#this might be old news by now but I can’t believe he is being knighted and also Emma Thomas is gonna be Dame Emma Thomas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twinksrepository · 3 months

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Almost dying twice in one day doesn't seem like your idea of Fun

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Dante X F!Reader

CW: Blood, injury, almost dying, feinting

Word count: Roughly 4K

A/N: You'd gone to Fortuna on the promise of your own practice. Too bad you should have realized that an offer that sounds too good to be true tends to be just that. Hiding in your office as something that you refuse excuse beats down your door expecting to die, only for a knight in shining armor to show up. Well he's clad in a red leather jacket and you sure as hell don't think he's a knight. Letting him carry you around like a sack of potatoes is a lot better than being made into a human skewer though.

Chapter two: You really don't have any luck. Waking up and almost dying for a second time, at least your leather clad hero seems happy to let you ramble instead of facing the facts that demons are real. For now.

Back in the Devil May Cry Office a week earlier

“The order of the sword huh?” Dante had a feeling when Lady walked in he was going to end up dragged into another mess.

“Yes. Are you familiar with them?”

“Sorry. Religion and I don’t mix.” A quirk of his eyebrow as he kept eating not missing the silent chuckle coming from Trish. It might have gone without saying as to the reason, most religions weren't fans of those of demonic descent being a part of them.

“It’s a small congregation that gathers in the castle town of Fortuna. I guess the only ones who would have heard of it are the ones who take an interest in this type of thing.” With the tone Lady had, Dante could tell she was trying to butter him up for something.

“Like you.”

“Exactly. So just how much do you know about Sparda?”

“Well. From what I figure. There’s a lot of confusion surrounding him.” Glancing to Trish to see if the demon had anything to add from her time in Hell.

As the blond kept eating her pizza Lady continued on. “The story goes that Sparda served as the feudal lord of the city long ago. The people who live there today take these legends as truth and worship him just like a god.”

“They worship a demon as a god?” If Dante had ever felt incredulous regarding anything about his father he sure felt it now. Then again his old man did have more than a few humans that had been interested in the legend about him more than once.

“Peaceful worship can’t be condemned, but the real problem is the order. Lately, they’ve been running amok catching demons and have even butted in on some of my jobs.”

“Huh, maybe they’re starting a zoo.” Leaning across his desk only to have Lady steal his slice of pizza.

“Not just demons. They’ve also been targeting Devil arms like the ones you have.”

“OK then. A museum. So what?” A quick dart of his hand and he had the baked crust loaded with cheese back in his hand taking a bite.

“Doesn’t that concern you?” Lady leaned back from his desk, and folded her arms across her chest as Dante shrugged, continuing to eat his slice of pizza that he nabbed back. “Or how about that they might be collecting others that are part demon?” That has Trish and Dante pausing to look at her. “I see that has your attention.”

“What makes you think they might be collecting people that are part demon?” While it might have Dante’s attention, part of him is skeptical, there aren’t that many outside of the folks living on Vie de Marli.

“Right now it’s just rumors, but almost everyone in the town believes in Sparda. The town isn’t very friendly to outsiders who aren’t a direct part of the Order or those who are born there. It’s made it a bit of a pain to investigate but.” Raising a single finger while looking down her nose Lady grins. “A year ago a new doctor came into town, with zero ties to the locals, and was brought in by the current leader. With their general view of outsiders, I dug into the doctor, and it turns out she seems to be something of a miracle worker.”

“That doesn’t sound like anything to prompt me to think she’d be part demon.” Huffing and going back to his pizza as if to say give me something to go on. Watching as Lady sauntered around his office as if she owned the place.

“The doctor herself seems to think nothing of it, but people say they see her for bumps and bruises that are gone within hours of her touching them. Before she left for Fortuna she worked in one of the bigger cities and it sounds like the same thing but on a bigger scale. Broken bones healed in a matter of days over weeks and irreparable nerve damage being healed as if it never happened. The real interesting part? This doctor doesn’t seem to know she’s the cause. Even the medical folks haven’t figured it out as they just think it’s miracles out of nowhere, except for the Vicar of the Order of the Sword who offered her a job.”

Another shrug from Dante. “I’m listening but I’m not seeing anything to connect a so-called miracle worker to being part demon.”

“Demons that can heal others are exceptionally rare.” Trish quips before sauntering off the table and heading for the back room.

“Still doesn’t mean anything, she could be a front for something else.” Calling over his shoulder as Dante didn’t move his eyes from Lady. “I still don’t see why you’d think she’s possibly part demon.”

Rolling her eyes and giving her shoulders a shake before leaning down on the edge of his desk once more. “I’m just saying it’s an interesting rumor.” Only to have his pizza snagged again.

“Alright say she is, and everything else you’ve said. So what?” Giving up on getting his lunch back Dante kicked his feet up onto his desk leaning back into his chair.

“Well, what if their intentions are foul? And there’s a diabolical plan behind these apparently random acts?”

“Well then. I’d have something to keep me occupied.” Pushing himself to his feet before calling out over his shoulder “Trish!” Only for both him and Lady to turn to the silence and see a note written where the sword Sparda had been hanging.

See you there, maybe the doctor is cute

Back to the present

“Well, one thing for certain my passed-out friend, you do have something extra about you. In fact you’re kind of heavy.” Grunting at Dante stepped across another rooftop, between dealing with demons and keeping rebellion in one hand and you tossed over his shoulder like a sack of flour the man was getting a workout.

Too bad that was when you decided to start to wake up. Opening your eyes to look down just as there was nothing but the cobblestone-lined street roughly three floors below you. “Holy shit!” Trying to roll away only to make the realization you were in the air with something warm wrapped around your middle.

“Calm down or you might not like the fall. Sheese lady.”

“Why am I on a roof? And who the fuck are you?” Screaming at the white-haired man holding you like you weigh next to nothing. Your arms and legs fail as you try to get away only to make the man holding you grunt and almost lose his footing.

“I guess you forgot the part when we jumped up here, now stop squirming or I might drop you for real!” If his tone is anything to go by he’s getting annoyed by your actions but you don’t care at all scrambling to try and get out of his hold. “Seriously Doll if you calm down for a second I’ll put you down.”

“My name isn’t Doll!” A final smack to the center of his back and you hiss, the ulnar side of your hand feels more like you smacked it against a brick wall than a man. “Ow.” With the pain lacing up your arm you’ve stopped struggling and find yourself unceremonial dumped on your butt in front of him. “I say again, Ow.” Looking up at him with a scowl, unsure where the sudden bravado came from.

Only to stare at his back. “I can never catch a break!” Taking a few steps forward with his back still turned to you and his hands in the air as if ranting to the sky. “Even the chicks I rescue give me attitude!”

“Maybe if you didn’t carry them like a sack of potatoes or drop them on their ass they might not be so rude about it.” Rubbing your butt as you stand, muttering under your breath.

“I still needed to fight doll. It hasn’t exactly been a picnic carrying you around and trying to keep us both from getting killed.” Your face is burning, you didn’t think he’d have heard you but he did. Looking down at the ground, well rooftop in front of you you take a few feet before stopping beside the man.

“My name’s not Doll.” You reiterate, giving your name to the man in red and wondering if he was the one that the townsfolk had been screaming about as they ran from the cathedral. Yet you can’t see it if he was the one who had attacked the Vicar that they had been screaming about, if he was what reason did he have to save you? You were no one, not really.. “I’m sort of the town's doctor.”

“Sort of? That doesn’t inspire too much confidence.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at him even if he can’t see it.

“I don’t get that many patients. You get sliced up or broken bones though? I'm who you want to see.” You’ve always been a damn good doctor, something about putting parts together had always appealed to you. So much so that you’d been thought of as a freak as a child, fascinated by death and diseases because in your mind if you understood what caused it maybe you could fix it before it was too late.

“Sounds a bit like boasting? You got a trick or two up your sleeve or something?” Looking at you, you can’t help but notice he’s good-looking. Like damn good-looking. Except you don’t get a chance to watch for too long before he starts moving forward and a leisurely pace and you follow with much smaller tentative steps.

“No. Sadly. I was sort of an oddball growing up.” You aren’t sure why you’re telling him this as you keep your eyes downward so you don’t fall, maybe some part of you still thinks this is a dream or a nightmare. That might better explain the handsome white-haired man who came to your rescue. He also seems to have a really nice butt under his jacket when the breeze lifts it and your eyes follow the fluttering of the material. “I didn’t have friends till medical school, most kids thought I was a freak because I was into biology. Like finding dead birds and trying to figure out what happened to them kind of biology because the teachers thought eight-year-olds shouldn’t be studying cardiology.”

“Eight huh? What you had a strange fascination with death?” Straddling the gap from one roof to the next you’re a little surprised when he turns and holds out a hand for you to take and help you across.

“Yes and no. I wanted to help people.” Shrugging as you took one of his hands and didn’t fail to miss the warmth that spread from him. “If I had a better understanding of how people’s bodies worked I just figured I could help them survive if they came to me for treatment. All my life I wanted to be a doctor.” Once on the other side, he gave a huff before spinning to step across himself.

“How’d your parents feel about that?” This roof is flatter and you find yourself watching him as you walk instead of the tiles under your feet.

“I only had my mother.” Shrugging your shoulders “She just cared that I didn’t draw attention to myself. Otherwise, she didn’t care much.” Biting your lip a little but everything you’ve said while you’ve been chatty isn’t any new information about you. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I guess also being turned into a human meat kabob will do that to you. What was that thing anyway?” You swallow down the bile starting to burn in your throat, you’re really hoping he doesn’t say what you think he’s going to say.

“A demon.” Well, that hope was dashed spectacularly. “You know for a doctor you’re a little slow on the uptake.”

“Or maybe I’m trying to think of a more rational explanation.” Too bad you’re brain isn’t coming up with anything. Waving your hands in the air yourself in exasperation as you wave at the city. “I get that this place says that some demon guy named Sparda ruled here, but that sounds more like a legend that a religion sprang up around.”

“Sorry Doc, world doesn’t work like th- Get down!” You don’t have time to process his words when his hand planting itself in the middle of your back and pushing you down to the ground. The sound of metal on metal has you lifting your head only to regret that decision. If this man in red hadn’t of shoved you to the ground you’d have had your head removed from your shoulders, his sword scraping along the metal blade of another of those strange scarecrow monsters. This time it’s on its arm instead of its leg.

It isn’t alone either. More scarecrows with blades for limbs had appeared.

“Do me a favor Doc?” A twist of his wrist and you watch as the sword he wields sends the blade attached to the demon flying upward and slices the thing in half. “Go hide.”

You heard him. You really did. Too bad your arms and legs don’t want to listen to your brain screaming at them to move so you can scramble to safety. It’s like there’s ice flowing through your veins and slowing you down as the fear has your heart thundering in your chest.

