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#nor how bland she had become
ay0nha · 8 months
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hello xx
Are you plannnig on doing a part two to ode to ruination? It is so good! you are fantastic
An Ode to Temptation | T.S.
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PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader
WORD COUNT: 1.3K
WARNINGS: canon-typical things, talk of food/eating, Angst, smooches, guns being pointed, angst, drinking/being drunk, etc.
A/N: Hello!! I actually received A LOT of requests for this, which thank you all so much for the love!! I thought about it and Tried to write something, but I just wasn't feeling it AT ALL or as an ~ official ~ part II. BUT, I'll post the Rough Draft here.
Be kind; she's all over the place with rushed ideas/unedited/unfinished parts. Comments are always welcomed. Enjoy.
You were a master of speaking silently—you've spoken silently all your life, and you’ve had to live through entire tragedies because of it. However, once the yelling and failed attempts to leave wore out, it had become weeks of the same; the days held a repetitive blandness.
Your mornings were spent isolated, the overwhelming echo of the estate’s silence guiding you. The loneliness didn’t seep in until the afternoon when the rain forbade you from stepping past the door frame. However, the nights were unbearable. Even if you didn’t see or hear when Tommy came home, you could feel how the walls groaned at his presence.
You knew the maids whispered; you would, too, in their position. Nothing explained your sudden presence or what felt like your lack thereof. If anything, you were the ghost that haunted the house.
For your own good, you were told.
Tommy had fooled you that night. The party was performative, a distraction while he sent someone for your things. If Ada had known, you don’t doubt she would have tried to stop him. Or at least bought you some time. However, if she had realized your life was in danger, she would have already bought your ticket to skip town. Regardless, your destiny was determined.
You comforted yourself by the fire when your thoughts became overwhelming. It warmed your feet while the gin resting precariously on the chair’s arm soothed the pit in your chest. At some point, you stopped portioning yourself a glass. Holding the bottle by the neck, you lulled yourself further into the cushion with every slug.
“Not eating now, eh?” Tommy threw down his jacket in habit, marking his entrance. The sigh that followed conveyed his annoyance.
You looked up from the fire at the intrusion. You couldn’t decide if he was earlier than usual or if the grandfather clock was lying to you. Either way, you tipped your head against the side of the chair for solace.
“You want my attention, that it? Well, you ’ave it. ” The strike of his match was motivated by agitation. On the first exhale of his newly-lit cigarette, he said, “Don’t waste it.”
Tommy’s eyes bore into yours blankly. There were other things on his mind that even you thought were more pressing. You knew he found it easier to treat you like business than anything else. Tenderness was reserved for the nights the tunnels became too claustrophobic.
“Your cook’s shite.” You mocked drunkenly.
Hailed all the way from Italy, the chef you insulted was anything but. Nor was he at fault for your lack of appetite. It was childish behavior, but everything had become tit for tat. Tommy knew what you were doing, able to lure him in with such superficial words.
The call received was passed through his secretary only to be brushed off—another complaint of your behavior. They always reflected stubbornness, the same determination as the tales of the boy who cried wolf. And yet, Tommy struggled to ignore it as it frequented.
“Right…” Tommy ceded to himself. His frustrations were in vain, and he reminded himself he could be fair. “Let’s get something in you.”
“Offering to cook, hmm?” Your eyebrows raised in genuine amusement. He knew you well enough that you craved company. “Or is that below the Thomas Shelby?”
Something swirled in his chest, but Tommy brought the cigarette to his lips to suffocate it. Yet, with his free hand, he held it out to you.
When you were children, you barely knew Tommy. To you, he was just one of the Shelbys. You often confused him for his brothers, but he became definite when you finally spoke to him. Overlapped memories crowded the logistics of the conversation, but you could never forget your appreciation for someone like him.
The memory should have been bleak; the funeral brought lightening that highlighted every tear that streamed down your mother’s face. She was an unmoveable force, and for some reason seeing your mother break changed your own grief.
Neither of you nor Tommy had the capacity to understand death the way you knew it now, but Tommy guided that grief with knowledge beyond his years. You learned to grieve someone you didn’t know you could love.
The simplicity of the action entwined your lives, but it was lost after France. Everyone, including yourself, had changed. But for the moment, eyes closed, the memory made the thought fade.
You slid onto the kitchen counter, catching how Tommy rolled his sleeve until it met his forearm.
The actuality of the situation hadn’t hit you yet until you filled the humming silence. “I barely recognize you…”
Tommy seemed content entertaining you. It was the first time you’d offered him your undivided attention. “’m all heart tonight.”
“That it?” You mused, head cocking to take him in. Your tone was deceiving, posing genuine curiosity over your inner dissent.
Tommy was attentive, though, listening even as you trailed off into mumbling. However, he remained dexterous, concocting something simple. He knew the things you held dear, the comfort you found in your childhood food.
He had even memorized the particularities of their preparation; jam spread with a spoon from left to right; sandwiches cut diagonally, warmed to be able to feel its nourishment travel down; tea so hot that the heaping amount of sugar disappeared with one stir.
Tommy slid the plate to you, a mix of what he could find that hadn’t spoiled by the end of the day. He leaned back, arms tight across his chest as he waited for you to indulge. However, you slid it back to him first.
“Didn’t poison it…” He said, picking at the plate to prove his point. You rarely witnessed his appetite outside of cigarettes and booze.
You nudged him as you extended your dangling leg. There was no thought behind the action, but the attention pulled him closer to hear your words. “And I should trust your word?”
With a sigh of your name, the food was forgotten—Tommy took the bait.
“I can’t do this anymore.” You shook your head softly, the action dizzying. Without his jacket, the skeleton of Tommy’s gun holster highlighted his frame. It made it easy to place him between your legs.
He just wanted, needed, you safe. “It’s only until things settle in—
“London.” You finished the repeated lie. “Why is that, Tommy?”
You wanted to hear his confession. You knew why people were after you; you were leverage against such an unbreakable man. However, they seemed to understand Tommy’s feelings better than you. He never said it aloud. It had been years, decades, of a mutual lure that purposefully avoided the judgment you held for Tommy’s decisions or actions, ones you never compromised with.
For him, you were it.
“Tom?” You prompted again. You could see his struggle to form an admission even in your state.
Tommy broke.
He caved into you, your lips meeting his hesitantly but meeting with a longed-for firmness. Each time he pulled away, he only returned with more tenderness—the breaks between lessened, and so did the distance between your chests.
You almost got lost in something you spent years yearning for. However, you moved slowly in the way you knew would distract him. With the first layer of his guard down, the leather straps of his gun holster caught on your fingertips as you trailed along his shoulders. His body was yours; his shudder proved so.
Yet, once you hit metal, Tommy’s laugh mocked your insincerity.
You expected your hands to tremble. You hoped they would see if you had any trace of regret in the action. However, it felt freeing to rest Tommy's gun just below his chin. In your hands, it grew warm, a transferable heat of anticipation waiting for its purpose only you could provide.
Tommy's grip on you remained firm at the hips, lips still ghosting your own as he turned your threat into his own. “Go on, then. I taught you well."
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meyousing · 1 year
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𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔, 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖔𝖗
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𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: you had been by yourself for most of your life. the idea of meeting a stranger who could change that for you only seemed like something that would happen in a romantic film, not in real life. you were pleasantly surprised at how real this could very well be.
𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘: chrollo x reader, yandere, implied kidnapping, brief nsfw, mentions of violence. all of this is below the cut.
You had become accustomed to living alone, having grown up under the care (or rather lack thereof) of your grandmother. Life with her was typical, albeit bland, since she hadn’t provided much more for you aside from the bare necessities; any type of relationship nonexistent. You moved out as soon as you turned 18, wanting to experience what else life could offer you outside of a place where every day began to feel the same, and ultimately blur together. Years had passed since then, you were able to find a job that was stable (keyword stable, not so enjoyable, due to it being a dreaded retail job), but you had not bothered to meet any new friends outside of casual coworkers, nor had you ventured into the dating world just yet, as you had grown used to disappointment with the boys you had met in your teens. Perhaps it was from your grandmother’s indirect neglect in your developmental years that made the idea of seeking out new relationships of any kind seem of no use to you. However, shifts at your usually drab retail job now felt worth attending, you suddenly looked forward to helping other people with their woes at your customer service desk. Something you regularly hated; now a joy, all because of someone in your life who had given you a new outlook. 
Your usual workday consisted of getting to work at 7:30am following a brief routine, packing away your personal belongings in your designated locker, and walking out to tend to the front desk of your supercentre. The place was a bit dead right now, New Years having just passed; the store now entering its “ghost months” since there was no urgent holiday coming up for everyone to buy items in bulk for. Contrary to the popular belief that these ghost months would be a relaxing time for you since the store was simply less busy, that was not true. If you had received a cent for the amount of customers who would come in and try to refund holiday decor that they pretended they hadn’t used (meanwhile you understood they were just being cheap, but couldn’t exactly say that to them) and was defective (how would they know this if they claimed not to have used it?), you could probably retire early. There was one day in particular where the amount of customers coming in to angrily try and refund a Christmas tree or New Years airhorns was absurd; your patience waning as your shift progressed. You began to expect that every customer walking over to you was about to tell you the same tale, to unload the same item onto your desk. It wasn’t until a few hours before the end of your shift that the masses began to die down and you finally felt like you could breathe again; that perhaps the last disgruntled man who exited the premises with tinsel banners falling out of his arms was actually the last of them. You had taken a moment to compose yourself and looked down to your phone, idly swiping up and down to see if you’d gotten any notifications in that time, hoping something would show up to distract the growing rage in your mind; when the sound of a customer clearing their throat brought you out of your phone-induced stupor. 
You hadn’t known that your first interaction with this customer would not be your last.
He was just so… normal? It was hard to pinpoint the right word. Right off the bat, he was different from most customers; you had gotten so used to the old, frazzled people demanding to speak to a manager before you could offer them any kind of solution; making your shoulders tense up and stay that way. This man, however, simply asked you for directions to somewhere else in the city. He walked up to your desk seemingly out of nowhere, you looked up at him and noted his appeal instantly; trying to not let that distract you from his question. Longer black hair slightly covered a cloth wrapped around his forehead, a black turtleneck hugging his muscular form covered slightly by a black trench coat. He told you that he had wanted to treat his coworkers to a nice dinner, since they were all staying in your city for some work-related purpose, yet he could not locate the restaurant he intended on taking them to. His charismatic speech made what would have otherwise been a quick, short conversation into something that nearly got you in trouble with your managers for “slacking”; not even realizing you’d spent half an hour chatting away with the man. He had initially leaned into the counter and asked for your opinion on the restaurant, his attentiveness to your thoughts about something as trivial as a local diner’s greasy food making your cheeks heat up (even the tone of voice he had when asking; smooth and kind). From there the conversation continued, until that half hour ended with him sheepishly apologizing to your irritated manager and asking you for your phone number, to keep chatting at a more convenient time. Your hand was a bit shaky while you wrote it down for him on a sticky note, even signing it with your name and adding a cheeky little heart in the corner–his charm seemed to have rubbed off on you, giving you the confidence to add the little detail. His fingers brushed against yours as you handed it to him, exchanging smiles, with his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer, before he exited the premises. 
With that meeting as your first–despite the captivating aura he possessed–he hadn’t even really set a high standard in your head just yet; perhaps due to you always being disappointed by past men who would seem too good to be true, just like this, but then eventually reveal their true intentions, and how they were directed to your body instead of you. Yet this man seemed to check every box; he was not too good to be true. 
 Your first date brought you both to a cafe, and you could recall the weather that day being quite dreary.You’d ordered a chai tea to keep yourself warm, the rain that pattered against the window at the side of your booth being easily tuned out by your heart-to-heart with the man who had introduced himself to you as Chrollo. 
“Did your work dinner go well?” you asked, fingers clasped around your mug as you brought it to your lips. The heat of the tea warmed your insides, giving you that “warm and fuzzy” feeling, though you were certain that the sensation was coming from a different source.
Chrollo smiled at you. “It was… alright. I should have expected nothing more from a diner, I figured that your description of the place as greasy was meant for the restaurant, not the food.” He then made a minorly disgusted expression as he reminisced, making you giggle, which was followed by his own fond chuckle at your reaction. 
“A greasy restaurant? Like what, the workers or something?”
“I guess so… I don’t know. I guess I was just so entranced by you last we spoke that I wasn’t thinking straight” he rubbed his neck bashfully. You couldn’t help but try to hide your face in your hand, cheeks lighting up at his words. 
“There’s no need to be such a sweet talker” you chuckled shyly, not missing how his face softened even further at the sight of you becoming so flustered so easily. Something flashed in his eyes then, something you took as mutual infatuation. His hand reached towards the one you had covering your cheek, bringing it down to the table and holding it there briefly. He slowly raised it to his lips, kissing your knuckles while maintaining eye contact. If his words were enough to have you a ruffled mess, his actions caused that tenfold. You were certain that your entire head was fuming red by now, his actions rendering you speechless. He lowered your hand again, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.
“If you find the truth in my words to be sweet talking, I’m delighted to make you feel that way.”
That date led to many more, and after about a month and a half you two had agreed upon exclusivity; a relationship. At first, you hadn’t expected anything this serious to ever come of your whirlwind romance, especially since your first-ever conversation with him implied to you that he was not from your city, and that he was only visiting for a time. As you got to know him further, he explained to you that while it was difficult for him to let you know exactly what he does for work, he and his employees travelled for it all of the time by his call, and he had decided that after meeting you, this city was where he wanted to stay. You were more than happy to let him reside with you in your apartment, and he accepted your offer with utmost gratitude (he still expresses thanks to you to this day). Knowing that it was convenient for him to continue his life and job as normal, while deciding to be with you, made your heart swell with a sort-of pride, you were absolutely enamoured. Nobody had ever made such a grave decision for you before, and that wasn’t his only one. He was utterly devoted to you, being with Chrollo was like being with a prince you could have only ever imagined being present in a fairytale. It made you feel as though holding off on relationships for most of your life was worth it, that divine timing had given you your person right when it was supposed to happen. 
 There had been one too many dates when he decided to unexpectedly bring you gifts, usually a piece of jewellery that you knew had to be more expensive than what could account for months worth of rent for your apartment. You were still unsure of his exact job by now, but you knew his wage must have been extremely high to be able to afford these things for you. You almost felt guilty for not being able to return the favour with anything of the same calibre, yet he insisted that your love was more than enough–or as he said in particular; more than he deserved. He always pampered you, offering you a massage or running you a bath if you had a particularly rough day at work; though knowing that you’d come home to him and that alluring smile made rougher work days slowly become a thing of the past, your anticipation of seeing your lover again outweighing any anxiety or frustration that your job would try to inflict upon you. He was always attentive to your needs, making food for you that he knew you preferred, and ensuring to correct it (or send it back, depending on the circumstances) if it wasn’t to your liking. He was also attentive to your other needs, giving you whatever you wanted whenever you wanted it, while being respectful of any boundaries you set. He was the closest thing that you could ever compare to perfect. And it was because of his respect for you, that you had never questioned something that has burned itself into your curiosity, you tended to wonder about it all the time; why did he always wear that makeshift bandana around his forehead? you had never seen him without it. Although, plenty of people had one particular fashion staple in most of their outfits, so you’d left your curiosities at that. You couldn’t deny that it looked really good on him anyways.
Your whine was stifled by Chrollo’s lips as he lifted his chest off of yours, resting on his elbows as he pulled his softening cock out of  you. He broke the kiss to sit back fully, you instantly missing the warmth of his body and reaching out for him. He chuckled hoarsely, linking his fingers with yours. 
“I’ll be back in a minute, okay? I’m just going to get a cloth for you.” You nodded when he squeezed your hand tenderly before feeling his weight leave the bed. It was a bit late into the night, late enough for it to be completely black outside; the only visibility coming from the street lights that illuminated a small area of your bedroom, the silhouette of falling snow making you feel serene. You watched through your eyelashes as Chrollo walked to the bathroom, observing how he leisurely turned on the light, wrapped his black bath robe around himself, and grabbed a small wash cloth. Your eyes drifted closed as your body continued to come down from the high you had just felt, listening to Chrollo turn on the tap, feeling relaxed by the sound of running water. Chrollo wet the material with warm water as he had done for you in the past, and you could hear him sauntering back to you after the tap was turned off and the cloth was wrung out, lightly tapping you on the thigh to get your attention. You had subconsciously closed your legs while waiting for him, now parting them slightly and feeling Chrollo’s cum seep out of you, making a lewd chill run across your body at the sensation. He always knew just how to make love to you; leaving you so pleasantly exhausted right after climaxing that you had to fight to stay awake. Chrollo always let you rest, but he insisted on cleaning and caring for you first so you could fall asleep comfortably. Your eyes squinted open as he wiped you off, watching him as he focused on ensuring your comfort. As your once sweaty body began to dry, and the cold weather started to make itself familiar to you again, goosebumps rose all across your body. This went slightly unnoticed by Chrollo when he stood and turned to dispose of the rag. You shivered and reached out to halt him, hand wrapped loosely around his wrist and catching his attention as he looked back to you curiously. 
“Cold” you complained with a quiet tone, voice a bit shaky as another chill rattled your body when you spoke. Chrollo grinned sympathetically at you, leaning forward and placing a kiss on your forehead, the warmth of his lips bringing you comfort. “Let me get you something to wear, then we’ll sleep.”
You relented and released his arm with a nod, arms coming over your chest so you could rub your arms and try to heat up, though Chrollo never kept you waiting for long whenever you needed something. He walked away once again and your eyes had fluttered shut from fatigue while you waited, the idea of sleep beginning to seduce you more and more. You noted Chrollo’s return as you felt him guide your arms above your head, helping you into one of his long sleeved tops (you could tell it was his from the lingering scent of his cologne near the neckline as it went over your nose). Then he slid a pair of boyshort panties up your legs, making sure the waistband hung on a comfortable spot along your hips before squeezing them sweetly and joining you on the bed once again. You let your eyes strain open one last time so you could follow his movements and slot yourself against his side, head on his chest and leg hiked over his torso as he laid on his back against the pillows. He lifted a heavy blanket over top of yourselves, arms coming together around your body to hold you even closer.
“We’ll have to get a new heater for you, love. You’re freezing now, and I thought I had warmed you up quite well” he murmured with a soft chuckle as his hand moved to stroke along your thigh, watching the bumps raise as his chilly fingers trailed along your skin. 
