#questions for which the answer presumably was: because she looks badass but i need More than that! I need Answers! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyhereforangst · 3 years

Text

WWR

i mean i only had three weeks to get it done so naturally i’m finishing it three days before the next ep airs, would you expect anything less?

Ok we start off hot with a subtly jealous Nick scene and I love it. Ellie is like stunned that such a thing even exists “a covid crush” because lets be honest, she probably has no eyes for anyone else at this point - even if it’s been a YEAR (well 10ish months) a whole ass YEAR since the jail cell scene and can I just tell you I am mad about that. Why they do us dirty and skip a whole dang year?? Why can’t we quick flash forward every couple of months?? I mean I know it has felt like an entire year has gone by in a week, RIP 2020 no one will miss you, but like I wanted to see it 😩 and I better get at least some kind of explanation for whatever the F has gone down between these two from “well what are we gonna to about that as we stand 5 inches apart” to now. I demand this explanation.

Anyways, back on track here - Nick is jealllllllous BUT different kind of jealous for this man because for once he’s not all dark and broody about it. He’s over here willingly, *willingly* bringing up said jealousy aaaand he’s smiling about it (!!!) because despite them still not being together (where’s the Gibbs’ headslap when you actually need it amiright) he’s not worried about this crush. He knows her feelings and his so it’s like yeah I’m a little jealous but also I’m gooood, I got this one in the bag 😏 (also can I just say I need Ellie to show him he does not in fact ‘have this in the bag’ if he’s gonna act like a little shit and push her away).

This whole thing about babysitting and not wanting to take care of other living beings is very very very interesting considering they both loved taking care of Charlie (Cody, I blame this on pregnancy brain thank you @thekeyboardninja) in the end AND EVEN TALKED ABOUT PARENTING EVENTUALLY. So like, where did we backtrack??? Excuse me who allowed you to do such things. I’m feeling like they likely backtracked (this was s16 after all) because once again, the dust settled after their super close vulnerable moment and they went and hid behind those stupid walls they both have and somehow convinced themselves that being alone was better for them. IT’S A LIE YALL IT’S A LIE. You being together and taking care of each other is exactly what you need and it’ll be perfect and amazing and just DO IT ALREADY 😭

The team moment with Jimmy is so 🥺 and throughout the episode. I’m not going to touch on that stuff much because this is ellick focused but also because I truly do not need to sob again (even if I called Breena dying from covid like months ago and knew exactly what was coming with all of it but you know, I still cry, it’s fine, I’m fine).

Ellie knowing Gibbs uses a weighted blanket and Nick doubting her is just comical to me 😂 mini side note before we get into how they have a thiiiiiing and it’s called always getting dibs on the elevator in tandem for months and McGee HOW CAN YOU NOT TELL. These two are so in sync even if they are still spectacularly failing at talking this out & taking that next step. Also months of Gibbs riding down the elevator with just those two…….the third wheeling must be slowly killing the old dude, give him a break you two.

Tell me why these two have the exact same stance in the bullpen- could you be more obvious?? You rubbing off on each other. And then the walking up to the barbershop scene I caaaan’t. Ellie is SO flirty. Like so flirty. Who is this new Ellie and why do I love her so much. But Nick gives it right back too and her little giggle with shoulder shrug is just perfect. She’s fiiiiinally letting herself *feel* more and let it be out in the open and it’s just so great. I love seeing this character development for her 🥺 walls coming down, being more forward with her flirting and feelings and it’s all I’ve ever needed. Also we’re gonna take a small detour into Nick’s pants I mean the notebook he casually stashes in the front of his jeans like it doesn’t make a person look RIGHT. THERE. Don’t ask me why it’s hot, I don’t know the answers to the universe, it just is. We knoooooow Ellie is loving it’s location there, she wouldn’t mind flirtatiously taking it out at the next stop to “check” where they needed to go. You know, just helping a partner out- don’t worry Nick she’s got it handled 😏😏🔥🔥 Ok back from our detour, when Nick asks if she’s got him and she answers so quickly and almost with the undercurrent of “of course I do how is that even a question I’ll protect you until the day I die” (yes this is what she says), I love.

Ok since when does Nick like puzzles and how does Ellie know this??? He was most certainly NOT a puzzle kind of guy when he first joined the team so are you telling me that maybe Ellie and her nerdiness (come on there’s no way she doesn’t love puzzles) got Nick into puzzles??? Also also also does everyone remember that time in covid lockdown where literally everyone and their mother did five thousand puzzles because we couldn’t leave our houses? Soooooo is this a nod to Ellie & Nick spending some time together doing puzzles (at presumably Ellie’s apartment because she’d be the one to have said puzzles) and turns out Nick loves them even more than she did???? Is this what you’re making me read in between the lines NCIS? Because I am most certainly ok with this.

Ooooooooh-kay this 8pm thing for Nick. SO many possibilities. It’s been confirmed it wasn’t Ellie (which I won’t lie was my immediate wish) via Steven Binder on twitter (which I also won’t lie, my angst heart loves it’s something else). My take is it’s something (not another girl though) personal- I would *love* if it was therapy or some type of personal development thing. I think he realizes over the past year he has involuntarily retreated emotionally from Ellie even if outwardly it doesn’t show (no personal space and continued flirting). I think he *knows* he’s doing it emotionally and yet can’t figure out how to stop himself from doing it- like on the outside of his body watching him make a dumb mistake but unable to change a damn thing. SO I feel like whatever this 8pm thing is will play into that. It’ll somehow be related to Nick diving deeper into himself and trying to get more in touch with the parts of himself he loves to ignore/hide/push down. That could be therapy, a self-help class, getting in touch with family (but I don’t think he would feel the need to get secretive about this. i mean he already brought up Lucia to this dude, why would he all of a sudden be ashamed of a dinner/meeting with his mom or dad or something? i just don’t buy that). But anyways back to the point- it’s something Nick feels the need to hide in shame because that’s how he’s been conditioned as an undercover agent who feels the need to be tough and strong for everyone and being vulnerable is WAY too scary (helloooooo enneagram 8 nice to meet you I’m also an enneagram 8 Nick isn’t it fun).

I don’t know why them talking so casually on the phone, while Nick is getting ready for the day no less is so damn pleasing to me. The simple domesticity of it all because it’s totally something one would do with their spouse is just 🥰🥰 And then their little freaking smiles can THEY NOT. Ellie you like glazed donuts?? Is this some kind of hint? Innuendo? Just a glaringly obvious chance to flirt and you don’t give a rat’s ass you’re in the middle of the bullpen with Gibbs’ listening to your conversation so you’ll take that chance anyways because you’re head over heels for this guy? Either way Nick’s little smirk oof. I think he takes it as all three of those things and he’s *perfectly* ok with it. UNTIL until, there’s always an until with you Nicholas god damn. Ellie nervously asking about NIck’s apartment 🥺 she may be head over heels but she’s still a little shy and unsure. She thought that jail cell moment would break things through for them and yet she’s- not to quote Taylor swift or anything because why on earth would I do that- right where you left her. WHY NICHOLAS WHY. Since we know Ellie has seen and is very familiar with the inner workings of Nick’s apartment come 16x10, I presume he moved, and it sounds like recently. From the looks of this new place it’s niiiiice. For someone who doesn’t like a lot of things (see s14 when he joins team I don’t remember the exact ep sorry) - he sure managed to settle into that apartment quite nicely. It’s furnished well, it’s homey for DC. And if he’s moved into it since after the jail cell, letting Ellie in is likely a big step in his eyes. But we know this has got to be a weird shift for Ellie. Seemingly so comfortable in each others’ spaces and now she hasn’t even been invited over?? Yeah you smell something fishy girl just like I do. Even if Nick has a cute ass smirk at the end of his little charade to hang up the phone. Wipe that smirk off your face sir you owe us I mean Ellie an explanation and a visit to your apartment. SHE WANTS TO BE YOUR HOUSEGUEST. SHE WANTS TO BE IN YOUR HOUSE. SHE WANTS TO BE IN YOUR PANTS WHILE IN THAT HOUSE. JUST LET HER ALREADY. Ok I’m done, moving on.

Ok the guys opening the doors dramatically to let the one (1) woman on the team make a super badASS entrance is just 🔥🔥🔥 yes love it.

Excuse me why does Ellie feel the need to completely turn her body from the rest of the team/bullpen to be 100% faced on Nick. Body language don’t lie bitch I see you. And Nick stealing a glance at Ellie before having to answer McGee’s question about roommates…..interesting, very interesting sir. You thinking about how she’s going to react to some rando being in your apartment AND staying the night before she has?? You thinking about making her a permanent roommate?? But of course he turns to quick humor for a hot sec because this is Nick and then shockingly, like actually shockingly (is this that personal development, soul-searching, deep dive into emotional wonderland rubbing off on him??? Is it working is this foreshadowing???) he goes and gets deep on ‘em. And McGee calls him on it and I love it, I really think this is some foreshadowing here. I think we’re seeing some of the work Nick is doing on himself, getting himself ready for as serious as a relationship as he knows it’ll be with Ellie, paying off. He’s thinking about ~*emotional*~ consequences to actions and OOF yes. The growth, I live for the fucking growth. “It’s not easy to get through the tough transitions on your own” you say as you literally tried to do that for actual YEARS until you met this team. Until you met Ellie. Until you realized that emotional fallout was a real thing and you my friend are a terrible victim to it. Because guess what- exhibit A is right here about to ask you to dinner and you gonna turn her down. You quite literally tried to get through a tough transition (re: Ellie’s kidnapping & the two bombs) by yourself. That dust settled and you immediately emotionally retreated, not physically- emotionally. You went back to what you always knew, the lone wolf on your own, endure the tough transition. And yes you’ve been doing some work on yourself, but now- now you realize it. You can’t do work on yourself alone. You can’t go through this shit alone. You need your support system- your person. But that thought truly terrifies you. You’ve realized it but are you ready to act on it? Not quite yet. You might be close, but you still can’t bring yourself to be honest with her yet. When Ellie nervously asks Nick if he wants to grab a bite you can feel her start to (it’s probably been there quite a while but she’s tried to ignore the feeling of him emotionally shutting her out and pushing her away but the houseguest thing brought it back full force) really worry about where they stood. She won’t completely admit it to herself because she knows what was said in the jail cell wasn’t a lie or a dramatization for either of them, but that worry that’s been creeping in like a vine is taking hold. Nick saying “there’s something I need to take care of” hmmmmm I feel like this is SO vague. And probably purposely done so by the writers but I just - if it was solely him bringing the dude back to his daughter’s why wouldn’t he just tell Ellie that? What would be the harm in her knowing this? She’s aware you’ve bonded so why would he not just say that? I feel like there was definitely something else he thought he would go do after it. With all the talk of tough transitions and then his obviously pre-made plans to drop this guy off, I just feel like there was some other task he had planned before McGee called him. And him discussing the reset button (I’ll get to this) just kind of solidifies that for me. He’d been doing a LOT of reflection that day and he had something more major planned, I just wish I knew what 😩 Ok back to Ellie’s response, she’s honestly shocked and a little confused at his ominously vague answer. And I’d wager a tiny bit of hurt is in that expression too. All those vines of worry taking hold? Yeah, that’s why. They even just tightened and made her speechless for a second. The emotional withdrawal she feared was being confirmed in front of her very eyes. Because (at least on our screens) the last time Nick turned down a bite to eat with her? Oh yeah, he was dating fucking Elena. (Once again, I don’t think he’s got another girl but y’all this is the parallel Ellie could easily draw seeing as it was only a few months ago, supposedly.) And he even looks almost guilty about turning her down, like he knows it’s probably hurting her (and their relationship) but he can’t help it. He hates that he’s doing it and the words coming from his mouth (good lord it’s like the end of 17x07 with overprotective/you’re like a sister to me all over again) but he can’t stop it. And then my heart breaks for Ellie when she tries to put on a brave, strong face that claims she isn’t bothered by his rejection yet we all knoooooow 😭😭😭 He gives her a small little “night” and she’s just standing there wondering where the hell she went wrong with this, how she read them all wrong.

Ahhhhh the glorious reset button, ya love to see it. When he claims he has the opposite problem you can see his faraway look in his eye. You know *exactly* what, or better yet who, he’s thinking about in that moment. He knows he has to stop avoiding his emotional growth with Ellie. He knows he has to stop hitting the reset button the second things between them get real. And I think he’s known this for a while now but is finally, finally coming to grips with taking real steps forward. Taking steps to embrace the vulnerability he’s terrified of. Finally putting that reset button away 🥺

Ellie knowing Nick has one tie is just another swoon moment. Yes I could get dirty with that (see my tags on previous gifsets for proof) but like, also this is so real of them? They know so damn much about each other it’s insane. She may not have even been in his apartment yet but she knows he owns one tie. Like- come on. Nick you think you’re emotionally distant from this woman but my god it’s the opposite. You two are so intertwined you don’t even realize it as you chuckle and try once again to avoid thinking about that reset button. And then Jimmy goes and reads that letter and I sob. Yes I sobbed. Like I said not getting into this part because my pregnancy hormones can’t handle this (I’m barely rewatching this part with audio ok). But Jimmy’s words voiced over a shot of ellick…take my heart why don’t you. “To hear a laugh, and know that your life would change for ever” like come ON. First, Jimmy you slay me and second, all I can picture is Ellie chuckling with Nick in the bullpen showing him the clicker settings and Nick loving it. Nick your life would be changed forever in that moment I hope you knew. Ellie, pulling her arm around Nick’s for strength, support, I just-. Despite the turmoil she’s been going through, the doubts and the worry that’s crept in- she still feels it. She still feels love for this man and knows her life was changed forever when she met him. No matter how long she tried to deny it, she knows. And that little piece of her that desperately clings to Nick getting his head out of his ass and opening up emotionally to her, that piece decides to break that sliver of personal space and lean on him for support. She needs to touch him- the man who she can’t picture losing like Jimmy lost Breena. She needs to feel him still there, even if he hasn’t completely realized his life changed forever because of her- she has. Gripping his arm for the comfort it gives in knowing he’s still by her side, his hand brushing hers as an involuntary “I’ve got you” (even a reset button pusher like Nick can’t help his reflexes). The gravity of the fragility of life weighing heavily on them both, they hold each other. They’ve got each other. And good god is that poetry we just need them to actually fucking TALK ABOUT IT 😩😭

I don’t know if I even have side notes but I do appreciate NCIS paying homage to the utter grief this pandemic has been. Jimmy being the one to lose a loved one was quite honestly the perfect scenario to me. It shows just how cruel this pandemic has been, ripping even the most optimistic, happy people down to their knees in grief. It’s something that shouldn’t be glossed over and I do hope they continue to have this arc of struggling with grief throughout the season. I think it is so relatable and refreshing to see played out legitimately on the screen. I don’t want happy, go-lucky stale content. I want something real and something tangible. Yes I love my mindless entertainment, but it’s also nice to see *real* drama on a TV drama. At least, that’s my opinion 🤷🏻‍♀️ I’d apologize but isn’t that why you’re reading this to begin with? 😘😘

#ellick #ncis #wwr #18x07 #torres x bishop

42 notes · View notes

dinandgone · 3 years

Text

The Turncoat.

Part Six of the ‘Blood and Beskar’ series.

The Mandalorian x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6.78k

Warnings: Language, brief mention of adult themes, so 18+ just in case, if you are a child please turn around and go back from whence you came thank you :). Violence, Canon with a little bit extra sprinkled in. Very dialogue heavy

A/n ~ Hi, as promised here’s chapter 6. I feel like this chapter isn’t the best because of how dialogue heavy it is :/ But I don’t know what else to do with it so here it is I hope you like it. Feedback is always welcome :) Enjoy xxx

Update (25/07/21): I have indeed decided to continue writing this fic. So there will be more to come very soon :)

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

Mando had managed to gracefully land the crest in the hangar at Mos Eisley. The puff and spatter of its engines rattling as it powers down. You hoped it wasn't obvious to whoever had to fix it that you'd been in a shootout less than an hour ago. Things like that lead to questions and questions lead to mistakes.

Mando turns and stands from the pilot's chair.

"If anyone asks about this," He gestures to the ship "Make something up, the less people know the better,"

You nod, moving out of the cockpit doorway to allow him to pass, turning to the child who's babbling happily in his container, you pick him up and place him on your hip, cradling his head in the crook of your arm.

"Maker, how you keep smiling all the time buddy I don't know," you sigh making your way from the cockpit down to the hull.

Dropping down the ladder to the hull, you look for the familiar shine of beskar. Your search is interrupted by a single blaster shot and shouting. You quickly place the child in Mando's cot and sealing the lock on the door, quietly moving closer to the ramp.

"Hey...Hey!" a sharp voice sounds from the back of the hangar, your hand hovers over your holstered blaster as you move towards the Mandalorian at the end of the ramp.

A small woman with tightly curled almost frizzy hair stalks into view towards you and Mando.

"You damage my droid, you pay for it," she states pointing her finger at the Mandalorian's chest.

"Just keep them away from my ship," Mando responds roughly.

Ah droids, another thing you could add to the ever-growing list of things the Mandalorian didn't like, right next to conversation and you. The conversation between the woman and Mando when back and forth, haggling on how much the hangar and repairs would cost.

"Would you look at that," she shouts assessing the damage "You've got a lot of carbon scoring up top, and a fuel leak, if I didn't know any better I would think you were in a shootout!"

You tense turning to look at Mando who just simply shakes his head. You expect the stranger to inquire further but she doesn't, she continues assessing the damage and starts walking back to you and Mando, wiping her hands on a rag.

"Your ship is a mess, and since I ain't using droids then it's going to cost you extra," she smiles, her gaze drifting between you and the Mandalorian.

Mando shifts, grasping the small pouch of credits from his belt and holding it out.

"I have five hundred imperial credits," he states plainly tossing the pouch to the woman, clearly he wasn't in the mood to haggle.

"That's it?" She scoffs "That'll just about cover the hangar,"

You roll your eyes, typical you thought to yourself. You knew the price was steep but the crest needed its repairs and you'd be damned if you had to spend more time than you had to on Tatooine.

"I'll get you your money," Mando assures the woman turning to walk away from the ship. You follow him hearing the woman mumble a faint "Yeah I've heard that one before,"

Before you can make it out of the hangar Mando stops causing you to walk straight into what you could only describe as a beskar clad wall.

"Ouch... What are y-" you begin to ask.

"You need to stay with the kid," Mando orders, crowding the exit.

"The kid will be fine, I made sure to lock the bunk," You respond quickly, rolling your eyes at his bossy tone. He raises his shoulders, breathing in to answer you.

"And before you say anything, I need clothes and essentials which I recall is your fault because you wouldn't let me go back for my bag on Felucia," you quip standing your ground, prodding your finger into his beskar clad chest.

Mando considered your argument, then looked into your eyes. They flickered with defiance and determination. Saying no to you was becoming increasingly difficult, he couldn’t quite place why. Nodding he moved aside, allowing you to walk past him and out of the hangar.

Tatooine held first place for your most hated planet on the outer rim. The first thing that hits you is the heat, the stagnant sweltering kind that dried your throat. The second thing you notice is the sand the tiny grains of misery that always managed to filter their way into your clothes, making sure to provide infuriating irritation in their wake. The third thing you notice is the people, Tatooine was infamous for its abundance of criminals and unsavoury types, many of which had bounties on their heads. Its the third prospect of this planet that creates an uneasiness in your stomach.

As you’re walking Mando notices you’re uncharacteristically quiet. He would have thought you’d be complaining to your heart’s content or finding some way to get under his skin, but you remain silent, shuffling along quietly behind him, your discomfort emitting off you in waves.

"You've been here before?" he asks. The sudden start in conversation takes you off guard.

"Of course, bounty hunter remember," you chuckle pointing at yourself.

"You don't like it here?" he asks a genuine interest in his voice.

"It's a skugpot full of criminals and it's got sand, I don't like sand. Correction. I hate sand," you ramble "You find it in places you didn't even know you could for days,"

Your response earns a low chuckle, if you weren’t listening you would have missed it.

"You know I'm starting to think you find me funny," you smile nudging into him playfully. He doesn’t respond, just continues walking towards the marketplace in the centre of the town. You smirk to yourself, he didn’t need to respond for you to get your answer. He could deny it all he wanted but the big bad Mandalorian found you his ex bounty and resident babysitter, funny.

The marketplace is bustling, vendors from every stall calling out to potential patrons urging them to invest in the goods they had to offer. You’d never been scared of this place as your time as a bounty hunter, the place was known for its dubious characters often willing to sell out anyone to the highest bidder, that’s what made your job just that little bit easier when it came to hunting bounties. However, the atmosphere was different, now you were the bounty and it felt like someone always had their eyes on you.

Staying close to Mando you push through the crowds towards the stalls you needed, you glanced over at the clothes the stalls had to offer each item highly overpriced but you didn’t expect anything more from this planet. Fully engrossed in the prattling vendor in front of you, you don’t hear the Mandalorian mumble something to you and you don’t see him walking away in the opposite direction.

After a little deliberation, you settle for some simple shirts, a tunic for the cold weather and a pair of combat trousers. Your mind wanders to the shirt you were wearing, his shirt, the smell of him had worn off over time but as ridiculous as it sounded it still made you feel safe. Would he want it back now you had shirts of your own? This was pathetic, you were a badass bounty hunter, and you’d survived this long by yourself, you didn’t need to ruin that now by gaining an attachment to someone who tolerated you out of convenience and definitely would not feel the same way. Did you?

You selected some soap and shampoo, notes of citrus and sandalwood drifting into your nose. It was similar to the ones that the Mandalorian used because it was easier to share right? You paid the vendor, almost grimacing at the amount you had to shell out, you sigh, everyone had to earn a living somehow. Realising you hadn’t asked Mando if he needed anything you turned, opening your mouth to speak. But he wasn’t there. When had he left?

Your senses heightened, low-level panic searing through your chest. He was just right there, and now he was gone, he hadn’t said anything, had he? Your attention had been on what the vendor had been saying. You took a deep breath trying to remain calm. Now was not the time to panic especially given the place you were, people here prayed on vulnerability. You silently cursed that walking pile of beskar for dragging you to a place you despised and then leaving you. Bastard.

You slung your newly purchased pack over your back and stalked around the stalls hoping to see the familiar glint of beskar. How in makers name could you lose him, he stuck out like a sore thumb. The bazaar was still bustling with people shouting and laughing, the faint sounds of music permeating through the air. It felt like you were going in circles the stalls all seeming familiar and the buildings the same tan exterior. You started to walk back to the hangar, trying to remember your steps, taking a left or was it right? You continued walking the alleyway only littered with a few stalls the proprietors much less boisterous than the ones before. Yep you’ve definitely taken a wrong turn. You think to yourself, you pivot on your heels and begin walking back the way you came stopping when you hear an unknown voice speak behind you.

“Well, well, well, you seem to be a little lost princess,”

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

“I’m going to find something, stay here,” Mando mumbles behind you, turning to walk towards the junker’s yard adjacent to the market stalls.

The shop was quiet, dust settling in a thin film over everything and ship parts piled high.

“Can I help you?” a voice asks, presumably the shop’s owner.

“I need of long-distance communication devices,” Mando explained.

“Ah follow me,” the owner states, turning and shuffling towards a crate in the corner of the yard. Thinking back to you Mando turns to look back at the market. Thankfully you seemed to have listened to his directions, still nodding at the vendor talking to you. He notices you choose some shirts from the stall, somewhere in the deepest part of his brain he had hoped you’d keep his shirt, even though you weren’t his it roused something within him to see you wearing it. Snapping out of his train of thought to the sound of the junker’s ramblings Mando walks to where the junker is stood with a pair of comms, still making sure you were in his line of sight.

“How much?” he asks shortly, he wasn’t in a negotiating mood.

“Two Hundred,” the junker states, clearly like everyone else on this planet extortion seemed to be his only form of income too.

“Two Hundred? That’s steep, I could find a pair brand new for a hundred on the Mid rim,” Mando grunts bluntly.

“Hate to break it to you buddy but you’re on the outer rim, things are a bit more pricey out here,” the junker smirks, stretching out his arm to shake on the purchase.

“One fifty?” Mando pushes, anxious to get back to the market. To you.

“I...” the proprietor goes to argue “Ugh fine, one fifty,” he shakes Mando’s hand and exchanging the comms for the pouch of credits.

Without another word, Mando walks towards the entrance of the yard looking at the stall you were stood at. Except you weren’t there, the vendor now harassing someone else.

“Osik...” Mando huffs stepping out into the bustling marketplace.

He’d asked you to do one thing and you weren’t capable of doing that. Typical. He thought to himself, you were too rebellious for your own good. He cursed to himself as he looks around the waves of people, you could easily blend into the crowds, unlike him, you didn’t stand out. For the first time the Mandalorian doubts you, he contemplates that idea you’d taken the initiative to run, to get out of here and escape capture. From the times he’d raced you to capture a bounty or encountered you briefly on Nevarro he gathered you were like him, alone, independent. He can’t ignore the sinking feeling in his chest that you’d so willingly leave. He pushes his doubt to the side, you wouldn’t leave without saying something. You always had something to say, a quip or smartass comment. Pushing through the crowds he searches for you, mentally grumbling about how you couldn’t just follow simple instruction and stay put.

After the fourth circuit of the marketplace, Mando starts to worry, though he knew you could look after yourself, there was still a danger especially being on Tatooine, it wouldn’t be surprising if someone from the guild was here. Mando begins to make his way back to the hangar, maybe you’d gone back to the kid, or stopped by in the nearest cantina. Taking a left to the quieter part of the market place his helmet picks up on a loud conversation nearby. A male voice and another, that sounded unmistakably like you. The conversation becomes more heated as Mando moves towards the source, then a flurry of blaster shots sound through making his heart drop and his feet break out into a sprint.

As he turns around the corner he’s met with a surprising sight, a large man pressed up against the wall of the building, arm pinned behind his back and howling in pain as he tried to move, by none other than you. Relief flooded through Mando, relief that was quickly replaced by that deep feeling he had felt the first time you had worn his shirt. He couldn’t ignore the fact his cock twitched in his pants at the sight of you fiercely subduing your opponent. He’s brought out of his trance by the familiar ring of your voice. Clearing his throat he turns his attention to you.

“Ah, just when I thought you’d left me,” you shout, pressing your opponents arm up his back earning another groan of discomfort.

“You’ve got to help me man, I was only having a little fun I meant no harm,” the man muffles against the wall.

“Let him go,” Mando reasons turning his attention to you. You look at him a scowl on your face, then finally releasing your grip from the man’s arm.

“Yeah that’s it do as he says, bitch,” the man spits pushing off the wall.