Another of the demons lets out that manica laughter as it sees you lying there helpless. It hops from side to side almost gleefully before launching forward with its bladed foot held out as if to lance you like a boil. A clang of metal as a boot lands in front of your face to meet the demon and with a pivot of his upper body you watch as it slices through his forearm, only for the man to snap his wrist as he grabs the demon and it’s cackling suddenly stops like it’s surprised. The creak of the leather of the belts across his chest and you can see the ripple of his muscles as turns his wrist and sends the demon flying off to slam into one of its compatriots and knocks both of them into a wall. A sickening thunk as both bodies flatten as if they’ve been deflated before they fade before your eyes.

“Doc.” Looking up to see the man grinding his teeth as he stares down at you. “Move!” Bellowing you finally find your hands moving pushing yourself up to your knees and scrambling to hide behind a chimney as the sound of clanging metal rings around you. It’s not dignified and your bag is bouncing against your back but you’re trying to get away from the sound of fighting and hiding just like he had told you to.

Another sickening sound, this time like a sac of fluid bursting open reaches you and you whimper, hands over your ears and tears running down your face. Why the hell is this happening? Where did they come from? As much as you might have wanted to refuse it, you need to face facts. Demons are real and you might not survive the rest of today at his rate.

Screaming when a hand pats your shoulder only to have a hand press against it, a leather-clad hand. You hadn't even noticed the sound of fighting had stopped and you doubted it had anything to do with your hands as your fear dulled your senses. “Doc, you’re alright.” Opening your eyes you see the man there crouched in front of you and for the first time you see a hint of compassion in his pale blue eyes. “I need you to not scream when I take my hand away. Can you do that?” That compassion is undercut by the exasperation in his voice.

Swallowing you nod slowly removing your hands from your ears as he lets you go and runs his hand through his white locks sighing before looking at you again. “You really are out of your depth ain’t cha Doc.” It’s not a question, just an admission that this is not you’re everyday normal.

“If I said I was starting to believe demons are real would that help?” Lifting your sleeve to wipe at the dampness on your face. “I’m probably going to get us both killed aren’t I?” Twice now he’s saved you, and twice all you did was freeze in place too overtaken by fear to move.

Internally Dante was sighing, the last encounter proved you really had no idea about demons and he was starting to think you were just a pawn on the board for something the Order was planning. ‘Guess I owe Lady that twenty bucks. This chick has no idea about demons forgetting being an actress and playing along. You can’t hide a reaction like hers.’ He needed to get her to Lady so he could move on with trying to figure out where the Yamato was and get this stranger doctor out of harm's way. Patting her shoulder he just sent her a smirk. “Both of us? Nah. I’m hard to kill.” Based on your reaction to his words that might not have been the best answer. “I’ve got a friend nearby, she’ll look after you alright. We just need to get to the hill outside the castle. Can you move?”

As his hand goes to help you up you find yourself moving on instinct. Grabbing his arm between both of yours, in your panic you’d forgotten he’d been sliced. “Right. You got hurt because of me, let me at least patch you up?” A quirk of your lips as you reached for your bag only to stop, watching as the wound sealed up and you felt your stomach drop. “That’s…” Trailing off for him to take over.

“Not normal.”

“What” Your eyebrows are furrowing as you push and prod at his skin, minus the blood there’s no sign he had ever been hurt. “Are you?”

“Well, you could say I’m a little on the demonic side.” Flashing you a wink with a flirtatious smile that showed his pearly whites. “And not just in the sheets.”

“I… I think I’d like to get moving again before I pass out again.” He has to be joking. He just has to be, and you let him help you to your feet before the two of you start walking again. Internally you're freaking out over what you saw but you know you don't have time for hysterics, or passing out again from the panic. Your broad knight seems content to ignore you for the moment and you think it's for the best, both of you moving in silence along the rooftops until your feet start to hurt from all the maneuvering along the roofs of the town.

At least until he sends you a steady stare after looking behind the two of you for a while with a frown. “Hate to say it Doc, but we’re starting to have a crowd trying to join this party. How do you feel about being carried out of here since we’re almost there?”

Dante hadn’t been willing to risk it earlier, just carrying you to Lady while you’d been passed out. Too much of a chance of you being in on whatever the Order was up to, now that was gone from his mind and he needed to get you out of the picture.

“Like a sac of Potoes again?” He can’t help but laugh at your deadpan voice and expression.

“No. A real carry this time.” Wiggling his eyebrows at you just gets him a snort in response but you do nod. In a moment he’s got you in his arms, one around your shoulders and the other under your knees. “Alright Doc, I recommend you put those arms around my neck and don’t look down. I’d hate for you to freak out like earlier.”

“Right.” You do as he says, and it takes everything inside of you not to scream as he starts running and jumping. You’re a little glad you’d had a light lunch or it would have been spat all over his front, keeping your eyes squeezed shut and tucking your face more into his body. If you hadn’t been worried about dying you might have enjoyed it a little more.

At the sudden stop, you almost hurl, feeling the contents of your stomach start to climb your throat slapping a hand over your mouth as the white-haired man places you on your feet once more. “Lady!” Yea almost was a dream as soon as you take a step, running to the side of a tree and emptying your stomach. “You here?”

“Sheesh, you trying to bring every demon nearby down on us?” You can hear a newcomer but you’re too busy throwing up to pay any more attention than that to what they’re saying.

Watching Lady point towards you before lowering her shades. “Is that her? She doesn't look like much let alone someone like you.”

“It is, in all her pukey glory.” Crossing his arms to watch her Dante can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the way she’s bent over. If it wasn’t for her throwing up he’d be enjoying the sight of her shapely rear stuck up in the air. “You were right by the way. Cept, she doesn’t have a clue. Almost got skewed twice.”

“And you saved her? My my, what a knight in shining armor you are today.” Ignoring the woman still retching the contents of her stomach for a moment before lowering her voice. “Trish made contact, she doesn’t know the details but the Order is looking for her. Apparently, she’s important for something, and the orders include keeping her in the dark about whatever it is. They’ve also sent some kid after you, using the excuse that you kidnapped her and killed that Vicar.”

“If they need her they should have done a better job looking after her, she was hiding in her office with a desk against the door when I found her.” Watching you stand Dante had to swallow, you were pretty easy on the eyes even if you were wiping your mouth with the back of your hand while still leaning against the tree.

“Could it have been an act?”

“Trust me, if she’s acting she should have a couple of awards for it.” Done with whispering he raised his voice just enough for you to hear him. “Hey Doc. This is Lady, do me a favor and give her a hard time alright?” Starting to walk away before flicking his fingers at Lady. “Oh and Lady, be nice to the Doc. She’s had a rough day, almost died twice.”

“Wait!” You jog towards the man in the red coat only for him to start to take off. “I didn’t get your name!”

“Dante!” Called over his shoulder before to your amazement he drops off the edge of the hill and you find your eyes going as wide as saucers.

“Did he”

“Just jump off a cliff? Yes. That man is more dumbass than brains some days, but when you’re the son of the legendary Sparda I guess you have to put on a show to live up to the name.” Feeling a hand patting your shoulder you’re surprised to see a water bottle being held out towards you.

Taking a sip from the bottle after snapping the seal you start sputtering. “Did you just say the son of Sparda?” As the woman’s words process and you stare at her, only to see her grin like the cat with the canary. “As in the dark knight Sparda that this town worships as God?” At her nod, the world feels like it’s spinning and you drop unceremoniously to the ground. “He’s real. And I met his son. Wait his son?” Wiping your head upwards to see the woman known as Lady looking down at you.

“Oh, do I have a story for you. You pretty little thing.” Winking at you and all you can think is how you might need to throw up again. Fuck. Demons and Sparda are real. And you just spend most of the last few hours checking out his son's butt.

Chapter one

#dante devil may cry #dmc5 #dante x reader #dante x you #dmc 4 #devil may cry #dante #dante sparda #x reader #twink writes #eventual smut #eventual romance

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talyns-fanfics · 2 months

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My Hero Fantasy

Chapter One

What if I told you there was a world where the mythical and mystical were the norm? You don’t have to believe me, just listen to this story. The story of the boy who inherited my power.

Content Warnings: swearing, slightly suggestive, Kacchan being a massive tsundere™️,

Notes: no one actually talks medieval (I’m too tired to make them), aged up characters

Izuku Midoriya was a normal young man, too normal. He was born without a Quirk. A Quirk is a mystical power allowing a person to control a specific power. Izuku never got his, but he never let that stop him. He had already gotten his Provisional Adventurer License, allowing him to seek adventure even if he needed someone with the official license watching over him. He was planning on leaving home to find his first big adventure, and become a Pro.

“Ma! I’m heading out now!” Izuku shouted from the front door. Inko, his mom, raced up to the door to see him off. “Please be careful, Izuku.” She tells him, clenched hand to her chest, tears threatening to fall. “Come back soon. I’m gonna miss you.” Izuku smiles at his mother. “Of course I’ll come back. I’ll miss you, too.” After a last embrace with his mother, the young man set off from home. A while down the path he crosses paths with someone, someone he knows.

Katsuki Bakugo

(Quirk: Explosion): This special power allows him to excrete nitroglycerin-like sweat from his palms and ignite it at will to create explosions of various sizes.

“Kacchan! How are you?!” Izuku smiles at his friend, Katsuki Bakugo. Bakugo had already developed his Quirk when he and Izuku were just kids, barely five years old. He also had his Provisional Adventurer License. “What does it matter to you, damn nerd?” Bakugo slightly growls, making Izuku take a step back.

“Where are you going so early in the morning?” He asks Izuku. “I was just heading down to the tavern. There’s bound to be a Pro Adventurer there with something. Who knows, maybe All Might might be there!” Izuku started going on a rant of wanting to go on an adventure despite being Quirkless. It was getting too much for Bakugo. “Shut the hell up, Deku! I get it!” He yells, making Izuku stop in his tracks. “Look, I want to come with you. Not because I want to be around you. I just don’t have anything else to do.”

That confused Izuku. Bakugo was actively wanting to join him on his first adventure. “Oh, sure! Let’s go!” With a spring in his step, Izuku continued on his way to the tavern with Bakugo trailing behind him.

In a nearby tavern, there was a blonde hair young woman sitting at a booth with an older man with green hair. The two were trying to stay away from the other patrons, discussing business. “Any news of my father, Sir? What’s the organization’s demands?” She asks him, hands clenching tightly on her drink. The man, Sir Nighteye, hands her a scroll. “It’s all in the prophecy, Kairi.” He tells her, watching as she opens the scroll.

On the dawn of a frightening winter, a great evil will purge the land, taking all power for his own. The only hope of the land is that of All Might, the greatest knight ever known.

Having only read the first paragraph, Kairi audibly gasped. “He can’t do anything. The Organization of Villains have him captured. I have to go after them.” She frantically tells Sir Nighteye. “With your power? The organization is too immune to you, Kairi. You’ll only get yourself in trouble.” She looks down at her drink, gently swishing it around by moving the stein. “What if I found someone with a power they aren’t immune to? There has to be someone out there who can.”