“I didn’t even know it was on. Didn’t think it was that bad” you muttered, lips squished against his torso slurring your speech. Chrollo smiled at your response, and one of his hands left you to reach at the night table, your ears perking up to the swish of pages from a book as he brought it to his side. You knew he had planned to read and write for a bit, something you didn’t need to open your eyes to know about since he did it almost every night. 
“I’ll write it down here so we don’t forget.” You then heard scribbles of the small pen that he kept like a bookmark inside of the journal. You intended to at least nod in acknowledgement to what he said, but sleep was starting to welcome you with open arms, and you had trouble resisting. Chrollo could tell that you had fallen asleep by the slowness in your breathing, only bringing a hand up to caress your hair to lull you deeper. 
Typically, your sleep after sex with Chrollo was solid, and you were a considerably heavy sleeper during, though for some reason tonight was different. Perhaps it was due to the cold winter air, but when you awoke, you didn’t feel as cold anymore, your body seemed to have equalized its temperature from the combination of the blanket and Chrollo’s body heat as you slept. Instead, your attention was caught by a sound; a soft buzzing that rang out every other second from somewhere distant in the bedroom. You slowly opened your eyes, and in your fatigue-induced delirium, had not realized that Chrollo was not against you anymore. More specifically; he was no longer in bed, or the room. This alerted you slightly and you looked around, noticing that nothing in the room seemed out of the ordinary aside from his missing presence. That was until you saw his phone resting on top of his book, which had been placed neatly back onto the night stand. The screen was lit up in the darkness, vibrating as if he were getting a call. It was hard to see what was on the screen from your distance, your eyes still a bit foggy, so you began to inch closer to it. Normally, you would never think about invading someone’s privacy like this; especially Chrollo’s, but him not being around confused and concerned you. Not to mention how odd it was for something like this to wake you up, the phone must have been ringing nonstop for minutes for it to have had this much of an impact on your consciousness. 
Hesitantly, you rubbed the remaining sleep away from your eyes before crawling over to Chrollo’s side of the bed, slowly grabbing at his phone just as it stopped vibrating. The trembling completely stopped once the device was in your grasp, making no sense to you, since you hadn’t hit any buttons yet. You blinked a few times, the sudden brightness of the screen in an otherwise pitch black room made your eyes burn for a moment. Once your vision adjusted, you saw the time across the top of Chrollo’s wallpaper (a photo of you from a picnic you’d had weeks prior), it said 3:45–meaning it had been nearly 4 hours since you had fallen asleep. The rest of the phone showed just one, untitled notification that took up the rest of the screen:
Look up.
A chill ran down your spine, the notification filling you with unreasonable dread. Phones usually did not ring at the rate that his was unless it were from a caller instead of a texter, and if this had been a genuine text message; it would have been from a contact, and would not be taking up the entire surface of the phone. This felt fabricated, like it was purposeful and meant to be seen by you specifically. Again, you began to feel a bit unreasonable as you sat there, hunched over with your muscles still, neck craned down to the hand in your lap where the phone screen began to dim from not being touched. How pathetic, feeling so startled, just from an unusual phone notification. In the grand scheme of the situation, this was not as unnerving as being alone right now. After rationalizing the odd appearance of Chrollo’s phone, you instead began thinking about a disappearance that was certainly much more important right now…where was he this late at night?
“You’re usually more compliant than that.”
Chrollo’s voice came out of nowhere and you couldn’t help but jolt in surprise, head turning to the bedroom door which you hadn’t realized was wide open this entire time. Because of the darkness, the entire hallway was merely a shadow; you couldn’t see anything. But you knew that his voice had come from there.
“Chrollo?”
“At least, you tend to comply a lot faster than you did just now. If I hadn’t intervened, would you have looked up at all?”
You knitted your eyebrows in confusion, unable to say anything in response to this. What was he doing? You wanted to ask him exactly that, but his emergence from the darkness caught you off guard. He looked… different.
Despite only being illuminated on one side by the street light outside that shone dimly into your bedroom, you saw that his usually shaggy hair was slicked back and off of his forehead, and he wore an outfit you had never seen before. Shirtless, but his fair skin was somewhat covered by a grand coat that lined his neck with fur and ran down to his ankles. He had pants on that could have matched the dark colour of his coat, but you couldn’t see the tone that well in the shade of the room. Though, what was most notable of this sudden appearance change, was the lack of cloth around his head. 
You suddenly felt much more awake, eyes shooting up to his forehead and spotting a tattoo that resembled a type-of cross in the centre of it. Your distance from him in the dimness made it hard to fully see in detail, but something about what you could see made you think that this tattoo was heavily symbolic for him. Why else would he have hid it from the public for so long, even hiding it from you this far into your relationship? Your relationship with Chrollo was most stably built upon respect, yet you were unable to stop yourself from immediately asking him exactly what you had been thinking, tone coming out a lot sharper than you had intended:
“Why would you hide that from me for so long?” You had instantly regretted it. He had not reacted right away, nor did he say anything for a moment. Assuming this was because of your suddenness–asking something that truthfully was not your place to ask, especially in that tone–you took your bottom lip between your teeth and gnawed on it nervously; not wanting to say anything else just yet so as to not worsen what damage you’d already inflicted. You hadn’t used a tone like that with him thus far, feeling a little bit guilty despite how obviously it was accidental. But then to your confusion, Chrollo chuckled, beginning a stride into the room, towards you. 
“I had to wait until the time was right. You know, a lot of planning had to be done the moment that I picked you. I knew I made the right decision on our first outing together. Everything just had to be done slowly, on the right schedule, but now that most of it has been finalized, I feel that we’re ready.”
His words confused you entirely. He had unloaded too much information at once, your brain completely frazzled by his words.
“What are you talking about?”
Chrollo’s lips pursed then broke into a grin, you hadn’t noticed how quickly he managed to walk over and stand directly in front of you until he was right there, his legs pressing against the edge of the bed as his hands raised to rest in his pockets. You backed off slightly, deciding to keep some distance between you both until the situation started to make more sense. From his new look, to the unusual tone in his words and manner of speech, you felt less comfortable being so close to him. Something was not right with him, you couldn’t tell how serious he was being right now. Was he in the mood for some late night prank?
“My naive little (y/n). You’re just…so perfect for me.” He tilted his head slightly, watching your defensive form with endearment in his eyes. Your knees have been brought to your chest, a hand holding onto one while the other holds you up and off of the pillows. 
“You’ll be coming with me from now on, it’s time to leave this place.” He said this with finality, and his voice made it so that; had he said something less irrational, you almost wouldn’t have questioned it, but when his words registered in your brain you had to. 
“What? Chrollo, if you want to move we can talk about it. Maybe at a different time, like over dinner or something…not in the middle of the night.” Okay, so if this wasn’t some sort of prank and instead just his proposition to move out with you…why did he decide to do this right now? why could he not have waited until the morning to ask you this…you were tired! Yet Chrollo’s expression unnerved you as he smiled in a way that would have usually made you blush, had the circumstances been different.
“You really are adorable. Come here.”
He kneeled onto the bed, sitting on the side opposite of you while extending his hand. You still felt uneasy about this, the vagueness of what he was telling you left you with more questions than any kind of answers. For the sake of getting to the bottom of what he was doing, what was going on, you took your time as you scooted closer to him, placing your hand flat on top of his palm. He then placed his other hand on top of yours, effectively trapping it between both of his. His grip wasn’t painful or anything, but you knew that it would take some effort to get out of it without him just letting you go. You usually would never consider taking your hands away from him, yet you felt the need to be guarded right now.
“Have we ever talked about the Phantom Troupe?”
He looked right into your eyes as he waited for your answer. You shook your head no, and were not looking forward to wherever this conversation was going. You knew of the phantom troupe and what they do; what they’ve done. What’s with bringing this up out of nowhere? You two never talked about such obscure topics, he knew how you felt about injustices. Bringing up a group that embodies the word was something you hadn’t expected him to do.
“A pity. But I suppose it’s never too late.”
His grip tightened on your hand then. The squeeze was so hard, it now ensured that your hand was stuck where it was; you were connected to him until he allowed you to be let go.
“Chrollo, my hand–” you whimpered.
“You’ve always been alone. You’re an outcast, just like the rest of us.”
Ouch. Naturally with being in a relationship, you’d spoken to him about many personal woes, especially your lack of a real family, your lack of genuine, close friends. You always told him how much joy it brought you to finally be able to go on outings with someone who meant the world to you, and you to them–that someone being Chrollo. Your throat started to swell and your eyes watered. An outcast? He had never spoken to you this way before, insecurity plagued you.
“Why…would you say that to me?”
“Because it’s what makes you so perfect. It was fate that brought us together, (y/n). Now that we’re established, it’s time you hear the truth and continue your life the way it was meant to be lived.” His hand on top of yours rubbed along the side of your wrist soothingly.
“It doesn’t have to be an official inauguration, but I’d like for you to join me and the rest of the spiders.”
He barely gave you any time to fathom the weight of that sentence before he continued.
“I truly do love you, (y/n). I wouldn’t have stayed in one place for such a long time if not for you. It posed a bit of a risk at points, trying to operate in such a small town for longer than the duration of our initial mission. But this era has reached its end, it’s time to go home.”
He stopped talking then, allowing silence to fall, to let his words linger for a bit. Your eyes slowly panned down and away from him as you stared off blankly, yet your mind raced at a mile a minute. Your boyfriend…your angelic, loving and devoted boyfriend, was a member of the phantom troupe. By that same logic, he was a criminal, with a Class-A bounty on his head. And now, he wanted you to come with him as he continued his rampage in other places of the world. Your heart thrummed rapidly, ears ringing and chest beginning to heave laboured breaths as the reality of this situation truly dawned on you. Chrollo, who you had been vulnerable with, showed tender parts of your heart and body, was a lie. He was not who he claimed to be, yet you had been so utterly fooled. Naive, like he said you were. 
You were certain that he could feel your hand beginning to clam up, and you started to drag it out of his grasp. As expected, his grip had not let up just yet, your effort futile. You imagined that maybe if you expressed your want to be let go, he would. Forcing yourself to meet his eyes, you hated how different they looked. Eyes that were usually tender and loving, or so you thought–maybe they never truly were tender or loving–now looked much darker. Narrowed, sharp and focused right on you. He still seemed so definitive in his words, in his decision to “bring you home,” wherever that may be. 
“I…” you started, your throat dry and making the syllable sound more like a crack in your voice. You swallowed hard then cleared your throat, not wanting to have to repeat yourself once you had said what you planned to say, since you were beginning to feel ill. You hadn’t noticed that your eyes had shut immediately after catching sight of his stare, in a subconscious way to cower away from the intensity of it. You forced yourself to be brave and stare back right back at him once again, though anyone else with eyes could tell your bravery was a front. 
“I…will not be going with you. That lifestyle is not for m–”
“Of course you would think that you have a choice” he cut you off and chortled, despite his tone being humourless, almost disappointed. You didn’t like the sound of it. “It was cute of you to think so. You don’t need to partake in the lifestyle, but you’ll be at my side no matter where we spiders go.” 
Your eyebrows furrowed, and panic began to seep in. You really did not want any part of this anymore, and you started pulling away from his hold even harder now. The finality of his words made you anxious, your once watery eyes now fully shedding tears. You thrashed back and dug your feet into the mattress, exerting as much strength as possible into getting away from him. If you blinked you would have missed it; Chrollo smirking from the corner of where your eyes were focused on your interlocked hands, before he slightly loosened his grip. With the amount of power being put into your squirming, it caused you to fly against the pillows and land on your back away from him, skull having been inches away from hitting the headboard. He was on top of you in an instant, and you immediately recoiled and tried to wiggle away from him, but he had managed to pin down your limbs. 
“Chrollo, please don’t make me go with you, I’m happy here! I’ll keep your secret, if you just leave me behind, I promise–” He leaned closer to you as you became hysterical, the unexpected proximity making you panic as you hiccuped, trying so desperately to wriggle out from under him and just run. “I’m used to being alone like you said, you can leave me here, I won’t hold it against you!” you sobbed.
“Don’t cry, my love.” He brought up his hand to thumb at the tears dripping down your cheek, and you despised how quickly the feeling of his palm against your face managed to calm your hysterics down–as if none of this had actually happened–that the man caressing your face was indeed the same Chrollo you knew and fell in love with. But his appearance alone helped you to know better; that tattoo now becoming his most prominent feature as he stared down at you. Your body stilled for the most part, aside from the rise and fall of your chest in quick succession, as well as your quiet cries.
“I’m begging you…” you whispered, sniffling and taking a deep breath to try and regulate it. The look on Chrollo’s face could almost be described as sympathetic, eyebrows meeting sadly as his hand pressed further into your cheek. But you were starting to know better. 
“I know that you’ve been alone for your entire life.” He began to speak, his hand slowly sliding down from your cheek and closer to your neck. The change in placement made you whimper; this being an action he’d done to you in the past that you had learned to associate with pleasure, but now filled you with dread.
Before you could say anything else, not even a second had passed, and suddenly there was a horrible sensation in your throat, like you had been punched. You groaned, and it should have been audible, yet you couldn’t make a sound–your vocal chords had somehow been struck. Your eyes widened in fear and confusion as you tried to make a noise, anything at all, only to remain silent. What just happened?
Your pain made it so that you had barely noticed how Chrollo’s hand seemed to have moved positions within that time–not quite in the same spot as it was before–it was a bit lower on your neck now and closer to your collarbones. His fingers wrapped against the side of your neck, his thumb rubbing along your throat. He wore a much too prideful smile, and it was in that moment that you realized what kind of power Chrollo had secretly been capable of; what he had over you. No matter what you wanted, if it was different from what he desired, there would be nothing you could do. 
He leaned even closer to you, hand starting to squeeze around your throat painfully as your eyes screwed shut. He dug his thumb hard into the side of your trachea, forcing your eyes wide open as pain cramped under the pressure of his hand. Your vision began to strain, periphery darkening. His nose brushed against yours as he murmured his next words, which you almost missed as reality began to black out around you. 
“I promise, you’ll never be alone again.”
© meyousing 2022. do not share/export my work on to any other platforms. do not translate my work. 
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heartfullofleeches · 10 months
Text
There once was a witch.
Yandere Candy Folk + G.N Sweets Witch Reader Teaser
An: A taste of what was meant to be a blurb, but became more. Hope it peaks your interest and I'd love to hear theories on where you might think the plot will go
-
There once was a witch.
The first of her kind.
"A candy witch? What a ridiculous idea!" She was quick to disagree.
"It is my magic. If I can't do for me first, I haven't the heart nor time to do a thing for others."
Her mother had been the town doctor with her healing magic, and her mother's mother nurtured the barren lands they founded their village upon. Her mentors encouraged her spirit - cautioning to keep her roots close to heart. The young witch had not a care for their warnings nor the people around her. Her goals and ambitions were met much closer to home right - in the pit of her stomach. The girl found even great tragedy could become the sweetest delight with the right confectionery. A spoonful of sugar a day kept most of her troubles away. Outside of home, she was mocked and ridiculed for her dreams. How selfish and cruel was she to use her birthrights for her own agenda. Without her, the town would be left unprotected. As the day of her ascension to power drew near, the kind eyes and faces around her turned scornful. The witch wore a brave face, but she did not have the same guise to protect her behind closed doors. She cried through every spoonful.
Had it not been for that one person, she would've given up on everything.
"My birthday is the day after your coronation. If you do become a sweets witch like you say, would you make the cake?"
That person gave her a tooth ache no amount of her mother's magic could cure. Everything she ate hours after their meeting tasted bland and bitter. Nothing in her entire pantry could be sweeter than that smile. They were the child of the town baker who saved a loaf of sweet bread for her every week, and her first and only friend. Against her own word, she acted from the kindest of her heart and did as they pleaded. The cake was an extravagant piece; nearly twice the size of banquet table it stood upon and tiered with every flavor she could think of. The light in their eyes was brighter than the flames all six dozen chocolate candies held. The witch's fingers were in her mouth more than her fork as she had to make sure her teeth had rotted and fallen out. Her family had always given her praise, but that silent display of gratitude and wonder opened her heart. She wanted to see that expression more - on their face and beyond. She would come a witch for the mass, like every witch in her family before her.
The newly appointed candy witch became an apprentice not at her mother's clinic, but the baker's kitchen. The two youths were inseparable with the time they spent as one. They swore to run the shop together when the mantle was passed down. Balancing magic and her culinary skills, the witch uncovered numerous feats in her time. In doing so, she learned she had the influence from any element of craft - so long as they were baked into her treats. She infused healing magic into her scones, created truffles that turned hair the same color as their filling. She built a house for her and her friend to live made out of gingerbread and sugar glass. Everyone was happy.
Too happy.
The town's people demanded more than she had already gave. They wanted sweets that could increase their wealth or assure their hand in marriage. The witch began to double back on her old beliefs. Being wed was a necessity as food and shelter were. She hadn't confessed to her true love yet either - so why should others get what she hadn't the guts to? They grew angry, she locked herself away in her home - unaware that her sweet friend was the new outlet for their fury. They ran the store and stocked it's shelves with her treats all by themselves; returning home with a smile and hidden wrists. The witch knew something was off, but she never bothered to ask as their smile was still as sweet as it was the day they met. She never questioned a thing - until it was too late.
Left all alone in a place that reminds her of what she lost at every turn, and people so uncaring of her grief and pain - the witch went mad. These savages acted as if they cared, reassuring her her love would return while holding out a hand for their reward. Selfish. Greedy. Demanding... Murders. If they hadn't asked for so much, her friend never would have tried to become a witch on their own to help their community. A task proved too taxing on their untrained body. The witch could not help those deep in the hell of their own making. She still longed to make others happy, but her talents were wasted on these dreaded husks known as humans. She would create her own town - with people made of the treats of her youth. They would never take her for granted and they would never die - the only securities she needed. The witch would clear out the entire town and make room for her and her candy companions were they would love the rest of their days in eternal peace. What the witch didn't know...
Was that they'd betray her worst of all.
-
The bell chimes above a confection shop's door. Wiping sweat from their brow with their forearm, a figure curses beneath their breath; hunched over a lit stove.
"Shoot..... Just a minute!"
