#sigh. but alas. past me does not think that far into the future | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scriptaed · 3 years

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bygones of the sun. 09 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 5.5k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Moonlight bellows in the background of the warm, golden-lit room—crashing and seceding, crashing and seceding, repeatedly colliding against the jagged rocks by the cliff like tidal waves out at sea in the deep sway of the black night. Under the hypnosis of the jet-black skies absent of the charming twinkling of the stars, you had somehow stumbled through the retreat to your room. You aren’t exactly sure what you had seen—and perhaps, out of consideration for your well-being, you simply don’t want to nor need to comprehend your sightings—but the glutinous image of the broken boy sticks to your chest akin to a dark secret weighing heavy on a sinner’s heart.

And somehow, amidst the long night looming ahead of you, the spur of emotions sweeps you before the door of his room.

Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat and whisper hesitantly next to the wooden frame, “...Hoseok?”

In the red-carpeted hall where dozens of fellow camp attendees rest until the next sunrise, you stand there wondering if Jimin had mistyped the captain’s room number on the emergency flyers. The overwhelming guilt of having pushed Hoseok to his breaking point, albeit unknowingly, had forced the heavy footsteps of yours to this very spot, but now that you’re faced with silence as an answer, you figure perhaps it isn’t in your fate to confront him tonight; it would be the easier way out, at least, for irrationality had bewitched you and plans on what to even say were the last things on your mind… until now.

Subconsciously, your knuckles meet the cold wax finish of his door once again.

One knock, two knocks, and alas, a sigh.

Your hands drop to your sides in defeat, despite regretting your rash decision which had brought you here in the first place. You glimpse around to ensure that the coast was clear, and when the last sigh escapes your lips and the balls of your feet pivot to your left, only then does the door swing wide open.

“What do you want?”

Whirling around, you find Hoseok standing aside where one arm leans against the door frame and the other hides behind the door, clutching the gold handle. As you gaze at him in silence, too taken aback to make your next move, Hoseok stands there, heavy-lidded and jaws clenched, disgruntled by your late night appearance.

The uninviting glare of his elicits the uncomfortable shift in place of your footsteps. It’s a rare moment for goosebumps to rise and chest to constrict when in the presence of someone as playful and flirtatious as Hoseok, but the sudden cold mien of his persona now conveys to you that you’re not welcome here tonight.

“I… I was just…” your eyes dart to the floor as your mind crashes into auto-pilot, searching for any form of excuse other than the truth too unready to be exposed, “I couldn’t fall asleep. So—”

“—you could’ve texted me,” he refutes, brows furrowing, but all your eyes are fixated on are what appears to be beads of sweat dripping from his damp bangs. And when he notices the softening of your wandering eyes, his voice nearly drowns in the waves of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the buzz of the vending machine which shrills in your eardrums to this very second.

From the tee which drapes his upper body and his sweatpants which masks the witnessed scene weighing heavy in your heart, everything about him now would serve as the perfect facade of a normal captain disturbed from his sleep. But at least he's still up, at least he's still trying, at least he answered your call.

You want to believe he’s okay again, that everything you had seen was just a misunderstanding, but something tells you the sun won't be rising again after tonight, and that very thought plagues you of your sleep.

A few seconds pass as you scan him over in a confusing mixture of both disbelief and relief, when Hoseok half scoffs and half chuckles, frowning at your expression, “is something bothering you? You look like you're almost glad to see me for once.”

“...why are you sweating?” you blurt, his words completely missing you as your eyes fixates on the beads of liquid plastered across his temples and trapped in his brows.

“Sweat…?” Hoseok arches a concerned brow before pressing his lips into a thin line. “This isn't sweat… I just got out of the shower. What makes you think that, though?”

Your lips part, but silence ensues when you realize neither you nor him seemed prepared enough to tackle the true reason as to why you're here.

“Nothing… really. It was just the first thing which came to mind.”

Hoseok nods, eyelids weighing heavier and heavier as the conversation comes to an abrupt end. “So…” he drawls, “what do you need?”

“I didn't need anything, per se,” you emphasize, eyes averting to the side and away from his watchful gaze, “I just… wanted to talk. I didn't get to talk to you much today.”

Usually, at a point like this, Hoseok would tease you; “someone's a bit needy today, and I know you're pure and untainted and all, but shouldn't you at least know not to come begging for attention to a guy's room at midnight”—is what he would've said, but tonight, the tidal waves under the wavering moon dictates otherwise.

“Look, Y/N,” he runs a hand through his hair and leans his entire weight against the doorframe, “I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone right now. I want to be alone.”

But does he? Because the gleam in his softened eyes, the windows to his soul, are begging you to accompany him through the long night.

“Are you… okay, Hoseok?” you ask, brows cinching in concern.

He flinches, but his brows immediately lift to mask the initial response. “...yeah,” he finally says after a long pause, taking a deep breath and sighing, eyes never budging from yours, “...I'm fine. Now go sleep if you're done badgering me.”

“Okay… you should sleep, too.”

“Yeah,” he utters under his breath, eyes glued to the ground as he mumbles, “I'll try.”

“Try…?”

“I have a lot of things on my mind and decisions to make tonight,” he explains with a final sigh, the void in his eyes lifting to meet yours once again, and you don't notice until now the purple-blue dark circles which only emphasizes the absence of his usual vigor. “I'll see you tomorrow then.”

And ever so quietly, as if none of the conversation had taken place under the mist of the night perched high up on the mountains, the door closes on you, and the walls between you and Hoseok become thicker than ever.

You can't tell what's on his mind. You can't even tell what's on your own mind. All you can convey is the sheer dejection, the unusual lethargy radiating from Hoseok akin to a captain too prideful to allow his pupils to witness his own cracks and falls.

You're partially responsible for this—no, somehow your mind had convinced you that you're the one completely responsible for this. If you hadn't pushed him to return, maybe things wouldn't have gotten this far. You had reopened a wound like ripping stitches off a gash still in the process of rehabilitation.

And sometimes, wounds of seconds can inflict more pain than its first and leave deeper scars than the past itself.

You're guilty as charged, and you want to fix things now, but the unwelcoming tone of tonight's conversation tells you it might just be too late. If you've acknowledged your mistakes but the other is unwilling to receive your sympathy, what else are you supposed to do?

You had hated the new Hoseok for laying the death of the old, but now that you stand here before his guarded walls and closed door, maybe things would've been better the way they were before.

But that thought finds you as ridiculous, and the very fact that a part of you still wants to aid him in rediscovering your first love at the expense of the person he is now, finds you even more horrendous.

For now, a shower is the only concoction for such a plague.

Water beads drip from the ends of your hair to the cottons of the white towel hanging from your neck. A rush of goosebump inducing air envelops you the second your right foot meets the carpet beyond the bathroom tiles. Besides the remaining drip drops of the water draining in the bathtub behind you, all that is left in the sanctuary of your room is what should have been silence.

Because you can still hear the buzz of the vending machine, the familiar squeaks of sneakers, and worst of all, his wincing breaths endowed with despair still echo in the back of your mind—gradually quickening and crescendoing into a chaos of a symphony without its conductor until everything collapses, the squeaks and the huffs replaced by the ominous buzz of the machine.

As you run through your hair and turn your back on the door to further bury yourself in the depths of your sanctuary, a sudden rise of events interrupts the temporary serenity with the strike of fear into your racing heart.

A series of slurred knocks—two loud, quick knocks followed by one hesitant bump of the knuckles—elicits a ring in your ear as you cautiously turn on the balls of your feet to face the door head on.

The numbers 1:15 A.M. blink in red digital font from the desk beside your bed.

Who could possibly be visiting you at this time of the night?

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice strained with lethargy finally announces after a sigh, and as if reciting words to a spell of witch craft, your heart stills and your body freezes… because did you really just hear Hoseok? Outside your room? The one who had just turned you away without a blink of the eye?

Even with the mess of your mental state after finally digging up the answer you had been searching for all along, the only and greatest fear which plagues you now is the thought of whether the victim, Jung Hoseok, had somehow caught onto you preying upon his darkest of secrets.

After half a minute of silence, Hoseok sighs once again with a groan, “I’m not here to mess around with you if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m on duty for patrolling tonight, and I noticed your light was on. Now open up, would you?”

The walk to your door seems to take you centuries, because the second your hand pushes the handle even an inch down, the door swings wide open to reveal the rather irritated, profusely impatient boy standing on the other side.

“Could you be any slower?” he remarks, eyes peering down at you, unamused. “You’re even slower than me and I worked out more than…”

His white tee shifts underneath his crossed arms as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. The intensity of his eyes with bags and dark circles drooping below elicits a shift in your own body of discomfort. Your own eyes retreat to the ground when his brows cinch and you can tell he’s scanning you over, just seconds away from catching you red-handed.

“...w-what? Can you stop staring at me like that?”

“What? I’m not checking you out or anything if that’s what you’re worried about,” Hoseok scoffs for a fleeting second before silence befalls his lips—and suddenly, the warmth of his hands radiate from your cheeks. A lock of your hair lies in the palms of his long, delicate fingers just barely grazing your cheeks, and it doesn’t take you very long to hastily cover your reddening ears and cheeks with your dampened towel. He frowns, not at your sheepish behavior, but for the wet strands of hair which are all that he fixates on, “did you just work out or something?”

Shouldn't you be the one asking him that? It's as if the irony of his actions is his own method of begging to be exposed without having to come out and ask for it himself.

“No,” you retort, scrunching your face at the absurdity of his suggestion.

Just as you’re about to pull away from his touch, Hoseok retracts his hands from the proximity of your cheeks before what would usually be another one of his mischievous acts; and as much as his sneaky pecks and meaningless affection had once infuriated you, it’s hard to admit how empty you now feel in the absence of its wake. His retreat made of his own will is a first for you.

“Then why are you showering at 1 A.M. in the morning?” he cocks his head with a raised brow.

“Says you—”

“—but at least I have an excuse. I was busy cleaning up after practice,” he retorts and shifts his weight to his other leg, musing, “you, on the other hand…”

“B-Because…” you cross your arms and shoot him the most annoyed glare you could muster; while meeting and comforting him were all that shrouded your mind just a few minutes ago, seeing him in a completely fine state like this is enough to put you to peace and shoo him away for now. “...I slept through the entire day and forgot to shower.”

“...okay,” his lips pressed into a frown gradually bursts into a large grin plastered with second hand embarrassment. “While you kept nagging at me to ‘attend dance camp’ and pick up dancing again, which I so dutifully obliged to tonight, you hide yourself in the corner of your room and sleep the day away?”

“Oh, shut up. It's not like I'm an actual dancer like you—” you roll your eyes before stopping mid-sentence; was that too insensitive of you to say considering the struggles Hoseok seemed to be going through? Clearing your throat, you lift your head high and sigh, “so what’re you doing here? I thought you were busy thinking the night away.”

“Like I said, I'm on patrol tonight. Are you even listening to me or are you to busy fantasizing about all the things we could've been doing in my room right now?” he teases and gently knocks his knuckles on your head.

His entire demeanor had reverted to his usual self, and as concerning as it is to wonder whether this is all an act too painful to witness yourself, you're glad to see him joking around again, even if it's forced.

“No, that's the last thing on my mind, but I guess it's not the same case for someone here,” you roll your eyes.

In retaliation to your indifferent attitude, Hoseok leans against the doorframe with a scoff, pulling you back in as you pushed him out. “Like I said, Ms. I Like To Break Rules Because I’m Dating the Captain, you’re supposed to be asleep by now.”

“I’ll turn off my lights after I blow dry my hair, Mr. Ex Dance Captain—” you bite your tongue when you notice the twitch in his darkened eyes and hardened jaw “—I mean, I'm not dating you.”

At this point, you’re not even sure how to address his relationship with dance, if you should even do so at all.

“So, if you’ll excuse me,” you continue, giving him one last pressed smile and stepping back to close the door; but before you could do so, Hoseok swiftly juts a foot out to interevene, and a simple question ensues.

“What? You don’t want me here?”

All efforts to protest dissipate when he turns his head to face you and lets out a scoff in disbelief, eyes completely empty, and you nearly have to lean in to catch his next words.

“You’re always so cold to me,” he lets out a soft laugh and cracks the most reluctant of grins. “Why do I even bother being disappointed at this point?”

A few seconds of tense silence goes by before it occurs to you what he had just said.

For once, he actually cares about what you say? He’s taking your meaningless banters to heart?

“I’m turning off my lights now,” you frown at him, but his attention remains elsewhere, “isn’t that what you came here to do?”

“You really...” he scoffs and lifts his head, eyes piercing yours and opening the window to his souls; shaky, colorless, lost and infuriated by the calamity of the world before him, in the world you present him. “...do you really think I came here just for that? I could care less what time you sleep.”

“O-Okay…” you stutter; you know there isn’t anything to be hurt over, because what he’s saying has made you believe is of the utmost truth, but the unusually blunt implications of his disingenuity comes on all too harsh.

His constant switch in demeanor is all too confusing to keep up with tonight, and quite frankly, you don't know how to read him anymore, as if you ever could.

His lips part, words of apology ready to be uttered, and his eyes soften in worry for a swift second, but when the clock ticks twice, his jaw hardens the invisible wall built between the two of you.

And for the first time in a while, he’s actually acting like the infamous reputation he had been endowed; because he doesn’t apologize, and now your guts begin to twist and turn, wondering whether you had done something wrong.

Was he in a bad mood because of what you had seen just half an hour before? Should you confront him about it? Should you comfort him? Would words of encouragement even help? Is that what he’s asking for?

Is that the true reason as to why he’s here? Is he… asking for help?

“I’m here to check up on your ankle.”

His mumbling interrupts the internal war fared between two hidden motivations; defeat is all that reigns in the realm of tonight—you, unable to decipher his code, and him, unable to send you such codes.

The mention of your momentarily forgotten injury brings a crease between your brows, “my ankles are fine.”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is for me, your highness,” he refutes with a pressed, unamused smile.

“But it really is fine—” you stop mid-sentence when you notice Hoseok taking a deep breath, chest struggling to rise while constricting the impatience and whatever else remains buried from within.

Please let me in, his eyes scream.

Your feet stumbles as they shuffle backwards, and in response, he takes one swift, large stride forward. The door shuts behind him, and suddenly, the room seems significantly more lackluster than before.

“What if someone sees us?” your fear translates into words.

“Should’ve worried about that earlier, don’t you think?” he flatly remarks, cocking his head to the side.

“...but,” you frown and shake your head, “what if they spread rumors about you entering my room?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes before returning the look of impertinence to you, “haven’t they already spread rumors about us? We literally made out at the pool last night. And who cares what they say? I’m tired of giving a shit about them. All it does is burden you.”

“Burden…” your mind subconsciously slips the words into formation when your eyes naturally trail from his gray sweatpants and up to his white tee where beads of water drip from his drenched bangs. “...hey, Hoseok, why haven't you dried your hair yet?”

He couldn't have possibly went out to practice again, could he?

“My hair…?” his brows cinch as his hands find their way to twirl the wet locks in between his fingers and his eyes light up before settling into a frown once again. “Ah… but first, why are you so concerned for me tonight?”

“Maybe because I was kind enough to let you in my room and that's the least you could do…?”

“But I’m the captain. I’m the one in charge,” he quickly quips. You can see the tip of his tongue running across the inner walls of his mouth from the protrusion of his cheeks and his hardened jaw, as if preparing for a fight. “So, technically, I do have the rights to be here, because you broke the rules. If you don’t want to see me, maybe you should turn off your lights next time.”

His sudden defense rubs you the wrong way when you scoff, “captain? Huh, funny, because I seem to recall a certain someone getting all pissed off at me because I begged them to come here in the first place.”

“What?” he asks in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at you.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. Why are you being so aggravated today? Are you scared to tell me the truth? That you’re playing around and checking in on me to pretend and act like you’ve been up hard at work all day? So you can continue playing around with me without having to hear me nag at you?”

You just want him to be honest with himself, and more so with you, and maybe you aren’t approaching it the right way, but you simply don’t understand how to fix the dent in Hoseok’s enclosed heart.

“What?” he repeats, the fury in his boiling blood exuding from his step forward and your step back. “I’m doing my job here, aren’t I? I’m guiding us through the camp, I’m teaching you guys how to dance, I’m even out here past midnight patrolling as a captain should! So how am I anything but a captain?”

Buzz, sneakers, collision, and buzz—the entire sequence washes onto shore once again from the back of your mind, blaring at you as if to tell you to back down.

He continues to take steps forward, forcing you to retreat backwards into the depths of your room.

“I didn't mean it like that…” you mumble, taking another step back until your heels hit the drawer and the back of your head bumps into the TV behind you.

Hoseok steps one intimidating stride forward, arms gripping at the drawer on either side of you and entrapping you in his field of control. He gives you one long, hard stare, and as uncomfortable as it is, something tells you there would be serious repercussions if you looked away.

“No, but it sure does feel like it and it confuses me,” he retorts lowly, “so tell me, Y/N, why are you so concerned for me all of a sudden?”

His watchful eyes and parted lips pray for the hopes that you had seen him, that he had finally found someone who knew the true him, but you don't want to and you can't possibly reopen his wound. You know it would hurt him all too much.

So you keep silent, just as he has all along

“...you’ll wake them if you yell any louder,” you mumble, looking off to the side in dejection.

But his warm hands cup the cold surface of your chin damp from your shower, turning you until your gaze has returned to meet his.

“Stop making excuses. You know they can't hear us,” he lowly utters. “What did you even think I was doing anyways?”

“I-I don't know. I was just asking what you’ve been doing. It’s not that hard of a question,” you mumble. “You can lie to me, even, if you want.”

“No,” he shakes his head, keeping his fingertips grazing against your chin. “I want to hear your guesses.”

You gulp, diverting from his piercing gaze, “I don't know…”

“You seemed to have a pretty good guess just a minute ago,” he narrows his eyes at you. “Just say it. I dare you to.”

I dare you to say it, but I doubt you can, because I doubt you even know, his leer screams.

“...maybe you had a girl over in your room or something…”

You know that's not the case, or at least you hope, but that's the most believable guess you could muster other than outright accusing him of his late night practices sessions.

“You think that I'd let another girl other than you into my room? Who do you take me for?” he scoffs, even chuckles. “Ah, you're too cute.”

He doesn't mean it, you tell yourself, you can't believe him and you can't fall for this specific trick because you know that's exactly what he wants to distract you from the pain hidden beneath that flirtatious crooked smile of his.

You frown, “quit playing and let me go...”

“Just one more question,” he laughs for a brief second, silence failing for a tense minute before finally asking in the lowest of voices, “can I kiss you?”

“W-What?”

“I mean, last time I was so congested and upset with these dark thoughts of mine that I forgot to even ask you for permission before I forced myself on you. Two elements of a great kiss are consent and surprise, remember? I think I got the surprise part down judging by the look on your face,” he smirks, but all you can do is stare at him in silence.

It's not like you're opposed to the idea of kissing him, per se, but you're against sharing such an intimate moment when you know he would just be using you like alcohol as a way to temporarily numb the pain.

