to drive the plot to the scary place. But I guess we need that narrative tension to justify having a film in the first place, so fine, I'll ride it out.
The main crew saddles up to fly out to the machine, which is now encased in a FLESH LABYRINTH of food, and...I'm just gonna rapid-fire the shit that happens at this part:
-The food turns sentient in order to defend itself. The cute animal sidekick brutally dismembers an army of gummy bears that is fully sentient and rips them apart to devour them.
-We enter the flesh labyrinth and it's exactly as much a horror RPG setting as you think it is.
-Now sentient cooked chickens besiege the party. The comic relief character is consumed by one, only to kill it from the inside and decide to WEAR ITS SKIN in what is seen as his defining character arc's conclusion. Wearing the skin of a dead monster allows him to forge his new identity.
-One of our party has to go back because of a tight passage lined with her deadly allergen, causing her to undergo anaphylaxis after an accidental mild nick. In the flesh labyrinth.
-The entire horrific journey is instantly INVALIDATED when it turns out that instead of the kill code for the machine, all Flint has is a file of a cat video. Which he finds out as the town is about to be obliterated off the face of the earth.
-So he solves it by jamming the works with the spray-on shoe and DID I NOT JUST GO OVER HOW HORRIFIC INDUSTRIAL EXPLOSIONS ARE IN KIDS' MOVIES? DID I NOT? ARE WE REALLY DOING THIS AGAIN? Anyway it's canonical proof that NOTHING can break the shoe glue and I should be happy for the town and happy that there's no more flesh labyrinth of living meat but instead I'm just terrified because of the door we have opened. We have imparted the existence of an indestructible sticky polymer upon the world.
-It's later seen used in a credits sequence to repair damaged houses. Which, first of all, given its flexible nature, is fuckin stupid. It won't serve as an actual wall. Second, that got me thinking about construction accidents involving the fuckin shoe glue. If that stuff gets dripped on a person's face -
-So then cue me sitting awake in bed later thinking wide-eyed about Cloudy with a Chance of Fucking Meatballs and realizing that this compound that is essentially a chemical weapon in the making is now in the hands of the mayor who deliberately caused an apocalyptic event over the town because he wanted the food rain. And THAT'S not going to lead to pretty circumstances.
I think you'll see that a lot of my fears with these two movies is "THINK OF THE IMPLICATIONS!" and I think that just shows how my mind works and why I'm drawn to fanfic so much. I'm all about diving into a universe, exploring its corners, analyzing it to death.
And with the industrial horror stuff, I kinda wanna bring it around to two other films that actually really subverted my expectations and made it fun. 102 Dalmatians was a fave of mine through middle school, but I remember when the climax took us to a big ol' factory and I got plumb nervous. After the usual blades and ovens of horror, the fact that it concludes with Cruella basically wearing a cake and a lengthy montage of the dogs kicking toppings onto her is just one of the most wholesome imageries. She survived the thing and now you get to watch her be decorated Lisa Frank style by her victims who are more interested in humiliation than murder, and I love that.
But maybe more prevalent is that I'm well aware that if certain filmography or plot points had been handled in different ways, The Boxtrolls might've actually frightened the ever-loving fuck out of me what with all the industrial stuff and medical horror, but I just...felt like that film was holding my hand the whole way through going "It's okay." The industrial stuff was framed in a way that was just campy enough and yet also taken seriously. Putting a really charismatic villain - ACTUAL VILLAIN, NOT CHICKEN FARMER OR CORRUPT POLITICIAN SABOTEUR - at the wheel was just such a mitigating factor that it gelled the whole thing together and I ended up LOVING what was done with giant machines and garbage crushers and explosions. And as for the medical body horror, I really appreciate how it was so baked in that Snatcher did that to himself - that everyone, EVERYONE warned him "Do not do this, you will probably die, I'm serious, bad fucking idea" up to the point of Eggs trying to plead him during an anaphylaxis attack, one last time, DO NOT continue down this path, we can find a way to heal you psychologically and get you some self-fulfillment. And Snatcher fully chooses hubris over the many, many opportunities offered him to be able to step down onto a safer path and that removes the fear and pulls it more into a tragedy for the villain. Not at all the same thing as "Sam the reporter is trying to save the world and doing her best until a fixture of the landscape accidentally sends her into anaphylaxis."
(Oh, and by the way, can I just - when I do see CWACOM brought up these days, it's always in the context of "This is the one movie where the guy tells the girl it's okay to look nerdy!". Well, no, not the way I remember it. The way I remember it, Sam basically tells Flint "I used to have really tacky style but have since changed it up of my own volition" and Flint is just like "NOOOOO YOU NEED TO WEAR GLASSES AND A SCRUNCHIE. I WANT A HOT NERD GIRL." This could've been pulled off right with some more introspection into female beauty standards, even in a tongue-in-cheek way, but right now it really looks like Sam just wanted to make herself more glam for a new image and Flint bullied her into regressing her style. Which I've also realized meant he bullied her into dressing more like she did as a teenager and normally I think that kind of shit is just "You're overthinking it" but since it's CWACOM and I spelled it out on paper like that, I'm just now realizing how that can be seen as pretty...icky.)
The one saving grace of CWACOM is that I was older by that time, and so it didn't affect me as hard as Chicken Run. But I still hold it dearly to my heart as one of the MOST DISTURBING movies I know, and by "dearly" I mean "fuck this movie, really and truly." I want to extend my thanks to 102D and Boxtrolls for giving me industrial-horror-based climaxes that were actually really comfortable, and again, probably what drove both of these was the fact that we had a campy diva villain in the lead for the potential scary stuff to surround and radiate off. Not a fuckin...ordinary chicken farmer who is just trying to make bank but is somehow passed as a Nazi allegory for trying to live her life as a farmer? I dunno, maybe if I rewatched that film I'd see she has a thirst for human blood too, and if I could fix fic Chicken Run my first order of business would be to give her a thirst for human blood instead of/in addition to chickens.
Anyway. Fuck both these films, EXCEPT for the fact that traumatizing scenarios can always be recast as whump material, and the next time I wanna do some crossover aftercare from a physically and psychologically damaging mission, I have a pie machine and a flesh labyrinth to exploit. REALLY HEAVY ON THAT AFTERCARE COMFORT THOUGH!
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Okay so I have an oc names is Arbany her quirk is indestructible wings and telekinesis and I would like u to do her x Bakugo where they fight and he say something that hurts her feelings and she later has a fight with some villains and almost die and whatever else u wanna add but an happy ending if that’s not too much for you I don’t wanna stress u out and if u don’t wanna do it it’s fine or if you have an better idea I will gladly take that thank u so much again I love you work take care 💕💕💕
A/N : omggg tysm for requesting and you’re so sweet ahhhh!! It actually means the world to me!
Apologises if she’s ooc, I’m not really sure what her personality is like.
Bakugou x oc
Warnings : violence/fighting, swearing
Words : 3,800
Masterlist
Arbany had met Bakugou during the June of their first year in high school, meeting each other for the first time when her school Shiketsu High bumped into his. The impression they left on each other wasn’t the best. She remembered him as the foul mouthed, egoistic boy with a superiority complex, and he saw her as a good for nothing brat with one too many words and nothing but a dumb set of wings.
She had managed to knock him off his pedestal after she received her hero licence before he had and it sparked rivalry of sorts, Bakugou vowing that he would never lose to her again. They had stayed in contact after Kirishima asked for her number, adding her to a group chat with himself, Bakugou and a few more of their friends.
Soon, unbeknown to any of their other mutual friends, they had began to text privately, and she often found herself rushing to the phone whenever his special notification sounded. They would often take about modern day affairs, the latest updates on well known heroes and villains, and sometimes they would open up and talk about themselves, asking each other for advice on certain things or how their day went.
It wasn’t long before Arbany found herself developing a massive crush on him. Sure his attitude was brash and unnecessarily rude, but that didn’t mean he was a terrible person, in fact he did care a lot, and she supposed he just tried hard not show it for some odd reason or another.
They would meet up regularly, normally at places that were a few train stations away from their houses. The distance between their schools wasn’t incredibly big, but it did take at least an hour to get to one place from another, so they compromised with spots in the middle. On specials occasions, when it was their birthdays or a pubic holiday, one would wait by the school gates of the other.
This led to their classmates noticing and hence teasing them about each other. On Arbany’s side, her face would flush, ears light pink as her friends made comments about shipping them whereas on the other side of town, Bakugou would scream threats as his friends laughed.
Eventually, they started dating. It was a few weeks into the second year and Bakugou had asked her out during a picnic in a field with a wreath of fresh flowers that he had hidden in his backpack and a necklace. It was cheesy, and he was embarrassed the entire time, his cheeks dusted with red, letting out small curses every now as then, but he decided the massive smile on who was now his girlfriend’s face was worth him putting down his ego and taking the first step.
In the following autumn, Arbany had transferred into his school for the last year, after her parents moved for their jobs, she decided to finish off her second year at Shiketsu before joining her parents closer to UA. She was understandably upset at leaving behind her good friends, however being with her boyfriend of nearly a year and also his friends, who she was pretty close to as well, helped cheer her up significantly.
“Arbany!” Mina called, waving her over to the side of the gym. She walked over, pulling on her sports jumper as Aizawa began telling them of today’s training lesson. It was a 1v1 spar with no quirks and he gave everyone the choice to choose a partner.
“Are you going to spar Bakugou?” Mina asked.
Arbany started, “Possibly I-” before cutting herself off as she watched the blonde stomp towards Midoriya.
“Fight me Deku.” he shouted.
She laughed slightly, shaking her head before turning back to Mina. “I think I’ll choose someone I rarely train with.” she said, to which the latter nodded.
“Alright, you better not loose!” she cheered before walking off. Arbany looked around, catching sight of Todoroki standing alone.
“Hey Todoroki!” she called out, smiling as he turned around. “Would you like to be my partner?”
He nodded politely, before the pair began walking to an empty marked area of the hall. Her physical skill was only a few hairs short of Todoroki’s, him often catching to smallest openings and attacking. She stepped back in a wide stance, bringing her leg up which he blocked, before jumping up and swinging the other leg. He dodged, stepping backwards as she swung up, about to land a punch when a sudden large explosion sounded.
“The hell?” she jumped back, whipping her head around to see a large charred dent in the floor of the hall.
“Bakugou! This is a no quirk exercise.” Aizawa shouted, using his scarf to hold the younger boy back from continuing to attack Midoriya. “Are you alright Midoriya?”
She felt a small pang of guilt. Maybe if she had spotted Bakugou’s increasing anger towards the other boy, then she could have possibly prevented this. Maybe she should’ve payed more attention to her own boyfriend.
“I’ll take him to nurse’s office.” she offered, walking towards the boy and pulling on his arm.
“It’s alright I’m fine.” Midoriya protested, shaking his head but she tugged on his arm again and he followed without much more complaint. In the background she could hear Bakugou screaming at her to leave the damn nerd alone but she simply ignored him.
After leaving the hall, she slowed down her pace, letting go of his arm. “I’m sorry about Katsuki, I’m not sure why he even thought something like that would be acceptable.” she sighed, rubbing her forehead as Midoriya awkwardly chuckled.
“It’s not your fault don’t worry.” he reassured her.
“No it’s not.” she huffed out frustrated, “but maybe I could’ve talked him out of pulling something like this.”
Midoriya shook his head. “I think we need to sort it out between ourselves.” he said. “There’s no need to blame yourself Arbany.”
She nodded and sighed, stepping into the nurse’s office after him and looking around for any burn ailments.
Bakugou was seething. He detested the thought of his girlfriend together with the only person on earth that he utterly loathed. As soon as class ended, he rushed off to find Arbany, spotting her near their classroom and pulling her to the side.
“Why are you hanging out with the damn Deku.” Bakugou asked.
She sighed, grimacing. “I was not ‘hanging out’ with him, I went to treat him for a burn that you caused.” she answered, pointing a figure to his chest.
“He could’ve easily taken care of that himself.” he muttered.
“No Katsuki. He could’ve easily not been hurt at all if you just learn how to grow up.”
He could feel himself shaking with anger as he clenched his fists. “What the fuck do you mean I need to grow up.”
“Katsuki you are literally an adult next year, stop acting like a child towards someone who literally hasn't done anything to deserve this hate.”
“So you’re defending him now?”
“Yes! Yes I am because I think you’re being utterly unreasonable.”
“I don’t get you. You’re my girlfriend and yet-”
“Exactly! I’m your girlfriend and you should listen to me when I tell you what you’re doing something wrong. I care about you and that’s exactly why I’m not going to condone this behaviour.”
“But he’s just a fucking loser-” He stopped shouting to hold his head with his hand, rubbing his temple. “Look, I didn’t pull you over for a fight.”
“Well I’m not sure what you expected pulling a stunt like that.”
“Look I can explain-”
“You literally attempted to kill him. For what reason? Because he’s your rival?”
“No because-”
The sound of a phone ringing cut him off. “Hold on, let me take this.” she said, side stepping away and bringing the phone up to her ear.
“Hello? Arbany speaking.”
“Hello Arbany, you are being requested for a case.”
“Alright, I’m coming right now.”
“Mirio is waiting for you at the front gates.”
“Thank you.” she said before hanging up the phone, turning around. “Listen I’ve got a job now, but don’t you dare think this conversation is over Bakugou Katsuki.”
“Wait- Arbany!”
She ignored him, rushing off back to the classroom to gather her bag before running down the hallway and stairs. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, telling herself to stay calm as she slowly counted to 10 before regaining her composure. “You’re okay Arbany, you can do this.” she said to herself, pushing open the main doors and quickly walking to the school’s front gate.
“Mirio!” she called out, a smile plastered on her face as she threw her bag in the back seat and climbed into the passenger’s seat.
“Hey Arbany.” he replied, throwing her and earpiece before starting the engine and speeding down the road as she put on her seat belt, catching herself with her hand as the car lurched forward.
“Woah, slow down or you’re going to hit someone.” she laughed, securing the piece around her ear.
“I’ll be careful, but today’s job is really urgent.” he said, and she grimaced at the lack of a single hint of humour in his voice.
“Well that sucks, who is it?”
“The League again.” he sighed.
“Seriously? I’ve never met them before.” she answered, a pang of excitement hitting her as she was finally going to face the area’s most infamous villains.
“Really? They’ve been all over your class since first year.”
“Oh damn. I transferred this year so I guess I missed all of the fun stuff.” she answered.
“Well, I wouldn’t say fun.” he replied with a small laugh. “Your boyfriend did end up kidnapped for a good few days.”
She huffed at the word boyfriend and this caused Mirio to loosen up and actually laugh for one time in their journey. His usual upbeat self was incredibly tense and Arbany noticed as soon as she heard his less than enthusiastic greeting. “What did he do this time?”
“Arh.” She put her head in her hands before looking back up and staring at the traffic light. “I don’t even know, he just acts like a child like oh my fucking god Katsuki you’re turning 18 next year and you’re still trying to kill this poor bean over some childhood superiority complex.” she ranted, throwing her hands up in the air, hitting the car’s ceiling by accident.
“That sounds like him.” Mirio laughed, turning the corner, them both now spotting a massive colour of smoke.
“Well shit.” she cursed, tightening her grip on her seat belt as she saw a few people running away from the general direction. “Care to brief me in on which fucker might have done this?”
“Most likely Dabi.” he replied. “He’s the most active member who has a fire quirk. Just a warning, they may possibly have nomus.”
He pulled over to the side of the road, a sticker on his car’s windscreen showing that he was okay to do what would have otherwise been illegal parking. She got out of the car, running towards the scene. “Damn I don’t even have my hero suit on.” she complained under her breath, jumping into the air and with a flap of her wings she was above, looking down towards the scene.
“[hero name] here reporting for duty.” she called out after turning the ear piece on.
“Alright Arbany, your job is to make sure all civilians are out of the area.”
“Understood.” she answered, starting by doing a massive lap around the burning building with her wings. Spotting a pair walking towards it’s general direction, she swooped down and guided them to another route, before flying back up.
Getting closer to the building her eye caught sight on a fairly unburnt rooming, severely out of place considering the entire building was up in roaring flames and smoke. She slowly made her way to, realising a fairly young woman had been using her quirk to fireproof the room, but visibly growing tired. Arbany banged harshly on the window, getting no response as the woman remained leaning against her bed, almost motionless apart from the slight turn of her head, her eyes widening at the fact that someone had noticed her.
Arbany landed on the balcony, stepping back before swinging her leg up and shattering the window. She reached inside and unlatched the door, walking in hurriedly and placing her hands underneath the woman’s knees and back.
“Are you alright miss?” she asked, lifting her up and exiting the building.
She closed her eyes, a faint smile on her lips. “Thank you...”
“It’s alright.” Arbany replied, dropping to the ground at the sight of an ambulance, passing the woman over to a health worker. “Have some rest.” she said before jumping back into the air.
Before she could even travel another few feet, something at an incredible speed knocked into her from behind, sending her shooting down into the ground. “Fuck!” she screamed, wrapping her wings around her as she plummeted into the concrete.
“Arbany? Are you alright?” her ear piece sounded.
“Oh my fucking god.” she cried out, standing back up with a wobble and turning to see a massive lump of muscle and flesh flying in the sky. “Holy shit that thing is ugly.” she snorted, rolling back her shoulders to ease the tension as she most likely had to face that thing.
“That’s a nomu. Try not to engage in contact.”
“I think it’s a bit too late for that.” she responded as it started flying down towards her at a rapid speed.
“We’re sending another pro hero your way. Stay on your toes until then.”
“Alright.” she answered, focusing her mind on the incoming nomu and trying to stop it with her telekinesis. It slowed down considerably, no longer a blur in the sky, however she knew that once it reached her, even with a swing of it’s arm, she would be toast.
She couldn’t take her eyes off it otherwise he telekinesis would cease to work, so slowly she flew back into the air. The nomu changed it’s direction of path and sped towards her. She watched it intently as it grew closer and closer and by the time it was arms distance, she forced all of her energy onto it. It slowed down even more, and with that, she flew up, waiting for it be directly underneath her, before hardening her wings and burying them into it’s muscles as knifes.
It let out an ear piercing howl and with that she focused her telekinesis onto her leg, giving it extra as she stomped downwards on the nomu’s body. It started falling almost instantly, yet in that minuscule time frame, it had grabbed onto her ankle, pulling her down as well. With a shift of it’s body, it launched Arbany down towards the ground with it’s immense strength.
“Fuck.” she screamed. Her wings couldn’t catch any updraft of air so she resorted to encasing herself in her wings again. She hit the ground with a massive crash, the things around her becoming debris as she lay still in the dent in the ground.
In the quick seconds this had all occurred, she had forgotten to unharden her wings. She groaned in frustration at her stupidity as she felt an overwhelming pain in her side.
“Well fuck I might be out of commission soon.” she announced, roughly pulling out one of her feathers out of her side and tying her clothes tightly around the wound.
“You can stop Arbany, Endeavour has made it to your area.”
“I’m gonna keep helping until I can’t move anymore.” she muttered, standing up slowly as she winced at her side wound. She fell in pain as she stretched out her wings. Her wings were indestructible yes, the bones in them could never break, however that didn’t mean the rest of her body was too. The muscles connecting her wings to her back had been severely injured in the fall.
She felt utterly useless. She was a combat hero as much as a rescue one but she had essentially failed at both tasks. She watched as the nomu burned up in flames, still rushing towards Endeavour in a rage. With the last part of her energy, she focused and stopped most of it’s movements, and he sent another fire attack it’s way. With it unable to dodge or even shake out the flames, it slowly burnt up. She guessed this one was the regenerative type the others had encountered before.
With a small nod, satisfied at her help, she leaned against a wall and said “Alright well I’m gonna take a quick nap.”
“Arbany you are still in the battlefield, open your eyes right now!” She winced at the shouting in her ear and grumbled.
“Fine fine, I’m leaving.” she slowly started limping away, her hand on the wall to steady her and she made her way back to the main road. Spotting the ambulance again she stood up straight to walk over, missing the curb and falling flat on her face.
She felt fatigue wash over her as she rested her head on the concrete. Her head was spinning uncontrollably and she closed her eyes shut, hearing people running over to her as she slowly faded away.
~~~
“Kacchan I’m guessing you’re going to visit Arbany right now?” Midoriya asked as Bakugou strolled into the kitchen.
“What?” he scowled, turning his attention to the other boy with a glare.
“Wait you haven’t heard?”
“Do I look like I have Deku? Fucking spit it out already.”
“R-right, Arbany’s in hopsital after the villain attack by the-”
“Are you fucking with me Deku? I swear to god.”
“N-no I’m not!” he quickly answered, shaking his head before getting out his phone and turning to the most recent screenshot. “It’s on the news.”
Bakugou snatched the phone off him, his eyes squinted as he hurriedly read the small test. “Fuck.” he said, tossing the phone back to him absentmindedly as he rushed out of the kitchen, grabbing someone’s random jacket that was rested on the couch before running out of the door.
He sprinted all the way to the front gate, propelling himself with his quirk. He stopped at a main road, waving down a taxi aggressively before jumping inside and demanding they go to the nearest hospital. He tapped his feet impatiently as the drive there felt so agonisingly long. His eye watched digital distance measurer and calculator, pulling out what he assumed to be more than enough cash.
“Just park here.” he demanded as the hospital came into view.
“Sir I can’t-”
“Just fucking park here.” he shouted, the timid guy agreeing and stopping the car. He slammed the cash onto the dashboard before bolting out.
“Sir your change.” the driver called out.
“Keep it for all I care.” he shouted back, not sparing another glance as he ran into the hospital, knocking into a few people and almost colliding with a few more.
“Arbany. Arbany [L/N]” he said at the front desk as he almost started shouting at the receptionist for how slow he felt she was going.
“Second floor, room 214.” she said and he nodded, rushing to the elevators.
“Please refrain from running in here.” she called out from behind him. “This is a hospital, not a playground.”
He disregarded her words, pressing the up button multiple times, watching the floors come down to the ground, stepping in and pressing the 2. He soon reached her room, knocking before entering. She sat up on the bed, grimacing slightly as her side throbbed.
“Fucking hell, what were you thinking.” he said, sitting down next to her. His words were harsh but she could hear the genuine worry in them.
“Funny thing right, I did this to myself.” she chuckled, pouting when he didn’t show any reaction to her lightheartedness expect sighing.
“You idiot. Do you know how worried I was when I heard that. And if was from that nobody Deku as well.” he rubbed his eyes, his lips drawn up in a tight grimace.
She kissed her teeth. “Yeah, we’ve got to sort out what problem you have with Midoriya.”
“Fuck that brat, don’t think you can just change the conversation topic. What the fuck were you doing out there to get you landed in this bloody hell.” he threw his hands up, but his tone remained worried, making sure not to raise his voice at her.
“I’m a hero Katsuki, of course there are going to be injuries now and then.” she reasoned.
“I know.” he breathed out. He knew too that it was inevitable. They were both aiming to be pro hero and such a path like that wouldn’t be smooth sailing. “I know, I just...”
She stayed silent, not rushing him to go on as she wrapped her fingers around his. He clasped her hand in both of his, bringing them up to his head as he looked down at the bed. “I was scared.” he whispered.
Her heart melted at his words. It was almost never that someone like Bakugou would put down his pride to admit something like that. She reached over with her other hand, stroking his hair as he continued. “They wrote about you as if you were in some life threatening condition.”
She giggled. “That’s the media for you.”
“I, I thought I might lose you.” he said. She felt him shaking and pulled him towards her, wrapping her arm around him.
“I’m not going to leave you, you dummy.” she assured him. “I promise.”
He pulled back, flicking her on the forehead. “You better, otherwise I’m gonna follow you to hell and beat your ass.”
“Hey!” she pouted. “Who says I’d end up in hell anyways.”
“Pfft, and you’re going to heaven then?”
“Yes!”
“In your dreams.” he snorted.
She laughed at him before they fell into a silence, fiddling with his fingers as he simply just stared her.
“What’s up sweatpea?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and trying to read his expression.
“I love you dumbass.”
“Ew gross.” she laughed as he glared at her. “I’m just joking, ow! Don’t hit me I’m injured.”
Leaning back on the bed and away from him, she stuck her tongue out. “Say it back.” he demanded.
She squinted her eyes at him. “Are you sure you’re not the injured one Katsuki?”
He huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine then. Be like that.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding oh my god.” she rolled her eyes, leaning forwards to peck him on the lips.
“I love you too, you baby.”
If it wasn’t for her being injured, he might have blown her to pieces in sheer embarrassment.
#bnha#bnha kacchan#bnha fanfiction#bnha bakugou#bnha x oc#mha#mha imagines#mha imagine#mha fanfiction#bnha imagine#bnha imagines#katsuki bakugou#bakugou#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x oc#mirio#bnha mirio#my hero academia#boku no hero fanfic#katsuki#bakugo katuski#katsuki x oc
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Highgrove Tides (smut)
by katefiction (Maria) / 2012
Disclaimer from Maria: I never wanted my adult stories to see the light of day again! But I’ve been told some people want to read them. I want to make clear that I’m absolutely mortified with embarrassment at these adult fictions. They make me cringe into the depths of my soul and I think the sex scenes and dirty talk are awful. But there we go. Enjoy!
The beat of the music bounced off every room in Highgrove house. Inside the cellar, at ‘Club H’; a selection of hip hop, classic pop and African drum beats entertained the fifty guests, who were attending William’s ‘Out of Africa post-party’. The night before, 300 guests had attended William’s official 21st birthday party at Windsor Castle, but tonight, Will had just invited his closest friends for a night of unadulterated drinking and fun.