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simplyfandomish · 2 months
Text
Imagine you’re an Earthbender
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Simplyfandomish Masterlist
word count: 779 warnings: None! Named Reader?? But it’s for plot purposes🤐🤐
note: this will possibly become a very short series because I love ATLA but don’t got the time nor enters to make a full story😅 so definitely expect more parts to come!!👀👀
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Aang was ecstatic to be reunited with his old childhood best friend. Of course, he was! Bumi was quite literally one of the four things that connected Aang to his previous life before being consumed by an iceberg 112 years ago; Next to Appa, Momo, and his airbending of course. 
Tears collected in both of their eyes as Aang and Bumi wrapped their arms tight around one another - Finally reunited after a century. Bumi knew all those years of chugging down onion-banana juice every morning was a genius idea! 
However, the happy moment was interrupted when an Omashu guard rushed into the throne room. “Your Highness!” 
Bumi and Aang parted from their embrace. “Yes, yes, what is it?” Bumi asked. 
The guard seemed hesitant, “We finally received news on the whereabouts of Princess Serenity.”
“ ‘Princess’?? You had kids??” Aang was both surprised and stunned. Bumim never really seemed like the family man type. Sokka and Katara were surprised that such a crazy man was even able to reproduce! They wondered if his lineage was just as kooky as he was. 
“I did, but Serenity is not my granddaughter by blood. We kind of… adopted each other a while back.” Bumi’s voice grew soft as he spoke of Serenity. His eyes hardened slightly, “Where is she?”
“She’s been captured by a Fire Nation fleet near a mining village by the Mo Ce Sea shoreline.” 
Aang and Katara gasped; Sokka gritted his teeth. 
“How long ago?”
“Just this morning. An Earth Kingdom scout heard some Fire Nation soldiers boasting about ‘hunting the last Lion Turtle’. We believe she’s been transported to the Mo Ce Sea prison rig under the control of Warden Takei.”
Bumi stroked his long white beard in thought. “Hmm. I’ve heard Warden Takei is one of the more ruthless wardens of the lot.”
“What should we do, Your Highness?” The guard asked again.
“We can go and rescue her!” Aang proclaimed. 
Bumi smiled and rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I appreciate your efforts, Aang, but I have faith in my granddaughter.” He began to erupt into laughter, “Besides I feel bad for those Fire Nation weasels! They have to deal with her!” He snorted so hard his nose hurt. 
Aang, Sokka, Katara, and even the guard shared concerned and confused looks. 
“But Your Highness, this is Omahu’s Regent we’re talking about.” The guard tried to explain. Bui cut him off, “And I taught her everything she knows. Of course, I’m worried for her, but she’s a smart girl. She’ll escape from underneath their noses as she did the other seven times.” He shrugged, beaming at Serenity’s impressive track record. 
“ ‘Seven times’?!” The Gaang gasped. 
“Yes, yes, she’s trying to break an old friend’s record of escaping thirteen times! Ambitious my granddaughter is!” Bumi chuckled and snorted again. 
The Gaang and the guard didn’t seem too convinced…
“I can not wait to send the news to Fire Lord Ozai that I have captured the Last Mighty Lion Turtle!” Warden Takei’s grin fell into a snarl, “What a stupid name that is! And to think she’s just a young girl!” The warden cackled, his laughter echoing throughout the prison rig’s metal structure.
Serenity smirked as she stared up at the air duct above her. 
As soon as she was escorted onto the prison rig in the middle of the Mo Ce Sea, she was thrown into solitary confinement deep in the belly of the large metal monstrosity. She was dressed in bland red prison garb instead of her usual bright green and gold wide-sleeved blouses and loose pants and her hair was down, flat, boring without its loops and hair accessories. 
Taunted by the warden and the guards that she had no way to escape, that her days of resisting Fire Nation rule were finished, and that she was to be shipped off to the Fire Lord’s Palace within two days time when the next shipment of supplies came in.  
Serenity stayed quiet through the tauntings. She was used to it and even grew annoyed; She had heard the same spiel from several other wardens, the same taunts and jeers from other guards, and had been promised seven times that she would be meeting Fire Lord Ozai. 
Serenity snickered as she plopped down on the cold prison floor and stretched her legs. “After seven times, you think they’d learn that they can’t contain me~” She chuckled, and a small snort came from her crinkled nose. “And eight is my lucky number!”
At least the Fire Nation was kind enough to leave her necklace and bracelets alone... 
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dira333 · 9 months
Text
Through the eyes of others - Sasuke x reader
part three - 7297 words (I got a bit carried away) - there’s some angst in there, beware. Also pushing rare ships in here that I once read about and fell in love with.
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Kakashi likes to take credit for being the first one to notice. Yamato doesn’t care. 
Because while he wasn’t the one insisting that the Fox should stay in rotation for the whole time Sasuke was supposed to be tailed, he was the one calling her name when it was time to pick the members.
Kakashi hadn’t known her like he did, when he signed that mission. Hadn’t seen how perceptive she was to the pain of others. Maybe he didn’t even believe the extent of her talent when he gave the okay, like most people didn’t. As the Hokage and as a fellow Sharingan User he probably knew what they all knew - they needed someone good to follow him.
And the fox did not disappoint. Neither in her thorough work nor in the way her heart caught on his, like a loose thread likes to find the one nail jutting out of a doorway. 
-
Ino liked to call it her sixth sense, but it was probably just dumb luck that she spotted them. 
She was looking for Sai, originally, believing that he’d walk down the street any minute, coming back from his mission and seeing her in her prettiest outfit yet. She’d believed the same yesterday and the day before but today she’d be right.
The light caught in inkblack hair and she startled, moving to pose as naturally as she could while keeping an eye on him - only to realize that it wasn’t Sai walking towards her, but Sasuke.
And he was laughing.
Well, as much of a laugh you could usually get out of him. She’d never seen him belt out a laugh like Chouji could or howl in laughter like Kiba liked to do, but she’d seen him snicker or cough to cover what must have been a laugh in the first place.
She stepped aside, eager to investigate but less eager to be spotted. Who was he talking too?
At first it seemed like he was talking to air but then she noticed the woman walking next to him. She was a Shinobi, that was clearly visible even when she tried to cover it with a hideous Kimono in a terrible colour mix of bright orange and muddy green. Her face was bland enough that it could be forgotten immediately and her hair didn’t stand out either. But her hand, that Ino saw clearly, her left hand was curled around Sasuke’s elbow in a way she’d never seen someone touch him before.
Huh, that was interesting.
“Ino.” Sai’s voice so close to her ear startled her from her inquiries. 
“Sai.” She breathed out his name and nodded in the direction she had been staring. “Do you know her?”
“Oh.” He nodded, surprisingly. “Not her name, though. But she’s the Fox. She was part of Sasuke’s tail with me.”
“What’s she doing with him?”
“Maybe they’ve become friends?” He asked and blinked at her like he was trying to tell her something. “Like us?”
“Friends don’t hold onto each other like that.” She told him as she did, in fact, put her hand right where the girls had been. Well, on Sai’s arm, to be correct. It felt good to hold onto him, almost as good as it would feel to hold his hand, but it was daytime and they were Shinobi and she knew he hated it when he didn’t have both hands free to fight at any given moment.
He smiled instead of answering but with Sai that was one and the same.
-
“Sasuke? Dating someone?” Sakura looked perplexed for a moment before she nodded to herself. 
“Now that you’re asking me, I do remember him mentioning something when we brought up the possibility of a prosthetic arm.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Ino’s voice was both annoyed and excited. 
“There wasn’t much to tell.” Sakura neatly folded another bandage and put it away. “He mentioned he wanted to talk to someone about it and when I asked who that was, he mumbled something that sounded like girlfriend. And when I asked about that, he shut down and told me she did not see him that way.”
“Well, she was seeing him that way very much today. And Sai told me she’s Anbu, she was with him on the group that tailed Sasuke.”
“You don’t think he was flirting with her just so she would hide something shady?” Sakura bristles and Ino shrinks a little into herself.
“You don’t think that-”
“No, I don’t.” Sakura cuts her off. “Honestly I thought he wanted to talk to Naruto about the arm, because he’s already got one and maybe he doesn’t want one but doesn’t want to disappoint his best friend? Boys can be stupid like that. It’s none of our business if he’s dating anyone anyway if he wants to tell us, he will.”
“So you’re totally fine with that? You’re not jealous.”
Sakura could feel herself blush but not for the reasons Ino was probably thinking.
She hadn’t been thinking about Sasuke like that in a long time. He hadn’t been around when she was lonely or made her laugh when she was sad and while she recognized him as her friend and her teammate, he’d also grown into something like a brother and she wasn’t into undoing that change.
“There’s someone else I’m interested in.” She said instead, pointedly, to get Ino of Sasuke’s tail. It worked. Now she only needed to tell Kiba about that before Ino ran her mouth and his mother found out about it before he had the chance to tell her herself.
-
Surprisingly, she met Sasuke on her way back home. It was warm out and she took the longer route, taking her sweet time through the market to gaze at the goods still up for sale. 
She might have missed him, had he not stepped away for a moment to hold something up to the sun to glare at it. Sunlight caught in his hair and she’d know that haircut anywhere.
“Sasuke.” She called out his name and watched him hastily put back whatever he had held in his hands.
“Sakura.” He greeted her calmly. “Are you on your way home?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “How have you been? Haven’t seen you since the celebration and that was almost two weeks ago. Naruto’s keeping you busy?”
“I’m fine. I do train with Naruto three times a week but I’ve also been able to go on small missions.” He gifts her a little smirk. “Saving a cat from the tree and things like that.”
She laughs in memory of their Genin-missions but moves back to the topic at hand.
“Did you get the chance to think about the arm? Genin-missions are one thing but you might want one when you move to Chunin Level.”
Instead of answering, he stretches out his arm, his hand pointed to the side. It’s a weird gesture and Sakura stares at it, her mouth to slow to ask before someone steps out from the shadows.
She’s wearing a standard Shinobi outfit but Sakura doesn’t have to spot the Anbu Tattoo to know who she is, her Chakra Signature is something else. But then she walks the short distance between them and links her hand with Sasuke’s and Sakura knows exactly who she is.
“Hi.” Sakura smiles at her, trying to look the least bit nosy. “I’m Sakura.”
“I know.” The woman doesn’t smile, doesn’t offer her name and for a moment there’s an awkward silence between them until Sasuke squeezes her hand, the movement so tiny, Sakura could have missed it.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is smooth and soothing as she speaks and Sakura can’t help but think that any man would be a fool not to fall for that. “I think I just got a bit jealous right there.”
Sakura laughs, startled by her honesty and even more amused at the thought.
“God no, you can have him. Now that I have you here, are you guys free on Sunday? We could do a double date then.”
There’s another squeeze of hands between them but this time it’s her hand that squeezes his and Sasuke nods awkwardly.
“We will see.” He tells her. “Depends on the mission roster.”
She doesn’t put much hope on seeing them there, realizing that Sasuke managed to pick a partner that’s just as much an introvert as he is. 
But she still can’t help herself and leans forward with a wink as she makes to leave.
“Just so you know, Sasuke. I’d take the earrings you just put away. They will look lovely with her eyes.”
-
Hinata is pretty sure that she’s gotten the time right, but as she reaches the training field, Naruto’s already there. 
“I-I hope I-I’m not late.”
“No, Sasuke left a bit early, he wants to pick someone up before.”
“O-Oh.” She didn’t know Sasuke would be there. She’s still a bit unsure around him, his usual mode of quiet observation reminding her too much of her father to be comfortable. She tries to see him the way she sees Shino, but so far he hasn’t proven to be as awkward as her teammate.
“H-How was your day?”
She blinks in surprise. In all her life, she hasn’t heard Naruto stutter once. They’ve been spending more time together lately, training or talking or sitting together when she’s made some food for him that isn’t Ramen, so this isn’t different, is it? Just going out to eat with him after training.
He smiles almost sheepishly, rubbing his neck in the way he always does when he’s ready to admit something embarassing.
“Ah, Hinata-chan, I have to tell you… Well, Sasuke told me to get myself togeth- No, I mean.” He takes a breathe and laughs, wide and open like she knows him, before he turns and throws her one of those smiles that make her knees all wobbly.
“Sasuke said he’s dating something and it’s serious and I should get my shit together and admit that I like you too. Like, really really much and I…” He’s started fast and loud but his voice drops down now as his fingertips touch hers as if he’s trying to take her hand.
“I’d like to take you out on a date. We’ll have fun, I promise.”
She nods, unable to say anything, not trusting her voice. His smile blows up like a firework.
Rustling in the trees saves her from dropping to the floor in shock even though Naruto must have noticed something and taken her arm to stabilize her.
Sasuke steps out of the trees, face as passive as ever, a woman holding onto his arm in a simple gown. Hinata’s not sure she’s seen her before but she touches Sasuke with an ease she’s a little envious of. She feels like she might go up in flames just at the thought of touching Naruto.
As the two step closer, sunlight catches on little drops of glass hanging from her ears, the earrings glowing a red almost as bright as the Sharingan.
Somehow, Sasuke has managed to get them into something that Hinata can only describe as a dance party. She’s never been to a place like this where you can drink or eat or just dance, so many couples holding each other under soft lights, swaying to slow music.
He must be a romantic, she thinks, as he pulls his girlfriend towards the dance floor, giving Naruto a little push as they walk past.
Naruto is a clumsy dancer and so is she, but it���s fun with him and he manages to get her out of her head, to think about something other than the people around her.
But then she catches sight of the red earrings again and she sees them, Sasuke swaying awkwardly with only one arm slung around her shoulder, somewhere at the side where there aren’t that many people.
He catches her eye and she blushes but he winks at her, puts a a finger to his mouth and disappears in the crowd.
It takes her embarrassingly long to realize what he’d been doing, even as Naruto himself blushes over the realization.
Sasuke, who Naruto always calls a bore who’d never leave the house if he could, had gotten them here for their sake, playing along just long enough to get them to losen up.
She wonders if he did it for Naruto or for his girlfriend, but whenever she catches sight of the red earrings catching the sun, she can’t help but smile fondly, exchanging a knowing look instead of words with two people who share their silence like a warm blanket.
-
Temari doesn’t know much about Sasuke but what she knows doesn’t impress her much.
He’s had a bad childhood, but so did she and she did not betray her village over that.
He’s a genius - or so they say - but so is Shikamaru and he’s the one she can count on any day, even if he moans about how troublesome it is.
But she supposes, for all of his faults, Sasuke’s pretty darn good at picking his girl.
She’s quiet when they’re all out and about but when she offers a comment it’s either hilarious or insightfull, often leaving her stunned over the sharp humour of the other girl. She reminds her of her brother Kankuro’s wit, just softened where it needs to be and a hell of a lot smarter.
And she’s a great fighter too, something she only connects when she notices the blood red earings dangling on a chain around her neck, the only thing betraying the anonymity of the fox mask.
It wasn’t her first mission with the fox but the first one since both their wedding dates were official. With her family in Suna and herself still pretty much living there, there was still so much to do and plan that she didn’t appreciate being thrown into a last minute mission somewhere near Kirigakure. Shikamaru could figure it out if problems arose but he’d be the last to push forward on annoying tasks. Well, he’d do a little because he loved her but she’d be able to do so much more…
But when the Hokage had looked her in the eyes and told her he needed her expertise, she couldn’t just tell him no, especially knowing she’d be living in Konoha soon.
“How’s the wedding planning?” She asked instead, trying to get her mind off of things. 
The fox shrugged, the mask barely showing her eyes.
“We don’t have much to plan. We’ve got the house and will probably get married at the Uchiha lake.”
“Yeah but dress, maid of honor, flowers?”
“Sasuke will figure it out while I’m gone.” She explains flatly. “Sakura is taking him out for planning every day since she heard of his proposal.”
“Well, expect it to be pink, then. She’s your maid of honour?”
“No. I’d like to ask you, if you’re free.”
Temari almost drops from a tree at that comment, barely catching herself. The medi-nin that’s been trying to catch up with them for hours almost reaches her until she picks up speed again.
“I’m flattered, but… why me?”
“Sakura and Ino talk too much and Hinata would be too overwhelmed by all of it. Tenten and I aren’t close and I haven’t been able to speak to Karui since she moved here a month ago. Also Anko would kill me if I’d ask her, she hates dressing up. She’s only going to come for the alcohol.”
“Ah…” Temari’s silent for a moment.
“Don’t feel pressured to say yes. It was just a suggestion.”
Well now she can’t say no. But she also doesn’t know if she should say yes. It’s just a bad timing, she doesn’t really know her that well and it’s just…
“I’ll think about it.” She promises and the fox mask gives her a firm nod.
They’re still prepping for the actual mission tomorrow when the fox stumbles into the room, foamy white substance dripping from her chin and dropping to the floor in a coughing, wheezing heap.
Temari has seen enough deaths by poison to know what she’s dealing with but she’s not a Medi-Nin.
She calls for the one that she thought unnecessary when they left Konoha, removing the fox mask - which she actually isn’t allowed to do, but that’s just bullshit right now - to look into eyes so wide she can see herself in them. There’s no fear in them, but a lot of pain.
“What happened?!” She demands to know but the fox shakes her head, her hand clenching and unclenching around her fingers. Temari hadn’t even realized she’d taken her hand.
“Just nod or blink if you can’t nod. Blink twice for no, once for yes. Was this part of your mission?”
One blink.
“Does it affect our mission? Do we need to get up and fight?”
One blink. Two blinks. 
“Do we need to leave?”
One blink. Well, shit.
“We can’t leave.” The Medi-Nin who Temari never bothered to learn the name of, is astonished at her plan. “We’re on a mission.”
“There’s no mission anymore. She’s Anbu, she’s our team lead. If she says we need to go, we go.”
“I don’t know if I can stabilize her enough to move.”
Temari turns back, fear now gripping her own throat.
“Do you know what kind of poison this is?”
Two blinks. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Do you have any general antidotes. I’ll get our stuff, we’ll travel with my fan. It will take a lot of Charka but we’ll cut down on days of travel. You’ll have to keep her alive.”
The fox slips into unconsciousness not long after they leave the town they’d been staying in. 
Three hours into their move, the Medi-Nin starts crying, complaining about how painful it is to keep healing and healing and healing, that the poison is running havoc and she’s scrambling to keep up with it.
Temari looks down at him as she asks: “Do you want to tell the Uchiha that you couldn’t save his wife’s life because you were too weak?”
They feed of soldier pills and water and Temari’s Chakra’s running so low they almost crash into the wall surrounding Konoha but the messenger Hawk was worked wonders, Sakura’s waiting at the doors, her hands already glowing green.
