#parting ways ending sadge
Note
Abby choking reader with her biceps!
AN; Sorry this took so long, its been killing me for fucking ever and I got stumped. Somehow I found a way to write something I could be a little bit proud of, so I hope ya'll like it!
content tags: Asphyxiation (2 in a combat context, one in an erotic context. r! receiving all three times,) fingering (r!receiving,) cunnilingus (r!receiving,) a normally degrading pet name used in a sexual context, abby is kind of mean in the beginning but warm sup at the end, reader is one of like a billion orphans that live in the tlouverse, sadge. mediocre action scenes. breast play (r!receiving,) abby gives r slurp and she didn't even pull her pants down
wc: 6.4k (woah...)
proofread?: i've rewritten this 4 times and never want to see it again.
The forest was dark and cold, wind whipping around you, through you, as you traversed deeper into darkness. It was getting dark, your radio had died a long time ago, and it had been hours since you had seen a WLF stronghold, or a stationary transceiver to call for help on. Your assignment was entry-level, sweep the grounds in WLF territory for any raider camps or pockets of traveling scars, but you were separated from your squad, and now, without any way to communicate with them, you had to find your own way back to the FOB before nightfall. You were turned around, in scar territory, alone; following the moon, sidearm drawn in your trembling hands. There was a ringing in your ears, cut only by the bumping of your anxious heart; pitifully, you wouldn’t be able to hear the cracking of rustling leaves and snapping twigs underfoot over the sound of your own fear.
There was a great cry as a shadow swung into your vision. You missed the blow narrowly, sliding backward as a body lurched into your vision. It rushed you, taking you by surprise, causing you to stumble as your pistol arm shot up wildly in the tight grip of your attacker. There wasn’t enough time for reaction, and before you knew it, you were carrying their weight. The two of you were thrashing, a bloody tug of war through the bushes and debris, you were fighting, the way that one fights before they die. It was a tornado of bodies, a cacophony of screams the clatter of a gun hitting the floor, and then the blackness of being blind as your head slammed into the trunk of a tree. Thick blood and spit shot from your mouth as you crumpled to the forest floor with a heavy thud, seeing stars.
You fought unconsciousness as you tried to regain your footing, but your assailant was too fast, grabbing by the collar of your jacket and dragging you across the tractionless, muddy ground. You were chest to the ground, pressed down with the full weight of two people as a hand fisted through your hair, holding your face to the dirt as you struggled with the last of your remaining power.
“Fuck– no, get the fuck off of me–!” You screamed, thrashing wildly on the ground, your torso pinned. An arm hooked around your throat. Your hand slapped wildly at the ground, looking for something, anything that could grant you escape. There was nothing; but as your fingers inched out, there was your gun. Before you could sweep it into your grasp, pressure bulged against your eyes, crushing your throat, tightening the skin of your face. Hands flew up, spurred on by true survival instinct to claw at the scar’s flesh, but the leather of your brown utility gloves only pawed weakly at the clothed bicep. Your lips pulled into a grimace, blood rushing to your brain as you fell in and out of consciousness. Like sick irony, there was nothing; but then, pressed to your temple was the cold metal of your sidearm. Your eyes squeezed closed, anticipating the bang.
“This is the part where you’d end up getting your brains blown out with your own pistol, rook.” The arm currently strangling you loosened, freeing you from its grapple. The disembodied voice- no, it was very bodied, actually, and still laying across you- jostled your temple with the dummy gun, exploding in mock recoil as a sardonic ‘–pchew!’ blew against your ear. It lifted away from you and you finally had the space to expand your chest more than a couple of inches. You rolled over onto your back, drawing a deep, reactionary breath, soothing the throbbing skin of your neck with a hand.
The woman towering over you in the darkness grimaced, unimpressed, leaning her weight against the tree trunk she had just used to nearly brain you. Anderson was your training captain; ruthless, built like an ox, and the top soldier out of anyone in the WLF, right hand to the Big Man, and you fucking hated her.
She was an unforgiving mentor; running you on drills long after everyone went home, failing you, hard, and was dedicated to kicking your ass for real every time you had a sparring match. This, in fact, was your third field scenario attempt with Anderson, and they never got better; the first time, throwing dirt into your face and ‘slitting your throat,’ then it was ‘shooting’ you in your abdomen and finishing you off with another to the chest, and now? Taken out after getting ambushed in a dark forest and having your head blasted open. She’d suck her teeth, cracking the vertebrae in her neck with a terse, ‘that’s how it is in the field, kid’’ as you walked behind her, winded.
“That… wasn’t a pass, was it?” You choked out, scooching yourself across the wet mud to sit up, drawing harsh, ragged breaths.
Anderson wrenched up a brow at you, unimpressed. “You really need to be told that wasn’t a pass?”
The matter-of-fact tone she took left you dumbstruck, crushed, burning from the inside out of embarrassment, the heat nesting in your cheeks mingling from the stinging pain from the fight. You were humiliated and more importantly, you knew she was right. That you had shit the bed, going 0 and 3. You wouldn’t be getting promoted to assignments, and if you kept dragging your feet, you’d be reassigned. But you could convince her, you had to convince her. “But everyone else from my class made mistakes, and they– they still passed!” You tried to seem firm and level-headed, but your throat got tight all of a sudden, and your voice was whiny like a child’s.
“Doesn’t really matter to me. I don’t train everyone else from your class.” She blew out flippantly, not even meeting your eyes, barely giving your pleas the time of day. It was her job to push you past your limits, to see how far from your comfort zone you were willing to go. To see how badly you could be beaten before you talked, how long they could torture you with guns or knives or burns before you gave in. But right now? She was more irritated than anything, and the truth she was biting her tongue on was that you were a completely lost cause.
Anderson cut the distance between the two of you and leaned in, closer than ever, towering over you like it was easy, looking at you as if she was seeing you from the inside out. Her smirk faded, falling to her barely-masked anger as she kneaded together her lips. Your eyes brimmed with tears as hers filled with indignation, annoyance, like you were an itch she couldn’t scratch; perpetually pissing her off. “You don’t have a clue in the fucking world, do you? The reality of what they do in the open city you’re in such a rush to get out to? What they’ll do to a wolf, out there?”
You did know, or at least you had heard stories. It was all common; rookies overhearing what deployed soldiers would bring back from their rotation, then telephoning it back in the barracks before lights out. The stories were always the same, scouting duos going out deep into the unclaimed territory, never to come back. It was no man’s land. it was suicide. After some days, they would stop calling into WLF frequencies. After some weeks, a new unit would be sent behind them, stumbling upon the bloated, swinging bodies. it would take another three days for recovery to get them back to the FOB, they would get buried in a large plot of land at the back of the stadium, reserved only for soldiers. It was nothing special, but the ones that were too high up would just stay there. Sometimes, it would keep you up at night, honest. You looked at your feet, almost submissively, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to leak. She was right, you fucked up, you kept fucking up. You forced your tiny voice to speak. “I’m sorry, I ju–”
“This a fucking joke to you, YLN?”
You looked into her eyes, she was tired of you. Tired of your constant excuses, how you never seemed to improve, how everything you did wrong ended up coming down on her shoulders. You had gotten bounced around from training class to training class on account of repeated failures, and at some point, they threw you at Anderson’s feet. She protested, she didn’t do fucking charity work but of course, the task manager gave a bullshit excuse, saying that was the direct orders from the big man himself, that if anyone could “fix” you, it was her. You were always fucking around, lackadaisical, terrible at your job. Always cornering her before the end of evaluations, begging for a good word, begging for extra credit. They called you ’tornado’ because you kept busting your ass during physical drills, which turned into ‘twitch’ because you couldn’t stop your gun hand from shaking during on-field drills. You were picky, even, complaining about the smell of the barracks on your first day in training camp.
Your mouth was open, gobsmacked, tripping on syllables, tongue dry all of the sudden, too dry, and you tried to blink back the wetness in your eyes before it dampened your cheeks. You couldn’t say anything because there was nothing to say. “No, I just– no, this, this is really serious to me. It’s really important to me.”
“But you want me to pass you? So that you can get your whole squad killed? So that they can ship your bagged-up body to the morgue? Fine, then. I’ll pass you. See? ‘You passed,’ easy– since we just like bullshitting each other.” The woman deadpanned, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, muscles bobbing under her skin, eyes dangerous, fed up. The harsh words had you simmering over with a quiet rage; at yourself, for fucking up from the beginning, and at your coach, for always being so hard on you.
“You’re not ready, kid, and I don’t think I can help you, either. Want my advice? There are a lot of other jobs they’ll give you at the stadium, but whatever it is here that you think you’re cut out for– you’re not.” She spoke through a tight jaw, and you could almost imagine sadness in her voice, but that couldn’t be right. She turned on her heels, heading back to the jeep the two of you rode out on, not waiting for you to follow behind her.
–
If she was nothing else, Abigail Anderson was a woman of her word. You had gone to pick up your evaluation records early in the morning, while the stadium was still quiet and everyone in the barracks was still asleep. It had become an odd kind of spectator sport to see how many consecutive fails you could rack up from mentor to mentor. In turn, it had become your ritual to collect your papers and make them disappear before anyone could ask. Your hands were heavy as you cracked open the envelope, opened it, and gazed over the lettering. There was a boxed-in ‘Instructor: A. ANDERSON’ in the top corner, and your face burned remembering the cold lecture that brought you nearly to tears.
whatever it is here that you think you’re cut out for– you’re not.
You hated her for it. For always being on your ass, for making everything so damned difficult. But you were disappointed in yourself for thinking that it would be easy in the first place. Disappointed that years passed by, watching from the sidelines as literal teenagers were deployed before you. Deep down, you knew she was right, that you should give up; but your eyes widened when you saw it.
INTERIM FIELD EVALUATION: PASS.
She did it to spite you but you didn’t fucking care, it was one step closer out of the program. You paced around, giggling to yourself; if anyone was up to see you, they’d think you were fucking insane. But no one was awake, and you’d be back in bed before all rise, so it didn’t matter. so you pressed the paper to your chest, as though you could absorb it through your skin. Fucking pass; you could lay down on the floor and die right here. You had to look at it one more time, just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. So you did, eyes flying all across the paper, your first pass in months; no, years and all you had to do was cry a bit. Wonder if Anderson would let it slide all the way to deployment.
Then you saw it.
CADET TRANSFER REQUEST
CADET #549226
From A. ANDERSON
To V. CHUNG
Fuck.
–
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Chung will give you all the passes you want.” You were towering over Anderson, who lay flat on the weight bench, adjusting the bar of weights over her head, angling and curling herself in preparation. She didn’t meet your eyes, only looking over a second in irritation as she saw you burst into the then-empty gym. You had planned to give her a piece of your mind, or at least beg and plead. It wasn’t working. She was flippant in the way that she always was, how she could reduce all of your feelings to petty quips and take the air completely out of your sails at once. She lifted the bar, barely any effort showing up as a kink in her brow, pressing it to her chest and then dropping it back down onto the stand jutting out from either side. Her muscles rippled, a thin mask of sweat dusting over her and twinkling in the light
that was a soldier, and she reminded you of everything that you weren’t.
“It’s not just about the passes. Everyone just–” against your will, a lump formed in your throat, and you turned to the side so that she wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you cry. “Everyone just fucking gives up on me.” You weren’t a stranger to being passed around, but it was something new that hurt; a unique level of disappointment at everything, at yourself, that made the tears pool and run down your face. Trained by the best of the best, and you still couldn’t hack it.
It really was a dead-end for you.
Everyone knew the jokes and the rumours of the cadet that just couldn’t make it, but nobody could pinpoint just why, no matter how hard life kicked you, you wouldn’t give up.
Being a child in a QZ was hard. None of you were happy, or living particularly well, but you had your family, and small joys, Until it all fell down, until FEDRA abandoned one post for another and you were left, a child, at the mercy of the world. You blew around, another fringe society, another QZ. Those fell too, and the only thing you could remember some nights was that everyone was gone now, and it was just you. That was when you joined the WLF. Because you wanted to save the world because it was your only choice.
You tried to work hard, waking up extra early to run drills, trying to build up your form or your reflexes against all odds. You were like a fish, the way you could hold your breath underwater. Your pistol hand still shook from the chronic anxiety of the life you had lived before, but you could take your sidearm apart and put it back together faster than anyone else. But nobody ever noticed those things, just your fuck ups. Nobody saw you, just saw twitch, or tornado, just a compendium of everything you couldn’t be.
If you couldn’t do anything else, then maybe the suffering you went wasn’t worth it. Maybe what happened to you was just common. You *had* to be a hero.
Or die a martyr.
The words rolled out before you could stop them, and you were blubbering, tears rolling down your face, a thick coating of snot and drool coating your lips and chin as you sunk down, crying. Your hands fisted that damned form, crumpling it, and it rippled and burst under your fingers. This really was pathetic of you, groveling and begging at the feet of a woman who didn’t care, and deep down you were still planning your strategy of how to exit this room now that you firmly couldn’t play it off. You couldn’t face her anymore, or anyone, for that matter because Anderson would definitely talk. Your only option was to defect, ride out at dawn with nothing but the clothes on your back, no, dig a hole in the stadium and live there, with nothing but a straw in your mouth for breathing, no, shit idea, maybe you should just swan dive off the high side of the FOB and save yourself all the trouble, no, mayb–
“Kid.”
And you were still talking, like a dumbass. “–and i know i fucked up but– if you could give me one more chance i just need one more chance you don’t understand how much this means to me how important this is to me– please i’ll do anything and i get it if you just want me to get the hell out of your way but i just thought i just thought i could i just really really”
“Kid, stop talking,” Anderson was holding your hands gently in her own. Looking up at you from her now seated position. There was still the ever-so-slight crook of indignation in her brow, but she was speaking to you, gently, leniently. She felt bad, and there was a black spot of shame growing on her back from how she had treated you.
She was remorseful, and there was a dark spot of shame growing on her conscience for how she had treated you. She was hard on you because you were just going through the motions and cutting corners a lot of the time, but there was a determination that hadn’t yet been broken down and you were dogged, like she was once; and deep down, she did have a soft spot for your annoying ass.
“I’ll help you. I’ll help you out” Anderson spit out, watching a spark ignite in your watery eyes. Before you got too excited, she put her hand up, holding all of your hopes in midair for just a moment. “But– fuck, stop crying. Thought I was gonna have to get you on a damn psych watch.”
You nodded jerkily, exposed once again in front of her, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your thermal shirt, a windy inhale passing through your nose and dislodging the mucus in your throat. “Shit– fuck, fuck. Sorry.”
Anderson stood from the bench, barely giving you time to react before she angled into a striking position, feet shoulder-width apart, planted firmly on the rubber floor. Her fists were clenched, muscles working in her arms and making her look ten times bigger as she stalked around you, chin down, scanning for an open. “What are you waiting for,” she chided, cracking her neck to the side. It was weird, like she was trying to… encourage you? “Scenario three, from last week– remember?”