“If you can find someone, just be careful.” Sir Nighteye stands up from the booth, taking his drink in his hand. “I don’t know what I’d do if my friend got in danger.” His finishes his drink, setting the stein down on the table before digging in his pocket. He hands Kairi a small pouch of gold. “You don’t have to pay me back. Use it how you see fit.” He walks off, leaving Kairi alone at the booth.

Izuku and Bakugo enter the tavern, bumping into someone. “Sorry, my bad.” The man, who had green hair, says to the two. “You better be!” Bakugo yells at the man, clenching his fist. Izuku stops him, taking a hold of one of Bakugo’s arms with both of his. “We’re looking for an adventure, not a fight, Kacchan.” Izuku says to his friend. Bakugo unclenches his fists, heading into the tavern. “So sorry, sir!” Izuku says to the man, who only walks off.

Inside the tavern, Izuku and Bakugo walk up to the bar. The bartender was a young man around their age. He had blonde hair and grey eyes.

Neito Monoma

(Quirk: Copy): This special power allows him to utilize a Quirk after coming into contact with its respective user.

“Welcome to the Tatooin Tavern. It’s Saturday, meaning our Fire Whiskey is half off. I am Neito Monoma. What can I do you for?” He says to Izuku and Bakugo with hardly any eye contact while cleaning a glass. “We’re provisional adventurers.” Izuku says, holding up his license for Monoma to see while Kacchan begrudgingly does the same with his. “Is there a Pro here we can meet?” Izuku asks, eyes bright with determination.

“Ha! There’re only two Pro here, but they won’t be able to help you out.” Monoma explains. “One is currently on his shift here and the other is currently wallowing in her own self pity. Try again next time.” Monoma smugly smiles, going back to cleaning the glass. “Why you stupid-!” Bakugo almost crawled over the bar to to other side and choked Monoma, but was stopped by a warm voice. “It’s ok, Neito. I can take them.” Izuku and Bakugo turned to see a young woman around their age.

Her hair was blonde and very long. Her eyes were so blue, you might have mistaken them for sapphires. Her dark green dress was so loose on her shoulders, but hugged her waist nicely, though a wrong swing at the bottom would have shown her legs. She also wore a singular brown glove on her right hand, and boots of the same color protecting her feet from the harsh floor.

“Are you a Pro Adventurer?” Izuku excitedly asks her. She smiles, showing him her own license. Her name shown on the license was Kairi Hirosa. “Have been for a couple years, now.” She says, pocketing her license. “Take a seat, both of you.” She says, taking a seat herself. Izuku and Bakugo take a seat on the other end of the booth.

“It’s good that you caught me now.” Hirosa says, taking a hold of her drink. “Any later, I would have already been out the door and you would have needed to go to the next tavern.” She explains, only to get cut off by Izuku. “You’re going on an adventure already?!” His smile got brighter, ready for whatever was coming. “Yes, actually. My father has been taken by villains. I would have gone after him, but my Quirk is useless against them. They’re planning on a large scale attack that’ll take fruition in a fortnight. They’re going to take all Quirks. My father is the only one who can stop them, but he’s been captured and I need to save him before the winter. If you two help me, I can ensure you get your official licenses.”

Izuku and Bakugo listen intently to her mission, silently thinking if they want to join in or not. Izuku was the first to respond. “Count me in!” He stays at the top of his lungs. “What about you, Kacchan?” Izuku turns to his friend, who was still thinking it over. After a moment, Bakugo finally speaks up. “Sure thing, Blondie. I’m also in.”

“Thank you both so much.” Hirosa softly smiles. “This means so much to me. We should be heading out. We have a few stops to make before heading to the villains hideout.” She says before finishing her drink.

Hirosa grabs her weapon and stands up from the booth, Izuku and Bakugo following her. “Kairi, wait!” The group turns to see a man slightly taller than them. He had blonde hair like Hirosa and Monoma. Are they all related somehow?

Mashiro Ojiro

(Quirk: Tail): This special power grants him a prehensile appendage that extends from his lower posterior.

“I can quickly finish up my sift and go with you.” Hirosa crosses her arms, playfully glaring. “Mashirao, you need this job. I can’t ask you to come with me.”

Mashirao Ojiro was a Pro Adventurer as well, but mostly spent his time working at a tavern with his cousins Neito Monoma and Kairi Hirosa.

“I’ll stay here.” Bakugo says out of nowhere. “The two of us can meet up with you guys after his shift is over. Besides, I need a drink.” The group discussed it more, eventually agreeing with Bakugo. Izuku would be going with Hirosa while Bakugo stayed with Ojiro.

“Let’s head out.” Izuku had a spring in his step, heading out to the door. His tracks get stopped by a wall of at least 7 heavy men blocking the door. “Fork over all the cash and there won’t be any problem.” The middle one announces to the entire tavern.

“Ok, everyone! Evacuate to the back!” Monoma says to the patrons while both he and Ojiro usher everyone to the back, leaving Hirosa and Izuku with the thugs. “Izuku, stand back. This’ll get nasty.” Izuku listens and heads to the back with everyone else, fully understanding that he’s legally obligated to listen to her.

“This is clearly your first time here, so I’m going to give you a warning.” Hirosa looks up at the thugs. “I protect this establishment from thugs like you. You can either turn around or I’ll make you so depressed that you’d wish you’ve never set foot here.” The middle thug laughs at her. “You’re just a tiny girl.” He kneels down to her level, mocking her. “What Quirk do you have that can stop us?”

Hirosa smirks. “I honestly don’t need to use my Quirk against you, but since you asked.” In an instant, the thugs feel their chests tighten and heads spinning. They all fall to their knees, tears spilling from their eyes. Tears were streaming from Hirosa’s eyes as well, but she wasn’t fazed. “Ok! Ok! We’ll leave!” They all yell.

Kairi Hirosa

(Quirk: Moody Dark): This special power allows her to change the mood of everyone around her to dark. The people around her crumple under the influence while she can still stand tall.

“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” Hirosa releases her Quirk, allowing the thugs to recuperate. “Before you leave, give me something that’ll make me forget this ever happened.” The thugs all rise to their feel, reaching in their pockets, all handing her different sizes of pouches before heading out the door.

“Crisis averted, everyone. You may come out.” Hirosa takes the pouches and puts them behind the bar, keeping a few for herself. Everyone fills the tavern and Izuku meets up with Hirosa. “Are you all ready to head out? Do you need anything else before we leave?” She asks him.

“I’m all good.” Izuku smiles, hands tightly clutching onto his own bag. “Good, let’s go.” Hirosa says, heading out of the tavern with Izuku close by.

This is chapter one. You can find chapter two here. Please send feedback if you see this.

#talyns fanfics #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #fantasy #my hero fantasy talyns fanfics #hirosa kairi #izuku midoriya #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #Spotify

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thegingerwrites · 5 days

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✨Ficlet: Old Fandoms Not Forgotten

This ficlet was directly inspired by this post about the rest of the galaxy finding out about the events of the OT via meme.

Frannell sets her mug of caf down on the counter too loudly. The clink of ceramic on stone rings in her ears and she knows her kids on the couch and her wife at the sink are looking at her now, to see what caused the commotion, but if Frannell could spare a single thought for any of them, she might be impressed that she is keeping herself together as well as she is.

Because the news—well, the meme staring up at her from her datapad is unbelievable. Her mind might as well be on fire, a hundred thousand thoughts screaming at her all at once that mostly amount to…well, screams.

It’s a picture of a man with a stupid, confused looking face staring somewhere past the camera. The caption reads: “Okay, was anybody going to tell me that Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader were the same person or was I supposed to read that in the New Republic Senate briefing myself?”

When Frannell closes her eyes, she sees the names Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader on the insides of her lids. Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader…are the same person? The Anakin Skywalker and The Darth Vader? Former Jedi Knight and General of the GAR, Anakin Skywalker, posterboy of her youth and Darth Vader, the Sith Lord scourge of all that is light and good? Her brain doesn’t want to hold the two beings in her mind at the same time let alone believe that they are the same person. And yet, even as she has the thought that this is far too insane to believe, the cogs in her brain are already at work piecing together how this could have happened.

He just disappeared when the Republic fell along with the rest of the Jedi. There is a chance he survived. I mean, sure, there were crazier people who thought they spotted him now and again. There’s always been a chance.

“Mom?”

Frannell blinks, realizes she has been staring into the still, brown surface of her caf on the counter with the intensity of a war veteran going through flashbacks. She blinks again and looks down at her daughter, Jeni, who has her backpack perched on her shoulders.

“Isn’t it time to walk to the bus stop?” Jeni asks.

Is it? Frannell looks at the time on her datapad and catches a brief glimpse of the meme again before scrolling, just slightly, away. Jeni is right. She has been staring off into the middle distance for the last twenty minutes and now it is time to take the kids to school. She has wasted the few minutes of free time she gets each day between waking up, taking the kids to school, and going to work. Lovely.

Frannell catches sight of her wife, Lara, and tries to communicate with her eyes that she is currently in the midst of a panic. Lara’s brow furrows in silent question, but she takes the hint.

“I’ll walk you two today,” Lara says, helping Jaxon put his shoes on. She takes Jeni’s hand as they reach the door. Before they leave, she gives Frannell one last troubled look and Frannell shakes her head. There is nothing she can say. She can’t put her thoughts into words just yet. The weight of this revelation is too much.

Absently, Frannell thinks that maybe she should have said something to Lara. After all, this news is of galactic importance and there is no way that Lara has heard about it yet. The timestamp on the meme is dated only a half hour ago. The Senate briefing came out in the small hours of morning on Chandrila and no one but the most diehard reporters has been able to comb through it just yet for important information. Ordinary citizens of the New Republic will have to wait to see how the proceedings will actually affect them.

But Frannell needs to sit with this news for a moment. Because she is not some ordinary galactic citizen—well, in most respects, she very much is. But when it comes to Anakin Skywalker, she is practically an expert, and this news just dropped a bomb onto her whole world.

She doesn’t have to search for her old username and password. A few years ago, she revived her account out of casual interest and a bit of curiosity, to see if anyone she knew still populated the message boards and blogs. It was kind of nice, a warm wave of nostalgia, to see that some were still active and others had taken their place, that despite the slower pace of things there were still people making gifs and edits, even writing fics. There isn’t much new content out there about the old Jedi—in fact the creation of it was somewhat illicit for the longest time, not strictly prohibited by Imperial ordinances but heavily monitored by loyalty officers and outright forbidden on several worlds—but there are still people out there, like her that are obsessed with the Jedi, with The Team in particular.

Today, the site is on fire. Frannell feels like she has just walked into a room, expecting a party only to find everything in flames. Everyone is logged on. Frannell thinks she even recognizes a few usernames from way back in the day, people she hasn’t seen in years.

Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader AND Luke Skywalker’s father? How does that even work? What happened to Padme? Did he kill her? Anakin survived TCW only to become the Empire’s top enforcer? I don’t believe it! I can’t!

What about Obi-Wan? Luke claims he was there on Tatooine and gave him Jedi training! Yo, can you imagine the kind of grief raising your best friend’s kid involves? Did he know Anakin=Vader?

Mixed in with the screaming are old photos and videos of Anakin Skywalker, Padme Amidala, and The Team. Frannell has seen most of them before but they are such a throwback she spends nearly an hour scrolling through them before realizing she is desperately late for work.

Frannell throws on a coat and runs out the door with her own speeder bus to catch. On the way to the office, she keeps her eyes glued to her commlink. The situation keeps getting worse somehow. There is too much speculation, too many wild rumors flying around, and Frannell cannot keep up. She nearly misses her stop because she is about to argue with some idiot who thinks Padme Amidala must still be alive with the rest of the Jedi Order somewhere on Tatooine.

How can anyone expect her to cope on a day like today? Frannell glances around at the other heads just visible above the walls of their cubicles. Everyone has their eyes down, dutifully focused or at least committed to the act of looking busy. This is galaxy changing stuff! Surely, she can’t be the only one absolutely losing her mind.

She keeps one hand on her datapad at all times throughout the morning. Whenever she can steal a quick look at the message boards she does. Frannell wishes she could pull it up on the dual screens in front of her, surround herself with the sheer chaos and excitement of fandom grabbing hold of new information like a lothwolf shaking prey caught in its teeth.

Her boss nearly catches her speculating that Obi-Wan Kenobi must have known about Anakin’s fall to the dark side and stole Luke away to Tatooine in order to keep him safe. She has her head down with both hands tapping furiously away at her personal datapad when they clear their throat behind her desk chair causing her to bolt upright in alarm.

After that, Frannell puts in about twenty minutes of work organizing supply orders before she decides she can’t take it anymore. She clocks out for an early lunch and spends the entire time fixated on her pad. With droid-like focus and precision, she is trying to figure out if there is any resemblance between the Republic-era holos of Anakin Skywalker, Padme Amidala, and Obi-Wan Kenobi and the few images available of Luke Skywalker. Some absolutely insane person is insisting that Luke must be the product of an affair between Kenobi and Amidala and Frannell has to be the one to prove them wrong.

There’s just no way. Not possible. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator, Jedi Master and High General of the Galactic Army of the Republic, would never. He is—was, too noble. Too much the perfect Jedi to carry out an affair. Even Frannell has to admit that a forbidden romance between Anakin and Padme is far more likely. A flame burns in Frannell’s heart for the complicated relationship between Master and Padawan, brothers in arms, but the lengths to which Kenobi would stick to the teachings of his Order above and beyond the call of his own heart is part of what draws her most to the relationship. If Obi-Wan wasn’t going to break his vows for Anakin, there’s no way he would do it for Senator Amidala. There’s just no way. There’s also some fringe theory about Luke being the child of Kenobi and a former ruler of Mandalore, Duchess Satine Kryze, but anyone with sense can see that the timing on that is completely off.

When Frannell returns to her desk—late, of course, it’s just that kind of day—she notices her boss hovering over a coworker’s shoulder a few cubicles down. Promising herself that she will at least focus until they find somewhere to lurk that’s farther away from her desk, Frannell stows her datapad in a drawer and fires up a few neglected spreadsheets, determined to get to work.

But with her mind half on her boss’ head poking above the cubicle walls a few desks down and half on the datapad she can’t see in her drawer, Frannell has very little attention left to pay to the rows and columns of boxes on her screen. None, in fact. She stares at the little white grid until her eyes blur but she can’t seem to make any headway.

Frannell taps her fingers on the arm of her chair. She can’t do this anymore but she can’t just leave. She doesn’t have the sick time or vacation days to simply walk away from her desk. Maybe she could make up some excuse about one of the kids?

Her hand lingers on the drawer handle before she makes up her mind and pulls it open. Just a peek. It’ll take two seconds just to see if anything new and explosive came out and then she’ll put it back and move on with her life. A minute, five minutes tops. And if her boss heads this way, Frannell is more than capable of hiding her datapad away again before they notice what she’s up to.

She opens her account to posts that are mostly keysmashes. For a moment, she thinks the server must be malfunctioning or something. Frannell is ready to reboot the whole thing when at last, she scrolls down far enough to see the post that started this fresh wave of madness.

It’s a different meme format from before but one that Frannell is familiar with: two stills from a semi-popular holodrama with a cult following, two actors emoting heavily for the camera. The first is captioned with the actor saying, “I love you.”

The second says, “Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa are twins separated at birth.”

Not a single thought crosses Frannell’s mind before the decision is made. She powers down her desktop screens, grabs her coat, and waves to her boss as she passes them on her way out of the office for the day. With her datapad firmly in hand, she knows she has work to do.

#sw #sw ficlet #sw fic #sort of obikin if you squint #frannell ships it at least #my fic

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coronetspears · 9 months

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Thinking about my knight au I drew for pokémon ship week.

So Cynthia is basically Giratina’s host, but technically it should’ve been Volo, who basically just picked up Cynthia, dragged her to hell and told giratina “yeah that’s your new host now bye”, which left Volo able to leave the distortion world and do some evil shit or something (maybe haunt dawn who knows). Since being bonded to giratina is arceus’s punishment for Volo, he had to find a descendant of his that was close enough to him appearance and genetic wise in order to trick Arceus into thinking that Volo was still with Giratina (which wasn’t hard considering arceus probably forgot about volo). And unfortunately Cynthia fits the bill.

I think that a confrontation between cyn and dia could go down too (likely when they’re on their ‘Diantha time to meet your destiny and beat up giratina’ expedition) . Maybe when Diantha sees Cynthia coughing up antimatter (which she’s never seen but Cynthia has been dealing with that for a while). It leads to an argument, where Cynthia reveals she’s bonded to giratina, and she yells “you know what? Fuck it. I’ll make it easier for you to meet your bullshit destiny” to which Diantha is still silent since she’s still processing what Cynthia said. Cynthia continues with “defeat me, lady Diantha. I’m right here”. At this point it gets dramatic and giratina’s shadow is hovering over them. Then the dramatic moment gets cut short as Cynthia has another coughing fit (Gira is looking concerned). Diantha goes “No.. I can’t. Just- give me a moment” and walks away to think about what happened in the past hour or so.

Sometime later Cyn and Dia are talking and basically deduct that Cynthia probably isn’t the evil that diantha’s prophecy was talking about, and it was likely volo instead (it is). Their reasoning was that since Cynthia only got unexpectedly bonded to giratina about a decade ago, and this prophecy was hundreds of years old, it likely couldn’t be Cynthia.

Cynthia also has a lot of issues with Arceus. Before she was bonded to giratina, she used to believe wholeheartedly in Arceus, even wanting to meet it (not on the same level as Volo. It was more of a ‘what if’ thing). It was common for those from Celestic town to believe in Arceus, so Cynthia grew up believing in it. After bonding with Gira, she started resenting it, believing that this was Arceus’s doing. It kind of wasn’t, but she mostly wanted someone to blame. Cynthia absolutely despises white and gold color combos and prefers black and gold.

that’s kinda it for now, I might talk about it more if I feel like it jdkajdjs

#phaesporiashipping #champion cynthia #champion diantha #thenas knight au

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goodqueenaly · 2 years

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I like to imagine in my speculation on TWOW how things might just continue to go sideways for Justin Massey.

Justin’s first order, after leaving Stannis’ camp, will be to “deliver her [i.e. “Lady Arya”, really Jeyne Poole] to Lord Commander Snow on [Justin’s] way to Eastwatch”. Easy enough, Justin probably thinks (especially since he himself has no reason to doubt Jeyne’s purported identity - more on that in a moment), he’ll get a warm reception from the pro-Stannis Lord Commander Snow for having his “sister” returned ... but uh oh, I think Justin will hear on the way there that Jon has been murdered by his black brothers and Castle Black is in chaos between the Night’s Watch, free folk, and queen’s men. No use bringing Jeyne-as-Arya to her “brother” if that person is not just dead but the victim of an assassination/de facto coup; the same Night’s Watch members who so recently violently killed Jon probably wouldn’t look too kindly on his “sister” showing up at their doorstep. Oh well, Justin might think, better take Jeyne-as-Arya with me instead and figure out what to do from there.

So Justin might then skip to his second order from Stannis: to collect Stannis’ loan from the Iron Bank in Braavos and hire at least 20,000 sellswords with the money. Easy enough, Justin might think; even if he himself failed to convince Stannis to grant him a title or lands to impress the free companies, he is still prepared to “[g]o to them with both fists full of golden dragons”. But, uh oh - I think Justin is going to fulfill Stannis’ prediction that “[i]n Braavos you may hear that I am dead. It may even be true”. Negotiating payment by the Iron Bank on Stannis’ loan and debt agreement might be a good deal harder with the main signatory dead (and his legal heir being an underage girl thousands of miles away with no knowledge of the agreement). Even if he could convince the Iron Bank that would-be Queen Shireen will make good on her father’s word to pay back the Iron Throne’s debts, would he be able to convince sellsword companies to risk their necks for the sake of an 11-year-old girl, heir to a dead pretender, in faraway Westeros?

But then, perhaps, good news for Justin! (Or what he might believe is good news, at least.) I think that as he’s deciding what he’s going do in Braavos, he’ll run into the real Arya Stark (because there is absolutely no way in my mind that Arya, who has had such a strong theme of personal identity throughout her storyline but especially during her time in Braavos, would not have any opinion on seeing Jeyne Poole, a girl who literally grew up with her, be referred to as “Arya Stark”) Well, now maybe Justin decides to cut his losses and try to return to Winterfell with the real Arya. If Stannis is dead (so he thinks) and it’s a losing proposition to make good on his claim to Westeros, he, Justin, might as well take what he can get - and a restored Kingdom of the North, with the rightful (again, so he thinks) Stark heiress, is not a bad concession prize for a landless knight with no hope of reclaiming his ancestral territories. (Ir’s incredibly creepy and gross to speculate whether Justin would imagine himself as Arya’s future husband, but given Justin’s previous marital ambitions with both Val (as the “wildling princess”) and Asha (as the would-be heiress to the Iron Islands), the thought might be in his mind.)

But, uh oh ... what Justin Massey doesn’t know, and can’t know until he shows up, is that he doesn’t have the last best Stark. No, far from it - Winterfell is going to be the center of a factional dispute over which of the suddenly reemerged Stark heirs has the senior claim to the North. Justin Massey might have the real Arya Stark, but now he has to contend with elder sister Sansa and legitimated elder brother Jon and legitimate younger brother Rickon (and maybe even Bran too). As an underage girl, Arya has at best a hotly disputed claim over her siblings (and that’s without Arya herself I think probably being way more interested in reuniting with her family than in trying to fight with them over who gets their butt on the high seat of Winterfell). Plus, even if he could convince the factions that Arya was the superior choice, Justin might find out that the freaking apocalypse is nigh; rather bad timing to claim a castle when otherworldly eldritch slaver ice monsters are knocking at the door.