She knows she’s supposed to leave for the Hokage, give a report, defend her decision, but she can’t. She can’t just leave her now, her hand still wrapped in hers. 
At the hospital, Sasuke waits with a face made of stone. He’s silent but his eyes beg for answers that Temari doesn#t have. She tries to explain nonetheless, unable to think anything beyond “If it were me, I’d want to know.”
Shikamaru comes to get her, a gentle hand on the small of her back, worry etched into his face.
The worry runs deeper when she insists on going back to the hospital righter after their - brief - meeting with the Hokage.
There’s only one with the information necessary to understand what happened and that person is currently in a coma.
Temari can’t do anything but watch. 
How Sasuke is a quiet presence, seemingly never blinking, just there. He’s by her side, holding her hand, but he’s also at the side, a still presence near the windows, not in the way but never leaving. She didn’t know what she expected him to be like in a situation like this but she realizes that she’d thought him louder, threatening the world over the pain he’s experiencing now.
But he’s quiet, set in stone, never once muttering a word even when Sakura comes to give them the news.
-
Shikamaru has never been a fan of Sasuke. 
Not during academy days, not after and certainly not when he left Konoha and all the time that followed.
He likes to think that he’d been of the hardest critics to convince to let him stay and becom a Konoha Shinobi again - but he knows that’s a lie because he’d never be harder than the elders.
He’d wished him to stay away in his youth, to find whatever he was looking for and never come back bothering them when he grew a bit more empathic.
Now, that he knows what love is and what loss feels like, he wishes for someone or something to ease the pain. 
As Shinobi they are trained not to fear death. They encounter it everyday, wether they kill or get killed. Or, even worse, survive the death of those they love.
But this is different.
The fox isn’t dead. Yet. Temari had relayed everything to him that day, after being awake for more than 24 hours, after traveling such a distance, Chakra almost depleted, uncertain about the status of their mission. But Temari had not even a scratch on her and her teammate was fighting for her life, a poison still unknown on a warpath through her body.
Shikamaru can’t help but to think that it could have been Temari who’d been hit. None of her teammates can travel such a distance in the same time. She would have died far away from him without the help of Sakura and Tsunade and he would have been none the wiser.
It makes him go out and sit with the deer while Temari rests, makes his brain go through book after book that he’s read, through mission reports and plans.
He comes up empty handed but that doesn’t stop him.
Sasuke will never know that the reason there’s a second bed in the room now, positioned just right so that he can rest while holding her hand, is because of Shikamaru.
He will never know that Kankuro rushed to Konoha with a group of poison experts because he told the Hokage he would leave Konoha if he didn’t call for him.
He doesn’t have to know. 
Because when those eyes open again and Sasuke’s face finally relaxes, like a stone wall crumbling under the weight of relief, Shikamaru understands.
He’s never been a fan of Sasuke, he’d never do the things the other man did.
But he understands, the way he feels, the way he loves, even. 
And when a black eye flickers back to him, Shikamaru doesn’t dare to roll his eyes and mutter about things being troublesome. Because he knows, should their places ever be reversed, Sasuke would do the same for him.
-
Shino has never understood the appeal of alcohol.
It’s poisonous to him and it certainly is poisonous to others, just in a lesser degree.
Why anyone would willingly consume something that makes them change so drastically in their personality - he’s heard about Lee and it made him swear off it even more - is beyond him.
Why they serve it on occasions as happy as a wedding is even more of a mystery to him.
Don’t they want to remember this happy occasions?
He glances over to the table where Temari is downing another sake, her now husband leaning into her, flushed and relaxed from either the alcohol or just being himself.
It had been a great party, a happy occasion that had both the Hokage and the Kazekage bless them with their presence.
Now, after the food, most people were either drinking and telling stories or drinking and dancing and with a glance towards the dance floor where Kiba was twirling Sakura around with more force than strictly necessary, he directed himself towards the tables. 
Surely there was someone not drunk around who he could sit with now that his table had been turned into a make shift arm wrestling tournament by Lee and, surprisingly, the Kazekage.
He found them in the corner, almost completely hidden by a giant flower arrangement that looked like Temari - no doubt Ino’s work. Sasuke and his fiance, Shino was still trying to remember her name as everyone seemd to call her the fox anyway, sat with their faces towards the dance floor, hands joined on the table, seemingly deep in thought.
That’s right. She wasn’t allowed to drink so soon after being released from the hospital.
And wasn’t their own wedding next week? He hoped there would be less alcohol if she wasn’t allowed to drink it anyway and he hoped even more that she’d be stronger by then, less pale as she appeared to be from where he was getting closer.
“Do you mind the company?” He asked and the fox shook her head.
“Too much noise for you?” She asks him and he nods, thankful for her understanding.
Before he can say anything, however, Sasuke leans towards her, his nose brushing her temple.
“Your voice is so beautiful.” He tells her and, Shino has to look a bit closer, he blushes.
“Thank you.” She addresses her fiance flatly and smiles at Shino. 
He blinks, unable to say something else before Sasuke speaks again.
“You’re really beautiful. Your hair smells so nice.” He dips his nose into her hair and inhales loudly, followed by a sigh.
“He’s a bit tipsy.” The fox explains and uses her free hand to gently pat Sasuke’s arm.
“We’re going to go home soon.”
“You’re so lovely.” 
It’s Shino’s turn to blush, realizing belatedly that he’d judged Sasuke wrong all these years. 
Where he had thought the other cold and uncaring, he seemed to be a lot like him, his emotions shielded from the outside. But while the Aburame could do that with a coat and an army of bugs, the Uchiha weren’t given that ease of mind.
He wanted to say something to explain his understanding but dark eyes flicker to him, telling him not to. Red drops of glass twinkle in the lights as she shakes her head softly.
“I think you’ll have to excuse us, Shino.” She tells him softly. “He needs to get home.”
“I’ll see you-” He stops himself when he doesn’t know when that is. Is “soon” a good term here?
“Tomorrow?” Theres something like a smile on her lips as she stands up, Sasuke’s head now heavy on her shoulder where he gazes up at her with lovestruck eyes.
“We’d love to have you for tea if you’d like. We’re a quiet bunch and I think you wouldn’t mind.”
He nods, surprised at the sentiment. As far as he knows, there have been only four people been invited to the newly built Uchiha household at the lake and two of them, Sakura and Naruto, have bursted through the doors on their own accord.
“I’d love to.” He tells her and opens his mouth again to ask for the best time when a strong arm moves around his waist and a head drops onto his shoulder.
“There you are.” Tenten blinks up at him like she’s a cat that’s found a mouse. “I’ve been looking for you.”
He wonders if he can blame his blush on the alcohol and looks to the other couple for help or at least a moment of calm to gather himself but they’ve disappeared, not a trace left of them.
“Want to go to my place?” Tenten asks, her voice nowhere near the whisper she was intending it to be.
He wants to say no, that they shouldn’t leave a wedding early but he also thinks of Sasuke’s cool demeanor cracked by someone who knows him so well they don’t mind how weird he might get and his hands find hers.
“Let’s go to my place.” He says instead, “I want you to get to know me.”
-
When they find out that Hinata’s pregnant, Naruto thinks of the two people he wants to tell. Iruka’s going to be away for the day, teaching yet another class the importance of chakra control, but Sasuke’s probably home, training or repairing the wooden deck overlooking the Uchiha lake. 
Naruto’s right, but Sasuke has gotten predictable lately. 
He’s also gotten more open to help, which means nothing more than to be ordered about and called Teme more or less affectionately when Naruto narrowly misses his thumb as he puts a nail deep into the dark wood.
“Why are you here anway?” Sasuke asks at some point, “Doesn’t Hinata want you around when you’re off mission?”
Naruto opens his mouth and closes it, looking out the lake for a second. He’d been bursting with the news when he arrived, stalled by the apparent need for help and now there’s something new, a feeling like being in a chokehold, fighting for life.
Kyuubi’s not really helpful there, telling him that he’s afraid in the same tone one would tell off an idiot.
“Do you think I’d be a good father?” He asks instead, the question slipping out of his mouth like a snake out of hiding, ready to bite.
Sasuke halts, hammer in the air. He drops it slowly and turns, a feeling in his visible eye that’s so out of place there, Naruto needs a moment to recognize it. It’s fear.
“How…” Sasuke clears his throat awkwardly. “How far along is Hinata?”
“Estimated birth date is at the end of march. Why?”
“Ours too.” 
Something clatters to the ground and Naruto belatedly realizes that he’s dropped his tools, the impact leaving a dent in the wood in the form of a smile. He dips his fingers into it, lets it ground him as he thoughts run through him.
“Boy or girl?” He asks, his voice raw.
“We don’t know yet. The kid’s pretty stubborn and refuses to move.” Sasuke lets out a laugh, the sound almost shivering in the air.
Silence falls between them until Naruto speaks, unable to process his thoughts quietly.
“I’m so freaking scared.”
“Shitless, yeah.” Sasuke admits as well. “My father wasn’t…” He winces instead of ending his sentence and Naruto nods.
“Mine wasn’t even there”
“But Iruka?”
Naruto furrows his brows. 
“What do you mean?” 
“Don’t you have Iruka as a role model? Wouldn’t he be like a granddad as well?”
“And you’re taking Itachi as your role model?”
It sounded like a great idea at first, remembering what Sasuke has told him about his brother since he’s came back to Konoha. But as the words leave his lips he realizes how wrong the sound.
Sasuke chuckles lowly. “Yes, I’ll kill and betray to show my love…” He hesitates for a moment before laughing softly again. “But I guess he wasn’t the worst role model. And if either of us fucks up as a father, we’ll have each other to keep us in check.”
Naruto smiles, can feel it crack open the cast that fear has left him in. 
“And we’ve got our wifes, too. You will be a great father, Dattebayo!”
Sasuke throws him a look and rolls his eyes for a moment before nodding. 
“So will you. I won’t let you be anything else.”
-
Chouji had been running errands when he’d seen them hurry towards the hospital, Sasuke’s face paler than his wife, rushing through the streets like there was Barbeque waiting for them somewhere.
He wasn’t one to be worried easily but he still remembered that mission too clearly not to be worried. Besides wasn’t her due date around the corner?
Chouji put the vegetables away and raced after them, reaching them just as they entered the hospital.
“Everything okay?”
“No.” Sasuke pressed out, “She’s going into labor.”
Chouji blinks in surprise and looks at the woman in question who seems a bit flushed from the brisk walk but otherwise not that worried. Just a little in pain.
She flinches and Sasuke calls for Sakura, his voice so much louder than he usually is.
“Relax.” Thin, scarred fingers weaves themselves in between his and squeeze.
She throws Chouji a smile, pulling his eyes from their intertwined hands up to her eyes and keeping her there.
“How’s Chouchou?”
“Oh.” Chouji turns to show them the sleeping bundle tied to his back. “She*s knocked out from lunch. And soon you’ll have your own bundle to hold. Have you come up with a name yet?”
“Sasuke.” She turns to him, squeezing his hand again, head knocking against his shoulder when he’s still as stiff as a board. “Everything will be fine. Let’s talk to to Chouji a bit while we wait.”
“You’re in pain.”
“Yeah.” She smiled, “But that’s normal. We’re at the hospital. They know what they’re doing.”
Chouji stays with them. 
At first it was a bit of curiosity. He didn’t have any other plans for today but buy groceries and keep his daughter happy until his wife returned home.
When Couchou woke up and demanded her bottle he considered leaving them but by that time Sasuke had been pushed out of the examination room and he seemed too much a worried wreck to be left alone.
“Can you hold her for a moment?” Chouji plopped his daughter onto Sasuke’s arm, fully trusting the power of her big golden eyes to work magic on him. And he’s right.
She grabs a hold of his shirt immediately, pulling herself up to examine his pale face and dark hair. 
Chouji doesn’t waste the chance he’s been giving, prepping yet another bottle and pulling a few bags of snacks for both him, his daughter and maybe Sasuke, if he can convince the man to keep anything down.
“You wanna give her the bottle?” He holds it out for Sasuke before he realizes that the guy can’t, by all means, hold both the baby and the bottle with only one arm.
“Shit, sorry.” 
Choucho solves that problem before Sasuke can even answer, his little genius daughter grabbing the bottle from Chouji’s hands and going ham on it, leaning back in Sasuke’s arm to drink easier. 
Sasuke looks down at her and there’s something in his eyes that Chouji knows so well. 
As if he’s just realized that the world turns just for that, for the little girls and boys that they’re allowed to hold.
Someone clears their throat behind them and they turn to look at Sakura, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway.
“It’s gong to take a bit, but you’re allowed in now. Just stay calm, please.”
“You’re working already?” Chouji asks, surprised.
“Kiba’s looking after the puppy.” Sakura jokes. “I’m just here for Sasuke. He’d call me either way.”
“Thank you.” Sasuke tells her with his usual seriousness before turning to Chouji. 
“Do you want to stay?”
He doesn’t but Sasuke has never asked him something like that before. And with all the snacks and games he has in his bag he’s sure that even Chouchou won’t mind staying for a few more hours.
And when Sarada is born, the tiny body placed on her mothers chest and Sasuke curled around the two of them like a giant black blanket, Chouji steps outside with a smiling Sakura, the two of them definitely not misty eyed.
Who would have known, he thinks, that loving someone allowed Sasuke to become human, imperfect, open to the possibility of others being there for him..
-
“What’s my favorite grandchild doing?” 
Kakashi’s voice rings through the house and Sarada giggles loudly as she hides behind her father.
“Aha!” He pokes his head through the door, locating her easily where her small hands hold onto his trousers. “Found you.”
“Noooooo!” She whines and runs off for another hiding place, presumably somewhere behind her mother.
“What brings you here?” Sasuke’s dipping his paint brush in, careful not to drip as he pains the wall a light blue.
“Ah. Can’t I come in for a surprise visit?”
“You can, but since when do you do that on business hours?”
“Do you need help?”
“Hm…” Sasuke glares at him before nodding towards some boxes in the corner. “You can set up the bed. Shikamaru delivered it but he refuses to build it back together.”
“Oh, you got Shikadai’s old bed? You sure the genius and laziness won’t transfer?”
“I don’t think Itachi will let himself be manipulated by a bed but thanks for the input.”
“Oh…” Kakashi halts over the open boxes to look back at Sasuke. 
His shoulders are relaxed as he paints, the name dripping from his mouth like it’s no longer blood but something sweeter.
“You’ve decided on a name already?”
“We knew it would be Itachi when we had Sarada. He’s just nice enough to show us his gender right away.”
“Huh. You could have called him Kakashi, you know. That would have been noble, to name him after the Hokage.”
Sasuke laughs, a sound so open and unreserved that Kakashi has to watch him again,.
“People will talk.” He says dipping his brush again. “But I don’t really care how other people see us.”
“Yeah.” Kakashi nods as he resigns himself to the fate of building that darned bed. “It’s more important how you see yourself.”
And he guesses that he’s right about that but he’s always been better at judging others than himself.
But as he watches his former student paint, only interrupted by Sarada running through the rooms from time to time, calling for her Papa or her Grampa, as she calls Kakashi affectionately, he decided that there’s no real need to mention what he really came for.
He can ask Shikamaru tomorrow if that six month mission is really that important for Sasuke to miss the birth of his second child.
And if it is so important to send a Sharingan user, there’s still him to send. He could take Guy with him, annoy Tsunade with having to be back up Hokage again or even let Naruto try his hand at the business.
He looks back to Sasuke again, considers the words and swallows them back down again.
He doesn’t have to tell the boy that he considers him his son. Sasuke already knows.
-
Through their own eyes…
“Papa?” Sarada comes into the room carrying her snuggle blanket.
“Yeah?”
“Is Mama back yet?”
“No. You wanna sit with us? Itachi got hungry.”
“Okay.” She climbs up on the upholstered bench overlooking the lake, cuddling into his side in the coolness of the night.
“Are you worried, Papa?”
“Mhm, a little bit. But I’m always worried.”
She's quiet for a bit until Itachi lets go of his bottle to take a breath and the bottle slides down his soft belly towards his legs. 
Sarada giggles, takes the bottle and brings it up to his lips again. 
“Here, otouto.”
“Can I hold him, Papa?”
“Sure, but gently.”
She rolls her eyes at him. “Of course.”
“Come here Itachi.” She pulls him from Sasuke’s arm, the little boy immediately settling into her warmth.
Sasuke could be content like this, watching his kids love each other so effortlessly. But there’s another presence missing his perfect moment. 
He’d been a worrier before but ever since that fateful mission he’s been so much worse at waiting for her to return.
Something shifts in the air and he can see the shiver running down Sarada’s back as she feels it to.
He smiles. “Mama just came back.” He tells her softly just as someone drops softly on the deck behind them.
Sasuke doesn’t have to look to know but he looks nonetheless, drinking in the body peeling itself out of the dark, the fox mask giving way to a familiar, well-loved face.
“Hi.” 
She looks tired and Sasuke’s at her side immediately, fingers roaming over her body to look for injuries.
“I’m fine. Just tired.” She laughs into his kiss, smells like cold air and the dampness of a forest.
He releases her and she squeezes his hand one more time before side stepping him to get to Sarada.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed, lovely?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” She giggles as her mother drops a kiss on her forehead. “Itachi is hungry.”
“That he is and it’s so nice of you to feed him. If he’s too heavy I can take him and then we get the both of you back into bed, what do you say?”
“Are you gong to be home tomorrow when I wake up?”
“Absolutely. We can swim a bit if you want.”
“Really?”
“After training, yes.”
Sasuke watches them leave for the bedrooms, knows that Sarada wants her mother for herself for a minute.
He’s gotten progressively more tired by the time his wife walks back outside.
“I need to deliver my mission report. Temari wanted to check in on Shikamaru and Shikadai too before we meet up for the report.”
“No one got hurt?” 
She eyes him warily before opening her coat to reveal a bandage on her side.
“It’s just a scratch.” She reassures him when he takes a deep breath to ground himself. “No poison. We checked three times.”
“You’re going to the hospital…”
“Tomorrow, okay?”
“No. right away. I mean after the mission report. I’m serious.”
“Okay, serious.” She leans forward to peck his lips. “Don’t hit me in your sleep again, there’s only one woman crawling into your bed while you sleep.”
-
As she walks the road back to their house with a fresh bandage on, she thinks about the difference between what they are and what they seem.