Then she advanced, walking you backwards into an empty space in the room, striking at your head before you had a chance to react. You swooped down, diving under her extended arm to barely miss the shot that probably would’ve knocked you out.
“Put your hands up, rook– they’re not gonna wait for you.” Anderson grunted and slammed down with locked elbows; this was your in– and you charged, albeit off balance to make the first connection, a glancing blow to her chin. The two of you fought around the room, exchanging blows and blocks, kicks and punches. Somehow, you had managed your way into her blindspot and swung to try and land a grapple around her neck with an impassioned “I got you!”
It was then, like a flash of light that your arm was intercepted and you were turned over onto your knees, Anderson crouched beside you squeezing your neck in a submission hold. Her bicep pressed into your throat, that ragged pressure that tightened every muscle in your body and turned on that sheer animal instinct to survive. You clawed above you, nails catching on the flesh of her exposed chest.
“You don’t have to announce it, its not a damn movie.” She spoke, trailing off into a whisper. It was all over, you did it again, miraculously continuing your 0-for-infinity losing streak.
But she let you go, and it was crazy but you swore that her hand lingered in your hair for a second as she stepped away. You laid on the ground, heaving. Anderson looked over you, looking at the rapidly darkening red welts on your throat, bruises on bruises layered from yesterday night. In the back of her mind, she could hear laughter, a conversation over drinks while her team was on recess.
“You’re fuckin’ brutal on the kid, Anderson. Trying to kill her?” Chung laughed, taking a heavy swig from his beer. A hand clapped against her shoulder from behind, swaying her from side to side, sloshing liquid out of her cup and onto the wooden table they were gathered around. Before she could protest Manny’s voice cut through the raucous laughter ringing off the walls.
“Bet you two shift swaps that Abs makes YLN drop out of the program before deployment!” He cried, drunk off his ass, jabbing his finger in any general direction before loosening his spider monkey-like grip. Abby’s back burned, her jaw clenching unconsciously with thinly veiled anger, they were her friends, but fuck these guys, honestly. She forced a coy smile, becoming the face of drunken jest.
“You guys fucking done?” She tried to conceal the sound of her discomfort with a laugh, but it was tight and terse and frankly, after years together anyone at the roundtable could pick up on her unconscious cues.
“What, Abs, going soft on us? Or maybe… you’re tryna’ catch another type of body– huh? huh?”
—
She watched you, fisting your hands together on the floor in a quiet sort of frustration. Tears threatened to pool in your eyes but you blinked them back, cutting your eye at her for a split second and then looking away. It was embarrassing, of course, but at this point, you were defeated. Anderson sat down beside you, hooking her hand under your arm and lifting you to sit upright.
“Anderson I–”
“–just, Abby.” She whispered, palming your knee, trying her best to commit to her insurmountable task: being comforting. The woman watched as your face tensed up and then went slack as you dug teeth into your bottom lip, looking off into nothing. “It’s not going to matter more, just because you die. You know that, right?” You didn’t speak. Nails ran skittishly against your shirt as you ran your hands up and down your arms, trying to self-soothe, unable to hide your grimace.
“Yeah.” You nodded slowly, as though you were trying to stave off your own denial. “Yeah.”
The hand on your knee became firmer, heavier as it stroked over your skin, her thumb rubbing a small circle where it began to meet your thigh. “I was serious– when I was talking about other jobs, you know? You can just live a good life, and that can be enough. There’s nothing waiting for you outside of the wall, kid.”
If it were anyone else, you could’ve been angry, you would’ve lashed out; but it was coming from someplace real, one of the only times you had ever seen Anderson– Abby, be anything more than a cold, stony prick. She had been stern with you because she saw herself in that tiny rage you had, the anger just below the surface that she could see in your eyes right at this moment. Because when you’re that driven about anything, the only certain thing to look forward to is a darkness that keeps on coming. It was the hard realisation, and you swallowed heavy. “Guess not.”
There was a vulnerability in the air, and before you knew it, you were leaning into her touch, pressing your body to hers, side to side. Your superior didn’t move, didn’t keen away or tell you off, just sat there, never stopping the motion of her hand. It was a long silence between the two of you, but then she stopped, began to stand, and like your body wasn’t yours you grabbed her arm, willing her to stay without a single spoken word. There was this weird, small flash on her face that you couldn’t place, until she just nodded, using her strength to lift you to your feet as well.
“Coming?” Was all that she said, and you nodded. Yeah.
–
It was what you had always wanted, the big luxury box in the sky. It was as though you could see everything from your place at the window of Abby’s room, the barracks, where everyone was still sleeping tucked in the corner behind the greenhouse, the sun slowly overtaking the dark sky, the very tops of the skyscraper tucked into the clouds, the FOB, overlooking everything ominously.
“It’s all yours?” you asked, no higher than a murmur as you looked through the parted curtains.
“And Manny’s,” Abby dropped her bag in the corner of the room, using her foot to kick it under her bedframe. “On an overnight, though. So it’s just me. One of the many perks you have to look forward to if you become a top soldier.”
“Fat chance.” You quipped bitterly.
There were footsteps behind you, but you didn’t think much of it as you closed the curtain. You turned away from the window and in a second the two of you were together, the blonde placing a hand on the small of your back and taking your mouth into hers. It was as though you were covered in white light, how everything became so blinding, so warm, extremely surreal in a way you couldn’t place. You’d wake up in your bunk, you were sure of it. Had to wake up in your bunk. But as the wet of her tongue played over your lips, you thought, maybe you didn’t want to wake up. You could dream forever and that would be fine.
“You know, you’re really hard on yourself, rookie.” The taller woman breathed, pulling away to speak. “Wouldn’t be a good mentor if I didn’t give you a morale adjustment.”
You moaned, leaning into it, the thickness of her thigh now ghosting against the spread of your legs. Her hand came up to run fingers gently through your hair, thumbing away the thin layer of sweat that formed on the nape of your neck. Her cockiness did something to you, and it was as though you couldn’t get enough skin to touch as you gripped her bicep deeper, feeling the muscle bulge with her effort. Her tongue disappeared into your mouth, swirling against yours, depositing the slick of her saliva down your throat. It was heavy and wet, built up like her own body, and it dominated yours easily, just like she had done in the gym.
“You with me?” She peppered a soft kiss, groaning as she took a fistful of your thigh, heaving it up to lock against her waist, the seam of your pants unwittingly pressing into your crotch through now-dampened panties. She pulled from you and you wanted to chase her, a deprived whine ringing out of your throat before you could stop it. Unbeknownst to you, the noise sent a shockwave to Abby’s clit, and she could feel her channel begin to slicken. Fuck, you were pretty. Her eyes narrowed, looking over your features. This should be against her ethical code, probably against proper conduct guidelines, but she wanted you so bad it was infuriating. She heard Chung’s voice again.
…tryna’ catch another type of body?
Oh, fuck you, man.
You nodded, and a frown overcame her. “Needa hear you, kid.” You looked down, pressed your face into her chest, kneading fingers into her open grey sweatshirt. It was embarrassing to say, and a part of her wished that she was as bad as you had always said she was, that she would just… do whatever this is and not make you vocalise how much you wanted her. The pit of shame in your stomach got deeper, but she soothed a thumb over your brow and it was like you melted. “We don’t have to do anything if you d–”
“I’m here. I’m with you.”
There it was; the confirmation, the greenlight she needed to lift you up, both legs under her strong hands now, and carry you to the two pushed-together twin mattresses of her bed. She looked down at you, laying on your back, blown-out watery eyes squinted as she lifted your shirt up just a hair to reveal the plush skin beneath. “Fuckin’ hell.” She whispered to nobody specific, running a thumb against your torso.
Abby met your eye, asking, and you nodded. She exposed you easily, lifting your shirt up and leaving you in just a bra from the waist up. Deft fingers locked under the straps and she pulled her hands down, mouth agape as your breasts spilled forward. If she believed, she would’ve compared the sight to viewing the kingdom of heaven for the first time, singing angels and all. A calloused hand trailed up to palm one, a thumb rolling across the pliant bulb of your nipple, the sensation causing it to rapidly harden to a stiff point. She took it, rolling it between two fingers and her thumb as she leaned in, taking the other in her mouth and grazing it between her teeth. A ragged breath was forced through your lips as you tried to regain your spinning consciousness.
“Fuck, nghh– Abby, fuck.” You moaned out, delirious. The double stimulation didn’t stop, and instead, Abby slid her jaw forward, biting one nipple firmly and gripping the other between two knuckles to pull, and you cried out. She sucked as though she was nursing, the slopping popping noises of her mouth filling the air in tandem with your moans and whimpers.
“Goddamned gorgeous, you know that?” She groaned, slapping your free tit with her hand lightly before walking her fingers down to your belt loop. With one hand she slipped down your sweatpants to your ankles, leaving you in nothing but light, stained briefs. Your cunt had soaked pathetically through the fabric, clit standing at attention. You were so wet that the thin cloth was practically see-through, the rouge of your cunt catching Abby’s eye. Through your underwear, a calloused thumb toggled your clit, ripping a half-sob from your body.
It was as though you were an overflowing spring of endlessly pure water, how the wet spot grew and grew. You fucked your hips upwards, trying desperately to rock harder into the new assailant, but Abby lifted her thumb away, depriving you of the sensation. It was so much, everything was spinning; your head, the room, your soul out of your body. Your cunt clenched around air as she drew designs on your thigh with a finger absentmindedly.
“Gotta be patient, little.” She didn’t look up, but there was a smirk on her face and a smile in her voice as brought her thumb back down. “Gonna take care of you, don’t worry.”
Her finger ghosted over the wet spot in your underwear and you twitched unconsciously. The blonde captured a thin sheen of your drip between two fingers, stretching the line back and forth. “So fuckin’ excited for me.” She pressed her nose down into your crotch, and you closed your thighs reflexively. Fine by her. She took a deep inhale of your pussy, and lathed at the wet liquid with her tongue. The rough texture of the fabric dragged over your clit, bringing the little red bulb to a fever pitch, as she sucked and slurped through it, catching salty-sweetness in her mouth. Her tongue pathed its way to your covered clit, flattening roughly over the sensitive bundle. The dual stimulation was driving you mad; the hard abrasion of wet panties slipping between your cuntlips, in and out of your hole as she licked and prodded, and the firm muscle of her tongue kneading at the pliant flesh.
Like she was showing off a party trick, Abby maneuvered her tongue, skillfully weaving it inside of your underwear to taste your ambrosia from the tap. Rough hands grabbed hold of your ass, palming and gripping as she pushed your thighs up and over to situate your feet over your head in the perfect position where your gooey pussy was squished together, oozing directly into her mouth. You kicked the sweatpants the rest of the way gone, and they flew into the corner of the room, never to be seen again. There was a groan like an animal, and you weren’t sure which of the two of you was the source as Abby tore your panties open, the two halves drooping weakly, and pressed your feet next to your ears. She devoured you with newfound vigor, catching a second wind the moment your walls clenched around her tongue, fucking you in and out as hard and deep as possible.
“Abby! Shit, shit, more. Please.” You whimpered, looking down to see where her disappearing nose bumped against your clit over and over again. She wanted you to fuck her face, grinding her head back and forth so that her lips massaged yours, her tongue searched for every spot, and her nose abused your sloppy nub, driving you crazy with sensation over sensation. You were coming over the bend fast, too fast, and everything flashed white and black in spades as your body trembled. Again, her thumb came up to drum against your clit, and your orgasm tore you in two, red hot. Your juices siphoned into the blonde’s waiting mouth, and she drank from you like an oasis.
Her body came over, you, shrouding you in darkness and the rolled over to lay flat on the bed, scooting over to plant her feet on the very edge. You were still trembling, still drooling from the slit in your legs that was happily prepped and used. The throbbing shook your whole body as you tried to catch your breath, and Abby’s arm jutted out, pulling you across the bed and onto her, chest to back. She hooked her knees through yours, and you could feel the force holding you open to give full exposure to your greedy hole. She licked a hot stripe up your neck and you whimpered, biting your lip. She pulled it free with your thumb, replacing it with a finger that she fucked in and out of your hot mouth. “Wonder where this is going, huh?” She angled her knees down, spreading you further, your pussylips slipping apart, cool air running against your clit. “Gotta see if it’s just your hand, or if you have a twitchy pussy too, baby.”
The moniker that usually filled you with red shame was now engulfing you with hot-pink lust, your cunny leaking down onto the bed. You were dumb and fuck-drunk as Abby pushed one of her thick fingers into you, slowly at first in order to get you used to the stretch of the tight ring. She curled her knuckle to press against your g-spot and you saw stars. She sped up her filthy pace, the sloppy sounds of your wet cunt reverberating in the air. Then, it was instant, her strong, rippling arm coming around to clench your neck again, palm rubbing your head gently. Abby added another finger, palm smearing your clit harshly as she fucked you deep, pace quickening. Her fingers scissored back and forth as she closed her elbow tighter, cutting off your breath and inviting the pressure you were by now so used to. You couldn’t tell her you were on the verge of cumming, a red-hot fire in your stomach burning hotter and faster as the plowed through your juices.
You were suctioning her fingers, barely letting them slip from your folds. She pulled them out nearly all the way and drilled back in, tiny splashes of liquid raining down on the mattress. You ground your hips as best you could in the compromising position, chasing your orgasm, so close to your own personal bliss that you started panting like a whore with no concern. Abby pressed open-mouthed kisses to your cheeks, to your lips, the taste of you still on her and mingling with your own saliva. You were dizzy, be it the pleasure, the slowly depleting oxygen in your lungs, or the fact that your mentor was currently palm-deep in your pussy, but you couldn’t keep your composure.
Your walls clenched around her, and you could hear her muttering in your ear. ‘such a tight pussy, Twitch, baby. Such a good pussy.’ And it was like you were summoned, cunt spasming as you came hard and messy, squirt shooting from you and sprinkling loudly through the ground. She fucked you through it, releasing your throat as your vision blurred, not letting you close your legs and bringing her free hand down to rub your clit in tandem. You tried to buck away from her to no avail, your cunt clenching wildly, juices bubbling over, lips red and sore from the sustained abuse. Tears rolled down your face as you took hungry breaths, your deprived lungs fighting for all of the air they could get.
The two of you lay together, panting, hearts beating against the other, and Abby pulled her palm away from the throbbing expanse of your swollen, used cunt. She unhooked your thighs, and the pressure of closing your legs again sent a ripple into your pussy that made you whimper something fierce. There was a long, pregnant silence, and then you spoke up, cheekily.
“So are you going to still swap me?”
“Not sure… it’s, whadotheycallit–? A conflict of interest.” She said, turning over and throwing a heavy arm over your chest, rubbing your bicep absentmindedly.
“But I’ll tell you what, champ; I’ll make sure to put a special training session on my schedule whenever you’re up for it. If you’re up for it.”
#abby anderson x fem reader#abby anderson ff#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson smut#abby x reader#abby smut#abby tlou smut#abby anderson x you#abby x fem!reader#tlou smut#tiki writes#time to go lay my ass to sleep
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lin lin lin infodump about freak do it i dare you i wanna learn more about that little fucking BEAST /nf /silly
kicking my feet as i type
[cut to avoid long wall of text]
QUICK FACTS ABOUT FREAK:
He got his name because that's what everyone calls him (sadge). He's never had a "real name" and atp Freak IS his actual name.