But should you go ahead and let him? If something as trifling as this could even relieve him of the pain, should you give him what he wants?

“Are you… lonely? Are you upset over something? Can't I help you?”

Several seconds of silence passes by until you hear him chortle with a sigh, his arms dripping from your sides and releasing you from his grasp as he brushes by your shoulder and heads toward your bed. “I was just joking around with you. Don't look at me like that, it hurts me too, you know? I didn’t come here to argue anyways, ” he remarks, lightening up the mood. “I just forgot to dry my hair, that’s all. Do you have any snacks in your fridge?”

Nonchalantly, Hoseok plops onto your mattress without further permission, but all you could notice is the slight limping in his walk; if anyone else had watched his strides, including you from the past, no one would have suspected a thing, but now that you’ve discovered his secret, the uneven footsteps of his are all too glaring.

With his head against his hand propped by an elbow against one of your two pillows, Hoseok grins at you with an arched brow and a hand tapping on the sweatpants concealing the swelling of his leg.

“...no,” you finally answer, walking a few steps forward into the room to lean against the corner wall next to the lower side of your bed. You cross your arms and continue, “why would I bring food for a three night trip?”

“Ah, I forgot this is only for three nights. I see,” he nods, pursing his lips and turning to lie on his back with his head nestled into your pillow. The fingers of one of his hands drum against his stomach as the other props above his shoulders and under his neck.

The buzzing of your empty fridge stimulates you to memories you don’t want to revisit, but the overwhelming silence seems to be the motif of tonight and you just don’t know how to fix it; yet the longer he stares emptily into the ceiling above, the more curious you become.

“Hoseok?”

“Hm?” he hums without budging his eyes from the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about?”

A few seconds pass by before he takes a deep breath and sighs loudly, his chest noticeably rising and sinking underneath his water-drenched tee.

“Truthfully, I actually came here after you left because I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone tonight. I was wrong to shut you out,” he confesses; but when you’re left staring at him in utter, shock, Hoseok finally breaks his gaze from the ceiling to meet your gaping expression with a chuckle. “It’s a joke, Y/N. I’m a lonely person, just like you said, remember?”

“Being lonely isn’t a joke…” you grumble, uncrossing your arms and walking over to gently seat yourself beside him in bed.

You’re expecting some teasing remark for supposedly joining him in bed, but what you don’t expect is what slips from his lips instead.

“Have you ever wanted something so bad that it’s all you come to know, but the second you get it, it turns out to be the only thing you can’t have? It just… it doesn’t love you back. I’m the only one trying at this point.”

“Like what…?” you hesitantly ask.

“Like you,” he swiftly answers, turning his head to shoot you a lopsided grin.

Everything comes crashing down into a full circle once it finally clicked for you: dance; dance is the unrequited love for Hoseok, and you were just one of the many replacements to allow him to forget what he had lost.

The thought irks you the wrong way, and as much as you want to console him, the teasing relationship you two have established does not exactly authorize for such a moment.

“But you never got me in the first place,” you snort.

Hoseok blinks blankly at your words before scoffing in disbelief, turning his head and smirking with the shake of his head, “go dry your hair before you get sick, you cold-hearted woman.”

“No, I can’t leave you unattended in my bed!”

“I won’t stay here overnight, alright,” Hoseok rolls his eyes while cracking a smile. “So stop worrying and go or you’ll get a cold.”

“Psh, fine,” you huff, getting up from your bed; but before you could depart to the bathroom, Hoseok’s hands grip onto your hands only to pull you back into bed beside him. You sigh, turning your back to glare at the blank look on his face, “do you want me to stay or not?”

“Y/N,” he ignores you and proceeds with his question, looking you straight in the eye, “what would you do if I said I still wanted to quit dance? If I said this entire trip only reminded me of why I hated it so much in the first place? What would you do?”

Your eyes grow wide; he’s practically asking you upfront about his inner true conundrums, and this time, you’re going to make things right again.

“I would support you no matter what. If dancing isn’t what you want, then I’m fine with it,” you answer. “I kissed you so you would come to camp. That’s all I bargained for, and that’s all I’m asking for.”

Hoseok stares at you for several seconds in silence before scoffing and tossing your hand to the side, “I came here for an answer, but now you’re just confusing me.”

“What?”

“Go dry your hair already. Your hands are cold,” he states, turning his head away from you. “I won’t be able to kiss you anymore if you get sick.”

Glaring at him from his back, you oblige to his demands and retreat to the safety of your washroom. While drying your hair, you spend all your time scrambling for something to say, to fill in the conversation, to keep you from the pounding white noise of sneakers and buzz, but most importantly, to keep him from the ill reminder of his downfall.

Yet, all is in vain, when you return to your room to find him asleep.

Sighing, you tiptoe your way to lie down in the bed right beside him. With your head cupped in your hands propped on the mattress by your elbow, you lean just a bit forward to catch a glimpse of his dozing expression. Only in his slumber is he relinquished of all worries. The crease between his brows has vanished, and the frown he had constantly worn in the corner of his lips had dissipated along with it. Finally, he is at peace and solace.

“You see, Hoseok, the thing about life is that it constantly challenges us to new obstacles… kind of like what you’re doing to me right now,” you chuckle to yourself and brush the fallen streaks of hair off his forehead and to his temples, “but you’re strong enough to overcome it, and as long as you have someone beside you the entire time, everything will turn out just right. You are loved, you just don’t know it.”

And with that, you lean in to place a chaste kiss on his forehead.

It’s the first time he ever failed to smirk after a kiss shared between the two of you.

With the official set of the sun ironically at the rise of dawn, an epiphany strikes you at 2 AM in the depths of your room where Hoseok lies asleep beside you.

Some secrets are meant to be kept hidden, some wounds are never meant to be revived; and so, instead of hurting and turning him away, you’ve agreed to be his sanctuary for just tonight.

Jimin [2:23 A.M.] Hoseok? No... he’s not supposed to be on patrol. I am.

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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Devil Didn't Bite

Revenge should have helped. Or rather, avenging Aiden’s death because it wasn’t revenge really. Lambert thought that killing the bastards who slayed his partner so mercilessly would bring him some kind of closure. It didn’t. All it did was cover his hands in even more blood but it didn’t bring Aiden back, didn’t help make him feel better. Sure, there were fewer scumbags in the world now but it didn’t change the past.

He dragged himself up to Kaer Morhen with Geralt. The bitter cold of home paired well with his ice covered heart. Nothing could thaw him out, no matter how close to the fire he sat, his brothers around him. Grief gnawed away at him, made Lambert reckless and stupid. He wanted Aiden back, even if just to be able to tell him the truth that had been lurking in his heart. There were three small words Lambert never got to say, never finding the perfect moment, always thinking there would be a better time in the future. It was all well and good until he ran out of time.

Drink, grief and a night alone never served Lambert well before. The combination made him consider the ridiculous, the impossible. He’d heard about a ritual, a summoning of a demon at a crossroad so a deal could be made. It wasn’t like he had much to offer but he’d give his everything to have Aiden back. Doing his best to remember what he’d need, he gathered a small box of necessities and walked out of Kaer Morhen in the dead of the night, heading down the track until he got to the nearest crossing of paths. It would have to be enough, he had to hope it was enough of a crossroad for the ritual to work.

No sooner had he buried the box than there was a laughing hum from behind him.

“And what does a Witcher of all things want from a demon?”

She was pretty in her own way, long faun-like legs covered in a reddish fur. Her skin was dark from the hip up, the circles and spirals painted on barely visible. From her hair protruded two large, curved horns. All in all, if Lambert had been at his peak wit, he would have said she was curvy all over and quite horny too. As it was, he turned, arms held out by his side to put himself on display.

“You can have whatever you want, I just want you to bring Aiden back.”

His request was met with a low chuckle as the demon walked around him, eyeing him up like some choice meat. At least, he hoped that was how she viewed him, as worth something.

“You don’t have a lot to offer,” she purred. “You’ll die eventually and whatever’s left of your soul will be hell-bound anyway.” That had Lambert swallowing thickly. Surely he could offer more. Before he got even as far as opening his mouth, the demon stood in front of him, eyes dark. “Scrap of a thing, aren’t you? You have nothing to offer that I could possibly want. Especially not for something as difficult as resurrecting the dead. Run along pup, don’t bother me again.”

Just like that, she was gone and Lambert was left standing in the cold darkness. His hands shook as he stood, frozen and world shattering to pieces. He always knew he wasn’t worth much but he had hoped that a demon would at least find something worth trading. Alas, not even the lowest of low, a crossroad demon, found anything worthy in him. What Aiden had seen then was beyond him. Perhaps it was best if he stayed dead, that way Lambert could pretend he was valuable in someone’s eyes and Aiden never had the time to realise he was mistaken.

The trudge back to Kaer Morhen was a blur. Lambert numbly stepped back into the kitchen, uncertain what to do now. He didn’t expect Eskel to be sat by the embers, sipping on a warm cider.

“Took a walk?” Lambert only grunted in response. He didn’t miss the way Eskel’s eyes roved over him, assessing his state. It wasn’t like Lambert had dressed up for his attempted deal. No coat, no gloves, his fingers were coated in dirt from where he’d scratched the hard ground open to bury his box. Most telling though were his feet hastily jammed into slippers rather than boots. “You haven’t been messing with Vesemir and digging up his plants, have you?”

Lambert hadn’t done that in years and he snorted half-heartedly. “In your dreams. Since he stopped trying to grow cumin I’ve stopped doing that.”

Heaving a sigh, Eskel stood up and poured another tankard of cider. He passed it to Lambert and gestured for him to sit down. “So what gives?”

Hesitant, Lambert took a sip, allowing the heat to wash through him, even if it never touched his frozen heart. At least his stomach was warming up, spreading heat into his limbs. The silence stretched and Lambert didn’t know how to explain without sounding like a pathetic idiot.

“I tried to bring Aiden back,” he blurted out in the end, Eskel’s patient silence urging him on. Now that he’d started, it was difficult to stop. “Tried to make a deal, trade myself for him with a crossroad demon.” Lambert was so glad he had a tankard in his hands, it hid the way he shook. “She said I wasn’t worth anything, let alone be enough to bring someone back.”

There were many things Lambert expected. To be berated, to be pitied, to be yelled at. What he didn’t expect was for Eskel to set his tankard aside, lean forward with his elbow on his knees and give Lambert a long, soft look. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

Miserably, Lambert nodded. He couldn’t say the words, not when he never got a chance to tell Aiden first. It was just going to have to be another regret in a long list of them that was his life. The pity party he was gearing up for was rudely cut short as Eskel sighed and stood up with a soft groan. Without any preamble he grabbed Lambert by the wrist and started walking. They marched out the door and into the cold. Eskel unerringly led them down the path Lambert had taken, reaching the crossroad. Without hesitation he called out, “Lilia?”

Just the call of her name seemed to summon the demon and Lambert crumbled internally. Throughout his whole encounter with her, the demon had probably been laughing at his stupid, half buried box, knowing it was useless.

Eskel gave the demon a disappointed frown. “What’s this I hear about you being mean to my brother?”

“He wanted a resurrection. You know those are expensive, especially when not under hell's jurisdiction.”

The hand around Lambert’s wrist disappeared and Eskel approached Lila. He could only watch as large hands settled on fuzzy hips and Eskel’s eyes softened into a pleading puppy look.

“Darling? Honeybuns? Snookums?” Lambert didn’t know how Eskel managed to make it look like he was staring up at Lilia despite behind a good head taller than her. He reached to brush a strand of hair from Lilia’s face, fondness dripping from his voice. “Sweetheart? Could you pretty please bring Aiden back?”

There was no denying that Lilia was fighting a smile, softening in Eskel’s hold. The moment Eskel started swinging their hips playfully from side to side, lips curled into a soft smile, Lambert averted his eyes. He still managed to see the fingers tenderly tracing the curve of a horn, far too intimate for his eyes. The murmured “Maybe even add him to the list too?”

A hand smacked a cloth covered shoulder but Lilia was laughing. “You and your list. It was just that darned goat to start with. Then just one other. Only one more. Starting with just one goat. Then your family. And now your brother’s boyfriend?”

“My little mistress of darkness-” Lambert heard enough and clamped hands over his ears, eyes squeezed shut so he didn’t see even the shadow of what the two were doing. The bright peal of laughter from Lilia was too much to ignore though and he looked up.

“You’d better hurry, puppy. There’s trouble in your kitchen.” Lilia told him. Not needing any other excuse to escape, Lambert turned. He still cast a glance behind him and regretted it immediately. Eskel had his hands under Lilia’s thighs, her legs around his hips and back against a tree. His lips were pressed against her neck, both of them looking rather happy with the turn of events despite the cold. That was not something he needed to see so Lambert hurried back towards Kaer Morhen.

He could hear the trouble before he saw it.

“This was no portal. How did you get here?” Vesemir’s voice was loud and clear. Rounding the corner, Lambert tried not to think about why Vesemir and Geralt were in the kitchen in the middle of the night. But, more important than that was the fact that Aiden was backed into the corner, clutching a frying pan defensively.

“Aiden!”

“Lamb!”

“You know this Cat?” The question from Vesemir went ignored as Lambert pushed past them, all but colliding with Aiden in his rush.

“You’re back!” Lambert’s words were barely audible as he pulled their foreheads together, taking in Aiden’s familiar scent. “I missed you.” An hand on the back of Aiden’s neck kept him in place as Lambert gathered up the courage. “I lo-”

“The arsehole you avenged isn’t even dead,” Geralt muttered darkly under his breath. “The fuck you make me come along for?”

Lips curling into a snarl, Lambert yanked the frying pan from Aiden’s grip and hurled it at Geralt’s head. He didn’t expect a wet laugh from in front of him.

“I love you too, you idiot.”

Aiden’s now free hand wrapped around Lambert and pulled him in, finally claiming the kiss he had been teased with for so long.

#lambden #lambert/aiden #eskel/demon #eskel's monster lovin' ways #lambert #eskel #aiden #vesemir #geralt #tldr: crossroad demon can be bribed to bring aiden back

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jinpanman · 3 years

Text

All I Want Is You(ngi)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: pg15, fluff, established relationship

warnings: alcohol consumption

summary: Yoongi takes his baby out to sing karaoke the night before Christmas with the two Seoks. It’s a riot with drunken caroling (read: hollering) but he's so in love that he doesn't care.

a/n: My part of the SNOWLLAB with a super lovely bunch. Pls do yoself a favor and read everyone’s stories when they drop cause I promis it’ll be amazing. <3 A big thank you to Willow for pulling this crew together. A big thank you to Willow for the prompt inspo. A big thank you to Willow for creating the banner. A big thank you to Willow for beta reading my lil story and fixing up all the lil pieces and praising me….. So basically this is one big love letter to Willow. Thanks for being the best and most amazing little holibean 💙💚

sequel: Will You(ngi) Marry Me?

Here he is now, currently regretting his inability to ever say no to your whims as he watches you skip with a couple of slips and twisted ankles along the way to the front of the small darkened room and snatch the mic off its stand. You’re bent over the karaoke machine, clumsily swiping the screen to find the song you want. After several more swipes, you squeal excitedly... and then he hears it. The reason for your excitement. The all too familiar jingling of church and sleigh bells elicits an embarrassed groan from him. You turn to face your small audience and after taking an unreasonably deep breath, you close your eyes and sing.

“I… don’t want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need…”

“Sing it girl!” Hoseok cheers, thrusting a newly opened glass bottle into the air.

“Aaall I want for Christmas…”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT Y/N?!” Hoseok shrieks over the music.

“...iiiiiiss YOOOOUU...NGIII!!!” You hunch over to belt out the last note and your hair falls over your face but he doesn’t need to see you to know your features are scrunched up in order to sing past your lung capacity.

Yoongi very much wants to curl in the corner to hide from your unabashed love, but alas you, Hoseok, and Seokjin would never let him live it down, so instead he sits there trying (and failing) to fight the shy smile that overtakes his features. Even as the music grows louder, Yoongi can hear Seokjin laughing and slapping Hoseok’s thighs on the other side of the booth.

Oh god. It was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea to have agreed to go out to karaoke with Seokjin and Hoseok, but you had begged and begged him and he was but a weak man when it came to you.

“I should have remembered it’s never a normal holiday with this crew.” He moans into his hands.

A hand roughly pats him on his shoulder. He peeks through his fingers to the portrait of a grinning Jin, now beside him. The man extends an unopened bottle of alcohol out to him.

“You sure you don’t want a drink, man? I know you drove but I don't mind chauffeuring you both home and taking a cab from there.”

“Nah, I’m good. We can’t both be stupid drunk when we get home. We might burn the house down then you’d have to waste even more money to come collect our bodies.”

Jin snorts at his remark. “Touché.”

The two of them lay back against the bench cushion and watch with horrified amusement as a wobbly Hoseok makes his way to you. The rambunctious (and very buzzed) duo up on the little stage drop to their knees and Yoongi balks at the way the two of you obscenely shake your butts to the very cheery tune of Mariah Carey’s biggest holiday hit. Sober Hoseok was always a delight. Even Yoongi didn’t mind busting out a few moves every now and then with him. Drunk Hoseok, though, he was a different animal altogether. Insatiable, he was, and he was the perfect hype man for drunk you.

Yoongi makes eye contact with you and now that you’ve got his attention, you reach out your free hand towards him and beckon him over with the curl of your finger. His heart goes a-hammering away without his permission. Yoongi, a fool in love, lets himself be pushed out of his seat and like a man lost at sea, he’s pulled closer and closer to the siren who sings the song meant to be his undoing.

Except that the siren is you and your slurred singing is not at all alluring or seductive. He smiles at your pitiful attempt at fluttering your lashes at him. Despite your inability to entice him with your song and your sensual form, he still jumps overboard. He jumps and dives headfirst into the ocean that is your freely given love. All for him. Even a horrendous, throaty snort does nothing to unwind the unintentional spell you've cast on him. He faintly hears the two men squealing like children behind him, but all he can hear, all he can see is you.

“Make my wish come true! All I want for Christmas is you! Yoongi, baby!”

He can’t help but giggle at the way you serenade him, with your terribly exaggerated airy voice, but he loves it all the same. He loves you and all the surprises and jolly that comes with loving you.

Both you and Hoseok giggle at each other as Yoongi and Seokjin try to guide the two of you out of the building. Hoseok clings to his partner but his free hand is held tight in your grip, much to Yoongi’s chagrin. You’re both so wobbly and walking together is no help to either him or Jin.

It’s definitely gotten chillier and Yoongi is grateful that you didn’t forget your winter coat tonight. You’re bundled and cosy beside him, with the hood wrapped snug over your head. Your eyes are still glassy and your breathing hasn’t quite recovered from your exuberant singing competition against Seokjin, but that’s okay. You know Yoongi will take care of you. That’s the only reason why you were able to let go so freely tonight anyway, and he takes pride in knowing that you trust him so entirely. He hoists you up into a more comfortable standing position and nods to Jin.