It was 2am as Kate walked bare foot through the garden with a towel wrapped around her. Once round a corner, the large swimming pool came into view. William’s father had told Kate about the pool the night before at Windsor. Citing it as a good hangover cure, he welcomed Kate to use it tonight if two nights of drinking became too much.
The pool was large and almost rectangular, apart from at the shallow end where it curved. Kate stood at the deep end, which was closest to the house. Looking up, she gazed at the large arch structure covering the pool. It made it appear like a tunnel, open at each end. Covering the inside of the arch were dark blue and red tiles, with accents of gold running through them. ‘What a way to swim’, Kate thought.
She dipped her toe in the pool, and immediately shrieked at the cold temperature, sending echoes of her squeal all around the pool’s arch. Hoping no-one had heard, she pulled her hair up into a bun, and dropped her towel, revealing her while bikini and toned physique. Sitting on the edge of the pool, she slid in, shuddering, but was determined to get used to the temperature. After doing a couple of laps, she was warm enough and lay on her back, kicking her legs gently to keep her afloat.
As she admired the design above her, she realised how grateful she was to Charles for allowing her to use the pool. It really was relaxing, with minimal, soft lighting, and gave her time to reflect on last night.
William and her had slept together just a handful of times. They were still getting to know each other, but Kate was starting to wonder whether he was really that interested. In short, the sex was standard, but not mind blowing.
Last night, Jecca had been the guest of honour at Windsor Castle, and after watching the way William attended to her all night, Kate was inclined to believe that she just wasn’t exciting enough compared to the mysterious girl from Africa.
She liked Will, more than she cared to admit, but she was still nervous around him and especially so when they got intimate, despite the fact she wanted to show him everything she had.
‘Kate? Kate!’ Kate was certain she could hear hear name being called, despite the water making it muffled. She felt a splash of water hit her face, and she bolted to attention, standing back upright.
‘You scared me half to death!’ She gasped, as she saw William crouching next to the pool, drinking a bottle of beer, and grinning.
‘Well, you wouldn’t open your eyes’, he said, laughing. ‘What are you doing in here anyway?’
Kate blushed. ‘Just taking a break. Char… um, His Royal Highness gave me permission, I promise’
‘His royal highness?’, William raised his eyebrow sarcastically, ‘you mean my father?’
‘Well, yes, I…’ She was embarrassed. She still wasn’t sure what to call Charles in front of William.
‘Alright goody two shoes, “your dad” would do just fine’, he teased. Kate smiled. She was glad he had broken the ice.
‘What’s the water like?’ he asked.
‘Freezing when you first get in, but lovely now- what are you doing?’
William had got up and began removing his clothes. ‘You said it was lovely’. With all of his clothes off now, apart from his boxers, he bombed feet first into the pool, causing an enormous splash to soak Kate’s head.
She screamed, and as he emerged said, ‘should you really be jumping in a pool when you’ve been drinking?’
‘Calm down goody two shoes! Don’t you ever do anything reckless?’ He said, swimming around her in a wide circle.
‘Yes, of course’ She said, trying to appear relaxed.
‘Prove it’, he said ‘Streak around the garden.’
‘Absolutely not! Try something less humiliating’ she laughed.
‘Alright’ he said, getting closer to her. ‘How about you get naked in the pool then?’
The was a painful pause between them, until Kate finally broke the silence, ‘don’t be stupid’ she said turning away. She was suddenly all too aware that she was wearing a bikini.
‘Have it your way’, William smirked as he swam past her, brushing his leg against hers. The hairs on her body stood up as she felt a spark shoot through them.
A mixture of adrenalin and two days worth of alcohol buzzed through Kate’s head. She couldn’t deny William’s body was quite something, toned and strong from polo playing, plus he was tall with it. As she watched him swim laps of the pool, his muscular arms and legs sweeping through the water, she felt a flush of desire as she imagined the rest of his body, something that was usually confined to under the sheets in a darkened bedroom.
William kept an eye on Kate as he swam. She was leaning against the edge of the pool watching him swim. He was horny, and that white bikini wasn’t helping. He swam underwater to the centre of pool and emerged looking out onto the house’s vast grounds.
He’d just forget about it, he decided, Kate wasn’t the type to do something like that, when he heard Kate swim up behind him. From behind, she wrapped her arm around his stomach under water, her fingers bent, she caressed his torso with her knuckles, ‘don’t call me goody two shoes’, she said close to his ear.
William span around to face her. Kate leant up and brushed her lips against his, kissing him once.
‘Well that was a surprise’, William grinned, Kate was never usually this forward in public.
She kissed him again once on the lips, and he responded by returning a kiss. Their eyes were locked together. William placed his hands firmly on her waist, and pulled her in for another kiss. But she was in the mood to tease him, pulling her head back each time as he only managed to brush her lips with his.
‘Stop it’ he growled.
‘Make me’ she teased.
William let go of her waist and lifted her up from under her thighs, placing her legs around his waist with ease. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he held her up under the water. There in the middle of the pool, with her legs wrapped around him, Kate let William kiss her. It was gentle at first, but as he slid his tongue in, it became harder and more intense. Kate pushed her crotch into his, and soon they were kissing deeply for what felt like ten minutes, bodies entwined under the water.
‘God, I want to do so many things to you’ William whispered, releasing himself from her mouth and moving on to her neck, licking and kissing at it.
‘Like what?’ she asked, her eyes closed enjoying William ’s tongue on her neck ‘just for arguments sake’.
Will set her down on the pool floor and cupped both of his hands around her breasts. ‘Well I’d start here’, he said stroking them slowly. ‘And then I’d…well you don’t need to know that, you’re far too well behaved to hear it…’
Kate smiled innocently, but the desire in her eyes gave her away. She reached her hand under the water and rubbed his cock over his boxers. William’s jaw twitched. Not wanting to lose this game they had going or show her just how turned on he was, he said ‘is that the best you can do?’
‘You’re a twat’ she said pouting her lips, and William let out a dirty laugh.
Reaching behind her neck, she undid her bikini straps and they fell over her front. Will licked his lips. She reached behind her back and undid the clasp with a snap, letting the top fall away, and revealing her round breasts bobbing on the water’s surface.
‘Is that good enough?’ she asked.
William cleared his throat ‘ugh…it’s a start’. Kate’s nipples were large and hard with arousal.
‘I like them being licked’ she said, biting her lip. Foreplay had been limited in their few past sexual encounters, but the truth was Kate loved it.
He crouched down immediately, his head still above the water and clasped his mouth around her breast. His tongue worked in circles, licking and sucking at her tight nipples.
‘Oh, that’s good’, she moaned as he moved on to the other one. Despite being in water, Kate could feel the warm rush of her cum throbbing out of her.
‘Will, let me make you hard’, she whispered and he stood up. Taking his hand, she led him to the side of the pool, where it was shallow enough to stand, but deep enough so the water reached their chests. William backed against the wall and she closed in on him. Pulling down his boxers, she grabbed his cock and began to rub his shaft up and down.
‘Oh fuck..’ he groaned, his cock growing hard in her hand. He pulled her head in to kiss her, as her hand rubbed at his penis and played with his balls.
‘Are you going to admit you were wrong about me now?’ Kate asked, releasing his cock. Despite being hard, William still managed to tease her, ‘never’, he said.
‘Fine’ Kate huffed. She took a breath and slid under the water.
Beneath the water, his cock looked even bigger than it was. It was long, thick and strong, just like the rest of his body. With a skill William had never experienced, Kate held on to his penis, and keeping her breath, swirled her tongue around the tip, sending shockwaves up his body.
Kate broke back out of the water ‘I guess if you still refuse to admit you were wrong…’ She turned and began to swim away, but William grabbed her from behind, his cock hard in her back.
‘Ok, I admit it’, he said licking under her earlobes. ‘Now suck me properly.’
William pulled himself up so he was sitting at the edge of the pool. Kate took his cock and wrapped her tongue around the length of it, running it lightly up and down. Knowing he was close already, she flicked at the slit of his tip, while she looked him in the eyes. Will clenched his jaw as he felt himself about to explode, ‘bloody hell…’ he moaned, and with a final pull using her hand, he came into her mouth.
William slid back into the water, breathless. He wanted nothing more now than to tease Kate until she screamed. Reaching down, he pulled her bikini bottoms to one side and began stroking her. Her warm cum covered his fingers and he said ‘you really want it don’t you?’
‘Mmm hmm’, she replied, unable to form proper words as William caressed her wet lips. He grinned, pleased at how receptive she was to his touch. Kissing her on the lips, he slid his tongue inside her mouth and simultaneously slid both fingers inside her pussy.
‘Uhhh’, Kate cried out as his fingers entered her. He curved his fingers inside her, stimulating the walls of her pussy, and making her respond ‘right there, keep it there…’
‘I’ve got a better idea’ he said. She was all his now.
‘Don’t stop!’ she pleaded as he removed his fingers, rubbing her cum on his cock. He knew he’d have no problem getting hard again after this. He peeled off her bikini bottoms, and they floated away across the pool.
‘Over here’ he said directing her to the shallow end, furthest away from the house. A ramp, rather than steps formed the beginning of the shallow end. Kate lay down on it, on her back, letting the water lap over her naked body.
‘Haven’t you teased me enough?’ she asked.
‘Not quite’ Will growled back, pulling her legs open. His tongue lapped up her cum, pushing it up to her clit, making Kate groan.
‘You like that?’ he asked, feeling his cock stiffening again. He ran his tongue over her clit, gently at first, then harder.
‘Will please!’ Kate moaned
‘Please what?’ he said, reaching up to pinch her nipple.
‘Fuck me!’
She gasped as his tongue thrust inside her. It was wet but rock hard, an experience new to Kate. She had never been fucked with a tongue. Grabbing his hair, she screamed out, sending echoes all over the pool. As William thrust his tongue in and out of her pussy, he felt it tighten and knew he needed and wanted his cock in her before she came. Pulling his tongue out, he sat up and watched Kate’s body quivering with pleasure.
Her pussy was tingling. ‘I need to come’ she said desperately, sitting up on the ramp now too. She pulled him towards her and kissed him hard on the mouth, caressing his body with her hands. Every touch of her bare skin on his cock made it grow harder.
‘Come with me’ Will said, fully erect.
‘Where are we going?’ Kate replied as he moved away.
‘I’m going to fuck you’ he said with dead seriousness in his expression. They moved to the centre of the pool again, Kate backing against the edge.
‘I’m gonna do you hard, are you prepared for that?’ he asked, stroking her nipple with the back of her hand.
‘I want that’ Kate replied as his penis nudged at her thighs.
‘Yeh?’ He said, brushing his lips over her neck. ‘Tell me how you want it.’
‘Hard’ She said, so wet, her pussy practically begging for him.
‘No, Kate, tell me EXACTLY what you want me to do to you’. William was ready, but he loved hearing how much she wanted him.
‘I want you…I want your cock to…I want you to fuck me hard against this wall…I want to cum all over you…please Will…’ Kate pleaded.
William couldn’t take it any longer. As she spoke, he pulled her legs apart, plunging his cock deep into her.
‘Ohhh!’ Kate moaned loudly, wrapping her legs around his waist. He drilled her with military precision as the water lapped over her pounding clit sensually.
‘Tell me again…’ Will groaned, pushing hard into her.
‘Fuck me! Fuck me Will!’ she screamed.
He increased his pace, holding her arms down to the edge of the pool, so he could get as deep as possible.
Kate continued to hold on to the edge of the pool as William leaned slightly back where he stood and held the back of her thighs for more leverage. Rather than doing all the thrusting, he stood still in this position and pulled Kate to him, then pushed her away again, letting the water’s natural movement aid him. Kate’s body was stretched our and her pussy slid easily over his rigid dick.
‘I want your cum all. Over. My. Cock.’ Will said, using every pause to pound into her, seemingly pounding to the drums beats coming from the house.
‘More!’ Kate cried leaning her head back on the edge of the pool.
‘More?’ Will asked dirtily, leaning over and biting her nipple. ‘You’re so fucking horny’
‘Faster… ohh…my pussy’s so wet for you…fuck me faster…’ She groaned.
William obliged, grabbing her butt under water and fucking her in short, sharp, fast thrusts. Kate felt her pussy buzz with the speed.
His cock rubbed against her walls.
‘William…oh…!’
Every part of her body stood to attention as the pleasure broke over her.
‘I’m gonna come, yes…oh…fuck…’
Her toes curled over, as the orgasm burst over her body.
‘Fuck me! Oh fuck…. fuck me..YES..YES! She screamed as she came, her cum flowing all over his cock.
‘Jesus, Kate!’ William was close behind, and as he felt her fresh cum spill over his tip, he came hard once again, sending bursts of cum into her.
***
As William set her feet back on the floor, Kate whispered ‘that was…’
‘I know’ Will finished the sentence. ‘You’re full of surprises aren’t you?’
Kate smiled feebly, too weak and still coming down from the orgasm. Will jumped out of the pool, and scooped up his belongings from where he left them, leaving Kate naked in the pool.
‘Will!’ she called out, her voice hoarse from the screams. She realised she didn’t know what to say.
‘Until next time, goody two shoes’ Will winked.
‘Next time?’
‘Now I know your mind is just as filthy as mine, we can’t possibly go back to lights off, under the sheets. Trust me, there’s more where that came from.’ He said, walking away from her and back to the house.
He had said with so much confidence that Kate was inclined to believe him.
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Choose Your Own Adventure - MadaTobi Soulmate AU Arc I
Heart’s Desire (Ice and Fire)
Rated: E
Summary: A touch is all it takes, to find one’s soulmate, to initiate an exchange of chakra natures and powers that would later intermingle and make both of them stronger. Madara craves this—or at least thinks he does, until he awakens one morning sans Sharingan, his chakra alien and freezing, and watches an angry Senju Tobirama crash into his room, glaring murder at Madara with what used to be his exclusive Mangekyō pattern.
Or, Soulmate Idiots in Love and you get to choose how these fools get to the love part
Read it on AO3 or under the cut :3
(just in case, all the survey comment replies will be on AO3)
Chapter 1
Madara went to bed in a begrudgingly pleasant mood following the ostentatious celebrations Hashirama had organized to mark the first anniversary of Konoha’s founding.
He wakes up feeling parched, freezing, muscles aching all over, like he’s been hit fist-first by a Susanoo or several.
And perfect eyesight.
Madara blinks.
No. No, that can’t be right.
There’s no familiar prickling pressure of the Sharingan’s chakra behind his eyes, so it should be impossible for him to see the world in such perfect clarity.
Except, he does. Madara looks at his hands, now trembling from the unrelenting cold. Fever, some kind of psychedelic poison, perhaps. He shuts his eyes for a few moments and reopens them, slowly. Every irksome scar on his palm, every little wrinkle on his blanket, almost every strand of wild bedhead hair is visible to Madara in a way nothing has been since his Mangekyo had awakened at sixteen.
He tries to activate it and fails. And that’s when it finally hits him.
Soulmate. He sighs with no small measure of relief. Right. No need to panic.
Just a harmless exchange of powers which would easily lead to Madara’s Chosen since they’d end up, presumably, with his dōjutsu and a very distinctive fire nature chakra. Another shiver runs through him. Oh, how he misses his chakra now.
Regardless, once he’s next to his soulmate, he should feel better. Presumably, they’re still in the confines of the village, the longer delay in the bond’s manifestation is an inconvenience of adult soulmate bonding that Madara will have to deal with.
The icepick jolts of pain in his muscles aren’t easy to ignore, but Madara stands all the same, rushing to the bathroom to make himself presentable, mentally running through the list of people he’d touched last evening. Unfortunately, a lot. Mostly handshakes, because he’ll never be quite as comfortable with casual touches as Izuna and Hashirama are, and it already takes a lot of his willpower to drop the gloves and expose the mess that is his fire-charred skin.
But this is what he’s been waiting for, dreaming about since the times he was a starry-eyed child first hearing about the concept of partners made perfect for each other, chosen by fate. There was no harm in a platonic soulmate, of course, but Madara has secretly been craving his bond to be a romantic one. If only to feel, to taste, to have the chance to cherish the intimate closeness everyone around him seems to enjoy, with or without a soulmate, while Madara struggles, miserably at that, to connect with anyone on a deeper level than a shallow fling. He’d never admit that this is the reason he’s suddenly become less averse to handshakes and touchy-feely attitudes, but there’s no point lying to himself, at least.
“Fuck.” The ache trickling through his veins gets so strong he has to pause mid-dressing and close his eyes to come down the force of it. What is…
“Godsdammit, Uchiha,” an unfortunately familiar voice bellows from within his house, for some inexplicable reason, “where are you?”
The world is spinning somewhat uncomfortably as Madara’s eyes fly open and he stumbles out of the bathroom to face the intruder—none other Senju Tobirama crashing into his room, glaring murder at Madara with what used to be his exclusive Mangekyō pattern.
“Senju?”
1) Maybe, Madara supposes, there is a tiny, infinitesimal advantage to self-deception.
“No,” he whispers, a shudder running through him from what he knows isn’t the nagging cold this time, “you can’t be my soulmate.”
2) Madara stares. Perhaps rudely, but he allows himself the indulgence as his brain scrambles to find a half-coherent answer to what the fuck is going on. “You’re my soulmate?”
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p.s. a sketch for this chapter based on a comment that cracked me up XD
Chapter 2
Madara stares. Perhaps rudely, but he allows himself the indulgence as his brain scrambles to find a half-coherent answer to what the fuck is going on. “You’re my soulmate?”
“Evidently, Uchiha, the gods have a strange sense of humor.” Tobirama narrows his eyes. “Now, care to explain why I’m suddenly near-blind?”
Ah, Madara’s brain supplies eloquently, right.
“It’s the,” Madara stutters, because how does one explain that one of the most powerful and useful dōjutsu in existence also leads to blindness? “It’s the effect of the Sharingan. It affects eyesight.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Tobirama takes a step forward. Madara realizes, acutely, that he can feel the waves of anger radiating from the man. “Are you a complete idiot?”
Madara crosses his arms. “It’s none of your business, Senju, what I do and don’t do,” he says, barely managing to refrain from shouting.
“It is, apparently, because we’re bonded now,” Tobirama says, voice dangerously low, “I can barely see anything without this accursed thing,” he points to easily the most revered dōjutsu in existence, “your pathetic excuse for a sensing ability doesn’t compensate for it in the slightest and this migraine won't go away.”
“Well, deactivate it, genius,” Madara says, remembering his own suffering through the ache this morning that’s still wracking through his body. “And my sensing abilities—”
“Are bullshit,” Tobirama cuts him off, “and how would I know how to turn this thing off?”
“Oh.” Again, a show of eloquence. The fact honestly throws Madara off, because he can’t imagine having the Sharingan and not being able to intrinsically control it. “Just—just relax!”
“I can’t, Uchiha,” Tobirama growls, “because any time I focus on these godsdamned eyes, the pain only grows worse. I’m haunted by visions I can’t seem to stop—or unsee—and you want me to fucking relax?”
That is a fair point. He looks beyond distraught, just as agitated and disheveled as Madara—only that’s a look Madara’s never seen on him. Tobirama’s eyes gleam with a more potent red now and the deadly pattern engrained on them makes him look more threatening than usual, his hair is sticking at odd angles and so are his hastily thrown on clothes, his shirt barely tied, sandals askew, his attire showing so much skin when it’s usually barely visible.
Also, Hashirama had warned Madara that being near Tobirama is ‘unsafe’ when he starts to swear. Regardless, Madara only crosses his arms tighter and huffs; he will not be intimidated.
“Yes,” he says, “I want you to calm down and act rationally like you claim you always do. Every second you use the Mangekyo, you’re only making it worse.”
“Worse?” Another thing Madara has never seen the Senju express: panic. He takes a step back just as Madara takes one forward, raising his arms in a pacifying gesture. Panic and a Mangekyo with an unpredictable special ability never mixed well. “What do you mean—why wasn’t it a problem for Tōka when she and Izuna exchanged powers?”
“Because his is different,” Madara says. “He uses it less.”
“Why would you abuse it to this level then?” Tobirama’s new eyes were starting to bleed around the edges. Oh, perfect. "Do you have no sense of self-preservation?
“Senju, you need to calm down." Madara takes another tentative step towards him. "And if you have trouble remembering, just a year ago we were at war. I needed to.”
“You’re almost blind,” Tobirama says, as if Madara didn’t hear him the first time.
“Why would you care? Those are my eyes and I will ultimately deal with the consequences,” Madara growls.
“Because the consequence is you going blind, you idiot!” Tobirama explodes, even as he gasps and takes a few staggering steps back. He must have noticed the blood clouding his vision. And to top that, Madara feels familiar erratic energy gathering in the room. “What is…"
How does Izuna always calm him down from his rages?
“Listen, Senju,” Madara tries, approaching him slowly, “I get it, you’re upset, blindness, that’s—that’s bad. But we’ll talk about it,” he promises, “I’ll explain everything, and I’ll help, but you have to calm the fuck down.”
“How?” Tobirama is breathing heavily, Sharingan flitting wildly, unfocused.
“Choose any object in the room and focus on it, or, or on me.” Madara winces. He really doesn’t have Izuna’s talent for this. “And just—Senju, you’re not listening.”
“I can’t, Madara.” More shocking than Tobirama’s use of his first name is the intense surge of Tobirama’s chakra rippling through the room. Surprisingly, that suddenly makes Madara’s pain die down to a low buzz. “Everything’s—”
“Red and blurry and painful, I know,” Madara tries to ground him. “Kneading chakra into it isn’t how you deal with it.”
“The visions—”
“Aren’t real,” Madara lies, knowing that Tobirama is probably seeing figments of his memories, most likely not the pleasant kind.
“Madara, I can’t do this!” Tobirama shouts, all but huddled against the corner now. He’s hyperventilating, desperately trying to wipe away the blood only flowing harder from his sockets, and it’s all Madara can do to hope he doesn’t attempt to claw them out. “It’s getting—it’s—I…”
Madara watches him in a bit of a stupor. This isn’t like their usual shouting matches or heated arguments during yet another meeting where their interests clash. Tobirama is never vulnerable. He shouldn’t be.
This isn’t right.
Part of Madara wants to touch him, knead their bonded chakra together and comfort him, while the other urges him to run away, to use the Hiraishin Tobirama so favors and escape this strange, unfamiliar mess.
Madara finds he has no idea what to do, and the intimate knowledge of just how dangerous his Mangekyō can be keeps him frozen in place.
Madara swears under his breath and, throwing caution and his own mounting panic to the wind, closes the distance between himself Tobirama, all but wrestling his trembling frame into a hug.
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Chapter 3
Tobirama tenses up at once, his breath hitching, but doesn’t do much else to break the hold. Madara doesn’t die instantly, which is good, all things considered. The world doesn’t distort and disappear and there’s no hint of his Sharingan’s ability spontaneously acting up.
“What—” Tobirama finds his voice.
“You’re okay, Senju. Just breathe.”
Tobirama shifts against him, muscles twitching in a half-hearted attempt to break free, but Madara doesn’t allow him, only drawing him closer and wrapping him tighter in his arms.
“You’re okay,” Madara says with as much conviction as he can muster. “Don’t mind those visions and try to ignore the pain. You’re going to be okay.” And that’s more of a truthful statement, because the way Tobirama keeps shaking as he tries and fails to catch his breath is more than a little unnerving.
He’s not supposed to be like this.
“You’re going to be okay,” he repeats, trying to calm the both of them, really, and to his surprise, it seems to be working, if just a little.
Tobirama doesn’t quite relax, but stays silent and doesn’t move, forcefully leveling out his breath as he squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head in the mess that is Madara’s unkempt hair. It’s a bit awkward, and Madara has no idea what to do with his hands, placing them stiffly on Tobirama’s shoulders. That makes their position more awkward and Madara settles for his lower back, trying for soothing motions that just end up being stilted pats of sorts. That has him giving up entirely and ending up completely still, staring at a single point in the wall and willing his mind stop repeating its incessant, panicked mantra of fuck.
A few still moments pass before Tobirama says, “Chakra.”
Madara blinks. “Chakra? What about it?”
To Madara’s steadily increasing surprise, Tobirama leans more into his embrace, willingly, and finally manages to take a deeper breath.
“Feels good,” he says simply, and it finally hits Madara that… something has changed.
Tobirama’s—well, Madara’s chakra now embedded in his coils—has spread out significantly, filling up the space around them like thick, almost tangible steam, feeling hot, familiar and comforting. So much so that, apparently, the last remnants of the ache bothering Madara since he’d woken up are gone.
Which is strange, considering how the pain spiked up after he had presumably sensed Tobirama approaching. Soulbonds do have the ability to calm and even heal soulmates in certain cases, but Madara had always assumed that soulmates had to have an accepted bond for that particular part of it to work.
Or at least be fond of one another. Not hate each other’s guts like he and Tobirama do.
Fuck.
It’s all a gigantic, confusing mess.
Madara closes his eyes, mimicking the pattern of Tobirama’s breathing. Just for the hell of it, he pushes out the alien chakra from his coils in a tentative attempt to further comfort Tobirama, and the effect is immediate. Both of them feel the intermingling of the energies—ice cold and molten hot. Usually clashing when they lose control during their fights, now merging instead into a force that makes Madara’s skin prickle in a surprisingly pleasant way. And judging by the feel of Tobirama finally relaxing into his hold, it seems to affect him similarly as well.
“Senju, do your sensing abilities cause you chronic pain unless you’re overwhelmed by a particularly strong chakra signature?”
Madara doesn’t know what compelled him to ruin an otherwise blessedly peaceful moment, but he does want to find out if Tobirama is being hypocritical when chastising him for keeping self-destructive secrets.