He's OLDER then April. Not by a lot, but Older!
He's got helpful abilities that let him blend in ......... sorta. Can't exactly get rid of that ugly green-and-purple-speckled skin he's got going on. More often then not, he chooses to look like how I've been drawing him, He CAN look different.
Unlikeother sandro's, he's got Two special long teeth. That is because of his Krang lineage — and they're sharp and threatening.
Facts that you probably don't know !!!
He became obsessed with being April's friend because she said she loves freaks in a sleep-deprived, caffeine fueled rant (she's in college at this point!)
Freak has zero morality. Zero. He'll steal from an old women, he'll set a building on fire, he'll break into prisons to let the inmates loose, HE'LL DO WHAT HE WANTS. And, if it's something that specifically is in the way of him hanging out with his "friend," he'll get rid of it.
April and Freak have a long, never-ending back-and-forth of April trying to teach Freak when its ok to blow things up and when it ISNT okay to do that.
Freak does not know about the Turtles. The Turtles do not know about Freak.
Freak has the faintest memory of Baron Draxum but has mistakeningly identified him as God.
....... this leads to Freak saying things like "Yeah, one time God told me my white blood counts were too high"
April has no idea who made Freak but secretly wishes she could kick their ass
Freak loves sandwiches and will kill whoever threatens his favourite sandwich shop
WHAT ELSE IS THERE TO KNOW?
Freak is . Wrong .
He's got strange premonitions of different things, other selves, etc etc. He'll talk about it, he'll speak dialects that arent even NATIVE to Earth, and he'll identify danger and Run to it because it feels good. He's the combination of Krang intelligence and bloodlust and Yokai sensibility — which frequently leads to violent lashing out because one part of him wants to Conquer fight and the other half wants the opposite.
Lots of unexplained problems in New York are blamed on other mutant baddies the Turtles deal with, but it's mostly Freak.
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Starting off my silly little ons x prsk crossover au with introducing the vamps >:) ignore the varying levels of quality thanks
Extra info and timeline utc (kinda incoherent be warned)
First, physical ages yes
15 years: Mizuki, Nene, Minori
16 years: Rui, Shizuku
17 years: Kanade
Timeline (no dates bc i am lazy)
* Vamps are born as humans lmao
* Rui and Nene are neighbours
* Rui and Mizuki meet and become friends when Mizuki is 14 and Rui is 15, Nene also meets Mizuki
* Mizuki (now 15) has to leave the place they live in (sadge)
* In their new area, Mizuki only hears about Kanade but they don't meet until later
* Elsewhere, Shizuku and Minori live in the same place but they never properly meet due to their different statuses (Minori is a commoner and Shizuku is idk some kind of high status)
* Everyone gets turned into vampires around the same time
* Mizuki properly meets Kanade and they become friends
* Mizuki/Kanade and Rui/Nene meet eachother agains, now as vampires and they decide to stay together
* Elsewhere, Shizuku and Minori meet as newly turned vampires and become friends
* Some time later they all meet eachother and form an impromptu show troupe to get by
* They gather some fame but have to stop once their superhuman abilities and looks get obvious (this is when Ferid discovers them)
* They continue under different aliases until a bit before apocalypse happens and Ferid picks them up
general shenanigans
- they're like a dumpsterfire polycule
- They're all eachothers biggest supporters and also enablers <3
- They're almost always together
- The show troupe functioned so: Rui was the director and did props, stage mechanics and also acting. Nene, Minori and Shizuku all mainly did acting. Mizuki made the costumes and also acted when needed. Kanade did the music and maybe acted as a disembodied/off stage voice
- It's mainly his enabling that they can do all their silly stuff in Sangiuem post apocalypse
- They're part of Ferid's faction
- He just found it fascinating that vampires can stay so... livley
- It's bc they've been gazed upon by Hatsune Miku herself btw
- It was mainly Rui, Shizuku and Kanade that caught Ferid's eye but he had to take Kanade, Nene and Minori too bc they're a package deal
- Only Shizuku knew proper swordplay or fighting bc of her human upbringing so Ferid arranged Crowley to teach the rest hehe
- Shizuku's way of teaching just didn't work it's okay she tried her best
- Mizuki and Rui picked it up fairly quickly, Minori and Nene struggled a bit but Kanade... yeah she's a lost cause
- This ends up with them spending a fair bit of time around Crowley (and by extention Chess and Horn) so they become aquianted, kinda?
- Minori and Nene are still really intimidated by them, Mizuki and Kanade only a little and Rui and Shizuku are completley fearless
#i am so very normal#also i will now make a tag for this dumpsterfire little thing of mine#nono's ons x prsk crossover au#very creative ik#anyways#owari no seraph#seraph of the end#project sekai#prsk#corssover au#rui kamishiro#nene kusanagi#mizuki akiyama#kanade yoisaki#shizuku hinomori#minori hanasato#fanart#< sort of
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bl stans are sooo much stronger than me bc if someone said something so blatantly and heinously wrong about my faves like this i’d snap. like i’m so serious this would send me straight into my joker arc
(guess you accidentally put it in twice lol rip)
I'm not gonna address any kind of defense for Not Just Kills But Murders OP, we all know that the original tweet was silly. The fastest way to spot a clown is the funny clown nose and wig, but another, more subtle way is to watch if they've ever tried to make NJKBM anything but the accidental joke that it is.
But I kinda wanna actually talk about the Fleche one a bit, because there is such a weird amount of going-to-bat for her and Randolph that's actually kinda baffling.
Fleche and Randolph are bit characters. They barely even are characters. They are devices the writers put into the story so that specifically AM and specifically Dimitri benefit from what they give, which is a solidification of the message that letting vengeance be your one driving force will lead to your end. They are completely irrelevant to all other parts of the game, with Fleche even being completely absent in half of the routes save for one mention of her name as Randolph is literally dying. She loved Randolph so much that she was willing to kill Dimitri to avenge him, but apparently not enough to kill Seteth or Claude for doing literally the same thing.
Except, hey, wait a hingly-dingly minute there, that's not right. Seteth and Claude can only potentially be the ones to kill Randolph in their respective routes, while Dimitri is literally the only one hard-confirmed to not be the one to kill Randolph. Byleth does. They kill him. But Fleche still singles out Dimitri as to one to kill him - not threaten to torture like is the case, but to kill him outright. She calls Dimitri a monster, she hates Dimitri with all she has, she'll never forgive Dimitri, while not giving a single shit about Byleth despite them being the one to kill Randolph. She doesn't give a single shit about the multitude of other people that could have potentially killed Randolph in SS or VW.
Hell, it's not even clear how she knew about Randolph's death, only that she knew that a "monster" (aka Dimitri) was in the ranks of the army in AM, so it looks like she kinda just assumes "the monster" killed her brother without having any actual knowledge on who did what. And even giving the benefit of the doubt in that "well Dimitri MADE Byleth kill Randolph so same difference," that still doesn't explain Fleche's radio silence in the other two routes this can happen in. And still doesn't actually explain why Byleth wouldn't just be lumped in the vengeance quest for, like, still being the one to actually kill her brother outright?
Because we as players aren't meant to really care that much about her - she and Randolph are given no point in the story other than showing off to Dimitri why his quest for revenge is Cringe And Not Based like he thinks it is. They are literally meant to show off why Dimitri's misguided quest for vengeance is dangerous and unfulfilling, which is why when Fleche stabs and kills Rodrigue Dimitri comes to his senses and rejects vengeance as a motivation. That is all Fleche and Randolph do.
(we ignore the "Edelgard did nothing to Dimitri" lie - because at this point they've got to just be outright lying to cope - we know it's not true and we move on from it)
They are given no focus whatsoever on any other route because it is AM where their one, singular purpose is found. Even on CF, the route where you can actually talk to them, at best Randolph is given one cutscene where he dies and makes Edelgard Sadge before she immediately gets over it and moves on never to mention or think about Randolph ever again. And Fleche does literally nothing - she just stands there for the rest of the game as a lump on a log. So seeing multiple people saying "Fleche wasn't allowed vengeance when Dimitri was!" when Dimitri literally isn't allowed vengeance and always dies should he continue to strive for it is just weird. They're, again, trying to go to bat for two bit characters that are solely meant to encapsulate the opposite of what the batters are saying lmao
#ask#anti edelgard#anti-edelgard#edelgard discourse#edelgard critical#just to be safe#and this is all ignoring that Randolph was literally trying to kill Dimitri and his men/friends first. for clout.#and how he attacked a building that housed defenseless people in it five years prior to that. for clout.#so it's literally not that fuckin' boo hoo sad that he dies because he is a giant dick who has no qualms killing/endangering innocent people#for clout.
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reina i beg 🙇♀️ can i ask if the reader and osamu gets back together/him remembers their past in the burden of being fic (i think that’s the name 🥲) cause like… my brain is remembering how reader mentioned that being with him in this state would only be a heartbreak for them since reader will remember all the past but osamu doesn’t… and and!!! that would be too sadge even if they do get together 🥲
god minnie, i’m so happy you brought up the burden of being. i’ve been sad bc i’ve missed being caught up in a story the way that the burden of being had me.
but you can rest easy. they do get back together :) i actually don’t imagine osamu gaining back all his memories to be honest. there are some things that come back to him, i think the bavo-kun memory is one of them because it’s one of the most recent ones but for the most part, he does navigate reconnecting with reader and all the members of hyogo ward instinctually.
it’s kind of like when you show up to a family reunion and you have all these aunties and uncles saying they knew you when you were this tall. that kind of thing. like he knows these people have been involved in his life some way or another and that he’s meant to be kind and receptive to their generosity. but truly, he cannot place them in his mind prior to remeeting them again.
osamu initially loves her like it is second nature. he cannot explicitly say why he does. he just knows, deep down, in his heart and soul and body, that he does. he loves her. it does make for difficult courtship in the beginning but they are able to restart their relationship as two absolutely different people. because reader from the beginning of the burden of being is absolutely different than the one from the end. the same, obviously goes for osamu.
osamu also never goes back to cooking for a living! he does enjoy it as a side hobby, but he ends up staying on his pro volleyball path. he does leave msby after his falling out with atsumu and i think he finds himself on a division 2 league. he’s still good but a lot of time had passed since he’d taken a break and part of the reason he got a position of a division 1 team is because of atsumu.
akaashi ends up owning o.mo.ide all on his own. reader eventually hands over the restaurant solely to him and she does find her cushy it job so she can continue to spoil osamu just like she wished.
#reina.receives#i hope this answers your question#if not. i’ll try again! i do have this particular scene in my head#osamu’s still hesitant in stepping inside reader’s apartment when he finds out they used to live in it together. they’ve gone on some dates#already and the two of them awkwardly stands outside her door. akaashi is peeping through the eyehole as they speak lmfao. but the dates#have been good. they both know this. and this one was extra spectacular. they’re getting it down. allowing themselves the moment rather than#being latched onto by the past. and she offers if he wants to come inside. osamu has his hands in his jacket pockets and he waves them about#as he sways on his heel. he wants to. but is he ready? he doesn’t want to ruin already what they’ve had. but he decides to. and so he goes#inside. you’re opening the door as akaashi scrambles to act nonchalant. bokuto is there as well to lessen the awkwardness#and mumu has shown to hate every man that has walked through your doors. but at the sight of osamu. he gives him a stare that lasts minutes#and then he curls himself between osamu’s ankles before ricocheting off to cause some mayhem in akaashi’s room. mimi was never a cat that#*mumu#osamu fed. but it just goes to show. how osamu’s scent has stayed in your bed and in your sheets despite that fact that you can no longer#smell them. he’s been there. he always has even if you could no longer find him.
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well, both of them are literally insane and “mutually assured destruction” was the theme of their alliance in Pogtopia
I mean, both of them are delusional and historically have struggles with their perceptions of reality versus what's actually true, so like, yeah fair enough to that. But in terms of like...the mutually assured destruction part, what I'm assuming you're referring to is how the stated plan for c!Dream and c!Wilbur (c!Wilbur first saying so in Vassal and c!Dream repeating his words to c!Eret a month later on the 16th) is the idea that the goal that they shared was for Manberg and Pogtopia to destroy themselves. But I wouldn't say this uh really counted as mutually assured destruction for the two of them?
Like the point of that era and c!Dreambur in that era is very much that they were on the same team, not that--as is the case with mutually assured destruction--that two sides are both discouraged from fighting each other because the destruction would be total on both sides. Like, mutually assured destruction is about two sides being deterred from engaging actively in conflict with each other because they know that they'll both end up with losses that are too high, while c!Dream and c!Wilbur's whole deal according to the two of them was purposefully inciting conflict that would lead to the total destruction of two sides that neither of them were a part of. As Wilbur himself says:
(Honestly the name for the AU was kinda shit but considering I have several AUs named after the discord channels that birthed them, like, I just can't name shit for my life man I don't know what to tell you)
(Also people referring to c!Dreambur as MADduo often misses out on the whole. Possession thing at play, which makes me sadge 😔 It sets them up as opposing sides in a way that I think doesn't exactly reflect the consistency with which c!Dream ends up swayed to work on c!Wilbur's terms and to believe that he is, in small or large part, correct about matters. Which is fascinating. People have a tendency to portray their relationship as being much closer to equals than I think is accurate, personally.)
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🎁 Christmas with Takasugi and your daughter (x Fem!Reader) 🎄
A/N: Not gonna lie. I'm not that big into X-mas, BUT if I ever got to spend my ideal Christmas holiday with someone, then that would definitely be with Shinsuke. Considering how I don't see him as a Christmas lover either (and after some encouragement COUGH COUGH) I decided to write this! Yes, it was gonna be headcanons and yes, it became a whole ass fanfic, and yes, it will have a final part 2 that miiiiiiight come a bit late, depending on how the holiday season goes for me. Enjoy!
Plot: Shinsuke decides to come home for Christmas to spend time with you and your daughter.
Warnings: Fluff overload, but there will be smut! Not in this one, sadge, BUT THERE'S STILL NSFW CONTENT AHEAD.
(yes, i'm upping the festivity of this)
It’s no secret that the commander of the Kiheitai is a busy man. With his mind set on tearing the world into shreds and his hands full of warfare tactics, you wouldn’t expect him to care about the season of joy and love. And he really doesn’t if we are being honest, but it’s been so long since he last got to see you.
The nature of his “occupation” keeps sending him from one side of the universe to the other, and considering how he’s barely gotten the chance to meet his own daughter, he thought it’d be fine to let Bansai take the wheel for once. (Totally not because Matako and the rest tried to force him into their Secret Santa Instrumentality Project.)
And so, one day, he showed up at your doorstep uninvited, with nothing but a smirk to grace his face. He thought of how happy you’d be to see him. Of how eager you’d be to toss your arms around his neck, peppering him whole in kisses. Of course he’d act disturbed, and of course he’d call you a nuisance, in spite of secretly loving every minute of it.