The Uchiha’s are known for being cold and conniving, but Sasuke is caring, ready to defend his friends, ready to loose a night of sleep or an hour of work to help, even when he hasn’t been asked for it.
The Uchiha’s are geniuses, known for their hard and intense training regimen and brutal teachers.
But as she walks up the step towards your door, there’s a multitude of signs that Sasuke has painted with Sarada, each representing a different job she was aiming for.
There’s the bright red “Future Kazekage” sign from when she had a crush on Gaara and the deep purple “Future Academy teacher” she made after being babysat by Shino and Tenten.
Never has he told her that her wish is too outlandish or got sad over the choice of her day - not even when she declared that she’d marry Boruto one day. 
The Uchiha’s don’t show weakness, know no pain.
But there’s Sasuke, who’s built up this house himself to repent, who cried when he put up the Uchiha sign, who’s named his son after his brother.
There’s Sasuke, who’s okay with the fact that the whole hospital has seen him cry when his children were born. Who keeps the light on when she isn’t home, who touches the little dent in the wood that Naruto made everyday to remind himself that he’s here, this is real, he’s loved.
There’s Sasuke who’s still awake as she steps into the bedroom, even though his eyes are only half open now and he groans as she settles against him.
His hands find the bandage on her side and he probes it carefully.
“I’m fine.” She tells him again, “You’ll probably die before me.”
“We’ll die together.” He tells her off. “After we’ve gotten like, one hundred years old.”
“Sure. You’ll be so cute when all your teeth fell out.”
“Hush.” He kisses her softly, tentatively, as if still asking for permission.
“Anything that I missed?” She asks when he drops back into the pillows.
“Sarada’s  currently obsessed with Chouji again. She wants to learn cooking.”
“Not against that. Did Iruka say something?”
“Mhm. They’re going to be discussing Clan’s soon.”
“Ah.” She smooths his furrowed brows. “Don’t worry. She’s smart. She’ll understand.”
A fond smile stretches over his mouth and she waits, knows that he’ll elaborate on his own when he feels like it.
“I am so glad I fell in love with you.”
She rests her head on his chest, listens to his heartbeat and knows.
It doesn’t matter what others think about them.
They know the truth.
-
If you find any mistakes/typos, you can give them back to me, it’s not my first language and I’m happy if I can correct anything.
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mdccanon · 1 year
Text
Decay Belonged to Izuku
Here is my two cents.
All for One being Hisashi Midoriya would not be enough to break Izuku nor Tenko. Tenko doesn't feel like he was replaced, like how Touya feels. He feels used. Like a puppet. Izuku has more father figures than he knows what to do with. I like Dad for One, don't get me wrong.
But it's not powerful enough.
The only thing that would hit every box of everything the story has been about is if All for One and Dr. Garaki gave Tenko Izuku's original quirk. If Izuku was meant to decay.
"Face it, Deku, you'll never have a quirk stronger than mine."
"Even you could become a hero."
"Perfect quirk for a villain. Even I started to believe it."
"These things aren't gifts, they are curses."
"I can take and give quirks, but I can't just throw them away!"
The absolute worse thing to Horikoshi isn't merely good or bad things. If it was, All Might would be dead. But he's alive because the worst thing in the world is for him to watch his legacy burn and be helpless. If it was, Endeavor would be in jail. But he's free, and expected to re-explain and re-affirm to every citizen and journalist who asks him that this is all his fault. The absolute worse things to Horikoshi are the bittersweet things you are expected to be grateful for, even as they eat away at your will to live. The worst things are the awful truths you must endure. Congrats Hawks, your childhood hero is worse than your parents. Congrats Overhaul, you accidentally put your father into a permanent coma....
So wouldn't the worse thing Izuku could experience from "Hisashi Midoriya" be him expecting gratitude for protecting Inko from the ticking time-bomb that is Decay? Wouldn't the worse thing be the guilt Izuku would have for everything Tenko had gone through? Not simply because "I know the guy that did it to you."
But "he did it to you to spare me."
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Someone is going to explain to me why Inko was doing the Upset Woman pose BEFORE Izuku was declared quirkless. And then the next thing is her bland "shocked" performance with the nonsensical test results and exposition provided by All for One's personal doctor... then she's crying and apologizing to Izuku...
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nataliewritez · 1 year
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helloooooo !! could you write lee giyuu where shinobu finds out he’s ticklish and has fun exploring it hehe please and thank you !!
Butterflies Bounty || KNY Tk Fic
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A/N: aaaaaa dani!! this was such a cute yet fun idea, these two are my heart and soul!! i hope you enioy reading this!! \\(*´▽`*)//
P.S: Sorry if it took too long, you're the first person to request so yea (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)
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"Tomioka-san, oi oi, Tomioka-san!" Shinobu attempted to catch the water hashira's attention.
All day, Kocho had been trying to catch Tomioka's attention, but with every large attempt she did, the more it failed, it was starting to out her on edge quite the bit. Giyuu was one hundred percent aware of this, but just acted as if nothing had been happening at all, shooing her away like an insect.
As Giyuu had went out for a mission, she had went to her fellow accomplices, seeking for any chance of an answer. As expected, Sanemi and Iguro didn't give two craps about him, whilst Rengoku and Mitsuri were out training most of the day, Uzui was caught up in a mission himself and Gyomei and Muichiro had been helping Genya train. What possibly could be keeping him so on edge? Either way, she was going to get her answer today, whether he liked it or not. Meanwhile, she had patient's to help, especially a certain Bluenette, Blonde and Red head, hoo boy.
After the long day, Tomioka had came into her mansion to get some small injuries treated, they weren't much, but still, the fact that he'd been hurt by a small demon made her think even more that something was on his mind.
"My my, Tomioka-san, how did you get these injuries over a simple mission, hm?"
No answer.
"This is why you've got no friend's, Tomioka-san."
Again, not a answer, nor a single glance.
Shinobu's smile quickly faded, spinning the water breathing user to look her in the eye, "Tomioka-san, I'm worried for you, this isn't like you." Hopefully that got to him, and it eventually did. His bland expression lightened up a bit as he gazed into her eye's, his gorgeous, ocean blue.. what was she thinking? Snap out of it Shinobu!
With a small shake of her head, Shinobu waited for Giyuu to invite her to sit beside her. He quickly caught on and patted beside him, her smile quickly coming back into place as she sat beside him.
"You can talk to me, Tomioka-san, I'll always be here to listen." She assured, humming happily when he nodded slightly. Eventually, he opened up, explaining how he didn't deserve to be with such strong, kind people such as herself.
Oh my, how couldn't she have noticed sooner? His endless amount of survivors guilt had pent him up so much, that it eventually got the best of him, now she understood why he'd never associate himself with any if the other's.
"Tomioka-san.. it's difficult, I understand that, but.. if they were here right now, I can assure you that they'd be so proud of you. I mean, look at you, most people can't be as- are you okay?" She asked. Whilst she was talking, she had placed her left hand against his left side and rubbed him, offering him reassurance, she didn't expect this type of reaction.
"Tomio-"
"Shinobu, no."
"Oh Tomioka-"
"Don't." His once slumped over torso now stood straight, his hands grabbing her wrist, yet not even tugged them even the slightest away.
"My my, I think I know how to cheer you up, Tomioka-san~" Teased the insect Hashira, her smile only widdening when she saw the usually pale white face of his brightening a cute shade of red. Her once rubbing her now latched onto his side and with each twitch of her fingertips, so did Giyuu's body, quiver.
"K-Kocho-"
"Glad we're getting closer, Tomioka-san! Maybe we could become friend's!" She played, surprised to hear her usually stoic companion whine from such a innocent tease. Ohohoh, now this was fun.
"What's wrong, Tomioka-san? Can't handle a few tickles? That's unfortunate, I thought you'd have some resilience in you." She playfully tsked and shook her head, making him arch away when her over hand came into play. "K-Kohoch- Kocho, nohoho! Pl-Please dohon't!" He melted even more as she awed at him, her hands lowering as she squeezed at his hip's, making him immediately turn to his side, laying on the bed as his right arm covered his face.
"No no, we can't have you do that, Giyuu, this is only getting started!" She exclaimed with excitement, now squeezing his hips with vigor, making the once silent hashira go into a giggle fit. As her thumbs accidentally found the divets of his hips, it only made him buck and arch, luckily for Shinobu, she wasn't ontop of him, kudos to her for sitting beside him whilst he was laughinh his head off. "Ahahah, S-Shihinobu! Plehease! S-Sto-NAHAH!" Howled Tomioka, throwing his head back as her left hand squeezed at his thigh, "Oh? Is this a bad spot, Tomioka-san?~" He didn't even have to say, the both of them already knew the answer to this answer.
"N-No-"
"It was a rhetorical question, Giyuu, I don't expect you to understand tha- what is that?" She asked, making Tomioka immediately look, "What do you- NOHO!" He kicked and squirmed, "Oh no, it's a tickle bug! Don't worry, Tomioka-san, I'll save you!" She playfully retorted, treating him like a child. As the tickling pursued, she took a glace to see if she needed to stop.
His once long hair came undone, becoming messier, his once blank expression was filled with childish glee, along with his ears, nose and cheeks dusted a bright red, his fists clamped onto his haori and the sheets of the bed weakly, trying to keep some of hispride intact, oh how she dreamed she had done this sooner.
As she listened to his breathing become more frantic, she had stopped, her hands resting against his own.
"So, how was that, hm?" She teased, not expecting an answer, before hearing him muffle something under his breath. She drummed her right hands fingertips into his armpit to make him curl, "I couldn't hear you, Tomioka-san, speak up please." Smiled the insect Hashira, only for her heart to swell with pure love for him over his word's.
"I said I lohohove y-you." He exclaimed breathlessly, hiding part of his face into the cover of his haori. "I love you too." Shinobu kissed the back of his hand, making his impossibly red face grow even redder, "Okay, now rest up, those injuries should heal in a few days." She patted his stomach, oh how they'd do this again.
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dyed-red · 10 months
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I voted for priest Sam hair! Not only because it was the correct choice, but, hey, bribery! So for a mini Dickey, a choice between outsider POV of the boys being weird about each other or late seasons domestic!Winchesters? If neither of those work for you, write something you like 😁
I love that my bribery accomplished nothing, because everyone taking me up on the offer is someone who was already going to (or already had) vote for the correct choice anyway :D truly net zero impact on the poll, which is likely for the best.
and ahh, i do love both outsider PoV and domestic!chesters, so this is good. and in my typical fashion, my answer is:
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Set after 12x11, "Regarding Dean".
They're very beautiful boys is the thing. Well, not the thing, but certainly part of it. Rowena thinks that anyone would be hard-pressed to judge her somewhat embarrassing lack of self-preservation in this regard, if they too got to experience the full effect of Sam Winchester imperious gaze or Dean's intermittently roguish and boyish smiles.
That or, like so many before her, she truly just did contract Winchester Derangement Syndrome. Oh well.
She'd wanted to skirt out of town quickly, after helping fix up Dean's memory. It would be the prudent thing to do. But it was also an opportunity, one that might not drop into her lap quite so easily again anytime soon, to get a read on the brothers without being observed herself. One had to wonder how they did it, held the world together with duck tape and a can-do attitude, considering how ordinary and brutish they'd seemed at first.
Well. Maybe not entirely brutish. Sam's command of Latin and spellwork had always intrigued her. But that was neither here nor there, and he wasn't accomplished enough a spellcrafter to see through the glamour that she wove around herself -- an angling and aging of the face, a darkening and straightening of the hair, a thinning of the lips and tinting to the eyes. Enough that, with an outfit passably dull, she could opposite to them in the pub where they made their way for dinner and rest before they'd set out in the morning. A quiet place on the outskirts of town, locals trudging work boots in and tired or sore from the day. Sam and Dean fit right in. They seemed to fit in most anywhere they went.
Better chameleons than even her glamour could afford her. A few hundred years and Rowena wasn't sure she'd perfected the art of invisibility as well as two men gorgeous enough to be on magazine covers. That was something.
She'd followed them in, waited across the parking lot, and wondered if Dean had injured himself somehow on the day's misadventures. She didn't recall anything, not much action except for at the end there, otherwise just Sam pasting sticky notes to objects and Dean becoming cuter and more bearable by the minute. She didn't recall anything, but Sam's hand never strayed from Dean's back as they made their way across the lot, and Dean never shrugged it off.
By the time she slipped inside, found herself a stool at a table with a view of their booth, they were seated across from one another. She'd never noticed, never bothered to, how far their legs stretched under a table, tangled up into each other's foot-space. At her height, not an issue she had frequently. But Sam was leaned back, fingers on the table, leg, ankle jostling against Dean's calf underneath it. He looked relaxed, and something in Rowena's chest eased at seeing it.
The curse was properly fixed then. Of course she wouldn't wait around in town just to be sure, she wasn't their minder and anyway she'd been certain it was fixed before they parted ways. Still though, confirmation never rankled.
Dean looked around and Rowena turned her gaze to the bland offerings on the menu and in her peripheral she heard his voice, not the words, and then Sam's laughter, loud and startled for a moment then quieter.
When she glanced over, Dean was grinning, leaned in, and Sam's face was so fond her own stomach felt a little gurgly, as if caterpillars (never butterflies) might take up residence.
There was a motion, quick dart, and Sam's hand was on Dean's. Overtop, maybe on his wrist. Rowena's caterpillars turned to lead -- waited with bated breath as their waitress came over and they separated, expressions shifting quick like guilty schoolboy -- and then burst forth into winged insects instead, fluttering around her insides. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes alight, and ignored the moths taking up residence inside of her.
Well, that was something then.
It wasn't all that scandalous, that kind of sin. Proscribed by the law of every place and time, but something you saw a time or twenty if you lived long enough. It wasn't as if she hadn't suspected. Her imaginings had been more brutal though, more teeth gnashing end-of-world anger with each other, clinging and messy and mad with it. Hand touches across the tables and -- the memory surfaced from earlier in the day -- delighted grins over the potential for a front row seat to some 'live skinemax', that hadn't been what she'd conjured up.
And oh, to be the live entertainer with Sam, to have pleasure made into a show for Dean's affections. Too bad Sam had to be so focused on fixing his brother, they could have had some real fun that afternoon. She certainly wouldn't have complained.
She ordered something herself, a salad and, because life was short, two types of dessert to follow. If there was some thing cold-blooded American capitalism had done right, it was egregiously portioned and delectably indulgent desserts.
The brothers ate, and laughed, and sighed across their bench from each other, seeming weary but well. Ordinary, but far from it. Their legs tangled deeper into each other's space. Dean's fingers drummed an absent pattern, no doubt from one of those rock bands he liked, and Sam nudged him with his leg and directed him to where some dart boards were setup. They brushed shoulders and elbowed each other, were close enough for her to catch snatches of their conversation. Teasing, mostly. Challenging, boyish one-upmanship. Flirting, quite obviously, when Sam's voice dropped to growl something in Dean's ear she couldn't catch, the tone of which had her stomach swooping anyway.
They left not long after, when her second dessert arrived. A little flavourless, in comparison. She left without bothering to finish, left town that night without dawdling any longer. The boys were good, and were comforting each other, and they owed her one. The rest was between them.
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tealeafgrimm · 2 years
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Not Yourself
James Potter x Reader Words: 1.1k Summary: James notices that you're not yourself lately. You are withdrawn and seem to have no interest in your usual activities. He wants to help you, but doesn't know how. Can you find a solution together? TW: Depression, mental health issues A/N: If you struggle with depression or any other mental health issue, please know that there is help out there and that you are of worth. I know sometimes everything can seem hopeless, but I'll promise you it will get better eventually.
You had not been yourself lately. You didn't know what was wrong with you, it just felt like everything you did or said made no difference. Everything around you felt meaningless and nothing could bring you joy anymore.
Your favourite foods no longer smelled good and they tasted bland. Your favourite shows, songs and books did nothing to improve your mood. You weren't even in a bad mood, you were just .... empty. That was the best way to describe it.
Your everyday life felt like it was steered by a remote control. You did what was expected of you. You got up, got dressed for the day and went to work. You didn't enjoy talking to your friends at work. You didn't even enjoy your work, and the people around you began to notice. It was not like you to be so distant and cold. Normally you were a fun-loving and cheerful person. You loved your work, enjoyed talking to people and simply enjoyed life. But something had happened and neither you nor those around you could explain what had triggered this change.
The person who was most worried was your boyfriend, James.
At first, he thought you were just having a bad day or week. Everyone felt bad sometimes. But your mood didn't get any better. On the contrary, it seemed like you were getting worse day by day.
James didn't know what to do. You didn't want to talk to him, you just told him you were fine. But he could tell you weren't fine. He had noticed that you would stay locked in the bathroom longer than necessary and that your eyes were red and puffy when you finally emerged.
He noticed how quiet it had become in the house you shared. Normally you were in the kitchen, listening to music and dancing on the spot while cooking when he came home. Now there was an eerie silence. You stopped cooking and only ate a few bites when James offered you something.
You always went to bed before him, which was nothing unusual. But instead of you reading, he found you either fast asleep or staring blankly at the ceiling or one of the walls.
"I don't know what's wrong with her mate, but I'm really worried," James said to his friends one evening. He had told you that he was going to meet Remus and Sirius for some drinksat the Leaky Cauldron, but that he would be home no later than ten.
He felt guilty leaving you alone, but he had to get out of the house. He loved you, but the atmosphere at home was suffocating him. And he needed the help of his friends. Maybe one of them knew what he could do. Well, to be honest, he wasn't really counting on Sirius, but he had hopes that Remus would think of something.
"Have you tried talking to her?" asked Sirius as he took a sip of his beer.
"Well, duh!? What do you think? She just tells me she's fine, but I know she's not. She's just not herself. Hasn't been for a while."
"Has she seen anyone? A healer, a doctor?" interjected Remus, furrowing his eyebrows in concern.
"No, why would she? He's not really sick, I don't think."
"Well, maybe not physically. But it sounds like she's got some mental issues..."
"She's not mental!" exclaimed James loudly.
"I didn't say that! But maybe she's depressed. My mother suffered from depression, she acted similarly. Sometimes talking to a professional can help. And maybe some medication to start with."
"Do you think so?"
"There's no harm in asking her to try, is there? Sometimes people who suffer from depression don't really know what their problem is and how to make it better."
When he came home that night, James didn't expect you to still be awake. But you were sitting on the couch, staring at the switched-off television. With a sigh, James sat down next to you.