Tobirama draws away, staring at Madara in confusion, Sharingan still blazing, almost blending in with the inflamed blood vessels as thin trails of blood keep trickling from them.
“No?” he says. “Why, are you in pain?”
“Fuck. No. Shut up,” Madara says, mentally kicking himself, “never mind.”
He doesn’t break eye contact and moves his hands to grip Tobirama’s shoulders, still kneading chakra into the space around him to ground them both.
“Now, Senju, like I said. You need to focus on something—anything in the room. Can you do that for me?”
Tobirama nods, keeping his gaze where it is, dead set on Madara’s eyes.
“Me. Okay. Right.” Madara’s face grows a little hot, probably due to the rising temperature of the room from Tobirama slamming his stolen chakra around like an untrained amateur. “Focus on the little things you can see. It can be anything, any details. You can say them out loud if you want.”
Tobirama gives another nod. Takes a deep breath. Runs his eyes slowly over Madara’s face. He looks so strange like this, his expression lacking the usual frown, lips trembling slightly, hair in disarray, eyes bloodshot and full of fear. Madara would pity him, were he a better man.
(Maybe he is a better man.)
“I can see every little strand of your hair,” Tobirama says suddenly, with a hint of awe, “and every tangle. It’s half over your face, like it always, but… there’s more of it sticking everywhere.” He tilts his head to the side. “You look a little stupid.”
Madara bites his lip to hold back his retort and motions for Tobirama to continue.
“Eyelashes,” Tobirama says next. “They’re wet. Waterdrops and…” He frowns, gaze growing a little distant. “There’s so much—so many particles on them?”
“No, no, no, no.” Madara shakes him slightly by the shoulders. “Don’t go that deep, ignore the particles. Keep your attention on the droplets, on the bigger picture,” he stumbles through the words quickly, hoping he isn’t too late and won’t have to deal with the impending chakra depletion his eyes’ ability entails.
Tobirama seems to refocus, but still asks, “Why not? Does every Sharingan allow you to focus on the atomic level?”
Madara shakes his head.
“Only mine as far as I’m aware, and that’s a power you do not want to test out, believe me,” he says in lieu of a proper explanation. That mess can come later. “Go on.”
Tobirama scowls, clearly unsatisfied, but complies.
“Right. Droplets. Your whole face is wet, actually.” He frames Madara’s face with his hand, hovering, barely touching. “Your cheeks, your lips. I didn’t notice before that your cheeks were so… not chubby. Fuller, I guess?”
Madara wonders if drowning in Hashirama’s tears is a price he’s willing to pay to commit a very satisfying murder. It’s tempting.
“And there’s,” Tobirama lifts his fingers to brush against the side of Madara’s face, suddenly grinning, “toothpaste.”
Madara swats his hand away and hastily brushes it off.
“Calm enough now?” he snaps, rubbing at his other cheek for good measure.
“I think so,” Tobirama answers, blinking. “It’s still not gone, though.”
“You have to refocus on your eyes now,” Madara says, “but don’t channel chakra. Just feel how the Sharingan influences your eyesight, your perception, simply be aware of it. And then—let go.”
A few heartbeats later, the black dissipates from Tobirama’s eyes, leaving him with his usual dim red irises. They both heave sighs of relief.
“Finally!” Tobirama shoves past Madara and starts pacing around the room, wiping away the dried blood clinging to his eyelids.
“Yeah, finally,” Madara grumbles. “And what do you mean my cheeks are chubby?”
“That’s what you want to focus on?” Tobirama says, turning to glare at him. “Not the fact that you’re steadily going blind and haven’t told anyone about it? Does Hashirama know? Does Izuna?”
“Yes, no, no and yes,” Madara says, rolling his eyes.
“Not funny, Uchiha.”
“Not trying to be, Senju.” Madara pinches the bridge of his nose. Unfortunately, now that they’re apart again, the low buzz of the ache in his joints has returned and is getting worse by the second. “It’s how the Mangekyō works. I didn’t make the rules.”
“Walk me through it,” Tobirama demands. “What exactly does this form of the Sharingan do and why is there no way to fix it?”
“There is,” Madara says. “The Mangekyō gradually destroys all the living cells in your eyes unless you get an eye transplant of another pair of Mangekyō, preferably a sibling’s.” He shifts his gaze from Tobirama’s horror-stricken face to an empty wall which suddenly looks so very mesmerizing. “Which is obviously something I refuse to do, and Izuna doesn’t want to, either.”
A few more beats of silence pass.
“And Izuna’s is better, you said.”
“Yes.” Madara chances a glance at him. Tobirama is frowning, eyes narrowed in his usual ‘thinking and analyzing’ expression Madara is used to seeing on their joint meetings. “I forbade him to use it unless absolutely necessary.”
“Hm. So that’s why he never used it when we fought.”
“Correct.”
“Pity.”
Madara almost chokes. “W-what?”
Tobirama shrugs. “I’ve always wanted to try going up against it. Anija always had so much fun with you, I felt like I was missing out a little.” It’s such a ridiculous admission, and Madara can’t seem to do anything but splutter harder. “I didn’t know it was causing you so much pain, though. That changes things.”
“Well—well, that doesn’t matter!” Madara throws up his hands. “Gods, Senju—people are terrified of this dōjutsu, you know!”
Tobirama hums, noncommittal, and Madara comes to the conclusion that Hashirama isn’t the only reckless idiot among the Senju after all. Before he can say anything else, though, Tobirama’s face lights up with the slightly manic expression he gets when he comes up with a new idea.
“You’ve tried transplanting both pairs of the Sharingan, of course?” he asks. “Just exchanging the eyes, I mean. What happened then?” He looks at Madara expectantly, only managing half a minute of silence. “Well? Madara?”
He still receives no answer.
“Please tell me,” Tobirama says slowly, voice pained, “that look means that my question is redundant, and you’ve obviously tried that before. Right?”
Madara doesn’t, in fact, know for sure if the Uchiha have attempted anything of the like.
But never let it be said he isn’t ready to defend his clan’s honor.
“Of course!” he says, flailing a little before forcing his arms to cross over his chest, a bit defensively. “Or, well, I think so. I’m sure,” he corrects himself, “I’m sure someone has done that and it evidently didn’t work, because then…” Madara thinks about the blind Uchiha he knows and had helped take care of, when he could. The hollow eyes of too many of his clanmates, haunted by tragedy and death. “Then decades of problems wouldn’t exist,” he finishes lamely.
Centuries, more like. Gods does Madara hope he’s right.
“Let’s hope so, Uchiha,” Tobirama growls, “or I’m going to have to assume everyone in your clan lacks basic logical thinking skills, not just you.”
“Keep your mouth shut about my clan, Senju!”
“How can I, when I’ve got this damnable keepsake from you?” Tobirama says, gesturing to his eyes, which, thankfully, don’t switch over to the Sharingan despite his very apparent ire.
Madara takes a deep, calming breath.
“I get that it isn’t exactly pleasant, Senju,” he says in the most level tone he can muster. “Your abilities seem to cause me pain too, if to a lesser degree,” he can’t help but complain. “But the fact is—we’re soulmates. You’ll have to deal with my eyesight for… a while, until both of us learn to control and give our powers back to each other. Then the Sharingan will be solely my concern once again. All right?”
Tobirama stares at him like he’s said something stupid. Again.
“No, Madara. The fact is that we’re soulmates, and from what I’ve gathered about a concept I care little about, we’re going to have to support one another.”
It’s so strange for Madara to hear someone say they care little about the concept of soulmates, one that’s so sacred to his clan. It’s baffling. Though fate has chosen one who seems to be the complete opposite of what Madara wants and needs, the fact itself has him wondering about the possibility of—something.
“Which means,” Tobirama goes on, “I will not leave this alone, whether you like it or not.”
Tobirama tone is both a promise and a threat, and Madara finds he has no idea what to think about it, how to feel. He wants to tell Tobirama off for butting into his personal affairs, but knows, of course, that Tobirama is right. There’s no ‘his’ affairs anymore—just ‘theirs,’ per the gods fickle, incomprehensible whims.
And of course, there’s one thing he has to know.
“Just because we’re bound by fate, Tobirama?” he asks, abandoning his carefully conscious use of Tobirama’s last name when they converse. “You won’t leave this alone just because you have to?”
That stops Tobirama short. His eyes never quite left Madara as they talked, but now he focuses on him fully, just like he had when his Sharingan had been activated.
“I need to think,” Tobirama says quietly, something shifting in his face, rending it cold and emotionless—Madara’s least favorite expression on him. He takes a few steps back towards the window. “I’ll find you later. Or you find me. Later,” he repeats firmly.
Madara feels rage starting to boil inside him.
“Now wait just one minute!”
Tobirama doesn’t pause and promptly leaps out of the window, flickering away, leaving Madara alone in an empty room with a brain buzzing with questions and a body prickling with renewed bouts of pain.
“What a fucking bastard,” he swears, “fucking impossible. Why couldn’t you be bonded to an asshole just like you are?!”
He knows screaming at empty space is a little weird and most likely very useless. No matter. There’s no one around but him to witness it anyway.
Only he turns out to be wrong about that, because apparently, their argument was loud enough to wake Izuna in his house across the street.
“Technically, nii-san, you’re kind of an asshole, too,” Izuna says with a yawn, shuffling into Madara’s room wrapped up in a blanket, eyes still sleep-heavy. “Hashirama and I are obviously the better brothers in our respective duos.” He grins, dodging the bedside table Madara throws at his head. “I think fate has chosen well.”
He doesn’t dodge the barrage of pillows, letting them land smack center onto his grinning face.
“Get the fuck out,” Madara growls, and Izuna moves to do just that. Madara scowls. “Wait.”
Izuna stops in his tracks, turning back to Madara with, shit-eating grin still in place. Madara sighs and comes over to him to wrap him into a particularly bone-crushing hug, ignoring the wheezing protests that follow.
“Channel your chakra, would you?” Madara asks. “Please?”
Izuna is a bit confused by the request but does as he’s told, thankfully silent this time, pushing Madara away for something more akin to a hug and not a suffocation attempt. The gentle crackle of his hearth-like signature soothes Madara’s nerves once more, numbing the pain to an extent, though not even close to the way Tobirama’s closeness had helped.
He will have to make do with this for now.
“You’re now my temporary personal painkiller,” Madara announces, “and I will not be accepting any complaints about this arrangement.”
“No idea what that’s supposed to mean, but I can’t wait to hear the whole account of your lovers spat, nii-san,” Izuna deadpans.
“Shut up, Izuna.”
“You’ll want me to give you advice, though,” Izuna says, tone teasing. “After all, I’m the one with the experience of being soulbound to a Senju.”
“Whatever. Shut up. Let me think.”
Izuna doesn’t in fact, let Madara think, because he is an incorrigible little shit and an utter menace.
“You know,” he says, “make-up sex is just the best way to—”
He gets cut off when Madara breaks away to grab one of the scattered pillows and starts attacking Izuna with it, unmindful of the feathers flying everywhere.
Izuna only laughs, arms himself in kind and gives as good as he gets.
*
The Uchiha are confusing, Tobirama decides as he finishes perusing what seems to be the thousandth text out of the documents he’s borrowed from the atrocious Uchiha Libraries. Plural because the clan has thousands upon tens of thousands of archived records. Atrocious because most of them are either redundant, incomplete (as if the record-keepers only wrote their accounts when inspiration struck and were prone to abandoning them half-way) or completely nonfactual, useless opinion pieces that Tobirama can’t base any of his theories on.
And gods, does he have a lot of theories in need of testing.
He takes a pain reliever as the Sharingan-induced migraine acts up again; he’d been careful not to activate it throughout the day, but the headache still lingered, making it a challenge to stay focused. Tobirama manages to, though, just barely, and there’s at least a little progress to show for it.
He’d left Madara early morning, obtained his free ticket into the Libraries almost immediately and has spent the whole day researching a dōjutsu that proved to be all the more incomprehensible with every piece of ‘research’ Tobirama got through. After hours of historical accounts (and thrice damned opinion pieces), Tobirama did stumble upon one instance of the Mangekyō having been exchanged between two Uchiha. The experiment failed, with both subjects ending up dead, was declared unholy and was never attempted again.
The sheer audacity of that made Tobirama’s eye twitch. Honestly, where would he have been if he had stopped at his first unsuccessful Edo Tensei attempt?
(Probably lacking in his brother’s occasional tearful, very annoying admonishments about desecrating the dead, but that isn’t the point.)
The attempt was done centuries ago, back when most of the shinobi clans were nothing more than nomad tribes wandering the then empty, nationless continents, trying to figure out how to use the Sage of Six Paths’ gift of chakra properly. With no established iryō jutsu practice at that time, of course the switch had a high chance of failing. For some reason, the Uchiha didn’t seem to take into account that an overwhelming majority of the simple eye transplants from the younger Uchiha brothers to their elders were unsuccessful, too. It really was an inexcusable abuse of the scientific principle to assume the worst after one godsdamned test.
It’s downright confusing, bordering on stupid, really. And even then, Tobirama can think of a dozen other ways to solve the Mangekyō problem without resorting to transplants and possible mutilation, most of them simple schemes of directed chakra manipulation and perhaps a little tinkering with DNA. But to do that—
Ah. He’s forgotten.
“Hikaku?” Tobirama says to the depths of his enormous lab. The size is suddenly an inconvenience, because he can’t really see anything that’s further than two feet away clearly—and sensing through Madara’s chakra is nothing but an exercise in futility.
“Right here.” Hikaku appears before him with a shunshin, holding a book on the latest discoveries in relativity—something Tobirama could be researching right now if he weren’t stuck with Madara’s problem.
Tobirama takes a deep breath, taking another pill for good measure to help him deal with the persistent headache. Not Madara’s. Theirs. He promised—they’re soulmates and that obliges him to have his partner’s back, no matter their evidently mutual dislike.
(Tobirama refuses to think about Madara’s question now, isn’t ready to contemplate impossible possibilities and delve through his complicated net of feelings for the person who annoys—and intrigues—him most. That can come later, because he’s otherwise preoccupied and definitely not running away.)
“You there, Tobirama?” Hikaku asks with an understanding smile, waving a hand in front of Tobirama’s face.
“Yes. Sorry. And—sorry I made you wait this long. I shouldn’t have invited and ignored you like that.” Tobirama sighs. “I got distracted again.”
“Don’t worry,” Hikaku says, inching a glass of water to Tobirama, always the one making sure Tobirama hydrates, his mother hen tendencies second only to Hashirama. “We only got here an hour ago. You know I adore your lab and I think Kagami’s busy with some of the chemicals you’ve labeled kid-friendly over there.”
As if in answer, the hiss of a chemical reaction and a triumphant whoop sounded from somewhere in the distance, making both of them smile.
“Right,” Tobirama says, “well, I’m ready now for the inspection. May I?” He stands, raising his hands. Hikaku gives an affirmative, and Tobirama pushes chakra into his palms, now glowing a faint green. “Activate your Sharingan, please.”
Hikaku does, without question, and Tobirama nears his hands towards his eyes, registering the feel, structure and movement of the distinct chakra, cataloguing the way cells behave more actively, how every one of them feels amplified by the Sharingan’s power.
“Now your Mangekyō.”
A swirly pattern replaces the tomoe, and the very essence of the chakra generated by the Sharingan seems to change. Tobirama frowns, making note of every little shifts, how the momentum of the chakra seems to increase exponentially, carrying with it potential for an enormous burst of power. The cells seem to be otherwise fine, expectantly.
“You have the Eternal Mangekyō, right?” Tobirama asks, tentative, remembering what Hikaku told him this morning.
“Yeah,” Hikaku says, averting his gaze. “Not a pretty story, but one I can tell if you’d like.”
Tobirama shakes his head. “No need. I have an idea of what must have happened and it’s not too relevant to my search for another solution.”
He pushes more chakra through one of his palms, gaining greater clarity, and reaches for ink and paper with the other to scribble down his findings.
“It’d be easier if you used your new Sharingan, you know,” Hikaku says, making Tobirama splutter, of all things, much like a certain Uchiha when caught by surprise. “You’d remember all you need in perfect detail.”
Tobirama stares.
“Hikaku,” he chokes out, “how did you—”
“We’re friends, Tobirama,” Hikaku says, rolling his eyes, “and I’m afraid I’m the more emotionally perceptive of the both of us.”
“Am I really that obvious?” Tobirama asks, frowning.
“Yep.” Hikaku grins. “It also helps that you radiate Madara’s very potent chakra like crazy. Seriously, I’m not even a sensor.” Tobirama scowls, shoving him away. “It’s good you’re not out and about or you’d be giving every sensory ninja in the village a massive migraine.”
“Ugh.” Tobirama groans, sinking back down into his chair. “Don’t remind me that I have his chakra to deal with now. I feel hot all the time. Are all the Uchiha this hot?”
“Depends on what definition of hot you’re using.”
“Hikaku!”
“Relax, Tobirama,” Hikaku says through laughter, hopping onto the table. “It’s a normal soulbond experience, it’s never painless. You’ll get a hang of it, eventually. And I’m sure our esteemed and very composed Clan Head isn’t faring much better.”
“No,” Tobirama says, crossing his arms. “He isn’t.”
Hikaku gives him an appraising look.
“Listen,” Hikaku starts, “I know you both… find it difficult… to communicate normally,” he awkwardly circumvents the word hate, “but it really isn’t healthy to be apart from your soulmate like this.”
“I know, Hikaku.” Tobirama buries his face in his hands. “I’ll talk to him, I promise.”
“And you’ll tell me about it.”
“I’d rather not.” Tobirama opens one eye to look at Hikaku through the space between his fingers. “It’ll probably end in disaster.”
“Tell me all the juicy details then,” Hikaku demands cheerfully. “Come on. You can’t bribe the Chief Record Keeper for an illegal pass into my clan’s secret archives and not provide something in return.”
“A month babysitting your son isn’t enough for you?” Tobirama says, tone sour even though they both know he’ll enjoy every minute of spare time spent with his first ever student.
“It is,” Hikaku agrees, “or, would be under any normal circumstances. As it stands, you owe me a bigger reward for making me break Clan Law.”
“Your Clan Law and its stupid restrictions are the reason you have this stupid problem with your Mangekyō Sharingan in the first place,” Tobirama mutters. “And I’m going to fix it.”
“For your soulmate,” Hikaku says with a pretensiously dreamy sigh.
“Not for him.” Tobirama sinks into his chair further. “Not just for him. So Kagami doesn’t have to deal with similar pain in the future, nor any other Uchiha child.”
And it’s true of course; Tobirama would be just as deep in research if he’d found out about this issue without the added hassle of being Madara's soulmate. Hikaku knows this, of course, because he’s just as much of a dear friend as Izuna is to Tobirama, if not more.
Inevitably, that train of thought leads him to question why he and Madara seem to be so completely at odds when the Uchiha’s general wariness of Tobirama (and vice versa) have all but disappeared. Perhaps they can become friends, if nothing else, if and when they figure out how to talk without losing their cool every single time. He’d wondered about that before, what it would feel like for Madara to smile at him with genuine care instead of the usual derision. It’s honestly a pity they aren’t platonic soulmates. Although—
Tobirama imagines the prospect of being trapped in Madara’s body for an indefinite amount of time and thinks, No. No, it’s good that we aren’t.
“By the way,” Hikaku says, thankfully distracting Tobirama from his thoughts again, “Kagami, come here for a bit?”
“Yes, Dad!” Kagami leaps towards them, light on his feet but still almost knocking down a vial with a moderately pesky virus that Tobirama makes a note to properly seal later. “Tobirama-sensei!” Kagami instantly focuses on him, eyes gleaming as he surveys all the notes Tobirama has piled up. “What were you working on all this time? Did you make any progress? Is it a new awesome jutsu? Will you teach it to me?”
“No, Kagami, it isn’t anything flashy this time,” Tobirama says, ruffling his student’s hair with a smile. “You’d probably find it boring. But we’ll work on your Grand Fireball Jutsu tomorrow, I promise.” Tobirama suddenly realizes he’ll have to spend tomorrow’s training session without his—well, Madara’s—chakra. What a pain.
“Awesome!” Kagami jumps up and down with his usual bouncy excitement. “I’m getting so great at fire jutsu—you’ll see tomorrow. I’ve got so many new tricks I can show you!”
“I hope you’re making as much progress in chakra theory, Kagami,” Tobirama chuckles as Kagami’s expression switches to one of horror. “Don’t forget your little test tomorrow.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. And so as not to keep you from studying,” Tobirama says, “before you leave, may I take a look at your Sharingan, Kagami? With a diagnostic iryō jutsu?”
Kagami gives him a curious look, glancing at Hikaku, then back at Tobirama again.
“Sure thing, sensei.”
As expected, Kagami’s Sharingan isn’t much different than Hikaku’s basic version, but much weaker in energy compared to it, despite all three of his tomoe being fully developed.
That’s an interesting detail compared to all the other data Tobirama has gathered. Hikaku had explained to him earlier that day that Kagami’s Sharingan awakened after a particularly traumatizing experience—his mother’s death—and was one of the strongest in the clan among children. If anything, that motivated Tobirama to work more, faster, better to find an adequate cure for the Mangekyō’s degenerative effect. Hopefully, Kagami won’t have to suffer enough to acquire it, but none of them know what the future holds, and Tobirama wants to squander the potential for tragedy before it manifests.
It's not long after that before Hikaku makes Tobirama swear on the periodic table of elements (“Because you lack any whatsoever respect for the gods, you heathen") to get proper sleep after they leave and continue his work tomorrow. And really, with the amount of chaos he's had to suffer through today, Tobirama is yearning to do just that.
If only…
Tobirama gets back to his empty, sterile home, barely lived in because he spends most of his time in the office, at Hashirama’s place, with his students or in his lab. He tries, unsuccessfully, to get himself to fall asleep. Sedatives have long since lost their effect on him and his body seems to have stopped registering painkillers, because despite all the pills in his system, the migraine and the dizziness that comes with it return full force just as he’s trying to will himself to sleep.
He can’t.
His thoughts unerringly stray to Madara again.
It’s annoying.
And now that Tobirama has no research or people around to distract him, he feels treacherous feelings of guilt encroaching as his mind supplies him with memories of their whole conversation.
There was something different in Madara’s tone, in his expression as he asked Tobirama the question that caught him completely unawares.
Just because we’re bound by fate, Tobirama?
No, Tobirama thinks, I would have helped anyway.
You won’t leave this alone just because you have to?
It wasn’t the hidden implications of the question that bothered him most. Not even the complete change in Madara’s demeanor as he asked it—a change to a softer, almost vulnerable side Tobirama had never seen before. It was the epiphany Tobirama had in that very moment, realizing that he was, for some reason, genuinely concerned about Madara’s wellbeing. This despite their long-standing status quo of mutual hostility and Tobirama’s self-proclaimed lack of care about the inherently irrational (and therefore irritating) idea of soulmates.
It’s unnerving.
He turns to bury himself in the pillows on his couch, closing his eyes, desperately begging for his mind to just stop. Stop analyzing, stop wondering and making dozens of possible predictions for the future, stop dissecting every one of his actions and feelings and impulses and just—rest.
Well.
Another impossibility, it seems.
And since rest is out of the question, he reasons he can safely break one promise he’d made to Hikaku and make good on the other. Stopping himself just before he reaches for the Hiraishin marker in the Uchiha district, Tobirama leaps through the window and sets out towards Madara’s house for a much-needed conversation.
Preparing himself for a long, sleepless night, Tobirama shifts onto his back and turns to stare out the wide window at the stars glimmering around the full moon. It’s much too soon to deal with this enormous mess, Tobirama decides, making up his mind to let Madara seek him out himself.
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Chapter 4
And since rest is out of the question, he reasons he can safely break one promise he’d made to Hikaku and make good on the other. Stopping himself just before he reaches for the Hiraishin marker in the Uchiha district, Tobirama leaps through the window and sets out towards Madara’s house for a much-needed conversation.
It's grating, being unable to properly sense his surroundings with his chakra all over the place, but Tobirama deals with it as best as he can, for the first time in his life relying solely on his sense of sight as he leaps from rooftop to rooftop. At least this simple chakra manipulation is manageable, though he does almost slip a few times—another novel experience—which leaves him all the more yearning for his former impeccable chakra control.
And eyesight.
He finds Madara in a similar state of sleeplessness, pacing next to the koi pond in the little garden adjacent to his house. Madara stops in his tracks and turns to look in the direction of Tobirama’s approach just before Tobirama jumps down to face him.
Madara looks downright exhausted, disheveled and cold, what with his slight trembling. He’s probably still in pain, Tobirama realizes with a tinge of irrational guilt—which immediately disappears when Madara flicks his hand and the water from the koi pond rises to form a giant wave that descends upon Tobirama, knocking him onto the ground and soaking him to the bone.
“What,” Tobirama growls, body and voice shaking as he blinks the wetness away, “the fuck do you think you’re doing, Uchiha?”
Even with his blurry vision, Tobirama can make out the bastard’s smirk—a crooked, self-satisfied thing. Madara clumsily redirects half of the water back into the pond and crosses his arms.
“Giving my soulmate a proper greeting, of course,” he drawls as Tobirama stands, trying his best to shake off the water that feels wrong, wet and annoying, not soothing and playfully mingling with his chakra like it usually would. “Most fitting for your dashing farewell, I’d say.”
To his credit, Tobirama doesn’t move to burn Madara to a crisp in answer for his glaring stupidity. Yet.
It’s tempting, though.
But there are safer ways to retaliate, he decides.