God, he’d missed you. Edo might not be his home anymore, but his forever home would always be with you.
However, when the door finally opened, he had a hard time believing his eyes, to the point of wondering whether he’d somehow gotten the wrong house. A tiny little gremlin sprung forth, attaching its tiny little gremlin hands around his leg, all the while chanting the word “Daddy” until he came to the realization that this gremlin looking creature was none other than his very spawn. His daughter.
“Oi, gremlin!” He warned, gently shaking her by her shoulders. “Stop it!”
“Kimiko isn’t a gremlin, Kimiko is Kimiko!” She protested, clinging to him harder.
“Fine.” He sighed. “Let go, Kimiko.”
At the sound of her name, the girl paused to show him her widest grin, and then proceeded to squeal against his leg.
What had he ever done to deserve this? Not that a certain heated pre-battle night didn’t come in mind. He shouldn’t have gotten carried away that night, and he shouldn’t have let you take on this responsibility all by yourself. No matter how one looked at it, he was all to blame.
“Gremlin is a bit too harsh even for you, Shinsuke.” You chuckled, emerging from behind the frame.
“Y/N.” Your name came out of his lips so naturally, as if it’d never left.
You smiled, and for a moment, he seemed to forget all about the child dangling from his yukata. It was just the two of you, silently sharing a conversation you’d missed on.
“You look good,” to which you’d reply with a “Not as well as you do.” He’d smile and you’d smile back, and then you’d say the words he had a hard time returning.
“I missed you too.”
“Y/N!” The urgency in his voice made you snap out of your thoughts.
“How about we give your father a breather?” You suggested, lifting Kimiko away from a significantly more relieved Shinsuke.
He wasn’t lying about not being able to stand children. Even after she was gone, he remained frozen in place, blending perfectly with the snowy backdrop.
“Did you come all this way to turn into an icicle?” You taunted, gesturing towards the door.
“Come on in, don’t let the house freeze too!”
Takasugi looked at Kimiko, the doorstep and you. He weighed in his choices, tempted to end his visit right then and there. But when it came down to disappointing you both; when he could perfectly imagine what those little eyes would look all welled up, he simply sighed and stepped in.
You could count the amount of times he’d entered this place with one hand, and while not much had changed -other than the festive decoration-, the same couldn’t be said about Kimiko. Last time he saw her, she barely tied syllables together, and now she wouldn’t quit asking about her father. She’d grown to idolize the “samurai father who was busy fighting the bad space guys and protecting the world”, though she didn’t know the first thing of what his job actually entailed.
She was a curious child who needed answers, and world-class terrorism wasn’t the easiest topic to discuss with someone her age. Besides, you had to make her understand that he hadn’t abandoned her because he didn’t love her. It was merely the price he had to pay for his ambitions and for your safety.
As if she read your thoughts, Kimiko leaned into your ear to whisper “Papa is pretty. Can I marry papa, mommy?”
You couldn’t help but laugh at her suggestion. With her dark purple hair and sparkling emerald eyes, she was the spitting image of him, yet their personalities couldn’t be any further apart. To think that even she wasn’t immune to his charms was beyond entertaining.
“If you get him to say yes, then go ahead, sweetie.” You said, softly combing her hair behind her ear.
“What are you two plotting?” Takasugi said in the same whispering tone.
“Nothing. Just… looks like your fan count increased by one.” You jested, leading both him and Kimiko into the kitchen.
You caught him lazily browsing the space, his eye stopping at the Christmas tree in the middle of the living room. He looked at it as if it were a foreign object, and maybe to him who’d never properly experience Christmas before, that it was.
“I didn’t expect you to return to Edo.” You said, drawing his attention.
“I didn’t expect to return either.” He shrugged and took his haori off. “It was a last minute decision.”
You extended a hand in his direction, asking for the jacket. “I’m glad you did. I’m glad you came.”
Before you could retrieve your hand, a set of fingers came to hold you in place. His thumb brushed over your skin, tenderly pressing down against your knuckles as if he meant to return the sentiment.
“Mommy, can you put me down now?” Kimiko tugged at your sleeve.
Breaking away from his touch, you placed her onto the floor and hastily turned the other way. Such innocent touch was all it took to turn your cheeks a slight, albeit noticeable shade of red that you hoped to conceal. You had the nerve to judge Kimiko when you were the one acting like a flustered schoolgirl. How embarrassing.
“Should I get you anything, Shinsuke?” You asked, dashing to the kitchen.
He answered you with a dry cough, one that you knew what meant, though as luck would have it, you wouldn’t be able to oblige to his demand.
“Anything else?”
“Tea?”
You ducked under a cabinet, easily spotting the tea box. Correction; the empty tea box.
“Anything else?” Your voice faltered.
“Sake, then?”
“This early?” You objected, but went ahead just in case.
Again, none.
“Anything else-”
“Just some water.” He said, dragging a chair to sit on.
“I’m sorry,” you brought out a glass and filled it to the brim. “Had I known you’d come, I would have restocked.”
You slid the glass across the table and he caught it halfway. “That would destroy the surprise.”
“I thought you enjoyed destruction.”
He smirked, shaking his head and then brought the water to his lips. “Not wrong.”
“Destruction?” Kimiko repeated wide-eyed. “Will papa destroy home?”
“Where did that come from?” Takasugi asked. “And stop calling me that!”
“If papa is not papa then what should I call him?” She insisted, propping her elbows onto the table beside him. “Papi? Or pa? Or daddy? Or fa-”
“Shinsuke is fine, you little pest.” He grunted.
“Kimiko isn’t a pest. Kimiko is Kimiko.”
Takasugi sighed in despair. “Why would you let Zura babysit her?”
“He offered!” You said in between laughing. “Besides, Kimiko loves uncle Zura.”
“Uncle Zura says his name isn’t Uncle Zura, but uncle Katsura.”
“Uncle Zura-I mean, Zura shouldn’t be corrupting the youth like that.”
You were about to bring a certain hot-headed blonde up, when a warning look took the words out of your mouth. He didn’t even try to hide his annoyance, but you could only enjoy this little back and forth between them. Somehow, you had a feeling they’d get along just fine.
“While you’re busy arguing over names, why don’t I pop to Edo Mart real quick for some groceries?” Panic set in his stare the second you finished your sentence. “I’ll bring some yakult too!” You added.
Takasugi inhaled and then exhaled sharply, rubbing his eyebrows together. You hadn’t seen him this distressed since that time Sakamoto dropped Pokari on his bed and Gintoki claimed that he’d pissed himself in his sleep- a joke that resulted to the scolding of the one and the head bonking of the other.
Was it really a good idea to let him alone with Kimiko? Perhaps it was too early. Perhaps he needed some more time to get accustomed to her lively personality and childish antiques.
“Go.” A hoarse command interrupted your thoughts as Takasugi lifted his head. The bandages were slightly undone and his one good eye had a tiresome aspect to it, but he seemed confident enough to repeat himself.
“Don’t worry, I’ll manage. Just go.”
You nodded, simultaneously apologizing and wishing him good luck . He scowled and sighed again, and you couldn’t really blame him. He might have lived a life fuller than most, but when it came down to children he had about zero experience.
You knew that back then. You knew that after Shouyou died, he’d made his decision, and no woman or child would ever tie him down. You knew that if you went through with this pregnancy, you’d be completely on your own, and still, you couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away.
It was his. A part of him that grew within you. A part of him that he couldn’t take away; that wouldn’t leave you like he did. This child could never replace him, though in his absence, this little child who had his eyes, his hair, his lips, and even his nose, became your everything. It gave you reason to live; love to give; hope to await for a return that may never come.
You’d never get to be a real family, yet seeing them sit by side, felt as if a fraction of your wishes had been granted. Perhaps Christmas really was the season of miracles.
Taking a final look at them— Kimiko gleefully jumping up and down her chair, and Takasugi attempting to sit her down—, you felt enough warmth to last you through the wintry breeze outside.
“Welcome Home, Shinsuke.”
In the not-so-short-while that you were gone, Takasugi came to the realization that getting a hyperactive child to calm down required the same-if not more- effort than running an entire organization did. He wondered how you were able to live like this, and the moment he did, a sliver of guilt crawled up his spine. Thirty minutes could not compensate for five years of nearly total absence.
After Kimiko had finally simmered down and retreated to the living room with a notebook in hand, he was free to spend his time however he pleased, though he wasn’t too sure of what to do. This was the first real “vacation” he’d taken, and as far as he was concerned, his options were quite limited.
He’d neglected to bring a good read or his shamisen with him. Smoking was also out of the question, and so, the last bit of available entertainment were the saccharine Christmas specials on TV. Happy families here, cheery carols there. Towers of colorfully wrapped presents and public festivities on every news channel. There really was no escaping this despicable commercial holiday.
“Oi, gremlin.” Takasugi said, dropping the remote onto the coffee table. “What are you scribbling there?”
Without lifting her eyes from the page, the girl insisted to drag her pen across the paper. “Kimiko is not a gremlin. Kimiko is Kimiko.”
“What about pest?” He smirked, folding his arms over his chest.
“Kimiko is not a pest. Kimiko is Kimiko.” She scooted away from him.
“Brat.”
“Kimiko is not a brat. Kimiko is Kimiko.”
Takasugi clicked his tongue against his mouth’s roof and arched a brow. Purple hair, green eyes. It was almost as if he were starring at a mirror, and he could hardly find fault in that. The only name that passed through his mind was “shrimp”, but the memory that accompanied it made him instantly cringe away.
“Urchin.” He tried again.
“Kimiko is not an urchin. Kimiko is Kimiko.”
“You even know what an urchin is?”
No answer.
Balancing his chin onto his elbow, he moved in closer and she pulled further away. Her lips curled downwards and his curved upwards, shaping a frown on her face and a smile on his. She did her best to ignore him and he tried his hardest to earn a reaction for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint, or rather, hated to admit.
Tilting his head, he uttered in a hushed tone “Don’t tell me you’d rather I called you princess.”
His words sparkled like fireworks in her eyes, painting an expression of awe upon her features. She was tempted to cave in and look his way, though in the end, she shook her head again and went back to writing.
“I don’t want to be a princess.”
His interest was piqued. “Then is there something else you want to be?”
Kimiko slammed her pen down firmly, those firework-like effects returning to her green orbs. “Samurai. I want to be a samurai.”
“A samurai…” Takasugi repeated, unsure of whether to feel pride or sorrow. “You have better odds becoming a princess than a samurai in this world.”
“But papa is a samurai. If papa is one, then I should also become one!” She sounded absolute.
“Why should you? Being a samurai is no game.”
“Because samurai are strong! If Kimiko becomes strong like you, then Kimiko can help you beat all the bad guys and we’ll never be apart again!” She declared.
To say he was baffled was an understatement. This kid… this little kid whom he’d left behind. This kid who was no taller than a daikon. This kid who had every reason in the world to raise its puny fists against him, but who instead wanted to fight for his sake. The sentiment he felt for this kid began to surpass guilt.
“Kimiko-”
“Here!” She interrupted, shoving the paper in his face. The headline read “Dear Santa” in smudged letters, with more smudges and doodles following below. “This is my wish to Santa.”
He accepted the letter, unsure of what to expect. The last time he’d written a letter himself was more of an attempt to trap and expose his old man, than to ask for a gift -although that Lego Yamato battleship did look enticing. The result was the end of yet another feeble childhood dream, and one more grudge to hold against his father.
“There’s no such thing as-” Takasugi bit his tongue before he could finish that sentence.
“‘Dear Santa, I’m sowwy-’” He picked the pen up and immediately corrected her misspelling. “‘I’m sorry, but I want my previous wish canceled’.” You can’t cancel a wish, he mumbled under his breath. “‘Papa is home. You don’t have to send elves to adultnap-’” Adultnap? “ ‘him anymore. All I want for Christmas is to become a super cool samurai, just like him. P.S. If it’s not many’ ” He crossed over the word ‘many’ and replaced it with ‘a lot’.
“If it’s not a lot to ask, I also want to marry papa and live with him for-’ ” A shriek pierced through his ears as Kimiko yanked the letter out of his hands. Crumbling it into a ball, she hid it under her pillow, making sure he wouldn’t be able to retrieve it.
He looked at her, half impressed by her reflexes, and half flustered by what she’d written in that final sentence. It was the most nonsensical thing he’d ever read in his entire lifetime, yet at the same time he felt this inexplicable warmth enveloping his heart.
“I’m sorry!” Her muffled voice escaped her palms as she stubbornly refused to let him see her face. “Don’t tell Santa I’ve been bad, I don’t want to die!”
“Die?” Takasugi laughed. “Is that what you think happens to naughty children?”
“Uncle Gin said Santa throws bad children in the oven and makes them into coal.”
Why wasn’t he surprised in the slightest that this idiot was behind this?
“Kimiko, from now on, don’t listen to this shithead-to uncle Gintoki.” He gritted his teeth. “Bad children aren’t made into coal.”
A curious eye peaked at him, seeking confirmation in his words. Takasugi nodded, his lips stretching to an affectionate smile. She was cute, was his first thought. More than cute, she was adorable, was his second thought, and without quite realizing it he reached forward, resting a palm against her head. How many silly misconceptions could fit in such small head?
“Nothing will happen to you.” He said, gently stroking her hair in a circular motion. “Even if you break a few rules or misbehave a little, no one will ever harm you.”
“You promise?” She asked, looking at him over her shoulder.
“I promise.” He assured, lightly messing her hair up with one final pat. "Just remember; don’t trust bad men, especially the silver haired kind. Or else…”
“Or else?” Kimiko flinched.
“Let’s not find out, mhm?”
She nodded frantically and he felt a weight dropping off his shoulders. Here’s to another reason for Gintoki to pay up.
“Papa? What about Santa?”
“Hmm?”
“Is Santa also a bad man?”
“Santa…” As much as he’d love to call out the entire Santa business for the fraud it was, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter her dreams. “He isn’t, but that doesn’t mean you should rely on him for everything. If you want to be stronger, then fight till you can move boulders, and if you want to marry me, then you should be brave enough to say it yourself. Wishes mean nothing without effort.”
“If Kimiko does that, will papa marry Kimiko?” His words went completely over her head. The only thing she seemed to care about was becoming his bride.
When he didn’t answer, she tugged onto his sleeve, and when he didn’t react, she attempted to lace her hands around his waist. She felt warm, he noted. She smelled nice too, her subtle scent reminding him of you.
A memory flashed before his closed eye, a happy one amidst the sea of broken ones. In it, you were the one hugging him, gripping him so tightly as to lock him in place. You said it was for good luck. That as long as he memorized your body’s heat on his own, then he’d eventually make it back to you and wouldn’t die out there in the cold.
You always came up with the dumbest of excuses to shower him with affection, but he remembered himself embracing you back. He remembered the smell of your clothes. The silky feel of your hair as he ran his fingers through your lengthy strands, and finally, the sort of warmth that had him spewing promises he’d no way of guaranteeing.