“Merry Christmas, hyung.”

“Merry Chrysler, Yoongichi. Drive home safely!”

Yoongi grimaces and mutters under his breath but Jin merely smiles bigger. With a final wave, he pulls a swaying and incoherent Hoseok close to his side and they walk to their awaiting cab. He would have waited until they got into the car, but you’ve started blowing raspberries on his neck. While he normally wouldn’t mind having your saliva on him, he can feel remnants of soggy pretzel bits flying out of your mouth onto his exposed skin and that is more than enough to kill what could have been a flirtatious mood. He pushes your head away, eliciting a squeaky whine.

“Ah, stop. That’s gross. C’mon, let’s go home.”

It wasn’t too much trouble getting you in and out of the car, but now that you have arrived home, you refuse to step inside your house. You cling onto him like a lifeline, as if you’ll fall to the ground and drown in the air that surrounds you.

“I don’t wanna go home yet, Yoongiii. I feel soooo gross!” You whine, heavily emphasizing on how gross you felt.

“That’s why we’re gonna go inside and shower, baby. So you’re not gross.”

“Oh my goood!” You sob into his shoulder. “You think I’m gross!”

Yoongi sighs and looks into the night sky, pressing his lips tightly together into a forced smile. You continue to wail out in the open and he all but clamps your mouth shut with a press of his finger against your lips.

“Do you wanna go for a walk instead?” You immediately shut up and nod eagerly. “Okay, let’s go walk, honey.”

He knows you’ll complain about the cold in a few minutes, but he’ll deal with that future Y/N when she arrives. They’ve walked a short distance around the complex when he suddenly feels a drop of cold wetness against his cheek. He looks up and notices the flakes of white falling from the sky. He squeezes your hand and points your interlaced hands up.

“Baby, it’s snowing.”

“Oh, shit it’s snowing! Okay.” You perk up at having heard that and untangle yourself from him. “Shit. Let me, let me uh, wait. Here.”

Before he could even begin to guess what you were about to do, you plop yourself right onto the cold grass. You shriek at the burst of cold against your legs but like the diva you think you are, you don’t get up and instead pose for him. Your hands are positioned entirely too close around your face that your eyes are barely visible and your skirt is hiked so far up your hunched legs that he can see your panties. You’re wearing those adorable brown bear ones he knows you think are the most comfortable pair of undies you’ve ever owned. Cute.

“Okay. I’m ready. Always gotta be ready for the camera.”

The noise that comes out of his mouth is entirely uncontrollable and he all but melts at the sight of you. The fairy lights your landlords put up around the apartments shine brightly in the night and illuminate the flakes of snow that fall from the sky. It’s a beautiful sight, but you shine the brightest. The light hovering above you highlights your subtle cheekbones and the combination of the falling snow and lights creates a sort of glowing halo around you.

You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on.

The most beautiful and also the most extra because of course your first instinct would be to pose for him. That was how you met, after all. He had been out practicing street photography a few years ago when he bumped into you. You had the decency to be politely curious why he was taking pictures of strangers and after he shared his project, you agreed (even though he never asked) to let him take pictures of you. You started posing immediately and even walked around the block to pose with whatever you found interesting, whether it was the wall of a building or a newspaper stand. He probably loved you then. He definitely loves you now.

It’s too bad he doesn’t have his camera with him. His phone will have to do, so he pulls it out, angles himself and the phone at just the right spot, and takes several shots. Your eyes have shut close again, the trickle of soft snow cascading down onto your face and hair. Oh, the way his smile only widens as you bat your eyes in an attempt to blink the snowflakes away. He waves his phone and you suddenly remember what you were here for and you smile for the camera. Smile for him.

“Sit down and take a picture with me!” You pout and pat the space next to you.

Who is he to say no? Several very blurry photos later (because what’s the point of getting drunk if you weren’t going to take blurry pics?), you were finally done with the cold. You cup his face and kiss his pink-tipped nose.

“You’re cold, Yoongi. Let’s go home.”

“Mmm… Let’s go.”

He takes your hand in his and tucks both your hands inside his coat pocket, knowing full well that you have a coat of your own with its own pockets. It’s true, his face is somewhat numb from the cold of the night, but he is quickly heating up wholly by the warmth of your shared love that the two of you have nurtured and tended to together.

“I hope you had fun tonight, baby.”

“I always have fun when I’m with you, Yoongi-poo.”

“So… what do you want most for Christmas?” He wonders if you’ll accidentally spill what you really want for Christmas but not even drunk you would sell yourself out to him.

“Didn’t I literally just sing ‘all I want for christmas is Yoooongiii’? Did I not make it clear enough?”

His lips spread into a bright upward curl and he giggles at the way you stare at him as if he was stupid for even asking such a question. As if it was obvious what you wanted. Of course, he knew you would say that. He honestly just wanted to hear you say it again. And... oh no. Now you’re singing again. Hollering, more like. Ah, well. It’s only for one night. He pulls you closer beside him and sings along with you, albeit in a much quieter tone.

Your apartment is back in eyeview and he pulls his phone out to check the time. It’s only a minute left until Christmas. He continues to watch the time pass by the seconds until there are only fifteen seconds left before midnight.

Then he starts counting out loud, in a teasing lilt that he knows is sure to pique your curiosity.

“What exactly are you counting down to?” You ask, puzzled.

You’ve sobered down quite a bit now, and you were ready to go sleep. He ignores you though and continues to count. By 5 seconds, you’ve stopped walking, although you’re still mumbling about how rude it was of him to ignore you. He reaches up to tuck your hair back behind your ears to get a better look at your face. Your stupidly beautiful face.

“I’m granting your Christmas wish in three… two… one... Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

He cups your face. It’s cold, and he makes a mental note to make sure to warm you up with a bath once you’re home. You gasp a second later and wrap your arms around him, staring up at him with a wide grin plastered on your face.

“Ohmygoddidyoubuymeapuppy??!!!”

He snorts and it’s out of sheer self restraint that he doesn’t go on an hour long tirade on the terrible idea of buying animals as holiday gifts and how he refuses to ever partake in it. He instead channels that energy into squishing your cheeks together so you don’t say anything else that could potentially ruin the mood he’s trying to set.

“Baby?”

“Whuh?”

“You make me really happy, you know that?” His voice softens up and he gently rubs your cheeks with his thumbs.

Your wide, wide eyes are still staring at him, unblinking, but he’s been under the scrutiny of your ridiculously lubricated eyes for long enough that he’s unbothered.

“And even though you’re still kinda loopy and you definitely spilled beer on me tonight, I still want you to know…”

He pauses for dramatics and chuckles when your hands fly up to grasp his hands that still cup your face.

“Yes?” You plead with him to carry on.

“I love you. I love you so much my heart is fit to burst.”

The soft inhale of breath is not lost on him and he grins at you. The sweet smile and blush that quickly overtakes your features is easily the best gift you could ever give him this Christmas.

“Oh my god. I think my heart just nutted.”

He snorts and sighs in defeat. Right. Only you could say something like that and still make his heart leap.

“I love you too. Can we go home now, though? My butt’s cold.”

“But I haven’t even gotten to the best part,” he teases.

Before you could ask what the best part was, he draws your face to his and presses his lips against yours. The warm exhale as you part your lips for him comes as a welcome surprise. You giggle into the kiss and pull him closer against you.

“You just kissed me,” you whispered as if he had committed a scandalous act.

“Baby, I always kiss you.”

“You’re right.” You grab hold of his hand and walk briskly towards your home, tugging a smiling Yoongi behind you. “Let’s go home so you can kiss me some more!”

a/n 2.0: HELLO THERE FRIENDO. how are you. happy holidays or i guess, happy day if you’re reading this in like, the summer time or something :”) thank you for reading this. did you like it? penny for your thoughts? (i will give u a pretty one forreal) isn’t yoongi the sweetest most amazing boyfriend eveerrrrr plz gush over him with me PLS

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sorryimanon · 4 years

Text

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Parings: Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, characters are in their third year.

Word Count: 5.4K

The two honor students of UA so happen to be childhood enemies. During the succession that is exams, Y/N is determined to beat Bakugou.

Exam season has commenced on the campus of U.A. Students woke up in a frenzied state, slightly nervous to the late night studying they’ll endure for the weeks to come. Not enough caffeine can energize them to be in complete motivation mode. A couple of students have taken the leisure of paying those to exchange notes, considering most of the questions will be going over every little detail in each subject. The exams don’t begin till next week, but a few of the honor students have already hit the books, not once indulging in a break or two till the sun sets. One of those students just so happen to be you, an inspiring young hero with the hunger for being on top of everything. Ever since middle school, teachers would constantly praise you on your performance during tests. It was no surprise to anyone when you aced the entrance exam to U.A, a remarkable score leading you closer to reaching your dream. Although your scores on every test was superb, someone else would occasionally steal the spotlight with by topping your score. That person in particular has been tailing behind you ever since middle school, another honor student who also attends U.A as well. Did you mention he also is in the same hero course as you?

Katsuki Bakugou is his name. A name that burns the tip of your tongue whenever you gave roll call alongside Iida. The man is a ball of pure fury. He exuded nothing but anger and hostility whenever he’s in a room. Despite his aggressive exterior, Katsuki is an avid academic student who manages to score excellent grades in each of his classes. For the past 3 years of attending U.A, you two are considered the star studded scholars, never once failing a test, midterm, pop quiz , you name it! Now with your hero course almost coming to an end, you were determined to at least score the highest result this exam season, leaving Bakugou in the dust with his inadequate score. Maybe have him crying in the corner would suffice the drawn out rivalry you two established. No one verbally said it was an all out war between you two, but everytime those test results are posted on the board, everyone steered clear for the both of you to silently react. Everyone awaits for the day when one of you finally snaps and start clawing at each other. But alas, only the mere exchange of a side eye and a curt nod. Deep down you do want to slap the smirk that always resides on his face during those moments, showing him you weren’t just going to let him win by smarts.

That’s why now you sit alone on the cushioned couch in the commons area, books sprawled around you like a protective barrier. You had your eyes glued to a textbook about the history of quirks and their physiology, a class in which you needed to spend studying the most for. It’s been a a few hours into your little study session, and you were beginning to feel the drag of how much you needed to actually work on. All this including your current homework and your mandatory internship studies at an agency. It was all too much to handle. So, maybe you do deserve a break.

Pushing the book aside, you stretched out your cramped up arms and sigh in relief. In the corner of your eye you spot a familiar head of ashy blonde walking into the commons room, books and notebooks crammed into his armpit while holding what seems to be an energy drink. Your eye twitched watching him plop down onto the couch across from you, never once paying attention to your presence. Katsuki then rests his bare feet on the wooden coffee table, opening one of his textbooks with the swipe of his thump. For some odd reason, this really riled you up. And it was clear Katsuki noticed too.

“Am I bothering you? Hm?” He smugly asked, eyes not wavering from the text before him.

You scoffed.

“No. Just, don’t speak while I’m trying to study okay?”

He clicked his tongue at you.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re studying to me. Looks like you’ve given up already. What gives?”

His comment made you even angrier.

“Given up? Kacchan, you’ve barely started.”

Looking up, you can see a faint vein forming against the temple of his forehead. His fists clenched tightly, crumpling the sides of the textbook. His eyes now were averted to yours. The crimson death glare, you’d call it.

“I was training with Kirishima, dumbass. So of course I couldn’t hop onto my studies earlier,” he started. Katsuki opens his energy drink with one finger, the pop of the air leaving the can satisfying to your ears, and took a swing of it. “Also, don’t ever fucking call me that. If I hear it from your mouth again I won’t hesitate to use my quirk on you.”

An intriguing idea. Usually you’d be the one to threaten your enemy, but Katsuki like always beat you to the punch.

“No thanks, I’d rather be harassed by grape juice than be blasted from the likes of you,” the taunt in your voice triggered something within Katsuki, causing him to tense up in pure anger. “Besides, I’m planning on studying all day till my eyes fall out. So don’t expect me to leave this spot.”

His smirk was soon on full display, uncrossing his legs to lean forward so he can rest his elbow on his knee.

“Oh really? Just so you know we have an early training tomorrow in preparation for our final exam. Wouldn’t want ya to, cha know, fail?” He didn’t even sound slightly concern for yourself and your future study habits, you can tell he wishes for you to fuck up your sleeping schedule to miss the important training in the morning.

“I have an alarm set on my phone so I don’t miss my beauty rest. Wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity of kicking your ass tomorrow,” you held your mobile device triumphantly, waving it back and forth to mock him.

With the roll of his eyes, Katsuki returned back to his studies, leaving you to sadly resume as well. Before he entered the commons area, you were about to head into your dorm room to take a nap, but now you were obligated to stay put without letting him think you’re already burnt out.

Silently, you both continued on with the unspoken competition.

Evening struck quicker than you expected, cascading the soft glow of the painted sky through the windows, illuminating both you Katsuki in a pink hue. Thankfully, Katsuki took your words into consideration and never spoke to you during the session, giving you an easy feeling of relaxation without him making it another competition.

Already you finished your notes for advance foreign language, quirk physiology, and mathematics. So far, you were ahead of everyone else, with the exception of Katsuki. Occasionally, you’d catch yourself glancing over at him working intensively in his small corner, highlighting and jotting down every minuscule detail in his notebook. This was your first time witnessing how Katsuki studies. To your disappointment, his regime was nothing out of the ordinary. Then how the fuck does he manage to score high grades? It simply baffled you.

A stampede of footsteps was to be heard coming from the hallway leading to the commons area. After what seems to be years, you cranked your head away from your notebook to see Kirishima and the rest of the gang marching towards the direction of both you and Katsuki, who was currently shooting daggers at the group of friends. The red head was the first to speak out of the four of them.

“Aye Bakubro! Wanna skip the studying for a little and eat with us at NoodleShop?” His smile gleamed brightly, showcasing his shark incisors.

“Y/N you too! Come join us. I’ll pay!” Mina chimed in.

Noodles sounded pretty appetizing right about now. You skipped out on lunch, too engrossed on the idea of getting a head start for the exams. Now you regret the decision of leaving your stomach on empty.

But you still had so much left to do. And knowing Katsuki’s competitive nature, he wasn’t going to move an inch from his spot.

“It’s okay Mina, I uh- already ate a big meal awhile ago,” you dismissed her, patting your belly to show you were indeed, full.

As if on cue, a loud growl erupted from the depths of your stomach, the noise reverberating across the soundless space. Denki and Sero both snickered.

To your amazement, Katsuki got up from the couch and trailed over to the group, slipping on his red hoodie that was draped on the arm rest. He took a quick glimpse at you and smirked over his shoulder.

“Watch my things for me will ya, extra?” And with that they all left the area as a group.

You huffed in defeat and stared back at your jumbled pile of notes, the writing transcending from neat to sloppy text. At least you don’t have an explosive blonde sharing the same air as you for now. You reached into your bag and grabbed another textbook, this one being more heftier than the others.

“Oh well, more time for studying...” you said to yourself as you skimmed through the pages of Hero First Aid: Volume 6.

The beautiful spring sky soon was replaced by the expanse of darkness, the twinkle of the bright stars catching your eyes. The moon alone helped cast a sheen of light, allowing you to work in the dimly lit up space. Bakugou didn’t return to retrieve his stuff, all of which were sat untouched in a hasty mess. You figure him and the rest of the gang would have been back on campus by now, but everyone in class 1-A have locked themselves in their dorms since lights out will commence in a few. Aizawa has yet to prohibit you from staying past the curfew. As long as you don’t go running among the halls like a lunatic and stay strictly to studying, he’s all game. And that’s exactly what you did.

A couple of students murmured as they passed by you, saying things like “Does she ever have a life” or “All she does is study...no wonder no one has asked her out yet”. As much as the comments sting, you knew they weren’t true to your heart. Last year, someone in class 2-B formally asked you to the dance. To their dismay, you rejected them on the spot. Only because you didn’t have time to date or talk romantically with anyone. It’s a distraction to both your education and future career.

Okay, so maybe they were partially correct. At least you had your first kiss before entering U.A? But the person who stole your kiss was obligated to do so, after being dared by their fellow acquaintances. Nothing more beyond that have you explored with another person.

Submerged in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the presence of the angry blonde, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie as he strolled to the couch that had all his materials. He began to gather his things when suddenly he freezes, remembering what you said about not moving an inch from your spot. He’s astonished to see you cemented on the same couch, in the same position, notes blanketing your thighs along with the pile books pooling at the edge.

You really are determined to beat him, he thought. Bakugou can’t deny he’s impressed with your ambition and drive to be the best among your peers, even if that means sacrificing basic human needs. Like food and sleep.

Although, looking at you right now in this state, with your eyes threatening to close shut, mouth slightly agape, and hair bunched up in a tight knot, it’s clear you were exhausted. He spoke without realizing it.

“Hey dumbass! The fuck you still doing here, huh? It’s almost lights out.”

His brooding voice startled you awake, causing the papers on your lap to spill on the carpeted floor. Bakugou coughed out a low chuckle, amused by how the mere sound of his voice scares you.

“Oh it’s just you,” you said, disregarding how that could easily irritate him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Anyway you should be getting rest. You’re smart enough to know that, idiot.”

Even though it was a subtle backhanded compliment, you couldn’t help but to appreciate him acknowledging your intellect.

“I can’t. I have to go over my flash cards for mathematics and then finish this week’s homework for tomorrow—.”

“Holy fucking shit shut up. Don’t you realize what you’re doing to yourself right now?” When you didn’t answer, Bakugou slapped his forehead. “You’re gonna burn yourself out dumbass! Then you won’t have any motivation left to study for when the exams are actually starting.”

Stunned, you watch as Bakugou stomps over to where you’re sitting at, crimson eyes never leaving yours. He then props his leg on the cushion next to your trembling thighs, out stretching his arm to grab ahold of something. Too focused on the proximity between you two, it didn’t register that he swiped your flash cards from your hands. What is wrong with him? Does he want to sabotage you this badly before exams?

“Bakugou! Give those back! I need them for my exam on Monday!” you ignored how whiny you sounded, not wanting to give Katsuki the satisfaction he thinks he deserves.

“You really think whining like a bitch will make me hand these over? Think again, dumb-.”

You cut him off with a surprise attack, shoving his entire body to the ground with the force of yours. Bakugou’s arms were pinned above him as you tried to pry the flash cards from his death grip on them. Stubbornly, he wiggles his body to keep you from reaching his arms, almost knocking you off his torso like a bull. Looking down, both of you were in a compromising position. Straddling his hips while he laid lifelessly underneath you, panting like a feral dog. You tried to keep the heat from spreading throughout your body as you felt his groin rub against your sex, but failed tremendously when he can obviously see the prominent blush creeping on your cheeks.

“What the fuck was that all about?! Why are you so adamant about beating me so much!” He yelled directly in your face.

A question that neither of you knew the answer to. Why were you so determined to destroy Bakugou? Shouldn’t a fellow honor student be happy that another is also making their education a main priority? Or maybe there is another underlying reason, something deeper under the dermis of your skin that you couldn’t quite reach.