Without thinking about it you propel your fist forward, connecting with his nose, you hear a crack and you’re not sure if it’s your hand or his nose. But he grunts in pain, clutching his nose as blood begins to trickle down his face. Before you can take another swing the Mandalorian moves past you, fast enough his movement could almost be described as a streak of beskar. He clutches the man by the collar and propels him back into the wall.

“You ever say anything, come near her or touch her again, you’ll have me to deal with, Understand?” He growls, earning a fast nod from the wide-eyed man as he slips away clutching his nose.

“I had it handled,” you huffed, wincing at your split knuckles.

“Why do you always attract trouble?” Mando sighs, pacing towards you grasping at your hand to assess the damage. The touch of the leather gloves on your hand makes your skin prickle, but you were too pent up from the anger that you’d felt at the man before you didn’t dwell on the feeling.

“You’re the one that left me, I was looking for you!” You shout pulling your hand from his grip.

“I told you where I was going,” Mando grunts moving away from you

“No, I...” you stammer. Had he said something to you?

“Weren’t listening as usual,” Mando stated bluntly. Making you pull a face.

“Whatever, weren’t we supposed to be finding a job today?” You ask quickly changing the topic. Starting to walk back to the main marketplace.

“The guild used to operate from a cantina not far from here, they might have something,” Mando grumbles before taking the lead, walking in the direction of the marketplace.

Now the conversation had died down, you were left to reminisce on what had just happened. Mando threatening someone shouldn’t have added fuel to the spark already ignited deep inside your stomach, but something about it made your heart stop and your breathing slow. You didn’t like feeling like a damsel in distress, you could’ve handled it yourself, but you’d be lying if you hadn’t enjoyed Mando threatening a man for you. The way he had done it radiated possessiveness and it made you shiver, you knew you were reading into the situation but a girl could dream right?

The walk to the cantina took a lot less time than you had expected, you were less lost than you thought you were as the marketplace began to look more familiar. You followed Mando through the door into a building that you presumed was the cantina he’d been looking for. The cantina was quiet, only a couple of patrons, keeping their business to themselves or too fully engrossed in a quiet game of Sabacc, but as you and Mando walk through the doors eyes raise onto where you’re stood. You knew it was Mando they were looking at, if it was you in their situation you would’ve too, he was hard to ignore. Silently, Mando walks to the bar where a droid is cleaning glasses.

“Hey droid, I’m a hunter, I’m looking for some work,” Mando says quietly leaning on the bar.

“Unfortunately the bounty guild no longer operates from Tatooine,”

“We’re not looking for guild work,” you chip in, earning a steeled glance from the Mandalorian, you shrug your shoulders in response.

“I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculations,” The droid stares blankly, continuing to clean the bar. You sigh, looking to Mando for direction, this was your only shot at getting the credits to pay for the ship. This place was a skughole, the perfect place for dodgy jobs and suddenly there wasn’t any.

“Think again, Tin Can,” a smooth voice calls from a booth to your left. You turn with Mando, observing the owner of the voice. A man sits with his legs propped against the table, he looked about your age, maybe younger. To put it simply he looked like trouble.

“If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friends,” he smiles, keeping eye contact with you. You almost cringe in disgust, but you look to Mando for his next move.

“Name’s Toro, Toro Calican,” the stranger speaks again as Mando moves towards the booth.

“Mando I don’t know about this,” you argue, but Mando was already taking a seat at the booth.

“Relax, sweetheart, sit,” Calican states smoothly, gesturing to the seat next to him. Reluctantly you move towards the table opting for the seat next to Mando, you felt the stranger’s eyes running over your figure as you sit seemingly a complete disregard for your company. Before you can protest his use of nicknames the stranger places a bounty puck onto the table.

“Picked up this bounty puck before I left the Mid Rim, Fennec Shand, an assassin,” Calican explains. You almost laugh at the guy, was he serious?

“I know the name,” Mando states nonchalantly

“I followed this tracking fob here, the positional data suggests she’s somewhere out beyond the Dune Sea, should be an easy job”

“Well good luck with that,” Mando nods at you, a queue for you to stand.

“Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?” Calican turns as you both begin walking out of the cantina. Mando stops.

“How long with the guild?” he asks walking back to the table.

“Long enough,” Calican retorts

“Listen, clearly you’re new to this profession,” You scoff turning to look at the stranger, “Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary, the best of the best,”

“She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates including the Hutts, If you go after her you won’t make it past sunrise,” Mando interjects. You subconsciously shiver at his sentence, the uneasiness of past memories pooling in your stomach. If the Mandalorian noticed, he didn’t say anything. Mando turns again heading for the door, you follow suit.

“Wait! This is my first job, you can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the guild, I can’t do it alone” Calican pleads. Mando stops and turns again, the helmet tilting, the sign that he’s thinking.

“Wait, you aren’t seriously thinking about this! Mando it’s a suicide run!” you hiss.

“Meet me at hangar three-five in an hour, bring three speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob,” Mando orders, you shake your head in disbelief. So now was the time you got included. The time that almost certainly had only one outcome...death. Before you can say anything, Calican brings out the tracking fob and smashes it against the wall.

“Don’t worry I got it all memorised,” Calican smiles tapping the side of his head.

“Half an hour,” Mando orders before turning out of the cantina door. You follow hot on his trail.

“Are you crazy? First, the guy wants to take down Fennec Shand and now he smashes the fucking tracking fob!” you snap, hastily walking alongside him.

“We need the credits,” Mando states bluntly like the mission was no big deal.

“Yeah we need the credits Mando, but I’d also like to live to see the next cycle,” you argue

You don’t have time to argue before the Mandalorian’s figure crowds your space, stopping you in your tracks. You try to walk around him but he places a firm grip on your shoulders.

“What are...” you begin

“You wanted to be included, I’m including you, I chose to do this, we need the credits, anything else you’ve got to say, save it,” he asserts, letting go of your shoulders turning to the hangar’s entrance.

You stand there mouth agape, his dominance leaves your brain blank, the argument simply melting away, and embarrassingly a wetness forming in between your thighs. Your heart was thundering against your chest, leaving your breathing short and staggered. Nothing could have prepared you for what just happened. Annoyance simmered in the back of your brain, how could he do that? From a simple touch or just a sentence, reduce you to an incoherent mess. You needed to pull yourself together, this was entirely unprofessional.

Calming yourself, you make your way into the hangar. You’re met with the sound of Mando shouting something and the familiar voice of the woman from the Hangar. Stepping through the door you see the woman cradling the child. You walk over to the Mandalorian’s side.

“Have you any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?” the woman complains

“Give him to me,” Mando demands pointing at the woman.

“Not so fast,” she turns the child away from you both. “You can’t just leave a child alone like that, you know you had an awful lot to learn about raising a young one,”

Mando turns to you, “I thought you said you locked the bunk,” he questions bluntly.

“I did,” you scoff “It’s not my fault he escaped, I double checked it was locked,” You crossed your arms.

The woman looks between you and the Mandalorian for a second before resuming her conversation.

“Anyway, I started the repair on the fuel leak, had a couple of setbacks I wanna talk to you about,” she begins “ You know I didn’t use any droids as requested, so it took me a lot longer than I expected,” She turns her attention to you as Mando walks onto the crest.

“But I figured you were good for the money seen as you have a couple of extra mouths to feed,” she adds. You roll your eyes, of course, it was going to cost extra, did you expect anything less. You barely had enough credits to pay for the hangar. You had no choice but to do this job. You turn to Mando who grabs his bag and walking off the ship.

“Thank you,” he nods making his way to the door.

You and the woman both raise your eyebrows. So he is capable of gratitude you thought.

“So I guess I was right you got a job didn’t you,” she pushes following the Mandalorian out of the door.

The woman continues to prattle on about money and droid expenses which you ignore, as your attention is now focussed on the two speeder bikes in front of you, clearly, Mando also noticed the discrepancy in the agreement.

“Hey, Mando, what d’ya think, not too shabby huh?” Calican smiles proudly

“I said three speeder bikes, there’s only two here,” Mando states pointedly, placing his pack on the speeder bike on the left.

Toro turns his attention to you, “ Well it looks like you and me get to share princess,” he replies, perching himself on the speeder bike smugly.

Your anger surges you forward, taking your knife from your thigh and holding it smoothly to his throat, causing Calican to stumble back slightly.

“Call me princess again and I’ll make sure you get real acquainted with the end of my knife, understand?” you growl, pointing your blade to his throat.

Mando chuckles at your remark, smirking as he swings his leg over to sit on the speeder. After Calican seems to understand your point, you go to join Mando on his speeder, lacing your hands around his torso. You could feel him tense at your touch, but then relax a couple seconds after. Starting the speeder bike and following Calican across the dunes.

Mando tries not to focus on your arms around his waist or your warmth against his back. The closeness of you was enough to stoke the embers slowly flickering in his stomach, leading him to think how pretty you would look holding onto him, with him on top of you. No. He shakes his head deciding to focus on the land ahead, and keeping in front of Calican’s speeder.

You roll your eyes at the fact two grown men were racing speeders right now, engrossed in their own little ego competition. After a while Mando signals for the speeders to stop.

“What’s going on?” Calican asks looking at Mando.

“Look. Up ahead,” Mando nods to a spot in the dunes where a group of figures moving.

Calican dismounts his speeder and walks towards the edge of the dune. Reluctantly, you let go of the Mandalorian, getting off the speeder and walking towards where Calican is stood with binoculars in his hands.

“Tusken Raiders,” he points out “I heard the locals talking about this filth,” You frown at his reference to the figures.

“Tuskens think they’re the locals, everyone else is just trespassing,” you inform, Calican scoffs in response. You feel your anger rising again at the ignorant stranger.

“Well, whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance,”

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell them yourself?” Mando asks turning his helmet to a pair of raiders to your left. Calican steps back, reaching for his blaster in its holster.

“Relax,” he eases, placing himself in between you and the raiders. Looking at the raiders he begins to sign.

“What’s he doing?” Calican asks looking back and forth from the raiders to Mando.

“Negotiating,” you quip, paying attention to the Mandalorian’s hand movements. Your Tusken was rusty but you could vaguely make out what Mando and the raiders were saying.

“What’s going on?” Calican interjects again.

“We need passage across their land,” Mando explains “Let me see the binocs,” he asks, Calican questions earning a glare from your and a tilted helmet from Mando, reluctantly he passes them to Mando. You have to stifle a laugh when Mando tosses them to the raiders and Calican protests.

“Those were brand new!” Calican whines.

“Yeah, they were,” you chuckle walking back to the speeder with Mando before he starts up the speeder again.

After a while you sense the speeder slowing, you look forward. A large shadow moved across the plains ahead. This was not good. Following Mando, you scramble off the speeder and onto the dune below.

“Get down,” you and Mando order simultaneously, crawling to the ledge of the dune.

“Alright, tell me what you see,” Mando prompts. Before you can answer Calican cuts in.

“Dewback looks like the rider’s still attached,”

“Mando, I don’t like this,” you say, the feeling of uneasiness increasing in the pit of your stomach.

“Is that her? Is that the target,” Calican asks

“I don’t know, I’ll go. You cover me, stay down,” He orders looking at you, pulling his blaster out of its holster.

“Mando..” You start “Be careful,” you look at him, earning a nod in response before he disappears over the ledge. You pull your blaster out from its holster and watch the dunes for any other signs of movement. The air was tense, something wasn’t right, there was no way Fennec Shand was that rider, she was too skilled to be caught off guard so easily. Your concentration is broken by the sound of Calican shouting to Mando.

“Is it her? Is she dead?” he asks lifting his head higher over the ridge. What part of stay down did this idiot not understand.

“No, it’s another bounty hunter,” Mando replies as he inspects the corpse. The bad feeling in your gut increased. This was bad. You notice Mando look up then turn. He manages to shout get down before a flash of red hits him right in the back.

“Mando!” You shout pushing off your elbows in an attempt to get up, but Calican pulls you down just as another shot rings out, hitting Mando in the beskar as he tumbles over the edge of the dune. He hits the ground with a grunt.

“What happened?” Calican asks, peering over the edge.

“Sniper bolt.” Mando points out.

“Only an MK modified rifle could make that shot,” you looked at him in shock “Are you okay?” you ask trying not to sound too worried.

“Yeah. Hit me in the beskar,” Mando breathes heavily “and at that range, beskar held up,”

“Wait, I don’t wear any beskar,” Calican points out, looking at Mando with wide eyes.

“Nope,”

You chuckle at Mando’s reply.

“You see where that shot came from?” he asks

“Yeah, it came from somewhere on that ridge,” Calican guess.

“Approximately three klicks north-west,” you huff pointing to the exact ridge, your answer earning a glance from both men. You smirk as Mando explain his plan.

“I’m gonna rest, you take the first watch, stay low,” Mando orders walking back to the speeders.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Toro winks, you scoff before turning around and walking back to the bikes.

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

The suns set pretty quickly on Tatooine, but it feels like forever with Toro’s incessant nattering, you even contemplated talking to Mando, his shortened responses would be infinitely better than Toro’s failed flirtation techniques. But he seemed to be asleep, propped up against the speeder bike silently.

“Alright, suns are down, time to ride Mando,” Toro projects walking over to where you’re sat.

“Come on, wake up,” he pushes before stopping a few feet in front of Mando. You would have interjected and told him to shut up, but a little part of you wanted to see how this went.

“Look at you, asleep on the job, old man,” Calican taunts “After this is done sweetheart feel free to trade-in for a newer model,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and scoff

“I’m afraid you’d be out of luck there, see I prefer men, not little boys trying to act all rough and tough,” you sneer. Toro’s eyes widen for a second before he turns back to Mando pulling out his blaster, pretending to quick draw. You roll your eyes, his actions just proving your point.

Mando smiles underneath his helmet at your comment, the feeling of pride blooming through his chest. He shouldn’t feel this possessiveness over you, you weren’t his. But the feeling that stirred inside him was involuntary. He needed to ignore it, he needed to keep your relationship professional, but as the time spent with you increased he found it harder to suppress that feeling.

“You done?” Mando asks bluntly before standing, clearly, this throws Calican off guard as he re-holsters his weapons and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, yeah you know I was just waking you up,” he stammers.

“Get on your bike, ride across to those rocks as fast as you can, Y/N go with him,”

“What?” you start “I am not-”

“For once just do as I ask,” Mando lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Mando but we’re not a walking talking pile of beskar like you, she’ll snipe us right off the bikes!” you hiss, crossing your arms in defiance. In return you get the cold star of the dark visor, you huff and climb onto the speeder.

Mando reaches into his pack and tosses two objects at you and Calican.

“It’s a flash charge, we alternate shots, it’ll blind any scope temporarily, combine that with our speed and we’ve got a chance ” he explains climbing onto his speeder. Toro opens his mouth to question the plan but before he can Mando interjects.

“Hey, you wanted this. Get ready,” Before you can say anything Mando speeds off towards the ridge. You mentally curse at how bad a plan this was, you’d be lucky if you made it out.

What happens next is all a blur, the rush of the speeders and the bright light of the alternating flash charges was blinding. So far, the plan seemed to be going well, both speeders managing to avoid the sniper shots from the ridge. Almost as if you couldn’t have spoken any sooner the speeder dips just as Toro goes to ignite the flash charge, causing the light to fall in the wrong direction. Fuck. You watch as a flash of red pulses straight into Mando’s speeder.

“No!” you shout, dread fills your body, turning back you see him sprawled out on the desert floor, thankfully you see him sit up to let off another flare. As Toro slows the speeder you launch yourself off the bike before it could stop moving, you stumble towards the Mandalorian before another sniper shot hits him square in the chest sending him flying.

“Mando!” You cry out running to where he was lying. He grunts and sits up brushing off the sand that had gathered on his flight suit.

“I’m fine, are you okay?” he asks the visor looking at you intently.

“What do you...” you start “I’m fine, you just got shot are you okay?” Before he can answer your question, you hear a blaster shot from the cliffs. Turning to look at each other, you both run. By the time you’d got to the top of the ridge, you were surprised to see that Calican was still alive, yes he was being choked to death by an assassin, but he’d still made it that far.

“Nice distraction,” Mando commends, pointing his blaster at Shand, who releases her grip.

“Yeah, ow, good work partners,” Calican groans crawling away to sit.

“Cuff yourself,” Mando orders, throwing the cuffs on the ground.

“Why don’t you go find your blaster,” Mando suggests to Calican, he nods walking away.

“A Mandalorian, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind,” Shand states smoothly as she stands.

“Ever been to Nevarro?” She asks smiling smugly “ I hear things didn’t go so well there but it looks like you got off easily,”

“You don’t have to worry bout getting to Nevarro or anywhere else, once we turn you in,” Toro re-enters the conversation dusting off his blaster. “ You know, I really should thank you, you’re my ticket into the guild,” Toro taunts.

“You know, I thought Mandalorian’s were warriors of honour, so why are you hanging around with a wanted ex- bounty hunter?” Fennec asks slyly turning to you, and then Mando.

“Oh, she hasn’t told you?” Shand smirks

“Tell me what?” Mando asks, you close your eyes, hoping that she doesn’t push this further, but your prayers are squashed when she opens her mouth.

“Why she has a twenty thousand credit bounty on her head...” Fennec sneers, smiling when she’s met with silence.

“Let’s just say my previous employers aren’t best pleased with you are they?” Shand turns to you. You can feel the Mandalorian’s cold stare on the side of your head. You wait, the anticipation thick in the air.

“You pissed off the Hutts, one of the biggest crime syndicates in the galaxy!” Mando hisses

“Yeah, but Jabba is dead, it’s not that big of a deal,” you shrug trying to calm the situation.

“Twenty thousand credits, is a big deal, y/n, what did you do?” Mando insists

“It doesn’t matter,” you grit.

“What. Did. You. Do?” he pushes, his persistence hits a nerve.

“You know if you’d actually have bothered to ask me why I had such a high bounty on my head then maybe I would’ve told you my side of the story, but it’s all business with you isn’t it tin can,” You growl pointing your finger at him.

“I didn’t know how high it was, you know how it is, don’t ask questions,” Mando begins but you cut him off, rage piercing through your words.

“Oh no, you don’t get to act all high and mighty now bucket head, I did the exact same thing as you did with the kid, I didn’t follow through on a job that I knew was wrong!” you shout all your past frustrations lacing into your words.

You walk ahead to the bottom of the ridge where Toro is already waiting. You ignore him and walk straight to the speeders.

“Uh oh, looks like one of us is going to have to walk,” Shand says in a sing-song tone. Before Mando shoves her to the ground.

“Or we could drag you,” you hear Mando suggest lowly. Usually, you would have laughed at his remark, but all you felt was anger.

You watch as Mando and Calican walk away talking about a plan. Before Mando begins to walk away.

“Watch her keep her away from the bikes, she’s no good to us dead,” he states plainly before ignoring you and walking off into the desert. Oh, real mature you thought rolling your eyes. So now you had no idea what was going on.

“Where’s he going?” you ask

“To get the Dewback we saw earlier,” Toro informs you keeping his eye on Shand. You nod before propping yourself up on one of the bikes.

“You take first watch,” you instruct as you lean against the speeder, dismantling your blaster to reassemble in the hope it would help pass the time. Slowly, you begin to drift off the soft sound of the breeze lulling you to sleep.

The sound of conversation rouses you from your sleep.

“Bringing you in will make me a fully-fledged member of the guild,” Toro explains

“You already have something that the Guild values far more than me, you just don’t see it, ” Shand says smoothly. Toro looks at her in confusion. “The Mandalorian and the girl,” she explains “A Mandalorian shot up the guild on Nevarro, took a high-value target and went rogue, the girl is responsible for the death of a high ranking member of a crime syndicate, think what it would do for your reputation, your name will be legendary ” Shand negotiates.

You feel could almost hear the cogs turning in Calican’s head as he mulled the offer over.

“Take some advice kid, you wanna be a bounty hunter, make the best deal for yourself and survive,” As Shand raises her hands to be uncuffed you stand ready to protest. But before you can say anything a flash of red hits her straight and her body falls to the floor. You stand there eyes wide, looking over at Calican who’s now pointing his blaster at you. You go to reach for your blaster in its holster but you curse yourself as you remember you’d taken it out to reassemble it, you look down to see it lay on the ground next to the speeder. You raise your hands in an attempt to mediate the situation.

“Wait...” you plead. But as quickly as the words leave your mouth, the world around you goes dark.

Taglist:

@astrological-bitch @boliv-jenta @seninjakitey @jagi-yaaa @thewintersoldierswife @unionizeandstudy @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @purplepascal042 @wantingtobekorra @acollins257

If you want to be added to or removed from the tag list just send me a message or pop me a comment. Thanks :)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando smut #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandalorian/you #the mandalorian/reader #blood and beskar #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic

32 notes · View notes

absideon-ephemeral · 3 years

Text

II - Roommates, Commanders, and Generals.

A/N: And they were roommates - I'm sorry. The next chapter will be a lot more interesting as we finally get into the plot. And just as a heads up, THERE WILL BE NO SMUT AT ALL. Idk how to write it and I don't want to make a complete fool of myself if I do so. If I ever learn I may add some.

Warnings: mild language, curse words.

METANOIA Masterlist

——————————

Who knew a ship could be so damn big.

I had walked and walked, following the map on my datapad to my quarters, which seemed to be on the other side of the ship. It was nearly midnight and I still hadn't reached it.

During the entire walk, I couldn't get the strange encounter with Kylo Ren out of my head. Why had he just stared at me? What was that prickling sensation? My mind was going so fast, asking so many questions, that I almost ran into a wall. I had stopped myself just short a couple of inches from slamming right into it. I stood there, recollecting myself, as a quiet, minuscule beeping came from my datapad.

Looking down, the beeping was signifying that I had reached my destination. In front of me were my quarters and not some random wall.

"For kriffs sake, finally," I muttered.

I shut off my pad and went to reach for the control panel next to me, but I stopped myself from hitting the door button. Are my roommates already inside? What if they're already asleep? I don't want to get on their bad side, who knows how long I'll be rooming with them.

"Hey!"

My head whips to the side to be met with a stormtrooper.

"What are you doing here?" They asked. From the sounds of it, the stormtrooper was female.

"I asked you a question."

"I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be rooming here." My words flew out fast and uneasy.

"Whose orders?" The stormtrooper asked.

"Head technician Ademir. He said that there were no available rooms in the technicians' quarters and that this was the first available spot," I explained.

The stormtrooper made a noise of understanding and hit the door button on the panel. It slid open with a slight whoosh and was pitch black inside. The stormtrooper went in, turning the lights on in the process. I stood there, awkwardly, almost waiting for an invitation.

"Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come in?" The stormtrooper said.

"Uh, yeah right." I hurriedly walked in, the door closing behind me.

The room was semi spacious. It had two dressers, three beds, each with its small nightstand; a refresher, and a window that outlooked the galaxy.

I made my way further in and sat on the bed that looked unoccupied. I sat rather stiffly as the stormtrooper began to take off her armor.

Her helmet came off first, revealing dark skin, that almost seemed to have a honey glow to it, brown eyes, and a pretty face.

"So what's your name little technician?" She asked. Without the helmet on, I could hear an accent that was unfamiliar to me. I gave her my name and asked for hers.

"LN-7245." She answered as she continued to undress.

"LN-72- okay, that's a lot to call you by. Do you have a nickname or something I can use?" I asked.

She momentarily stopped her movements. "No. All we ever go by is our numbers." She then resumed, sitting down on the bed to take off her shin armor.

"Well, what about," I pondered for a second, "Leonora or Leo for short." She looked up at me.

"Leonora," she tested the name on her tongue, "I like it. Sounds nice. Where'd you come up with that?"

" Your number started with LN. I just took it from there and made something out of it that sounded pretty."

"Well, thank you for that." Leonora stood up, grabbed a case from under her bed, and began to pack away her armor for tomorrow.

When she finished, she grabbed some clothes, presumably sleep ones, out of the drawer on her nightstand. Before walking away to the refresher to change, she turned to the bed farthest away from me and smacked the person, who I honestly didn't even see, that was lying in it. They awoke with a start, cursing in Durese, a language known by space travelers.

"Why would you do that? I was sleeping so nicely!" They groaned. It was another female. This one had blond hair with brown streaks, blue eyes, and a pretty face as well.

"We have a new roommate. Be nice." Leonora smacked her again with her clothes and went to the refresher to change.

The girl grumbled something then turned to me, leaning back on her elbows, her head cocked to the side.

"So, what's your name?" She asked. I gave it to her. She peered at me curiously.

"You don't look like a stormtrooper." She pointed out.

I laughed. "What gave that away?"

She looked me up and down, "You don't have the body of a stormtrooper. And the way you seem to carry yourself, I'd assume you're a technician."

"Right you are." She laughed.

"I'm ZA-7283."

"Nice to meet you. Can I give you a nickname?" I asked.

"Nickname?" She asked. Leonora walked out of the refresher, dressed in comfy, all-black, nightclothes.

"She gave me one," Leo laid down on her cot, putting hands behind her head, "I'm Leonora, Leo for short." She had an air of pride around her.

The other girl gasped. "That sounds so cool! I want one too!"

"Okay, um, how about Zariah?" I suggested.

"Ooo, I like that. Makes me sound badass!" Zariah exclaimed. Leo and I laughed at her enthusiasm.

After we all calmed down, Zariah asked me a question.

"So why did they put a technician with two stormtroopers?"

I told her the same thing I told Leo.

"Ahhh okay. Well, at least you got two roommates who aren't sticks in the mud. That would've sucked." Zariah laid back down. I nodded in agreement.

—————————

"Shit, shit, shit, shit."

I hoped to maker that there were no higher-up officials around, because if so, I would've most likely faced punishment. I was currently running through the halls like a mad man with my jumpsuit half on and struggling to carry my small tool bag.

I had completely forgotten to set an alarm last night, causing me to wake up 20 minutes late, which is by no means acceptable. Leo and Zari left way before me, as troopers have to get up earlier than the techs, and they didn't even bother to wake me up.

So now I had to resort to dashing my way through the metal halls, weaving in and out of other technicians and stormtroopers. As I slid around a corner, I suddenly ran straight into something. The force I hit it with was enough to send me sprawling backward onto the cold metal floor. I groaned in slight pain and made an effort to sit up. Regaining my bearings, my sight is immediately met with black boots.

My blood ran cold.

Trailing my eyes up, all I see is black. Black pants, a black shirt, a black cloak, and a black helmet.

The prickling sensation returns. This time it's sifting through my mind, weaving in and out of the crevices.

Kylo Ren.

I scramble to my feet as quickly as possible and bring my arm into a salute. Once again, the black soulless eyes of his mask stare into the very depths of me.

"Please forgive me, Commander, sir!" The wavering words flew out. He said nothing, and I feared that he would whip out his lightsaber and end me right then and there. But he simply stared for a few more moments then briskly walked away, the prickling fading with him.