“You have a long way to go before you win over my heart… little samurai.” He mumbled against his daughter’s forehead, holding her as close to him as he’d once held you.
Was it really okay to call her that? Was it okay to spur her on? He couldn’t care any less. In that moment, he only wished to reassure her of her dreams, no matter how feeble or childish they might be, and in that moment he knew exactly what to do.
By the time you made it back home, the sun had set for good, leaving the skies with a faint purple aftertaste. It was a quiet night. Mute figures faded within the snowy blanket, their footsteps vanishing with them. Some walked in groups, others in pairs. Some you recognized as neighbors, and others you were seeing for the first time.
A woman in a yellow colored kimono attempted to warm her palms up. She rubbed them together and blew heat into them, her breath forming a mist. A man -her husband- caught onto that. He took her hands in his and placed them inside the pockets of his coat. The woman smiled and the man held her close.
Then they left.
A young boy hopped around like a fox in the snow. He hurled snowballs at a lanky man who was on the phone, too caught up in his work affairs to take notice. The boy insisted, until a throw knocked the phone onto the ground. The man looked down, opened his mouth and with a sigh, he kneeled beside the boy-his son. You thought he was about to give him an earful, but when he built a fist of snow in his hand, you knew you had misjudged him.
The two played for a good five minutes, and then, they too left.
You always felt envious of those passersby. They had a hand to hold onto; a shoulder to lean on; a person to call their own. They had a place to go to and someone to go with them. Watching them reminded you of your own loneliness, yet for the first time in a while, you weren’t jealous. You had a place to go, and someone to wait for you. Someone you’d waited for in so long. Your own person, whose hand you were dying to hold.
The groceries pranced left and right with each step. As promised, you’d bought him a multipack of his beloved beverage, along with some Christmas delicacies and a little something to keep him warm through his visit; a woolen scarf.
Takasugi was never the type to dress for the weather. He merely draped his haori over his shoulders when it was cold, and called it a day. He seemed to forget that he was just as human as you were. One capable of catching colds and falling ill. Even if you begged him to, he’d refuse to cover up, but perhaps a gift would do the trick.
Just the thought of being the one to wrap it around his neck was enough to make you squeal. He’d look so dashing wearing it, and if Kimiko was asleep, then you could use the scarf as excuse to steal a kiss from his lips. Or two. Or maybe more than that. On second thought, you’d definitely make sure she was fast asleep before handing him his present.
You were about to twist the key in the keyhole, when a high-pitched shriek pierced through your ears. Startled, you turned around. No one stood there. It was your imagination you decided and tried again, only to be stopped by another, equally familiar clamor. You knew that voice very well, and until your eyes could confirm it wasn’t hers, a million horrifying scenarios trampled your head.
Burglars? Or Oniwaban? Or Naraku? Or… those pirates he’d dealings with? Takasugi had many enemies. It wouldn’t be far fetched for him to draw unwanted attention, but then again he was more than capable of defending himself. Kimiko was safe with him. There was no way he’d put her in harm’s way. He’d protect her at all costs, against all odds. She is safe.
This put your mind at ease, though it wasn’t enough to prevent you from bursting through that door and into the living room.
“Getsuga Tenshou!” Words refined the shrieks, whose meaning you failed to comprehend.
“I told you, samurai don’t yell their attacks!” A voice that belonged to Takasugi answered.
In relief, you dropped the bags onto the floor. You did expect to find a battlefield, albeit one of a different kind. Kimiko holding a wooden spatula as sword and Takasugi a whisk certainly didn’t fit in with any of your imaginary scenarios. All furniture was moved to the side, creating a makeshift arena for their “duel”.
The girl charged forward, waving the spatula as if she were carrying a war banner. She ran to him and he stepped to the side, making her land on all fours. A curtain of violet draped over her face as she lifted her chin. With a huff she blew it out of her eyes, and undeterred, she jumped at him again, this time swinging the spatula to the left.
“Fire Punch!”
“You aren’t even using your fists.” He observed in a quiet tone, dodging yet again.
“Kamehama! Dragon Fist! Spirit Bomb!” Up and down. Left and Right. She followed one move after another, thrashing and swirling until she ran into the wall that was his palm.
“Kimiko!” Takasugi exhaled.
“Rasengan!” She growled and rammed her forehead onto his palm, hoping to throw him off, though he wouldn’t budge.
“Oi!”
This entire scene felt awfully familiar. Takasugi teaching others to wield a sword, them getting everything wrong and his patience wearing thin halfway through class. None of it was new. However, something about him playing around with kitchen utensils and lightly crouching to match Kimiko’s height, painted an image you’d never dreamt of witnessing.
It was an endearing sight, and before you knew it, you were laughing to your heart’s content, catching them both unawares.
“Mommy!” A small hand waved at you, gesture which you returned.
“I see you are having fun!”
“Doubt beast taming can be considered as such.” Takasugi scoffed, earning himself a strike to his knee. Or more like an attempt at a strike, one that he easily blocked without even looking.
“Papa has eyes everywhere.”
He smirked, his grasp turned into an affectionate caress across her scalp. “What did we agree on?”
“Apologies, commander general papa.” Kimiko said in a formal voice that made his eye avert back.
He let go of her, and then walked in your direction, the whisk still in his hand. He pointed at the groceries with it, poking through the bags.
“Did you get it?”
“Right here!” You exclaimed, showing him his yakult with a cheery expression.
He tore through the packaging and brought a bottle out. You smiled at his impatience, a smile you kept to yourself as you paced to the kitchen. He followed, and the two of you settled against the counter where you could watch Kimiko swing the spatula at her invisible opponents, repeating the movements he taught her along with words no one knew the meaning of.
“What do you think?” You were the first to break the silence.
“I think she’s trouble.” Takasugi hid his smirk with a sip. “Not the bad kind though.”
“She wants to be like you.”
“She wouldn’t want that if she knew the truth.” His comment was bitter, though it lacked tension. “Why did you lie? She’s convinced I’m some world class hero that goes around protecting the universe.”
“Are you not?” You chuckled awkwardly.
He studied your expression and took another sip. “Depends on whose side you’re on.”
“I’m on your side.” You assured. “Always.”
Takasugi set his half empty drink to the side. There was something that he wanted to say, though he wasn’t quite ready to phrase it. Instead he watched you watch Kimiko, and smiled to himself.
“I can’t believe we made this.” He mumbled in disbelief.
“We could always make one more just to be sure.”You blurted and he shot you a questionable glare. “I didn’t-”
“One is enough.” He interrupted, tilting his head so close that your faces were inches apart. “But I don’t mind repeating the process.”
Your lips parted in awe, tempting him to null the distance. His hand trailed down your own, slender fingers stilling you against the counter, as he came to be the only thing in sight. The sublime features of his face, the darkened look in his eye, and inevitably, his lips. Lips that he licked painfully slow, drawing air directly from your mouth.
You were one phone call away from begging Zura to assume nanny duty, just so you could jump this man’s bones right then and there. Takasugi smirked, seemingly sharing the exact same thought. You were both deprived of one another, so much that you didn’t think twice before squeezing your eyes shut and pouting your lips for him to kiss. He leaned forward, his touch ghosting over your skin and then disappearing all at once.
“Bakasugi.” You cursed under your breath and he grinned.
“I don’t want to start something I won’t be able to finish.” Takasugi nodded in Kimiko’s direction.
He was right. This was neither the time nor place for you to be doing that, but then again why did he have to lead you on? Why did he have to be so damn attractive that you lost all common sense? Why was everything he did so damn attractive? From how he played children’s games with Kimiko to how he’d caged you in between his arms- even the way he drunk his stupid yakult was utterly attractive.
“You are right.” He said, catching you by surprise. “I must have been an idiot.”
Before you had the chance to ask what he implied, a shattering sound echoed in the background. You both turned around, finding a floor full of broken vase pieces, and a guilt stricken Kimiko crawling away from the crime scene. Simultaneously you sighed, Takasugi going after her, and you scouring the area for the dustpan.
“Everything okay?”
Your question was answered in the form of a long drawn nod, as Takasugi closed the bedroom door behind him. His expression was weary and his steps heavy, though he didn’t appear as frustrated as one would expect.
To say he gave Kimiko a scolding was both an over and understatement. He called her out on being a klutz and wreaking havoc in the house, but the minute she shed a couple of tears, all charges were dropped. He huffed once or twice, shook his head dismissively, and with a quiet voice, he ushered her to be more careful. To top it off, he even followed her into her room, agreeing to be the one who puts her to sleep.
Thirty whole minutes had passed since, and if it weren’t for his return, you would have interrupted your night routine to search for him.
“She wouldn’t sleep unless I told her a bedtime story.” Takasugi said, crossing his arms over his chest.
The reflection in the mirror remained static. Only his stare motioned through the room, eventually settling on your figure. He watched you comb your hair, absolutely mesmerized by how perfectly they hugged your silhouette. Envious he wasn’t the one doing that. His eye traced the outline of your shoulders, following your nightgown’s length down each and every curve, vividly imagining what your skin looked free of all this pointless fabric.
“And you did?” He looked you in the eye and nodded again.
“Which one?”
“Princess Kaguya.”
“Ah, that’s her all-time favorite!” You combed through your hair a final time and got up from your dresser. “How many times did she make you read it?”
“Thrice.”
“What I wouldn’t give to see that.” You chuckled. “Who would have thought the legendary Takasugi Shinsuke had what it takes to become a great father?”
Pride glinted in his eye as he quirked a brow. “Great?”
“Amazing, even!” You assured. “Watching you coddle her like that, playing games, telling stories, scolding her too. I have to admit, it’s… quiet sexy.”
First he scoffed, then he chuckled, and then he huffed some more. You smiled. He wasn’t used to compliments, let alone the kind that didn’t refer to his battle prowess or his leadership qualities. To those he fought with, Takasugi was a valued comrade, and to those he fought against, a formidable enemy. But to you who were a woman and had sided with him in ways no man ever would, his ability to handle a sword was the least of his charms.
With that smile lingering on your lips, you moved towards the closet to fetch his gift. It was just the two of you now. The moment was right.
“Time’s turned you bolder.” He sneered.
“Is that all?” You chuckled, digging through rows of clothing.
Got it!
“No.” His voice echoed right behind. “You’ve grown much prettier than I remember.”
As soon as you turned to face him, his lips claimed yours, stealing his name right from within. You gasped wide-eyed, the fabric falling between your grasp and his. He pulled you close, your noses poking as he tipped his head to the left. He was kissing you. It took a few seconds to register, but he was definitely kissing you and you were definitely kissing him back, tilting your head to match his rhythm.
Hands traveled up his shoulders and neck, the woolen scarf replaced by the silky hem of his yukata. He locked his arms around your waist, your touch encouraging him to tighten his embrace until he was no longer pinning you down, but lifting you up in the air. You yelped, a shrill, unbecoming sound that had him smiling against your mouth.
“The prettiest woman alive.” His velvety whisper faded past the softness of his lips.
With your limbs seeking balance ‘round his nape and torso, you found yourself towering him, stray strands of hair trickling down his face. You tried blowing it away, but he had no intention of letting you part from him. Instead, he lowered both palms to your butt and squeezed at your thighs, itching to tear the rosy fabric off your skin.
“Sh-Shinsuke,” you called his name out while he rubbed your bodies together, his hardened muscles pressed against your crotch. You could tell how much he’d longed for this, even his breath turning heavy the second your lower parts came into contact.
Without wasting more time, Takasugi spun you around and laid you down the unmade bed, fitting himself between your thighs as if he were your missing piece. Fingers drunkenly dug at your tender flesh, his lips sweeping yours in a never ending kiss. He climbed higher and higher, only stopping at your drenched underwear. This was all his doing, and he took great pleasure in knowing no other man had the luxury of enticing you the way he did.
He broke away from your mouth to take a good look at your face. He wasn’t lying. With your flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes burning full of lust, you painted such erotic expression that had his heart thudding against his chest. You were too damn beautiful for words to eloquently express.
Clueless about his thoughts, you reached out to him, stretching your fingers across his collarbones. You trailed a path down his bare chest, languidly traversing over his abs and abdomen, as if to confirm this wasn’t another one of your fantasies.
“You really are here, aren’t you?” You touched his cheek. “This is really happening, right?”
Your eyes begged him for an answer, one he gave you by gently kissing over your knuckles.
“I must have been an idiot to leave you behind.” Takasugi continued, finishing his unfinished sentence. “I should have never made you wait so long.”
Even now he held himself accountable for choices you’d made, ignoring that this was exactly what you’d always wanted. Renowned war general or fugitive terrorist, there was no one else you’d rather be with. From the very first moment, it was him. Just him.
You cupped his face and stared deep into his eye. “I could wait an eternity for you.” He smiled a tiny bit, a soft smile that was enough to stir the butterflies inside your stomach.
“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to make you wait a minute longer.”
The two of you fell back into another kiss, having no more use for neither words nor clothes between you. He slid his tongue across your own, his mouth gently sucking at your upper lip. You hummed in approval, hooking a leg behind his torso and thrusted upwards. He reciprocated the movement, grinding his hips against you until the two of you were dry humping each other just like horny teenagers would. Too scared to properly have at it, yet too desperate to resist.
Your fingers caught his obi and swiftly undid it, slipping the yukata off his shoulders. Takasugi smirked, loving how eager you were to touch him, free of any shame and reservation. It made all those lonely nights worth it, and for once, he didn’t feel unworthy of your affections either.
You’d both let passion consume you, to the point of completely missing the light creaking of the door, as well as the pajama-clad silhouette that stood behind its frame.
“Mommy?” In an instant, you shoved Takasugi aside, sending his head to hit the bedpost. He groaned once, though he didn’t complain a second time.
Frantically, you pulled your nightgown up and then down, glancing at Kimiko with about twice the horror she had on her face.
“Y-yes, sweetie?” Your voice came out as a hoarse croak. “Why aren’t you sleeping? Did you have a nightmare?”
The sheets rustled beneath as Takasugi sat up, having tied the obi pack in place. He didn’t look disturbed in the slightest. If anything, he looked utterly composed, as if hadn’t been caught in the act just now.
Kimiko shook her head, hiding a yawn inside her palm. “Why was papa eating your face?”
You broke into a vicious cough while he broke into a lighthearted chuckle, unable to keep his amusement to himself.
The girl looked at you both in a quizzical expression, her green eyes blinking in the dark like headlights. She was five years old, you reminded yourself. Even if she saw something, there was no way she understood the meaning of it.
“He was… We were wrestling!” You deadpanned.
“Wrestling? You mean, fighting?” Her eyes lit up.
He raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t try deny your claims.
“Now that you’ve gotten strong, Mommy didn’t want to fall behind, so I asked your father if he could teach me some of his moves! ‘Face eating’ is one of his super secret advanced techniques!”
“Super secret advanced technique? Did you win?”
“I-I didn’t. I’m no match for him yet.” You admitted.
“Mommy is weak.” Kimiko blunted and he sneered.
“So what did you want, sweetie?”