You further the distance away from his face by leaning backwards, eventually hitting the front of his thighs and kneecaps.

“You don’t understand. I have to be good at everything. I need this in order to be the hero I’ve been wanting to be. Even if that means neglecting my own needs...” you paused, unsure if Bakugou was even listening anymore. “That is, until you came along and ruined everything.”

“Hah?!” His reaction was incredulous.

“Don’t “Hah” me! It’s been your plan all along since middle school to top me at everything. So why me?!”

“Well maybe it’s because I’ve always looked up to you dumbass! Have you ever considered that!”

The words tumbled out of his throat as if he’s been holding off on the sentiment. Bakugou Katsuki, the abrasive yet studious boy, just so happens to admire you? Never it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, you also strived to be the absolute best solely because of him. The way he strides into a battle with confidence, not an ounce of doubt that he’ll lose. His diabolical strategies that somehow works out in the end. Or the way how underneath that rough exterior, he believes he’ll be the one left climbing to the top, along with his peers. It’s his sticky pride that kept the rivalry between you two so alive. But was it really a rivalry after all this time?

Eyes widen at the confession, you stay frozen on his lap, fingers bunching up the top half of his hoodie. The silence broke Katsuki. For once, he wanted you to at least admit it, that you were also in the same boat as he is right now. So, he hesitantly reaches out and rests his palm against your flushed face, basking in at your sudden reaction to him touching you.

“Why does everything have to be a competition between us?” His soft spoken voice was uncharacteristic for him, you were so used to his gravelly tone after years of being the victim to it.

You felt the traces of his warm finger tips tickling lines on your outer cheek, as if he’s done this before.

“Isn’t that our dynamic? Competitive enemies?” The comment made him quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Enemies? You were never one in my eyes in the first place...” He trailed off, getting distracted by how close you’ve gotten to his face. To his lips.

“Then, what am I to you?” you leaned in closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. You took notice that his pupils were dilated, making his eyes darker than usual. The hand rubbing lines on your cheek snaked around behind your head, taking full comfort on the base of your neck. The feeling was quite foreign to you. How long you yearned till days on end for someone to touch you tenderly like this. Especially from someone like Katsuki Bakugou.

“Does this answer your question.” Was all he said before smashing his lips to mount yours, the sudden contact making you shiver in his arms.

You felt him breathe out in surprise against your mouth when you took the initiative by swiping your tongue on his bottom lip. The kiss was exquisitely slow and intense. So intense that Bakugou forgot where he even was at the moment, too engulfed at the texture of your tongue asking for entrance. The fingers digging into the back of your neck started to hurt, but you didn’t mind the pain, the pleasure overwhelming all your senses. You can hear the harsh undertones of his breathing every time you slightly moved the lower half of your body.

“Stop moving, idiot,” he said breathlessly.

He knew he was fucked by seeing the smirk forming on your lips.

“Oh, you mean like this?” You then grind your hips in a harsh motion, relishing in the bashful look on Katsuki’s face.

He let his hands go freely, attaching themselves on both sides of your hips, grounding you to stop altogether. He sat in an upright position, encasing you between his legs and hard chest, your legs wrapping around his torso. Any other time it’d be comforting, but right now you felt like a bird trapped in a cage.

“Who knew the good girl would be so disobedient? Kind of hot not gonna lie.” He bent his head to where it was directly hovering over the sensitive spot on your collarbone. “Even when we’re just making out, you have to make everything a goddamn competition huh?”

A gasp left your throat once his tongue licked a clean strip on the surface. He chuckled, loving the feeling of you squirming in his muscular arms and continued the attack on your skin. His feather-like kisses switched to full on feverish sucking and biting. He proceeded to suck on the area, letting go with a definite ‘pop’, then returned back by making out on the bruised skin.

The combination of his tongue, the death grip on your hip, and the bulge protruding from his loose sweatpants was too much stimulation already. Before you knew it, Katsuki abruptly stood up from the floor, along with you, and placed you back on the plush couch. Your legs were wide open, giving him a good view of your white panties beneath the school skirt. You clamped your legs together after seeing the blonde lick his lips at the sight.

“D-Don’t be such a pervert,” you squeaked out.

That didn’t stop him from slipping his hand in between the crack of your legs, spreading them wider than before.

“Stop lying to yourself. You’ve imagined me between these thighs haven’t you?” The silence following his question was enough to suffice him. “Such a naughty girl.” Those crimson eyes stared straight ahead as he tugged your panties down a notch.

Here?! Right now? Why couldn’t he reside both of you in his dorm? It was literally at the end of the hallway. Plus, the thought of your teacher, Aizawa, catching you would be mortifying.

Your hand quickly latched itself around Katsuki’s forearm, halting him from proceeding his lustrous actions.

“What are you doing?! We could get caught you idiot!”

Katsuki grins and says, “You’re right. We need to find a way to shut you up.” Without preamble, he practically ripped the thin panties with sheer ferocity, causing you to yelp. You were about to scold him for ruining your favorite pair when said panties got shoved into your open mouth. “Remember, don’t want to get us caught right? Now be the good girl like you are and stay quiet for me.” Obediently you nodded at his order and prayed that whatever he’s going to do to you won’t be too much.

Katsuki hummed, obviously pleased at how well you’re going along with this. He wonders how far you’ll go till you break. With the swipe of his tongue, Katsuki dragged it up and down on the opening of your drenched sex. You mewled at the new sensation, legs already trembling as he his own salvia covered your folds. He bit and nibbled on the sweet spot, the clit, and lapped a few lazy strokes with his pointer finger in circular motions. Before you could stop him, he inserted the lubricant finger into your hole slowly, pumping it a couple of times to get you loosened up. Muffled moans perked up the ears of Katsuki. Looking up, he saw the beautiful sight of your eyes rolled behind your head along with the familiar tint of red on your cheeks. Just like the secretive slut you truly are, you swayed your hips to create more friction. Katsuki acknowledged your needy movements and dipped his head between your legs again, returning back to kissing your sex open mouthed. The lewd noises of him sucking on your wetness elicited a long drawn out moan from you, making Katsuki’s own cock twitch at the glorious sound.

“You’re so fucking cute like this. Almost coming from just my tongue and fingers. Fucking slut,” he said between suctions. “God, what were we thinking...we could’ve just resolved our issues like this every time.”

You grabbed a handful of his spiked up hair and raised his head away from your lower region. While doing so, you spit out the soaked clothed panty from your mouth, letting it drift off to the floor.

“Just s-shut up and do something about m-me,” you manage to croak out. You flicked your eyes on Katsuki and to the hand buried inside your skirt.

“Ah, want more than just my fingers? Could’ve just said so. Why are you being so quiet with your needy demands, babe?”

This newfound nickname plucked a heart sting within you. You shook off his snarky comment and stood up from the couch. If it’s a competition he wants, then it’s a competition he’ll get.

“Take off your pants and sit on the couch.”

Craning his head back, his own roar of a laughter bounced across the quiet room. Laughter dying down, his expression changed seeing how serious you actually were.

“Tch. Whatever you say dumbass. Don’t want you to explode on me now.”

He did as you said and removed the article of clothing, leaving him in nothing but his red boxer briefs. The bulge grew bigger the longer you stared at it. He laid back on the plush cushion and rested his arms behind his head.

“Alright, I’m waiting Y/N,” he taunted you.

One by one, you unbutton your school uniform and let it fall off your shoulders, along with your plaid skirt pooling at your ankles. Arms crossed on your chest you tower over Katsuki, who was surprisingly not staring at your goods, but your eyes. Beckoning you forward with his glare, you straddle him immediately, hands resting on his broad shoulders.

My, all these years of being in the same class and never once did you take advantage of appreciating how chiseled he looked in his hero costume. Sometimes you’d glance his way or pretend to be busy, but really, you wanted to see him in action. The way how his muscles would contract with each swing or punch. It was enough to make a girl swoon. Now you were swooning for sure. On his lap to be precise.

“Oi, you gonna do something nerd? My cock isn’t going to finish off itself.” His voice snapped you back to reality.

It took a few minutes, but you were finally hovering over the tip of his throbbing member, the glistening of his pre-cum coating your fingers. You teased him by rubbing just the tip against your entrance, lubricating the member even more. He tried to muffle his whines, but failed tremendously after feeling his tip graze your sex. Both of you were heavily now, anticipation radiating off of your sweaty bodies. Tenderly, you kissed him open mouth while sheathing yourself on his cock.

“Holy shit, holy fuck fuck fuck,” the vulgar words spilled from his mouth against yours as you bottomed out. You stayed in that position. Still unsure what to do and what you got yourself into. Pretty sure you’re torturing Katsuki by the minute.

“F-Fucking move," He growled in your ear.

Leaning in closer you whisper, “You have to beg for it then.” You nibbled the loose skin on the bottom of his ear and tugged it gently.

“Hell no! God-fucking-damnit don’t make this a competition right now Y/N.” The palm of his abnormally large hand pushed your face away from his. You giggled.

“C’mon Bakugou, there’s no harm in it. Just say please?”

“Fuck you shitty woman...”

“That’s not begging,” you pouted.

He pursed his lips. Bakugou admittedly is getting more turned on by the minute, and not just because you were practically inside him.

“P-Please fucking move. I w-want you to fuck me so bad you have no idea. Please Y/N...”

Smiling, you raised your hips to where the veins on the side of his member scraped the walls within you. It made your cunt twitch in pure ecstasy. Slowly, you lowered yourself back down, only this time you weren’t stagnant. You repeated the same vertical movements, clashing your hips with his. Bakugou titled his head back on the couch, degrading sentiments leaving his mouth as his hands grasped the sweaty flesh of your ass, squeezing it harshly every time you bounced on his dick. The tip of his member taking your breath away as it prodded the spongy walls.

“Yes- oh fuck yes. Ngh, keep doing that. Yeah like that. Hah-fuck, don’t stop,” he said between the constant panting.

Due to your rapid bouncing, your boobs were flailing in the air, occasionally hitting Bakugou in the face. Katsuki took matters into his own hands and latched his mouth around one of your perked nipples. You squealed at the sudden sensation.

“B-Bakugou...don’t do that...it’ll make me come faster,” you moaned as he grazed his teeth on your taut nipple.

For revenge, he tugged back the areola till it reached a few centimeters from your chest. Painful yes, but you couldn’t deny it felt amazing. He quickly let go and returned to sucking on the tit, lathering it up with his own spit. All the while you were riding him till the muscles and tendons in your legs gave out. Steadying your hands on his shoulders, you grounded on your knees to give yourself a better leverage. Feeling touch starved, Bakugou shoved your hands from his shoulders and laced his fingers between them. Like a missing puzzle piece, you fit in perfectly with him. Everything about you was perfection. You defined it. Sitting here watching as you take him well, physically or not, he was completely enamored by the mere sight of you. He craned his head to brush just the tip of your nose. A nose he unmistakably mentally captured because he loved the feature so much.

Although, he couldn’t think straight after that once you bottomed out again and rolled your hips in tune to his panting. You made a mess out of the aggressive blonde. Each time you swayed your body to the side he’d grunt out a low moan, trying to contain his usual loud profanities from waking up your classmates. Bakugou reached down and teasingly rubbed the sensitive bud, getting revenge for all the times you’ve pissed him off. Under your breath, you moaned out his last name.

“Say my name,” he grunted, hands continuing to expertly work on you from below.

Confused, you obeyed and moaned, “Bakugou!”

Suddenly, a painful sting sparked throughout your lower back. Eyes glued shut due to the searing pain, you whimper feeling a calloused hand smooth over the spot on your ass.

Katsuki spanked you. And you liked it.

“My actual name, dumbass. I wanna hear it coming from your mouth.”

With a thrust, you continue moving up and down on his cock, never once missing a beat.

“K-...Katsuki. Katsuki-Katsuki...” his name sounded ethereal, as if he was a higher being.

Katsuki returned the favor and fisted your hair in a tight knot, your scalp screaming at how harsh he was pulling.

“That’s a good girl.”

With a playful slap to your behind, Katsuki roughly shoves you to mount his lips again. Lips parted, both of your tongues twisted against each other, sharing a decent amount of saliva. He slipped out and pecked your lips a few times before biting down on your bottom lip. It didn’t hurt like all the times he inflicted pain on you previously. But this time you swore you felt the trickle of blood trailing down to your chin. The coppery taste infiltrating your taste buds only increased your arousal. What a masochist.

Bakugou noticed the pacing of your movements decreasing, indicating you are already feeling worn out, and steadied his hands onto your hips.

“Just let me do the work here, dumbass,” he said as he thrusted sharply into your womb, causing you to whimper into his neck. “I’ll take good care of you. You deserve a break from studying after all.”

You woke up feeling dizzy and fatigued, body aching from your toes to your head. From what you can remember, you were in the middle of studying when...

Katsuki happened.

Then you realized you weren’t in the commons area anymore. Somehow, you were laying in a medium sized bed, covers strewn over your naked body, along with a muscular arm draped across your torso. To your side you can see a passed out Katsuki snoring quietly into his pillow. Even when he’s asleep, he still looks angry.

Jolting upright, you carefully pry his arm from your body. No prevail. He’s got a strong hold on you.

He shuffled in his sleep and tightened his grip around you.

“Mmm...not leaving...stay a little longer,” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “We both can’t walk out of your dorm in the morning. People will get suspicious of us. Not to mention Aizawa,” you retorted back.

“Oh? Don’t like the idea of ‘us’ huh? That’s not what you said last night.”

You didn’t need to look to know he was wearing his infamous shit eating smirk.

“Shut up.”

For the first time you heard Katsuki genuinely laugh without forcing it. You looked over and saw his eyes wide open now, staring at nothing but you.

“Whatever, you love me Y/N.”

“I DO NOT!”

Grabbing your face with his rough hands, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Go to fucking sleep nerd, we have a pre-exam in a few hours.”

(You can obviously tell I got lazy at the end LMFAO. This has been in my drafts for a LONG time. Also, this isn’t edited so please excuse the horrendous text that is this post. Xoxo)

#bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou

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drwcn · 3 years

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concubine/sleeper agent!wwx and prince!lwj bullshit continues:

[story board 1] - The two empires and the Imperial Lan Family [story board 2] - WWX, Qishan Wen’s sleeper agent [story board 3] - The inner court (harem) of Hanguang Manor, prior to WWX

→ [Story Board 4] - “A-Xian”, the attendant of Jiang Yanli

Wei Wuxian lived with the Jiangs for 2 years. After he came to Gusu as a 16-yro, he charmed/scammed his way into the Jiang manor, won the favour of Jiang Fengmian, the affection of Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng, and waited. For a long time, no further instructions were given to him from Wen Ruohan. Then, one day, he saw Zhao Zhuliu on the streets of the Capital. Zhao Zhuliu was the head of Wen Ruohan’s intelligence bureau and incidentally, was also Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang’s shifu.

— “Shifu, does bixia finally have an assignment for me?” — “He does. Jiang Yanli is set to marry Lan Wangji. You are to find a way to accompany her to Hanguang-fu and get close to him.” — “Close to him as in...?” — “Any means necessary. He has a harem already, so you will not be the only one vying for his attention. Do think you can handle it?” — “Well I don’t know, shifu,” responded WWX coyly. “ Word on the street is that this Hanguang-wang prefers pretty men. His ce-wangfu Jin Ziyan is famous for his handsomeness, and that mianshou Mo Xuanyu he keeps around is a looker too. Do you think I’ve grown pretty enough?” — “You seem very aware of his household, I’m surprised.” — “Bixia sent me here to observe and learn; I’ve not been idle.”

Wei Wuxian knew Jiang Yanli was set to marry Lan Wangji before she even knew herself. This was not a coincidence. Originally, three years ago, when Lan Wangji was first choosing members of his harem, Jiang Yanli had been considered, but at the time Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan were already engaged to be wed. Jin Zixuan had promised Jiang Yanli that as soon as he passed the imperial scholarly exam and secured a position for himself in His Majesty’s court based on his own merit and not on the influence of his father Jin-guogong (Duke Jin), that he and Yanli would marry. It was a marriage that his late mother had arranged with her best friend Yu Ziyuan, and both Yanli and Zixuan were amenable to it. However, when Jin Zixuan finally passed the exam and ranked 6th in the national polling, he chose to take a position far away from the capital and left without a word of affirmation regarding the engagement. The position was an important one given to Jin Zixuan by Emperor Lan Xichen himself and so in some ways, it was understandable that he could not refused. After Jin Zixuan left the capital, Jin Guangshan went to his “old friend” Jiang Fengmian and “apologized” profusely on his son’s behalf, spewing all sorts of words about how a young man ought to make his way in this world and such. However, this left the Jiangs in an awkward position. Jiang Yanli was 21 yrs old, already older than any unwed noble lady should be. The Jiangs were angry with this outcome, but given the politics of it, they could not say much...and that was when Lianfang-jun Meng Yao revisited an idea that had been put aside three years ago. — “Hanguang-wang...desires to marry A-Li?” Jiang Fengmian was somewhat flabbergasted. “But...” — Meng Yao smiled, “Jiang-houye*, three years ago I came on behalf of er-di to broker a marriage between our two families, but you and Yu-furen both refused on account of her engagement with Jin-xiao-gongye. But I must say ling’ai* is a fine young woman, eloquent and mild-mannered and would make a fine wangfei* some day.” — “Wangfei? but -” — “Yes, Hanguang-wang did say he would choose his own princess or prince consort, but as you can see, even with Jin Ziyan as he ce-wangfu, Qin-fu’ren and Luo-fu’ren at his side, our prince has not shown any desire for any of them to be his legal spouse. He is still waiting, searching, and who’s to say Jiang-gu’niang is not equal if not better than the lot of them?”