I watched as he left, not dropping my salute until he disappeared completely and I could no longer hear his boots on the metal floor.

When I had deemed it safe, I dropped my arm and breathed a sigh of relief. Gathering myself together, zipping up my uniform properly, and grabbing my bag, I made my way to my task for the day.

I was assigned to fix some damage in a meeting room, presumably caused by Kylo Ren during a meeting that had gone sour.

But when I walked through the doors metal blast doors, I couldn't help but curse.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

In front of me was one of the biggest messes I have ever seen. The poor innocent wallhad been slashed many times by a burning saber, leaving deep jagged lines. They crossed and weaved in and out of one another, forming some type of chaotic artwork. No matter the strange beauty, this was going to be a pain to fix.

Setting my bag down, I went closer to inspect the damage. The wiring underneath it had been damaged severely. Some areas are worse than others, but half of the underneath panels would need to be replaced.

Looking away from the wall, I took notice of a larger bag of tools and a welding cart set off of the side; free for me to use. I walk over to the bag, open it, and grab my first piece.

——————

Four hours and counting. That's how long I've been fixing this mess. And I haven't even gotten to re-welding the slashes yet.

For the last hour, I've been working in a tight space. Literally.

To fix some of the wires in one of the deeper slashes, I had to go inside the wall. It required me to remove the vent cover, which resided right below the slash near the floor, and crawl inside; upside down. It took me several tries and having to unzip my jumpsuit halfway, revealing my black under tank, and tie the sleeves around my waist to finally weasel in. My back was flat against the air vent as I worked and I could hardly hear anything. Honestly, it was a miracle I even fit. After removing the air duct lining, I was able to finally access the wires.

Which leads me up to now. I was in the process of attaching one of my last wires, peacefully working and oblivious to the outside world, when something unexpectedly nudged my foot.

The sensation made me jolt up, my head slamming into the roof of the duct.

"Kriff!" The word escaped as pain now radiated through my head. My foot was nudged again. "One moment please!" I shouted. I began to weasel my way back out, having slight difficulty due to not being able to see much.

Once I finally got my head and arms out, I sat on the ground, blinking my eyes to adjust to the harsh lighting, having been in a dark vent for the last hour.

"Did you hear me?"

My head whipped up, and I was met with someone you hoped to never meet; the infamous, General Hux.

I stood immediately, getting a slight head rush from the fast movement, and saluted. "General Hux, sir." I addressed him.

He looked at me with distaste; not pleased to see me without my uniform on properly. But there was no going back now. He looked me up and down, a frown forming on his face. He was just like I've heard him to be. Short, red-haired, and a not-so-pleasing face that was always screwed up in a face of displeasure.

He huffed and spoke again. "Did you hear me at all?" His voice was snobby and pitched.

"No sir, I couldn't hear anything in there." I curtly replied, taking notice of the men behind him. Other Generals and officers, I had never seen, but by the way they presented themselves, they were important.

"Well, I had asked what you are doing in here. This is a restricted area to those without permission." He sneered, obviously not liking me.

"I was tasked to fix this damage, sir. Some of the wirings needed to be replaced but I could only access it through the vent, sir." I remained still, keeping my salute.

"On whose orders?"

"Head technician Ademir, sir. I have the assignment on my data-pad if you wish to see, sir."

"That won't be necessary. Do you have any other tasks to do?" He was growing frustrated at my presence.

"No sir, I don't. This is my only one due to how much work it requires." I answered. He huffed and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the blast doors opening, and someone walking in. My view was blocked by the other men, but General Hux rolled his eyes, already knowing who had entered.

"Ah, Commander, how pleasant of you to join us."

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader

7 notes · View notes

ashenburst · 4 years

Text

Paint It, Black

Risotto x Reader, heavy angst, 10774 words. Remained unedited because I can’t afford crying any more.

tw: gore, but not too explicit; character death

Influenced by Rainbow’s Catch the Rainbow and the badass Paint It, Black by the Rolling Stones.

She was late – unusual.

Perhaps this fact was emphasized by Risotto's acute state. Not once has this man fallen in love this deeply, this hopelessly – this beautifully.

And the beauty of love was easy to spot, for Risotto. Much like grotesque, the ugly sides emphasized the pretty ones.

Waiting for her to come could count as one of the downsides, for through it, he would be caught up in childlike excitement; something he wasn't accustomed to, and something that caused him discomfort, should he think of it any more.

He was vulnerable, and he did not like it. At first, when he came to realize his feelings, he treated them with loathing. Undoubtedly, loathing, for he thought of them as a distraction, nothing more. But as time passed, he realized his heart simply could not listen. He could not prevent the joy she caused him.

So he gave in, opened his eyes to the many beauties of love. And it was worth it, every bit of it. He found himself walking in a brighter world, wherein he had the privilege to love and, to possibly, quite possibly –

Be loved. It was her who gave him the silly idea. That he deserved it, in fact, that he needed it. That he could care for someone, and in turn, be cared for. As if it was the most normal thing in this violent world.

Because it was. She only opened his eyes, wide, to acknowledge both sides of the spectrum. And the fair side of the spectrum, it wasn't unreachable, not at all. It was very real and very near, just a confession away. Which he decided to postpone until the moment was perfect, to some distant, ideal moment, far in the future.

As for now... Risotto was just a lost child.

It was only natural that his cherished one was looked for keenly – and was not found, sadly.

Perhaps it was odd, for (Y/N) would always arrive early, if not, then among the first few members. The schedule of their arrivals was something Risotto had long adopted in his mind. In that regard, (Y/N) was the same as all people in the Squadra; in any other regard concerning her arrival, she was unique. Stood out to Risotto for no other reason but her many virtues and beloved flaws. Whenever his eyes would be blessed with the sight of her, he would be reminded of all of those traits. She was radiantly overwhelming, her very appearance. That was all she needed to do – merely appear.

Usually, she would stroll inside, wearing quiet confidence like it was sewn for her. A deadly stand user, a ruthless assassin, and yet, a sweetheart.

She'd search for Risotto with her stern gaze, and upon spotting him, upon the brisk locking of their eyes, her façade would crumble, just for that one instant. She'd show it in numerous ways: she'd look away, she'd turn around, twirl her pretty hair between her fingers. She would be so adorable in her shyness, her unbelievable innocence, which he caused.

Risotto's crimsons would remain unfaltering, but his stone heart? Moved, certainly moved, with vivacity short and unfamiliar. There would be so much enforced in Risotto, in that fleeting moment he would always look forward to – and was missing now.

Why, the question was immediately asked. And he answered: perhaps she was stuck in traffic, or some other everyday occurrence befell her. He had no way of knowing, and he had no way of confirming. She was possibly too occupied to contact anyone, for nobody mentioned the reason behind her absence. It had to be that way – he understood. He simply wanted his little heart to calm down as well. Although it had no rational basis, he had a bad feeling.

His hand lingered before his mouth. He swatted away the worry with a twitch of it. So much senseless stress, and what for? Time and time again, he realized just how inutile his feelings could be. Made him lose his mind for a bit, in situations that were, luckily, as unimportant as these.

Everything was crystal clear in his mind indeed; but in order to bring out the clarity, he had allowed the present moment to fly by. The chatter in the headquarters had shifted to some other topic, and he didn't manage to catch the transition. A long sigh was heaved.

The talk turned out to be a rising argument. His gaze was redirected to the team members who were scattered around the room, some sitting, some standing. And the ongoing discussion was...

"If he ordered chocolate milk, then maybe people would think it's coffee," Formaggio suggested.

"Do you actually think they wouldn't be able to discern chocolate milk from coffee? Just think of the serving, a simple, minuscule espresso," Prosciutto explained, showing the oh so miniature size of the cup with his fingers, "and a massive mug of chocolate milk with whipped cream on top like it's meant for some sugar-crazed kid." His description of the chocolate milk was spoken with sincere discord. Formaggio grimaced.

"I thought this conversation was long over," Melone added. Pesci nodded fervently.

"Obviously not," Prosciutto snapped back. Before anything else could be said, the boss raised his tone.

"Then you should finish it now," Risotto voiced himself, "let's get this over with."

"Aren't we waiting for (Y/N)? Where is she, anyway?" Sorbet inquired. Gelato, by his side, raised the both of his brows.

"I presume nobody has heard of her," the boss proposed. As expected, nobody had.

Her absence was questioned, and the Squadra together reached the same conclusion as Risotto: that she was busy with something and simply... couldn't make it. It was likely. They all knew of her occupation to help out the local seniors. It was something Illuso ridiculed whenever he could. And, by all accords, she wasn't the type to obsess over money, unlike Sorbet, who couldn't emphasize with her. All in all, it couldn't be anything serious, though the fact remained that she never, ever skipped these sorts of meetings. But there's a first.

Risotto silenced whatever worry some of the men showed. Soon enough, nobody spoke of it. Business as usual would ensue – and the money was divided among the assassins.

In appalling carelessness, they left the headquarters. Their boss watched them walk away, one by one. Being the first and last one to come and go, he once again remained on his own.

He stood up. Shrouded in complimenting darkness, Risotto found himself wondering: was there something that he should've done? Or could've done, at least – to calm down for once. To make this disgusting feeling go away.

He hadn't heard of her for multiple days. Ever since that one meeting. Could it be...?

Without thinking, he flipped out his phone and stared at it. All he had to do was dial her number and inquire about her absence. Just one call.

Nervously, his finger tapped against the phone's side. He was being irrational. Had it been anyone else in the team, he wouldn't have reacted this way. The fact her worth was placed so high...

He disliked it – no, he was embarrassed about it. He knew feelings twisted his perception far and wide.

His phone was ignored with a scowl. Nothing would be done after all. He would remain blind, he chose, and retreated into the murk of his office.

Some paperwork laid scattered on the table. He neared it and cleaned it up, and voilà, the entirety of his office was in perfect order.

With that over, he sat on the chair, clueless as to what to do next. The butterflies in his stomach were obnoxious – and irritated him vastly. The dread was piling up for no reason at all. He told himself that, yes, she must've been busy, and that, no, she wasn't incompetent. If something bad had truly happened to her, her stand would be enough to defend her.

She was just another member of the hitman team. Just a colleague. Overall, they were doing tough work, but... they had little to no trouble concerning their job. Nobody had disturbed them, and nobody would – they were stand users, both powerful and elusive. Then...

(Y/N) must've been fine, he reckoned, pinching the bridge of his nose. But some instinct was telling him that things weren't as simple as his brain dictated. With this bothersome worry constantly on his mind, he couldn't calm down. That, and the fact...

The fact he might determine what happened. It went against his logic and his heart, and it went against what (Y/N) would've done, and yet... it was a horrifying possibility.

If calling her meant some solace, then so be it. He loathed this anxiety – shedding some knowledge in this situation would surely ease him.

So he called her. Gained nothing else but the reason behind his awry laugh. She wasn't answering.

He called her again. She couldn't have done that. She was too clever, and he warned her, and she listened, he knew she always listened –

Did she hear the phone ring? Had she turned off the ringtone?

And he called her again. If she had decided to do something, she would've told him, after all. She was sensible, mature. She wouldn't go around doing... whatever it was she intended to. Just what was on her mind?

The solitary sound that filled his office – the beeps on the other line – once again died down. Silence enveloped him, deafening whatever was left of his frantic thoughts.

That's it. He set the phone down onto the table. Slowly, he lifted his hand to his mouth, and his eyes remained fixated on the still device. The heartbeat that latched onto his throat would not let go – and he stayed put, stuck in the unnerving moment.

What was he even doing? He'd lost his mind – this was becoming an obsession. He was deeply, thoroughly ashamed of it. His brows were brought together in scorn.

There were so many ways to justify her silence. Facts spoke in favor of her safety, whereas his intuition screamed bloody murder –

He hated it. He hated the fact his psyche was torn. He yearned for integrity, stability, and all of it was ravaged – due to, what, his emotions? His love? He wouldn't let those have their way, no.

Maybe he was just looking for a way to kill his rushing heart. A precaution, just in case the worst would come true.

So, to distract himself from the distraction, he chose to finally get his work done. He looked through the few reports, checked their credibility, if there were any mistakes, and somehow, he was finished in no time. The fact surprised him. Subsequently, he could go home.

He exited the headquarters, and was astounded by the dark that awaited outside. The nearest street lamp wasn't working, he noticed. Allowing a small frown on his face, he thought it would be absolutely ideal if a dog had decided to shit somewhere along the shadowed road. That, or... his breathing halted.

Wasn't it ridiculous that he hoped for (Y/N) to appear, even for a millisecond? Wasn't it simply ridiculous of him to actually possess that yearning? It truly was. He nodded to the mute inquiry, and headed home. Therein, he would be met with a displeasing surprise. His phone rang, and the news dropped.

Unbeknownst to Risotto, some other men of the Squadra had decided to contact (Y/N). They reached out to her, only to find nothing. No response at all. It was clear at that point:

(Y/N) had vanished.

Some of them informed Risotto the very same evening. Risotto was awake and conscious to read all of the messages and receive all the calls. With every sound his phone made, he foolishly believed it was (Y/N) who was contacting him next – and disappointment washed over him every time. At that point, he could barely control it.

But he beat the worry with his thoughts. Bashed it mercilessly, scolding himself for being such a worrywart. As the wee hours neared, so diminished the reasons for him to cling to the phone. Everyone was slowly going to sleep. He should too.

It was in nightly silence that he found some solace. These taps on his nerves were goddamn awful. He knew something horrible must've happened, but he did not know what exactly. The ignorance was eating him from the inside out, as well as the fact that he could've helped her. The fact he could still be of some help – but how? The more time passed, the fewer chances he had to come to her aid.

And yet... he knew he was exaggerating. It took him so much to convince himself.

All this strain took a toll. Although not tired physically, his mind was exhausted beyond measure. Whatever news the tomorrow held, he would skip to them through some much-needed sleep.

He prepared, whatever had to be done in the bathroom, and reached his cold bed. Not much was left to think about, and as incoherent whispers overtook his mind, he found himself falling asleep. And then, in what seemed like a blink later, he woke up – well-rested.

In the bliss of hazy consciousness, he forgot his worries, he forgot fear and life, and he found a reason to smile.

But things couldn't work that way. His brain soon turned on, like a buzzing machine, and overwhelmed him with the worries, fear and life. Pushed all the information, all the memories underneath his closed eyes. It wasn't that he didn't want to see them – he did not want them to happen in the first place.

He dug his face into the pillow. A faint groan escaped him, involuntarily. The very next moment, he jumped to his feet, ready to tackle the haunting possibilities.

He acknowledged the time of the day. Dawn had escaped him by mere minutes. Light was abundant – it crawled inside of his room, crept up the carpet, bits of it reaching his bed and its messy sheets.

He did not oversleep, as expected. With that on his mind, he checked his phone for anything new – and revealed nothing. Perhaps some men of the Squadra were chatting on the laptop, which he did not check. If anything important had occurred, he would be informed over the phone. That was his mindset.

Therefore, if nothing had happened so far, he was obligated to take action. At last, it was justified.

However, not many people were awake at this time, and he had no way of waking his team. He ought to wait if he wanted to gather the Squadra.

He had to kill time, then. Sadly, sleep was no longer an option. With so much free time, he could check the correspondence on the laptop. He turned it on, and while the system was starting up, he went to grab his toothbrush.

Once back from the bathroom, he threw himself on the chair. The poor thing creaked, the sound much like an agonizing scrape on his eardrums. He clenched his teeth, threw away the setback, and opened the chatroom. Oddly enough, there were no new messages after Melone's old rant about... Risotto didn't want to reread it.

And oddly enough, Ghiaccio was online. As soon as Risotto noticed that, his teammate began typing.

Good morning, boss.

Risotto parked the toothbrush in his mouth and typed back, Good morning.

Ghiaccio: Any news concerning (Y/N)?

Risotto: Nothing.

Ghiaccio: She hasn't contacted anyone?

Risotto: No.

Ghiaccio: That doesn't make any sense though?!

Risotto: I know.

Ghiaccio: She's always doing something with her phone and now out of all times she can't answer it?!

Risotto narrowed his eyes at the statement. What do you mean?

Ghiaccio: Whenever we go on a mission, she's glued to it. Staring at it like she's expecting the messiah. All the time. Now, somehow, she can't reach it. The fuck happened? Did she lose it?

This was confusing. Risotto had never seen (Y/N) linger on her phone as much as Ghiaccio highlighted it. When with Risotto, why would she not be on the phone? The reason why... the possible reason made his heart contort.

Even so, she would've arrived to collect her pay yesterday. It's abnormal of her to be unavailable for such a long period, Risotto reasoned.

It took Ghiaccio some time before he'd start typing again. OK. Basically, she disappeared.

Risotto: Most likely. I've intended to have you gathered in the headquarters as soon the team is awake.

Ghiaccio: OK.

On both sides, a pause arrived. Risotto knew the cause of his – a numb knot spawned in his chest. He took the moment to acknowledge it, merely sigh, and greet it so. In that solemn situation, he tested out the limits this invisible cord wrapped him in, and revealed that, by all means, he ached. One deep breath was enough to release a string of pain through his heart.

All of a sudden, a new message garnered his attention. He made sure to steady his lungs.

I have no idea what happened. I haven't spoken to her in a while, and it's probably the same with everyone else. I'm sure that the others would've told you in case they knew anything relevant. That being said, I hope (Y/N) is alive.

How blunt. As if Risotto hadn't been aware of that already. He replied with a short, Me too.

But there was some warmth in Ghiaccio's statement. It defied the usual chill of his personality. Risotto did not miss it, and yet... could not reciprocate it.

I should get going, he added, for he had to, in all sincerity. The toothpaste in his mouth was starting to bite on his tongue, and the sensation wasn't pleasant in the least.

However, standing up proved to be an unpleasant act as well. The tinge in his heart rose, as the knot tightened. He was obligated to carry it, to the bathroom, where he spat the paste and finished brushing his teeth, then to the window, where he stumbled to refresh his head.

No matter the cold air, he poked his head outside, arms resting on the window's frame. He was met with scarce life scattered in the grey.

And what happened there? What would be the commotion that sparked Risotto's interest? Some people crossed the street – a car hadn't stopped early enough, so the woman on the zebra jumped and latched onto her companion's arm. It was comical, to an extent, and he was reminded of a similar event.

Per se, going on missions with (Y/N) was something Risotto broadly avoided. Reasons were numerous. The last time they had gone to one, their particular set of abilities was necessitated for the kill – so he had no choice but to do it with her. Their target was a dangerous stand user, but as expected, that presented no problem for the duo. That's not to say they had no struggles. The fight left some wounds, but it was nothing too bad. Victory was achieved and that mattered.

Relaxed as he was in that moment, Risotto lifted his hands in a triumphal pose. Meters in front of him, the bloodied corpse laid as a sure trophy to their success. Apparently, the success was so great that (Y/N) had to hug him – and... well, he froze. In every sense.

It was a misunderstanding, she explained later, because of the way his hands were positioned, the situation, the relief she felt, and whatnot. But Risotto was left with an unplanned memory of an embrace, although it was very short and very awkward.

And this unplanned memory now resurfaced completely out of the blue. What once gave him a sincere smile, now locked his lips into a rigid line. Not much could be felt. He continued observing the streets.

Lazy cars passed underneath him, and lazy eyes watched them. Pigeons hopped about the pavement, hastier than many of the few people outside in this monotone morning. Someone found it adequate to yell at a reckless driver, and the driver yelled back. All in all, a very peaceful, monotone morning. Nothing that would unsettle Risotto, far from that.

He lived through the calm, through the storm, and now settled with their aftermath. The morning was largely as quiet as his tired mind, and he relished in this mutual peace. He prepared himself, with deep breaths, to face whatever this nauseating day had to offer.

But things needn't be as dark. He didn't have to look down at the dirty road. He could've stared at the clear rooftops, the bleached skies. There, the white was burning. The Sun had its rays sprawled equally over the clouds, and they were quite painful for Risotto to watch. The heavens were simply that bright – overwhelmingly so, for even a peculiar thought crossed his mind: could they be hiding her?

His eyes widened and he quickly looked away, scoffing at his stray assumption. What an enigma – why was he so certain in that delusional idea? On a subconscious level, where his intuition too hollered, but logic scolded. Interesting. He abandoned the window and its view, and smiled in bitter intrigue.

Not much time was killed, he knew. So he made himself breakfast, a sandwich with whatever he had in the fridge. There wasn't much else he could do afterwards except idle, and think, all over again, of everything and nothing. He was consuming time with prospects and reflections.

Little by little, the minutes accumulated into hours. Noises of the day rose, and so did Risotto. He informed the Squadra that action must be taken. It did not take much for them to reassemble at the headquarters, and Risotto, once again, arrived first, and luckily, he did not wait much.

With everyone gathered, tension was high. Risotto walked around, unusually nervous himself, with a hand on his chin. And he assured, beginning as he had planned over and over again back home, "There is a high probability that (Y/N)'s disappearance is a false alarm, for she has a bustling private life. Therefore, I advise you not to panic, even in case we do uncover something bad. We need to stay calm." By that, he mostly meant Pesci.

"However, the fact remains nothing like this has ever happened. (Y/N) has no record of such odd behavior, making her disappearance even more concerning. We should backtrace her possible intentions and from there, start investigating."

Risotto took a deep breath. He knew her intentions, but he wanted to hear someone deny them.

"Let's start from the last time we collectively saw her, the meeting –"

"Which meeting?" Pesci seemed confused, which made Prosciutto grumble.

"When we discussed the boss," his older brother explained curtly. Pesci let out an "oh".

With that over, Risotto continued. "So, has anyone seen her afterwards, or spoken to her?"

Only a few heads were shaken. The remainder resorted to silence. Risotto's eyes narrowed at the sight. Judging by the situation, he was the one who had last seen her.

The situation was a short one, nothing special. She stayed behind after the said meeting. Sat for a couple of moments, a blank stare ahead, missing Risotto by a couple of inches. He sat in front of her, on the sofa adjacent to hers, thereby near. He easily caught the newfound fire stirring up in her eyes.

"This is insane," was all she said.

Tilting his head in confusion, Risotto couldn't quite understand the meaning behind her statement. (Y/N) didn't really voice her opinion throughout the meeting, but she seemed to have agreed with their final decision: to go after the boss. "We've already established that the idea is insane," he said, his connotation slightly inquisitive.

"No, no, I'm not talking about us going after the boss. I'm talking about him, exactly him," she explained while flailing her hands a little. This amused Risotto.

"We've already established that he's horrible as well," he continued.

"Not in the sense we all talked about! This isn't about money, I couldn't care less about that. I don't care if I'm paid a couple of thousand lira less. I live in the lap of luxury anyway, we all do, more or less. But, boss, he is degrading us. Humiliating us!"

This was something Ghiaccio had mentioned, but Risotto didn't interrupt her. He was fazed by her ferocity.

"And I won't let our superior treat us like scum. Because that's clearly what we are to him: scum. While other sections of the Famiglia thrive, we're left with what? A broken TV," she pointed at the said object, "and absolutely humiliating treatment. Despite us being oh so important to him and oh so cherished in the Famiglia. I won't let him do that. We can't let him have his way. For all I know, we can easily kill him. Right? There is a reason why he's so elusive, he must be a weakling. If not a weakling, then a pathetic loner. Doesn't matter. But once we find him, he won't stand a chance! He'll die. We will kill him. We have to."

She caught a breather, and Risotto used that to speak up. There was so much he wanted to say after this rant.

"First of all, breathe a little, (Y/N)," he told her, making her let out an airy laugh.

"I've hardly ever seen you this riled up. I assume there's a personal motivation that fuels the animosity."

"That's true," she confirmed.

"In that case, take care. You cannot allow emotions to control you."

She nodded, and Risotto continued. "Second of all, you are correct. Everything you've said is true. This is why we will go after him once we gather the necessary information. As you said, he won't stand a chance. I wouldn't agree with the team's intentions if it were impossible."

(Y/N) probably tried not to show it, but she was relieved, and Risotto noticed it. Her shoulders relaxed, as well as her once stern expression.

"Third of all, why?"

"Why what?" There, even her tone softened.

"Why did you say all of this? We've already discussed that in the meeting."

She hesitated on what to say. Indeed, even as she spoke, she carefully picked her upcoming words, her eyes bolting to the ceiling as she figured. "You've already guessed that there is a... personal motivation, as you called it, present. But... I wanted to make sure you'd.... well, do it."

Risotto's brows furrowed a bit. "Agree with the plan? I've already done so."

"Don't misunderstand me," she began, quick to defend herself, "you just didn't seem too... eager about it. I wanted to make sure you were convinced... and convince you, too."

Bold words coming from (Y/N), she hadn't said anything during the meeting. But Risotto was unpleasantly surprised to find out that (Y/N) thought he was hesitant to comply. He would do anything for his team, he truly would. He cared vastly about them, and even if the idea to kill the boss was immaturely impossible, he would consider it. He would, no doubt about it. It would be right to say her assumption struck the wrong chord.

He decided not to justify himself, although he wanted to, in order to be seen as a better person in her eyes, to brag about his willingness to help the team – it truly was tempting. But he swallowed his pride and told her, "A plan like that ought to be approached with caution, and as it concerns all of us, it is something that we all should carefully review, give our opinion about, and collectively agree on. And as you've seen by some people's behavior earlier, they're excessively enthusiastic about it. Some sense had to be delivered."

(Y/N) nodded. "I understand. I'm sorry if I offended you."

Did he show it? He shouldn't have. "You haven't, not in the least. Would that be all?"

She nodded again. Good, then. Risotto found it inappropriate to ask her about her troubles, although she seemed to have been somewhat... disturbed. If she needed his support, advice, or anything, she would've asked, he believed. So he let her be, more out of shame than out of intrusiveness.

She stood up and without saying anything at all, headed towards the exit. This astounded Risotto, as well as the odd sight – she clenched her fists.

"Don't."

She turned around, perplexed by his demand. He was perplexed too, without a doubt. He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes.

"Don't do anything on your own. It's too dangerous," he warned.

"Sure," she dismissed him with a quick reply and continued walking away. No, no, she wouldn'td do that –

"(Y/N)," he called out, and she turned around, once again. They both heard fear in Risotto's voice.

"I mean it. Don't do anything stupid."

(Y/N) was clearly shocked. Wide eyes almost went shut, as a loving face took over. "Oh, don't worry. Have I ever?"

She hadn't, of course. Risotto forced a smile as well. Lingering on the doorstep, she seemed as if she wanted to say something – at least that's what Risotto's memory told. Then she left, no goodbyes whatsoever.

Her bright smile was engraved in his reminiscence. The more he thought of it, the more his own expression darkened in the present.

"If that's so, then I'm certain (Y/N) went after the boss," he finally stated to his team.

"She what? No way," Illuso was quick to disagree.