Ignoring your question, the girl rushed to Takasugi. She stood before him and looked him dead in the eye, as if they were about to have a staring competition among them. He tilted his head curiously and propped his body back against his elbows, awaiting her to speak.
“Teach me!”
“Hm?”
“Teach me how to eat people’s faces!”
“Brats don’t-” He paused. “You are a hundred years too early to be asking such things.”
“If I turn 105, will you show me?”
Takasugi scoffed in annoyance. “I’ll consider it. Now go sleep, or else-”
“Tell me a story!” She tugged at his yukata.
“I already told you a story.”
“I want a story about how you made the bad space guys go woosh!”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea, sweetie.” You placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping he’d also see how improper sharing the brutal details of war is.
“Then tell me about how you and mommy met!”
You shared a look of pure distress, while Kimiko took the chance to hop on your bed, sprawling her body right in the middle of the covers. Defeated, you laid beside her, the girl gluing herself onto Takasugi’s forearm the second his head touched the pillow.
“We studied under the same man.” He started. “Your mother sat behind me and I sat in front of her.”
“And then?” Kimiko pressed her chin onto his shoulder.
“And then one day I saw her.”
“And then?” She asked.
“And then… I didn’t see her again for a very long time.”
“Why? Why?”
“Because I had to rescue someone.”
“Who?”
“… A man who was a true samurai.”
“Are you not a true samurai?” He grunted, shedding a fraction of his patience.
“Did you save him, papa?”
You opened your mouth to answer in his stead, but he waved you off. “No… I didn’t.”
Takasugi stayed silent for a moment, withdrawing deep inside his thoughts. Talking about sensei was always a difficult topic neither of you opted to openly discuss. To you, Shouyou was a teacher, but to him, he was a little less than a father and a little more than a mentor. He was the reason of his hatred and sorrow, and he was the reason why he’d embark on this crusade.
The atmosphere grew heavy, and you weren’t too sure how to explain her father’s change of expression without going into detail, though by the look of it, you wouldn’t have to.
Kimiko placed both hands onto his face and wiped the corners of his eye, ridding him of tears that were invisible. She understood his anguish perfectly, in her own, childish way.
“What are you doing?” He asked in confusion.
“Wiping your tears. Mommy says that if someone wipes your tears, then you won’t be sad anymore.”
“I’m not-” He spoke, though he instantly changed his mind. “Thank you.”
With a pained smile, Takasugi combed his fingers through her violet mane, thinking to himself that rather than destroying the country, he must have saved it in a previous life. He’d only had such thoughts about you before, finding a lifetime’s worth of happiness in the way you looked at him. To think this little girl’s gaze held the same kind of adoration-he felt truly fortunate.
“When did you see mommy again?” She began her questioning again.
“After she’d grown into a woman.”
“Your father visited my hometown a few years later.” You chimed in. “It was during the war. In order to recruit men for his army, he had to travel the entire country, and so, he one day made it to the place I lived.
“What does recruit mean?” Kimiko asked.
“It means that he convinced them to fight for him.”
“Did papa have a great army?”
“Mhm!” You nodded enthusiastically. “Farmers or samurais, it didn’t matter. Even those who didn’t know to wield a sword chose to follow him, and he led them to one victory after the other! He was strong, and he was smart, and he never backed down. He was so popular, that he even had a fan club of his own!” You chuckled and he sighed for the millionth time that night.
“Papa is amazing! He’s just like Tamo-san!” Kimiko clapped her feet together. “Were you his fan, mommy?”
“I was.” You admitted. “From the day I first saw him, I was his biggest fan.”
“And you, papa? Were you also mommy’s fan?”
“No.” He said without thinking twice.
“Why?”
“Because…” Takasugi smirked, “your mother was my first love.”
Drunken cheers, hearty laughters, and half-passed out soldiers around the bonfire.
If there was one thing Takasugi detested about being victorious, then that had to be the celebratory banquets that followed. Everyone was quick to lower their guards and surrender themselves to the fleeting joy of temporary peace. They drunk until their cup was empty, and they drunk until the bottle was empty too, and they drunk until no barrel remained unemptied.
He wanted nothing to do with those celebrations. Not because he didn’t know to hold his liquor or make a toast, but because they were for them, and not for him. He’d sworn to keep his glass empty until the day would come to share it with the one he’d done all this for.
Before he knew it, Takasugi was pouring his drink in the fire, watching the flames perk up and then quiet down unchanged. Without saying a word to the man beside him, he got up from his seat and slowly marched towards the city. No one noticed his absence, though it was better that way. The mood would only sour with him around, and if he were honest, he much preferred the insults he exchanged with those three idiots.
Come think of it, where were they? Knowing Gintoki, he must be drunk out of his mind at some whorehouse that Sakamoto paid for, while Katsura pretended to be too timid for such affairs. Sounds about right.
At the end of the road, Takasugi took a left turn. And when that road came also to its end, he turned right. There was no real destination in his mind. All he meant to do was find a quiet spot away from all the murmur so he could finally breathe, though as luck would have it, that place was unattainable.
Suddenly, a second shadow came to merge with his own. Its steps were lighter than his soldiers’ and heavier than a crow’s. A woman, he noted, and stopped in his tracking.
“One without experience could mistake you for an enemy.” He tapped at his sword. “Trailing after others unannounced is a bad habit in war’s time.”
“Some habits are hard to drop, aren’t they?” The voice responded, idly reminding him of something he couldn’t quite place in his memory. Perhaps she was another one of those foolish girls that were enamored with the “war symbol” version of him.
“I saw you leave and thought you could use the company.”
“Too bad. I left because I couldn’t stand the company of others.”
“Not even of a past acquaintance?” Her words struck him as the truth, though he couldn’t remember a single acquaintance of his past that hadn’t already found a terrible death.
“You have the wrong man.”
The woman walked closer and stood directly behind his back in a way that felt oddly familiar. “Takasugi Shinsuke, disciple of Yoshida Shouyou. Am I still mistaken?”
He clenched his fist tight over his sword’s hilt. “What if you are? How would you know?”
“Because I’ve stared enough times at this back to tell you apart.” And then it finally hit him. The woman behind him was one he once knew as a girl, and that voice was one he’d most definitely heard whisper through his ears before. Because that woman was none other than you.
“The puny back you remember isn’t the same as this.” He sneered, be it without any sort of malice.
“It might not be, but the boy who wished to shoulder the burden of the world, remains the same.”
He chuckled and you smiled, hesitantly laying a hand onto his shoulder. “Care to turn around? I really want to see what the face of that boy looks now.”
He obliged, not so much to fulfill your wish, but mostly because he couldn’t beat his own curiosity. What did you look like now? What kind of person had you grown into? He’d kept the outdated image of your face all those years, not ever expecting to meet with you again, and now he had the chance to actually witness what became of the one that got away.
You took in each other’s features, and for a while it felt as if you’d both traversed time. He looked at your face, your hair, and the imperfect state of your kimono, and all he could think of was how there seemed to be a second moon in this world, much brighter than the one that paled in the skies.
You looked good, he wanted to say. No, you looked beautiful was what he really meant to say. But in the end he said nothing, and he kept ogling you like some sort of creep, until your gentle smile widened for him.
“I thought so. Now I should go back and you can continue your-”
Before he could stop himself, he’d caught your hand in his. Your stares crossed and his brows furrowed, uncertain why he did that. “Y/N” This might as well be the very first time he called your name out loud, and he found he quite liked the sound of it.
Your eyes flickered between his fingers and his face, as he slowly let go. This was ridiculous, he thought, and turned the other way. Since when did a woman’s presence make him act so rashly?
Without spending time to contemplate any further, Takasugi dragged his feet forward, hoping to finally fade into the darkness, when he saw that the shadow behind him had yet to fade.
“It’s still loud, isn’t it?”
“Terribly so.”
The rest of the night went by in relative quietness. Kimiko kept asking questions and Takasugi kept answering every single one of them, until their topic derailed. She asked him of his past, your love story, and about the hidden powers a samurai unlocked, oftentimes confusing the plot of Naruto with reality. At that point, he stopped talking, and she eventually drifted into deep slumber, drenching his sleeve with saliva.
Neither of you could sleep, or more accurately, neither of you wanted to. You insisted to look at each other’s face, batting your lashes every now and then in fatigue.
“Aren’t you tired?” He asked first.
You scooted a little closer, sandwiching Kimiko right in the middle. She spelled something about Sharingans and one eyed samurais, but she was definitely still asleep.
“I didn’t know.” You whispered. “I didn’t know I was your first love.”
A faint chuckle poured from his direction. “Is that why you don’t sleep?”
“What’s your excuse then?” You pouted.
“You.” His fingers reached yours amidst the darkness, though he was soon forced to retract them.
“Never thought my own daughter would be my rival in love.” You mumbled. “You know, Christmas is in two days.”
“Is this your way of asking for a gift?” Takasugi snarked.
“Far from it. But… I’m sure a certain someone will be expecting one.”
You heard him curse under his breath, and knew your message had come across.
“Goodnight, Shinsuke.”
“Goodnight.” He spelled back, though neither dared look away from the other.
#takasugi x reader#takasugi shinsuke x reader#takasugi shinsuke fanfiction#takasugi#takasugi smut#gintama#gintama smut#gintama fanfiction#gintama oneshot#ginama imagine#takasugi imagine#takasugi reader#takasugi gintama#takasugi shinsuke
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Yandere Dainsleif x Reader
tw: toxic relationships, and lots of sadg
Written by: Eve
Fate is not kind.
It is a fact for life; Celestia’s failure of preventing the rise of the cataclysm millenniums ago, and them playing havoc at Khaenri’ah.
Dainsleif came to realize that ironically, Celestia was not at fault, but fate. For it cannot be changed or altered, and it goes as ever as it shall.
He hated it. He was angry at the world for cursing him to immortality, for destroying his homeland, for destroying all his people. At one point, Dainsleif nearly tried to achieve his own apotheosis, to reweave the strands of fate.
Until, as fate would have it, he met (Name). After their fated meeting, he never went against it ever again.
——————————————————————————
The ideomotor theory states that the brain, just like how it reacts to tangibles, can also react to ideas. And the very effect of it can bypass the part of the brain that is used for conscious behavior. It goes to show that people will impulsively respond to mental representations that only exists in their brains. Simply put, sometimes its all just in your head.
(Name) was always intrigued with this theory, because to her, it summed up Dainsleif’s irrational and petty thoughts.
“What do you mean, I’ll escape?” This is about the sixth time (Name)’s trying to convince Dain to let them out of the house.
To his credit, living with Dainsleif was not torturous, albeit involuntarily. He’s made sure that they had three proper meals per day, resources for their research, and -this is the part that almost led (Name) to think he deserves redemption - a very comfy bed. (Name) calls it their “politically-correct” bed, much to Dainsleif’s amusement.
It gets complicated when they share it, though.
“I’ve told you my reasons. You’re not going out,” says Dainsleif. He crosses his arms, which was considerably a futile attempt at emphasizing his point, because (Name) is practically used to his little stoic gestures for the past year.
“What makes you think that I’ll run away?” they scowl.
“You’ve tried it a couple of times before.”
“It could be different this time. It could just be a genuine want to walk outside like a normal person.” (Name) says, sardonicism dripping off their voice towards the end. “I like your compelling argument here, Dain. Maybe give me one more reason?”
“Because you hate me.” A beat of silence.
(Name) knows this is partially true. Of course they would, wouldn’t they? He’s forced them to live in his home, and had restricted their own rights and freedom.
There are other feelings involved, though. At first, they think it’s sympathy, because they’re aware of his tragic past. It doesn’t justify his actions, but they understand. Later, that sympathy morphs into something else entirely, but (Name) doesn’t know what exactly.
“Fine, we’re going together.” (Name) says. “I’m going out regardless of whatever you say, and you can supervise me like some kid.”
——————————————————————————
Dainsleif is aware of sin.
He’s also aware that, as he’s wrapping an arm around (Name), pulling them closer to his side, he’s committing the act of sin itself.
(Name) is a free person. However much (Name) wants to keep from him, he knows their innermost desires and dreams. And however much he tries, Dainsleif’s own goals are vastly different from hers. Even if his love was reciprocated, they were bound to walk different paths eventually. Which is why, out of desperation, Dainsleif does what he needs to do.
They don’t belong with him. Trapped in a cage. What Dainsleif has done, was to meticulously trample their wings.
Which is why (Name)’s never offered to do anything together. Sometimes, they don’t even want to sit at the same table during mealtimes. On multiple occasions, they’ve gotten so angry that they’ve lost the ability to speak. It was a perennial issue; (Name) is very mutinous, and he doesn’t blame her.
But as they make their way through the streets thronged with people from all walks of life, he feels an inherent need to keep them away from the world, away from the two of them. His first mistake during the fall of Khaenri’ah is, after all, letting his guard down. (Name) looks uncomfortable in his arms, but he takes no notice.
If saving them is a sin, he would gladly become a sinner.
——————————————————————————
“Caught you.”
This is the seventh time that (Name) has tried to escape, and, failed. But today will be different. Today, they take a stand.
Dainsleif’s eyes widen. Years of enmity have persisted between them, but never, not once, have they’ve drawn their blade. (Name)’s sword reflects their eyes, burning in contrast to Dainsleif’s somber ones.
“Leave,” they say softly, “I don’t want to fight you.”
To (Name)’s annoyance, Dainsleif appears indifferent. They thought it would’ve provoked a much more... mawkish reaction. Almost as if, (Name) thinks, as their heart drops to their stomach, he expected it.
(Name) has lost. They’ve lost the moment they’ve set foot outside the threshold of the house, when they’ve expected a modicum of success in a fight against him. They never see it coming. A blur of blue, and they’re thrown onto the ground. Dainsleif’s fingers wound around their wrists, body heavy against theirs, pinning them firmly under himself.
“Don’t struggle.” Dainsleif says, nonchalant as if this were any other day. “It’ll make things easier for the both of us.”
“Why do you do this to me?” A sob wrenches itself out of (Name). Something finally snaps in them, the very last of their sanity gone. “What did I ever do to you?”
Dainsleif is unrelenting against their struggling body, but there is a brief moment of sorrow, a crack in his cold demeanor.
“I need you,” he starts. (Name)’s heard these words hundreds, thousands of time, always in a conciliating tone. Every time, they seem hollow and meaningless.
What of my needs?
“I’m doing all of this, for us. For you.”
I never asked for any of this.
“We can stay together like how it is right now. I’ll treat you well, (Name), I promise.”
I can’t do this anymore.
“We can go out together on weekends, and you can pick whichever place you want to go. Just, please, don’t run away from me.”
I want my life back.
“I’ll protect you.”
I don’t need your protection.
I just need you to love me.
Worlds crash at the last thought.
(Name) loves Dainsleif.
It dawns on them, slowly and ominously. The love was consequential from Dainsleif’s cruel actions, of his persistence in keeping them with him.
It’s not normal. The love between them is twisted, warped, but they accept it. It is fate, after all.