What the Jiangs didn’t know was that Jin Guangshan was a traitor and had already sold his loyalty to Wen Ruohan, who promised him to make him a fanwang* when Qishan eventually annexed Gusu. JGS was a mole inside Gusu’s government secretly helping to further Wen Ruohan’s agenda. Nevertheless, Wen Ruohan wanted Wei Wuxian to get close to Lan Wangji, because as helpful as Jin Guangshan was, he was never fully trusted by the royal family and did not know their inner workings. Breaking Jiang Yanli’s marriage with Jin Zixuan was just a matter of convenience. Jin Guangshan was not fussed regarding a simple marriage when the reward would be much greater. As per WRH’s instruction, he used his influences in court to maneuver Lan Xichen into giving Jin Zixuan a position far away from the capital, thus removing his son from the dangerous political atmosphere and freeing up Jiang Yanli as a potential concubine for Lan Wangji. Then, Jin Guangshan sat back and allowed Meng Yao to finish the game that he started. Meng Yao was not a willing participant. He loved Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue but Jin Guangshan held the secret to his past and thus a noose around his neck. Everyone in court knew that Lianfang-jun Meng Yao was once a lieutenant in Nie Mingjue’s army and later became his personal secretary. He was known for his wit and silver tongue and the charming dimples on his cheeks whenever he smiled. However, not many knew that Meng Yao was the bastard son of Jin Guangshan and a prostitute. Meng Shi’s hope was that one day her son would be legitimized by his father, but alas her hopes were in vain. A child born to a whore would be condemned to a live in the “jian” caste unless otherwise freed. It was Nie Mingjue who chose to raise Meng Yao above his station and respected him as a person for the first time in his life. When Nie Mingjue and his long-time sweetheart the crown prince Lan Xichen were set to marry, Meng Yao thought his days of freedom would be over. To his surprise, Nie Mingjue opted to bring him back with him from the borderlands where Nie Mingjue’s battalion was stationed and introduce him to court and to Lan Xichen. It seemed almost impossible that Lan Xichen would love him as unapologetically as Nie Mingjue, but somehow he did. Meng Yao became the only concubine person in Lan Xichen’s harem other than Fengjun Nie Mingjue. Life was perfect, so perfect in fact Meng Yao even entertained the idea of coaxing Lan Xichen to take on a lady or two to be his concubine so that the palace could be filled with little ones. Of course he’d be a little jealous...but they would have children...and Lan Xichen loved babies. Then of course, Jin Guangshan found out who he was, and from that point on, Meng Yao was no longer a free man. Every single moment of his life, his father threatened him with exposure. If anyone were to find out just how unseemly his origin had been, how not only was his mother a prostitute, but he himself had been nearly no different (given to the Nies as a gift by a stupid pandering official), his life would be over. At the very least Lan Xichen would be forced to banish him, at the worst, he’d be dead. Oh there would be no public announcement of course, but it would be said that he had taken ill and succumbed to his frail health, and with his death the smear on the Lan imperial family would be cleansed. Meng Yao didn’t want to die, so he did as Jin Guangshan asked, even when the ask became Nie Mingjue’s life. (But NMJ isn’t really dead...Meng Yao was nothing if not a fighter. He could not let the father who’d cursed him to a less than hellish existence take away from him the first man who’d ever shown him love and kindness.) — “Jiang Yanli must marry Lan Wangji.” Jin Guangshan instructed. “And you must ensure that when she does, the boy goes with her.” — “What boy?” — “The ward of Jiang Fengmian: Wei Wuxian.”

So when Meng Yao came to speak with Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan, naturally he brought up the subject of Lan Wangji’s “preference.” “The Qin family did very well in this regard. They were quite clever in allowing Mo Xuanyu to serve Hanguang-wang; the boy is too low-born to be of any threat. Even if Hanguang-wang’s harem of today becomes the imperial harem of tomorrow, Mo Xuanyu would not be more than a mianshou. His success, on the other hand, would ensure that Hanguang-wang’s favour stay with the Qin family. As we can see, their effort was not in vain. Qin Su became with child rather swiftly. Little Kaisong was born more no later than three months after Jingyi.” Meng Yao explained the delicate nature of the situation to the Jiangs. “If Jiang-guniang is to marry Hanguang-wang, forgive me for my boldness, but she would be wise to bring a male attendant of her own. Wangji is kind and would honour her as his concubine, but the man cannot control his inclinations, as none of us could.” Yu Ziyuan exchanged a look with Jiang Fengmian. Yanli was older now; waiting for Jin Zixuan to keep his promise had delayed her and possibly ruined her prospects. If this marriage to Lan Wangji were to succeed... he is an honourable man who treated all his concubines equally and with respect. If he grew to like Yanli enough to make her his legal spouse as Meng Yao seemed to think is possible...then one day she would be Empress. — “Hanguang-wang’s preference is men. Would he not prefer to have a wangfu instead of a wangfei?” Jiang Fengmian was still hesitant. — “Indeed I’m sure he would, but politics being what it is...” Meng Yao sighed. “I’m sure Wangji understands that having the mother of his heir be his wangfei and his future empress is the best course of action to ensure the stability of the nation. We certainly have no shortage of examples to learn from in history: a shuchu prince with competing shuchu brothers walks a perilous road.” — “Lianfang-jun is wise.” Yu Ziyuan nudged her husband. “Which young man do you suggest we include in the bridal party?” — “That I have not decided, which is why I’ve come to see you today. Jiang-fu is a large manor, surely there must be some servants worthy to catch the eye of our Hanguang-wang. Yu-fu’ren, why don’t you assemble them, and we can have a pick?” — “Lianfang-jun, that is a delightful idea.”

Wei Wuxian was not surprised at all when all the young men of Jiang-fu under 21 and above 16 were assembled in a courtyard. He scanned the crowd; there were about 20-ish of them. One by one, they were beckoned forward, and when it was his turn, he walked with his head bowed towards the man sitting under the eave on a luxurious wicker chair, holding a fan. The fan was very expensive, drawn by an artist in the previous dynasty. An antique. This must be Zewu-di’s* only concubine, Meng Yao. — “Greetings to Lianfang-jun.” — “Raise your head, boy, let me take a good look at you.” — Wei Wuxian obeyed. Meng Yao looked him over once, appraising and evaluating, before making a pleased little noise. “Hm. Your name?” — “Wei Wuxian.” — “Wei...Wuxian?” Meng Yao gave a pretty laugh. “A rather boastful name for so young a person. My, but you are a lovely thing. Tell me, what is your age?” — “Eighteen.” — “Eighteen, excellent. It’s unfortunate that your name isn’t something a little more humble. What does your family call you?” — “My family calls me A-Xian, dianxia.” — “Well A-Xian, if I were to tell you that you’ve been chosen to accompany Jiang-gu’niang to serve Hanguang-wang, what say you?” — WWX thought *I’d say Lan Wangji better sleep with one eye open*, but said with a gracious and deferring bow of his head, “That would be my honour.”

[next]

Note:

houye - marquess ling’ai - a formal way to address someone else’s daughter wangfei - princess consort fanwang - a type of high-ranking prince with their own region/land to govern and possibly even their own army to command under imperial rule. Zewu-di - emperor zewu.

#cql #the untamed #wangxian #wei wuxian #concubine!wwx #assassin!wwx #prince!lwji #cql ficlet #corie fics #without envy

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morihaus · 3 years

Text

Domina

cw for a vampire talking about mortals like cattle and mentions of molag bal (just his name)

---

Atop a balcony of the Imperial Palace, the young emperor casts her gaze westward, over the canopy of the great forest, off to the dark horizon laid over the Colovian highlands. Past the borders of Cyrodiil, there lays the outlying province of the Empire, Craglorn, home to the distant Nedes never chained. Cities of stone and high towers, traditions older than the Empire of Man, faith older than Saint Alessia herself; Hestra was born to these lands, to the Cyrodiils who came from Colovia to lend aid to their kin, to enlighten them, to fasten and secure their ties to the Empire, and to keep wary watch of the expanding dominion of Verkarth, whose king had spent a century splitting the land in two, harrowing the Nedic allies of the Empire, unopposed in the distant and foreign borderland.

It was this that brought her to power. She became warrior to the faith as many in her family had been before her, as was the Colovian style of the priesthood, and she worked to stymie the tide of this burgeoning power henceforth unknown- as well as the dark creatures who cavorted within its borders, fanning out to the neighboring realms to terrorize the populace. Vampires, werebeasts, monsters of all sorts became the scourge of Craglorn in those days, and the Empire of Cyrodiil did nothing, for what was their concern for the fate of provincials? Nedes who knew nothing of Paravant, or Pelinal, or the One, whose degenerate practices ostracized them from polite Imperial society.

Hestra was one of many in Craglorn and Cyrodiil who saw need for action, but alas, small militias could do nothing but root out loose ends, small cells of the fiends who dogged the western reaches. A coven here, a pack there, but this was to treat the symptoms rather than the sickness, and without organized action against Styriche and his Gray Host itself, nothing would be done.

And for all the dire circumstances, this is why she stands here, amulet of dragon-fire around her neck, looking west with purpose. She has been emperor for but two years, and the Empire is more united than it has been in some time. She is what Cyrodiil needs, a decisive emperor, to cut through the internal bickering of the Order; a conquering emperor, to show no quarter to the enemies of mankind; a common emperor, who understands the plight of her subjects and refuses to rest until justice is done.

With the Empire whole, it prepares for a full-scale invasion of Verkarth, to sunder and destroy the foul abominations commanded by its king.

Something approaches silently from behind her. She is without guard, but not alone, for tonight she is entertaining a particular guest.

"Second thoughts, Emperor?" The pale woman clad in deep red silks asks her with a playful tone. Playful as a cat toys with a mouse, but decidedly playful nonetheless.

Hestra turns to face her, Exarch of the Gray Council, undying vampire, a mistress of the dark forces she plans to destroy. She faces her and sees her ever-so-smug grin, her round face, pale like the moon with dark shadows and painted colors framing her scarlet-orange eyes. She sees her jewelry reflect the light of the night sky, a shimmer along the chain of her belt as her eyes trace her waist, a shine around the swirling ringlets of her arm, up to the clasp of her dress on her shoulder, even a sparkle from the jewel earrings when her long black hair fell just so to make way for the light. "I consider my actions more often than you think. This is why I'm here, Vem."

Vem moves forward to press up against the other woman, lifting a manicured hand to trace her jawline. She is without reverence for the Emperor, but not without admiration, and often she shows her appreciation with touch. "This is why I see such potential in you, fair Hestra." The mortal woman doesn't flinch- but might shiver- at the vampire's chilling touch, and allows it to happen. This close she can see the subtle scaly texture speckling Vem's skin, around her eyes and her bare neck and arms, her eyes fix to this instead of Vem's hypnotic gaze- she wouldn't dare attempt to bewitch the warrior emperor, but she does much without noticing it. "We have more in common than you do with your councilors. They fill their heads with petty concerns, worthless mortal vanity- you and I, we focus on what's truly important: power."

Hestra, for as steely as her countenance is, lets her head droop to one side, warm cheek pressed against Vem's cold hand. She raises one of her own to Vem's waist, closing her eyes. "I have power, Vem. I'm the Emperor, blessed by Akatosh, anointed before the One." She doesn't need sight to picture the frown grow on Vem's face as she speaks.

She hears a sigh, and the cold hand moves down from cradling her head, sliding across her bare neck and stopping at her shoulder. Hestra opens her eyes again to see the predictable sight. She'd call the expression on Vem's face perplexed, as she is always baffled by her refusal. "Have I not explained to you the difference in magnitude hundreds of time?" She scoffs. "You are a Queen, a mortal Queen, you command great armies and rule over all of your citizenry. But I could make you more. As vampire, you would never age, never die, you would be indomitable."

"Indomitable," Hestra repeats. "But dominated by the foul machinations of your master."

Vem furrows her brow, twitching her nose. "Lord Bal is our master in name alone. He holds no true sway over us- we only need make one pact, but one ritual, and we may reap the rewards of his gift as we serve ourselves. You cannot tell me you would not desire such a power."

"Power at a price." Hestra lets her hand fall back, and now furrows her own brow as she looks back at Vem, somewhat yearning for the years she hadn't known of her true nature, or for a time where they could spend time ignoring the doom that surrounds them, before this decision had to be reached. "I do not want to join your Gray Host."

"You would not have to." Vem retracts her hand as well, folding her arms over her chest. "As immortal Emperor of Cyrodiil, you would be of much greater use as an ally to the Gray Host, to relinquish your power over this land would be foolish."

"Imagine I disagree with what your Host does, terrorizing innocent people, drinking of their blood and eating of their flesh."

Vem tisks, she almost seems to roll her luminous eyes at that. "This is because you are clinging to mortal notions of morality. You do not weep for the butchered cow, do you? For us, it is no different than hunting simple animals."

"And if I care for these animals?" Hestra asks.

She receives a raised brow. "Do you really care for these people, Emperor? These people who are not yours, who you do not know- how much would you sacrifice for their lives?" After a pointed silence, she adds: "If you could trade your life for theirs, right now, would you?"

Hestra answers honestly. "No."

"If," Vem begins. "The inverse were true, and you could sacrifice the lives of many to achieve greater power, greater dominion, wouldn't you?"

Hestra considers. "...I might." She gazes off to the side, looking behind Vem into the palace's quarters. "But what you speak of, this is the truth of politics, of warfare, of the life of an Emperor. These ugly decisions are mine to make, and I must."

"This is what holds you back," Vem turns and begins to pace, steps silent as she does. "You deny what you truly want: power. You claim it out of responsibility, you make these excuses for yourself..." She looks over her shoulder, Hestra meets her piercing eyes. "Why do you let yourself be ruled by such foolish thoughts?" She approaches again, so gently as though gliding through the air. A fanged smile plays on her lips. "You are Emperor. I am offering you power, it is in your very nature to accept it. Do not deny your true calling."

Hestra looks to her vacantly. She wonders how often she has been tempted, how close she's come before now. "You talk of offering me power- power of my own- and yet you speak as though to dominate me yourself."

At this, Vem laughs. It breaks the tension somewhat, and she takes Hestra's hand in her own, rubbing circles on the back with her cold thumb. She looks at her with half-lidded eyes. "You would not like to belong to me, dear Hestra?"

And at this, Hestra is pulled two ways, and such a grave conversation becomes very silly, and for the first time tonight, the Emperor smiles. "You speak in circles, love, like a turning wheel." She leans in and very easily presses her lips against Vem's; a shallow kiss, undercoated with some feeling of fleeting passion and intimacy, something that feels like a last chance, a final moment in which they can both pretend they share the same future. Vem puts her arms around Hestra's head, the mortal reciprocates with a hold on her waist. Hestra pulls back to breathe and laugh. "Sometimes, I still can't tell- do you want me a vampire, or a thrall-" Vem interrupts her by kissing her cheek, laughing along.

They embrace and they laugh for awhile, standing on the balcony, nipped at by the chilly night air. Eventually they stop laughing and just hold each other. Vem tucks her head into the crook of Hestra's neck, and Hestra lets her, and runs a hand through her silky dark hair.

"...You know," Vem softly breaks the silence. "That of course I want you to join me as I am- a vampire, the rightful rulers of the unliving. Because you are a ruler, Hestra, and this drew me to you, for I recognized how great you could be if you could only see what lies beyond your mortality..." One of her pale hands turns to run across the close-cut hair on Hestra's head, and Vem turns to look her in the eye, one side of her head still pressed against her shoulder. Her expression is warm, and not regal. "I do not doubt how far you will go as a mortal. You will be remembered for centuries, for a hundred centuries, your death will be something glorious, remembered in song, you will be indelible... but you will die. And it breaks my heart-" A laugh- or maybe a sob- spills out between words. "I know you could never understand, you are mortal, impermanence is everywhere in your life, to be everlasting is... difficult, to communicate. It's something you need to feel for yourself. I ask... that you allow me to grant you this, Hestra. Please."

She'd never seen Vem posture in such a way. They have been intimate with one another, they've spoken of sadness before, but never has she been so melancholy, so sorrowful as to look up to her with those eyes, dry but full of sadness. "...My love, you know I can't-"

"Why?" Vem asks immediately.

"Because- Because I am Emperor first, divine regent of the One, descendant of the Ascended Saint Alessia, defender of Cyrodiil and the Faith. I am dutybound to destroy the Gray Host... and I cannot accept your power, it would render me an abomination in the eyes of the Order, and all I've worked for would be for naught."

Vem pulls back, Hestra lets open her arms to give her space. She looks at Hestra, fear in her face, steeled by frustration. "They would not have to know. There are ways- many of us disguise our true nature, some get away with it for a century or more. You yourself had no idea before I revealed to you my nature."

"You're right. I didn't," Hestra admits. "But this is because I was young and stupid. The pelates of the Order are older, wiser, many of them savvy to the affronts to the divine. And in any case, I would still need to invade Verkarth."

"No, no you don't. We could- if you'd postpone, delay, we could destroy this Alessian Order-"

"Destroy the Order?" Hestra's brows fly up at this, almost more shocked than insulted.

Vem clenches her fists at her sides. "They are just mortals, Hestra. Mortals can be manipulated, they can be herded and culled by their true masters. If all of the threats to your power were turned, were on our side, would you still deny this?"

"You're speaking in fantasies." The Emperor says, colder than she meant to. She is just as frustrated, not only by Vem's assertions, but by how her mind meanders and considers them.

"Answer me, Hestra!"

"I could not- I could not disgrace my line, my ancestors-"

"Your ancestors were nothing more than cattle!" Vem shouts.

"Your family is nothing but a pack of monsters!" Hestra replies.

Vem, incensed, points a sharp finger at Hestra as she bares her fangs. "We are NOT monsters!" She growls, throwing a hand up. "'Monsters', 'daimons', 'abominations', these are all the labels feeble-minded sheep apply to us, the true masters of Tamriel! And here you are- so different from them, so close to us, and you refuse your rightful place on our Council, your rightful taste of our blood, all because of these vapid mortal commitments to the lives and deeds of mortals, the ways of people who lived and died as nothing more than stupid animals- you let them limit you, hold you back, drag you down to their level!" Snarling, there is a quivering to her frame and face that belies her nerves. "You do not deserve to be another pile of bones in a pasture! You deserve to be Domina, High Emperor of All Tamriel, Immortal Ruler of the weak and impermanent!!"

Hestra stands stock still, shadows cast on her creased face. "I cannot do this. I will not take knee before your king."

"You would not have to! Do you know how few of us respect King Styriche? How fewer revere Lord Bal? To depose him, to usurp him, it would not be difficult, you would only have to delay your invasion!" Vem's composure is all but faded as she pleads for what she wants, the safety of her family, an immortal paramour, and all that she wills be made real, as in true domination of the world. The fact that she screams this hoarsely and with such desperation- the desperation of someone not in control- is not lost on her.

The Emperor hangs her head, heavy with troubles. She grits her teeth as she speaks with attempted finality. "I cannot, Vem, and I'm sorry that I cannot." Her own eyes, still living, well up as she speaks. "It does not mean I don't love you- I do, I give you my word and I mean it: I do, and if I were anyone different... you need to know how much I want to be forever beside you, I truly want this, but..."

Vem suddenly darts forward, pressing herself against her, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "If you want it, you can have it. Let me turn you, forget the Empire, let it fall under someone else's rule- we could make of it that you died in battle, that you were- you were betrayed somehow, sow dissent in the Empire, let it rot and fall. Leave my family alone, let us go together into a new life." Her plan is flimsy, her voice is quickened and shaking, but she bears her soul to Hestra like never before. "Take what you want, Hestra."

She bows her head. Hestra leans down to press her forehead against hers. She wants to take her into her arms, as they used to, like lovers would, but she doesn't.