Justin Massey: perpetual loser.

#asoiaf meta #justin massey #twow #speculation

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burnwater13 · 7 months

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Grogu sometimes wondered whether or not the Armorer actually liked Din Djarin. Sure, he was grateful at getting a protector and a dad out of their deal, but with time and distance came objectivity. It sure seemed like she was sending him on a wild taun taun chase.

Grogu didn’t even know what ‘kind’ he was. Being a former Jedi youngling wasn’t a ‘kind’. It was more like a status. You start as a youngling, full of ideas and energy. Then you are selected as a padawan, which honestly meant you were now full of fear, second hand embarrassment, and still a lot of energy.

After that, with hard work and the ability to put up with your Master, you become a Knight. If you’re lucky, which meant having good timing and better than average skills, you became a Master, so you could be annoyed by a youngster who thought you were old and out of touch while you tried to teach them the skills that would help keep them alive in a fairly chaotic galaxy.

At least, that’s how Master Kenobi explained it once when he was talking to Master Beq in the Arboretum at the Jedi Temple. They weren’t alone of course. Grogu was there. Hiding.

A trick that he and Ian had cooked up had literally boiled over and he was hoping that the Master in charge of provisions didn’t come to the Arboretum looking for them. Grogu was pretty sure that Ian had climbed the Life tree and he wished he’d been quick enough to do that.

Instead he was stuck right there, under the bench, listening to the two Jedi masters natter on about how hard it was raising young people to be old people. Of course, that was the problem. Young people didn’t want to be old people. At least not yet. They wanted to take some time and get there when they got there. It was one thing no youngling was impatient about.

It took all of Grogu’s self control not to laugh at them when they complained about their padawans complaining about carrying their cloaks everywhere.

“Anakin just refuses to do it. I’ve lost so many cloaks that way.” Master Kenobi has been more sad than irritated.

“At least Anakin knows his way around a lightsaber. My last padawan practically skewered me with his when I simply asked him to hand it to me. I’ve asked Master Yoda if I might switch to managing the younglings. At least they don’t have access to weapons.”

Master Beq had not met Ian by then, but then how were any of them to know that Ian could find a weapon literally anywhere and they should have thought twice about assigning him kitchen duty.

“If he does, just be careful around Grogu. Everyone thinks he’s a baby, but he’s not. He sees everything and then he tests it out with that friend of his, Ian. I don’t even know who brought the two of them here. I can’t be blamed for that.”

Grogu was about to protest that Obi-Wan was being unfair, when a very aggravated Jedi stomped into the quiet space and stormed right up to them.

“Have either of you seen that pair of menaces? They’ve made a huge mess in my stockroom and I want them both to sort it out.”

“Menaces? I suppose you mean Anakin and ?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Anakin? No. He’s fine. He never goes near the place. I mean Ian and his little green friend.” The other Jedi grumbled as if Obi-Wan was being deliberately obtuse.

“Ah, I believe they were assigned to collect trash in the central park as part of a new ‘Give back to Coruscant’ initiative that the Council has undertaken. Perhaps if you go there, you’ll find them.” Obi-Wan’s voice was kind and consoling and Grogu wondered at the time if he would ever learn to lie like that.

When the irate Jedi left the Arboretum, Grogu heard Master Obi-Wan chuckle.

“Alright Grogu. You can come out now. I can hear your stomach growling.”

Grogu had trudged out of hiding and smiled a little sadly at the two Jedi who were now looking at him so intently.

“This is half of our most dynamic duo, Master Beq. If you start to manage the younglings, this is who you will need to keep an eye on. All the time.”

Obi-Wan’s voice hadn’t changed in tone and Grogu wondered if he was trying to trick the younger Master.

Years later, he’d be able to ask the Jedi Master that question and Obi-Wan had replied that everyone needed a break once in a while. Even a Jedi Master.

Perhaps that’s what the Armorer needed. A break. Grogu expected that Mandalorians were a lot like he and Ian had been at the Jedi Temple. Always up to something and eager to find the next problem, even if they couldn’t solve it.

Now that was a funny thought. Grogu hadn’t found a problem yet that his Mandalorian couldn’t solve, but maybe someday he wouldn’t have his weapons handy and would have to do solve them a different way.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #Master Obi-Wan

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weakforarwen · 2 years

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Gwaine

This was a cool episode! But why do all the boys who appreciate Merlin, and know how treat him well, leave? First Lancelot, now Gwaine... Poor Merlin, he really liked Gwaine! They both lost their fathers before getting a chance to know them, don’t care for titles or pretentious and cruel knights, aren’t afraid of breaking rules, etc.. They got along so well!

Both Lancelot and Gwaine really contrast with Arthur in their treatment of Merlin, but couldn’t be any more different in other ways. All Lancelot wanted was to be a knight, yet couldn’t because he wasn’t a nobleman. To Lancelot, a Knight’s code was their honor, and all knights were noble in the most romantic sense of the word. He believed in dying for a greater cause, or person, and that being a Knight would give his life purpose. He was responsible, yet, in his need to prove himself, he got into trouble and ended up having to fight his way out of it.

Gwaine, on the other hand, was a nobleman who wanted anything but to become a knight. To him, nobility wasn’t a title - it was earned, and anyone could be noble. He didn’t believe in dying for any prince or king. He was also flighty and fought his way out of captivity like Lancelot, but he was looking for trouble, and not for a chance to prove himself.

It’s funny that Arthur is almost a mix of the two in his beliefs. He’s a nobleman and was raised to believe that only noblemen could be knights and that nobility was something noble people were born with. Yet, he also grew to believe that anyone could be noble, and being noble of heart was the only requisite to becoming a knight. Like Lancelot, he believed all knights were noble, so it was a great honor to be one. But, like Gwaine, he also believed anyone could be noble and that titles shouldn’t hold so much weight - one didn’t need to be a knight to be noble.

Poor Merlin has it rough being a servant. As if Arthur doesn’t give Merlin enough to do, he has to pimp him out to other noblemen too. And Gaius even said Arthur treated Merlin well! Maybe compared to other noblemen he did, but, if so, the standards were truly on the floor. Arthur threw a metal cup at Merlin - that shit hurts. Gaius might think Arthur’s a good “master”, but Gwaine disagrees. I guess this is a case of the old vs. new guard. Ironically though, when Gwaine becomes a knight, he and the other knights lowkey bully Merlin - power gets to people, and they follow Arthur’s example.

Merlin is so funny though, always telling Arthur what absolute bullshit the melees are. I love seeing Merlin happy. After watching season 5, I forgot what a happy Merlin looked like. He really wanted Gwaine to stay... Gwaine was a good ally, and, unlike Arthur, understood him and talked to him as an equal. By the end of the episode, Gwaine got why Merlin would die for Arthur and was willing to do the same. He also saw what Merlin did for Arthur, and Merlin deserved more people who recognized his efforts and loyalty.

It was a bit on the nose, though, how everyone was hyping Arthur up, from Merlin to Guinevere - but there was a clear difference between Merlin and Guinevere’s approach. When Merlin defended Arthur, it was more... casual, perhaps? He was definitely much too earnest and passionate to defend someone who treated him so poorly half the time, but he understood Gwaine’s pov very well He knew Arthur was a prat... Still, honestly, when Merlin talked about Arthur, he reminded me of a puppy who was very proud of his owner. Sometimes, I can’t understand what Merlin saw in Arthur, especially considering in this very episode he threw a cup at the back of his head.

Anyway, when Gwen was defending Arthur, the vibe was different. It was softer yet passionate, and deadly serious. The words tumbled out of Gwen like she couldn’t keep them in, and she got this far away look in her eyes - one of longing, like she knew Arthur would become a great King one day, but didn’t believe she’d ever get to be by his side for it. Nevertheless, she was proud and content to root for Arthur from afar, and to support him in any way she could. Essentially, she looked like a woman in love with a man destined for something greater than her.

Gwen’s pov of Arthur is different from Merlin’s in many regards, but one key difference is that Arthur treats Gwen a lot better than he treats Merlin.

I still agree with Gwaine though - no royal is worth dying for.

I love how Merlin collects men with his bubbly personality and kindness. Lancelot and Gwaine were Merlin’s boys first, before they began respecting Arthur too.

Bonus Arwen: Gwen was so worried for Arthur! It must be so distressing loving someone like him. It’s bad enough for Merlin, but at least he knows when Arthur’s in danger and can help him. Gwen is mostly powerless... In that last scene with Gwaine, she was probably thanking him for saving Arthur, as well as wishing him well in the future.

Side-note, Arthur’s jealousy when he watched them was kinda cute. He didn’t stay to watch the whole thing though - he was a bit jealous, but shrugged it off easily enough, and then proceeded to roughhouse Merlin in that cute way of his that makes you wanna forgive him for being a douche the rest of the time. Oh, Arthur... you’re so complicated, aren’t you?

I can’t help but think that Gwaine and Gwen would’ve been terrible together. She does like her men to be brave and principled, and Gwaine is brave and somewhat principled, but he’s too much of a wildcard. He’d stress her out. He’s probably too much like her brother.

Finally, another thing I liked about the episode, and in many other episodes, is that Arthur lost a fight. In a lot of ways, Arthur is just a slightly above average person in the right position, alive at the right time, with the right people backing him up.

#bbc merlin #bbc arwen #gwaine #lancelot #merlin #arthur pendragon #gwen pendragon #gwaine commentary #gwaine episode

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ratdoggozoom · 1 year

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The Adventures of the Gavina twins and Cayo part 2

It’s winter in the 12th month. Jedda and Ambra are now 7 years old. The war still rages and the twins have gotten used to things now. This year they have started new subjects in their lessons with their tutor. Learning about the history of the other kingdoms and how important they are to Fiorenza. They’ve been getting secret lessons from Mephisto whenever he’s available. They’re also learning new etiquette and learning to dance with various rates of success. Today they will start their swordsmanship lessons with the warforged of the previous emperor, Marcello. He stands at a towering 6”10 and Covered in battle markings and dents. He Is the oldest of the warforges at age 56. Cayo and Damini have come back to handle war matters. Damini will be discussing with the other generals new plans of attack while the other kingdoms have temporarily retreated. Cayo wants to go see how Jedda and Ambra are doing. He knows how bad Marcello is as a teacher. He had to have Mephisto repair him so many times because of his so called “training' '. Cayo still can’t believe that Emil got him to teach them. He truly just sees his kids as rulers to be over being his own kids. In the training grounds Jedda and Ambra are using stone swords practising their swings against logs of wood. Ambra is swinging aimlessly while Jedda is having uneven swings.