“Is this a bad time to mention,” Tobirama says, “that my chakra is exceptionally attuned to water?”
Madara rolls his eyes.
“I know you think others inferior to you in intelligence, Senju, and me most of all,” Tobirama nods as Madara says this, just to rile him up further, “but I am not going to fall for your idiotic taunts.”
“Oh, I’m not trying to taunt you, Madara, just to warn you,” Tobirama says, mock-concerned, “that if you go on using my chakra this carelessly, you might just accidentally end up manipulating the water inside a human body.”
It’s viscerally pleasing, seeing Madara’s smirk dissipate, replaced by a horrified scowl.
“WHAT?”
The way Madara shrieks will never stop being amusing, and it seems the absence of his explosive fiery chakra does little to quell his usual temper. He recoils from the pond, looks at his hands like he's considering cutting them off, looks at Tobirama with a look of such disgust that—well, isn’t exactly pleasant but still entertaining.
“Like blood?” Madara asks, voice strained.
“Blood is known to be partially made of water, Uchiha—”
“You idiot!” Madara shouts, starting to pace again, burrowing his hands in his sleeves. “That is not fucking funny!”
“It isn’t,” Tobirama agrees, “I’ve caused enough of people’s insides to accidentally rupture as a child that I find it far from a laughing matter.” He doesn’t mention that those accidents only ever amounted to two events and both victims were enemies; the rest were deliberate targets of Tobirama’s honed, precise chakra control.
“You mean—” Madara’s eyes grow wide with ever-growing terror. “You mean I could have—I spent the whole day with Izuna, you prick! Couldn’t you have warned me that I’m now a godsdamned spontaneous murder weapon?”
To be fair, you always have been, Tobirama wants to say, but that nagging spike of guilt raises its ugly head again, and he begrudgingly decides to go the pacifistic way. That’s what he came here for, after all—a conversation, not a fight.
“Kind of. But it would only happen if you’re truly angry, far more than you are now, or if you’re on the verge of death, as a defense mechanism,” Tobirama explains. “I’m just messing with you, Uchiha. Calm down.”
“Calm down when you’re around, you infuriating asshole?” The remaining water in the pond ripples in reaction to his anger and he takes another step back, eyeing it warily. “What the hell did you come here for anyway?”
“To talk.”
“Go to hell.” With the way Madara is glaring at him, Tobirama prepares himself for another splash of water, but the assault never comes. “I won’t speak with you on your terms.”
“What if I offer an apology?”
Madara raises an eyebrow. “Really? You? An apology. If I weren’t in such a foul mood that would warrant a laugh, Senju, good one.”
Tobirama counts from five to one before answering, finding it suddenly a convenience how his skin runs hot, how chakra crackles and burns around him, enough so that he’s almost dry and comforted, rather than annoyed by its warmth. Anija would approve, he thinks bitterly
“I’m sorry. My leaving you like that was neither polite nor called for. But I truly needed to think about…” He gestures vaguely in Madara’s direction. “All this.”
Madara is staring at him like he’s grown another head, and it’s somehow even more unnerving than his death glare.
“You—actually—” Madara shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “Huh.”
He crosses his arms again, and as often as Tobirama has seen that gesture on him, he finds himself suddenly curious why Madara likes it so much. Arms tightly locked and shoulders raised defensively, he looks somewhat like a petulant child. His posture is stiffer than usual, though, and Tobirama makes an effort to quell his chakra lashing out as much as possible to avoid causing unnecessary pain.
“Did a lot of thinking then, Senju?” Madara asks with a much more level tone, which is, Tobirama supposes, the only acknowledgement of his apology he’s going to get.
“No, actually.” Tobirama averts his gaze, biting his lip. “I got side-tracked. I spent the whole day researching your godsdamned dōjutsu.”
Madara frowns, confused.
“Why in the world would you be doing that?”
“I told you,” Tobirama says, “I’m not leaving this alone. There has to be another way to stop the Mangekyō from deteriorating your eyesight, and I’m going to find it.”
“Oh, so you think it’s going to be easy,” Madara asks, voice leaking skepticism, “fixing a centuries-old curse?”
“It’s not going to be that hard, considering that over all those centuries your good-for-nothing clan only had the idea to transplant two pairs of Mangekyō once, then gave up on that idea and didn’t even try any alternatives just blinding people left and right.” Tobirama is still avoiding Madara’s gaze, focusing on one the sakura trees in the garden. “I mean, good clan,” he amends, “you’re okay, I guess.”
“Drop the insolence, Senju,” Madara growls, narrowing his eyes. “And how would you even know that? That isn’t in any of the public libraries, did you—did you break into our archives?”
Ah, Tobirama belatedly realizes his mistake.
“I did,” he tries, although Hashirama’s been telling him since his earliest childhood that he’s a hopelessly terrible liar. He chances a glance at Madara, who’s fuming, making wavelets surge through the pond again.
“Hikaku,” Madara says, and Tobirama curses Hashirama for being right, as always. “That bastard. Should have known.” He sighs. “He was a good Uchiha. I’ll miss him.”
“The killing intent isn’t appreciated, Madara, and for the love of the gods, stop your theatrics.”
“When you stop your meddling.”
“I’m not going to stand by when innocent people are suffering because someone refuses to act and fix this!” Tobirama snaps, turning back to Madara and realizing his world is suddenly in perfect clarity again. “Dammit.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and blanks his mind, easing himself back into a calmer mindset. It doesn’t feel as painful as the Mangekyō did, so he deduces he only activated the base version of the Sharingan this time. Thankfully.
“I won’t let innocent people suffer,” Tobirama repeats, “let innocent children suffer, when I’m in a position to do something about it. I’m not doing this because you’re my soulmate. I’m going to help, whether you like it or not, just because I can. Because I want to.”
Tobirama reopens his eyes only to see Madara standing close—far too close—and reaching out with his hands as if to hug him, but Tobirama flinches and takes a nervous step back, strangely comforted by the world becoming blurred once more.
“Don’t,” he says, “I’m fine.”
Madara is staring at him again, shock painted on his face, eyes searching Tobirama’s expression for—something, and Tobirama struggles not to squirm at the scrutiny.
“Uchiha?” The man in question only blinks in reply. “Hello?”
“You’re insane,” Madara finally says with a slightly dazed smile, “you’re actually insane.”
“The insane one is you,” Tobirama snarls, “because if I had the idiotic notion of keeping my progressing blindness a secret, I would at least be actively doing something to fix it.” It’s Madara’s turn to avoid his eyes, it seems. “Is this how you feel every day? The migraines even without the Mangekyō activated? The pain, the random flashes in your eyes?”
“Yeah,” Madara mutters, “what of it?”
“You don’t just keep these things from people, Madara,” Tobirama raises his voice, losing the last of his tenuous grip on his patience, “especially from my brother who may well be able to reverse the damage, at least temporarily!”
“Why do you care so fucking much about that, Tobirama?”
The sound of his name slipping from Madara’s lips is a bit of a shock.
“I just told you, Madara.”
“No. I get wanting to help my clan, I’d get it even if you wanted to fix the Mangekyō just for the hell of it, like your raising the dead thing or whatever other fuckery you’re up to.” Madara scowls, probably remembering what Hashirama has dubbed the Graveyard Fiasco. “But keeping this a secret is—was my problem. I may have acted… unwisely, but why do you care?”
Tobirama shrugs. “We’re soulmates.”
“And you told me you don’t give a shit about the concept.”
“Care little about,” Tobirama corrects him, “which doesn’t erase the fact that soulmates exist, and I feel a responsibility to…” he trails off. It’s physically painful, being unable to express himself when he usually has no problem with eloquence.
“To help someone you hate?” Madara finishes for him. “You don’t exactly seem happy you’re stuck with me now.”
“Neither do you, judging by all your screaming,” Tobirama parries. “And that’s not the point.”
“What is, then?”
“I’m worried, and not just because of the bond,” Tobirama says, recalling the question they’d left off before, “but because even if we don’t get along, you’re still—” He gestures helplessly.
My brother’s best friend. My close friend’s brother. An admirable shinobi. The cornerstone of our village.
What comes out instead is, “I’m not as emotionless as you paint me out to be, Madara. That’s all.”
A strange look passes through Madara’s eyes.
“No,” he says, “you’re not.”
Annoyingly, he falls into silence once more, tilting his head to the side and watching Tobirama with an appraising look that makes shivers run down his spine for no particular reason. It’s a far cry from what he thought this conversation would turn out to be—a barely salvageable screaming match, an extremely tenuous quasi-truce, perhaps. A physical fight.
(What Tobirama wouldn’t give right now to be able to let out his frustration through kicks and punches. And preferably a Water Dragon Jutsu or several, but he supposes he’ll have to get used to working with fireballs from now on. A tragedy, really.)
“Well?” Tobirama asks after the few seconds of his shortened patience reserves run out. “Are you going to say anything else?”
Madara blinks, then smiles.
Tobirama feels like his heart skips a beat from the shock of it—seeing an actual smile on Madara’s face. Not a smirk or the murderous grins he so favors. A smile. It’s almost unsettling.
“Fine, Senju. Tobirama,” Madara draws out the syllables of his name, as if slowly tasting how it feels to say it. “That’s a satisfactory answer. But don’t think for one second I’m letting you attempt this on your own.”
A finger jabs Tobirama’s chest, making him go almost cross-eyed as he stares at it. Madara’s chakra spikes immediately, sending a wave of soothing pleasure throughout Tobirama’s body; Madara seems to feel the same, quickly drawing his hand away as he continues.
“You’re researching something that directly concerns me—and my clan. Again, despite whatever you may think, I have studied chakra theory and iryō jutsu. I may simply need a little brushing up,” Madara adds, quieter.
“Fair enough. I’m not averse to working together, and I’ll make an effort to put our differences aside if you are." Tobirama offers a tentative smile of his own. "And I’m told I’m a good teacher.”
Does Madara blush at that? Tobirama blinks. No, must be a trick of the light—or lack thereof in the dim moonlight.
“Yeah, yeah. Just make an effort to curb your insult for once," Madara grumbles.
Tobirama chuckles. The hypocrite.
“If you curb it with the drama," he says, "perhaps I'll make an effort."
“You of all people should know that Izuna is the more dramatic one out of us two. And you grew up with Hashirama, for gods’ sakes.”
“True, but Anija isn’t as loud,” Tobirama says, grinning wider. It’s a nice change, this light-hearted feel of their exchange. Comforting. “And Izuna swears he learned everything from you.”
“He’s lying."
“He does seem more persuading, Madara."
“You believe your precious friend more than you do your new soulmate, Tobirama?” Madara scoffs. “Fate disapproves.”
“Fate can go fuck itself.” That makes Madara chuckle. Tobirama doesn’t understand why that feels like some sort of victory, but it does. “And Izuna doesn’t greet me with a scowl every morning I show up at the Tower, at least.”
Madara sobers up, suddenly serious, and there’s that odd, contemplative look again, boring through Tobirama’s own eyes as if trying to find an answer to a question Madara has yet to voice.
“Tell me this, Tobirama,” he says, “you haven’t rejected our bond. We've reached some… semblance of an agreement. I wonder—what exactly would you like to get out of this bond, at this stage, at least?”
The question catches Tobirama by surprise, so much so that he feels the urge to run away once more. It’s stupid, he knows, and another irritating tendency of the day, since he’s prided himself in seldom—if ever—fleeing from uncomfortable situations.
“If you even think about leaving again, I will master that Water Dragon tehcnique of yours and drown you,” Madara threatens.
Tobirama rolls his eyes and promises nothing.
It’s frustrating, because he is somewhat sure of what he would like from this—whatever he and Madara have or will have. Something like his closeness with Izuna or Hikaku, perhaps. No outright aggression and no need to insult each other at every opportunity. Someone he can confide in and ask for advice. Someone who will listen to him and not mock Tobirama for his many oddities and obsessive ideas, like so many others have before.
He knows, though, that the sheer nature of the bond will never let it end there. The hint of something more hangs over his head even now like a sword waiting to strike. That’s what makes Tobirama yearn for escape, because he’s so painfully unsure of what to even think about the implication.
“Just friendship. For now,” Tobirama says, ignoring how his heart starts drumming faster against his ribcage.
“I don’t know, Madara. So I can’t give you an honest answer—yet,” Tobirama says, knowing, though, that it’ll be the cause of many restless nights to come. “What about you? What do you want to gain from this?”
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Chapter 5
“I don’t know, Madara. So I can’t give you an honest answer—yet,” Tobirama says, knowing, though, that it’ll be the cause of many restless nights to come. “What about you? What do you want to gain from this?”
“Such crude wording,” Madara chastises, a playful glint in his eyes. “I want to gain nothing, Tobirama, except what you’re willing to give me. Don’t mistake my annoyance at this constant fucking pain as displeasure at meeting my soulmate. Soulbonds are revered in my clan. Sacred. And I would gladly forge one with you—a bond that would make us both stronger together than when we are apart.”
Madara pauses, looking as if he’s about to say something else possibly even more outlandish, but instead there’s that soft, genuine smile again, which looks so alien on Madara’s face Tobirama feels like he’s been caught in a particularly unrealistic genjutsu.
“But only if you would wish to gift me such a bond, Tobirama.” Just like the smile, Madara’s tone has turned soft, unthreatening, almost tentative, and Tobirama feels—
Confused.
He knows the stories, of course, has read and heard enough about the Uchiha’s dedication to the ideal of soulbonds and love in general. Even today he’s seen more of the clan scholars’ philosophical treatises about how emotional attachment affects the Sharingan’s development instead of actual observation of the process itself.
Madara hasn’t exactly hinted at love or anything romantic per se, but the insinuation of it is evident. And, quite frankly, terrifying. It’s annoying that by evading Madara’s initial question, Tobirama still ends up feeling unsettled by Madara’s answer. It feels as if he’s exposing himself to something terrible, making himself vulnerable by merely thinking about the notion of opening himself up to the man he’s never even been on good terms with.
The reasons stem far back to his childhood, of course, when his only friends had been Anija and Tōka, while the rest of the clan had seen Tobirama as nothing but an asset, a dangerous and unpredictable one at that.
Then came Mito, almost unnoticeably turning from formidable sister-in-law Tobirama cautiously respected to a trusted partner in seal-developing sprees (or crime, Hashirama would argue) and random journeys together into the wild to study near-mythical creatures and underresearched phenomena. And that closeness had taken a good decade to cement—nearly half of Tobirama’s life.
It was smoother with Izuna, who’d shifted gears so quickly after peace was established that it felt as if Tobirama suddenly had another overly loud, clingy Anija stuck to him almost almost every hour of the day. More or less effortless with Hikaku, who’d approached Tobirama with nothing but kindness despite the years of war behind them. It seems safer, in the village they’ve built from childhood dreams, to extend his trust to others.
But Madara is different.
The problem with him is nothing like the fear he had of Mito monopolizing his brother’s love and attention when she and Hashirama had discovered their bond. Not his rivalry with Izuna, which resembled Madara and Hashirama’s almost playful standstill battles with each passing year of the war. It’s an inexplicable, irrational dislike he and Madara have for each other that makes them fight almost at every turn. Their poor excuses for conversations are never boring, Tobirama supposes, but amusement at Madara’s angry shrieking is far from a basis for friendship, much less something more.
Even so, steadfast determination burns in Madara’s eyes, the fire that hasn’t quite left him even though Tobirama’s chakra now runs through his coils. Seeing him open up like this, offering a truce, the possibility of something better—Tobirama can’t help but feel at least slightly curious.
“I’m willing to try,” Tobirama says, not bothering to apologize for his lengthy silence, “and see where this leads us.”
“Good.” Madara’s grin widens. “And, of course, another perk I’ve always wanted from a soulbond is a stable sex life, but we’ll see how that goes, yes?”
Tobirama clenches his fists. Runs through a few mental scenarios of strangling Madara with his mess of black hair and only then reminds himself of the ubiquitous taboo against the murder of one’s soulmate.
“Out of the two of you, Uchiha, your brother also clearly has the better sense of humor,” he manages a more or less polite reply.
Madara scoffs. “Bullshit. You’re talking about the idiot who still hasn’t outgrown potty humor.”
“Yes.” Tobirama glares. “I am.”
Annoyingly, it only makes Madara laugh more. Even more maddening is how pleasing it feels to see Madara enjoying himself, how it makes Tobirama want to smile, in turn. He keeps his face neutral, though, even as it becomes harder to curtail his amusement.
“Tell me this then, Tobirama,” Madara says as he calms down, “since you haven’t answered my previous question. You said you care little about soulmates. Why?”
Tobirama contemplates weaseling how way out of that one as well, but for fairness’ sake, he opts to tell the truth.
“I’ve always struggled to build connections with people,” he admits. “I only have a handful of friends and most of them are my family, anyway. People don’t usually connect to what I say or what I do.” Echoes of freak, ghost, demon, probably bondless surface somewhere in the back of his mind. Tobirama ignores them. “And the idea of soulmates always seemed strange to me. Two people chosen by the gods to be together for life? Perfect lovers, perfect friends—it all seems like badly written fairy tale. One that I never thought I’d be a part of.”
“You’ve befriended at least two people from my clan easily enough,” Madara points out.
“I know. Things change. It’s…” Tobirama sighs. “Not as hard as it used to be. But I will need some space. And lots of time.”
“You can have those if your promise not to break spacetime again,” Madara says wryly, “like with the Monster Portal Debacle last month.”
“I closed it and all of the yōkai that came out of it were killed,” Tobirama says, sick of the unceasing complaints—and of people invoking his brother’s tasteless monikers for his lab incidents.
“Ridiculous man," Madara says, the sheer hypocrisy of his statement going right over his head, as always. “But to quell your worries, as I’ve said, I won’t push you into anything you’re uncomfortable with. No need to be intimidated.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Uchiha,” Tobirama snaps to hide the relief flooding through him at the words. “I’m not intimidated by you.”
“Oh?” Madara raises an eyebrow, giving Tobirama a skeptical onceover. “I’d say you are.”
“Am not.”
“Don’t lie to me. Soulmates are supposed to be honest with each other,” Madara says in a sickly-sweet tone.
“Well, if we are being honest, you weren’t all that intimidating when you had this thing,” Tobirama points to his eyes, “either. Now you’re just a puff of smoke compared to that Majestic Destroyer Flame you’re so partial to.”
Tobirama can’t help the grin as Madara, predictably, growls a heartfelt curse and tries to soak Tobirama again. Following the motion of his hand, the koi water ripples, rises slightly, then sinks back to the ground as Madara gives up, staring at the pond like it’s offended him on a personal level.
“Not angry enough, Uchiha,” Tobirama teases, squinting to check on the poor koi fish, thankfully still living.
“Oh, it’s funny when I’m angry is it,” Madara hisses.
“Extremely.”
“Fuck you, Senju,” Madara glowers. Tobirama could swear his spiky hair actually bristles in irritation, just like a cat's. “And we should really start getting a hang of our powers.”
“Are you only saying this so you can learn my Water Dragon Jutsu and attempt to terrorize me with it?” Tobirama asks, feigning suspicion.
“There’ll be no attempting about it. I will have my revenge for every single insult.”
Tobirama huffs out a laugh. “We’ll see who has the upper hand, Uchiha. I suggest we meet tomorrow then. After my training session with my students.”
Madara nods. “Fine.” He’s picked up Kagami from his lessons often enough, whenever Hikaku was too busy with village and clan bureaucracy, to have memorized Tobirama’s training schedule.
At that thought, Tobirama realizes there’s one thing he unambiguously likes about his new soulmate—Madara’s begrudging love for children.
That’s one thing in common, at least.
Madara shivers and crosses his arms—again—and Tobirama suddenly realizes, now that he’s looking at Madara more closely, what’s been throwing him off about the gesture today. Madara doesn’t just seem uncomfortable; there are miniscule twitches in his muscles, the near-constant grimace marring his face, as well as rigidity and tension that speak of pain rather than cold or embarrassment.
“Tell me,” Tobirama says, finally approaching Madara of his own accord. “How much does it hurt?”
Madara flinches as Tobirama touches his shoulder, then immediately relaxes under the touch, letting out a deep breath.
“It’s fine. It’s manageable. I’ve had the whole day to meditate on it and it’s crazy. Like every fucking living thing flinging its chakra at my senses tenfold, and it hurts,” Madara complains, slightly leaning into Tobirama’s touch.
“It’s only ever been overwhelming for me, maybe a bit dizzying,” Tobirama says, frowning. “It’s probably the added burden of a chakra affinity completely opposite yours.”
Tobirama reminds himself, forcefully, of the inherent irrationality of fear and, before he can think better of it, wraps his arms around Madara’s shoulders, returning his favor from this morning. Madara sags against him after a moment of shocked stillness, letting out a drawn-out sigh of relief as he uncrosses his arms and returns the hug, tentative, gentle, as if expecting Tobirama to withdraw at any moment.
And there’s the guilt again. Tobirama can barely remember the last time he’d felt it nag him so many times in the span of a single day.
“What’s changed?” he prompts, breathing in the soft, slightly sweet scent of Madara's hair.
Madara lifts his head and stares at him for the few moments it takes for him to figure it out.
“Oh. I don’t know,” Madara says, dropping his forehead on Tobirama’s shoulder once more. “All I feel is your chakra when we touch. Well, mine. It’s familiar. Helps me focus and ignore all the others, to an extent. But I can’t focus on one signature at a distance.”
“Hm. Neither can I.” Tobirama remembers something. “Did you spend all day hugging Izuna then?”
“Carried him piggyback style.”
“Can’t imagine he was happy about that.”
“I didn’t give him much of a choice,” Madara says, smirk evident in his tone. “He escaped my clutches just an hour ago to go whining to Tōka.”
Tobirama snorts. What a world it would be if he could embed such moments for blackmail in an image without resorting to drawing from memory. Perhaps using a lens that could gather light and concentrate it… but that’s an experiment for later.
His current experiment is to determine which one of them gives in first and ends the embrace, which is steadily getting more awkward with each moment they stay like this. There’s not much Tobirama can do, and he’s not about to throw Madara back into the pit of chronic pain just because he feels uncomfortable—and even that is questionable, at best. He, too, finds himself focusing on the raging ocean where there was a sizzling fire before, and Tobirama would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good.
(A little too good, if he were being completely honest, but it’s probably the stupid bond affecting his perception.)
Madara pulls away first after a few long minutes, taking a step back but not quite letting go of Tobirama’s shoulders, touch light and lingering. He mutters his thanks but otherwise stays silent, contemplating Tobirama with an almost imploring gaze.
Tobirama reaches to gently pry Madara’s hands off his shoulders.
“I’d better get going.” Before this gets any stranger, Tobirama finishes in his mind. “I’ll figure out a way to fix this for you. I promise. It’s just a matter of refining chakra control, but I have an idea for a seal as a short-term solution,” he says with what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
He is, of course, compelled to offer to help but he hates how vulnerable it makes him feel. Madara still hasn’t uttered a word, though, and seems intent on continuing to suffer in solitude. That’s something Tobirama will not—cannot—allow.
“Should I… May I stay?” Tobirama flinches at his crooked phrasing. “To help with the pain?”
“Sleep with me,” Madara blurts out and immediately slaps his palms over his mouth, shaking his head and mumbling what Tobirama supposes is a much-needed clarification. He realizes the inherent stupidity of that action soon enough, drops his hands and shouts, “That’s not what I meant, godsdammit!”
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Chapter 6
He is, of course, compelled to offer to help but he hates how vulnerable it makes him feel. Madara still hasn’t uttered a word, though, and seems intent on continuing to suffer in solitude. That’s something Tobirama will not—cannot—allow.
“May I—” Tobirama starts.
“Sleep with me,” Madara blurts out and immediately slaps his palms over his mouth, shaking his head and mumbling what Tobirama supposes is a much-needed clarification. He realizes the inherent stupidity of that action soon enough, drops his hands and shouts, “That’s not what I meant, godsdammit!”
It takes every ounce of Tobirama’s self-restraint to keep himself from smiling and instead give Madara his most unimpressed stare.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Madara shrieks, all but vibrating with fury. “Shut up!”
“I have yet to say anything,” Tobirama says, “while you’re the one waking up your neighbors.” And Izuna, probably, Tobirama supposes, dreading the moment he’ll have to endure his friend’s reaction to this mess.
“You’re talking now,” Madara growls, then manages to take one full breath and hopefully gather his thoughts before speaking, for once.
“What I meant—” Madara tries to clarify, at the same moment Tobirama decides he might as well get another laugh out of this, and says, “You want a stable sex life, yes, and we’ve established that it’s a little too soon for that, have we not?”
“Godsdamn you, Senju!”
This time, Madara is definitely pissed off enough to disturb the koi again and launch hurl another stream of water Tobirama’s way. This time, though, Tobirama shifts to dodge it easily enough.
The water trickles back into the pond as Madara glares murder at him, and Tobirama doesn’t bother to hide his grin.
“I couldn’t resist.” Really, it’s immensely satisfying to watch Madara make a fool of himself, soulmate or not. But because Tobirama doesn’t consider himself a complete lost cause when it comes to politeness, he says, “I’m sorry. What did you mean to say?”
“See if I tell you now, dumbass.”
Tobirama doesn’t avoid the unnecessarily hard punch to his arm, chuckling as Madara huffs and stalks off towards his house, shoulders stiff and head held high.
Tobirama waits.
He’s seen enough of such petulance from Hashirama to know what’s going to happen next. He’s fairly sure he can even time it.
Predictably, Madara stops in his tracks before he barrages through the front door. He slowly turns back to Tobirama, frown and pout in place, looking much like a disappointed child.
“You’re not leaving?”