You barely stirred. You didn't know how long you had been sitting there. You had intended to watch some TV, but you couldn't bring yourself to pick up the remote.
"Y/N? I think we need to talk," James whispered. Your heart dropped a little, that was it, wasn't it? This was the moment he was going to break up with you because you were a burden to him.
Before you could stop them, tears were running down your cheeks.
To your surprise, James didn't turn away from you, but took your hands in his.
"I think you need help. You're not yourself anymore and I'm worried. I need you to tell me what's wrong so we can figure out something to help you."
That was all it took. You broke down. You couldn't control your crying anymore. James wrapped his arms around you and held you close as you sobbed uncontrollably.
After a while you calmed down and looked at your boyfriend. The look on your face was killing him. He had never seen you so broken and upset. That was just not your way.
"That's the problem, James. I... I don't know what's wrong with me, I really don't. I want to be happy, I want to enjoy life, but I just can't. I know I should be happy and grateful for everything I have, but I'm not. I don't know what's wrong with me and I feel like I'm a burden to everyone," you hiccoughed between ragged breaths.
"You are not a burden, Y/N. Not to me or anyone else around you," James said.
"All I want is for you to be happy and to be yourself again. I... talked to the boys today and Remus said that maybe a doctor or a healer could help you, maybe give you some medication or something."
"Do you think that would help?" you asked him quietly. You didn't think anyone could do anything to make you feel better. Everything just seemed so hopeless.
"It's worth a try, isn't it? Only if you want it, of course."
"I don't know. I'm... nervous."
"I'll go with you if it makes you feel better. I mean, you can try if they can help you, and if not, we'll look for something else. I just want you to know that I'm here for you no matter what, okay? And if something is bothering you, I want you to tell me. I want to help you, but you have to let me in on it, Y/N." You nodded at his words.
"I'll try. I promise," you whispered.
"Okay. Let's get you to bed and maybe tomorrow things will be a little easier again?" And with that, he held out his hand to you and in that moment, maybe your heart really did feel a little lighter.
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docholligay · 10 months
Note
Fareeha Amari is now a canon lesbian I think this will please you
Love that everyone mentioned me in this
Okay, so a lot of this is for @seolh who asked for the tealdeer for the short story because she knows I hate myself and have no sense of fucking self-preservation even a little bit, even at all. Overwatch is EXTREMELY difficult for me to drag myself away from, even if at this point (in some ways because of something I am about to complain about) my Lena, Fareeha, Angela, etc, are all BASICALLY original characters with their own gifts and weaknesses and internal lives that the game and its surrounding media is not interested in. I still have feelings for it in a weird fucked up way. It's my toxic not-quite-ex
ANYWAY THAT BEING SAID.
Things I loved:
Pharah being gay, obviously. But I'm going to be honest here--at this point what BlizzOfficial does has no bearing on my characters as I see them.
The slight nod to Pharah being a by the book weirdo with her seatbelt still fucking fastened when the flight is in any motion at all. Loved that. Actually that was my favorite part of the story. Thought it was great.
Love anytime we use callsign vs first name as an intimacy identifier, though, it DOES bug me that we become intimate with Baptiste in *checks watch* 3 pages.
Did not like:
So a lot of the problem I have with the surrounding media is partly Blizz' fault and partly the way we have now constructed our interaction with media on the internet. The percentages of which I'm not sure. But the writing, the characterization is BLAND. There is not a single bold choice made with any character in this story. Before you say "But Pharah is a lesbian!!!" This is an American game made by Americans, mostly, for Americans, mostly. That is the cultural context of the game. Like it or don't, it is true. Pharah being a lesbian given the game demographics is not all that bold. I'm not complaining about that specifically. What I'm saying is: These characters are milquetoast as FUCK. You can't be opposed to how either Pharah or Baptiste are portrayed because they are portrayed in such a textbook inoffensive way that they can neither fail nor rise. This is by design. I am not actually blaming the author. I am sure she had a brief that said "Every character has to speak and behave like like a textbook White American lest we be branded bigots on the internet." But it's annoying, and I know OW has, historically, had a very very annoying fandom that has cried wolf so many times and had so much infighting and had some of the WORST FAITH ENGAGEMENT with social justice I have EVER fucking seen, to the point of me finding it EMBARRASSING, but. It still leads to me looking at Pharah and Baptiste and being like "I have no clue who these bitches are and becaus eI cannot hate them I cannot love them"
"I would have thought it was obvious. I'm not passing, am I?" this is a very very weird line. If you're gonna have Pharah talk like a fucking White Midwestern American 24/7* she's going to say something like, "Do I look straight?" or something. I'm not offended just confused.
It seems they've decided that Pharah did in fact grow up with Overwatch around her all the time despite Ana sometimes being an absentee parent, I guess? I know it's been ping-ponged for awhile, and I admit to disappointment that they came down on this side, not for the least of which reasons that it makes it disappointing that ...everyone else also abandoned her? She said she's hadn't seen Cole in years. Angela? Jesus Christ, how does this woman not have significant issues. (Oh right. Milqued Toast.) It also makes Fareeha/Angela a weirder thing for me, so I will put it out of my mind immediately.
*Obviously I do not love this choice, but I do think it's a fair one and I understand why it's made. Please keep that in mind when I rag on it, I'm not actually IN REAL LIFE mad about it.
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"Ahsoka" Review
Lars and Eman were perfect as Thrawn and Ezra. They are those characters and I will not take criticism. More of my thoughts below.
Overall, I give this show an 7.5/10. I enjoyed it more than Mando S3, BoBF, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, but not as much as Andor or the first 2 seasons of Mando. As a Rebels fan, I was overjoyed to see my fave characters like Hera and Sabine return. Just seeing them warmed my heart. When Thrawn showed up, my heart leaped out of my chest. I could not believe that I was seeing Mitth'raw'nuruodo himself in live-action.
Okay, I'm just going to put my Thrawn takes out there (please do not come after me. This is my opinion and I respect anyone who disagrees):
I love Canon Book Thrawn so much. I admire him. I relate to him. I love him. Thrawn in the Canon books is amazing. I enjoy his relationships with Thalias, Eli, and Ar'alani. I love how he mentors Che'ri and Eli. I love that he seeks to protect his people. I love how he is an art nerd and has the craziest plans.
But in "Ahsoka," every time he said "long, live the empire," I wanted to toss my screen. I understand he was closer to his Legends counterpart and I am still excited to see where his character goes I just miss his canon book version.
That being said, I LOVED Lars as Thrawn. There is no doubt in my mind that he IS Thrawn. Voice aside, everything from his mannerisms to composure was perfect. I can't picture anyone else in this role nor do I want anyone else. Lars is able to capture Thrawn's subtle expressions so perfectly and I had a blast watching him every time when he was on screen.
Moving on
Of the new characters, Baylan Skoll was my favorite. Ray Stevenson portrayed him with such grace and elegance. He was mysterious and much welcomed addition to Star Wars. I thought his philosophy was unique and I appreciated that he wasn't an all-out bad guy. I do hope they continue his story and not drop it completely. Rest in peace Ray.
Honestly, I felt that Shin wasn't explored enough for me to really enjoy her. I think she is interesting and there's a lot of potential regarding her inner conflict. I hope season 2 really delves into that. Why did she join Baylon? What power does she seek?
Morgan and the Nightsisters were just really cool to me. The magic they utilized was awesome and the rise of the zombie troopers was spooky.
Also, the music! The Kiners really popped off. I genuinely loved the end credits theme so much. That and the integration of themes were great.
However, I am not a fan of Sabine being force-sensitive. It doesn't make sense in my opinion. It was never hinted at in Rebels and her relationship with Ahsoka feels kinda shoehorned in. I wish we saw what led to her becoming Ahsoka's apprentice. Sabine is already a cool character. Why does she need the force?
Ahsoka in the earlier episodes also was kinda bland. But after episode 5, she felt more like herself. I get that she's not going to be the same as her younger self, but she always had a warmth to her, even when she was serious and I missed that. Rosario still killed it though. I really enjoyed episode 5 with the Clone Wars live-action representation. I know some people really want that but I think it should stay animated.
The lore with the new galaxy was also really cool. It opens the doors to so much storytelling and I love the impact it will have on our heroes. It seems that the Nightsisters and the Mortis gods came from there.
Action was cool, I miss my space husbands, Mon Mothma was cool, and I do think they should stop using the dome for many shots.
Overall, a fun time and I'm excited for what comes next.
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a-gal-with-taste · 2 years
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FLAWED - Silco X F!Reader
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The Undercity has no bounds.
The Lanes are a playground with few rules, fewer limits, and one in charge. A perfect system - it is not, but the overseeing Eye has held a reign for several, moreso successful years.
Silco knows exactly what he is - oftentimes using it to his advantage, or to the detriment of others.
It's become an ultimate weapon, in a way, one he has few qualms with using. And even fewer thoughts about suspecting how things could be different... or more effectually, how someone can look at him different.
You do, though. He isn't sure how, or why, but you do.
To your advantage, and to his willing detriment.
[Rewrite of Flawless | Extended | Silco's POV]
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Current WC: 2.9K
Warnings: NSFW|MDNI | SMUT. Slow-Burn, tension, romance, drama, explicit sexual-content, pining, Silco x F!Reader, sex-work, dom-sub undertones, angst with eventual happy-ending
Silco doesn't want her in the revealing attire of her peers. It's too bland, too normal and far too tasteless - though he's sure many others would disagree, and would prefer for a woman of her profession to greet him by wearing nothing at all.
Eventually, she will be clad in nothing but the perspiration of sweat on her bare skin, but Silco wants to take a moment. Take his time. Yes, likely because viewing this any other way but cautiously is bound to lead to disaster, and perhaps his hasty retreat from this establishment should such a disaster strike, but also because he prefers to savor this.
However long it lasts, however long she is to be his, before boredom or mistrust drive him away from her services, Silco at least plans to enjoy the time he does have with her. However fleeting, it might just be good for his sanity and his health to slow down, and relax.
Sevika had said he had been more than tightly-strung for many years, and if that string is to snap, he prefers it to snap upon the touch of a stranger, then in full-view before his empire and subjects. Easier to compact the blast-radius, establish damage control… disaster is all but assured as the price for being asinine enough to listen to the under breath snark of his second, but it'll be a disaster more easily contained between silk-sheets.
The door opens.
Shuts, and the automatic lock accompanies the soft-footsteps that finally pull him away from the attention of the window, and ensure the drapes are drawn fully- it matters not that he wears a mask, nor that anonymity was promised.
Silco rolls his shoulders back as he stands fully, the darker shirt straining against muscles, and already wishes for his thicker cloak as he stands with his back towards his lady of the night, who is surely anything but a lady.
But, if she followed his instructions, he might just see some hint of refinement in this woman. Not the target goal, but the beauty of a woman would certainly be a welcomed side-effect.
"You wore it? Does it fit well?"
"I did, thank you. It is a flawless fit, beloved."
He slows the sharp exhale as he raises his chin, glaring straight ahead. Her voice is that of perfect devastation, sweet and low, rasped perfectly and already commanding attention.
She's good, and didn't even hesitate to use the... pet-name, that he was required to pick at the front desk. A sacrifice for anonymity, just as the loss of his attire, coat and even his face was. The mask sits comfortably, and obscures enough to make it a mystery of his face, but the Eye of Zaun knows one would only have to glance at the slits in place for his eyes to see that they are burning .
"Good." Pause, and he feels stupid for saying such a plain remark. "I… Good."
Silco chose to savor this, but turns rather sharply on his heel to face her, and -
And he hated.
On-sight, there is an immediate, fiery inferno that explodes within Silco's chest, in whatever's left of that pulsing pound of useless muscle and sinew beneath his skin, and it burns with something he can only know - can only understand - as hatred.
Hatred, for the beautiful, kneeling woman on the floor, who pauses a heartbeat, before glancing up. Doe-like eyes gleam up through thick lashes, and it's the first hint that this entire arrangement is to be a disaster.
The gown he's picked for her gathers around her legs from where she kneels so elegantly, obedient. Sheer, but sophisticated even as it saps at imagination of her body, and it even slips off her shoulders to reveal soft, inviting skin…
It's a sight that forces Silco's gaze to return to her face, which makes his body-heat flare up even more, to a temperature that should be concerning.
But Silco can't bring himself to be concerned. Not when the mask that hangs around her eyes doesn't even qualify as fabric, but is as thin as smoke. Through such a wispy shield, her own gaze reveals she is equally examining him, though thanks to the thicker concealment crossing his face, she's left with only her imagination as to her clients features…
Does she see a younger man behind his own mask of gold?
A silly thought, but it's immediate, and turns that fire dark inside the concealed Kingpin as he takes a step towards her kneeling form, then another.
Would that make it easier for her? Again, an arbitrary thought - and how absurd, to even entertain such an idea born of jealousy - but one he uses in order to make sure he hates her evermore.
Hatred is easier. Hatred, is the only way he is able to translate whatever is flaring in his chest to be, as she continues to watch the secret Eye's approach.
She doesn't look away. Barely blinks as she watches his steady, hard approach, pitch-black boots thumping hard with every footfall, before he stands before her.
Her head silently tilts back, studying the cover of his face, and picturing whomever she prefers to see behind it. It's appreciated… and is also vile, in some sudden, twisted way. Vile in a way that Silco almost finds dark comfort in, that she may picture any other man's face behind the mask but his own...
Does that make it easier for her, to reach out, and slide her hands up along his legs?
To picture that it's another, another man for her to slowly, sensually caress along thighs and tendons beneath clothing. Is it easier to focus on the job at hand? For her to gaze into the slits where his eyes are, instead of the painfully ache of a bulge that's not inches in front of her face?
Silco is almost tempted to ask, who she pictures behind the mask. By pride or by practicality, he doesn't dare too, and is too focused on his relief that comes with her cool-hands soothing the ache as her nails trace along the back of his thighs.
And then that relief returns to the fire, with the sound of her voice - lightly rasped, low, and sweet, like some hidden delicacy among the bitterness of life.
"Is this what you want from me, beloved? Are you satisfied?"
Satisfaction? Silco wasn't sure that still existed.
The laugh is dulled somewhat by the mask, but still, she didn't react to the bitter sound. Only continues to gaze up at him through the thin-slip of sheer-gray that hangs over her eyes, in lieu of anonymity.
Anonymity. What a joke.
As if Silco can't tell that she already peers inside the furnace that has become his heart, body and soul. It's impressive she hasn't called him by his real name yet, he's so certain she is reading him like a book already…
"No. I'm… dissatisfied with seeing you on your knees."
A first, for him. But this entire situation is, so it's not overly-surprising. What comes out of his mouth next, though, is. "I want to see you above me."
She blinks, but doesn't react otherwise, even though Silco jolts slightly at his own words, all but commanding her to take charge. He jolts a second-time at the feel of her fingers, sliding up, and up.
Up, and further-upward still, as she effortlessly slips onto one knee, and then on none. The touch passing his inner-thigh is nothing short of cruelty … an admirable-quality Silco loves to hate about her as her palms slide over his abdomen, and settle on his chest as she gazes-still where his eyes should be.
It's incredible her palms haven't scalded yet. His body feels like a living, destructive flame, and she still travels her touch over him like it's a far more pleasant warmth.
"Is there anything else you would like, beloved? You had... reservations."
He did. And damn them all.
"The mask stays. The chosen-name stays. The dress as well."
A pause. Fingertips press and knead gently through the shirt on his pectorals, and Silco snaps.
His voice, soft, and low as he finalizes the exact steps that will lead him to his doom:
"You may touch my neck."
Silk-soft lips touch along his jugular not-seconds later, and the breath it drags from him is nothing short of horrid. Silco is drowning - not on water or even air - but he drowns in the fire that is burning him from the inside out.
Fire that she seems to be an expert of stoking into a blaze, fanning every spark as her fingers glide down, under and up, skimming skin and stroking circles along his stomach even as he bounces back onto the bed beneath him, and remains.
How many years since he had been manhandled like that… or allowed someone to be so effective about it? Silco hadn't even realized his world had gone off-balance, and by the time he even tries to balance his world's axis, she's already straddling his thighs, hips-
Frozen in the heat, Silco can do nothing but grab her. Leaving bruises on the whore, is as predictable as a sunrise, but there's nothing more that could prepare him from the way she murmurs beloved into the hollow of his throat. All he can do is cling even tighter, as she breathes such a dreaded word against his skin, between lips mouthing the expanse of his throat as if with some sort of mission in mind.
A mission to destroy him, evidently.
Silco is breathless, and hates her. Hates her for choking him with the softest of kisses there, all the while she casually moves the elegant fabric of her gown,  bunching it up around her waist gracefully, in order to maneuver his own pants aside. Soon freeing his leaking, rock-hard cock from its confines with the most simple of touches, fingertips exploring a new source of flesh to torment with pleasure.
She leans back only enough to murmur wordlessly in praise as she traces her nail along a vein, her other nails having found his hair to card through with nothing short of belovement, indeed-
Silco lets out a breath that rasps as if strangled.  
Hate, fire, and the greatest desire he's ever felt in his life compelled Silco's parched lips to move in his command; the weakest order, but one she follows as she slips down, moving her palm flat against his head to steady herself. Thumb still stroking at the sweaty, longer errant strands of grey-streaked black that have spilled onto the pillows.
About the same time, she lines him up to her already soaked-cunt in order to lower herself onto him in a single slow, practiced movement.
Practiced.
She's done this before - to countless, and will no doubt do it countless times more.
It's enough of a reminder to douse out some of those flames - though he doesn't have a prayer to fully avoid being reduced to ashes. Silco grits his already aching-teeth with pleasure. He all but hisses out his final command, when he finally remembers that he's supposed to be savoring this, "Ride me."
"Yes, beloved."
Damn her.
Damn her, but by the Gods, if he doesn't savor it. If sex is a recreational business, then he's become a witness to art, at the same time he becomes it's willing participant, watching the master and artist at work.
And she works.
Works into a near-frenzy with her body, gripping a hand at his waist and once more threading fingers through his hair as she rocks. Forward, back, circles and with knees soon trembling at his thighs as she whimpers, moans and cries out his new title - not to the ceiling, no.
Despite his own grunts, the Eye of Zaun feels the urge to laugh at the level of her audacity, as she has the nerve to gaze down at him. Eyes lustful and nearly wet in overwhelming pleasure. And a whisper, breathlessly oozes from the slim-excuse of a mask around her twisted expression as she clenches tight around him in promise, in warning, "Beloved."