#mori writing #oc: hestra #oc: alessians #hi. this is about emperor hestra and exarch vem from that one eso dlc #shout out to that background character for saying one nice thing about another woman so i could write this entire thing

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shadowturtlesstuff · 3 years

Text

A day dedicated to Jude

I was looking through my google docs and found a random jurdan fic so i quickly edited it. Enjoy

We are alone, walking through our rose garden as the sun starts to set over Elfhame. There is another revel tonight, like most nights, but tonight serves more of a purpose. At least it does for my husband and I. A few weeks ago I accidentally told Cardan my birthday, and so he took it upon himself to organise a revel in my honour. He thankfully neglected to tell people why it was honouring me; he has just claimed that he can honour his wife whenever he likes. Which made me smile despite the fact I did not want any sort of attention around my birthday. Perhaps just by my sisters, Oak, Heather and Cardan. Alas, tonight I will dine with Elfhame and my husband and dance and try to enjoy my night.

Cardan had refused to go to meetings and made sure I wasn't able to attend any, either. Again missing the reason behind his actions. The Court of Shadows knows, we spent time with them drinking, until the Bomb and Roach decided to spend the rest of the day in the mortal world until tonight. The Ghost has disappeared in search of my twin most likely. So we had spent the day in bed, over a year of being married, of being High King and Queen together, and the simplicity of the day had been strange to us both. Cardan had become used to it far faster than I. Yet I will admit I did enjoy doing nothing, worrying about only my husband, which I always did but there were no other worries alongside it. It was nice. As much as that thought would've scared me in the past it does not now. I welcomed relaxing on our bed and resting my sore muscles.

My stomach has healed nicely from where my father stabbed me. Often I find Cardan tracing the line when we are in bed together. His face is always lost in thought when I find his hand absentmindedly caressing the line. He has expressed his hatred for Madoc many times, which is completely understandable. So when I find him in that state I simply take his hands and reassure him I am okay, that we made it.

I take his hand now, which surprises us both but he smiles. It was his idea to walk together before we entered our party. Even though we spent today together alone, he wanted one more time with me. So we've dressed ready and are walking slowly together. "Thank you for the revel Cardan, even though I specifically told you I didn't want to celebrate." I feel his pace drop and he turns and faces me. I have not explained why I wished not to celebrate but with Cardan I didn't need to. He understood that it was a reminder that I was mortal; one of my many shortcomings. Fae do not age the same ways as mortals, and my life would end far faster than Cardans'. It was a reminder I was running low on time to spend with my husband in the peace that we'd worked so hard for.

"And I told you that I simply cannot just ignore your birthday. It is a day where I can tell you how much I adore you and you cannot stop me." It never ceased to amaze me how much we have both changed by opening our hearts to each other. He kisses my hand and pulls me into a hug. Cardan, I have found out, loves to cuddle. He will do it any chance he gets. Not that I mind it, often when I feel his arms snake around me whilst I’m working I welcome the small break it offers.

“Very well husband, I supposed we should go to the party.”

“Your party.” He counters and I nearly shake my head at his antics.

We walk hand in hand together, the guards open the doors for us and we make our way into the main hall. All eyes turn to us. I spot my sister with the Ghost, Vivi and Heather on the other side of the room dancing together already. Taryn left her child with Oriana for the night and I’m sure she was complaining about not being with him. Cardan and I have only seen my nephew a handful of times. When Cardan held him for the first time his eyes had held promise for our future. Both of us had not been raised as a child should be or in a way that prepared us to be parents; but we both held hope that we’d learn together. I know Cardan would be the most loving father a child could ask for.

Cardan leads me to my throne and instead of going to his he sits on the arm of my chair. He refuses to leave my side, and whilst it isn’t strange for him to sit here, I fear that our people will figure out why this is in my honor and that Cardan is being more of a husband than High King. Most revels we have roles to play, to appear menacing and diplomatic and everything people in charge should be. Cardan is more open with gestures of love than I am, yet I can’t help but think of all the things they could claim when it is just a mortal birthday he’s celebrating.

It is a long time before Cardan and I have a peaceful second with each other. People have been coming to us all night, to show respect as they always do and to try and figure out any information about tonight. They haven’t. I am tired even though I have done nothing all day. I would happily spend tomorrow in bed with my husband if I didn’t have more meetings that I pushed back to have today off. Cardan is still sitting next to me, and I’m half tempted to fall asleep on him despite being in front of everyone. Instead of doing that I grip his elbow. He’s currently gesturing to some fae I didn’t realise appeared so taking his hand would only annoy the fae he’s talking to. So I settle for the elbow and he wordlessly slows his hand gestures until it is just his left moving. Then eventually that stops and the fae has left us all alone and Cardan is facing me. I give him a small smile, and he returns it. “Do you want to leave?” He asks.

I sigh. Yes, I do. I want to be in bed with him holding me as I do nothing. But I know I can’t get into that habit no matter how much I now wish to. “No, we haven’t even spoken to my sisters yet and I think they’ll hang you if I don’t see them at all.” I tell him and then laugh when he panics. “I’m kidding, kinda. I mean, if they don’t at least wish me happy birthday then they’ll be a bit angry.”

“Let’s go find your sisters then shall we?”

We find Taryn with Vivi and Heather instead of the Ghost and I am immediately embraced by them all. They whisper happy birthday so that everyone around us cannot hear and then Vivi notices that Cardan is just standing awkwardly watching the four of us hug and insists that he joins us. Somewhat reluctantly he wraps his arms around me and Taryn and joins our hug, finding a way to press a kiss to my head. Despite my tiredness, and I suppose my stubbornness, to not celebrate my birthday I smile at the people willing to tolerate me in this way.

“How’s your little one?” I ask Taryn as we all move from our hug. The fae are all listening and hovering but I don’t really care too much.

“He’s getting so big, you two must come see him soon. He misses his Uncle Cardan.” This makes Heather giggle as Cardan winces. He doesn’t mind it but would prefer not to be called that here. When we got home and spoke about it he kept repeating Uncle Cardan like he still couldn’t believe he was a part of our family. As messed up as all of us are, I am happy we faced so much to find this life.

“When we were with him yesterday he squeezed my finger and I honestly nearly had a heart attack.” Heather, ever the dramatic, going into more detail about the time she and Vivi spent with Taryn yesterday. Because Taryn lives alone she often has my sister and her girlfriend around often and if me and Cardan didn’t have to work to run a kingdom I’m sure Cardan would be with his little nephew all day.

I feel Cardans' hand move around me and he holds me in a side hug as we listen to our family. Again he kisses my temple and this time I rest my head on my husbands' chest and smile. “Happy birthday my Wicked Queen.”

(i’m using normal tags so if you only read my cressworth sorry)

@fangirling-again @kittycat2187 @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @ink-insomnia @purplecreatorhorsewagon @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing-wars @lovecakeandmore @yikesitsmaddie @loveyatopluto @bookscressworth @androgynousdeputylawyershoe @fandomtakeover @throneoftsc

#tfota #jude #cardan #jurdan #cruel prince #wicked king #queen of nothing #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte

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dracwife · 2 years

Text

resonant. | charles

ship: isn’t it lovely? → charles/dexter

word count: 862

summary: charles can’t sleep; instead, he looks into the dreams of his partner

The drumming in his head was incessant.

And as dreadfully tired as he may have been, he could scarcely sleep with the unending pounding that wracked his brain and sent his skull shaking, his vision blurring with every moment he forced himself awake.

The headaches, they were horrible.

He tries to read back what little writing he'd done, scrawled across the notebook page for a future lecture; He thinks, at least, that's what it was intended to be. Turning the paper slightly, he tilts his head and fails to decipher his own handwriting, to a failure.

He's still examining the ink as he feels gentle fingers brush against the thin fabric of the shirt he's worn to bed that evening. At the twitching graze, he's pulled from distraction and he gazes down towards the figure besides him, who is sound asleep.

They rustle again, this time extending their touch to the small exposed patch of skin just beneath where the shirt has ridden upwards in wrinkle, the awkward position in which Charles sits against the headboard has left his waist somewhat uncovered and his partner, in a restless movement, has attracted themselves to the warmth his bare skin offers.

He wonders, then, what his lover is dreaming of, and though he tends to refrain from invading what little privacy someone he already shares an open book of a life with has, he cannot help but sink himself into their mind, their dreams, the sleep he desperately covets.

He sees simple flashes of color, distant memory and twisted events of the previous day. He sees a stolen kiss between them, and light laughs as they entertain themselves with the art of people watching on campus. And then, another kiss, which is far --

"I can feel you in my head, dear."

Charles is snapped back to the present moment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I was just curious."

"You didn't wake me."

He smiles down at the other man, whose breathing steadies once more and, after a small bout of silence, he believes him to be asleep once again -- that is, until he sighs and opens his eyes at last.

Their gazes meet, and Charles is offered a smile in return, weighted in sleep and lost almost in the grogginess of being pulled from slumber. His voice is just as much.

"Don't you have to be up early in the morning?"

"I can't sleep."

"Charlie --" he ceases cringing at the nickname, though were it to come from anyone else, he certainly wouldn't tolerate it with as much care, even if he does find it a tinch adorable in that sweet, soft, sleepy voice of his partner's.

He pulls himself up, sitting slightly and falling then gently against Charles' chest, nestling into the heat he emanates and making a small noise, laced with exhaustion.

"How can I help?"

"I don't think you can."

"I can try."

Charles weaves his fingers into the messy curls of his love's bedhead, and closes his eyes. He's too tired to talk, even, and simply rests there, where the other man nuzzles further into him.

"Won't you read to me?"

Charles hums, of course he will; This was no strange routine for them, and in past it never failed to help ease Charles' anxieties and of course, headaches. He figures it gives him something to concentrate on, something he doesn't have to think hard about, when he can instead focus on the feeling of his partner's weight against his, which is a comfort on its own that could help him rest easy.

"What book?"

The other barely opens his eyes, looking towards the small nightstand, where Charles reaches over and places his notebook and pen.

"Whatever is right there."

He looks over and not long after chuckles, "I'm afraid it's The Tempest, my dear."

"That's fine," the other yawns, "As long as it's you reading."

He takes the book and flicks to the dogeared page a third of the way in -- the book is worn and beaten from repeating readings, some pages torn and others fading already, but alas he trudges onwards, the words falling from his lips but not comprehended, no. Instead, he's far too focused on the feeling of the body pressed against his under the covers, the head rested against his shoulder and the lips pressing gentle kisses to his neck.

His lover, in the same sense, is barely listening to the tale, rather far more focused on the rhythmic beating of Charles' pulse and the continuous rumble of vocality in his chest, where his fingers had splayed out and begun to trace small patterns on the fabric that covers the telepath's torso.

It was not long at all before he fell back into a deep sleep, and even shorter a time before Charles found the pages slipping from his fingers, the other coming to rest against the curve of Dexter's spine as he lay huddled against him, and his eyes begin to feel heavy as the distant noise of the book falling from his hand down the comforter and the soft snoring of his dearest love lull him into a painless, pleasant slumber.

#dex.writes #ship.isn't it lovely?#self shipping #self ship #Selfship #self ship community #f/o #f/o community #ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ɪᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ? | r. － c.x.

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chusui00 · 3 years

Text

Have A Little Faith

Word Count: 1,783

Summary: You are at Lady Danbury’s evening ball, which is the perfect opportunity to find a potential suitor so that you can finally settle down. But of course, it’s not as easy as it sounds. You’ve found yourself standing far away from everyone else, and just when you think tonight will be fruitless, your childhood friend, Anthony Bridgerton, changes all of the thoughts inside your head.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tonight was the night where I needed to do a little flirting with men I have never personally met, and hopefully, I’ll impress them with my charms. That’s if they would gauge their attention onto me instead of whatever they wanted to boast about.

Mama practically talked my ear off when we were upon arriving Lady Danbury’s estate, but Richard distracted her with the topic of his new fiancée like the eldest brother he is. I still hadn’t thanked him for his act of bravery, although, that could wait for when we were in the carriage.

In my mind, I ventured on about whether or not he would be at the ball. The last time we’ve met was nearly three days ago when our families agreed to have a picnic in celebration of a newborn baby coming into the world. As much as I enjoyed engaging in social encounters, I had been more comfortable with reading alone in my room.

But alas, he persuaded me to join everyone outside where we could eat and share jokes under the warm sun together. Since then, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his shoulder brushed against mine more than enough times to call it accidental.

The man even offered to feed me a sandwich and delectable piece of scone he had already bitten into. Luckily for the two of us, our families were too immersed with doting over the aforementioned newborn baby to realize what we were doing.

Viscount Bridgerton, informally known as Anthony or Bridgerton by both family and close friends. I was not exempt from the latter formalities, although, I’ve always wondered what my life would be like if I had not crossed paths with him.

He is everything and more when Lady Whistledown wrote about him in her society’s paper last Tuesday. And to be quite frank, he needed to work for what he wanted rather than let it fall into his lap.

It seemed unfathomable the way he charmed his way through women of the ton while simultaneously rejecting them. I found it entertaining to see the crestfallen faces of girls my age, but am I to blame for their naïveté?

Anthony Bridgerton is a Rake through and through, which I can say with the utmost certainty because I am his childhood friend.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He loves his mother and siblings in place of his late father, and he is very passionate in regards of his interests. That includes women who have a pretty face and have given him an unforgettablely good time.

But this did not excuse the trail of broken hearts as well as tearful confessions behind the Viscount. Although a bit discouraging for someone who harbored feelings for the man, I always kept a smile on my face whenever we had a conversation with one another.

Anthony was extremely well-versed in politics, social skills, and the economy. There were times when I tested him on a popular topic in the papers, which as expected, he excelled.

I should not be thinking about the past at this hour. Everyone around me was dancing, drinking their glasses of champagne, and looking for someone to court. Letting out a deep sigh, I brush off a speck of invisible dust from the hem of my dress.

That’s when I see him, politely making his way through the crowd to go to where I am. A silent panic breaks my former calm demeanor, and I quickly stand taller to seem more presentable. It does not go unnoticed in the slightest, thus Anthony chuckles behind a hand then he stands before me in his handsome glory.

“Good evening, Miss Willows. How are you enjoying the ball so far?” There’s a mischievous glint behind those mesmerizing brown eyes, but onlookers would mistake it as a completely different emotion. “Hello, Lord Bridgerton. I’m much comfortable standing on the sidelines rather than dancing the night away. Thank you for asking, my lord.”

He shakes his head with amusement, and he finds my honest reply to be of a different mood compared to the other young women. “Then you shan’t refuse my offer to dance the night away, Miss Willows.” I furrow my brows in confusion and not a moment later, I’m swept onto the dance floor.

I’ve not the chance to process all that has happened, but Anthony keeps me focused on him and only him. He lowers his head to whisper words of encouragement, and I flush like a rose when he sneaks a kiss on the apple of my cheek. It’s too much for me to understand why he chose me instead of any other woman he wanted in the ball room.

“I’m relieved to see that you’re not stepping on my feet, and how beautiful your smile glows, Miss Willows.” I’m temporarily rendered speechless as to why he’s suddenly being quite the gentleman towards me. If it weren’t for the bystanders, he and I would be playfully bantering nonstop about the most random things we could think of.

“Anthony, tell me, what’s gotten into you? I appreciate the change of attitude, but it’s not the Bridgerton I know.” He’s unresponsive for a minute, then two. I can feel his grip on my waist tighten and the subtle action to bring our bodies closer. I’m not sure how I should react, but I needn’t say anything at all when he spins me around.

“My mother wants me to find a young lady to court because she’s tired of me being a bachelor for most of my life.” “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised because she’s right.” I’m quick to give my reply, and he briefly glares down at me. “Oh, come now, Anthony. Even Lady Whistledown knows about your spectacular reputation and preferences.”

“Yes, but that’s all she knows about me, y/n. I just don’t think I’m capable of settling down with a family of my own in the near future.” The song comes to an end, and we bow before walking together for some refreshments. I say my hellos to several couples, single lords, and some of my friends when we come across them.

“That is a lie because from my knowledge, you’re the spitting image and exact replica of your father, Anthony Bridgerton.” “Y/n, I’m grateful to have met an extraordinary woman like yourself, but sometimes you get on my nerves.” That stabbed me right in the heart. Alright, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned his late father, but he didn’t have to be so harsh.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you can marry whoever you want to, but you’d most definitely choose a woman with the same personality as yours.” I watch him take a swig from his wine glass, and then he points it at me. Narrowing my eyes as I brace myself for possible humiliation, he sets down the glass and takes my hand to drag me off to someplace other than where we were now.

I won’t lie when I say that I was nervous yet excited to find out where he was taking me. Benedict, Colin, and Eloise all looked our way then at their mother, and I could tell that they had connected the dots. It was a good thing that Lady Bridgerton found her happy place with alcohol, otherwise she would’ve stopped Anthony in his tracks.

We eventually reach our destination, which so happens to be one of countless rooms that was conveniently far away for anyone to hear. Don’t tell me... “Anthony, what are we doing over here? Shouldn’t we be with all those people, and dancing the night away?”

No answer from my captor. He seemed to be in deep thought, and I scoffed in disbelief. I most certainly did not want to spend the rest of my time on my friend, especially when he wouldn’t tell me why he brought me here. “Look, I came to this ball to find a suitor. If you won’t answer me, then—“

Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. The hand that was once squeezing my waist found its rightful place, and the other gently brushed my hair back. I fluttered my eyes closed, letting myself melt in his embrace as we kissed with a fiery passion I knew that had always been between us.

A few moments later, he pulled away then buried his face into the crook of my neck. I felt him inhale then exhale, as though he was trying to control himself from doing something I hadn’t done before. “I want you, y/n. But only if you’ll allow me to court you. We have gone through thick and thin in our childhood, and I want nothing more to continue for the rest of our lives.”

The Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was asking for my consent to be courted, and I would be delusional to reject his confession. I’ve never seen him so sincere and vulnerable like this before, and it made me giggle. He must’ve thought that I was going to refuse his offer, but I snake my arms around his neck then kiss his soft lips for reassurance.

“I’ve never thought you would ask, Anthony. But this means no more secret meetings, alright? If I hear an inkling about you being where you’ve told me you wouldn’t be at, then I’m ending things. Am I clear, Bridgerton?” He swallows thickly and nods, so I’m rather grateful that my warning has gotten through.

I bring my hands to cup his face, and I now see how much he adores me the way he relaxes against my touch. Unfortunately, we’ve been gone for far too long, but I don’t doubt that he’ll come up with a reasonable excuse to his worrying mama.

Anthony kisses the top of my head before taking my hand and leading me back the way we came. I intertwine our fingers to which he brings up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “It might be too soon to say this, but I absolutely and undoubtedly love you, y/n Willows. I promise to cherish you for as long as I am going to live.”

It takes a bit for me to absorb the sudden declaration, but I’m not complaining whatsoever. All that mattered was that we shared equal affection for one another, and we were willing to work for a bright, lovely lifestyle ahead of us. “And I wholeheartedly love you, Anthony Bridgerton. You are mine for eternity,”

Some might say that we were too inexperienced when it came to love, but we ignored their opinions. Like my mama used to tell me when I was a child, “Have a little faith.”

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #romance

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novantinuum · 3 years

Note

Hi, I was just wondering if you had ever thought about what would have happened in your story "Hollowed Moon" if you had continued it. I always thought it was such an interesting setup that could have gone in so many different directions. And there really aren't other stories focusing on Stevonnie and Spinel, so it was unique!