“Not without giving my soulmate a proper goodbye, of course,” Tobirama teases, echoing Madara’s words from before, and—well. Madara definitely blushes this time. That’s an intriguing point to keep in mind.
“You are so fucking infuriating, Senju,” Madara snarls. “Idiot.” He runs a hand through his hair, releasing another put-upon sigh before gritting out his poor excuse for a response. “I meant that you could…” Madara runs a hand through the hair shrouding his face, managing to only make it messier. “If you want—like, fuck… you know.”
He makes a quick, incomprehensible gesture with his hands and falls silent.
What a disaster.
“I don’t, in fact, know,” Tobirama prods.
He takes the few steps towards where Madara is shuffling on his porch and still blushing furiously, staring intently at the ground. Tobirama does actually have an idea of what Madara is getting at, but he’d like to hear it from the man himself.
After all, if Madara is supposed to be his soulmate, he’d better get a grip of his eloquence at some point, because Tobirama is not willing to spend the rest of his life stuck with a literal child.
“If you,” Madara continues, fidgeting with his hands now, “wanted to—stay and help with—because the pain and I—and you feel okay when we—touch—hugging. Ugh. Whatever.”
“What you mean to ask,” Tobirama finally takes pity on him, “is whether I’ll stay for… a sleepover? So I can help with the pain you’re feeling?”
Madara’s whole body droops in a perfect imitation of Hashirama’s ‘depressive’ episodes. “Yes.”
He’s bent his head so far down all Tobirama sees in front of him is the spiky black mess that is his hair. It looks coarse and tangled, but Tobirama remembers how soft it felt, a part of him wishing he could touch it again.
Tobirama shakes his head at the strange thought. Another side effect of the bond, probably.
“I’d like that,” Tobirama says, softening his smile as Madara’s eyes snap to his.
“You would?” he asks in a high-pitched voice. “I mean. Okay. Oh. Right. I mean of course you would.” Madara flinches. “I didn’t mean to say that last part either. Shut up.”
“Do you have no filter whatsoever,” Tobirama asks, incredulous, “between what you think and what comes out of your mouth?”
“Shut. Up.”
Tobirama huffs out a laugh and raises his hands in surrender.
Without another word (but with enough jumbled grumbling under his breath about ‘stupid Senjus’ to make himself resemble a cranky elder) Madara grabs Tobirama by the collar and hauls him into his house, waving his hand at the space in lieu of a welcome.
It’s a much more lived in home compared to Tobirama’s, hints of a clumsy presence all over the place. What Tobirama can see of the kitchen from here is an ungodly mess, and he glimpses a grand fireplace in the living room he’d have loved to curl up to, normally, if not for the sweltering heat of his current chakra. The walls are covered with paintings of Izuna and people who are probably the rest of Madara’s family, of landscapes familiar to Tobirama only from his brief and rare forays onto the Uchiha’s former territory. He wonders if the paintings are Madara’s own, and a love for art is another thing they share in common.
Tobirama would ask now, if the silence they’d found themselves in wasn’t beyond awkward.
“So.” Madara fidgets again, staring at Tobirama expectantly. “Get ready for bed?”
Tobirama shrugs. “That is what you invited me for.”
Madara gives him an annoyed look for some reason; Tobirama supposes he’ll have to get used to those. He has a fleeting urge to mention that he’d wanted to propose the same arrangement for the night, to make Madara more at ease—but the admission feels too vulnerable, frightening even, and so he stays silent, watching Madara flit about bringing him extra clothes and a toothbrush.
Another amusing tendency of Madara’s is his pushy attitude when he’s nervous; he practically shoves Tobirama into the bathroom, ordering him to get ready. Tobirama reins in his teasing this time but can’t help but groan as he unfolds the sleeping yukata Madara’s offered him, the all too familiar uchiwa sown onto its back.
“Don’t you have any clothes without this accursed thing?” he asks, wondering if it’s really worth changing from his rumpled attire.
“Nope,” Madara answers cheerfully. “Deal with it, Senju.”
Tobirama makes a note to ask Mito, when she comes back from her travels, how to deal with a soulmate who’s a constant pain in the ass.
Large amounts of ice-cold water do nothing to quell the scorching fire in his coils, so Tobirama gives up soon enough. Stalling is another thing he isn’t used to but catches himself doing quite a lot of it in hopes of derailing the moment he has to get into bed next to—Madara.
Madara Uchiha.
His soulmate.
It still seems like something out of a lurid dream, if not a nightmare.
They find themselves lying down shoulder to shoulder, staring silently at the ceiling, neither of them willing to break the awkward silence or fall asleep.
Tobirama sighs.
“I have an idea for a seal that can help you deal with the pain while you’re learning to control my chakra.” He intended to say something completely different, like comment on the fact that they’ve ended up lying on top of the covers even though Madara obviously feels cold, but his own nervousness gets the better of him. “A matrix that’s a bit challenging, but if I use the same principles used for chakra masking, only to tune it down to a more comfortable—”
“Senju.”
“Hm?”
Tobirama glances to the side to see Madara frowning at him, seeming genuinely concerned.
“I’ve been in pain all day, but you, too, look like death warmed over,” he says, moving to lie on his side and curling his hand over Tobirama’s forearm. “Think about it tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Tomorrow.”
Tobirama rolls his eyes but relents, allowing himself to relax as much as he can, still lying on his back as Madara curls next to him. He casts his usual jutsu to adjust his dreams for the night, then carefully, slowly channels some of his chakra outward, hopefully enough to keep Madara warm, and judging by his contented sigh, it does the job.
It’s a testament to how exhausted Tobirama feels that sleep overtakes him almost instantly after he closes his eyes, the soft, pleasant thrum of their intertwining chakra a comforting, grounding force.
He doesn’t know if he imagines the soft ‘Thank you’ whispered so quietly he can barely hear it, but regardless, he falls asleep with a smile on his face.
End of Arc I: Truce
Arc II on tumblr
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Text
Clone Wars: Season 2
Episode 1 Holocron Heist
We just
had
a heist
[One
nonsense
enough
to knock
me into
nonsensical
incoherent
rambling...]
Two
Okay...
I’m prepared...
To do.
nonsense...
Urgh
Okay..
[Title
Screen]
[Woah!]
.... ..
Aight
Okay
A lesson learned,
A lesson earned
Oh..
That
snapped me out of it,
A lesson earned
is
a lesson earned
[you don’t need a
person to tell you
basic
common sense
you can figure out yourself]
....
Assumed authority is
bullshit
Don’t need to
earn any-
[Sorry,
Still
Recov-
er-
ing
From
Last
ep-
Isode]
Okay...
Any-way
Jedi on a
planet
. .
Some-how
tr
ap
ped
-
Surrounded
Clones
-
Right-
-
Why?
Like - if you needed parts-
Okay-
I’m
in
-terested
Any way...
Wait
cruisers?
Gun
ships?
R-escue
Oh
wait-
That’s
Good
Oh
No,
It’s
Plo..
Jokes
About
How
He
Got
His
Men
Blown
Up Just
gonna
put
this
over
here
Been a
while
Also Hey
yeah
what
is
he
doing
here?
Doesn’t
he
have
Jedi
things
to
do?
Get
a
new
fleet?
I mean
th-
(Don’t
Condone
Child
So-
L
diers!)
But
every
time
it’s
always
Obi-Wan
and
Anakin
because
all
the
rest
of
them
are
too
busy
So
What-
Alright
-
Whelp
-
I
don’t
care
—-
Whelp
—
Ex-plo
—
Is
this
just
going
to
be
an
action
piece?
(Nothing
wrong
with
that;
just
need
a
different
mindset,)
From
the
applications
of
child
soldiers
-
To
Shoot-
-Why?
It’s-
Nice-
-Droids
Plo-
General-
?
Ev-
Neat-
Good-
Whelp-
Grab ‘em to the medic
And Go!
(Seriously
Windu figured this out yesterday.)
Grunts
You’d
think
the Jedi would give the
order?
Seriously,
Good miss,
Five
Min-
Got
Some
One-
Killed
“ Asoka,”
First Asoka
mention in the first five minutes
[maybe they got her character
better.]
-Jungle
You sent-
A child
That
Logically can’t improvise
...
Into
a jungle
....
The
Fuck
Skywalker?
Con-tact
Her
-
Dead
-
She’s very likely
dead-
-
Anyway
-
Hope
Anakin
taught
her
those
moves-
-
That’s
a
lot
of
emotion
-
In
the
movements;
Again;
Monotonous,
Stunted,
Robo
Tot
-ic
That’s
How
Child-
Nope-
Tone’s
Off
So,
just
to
go
over;
1. Tone ❌
2. Dia-
Log
Ue- (?)
3. Move
-ment ❌
I’m hop-
Extract-
Taught-
Okay-
Teach
-ing
s
Aight
Mary
Sue-
I’m
sorry
but
the
light
is
literally
coming
out!
Whelp-
Okay-
So it’s Ahsoka an
adult yet?
Like that can be explained away as
acco-untability
Otherwise,
she should
have a hard time
with
one
Droid!
(No wait didn’t Obi-Wan just call her
‘young one ‘)?
Nope!
Movie, get over there in your
shame corner
That-
Was painful
over-
reacting
And
Focus-
I
Don’t
-
You
couldn’t
have
forced
it
more
if
you
tried
-
The
Force-
d cha-
nge i
-n
Perspective
Not
Apprec
-iate
D-
. . .
.
Moving
on
Whelp
...
Get
In
-
That’s
a
direct
order-
-
“Can’t-”
Nope!
That’s
It-
Tone ❌
Dialogue; ❌,?
Move; ❌
Ment
Turn in your bad
writing card,
Movie
❌
(Not a series strike,
Just
A
“Fuck
You,
Strike
On the
Movie
And,
This
Chara
-cter
(We just had such a good-
Maybe; it gets better?
Skipped ahead;
It doesn’t
Sigh-
*Puts on earmuffs
Meta-phorically
Aight
Back
To
19:06
(Original
time
stamp;
Play
*Think
Friendly
Fire-
Nvm
*Thing
Ex-plodes
In-
stantly
Whelp-
You
called
her
before
a
council
??
Child
-ren
Can’t
Think
-
Okay
Movie
Children
can’t
think-
From ag-
“This is-”.
It should
be
-But
The
writers
-
refuse
to
write
her
as
child
-
The
Pro-
“I-
The
Pro-
Blem
As
the
story
seems
to
be
placing
the
Jedi
on
a
high
pedestal
.....
Their
actions
here
as
reasonable
.....
But
it’s
not
...
If Ahsoka was a child it would be a cruel use of power showing how used only to put the younger generation down before they’re
old enough to understand it
And how they’ve given Anakin the illusion of power
-Boomer
Bait
If she’s an adult;
This would be a show of
how
she’s childified by her peers
As it stands;
The writers refuse to chose
Concerning, due to the fact that
Child-ify
Ing
An
Adult
......
Is
Wrong
And
adult-ify
ing
a
child
is
wrong
...
Un
equivocally,
Tally
Of
How
Many
Times
Ahsoka-
Is
Adult
-ify
Ied-
;
This is necessary
[Excuse for odd formatting
The “Movie”,
(Under the
picture)
Caused
Tumblr
To
heck
up
my
spacing)
Continuing
on;
“Time
away
from
the
battle-
field,”
Good,
For
A
Child
Solider
-
(And
would’ve
been
a
good
show
that
any
kind
-ness
from
them
is
performative
...
“Guard duty,”
Tally
Of
How
Many
Times
Ahsoka-
Is
Adult
-ify
Ied-
1
Cite;
Child
ren
Don’t
have
that
much
emotion,
Nor
Pre-
fer
ence-
-
“Longer
now,”
Dick
—-
Kinda
It’s
better
for
children
not
to
be
in
battle
—
So
not
a
complete
dick...
But
not
optimal...
“Sorry”
So he said by people who don’t wanna take accountability for their actions and just stop doing the thing and
stop bringing the toxins into the world
Point;
If you
were sorry
you would
stop
doing it,
stop
bringing
it
up,
and
do
better...
—-
Trying
to
control
the
narrative
isn’t
nice
(When
the
truth
is
objective)
Only
the
self
may
be
both
.....
Security
-
“Knowledge,”
*Bag-age
“Hm,”
. .. .
...
...
Fisto
...
In-side
St-upid
Forbid
Den
Know-ledge
(It’s likely
about
plants
Or
Weapons)
Also;
Boomer
Bait!
(That’s something they offer younger
generations to follow their
stupid outdated tradition)
It’s always
worse...
(Also, this isn’t about Ahsoka trying to steal the
Holocon thing is it?
Because her character is already
-hateable- enough
And if she has enough initiative
to steal the holocon
- She’s an adult
And should
be allowed entrance
anyway
“Jedi
Council,”
So,
lady was a Jedi?
Aight,
Keeping an eye
on that
...
Aight
-
No
Went through one.
drug trip
Already
.....
[Okay...
..Got
a Drink
of water
——
Interrupt
-ion
Wait I thought he was just a
ball of
fuck your plot
You’re telling me he actually works
for
Palpatine?
After
threaten
ing
Palpatine?
This
dude
-
fucking
drug
trip
-
...Ser
vices
I
honestly
thought
he
was
a
[fuck
your
shit]
guy
Now
he’s
a
de
tec-
tive
Noir
....
Movie
that’s
too
many
genres
.....
You-
need
to
slow
down
.
Your main
Chara-
Isn’t
Even
Esta-
Blish
-ed
Prop
er
Ly
Nevermind
the
characterization
Note if it had been established he changes things every so often that would be neat
As
it stands
This
dude is a
fecking roller coaster
Not any
thing
resembling
good
[Giving
your
aud-
ience
a
drug
trip
isn’t
good
writing]
It makes
them
dizzy!]
So...
Holocron
Like Palpatine is literally doing this just to fuck over
Ahsoka?
Also, this is going to result in Ahsoka
being
unchild
-like
To take them out
too?
I’ll get the -
counter
ready
[yes I have seen it
literally
every
Mall cop/
security guard movie
ever
The
fun
.
seeing how your
(Good)
chara
cters
-
interact
with
the
scenario
-
That’s
not
happening
here
-
If she was a child this would show how
Anakin‘s orders react with the environment
If
she’s
an
adult;
We’re working through a checklist;
About
what we know about
her;
Likes, dislikes, how they might come up in a
situation...
The suspension...
coming when they do
With
Ahsoka...
What do we know about her?
Honestly?
We know she likes
fighting
(Already in enabler of toxic behavior
-against other living beings)
We know literally
nothing else about
her
Except...
That she’s
perfect...
Re-moving
All
Tension;
Deal
I’m surprise he just wasn’t like
oh
yeah
sure,”
[Ditches
with
the money]
...
..
Oh they’re actually talking
strategy
Usually it’s just
‘fuck em’ up
And that’s all
we ever
hear
Er-
Whelp-
Yodi’s
dead
Alas,
Poor
Narc
[assuming he can actually sense
disorder in the ranks]
Gen.
Leader
Ship.
Tox
He should know
he shouldn’t be doing that
Focusing
on him
self
And
practic
ing
accountability
....
Constantly
micromanaging
and
checking
in
on
your
peers
..
Isn’t
going
to make
them
more
likely
to be
accountable..
It’s
going
to
piss
them
off
...
Your (evident) distrust creating a toxic environment
As you were refused to
trust their
char
-acter
You can’t give me
respect the guy that was just snooping
(Through the whole
uni-verse)
That’s
the
point...
A
dis-turbance
in the force
Yeah?
Intruders there will
be
Okay, bullshit
he can see that
Like;
Peri-pheral
Okay
(Still tox that you don’t expect your peers
in a peripheral.
to be able to hold
accountability)
But this is galaxies
away
(Ac-tually.
on
Corousant)
But.
He
Should
n’t
Know
That-
‘The
Narcs
pulling
authority
again,
master,”
“Shh,
this
is
what
we
train-
I mean groom -
you
for!,”
“But
You
Said,”
(Con-tinuing
Earl-ier,)
[Seriously
I meant to bring it up
earlier,
But are they really inhabiting
Zero the hutt’s
old hotel]
Like it could just be a Noir hotel
But the positioning
and location
seem
familiar
. . .
Tell
me...
Who
the
frick
is
this?
?
“What
you
are
doing
back
there?”
...
..
Aight...
Assis
-tance
God
Lord,
He’s
Try
-ing
-
Main
tenance
If I don’t idea
(who this guy was )or what was going on
then maybe that would make sense
As it stands,
Nope,
Crash-
es
What’s
that?
....
What?
Seriously.
all he did was put another thing into another thing?
???
...
Aww, he actually trusts
Bane..
Thank you
...
Door..
Techno
Service
...
Droid
As in a
“tech
-nical service droid?
(Rt
(IT)
Tech
Guy?
Or a technical
assistant
(One made of
tech)?
(Or one specializing in
techno dance moves?)
Also
is he supposed to get them
in?
Is
that thing?
They-
didn’t
really
establish
much-
Butler
Droid...
Change?
Todo...
“You are what I say
you are,”
Roomba- kicker
Also, having a roommate is just straight up
detective fiction...
Like
buddy-cop detective but still
detective
With noir,
Which
is supposed to be focused on independence
Dis(trust) in society
Which is
admittedly
(toxic)
Or
seems
to be
Those two
themes...
Directly contra-
dictory
[with
Griev-
ous
they
made
it
work,
But
he
wasn’t
this
-
]
“Uh,”
You
are
not
“The
Doctor,”
-
[that work
ed as
manif-
estation
Of
Greiv-
Ous’s
Toxic
Be-
Hav
-ior-
And
Human
Want
For
Com-
Pan
Ion-
Ship
-
Or
At
Least-
Vul-
Ner-
Aba-
ili
Ty-
-
This
Guy
-
So far he’s a
n(e)igh
invulnerable
Douche
Bag
-
With
No
-thing
Humane-
-
Not
quite
Ahsoka
levels
-
Intend
-ed
To be
an adult
-
Just-
-
Really needing to go
ham -
On the arrogance
And
inhumanity
(He sold his soul for
money- But makes it look
so good- what
he
does-
Gets a sick
kinda enjoyment from it,”)
That’s how you
have, to pull it off
As it stands;
there’s
no
emotion
with
this
character
Is
the
robot
supposed to be like his
morality pet?
But he’s a
dick to
him
too
Really
he gets nothing
from me
How do even in the
“I-don’t-feel-anything-I’m-so-edgy-and-cool
look at me!’
Vibes
There’s nothing
fun...
Yeah you can throw all the
...clichés
you want in there
[But that doesn’t work
if you don’t use them
properly]
[I see the team up
with a female bounty
-hunter]
[Predictable
“I work Alone...]
The only thing
those stories
share
In minute]
But ‘once the effect of’
‘wow that’s a lot of things.
Has worn off
The story and character left
heartless
“Non-of- your
Bus-
iness,”
Doesn’t have the
cockiness to make it
work
[this isn’t
power-
Ful-]
Down
right
..cringe
As it tries to shove shove two genres.. .
At least...
That don’t
Quite
.work
...
Least not the
way they’re trying to make them
work
.....
..Today
It’s noir
The point is
no one’s
in a
good mood..
...
Aight,
Wasn’t that-
Also,
shouldn’t
he
know-
Based on how
open-
She
is-
To un-
veiling
her
mask..
- -
Robot
So sh-
ouldn’t she ask the robot to leave the room?
(If it’s such a big deal
to her?”)
He can just run their
face through a
face scan
no?
Mid-rim
I thought he didn’t have a way
in?
[That’s a
pretty pathetic
way in.. .]
[Palpatine’s
screwing
with
him]
[Giv
-ing
Him
a
hard
time
and
satis
-iating
-
The
ab-
omin-
ations
desire
for
blood🎵,
Two
birds,
one
stone,
Also,
Movie,
That’s
the
wrong
amount
of
planning
for
the
wrong
genre
-
We don’t care how the
bank ro
-bbers
Art
-thieves
Got
There
This
isn’t
Heist
-
[Money
Heist,
Not
Terr-
Esc]
Got
It
Wrong
[Pre
dict-
The
Plot-]
Last
Time.
-
The
Focus
isn’t
Character
building-
- it’s the
‘out of depth
characters reaction to the
scenario,’
And the wacky hijinks that
ensue
Using their
talents...
Contrast-
ed against the environment
(Mall
cop
example]
Which seems to be the best
fit
Stealing
the-
Holocron-
-
WHAT WAS THE
PURPOSE-
Well-
At least they ack
-now-ledged
Planning
really isn’t part of the subset,
Good
(For them?)
Aight
Impossible
...
What are the
emotions?
[like they
literally.
just through in
the
“the only place...”
Why..?
So quick rehash
(Sorry
but I can feel the
drug
trip coming through,)
(Effects-
Of
Dealing-
With
(bad) excess character;
(Deserts
Metal...)
[Refresh]
He has a map of the Jedi temple
Chip
(Oh so that’s what that-
(Isn’t he
still-)
[Changlin’]
Aight
Bog
[Refresh
End]
[Voice
acting?
[Mouth
sync]
...
..
Aight
..
In
Tru-
Maybe
take
the
teen- off guard duty
A thought
[but-seriously
No high
Alert?
Only these
two..?
Info-
-Mation
Baggage
Seriously money would be a better
option
Or
just
street
cred
(Adult) humans,
Aren’t that Liniar...
Any way...
East
Tower
....
Well that’s better than some
dusty
old
books
-
Holos
(Seriously at least that’s
present
baggage.)
Whelp
Nobody
notices
this
bullshit!
On a supposedly
secure a
military
base
....
...
Also in the Mid- day break
fecking
daylight!
(With the
hiest it made sense,
That was a hostage
political situation
Meant
to draw in a huge
crowd;
How?
Cool
Alright,
Hey
isn’t
she
supposed
to
be
standing
still?
(Guard)
Doing patrols?
Like
no
emotion,
Face
Forward,
Professiona
-lism
Not
Greeter
(Didn’t they literally call it
guard duty?)
Like just say you’re sending her to
library service...
Assis
-tance
Again,
Wrong
Field...
They’d
be
talking
to
the
library
helper
(Official)
Con-
Bother
Not
how a
child
reacts
Tally
Of
How
Many
Times
Ahsoka-
Is
Adult
-ify
Ied-
2/3
Cite;
Asoka
shows
intentional
over involvement
instincts
more
befitting
of
an
adult
....
Good
Fully
understand
able
reaction
(Kinda)
(Don’t
yell
at
children)
Don’t
over involve
yourself
in
the
future
....
(But if you’re an
over-
involv
ed
and
(un-)childlike
abomination
(Getting
shoved
for
this
is
likely
going
to
happen)
Dude was actually nicer than
an adult
Enabler
(Rule
Of
Excess
Society;
While
excess
verbalization
is
ex-
pected,
Getting
in
someone’s
way
(non-sport
Ing-)
(Or con
-ferr
ed-)
U-pon
Is
not,
Attemp
ting
to
move
them
away
the
customary
five
times
is
expected)
Aight,
So the librarian was right there as
she
harassed
her
client)
(Not saying;
But
you should get involved
in tox that doesn’t involve you)
Just don’t
think that would excuse
Her
from ire
“I can’t do anything right,”
Tally
Of
How
Many
Times
Ahsoka-
Is
Adult
-ify
Ied-
3/4
Cite;
Child
-ren
Aren’t aware of
self
Ahsoka would repeat a line
blank
-ly
“Likely
‘sorry’
Then back
away
[Or
the
or
dered
rea
ction-)
Aight
Whelp
Yes
Just at the librarian be the
pro tag
(She’s
Tox
But..
.
Less
Tox..
...
But
Still..
[Make
[Better]
Pro-ta
g
Than
Ahsoka
]
In..
...
That’s a
library
computer..
You
need
a
pass-
word.
-
The
robot-
How?
-
What?
Weak
Point?
You know for
Boomer bait
They
mis-construe
How the library
works a lot
[I know
-Hav-
Ing
Dealt-]
Talk-ing
in the
library,
Is pretty
off
Like there’s
a reason people are encouraged
to go into the hallway
to take phone calls
Loud
These are the guys that value
meditation
Dude.
Would be shushed
By
Several
irate
Jedi
...
Told to
take it
outside
...
...
I-
[I feel bad
For the Roomba]
[like dude, gaslights him
and then takes
his memory]
Like, Adults
Out
of
it.
...
But
...Droids
[we don’t know much about the
sentient ones
Or how much
senti
ence]
But
this
whole
scene...
Makes me feel
dirty
Like;
it’s played
for humor
When;
it should be played
to how much
a bastard
this guy
is
Screw-
ing
with
anything-
Like
That
...
Toxic
...
Sick..
How?
Aight..
What.
.
Re-
Cyc
Why?
...
..
Kenobi
Jump-ing coincidence
[i’m con
-clusion]
Damn,
the narc
[No one
tell him
anything]
[Might
fake
a
heart
attack]
Comm.
[How half assed is
Yoda’s peripheral?]
Venti
-lation
-That’s
Smart-
Almost
-Too
-Smart-
👍
-Tower
High
Alert
Place
the
Temple
-
Wasn’t, already?
Left it undone
Way to go
smart
guy
-
Cool
-
But
kinda
pointless..
Aight-
Never mind
I-
Might’ve
Been
Wrong-
Al right
[Seriously,
no one hears this?]
[In most heist movies
they at least had the
intelli-
gence-
[No hate
-villains can be stupid]
Do you some small well
re-lativel unknown library
[or at least not the one
at the place they were robbing]
Because everyone would
recognize that the actions occurring match up to what he’s describing
And the description
Of their
building.]