(Name) stops struggling against Dainsleif. As if understanding their thoughts, he buries his head into the crook of their neck, his hair tickling against their ear. A symbol of requited love, culminating over the years.
“Stay,” he says.
Obedient as a shadow, they do.
——————————————————————————
guys i know there’s obvious references to honkai and maybe some other stuff but dont mind them LMAO
#yandere x reader#genshin yandere#dainsleif x y/n#yandere dainsleif#yandere genshin impact#eves works
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homestuck reread #7: a5a2 part 3
this is so fucked up.
but hey check it out. vriska went goat mode
okayyy merry christmas and happy new year to everyone reading. never too late for a happy new year
look at roseee shes serving so hard rn. but unfortunately she is talking to doc scratch. which is something one should never do. especially if one is a light player he really loves to torment light players for some reason
look at how cool jade looks here i would wear the shit out of this outfit if it wasnt approx. 1 trillion degrees in my location. keep slaying girl
what a thing to say. i know what he is talking about and yet i still barely understood what he meant
yeah WHATEVER . most important character my ass. we dont care . booooo. boo
why is jade sprite so sad shes being such a cry baby. honestly normal jade is based for this. jade sprite is just crying and crying for NO REASON. what is even the problem!!!!!
very fucking interesting indeed.... what a funny thing to say. that is VERY FUCKING interesting......
woah he looks so cool i love art i love images. also he looks like has the windows logo on his face... sponsored? hello?
okay so i guess the mayor is having a bad dream. this is pretty scary man... i wonder if its like the ring that he has affecting him in some way. i dont know what it means....
oh? vriska is here now
dawwww shes so EEPY!!! that being said, the next page is [s] wake, and i really fucking hate this one. so im NOT EXCITED.
ARADIA!!!! SHE DID IT!!!! im so happy for her and nothing else happens in this animation so i might as well not watch the rest of it
:(
sigh. man this sucks
look at jade go. she looks so awesome! like a super hero. iron man. tony stark . stucky. i could do this all day . blargh
ok so now im playing another game thing. kanaya and jade just had a conversation about how they have the same role in the two different sessions and how theyre more similar than they thought. also theres some future jade present karkat past jade password shenanigans going on. i loooove when time travel makes no sense and is super confusing. that isnt sarcasm btw. and that wasnt either. also, they updated the sprites in this one so they look way better and sweeeeeeeet. that was 8 e's btw. she isnt even here to appreciate my efforts.....
this is like scott pilgrim to me. theyre about to go at it!!!! who you guys got money on? me personally i bet sollux 3-0s him and doesnt lose a stock
easter egg
anyway yeah guys i was just kidding sollux was no match for eridans insane hope powers. really wasnt even fair to begin with
yeah and now eridan snaps and becomes an incel. sadge. why do people even like this guy?? WHATEVER HES MID HOPE HE DIES SOON RIP BOZO
my honest reaction to eridan to only knocking out the guy he had an actual problem with, but killing two women who he liked and respected
on top of that, gamzee has officially lost it. MAN EVERYTHING IS FUCKING SPIRALING MAN TAVROS IS DEAD KANAYAS DEAD FEFERIS DEAD SOLLUX IS KO'D GAMZEES CRAZY. surely nothing else goes wrong
yeah
karkat....:(
oh.....hey john....nice to see you..... maybe you can lift my mood a little...
STOP CALLING WOMEN CRAZY. even if this one might be a little crazy .. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT
ALALALALLALAAL thats what vriska looks like shes saying. do you see it i see it personally
man now i gotta be equius in this game. lets see how this goes...
SHES SO REAL I LOVE HER. nothing bad will ever happen to her
okay well i reached the end of the game and also the image limit for this post. so ill continue this next time. but i just gotta say
that it was actually pretty good. like go figure the equius one was pretty engaging. equius is very protective of nepeta and it was very sad when he was like "let me take this chance to say goodbye" and nepeta was like "um okay but i will see you soon." like. yeah i guess you will.... :(
i actually liked both of them in this one isolated game . sad for whats gonna happen in the coming pages
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Ya know sometimes I have too much to say about some pic, that it would be too awkward to write in the post or tags. So yeah maybe I should do some posts afterwards eh?
Yeah want to write about the last pic because it has a funny story actually. So basically everything started when YouTube randomly showed me in recommendations MM’s Personal Jesus clip, I opened it and yeaah, it’s been on repeat for a few days. And of course I’ve had something in thoughts while listening, and it was my old mans. I remembered how rich their religious experiences and how differently they see all that. But in the end Domek may use his priest charisma to talk Caligura into regular praying and all that haha.
So yeah I was thinking about it as a pov Caligura actually, I wanted to make composition with them both at the start even but ummm, uhhh. I mean the song is obviously not religious, it’s more intimate and even sexual maybe, and yeaaah, I don’t want to do anything that feels too intimate with them, so I done it in more humble way haha.
Actually really love the idea of them too doing some praying together, it’s so wholesome….With the context of their stories of course, without it that may be weird I guess haha. Well whatever, not sure that I’m gonna to post any too religious pics with them anyway. Not in that part of the internet at least lol.
Oh and also trying to find the good font in the ibis was a fucking nightmare. I found cool Gothic one, adorable doll or something like that, but they didn’t have the symbols!! So I used less cooler one, sadge ):
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tired but i'll do a bit of this (will be a bit rambly:D)
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
24,, wow not bad
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
165.5k wow thats a lot,, most of it comes from one tho; everything else are shortfics
3. What fandoms do you write for?
DSMP and ive just started a bit of genshin at the behest of my Tartaglia-obsessed irl and he's kinda cool but like for 95% of my other fics its all cdream ahahahhh(dies)
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
"Consequences" tops the charts obviously bc its my one and only longfic and it was written during the peak of dsmp and man id link it bc i love my storyline (cdream obviously gets messed up in prison but then gets a healing arc) there but at the same time i feel like the writing had too many grammar mistakes and could be better so nahh
"North Star to Freedom" is one im actually really proud of, like obviously the writing could be better bc ive improved, but i just like it and id deffo rewrite it too if i had time or steal it into an original fic (premise is that cdream escapes prison with the rebibe book and oh lord my lingo anyways (spoilers) he dies and he gives techno book)
"Persevere" is third, wow that's a long time ago, its alright, i like it in general, but it feels almost cheesy. idk. i like it, but i dont like it. its not mixed feelings, but eh. anyways, something about cdream getting captured by the egg which is about to take over the world but he sacrifices himself to cleanse it. the most acute thing i rember about it is that its a 3parter
"Coup de Grace" ok wth i didnt expect this to be on there it was a small little cdream suffering in prison and cphil comes over, sees him in pain, and cough relieves him of it, and i dont like the writing in a specific part of it, but i like it in some other parts, so eh
"turn the claret tides" whoops i forgot what this one was about ok i glanced through the doc its ctechno getting cdream out of prison wow that title was really vague but he gets the letter and things went on.. it was inspired by another fic and happened during the hype of the prison arc which is kinda cool
(man im looking at the amount of fics i want to rewrite but it aint happening sadge)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Sometimes, most of the times nowadays, if it particularly made my day or it has something deep and insightful or literally makes any observation on my fic. sometimes im just too tired to answer,, maybe laziness is a part of it too, but i stare and its like,, i cant generate a response . but nowadays, i do it most of the times bc i appreciate my commenters :D
6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
my recent fics mostly have happy endings, but all my pre-like, mid 2023 fics were all sad sad sad. they all ended in cdream dying, one way or the other. so idk which ones the saddest now its been too long,, the one i personally think is the saddest is one that i like, was listening to sad music to, the song being 'sociopath,' an orchestral piece (or was it piano?)
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
consequences
8. Do you get hate on your fic?
once on consequences bc that was max cdream apologists vs inniters era
9. Do you write smut?
nop never ever ever
10. Do you write crossovers?
dream + tartaglia is one i wrote in fudging october that i am still trying to find time to continue
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
prob not, if there is, then i wouldnt know of it
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
nope, if there was, i also dont know of it
13. Have you ever co-written a fic?
wow thats crazy that i havent, but idk, teamwork and coordination just go meh when i only share my interests with online people
14. What‘s your all-time favorite ship?
idk i dont do ships but my fav friendship is dream + techno or dream + punz
15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
all my chapter continuations except the tartaglia + dream one i Need to finish that. but also the palace of stone idea will Never Ever get written
16. What’s your writing strengths?
descriptions idk they go lengthy but ive practiced with them a lot so ive gotten kinda good
17. What’s your writing weaknesses?
dialogue, pacing, idk literally everything, i can prob improve on anything and every aspect of my writing rn, and i just need to practice more
19. First fandom you wrote for?
DSMP lmao
20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?
consequences i love the storyline + ending of that one even if the writing couldve been better
uhh tagging? idk if theres anyone that doesnt overlap wiht people whove been tagged b4 les see: @milktearosethorn , @victoriacoffee , ,, oh theres only two ok well, have fun if u decide to do this!
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[Magi rewatch] Episode 4: The People of the Plains [Part 1]
Alrite, let's get it over with. And, yeah, you can proobably tell that I'm not that excited about this arc, and, honestly, both the Kouga Arc and the Morgiana Arc are just... well, I don't really care about them. Don't get me wrong, they're both good arcs, Morgiana Arc especially, but they just. Well, they don't do it for me. Again, nothing to do with quality, just preference.
Another downside is that I slightly shot myself in the foot with that rewatch, because it kinda drags, ngl. But at the same time, I'm looking forward to rewatching the Magnostadt Arc, so imma be strong and not skip anything. "Do it for her" meme, except it's me and Kukulcan. Imma do it for my lovely snek and I remember that he had silly faces in the anime. At least I hope I remember well. But, eh, I like rewatching the Magnostadt Arc in general, so I'm losing nothing, and I can still make fun of the art quality which kinda scores a downgrade idk.
Alright, alright, I'm shutting up, let's get to the actual episode.
Sadge.
Love the low bg quality, but anyway, my girl Elizabeth is here :>
Ok, so, something that makes it pretty darn different - here it's said Alibaba's stayed in Qishan for three days, while in the manga Alibaba stays for three days... and then 3 weeks, I believe. That's a pretty big difference.
They look kinda funny here.
Ok, I kinda ended up checking Morgiana's VA, bc it reminded me of somebody, but also, the same VA apparently voiced a character from Zettai Karen Children, which is one of these kinda niche series that I have a sentiment for. Btw Zettai Karen Children: UNLIMITED opening (Last Resolution) is fukcing fire. Also, damn, the ZKC anime aired in 2008, how tf did I find it years later.
BACK TO MAGI
Ok, that's also an interesting difference. In the manga, Alibaba says that he freed everybody etc, because this is what Aladdin would have wanted. At some point after freeing Garda he also tells Toto that he did if because he [Cassim] would've done that, and I'm kinda reading it all as him not yet coming to terms with his own desires, and, yeah, Alibaba does struggle with that a bit, something that Hakuryuu kinda points out. I'm reading it that way because 1) I simply prefer to, 2) I kinda don't think Cassim would've cared that much about Garda. Like, maybe? But idk, it doesn't seem right... Anyway. Back to the topic. Here Alibaba tells Morgiana that it's because he felt that it was something he had to do. So, no deflection, he did what he thought was right. Welp, anime!Alibaba got to show more of insecurity in the Dungeon Arc, while manga!Alibaba here.
Aaaand Morgiana's reaction to finding out that Alibaba'd left was skipped completely. Darn. Kinda a shame. I feel like that moment sets up the fact that Morgiana joins Aladdin to find Alibaba, at least a little bit. That, and later there's a moment in the Balbadd Arc where Morgiana recalls that moment after Alibaba's said something similar, and connects the dots. But oh well.
Aladdin looked much angrier in the manga.
It's supposed to be imposing, but damn, it looks kinda off, and as a result really funny. Like, maybe it's the perspective, but isn't his head, like, kinda small? Idk, man.
I'm just. Listen, I'm trying to be serious, but it reminds me about these Friendship is Manly MLP animations, and I just can't.
Ok, now he's angry.
Baba! And Aladdin's future staff! That will break! Whoops!
Oh, look, the magi lore funky wallrug
Ok, in the manga, Toya was here earlier, and it was Aladdin who'd told Baba that he can see Rukh, too, but here she's the one to just know that he does. Here, though, we jump straight into the lore.
This looks hilarious here, but also, it probably was on purpose, as a form of subtle foreshadowingTM. But anyway. Magi: expectation vs reality.
This entire animation of Rukh flying here is fucking gorgeous. I've told you I'm a corvid.
Ok, but I feel like overall in the anime adaptation Aladdin's lost a bit of his agency, y'know? First in the Dungeon, to Alibaba, and here, too, he seems even more passive than he actually is.
Toya! Definitely gives off a more depressed vibe than in the manga. On the flipside, very nice voice.
Damn, there sure was a lot of effort put in here.
Aww, we didn't get the best fucking wingmen in the series : (
Aww, the "whatever your name is spelled as this time" looks kinda ni-
(honking laughter noises)
Ok, in the manga it was obvious D-guy had a huge crush on Toya, while her feelings were more ambiguous, but here it's Toya who seems to be crushing more.
First of all, lmao, and second of all, I am about to reach the pic limit bc of this image alone.
(more honks)
clueless, and the goddamn horse not getting paid enough for this bs
And last but not least
The boy.
That being said, in the anime he brings out Ugo just like that, completely unprompted, while in the manga he wanted Ugo to thank them for saving him, too, F.
Fambily.
Honestly, I feel like I gotta tone it down with pointing out the differences. I'd just never shut up. So unless I consider something important or interesting, imma drop it.
Aladdin's in much more hurry to return to Qishan in the manga.
Say what you will, but Aladdin and Alibaba's friendship comes off as far stronger than there, even if it already was pretty darn strong.
Oh, so now it's- Actually, I'm having second thoughts. Is is it a crescent or full moon. Whatever. It's pretty.
Ok, I seem to be pretty close to the photo limit.