Hiya!

So, I do have some half-written, half-plotted out material to share. I gave this story some consideration the other day, and came to the decision that I don't have the desire to finish it out, alas- I have far too many other active WIPs to add it to the list. There's a few good reasons why I discontinued it, anyways... intimidation over the huge surge of attention it was getting back in 2019, some rude comments from overzealous Spinel fans, (I know everyone isn't like this, but a certain segment of the Spinel side of the SU fandom kinda burned me over time, hhh), and a future chapter containing a sensitive topic that I wasn't in a good headspace to write about at the time.

But! Anyways! Below the cut is all the existing material I have for Hollowed Moon past chapter 14, consisting of a mixture of descriptions, sketchy dialogue, and prose. It honestly feels nice to finally be able to put this story to an official rest.

Chapter 15

“I... I saw her.”

“Who-?”

“I saw Pink Diamond. I saw you, in this exact garden, in a dream. I- it was like I was experiencing everything through her. She explained your game, tapped your nose and told you to smile, then warped away—“

“That’s it, that’s what happened, almost exactly! But how could you even know that, I never—“

“I don’t know,” they blurt out. “I have empathic abilities, and sometimes that makes dreaming a little weird, but I have no idea how or why I saw any of this.”

[Pause for Stevonnie to think]

“Spinel, I’m so, so sorry,” they whisper brokenly. “But I think... she left you here.”

“What...?”

“She said she’d return, but before she warped away she whispered goodbye, like she didn’t actually intend to make good on that promise. She was lying to you,” they choke out, voice thick.

“No. No,” she says in clear denial, “no she’s not. She can’t be! She told me she’d come back! I can wait! I just have to wait—“

“But she’s not! She... she can’t, because Pink Diamond is gone. She- she was shattered, Spinel. Five thousand years ago, on the Earth. I- I should’ve told you this from the beginning, and I didn’t, and I- I’m so, so sorry—! But she left you behind, and now she’s never coming back.”

[Silence. Tears brim in Spinel’s eyes. Her eyes grow dark, pained, and then she glares at Stevonnie with such venom it almost knocks them backwards in alarm. ]

“NO!” she screams, tears streaming down her faded pink cheeks.

[She tears her feet up from the roots and runs away, using her arms like an orangutan to vault herself forward super fast so Stevonnie can’t catch her.]

___

Chapter 16

AN: Content warning for self-shattering attempt. Part of the reason why I had to stop writing this story at the time. I considered pushing the plot another way, but it didn't feel authentic to how I believed this scenario would play out for Spinel when she didn't have a direct target for her anger. Without someone to actively be jealous and upset AT, I could only imagine her breaking inwards instead of outwards, feeling that she's utterly failed in her life's purpose. Nothing more than a description for this chapter... and it'd be a short one.

[When Stevonnie finds her, she’s smashing her fists against her gem in her sheer anguish. She’s already cracked it. She’s glitching. It looks terribly painful. She’s about to strike her gem again when Stevonnie intervenes.]

___

Chapter 17

[Post timely intervention. Spinel is still cracked at this moment, though... her form glitching as she cries.]

“I was... her best friend,” she cries, fat, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was supposed to make her happy! Why wasn’t she happy? Why didn’t she come back?“

[Spinel reasoning that maybe if Pink came back for her, she wouldn’t have been shattered in the first place]

“What did I do wrong?” she whispers hoarsely, gazing pleadingly into Stevonnie’s eyes. “Wha- what am I doing? Why do I wanna hurt myself so badly?”

“Shh, now,” they reply, tears of their own brimming at the crease of their eyes, and pull Spinel’s head to their chest. “I’ve got you...”

___

Chapter 18

They know their throat is tight, and their voice scratchy. They know they’ve never sung this song in front of another living being, since it’s something personal they composed alone on one of their late nights back on Earth, thinking about all the difficult days Steven and Connie have had to face over the months. Pair this with their active crying, and there’s no way their singing will be anything pretty.

But pretty doesn’t matter right now.

Stevonnie opens their lips, and— clutching the broken hearted Gem close, rhythmically rocking with her back and forth— lets the wandering melody emerge from within.

“I guess I have to face That in this awful place I shouldn’t show a trace Of doubt...”

“But pulled against the grain I feel a little pain That I would rather do Without...”

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

[Hoarse, Spinel starts singing with them.]

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

“Free, free Free...”

“From here...”

[Stevonnie holds her tight while crying, their tears healing it back up.]

___

Chapter 19

AN: Don't have anything but a single bit of dialogue in this chapter note- I'm assuming I intended it as being a good few hours after the events of chapters 16-18... when Spinel has calmed down a little and has a moment to reflect on the upsetting news she's just received.

“I think... I always knew,” she says, voice hoarse. “In a way. It was so obvious how she felt about me.

___

Chapter ?

AN: From here on out, the plot hasn't been split into individual chapters.

[At some point shortly after chapter 19, Lars and his crew locate Stevonnie in the garden, and pick them and Spinel up. The next few bits of dialogue and description takes place on the ship.]

Rutile twins: “I haven’t heard of Spinels being produced in over five millennia.” “Me neither!”

Rhodonite: “Yeah, I heard they stopped making them entirely after the rebellion on Pink’s colony.”

[A bit of overwhelming conversation later, no one really noticing Spinel's conflicted emotional response to so many Gems hovering around her at once.]

Padparadscha: “I predict that you’re both going to make Spinel feel very uncomfortable aboard this ship.”

Rhodonite: “I’m sorry, we don’t exactly meet new Gems every century.”

Rutile twins: “Yes!” “It’s just been us until we met our captain!”

Fluorite: “Our new huuuuman friend helped us escape the tunnels on Homeworld. Now... we’re slooowly making our way back... to Earth.”

Spinel: “Earth?? You’re going to Pink’s world? But why? I heard she... was shattered.”

___

[Spinel feeling a sense of kinship with the idea that there’s other Gems who didn’t serve their rightful purpose and are now escaping their life on Homeworld to be free of that. Because now, without her Diamond, since she was unable to keep her happy, she’s an Off Color too. She failed her given purpose same as them.]

[Discussion of Earth, and the rebellion, and how there’s Gems living free there. And how Pink’s colony was siphoning life away, and that’s what these Gems were fighting to protect. Stevonnie points out all the plants and wildlife that used to live in the garden, and asks her if she felt happier when it was around. Spinel says yes. Stevonnie says that this is what the Diamonds are destroying, with each lifeless colony they forge. Everywhere they go, dead wildlife lies in their wake.]

Spinel: “I... guess I never thought of it that way.”

[(Stevonnie adds...) And while they’re very sorry for the personal connection there, and can’t imagine how painful that must be, that’s why Pink Diamond was shattered.]

[Spinel is given an open choice... Lars gives the invitation to stay with him and the Off Colors, and Stevonnie offers for her to come with them back to Earth. It's not a hard decision for her in the end, though. She's always dreamed of seeing what was once Pink’s planet, ever since she heard the Diamonds bequeath it to her.]

___

Stevonnie: “Okay, so… before we go, I need to be honest with you about something." [deep breath] "I’m actually a fusion of two separate people who are close friends. You... know what fusion is, right?”

Spinel: “Duh, o’course! What, d’ya think I was made yesterday?”

[...]

Stevonnie: “But even with that, I can’t be together as me all the time. Steven and Connie, the two who come together to form me... they love hanging out with each other so much, but they also have their own lives! Other friends, other hobbies, their own families. They still talk when they’re apart, but they know it’s okay to do things alone, too. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Spinel: [shakes head no] “No...?”

Stevonnie: [sighs] “I understand you’ve been left behind. Believe me, I know how bad that feels. So the last thing I wanna do is make you think I’m doing that too.”

Spinel: “Y-you— you’re going away?” Stevonnie: “Unfusing, yes.” Spinel: “But Stevonnie, you—“ Stevonnie: “Spinel. No matter what, you are my friend. Steven and Connie consider you a friend, too. And my hope is that you’ll keep making a whole bunch more on Earth, so you’ll always have people around who know and love you. But that can’t always be me, okay?“

___

[At home... on Earth. There's a bit of a close call for Pearl when Spinel arrives, and recognizes her as Pink's second pearl. This is news for Garnet and Amethyst and Steven, the first of which had somewhat suspected that Pearl used to be in the diamonds' service, but never knew for sure. Pearl, of course... can't say much on this due to her gag order... not that anyone else knows about that yet... but does manage a very concise and PD=RQ free explanation about her past in Pink's court, and her transition towards being a Crystal Gem:]

Pearl: “Rose Quartz set me free, and I’ve been a part of the rebellion ever since.”

___

[At some point between the last scene and the next, mention how Spinel had a bit of a relapse... she ended up poofing herself, and reformed differently. A little bit closer to the smudged mascara and frayed pigtails look of canon, but no rotated heart. Unlike in canon, she has a solid support system amongst the Crystal Gems, and she's working hard to recover from the heartbreak of Pink's abandonment.]

___

[Final scene is set post A Single Pale Rose. Steven and Connie fuse, and Stevonnie goes to find Spinel to check in on how she's taking the news. The final line of the fic is as follows:]

Spinel: “I know you’re not her, not really. And I know you’ll always be a better person than she ever was. But in some silly cyclical way... back in that garden... it’s almost like Pink came back for me after all.”

#su #spinel #stevonnie #su fanfiction #my fic stuff #hollowed moon #this isn't REALLY 'my fic stuff' since it's unwritten but #i think it deserves to be here. this is the full unfinished plot of a fic that got the most exposure of anything i've ever shared in fandom

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sunflowerspectre · 3 years

Text

Hellfire and Ectoblasts

For @cleanlenins

Title: Hellfire and Ectoblasts Fandom: Danny Phantom x Lucifer Summary: The devil works hard, but Vladimir Masters works harder. When Vladimir Master dabbles in dealing favors to others to get his way - much easier than constantly possessing everyone - Lucifer Morningstar has a few choice words for the business tycoon. Rating: T for cursing (multiple uses of the F word, mentions of drug abuse) Final Word Count: 5005 Ft. Uncle/Redeemed Vlad AU

Read on A03 Read on FF

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Los Angeles is new territory, despite all the places Vladimir Masters has traveled. He has drunk martinis in the sands of Bahamas, made deals in Cancun, and has a passport larger than most politicians. He has even traveled further into the Ghost Zone than most of the fully ghosts there.

Yet the city of angels has always eluded him, or rather he eluded it. It never quite appealed to him, with the oddities and gaudy casinos. It felt almost beneath him and it has, honestly, never been on his priority list - at least, not until now.

Business is business and Vlad Masters will always go where business is; even if it is in a city like Los Angeles. Even if it is with an admittedly annoying sixteen year old teenager for a long extended amount of time.

Honestly, what was he thinking when he wanted Daniel as a son? He should have gone after Jasmine, he begrudges. At least she knew when to be quiet.

“Are we there yet?”

Vlad feels his eyebrow twitch, a vein throbbing in his neck. Daniel Fenton has the nerve to look at him with large innocent, doe eyes as if that is not the hundredth time he has asked that question in the past hour.

His somewhat nephew had jumped on the chance to go to LA with him; he would have been more suspicious of Daniel’s intention if not for the fact that the space shuttle endeavor will be within one quick bus ride from their hotel. As challenging, and even powerful, as Daniel can be - he is very much an open book that has been quite easy to read.

Danny opens his mouth, as if to ask that infuriating question again, but is stopped short by a small ecto blast. The ectoplasm effectively sticks against his mouth and despite the way he claws it, it refuses to budge. He settles for crossing his arms in a huff with a narrow glare. He idly considers it for a moment before a middle finger raises in contempt.

“Curse at me all you want, Daniel, but I refuse to listen to that infernal question the entire trip.”

Danny’s body language makes it clear that he is mocking him. Vlad waits until his fit is over before removing the ecto blast. Danny, huffing about being cut-off, leans back into the seat of the private jet. When he glances out the window, catching glimpses of clouds, he can not help but think wistfully how much better it would be to be flying Airline Danny. Jets, private or otherwise, are too confining now that he knows what it feels like to touch clouds.

He bets that the skies of Los Angeles is beautiful up close. He absently wonders if he gets far away enough to the nearby desert if he will be able to get a good view of the stars. The Orion constellation, not to mention a few planets like Venus and even Saturn, should be more visible here than it would be in Amity Park. He wonders if he flies high enough if he can get a good picture with a smartphone.

“Why are you going to LA anyway? Don’t you have enough money that you don’t need to be blowing it at casinos? Or is that the whole point?”

He barely even spares Vlad a glance through the corner of his eyes, arms crossed lazily against his chest as his cheek presses against the cool glass of the window. While being with Vlad is not the worst thing in the world - at least not anymore - he can not help but wish he would’ve been able to bring Sam and Tucker along. He imagines that they would be thrilled to go somewhere that’s not the Nasty Burger. At the very least, they would be better conversationalists.

Well, I guess it’s at least fun to mess with him, Danny thinks wistfully, a more devious smile on his face. If anything, it is a great way to pass the time. Messing with Vlad has always been a treasure, but now with little repercussions, at least nothing that compares to the way he used to threaten to kill his dad, it is like the entire world is his oyster.

“You can never have enough money, young badger.”

Danny coughs something into his elbow that sounds suspiciously like ‘ eat the rich’. His eyes watch Vlad carefully with feign innocence, as if he never said anything at all. His elbow hides the large shit-eating grin threatening to break on his face.

Vlad makes a point to ignore the comment, continuing easily, “Since our - my -”

He struggles to find the right word, fumbling a bit with a strained look on his face. Mentions of the past have always been hard to bring up when he is, honestly, doing his best to move forward from it. He feels strained at the mere mention of how he behaved beforehand, somewhat even embarrassed by the things he tried to pull. He cannot be thankful enough that the Fentons, including even Daniel, have even given him this second chance. The young badger’s trust is not an easy thing to earn.

“ Your redemption arc,” Danny offers somewhat helpfully.

While not fond of the term, Vlad has to admit that he cannot think of a better phrase.

“-Yes.”

He accepts the term Danny offers with clenched teeth, “-and as such, possession has become quite unfavorable . I have taken up doing business the old-fashioned way.”

Danny turns to face him. His innocently blinking eyes do not fool anyone with the gleam of mischief shining brightly in them.

“-Legal suits and proper paperwork?”

Vlad snaps at him suddenly, a vein throbbing in his forehead as he regrets taking off the ecto-gag.

“Oh will you - stop that?”

The outburst sends Danny reeling into a laughing fit, clenching his sides tightly.

__________________________________

Danny’s smartass comments cost him; though, in his opinion, it was absolutely worth it. To his dismay, Vlad drags him along through the city of angels instead of leaving him at the hotel. He claimed he needed to meet a new potential business partner. He gave an entire speech of how it would be good for him to learn how the business world works, but Danny can only recall maybe the first few sentences of said speech. Vlad even went as far as stuffing Danny into the most uncomfortable expensive clothes that he could find. Honestly, couldn’t the man at least get comfy expensive clothes? Gucci makes sweat suits. He makes a mental note to send some links to Gucci sweat suits to Vlad later.

Comfy or not, he still would have preferred to have just headed straight to the space shuttle endeavor. At least then, he would be in ghost form most of the time anyway. It would have been a ten - maybe fifteen - minute flight himself from their hotel room; he even promised Vlad that he would stay invisible the whole time and not touch anything he was not supposed to. A promise that was hard to give since oh man did he want to touch the shuttle just to say he touched something that was in space. He even begged his uncle. Slipped in a few mentions of how his mom would be so happy if he was able to go and get pictures.

He almost got him too, but alas, his efforts were in vain. Instead, he is stuck in a limo. It is not a bad thing in and of itself, but even a luxurious car feels suffocating when you want to be somewhere else.

He eyes the protesters lining up on certain streets. Sam would have loved it here. He keeps track of all of the ‘trendy’ vegan cafes he spots along the way for future reference; he even spots a few goth-centric stores. He snaps a few pictures, sending them over their group chat. He follows them up with pictures of pictures of every BBQ stand he finds for Tucker’s sake.

Sam: Still with the ex-villain?

Danny snorts, scooting away from Vlad as much as he could before snapping a picture of his unsuspecting ex-arch nemesis. Vlad visibly sighs, the exhaustion showing on his face as he does not even bother to look at Danny anymore.

Tucker: Someone looks like he’s having a great time

Danny: He’s with me, of course he’s having a great time. I’m a joy to be around. An absolute blast.

Tucker: Isn’t every party you’ve gone to nowadays a bit - dead?

Danny audibly groans at the bad attempt at puns, sending a quick message of how puns are his thing; it’s his whole shtick. But like all group chats do, the conversation grows dead pretty fast.

He is already growing bored again after having sent all the memes he could find ( and how dare they not laugh react at them) . He settles for rolling the window up and down obsessively, occasionally even sticking his head through it. When that adrenaline rush is short-lived, he ends up leaning against the door while obnoxiously clicking the window button repeatedly until Vlad is forced to ask the limo driver to put on the child lock. He considers the idea of just phasing his head through the window, but as weird as LA is, he thinks even that would be a stretch.

He could just phase away entirely. After all, the limo is not ghost proof. Vlad even got rid of most of his more outrageous contraptions and traps so he knows that the seat will not suddenly grow restraints if he tries to get up from it. He wonders if the oddity shop that they passed is still open? He did promise everyone souvenirs and the weirder the better (as is the whole point with souvenirs).

But he also promised his mom that he would get along.

Besides, Vlad said he would pay for lunch when they are done and they passed the most delicious looking burger place.

After what feels like forever, watching all the places he wants to go but can’t right now like a sad puppy begging for the window to be let down, the limo finally pulls up in front of a nightclub. LUX. Danny raises a brow. He may not be the smartest out of his family, but dead languages are his specialty. He glances to Vlad, wondering if he should be more concerned about his pseudo-uncle doing business here. Any nightclub named after light that looks this shady can not be good.

He is also pretty sure that he just saw a drug deal around the corner and some of the people in line already look under the influence of something .

“Am I even allowed here,” Danny questions, pausing a moment to count on his fingers, as they exit the limo. “I’m only like - sixteen? I am a literal child. ”

Vlad continues walking as if he does not hear Danny’s voice grating on behind him. Somehow, the teenager has a voice that seems to stick out like a sore thumb against the boom of the music coming out from the club’s doors.

“You are not a child, Daniel,” Vlad finally acknowledges.

“Uh the law would disagree, sir,” Danny waves a finger after him, “I am a minor.”

The sun is already starting to set, which means the club is steadily filling up; a majority of people are still out in long lines outside of the club’s door. He glances at them briefly, if in a bit of curiosity at the club wear. He blushes wildly at some of the more out-there club wear and focuses quickly on the fact that Vlad is steadily getting ahead of him.

“We are not here for drinking, Daniel,” Vlad’s voice comes out a bit exasperated as he fixes his tie. He eyes the people in line with a bit of disdain, but otherwise ignores them.