Aight
Neat-
Past
Whelp-
Aight-
Shred-
(Un-acc
Oun
T-able)
K-Pop
Well
that’s
a
name...
Whelp..
Cool..
..
Bane
...
Whole..
temple
And I heard you very
obviously
plotting...
So...
you’re getting kicked
Also he could be possibly looking up
intruders plans..
...
Like pretty one dimensional
opinion
of on ‘High Alert’, lady
[Especially
for a
librarian.]
Thank
you
Whelp...
There went my expectations
Also,
Every Jedi leaving the library didn’t notice that that
shit?
Like, they didn’t have guard’s ready to apprehend him
...On the
Other
Side?
Okay...
You just
moved her...
Do you know this could’ve been an episode
with a lot of emotional depth
Showing how terrifying adults that abuse children can be
adults that
swear to have their interest in heart
And how overinvolvement
Is harmful
regardless of who it’s coming from
(Neglect- of child-
And - accoun
tability)
Working off the
“blank line”,
‘I can’t do
anything right,’
And the Jedi
-Council’s treatment of
her
“Foreshadow
-Ing,”
(I use
that word
loosely)
Their
down-
fall
Instead
we
got
this-
And
he just abandons
the computer-
Aight,
Just contin
-ued on - with
-out his
instruction
Despite
see-ing
how bad
that
went.
Al-right
Okay-
Aight
Really?
Without
instructions?
.
In
Calls
friend
You were
fine
without him
the last few
seconds
.....
“Give-”
Not gonna
question that?
“Voice-”
She’s
a changling..
“Now,”
Hidden
You’re
in a vent?
Oh, Skywalker has
immediate
intuition
...
And a breech
didn’t somehow sound off alarms
Yeah. .
Good..thing you didn’t close up the thing
..
Whelp..
How?
Okay. .
Shame..
they didn’t get a hold of a force sensitive
kid
(I- don’t want it to
happen)
Just-
.. .
.. Here
Hurry
I can
Hear..
.
Bull-
Shit
.
You have rocket boots
they have the force
You shouldn’t
hear shit-
Sur-prisingly,
No Ahsoka
Good
The lower
the counter stays..
The
better
for
humanity
[and my
brain]
[Vent]
Seriously,
you didn’t tell your
partner?
About the Jedi on
High Alert?
Ser-
Force-
How deep
is that
thing?
[Aight,
Pat-
You’re telling me they still haven’t figured out the
Holocron?
We only
saw-
Shouldn’t one of you go one way and the
other go the other?
To cover
more ground?
They’re-
Really
putting
a lot
of faith-
In the
Comms
Also shouldn’t there be more
Jedi crawling over the place?
Seriously,
it’s just these two?
[We know Plo
isn’t doing anything important.]
[We saw
him near the opening?]
And
Kid Fisto..
Heck...
Is
everybody else doing?
A-ight
“Closer,”
Shouldn’t it be
..further
Archive..
[Library]
Comms?
Got it-
Whelp..
Okay..
Not, putting up that
door,
What are you
smiling about?
There’s plenty of lasers
And
you don’t even know
where the thing
you’re looking for
is
(Inside the compartment)
....
Aight
Might- not have been a
smile-
Look for
the open
vent
(Dude clum-
Un-
Acc
ountable)
With
Vents
Also look at all these
assholes standing around
doing nothing
Also, no one’s going to check up on the child
Like, Ahsoka surely got that message
right?
Temple-
Deep in the
temple-
Use-less
...
‘Cause you’re idiots
who don’t check for open vents
Or cover
more ground?
Or...
[Get, anyone to help you, in this big ass vent,”
It’s not very hard to see
why.. .
Ass
-itance
Ahsoka’s,
not gonna get blamed for this
is she?
Won-
Yeah, the narcs
pretty
useless
Also, why can’t you have the dude just shut off those lasers like he did the rest?
Done
Oh, they address it
Good,
Yep,
How?
But...
Okay...
...
Okay
....
What’re you
still
doing
...
Okay,
What’re
you
doing?
[Is the Holocron seriously right
there?]
That’s. lucky
Weirder
and
Wei-rder
Hey isn’t your personality
over-written?
By the
chip?
Aight
S-eriously?
Still
Here?
On- alert-?
Coin-
cidence?
!
Augh
Is that’s seriously the alert?
Several
minutes-
No wonder
those guys
were so late...
...
Sense
De-
Cep
Tion
Po-
S-ing
As
A
Jedi.
Okay
now
Yoda’s
just
reading
the
death
report
Jo-casta
What?
But
that’s
actually
a
good
idea
-
If shits about to go down you might as well find the person who might hold them accountable instead of letting you get the shit beat out
Run-
Serious-ly
shouldn’t she just shout out her name?
[Like I know
- High Alert-
But Ahsoka isn’t going to be much use against a
Adult...
Either way
Might as well
find her [and
scare off the intruder-]
Also how come
“innocence”
doesn’t get
the same notification
Did they forget his
wristwatch?
[Like-
seems important-]
Who are you?
Dang
It?
You
were
supposed
to
report
back!
Also no one
heard any of this before
Also; are you going to tell me that AHSOKA, the child
soldier,
Is going to beat this guy
When
the fully trained elderly Jedi got her ass kicked?
Nah.. .
“You,”
Dead
Tally
Of
How
Many
Times
Ahsoka-
Is
Adult
-ify
Ied-
4/5
3x
-Un-orthodox show of initiative
1x
-Counter
1x
- Surviving this
1x
(4x)
Getting her on the
run!
1x
Tot; 7/8
-Surviv-ing;
- 1x
- 1x
-1x
-1x
-1x
-1x
-1x
-1x
-1x
-2x
(I’m tired of counting them
one by one-)
-2x
- 2x
- 2x
- 2x
- 2x
-
Er
Okay
Whelp
Aight
-Right
Shape
-Skill
-Ew
Whelp
Okay-
Where did
your get your skills from?
Abomination?
Aw-
Todo-
-Yet
What-ever
Butler
Tech
Neither
of
which
have
anything
to do
with
ironing
doors
open
....
....
There
he goes
Sy-mpathesize- more with him
than this douche bag even if his
turn does make a little sense
Aight.
Whelp
Finally found that
vent.. .
Right
No, he wasn’t
“Comms,”
Not
Holo-
Cron
.....
Completely un-realistically
Tally
Of
How
Many
Times
Ahsoka-
Is
Adult
-ify
Ied-
28/29
And
1/2
(1/2 because referring to the action what respectively doesn’t count as a whole- sin-
It does deserve note that you decided to repeat your bad writing-)
Jedi
She
Says-
(Un
Be
Li
Ev
Able)
Holo
-cron
Jedi
To
Open
It
..
Okay,
..
Up-
To-
Again, with the
communication
center-!
Dude, just wanted a
Holo-cron
(Seriously
that was very tortured
logic,
Think the writers;
just wrote this scene
Then realize but wait
“why are they in the Holocron/
Comm
Cent,?”
And that’s how
Anakin/Obi-Wan
Obsession with the com
center began...
[sorry but there was no reason for them to be in the
Com center!
That I’ve heard!]
In
Aight,
What?
What
-ever
...
..
Wrong-
Yes
Com-
Center-
Ser-iously
even he doesn’t know what’s up
You
heard
me
And
my
stupid
plan
To send you to the
Coms center to justify Obi-wan’s
obsession-
Craw-
ling
And we have no reason
to-o
Why?
Now!
Yelling- doesn’t mistake the clear lack of
reason
What-
ever-
Right
That’s one way
to do it
Really
Also, how does
-that not-
That was less than
one minute
Also,
but no one else will hear that but
these two
. .
And they’ll
still progress to the
comm center
...
“It came from the com center,!”
How!?
You, guys,
Comms,
Archives,
Aight,
Nice
Com-munication
center-
Ha-
ha-
ha-
(I’m sorry
but that has come back around
to kinda funny,”
[something Happens across the
galaxy]
Obi-won; It was the com’s center
—-
Aight,
right,
...
O-kay
...
How??
Where?
Okay
...
Cloak
Ing?
What?
[you can’t defy the
rules of logic that much
(Physics)
You need to explain where he went
otherwise it’s a loony tune
Of
sus-
pen
sion-
Okay?
What??
I thought-
the thing-
....
O-kay
right
Take it,
Which
,One
That-
Right
What-
Ever-
Aight-
He knews
What-
Ever
Don’t call
your eggs
Move
Restraint
Whelp
Use-less
Just
There
Whelp
Nope-
Okay-
He
Try
[Hey
guys,]
Off
That’s
some
assumed
authority
over
familiarity..
Aight..
Okay,
They’re really
letting
him
get
away
with
the
story
Tries-
What?!
-When-
Bomb-
Both-
[Also
Mace
Windu
is
still
the
only
semi-efficient
Jedi...
Asshole !
(Can’t
make the text bigger enough to display my
outrage!)
[they
played that off
as humor!]
That was a scream of death!
Of
Murder!
[if that was a sentient-
And my God
it seemed damn close!
Dude was just murdered
The surprise-
“ I didn’t
see it coming, h
onestly not his fault kind!”
One that would call for
immediate robotic vengeance!
* im-mediate
ac-countability
If sentient,
What the Hell?!
That-
Horror
-
fy-
Ing-
Oof
“Was
it
sentient?
Crud, I
might
lose
my
least
toxic
credentials
( )
Whelp
How?
No
Way-
A-ight
Shit
-shit
- she did
nothing
I-
Call
Sec-
Whose
that?
Whelp
Okay..
That
Who
Dys-
functional
family
road
trip
-
War
No
shit
Oh wait at
the comment table was by all the other Jedi
So...
the whole time Obi-wan was just complaining
he didn’t want to do the job
Skywalker
agreeing with him...
And...
wanting to ditch their post
In chara,
Just, a little bit funny
when you think about it
Right,
You bought
them
all the way
here?
...
Also look isn’t the unchild-like abomination adorable when she’s talking about punishing people more severely
Holo-cron
The heck
is a
holocron...
Wait-
What-
Why-
How-
??
Why is this
being allowed to
happen?
-
...
Snitch
[like seriously how is it helping her
case, whatsoever?
Plea
Bar-gin
Aight,
Okay
That was just a completely random target
on his list...
- -
The one accountable adult
Keeper
Kydra
Crystal-
- Holocrons
Data
-
You get out of here
youngling
Force
Sensitive
Child ?
Are we really going to get into the
powers
eugenics?
(Or
power
genetic
superiority)
Also would it be a kin to basically every child or just any child destined for leader ship
(Like gen
leader ship?)
Cause..
Also, yeah
good idea keeping that around
And you named...
...
Young’lings
Future
Oy!
You put that back where,
it came from so help me
Future
vision
is cheating
In reality,
if you did have that power,
you should keep
your mouth
shut
And it completely negates
the point of a choice based universe
(Takes all the
risk out of it)
Making the story
completely useless
(For the sake of tension
I’m going to ignore
that..)
Going on the
assumption...
That’s the Jedi
are just a bunch of
narcs
Who
like
claiming they know the future
When in reality only the future
knows the future...
Worn.
Them
Oh so it’s just School
roll call...
Contact
You must
Ya no dude’s already a
headstart...
Ahsoka
Dude, he just override
the punishment
Does he
have the authority to do that?
[I
don’t
think
so]
Cad bane
He
probably isn’t
And you already know him
From the previous episode
Good for
Obi-won
Aight
Mace Windu
don’t give a fuck
Kid Fisto
disappeared
And. .
Luminara(?)
Went to go get a snack....
?
I don’t
know
Yoda
Got
Overruled
Aight,
Okay
.....
This episode...
Makes me feel disgusting
Watching
The middle
At least
It’s very clearly
boomer bait...
The beginning...
Focus-ing on the
importance of taking orders
(With no
sarcasm
to my understanding,)
Progressing,
Into,
Dah, de, dah,
Generation
____
doesn’t
understand
books!
*We might if they got out of our way, let us do our thing, dis-covered and pract-iced excess, on our volition
*if we wanted
to
Honestly
convinced.
I should’ve
given
them
a
strike
right
there
Out
of
Malicious
Won’t
(Out of restraint)
But
a
thought
none-
the-
less
Being
a
(toxic)
Boomers
Fantasy
in
which
they,
the
all
powerful
all
knowing
adults
must
help
poor
Ig-
nor
-ant
(Child)-
(I’m sorry
this really
disgusts me)
-with enough initiative
To praise their Brilliance
(It’s re-ally
di-sgusting)
This isn’t
seen as an overreach
Or con-
Des-cion
Of
A
Gen
And gives no
in-dication it recognizes how creepy what it’s doing is
Apart from the lighting in the council room
*Which
I’m now convinced is permanently broken
And continues with the assum-ption of a
life-time
Over the future
Breaking; the story pretty thoroughly
And announcing the
return to
mediocrity...
(Border
-ing on attempt at
lower
standards)
(Also they playoff the death of a semi-sentient species
For
Humor?
He
died
screaming!
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Mouse’s Reclist (#2/?)
It’s time for a second reclist! Here’s the first, if you want. This is again in no particular order. Title, author, pairing, and fandom will be listed, as well as if it’s a WIP.
The first few are going to be Snarry, because my reading list recently has basically consisted of entirely Snarry. Why? Because I fucking love Snarry. Sue me.
Angels on the Moon by Writcraft - Harry Potter/Snarry - The aftermath of the war is almost as difficult as the war itself, Harry is a mess and Severus is a reluctant survivor forced back to Hogwarts to recuperate from his injuries. When a brick-bonding spell goes awry, Harry and Severus are forced to confront hatred, misunderstandings and a new and unexpected intimacy which takes them both by surprise.
Notes: This is the classic-style Eighth Year!Fic, which has long been my favourite trope in the HP fandom. It’s an especially loved trope of mine when it comes to Snarry, too, as I am problematic filth, and teacher-student relationships are my jam. It’s also a classic bonding!fic. But the way it handles the tropes is just… *chef’s kiss*
The Man Underneath by maraudersaffair - Harry Potter/Snarry - Severus is a secret Auror and must always be disguised. When Harry Potter becomes his new partner, Severus struggles hiding his true identity and burning attraction.
Notes: This is more bottom!Snape than top!Snape, which I know isn’t to everyone’s taste. However, it’s fucking fantastic, and as someone who has a cathartic and self-fulfilling love of “char A is ugly and has a shittonne of self-hatred and yet manages to score super hot char B” (something that I struggle with myself and still worry how I manage to keep my own gorgeous partner over), this is perfect. Not that I even agree with J.K.’s assessment on Sev’s ugliness. I like the “goth filled with churning angst” look.
a forest, dark and deep by bleedcolor - Harry Potter/Snarry - Once, many years ago (for that is when all great stories begin, many years ago; we never consider we might be in the midst of our own great story) there lived a boy. But wait, you might say, there is nothing special about a boy living, many people do and never amount to much of anything. You would be right, but you would also be wrong, because this story is not about a boy who lived, but The Boy Who Lived, and that is all the difference.
Notes: Harry is cursed and must go on an adventure to the Fountain of Youth to find the cure. I cried. I cried a lot. I cried a lot a lot a lot a lot. Happy ending, though! Fairy tale fic. One of the best fics to read if you want magic in the HP universe portrayed more like magic in ancient medieval history tends to be portrayed: mysterious, Eldritch, Occult-like power that requires strange and sometimes dangerous rituals to harness.
you like making me work for it by bottlefamebrewglory - Harry Potter/Snarry - “Before what, Mr. Potter?”//Before Snape had looked at him, drunk and miserable without knowing why, and told him that he could change his future if he wanted. Before he had pulled Snape out of the darkness he’d been determined to drown in. Before the memories. Before he’d looked into Snape’s eyes and watched him die.//Harry didn’t often change his mind, not about people. He’d been accused by Hermione more than once of being stubborn, even prejudiced. And, once upon a time, he’d thought he’d known exactly who Severus Snape was. But that had changed and Harry was no longer that boy anymore, just as Snape could no longer ever be just his hated professor.//“Before,” Harry said again, more finally.//Harry was pretty sure the fact that everyone never thought he’d live past seventeen was at least half the reason becoming an actual adult was so goddamn strange. Severus just wanted to get on with his life now that it was free of controlling old men.//Or, five times Harry flirted with Snape and one time Snape flirted with Harry.
Notes: @snapedefender‘s most recent masterpiece. Post-War!fic, one of the best of. Harry worms his way into Severus’ life, as he always does. Also he has a big crush. Their interactions are golden. Everything about this is golden, in fact. It’s just delightful. Read it, please.
How the War Was Won by avioleta - Harry Potter/Snarry - Severus Snape should be dead. Instead, he wakes up after the Battle of Hogwarts to find himself quarantined in a house full of Gryffindors, waiting for Harry bloody Potter to save the world…again. And Severus must be going crazy because he can’t seem to stop thinking about Potter. (Or, where Harry needs a distraction, and Severus doesn’t refuse.)
Notes: War Doesn’t End with The Battle of Hogwarts!fic. And it’s by avioleta, a longtime and well-loved Snarry writer. Well-loved for good reason! They know what they’re doing, and it shows. I’ve long loved “Harry and any number of Slytherins are holed up together and must get along” as a trope, and this nails it perfectly. Another fav was in my previous reclist, Hauntingly by ObsidianPen, where Harry is holed up with Draco, Sev, AND Tom! Fun times!
Chasing Ghosts by DictionaryWrites - Harry Potter/Snarry/WIP - “I guess I’m not ready to join the land of the living just yet,” Harry says. “Need a little more time here at Hogwarts, with all the ghosts. You know what I mean?”//In the aftermath of the war, Harry doesn't feel ready to leave the safety of the castle, and to go out into the world at large: he wants to stay. The Room of Requirement - with great reluctance - grants his wish.
Notes: Adult!Harry wakes up in the Marauders Era and becomes a teacher, all while he tries to figure out the nature of spacetime. TIME TRAVEL!FIC! That’s in all caps because I love and adore time travel!fic with all my heart. Again, more of a bottom!Snape story. I used to think I preferred top!Snape, but bottom!Snape has come into my heart with a passion as of late and showed me I’m not always going to want Snape to nail Harry into his mattress. This also shows more of Snape’s backstory, with mentor!Lucius and all, which is a fav of mine as well.
OKAY! Enough Snarry, yes, sorry. Moving on!
Love Potion #9 by murderlight - Bleach/GrimmIchi - Gifted with a horrifying box of potion-laced chocolates from Urahara in the hopes he might feed them to somebody, Ichigo thought all the excitement for Valentine’s Day was done with. Then Grimmjow had to get snacky.//A story in which Ichigo is entrusted with the scientifically altered affections of his once-enemy, and might just discover some of his own.
Notes: I love the goddamn love potion/love spell trope. This one highlights the dubcon nature of making someone fall in love with you (even on accident) a lot more, but still makes everyone’s feelings feel genuine and real. And of course it ends happily. And there’s no noncon, if that’s not to your taste. Ichigo is a good boy and does not stroke that pussy until that pussy is entirely free from Kisuke’s experimental serums. Yes, I made that pun.
The Edinburgh Problem by snorklepie - Sherlock/Johnlock - “A nice holiday, just a bit more...murdery. ” John said drily.//“Yes! The best kind of holiday!” Sherlock beamed. “So we won’t get bored!”//After he separates from Mary, John returns to Baker Street. Following a request for help from Sherlock's cousin Violet, the detective and his blogger take a trip to Edinburgh. John discovers more about the Holmes family and Sherlock than he bargained for, but tries not to run screaming.
Notes: I fell in love with Violet immediately. I am so gay. If you are also attracted to women, you will probably join me in falling in love with Violet. She is amazing, and very Holmes. But a more balanced Holmes. Well, as balanced as a Holmes can be. I love case fic, I love Sherlock Holmes in general because of my adoration for murder mystery (yes, I am a forensics major, thank you for being able to clock me very obviously), and I love deep backstory and family bonding. It’s a long, long ride, but it is undoubtedly worth every single minute.
The Loss of Flesh and Soul by deuxexmycroft - Sherlock/Johnlock/Abandoned WIP - Five years after John Watson puts the murderous Sherlock Holmes behind bars, a vicious copycat killer emerges. A reluctant John is pulled out of retirement to seek the expertise of the only man who can help, a man who has developed an unsettling obsession with John himself.//Crossover with Red Dragon/Silence of the Lambs
Notes: It’s Hannigram but Johnlock, what’s not to love? Sherlock’s characterisation in the TV show is already unsettling enough (well, in the beginning, but I like to pretend Sherlock doesn’t exist past S2), so adding in a little Hannibal Lecter is fantastic. Yes, it’s an abandoned WIP. Yes, that hurts like hell. But it’s so, so worth it anyway. Seriously, this is one of the best executions of serial killer!Sherlock I’ve seen in fandom, and given how fucking gigantic the Sherlock fandom is, hopefully you can see how big of a thumbs up that is imho!
Sinking the Land by emungere - Sherlock/Mystrade - Three weeks ago, Mycroft Holmes picked Lestrade up outside New Scotland Yard and made him an offer he'd been unable to refuse, despite his best judgement. Mycroft had sucked his cock, dropped him off at home, and Lestrade hadn't heard a word from him since.//Now, the door of the black car swung open as Lestrade drew level with it. He could just see Mycroft's profile, hawkish nose and shallow chin limned by the orange glow of the streetlight.
Notes: Porn WITH plot! That’s the best way to take your porn, imho. One of the best ways I’ve seen the Mystrade relationship developed. It’s just so real. And Lestrade is so head-over-heels, which is my favourite way to take my Lestrade :p.
Clark Kent, of Krypton by TerresDeBrume - DCEU/Superbat - Batman crashes on Krypton a few days before the Turn of the Year celebrations, and Kal-El's life takes a sharp turn to the left, on a path that will, ultimately, lead him to becoming Clark Kent.
Notes: Krypton Wasn’t Destroyed!fic is always, always, always my favourite. Sci-fi mystery again, yes. If you saw my first reclist, then you understand that I am always going to fall for a sci-fi mystery fic. This one develops Kryptonian culture beautifully, and equally-as-perfectly encapsulates what “Clark Kent Pretending to Be a Mild-Mannered Reporter, but on Krypton” would actually look like.
Q It Again by writerofprose - Star Trek/QCard - Picard thinks his position, as captain of the Enterprise, plays the largest role in Q's obsession with him. Q would like to take that bet, even if Picard wasn't making one. What say they try it again, from the start? Without the captain nonsense?
Notes: A poignant take on Q’s weird fixation with Picard. Not that anyone can blame him. I mean, shit, the man is Jean-luc Picard. Anyone would be fixated on him. Q uses his Q powers to explore Picard in multiple alternate universes, and erases his own memories in order to come in unbiased. Picard gets to keep his original memories, and those of the AU. Does Q still like Picard as much when he’s not at the helm of the Enterprise?
American Outlaws by manic_intent - Red Dead Redemption/Morston - “Bounty’s for one ‘Jim Milton’,” Sadie said, as she got close to the man under the oak tree. “Wanted for murder, robbery, and unnatural acts.”//“Unnatural what?”///“Don’t got details on here.” Sadie passed the folded up poster to her hunting partner. “You all right?”//Arthur Morgan didn’t answer her as he smoothed open the poster. He was aggressively smoking a cigarette, his second, judging from the stub on the grass.
Notes: I loved RDR and RDR2 so much that I wrote my own fic in the fandom, despite knowing jackshit about late 1800’s America. It was only a ficlet, in order to hide how little I remember from my contemporary history classes, but much more talented people than me took on the burden of whole-ass novels. Here’s everyone’s fav BNF manic’s take on a fix-it Morston, pre-RDR1 but post-RDR2. It’s excellent. Who doesn’t enjoy forbidden love historical romance? Especially with a delicious helping of age gap. If you’d like Vandermorgan or even Vandermorston, check out more of manic’s stuff, and also kriegersan, who is another long-time fav of mine.
Every Deckerstar fic by wollfgang. But especially a softer beginning, an amnesia!fic, and if you saw all of me, a true form!Lucifer!fic. You know, since angels are described as weird Eldritch beings in ancient texts. Both tropes are my favourite. Also that latter one has monsterfucking and we are all monsterfuckers here.
A Modest Proposal by ignaz - House M.D./Hilson - Tritter's case against House still depends on subpoenaed testimony from Wilson. To save House from losing everything, the doctors of PPTH decide on an unusual solution, which in turn leads to unexpected consequences. This is a story about the sacrifices we make that turn out not to be such great sacrifices after all. (Contains spoilers for everything up to and including "Merry Little Christmas.")
Notes: Work 355 on the AO3. It’s that OG. And for an OG slash fandom, too. Well, not Star Trek levels of OG, but it’s a fandom based on Sherlock Holmes, and ACD did come before Star Trek! You’ve probably read it. It’s the OG Hilson Pretend Marriage!fic. But I had to rec it because when I get bored I watch House on Amazon Prime (or the thousands of clips they upload to YT nowadays), and I always am struck by HOW GAY HOUSE AND WILSON ARE OH MY GOD. I can never watch it with Mum in the room, though, because she was in the medical field before she retired, and the unrealistic nature of how House characters behave (and some of the medical procedures) make her SOOOOOO peeved. Though doctors, especially surgeons, were apparently huge egotistical dicks at times. Maybe not kill your own patient levels, though.
In A Place Where No One Appeared by Gefionne - Star Wars/Kylux - Following the destruction of Starkiller Base, General Hux is ordered to remove a wounded Kylo Ren to a place where he can recuperate. Knowing nowhere else to house him safely and discreetly, Hux takes Ren to his family’s estate on Arkanis. He anticipates adding this experience to the already long list of abhorrent memories he has of his childhood home, but six weeks in company with Ren turns out to be something quite unlike Hux expected.