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tbh I'm always interested in whatever headcanons you have for anything ever because they're always pretty interesting, anything in particular you want to bring up? Go for it!
thats really kind of you to say 🥺 thank u izzy....
ive been thinking about the Blue Thing 🔵 recently...funneled some of my energy into doodles so i could try to refine what i want to talk about uwa
im actually not sure how much of his deal is possible to gleam from just me being strange the past couple of weeks but for awesome primer bc i love talking about things. sugary spire is a swap au and upcoming fangame for pizza tower starring pizzelle, a nervous, married, and transgender pastry chef at the end of her rope, and "the" pizzano, a baking show host and tv network owner/personality who
uh
well i think this^ is a good enough explanation.
there is no way this man isnt autistic. anyways i like to think he stims by biting his hand like normal peppino does in his idles, but a lot of actual damage is held back by the fact that he wears his gloves all the time. theyre probably made out of some kind of rubbery material (at least on the outside), either purposefully or coincidentally nice to chew. he mostly does this when hes alone or at least off camera; its a whole "image" thing that honestly irritates him.
same with singing! singing is one of his big passions in my eyes (if we get to treat the weird website song hunt arg as canon, i would like to use that as proof that he loves music; enough to get fiercely paranoid about it, even), which fits bc i like. absorbed the headcanon that peppino has a special interest in dance music/mostly eurodance specifically and loves dancing (hence his schmoovement). pizzano has strong opera pipes and loves to sing while he works but he has the lungpower of a boeing plane engine and the projection ability of a car alarm and hence doesnt get to hit his full stride on the air often. he wants to get involved with opera production but they probably think hes too silly or bad for the image. sadge .(
i think ive said a little bit on the subject of pizzanos Accoutrements in the past. i dont think he takes them off. its beneficial for the network presence! its marketable! it covers up very vulnerable and/or identifiable parts of him. despite The Fire being completely nuked from canon i still hc him as going through some kind of fucked up physical trauma event (i still say a fire, just not that one, dont really have a specific idea) so hes got prominent scarring on his face and hands. even besides the Unspecified Cluster B Paranoia he doesnt like the idea of anyone catching his scars on camera. sometimes hell just hole himself up in his room for days because hes freaked out.
he cries easy and switches moods on a dime and is generally kind of someone that should have more concern thrown his way but most of this is covered up by the fact that hes relatively expected to be Wacky and Violent and Loves Incendiary Weaponry!! hes 100% unmedicated because he doesnt like the way any of his pills have tasted for the things hes bothered to get diagnosed (ptsd, adhd) and is a little freaked out of doctors outside of like, first aid medics
thank you for letting me talk about my guy 🥺
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Gonna talk about the five love languages in regards to Joel and Ellie, and examples of them in the games bc im profusely down bad.
So, we got…
• Words of affirmation. First one that came to mind was in Bill’s town in the optional dialogue before the pickup truck and fighting the infected in the street section. “You’re doing a good job. Figured you should know that.” That’s the first time we hear him express anything like to her in their journey thus far. And the “she did hold her own back there.” Once they’re out and he talks to Bill. It’s not directly to her, but I’ll count it. Though, I don’t think there’s too many because their relationship isn’t super verbal in communicating appreciation? The appreciation is clearly there, but for them to express it directly to each other isn’t too common, but the times it’s there, it’s always special. The times Joel has needed to say “thank you”, but because he’s a dumb old man and can’t just outright say it and has to say “it was either him or me” instead counts, too. Maybe not affirming, necessarily, but a word of thanks, which can go a long way.
• Acts of service. Their whole relationship, if we’re being honest. I think they serve each other by protecting and taking care of each othe r. For the most part, it’s Joel’s fatherly instincts that are there, not wanting her to get hurt. But, what I think goes hand-in-hand with that is his heart in general, especially as their relationship grows. He does it because he wants to. He takes care of her because he wants to. And Ellie doing the same, especially during winter. She gave him everything. All the warmth and majority of food while he was out. She needed him, maybe, but she cares about him. She willingly endured what little food, sleeping on a cold basement floor with no warmth, and fearing what could happen out there alone all for Joel. (I’m not mentioning his end of game decision because I don’t think it necessarily falls under the acts of service definition <3)
• Gift giving. A precious one. The biggest one, obviously, is the tape recording of the space launch in the museum flashback in TLOU2. The amount of time and effort that Joel put in to not only the tape, but that whole trip. Scoping out the entire museum and surrounding area (with the exception of the second building) to make sure it was safe for Ellie, finding the museum in the first place, finding the recording and making sure it still worked, and setting aside a few days for them to get out of Jackson for the trip. Him giving her the guitar is the other big one, of course. Giving her that specific guitar to have and practice on and cleaning it up just for her. Plus, him loving guitar and music as much as he does makes it even better that he’s teaching what he loves so dearly to someone he loves so dearly. And a small one is finding the comics while playing as Joel in TLOU1. It’s gameplay only, but the notion of him picking them up and doing his whole “Ellie! Found another one of them comics you’ve been reading” is very cute.
• Quality time. Sure, they’ve had plenty of quality time the entire year they were on the road together, but I think what sticks out the most is them playing guitar together. We don’t get any scenes of it (sadge :/), but we know they spent a lot of time on it for her to learn as much as she did from him. For her to learn Future Days, Take on Me, and like two or three other songs from what she plays in game means they spent a decent amount of time together. Late night jam sessions on his porch or out in the town. Maybe even in his house on the couch or at the dinner table. Another point for quality time is their movie nights. We know they watched a good amount together (Jurassic Park, a number of cheesy 80s action films that we know both Ellie AND joel like, based on her dialogue with Dina). And we also know that Joel was reading a “idiot’s guide to space(?)” book, hoping that he’d get to have some more time with her to talk about it and bond over something he knew she loved so much.
• Physical touch. Oh look, my favorite to talk about. As much as I have this head canon that they hugged before winter for some reason or another, I also like thinking that that was their first one. Joel taking a moment, despite them being in a burning building and definitely inhaling plenty of smoke, to pull her away and hold her to calm her down and comfort her. Something he definitely missed doing and probably thought he forgot how to do, but it came back like muscle memory. And I like to think that, after that, it was easier. Maybe she slept closer to him on the harder nights out there. Maybe she did bunk with him when they were newcomers in Jackson and she had a nightmare and didn’t want to be alone (maybe this is from reading too many fics of them 😶). Also,, him kissing her head when he found her at Saint Mary’s :’)
Mmm hope this made sense bc I was literally shaking wanting to write this. Dropping this ten minutes before the ep drops, cant wait to lose my mind
#don’t ship them. I’ll bite your fingers off.#can u tell I love their love#is it obvious#im normal i swear#the last of us#the last of us hbo#joel miller#ellie williams
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(FGO) What went wrong with Scheherazade
As people who have played FGO and Agartha have repeatedly complained, one of the characters that a lot of them tend to say was done wrong is Scheherazade. She was the Framing Device for A Thousand Nights, as a woman who was to be married to a cruel king and was used to tell 1000 stories that all ended on cliffhangers so that she could survive, but also spare the lives of future women since the king killed any that he married because of in-universe reasons.
Now because of such she’s normally seen as a pretty badass lady, who wins through guile and wit to beat the king/sultan that she was married to.
In FGO however, as a Servant (And implied slightly with her CE) she’s traumatised by the event of her life and now constantly fears death and is downright nuerotic about it. With an even further implication that in Fate she wasn’t spared and was actually killed after 1000 nights. It’s in her Bond Info if you want to check.
Now this is where people don’t like Schez, and in a way I can agree. However, I personally think that this is a neat change, simply because we get another Servant who’s life in the Throne of Heroes is fucked up because they became a Servant. Being summoned as one causing her to potentially face the very thing she spent her whole life trying to avoid, dying by a cruel king (Especially when you consider that most Mages in Nasuvers are ruthless pyschos). It’s a neat narrative way of showing that the Throne of Heroes and the Shadows of Humaniy inside them are still people/
So far as I can tell, the closest we get to Schez is Spartacus, and we’ll get to him later.
Now the main issue that I think comes from Schez isn’t just that now as a Servant she’s afraid of death. I think the main issue is that the made that fear a part of her comedy instead of her character and serious moments.
In Fate there are characters that often have funny haha moments with the bullshit that they went through in their lives.
Lancelot’s whole cheating thing, while people are somewhat sick of it, is treated as a funny sort of gag that people egg him on about. As such is Diarmuid’s own affair with Fion’s wife. Both of these are somewhat serious events, but the characters and the stories themselves try not to put too much weight on them so that when the joke happens it’s not completely jarring.
Compare and contrast that to Lancelot feeling like a traitorous asshole and Diarmuid’s genuine shame at non-intentionally betraying the trust of Fion, even though the events above are linked the feeling of this is treated as it’s own thing and further more are given much more weight. As such they don’t joke about it.
(Moriarty’s scene in Las Vegas with Lancelot is a good example of such a thing)
Now Schez is afraid of death, as one should be, but instead of that being a very strong or powerful part of her motivation as a Servant or a character, it ends up as a gag instead of actually something serious. The only time when it was serious, was when at the end of Agartha when she listed off how horrible it would be to continually live and die as a Servant, and even then it’s hard to take it seriously when they joke about it so much before hand.
Now could they still have make jokes about it? Well sure, look at Vlad III and how sometimes the story pokes fun at his desire to not be remembered as Dracula. But even then, especially in his Interlude, the make it so that it’s moments of levity amongst a serious topic that he’s talking about rather than it being the but of the joke.
Instead of:
“Haha Vlad doesn’t want to be Dracula.”
It’s:
“Vlad is so serious about not wanting to be seen as Dracula, haha look at some of the things he did because of it.”
The motivation is not mocked, but the actions taken are made somewhat humorous.
Now I brought up Spartacus before, and I think that he’s a good example of this happening much sooner. He was a gladiator slave that lead a rather famous revolt, but eventually died betrayed by the pirates that he hired to get away sadge.
But as a result he was considered a Hero and could be summoned. BUT, the best thing about him is that he’s so afraid of being summoned by a Cruel Master that would be the same that treated him like a slave, that he would rather be summoned as a Berserker with zero-to-none mental capacity just because he hates the chance of being a slave again. He would rather be rememebered as this flailing madman, instead of the charismatic hero leading the slaves that he freed. The Throne of Heroes absolutely fucks him up, and he does all he can to counter such events.
In Apocrypha Spartacus was nothing as a character, he shouted about Oppressors but did nothing about the Humonculus that was breed and made to serve the black team, had no words properly with Amakusa who was a famously persecuted Christian in Japan, and died before he could run into what Avicebron did to his loyal student/follower.
His whole thing, while given a serious backstory, was not used at all and just seemed like he was there to be a raging object or obstacle. Not of his motives were really talked about, besides the barest of hints, and his ‘Death to Oppressors’ just seemed like things that were slapped on, rather than an actual character.
This was made worse in FGO when most of the time it’s used as a Joke. Spartacus would scream Oppressors at nothing, he would say it to nonsensical things and would come off as an idiot rather than anything else. It causes it to become:
“Haha Spartacus hates Oppressors.”
And it’s why Lostbelt 3 is where he managed to shine, because of the fact that LB3 actually looked at the motives of Spartacus and wrote a character with motivation. To stop not only oppression, but to help the little guys that would need it. He has an actual conversation about his thought process with the civilians, with Chaldea, with Goredolf. He gives a full on reason that is understandable, to him at least, about how and why he can defect. And when he’s faced with the largest form of oppression given.
And best of all he backs up his words by going against the big man (Qin Shi Huang) even sacrificing his ‘Not being treated as a Servant’ Rule because he wants to protect not only you but the people in the village. This is the guy, who if the material is to be believed, would take TWO Command Seals to just stop him from running. And he’d probably get his movement back to just decapitate you on the spot the moment you enter in his range.
Again there are moments of levity, but they come from his Berserker status as oppose to just his reasons. It becomes:
“Spartacus really hates Oppressors, haha look at some of the things he does.”
It’s why instead of him leading the village towards the Lostbelt Chinese army feels less like a joke, but more of a serious moment that he went to because of his motives.
Scheherazade doesn’t have that. Besides Agartha, her fear of death is played as a joke all of the time, and that kills what mights be a fun part of her character and how that explore how she and others might feel about it.
But as it stands now, instead of:
“Scheherazade really hates dying, haha here’s some of the things she said/done to avoid it.”
Right now, Schez is:
“Haha, Scheherazade is afraid of dying.”
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So what is Shade Like? How would you picture them getting together?
by jove being asked about my sonic shipping opinions is the best thing that has happened to me all year. Yippee!!
some context on the sonic chronicles story: the knuckles clan (tikal's tribe from sa1) was at war with the nocturnus clan, which was another more technologically advanced echidna tribe that wanted to Do A Conquest or something along those lines. i think sonic chronicles implies that's the reason for the flashback events of sa1. so the knuckles clan is wiped out by chaos, and shortly afterward the nocturnus clan is thrown into interdimensional space jail (?) by an interdimensional space god (?) and they use the alien technology there to get even more technologically advanced. they manage to find a way back to mobius, but time in the interdimensional space jail flows differently, so though they were only in there for some nebulous few years, 4,000+ years passed in the regular world. it's stupid and it's awesome. i haven't played this game in many years so i had to skim the wiki page for a refresher lol
shade is part of the nocturnus clan, she's like an assassin type warrior lady that works as the big bad's blindly devoted right hand man for the first half of the game, then gets betrayed and swaps sides to join the good guys. she's pretty much what you would expect for that kind of archetype, but since it's one of my favorites (ESPECIALLY when done with female characters <3 women's wrongs etc etc) i like her a lot even if the rest of the game isn't very good. because of the ken penders lawsuit (apparently this game riffs pretty hard on some concepts from the archie comics, but i haven't read those so iunno) none of this is canon anymore and we will never see shade ever again. sadge. (apparently ken penders thinks he owns her now and is making her into nfts. this is the worst timeline)
SO my reasoning for being #1 tikade crusader: technically shade and tikal were born/alive at the same time and it's very likely that at least shade knew of tikal, since she's the daughter of the chief of the clan they're currently at war with. it's got some real good romeo & juliet spice to it. i think the contrasts between their characters (calculating warrior on the cusp of turning into a living weapon vs peaceful pacifist who just wants to live in harmony) is sauurrrr good. narrative foils and all that. and the inherent tragedy of it too!! knowing that tikal is going to seal herself in the master emerald!! and shade is going to slip away thousands of years into the future!! no matter what it'll always end the same way!!
many many years ago i had this fanfic concept in my head where shade is sent to assassinate/kidnap tikal for political reasons, but tikal manages to talk her out of it and the two of them bond and begin to meet in secret, and their romance blossoms from there. this is pretty much still the definitive "how it would happen" scenario for me. i like to think their relationship would help them work through the uncertainty in both of their lives and situations and give them a new perspective on what they want for themselves and what they want their futures to be like. it'd be cute if their attitudes influenced each other, like shade deciding she wants to abandon her life of violence and run away with tikal, while tikal decides she wants to stay and fight (figuratively anyway) their circumstances so they can be together.
once the whole thing with perfect chaos goes down, i don't think shade would've been present so she wouldn't know what tikal had done and where she is, and only thinks she died along with everyone else, which is SUCH good drama. i like to think the grief of losing the woman she loved would've caused shade to regress and further entrenched her into the person she is during sonic chronicles, unflinchingly loyal to ix and the nocturne clan, and she would've tried to forget about her time with tikal and just focus on her mission. yum
i still really like this concept.... i'm not good at writing fic but maybe i'll try to do a little comic about it someday. this is all like 2 steps removed from canon in my brain and i need everyone to see them the way that i do because there's so much potential here...... but ya that's why i like tikade
(hey so while writing this i read through tikal's wiki page and apparently she's ALIVE now?? at the end of sa1?? which is funny because all this time i thought she straight up died. like after she reunited wwith chaos her spirit was at rest or some shit. but that's kinda awesome because at the end of sonic chronicles shade is also back on mobius so they could have a reunion, LOVE WINS!!!!)
thank you for reading my post :)
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