His undoing comes in time with hers.
How hilariously poetic.
Nails bury into her hips, until he knows they bleed - it feels justified, in the heat of the moment and in the unbearable heat his body still holds. Her own fingers clench tight enough at his hair to make it ache as hard as his teeth are, while fire licks at the inside of his organs, behind his teeth, and roaring through every vein within his body as the thrusts up into her cunt turn wild.
It's hatred that he feels.
It must be - has to be - for though the flames begin to smolder within his body, it doesn't erase the way he stares up at her, open-mouthed and silent as her hair cascades down her shoulders and back. Chest-heaving with every breath she drags from the air into her greedy lips, one sleeve has fallen so far down that her exposed breast bounces with the every-hitch in her breath as she finally slackens above him, thoroughly fucked.
Silco squeezes his remaining eye shut when her chin begins to tip back down, certain he does not want to freeze in her gaze a second time. " Off. Lay back, on the... on the bed."
She doesn't call-out his hesitation. She very likely can't, too focused on the feel of his release staining down her thighs as she eases him from her spent-entrance, soon collapsing beside him with heavy-breaths. A short, low moan of satisfaction with her face in the soft cushioning beneath her.
Silco doesn't open his eyes to see any of it.
He only learns to move again when he finally registers her palm, shaking still, tracing over his rapidly-falling and rising chest.
Turning away from her, the man takes a moment to puff a series of breaths back into his airless body while half-curled on his side, before finding the strength to fully turn. Boots hit the ground in unison as he yanks himself into an upright position at the bedside, ignoring the shaking of his knees even as he sits, and doing his hardest to ignore her.
Back to her, he still feels those eyes of hers watching him. They shouldn't be - her job is done, and yet here she was. Daring to still be here. Daring to still torment him…
Gods, she doesn't even have to be facing him, nor him to her. Silco can already feel the disaster brewing, and frankly, he doesn't help his cause by turning to glare down at her.
Perhaps he is some sort of a masochist after all.
She can hardly read his expression, though she takes it as an invitation, and turns onto her back. Legs-splaying - indeed stained with the dress barely hanging off her body - she lays in a tousled pillow of her own hair. Sensuality itself, even as she is merely breathing, eyes hooded and arms lazily resting alongside her head, as if to frame the beautiful, and deadly image she makes…
"...Do you want it back?"
“What?" Truly, he is confused. With many things, but her most of all, for how does a whore have this much control over the flames inside of him. He seems to burn just by looking at her, and has the gall to act like she knows nothing of the scorched earth she leaves in her wake-
She smiles. Sweet, patient, and dreadful.
"The dress? Would you like it back?"
A blink she doesn't see, but she smiles wider at him regardless.
And far, far too late, Silco realizes he must leave. He is already destroyed, but might spare himself further destruction by leaving now.
"Keep it."
"... it's very expensive, beloved. Are you sure-?"
“Keep it."  
The soft snarl, weakened from recent coitus and from the recent ravaging of his all that remains of common-sense, shuts her up in time with the sound of clinking-coins, which are muffled only slightly in the drawstring bag he pulls from his boot, and tosses onto the pillow beside her.
At least a quarter of her nightly tip spills out, fresh gold glinting in the warm red of the room lighting, but she pays them no mind. Save for a single hand, quivering slightly at the fingertips, in order to pinch one of the coins up, and mindlessly stroke between thumb and forefinger. She gazes at him all the while in her quiet contemplation, before quietly asking the question of his doom:
"Will you come back for me, beloved?"
No.
He… no.
Silco shouldn't he shouldn't indulge this, damn whatever Sevika says, or his body demands.
Damn savoring the experience. Damn this brothel, damn the undercity and the access of red-light districts, damn Zaun, and most importantly, damn her-
(It's hatred that he feels, isn't it? What else could be so powerful?)
Because this is a disaster in the making - she's all but ensured that, and Silco is more than aware of it already.
Because above all else, above everything he has sacrificed, and may yet sacrifice in the future, he knows this woman is going to burn him alive…
"Beloved?"
"I... yes. I will be back. Tomorrow evening."
… and he already knows he's not going to be adverse to it, if it’s by her hand.
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hummusenthusiast · 7 months
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actually i still have some thoughts abt fight club, i think i finally have an idea what this journey of tyler was about this whole time ... as a teen what i took from the movie was mainly society bad, brad pitt hot, cool plot twist (the plottwist w the persona reveal literally blasted my brain so hard that i had to take a pause for a bit and go outside to have a cigarette sgsgdgs) and i also remember some vague feelings abt how its uncool that tyler in the end doesnt want to go along with the plan anymore (dudebro brainrot) but now its like .. i get why the ending makes sense. why tyler in the end finds his peace. he finally finds what he's been looking for. the whole movie is abt him trying to find some semblence of connection or meaning in his life. his life is completely meaningless and devoid of connection to the other ppl around him, his job doesnt interest him, he flees into consumerism to fill the void but its not enough, so he goes and starts looking for meaning with the self help groups bc in these groups, he finally has someone listen to him. tyler feeds his desire for human connection by faking diseases and experiencing what its like if another person listens to u and has empathy with u. one of his problems is that he cant cry. he needs the group sessions to cry, there is so much sadness and desperation within him but he cant even cry and its only thru the group sessions that he's finally able, as he says, to let go. and the fight club is similar. if youre beating the shit out of each other and building a group around u thats made up of ppl that are all similar to u, youre fostering some kind of connection. tyler and his club also connect cuz theyre men, they might feel like theyre reinventing what it means to be men to them. by going back to some kind of archaic imagination of masculinity that presents a stark contrast with the expectation that his father as well as the society around him expect him to fill as a man (his father who just said "idk get a job. get married" .. etc). but the thing is, its still not enough and it becomes destructive, its fake sort of as well bc tyler, the other one, doesnt exist so its still, just, again, a facsimile of what he actually wants. its why marla is so important and its also why marla and the other tyler cant coexist bc tyler is a replacement for human connection whereas marla is the real thing. marla is the first person who understands him. she comes to the self help groups as a tourist as well bc marla, as well, leads a life thats completely devoid of meaning or purpose. she's sad, she's depressed and she's self-destructive, has "given up on herself", is suicidal but not enough to actually kill herself which is kinda the whole point here! it parallels with the way tyler cant cry, and how tyler, with his insomnia, is neither awake nor asleep. its all bland, all the same, all so meaningless, both of them just want smth drastic to happen cuz they cant take what their day to day life makes them feel like. marla says she could die at any moment, never looks left or right before crossing the street cuz she hopes that it might finally happen but it doesnt. she cant kill herself via swallowing pills either but she can cry for help .. the point is that tyler and marla in the end come to see each other for who they truly are and tyler experiences what its like to connect with another person who Gets u and thats why he ends up in a better place than before. his life now has meaning, he's not alone anymore, there's someone else there to watch the buildings explode with him and hold his hand. and thats why the fake tyler is gone and he doesnt need him anymore
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thenewfuture · 7 months
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Ranking the Mainline DanganRonpa Entries
Hey guys. The mastermind ranking list brought a lot of discussion and attention here, and I had a lot of fun making it. Now it's time to start list that won the second place on the poll; ranking all of the main series entries.
Oh, beloved DanganRonpa. How you started out as a niche spiritual successor to Ace Attorney, to now becoming your own big entity that can rival the best of them. Where have the years gone?
Quick rules to explain the process here:
-Like I said this is only the mainline entries. Fanganronpas like the Another series, Rebirth, Blowback, etc. will not be counted.
-That being said, I will also not be including any side content like Summer Camp S, The Kirigiri, Togami and Ultra Despair Hagakure novels, Killer Killer, IF, and Zero. For one, because a lot of them don't do much to add to DanganRonpa's overarching story. And two, a good half of them I have not seen nor am I interested in doing so because they don't much for the main series anyway. Apologies...
-This list is going to be INCREDIBLY SUBJECTIVE AND OPINIONATED, if you disagree with any of the spots I've put them in; that is completely fine, just don't be a jerk about it.
-And finally, the following will contain massive spoilers for the DanganRonpa series and their respective games and entries. View at your own risk. But considering this is on a story blog that takes place after three of the entries here, maybe you shouldn't be here anyway, but I'm still warning others just to be safe.
#5 DanganRonpa 1: Trigger Happy Havoc
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Why is the subtitle for the game way bigger and upfront on the cover while the actual series name is way smaller? I don't get it...
To kick off our ranking list, it's the game that started it all. The very first DanganRonpa game, Trigger Happy Havoc! Now don't get wrong, even though it's this low doesn't make it the "worst", just my personal least favorite out of all of them. I mean I would have had to like the first game to some degree if I stuck with the series this long, right? I think this game has just aged......poorly...
The premise of the game starts out very well, each student is trapped in an enclosed environment and the only form of escape is to kill another classmate. This sort of environment encourages distrust of others so that when it's inevitably time for a murder, not only are you devastated that the character you were growing attached died but also saddened at how another character you liked could do something like that. That's all fine and dandy......here's the problem...
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You can't convince me these guys were EVER friends! Not only is the player supposed to get attached to the other characters, the characters themselves have to from lasting trust and bonding experiences so that they too can feel despair. But barring a few good exceptions, it's not really done with anyone else. Let give a few examples:
Could imagine Sakura getting well with Kiyotaka? ......Hard, right?
Could imagine Leon getting along with Touko? ......No, right?
Could imagine Celeste getting along with Aoi? HA! Right?!
And that's not taking into account despair loving diva Junko and her sister Mukuro who would barely have any identity of her own.
Like I said; there are some great relationships here, I am not ignoring that. I was saddened with Kiyotaka having to get separated from Mondo too, and even more saddened when Aoi tried to get everyone killed because she believed the reason for her best friend's suicide was everyone else. But the comradery of the group doesn't work as well as it should or could have been we focus on these smaller groups and leaving behind the characters that exactly fit into a group of there own. Many of the other games fix this by having much more morale boosting events and activities for the rest of the remaining cast, meanwhile I can't exactly say the same here. As an unfortunate downside of this, it makes some of the characters bland and forgettable at best. Cast makes or breaks your visual novel game people, and the cast of THH leaves a lot to be desired.
The pacing's also very slow here. Because Monokuma doesn't outright say that a blackened has to survive and outwit the others in a class trial, the first chapter feels much more sluggish as a result. Future entries would go on to fix that issue by telling them right out the gate. And like I said, because there are hardly any events or anything of note going with the cast at times, most chapters play like: "waking up, meet up with everyone else, talking about what happened, explore new area, Free Time, Free Time, sleep, wake up, meet up, Free Time, Free Time, motive, sleep, wake up, meet up, Free Time, Free Time, sleep, Free Time, Free Time, oh hey someone kicked the bucket"
The slowness also translates to the gameplay as well. Having no breaks means going through 1 to 2 hour trials in one big burst. The joke of "Naegi, telling them" is very much true here and it's normally him, Kyoko and whenever he's not being a dick, Byakuya carrying the trials with everyone else offering their input every once in a while. "Gee, I wonder if we could spice this up by having other characters object to your line of thinking?.......NAH!" The minigames are serviceable as well, I mean Hangman's Gambit was never bit it's fine here, Climatic Return is always awesome, and while MTB is fine I just want to talk to the person that suggessted having this sort of action take place NUMEROUS TIMES in some of the later trials! And I have an unexplained, visceral, HATRED for the RE:Action prompt. Imagine having to watch and read some text explaing important information to just suddenly STOP TO A HAULT and press another button to get more info because your character to ask, "what do you mean?" by himself.
All in all, while Trigger Happy Havoc may not hold up as well as most of its predecessors, and maybe some of my reasons boil down to me spoiling myself on this game but watching a let's play of it and skipping down to see who survived, that doesn't mean there isn't a whole lot good to this game. The characters I do care about are written pretty well, Makoto is a good protagonist for this game and works in a number of ways, the trials are fairly simple to what we get later down the line, and the atmosphere works well for a killing game environment. I just have a few issues with it personally that question if I want to go back to it on numerous occasions. But as I said, if I didn't like the first game somewhat I wouldn't really be here, would I?
Just remember your first shot isn't always going to be your best, and that's okay.
#4 DanganRonpa V3: Killing Harmony
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I consider V3 to be the Fire Emblem Fates of the franchise..............now I know that made sense to a whopping two of you, so let me explain.
Fire Emblem Fates comes off the massive success of its predecessor, Awakening, and fixes a lot of its issues. The gameplay is much more advanced and easy to understand, the music is really good, the environments look amazing, and there is a ton of content for many to enjoy. .......Everything else with it?
OH BOOOOOOOOYYYYY!!!!!!!!
A great number of characters are incredibly one note, has an insane number of unwanted fanservice moments, has numerous localization controversy, and the story is so GODDAMN convoluted, confusing and messy, surrounding itself in a mountain of incest!
.........So onto V3...
DanganRonpa V3 comes off the massive success of its predecessors, and fixes a lot of issues. The gameplay and mingames are much more easier to understand and scrum debating is awesome, the music is fantastic, the graphics and environments take use of its new console software, and there is a lot of content to enjoy. .....Everything else with it?
OH BOOOOOOOOYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!
Some of the characters are incredibly one note, has insane number of unwanted fanservice moments, has numerous localization controversy, and the story is so GODDAMN convoluted, confusing, twisted and messy, surrounding itself in a MOUNTAIN of incest!
..........Ya get it now?
I don't want it to seem like I'm ragging a whole lot on V3, but there are a lot of things that this game does that is straight up bad.
I will be nice and start with the good first however. I really like the cast and their designs, very unique and hard to forget even if I tried. The Ultimate Academy is a pretty cool set-piece for the killing game to take place in; having it be closed off to the world like Hope's Peak Academy but open to see the sky and other areas like Jabberwock Island, a pretty decent blend of the two. The music is a phenomenal treat for the ears, and for the eyes comes amazing sprite work for the new characters as well as Monokuma and great use of angles not before seen in the class trials. The new minigames for this game, Scrum Debate and Mass Panic Debates are also hella fun. And the bonus content is spectacular with Salmon Mode and Ultimate Talent Development Plan treating the fans to some actually GOOD fanservice.
That's about where the compliments end unfortunately. The other minigames aren't that fun to play through, Mind Mine is pointless and I don't enjoy it. V3 is notorious for having the ridiculous and mind stretching logic of all the class trials and that is a fact, Seesaw murders anyone? The back route mechanic sounds good on paper, and I'm not going to pretend that actually having multiple routes in a trial isn't a tremendous amount of work to pull off, but most of the optional ones are just time wasters as we don't learn much and just end up back on the correct path after a few minutes, so one has to wonder the point of all that. While I do like this cast, there are some stinkers that bring it down for me and can't compete with other ones. What the fuck is with all the incest in this writing?! And of course...the big two...
Why did we replace Kaede, a unique talent personality type who had tremendous potential for the first ever girl, main series, DanganRonpa, class trial protagonist.....for Shuichi? A low self-esteem, doesn't feel like he belongs, boy protagonist?
THIS IS THE THIRD TIME WE'VE HAD SOMETHING LIKE THIS!
We were this close to greatness....this close... And I love Shuichi too, but it still hurts everytime I think about it man, come on! Kaede could have done great things for this story or even have the two share the role of dual-swapping protagonists! And oh, that story though...
I get it, the power of fiction is real and it affects reality,and it does work for this game's overall theme of truth and lies, blah blah blah... But with how many times they HAMMER the message of: "Everything's fake! Everything you know and lie isn't real and it didn't happen! Look at you, the fans, you love killing games! You love DanganRonpa! Hahahahaha!" The message work so well it loops back around to feel insulting to not only the "fake" audience of the TV Show series, but also the auidence that's playing the game now. And apparently must have not worked enough because we still have people making videos on what they want in DanganRonpa 4, as well fans like me still being here and creating content discussion for it right now.
And with how ridiculous some of the characters' backstory are, such Gonta living with actual dinosaur people, Kaede preforming for famous kings across the world, Kirumi being the FUCKING PRIME MINISTER, maybe these were the clues all along to help you figure out this place was a fictional world. And I know that this is the series where a high school girl can overthrow the world into chaos, demigods are basically born left and right, and ghosts and aliens directly affect the plot, but I think we should have some sort of groundedness to this world, no?
Bottom line: V3 is a good game but has a mediocre story and because this is the last game in the series(maybe?), it leaves nothing but a bad taste in my mouth. I swear these writers aren't even trying anymore, DanganRonpa 17 was the best.
#3 DanganRonpa 3: The End Of Hope's Peak Academy
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*THE BIGGEST AUDIBLE GASP KNOWN TO MANKIND*
Mod Freeze, isn't DanganRonpa 3 relegated as one of the worst installments in the franchise by the fans? Yes.
Mod Freeze, isn't the Final Killing Game a massive jumbled mess of time management, rules, and scope? Yes.
Mod Freeze, didn't DanganRonpa 3 not utilize a whole bunch of its characters as well as the DR2 cast? Yes.
Mod Freeze, isn't DanganRonpa 3 responsible for instilling the idea of the Remnants of Despair simply being brainwashed? Yes.
Mod Freeze, is this straw-man arguments tired out and old? Yes.
Mod Freeze, why is Danganronpa 3 so high? Well my dear reader, that is a long and extravagant answer.....
I like it.
........................
....That's it.
I'm not here to paint you a picture on how DR3 is the greatest piece of media in the history of existence, or even sway your mind from thinking that DR3 is so garbage that it could be mistaken for a Garbodor. I like DanganRonpa 3, for the simple fact that I enjoyed my time with it.
Now I am not blind to the various things DanganRonpa 3 has done wrong. It doesn't utilize most of the branch leaders well or hardly gives you any reason to care about them. A good chunk of the DR2 cast get left behind in the dust, especially those that should garner more attention like those present for the Twilight Syndrome case. And those that took the time to read and explore other lore such as DR0 do not get rewarded. Skips what could be interesting scenarios such as Chisa's time in the reserve course or even a few moments with the THH cast. And that's not even mentioning the Final Killing Game with all its confusing and convoluted bullshit.
But honestly, despite all that, I didn't mind any of that too much. I really liked the idea of a free-for-all killing game that Future Arc tried to implement, and seeing the fun and cute moments of the 77th class was such a delight. Some characters ere unfortunately narratively more built important than others, but some of them stuck out to me for the best of reasons. Chisa's fun mommy-sue nature, Seiko's tragic backstory and relationship with Ruruka, Koichi how he's trying to protect and be there for Kyoko, and a lot of the designs here for these guys kick ass.