"After the meeting, she approached me and hinted that she would go after him on her own. I warned her against it, and she seemed to have obeyed."

Melone... had an addition to the conversation. "She didn't listen, huh... oh, (Y/N), (Y/N)..."

"Quit interrupting him!" Ghiaccio yelled.

"Too much time has passed for us to blame this on a mishap. We must find her before it's too late," Risotto proclaimed, and the hitman team agreed.

Nobody knew where she lived, except for Risotto. If the situation were any different, he was sure he'd get ridiculed for that. Or at least, indirectly teased, in whispers and chuckles. He just so happened to have once walked her home – and although she had a stand of her own and could easily defend herself, she accepted his company. Something Risotto was now (and back then) extremely grateful for.

The search began with him having a head start. He went to her home, as he had intended. The others went to local cafes, inspected the area, some resorted to finding clues on the web. To conclude, the collective worked hard on finding her.

It didn't matter who hit the jackpot, Risotto thought. She needed to be found.

Formaggio and Illuso came with him, and the two chatted all the way. (Y/N) lived in the most ordinary building on the streets; the same stoic, gray type that framed all alleys. As they walked down those dull roads, they encountered a repetitive scenery. But Risotto remembered which building was hers – he would recognize it for sure. The door was...

"Boss?"

Risotto's line of thoughts was broken with Illuso's inquiry. "Yes?"

"I'm unsure if this is inappropriate of me to ask, but I wanted to know 'cuz it seemed real fishy. Is there something going on between you and (Y/N)?"

Luckily, Risotto's ironic smile was not seen.

"What?! That's very inappropriate, and you know that! Where's your heart, man? The fuck," Formaggio immediately stood in Risotto's defense.

"No, Formaggio, it's alright," Risotto sincerely spoke, and responded, looking back to the two men with a cold glare, "and Illuso, to answer your question, no."

"Mhm. I see, sorry," Illuso replied to that. Formaggio's grumble was heard as well.

Their boss moved on in silence. He had more important business to attend to. Because just around the corner was (Y/N)'s residence. That is, if he remembered correctly.

They turned, and Risotto recognized the deep crimson entrance of her building. His heart leaped. They were on the right path after all. He walked on, approached the door, and checked the tiny nameplates on the wall. Among them, he searched for (L/N)... and found her almost at the very bottom, meaning she lived on the top floor.

Naturally, he pressed the button next to her name, just in case. He didn't know what he was expecting, for he got no response from the intercom.

Since they had no other way of entering, Risotto used Metallica to mess with the lock. Thus the door was opened and they entered the chilly interior. And to go up, they used the stairs.

He skipped two, even three steps at a time. Illuso and Formaggio followed close behind, hasty as well. Risotto's heartbeat rose as they all spiraled upwards, to her residence. That horrible feeling from yesterday was caving in, once again did his intuition scream bloody murder. All that he had in mind were the worst scenarios.

He had never been optimistic; hope, itself, was something he never resorted to. Similarly, he was never roughly disappointed. But now, what fueled him was utter despair, pushing him closer to the terrifying possibility, driving it into reality –

With a surprisingly sickening atmosphere. A faint stench alienated the air. What a sorry introduction to (Y/N)'s floor.

He really didn't have to hurry at that point, but he kept the frantic pace. Why, he had no idea, but he kept searching for her nameplate on one of the doors, although he knew what would expect him. He was absolutely sure, for such a long period, wasn't he? But all of the dread he tried to hide, now cumulated, and it was too much for him to bear. He was shaking, oh, he sure was, as he looked around, his feet lighter than ever.

Illuso spotted it first. Her pretty name was engraved on the plate. Risotto glanced at it, then towards the lock – Metallica was undoing the mechanism already. A click later, and he could enter doom –

But he did not want to. He froze, his hand floated in the air, and he realized, as his heartbeat ticked the time in his ears: he could not do it. He couldn't make himself cross to the other side.

"Boss?"

The callout brought him back to his senses. He was their leader, through the good and the bad, through the best and the worst. He had to do this, he had no other choice.

His hand landed on the doorknob and he swung it open. Another wave of reek greeted them, thus Risotto's breaths turned painstakingly shallow. As if the smell clawed at his wet eyes, he found himself squinting them, to make out the thick whiff and what else it obscured.

He was moments away from it. The last time he would see (Y/N) in the entirety of his life. He looked around, darted his eyes here and there, and he saw, in between.

All he needed was a single glance, to be reminded he loved. One glance, to see her signaling a hollow heart to him – inked with her guts, spilled and embedded onto the wall with black nails. Intestines that morphed into a crimson profession of undying love. Underneath them laid their deceased owner, a ghastly figure with a gaping void to fill out her stomach – and on her face, eyes bulging at Risotto, pleading for help long impossible, long expired. He wasn't there to save her.

But she? (Y/N) was finally there to warrant her death.

He closed his eyes as if to deny it. Clenched his teeth, as if to grip onto the remainder of his sanity. And as if to distance himself from his men's gags and screams, he walked backwards, blurry gaze shoved into the floor. Never again to see her.

Agony crippled him. His hand landed onto the nearby wall, to prevent himself from falling further into this void – the void that was in her open mouth, her dugout belly, her once beautiful mind. All now black, morose black, that painted his vision, that hid him from his own tears. The mildest consequence of his colossal failure.

And what to reply to that proclamation? To that monstrous statement? A chokehold prevented Risotto from sobbing, let alone screaming back. All that left his trembling lips were ragged breaths, and all that came inside was sickly air, barely enough to fuel his shuddering heart. Salt, too, prickled his tongue, while it arched and got pulled by the rising nausea.

There was so much he could've done to prevent this. This had been preventable, but now he was powerless. Utterly and wholly insignificant in the face of fate.

There was nothing left to do. This was all they were left with. A tragedy and a massive disrespect to (Y/N) – and the dreadful wonderment, just how much she had suffered before succumbing. He could not begin to imagine it, but he knew that his aches, they were nothing. Nothing when compared to what she'd been through in her final moments.

Only one person could be held accountable.

"Boss, there's... a note," Formaggio's thin voice was heard. Risotto could not respond, he barely even heard Formaggio – his head was absent in perturbation. His hand rose, fingertips strumming over the gentle lines of tears. He became aware of his outburst, how vastly it devastated him – and to hold himself together, slowly, his hand hid his mouth. He could not allow himself to fall apart.

Avoidant of the bloodbath, his gaze drifted to Illuso – a man so caught up in terror that he had to sit down and stuff his eyes with the sight so as to convince himself in the cruelty of the present. Then, Risotto's gaze hovered over to Formaggio, to find someone who, much like his boss, had no courage to face it. Ghastly pale was his visage, trapped in bewilderment.

In those two, Risotto saw himself, the devastation was mirrored. And he saw people who needed him, who needed his help. He had to stay strong not only for them, but for his own sake as well. He could not allow this tragedy to tear him apart right at the start, no. He had to calm down. He had to gather himself.

Clarity graced his vision. His hand lowered. (Y/N) would want it that way.

He hardened his heart, as much as the tender muscle allowed. With a wipe or two, his tears were gone, and no new ones would escape. Risotto trod on with sure steps, to find the note Formaggio had gestured to.

Indeed, on the table laid a paper tainted by droplets of her blood. Risotto couldn't bear to touch it, but he leaned in to read.

With no heart to sustain it, the idea is killed, it said, in a mockingly fancy handwriting. It only caused worse spite.

"What... does it say?" Illuso asked, quietly.

Risotto made a rocky sigh before reading it out loud, and he turned around upon hearing Illuso's whisper. "Whoever did this is a monster."

And before he could spit his words of vengeance, Formaggio exclaimed them himself. "We'll find the boss and obliterate him."

Obliterate? But would they? When uttered from another mouth, the idea seemed ridiculous to Risotto. Vengeance was impossible, at least in their current position: zero information and a high possibility of new casualties. This was a mere warning, a mere showcase of the boss' power.

He was flaunting with the lives and deaths of Risotto's teammates. As infuriating as it was, Risotto was powerless against it. He could feel his nerves boil.

"We can't," he spoke, his voice steady as ever. He could almost feel the terrified looks of his teammates as they landed on him. And he would not look back. He kept his focus on the note, stubbornly rereading it.

"The message is clear. With (Y/N), the idea of betrayal should die as well," Risotto elaborated.

Illuso jumped back to his feet, his fists clenched in newfound fervor. "As if we'd let that happen!"

Risotto's eyelids drooped. They had to let it happen.

"Right! (Y/N) didn't die in vain!" His teammate agreed, striking Risotto's nasty spot.

"No. You both know that we're in no position to search after the boss. We know nothing and there's nothing we can do."

Formaggio immediately retorted, "But (Y/N) was clearly on to something! Why do you think she was murdered?! Because she knew something!"

"For a fact I know she didn't, and she was murdered for trying to dig into the boss' identity," Risotto tried to reason.

"So what?! She was alone, we can do it together! We can avenge her!" Formaggio once again attacked, enforcing even more anger into Risotto.

"We can't," he barely spoke through his growing rage.

"But –"

Risotto snapped, "Silence! Do you want others to get slaughtered like her?!"

Formaggio couldn't muster a response. His boss calmed down, luckily, and continued, "I understand your need for justice. We simply cannot afford it right now."

Out of all people, Risotto could wait. The very fact vengeance would arrive someday was enough for him, and he hoped his men understood this.

"Can't believe you're arguing while she's there," Illuso mumbled. He hadn't spoken at all during the conflict, but what he uttered now eternally silenced whatever counterargument was brewing. Risotto, however... he merely hung his head low.

"The way this fucker disrespected her..." Formaggio afforded a peek at the corpse.

But Risotto did not. He swore they would restore her dignity.

The very next day, they attempted to. At her quiet, humble funeral. Overlapping silence crushed all above the sullen coffin. All the tears were long cried, and mutual hatred had long dropped its weights; all that remained was beat-up anguish.

The amount of belittlement before fate was astonishing, for these assassins. To think that death they dealt with so commonly would hurt them all so profoundly.

In the center of it all, stood their leader. Risotto's breakdown upon spotting (Y/N) was the only time his emotions were shown – ever, in fact. As it turned out, they were not seen. Formaggio and Illuso were too occupied with the corpse to even look at Risotto. Afterwards, he returned to his usual, aloof self, as if nothing had happened. Nothing!

Even during the funeral, he had little to say. His teammates' behavior spoke volumes about (Y/N).

Pesci, who was relentlessly crying at its beginning, wailed so much to his brother. Prosciutto didn't try to scold him, or silence him. Risotto listened just as carefully as Prosciutto did, while Pesci explained, "She was so sweet! She always praised me, she... she always... she was always there for me... why do the best people have to go?! Why her?! Why, big bro?!"

Pesci threw himself onto his sibling, his hands gripped and messed with Prosciutto's suit, but he didn't know how to answer. Risotto, listening from a lonesome distance, concluded that there was no reason. Fate rolled the dice and they landed poorly. There was no higher meaning, there was no... nothing.

Destiny was a hollow principle. Questioning it was useless. And so, Risotto came to terms with the tragedy with inhuman ease. Not apathy for sure, rather, a numbness that lulled him into a dream-like state. This funeral, the events leading up to it? They did not feel real. Risotto was just a dissociated bystander thrown into it all.

He observed, waiting for his role to become... potent. To matter in this entire mess. But there was so little he could do! He sat on the cold bench, once again, powerless, just mingling as one of the remnants of the tragedy. They all faded away, slowly – grieving was not their forte. With the first assassins who rose to their feet, Risotto felt an alarming pound in his chest. They couldn't leave without a proper statement coming from him. He was obligated to say something.

"From this moment onward, (Y/N) (L/N) has never existed," his voice boomed in formidable echoes, resonating through his men as they departed. It was the best that way. Sever the severed, he had decided, and cut off the mutilated heartstrings. What was done cannot be undone, he was aware, and although he ached...

Would (Y/N) like to see them in such a state? Grieving, despairing? Certainly not. Then why bother wailing?

He needed to move on. He had no other choice. Everything else would lead to complications. He could not allow emotions to sway his life – or his job.

But he had to deal with them. Eliminating them was impossible, bottling them up was impossible. If he were to cut them, he had to tap in their essence. He needed to end his relationship with (Y/N).

Risotto knew the importance of goodbyes. In psychodrama, for example, he knew the protagonist sometimes had to deal with unresolved relationships from the past, and to resolve it, a farewell would be played out. In the form of dialogue, between the two characters, where the protagonist ought to say what was left unsaid, thus sealing the past.

Risotto had no choice but to reenact this method. Nothing else would effectively, healthily, set him free, as far as he knew.

He was almost excited to walk down the stairs and reach her, and have some time alone with her. He thought of the many things he could've told her, all so vividly different. He could've, yes, he could've told her of the cat he gave milk to – she would've loved hearing about it – or he could've slammed a singular, harsh goodbye, but none of it would serve the purpose. He needed to say the right thing, the perfect thing to mark the farewell.

As his steps slowed, so slowed the pace of his thoughts. He had to stop and ponder, for he attained the grave realization that this was his last moment with her. At least, in some figurative sense, in his mindscape, but she was with him.

And just like always, Risotto would change. His heart was moved, crooked in a stray direction, but certainly moved. He found a flower by her casket, and caressed it with the gentleness she had once taught him.

She had taught him so much – she did not have to. Risotto did not want to learn how to love. But, he did not blame her, not in the least. He was grateful for her very existence in this goddamned world, however short-lasted it proved to be. Where she trod, even her shadow was boldly bright in comparison to the mafia's dark. He didn't know how, but she did not cease to illuminate. Not once, since the day he met her.

What a remarkable person she was. His eyelids fluttered, and he let them fall shut, black enveloping his whole world.

"Sorry," he murmured, although he knew it made no sense. Her body had evidently been in her apartment for a long time, far before her disappearance was noted. The decomposing confirmed it. But he felt the need to tell her that, to apologize, for some reason. Of all things, it was by far the most adequate.

And alongside the apology, a weight was lifted, and Risotto opened his eyes to see bleak existence. Swiftly, he averted his gaze away from the coffin. It was over.

The firm knot in his chest lessened its grip. He knew he was not forgiven. He would never be, and he could live with that, so long vengeance was possible, he established firmly.

Risotto Nero walked into the funeral a free man, and exited it a convict. His confinement – solitary. Walls of hardened sorrow caged him. Stone-cold they were, and stone-cold was him. Had anything truly changed? A free man and a convict, where was the difference, except in the title? For he could live life as if nothing happened, and the very reality was his jail.

Such a solid punishment. To be forced to live obediently. To just walk the streets like yet another passerby, as unimportant as any of them in his own life. In the grand city of Napoli, despite the mafia and his clearly valued position in it, Risotto had never felt smaller. It was no wonder, then, that he slouched his back and paced with a pace of a drunkard.

Everything seemed... saturated. The songs blasting in the cafes, the children playing on the empty roads, the pigeons fluttering their wings loudly once Risotto interrupted their cooing. Those were all ordinary things, but they all stuck to his mind, due to this... dim wonderment.

He couldn't wait to get over with these melancholic sensations. He simply wanted to get home, then get a mission, then go kill. He wanted to be thrown back into the cycle.

And after an eventless day and a dreamless night, he finally got it. He was with the rest of the Squadra, getting accustomed to this faulty cycle they were coming back to. Only (Y/N) was missing. The fact wasn't mentioned, and wouldn't be mentioned, as it appeared. Days tumbled over each other, and there was a development Risotto was glad to perceive.

The head of the Famiglia had a powerful message to send out to Risotto's team – that their heart, the vital organ, was ripped out. By all means, that was false.

Risotto grew to understand that, through the tragedy, the team had changed. It was a subtle difference, probably noticeable only to an eye as keen as his, but it was there. He looked into the men's actions and saw a silent sort of kindness. (Y/N) united them with her absence.

But when delving into the introspective, Risotto, strangely, found no change. It was as if the shocking moment was the worst, everything else... he could get used to. He didn't allow himself to miss her, and he easily distracted himself from her departure. If he'd spot the empty seat on the sofa that once belonged to her, well, he'd simply look away. A tinge of pain would impale his heart, but he got used to that too.

And he knew, time would heal it as well. Time would bring revenge, the sweet justice. But time passed, and what happened? The world revolved, the spring's beginnings unfolded, and the assassins killed all but the one most important target – the boss.

Much like the kindness (Y/N)'s absence enforced, the topic of the boss remained silent. It seemed as if everyone were waiting, just like Risotto, for his mystery to be faintly revealed, mentioned, caught in their everyday occurrences.

But it did not. Risotto's hands were still soaked with the wrong blood. He was itching to scratch the dried gore off of his skin, to scrape this vicious cycle. It was becoming one, wasn't it? What a paradox. The numbness he swore to wear had gotten all tight and unpleasant, his teammates were tired and fed up. Risotto knew he loved to imagine it were the boss he was killing in his few assassinations, and this was where he broke his pledge. For this was when he felt, and when the numbness became bestial wrath.

And he... he disliked that, but he couldn't help it. He could allow these few emotions in those few moments to overwhelm him, at most. At most! Everywhere else he was the same as ever.

However, one day, there was some sort of odd gravity in the team's behavior. Risotto had always been sensitive to social cues and their finesses, so he watched as this regal behavior spread among the Squadra. He could see Pesci's shy gasp, Prosciutto's squint of sapphires, Ghiaccio's involuntary grit and Sorbet's frown. All cascading from each other, as a secret was passed on, never directly spoken, never heard by Risotto.

The avoidance present in their interactions was a native mechanism for Risotto. What would redirect his gaze from that one spot on the sofa, what would always remain silenced, indirectly, barely mentioned? (Y/N). So he put that topic, her, in the current context, the...

The month after her death. One month had already passed. The unsaid secret reached him too.

His eyes scanned the polished floor beneath him, and his thoughts – they were blown out by the intense realization.

He picked on the patterns in the light that was reflected. Some straight, some looped. He tilted his head slightly, and the light moved where he watched, and remained where his gaze stopped. His brain was kindled so.

Now, Risotto was no sentimentalist. First, his job excluded that trait, and second, his character could not sustain it. So he didn't do anything. He had to pretend she hadn't existed, and just like the rest of the Squadra, silently accept it all over again.

It was a minor change to the cycle, not the best, but it happened. A little fact thrown into the seas of existence, rippled the waves with its drop, and it spread, not without consequences.

Although to Risotto it seemed like just another pale day, it would end with a note very vibrant. In his sleep, he was encountered by some scene of nature, where light trespassed the treetops in white streaks. Underneath them snaked a tame road of dirt. And although he visually had no way to locate this spot, he fundamentally knew where he was – Sicily.

Once the realization settled, he turned around, compelled by the gentle breeze. It was the sea that the breeze originated from, the beautiful, wide azure, a remedy to his soul. And before him, all the way to the water, sand like ivory, never too coarse and never too rough.

And the wind, the scent it carried... mewls of nostalgia got to him, and he was melting. He was brought back to his childhood, to the innocent and loving times, and... and that warmth, that came with all that was good, and with... love, indeed, love.

(Y/N). He knew she was the wind, for she gave him all of it. In return...

He could feel her in his grasp. (H/C) locks beneath his chin, her loving smile that he swore to protect; her, simply with him, possible and true. The warmth of her embrace that he felt only once in his damned life, that slipped away, like the breeze all around. He was enveloped in the wind, but the wind did not stay. It sighed along, then left him alone. And just like that, Risotto was stripped of any feeling.

There was unfamiliar heat in his face, and he tried to chase it away. He even closed his eyes, ready for the accursed tears to pool, to drain him of the warmth – but they didn't. He remained frozen as seconds flew past, expecting his heart to split in half. But it didn't.

Why? He had to go after the wind, he thought, so he took a step forward, only one. It was enough for him to realize that he had no feeling in his foot. It was almost as if he was standing on air. The sensation unsettled him.

He waved his hand towards the brush by his side, and did not sense the leaves underneath his fingertips. He retracted it, then, frustrated, shoved it into the bush. Nothing, again. He pulled it out and saw cuts and early blood seeping from them. He did not feel any pain, nor the delicate trickling of that fluid, nor the stinging that should've arrived as his flesh was exposed. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

He stepped backwards by reflex – no, he staggered backwards, then fell. And he would've hit his head quite painfully if it weren't for the fact he couldn't sense it. Such an annoyance, all of this. He rolled on the ground and somehow got back on his feet.

Risotto was static, but did not get to question these circumstances he found himself in. No, as soon as he got back to his feet, he looked and saw that what once was an angelic azure, now grew into a wild indigo. Grew, yes, he saw that right. An atrocious wave rose from Sicily's fine coastline and like a crumbling wall approached Risotto with the sole purpose of killing him.

Run for cover, he thought, and bashed his legs senselessly against the ground. It was futile, naturally – and the waters swallowed him, crushing him that very instance, but allowing him to feel at long last: death.

Risotto woke up, chest pressed against the bed, his heart pounding so violently it actually hurt. He opened his eyes immediately to spite these fantasies, and indeed, he was back in his room, in his bed. He groaned and smacked his face with the both of his hands. What a fucking gross dream.

His next day wasn't half bad. No, well, he almost forgot about the dream since something far more important happened. Donatella Una was dead, and Donatella Una was the boss's alleged lover. Risotto would have to admit he was pleasantly surprised.

But this only triggered a chain of events down which the Squadra descended. One by one, the path was abandoned by the men, as they erred fatally. Risotto was left the last one standing, barely standing.

He had no team to be strong for. All of his sufferings were ignored for one, simple goal: to find and kill the boss, and he was persistent in his cause. Only after could his life continue, and until then – until then, he would do everything and anything in his power to end that one wretched life. Luckily, he was on the right path to do so.

He was led to Sardinia, he was led to a cliff, and he was led to observe an unusual line of events which he chose to interfere in – rightfully so.

The pink-haired man he chose to bother was of the usual sort. Terrified and frail like any other civilian. Risotto would've let go of him if it weren't for one important factor.

His intuition screamed. This time, he would listen. And just like that, indeed, facts came to support it. He spotted the movement of the foot this guy had made, a very specific and deliberate one, to hide the envelope.

"Stand up, move your left leg, and show me," he ordered, lifting a finger to point at him. But he was suspiciously ignored. Risotto didn't have time for this idiocy.

"I told you to stand up! Stand up!"

His furious demand was listened to, and the stranger jumped up with a cowardly screech. He stood on one leg, arms propelled in a defensive manner. But that did not interest Risotto – the envelope was, as it appeared, empty.

Risotto caught a buzzing sound in the distance. The stranger, too, reacted to it. The guy had to be a stand user, for he reacted to... to Aerosmith. Buccellati's team arrived, and this man, a stand user, couldn't be there without the boss' interference. He had to be a person greatly trusted by the boss.

With Buccellati's presence on his mind, Risotto felt inclined to battle him. However, however...

"But there is true fear in your heart," he exclaimed, "you're a walking contradiction!"

His opponent twitched and resorted to uncanny anger. "Shut your trap!" He pointed at Risotto, and Risotto saw that he was even foaming, like a rabid dog. "You're the one who's about to be shaking in your boots!"

He ran towards the assassin – a bad move. Risotto immediately deduced the range of his stand, thus the way to land the kill. He proceeded to have his own stand procreate razors, then needles in his opponent's trap. This didn't faze him one bit, and he ran towards Risotto, trying to land a hit of his own. But all his punches were amiss, and as Risotto avoided them, he reached the edge of the cliff – ideal, he threw himself off the rocks and vanished from his enemy's sight.

The battle began. Dulled rage was a sharp weapon, and he was itching to strike.

And struck he did. Right from the start, he tiptoed at the doorstep of victory. The train of his thoughts was conducted with elegance; he predicted and he predicted right, and the enemy would soon succumb. What occurred in his mind, reflected on reality; his movements were equally as airy and light while he swayed around. He circled around, stopped here and there, took a blow – but dealt far worse ones.

His foot was severed, but he took the best of it. And as expected, his opponent was tricked, and what did that mean? What could that possibly mean? Oh, Risotto knew exactly what it meant, and his heart trembled with delight.

And then? He explained his trick, and watched as his opponent quite literally changed before him, and so did Risotto's opinion on him. The realization snapped in his mind as soon as he saw confidence twisting the man before him. Coupled with his erratic behavior, Risotto rightfully concluded that there were two of them. The first one, just a loyal henchman, but the other one...

"I had just thought you were the boss' most trusted man," he murmured, then pointed at the screaming man. "But you... to think that you..."

Pure glee forced a grin to his face. He couldn't remember the last time he felt wholly happy, to the point he was shivering like a careless boy.

"I can't wait to see what your face will look like once you die," he shouted in elation like no other, he relished in the bloodshed that took place and the agonizing wails of the boss, of that disgusting scum. Risotto would do anything to make this torture last an infinity or more, but he had to restrain himself. He had to do the right thing, finally, he could do it.

"There's nothing else you can do. I've won. I'm going to chop off your head," he exclaimed. "This is the end! Take this!"

At long last, triumph! His hands trembled as he lifted them up and up, and as he took a deep breath, his chest full of life and joy, he sentenced the boss to eternal death, "Metallica!"

And then, all of a sudden, horrifying pains reverberated throughout his body. It was only afterwards that he got aware of the gunshots.

He couldn't even move his hand to feel his wounds. He couldn't even process it. He was dying.

"I was winning..." He whispered in disbelief, denial, dread – for he was outsmarted, and he was beginning to realize how and why, despite the collapsing of his mind. "I would've won... but you had thrown the scalpels at them... boss..."

He fell, and all of his spirits did too. His blurry vision, tiring eyes, were subjected to the Sun's scorching light. He had no strength left to move them.

"I finally... figured it out..." And he wouldn't let it slip away, no. He would end the boss. He was determined now more than ever before, his mind was a mess, but he knew he would do it –

He swung a brisk glance towards this shadowed man who now stood by him, holding up Risotto's foot. He only recognized his arrival due to the absence of the Sun – the silhouette now hid it from Risotto. "I know your identity." Gore dripped from the boss' head as he tilted it slightly. Risotto's time was short, he was painfully aware, and he shortly pleaded,

"Before I die, show me... show me your face."

"I will not allow you to continue this conversation any longer, Risotto Nero," the boss told him, and proceeded to dialogue with a silent partner about his immediate death, his pride, his success, rubbing it in in Risotto's already devastated state. The boss offered an honorable death in exchange for iron in his blood, acting all high and mighty, all abominable in his greatness.

But Risotto would have a say in this noxious dialogue. With the remnants of his mind, he tugged at his vocal cords, the muscles of his punctured throat, to produce a hoarse, barely audible reply. The boss, naturally, did not hear, and he leaned in too close, demanding for a repetition, and hastily, the iron.

"I'm saying... that I won't die alone," he warned.