Notes: The imagery is so fucking vivid, I love it. The entire world of Arkanis is just lit up so beautifully in Gefionne’s words. This takes a little liberty with Hux’s backstory, given there wasn’t too much out at the time, but it’s so fucking good, I’d prefer its canon to the actual one, lmao.
all that you love will be carried away by coldhope - Star Wars/Kylux - Supreme Leader, the oscillator is failing. The collapse has begun. There is nothing that can be done.//Hux, sent to retrieve Kylo Ren from the dying Starkiller Base, has lost almost everything, and has little patience or tolerance left for anyone or anything--particularly not Snoke's pet pseudo-Sith and his amateur theatrics. But you do the job that is in front of you, to the best of your ability, and you hold on as long as you can.
Notes: One of the first Kylux fics, and one of the best. Their relationship is just so real here.
London Calling by SectoBoss - Overwatch/WidowTracer - Recaptured by Overwatch, Widowmaker is sent on a mission to assassinate a high-ranking Talon agent in London. It should be an easy mission – get in, take the shot, and leave. But when Tracer’s your getaway pilot a lot of things can go wrong, and things like 'subtlety' and 'discretion' tend to be the first casualties. Now, lying low after the mission goes awry, the pair of them have to survive in the city until Overwatch can get them home.
Notes: Written when OW was in its heyday. And before the fandom was qqqquite as bad as it became. A WidowTracer case!fic, with Amelie as the reluctant good guy, which is always the best trope and I don’t take concrit on this point.
To the Victor, The Spoil by Annakovsky - Hunger Games/Haymitch/Katniss - No berries, no mockingjay, no rebellion. Katniss killed Peeta in the arena, and now she has to live with herself like every other victor.
Notes: An old fandom, an older fic, back in the day when nobody complained about fucked up dark!fic. And fucked up dark!fic this is. Rape, age gap, age gap rape, Katniss losing all hope about the future, etc. But damn, it’s good.
The Want of You by MKK - Star Trek/Garashir - Julian Bashir is not quite sure yet about his feelings toward his enigmatic new friend Elim Garak. So when they both show symptoms of a mysterious illness, it seems they'll now have more time apart to ponder the future of the relationship. Their symptoms worsen, however, and to their shock, they discover there's only one way to effectively and inexplicably ease the pain: getting physically closer and closer - and closer.
Notes: A forced bonding!fic where Bashir doesn’t actually know Garak all that well. As in, set very early in the canon. Very early. Which is my favourite way to read this beloved trope, because the whole fun of it (imho) is characters who barely have a grasp on each other’s personalities being forced to learn them.
Timeshare by astolat - Harry Potter/Drarry - “It’s not for long,” Hermione said. “By the time we get back to Hogwarts, the Unfettering Brew will be ready.”//“Listen to you!” Ron said. “He’s got to get through a month with the Dursleys and a month at Malfoy Manor. With Draco Malfoy.”//“Yeah, thanks,” Harry said, because he hadn’t just spent the last week contemplating just how much more horrible his summer holidays were about to be than they’d ever been before.
Notes: Another forced bonding!fic, this time by AO3’s own founder. I love it. I love it, I love it, I love it. Their interactions here are perfect.
Speaking of Drarry, here’s a Veela!Draco fic I’ve recced before, but I don’t believe was in the original masterpost.
Talk to Me by Saras_Girl - Harry Potter/Drarry - When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story.
Notes: Harry is temporarily deaf and blind thanks to a misaimed spell. Draco takes care of him, in secret. Identity porn at its best.
Semaphore by DevilDoll - MCU/Stony - "I’m trying to like you, Tony. You’re just making it very hard."
Notes: I wanted to rec another OG. One of the first Stony fics in the MCU, and still one of the best. It holds up very, very well and is worth a read if, by some miracle, you haven’t already.
Prisoner’s Dilemma by AvocadoLove - MCU/Stony - After taking the airplane down in the Arctic, Steve wakes to find himself imprisoned as a human test subject. With no idea where in the world he is, his only ally is a fast-talking inventor in the cell next door. Something’s off about Tony that Steve can’t put his finger on, and it’s obvious Tony doesn't fully trust him either. But to escape they may not have a choice…
Notes: IDENTITY PORN! And it’s by an author I adore. AvocadoLove has pioneered the MCU MattFoggy fandom, and also donated their efforts and words to Stony. It’s the best. And it’s canon divergence! Which is another favourite trope, and one I can’t ever seem to stop writing myself. I have a lot of appreciation for it.
Speaking of MattFoggy, all of theapplepielifestyle’s works for the pairing are amazing. And all of their works in general.
Belief Space by magicasen - Marvel 616/Stony - The Time Gem appears not when it is wanted, but when it is needed. Steve learns this the hard way.//(Or: an Infinity #6 AU where Thane refuses his birthright and the Avengers are doomed - until the Time Gem shows up within Captain America's grasp.)
Notes: A 616!Stony fic, if you’re craving something in the comics rather than the movies. Still with Civil War angst and Stony angry tension, just this time it’s even more painful, because their friendship in the comics!verse was beautiful and their fallout even more devastating.
This time tomorrow (where were we?) by dorcas_gustine - Marvel 616/Stony - Tony goes to see Wanda, and suddenly Steve is alive and there are Skrulls! Or maybe Tony is just going crazy. Nothing happens in this fic, until the very end. Seriously. There's a lot of talking, mostly at inopportune moments, Tony's views on the acceptable gifts to give people are slightly different from everyone else's and he spends more time than would seem necessary being (half-)naked. What else is new?
Notes: More 616 for your Stony needs! Tony time travels into a word pre-Secret Invasion and decides to fix things his damn self.
despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by praximeter (Zimario) - MCU/Stucky - “They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.//Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—//“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”//Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”
Notes: TWS Identity Porn!AU. Gore, given that the Winter Soldier’s mask is literally stuck to his face. But it’s excellent.
Simple by Osidiano - MCU/Stucky - Written for the capkink meme; "To the Winter Soldier, there are basically three kinds of people in the world: superiors, mission support, and targets. He doesn't have the context to understand things like friendship. So what he sees in the Smithsonian exhibit and what little he remembers or feels about his past, he interprets in that light. He thinks that Steve must have been his handler during World War II. That the reason he couldn't kill Steve and the reason he was smiling in the museum photos was because Steve was a good superior who treated him well (or at least didn't hurt him like Pierce and Rumlow, which to him might be the best he can imagine).//Thinking he understands the situation, he decides to report to Steve. Cue misunderstandings, confusion, and heartache for both of them."
Notes: Bucky taking a while to snap out of TWS mode is one of my favourite tropes. This fic executes it perfectly.
Bridge Over Troubled Water by soniclipstick (veriscence) - MCU/Stuckony/Phlint - Ultron is destroyed, the Avengers are in disarray, and the Winter Soldier is still in the wind. Steve knows that he has to fix the ever-growing ocean of distrust between Tony and himself, so he takes a leap of faith and tasks Tony with the most important thing: finding Bucky Barnes. But it takes a pair of sexy but stolen hand warmers, several robots, Hawkeye and countless selfies before Steve realises the immensity of what he's set into motion.
Notes: I would die for Stuckony as a ship. It’s one of my favourites to read and to write, and this fic here encapsulates it quite frankly in the best way.
Strange New Worlds by Leletha - Supernatural/Destiel/Sabriel - AU…THE FUTURE: Humanity survives everything, spreads to the stars, and finds it needs to know where it can land. Enter interplanetary explorers Sam and Dean Winchester…and sentient starships Gabriel and Castiel. Then ships and crews start disappearing out in the black and, as usual, all goes straight to hell.
Notes: I corresponded with Le’letha when they originally wrote this fic, and my love for it has only grown in the years since. Sci-fi mystery, yes. Dude, Castiel is a sentient spaceship. That itself is premise enough.
In His Image by Anonymous - Supernatural/Sabriel - Kali can breathe life back into a corpse, but what exactly is Gabriel now? Gabriel flits around various centuries trying to work that out, Dean has another powered-down angel and a little brother to look out for, Castiel has forgotten how to trust, and someone keeps sending Sam annoying little notes on his laptop. Oh, and Bobby would like to remind you all that there’s an Apocalypse still going on. Covers season 5 from Gabriel’s death to the finale.
Notes: My favourite Sabriel fic. God only knows why the author abandoned it. I have their original name, but it doesn’t feel right to reveal it when they made the conscious choice to anonymise. Let me just say that they were a favourite of mine.
If You Were the Last Woman on Earth by Vali - Doctor Who/Thoschei (Twissy) - Just because your best enemy accidentally destroyed planet Earth is no reason to refuse her hospitality. Written for the Only One Bed fanfic challenge.
Notes: That last note doesn’t even begin to cover how wonderful this fic is. Tropes are irrelevant, this captures them perfectly. Still one of my fav ever Thoschei fics. Now just get me one where The Master calls our titular hero Theta Cubed Sigma Ex Squared Lungbarrow, please.
A Wealth of Sorrows by evelynwaaaaah - Dragon Age/Solavellan - Things are getting back to normal in Skyhold now that Corypheus is gone. Until the Inquisitor collapses in mid-conversation.
Notes: Solavellan is still a ship I would die for. This fic will make you ship it, if the game didn’t already. And this is coming from someone who romanced Cullen on my first playthrough.
Reclamation by copperbadge - Harry Potter/Background Jily and Wolfstar - In an alternate universe, one man still struggles with a moral decision made many years before.
Notes: What if Tom Marvolo Riddle wasn’t quite the same maniac of the canon!verse and was accepted to the position of DADA professor? By the esteemed copperbadge.
Truth and Illusion by penny_dreadful - Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica/MadoHomu/KyoSaya - “I’ve, um, been dreaming.” She closes her eyes because it’s easier to ignore Mami and Homura’s stares. “In, in my dream I’m still in bed, but I-I’m not alone, Sayaka’s next to me but she’s not breathing, she’s—”//She’s pale and cold and pretty in the same way the stained glass windows of Kyoko’s father’s church are pretty and she’s lying so still she can’t be anything but dead. But in her dream Kyoko still curls around her, soul gem in hand, keeping her warm, keeping her safe—//“—she’s dead, I didn’t even know her that well and she’s dead and in my dream I’m so, I’m scared that there’s nothing I can do.” She opens her eyes. “But there really is nothing I can do. She’s already gone, and we left her there.” She stares hard at her hands. “We weren’t really even friends.”
Notes: Not really a fix-it for MadoHomu, but certainly one for SayaKyo. Homura does more spacetime bullshit. Kyouko remembers.
~~~
I think that should cover it for now! That took me ageeeees, and I have games to go waste my life on and fics to write now lmao. Let me know if you want a third installment!
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Fright of Life and Death part 2
About forty minutes later Charley came home and found his mom and Aro sitting together in the living room having a seemingly pleasant conversation together and he felt terror run through his veins. He knew the vampire didn’t like him and he even had a moment where he thought Aro was here to kill him, but considering that his mom was still alive he figured he was here for something else, but he couldn’t come up with any type of reasoning as to why.
“Hey Char” Mrs. Brewster said noticing her son
“Hi, mom” Charley said setting his backpack down by the door
“Come and sit with us” Mrs. Brewster said waving for her son to come over
Reluctantly Charley did what his mother told him and sat next to her.
“How was class?”
“Fine” Charley said, doing his best to make it look like he wasn’t purposefully trying to avoid looking at Aro
“Good. Well Aro came over to talk to you” Mrs. Brewster said getting to her feet “so I’ll leave you to it”
Please don’t go, mom. Charley thought as he watched his mom go upstairs
Aro sighed “I know this is rather awkward, but I can assure you that I am not here for malicious reasons”
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m afraid that there is something wrong with Peter”
“What?”
“I simply wish to know what happened on your last hunt”
“Uh... it went fine but the guy must’ve been paranoid because his lair was covered in crosses and he had this box, that we somehow picked up, and for some reason, he’d nailed it shut”
“The inside of the lid was all scratched up, correct?”
“Yeah”
“Was there anything else odd about the house?”
“It was next to a cemetery, which Peter thought was a problem, aaannnd there were a bunch of crosses on the wall. Why does it matter?”
“I’m afraid that something was attached to the box and has latched itself onto Vincent”
“How?” Charley asked “ghosts aren’t real”
“It’s not a ghost, but a non-corporeal demon”
“Why. Did you. Phrase it like that?”
“Did you think that vampires were the only beings of legend or myth that exist do you?”
“Yeah kinda” Charley said, sounding like he was having a lot of trouble believing what he was told but also being very aware of the fact that Aro was much older than him and if anyone knew what did and didn’t exist it would be him “so Peter was right? Shit! What do we do?”
“I need some evidence” Aro said quietly
“What kind?” Charley asked “do you mean like video because I bought some spy cameras and audio recorders a while back for a reason I forget, maybe if you get him out of the house I can hide them and we can look over what they catch”
“How long should it take you to set them up?” Aro asked only receiving a shrug from the young man “hm, how long will it take you to gather the equipment together?”
“A few minutes” Charley said standing up
“Are you able to set them up tonight?” Aro asked, getting up making a move that looked like he was going to touch Charlie
“No!” Charley almost shrieked, scrambling away from Aro’s range of reach “I’ll help but don’t touch me. Peter told me what you can do and I don’t want you reading my thoughts”
“Fair enough” Aro said clasping his hands together
Aro waited for Charley to gather up all of the equipment he needed before they both got in their cars and drove back to Peter's house, Charley parking about a block away and walking the rest of the distance to the house. Opening the front door Aro saw Peter sitting on the couch, in a much more comfortable looking positioning, watching T.V.
“Where’d you go?” Peter asked, looking back at him from the couch
“Do you not remember?” Aro asked, furrowing his eyebrows
“Remember what?” Peter asked, looking frustratedly confused “last I saw you we were talking about thinking I was sick and then you just up and fucked off”
Aro realized what was happening “I’m sorry, dear, I thought I told you I needed to step out for a bit and take care of some business”
“Oh, ok”
“...You know” Aro said walking over to the couch “I was thinking we should go out and do something nice tonight”
“Like what?” Peter asked, muting the T.V.
“We could go out for a nice diner, or a drive, or maybe see a film”
“...Alright”
About a half an hour later, the two stepped out of the house Peter and Aro walking out to the car, with only the vampire being aware of the fact that Charley was creeping around the side of the house slipping inside through the door the vampire had left unlocked for him.
The two rarely went out around other people, normally they’d go out for a drive or Aro would force Peter to go on a walk with him so he could get some exercise. Thankfully since Peter lived in Vegas it didn’t really matter what time of day they went out together on the Strip because no one paid any attention to them, too distracted by the street performers, the shops, and the woman walking the streets in nothing more than pasties and thongs to notice anything odd about Aro. So that’s where they went, Peter parking in the cheapest parking garage he could find before they walked to the Strip and walked into the first restaurant they could find that wasn’t busy. After about ten minutes they were seated on the restaurant's balcony, so they had a perfect view of the fountain show across the street.
“We should take Jane and Alec out to a show some time” Aro said as he watched the water dancing
“What did you have in mind?” Peter asked, slouching back into his seat
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“The Blue Man Group” Peter shrugged “it may not be the classiest thing out there but it’s something children enjoy”
There was a pause in the conversation when the waitress came to take their orders; Peter getting a burger and beer as Aro got a small appetizer and water so as to not appear suspicious. Restarting their conversation Aro noticed that a nearby table of women kept looking at Peter and he could hear them talking about his human and how they were, he was hoping, joking about trying to steal him from the vampire. Peter seemed to pick up on his anger boiling up inside him and Aro felt his foot rubbing against his ankle getting his attention off of the woman and onto him.
“What do you wanna do after this?” Peter asked after he’d finished his food
“How about we see a film”
“There’s not really anything playing that I wanna see” Peter shrugged
“Come now” Aro said “there must be something you want to see”
“We can check out the RedBox down the street if you really want to watch something”
Aro wasn’t able to talk Peter out of wanting to rent something from a Redbox instead of going out to a movie theater. Fearing that this would not give Charley enough time to finish their plan Aro sent him a text letting him know about the change in plans thankfully he’d already finished setting up all of the cameras and audio recorders and was on his way out the door. Slipping his phone back into his pocket joined Peter back at the machine looking over the board of posters as the other looked through the Red Boxes library.
“When the fuck did they make a Banana Splits movie?” Peter asked aloud as he touched the movie's image
“Oh, Vincent” Aro said looking at the screen “that’s just mindless bloody garb. What about...”
“Too late” Peter said as the RedBox started whirling “the movie’s already coming out”
When they got back to Peter’s house Aro still wasn’t happy about the movie choice but held his tongue as they sat on the couch together to watch the movie.
“I don’t like the fact that both adult and kid me are in this movie” Peter said, right after (spoiler) Stevie's death
“Really?” Aro asked, quirking an eyebrow “how so?”
“I was a fan of this show for way longer than I should’ve been. Probably ‘cause it was the only thing I could watch growing up before, you know”
“Which one’s your favorite?”
“Nope”
“Come on”
“Not a chance in hell”
“If I tell you which one is my favorite so far will you tell me yours?”
“...Maybe”
“Snorky”
“Really?” Peter asked, looking genuinely surprised
“Yes”
“No way!”
“Your turn” Aro said, gently nudging Peter with his shoulder
“Don’t make me say it” Peter groaned
“Fair is fair, dear”
“Alright! It’s Bingo”
There was a crash behind them that was loud enough to cause both of them to visibly jump, Aro, reaching out to place a hand on Peters's thigh.
“The fuck was that?” Peter asked, straining to look down the hall the crash had come from
“I’m not sure” Aro said
Getting up the pair went to investigate the sound, slowly walking back to where the bang came from and found that one of the windows had a small crack in it. Stepping in front of Aro Peter walked up to the window, opening it up so he could see if what had hit it was still out there.
“That was an owl” Peter said sticking his head out the window “there’s a fucking dead owl out here”
“Oh, dear” Aro said, looking out the window with Peter at the dead animal
Aro waited for a few days before going back to see Charlie, wanting to make sure there was time for something to get caught on the cameras, and during this time he was trying to be extra attentive to Peter in an attempt to try and rein in his mood swings and help him deal with his night terrors, that had not only turned into a nightly occurrence but seemed to happen almost every time he closed his eyes. As much as he tried there wasn’t really anything he could do about them outside of trying to comfort Peter when he awoke and it was only made worse by the fact that he could see everything that happened in them. They were always the same, Peter alone in an empty field surrounded by hooded figures and he would always wake up in pain afterward.
Peter hissed in pain as he sat up in bed “Shit!”
“Are you alright, darling?” Aro asked
“My neck is really stiff" Peter said rolling his head
“Turn around”
Peter did as he was told and turned so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet placed on the ground. Walking on his knees over to his human Aro gently placed his hands on the back of his neck, watching carefully for any signs of pain as he mapped out the areas that needed the most attention before firmly massaging the pads of his thumbs into the back of Peters's neck, slowly working his way up from his shoulders to the base of his skull. When he reached the base of his human’s skull felt a small bump directly above his spine. Applying some more pressure to the bump Aro felt it twitching whenever it was touched like it was trying to get away from him and, despite his best efforts, that bump didn’t go away, but Peter seemed to relax a bit nonetheless.
“Do you feel better?” Aro whispered, wrapping his arms around Peter
“Yeah” Peter sighed grabbing the arms that were wrapped around him relaxing back into the embrace “thanks”
A few hours later Aro reluctantly left the house and drove down to Chraley’s so he could look at the recordings.
“Where did you get those scratches on your neck from?” Aro asked, when he entered the house, furrowing his brows
“What scratch marks?” Charley asked walking over to the mirror in the hall so he could look at the three bright red claw marks that were on the side of his neck “I was wondering why my neck burned”
“It’s been almost three days since you were at Vincent's and they look like they just happened” Aro mussed to himself
“Is that bad?”
Aro didn’t respond, he only gave a small hum before walking over to where Charley had set up his laptop. Despite the fact that he really wanted an answer Charley could tell by the look on the vampire's face that he wasn’t going to get one out of him. Glancing one more time at his scratches in the mirror he walked over to the couch and booted up his laptop, opening up the program that had all of the recordings on it, clicking open the videos for each room, arranging the screen so that they were all visible before pressing play. A majority of the recordings had nothing going on them as it seemed like the only places Peter spent his time was at the bar in his house or in the living room, and in the bedroom but there were no cameras back there. Though it didn’t really matter because Aro was always back there with him so he already knew what happened in that room. At first, it didn’t seem like anything had been caught, that was until Peters first temper tantrum, they could hear a deep scratchy voice telling him what to yell at Aro as the vampire tried to calm him down and what appeared to be shadows sliding over his arms so they could control his movements, shoving the other away from him. After that, there seemed to be a shadow-like figure that was constantly following right behind him as more and more floating white orbs began surrounding him.
“Well, what do we do?” Charley asked shutting down the laptop
“I do know someone who can help” Aro said softly “unfortunately I only know the general area that they live in not her addresses”
“Where do we start?” Charley asked
“North Carolina, I believe I know where her sister works”
As Charley packed up his laptop into an overnight bag along with some clothes, Aro called Peter giving him an explanation for his disappearance, the young man picking up on the worry in that vampire's voice.
“So?” Charley asked after about half an hour on the road, still trying to get comfortable with the situation at hand, wanting to come up with something to say to break up the tension in the car “uh, how-how did you meet them?”
“Well” Aro said pulling onto the highway “we met back in about 1856 when it became known to us that Elenor’s oldest son got married” he took his hands off the wheel to air quote the word married “to a vampire so we had investigated into it to assess whether the relationship was a threat or not but once we learned that she was a witch there wasn’t much we could do”
“If she lived back in 1856 how is she alive?”
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say alive”
“So she’s a ghost then?”
“Her spirit is kept in this plane of existence by her magic yes”
“Was she at least human when she was alive?”
“That depends solely on whether or not you consider a witch human or not”
“Yes” Charley said drawing out the word “what about her sister”
“They share the same mother so half of her is human”
Charley didn’t want to know what that meant.
Aro had essentially floored it all the way to North Carolina and had made it in a little over twenty-four hour instead of thirty-six it should’ve taken, the car only stopping so they could gas up, get Charley some food, and let him use the restroom; it also helped that he’d fallen asleep about halfway through the drive and they were able to pull into the parking lot of a small shopping plaza a little after seven in the morning.
“We’re here” Aro said shaking Charley awake
“Wha-?” Charley asked waking up looking around “oh”
Getting out of the car the two walked into the grocery store and saw that it was empty, save for the woman standing at one of the registers.
“Excuse me” Aro said, walking over to the woman “is Elizabeth working today?”
“Yeah” the woman, Sandy, said, turning to look back at the wall behind her “she should be back there” she pointed at the door in the wall
“Thank you” Aro said
The door Sandy had pointed at opened and Lizzy stepped out, looking like a man on a mission, she stood at about 5’3” and her eyes a pale steely blue with her vein-like scars being more contained towards the stab mark on her chest, the longest vein barely reaching up past her jawline onto her cheek.
“I’m gonna stab your wife!” Lizzy said, pointing at Aro
“And why is that?” Aro chuckled, walking over to Lizzy
“Because she’s a bitch that’s why” Lizzy said unlocking the door that was separating them “come back into the office with me. I have things to do so it’ll be easier to talk back here”
The room that Lizzy had brought the two into was small with two large safes pressed into the back corner, a computer sitting on the counter that ran along the left wall, a thing that would count out money, and a stand to separate it out into. With a wave of her hand the two safes opened.
“So what brings you down here?” Lizzy asked pulling out the tills for the registers out of the safe, setting them in a row on the counter
“Peter….” Aro said as he and Charley shuffled around so they were standing by the safe, Charley leaning back against the counter opposite of the one Lizzy was at
“Oh” Lizzy interjected before the vampire could say anything else
“You know?”
"Of course I know" Lizzy said, putting the bills from one of the tills into the money counter "you told Sulpicia about it and she tells Eleanor everything and I always end up in the loop, somehow"
“Ah” Aro said “what exactly has she told you?"
"Only that he's been acting weird" Lizzy shrugged, jabbing at one of the buttons on the counter to keep the money going through it “but why would you come here instead of going to her house?”
“I don’t know Eleanor's address?” Aro sighed
“... Shit!” Lizzy exclaimed, separating out the bills and setting them in their labeled slots “I don’t know what her address is, either” she grabbed the notebook that was sitting on the counter “we live off the same dirt road, but on different streets and I have no idea what her’s is called” she tore a sheet of paper out of her notebook writing something on it with one of the pens from her pocket “here this is my address. Her house is the first turn off the dirt road but if you somehow miss it just go to my house and walk straight back into the woods and it’s maybe a five-minute walk, but she’s probably not awake yet since Sulpicia is visiting”
“Isn’t she a ghost?” Charley asked looking confused
“Yeah but she still has like a psychosomatic need to sleep, eat, and all that biological stuff”
“One more thing before we go. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure”
“In my history class when we were learning about the revolutionary war the teacher talked about a creature that was responsible for killing a large amount of people when America was being colonized and after everything that’s happened today I’m starting to think that, if it was true, it wasn’t human so I was wondering if that was true or not”
“Really?” Lizzy asked looking like she didn’t believe him
Charley nodded his head in response.
“Yeah, that was me”
“How old are you?”
“Well, my mom was the one responsible for the colony of Roanoke’s disappearance and I think I was born not that long after they move inland so I’d say I’m somewhere around 400”
“You look like you’re barely older than me”
“I have a case of extreme babyface”
“You must’ve been pretty angry when you were younger” Charley said
“No” Lizzy said sounding a bit like she was trying to suppress a chuckle as Aro smiled a bit “there was just nobody to stop me”
“What about your parents?”