Great Gozu is a more well-rounded character than a good chunk of others from THH and V3, and I can and will fight you on that.
Some of the returning cast was done really good here too, a real Chiaki for added wholesomeness, Hajime with his doubts of self-worth due to lack of talent, Imposter shined more than I thought he would, dude would ever imagine Imposter getting some shine in the main series, never me, holy cow. And we explored other characters who we hadn't known more about, like Izuru finally making him his own character, exploring the relationship and natures of Natsumi and Sato, and Mukuro.............y'know let's just not talk about that blunder...
I don't even mind the brainwashing portion either because.......that's what it always was....
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And I had a talk with an anon a while back about this topic. I don't mind it too much because, if you're telling me that Junko can just switch your marolaity with a few words from her silver tongue, that makes her look too overpowered and the rest of the DR2 cast indigenous and kind of already shitty people. And I know a few of them can be swayed to despair give the right circumstances(Fuyuhiko, Peko, Mahiru, Mikan, Hiyoko, Akane), but honest to god how can someone like Imposter, Nekomaru, or ray of sunshine fall to despair with her words. I think we're stretching it here...
DanganRonpa 3 may have disappointment me as well as others on a quite few number of fronts, but kept me more invested in its story and mysteries than the past two entries. Again, my personal opinion of course... Without DR3, I wouldn't be making The New Future in the first place so it has to have some merit of enjoyment in here. And I think there could be more stuff to enjoy from this anime as well, squint and tilt it a little bit and you might find a gleam of hope...
But hey, what do I know? I'm the guy that likes DanganRonpa 3 :P
#2 DanganRonpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls
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Okay how do you say this name?! Ultra Despair Girls: DanganRonpa: Another Episode?! DanganRonpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls?! DanganRonpa Ultra Despair Girls: Another Episode?! DanganRonpa 1.5 Final Remix?! THREE FIVE EIGHT OVER TWO DAYS?!-Wait.
These years have shown that not much has changed in the grand scheme of this list, as it's secured second place spot has not been challenged. And that's funny because I'm pretty this game is much more divisive in the fandom as well, and it has the unfortunate perk of being more well known than the anime series. I mean, a game with no class trials, no investigations, no definite mascots, smaller cast than normal, a huge change in gameplay, and Monokuma being demoted to near Goomba status. It may be a spin-off entry, but these are some drastic changes to the formula, almost a whole new game at this point.
However, I think Ultra Despair Girls is a fantastic entry to the series, and you would do yourself a disservice by skipping out on it. Makoto Naegi's little sister, Komaru, fights through the streets of Towa City for survival against the Monokumas and the Warrior of Hope with the help of a returning face, Touko Fukawa.Right off the bat, I have to say this idea for a story is really impressive. Because this takes place after THH but before DR2, we get to see kind of the world is during the Tragedy. Hectic, apocalyptic, barely clinging onto hope.. I may not be a fan of zombie or horrors movies, but the ambience here is top notch and works extremely well.
We have a ton of colorful characters as well, the Warriors of Hope are good antagonists with heartbreaking and understanding backstories, seeing relatives or people close to the first's game cast is an excellent treat as well like Hiroko, Kanon, Yuta and Taichi even if we get a little out of those two...and of course, the main big bad, Monaca. If you read my ranking list of the series' masterminds you know full well why I like her. She is a perfect villain for this sort of story, a twisted and manipulative person with the face of the child but the heart of a demon.
Of course, I can't forget to mention Komaru and Touko. Komaru's development from an average whiny high school girl who can't do anything learns to stand up and fight for herself. And Touko, who has outgrown her shell of being reclusive and venomous to others....while still retaining that somewhat, now has an active roll of helping Komaru get through these tough times. She offers her advice, lessons, support, everything. These two's relationship make this game for me and I'm sure many others would agree with me on that front.
Okay, time to get on to the negatives here, ah......oh boy....
For starters Towa City is huge and many areas here are really cool looking, but the path is quite linear and that can be quite tedious for exploring and hiding collectibles. It's not too hard, but there are a lot of collectibles to nab, and if you miss one you have to start the chapter all over again so be mindful. One of which is the wanted list that the WOH have to hunt down other "demons" aka, THH's families and friends. You give them to Hiroko to hopefully go get them, but do you ever seeeee or meeeeet them in the Resistance base. Nope! That's a missed opportunity if I ever heard of one!
And um.......all the.....uncomfortable....things this game does....hoo boy... From Touko's fantasies, to the scoring screen at the end of chapters, to.....the Motivation machine in Chapter 3, and.....j-just how manipulative and twisted Monaca can be in chapter 4, this game proves it is not for the faint of heart. Probably not even that too, those who aren't faint of heart might reel at some of these questionable decisions here. I'd call it fanservice but because some of these scenes involve, ahem, MINORS; I'd call it fansqueezing with how much it'll squeeze and hurt you with all this psychological trauma. I suppose I've either seen worse over the course of my life to not be affected by this, or I've endured these sorts of things in the game so many times that I have become numb to it. Remember folks, I platinumed this game.
Ultra Despair Girls may make you feel despair at times, but beyond that despair, lies hope. Hope of a game with a great story, great cast of characters, and a great episode for this franchise in general.
Oh, also this...
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Another point to V3 being so low. How dare they tease us…
#1....DanganRonpa 2: Goodbye Despair
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"Wow, shocking! The guy that's blog is about the DanganRonpa 2 cast ha DanganRonpa 2 as his favorite! I tooootally saw this coming a mile away!" Hey look man, I don't appreciate all that sass. I saw that train coming a mile away too and I didn't say anything. Also on you're right-
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*HOOOOOORRRRNNN!* *CRAASSSSH!*
Eugh....oh, oh that looks bad.....A-Anyway....
Yes, if you follow me on my main blog you probably know that I love DanganRonpa 2 a whole effin' lot! I love mah boy Hajime! I love mah girl Chiaki! I love my other boys, Fuyuhiko, Kazuichi, and Imposter! I love mah other girls, Sonia, Ibuki and Mikan! I love DanganRonpa 2!
Everything is so right here. The gameplay, the setting, the story, the characters, it's all great!
Mind Dive and Rebuttal Showdown are excellent additions that keep the mystery paces going as well utilizes other characters and their outlooks on certain things. It's almost like it's a real trial here guys. And some would say that an island doesn't really fit for a whole killing game setting, and I agree somewhat, but I love all the places of Jabberwock island and I can argue waking up and finding yourself on a deserted island far, far away from any signs of civilization works just as good too.
And the cast, the cast is perfect! A great combination of personalities coming together to make every moment feel that much more impactful and memorable. And even though I may not like afew of them(Hiyoko, Nagito, Teruteru), they evoke more of a emotional reaction out of me and stick out in my mind far more than other members of the other casts. Not to mention there are plenty of group activities and moments together that serve to boost the character's morale and hope. While again, some of them are locked behind presents, some that aren't work well enough. The party at the old building, a beach party on the second island, Ibuki's concert, there are so many ways for the characters to come together that when some of them do die, it is really sad and heart-wrenching. Like what THH was trying to do, but better!
And the main story is really good as well. Having characters we all know and love turning out to responsible for the Tragedy set up in the first game is a really nice twist, as well as learning that it may be possible to bring them back. Some say it a cheap action that miiiiiight devalue all the tragedy and lose the player and characters have went through, and again, I can see that point being made. I personally believe if you give me the option to have them back I would take it a heartbeat.
If there is one true negative I have for this game, it's that the motives are fundamentally lacking in some regard. The motives for chapters 2 and 3 are very much targeted for specific people, and don't affect the others too much, which made the motives in THH work so well is that anyone could fall into the temptation, everyone was treated equal. And with those two chapters, eehhhhhhh.....not so much....
But even still, I hold DanganRonpa 2 very near and dear to my heart. It was the first game I saw and watched from beginning to end, the first game I played and even why I bought a Vita in the first place. I would come back to this game at a moment's notice, the emotions I felt through every chapter make me want to sit by the beachside and experience it all over again...
DanganRonpa 2: Goodbye Despair is my favorite game in the entire series. I cannot express how much I love it so much...
-Mod
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marinerainbow · 10 months
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I don't usually make posts like this, but I said I would. So Herr are my thoughts on
The Live Action Little Mermaid
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First and foremost: HALLE BAILEY IS AN AMAZING ARIEL!!!!
I never had my doubts about her from what I saw in the trailer. But HOLY HELL she brought the animated mermaid to LIFE with how she played her! Her voice, her expressions, her acting! It all flowed together and I could see Ariel, not someone playing as Ariel. The same goes to the rest of the actors!
And Ariel took more initiative in this film too! She did do a little of that in the original (actively breaking the rules to pursue her passion, taking a leap of faith to try to join the land and have her love, etc) but she seems more involved in the live action film. And not in a way that tries to hammer in the 'girl power' message either (children should have good role models. But when the feminist message starts to take away from the story and becomes that characters' entire personality, that's a bit too much). Ariel here was crafty and wanted to unite the two worlds, but remained her old bubbly and curious self!
Not to mention, Eric! First of all, I loved his performance in the film just as much as Ariel. And they made him more likable too! Like Ariel in the original, Eric was a bit more developed than other prince's in the original film (talking about how he'd not going to go through an arranged marriage, having fun with his love interest instead of just saving her, etc). Though, he was still a kinda bland character. In the live action though, Eric is not just Ariels prince. He feels like he's actually her second half. And the decision to make their goals and backgrounds similar also sheds a new light on Eric and Ariels relationship that the original didn't quite have.
And of course, I can't forget Ursula. I'll admit, I had a slight doubt when I heard they were casting Melissa McCarthy as Ursula. Not because I don't like her, I actually love her in her films. But I've never seen Melissa play a fairytale villain, so I wasn't sure how it would go to have a raunchy comedy actress starring as the sea witch. But BOY HOWDY, Melissa quickly dashed my those fears away. She brought her own spin to the character while also being the sassy, intimidating, deal maker we all know and love! And not to mention her singing voice. Holy. Shit. Melissa, you gotta play more characters like Ursula.
And the same applies to all the other characters! From Ariels friends and her family, all the actors and actresses' brought a whole new life to the characters they were casted as! Including the new ones, such as Eric's mother! Honestly, that's pretty much how this whole movie felt. It felt like I was watching a fairy tale brought to life once again, and not an exact repeat of the original nor a butchered version. They kept a lot of the original script and songs, while also adding new things. Eric and Scuttle got their own songs, some locations were changed but they felt like they worked with 2023 Little Mermaid, and the decision to make the film take place on the Caribbean Islands was a very interesting choice that they made work!!
And I CAN NOT finish this post without mentioning the CGI, beautiful visuals, and character design! All if the graphics were just... AHHH! I can't even describe it. The cast felt like they actually were under water with the changed gravity, and the stunning way they animated the animals. Speaking of which! Yes, they did change the characters' designs, and some of them are goofy, such as Flounder. But they are just as cute too!! And they gave the animals E X P R E S S I O N S!!! This isn't a repeat of the live action Lion King. Through body language, eye movement, and voice, these character genuinely feel like they are living!!! My personal favorite thing about the CGI is that they still gave Sebastian the realistic crab eyes, but animated them so you can still see where he's looking and what he's feeling!!
I found only ONE fatal flaw, though... They did not have Sebastians arch nemesis, the Chef (I'm just kidding. I'm a bit disappointed the Chef wasn't in here, but that's a personal thing and not like a 'the movie is ruined' thing)
Conclusion? Go see The Little Mermaid. Please. You WILL NOT REGRET IT.
In all seriousness, I was a little disappointed when there weren't as many vocals/back up singers in the songs 'Under the Sea' or 'Kiss the Girl', but that's not at all a bad thing. That's just my nostalgia being nit-picky XD and they did make those songs work! It was awesome to hear Ariel and Sebastian sing together, and her friends ACTUALLY working together instead of Sebastian carrying the majority of this operation on his shell.
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meekmedea · 10 days
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conversations over tea (IV)
previous
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I tried to bake,” she tells him during one of their teas. 
There’s a genuine look of bafflement at her words. “Why?”
“I was bored.”
A second or two passes before he speaks again, his curiosity apparent. “How did it go?”
Clemensia took a sip from her tea, choosing not to say a word. 
“How did it go?” he pressed. 
“It came out hard as a rock,” she admits reluctantly when it was clear that Coriolanus wouldn’t drop the matter till she confessed. 
The corners of his mouth twitched. 
“Oh like you could do any better.”
“Is that a challenge?”
She grins. 
Although they are no longer the same children they once were, it was almost heartening to find that he was still as competitive as ever. It made him seem … human instead of the cool, aloof mask he put on nowadays. 
This is how they end up standing in his private kitchen one morning. His cooks sent out, as well as any nosy staff that might be lingering about. 
“How hard can it be?”
Famous last words. If anything, Coriolanus fares even worse than she had. 
Even presidents weren’t exempt from burning bread. 
“Not a word to anyone else,” he insists when hours later, it comes out blacker than coal. 
Clemensia mimicked zipping her mouth shut. 
~~~~~
Their conversations over tea have become a little less one-sided, and she no longer purposefully finds the most bland things to talk about. With his participation, the conversation falls to more casual topics. Politics and anything that might be of importance are things they steer clear of. 
In a way, it’s a game. Coriolanus is after whatever it is he gets out of their weekly teas, while Clemensia continues searching for whatever his motive might be. 
Of course, there are times when his duties as President of Panem come first. There are weeks where she’ll have arrived on time and he’ll be stuck in some meeting that’s gone overtime or have something last minute to take care of. 
In the warmer months, sometimes a maid or an assistant will suggest she wander the gardens as she waits. Or if they’ll offer up the drawing room with the piano if she’d prefer to stay indoors. And when the leaves begin to change their colours, Clemensia prefers the latter. 
For a man who cannot play any musical instrument, the piano is kept in surprisingly good condition. Then again, Clemensia supposed that it wasn’t a good look for the president to have a less than perfect image, in his own home nonetheless. 
Behind closed doors, the piano is hers to play as she likes. Sheet music is provided underneath the bench – some of the pieces she recognizes as ones she’d played back then; others are new, but not impossible to play. 
She can’t help but wonder if he picks them out himself or has someone on his staff do so. 
The maid always makes her a cup of tea while she waits for him to join her – Clemensia only ever takes a sip or two, more so focused on the piano instead. Besides when he arrives, a fresh pot of tea is made anyway. 
~~~~~~
Is this a test of sorts? To test if she’d flaunt their newly re-established ‘friendship’? 
Suffice to say, this is what first comes to mind when the maid that leads her to the drawing room purposefully strays from their usual route, causing her to frequently pass by ministers of various departments in the hallways. 
None of these politicians ever stop to make conversation with her, nor does she attempt to do so. But even if there isn’t any conversation, she can sometimes feel the occasional stare as she walks past. 
So if Coriolanus expects her to flaunt their connection, he’d be sorely disappointed to learn that Clemensia doesn’t talk of their teas to anyone else.
Because while she is well aware of the social benefits that’d come with being closely associated with the President, she’s also aware that the higher one rises, the harder the fall. 
Avarice is dangerous to indulge in, especially in these circumstances. 
Conversation with his other guests is kept to zero until one day, the newly instated Minister of Energy mistakes her for one staff member under the employ of the President. 
A rude man, she recalls her father having described him once, nothing more than a spoiled brat. One who looked down on all he deemed beneath him. 
In a way, perhaps it is her fault, as she doesn’t dress to the nines for these occasions. There’s no point to it – since when does one purposefully dress nicer to call on a friend? But maybe this is why he thinks of her as nothing more than an assistant to order about. 
Regardless, Midas is an unpleasant man. One could tell much about an individual based on how they treated service workers and such. And if this is how he acted, then she was anything but impressed.  
~~~~~~
It isn’t the last of him though, for once their tea has been poured, Coriolanus mentions him. “Midas is rather…” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. 
Behind her teacup, Clemensia tried not to smile. 
“I heard there was an incident with him earlier?”
“Hardly an incident worth mentioning.” Just a rude and arrogant man. Though it had been funny when he demanded to know who she was as she walked away. She could only put up with so much before it became boring.  
But her answer is hardly satisfactory, because he continues to needle her about it. “You’ve got my permission to be as blunt as you need to, so long as you're honest about it,” Coriolanus says eventually. 
If they’d been children, she would have immediately caved. But alas, they were not, rather, he was this strange mix of the childhood friend she recognized and the President that she did not know very well. 
“Well?”
Clemensia made a face at the memory of Midas, displeasure visible – after all, a picture is worth a thousand words.
“That bad?”
“Worse than Niobe’s bragging,” she admits after a second passes. If she had thought Livia stuck-up and unbearable during their childhood, then the older girl had been far, far worse. 
That triggers a laugh out of him. “I remember her far too well. Yet you call earlier hardly an incident?”
“I was being polite,” she protests.  
“You were being too kind,” he corrects as he refills his cup with more tea. “More than what he deserved.”
“Is that so?”
Though he laughingly agrees, Clemensia had a feeling that he was serious. 
And when Clemensia pays a visit to her parents next week, she learns over tea that Midas has been released from his position. 
Father is a little too pleased as he recounts the hand that Midas has been dealt. The man must have made a great number of enemies, for he’s been sent to be the Capitol’s representative in District 5. 
~~~~~~
“Your father declined the position,” Coriolanus tells her that Saturday. 
Clemensia can see it in the way his brows furrowed, like he couldn’t fathom why her father would decline the promotion as minister. “I know,” she says, taking a sip from her tea. 
“Why?” His mouth frowns ever so slightly. 
Stars… a frown now. It felt as if she was slowly unlocking more emotions in him, as comical as that thought was. “Father’s getting on in his years.” Her father’s words, not hers. “He’s been considering retirement.”
He looked puzzled now. “Is his health–”
“No, no, not like that,” she says hastily. “He simply doesn’t want to work till the end of his days.” Clemensia didn’t know what possessed her to teasingly add, “Not everyone is a workaholic like you, Coryo.” 
Startled, he looked like a deer in headlights by her casual use of the nickname.
Idiot! What had made her decide to use such familiarity? After all, these days, they were more ‘Coriolanus and Clemensia’ than ‘Coryo and Clemmie’. “I–” 
He held up a hand to interrupt. “It’s fine,” he says, the shock disappearing into his usual expression. “I just haven’t been called that in a long time.”
first part
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