And somehow, Risotto gathered enough strength to grab the boss' shoulder, and he pulled that monster right against his chest, glaring at him with all the love that got corrupted into hatred.

Risotto announced, "Die!" And death came.

All that he knew, all that he felt, was a brisk fade of consciousness as it paled into light. What came next was inevitable in death: acceptance. He was forgiven at last.

Did it even matter? In reality, Risotto and all he loved, lost.

#risotto x reader #risotto nero #risotto #risotto nero x reader #risotto headcanon #la squadra #risotto reader insert #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #vento aureo x reader #risotto nero headcanon #angst #heavy angst #la squadra x reader #haha #vento aureo #canon compliant #<3

132 notes · View notes

ffamranxii · 3 years

Text

Sailor Stars thoughts:

1. The anime does its absolute best to make the Starlights unlikable. Taiki is a fucking asshole (he won’t even give a dying girl, who he explicitly was taken to visit, an autograph, and tells a bunch of children that their grandfather’s theory about souls becoming stars is dead wrong), Seiya is a Nice Guy who hits on Usagi constantly despite being told multiple times she has a boyfriend, and Yaten is a mildly sarcastic cardboard cutout. I know the manga doesn’t expand on them much but the anime is supposed to help make these people real. Counterexample is Chibi-Chibi, who hardly speaks in the manga and relies on her cuteness alone to be likable. They gave her a very cute voice because it was literally all they had to work with, given how often Chibi-Chibi actually appears

2. The dub cast for the Starlights is frankly awful. As civilians, Taiki alternates between a woman trying too hard to make her voice deep and having a bad cold, Seiya sounds like a prepubescent boy, and Yaten sounds like a woman (which they’re not, as civilians); as Starlights their voices are VERY high pitched, especially Yaten’s. Their sub voices just sound like woman talking a bit deeply and then normal women.

3. Why the FUCK did Toei think literally changing sex was less controversial than crossdressing? The Starlights are women and have always been women. Plus, them being male civilians in the anime creates a paradox, because if they’re men with sailor crystals who can become senshi, why can’t Mamoru - who is confirmed multiple times throughout the series as carrying the earth’s star seed and thus being Sailor Earth - do the same? Naoko said Mamoru can’t be a sailor senshi because he’s a man, but the Starlights don’t abide by this rule, they change their fucking biological sex

4. Why is absolutely no one concerned that Chibi-Chibi, a THREE YEAR OLD, just goes off on her own and has her own little adventures? She wanders into some strange old man’s house and they’re all “oh that’s just Chibi-Chibi,” and no one is worried that a literal stranger invites a three year old into his house where he gives her toys and candy? The 90s were WILD, man

5. Why does Chibi-Chibi, again who is THREE YEARS OLD, have a thigh gap?

6. This one’s on Naoko because it’s like this in the manga, but the anime is supposed to expand on the universe so I blame them too: Why does literally nobody question Chibi-Chibi’s motives? Some strange pink haired child who fucking falls out of the sky one day up and brainwashes Usagi’s mom into thinking she’s her second daughter, and nobody bats an eye at this? That’s sus as fuck and literally the only question anyone has is “is she your kid or Chibiusa’s?” She doesn’t even have a NAME, “chibi” is just a random word she says!

7. I am DIGGING the mobster feel of the Animamates’ civilian forms. Especially Iron Mouse and Tin Nyanko, who clearly launder money through a shady car dealership.

8. The Starlights’ only redeeming qualities are their snazzy entrance music and Seiya’s red suit

9. Why is Aluminum Siren the only Animamate who understands that a senshi has a pure star seeds? Like, y’all killed the senshi of your home planets to take their star seeds so YOU could be senshi (which is presumably why Galaxia wants more seeds, to make more Animamates with them), shouldn’t you know that?

10. Aluminum Siren/Lead Crow are trying their damn hardest to give Harumichi a run for their money in the quest to become the Best Space Lesbians.

11. So the Moon Kingdom fosters loyalty through child soldiers. I’m assuming Queen Serenity has her own senshi in the form of our senshi’s mothers, etc. (Which begs the question of if the Asteroid Senshi are supposed to be the future kids of our senshi or if they too are child soldiers from the asteroids they’re named after.) Kinmoku seems to foster loyalty by having the Kakyuu’s senshi fall in unrequited love with her. (In the manga it’s stated Kakyuu has a husband who died when their planet was destroyed.) I mean, whatever works, right?

12. I LOVE Tin Nyanko’s dub voice. She’s only around Usagi’s age and she sounds it

13. The dub actress for Lead Crow seems like she’s half assing it. Her voice doesn’t raise properly when she yells, she never sounds really angry, and it’s just so odd. I find a lot of dub voices do this, while the original Japanese VAs will scream their lungs out into the mic

14. On the reverse, Galaxia’s voice actress is a badass. She’s supposed to have a deep menacing voice but I like the one they gave her in the dub. She’s quiet, and sounds almost kind, and that’s a fucking TERRIFYING sort of villain we don’t see a lot of. Even when she’s pissed she doesn’t raise her voice.

15. Why are Lead Crow and Tim Nyanko the same height? Lead Crow is like 5’10 and Tin Nyanko is 4’11 like Sailor Moon

16. As an aside, Tin Nyanko and Lead Crow don’t like each other, which reminds me of the cats vs crows trash can showdown in Haikyuu lol

17. Haruka’s hate boner for Seiya gives me life

18. FINALLY someone calls the Starlights out on being assholes but it’s only after Makoto sees them harassing a THREE YEAR OLD (Chibi-Chibi). Literally everyone BUT Usagi thinks they’re assholes. “They sing such beautiful songs!” Bro. You can sing pretty and still be a fucking dick.

19. Lead Crow goes after Sailor Moon only after reading Siren’s notebook. Ditzy SIREN is the smartest Animamate, lord help them

20. Kakyuu’s dub voice is SO GOOD. She’s my favorite minor character, I’m still bitter they didn’t show Sailor Kakyuu

21. Seiya’s crush on Usagi was so awkwardly shoehorned in. I hate it. Jesus fucking Christ Usagi is sobbing in the goddamn rain about how much she misses Mamoru and Seiya is STILL coming onto her.

22. It is literally so fucking funny to me that Mamoru spends all of Stars fucking dead. He’s just a perpetual damsel in distress.

23. Rei literally lectures Usagi about leading Seiya on and how “you need to do the right thing and tell him you already have someone,” AS IF USAGI HASN’T BEEN DOING THAT AT EVERY AVAILABLE OPPORTUNITY. THE FIRST TIME THEY MET SHE SAID SHE HAD A BOYFRIEND, SHE’S TOLD SEIYA OVER AND OVER THAT SHE ISN’T INTERESTED IN HIM, THAT SHE’S GOT A BOYFRIEND, THAT SHE LOVES HER BOYFRIEND. The fucking MISOGYNY here, like it’s Usagi leading Seiya on instead of Seiya being a fucking Nice Guy who can’t take no for a goddamn answer. Shut the fuck up, Rei.

24. Pretty sure under Kakyuu’s headdress is a pair of odango

25. The fact that Iron Mouse and Aluminum Siren both die when their bracelets are removed yet Tin Nyanko doesn’t implies that Tin Nyanko was the original Sailor Mau. Mouse and Siren dying implies that forcing senshi powers on a civilian is dangerous and that Galaxia’s bracelets are the only thing keeping them alive (albeit brainwashed). Yet Tin Nyanko seems to revert to “good” when one of her bracelets is destroyed. Galaxia has to intervene and kill her personally. Tin Nyanko may have offered her senshi powers to spare Mau (this applies only in the anime; in the manga she’s explicitly said to have killed Sailor Mau)

26. Oooh Galaxia’s angry voice is so commanding and sexy

27. Don’t gimme that “we love Usagi but we love you Starlights just as much.” No you fucking don’t. The whole death scene in the anime is just so... ugh. Bad.

28. The Outers fighting Galaxia is hilarious. They’re supposed to be stronger than the Inners yet Galaxia never even has to get out of her chair to kick their asses. The writers were trying real hard to make us fear the worst and back the senshi into a corner but literally they’ve made this an impossible battle to win that only becomes winnable due to plot armor.

29. Rewatching Stars and classic after Eternal and Crystal makes me miss the battle damage the fuku took. The new series always has them looking pristine, but in classic they actually get roughed up and battle scarred. It makes it more real.

30. Aww how come Uranus and Neptune got to keep their names when they joined Galaxia? I wanna know what whack ass Animamate name they would’ve gotten. (Also Galaxia literally just sent them out like Pokémon, wtf)

31. I feel like Saturn dying shouldn’t be possible since she’s literally a senshi of death but... whatever, go off I guess.

32. So.... Uranus and Neptune joining Galaxia to try and take her star seed is a cool idea that absolutely did not happen in the manga, and needed more than half an episode of development. Would’ve been a cool plot if it wasn’t so rushed.

33. So much of this season was rushed so they could tie the series up at a beat 200 episodes. If they really didn’t want to go over 200, they should’ve cut the Nehelennia arc (which isn’t in the manga anyway) and and focused on developing the Animamates, this sweet Harumichi betrayal plot, and explaining Chibi-Chibi??? Her existence makes no sense without Sailor Cosmos, and they just... didn’t include her??? Wtf

#sailor moon #ffamran watches anime

7 notes · View notes

yewfallen · 3 years

Text

a collection of drabbles under the cut about febail and his different potential fathers from various timelines. goes a lil into tiny hcs for each in varying ways. i only went for predestined fathers as well as some popular choices because i don't have the steam to go for every single possibility LMAO as intriguing as some of the unexplored ones can be.

[ALEC]

Febail remembers very little about his father and mother, but when he tries his hardest to recall his youngest days from before Patty had been born, he notices how the scenery always seems to change each time. At times, the world is blanketed in white and lovers huddle close for warmth. A man he presumes to be his father sneaks a little dollop of snow onto his little cheek, telling him to see the world and brave it, li'l guy. His father has a way of making the most mundane things sound so fantastical, like this world was a wonderful thing to wake up to each day.

And one day, his father would never wake up to meet tomorrow ever again.

But before that, the change from castle to castle, battlefield to battlefield, and country to country seems to suit him and his lady love just fine. Two souls, roaming the world with their son in tow, daring to find treasures and loving people alike.

Their son will grow to be the type to fall too easily in love just like his father before him. Their son will grow to be fearless too, just as if the ghost of his father had taught him that no enemy could find a weakness in him.

Their son will grow to barely know either of them once the flames of Belhalla claim them both, and it will be up to a family friend to drop him and his newborn sister off at an orphanage in Conote, none the wiser.

___

[FINN]

Febail had known the snows of Silesse and the fires of Belhalla long before he had known the man that was his father.

After the fallout of Sigurd's army, Brigid had taken her son east towards the Munster Region, traveling only at night. In hindsight, it was to escape any watchful eyes, but as young as he was, he was none the wiser. When he had asked his mother where they were going, she would tell him it was to see his old man, and that was all he needed to know to be excited.

Leonster was a pretty place where flowers bloomed for as far as the eye could see and the weather was always temperate. There was never a day where there was not enough food to eat, and neither was there a day where his mother went by unloved. Soon enough, that love manifested into another child.

However, beauty is fleeting, and the day after Febail's younger sister was born, the dream-like state of that year in Leonster fades away in a blink of an eye. They hadn't even said goodbye to his father, coming into his life and receding just as quickly as the ocean's waves.

By the time Febail meets his father again, he can't remember him at all and his father can't recognize him in turn. They walk past one another like strangers, a son grown up to live on his own and a father grown to realize the things he loves will all leave him before he is ready to let go.

___

[MIDIR]

When Febail tries to remember his parents, it's always his mother that comes to mind first. She was striking and bold from what he can recall. From where he sat as a little baby, it was always her that he was pointed to look at, like she was someone whose presence was something to bask in every time she walked into the room.

When Patty prompts him to say what he remembers of their mother, the first thing Febail can think to say was that she is beautiful. Her memories of her visage are nothing more than a haze, least of all the kind of thing a boy can rely on to say one way or another on the topic, and yet he knows it.

She's beautiful, a voice had murmured from behind him often. He had heard it so often, it had become something like a mantra for the man who had said it to him. His father had held him, taking the role of his constant caregiver but he had lined himself in shadow always. Every day was a day lived in disbelief, one that framed his mother as something holy, something somehow untouchable, and the only thing worth looking at until Febail realized he hardly knew a thing about his father at all.

The only thing he did know in the end was that his father revered his mother in some sort of way, and it had stuck with him long after any memories of what the man looked or sounded like had long since turned murky.

___

[DEW]

A youthful man takes his infant son to the market one day. The shopkeepers joke around, not believing the little scrap of a thief they had known would really grow up to get a child of his own even as the thief himself claims the bundle as his, and he brags to the world of his courageous and badass wife, to which the pawnbroker and blacksmith both roll their eyes and simply give a good-natured laugh.

The thief takes his son to the market many more times after that, teaching him the ins-and-outs of every shop in every town and later how to haggle and find a good deal just about anywhere he goes. The vendors rib him, asking if it isn't a bit too early to teach a young thing like that all this stuff, to which the thief replies, “It's the early bird that gets the worm!”

When Febail grows up, that little saying sticks in him, and he makes it a habit to go to the markets early, browsing the merchandise and expertly talking down even the coldest of merchants to let him get his wares for cheap. Every gold coin counts when you've got a whole house of mouths to feed, and the less he can spend on himself, the more he can send back to the little ones in Conote waiting for him, he thinks.

The blacksmith looks at Febail, at first unwilling, but when he sees the boy's green eyes that speak of an upbeat day in a bleak, cold world as theirs, the blacksmith remembers that thief from two decades ago and finds it in him to melt his heart, even if it is at the cost of his own pockets.

He wonders where that thief went, and where his little lad went with him.

___

[JAMKE]

Today, Verdane has a new prince.

Lady Edain of Yngvi sits next to her sister who's in bed with her newborn son, exhausted for the effort of pushing him out it looks. Jamke knows not at first whether to disturb the sisters until the two invite him in, to which he pardons himself and comes in on unsure footsteps still.

The reality of everything hasn't come to sink in quite yet. Seeing this, Brigid rolls her eyes and beckons him even closer — closer — closer — and that's when she tells that husband of hers to hold their son in his arms and make everything feel real already. Her sister laughs watching the two of them before nodding and gently encouraging Jamke to take Febail from Brigid's arms, being the final push the man needs to nod and go along with it as awkward as he might be about the whole thing.

That's his son in his arms. That's another life in Verdane's royal family, a bloodline not destined to end with him after all. The weight of this baby feels all the more heavy with that knowledge, and even after a few minutes have passed with the young Febail in his hold, he still doesn't know what to say or how to react, gaping and gawking at his child like he's not even his.

Congratulations are given all around, carrying through the rest of the day as the various people in Sigurd's army come to visit the couple, and there's a few light-hearted jokes at how stoic Verdane's older prince is being, but Jamke takes that matter more to heart.

Why does he not know how to react? Brigid's going to get worried, but Jamke passes through that day further, still reacting to it like it's not his and her day to revel in.

It's not until later when they need to change Febail that he spots Ulir's brand faintly glowing on the baby's back, and Jamke's stony face breaks, erupting into a silent stream of tears.

For as long as Verdane has existed, it has been known as the land of savages by the other Jugdrali powers. Any peace his kingdom has ever been able to find has been recent but peace does not necessarily mean respect. After all, the moment their treaty had been broken, the Grannvalians and the rest of Jugdral had all been too quick to proclaim their disdain upon them again, voicing what they had merely kept quiet about all these years. Verdane would never be seen as their equal, devoid of the divine blessings they had all been given via their Crusader founders.

This would have been the truth forevermore, but when Jamke spots Febail's brand, he realizes that this truth has now shattered. With his son, he can see a happier future for his beloved fatherland and at last, Jamke finds he can express what exactly he feels about this new chapter in his life.

___

[CHULAINN]

It has been some time since the arena's most prized gladiator had left his days of coliseum hopping, trailing after a stronger fighter than him. He still remembers that day fresh in his mind as if it had happened just yesterday. Lord Sigurd's sword moved both gracefully and mightily, blade seemingly an extension of him and his ideals. Chulainn lived each day looking to die and his sword carried the weight of that baggage with it; meanwhile, Sigurd lived brighter than that, living to make a new life, and the way he fought was breathtaking. When Chulainn tasted defeat, he realized he really did want to live but not just any life.

He saw Sigurd's way and decided he wanted a piece of that too. His life hadn't been the same since.

The ride since has been a hell of one, and each bout and battle was another test for Chulainn's will to live. Did he want to see tomorrow? Did he see the future as having a place for him? Just what did he live for exactly?

Though he had joined Sir Sigurd's company to find out, he can't say he's answered any of these questions just yet. He's lived, he's loved, and one day, he's gained a son to call his own.

He asks Brigid what their son's name is, to which she answers Febail. Febail, he repeats, marveling at the sound of it before he says it again and again.

Brigid laughs, wondering what's got into him all of a sudden. It's just a name, after all.

But to Chulainn, it's more than a name. It's the thing to cement that their life together is real, and now he knows what to say when someone asks him what he lives for.

He's found his answer, he discovers, and his life finally feels complete.

And now he has something to lose.

#// will fully confess some of these pairings i don't like actually MAKRGMRGMMK but hopefully my biases don't come out too much in these??#// ofc none of these are like. set in stone for febail in toa. i'll let potential other muses help me figure that out later haha #+. / drabbles.

6 notes · View notes

yetanotherbuffyblog · 3 years

Text

Origin of the Slayer!

The actual Plot of this episode doesn’t kick in until about halfway through, as we sort of get the characters going over how they’re training the Potentials and such? Principal Wood has a box from his mother that he gives to Buffy, and after one of the Potentials hangs herself (talked into it by the First) and Buffy upsets everybody by telling them that they’re not working hard enough, they open the box to find this weird shadow puppet thing. It comes with a book that tells the story of the first Slayer. A portal opens, and Buffy jumps through, hoping to find something there that will help her defeat the First.

She does run into these three guys who show her how they made the first Slayer: they chained the young woman down and bound her to a demonic spirit. They want to do it again to her, saying it’s the only way she’ll have the power to beat the First (don’t know how), but she refuses and calls them out on this nonsense.

Okay then.

Back on Earth, some demon thing came through the portal, and the Scoobies think to get Buffy back they have to take this demon thing and push it back through. There’s also this thing about Willow embracing her own power. Spike is the one who actually takes down this demon because he needs to prove to himself and to Buffy that he’s still a badass.

When Buffy does return, she’s been shown what’s coming: an army of the uber-vampires in a cave (presumably under that big seal). Hooray!

Notes!

-This is a good Plot outline for the final season? The whole idea of Slayers, and diving into how that works, while also bringing back the First, who is essentially the Devil. Can’t up the ante much more than that.

-Principal Wood is a snazzy dresser.

-Andrew is more of a “guestage”.

-Potential training seems hardcore? And I understand why it is that way. But it seems a bit much, and not as helpful as it could be.

-How DOES Dawn deal with schoolwork? She jokes about flunking and paying someone to do her work just to mess with Buffy, but they find the body before they get to an answer.

-The First is a jerk.

-Someone has to explain ‘TTFN’ to Buffy which is a bit… much, I think. Seems extraneous to the drama. Doesn’t matter if Chloe loved Winnie the Pooh or not.

-Buffy takes Chloe’s death a bit hard. I get why she reacts the way she does. Don’t think it was a productive speech though.

-The shadow puppets mentioned in the episode description don’t show up until about halfway through the episode.

-Why the fudge would Wood’s mother have that shadow puppet thing? It doesn’t seem like most Slayers get a bunch of magic artifacts. It’s not out of the question, okay, but it is a bit weird. We don’t need an explanation, but it would be nice.

-The monster that comes out of the portal looks like an Uruk-hai.

-Did Principal Wood pull a bunch of ninja stars out of his armpits?

-Someone uses a sword, which is cool, because that rarely happens on this show. It’s more common than in Supernatural at least.

-Wearing a jacket and turtleneck in the desert must get really hot? Buffy must be very uncomfortable when she went through the portal.

-I kind of assumed the men who made the first Slayer were like, the Watchers, or something like the Watchers? A sort of precursor organization? Still, it is immensely uncomfortable that

-What language are they speaking on the other side of the portal?

-Willow breaks the Latin and switches to English and that was kind of cool, I think.

-So many people have died in the Summers house it’s kind of crazy that anyone still lives there. Although it is probably cheaper than getting a different set.

-Uh, that CGI at the end of the episode there is not fantastic. But it was probably okay by TV budget standards of the time?

-The reveal that the origin of the Slayer is from merging with some sort of shadow demon is… gross and weird, but it does make a certain amount of sense with what we’ve seen in the story. Does it work like with Raava and the Avatar? Does the shadow demon thing pass from one woman to another? [shrugs] I dunno.

-We’re… going to talk about the origin of the Slayer for a minute.

These dudes got together and chained down a young woman, and used magic to make her fuse with a demon to become stronger. This is not a comfortable process, and the First Slayer was not a willing participant in this. The show deliberately and consciously draws a parallel to rape--Buffy, after all, calls it being “knocked up” by a demon. And to be fair, the show calls this out as something bad and not the right way to do things.

It still doesn’t make it comfortable, or even okay, that the origin of the Slayers is a rape. The fact that there were three men standing by making this happens makes it feel a bit like a gang rape. And that’s… I know that Joss Whedon’s whole schtick was female empowerment bought through extreme suffering and this is garbage? I’m not saying that women overcoming trauma and pain is bad, or even that these shouldn’t be in the backstory. But Whedon’s thing is consistently that if there is a strong female character, she absolutely must have some mind-breaking trauma.

[I distinctly remember that before he left the Batgirl project, his approach to Barbara Gordon becoming Batgirl was explicitly asking “What’s her damage?”]

It’s not a cool backstory indicative of everything wrong with Whedon’s approach to “strong female characters” and I don’t like it.

#7x15 #Buffy the Vampire Slayer #Buffy Summers #Spike #Willow Rosenberg #Rupert Giles #vampires #The Slayer

2 notes · View notes

romeo-the-cactus · 4 years

Text

Narrowly Avoiding Feline Scurvy

The world’s fucked (again), I’ve got a dissertation to write, so naturally I’m back on my bullshit.

Reader is away on an off-grid mission, and Natasha misses having her roommate around to hug cook for her. Suddenly cat.

There is a cat in Natasha’s apartment.

This is unusual as Natasha does not own a cat, and, as far as she knows, neither do you.

It’s also unusual because the cat appears to be waiting for her, sat up straight in the hallway and seems to be asking her and what sort of time do you call this?

The look on the sleek black cat’s face is so reminiscent of your face when she’s late coming back from a briefing, or a mission, or a night out with Clint, that she shrinks slightly before remembering she doesn’t answer to a cat, shakes her head at how used to having you around she’s become, and, frowning, walks past the cat to take her takeout to the kitchen.

You’ve been away on a top-secret, no-contact mission for just over a week, she’s doesn’t even know what it’s about, only that it required you and your shifting powers specifically. It’s your first since moving up to her floor of the tower - after complaining about walking all that way (into and out of the elevator) any time you wanted to bug her - and she’s already really missing your company. And your cooking. But mostly your company, someone waiting to ask her how her day was with a cup of tea and an overly thought-out playlist in the background.

And if she’s been wearing your hoodie all day, it’s because the laundry got mixed up, not because she went into your room and picked it up off the floor because she’s missed the way you wrap her right up in a hug until all she feels is warmth and all she smells is you.

It’s only once she’s dumped everything into one big bowl, your voice in her head calling her an absolute heathen, and brought it to the sofa with her to eat while watching the kind of trashy she pretends to hate whenever you’re around, that she realises the cat is now sat on the sofa looking as judgmental as a cat possibly can, and when the Love Island intro starts she could’ve sworn it raised an eyebrow – do cats even have eyebrows?

Where the cat came from and how it got into one of the most secure buildings in the world seems like a question for tomorrow, so she turns up the volume and digs into her sweet and sour egg fried Singapore satay crispy fried chicken duck noodle rice on skewers rolls.

She wakes up halfway through Ice Road Truckers to find the cat fighting with the bowl, every time a paw comes out to try and get at the scraps, the bowl spins away from it. Rubbing at her eyes, Natasha takes pity on it, picking out a soggy prawn cracker and holding it out to the cat, who looks almost embarrassed as it nibbles at it.

She looks at the tv as she scritches between the soft ears.

4:37 am.

Time to properly go to sleep.

After a moment’s deliberation, she lies back down, emptying the remaining prawn crackers onto the floor. Her room is all the way over there and this time you’re not there to nag her to go to bed for the sake of her joints, so what’s to stop her.

10 minutes later, just as she’s dozing off, there’s a tickly nudging at her foot. She nudges it right back.

Then the meowing starts.

Natasha stubbornly covers her head. She will not be bossed around by the world’s most judgmental stray.

Then there is a weight on the cushion and a single claw digging into the hand gripping it tightly over her ears. That’s just not fair. Natasha growls and tries to tug herself free, but the demonic fluffball just starts moving around on the cushion, meowing throughout. That’s it.

She shoots up, swinging her legs out.

‘Fine! Fine, I’m going, I’m going, shut up!’ she whines, with all the dignity she can muster while wearing her roommate’s clothes, one foot in dinner debris, and a cat sending her to bed.

‘I’m going, Liho’ she hisses, remembering the stories that had always creeped her out as a child. Now it seems appropriate for the misfortune of this cat turning up when she just wants some time alone. Or time with you. Either way, she’s not getting that, and while your absence may not technically be the cat’s fault, she’s looking for someone to direct her grumpiness at and the cat will do for now.

The cat follows her right to her bedroom door, making sure she does as she promised.

Maybe the cat has her best interests at heart. That is a ridiculous thought and she really needs to get some sleep.

Liho stops outside her door, looking up at Natasha as if in question. Natasha scowls at them.

Then she thinks about how cold her bed is. Thinks about how much she misses you barging into her life and filling it with hugs and homecooked meals and warmth.

She looks down at the fluffy cat, sighs, and pushes the door wide open again, shrugging towards the bed. She quickly falls asleep with fluff wrapped around her neck and the thought in her head that she’d expected a stray cat to smell much worse and much less comforting.

Aside from the minor hurdles of waking up with a cat’s ass in her face and Liho remaining unforthcoming about how exactly she’s ended up in Natasha’s life, the two of them settle pretty smoothly into a routine over the next few days.

Natasha gets up early to train, leaving Liho the remains of her breakfast to eat (soggy cereal, generally, but judging by the milk moustache the cat has when Natasha returns every morning she (Natasha is now around 80% sure Liho is a she) doesn’t mind), gets back, pretends not to like the cat for a bit, then feeds her some sandwich and definitely doesn’t give her little kisses while she reads or works or watches more trash tv. Sometimes Liho follows her around the tower, and a surprising number of people either don’t notice or don’t care that the Black Widow seems to have become a Cat Mom.