“No idea who my dad is” Lizzy said putting the money back through the counter “and my mom and I got separated when I was around ten so I spent the majority of my younger years on my own”
“It’s really a miracle she know anything at all” Aro chimed in
“Exactly!” Lizzy said pointing at the vampire
#Was this whole story just an excuse for me to use the characters I made#yes#Will I use them again?#probably#aro volturi#peter vincent#charlie brewster#twilight#fright night 2011#david tennant#michael sheen#vincturi#vampire x vampire hunter au#ineffable husbands au
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August 9: The 100 2x01, The 48
Okay, settling down to rewatch 2x01, the start of my favorite season...
I love this Clarke so much. Badass Clarke, sneaky Clarke, a Clarke who will fearlessly do what she has to in order to escape and to get to her friends. A Clarke with convictions and guts.
How DO they know everyone’s names lol? Is that ever explained? (ETA: Monty was obviously the informant.)
Mount Weather is one of my favorite parts of this show, honestly. I love that their mission is in part to preserve the beautiful things humanity created, like art; they gave their prisoner Starry Night. The ORIGINAL Starry Night. I just find that very moving. All of these non-essential parts of being human... the show has abandoned them and that’s part of why it’s so hollow for me now, I think.
Level 5: where it all begins and it all ends.
The Clarke/Maya relationship could have been so much more, tbh. Like they had their good moments, like threatening to kill each other etc., but they could have gone deeper.
Surprise! Underground executive branch family dinner! This is the sort of twist I can get behind.
Haha remember when actual delinquents still existed? I joke but truly the later canon has ruined parts of this show for me.
I forgot Tristan survived into 2x01. Not for long. Such Grounder hypocrisy: “That’s one. I lost 300.” He makes it sound as if Finn marched into a village and killed 300 people--they were fucking soldiers on the attack you dum-dum.
“Only our warriors speaking English.” Well that sounds like bullshit based on literally everything we see after this point.
The statue of Lincoln is “the place we go to settle disputes.” First, please don’t say they settle disputes to the death or some nonsense, and second, that’s his namesake... Significant? I mean, objectively, no, but can I make something out of it somehow?
I disliked Luna but she COULD have been so interesting and she and Lincoln COULD have had quite a dynamic. I headcanon them as exes. I want to know their whole backstory tbh. When they met. How. If he wanted to go with her to the sea. If he did perhaps and then came back.
Drink every time someone cauterizes a wound.
You know what else they should have done? Story line about the meeting of Grounder and Sky People medicine. Oh wait that would have taken away from the repetitive war story lines never mind.
That dropship is so fucking impressive. WHERE ARE THE AWARDS FOR THE SET PEOPLE?
And the costume people for those awesome masks.
Am I supposed to feel bad for this Grounder and his charred friend? I do not. Next time, don’t attack the children for no reason and you won’t get burned to a crisp. Easy.
The thing is I can never get behind the Raven + Murphy friendship 100% even though their S5 dynamic looked interesting because he literally fucking shot her and that’s just not a bygones are bygones thing. But they do have personalities that mesh well together so in that way it’s sort of a shame. Also he 10000000000000% had a crush on her don’t even try to argue.
She fired that gun at him. I forgot that. She fired but was out of bullets, that’s the only reason he didn’t die right there. “Yeah I would have shot me too.”
I’m p. sure that’s the real Mount Weather?
I know the Mount Weather people have no leg to stand on when it comes to the Grounders and that they’re...pretty obviously racist, but in their defense--the Grounders were written to be pretty savage, so “savages,” while unforgivably racially tinged, is a fair descriptor of them.
I know I’ve harped on this before but Mount Weather has a judicial system of some sort and it’s possible to press charges there. Somehow. The world building on this show sucks balls.
“They also said you were their leader” is like some retconning, okay. Because you will not convince me that for most of S1 BELLAMY wasn’t the leader in the eyes of the delinquents.
“Kiddo.”
Fucking love Dante. Where are my Dante + Clarke mentor/mentee or ex-mentor/mentee or different-gen-rivals fics?
“We prioritize safety over sentimentality.” As Maya takes blood she absolutely doesn’t need but is having just in case and that she knows comes from someone else’s tortured body because she’s accepted this as something they do, because she’s not sentimental. But she already feels guilty.
Clarke is already using the word “capture.” I had a discussion with someone once about Clarke’s vision of Mount Weather versus, say, Jasper’s, and why it was different and I said some poorly phrased stuff that didn’t really reflect my thoughts and opinions and it still haunts me but I feel like this is...relevant to that. How she immediately feels ‘captured,’ trapped.
Clarke’s devotion to her friends and her people was still so pure and right here.
Dante really does believe he “saved” them. I wonder what his thought process was... I really hate the “savages” so I must save these children? These children look interesting, let’s meet some new friends? She’s right of course that if they were really guests, they could leave.
Multiple crash sites over 100 square miles = I should go on google maps to confirm my Pennsylvania/Farm Station theory but I’m too lazy.
GOD THOSE CLOTHES. I love that Clarke picks the pants and the high heel shiv.
There’s no way there’s actually time for natural selection to work that fast in 97 years and also I’m pretty sure the Sky People are genetically modified because their original pool was way too small for the process Dante is describing but whatever this show is all la-di-da science.
Also: this is how you run an underground Bunker OCTAVIA.
Dante was the only rival/antagonist/whatever Clarke has ever had that rivals her instincts and intelligence yeah I said it; fight me. I know she needed to be on the outside for this season to work but he should have been her mentor. He basically set her up to be mentored and then she ran off and into L who basically destroyed her and she’s never recovered.
THAT REUNION. Heartwarming. Though hard to watch too because this show did both Jasper and Monty so dirty. (Yeah I said that too WHAT OF IT.)
“Dying. Same as you.” Murphy gets all the good lines. That’s why people like him, forget this “redemption arc.”
The Grounder Raven killed was Murphy’s guard and honestly--hilarious. He abandons his post, realizes all his friends are skeletons, pickpockets one, then is shot by what he must initially assume is a dead body. Better character than almost anyone introduced from S3 on.
This cake scene is the most iconic. Jonty were scene stealers stfu. They’re children--basically. They get to act their age. They get to be happy and silly and they loved each other so much.
“Pretend like you’re happy to see me.” / “We are happy to see you.” See? Adorable. I know he’s no cinnamon roll but gosh, adorable.
And then Clarke comes in like secret espionage time and they just look so Tired TM.
I feel like Monty knew, or suspected on some level, that Jasper wasn’t just ‘bummed out’ by Clarke’s suspicions, he was panicking a little.
I can’t believe Jasper and Maya have known each other for like 10 seconds and she’s already seen his O face.
“Clarke’s the only reason we survived.” Um ex-CUSE me but I know you didn’t forget Bellamy’s existence, Jasper.
Clarke’s so smart!
Maya brings out the big guns, literally.
“I’m the one who fired the rockets. Should I not have done that?” is so heartbreaking. Mostly because of the delivery. I love this entire scene. There are like 8 different scenes I love in this episode, like whole-heartedly and truly love.
Clarke’s suspicions really do look like paranoia. Like I see what she’s picking up on, saw it even the first time I watched this ep, but there’s a sense in which she does appear irrational.
There’s actually something kinda funny about Bellamy running out with a spear in one scene, looking around blankly, and then getting chained up as a prisoner in the next scene. At least he inspired his little protege Monroe. Scenes like this are the reason she joined Pike in S3.
Tristan’s like “Who are these fucking children running at me and screaming?” Then he gets shot in the head. Goodbye Tristan you won’t be missed.
“We’re here now. Everything’s going to be okay.” This sounds like Kane playing out a hero fantasy he’s had since he was a child. Except he’s talking to two mud-stained kids who are looking at him skeptically instead of, like, a captured heroine or something.
I feel like they set up this conflict where the adults/Sky People elite come in and, like Kane says explicitly, assume they’re in charge and everyone will fall in line, but then the delinquents don’t see it that way or want that: they have their own priorities (their friends) and their own relationships (Finn and Bell don’t even LIKE each other but they’re still communicating by look) and their own knowledge (the pipes that allow them to move through the dropship camp quickly and without permission). But then... it sort of plays into the rest of the season...but not that much?? Not as much as I would like.
“You are not animals. There are rules. Laws. You are not in control here anymore.”
This show sacrificed a lot of complex relationships to just either make people buddy-buddy who had no reason to be or just arbitrarily assign relationships to scenes or episodes without regard for continuity at all.
Raven took Jasper’s goggles.... never over this.
How was bringing Octavia to TonDC faster than collecting some beetles for her to eat?
“Loss, pain, regret. Time eases these things.” I’d say this is the sort of line the show should be repeating but God when it gets a line in its teeth it never lets the fuck go so I guess it’s better this one remains pristine.
I find Dante very sympathetic but also so creepy.
They weren’t really patrolling for other people, were they? Because like...surely they would have found them. They’re at the dropship and close by. He was just bullshitting here. But why don’t they want to make even more new friends?
Dante’s stationery is presidential themed lol. Glad we stocked up the bunkers properly with the important stuff.
The crashed Alpha Station is beautiful. I believe this was the first time it was shown on the show? Ugh, this whole sequence with the music, it’s perfect and so touching.
Jaha is the most tragic and heartbreaking figure on this show. He also doesn’t get the appreciation he deserves. Just...the image of a man alone in space, talking to his loved ones, hoping they can hear them, not knowing if they can... I almost can’t handle it. I used to be very unsure if I liked where his story line went after this (seeing it in its entirety, I defend it) but surely he could not have died this way.
....I really gotta sleep now.
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There’s just. A fix for everything in 13x21. Small changes to make it not even GREAT, just tolerable. Join me, won’t you? Especially if you’re in a creative writing class and plan to replace ‘F’ students currently working.
--Happy dream had no purpose. Happy to have Sam happy? Yeah. Worked thematically into a cohesive story? No. Something ominous or wrong-feeling should have been there.
--No “previously tortured angel having to extract his own grace in private” being turned into a “hurr it’s like he’s masturbating in Dean’s room” joke. Fuck. That. Adults write this show: now fucking act like it. Also, Cas could have left him in his own designated room and only didn’t for the fap joke to work. They could leave in Cas taking Gabe to Dean’s room if they’d have added Dean saying “What? Why MY room?” then Castiel seriously answering “Because that’s where i’d feel the most safe.” Cue a nice, sobering moment between friends and an angel taking care of his family by way of his new family.
--No “tiny” amount of grace being treated like some guy with a low sperm count. Adults. Write. This. Show. Also since WHEN tf has a small amount of angel grace not been enough for a spell? Wasn’t there just a spit of Castiel’s grace needed to make the angels fall? Nowhere in the spell was there a volume amount. Plus this an an archangel’s grace. You’re only making one portal to another universe and Jack had that going all damn day just by being born.
--No shot of a portal going gd limp with a joint shot of Gabe’s angel blade doing the same. ADULTSSSSS. GET PAID. TO WRITE THIS. I’m shocked they didn’t make the portal “short” for a length joke at this point. While we’re here: no “premature” joke should’ve been added. Actually have chars be confused how much power this portal takes as it flickers and closes up like every single closing portal has ever done ever.
--NO INNER THOUGHTS READ ALOUD. When has this ever happened in spn? What goblin made them think it even fit in this episode? Why was it even needed? You have a camera and actors. If you take the voice over dialogue out it changes nothing except maaaaaybe makes the scene less cringey. Yes, Gabe is this exaggerated ladies’ man who’s done porn gags. When’s the last time we saw that Gabe tho? 8yrs ago? Groping like teens in a library was far from the tone of this episode. Save it for comedy eps as a last resort. Very last.
--No silent awkward reaction from the three people walking in on this. Two of whom would be very vocal about their discomfort or at least crack a sardonic joke about not ruining the books. I’d even accept a pissed off “is the mission to rescue our mother not important to you?”
--Lucifer can sure as hell sense an angel, ok? He’d sense the bartender was SOMEthing. Seeing as how angels taste molecules in food and drink, he’d probably tell the beers were different too. I know this is way late to tell spn but, don’t make a big-bad villain stupid and foolish; make him realize but too late. Also i get being shocked to see Gabe but why shocked at his reality tricks? Didn’t Lucifer say he taught Gabe all those tricks in s5? lol I think the writers watched s5.
--I’m sorry, was there no warding or angel handcuffs/chains? They left Rowena alone with ONLY her magic binding Lucifer? Nope. Scrap that bad idea. In fact, Gabe turned out to be kinda useless in Apocalypse World so why not leave him behind too? I know this is way late for this but, no making characters that know better suddenly stupid and foolish.
--No... *sigh* No “haha i fell and my face landed in your crotch” humor. Why even? And between brothers? Yeah, angels aren’t technically related like humans, but Gabe calls Cas “baby bro”! ARE there adults writing this?? I’m concerned about child labor laws.
--^Also the loooong pause and silence there was horrible. People talk in awkward situations. If they had to have this gag, make Gabe--y’know, porn obsessed, far-from-prude Gabe--react like Gabe. Examples: “Nice vessel.” “We need family counseling.” “I’m not usually in this position.” “I’m not having the best day.” Or just have Dean roll his eyes and kick Gabe off Cas.
--^Finally, they’re all fuckin cowards having Dean be the only one not to tumble and land awkwardly/in Cas’s crotch. Cowards. As if Gabriel wasn’t powerful enough to balance himself out of them all.
--Show Gabe and Cas move more than tiny soccerball-size rocks. Did y’all see that shit? Together they could push that whole pile of rocks forwards and out the cave. It was so silly i bark-laughed.
--Have vamps attack and Gabe and Cas HELP FIGHT. Okay, writers? Where were they? An angel who’s supposed to be full power (haha, i know) and an archangel powered enough to bend reality earlier could blow all them vamps away easy. They could at least create a safe circle around the humans. Instead they were off camera doing.... rock clearing? Watching? What?
--lmao They’re telling me only Cas belatedly jogs (JOGS) after Sam and gives up without calling for Gabe or anything. If that was Dean taken, Cas would have had his whole vessel torn apart and been his grace form only to get to him.* CAS FLEW INTO HELL ITSELF AND ALL ITS DEMONS. Vampires are too much? Too much for Gabe? You realize the angels could have at least lit up the room with such blinding light the vamps would have run in pain or died? Gabriel could have made them think they were caged? LUCIFER WITH DRAINED GRACE HANDLES THE VAMPS NO PROBLEM 5MIN LATER! What kind of contrived bullshit is this writing?
*I acknowledge Cas also didn’t want to leave Dean behind in case more vamps came back while he was going for Sam. Still ridiculous.
--Have Cas stick to Dean like glue after this; not walking alone with Gabe far in the back. That’s just ooc and bad team parameter protection to boot.
--Wanna actually make death a scary thing in this show instead of laughably no-stakes? They shouldn’t have shown Lucifer being thrown into the portal yet (i.e. later explain his presence there in a retelling from him played over a flashback we never saw) and should have left Sam dead until next episode. But the showrunners are so spineless, bad at their job, and scared of a Bros Fan revolt they needed Sam back immediately. As it is now, every “drama” moment where the bros could be injured or killed is meaningless.
--Their fave overpowered wonder boy Jack could have been like “oh i’m immune to any danger with my giant head and toothpick neck so i’ll go get Sam’s body.” I’m so salty. Jack is only as useful or useless as they need him to be at any moment. His whole existence is pointless and he has no personality of his own. Don’t do this as writers.
--Hey, i know they’ve written Mary as some uncaring model to pose and give the boys manpain, but maybe let her show emotion that one of her children--the one she didn’t get much time with in the past and present--just died coming to rescue her. Okay? But it’s not like the show wants her to care about her adult kids so why start now. SALTY.
--Fire the entire glob of showrunners and their relatives. DO something. WRITE something. Or cancel the show. The Ultimate Fix.
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Wedding Ring - BloodForVlad
Arranged Marriage Starters/Drabbles | Still Accepting.
[This is based off specifically off the backstory written by @bloodforvlad, so warnings for child abuse, traumatized kids and general fucked up-ness. Chars are around 14 when this starts.]
“—an adopted son? Really, have we fallen so low?” His father, anger and scorn mixed in equal measures. The sound of glass clinking against glass, liquid pouring.
“The Du Couteaus are one of the leading families of Noxus. Marcus wouldn’t have adopted the boy if he didn’t show promise.”
“Still, perhaps if we offer one of our other children – Serafino, perhaps? – he would be willing to wed one of his daughters to us. House Ciobanu –”
“Is all but destitute.” His mother’s voice cuts in, sharp as a belt crack, and Vladimir shivers to hear it. “If Marcus Du Couteau wants Vladimir for his adopted boy, he can have him. It’s one less mouth to feed and that one will never bring any glory to our family name.”
“True. Have Angelina tell him what will be expected of him after marriage.” Something about his father’s laugh strikes Vladimir as terrifying, even more so than usual, but he doesn’t let himself shiver. As long as they think he’s still unconscious, he’s safe. Nothing more than the occasional kick to his ribs will happen to him.
Blood fills the inside of his mouth but Vladimir dares neither swallow nor spit it out. He holds it in his mouth and waits to drown.
---
The boy standing next to the General, dressed in the colors of the House of Du Couteau, looks about Vladimir’s age though he’s muscled leanly like a wolf in winter. Something about him sets Vladimir’s senses to screaming warnings – he stands like a predator, like the guard dogs before they pounce. His cheekbones and jawline are too sharp, as are his wet-blood eyes.
He looks at Vladimir the same way that Vladimir’s siblings do and Vladimir hears his sister’s voice in his head: every household needs a bleeder.
How stupid of him to think for even a second that it might be different if he married and moved out.
---
“On your wedding night,” Angelina says with all the airy assurance of an adult despite the scant handful of years that separate them, “He will hurt you. You have to take off your clothes, lie on your back on the bed and spread your legs. Then he’ll put his wicked organ inside you. He’ll move around until he’s finished and you’re not allowed to fight him off. You’ll bleed onto the sheets too and everyone will look at them to make sure you’re a virgin.”
Vladimir decides against saying it never looks like it hurts when she does it. He’s not a girl, after all, no matter what his father is saying about him now.
---
The ceremony’s excruciating. There are so many people and they’re all looking at him. The white glove is padded to fill out the space of his missing fingers but Vladimir’s sure they all notice the clumsiness when he ties the red ribbon around his new husband’s wrists. Talon’s fingers, by contrast, are deft and sure. The ribbon ends up around Vladimir’s wrists quickly and when Talon grasps his hands for the proscribed three minutes, he doesn’t let go though he must surely feel the stuffing under the silk.
There are speeches. Vladimir doesn’t hear a word of them, though he’s hyper-aware of the eyes of his family resting on him at all times. Sometimes, when he looks at them, Gotzon toasts him mockingly while Angelina blows him a kiss.
…Angelina’s gaze turns speculative whenever she looks at Talon. It makes Vladimir look at him too, taking in the dark hair that’s braided back and the intensity of the crimson eyes under the strong arch of Talon’s eyebrows. Does Angelina want him? She’s had everyone else she wants. Why wouldn’t she want to bed Vladimir’s husband too, just to prove that she can?
But something about the straight line of Talon’s back and how he always has one hand on a knife makes Vladimir think that Angelina’s luck might just run out now.
----
The bedroom is nicer than Vladimir’s. Talon vanishes wordlessly into a side room the moment they enter, leaving Vladimir alone to start taking off his clothes. He leaves his gloves on, clambering onto the bed awkwardly and then stretching out on his back like Angelia had instructed. The mattress is so soft that he almost sinks into it and he can’t help but bring one hand down to cover himself.
“There’s—” Talon returns to the room and pauses, cocking his head to a side at the sight of Vladimir spread-eagled naked on the bed. He continues after a second, “There’s an attached bathroom. And a walk in closet for our clothes and armor.”
His tone is annoyed, enough that Vladimir can feel his own heartbeat quickening from panic. What did he do wrong? He followed Angelina’s advise. Had she lied to him to make him ruin the wedding night?
“Do you really need the whole bed?” Talon asks, interrupting Vladimir’s panicked thoughts. “I don’t care if you want to sleep naked, but you can’t take up the whole bed. Pick either the left or right side. I’m going to soak in a bath and then come sleep. ‘night.”
“…” The words are so unexpected that Vladimir has to go over them twice to make sure he understood properly. “You don’t want to –”
Ah, what’s the word? His cheeks flush as he gestures awkwardly at his naked body and then at Talon, still fully dressed and looking more exasperated by the second.
“No,” Talon says, far too definite for Vladimir to ask if he’s sure. “I don’t want to fuck you.”
He frowns slightly and walks over to the bed, dropping down to sit on the end. Vladimir scrambles up towards the pillows, pulling the blanket over him now that he knows he doesn’t need to be naked.
“Didn’t anyone tell you why we’re getting married?” Talon asks, eyebrows rising a little at Vladimir’s speedy retreat. Vladimir shakes his head and Talon sighs.
“General Du Couteau heard from a friend at the Witherwood Academy that you’re a really talented healer but that your father didn’t want to pay for you to continue studying. Your father wouldn’t let the General just adopt you, so the General offered to have you marry into the family instead. Your family gets status by association and the General gets a free dedicated healer for the house – all for the cost of one wedding.” Talon’s explanation is curt and quick; by the end of it, Vladimir’s eyes are so wide that they look like saucers.
“I’ll be going back to studying at the Academy?” He breathes as if even speaking the words will cause the dream to shatter.
“Yeah. You’re enrolled for the next semester already – won’t have to put up with me for more than a few months.” Talon’s mouth twists into an odd smile but Vladimir’s too busy pinching himself to even notice it. Maybe he can learn how to regrow his fingers? And even if he doesn’t, this is a household that values healers. The General wanted him because he was a healer. He’s away from his siblings and he’s valued.
When he looks up to thank Talon for telling him, Talon’s gone and there’s light spilling out from under the door to the bathing chambers.
---
The next day, he watches General Du Couteau drill Talon mercilessly. Talon fights, staggering under the force of the man’s blows, driven to his knees and lashing out with his daggers at the man’s hamstrings.
He watches the General point out every flaw Talon has made, watches the General jerk Talon harshly to his feet with enough force that for a second, Vladimir thinks Talon’s arm will dislocate. Talon’s still small, still starved-looking; he’s got drive and determination, yes, but he’s just a boy and the General is a man in his prime. The outcome of the sparring match is a foregone conclusion.
The General is no kinder to his daughters than he is to Talon – but he is sending Vladimir to Witherwood Academy and Vladimir is grateful.
He watches Talon limp off the sparring grounds and does nothing.
----
“Ice baths help if you’re sore,” he says one day when he walks into the bathing chambers and finds Talon soaking in a bath. He’s blue and purple, so bruised that he is wheezing slightly as he breathes, but there’s steam rising from the water along with the faint scent of jasmine and blood.
“Do they?” Talon rolls his head to a side, opening his eyes to give Vladimir a pain-glazed look of questioning. “Why?”
“The ice numbs your body and reduces swelling,” Vladimir explains, then hesitates. Should he offer to heal Talon? Will the General be disappointed? He makes the children train even when they are hurt because on a battlefield, they will not have time to wait for their injuries to heal. Helping Talon might jeopardize his chances of going to Witherwood but…
Talon told him not to take food from Cassiopeia. Talon told him never ever to look at anything except Katarina’s eyes when talking to her. Talon bought him multiple pairs of gloves in cotton, not silk, so that he could cover up the hand he was so ashamed of. Talon slept besides him in the bed and never made a single move to hurt him like Angelina said he would.
“I can heal some of it,” he says finally. “At least the parts the General won’t see are healed.”
“He’ll know. Injured people move differently to uninjured people,” Talon says. The corners of his mouth twitch a little in what Vladimir’s come to recognize is a smile for all that it’s much smaller than Vladimir’s own smiles. “But thanks.”
---
“You don’t need to wear the gloves around me,” Talon says that night in bed. He sleeps with his back turned outwards and a knife under his pillow. Vladimir has accepted those peculiarities as being Talon, just as he’d thought that Talon had accepted his quirk of never taking the gloves off.
“I don’t mind,” Vladimir says after a few seconds, opening his eyes to look at Talon’s face. Talon’s eyes are open, the red as bright as a fire-heated brand, and under their assessment, Vladimir drops his own gaze to the white gloves. “I’m used to them.”
“I’ve seen way worse,” Talon promises. “I’m from the Underground. Lots of crippled people there. Couple of missing fingers aren’t anything.”
He reaches for Vladimir’s hand and Vladimir draws it back instinctively. Talon pauses, body suddenly tense, then takes his own hand back as well.
“I’m sorry.” Vladimir’s throat is so tight that he has to force the words out, heartbeat picking up at the thought of what might happened now he’s denied Talon something. “I didn’t—”
“It’s fine.” Talon cuts off his apology as he flops over, turning his back to Vladimir. The jut of his spine through his muscles is clear, each little strut looking like Vladimir should press his lips against it and murmur an apology. He’s purple and blue here as well, bruises overlapping so darkly that his skin seems almost black in weak light of the moon. “Forget I asked.”
Vladimir can’t forget, but he can be quiet. He’s good at being quiet.
---
The next day, Vladimir watches Marcus drill his children until they collapse; it then he realises that his sister was wrong.
Every household needs a bleeder but in some households, everyone bleeds.
#bloodforvlad#abuse tw#child abuse tw#discussing sex with minors tw#how did this get so long#damnit I am slightly obsessed with this verse now
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