“Young master Jedda put all your might in your swings and young lady Ambra keep you focused at the points I marked out. Quit being aimless and restraining yourselves you two.” Marcello says in a deep gruff and stern voice.

The twins both shout out “Yes sir.” with a slight stutter from Jedda. The moment they notice Cayo walking up they drop their swords and run up to him. Ambra almost slips while Jedda runs up more softly. They both shout out “Cayo.” with the mist of their breaths dragging behind them.

Before Cayo could say a word, Marcello stands and with a menacing voice says “Young master. Young lady. Back to your positions.” The twins jolt. They look at Cayo and Cayo nods for them to go. They run back and continue their swings.

“Seems like they’re doi-” Cayo gets cut off. “Leave immediately. I don’t want any distractions for my students.” Marcello says,not taking his eyes off of the twins.

“I knew you’re gonna be like this” Cayo sighs and he scratches the back of his neck. “Listen, I just came here to see how their first lesson is going. Mini-” a stare from Marcello stops Cayo in his tracks. Cayo coughs and continues. “Her majesty the Empress ordered me to. She will join shortly.”

“I see. The young master and young lady are doing well for their first time. I see them becoming great fighters when they get older if they go well in their future lessons that is. Maybe they’d even rival their mother someday.” Marcello says while keeping an eye on the twins.

“Would you also say they would even rival me ,Mars?” Cayo says smirking with his fingers in a check motion on his chin.

“That’s a stupid question and you know it. Anyone can surpass you in swords,Cayo. Even a farmer’s donkey.” Marcello says dryly.

Cayo looks hurt but tries to keep the smirk he had. “I see.” he says, pained.

Soon, a tall well armoured woman walks up. She walks with confidence. Each step is powerful yet gentle.

“Knight Marcello, report.” she commands.

Marcello goes on his knee. Cayo waves at the woman smiling when a sharp hit sends him down as he grunts falling into the same position as marcello.

“Your majesty empress Damini. Young master Jedda and Young lady Ambra are doing splendidly for their first time.” Marcello says in a soft respectful tone.

Damini goes to the twins. They still are practising in fear of Marcello. Damini picks Ambra up and pats Jedda’s head as if telling to rest now. Ambra screams “Mama!” as she hugs Damini’s head. Damini not reacting lets her. Jedda hugs her leg, dropping his sword. Cayo stands.

“A nice change from the chaos out there.”Cayo smiles warmly with what he’s seeing.

“We’ll be taking them for a stroll. We will return them to their lessons shortly” Damini says.

Marcello nods. Cayo picks up Jedda and off the odd family goes. They walk around the nearest greenery. Although it’s winter and snowing, flowers are still in bloom as if it's spring. Cayo plucks one and hands it over to Damini. “For you my love.” He says in a mocking voice. He blows the flower to her face.

Damini smiles as Jedda and Ambra laugh. Ambra grabs the flower and tries to examine it.

“This is… A purple azure flower!” Ambra says with confidence.

“It’s a purple aster flower, Ambra.” Jedda corrects her.

“I knew that. Just testing you.” Ambra also says with confidence.

Cayo chuckles as he starts tickling Jedda and then Ambra “Now where did you get so smart. I see you two are becoming a couple of brainiacs. Careful now. Our brains can’t handle such knowledge.”

“Our brains?” Damini says questioningly

“Yes.”Says Cayo with a cheeky grin.

Damini laughs along with the twins. They all feel at peace finally together again if only for a moment. They walk towards a tree, its leaves a mix of all kinds of colours. They rest under it, huddled together. They know that they won’t experience this again for a while. The twins rest their heads as they doze off even though they know they really shouldn’t.

“Excuse me, your majesty.” A voice interrupts the peace. “There are matters to discuss. We do not have much time before you have to leave again.”

The twins open their eyes and see their father,Emil. He stands there as serious as ever, not really taking notice of the moment he’s ruining. Ambra jumps and runs towards him screaming “Papa!” while Jedda just continues to stay with Cayo and his mother. He stares at Emil as if he was seeing another member of palace staff. Ambra reaches Emil and he doesn’t react as she his leg. He doesn’t acknowledge her however, his focus is still on Damini.

“Please do hurry.” He says.

Damini and Cayo get up while Jedda looks sad at them. Damini holds Jedda as she nuzzles his face with hers. She gives him to Cayo and walks towards Emil.

“Now Ambra go to Cayo, he’ll take you and Jedda back to Marcello.” Damini says as she pets Ambra’s head. Ambra looks up at Damini and sadly lets go of Emil’s leg. She goes to Cayo as she gets picked up by him. Damini and Emil walk off looking more like acquaintances than husband and wife with how serious they are towards each other. Cayo looks at them with an expression like he’s trying to hold something back.

“Let’s go.” He says in a sad tone he rarely uses.

He walks off with the twins in his arms. Ambra and Jedda look at each other.

“Cayo, can you put us down? We want to walk it.” Jedda says, thuggin at Cayo’s cape.

Cayo looks at them and he tries to snap his face back to his usual optimistic look.

“Yeah sure.” He says putting them down.

They walk together holding hands enjoying the same views once again. They arrive back at the training grounds and see Marcello at the same place he was when they left. The twins go to greet their teacher and continue with their training. Cayo goes and sits next to Marcello. Cayo relaxed arms at the back of his head while Marcello sat stern and attentive.

“Cayo,your presence is a distraction to my students. I will tell you again to leave.” Marcello says.

Cayo looks at him with slight annoyance.

“I haven’t seen the kids in months. I don’t care what you do but I’m stayin.” Cayo says standing his ground.

“You act like their father even though you are not. You are merely their mother’s warforged. Nothing more. Don’t act like you have a connection with them. “Marcello says as he stands up. “Giving the royal children the same delusion is not advised.”

“What I feel and do is my business. I’m not gonna do anything besides watch anyway.” Cayo says.

Marcello glances at Cayo and approaches the twins. They’re not showing that much improvement. Marcello goes to each of the twins and corrects their form and for the rest of the lesson stands next to them correcting them with each mistake he sees. Cayo looks on at them proudly. Seeing them at their first swordsmanship lesson. ‘Man, they’re growing fast’ he thinks to himself. He remembers them just aimlessly swinging their toy swords like it was yesterday.

The lesson ends and the twins run up to Cayo. Ambra at his leg and Jedda climbing on him.

“What did you think ,Cayo?” they both say.

“I was super cool wasn’t I?” Ambra says, hopping up and down while holding Cayo’s leg.

“I’m tired…” Jedda says in a sleepy voice curling up on Cayo’s chest.

“You both were incredible. Why not someday try challenging me? I’d like to see what ya got.” He says with a smirk.

Jedda doesn’t seem happy about what was said while Ambra has stars in her eyes.

“You’re going down Cayo.” Ambra confidently says.

Jedda looks concerned and curls up closer to Cayo. Cayo looks at Jedda and carefully gets up. Ambra raises her arms as she hops . Cayo picks her up and she climbs on his shoulders and plays with his head.

“What’s wrong,Jed? Something on your mind?” Cayo says with a gentle smile.

“I don’t want to fight Cayo. What if I hurt you?” Jedda whimpers out

Cayo chuckles

“You don’t have to worry about that. I know you’re strong but don’t think someone like me can be defeated so easily.” Cayo smugly says.

“But you’re not really good at swords. “ Ambra says while Jedda nods.

“hehe…Brutally honest like your mother.” Cayo says unable to defend himself from the truth. “Lets go to your room. You two need some rest after all that training.”

“Will you be staying the night, Cayo? I want you to read us a book or tell us a story.” Jedda says holding onto Cayo.

“I don’t think I can but rest assured next time I’ll try my hardest to do so. I’ll try to find a book for you two. If I’m busy we’ll save it for when I can.” Cayo says with a reassuring smile.

Jedda’s face beams with hope while Ambra is holding onto Cayo’s leg as he walks.

#dnd #dnd stories #dnd story #dnd stuff #dnd character #dnd original character #dnd campaign #dnd 5e #original story #original writing #writing #beginner writer #story #dnd warforged

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firsttarotreader · 1 year

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Did you saw PP showing his biting tendencies on the hot ones??? "can someone come here so I can bite their flesh?" 😈 so, biting, hair pulling... ok, I got it 😏 and I have a naughty ask 🤭 how P would feel with a super romantic partner? like, someone who's NOT into all that stuff? who wants a soft, vanilla type of sex? 🙈

Hello! Let’s do a reading now to lighten up the mood, shall we? I asked the cards about some of his potential feelings on the subject, but always remember I am not claiming this is the solid truth, but rather reading the energies in the cards. The first pull was the Queen of Teacups, 8 of Spears and 6 of Spears.

So, Queen of Teacups points to him possibly trying to give the person what they like at first. If they want romantic, vanilla, they’re gonna get that, as he will try to please them too. However, 8 of Spears represents restrictions, entrapment. He might feel kind of limited, like he can’t really let go and do what he wants. And curiously enough, this card can also represent bondage sex depending on the context. But the 6 of Spears shows he might get over it and still enjoy the experience. Even if it’s a bit difficult for him at first, he’ll figure out a way to make it work and be satisfied.

The next pull was super interesting. The cards were the Knight of Flowers, 3 of Teacups and Judgement. Well, this Knight is very passionate, intense, full of fire energy, but this fire burns quickly. He is not constant, so just like that he might want some soft, vanilla sex too and 3 of Teacups shows us he’s gonna have a good time and enjoy it anyway. Even though he might prefer something more spiced up, it doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy it. Judgement is the card of starting anew after being able to judge what is best for you, it’s being open to new experiences, so yeah, Pedro might feel quite cool with these people too, and guilty free.

The last cards were the Queen of Spears, 2 of Spears and 10 of Spears reversed. Queen of Spears is curious because it’s about having a sharp and clear mind, very perceptive and in control, but not really emotional. It’s mental clarity and intellectual power, letting your partner know exactly where you stand. The 10 of Spears reversed is about not being ready to let go, over-dramatizing your predicament and holding on to something that needs to end. In the middle, we have the 2 of Spears, the card about indecision. You have two ways to go, the one of the Queen of Spears and the one of the 10 of Spears reversed. One very rational and levelheaded but seeking resolution in the form of clarity and the other being more emotional and struggling to let go of the old ways. I could say these cards point to him believing they should just be honest with each other and deal with it, but also struggling to let go of his ways, still being stubborn about things going his way.

So all in all, he might not always be so comfortable with someone who wants a more romantic thing when he is in that dominant mindset, but he will try to have his fun anyway and he will probably get to enjoy it.

#s*x #romantic #vanilla #Readings

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chryzure-archive · 2 years

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Apologies for going off-fixation lol - to make up for it tell me more about Chrysi and her new bf 👀👀

AAHHHH, I HAVE! SO MANY THOUGHTS!!! My apologies if this is all over the place because... Mordred, my beloved.