In the evenings she spoons some of whatever dinner she’s cobbled together from takeout, other avengers’ leftovers, and her limited (to sandwiches) culinary know-how onto a small plastic plate which sits next to her own for Liho to nibble at while she eats. After a couple repeats of the first nights battle to get Natasha to her own bed, she accepts the state of affairs and lets Liho lead her to bed at a semi-reasonable time, where she falls asleep with the little black cat asleep on her chest.

A few days later when Steve and Bucky ask about the cat perched on her shoulder, Natasha’s explanation is mostly made up of (careful) shrugging, and some quiet smugness when she notices Bucky’s quiet chuckle at the name Liho.

The little smirk gets wiped off her face when Steve so casually says ‘Oh, I just figured she was back from her mission’.

That makes Natasha stop for a minute and thinks about the numerous times Liho has taken care of her, nagged her, and made her smile the past few days, and looks up to where the cat has stopped nudging at Bucky’s stubble and is now looking straight at her.

Steve presumably takes Natasha’s sudden silence as concern for your wellbeing, reaching out and grabbing her shoulder.

‘I’m sure we’ll hear from her soon, Nat, don’t worry,’ he says, giving her a pat.

She blinks up at him, plasters on a smile, then takes “Liho” and heads back up to your apartment.

She sits the two of you down on the sofa and, scratching between your fluffy ears, tries to get some answers.

‘So, the mission finished?’

You walk around indecisively, which Natasha takes to mean it’s complicated.

She sighs, her lips pursed.

‘I take it you’re stuck like this.’

You swing your head up towards her, a duh plain as anything on your little feline face.

‘Don’t look at me like that! You’ve not exactly been helpful yourself! You couldn’t even have tried to tell me?’

At that the cat in front of her looks down, stretches out and rests her head between her paws, adorably sheepish, Natasha thinks, stay on task, but you suddenly look downtrodden, look ashamed. Being stuck as a cat, unable to communicate, reliant on Natasha (who hasn’t exactly been the perfect pet parent), and with the guilty, frustrated feelings she knows you get whenever a mission doesn’t go to plan.

She’s never seen a cat look so close to tears.

Instinctively, she reaches out to stroke between your ears, and then instead picks you up and holds you to her chest, smoothing your fur and planting little kisses on your head, a stream of quiet apologies flowing from her mouth as you purr against her. That night the two of you are both too exhausted to make it to Natasha’s room, falling asleep curled up to each other on the sofa.

Sunlight streams into the living room. It’s warm. It’s really warm. Natasha is absolutely boiling, and with her eyes still closed tries to roll out of the hot spot, at which point she tumbles to the floor, becoming immediately aware of another body tangled up with hers.

She opens her eyes.

She immediately closes them again, one hand covering them tightly as she starts to wildly gesticulate with the over at the very sleepy, very human, very naked you in front of her.

As she spouts rapid-fire, incredulous ‘WHAT?’s in English, Russian, and about six other languages, you wipe the sleep from your eyes and blink up at the apparently freaking out spy sat across from you.

‘Mornin’ Tasha.’

She stops, lowers her hand, and looks you in the eyes with a look on her face you can’t help but reach across and pull her into your arms, ignoring the fact you’re currently naked as the day you were born.

‘Tasha, everything’s okay, it was just a weird week,’ you reassure her, feeling definite tears on your shoulder.

Eventually she seems to calm down slightly, and pulls back, avoiding looking at you as she shyly admits ‘I really missed you this past week,’ and part of you just shatters at the sight of this absolute badass, ridiculously capable woman who you’ve looked up to for years looking so lost at the thought of a life without you in it. You want to smother her in love and hugs and kisses and warm home-cooked meals and soft blankets and be there every day to ask how she is and prove that you’re not going anywhere as long as she still wants you there.

But Natasha hates wallowing in emotion.

So instead, you whisper ‘I miss you too’ conspiratorially in her ear, give her a quick kiss on the cheek, wink, and as you walk towards the kitchen with a shake of your ass just subtle enough for plausible deniability, call out over your shoulder ‘loved all the kisses but your cat caring definitely needs work, I’m amazed I didn’t get feline scurvy!’

Natasha Romanoff, ex-assassin, The Black Widow, sits back on her haunches, blinking, mouth slightly open, hit with the realisation that she is absolutely smitten with this dork.

‘The hell did you do with the salad I made?’ she hears from the kitchen.

A smile spreads across her face. Smitten might be fun.

#Natasha Romanoff #natasha Romanoff x reader #fanfiction #avengers x reader #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff fanfiction

159 notes · View notes

ask-runaan-anything · 4 years

Note

You’re stuck with Callum in the coin. What do you do? (No killing? Sure, no killing.)

Hour 1: Intense staring. Callum sketches endlessly.

Hour 2: More staring. Callum shoots me nervous looks. I purposely never blink when he’s looking at me.

Hour 3: Callum has begun to sketch me. Presumably as an excuse to keep his eye on me. I cannot dissuade him from this without looking like I care. Alas.

Hour 4: Callum starts blurting questions like a fountain, wondering if I still plan to kill him, and apologizing for said questions in the next breath, and then he mentions Rayla’s name.

Hour 4.2: Everything changes. Interrogation begins. Callum is ridiculously easy to interrogate. He tells me all sorts of things about Rayla. How she is safe. And brave and amazing and badass, and he starts to say “beautiful,” but he catches himself and looks at me guardedly. I decide that since he cannot escape, there is always time to kill him later. First, I need more answers.

Hours 5-117: Callum provides answers, at length and with reenactments and repeated use of the term “slish slash”, regarding Rayla’s accomplishments on the road to returning the Dragon Prince. Along the way I learn a lot of additional intel which I pretend to ignore. If Rayla keeps him talking, we’ll talk about Rayla. Must have some meditation time soon, or my molars will crack from grinding over this boy.

Hours 118-137: The Harrow Conversation begins. Arguing ensues, and Rayla is suddenly a very good weapon being used against me. In frustration, I accuse him of sounding like Ethari.

Hour 138: Callum says he’ll take that as a compliment, since Ethari’s so nice. I begin a nice leisurely meltdown over my husband letting a human traipse right into my house.

Hour 138.4: Oh. Ghosting. All because I took Rayla when I shouldn’t have. Molars really sore now.

Hour 139-202: Silent brooding. Callum keeps sketching. I can’t fix anything from in here. Very Grumpy Hours. Much Guilt, So Shame.

Hour 203: Callum offers me his sketchbook. Hoping for a picture of Rayla, I take it. I am not disappointed. But I see so much more, and through his eyes. The dark mage with his family. Lots of the glow toad and Ezran. Harrow being soft with his family. Me with Rayla--I didn’t even know she remembered that day. Even Lain and Tiadrin. Everyone is soft and kind and together. Even me. I ask Callum if this is how Rayla remembers me. He says, Yes.

Hour 204: I keep my eyes on the sketches, but I let Callum start all over again, and tell me what he knows to be true. Perhaps if I can understand him, I can see what Rayla sees. In me, and in the world.

Hour ???: I have only known this wry upstart princeling for what even is time anyway, but if anything happens to him I will kill everyone in Xadia and then myself.

#ask runaan #runaan answers #tdp au #callum #runaan #please send me soft kids i need help

40 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

The Slutty Webs One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 8

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Pepper returned from the lobby to an edgy Tony. "Was Hannah down there? What took you so long to answer your phone?"

"No and I was talking to someone."

"You stalled to make new friends? I worried you were dragging said witch up here in a headlock."

"Wrong. Is Loki still consoling Brianna?"

"Yes."

Pepper dropped a mini bomb and Tony disconcertedly sighed. "He isn't going to like this." The couple appeared at the guest room door. "Hey, Little Warrior. Feeling any better?"

She nodded.

"Badass and I wondered if you'd stick around. Maybe Daddikins can conjure Mario Kart? I miss you kicking my tushy."

Virginia's nervous smile had Loki encouraging it and once Tony had Brianna distracted, they slipped out of sight. She conveyed returning to the Tea shop, claimed Hannah resembled an old friend and asked which direction she'd gone in. The cashier said she did a double take at something in the lobby, appeared as though seeing a ghost and dashed towards the hotel exit without her purchases.

Loki's face became a storm of tumultuous emotions and she startled when a snap of his fingers conjured a book.

"Should I have said nothing?"

He cynically chuckled, scanning the title pages. "Ever thought your God in heaven found amusement in bombarding your life with fuckery, like the Norn's do mine? The arm of his celestial robe hanging high while he mockingly inspires you with a goblet of mead? 'Rise up, Homes. I'm off for a shag with Mary.'"

"All Midgardians have."

"Have all dragged their only friends into Alice's fucking wonderland where the big bad wolf keeps hounding at the door? Excuse me, I'm intertwining fairy tales."

"Probably half. Are you okay?"

"Right as rain, girlfriend. Right, found it. I haven't used this spell on a child and need the right measurement of ingredients."

She nervously stumbled over a pair of small shoes. "A 'spell???'"

"To make Brianna sleep. Shhh. I must concentrate."

She watched, dazzled, as tiny bottles appeared mid air and part of their contents emptied into his cupped palm. Moving it in a circular motion, they combined like fluid sand, glowed a soft white, then faded into transparent flakes as the book and bottles vanished.

"Calmly return to the main room with me?"

They did just as Tony blundered a turn at Mario. "I'ma gonna givva you such a smacka, you cartoon pisano."

When Brianna laughed, Loki waved his hand before her face from behind. "Forgive me, Min Lille."

"D..dad…"

Tony caught her. "What's up with the magically induced coma?"

"She's better off." Said Loki, sharper than intended.

Stark situated Little Warrior while he paced, grinding a fist into his palm. There hadn't been time to process any definitive plans to apprehend Brianna's captors and discovering the fourth incited a rage only her reciprocated love had contained. Now, his nerves were stretched to their limits, forcing him to convey more than he wanted, risk finally reaching out for help and configure one. Fast.

"Scotch, Snowflake?"

He sighed heavily and stopped. "I must keep a clear head and so should you. The secrecy and lies, the hiding, everything I've done has been to protect Brianna and yourselves since the instant she graced my life. If I'm to continue, we need to trust each other completely. No matter how disturbing my information, you will make no inquiries, tell no one and from here forth, do 'exactly' as I say. Should you veer off course, we leave for real and you'll be fighting a dangerous battle alone. You may regardless if I can't contain Thor's rage over this."

"A battle with who?"

"This will hit home, Tony. Give me your word."

"It's yours, Pepper's too, right?" She nodded. "For insurance, she can text you a pic of me in a chastity belt. Hell, send it to Jimmy Kimmel. Are we good?"

"I'd rather you signed a wager to become a goat. How much longer is your suite booked for?"

"Another ten days."

"Virginia, pack for a week please? I need your help with Brianna at a safe house. Tony, contact your pilot. You're going home."

"Alex is in Aruba celebrating his girlfriend's breast implants. 'Why' Loki?"

"Fuck." He muttered. "Because I'm certain Fury's involved in Brianna's existence and you 'don't' want him up your shit when you aren't there. He was fucking Hannah and six and half years ago, introduced her and Jillian to Viriginia at his fiftieth birthday bash."

Tony slid both hands down his face. "I..shit..whoa. How do you know that and who's Jillian?"

Pepper frantically retraced her memory. "Jillian...was she the petite brunette with doe like eyes?"

"Congratulations." Loki replied. "You've also met Brianna's Mother. It's all in her diary."

"WHAT?!?" Said the couple, shocked.

"Save your questions! If Brianna's the reason Hannah bailed, by now the evil foursome knows she's escaped and you're aware she exists. Were I Fury, I'd be gathering my accomplices for interrogation, initiating a low key search for the four of us and putting eyes on the Tower 'and' Thor, where he'll find Astrid. Please, 'help me.'"

"Okay, okay. Can you teleport me back?" Asked Stark.

"No. Fury knows I have that ability. If S.H.I.E.L.D's watching and never see you enter…"

"What the fuck? You think they're involved too?"

"Oh my god." Said Pepper.

Loki tuned them out and conjured a bag of burner phones. "Book a seat on the next flight out in any class. Delete our past conversations and cease using your phones to contact me. If Brianna awakens, have her call me on one of these. I'll be back before dawn."

"You're leaving???"

"Yes. To relocate Astrid and warn Thor. Wish me luck he doesn't break New Mexico."

Loki vanished into a portal leaving the couple aghast.

"Well Butch, we're up to our eyeballs in another shit storm. I should've ignored the flu and gone with you that night."

She cracked a tiny smile. "Before or after you fell asleep next to the toilet?"

Tony nodded, observing Brianna in her slumber. "And dreamt Buzz Lightyear brought me our duvet."

"High fevers induce hallucinations. That was me in a white pants suit."

"You sure sounded like 'Tim The Toolman Taylor.'

He was doing it again. Comedically rambling off topic to cushion the blow of a truth that rubbed him wrong from every angle.

"Tony?" Said Pepper.

"Hm?"

"Promise no veering? I haven't trusted Nick since Steve found those weapons on the Helicarrier."

"None of us Avengers do either. I won't, he's too dangerous. With the ability to fuck us over worse than any accusations of harboring a missing child could. Virginia..this is bad. What more was in that diary?"

"It is, but we have to stay focused. A sleep deprived, frazzled Loki discovering we aren't ready, won't want to talk. I'll get our suitcases."

Tony followed. "Did you bring a warm coat? I'll bet he conjured that safehouse in the Siberian Tundra." ***** Loki first returned to their room to collect his and Brianna's things. Time was crucial, but before seeking Astrid, he needed to tune into her ring. Left on, it steadily recorded her and using a hologram, he rewound to the day he departed Asgard and quickly scanned through the mundane.

He watched her pained reaction to his note, heard hers and Frigga's spiteful words, witnessed their treatment of Thor, heard himself being defended, their following remorse and the lies conjured betwixt Mother and son. Although impressed by Frigga duplicating Astrid's ring, he wasn't in the mood for another presumed 'lecture on morality' and fast forwarded to them parting ways in Asgard.

Night after night, he saw Astrid entering Ingrid's bed chamber and once heard his Mother in law scolding a hidden Roddy from her doorway. "Doth's thou newest mistress prefer perfuming as well? Your stench giveth you away."

He'd have laughed if not for Astrid's tears, but when forwarding to the present, she wasn't sleeping at Thor's. His means of travel would remain portals and high on adrenaline, he arrived to gather her belongings and cringed at the sounds of lovemaking.

"That's it princess. Take your Kings tallywacker like a good girl."

'Norns.' Loki conjured more burner phones, blared the living room's television and Thor came running, cock at full mast. "Brilliant way to greet an intruder, dingus."

"Brother!" Thor exuberantly bellowed on approach.

Loki conjured a dagger. "Hug me naked and tallywacker gets beheaded. Where's Astrid?"

"At the Rosewood."

Loki frowned. "You let my wife, who hops realms on a fucking whim, stay at a hotel???"

Jane came rushing down the stairs in a Betty Boop robe and he arched a brow. "Hi, Loki. It's only for two nights and she offered to give us time alone."

Thor's smile faded. "I didn't hear anything in the guest bedroom. Did you bug our house?"

"Yes, brother. 'I', snagged a side job installing covert surveillance on Midgards superheroes. Spark another spliff and do cover your cock?"

Jane did with a decorative plate from the dining table. "Astrid's room number is 718."

"She won't be returning. Do not leave, answer the door, your calls, or open the blinds. I 'will be' returning, but briefly."

In a flash, he was gone and Jane looked up at Thor. "I can't call in this soon, my vacation just ended."

"Loki wasn't asking, Jane. Something's awry." ***** Astrid had risen early and after seeking ice, dropped the bucket upon discovering Loki in her room. Accustomed to wearing Midgardian attire, her blue jean leggings contoured her shape, highlighted by a white tank beneath a second of mesh knit. Her blond waves cascaded down her breasts and she looked so virginal without makeup, his loins ached.

"Hello, my lovely."

Unsure what Thor had conveyed, she hesitated approaching. "Hi. I would offer you a drink but..." She knelt to gather the cubes and hide a falling tear. "I hav..haven't any liquor."

Loki lovingly gathered her into his arms. "Astrid."

"Forgive me, Min kjærlighet." She sobbed. "I made you run when needing me most."

He kissed her lips and cheeks. "I ran for a multitude of reasons, but have left Brianna sleeping to come for you."

"You knew I was on Midgard?"

"Not until recently and you mustn't be angry with Thor for not conveying so. He stayed silent at my request, even to Jane and was oblivious to our location. You mean the world to me as does Brianna now too, but something's gone wrong and I fear you're both in danger. It would take too long to explain and there's so much I must before you meet."

"Then let's return to Asgard. Wouldn't we be safe there?"

"We can't yet."

She slowly slid from his embrace, confused. "Brianna's in danger, yet isn't with you or Thor. She's with Tony and Pepper isn't she?"

"Yes, my lovely, but you can't be angry with them either. They've been wonderful to her."

"I'm not, I'm sad again. Everyone knew about her before me. What does that say about 'us', Loki? Are we okay?"

He embraced her again. "Yes. Darling, Tony, Pepper and Thor knew of her before I did too and you knew before Jane."

"Really? Wait, Thor lied to myself and your Mother?"

"Astrid, please. He had to, they too might be in danger and Brianna will panic if I'm not there when she awakens. Come with me to a temporary location until everybody's situated?" Loki kissed her hands. "It means being shielded from Heimdall for a while. If not, Thor can..."

She hastily kissed him. "I'm not returning to Asgard without you."

Loki wanted to bed her until she wailed his name so loud, her voice cracked every window in the hotel. "Prepare thyself, my lovely. You're going underground."

While she checked out, Loki ventured to Alberta and created her a lesser version of their bedchambers in Asgard.

Astrid caressed the beds plush duvet of greens and gold. "You replicated everything."

He conjured her luggage. "I wanted you to feel at home."

She smiled. "I'll be okay, Loki. Go."

With a newfound determination, Loki returned to Thor. "I thank the Valhallas you've dressed."

"You've seen me naked before, brother."

Loki addressed Jane. "He was playing nude hide and seek in the backwoods with some maidens, late for another archery lesson. Our father sent me searching. Without appearing rude, may we please have a moment alone?"

She frowned at Thor. "I'll be in the garage inflating my bicycle tires."

Thor waited for the door to close. "You could've said we were teens. How have we been compromised?"

"Clever, brother."

"Are Brianna and Astrid safe?"

Loki nodded.

"Flying human and Virginia?"

"Not if Jane talks."

A loud growl from Thor soon had her running back inside. "Holy shit on a pogo stick!"

He was standing in the living room holding their heavy glass coffee table above his head with Loki in his face. "Throw that and it vanishes before landing."

"Then I'll break something else!"

"This is why I kept information from you! Think rationally, Thor. Your neighbors will post this all over social media. How will that benefit any of us?"

He gently placed it down. "Brother, he..a child?"

"I know, but please let me handle it my way?"

"She's your daughter. I respect that. What do you need from us?" Loki eyed Jane and Thor sighed. "Yes, you can trust her."

When he was done talking, she hurled on the carpet while Thor pondered murdering Fury.

Loki used magic to clean it up. "You have my instructions. No interfering."

"We understand, brother. Go." ***** After leaving the Savoy, Hannah had rushed to the nearest pharmacy and returned to her hotel, spitting sparks. "That lying bitch! Her little brat does have powers!" She checked out, checked into another across town and called her boyfriend. He answered from a plane on it's way to England.

"Hello, pretty lady. Did you enjoy your heart throbs play? Wish I could've come."

Hannah eyed the stolen silk tie Tom had used to bound her wrists the night before and deviously grinned. 'I don't. Hiddleston and I hooked up.' "Tom was amazing." 'With a dick that makes yours look microscopic.' "How was Mrs. Finkelsteins second facelift?"

"Useless, but she's rich. I bought you some new lingerie."

"Did you keep the receipt? I'm breaking up with you."

"Hannah, why? What will I tell my parents?"

"Life doesn't always work out as planned? Don't miss your connecting flight to Sweden. Bye."

She hung up, turned her ringer off and opened a box of black hair dye. "Now that I'm screwed, so are you 'Pepper Potts' and your billionaire boyfriend."

#Loki #others #submission #submitted fic #the slutty webs one weaves #chapter 8 #lokilover9

14 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 251: Help I Love a Manga Too Much

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi answered the age-old question of “can the Todorokis ever be together for more than five minutes without lapsing into a daytime soap opera?” with a resounding “HAHAHAHA.” Fuyumi and Shouto sat down with Kacchan and Deku and told them all about their super-dead brother Touya, whose death -- and you’ll be shocked to hear this -- apparently had something to do with Endeavor. What exactly happened, though, we don’t actually know, because they didn’t tell us, because of course they didn’t. Anyway, so then Fuyu bid everyone farewell and they piled into the Endeavormobile and started to drive away. Except they didn’t get very far, because all of a sudden some guy was like “HEY ENDEAVOR I’VE KIDNAPPED YOUR SON, NATSUO” and Endeavor was like “!!!” and the guy was like “AND I’M GONNA KILL HIM, WHEEEE” and then the chapter ended. Anyway so we all agree this family is cursed, yes?

Today on BnHA: Ending, who really doesn’t have much depth to him beyond continuously screaming “SO ARE YOU GONNA KILL ME ENDEAVOR?? HUH?! COME ON AND DO IT! I FUCKING DARE YOU TO DO IT! COME ONNNNNNN”, keeps on doing that. After about three seconds, the Terror Trio gets bored of sitting around not kicking ass, so they explode out of the car to join in the action. Since they all have impeccable senses of narrative timing, they simultaneously choose this moment to figure out all that shit Endeavor was trying to teach them a few chapters ago, with the end result being that (1) Shouto uses Flashfire, (2) DEKU USES BLACKWHIP YESSSSS, and (3) Katsuki rockets himself at fucking lightspeed to save Natsuo in the nick of time. Then Endeavor wraps Natsu (and Katsuki lmao) in a big ol’ panicked dad hug, which fully destroys me, and the chapter ends! So that was pretty quick, actually, but it sure was intense!

lmao -- what?? -- are you --

ME, TALKING TO A FOREST WITCH: so you’re saying that once I peer into this cauldron, the spell will reveal the thing I love most?

WITCH: yeah basically

ME: [peers, sees this]

WITCH: ...

ME: ... I can explain

[wiping away tears] yep so anyways. that’s my son. that’s my boy. so handsome. and talented

anyways so I guess that answers the question of whether or not the kids are gonna get involved lol. the title presumably refers to the one week of winter break that they had, which was also their time limit to try and beat a villain before Endeavor. GEE I WONDER IF THEY WILL DO IT

so Ending, our friend from last week (who apparently isn’t the “Takami” guy he was monologuing about, so so much for that), says that even under the most extreme circumstances, heroes will never choose to kill someone. and god I am so tempted to say something snarky about real life law enforcement here. but you know what, I’m not even gonna go there because this is supposed to be my happy weekly manga reading time, and lord knows Horikoshi is good enough at fucking that up himself without me adding on to it

anyway, so Ending says that despite that principle, Endeavor chose to kill that Noumu at Fukuoka. so I guess he assumes this means Endeavor just doesn’t give any fucks nowadays and will just kill ANYONE, ANYTIME, WHENEVER! sound, logical deduction there! airtight fucking reasoning

anyway this guy actually sounds seriously depressed though, and yeah this is getting dark real fast you guys

a few people pointed out to me last week that this guy is manipulating the lines painted on the road, and that’s what his quirk is (and it was also pointed out to me that he shot himself up with something akin to Trigger before he got started, so presumably he’s hopped up on those quirk roids at the moment), and now that I know I can see it actually should have been really obvious lol. anyways so yeah, looks like he’s been busy. I’m sure the three buckos strapped into the back seat of this vehicle know when they’re beat, and will use this opportunity to just take a nap or something

honestly, I could have predicted this coming even without that thumbnail lmao

also is anyone else dying at Katsuki being all BOOM!! while Deku and Todo are just “BANG” further back by the car. just a slight difference in intensity, here. it’s subtle but you can spot it if you look real close

anyway if I were Ending, this right here would be the point where I said “OH SHIT” real loudly, and screamed and dropped Natsuo and turned and hightailed it out of there with my road stripes whipping out behind me in the wind like tin cans dangling from the back of a newlywed car

LMAO CHAUFFEUR ARMSTRONG IS ALL “YOU FORGOT THESE!” AND YEETING THEIR COSTUMES OUT AFTER THEM, AND FUCKING LOOK AT THIS SERIES OF PANELS OMG

Endeavor’s face is fucking SENDING ME, man, oh my god. the man has gone FULL SURPRISED PIKACHU, someone help me I can’t breathe dfklsk

AND WHAT ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO DO, CATCH THE BRIEFCASES AND THEN THEY’LL JUST MAGICALLY UNFOLD THEMSELVES OUT OVER THEM LIKE IN IRON MAN 2? actually, scratch that, that’s exactly what should happen. please do this. I promise I won’t even poke fun, I’ll just accept it unconditionally

LOL IT KEEPS GETTING BETTER HOLY SHIT

“911, what’s your emergency?” YES HELLO PLEASE HELP, I LOVE A MANGA TOO MUCH. “ma’am, that’s not a real emerg –” NO, LISTEN, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND

Kacchan doesn’t even look back, he just reaches his hand out and knows exactly what Deku is doing without looking, and trusts his aim to be perfect. I’m so fucking weak for this teamwork I fucking sighed in real life you guys, it’s unbelievable

I can’t tell if this is Deku using “Shouto” the hero name, or if it’s now “Shouto” as in his actual name lol. because he’ll keep on using “Kacchan” no matter what, in any and all circumstances, so we can’t even use that to try and gauge lol. but anyway I’m choosing to believe it’s “Shouto” the name because they’ve now graduated to the next level of friendship after that dinner, and after Fuyu clasped his hand in both of her own and was all “I want you to know that I approve of the two of you together with all of my heart” or whatever it was she said, but it was basically that. so anyways yeah after that they’re now on a first name basis. YOU HEAR THAT, SHOUTO?

and then, with these bottom three panels, I know this is supposed to be all “click/bzzz/whrrr/other high tech costume-changing sounds” and it’s supposed to be a near-instantaneous costume change, presumably while still in motion because THEY’RE JUST BADASS BITCHES LIKE THAT, but like. in reality I pictured them all instantly grinding to a halt, and unclicking the locks on the briefcases, and Kacchan just giving his a shake to spill all the contents out haphazardly on the ground, while meanwhile Shouto is much more fastidious and respectful, and kneels on the ground and opens his case with both hands, and Deku is hopping around on one foot trying to drag his gloves on with his teeth while putting on his metal shoe-thingies, and the entire time Ending and Endeavor are just staring at the three of them like, “.....”

so anyway that’s what I choose to believe is actually happening. lastly, you also need to understand that pretty much this entire time, I’ve had the Powerpuff Girls theme playing in my head AT FULL INTENSITY on repeat, including during the part where they stop for five minutes to suit up. so there’s that, too

moving on!