So at the end of the series, Mordred ends up being exiled from Camelot (which... fair. It was very merciful that he wasn't killed in the end), so he goes to the island of Avalon, where a lot of other exiled witches live. Most of them are women, and so Mordred becomes their protector of sorts.

Chrysi ends up there for reasons I haven't totally figured out, but I want her to have been essentially kicked out from her own kingdom by her sister after she, uh, accidentally brought back all the dead from a graveyard. Oops.

She and Mordred get along. She makes him laugh and he's intrigued by her, and she thinks he's cute! And smart! But she doesn't let herself like him because she knows he's still not over this other girl (she didn't know the other girl was Queen Guinevere, but that's neither here nor there. Yet.)

Obviously they grow closer as they live side by side in Avalon. All the other witches and girls there love Chrysi, and they all think Mordred should start pursuing her instead of still being caught up on Guinevere (what is it with Chrysi and her men with fixations on their past relationships <//3 she has to break them in like a wild horse). During this time, Chrysi quickly gains a reputation for being clumsy / bad with magic. Every time she tries something new, something will explode. All the time. (Mordred’s all like “So what was it that got you kicked from your old place? Too many blown-up torches?” “I brought a legion of the dead back to life on accident” “Oh.” He’s still not sure if she was joking.)

Eventually, I want there to be a horror aspect, similar to magical / supernatural zombies showing up. Chrysi’s the only one that knows how to take care of them, so she… essentially tears them apart and sends them back into the ground headfirst (so they can’t scratch their way up). Ten she makes new protections around Avalon and Mordred’s like “Wow… soulmate right there? Wow!!!”

Buuuut unfortunately, these creatures showing up means Chrysi has to go back to her home kingdom and make sure her sister isn’t doing everything Chrysi told her not to. Spoiler alert: she is.

Anyway, Chrysi tries to sneak out of Avalon in the middle of the night, only for Mordred to be at her back door when she’s heading out. Chrysi just barely manages to avoid cursing him out, fortunately.

Turns out Mordred guessed what she was doing because for the past couple days, she’d been going around and giving ppl some gifts and being all grateful to them for taking her in and all—and he rightfully guessed she was trying to leave. Well, too bad, because now he’s pledged himself as her knight and she has to take him with her. Excellent.

Chrysi doesn’t really want to argue with him (though they do. They do argue quite a bit.), so she ends up bringing him along. It’s handy to have someone that can talk to animals (which btw!! Mordred can commune with animals! It makes me all fluttery inside + you know Chrysi’s annoying him with “Can you speak to my cats? Can you tell them I love them? Please? Pretty please?”) and someone that’s half-fairy and also can do magic. I love them together.

So they set out to the coast, where Chrysi hopes to catch a ship (Mordred… does not like the ocean all that much, I choose to believe. I like to also believe that he gets somewhat seasick. All because of a throwaway line in the book.). Along the way, Mordred teaches her how to fight. He quickly finds her to be really good (not as good as him, but that’s alright—she’s best with a quarter staff and he can tell she might be his equal with that weapon) and he also finds her to be?? Really scary with a bow and arrow? Okay, he’s handing over his heart already, she’s earned it.

They get very… close on this journey. Lots of them sleeping close for “warmth”, then intermittently waking up to watch the other sleep and marvel at how pretty they are. Anyway, they aren’t in love. (Keep telling yourselves that.)

When they get to Chrysi’s kingdom, Mordred finds Chrysi’s essentially a princess (what the fuck!!!) and also a feared and powerful magic being—occasionally called “Death’s Bride”, “Angel of the Crossroads”, “Queen of Nightmares”… Mordred’s like “Who the FUCK have I been traveling with?? And kissing?? HUH???”

He also meets Jacks, who is obviously in this universe because I love how dedicated Jacks is to Chrysi even when they aren’t together, and he decides it will be very funny to irritate Jacks from then on out.

This is where drama happens and, while I have many scenes planned, most of them aren’t coherently linked together. There’s lots of the undead coming back and eating ppl, lots of ghouls, but Chrysi pretty easily takes them down. Her main concern is who is causing all this?? She can only stop the symptoms, but she’s not able to discern the root of the issue—which bugs her.

To add to her issue with tracking down what’s causing all this, her older sister is deliberately making things more difficult for her. Lots of political intrigue happens at the same time, and Mordred’s suddenly really glad he made himself Chrysi’s knight bc he can be with her all the time. Jacks is also trying to be around Chrysi all the time and he finds Mordred’s presence really fucking annoying. It’s awesome.

OH, ALSO! This kingdom is full of magic, in direct contrast to Camelot. Mordred’s actually… really fascinated by it. Chrysi likes showing him all her favorite places (a hallway where all the walls and ceilings and floors are made of stained glass, her cave garden that her brother kept up while she was gone, the springs that are inside the castle with a waterfall coming in from the top to keep the water levels up… Mordred thinks he loves it here.)

I really enjoy them…

OH, ALSO I HAVE A MODERN AU WHERE THEY’RE DUMB COLLEGE STUDENTS AND ALSO THEY PLAY DND TOGETHER AND MORDRED LIKES TO BE A MODEL FOR CHRYSI WHENEVER SHE DRAWS!!! I just want to bring that up :3

#.asks #m.filly✨#s.chrysimordred #i should explain more abt mordred at some point. but sldkfjsdlkfjslkfjgslkdfj SO HARD #he’s so many things. he acts like he’s the villain bc everyone expects him to be #and there’s a part in the novels where he pretends he was trying to manipulate guinevere so she wouldn’t feel bad when he got possessed #AND I THINK HE SHLD DO THAT WITH CHRYSI—ONLY FOR CHRYSI TO LOOK AT HIM WITH TEARS IN HER EYES AND SAY ‘why are you lying to me? you’re lying #bc she knows him so well… i jst think. they are neat.#do i have to make a new main f/o segment of my carrd? idk. i jst think mordred is neat :)

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lynn-does-stuff · 2 years

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Hello, I'm new here unfortunately I'm very late in the moon bloosom fandom, and in everything Tumblr you are the person who says the most what you said last about this au, I would really like to know what the story is since unfortunately you don't have the opportunity to read if it doesn't bother you could you tell us?

Howdy anon! I’m in the car right now, so apologies if this reply is a little messy!

Long story short, the reason you can’t find anything about the original Moon Blossom anymore is because the creator fell out of the fandom and deleted their old blog, which is completely and totally valid and should be respected.

As for the story itself, it’s been a while, but I can try to tell you as much as I remember! So the main premise is that Cross, the main character (what a loser, always having main character syndrome. Smh.), is sent on a quest to save Dream from the demon’s castle. However, all Cross was told was to “save the twin and slay the demon”. Thus, when Cross goes to the castle and encounters Nightmare, he believes that’s the twin he needs to save and goes out in search of the demon.

HOWEVER, Nightmare is the demon. But also… not really. Goopmare is the real demon. The two are connected, but share no memories. Goopmare knows that he’s Nightmare (but doesn’t know of his memories), while Nightmare has no idea about Goopmare. All he knows is that he woke up in this castle away from home, and he doesn’t know that Dream is also being held captive.

There are a few other characters with major roles as well. I’ll try to give a brief description of them all.

Blue- knight in training I believe? He can join you on your quest to save the twin, and he’s extremely good at sneaking and lock picking.

Ink- The local magic shopkeeper. Appears in multiple places with his shop at the… oddest and strangely convenient times. Later, when you play as Dream when he breaks out of the dungeon cell, Ink comes to help him through the dungeon.

XChara- If I remember correctly, he’s a bit of a tutorial character? He basically teaches you all of the ropes on what to do, and I believe if you ask for help, then he’ll come again and reteach you things?

Core- I can’t remember much about their role, I think there’s a quest you have to do and then they’ll open these waypoint doors? Similar to the doors you can use to travel around the world with in Deltarune!

Error- Ohoho, Error my buddy ol pal. Basically, he’s an assassin that was sent on the same quest as Cross, but a bit after him. He was sent out because “Cross was taking too long” (poor guy, can’t catch a break). However, the main difference between Cross and Error is that Error knows that Nightmare is Goopmare, the demon they have to kill. So, Error is seen as an antagonist, because obviously Cross believes he’s supposed to protect Nightmare.

Killer- Goopmare’s right hand demon, his signature quote is “You might wanna save your game”. He’s a boss that Dream and Ink have to fight before getting out of the dungeon. He’s my favorite, design wise. Though that might just be my love for Killer showing. I can’t remember if he knows that Goopmare and Nightmare are connected? Sorry.

Lust- A demon that was cursed into being one of I remember correctly? There wasn’t a lot for his character unfortunately, I’m not sure where his role was in the story.

I might be forgetting some things, and I know I’m forgetting some of the mechanics mentioned, but I hope this is enough to give you a general idea of what happened!! And to reiterate, the creator is no longer in the fandom and will not be creating any more content for Moon Blossom. Please, if you know the creator, do not harass them about Moon Blossom. That’s all!! Hopefully I was able to answer your and anyone else’s questions!

#Lynn talks #ask lynn #anon asks #Moon Blossom #I find it funny that so many people ask me about Moon Blossom actually #is it because of all the music I made for it?

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abluescarfonwaston · 3 years

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Imagine being the person who got the order for Edgeworth's custom chess set XD.

When the order for the first one comes in you're just like. Well this is oddly specific.

And then the order for the second one comes in before you've even packaged up the box for the first one and you're like. Two people ordering the same Very detailed chess set? But NO. ITS THE SAME PERSON.

And then the third order comes in with a note saying they loved the first one but actually could you match the blue to this swatch now? And its for a travel board and you just kinda stare at the order for a bit because... These are so expensive. Why do you need three? What happened to the first two? But at least this one is a travel board so you can Almost believe its cool. Just some rich guy spending his pocket change on absurdly ornate chess pieces with spiky blue pawns that the designer spent weeks discussing with this guy to get them Just right.

And then the order for the fourth set comes in and you just have to call this guy and ask what the hell he's doing. No one needs this many. F this. You have other customers who are waiting on their FIRST board. You have a wait list. Stop paying extra to jump the queue with this customer loyalty nonsense.

He answers. You ask him what the deal is with these pieces because its been EATING at you. Why this red and this blue? Why do the pawns look like that? WHY DID HE TRY TO ORDER EXTRA KNIGHTS????

He tells you. He tells you in the way one might dump drama onto a drive through clerk at McDonalds. Your life trauma because they are a stranger and nothing more. But you are not a stranger. Not really.

You've carved Thirty two times three custom made pieces for him. Three unique chess boards. You know every grain of those pieces. Know his design. Custom made pieces to fit his heart. His life. So you're not a stranger. Not really.

He tells you of a war between blue and red and how red wanted so badly to destroy blue. To protect its wretched crumbling kingdom of festering darkness. How blue wins. Wins again and again until the kingdom falls. Until light comes pouring in.

The kingdoms falls and he buys a second set. Blue hates red but Red loves blue. Just wants to play the game with him. Again and again and again. Will avoid calling checkmate, just to play a little longer.

But blue is so far away. They so rarely get to play. So he orders a travel set with magnetic bottoms so he can play on the plane. Pretend he's a little closer. To hold him over on long and lonely flights. Longer lonelier nights.

Tells you how blue got captured in someone else's game and can't play him anymore and he hates it but blue just won't let him help and he wants- he wants-

He wants.

But wanting is never enough.

He tells you all this, because you are a stranger on the telephone. At some point that man cries and you wonder if anyone who has ever seen his face know what tears look like on it. You settle for knowing what they sound like.

But you are not a stranger. You have hand carved thirty two times three custom made pieces for this man. Have held the dream of his life in your hands thirty two times three times. You have spent countless nights wondering why the pawns have spiky hair. Why that exact shade of blue. That exact shade of red.

"I will make another board for you." You assure. "But if wanting ever becomes having, I want to know."

Years pass. You forget about that brilliant red and blue.

"I was wondering - well I just want to order two pieces."

"There is a form for replacement for lost or damaged pieces online-"

"No. No I know. But they don't need replacement. These are new. Wed-" He coughed. "Wedding toppers if you will."

Wedding toppers?

"If you haven't ordered from us before-"

"I have. Miles Edgeworth is the name. Would you be able to change the color's slightly?"

The old pictures loaded slowly on the computer. "Sir I can only do custom work for full set-"

That red and blue.

"I-I see... Well perhaps then I could order another-"

When wanting becomes having.

"Oh. Oh. I would love to make those pieces for you."

"You... You would?" A pause. "You certain I don't need to buy another set? Because I will if there is policy in place that-"

He tells you all about his life. You don't know his face - although perhaps you could. But you have carved thirty two times four chess pieces for this man. Loved his every grain, knot, and finish.

"Miles." You cut him off. You are not making him a fifth board. Not until he tells you how he destroyed the other four. "I am so happy for you."

You hold his life in your hands. Thirty two times four times. Thirty two time four times you cradle him.

"... Thank you."

You go and carve two more.

"Congratulations."

#miles edgeworth #miles edgeworth's chess set #why do i spill words like soup #writing #wrightworth #narumitsu

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

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

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

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

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

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

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

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

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

#Disaster Lineage #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Qui Gon Jinn #Count Dooku #Yan Dooku #Ben Kenobi #Jaster Mereel #Xanatos du Crion #Jango Fett #Komari Vosa #time travel #de aging #age shifting #family #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #500 notes

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

Text

Knight in Shining Red Armor | Dante + Child!Reader (DMC 4)

A/N: Hey so this is a rewrite of one of my first (and only) DMC fic from like...2016. This takes place post-DMC 4

You can read the og one on my DeviantArt! But if you're here for the new one then I hope ya'll enjoy!

Summary: Child!Reader was taken under Dante's wing after being saved from a demon invasion, but even years later he hesitates to tell them what he truly is, fearing they'll resent him for his demonic heritage.

............

"Hey, um..Dante?"

"What's up, kiddo?" The red-clad devil hunter asked, though he wasn't completely paying attention to you. Rather he was sitting at his desk, feet kicked up as he was flipping through a magazine.

Meanwhile you were roaming around the shop, stopping only to gaze at the massive curved sword with glowing gems hanging on the wall behind him. He mentioned claiming many weapons--"Devil Arms" as they were called--from defeated demons, but you were curious about their names.

"Just wondering..what's that sword behind you called?"

"The Sparda. It sealed the barrier between the Underworld and human world. Nero went through hell and back, quite literally, to return it to me, so don't even think about touching......it?"

Dante put the magazine down as he turned to see you holding the Sparda in your small hands. You smiled triumphantly, but stumbled a bit before the blade accidentally slammed into the wooden floor, making you wince.

"Oops."

Yet your little act amused him, as he chuckled and shook his head. "You're a little too young to go devil-hunting, I'm afraid. But maybe one day you will."

"And maybe you can help pay off Dante's debt, too." Trish lightly joked as she entered the room, taking the giant sword from you and putting it back on the wall.

Her words were responded by a groan from the male, who went back to reading.

"Whatcha reading?"

Dante slowly lowered the magazine to see you sitting on his desk, but he just snapped it shut and tossed it into the trash, out of your line of sight. "Nothing that eyes like yours gotta see."

"Okay....ooooooh, what's this briefcase?" Hopping off the desk, you ran over to Pandora and crouched down to poke the skull emblem.

"Pandora. That baby can turn into six hundred and sixty six different weapons, but...right now we only have access to seven." Now he was feeling like an exhausted teacher on a museum trip, trying to explain each exhibit to his hyper first graders--the exhibits being his Devil Arms.

Yet as you ran around asking him about more of them, he couldn't help but see his childhood-self reflected in you. Just full of energy and never-ending curiosity and optimism.

Yeah..he definitely saw the resemblance.

Eventually you decided to leave him be and dash off to your room.

And only then did Dante drop his smile, sighing as he put both feet back on the ground. He ran a hand through his hair before dragging it down the side of his face tiredly.

"You know..you'll have to tell them eventually." Trish reminded.

"How, though? That kid's afraid of all demons..hybrids or not. I'm pretty sure saying "oh by the way the guy who rescued you is actually half-demon" is gonna send 'em running, and...I can't risk that." He shook his head, gazing at the jukebox in the corner.

"But I think [y/n]'s old enough to comprehend the concept of not all demons being evil," Lady chimed in after overhearing the conversation. "Just give it to them straight and I'm sure they'll understand."

As much as Dante wanted to argue, he saw that she had a valid point. But he still worried...

How would you react?

It's been a few years since he saved you from a Mega Scarecrow, though it turned out that more demons invaded your neighborhood, slaughtering everyone you knew and loved. And as he took you back to the shop to patch you up, he could see the terror in your eyes, any traces of innocence long gone.

No child should have gone through such a tragedy.

A tragedy that he was all-too familiar with.

After the defeat of the Savior, things have been looking up. You've regained your happiness as you lived in Devil May Cry and learned of Dante's tales of devil hunting, though the memories of that horrible night never truly left you alone.

Along with that, just seeing a demon is enough to make you run and hide, and you were terrified when you first met Nero and saw his demonic arm.

From that incident alone, Dante became extremely reluctant to tell you of his own demonic heritage.

He just didn't know if he's only hurting you more by keeping it hidden..

...............

Later that night, you were plagued by yet another nightmare. Different demons, same neighborhood...same deaths of your loved ones.

But in this one Dante got hurt, too. And you tried so hard to be brave for him, even shouting in the demon's face...but in the end you failed as it snatched you away, dragging you into the darkness of the Underworld before he could reach you.

Although you calmed down since awakening, you wanted to be sure he was alright.

So with what little moonlight shone in the shop's darkness, you located the worn sofa where Dante laid. He was engrossed in some TV program, though after sensing your presence his eyes flickered to you.

No words had to be exchanged in order for him to see what was wrong, as he sat up and patted the spot beside him. You smiled in relief and climbed onto the sofa, snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around you. "Th-Thanks, Dante."

"No prob. So uh..another nightmare, I guess?"

"Yeah, but..they hurt you, too and...I-I tried staying brave. I shouted at them to leave you alone and..they didn't listen. But...I think one of them looked scared of me."

"Wow." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Gotta say I'm impressed."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Y'know demons are used to seeing kids scream and cry, not take a stand against them. Plus that's pretty epic of you to defend me, so thanks." With a smile, he ruffled your hair.

"You're welcome," you giggled a bit. "But..I really just wanna be as brave as you. I mean...Nero says you laugh at giant demons and tease them all the time. How do you do that without being scared?"

"Well..it comes with the business. Getting them riled up just makes the fight more fun. At least for me. You might think I'm crazy but if ya decide to hunt demons one day...you'll see what I mean."

"But until then, could I watch you fight one? Like a big bad one?"

"......."

"Dante?"

"..kid, there's a reason I never took you on any missions." Dante sighed, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat as he carefully planned his next words. "And how I always...bounce back from getting smacked by a demon tail. No human would be able to withstand that without some broken bones."

"Oh?" You tilted your head. "Then..how can you if you're human?"

"....because I'm not fully human."

As much as he wanted to shut up, he decided to tell you the truth once and for all, not sugarcoating anything:

He explained how his parents were a demon and human--a forbidden romance which resulted in himself and Virgil being born. His bloodline allowed them to blend in with humans, exercise their demonic abilities in battle, and even tap into their true demon forms.

All the while you listened silently, with not much emotion on your face. So it was hard for him to tell what you were probably thinking in this moment.

It scared him.

"...and that's it." He sighed, closing his eyes and looking away from you. "So go ahead and hate me if you want. I won't blame you for-"

"Can you show me?"

Dante blinked stupidly as he swung his head back towards you, wondering if he heard you right.

"I...wish you told me before, but I don't wanna be scared of demons anymore." You smiled a tiny bit as you elaborated. "Especially not one who helped me. So...can I see your other form?"

"...a-alright. Just...if you get scared I can turn back instantly, so don't freak."

"I won't."

He had doubts you'll keep your word, but he got up and activated his Devil Trigger form. As he opened his eyes, you gasped upon seeing how much they were glowing--being orange rather than blue. Red electric sparks danced around his metallic body as he observed you close, anticipating your reaction. He expected you to scream or cry.

Yet..there was only curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

"Scared yet?" He asked in his distorted voice, crouching down in front of you.

Not even the way he spoke startled you, as you just shook your head. "I was wrong all along..not all demons are bad."

"Not even this one?"

"Nope. You look awesome..like a knight in shiny red armor."

"...wow..I um...." For once, the talkative devil hunter was at loss for words. But when you learned forward to hug him around the neck, he was completely shocked.

Earlier in the day he thought of countless worse-case scenarios, and yet...the best-case was happening right now.

You were accepting him, hugging him even.

He couldn't believe it.

Dante smiled as he wrapped his arms around you, making sure his armor spikes didn't hurt you. "Thanks, kid. It really means a lot that you're not terrified anymore........[y/n]?" He was concerned about your lack of response, before realizing you were dozing off.

'Damn..I might make a pretty good dad, after all..' He mused, standing up and making the trek back to your bedroom. Then he set you down and tucked you in, relief and warmth in his heart.

He had a feeling that your nightmares won't be so bad anymore. Now he felt like he could truly protect you.

Why?

Because he was gonna be your knight in shining red armor.

"Jeez, man. Quit clanking around shit and---AH!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!!"

"Shhhh! Chill out, Nero. You'll wake 'em." Dante was quick to shift back to his human form once he was outside your room, glaring at his nephew. "Why are you so freaked out? This ain't the first time you've seen my devil form."

"But still..why in the middle of the night?! Thought we had company."

"...just go back to bed, kid."

"Don't call me kid!"

#devil may cry x reader #dmc x reader #dmc 4 x reader #child reader #dante x reader #dmc dante x reader

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