TODOROKI SHOUTO, AFTER STOPPING TO CLICK OPEN HIS BRIEFCASE, RUMMAGING AROUND FOR HIS SHOULDER GUARD THINGS, LOOPING THEM OVER HIS ARMS, PAUSING TO WIPE THE SWEAT OFF HIS FOREHEAD, AND THEN FINALLY STANDING BACK UP: Natsuo!

lmao so anyway, now Endeavor is fully engaged in the fight once again, and thinking that Ending is “A FOOL” for letting himself get temporarily distracted by the interns’ shenanigans. but like. is he, though? seeing as he’s flat-out admitted to you that he wants to lose this fight? because he wants to die? did you hear that part? like, ??

so now there are some very intense closeups of Endeavor’s eye, and Natsuo’s face, and Endeavor’s feet

intense

(ETA: actually in hindsight of the hug, I fucking love this, because this is the moment where, right after he psychs himself up and is all, “now’s my chance!”, he sees Natsuo’s face and he sees the fear in his eyes, and all of a sudden he’s frozen in place, terrified of making a wrong move when his son’s life is at stake.)

-- oh snap, look who’s getting beaten to the punch!

do you guys remember that season 3 anime filler where Deku somehow beats Iida in a race and everyone just accepts it like that could ever actually possibly happen, like...?? if he can’t even keep up with Kacchan and Shouto, I hardly think he could pose a challenge to the guy who’s basically the Usain Bolt of heroes. but it’s not like that still keeps me up at night or anything. anyway!

so Ending here is giving the Todorokis a run for their money in the drama department, which is really saying something

okay, but what exactly is he supposed to do, then? you’re saying he should focus on killing you to save his son? so what, just like try to fry you and hope he doesn’t also hit Natsu? it seems to me like he has the same chance of success here whether he aims for lethal or nonlethal. so idk but go off I guess dude

oh damn, but in the meantime it looks like Todo is having some sort of badass awakening moment

YESSSSS SHOUTO UNLEASH THE INFERNO

(ETA: so Shouto just burned off his entire uniform, yes? boy you’d better keep that fire going now for modesty’s sake until you figure something out sob.)

lol so anyway I just had a flashback to Shouto’s fight against Tetsu back in chapter 205, and I realized that if Ending really wants to fight someone who absolutely doesn’t give a fuck, and will straight up kill a bitch with his quirk if they test him, then HERE’S YOUR GUY LMAO

now Ending’s saying “because you took your time...” and I have no idea where this is going, but I’ll take this as confirmation that they really did take a time-out for five minutes to gear up

oh damn

friendly reminder that gravity in BnHA tends to follow normal rules, unlike in most shounen manga. but even so, I’m finding myself hard-pressed to be concerned considering Kacchan and Deku are on the job. you’re gonna have to do better than that Ending my dude

wow is he shoving Natsu right into oncoming traffic?!

where the fuck did all these fucking cars come from out of nowhere like this?? the highway was like empty two minutes ago, geez

anyways now we’re seeing another “condense it!” panel, and is this one Bakugou??

I mean it looks like his gauntlet there, and I’m pretty sure Shouto was wearing sneakers in the panel earlier, and those obviously aren’t Deku’s shoes, so...!

YEPPPPPPPP

listen you judgey forest witch, I don’t need to justify myself to you, okay?? just!! I LOVE HIM END OF STORY

(ETA: and hey can we also just stop for a second and talk about how insanely fucking fast that was, though?? and Kacchan was fast to begin with -- remember how quickly he saved Jirou during the joint training arc. anyway so he’s basically moving at teleportation speeds now, and I’m here for it, and also terrified that he’s going to blow his fucking arms off at some point because holy fuck though.

also, once again I would like to express my gratitude for Horikoshi for once again giving Katsuki the big rescue moment, rather than having him go immediately for the bad guy. this is such an important thing to show. he’s really giving his all towards this “saving people” thing and trying his hardest and I’m so proud.)

and now it’s Deku’s turn to get to work!

that guy gripping his steering wheel for dear life has the most perfect expression I’ve ever seen, like that’s exactly the face I would be making in that situation. this chapter has had so many great facial expressions overall. I feel spoiled

[LUNGES TOWARD THE SCREEN IN ANTICIPATION!!] MOTHERFUCKER, ARE WE ABOUT TO SEE SOME BLOOP ALL UP IN THESE PAGES!?! PLEASE!!!!?

I FUCKING CAN’T WITH THIS BUILDUP?? THIS IS PAGE ELEVEN OF THE CHAPTER, AND I JUST KNOW WE’RE ABOUT TO END IT WITH A TWO-PAGE SPREAD ON THE NEXT PAGE. THIS HYPE IS TOO MUCH, I’M GONNA LOSE IT

OH SNAP NO IT WAS JUST A SINGLE PAGE!!

THE TRIUMPHANT RETURN OF BLACKWHIP YESSSSSS

lmao Ending looks so fucking shocked at being completely taken apart by these three kids with basically no effort. and I see that ice creeping up around him. oh, son. you tried

and then the last page is -- oh

I mean, Deku and Shouto being complete badasses (ETA: and I so wasn’t kidding when I said that Shouto will straight up murder a bitch omg), but then

aaaaand there goes my heart. hey would it kill you to give me a heads up before you just go and STUFF IT FULL OF FEELS like that?? like

just. Endeavor just ran up and gathered him up in his arms, and he’s holding him with this desperation that we’ve never seen from him before, and just... wow. it’s completely disarming and I’m almost at a loss for a coherent response. meanwhile poor Katsuki nearly got wrapped up in it as well due to proximity, but it’s not like it’ll hurt him to see this moment up close. I still have another essay I’m working on for you, you little honey badger

(ETA: on closer inspection it seems like poor honey badger actually has been fully included in the hug lmao. and at first I was thinking it was just the proximity as I said above, but you know what? if some punk kid flew in out of nowhere and saved my child’s life, you can bet I’d be wrapping them up in a bear hug too. so maybe it’s just the dad emotions getting the better of him. either way Katsuki you just gotta put up with it!)

anyways don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here thinking about how Endeavor has already lost a child (and yes I know, but like I said last week, I genuinely believe it was a tragic accident. to me that makes infinitely more sense than all of the darker/more sinister explanations. but anyways we’ll see eventually), and his family has been in shambles for so long and he’s been estranged from all of them (for good reason), and I think he finally even is coming to terms with that, and the fact that it may always be this way for him because of what he’s done. but to then almost have a second child taken from him, right before his eyes, and knowing that once again it would have been his fault, was apparently more than he could handle

and then, just the fact that he reacted in this of all ways. by openly showing tenderness and emotion, without even thinking about it, because he was so shaken up by the whole thing. this from Todoroki Enji, the most stoic, impassive, closed-off motherfucker to ever walk the earth! like, even after he clearly established that he was on the redemption path, he still never showed this kind of vulnerability. we’ve had a window or two into his thoughts and reflections, so we know he’s been experiencing remorse, and we could see it also during some of the quieter moments like him thanking Fuyumi or kneeling at the shrine for Touya. but I will tell you that I never for a moment could have imagined a scene like this. and I know it’s probably going to make some people angry because they feel like he hasn’t “earned” it or whatever. but I’ll be fully honest, at this point I’m kind of over feeling like I have to put a disclaimer every week explaining that yes, I like the Endeavor redemption arc lol. just, yeah. I like it. and anyway, so this was feels all over the damn place. fuck

(ETA: and I feel it’s worth adding here that even though Endeavor didn’t do anything to save Natsuo himself directly, it’s his guidance that enabled those three padawans to reach the next level so quickly. so in a way he did save his son: by finally moving past his self-centered mentality and taking these three kids under his wing and helping them grow. this wasn’t a victory he could have pulled off alone. but because he finally learned to see past himself, they were able to win the day and save Natsu.)

anyway, so now that all this has happened, I’m curious as to whether this is the end of this little arc! if so it’s much shorter than I expected. though obviously their internship is going to continue even after they head back to school, so it’s not like the action is just gonna come screeching to a halt. but maybe we’ll take a little break after this to catch up with the rest of 1-A, and maybe follow up with All Might to see who the great-great-grandfather of One for All is, oh snap

AND MAYBE A CERTAIN SOMEONE CAN HIT US UP WITH HIS THOUGHTS AND REFLECTIONS ON WHAT HE LEARNED DURING THIS WINTER BREAK, AND WHETHER OR NOT HE TOOK AWAY ANYTHING FROM THIS THAT MIGHT STEER HIM A BIT MORE TOWARDS HIS NEW HERO NAME. THAT WOULD BE SPLENDID. JUST PUTTING THAT OUT THERE

and having said that, I don’t really have a clean way of ending this recap this week lol so just. uh. I liked it a lot, thank you, good night

245 notes · View notes

cotillion-the-rope · 4 years

Text

Hallownest’s Here Chapter Seven: Epilogue

On the final chapter on Ao3 someone asked for an epilogue and they said 'please' so I figured why not? It was *supposed* to be fairly quick and short but uh... I got a bit carried away.

Lost Kin gets the name 'Buddy' because I couldn't think of anything better to call them and I thought Elderbug would probably have trouble figuring out what to call them anyway and him eventually settling on calling them 'Buddy' because they're a buddy to everyone in town made sense. And it's kinda cute so that’s what I went with.

(Also, I never want to edit 6k words in single sitting ever again, that was not fun .)

The Hollow Knight statue was just as cryptic and frustratingly fascinating as ever. What Lemm wouldn’t give to learn more about the figures it depicted. Who they were, what they’d sacrificed, or even just their proper name. But alas, it didn’t seem like he’d ever know. That didn’t stop him from coming out look at it every so often though. The husks avoided it for some reason, making the clearing a safe place to hang out when he needed to get away from his shop for a little bit.

It was time to go though, he’d had his little walk and rest. Now he needed to get back to shop to finish translating the last of the journals the silent wanderer had sold him during their last visit. There were only two and a half left so hopefully they’d come back soon with more artifacts or he might start getting bored again. But with how long they’d been gone this time, it was starting to look like they might not…

Back under the canopy of the building, Lemm froze solid as something emerged from the now open sewer grate a few feet in front of him. The he head of something larger, it was impenetrably pitch black except for its eyes, eight of them all locking onto Lemm. The smart thing to do would’ve been to run and hide and pray it didn’t give chase but its gaze rested heavy on him, pinning him to the floor.

“Lemm.” Its voice was deep and cold, sending a shudder of fear down his back. How did it know his name? What did it want? … What even was it?

More of it emerged from the grate, its body moving and flowing almost like a liquid before solidifying into a large shape with four arms ending in large clawed hands. Its bottom was mass of tentacles that partially liquified again as it slid closer to loom over him

Welp, it was probably too late to get away now. Lemm had a lived a fairly decent life at least. Hopefully it would leave his relic collection intact for another relic seeker to one day find and study, perhaps even discover the secrets he’d been unable to pull from them.

It didn’t kill him right away though. Instead it pulled something out with its lower pair of hands, to show him. … The silent wanderer’s mask, broken in half. … Lemm hadn’t particularly cared about them but it was sad to see them go anyway. They didn’t deserve such a fate, poor fellow. But why was…

“Me,” the being said, holding the two halves together.

“Uh… what?”

“My old form. I do not know what you called me so I’m showing you.” Wait was it saying that it’s the silent wanderer? But how was that even possible? “Don’t be afraid. Everything’s okay. I’m still me.”

Well, looks like Lemm wasn’t dying today after all. That was good. “But… but you’re… you’re…” He gestured vaguely at them because what even were they now? And how had the become that? Some species of bugs went through pretty drastic metamorphosis in their lifetimes but he’d never heard of anything like this.

“A god. Call me Ghost.”

“How though?” Lemm couldn’t even articulate how baffled he was. He still wasn’t sure he believed that this thing and the small wanderer were the same thing.

The now not so silent wanderer turned god/Ghost, hesitated before answering. Long enough for Lemm notice the fire moth baby hovering by their shoulder, chirping softly. His presence gave credence to Ghost’s claim because he always seemed to be with the wanderer in the past.

“I ascended and killed the Radiance in Godhome,” Ghost finally said. What did that mean though? “I have stuff to sell.”

Lemm took a breath to ask for more information but stopped because he wasn’t going to get any more, was he? Or at least it would take a long time to; Ghost clearly wasn’t the type to explain things without being heavily prompted to. Which honestly made sense, presumably godhood had brought with it the newfound ability to speak and thus they weren’t great at communicating verbally. More than ever Lemm didn’t want them sticking around that long so…

“Very well,” he said. “I do not believe you will fit inside my shop anymore so we will have to conduct business out here. Show me what you have and I’ll bring out the appropriate amount of geo.” He was just going to pretend that this was a fairly normal business transaction for now. He’d try to learn more later, after he’d had some time to calm down from the shock of it all.

***

“This must mean that whatever’s been animating the husks and making the air heavy is over, right?” Cloth said as she turned back to look at Tiso.

He shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. We’ve only seen like three husks that aren’t animated anymore, so maybe they just finally failed or something.” Granted one of those husks, they’d seen randomly fall over in person and it hadn’t seemed like there was anything different about it. “Maybe it’s because of the rain or something.” It didn’t make much sense really but it was the only thing truly different between the City of Tears and everywhere else. This was only time Tiso had seen a husk just randomly fall over so they had to take that possibility into account.

“Hmmm… I suppose you’re right. We’ll have to look into it more. Let’s go.” Cloth hefted her giant club off the ground and set off once more.

Tiso followed because what else was he going to do? She’d been the one to invite him on this adventure and he’d agreed to go instead of leaving like he’d planned to. But… she was cool and had a big club, how was he supposed to say ‘no’?

Judging based off all the once fancy buildings they were in what was once the rich part of the city. Meaning they could probably get rich here if they looted a couple houses. Was Cloth the type to do that kind of looting though? Would she be offended if…

Cloth froze as she turned a corner forcing, Tiso to skid to a quick halt to lest he run into her.

“Maybe let’s not go that way,” she whispered as she backpedaled.

“Why not?”

“There’s something out there that I don’t think we want to mess with.”

“I’m not scared.” Puffin his chest out, Tiso walked through the entryway she’d just retreated from to get a look for himself. It was back outside of the buildings, almost immediately to the right was a clearing with a statue in the middle. Looking at it was a large pitch-black thing with big horns, fours arms, and many tentacles. Definitely the kind of thing they were probably better off not messing with.

It was too late to retreat though, it was already turning away from its examination of the statue. Its eight eyes locked onto Tiso, freezing him in place for a second or two before it started moving closer, gliding across the ground like a specter from a fairy tale.

What were the chances his ‘friend’ would come to his rescue this time? Probably not very high. So he readied his shield for combat. He’d rather die fight than running away or hiding. “We can take it,” he said.

“Uh… yeah, yeah, yeah,” Cloth said as she stepped up beside him. “I ain’t afraid.” She let out a battle roar, lifting her club high as she charged it. Gosh, she was badass. Tiso, scrambled to catch up.

The being stopped and didn’t do anything as her club hit it beneath its lower set of arms, seemingly doing nothing to it. Tiso came in next, slicing at its tentacles with the sharp edge of his shield which also didn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever.

“Am I really that scary now?” It tilted its head as it looked down at them instead of attacking back. By its shoulder hovered the pale wanderer’s fire moth baby who was now hissing at them. What the fuck?

“Oh,” Cloth said as she lowered her club. “You’re friendly?”

The thing nodded.

“I wouldn’t trust it,” Tiso said, not lowering his shield even if it was useless. The moth baby being here had to mean the pale wanderer was close by though, right? Unless something had happened to them, presumably at the hands of the void thing, which Tiso couldn’t let stand because he still owed the wanderer for saving him in Colosseum.

Instead of answering the void thing pulled something out. … The pale wanderer’s mask, broken in two. “Me,” it said before Tiso could react, holding the two pieces together. “My old form. I’m a god now. Call me Ghost.”

Wait, what? Was it saying what Tiso thought it was saying? Surely that was impossible, right? It couldn’t actually be the wanderer… could it? And what kind of name was ‘Ghost’? Especially for a god? And what was Tiso doing even caring about that?

Cloth broke the silence. “You’re really them?”

The void thing… the pale wanderer(?)… Ghost… nodded in the exact same way the wanderer did when answering a question. So… maybe it was them? That would explain why they had the moth baby on their side. And they were a god now? …

“What the fuck?” was all Tiso could say because it simply didn’t make sense. How did something as small as the wanderer become whatever this thing was? A god apparently. … “Does this have something to do with the gold place with the clouds?” Wait, no, that had been a dream so…

Ghost nodded as if they knew exactly what Tiso meant. “Godhome. I killed the Radiance there. How did you get there?”

“Uh… I don’t know.” Tiso had made the smart move in not messing with that stuff now if only he’d made the smart move and gotten out of Hallownest and getting away from all its supernatural bullshit altogether.

“I want the whole story,” Cloth said, her cheer all the way back now.

“Can’t yet. Busy.” With that Ghost turned and left without even a ‘goodbye’. … Yep, it was them all right, when they were done with someone they just left.

“Uh… okay, see you later then.” Cloth then turned to face Tiso again. “I feel like the husks all failing might have something to do with them becoming a god.”

He couldn’t argue with that logic so… “Probably.”

“What did you mean by the gold place with the clouds though?”

“Uh… it’s complicated.” No way was he going to tell her about that whole incident. “Let’s just… go back to what we were doing before.” He’d rather not think about the possible implications of his ‘friend’ becoming a god. … Did they even still think of him as a friend? … Which answer would be worse? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

***

The moment Lurien saw the Void God he knew that this was the being that had killed the Radiance. Perhaps the vessel had summoned it. Or perhaps the vessel had merged with its siblings to create it. Or perhaps something else had happened. Regardless, the vessel had something to do with it and it was here visiting Lurien’s tower now.

He stepped out to meet it. If it intended to kill him, there’d be no getting away from it so he might as well come out and meet it head on. And as much as he hated to leave his tower, he needed to go out and search for the Pale King anyway. His Majesty had not foreseen this… Or maybe He had and just hadn’t told the Dreamers? Hmm… a theory best not dwelt on until Lurien had a better understanding of Hallownest’s current situation.

“I suppose you want to claim yourself as Hallownest’s new god?” Lurien asked it as he approached.

It stared down at him, a little moth baby hovering by its shoulder, for a few seconds before shrugging and shaking its head. Hmm… that was odd but good. And it didn’t seem hostile either, hopefully it would stay that way.

“I’m Ghost,” it said, placing a hand to its chest.

“An… odd name for a god but I suppose it’s no matter. I’m Lurien the Watcher, loyal servant to His Majesty the Pale King.”

“He’s dead.” Was that… anger in its voice?

“R-really?” That couldn’t be true, could it?

Ghost nodded. It could be lying but… what were the chances of that? And it seemed so sure.

“That can’t be though, He’s… a god.” Gods could die though; this one had killed one a very short time ago. “How could Hallownest survive without Him?”

Ghost stared at him for a couple seconds before seeming to sigh and turning around to leave.

“You… you come here, tell me that and then leave?”

“You’re attached to the Pale King,” it said as if that was a bad. As if it didn’t like the Pale King even though He was ultimately the reason it existed. “We can’t be friends.”

What kind of god wanted friends? It should be more concerned with gaining worshippers. … Maybe that’s what it had meant, it didn’t want Lurien as a follower because he was still attached and loyal to the Pale King. … Well, at least it decided to leave him alone instead of getting rid of him. But… it had left him at even more of a loss than before. What was he supposed to do with the Pale King gone?

***

Upon freeing Monomon from the tank, Quirrel hadn’t been sure how she’d get around but it turns out, just like the Oomas she could just float through the air. He was fascinated by it now just like he suddenly remembering being in the past. She’d never explained how she did it no matter how many times he’d asked about it.

“It’s just something I can do,” she replied when he’d inevitably ended up asking her about it again. Which was her usual answer. Recovering his memories sure was an interesting time.

What wasn’t interesting though was Monomon’s sadness at the state of the Archive. Thankfully most of the storage containers were safe, though a few were broken or leaking. Not a single Ooma had resisted the Infection though. And now that it was over, they were all lifeless, their cores a dull gray instead of the green they were supposed to be.

“I suppose I shall have to make more,” Monomon said as they mourned over the fallen Uumuu in the central room, its cores riddled with slashes made by Quirrel’s nail. He hadn’t known at the time what he’d been fighting and now he felt bad about it but… it hadn’t given him much of a choice if he didn’t want to be electrocuted.

“I’m sorry Madam,” he said anyway because he was sorry. Maybe if he had found a way to sneak past it, it might’ve been strong enough to recover after the Infection vanished. That was a big maybe though.

“It’s okay.” She patted him on the head with a tentacle. “I don’t blame you. Given enough time I’m sure we can…” A sound from above cut her off.

Quirrel looked up to see ink black tentacles slithering through the opening in the ceiling. They wrapped around various things to help pull their owner in. Quirrel reached for his nail but Monomon’s tentacle stopped him.

“I believe this is the being that killed the Radiance for us,” she said. Which didn’t at all mean it was friendly but she still seemed unafraid so Quirrel relaxed too. A little bit anyway, remaining mentally prepped for battle when around an unknown being was always smart regardless of the circumstances.

The being settled in front of them. Two pairs of arms, large horns, eight glowing eyes, and tentacles everywhere made it quite the intimidating figure. The moth baby – that looked identical to the wanderer’s companion, enough that they were probably the same which raised the question about why he wasn’t with the wanderer – flying just behind its shoulder somewhat lessened that effect though.

“Quirrel!” It said, its voice deep and cold. But despite that it sounded excited to see him? It even raised a hand in a small wave.

“Oh, do I know you?” Was this related to another memory he’d lost? It didn’t feel like it but who could say for sure?

The being nodded as its lower pair of arms moved to show him something. … The wanderer’s mask split in two. “Me. My old form. I’m a god now. My name is Ghost.”

That was peculiar but… this was Hallownest, strange things were everywhere so this wasn’t too much of a stretch, was it? “Well Ghost, it is nice to finally know your name. And may I introduce you to Lady Monomon? Teacher of the Archive. It was you that freed her from her Dream, correct?”

Ghost nodded again as they put their old broken mask away.

“And for that, I must thank you,” Monomon said. “I appreciate this second shot at life.”

“Yes,” Quirrel said. “Thank you Ghost. I’m not sure how you did it but thank you for sparing Lady Monomon. You forever have my gratitude and friendship.”

Another nod but no words. Looks like Ghost wasn’t the talkative type even when having the ability to speak. That was fine though, the world could probably use less people constantly trying to make their voices heard.

“You will have to tell us the whole story sometime,” Monomon said. “But first we need to get the Archive up and running again so we can record it properly. So your tale will have to wait for a bit, I hope you don’t mind.”

Ghost shrugged; clearly they didn’t have much reason to care. “New friend.” They made a heart with their upper pair of hands at Monomon very similar to what they’d done towards Quirrel during one of their meetings.

Monomon chuckled. “Yes, new friend. I’m eager to see what becomes of whatever’s left of Hallownest with a void god as its ruling god. The civilization that existed here long ago worshipped the void, was it the void itself or a being like yourself though?”

Ghost shrugged again. They then looked all around and started climbing back up and out. Clearly they were done here and had other things to attend to.

“See you later friend,” Quirrel called as he always did when they left.

“See you later friend,” they returned this time which was quite nice. Now that they could speak, Quirrel would have to ask them about their adventures later, he’d always been curious about them and where they’d been and where they were going.

***

Neither Hornet nor Herrah had ever been particularly talkative and yet they talked for a while. They had a lot to catch up on, more Herrah than Hornet as the only news Herrah could share was that the Radiance was dead and that’s why she’d woken up.

The Radiance being dead had to have something to do with Ghost and why they’d never shown up to break the seal, right? Perhaps Hornet was just jumping to conclusions, possibly even based off what she hoped to be the case. She’d have to look into it later.

“What are you going to do now though?” Hornet eventually found herself asking after all her news had run out.

Herrah shifted and was silent for a few seconds before replying. “I don’t know. I was never meant to wake up and yet here I am. There are worse things I suppose.”

Hornet hummed her agreement. This meant she was no longer Deepnest’s leader – not that there was anyone left alive down here except for the Midwife and the Maskmaker anyway so Herrah wasn’t queen of much either anymore – and… Hallownest probably didn’t need a protector anymore, did it? So the role she’d been playing for the past… how long had it been? It was impossible to say – was also defunct.

Perhaps now that the stasis was over, they could rebuild. And maybe Deepnest wouldn’t need to be separated from the rest of Hallownest. Ghost was king now, were they going to do anything with that title or…

“Hornet!” The voice was loud and deep, coming from outside. It was also not a voice she’d ever heard before.

“Not a friend?” Herrah asked her as she stood, readying her needle.

“Nope,” she replied in a whisper as she led the way towards the exit. Being unfamiliar didn’t mean they were hostile but it was best not to take chances so she’d operate under the assumption that they were until proven wrong.

At the exit, a quick stealthy peek outside revealed who the visitor was. A massive void black thing rested its chin comfortably on the platform’s edge.

“A void thing,” Herrah said with a frown in her voice after she’d taken her own quick glance outside. She was going to say more but cut off as something flew into the room.

It was Grimmchild, noticeably grown since last Hornet had seen him. He chirped when he saw her and did a little flip before heading back out, perhaps expecting her to follow. If he was here that meant Ghost was nearby. So before Herrah could ask about him – Hornet would have no idea how to explain him because she wasn’t sure of all the details herself – Hornet stepped outside.

“Hornet!” Yep it had been the large void being that had said her name before. “Sibling… sister! It’s me Ghost. Not little anymore. I killed the Radiance. I’m a god now.”

Well… that was a lot to suddenly have thrust upon her. It… they couldn’t actually be Ghost, could they? But Grimmchild had settled on their head, between their horns. He seemed quite content with them and he’d know best, wouldn’t he?

“You’re… huge,” was all Hornet could dredge up to say.

Ghost (?) lifted their chin off the platform to nod.

“How did you even get in here?” As big as the room was all the entrances were rather small.

“I can shrink.”

“But you want to show off, huh?”

Ghost paused before a moment before lift their head to shake it. “The room is big. I didn’t want to climb. Hello Herrah.” They lifted a large clawed hand into view in a greeting.

Hornet turned her head to see Herrah had stepped out too. “So… you’re the one to thank for waking me? And presumably also the vessel that disturbed us?”

Ghost nodded. “Killing people who can’t fight back is wrong. I killed the Radiance in Godhome instead.”

Hornet wasn’t sure she believed them but at the same time it made some sense. Ghost had been trying to find a way to kill the Radiance, apparently the way they’d found involved becoming a void god. They’d already been very near to being a god before anyway, they’d just need a bit more of a push and they’d evidently found a big one.

“Well,” Herrah said, “you have my gratitude for giving me my life back then.”

“New friend.” Ghost lifted two hands this time to make a heart shape with their fingers. … Yep, it was Ghost all right; they’d done that at Hornet once too and she’d seen them do it at a few other people as well.

“I wouldn’t say that. Befriending the void isn’t something I’m interested in.”

Ghost paused for a moment before shrugging. Hurt by Herrah’s words or indifferent? It was impossible to say. Well Hornet was interested in befriending Ghost regardless. They’d saved Hallownest and Hornet’s mother when at best she’d expected them to fight the Radiance in Hollow’s mind. So…

“I would like to thank you too Ghost.”

They nodded in acknowledgement. The fact that they could speak now was amazing. It would probably take them a while to get used to it though and Hornet wouldn’t be surprised if they were never good at it after how long they’d been cursed with silence. Speaking of curses though…

“Do you know what’s become of the Hollow Knight?” Hornet had been so caught up by Herrah’s awakening she hadn’t paused to consider the possible fate of the Hollow Knight now that the Radiance was gone.

Ghost shrugged. “Freed I hope.”

“You should go look for them, make sure of it.”

They nodded again this time hard enough to disturb Grimmchild on their head. He let out a rather undignified squeak as he caught himself from with a flap of his wings. He shot Ghost and annoyed look but was ignored as without another word or gesture, Ghost’s form lost its solid shape, shifting to look more like thick liquid pulling in on itself. They were shrinking, condescending in on themself presumably so they could leave.

“You see them as a sibling?” Herrah asked, her tone purposefully neutral.

Hornet turned back to face her. “Yes.” Even before gaining the ability to speak, they’d proven beyond any shadow of a doubt that they had a mind and a will, meaning they were alive. Meaning they were her sibling rather she liked it or not. Having a sibling who was the god of the void would perhaps be interesting to say the least.

“Fair enough.” Again, Herrah’s tone was neutral, not allowing any insight into how she felt about that. She’d never liked the vessels but this situation was so unique Hornet couldn’t guess how she felt about Ghost. It didn’t matter though, she’d grow to like Ghost regardless, everyone always did. They’d certainly grown on Hornet like mold.

***

Hollow had never been this far from the White Palace before. When they’d been transported to the Black Egg it had had been via Stag. Even if they remembered where the Stag Station was up here, they wouldn’t be able to communicate where they needed to go so walking was their only option. They had no idea where they were so they just went downwards as much as they could. It was down there somewhere. If they passed it and found the entrance to the Abyss, they should know where to go from there.

As they walked, dragging their nail behind them, they passed many lifeless husks but not a single living person. Was that normal? How bad had the Infection gotten before the Radiance’s demise? Had it killed everyone? Had Hollow really failed that badly?

That thought shouldn’t be making them feel anything but it weighed on them as if they were still wrapped in chains. They shouldn’t even be capable of having that thought. That’s why they’d failed. And that’s perhaps why the Pale King hadn’t come for them. But they had nowhere to go but back to him so onward they trekked.

Eventually they reached what seemed to be the end of this upper rocky area. But that’s where they stopped because something was coming up, something big and made of void. Even though they couldn’t see it, they could feel it so they stopped and waited for it.

Finally after several minutes, it arrived. It was tall but Hollow sensed that this was its smallest form. It was a void god and… it had a mind; Hollow could feel it as it… no they, approached. They were siblings. The sibling who had been just behind them during the ascent from the Abyss to answer the Pale King’s call. They’d almost made it too but had misjudged the final jump just enough to fail it, grabbing the ledge instead.

They’d killed the Radiance and was a god now. Their name was Ghost. They’d been dubbed that by Hornet, their sister. … Not clarification Hollow needed, they knew who Hornet was, they’d even met her a few times when they’d both been children. … Oh! Ghost wanted to know more about that but first…

Right in front of Hollow now, one of their tentacles reached up to caress Hollow’s face, just below the crack. Another tentacle hovered where their arm had been before the Infection took it. Did it hurt?

Hollow nodded. The crack still hurt a little. The arm was mostly numb. It had hurt a lot when the wounds had occurred though, searing pain that would’ve made them scream if they’d had a voice to.

That made Ghost sad, their sorrow for Hollow’s pain radiating off them like waves. Hollow pushed it away, taking a step back. They weren’t supposed to feel things and it was their own fault for not being truly hollow so they deserved… No!

Hollow flinched as Ghost utterly drowned the thought with their own. Hollow deserved nothing that had been done to them! … They shrugged because how were they supposed to argue with a void god? Ghost could obliterate them with little more than a single thought. … They would never! Hollow was their sibling, they’d never hurt them. They knew that, right?

They nodded; they had no reason not to believe that when that was what Ghost was telling them. It’d be much harder to lie when communicating like this anyway, right? … Right! And Ghost would never lie regardless.

Well, good. Hollow needed to get back to returning to the Pale King now. … He was dead. Ghost had seen his corpse in what was left of the White Palace. They’d knocked it off the throne with their nail.

That… that couldn’t be right, though. He couldn’t be dead, he was immortal and… No! He was dead and that was good so Hollow shouldn’t be sad, they should be happy.

How could Hollow possibly be happy about that? He was their Father!

Ghost was mad now at the Pale King and at Hollow for loving him. They just didn’t understand. They’d never even met the Pale King properly. If they’d had then they’d know that he wasn’t that bad, that he was…

No! Ghost again forced their own thought onto Hollow, this time hard enough to make their head ache and almost sent them to their knees. They could easily destroy that entire line of thinking, not let Hollow think about the Pale King ever again but… but they wouldn’t. They would never. They weren’t like the Pale King or the Radiance, they would never force their will onto others. They were sorry they’d done so this time, they shouldn’t have.

Hollow shrugged. They didn’t care, Ghost could do as they pleased. It was far too late to be of use now but they could erase Hollow’s mind completely if they wanted to. They’d failed at their one purpose in life and now the Pale King was dead, they had no more reason to exist.

More sadness from Ghost. They didn’t force it onto Hollow but so close, it was impossible not to be almost overwhelmed by it. They didn’t want to feel things this strongly. … Ghost was sorry but they didn’t know how to stop, this was new to them.

They’d make it better though! They were going to introduce Hollow to all of their friends! They would make sure Hollow got a chance to be happy and give them a reason to live again! Given enough time, they would see! … Hollow shrugged, they doubted it but Ghost’s determination made it hard to completely discount it.

Good! First, they had to meet Grimmchild, Ghost’s dearest companion. He was a reincarnated Nightmare God but also absolutely the cutest thing ever.

Hollow glanced over to the side where Grimmchild had settled to the ground to watch the two of them; unnoticed before due to Hollow’s attention on Ghost. Cute wasn’t an adjective Hollow had much familiarity with but yes, he was cute. … He liked to be pet! Hollow should pet him! On the head, between the horns!

With a shrug, they obeyed, dropping their nail to crouch down and pet Grimmchild’s head the way Ghost had indicated. He was pleasantly warm as he made happy noises and nuzzled into Hollow’s hand. It was… kind of nice? What was nice supposed to be like though? … This! It was nice! One day they’d know all about what feeling nice was supposed to be like, Ghost would make sure of it even if they weren’t super familiar with it either.

***

In the middle of Elderbug’s tale, Buddy lifted a hand as if to shush him as they looked up and over towards the well. They’d never done that before.

“Is something wrong?” Elderbug asked.

Not answering even with nod or shake of their head, they stood up and started for the edge of town towards the well. Were they planning on heading down? But they didn’t have a weapon and they’d seemed content to stay, unlike their wandering near lookalike. So, curious, Elderbug followed.

They stopped at the edge of the well. They made no move to venture down, instead they put their hands on the crumbling wall and stuck their head out to look down it. … Elderbug looked too, seeing nothing. The air coming up from it seemed lighter than it had for the past little while though. That was a good sign.

“Is something down there?” he asked, looking back up at Buddy.

They didn’t answer of course. They didn’t even look up at him.

“Well… I’m going back to the bench, come hang out again when you’re done here.” He didn’t like the well so he’d rather not be near it.

Back by the bench, he looked up, ascertaining that Buddy indeed was still staring down the well. And they continued to do so for many minutes, completely unmoving. Elderbug kept an eye on them even though they were probably capable of taking care of themself, they weren’t a child after all even if they did look a bit like one. And their wandering near lookalike was certainly very capable so it made sense that they would be too.

Eventually when Elderbug looked back over there again it was to see that they’d moved and were no longer alone. A tall fellow had come up from the well. It was hard to tell for sure at this distance but it looked like they had only one arm which was odd, it must be a…

Inky blackness surged up from the well. There was no way that could be a good thing, could it? It settled, forming a figure even taller than the first new one. It was pitch black and rather scary looking but… Buddy seemed totally at peace with it, settling in beside it as the three of them started back towards the town.

Zote shouted something when he saw the large being and charged, waving his sword like the buffoon he was. … If Zote got the town in trouble with whatever that thing was, Elderbug might be tempted to strangle him. … Thankfully no trouble seemed immediately eminent as the being just wrapped one of its four hands around Zote restraining him with ease.

With a sigh and praying for the best, Elderbug started in that direction. Hopefully this could be handled peacefully.

“What is that?” Myla shouted from somewhere to his left. “Let’s go check it out.”

“I don’t know if that’s…” Bretta’s protest cut off with a yelp as Myla tugged her in that direction, pulling her along with a surprising amount of strength for such a little bug. At their speed, they reached the being a few seconds before Elderbug.

“Unhand me foul beast,” Zote was shouting, wriggling for all he was worth in the being’s grip.

Surprisingly, it obeyed putting him back down with far more care than Zote probably deserved. “Calm,” it said firmly, its voice deep and cold. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine.” That was certainly a good sign, whatever it was seemed to be friendly at least.

Alas, once free, Zote immediately pointed his sword at it again. “Name your business here foul beast before I…”

“Hush Zote,” Myla interrupted. “They’re friends with Buddy so they’re obviously a friend.” She gestured at Buddy who was standing between the two strangers, looking up at the larger of the two

“My siblings!” The being said. “Hollow.” They pointed at the one armed fellow who’d shown up first. “Zote, Myla, Bretta, Elderbug.” They pointed to each of them as it spoke as if introducing them to Hollow. But how did they know…

“How do you know our names?” Bretta asked before Elderbug could even finish the thought.

In answer, they pulled something out from somewhere to show all of them. … The wanderer’s mask broken in half. “Me,” they said, ignoring the shocked gasps at that reveal. “My old form. I’m a god now. My name is Ghost.”

Elderbug suddenly wanted to sit back down. The little wanderer was a god now? He figured they’d attain greatness in some fashion but this was a bit much. Having a god roaming around Hallownest could only attract trouble or at least noise, the last thing little Dirtmouth needed. But at least they were a kind god so it wasn’t all bad. Heck, maybe as a whole, this might ultimately be a good thing for Hallownest, only time would tell.

#my writing #Hollow knight #Ghost #Grimmchild & Ghost #Ghost is the Shade Lord #Shade Lord #Lemm #Tiso & Cloth #quirrel and monomon #Hornet & Herrah #Ghost & the hollow knight #elderbug #Lost Kin

23 notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 4 years

Note

Hey Clyde! Love your reviews on RWBY. My question is about Ozpin. If he survived fighting Cinder, would the events of volume 4-6 still happen? I believe the only reason team RWBYJNR treated Ozpin that way was because he was with Oscar who basically looked like a kid to them. However, if he was still in his adult body, would they have been more respectful?

Hi, anon! Thank you! I’m actually super glad you asked this. I’ve touched on how Oscar’s age and looks have impacted how others perceive Ozpin a bit in other asks, but haven’t had the chance to compose a substantial meta about it. I will attempt to fix that here!

FYI, it’ll get decently image heavy from here on out.

First, as a general response to the question of whether the events of Volumes 4-6 would have changed if Ozpin had survived: absolutely. If only because Ozpin as a figurehead would have still been around to lead both his inner circle and function as a symbol of strength for the rest of the world. Unless he was completely incapacitated from the fight or something (like in a coma), the expectation is that Ozpin would have begun rebuilding his school. Glynda wouldn’t have been left alone to try and deal with a frozen Wyvern attracting grimm. Ironwood wouldn’t have been left to figure out where to go from here. Qrow wouldn’t have been sent on a mission to return Ozpin’s cane. The whole world (including Atlas) may have been less likely to panic with Ozpin there to provide perspective and support. Lionheart presumably would have been less inclined to betray him, at least so soon and so overtly. An Ozpin who will reincarnate at some unknown point is a future Lionheart problem, and therefore far less intimidating. An Ozpin who still lives and commands his inner circle is way more of a threat and Lionheart would be more likely to get caught. Remember that even Salem was surprised by how quickly Ozpin reincarnated and dove back into the game—all the baddies were banking on more time. So yes, a ton would have changed. The group’s focus is now more along the lines of, “So is Ozpin going to fix things and can we go back to school?” and less, “Ozpin is dead as a door nail and no one is able to fix things for us. Might as well go hunt Cinder ourselves.”

But onto the meat of the ask. Is the group treating Ozpin like they are at least partly because he’s in the body of a kid? That’s also a resounding ‘yes.’ Human beings, including the humans and the faunus that we write in fiction, are incredibly judgmental (for better and for worse) based on how someone else looks. If you’re able to see then you tend to prioritize that information over other aspects of a person. We create markers that we then learn and assume mean something when, much of the time, they don’t. Or, to put it another way, we create stereotypes. We can think about this in terms of gender presentation: a masculine-looking person giving orders is seen as the “boss” whereas a feminine-looking person giving orders is seen as a “bitch.” We can complicate that with race: we’re more likely to view a white woman giving orders as “assertive” when compared to a black man giving orders. That’s “aggressive.” From giving a girl long blonde hair when you want to cue people into the fact that she’s (supposedly) dumb, to making a man skinny when you want him to seem vulnerable, our media is chock-full of those markers, subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) encouraging us to read characters in particular ways. There’s a reason that Yang, the go-getter, is blonde whereas Blake, the bookworm, has black hair. There’s a reason that Cardin wasn’t designed as a twig and Jaune is a couple inches shorter than him. There’s even a reason why the sap the group collects is red rather than, say, yellow, orange, blue—literally any other color. Only red sap makes it look like Cardin is covered in blood when he attacks Jaune, thus increasing how much we read him as a threat. The characters’ designs matter.

What does all that have to do with Ozpin? Well, at the start of the series his markers all point to authority and wisdom. He’s a white man, for one. He dresses in a formal suit. There are nods towards his age (a cane, white hair) that tell us, despite his baby face, that he’s someone who has been around a while and thus has a great deal of experience to draw on. He’s also, significantly, tall. Take a look at how his talks with Ruby read visually.

Ruby is incredibly small compared to Ozpin. He towers above her and she’s constantly in a position of looking up to him, mirroring the ways in which she figuratively looks up to him for advice. Her mannerisms are also younger and don’t carry much confidence. Crossing her arms and sulking. Wringing her hands while asking if she’s made a mistake. The way Ruby moves contrasts Ozpin’s own very still, very composed mannerisms. Body language and facial expression is one of the primary ways that we communicate and the slightest change can carry a world of meaning. For example, compare these two shots of Yang from Volume 1 and Volume 6:

On the surface they appear quite similar, but provided there isn’t something impacting how we read these moments (such as some people with autism), we learn that these poses mean two very different things. Two hands on your waist is a relaxed pose; one hand on your waist is an arrogant pose. At least when combined with an angry expression. One arm, the placement of her eyebrows, and suddenly Yang’s attitude towards Ozpin has radically changed. We went from casual respect to defiance, and most viewers wouldn’t need to know anything else about RWBY’s story to read that here. Her body language alone tells the story.

Ozpin’s body language with Ruby then cues the viewer into the fact that he (supposedly) has the answers here, simply by virtue of him exuding a confidence that Ruby doesn’t possess yet. Who do you look to in a bad situation? The person screaming and running around in panic? Or the person who calmly announces that they can help, getting everyone else to calm down by keeping calm themselves? This sort of characterization is partly why the fandom grew suspicious of Ozpin early on. It’s not simply that he (on the surface) is modeled after the shady authority figure trope, but that we’ve learned from real life experience that a person’s ability to keep calm and speak eloquently doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re right. Sounding authoritative is a skill and it’s why the likes of cult leaders and dictators are so dangerous. If you just sound and look like you know what you’re doing, people have a tendency to believe you. And if you’re inclined towards critical thinking, you might be wary of the person whose demeanor is a little too polished.

Even when Ozpin is being playful he maintains a certain level of dignity. His clothes, his physical looks, and the controlled movement of the mug—he’s not jumping around like Nora might—all remind us that Ozpin is the headmaster here and thus, though he’s making silly jokes about popcorn right now, he deserves a certain amount of respect. Even his posture speaks volumes, one arm still tucked behind his back and shoulders ramrod straight. It’s a posture that speaks of training and discipline. There’s a reason that the general (Ironwood) is always animated as standing tall with hands neatly folded and the presumably less dependable drunk (Qrow) is animated with a constantly hunched posture. How Ozpin stands is a quick and easy way to tell the viewer, “This guy is in charge. He’s powerful. He’s wise. You can rely on him.”

All of this changes dramatically once Ozpin is thrown into Oscar’s body. Moving chronologically, it’s significant that the group is not introduced to this new Ozpin as a dignified individual.

This is what we get later. Note the crossed legs, still good posture, even the ‘adult’ way he holds a mug. In contrast, someone younger and more childish in terms of their personality, like Ruby, tends to hold a drink with two hands and chucks it all back in a manner that would never fly at a dinner party.

Rather than a dignified Ozpin knocking at the door, the group first encounters Oscar, someone who, like Volume 1 Ruby, can be incredibly timid and lacks in self-confidence. This isn’t the body language of a leader arriving to provide you with all the answers.

Oscar’s slouched posture, downward gaze, wringing hands, and fearful expression all paint him as the weak one here. Made worse by the fact that he asks to see Ruby and ignites (an entirely understandable) suspicion in the group. Their first interaction is characterized by perceiving him as both a potential threat, but also one they can easily handle. We don’t like that he’s asking about Ruby, but we can take him in a fight no problem.

And yes, this first impression makes a difference. Knowing something about someone on an intellectual level usually doesn’t trump the emotional response we have to the physical markers we’re faced with. As a non-RWBY example, let’s say you were introduced to these two characters.

Ignoring for a moment that we’re comparing a villain and a hero, let’s say for the sake of argument that you’re told—and are provided proof—that each of these characters are morally sound, powerful adults and you should afford them with the respect they deserve. Being told that simply can’t outweigh what we see. Who are you more likely to respect? The woman who looks like a literal child named Baby Doll in a cutesy outfit, or the very old looking man in badass robes, literally named the Ancient One? All the, “But I am an adult” in the world isn’t going to convince people to read, and therefore respond to, Baby Doll in the same way they would the Ancient One.

That’s the situation Ozpin is in now. He’s told the group that he’s Ozpin, he’s managed to prove it, but there’s always going to be a part of Ruby and the gang that doesn’t quite believe it. Not in Jaune’s literal sense of, ‘He could be lying about who he is,’ but just in a more instinctual, ‘He says he’s our headmaster, but all I see is a fourteen year old kid.’ What you see makes it really easy to ignore what you know, particularly when those two things contrast. Those markers Oscar brings to this new version of Ozpin are simply too influential and yes, that opens the door for the group to treat him with far less respect than they would in his adult form. We see it right from the start when, despite having been told that this is also Ozpin, the group coos over him in an overbearing, disrespectful manner.

This continues even after Ozpin has taken control and is doing everything he can (those dignity markers) to regain some level of trust and respect. Even while seated and attempting to command the room as Headmaster Ozpin, Nora nevertheless undermines that with “Cute little boy Ozpin!” She has chosen to emphasize his looks over his status and notably no one listens when he says, “Please don’t call me that.”

Ozpin has, in this moment, literally been labeled as a child. A “boy.” Though we can’t be sure about what age all his hosts were when Ozpin arrived, based on Jinn’s vision it doesn’t look as if reincarnating into teenagers is common. This may even be the first time.

Any of these past reincarnations would have been able to command more authority, simply because they’re adult men not dressed in dirty farm clothes. If this Ozpin had shown up in Haven,

we would have gotten a very different volume. Age matters. How we perceive age matters. We saw this right in RWBY’s second episode wherein Weiss calls Ruby out on attending Beacon.

It’s Ruby’s looks and Ruby’s looks alone that encourage Weiss to come to the conclusion, ‘You shouldn’t be here.’ The same thing has now happened to Ozpin. You look younger than us and are inhabiting a body that physically couldn’t beat us in a fight? You shouldn’t be here. You definitely shouldn’t be giving us orders.

The group had control of Ozpin’s safe house. They were poised to interrogate him for showing up at it unannounced. Now they emphasize Oscar’s age and characteristics over his, which is ironically the only time that they emphasize Oscar’s individuality over Ozpin’s. In short, they’ve created an environment where a part of them truly believes that they’re older and more knowledgeable simply because of how Ozpin now looks, even though technically they know this isn’t true. It’s a new dynamic and with that comes the confidence to treat him like the fourteen year old stranger he “is”. I don’t believe for a moment that Yang would have ignored Ozpin’s direct questions, shot out irrational accusations, and then demanded a promise from him if he still looked the way he did at Beacon. Especially as someone who came to Haven later and therefore missed the initial proof, Yang simply doesn’t read Ozpin as Ozpin. We’ve seen how other characters interact with him from a student-teacher dynamic and it’s far more respectful.

As this shot demonstrates, there’s also that issue of Ozpin’s size. Where as a headmaster Ozpin commanded authority by being taller than almost everyone else around him, Ozpin as Oscar immediately loses authority by being the smallest in the room. As I mentioned with Jaune and Cardin, size is an easy way to emphasize vulnerability. We quite literally couldn’t have gotten this scene if Ozpin was still 6'6" and looking twice Jaune’s age.

In this scene Jaune honestly thinks this might be Ozpin. He’s accusing him of lying again, of claiming to leave when really he’s spying on them, or just pretending to be this kid called ‘Oscar,’ whatever. The point is that Jaune is working under the assumption that he’s interacting with his headmaster, yet that knowledge obviously doesn’t give him pause. Because Ozpin’s new look outweighs everything else Jaune knows about him. He’s angry and now suddenly Ozpin isn’t an intimidating huntsmen capable of defending himself, Ozpin is a teeny-tiny kid with no training. Jaune becomes Cardin through the realization of, “Oh. If I’m bigger and more powerful than this person, I can do whatever I want to them.”

Ozpin’s size is an ongoing reminder that, despite possessing his own skill as well as magic, he’s in a vulnerable position. He needs to stand on the furniture in order to recreate his students literally and figuratively looking up to him, but now it just reads as a joke.

This isn’t the first time RWBY has used size this way. Cordovin is an excellent example of how a small, non-dignified looking person is unable to maintain authority in the way someone with another appearance might. Her white hair just makes her look old rather than wise and her short stature is so extreme that it invites humor. It’s not just that Cordovin is a racist, or that her guards act like Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Her appearance immediately gave the group another excuse for why they shouldn’t listen to her. Look at this tiny old woman trying to tell us what to do. Yeah right, lady. We could probably punt you into the sun so step aside.

This is a look that makes guards release prisoners in three seconds flat.

This is a look that encourages laughter and, by extension, a lack of respect.

The extreme camera angle in order to make Cordovin look ‘imposing.’ The fact that she looks like a literal child next to Weiss… none of it encourages the group, or the audience, to take her seriously. Rooster Teeth made a conscious decision when they decided to animate Volume 6′s “bad guy” as an old woman with sagging breasts and an extremely small stature.

The only time when someone that small is re-characterized as authoritative is when they’re standing up against unimaginable odds.

Ignoring that this scene in reality is Ruby refusing to take responsibility for the crimes she is currently committing, what Rooster Teen wants this shot to do is function as an example of extreme heroism. That’s accomplished by taking our second smallest character and situating her in front of a larger-than-life mech. Ruby’s refusal to back down in the face of something so much bigger than her is (again) supposed to be inspiring. She’s standing up to Cordovin’s “bullying” in a way Oscar was unable to do with his own mech: a bigger and more threatening Jaune.

(I really cannot express how awful Volume Six was wow).

All of which brings me to my final point. Namely that, by virtue of his age and size, Ozpin as Oscar will always look ridiculous when attempting to make use of his former markers. Using a cane?

Headmaster Ozpin’s age and height makes it look distinguished. Ozpin at Oscar’s age and height makes it look silly. What’s the fourteen year old doing with a cane nearly as tall as he is? (Acknowledging that this is an ableist assumption. Some fourteen year olds do need canes, but most viewers are going to question this in a way they never would with the white-haired adult). What’s the kid doing with such a fancy looking cane when he’s literally covered in dirt, bandages, rags, and badly mended clothes? That’s a silly contrast.

Headmaster Ozpin fighting? Totally badass. One of the shortest and yet most talked about fights in the show.

Ozpin as Oscar fighting? Still badass… if you’re willing to work for it a bit more. But really, the kid swinging a cane around just will never have the same feel as a grown man who looked like Ozpin did.

Ozpin himself is a dignified person, but anytime he adopts those mannerisms now he looks silly at best, arrogant at worst.

I think his look is largely why so many fans read the snow scene as him talking down to the group. He no more talked down to them here then he did when he conversed with Ruby, or Pyrrha, or the team while heading off to Mountain Glenn. The only difference is that the previous Ozpin commanded all that authority, so his warnings and criticisms held weight. This Ozpin not only doesn’t look the part of an authority figure, half his time is spent being Oscar, someone who defers to and scurries around the rest of the group. So when Ozpin tries to take charge here, everyone is far less willing to listen. People are inclined to read him as arrogant, patronizing, talking down to others, etc. because it looks like a small child giving orders to a more older, more powerful team. Even though it’s not.

It’s the combination of everything above that leads to moments like this. Where Ozpin is smaller, more vulnerable, looks too young, too naive, where the group towers over him for once and hurts him both physically and emotionally because now they can.

Tl;dr: Yeah. Oscar’s looks and Oscar’s personality changed things irrevocably. If Ozpin had still looked like Ozpin the group wouldn’t feel half as entitled to this behavior and gaining their respect—from ‘Please don’t address me like that’ to ‘Please understand why I kept secrets’—would be far, far easier.

#Anonymous #rwby #ozpin #mymetas

128 notes · View notes