Vlad continues on past the lines, not acknowledging the way that some of them call after him. He keeps his hands in his pockets as he gets closer to the crowd; Danny realizes that it likely has something to do with the high possibility of getting pick-pocketed. After all, Vlad does not exactly blend in, but neither does Danny in the suit that Vlad forced him in.

Danny is close in tow as they head straight for the bouncer at the door.

If Vlad was not so used to the way that Maddie could ( has and absolutely will) beat him, he would have been more surprised at the woman at the club’s door. The choice being a bit abnormal in the job. Her intimidating presence is enough to make most of the more pushy people at the front second-guess themselves. A few of the people who dare to test the boundary of the velvet rope quickly change their mind as she just glances at them. Danny’s first thought is how much Sam would like the bouncer. The entire leather outfit is just something that feels like she would like, compared with how tough the woman seems to be. If the woman didn’t scare him so much, he would have tried to take a picture.

His second thought, however, is how off she feels. The closer he gets to her, the more his core vibrates deeply in his chest. As if it is trying to transform and get him out of there, like an animal’s instincts to a predator. Run. RUN. RUN. He digs his heels into the ground and refuses to listen to his gut. He refuses to let his gut determine what he thinks about someone, or how he acts on them. He learned the hard way to control that impulse.

Besides, she does not seem that dangerous - he thinks? He glances to the knives strapped to her thigh and the mean look in her eyes. Mostly. But his ghost sense has never gone off. That means that possession is off the table - so is her being a ghost. But he has never felt his core vibrate this way, in such a paralyzing instinctual fear. The only thing that comes close is when he faced Pariah.

Danny is sure that Vlad notices it too, he is way too smart not to. Vlad’s expressionless face does not give a single thing away, staring straight on even as the woman looks him over closely, a sneer on her face. Something about the way she bares her teeth feels more like a threat, as if she is prepared to rip your throat out herself at any given moment. The worst part is that it feels like that is something she is very much capable of doing. She gets startlingly close to Vlad’s face, sniffing him. He refuses to flinch and let this woman know how much she intimidates him.

He seems to pass whatever test she was giving him. Finally she just snorts, taking the card that he offers her. Danny only catches a glimpse of the red and gold lining against black with some sort of name written on it. He barely sees the flash of some sort of horned symbol on the edge. Just who is Vlad doing business with anyway?

Whatever the card is, it works. She backs off, crossing her arms against her chest as she moves out of the way of the door to let them through. The glare she gives some of the people at the front of the line scares them out of even thinking about shoving their way in through the open door.

Danny sticks close to Vlad’s side this time, feeling the urge to get as far away as he can from the woman. He is not sure if she will stop him. He would love to get out of this situation with Vlad, but he would hate that it meant staying anywhere near the woman. The wild beating of his core is getting worse and it feels like he can’t breath.

He is unsure if he can handle being around her much longer with his core acting up like this. He feels like he is this close to a heart attack.

“You smell weird, but whatever. He’s inside.”

He smells weird, Danny wonders how she can smell anything especially when all he can smell is all the people around them not wearing deodorant. He tries his best to brush it off as some sort of intimidating tactic. But when Danny passes by the woman, she leans forward, visibly sniffing him as well.

“Sorry it’s my - uh - aftershave,” Danny’s panicked lie confuses even him as he just waves at the woman as he enters the club, finally taking a deep breath in as the door shuts behind him.

Still thoroughly weirded out by whatever that was, something that does not improve when he’s suddenly surrounded by drunks and loud blaring music, he sticks abnormally close to Vlad. The people surrounding them are too drunk to notice when he phases through the elbows that are just too close to him or the shoulders that almost bump into him. Vlad looks back at him briefly, a ghost of a smile on his face, before he turns attention to the crowd.

“Whatcha looking for? The bar? Drugs? A confessional?” Danny asks as they finally reach a section that gives them some elbow room. He brushes off imaginary dirt, and not so imaginary something , off of his shoulders.

“My business partner,” Vlad answers curtly, eyes still scanning the crowd. He knows what he’s looking for, despite not having met the man before.

When Lucifer Morningstar reached out to him, insisting that they meet in person to discuss business, Vlad almost brushed him off. However, a combination of the man’s obsession with the devil and the fact that Lucifer Morningstar’s very identity doesn’t go back any further than a few years intrigued him. How does a man who legally has only been around for a few years get so ahead in the business world? More importantly, who is he really?

“What does he look like, maybe I can help.” Danny offers, looking over the crowd as if he would suddenly be able to who they are looking for.

“It is our first business meeting, I’m afraid, but if he looks anything like his photos, you can’t miss him.”

That gets Danny’s attention. He swerves suddenly on Vlad, jutting his hands out to form a T, his fingers press against his palm, “Whoa, time out! You brought me to a business meeting with someone you never met before? How do you even know the guy’s like, I don’t know, a ghost hunter?”

“You're a paranoid teenager, young badger.” Vlad’s voice is dry with a lack of amusement, “I’ll have you know that I reach all my partners quite well. Lucifer Morningstar is nothing more than a lunatic, however he is quite popular with our mutual partners.”

“ Lucifer,” Danny harshly whispers, his voice only half-way kidding, “Don’t tell me you actually made a deal with the devil?”

Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him if Vlad did - if such a thing is really possible - but it would put a strain on their now alliance. Vlad’s about to retort, likely something along the lines of you’re being ridiculous Daniel, but he gets cut off prematurely by another voice.

“Well not yet, but let’s see if that changes today, shall we?”

A particularly British voice gets their attention as a man in a well fitted suit, looking vastly more comfortable in it than Danny is, struts their way. Despite looking like every other business man he’s seen, the man doesn’t feel like the usual stuffy suit type. He feels dangerously charismatic, with an easy smile on his face and a magnetic pull that makes it difficult to turn their attention away from him. He has a few beautiful women, and at least one man, at his side. He whispers something that Danny wishes he didn’t hear, to each of them before they regretfully leave his side.

“You must be Vladimir Masters.” The tone of voice is not a compliment, coming off more mocking, “Look at you, a bit older than I expected, but ultimately age is never an issue. Provided you’re at least an adult.”

The sultry look that the apparent Lucifer Morningstar has as he looks Vlad up and down appreciatively reminds Danny too much of how Vlad used to look at his mom. He starts to feel sick to his stomach, gagging exaggeratingly in the background as he tries his best to ignore the way his core has returned to vibrating, thumping hard against his chest.

Whatever the woman at the door was, Lucifer Morningstar must be at least the same thing - or something close to it - to make his core react the same way. He should be more concerned over it, but he glances toward Vlad. He looks stony as ever, the only sign of discomfort being a vein beginning to throb on his neck. Ah, so he does notice.

He doesn’t seem surprised either. Danny wonders if this is some sort of test again, to see what he will do and how he will react. Especially in front of an unknown factor. Shit. Danny curses when he realizes that’s why Vlad brought him along in the first place and then curses again - more directed at Vlad himself this time - for Vlad being as cryptic and vague as Clockwork.

I just wanted to see the endeavor, Danny bemoans as the man ushers Vlad (and by extension, Danny) to a clear booth. Taking Vlad’s lead, Danny acts more confident this time around, trying his best to act like every inch of his being isn’t screaming to run.

“Drinks,” Lucifer offers, seeming comfortable in the booth with his arms stretched out wide against the edge of the seat across from Danny and Vlad. While Vlad accepts the offer, ordering a simple old fashion, Danny speaks up with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll have a coke on the rocks,” Danny orders, showing a lot of teeth in his grin as he gives finger guns, of all things. After a pause, he adds on, “Not shaken nor stirred, please.”

Vlad’s exasperated sigh is barely audible as he breathes out through his nose. At the very least, he should be glad that Danny is acting normal - as awkward and tiring as normal is.

“I must admit Mr. Morningstar, I was a bit surprised to receive your invitation,” Vlad speaks easily. He politely sips at his drink, but otherwise leaves it untouched, more focused on the conversation. He tries to not let his eye twitch when he hears Danny suck up his coke through a straw.

Lucifer looks at Danny in amusement, seemingly unoffended by the teenager’s manners (a small blessing). Unlike Vlad, Lucifer doesn’t shy away from his own drink, downing it easily. He orders a few more at one of the ladies passing by, followed by flirtatious compliments that make her giggle and once again, makes Danny wish that he couldn’t hear what was being said.

“Well how could I not invite a man such as yourself, Vladimir,” Lucifer’s voice is exaggerated, almost strained, “Or is it Vlad? Vladdy?”

Vlad does twitch at that and Lucifer grins, “Vladdy it is. Better than douchebag, I suppose.”

Danny snorts at the sudden word, laughing hard enough that he barely stops the coke from pouring out of his nose. He takes in a deep breath, wiping at his face with a cocktail napkin as his nose burns from the soda.

“I prefer to use the term fruit loop,” Danny speaks up helpfully.

Lucifer seems delighted at this information, his eyes lighting up in glee as Vlad visibly sinks into the seat.

“ Fruit loop,” Lucifer repeats gleefully, “Lacks a bit in curse words for my liking but fruit loop it is!”

“You can always say fucking fruit loop,” Danny offers as if he is still being helpful, the grin on his face more genuine, “Or fruit by the fucking loop?”

Lucifer’s laugh is infectious, his eyes gleaming as Danny joins him in laughter at Vlad’s expense. For a moment, the two continue back and forth before Vlad is forced to intervene; the vein is his neck is more noticeably throbbing at this point.

“Mr. Morningstar,” Vlad cuts in, his voice stern, “What exactly was the point of the invitation, if I may? I hope it wasn’t to just call me outrageous names.”

Lucifer nonchalantly waves off Vlad’s growing ire, “Oh no, I invited you over for much more than just that. Favors, you will find, are my specialty. One could say it’s my whole business. I grant favors and I do not take kindly to others who sneak up on my business and steal it away.”

There’s a flash of something in Lucifer’s eyes. Something dangerous. As brief as it is, it’s enough to make Danny’s core hum against his chest, his hand grips his knee tightly. His eyes flicker to Vlad and as much as the older man is trying to hide it, Danny can tell that he’s just as suddenly bothered by whatever that was.

“It’s the point of the matter, you know,” Lucifer continues, “Steal my business, shame on me, steal my shtick, shame on you.”

He downs another glass and grabs something off a platter as someone passes by. It looks suspiciously like a joint. He lights it up without a second thought; Danny tries his best to act like he doesn’t know what it is as Vlad eyes him through the corner of his eyes.

“Word is that you, Vladimir Masters, have been sneaking around granting favors to a chosen few. I don’t know how you grant said favors, I don’t particularly care. But I do wish you would stop.”

The dangerous aura that’s thick in the air is heavy, but the realization that Vlad has still been up to shady business is heavier. Danny slumps into the seat, leaning forward with a heavy sigh.

“So you have been up to shady shit,” Danny mumbles under his breath as he absently stirs the straw in what has to be his third glass of coke.

“If you don’t stop,” Lucifer continues, “I’m afraid I’ll have to make you stop. If Mazikeen does not get to you first.”

He gestures his thumb toward the woman that was outside the door; she hovers nearby as if she knows exactly what they’re talking about. The grin on her face is malicious, bordering on feral as she twirls a knife across her knuckles without breaking eye contact. That woman is intimidating, Danny swallows thickly, but grins wildly at Lucifer.

“Oh he’ll stop,” Danny reassures the man before Vlad can even get a word in. There’s an edge to his words; a very clear message underlying his words. “Otherwise I’ll make him stop myself.”

A flash of ectoplasmic green swirls across his eyes. Vlad, not quite intimidated by a sixteen year old still going through puberty, simply mumbles under his breath, oh stop with the ‘scary’ eyes, Daniel, honestly. Lucifer catches the moment, eying them both with interest as he relaxes into the chair. He makes a motion with his hand and suddenly the woman - Mazikeen - isn’t there anymore; Danny isn’t sure where she went, if he should be worried about it, or if it was a sign of good faith.

“ You are a very interesting child,” Lucifer says, “At first I thought you two may have been one of mine, but that’s not really the case is it?”

Danny isn’t sure what one of mine really means; he doesn’t really want to know either. The way Lucifer says it feels off, as if he’s not concerned by it or that they would have been in worse trouble if they had in fact been one of his (whatever that means). Vlad recovers fast, eying Lucifer with narrowed eyes.

“Just what is it that you’re inferring, Mr. Morningstar?”

“Why, that you’re not human, of course!”

He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, a large grin stretched on his face as he finishes off the suspicious joint, making a point to blow the smoke away from them. It may have been a trick of the light, or even just a magic trick, but Danny swears that the smoke formed some sort of devilish face. Complete with the horns and all.

Danny’s grin falters as he watches Lucifer closely.

F-uck-ing typical. At this rate, he will never get to see the endeavor or any other of California’s space museums. Why can’t he have just one normal road trip for once? No circus ringleader, no reality altering devices, no ghosts, and no ghost hunters. He just wants to get a selfie with a space shuttle, order as much hotel food as he can off of Vlad’s card, and then crash. Maybe even go to the Griffith Observatory. Fly to the Hollywood sign. Sneak into a Disney park and take a selfie on top of Cinderella’s castle. Just a normal trip (with a few added advantages to being a half-ghost boy). Now, he has to instead worry about some devil-obsessed (but definitely weird and maybe not human at all) club owner finding out his secret.

This is exactly what Danny told Vlad; meeting someone you don’t know is just a risk. At the very least, Lucifer doesn’t look like a ghost hunter. He definitely doesn’t fit the M.O. of a Guys In White agent. There could be other agencies out there though, other people who want to hunt them down. Who knows, maybe whatever this guy really is likes to eat ghosts or hunt them for sport. This is exactly what he was concerned about. Now, his secret, and Vlad’s secret too he supposes, could be blown all because Vlad had to go make a shady business deal.

Danny turns to Vlad, not even bothering to whisper as his voice cuts through the loud music.

“I told you so.”

#danny phantom #lucifer #crossover #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #x-over #uncle vlad #vlad masters #au

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driedmarigolds · 3 years

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Gladiolus Pt. 2

This is part 2 to the Gladiolus fic!!!! I hope yall enjoy!!!!! part one Link to the fic on ao3 Pairing: MC x Vyn Richter Series: Tears of Themis Rating: T Word Count: 1620 Chapters: 2/2

Rosa startled awake, some hours after she had unexpectedly dozed. Her surroundings didn’t make much sense, she never made it a habit of falling asleep in the kitchen. Stealing a glance at the clock, 6pm. She shot right out of her seat, slightly panicked—Dr. Richter’s coat sliding right onto the floor. ‘That means….3 hours….’ Again, she realized she also had company over—company she immediately fell asleep on. Something that was outside of her realm of normal; usually she could carry tired decently well, not this time apparently. The thought was almost mortifying.

She was already reaching for her phone, a million apologies circulating her mind when she heard a cough from the living room space behind her, which was quickly followed by an announcement that Dr. Richter was in fact still here, three hours after she had so rudely passed out on him. At least it saved time on apologies.

Turning, she saw that he was sitting in the armchair, quietly reading a book as if this was a perfectly fine way to spend the afternoon. Dr. Richter was smiling at her, brow furrowed in mild concern. “Dr. Richter, I’m very sorry to have fallen asleep for so long. That wasn’t very kind of me.” Itwas a sincere apology, which earned a soft sigh and a chuckle. That really only added to her burning embarrassment, she didn’t want him to think less of her and surely now he must.

“There is nothing for you to apologize for, Rosa.” Marking his page carefully, he closed the book setting it off to the side before standing. “There is nothing wrong with sleeping when you are in need of sleep.” He sounded as sincere as possible as he walked over to her side, leaning down to pick up his coat from the floor. “I am glad you feel relaxed enough to fall asleep with me in your home.” His hand rested on her upper back between her shoulder blades. It was meant to soothe, and it seemed it had worked as her shoulders relaxed, and the corners of her lips turned up into a small smiled.

“Thank you for being so understanding Dr. Richter.” Rosa couldn’t name a more understanding person in her life, which was saying a lot because most of her acquaintances and close friends were endlessly patient—and still, somehow Dr. Richter exceeded far beyond the rest of them. “Hopefully I can still sleep tonight though, it was kind of a long nap wasn’t it.” She laughed softly, before sitting back down at the counter, sliding her notes closer—every intention to continue working. Of course, Dr. Richter didn’t agreed which was made clear when he carefully slid the notes right past her and onto his other side, out of her reach.

“First, let us eat dinner, then you can pour over your notes again if you wish too.” It was a reasonable request on his part, she really did need to eat; but another part of him buried under all of the niceties wanted her attention on him solely even if only for a moment. “Is that agreeable?” His hand that had been resting on Rosa’s back dropped down to his side, as she nodded her agreement.

------

It was some off hours after they had dinner, her notes mostly forgotten on the counter as they shared some wine he had found deep in her refrigerator in the Living room. It wasn’t a type he would normally pay any attention too, especially not since he occasionally made his own as a hobby; but it would have to do for after dinner talks. At least she was distracted enough to take a break, and that’s all he could even ask for.

Rosa was talking animatedly about a story involving Celestine, Artem and a missing file that wasn’t important. It was a funny story, but Dr. Richter wasn’t overly interested in the content—not that he minded, he was more interested in the way she moved and spoke about the incident. Much more lively than the previously stressed Woman he had come to visit. There was nothing he treasured more than a lively Rosa. “So Kiki had the file?” Dr. Richter laughed as he asked follow up questions; but his mind was turning over different questions—ones he wouldn’t say out loud. ‘Does she ever talk about me in such a lively manner?’ He was trying to picture it. If she had, what would they all think. Did he occasionally cross her mind when she was at work? Of course he had, she had messaged him before—but to what degree. Sincerely, he wanted to know the contents of her brilliant mind.

“Yes, it somehow ended up under a signed photo-book. No one is sure how that could happen, but at least we got the file back.” She took a sip of the red wine, looking over the rim at Dr. Richter, the setting sun reflecting in his hair through the window. “We stopped letting her take things home from the office for a bit after that, but she’s not usually disorganized so that only lasted all of three days. She’s very reliable.” Rosa felt the need to defend Kiki’s honor in part—she didn’t want to make her look like a bad employee to Dr. Richter, it was just something to talk about. Setting her glass down, she fell into a comfortable silence next to him.

Vyn never really took his eyes off of her, admiring every movement, even daring to reach out to brush some loose hairs behind her ear which caused her some amount of surprise before she smiled at him. In a way, he could usually guess what emotion she was feeling, it was in his general job description; but he couldn’t ever know for certain what sure was specifically thinking in moments like this. He wanted to know her thoughts dearly, even if she was open. He wanted to know what was in her heart – or perhaps...whom. “Did you still want me to be an extra set of ears for your thoughts on the case?” He inquired, setting his empty glass on the coffee table.

“Hm?” Rosa watched him in equal admiration, wanting to know what he was thinking. “No, I think you’re right Dr. Richter—maybe I should stop for tonight and look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow. If I need help I can always call!” TO be honest, this was the sort of rest she needed; her head was already clearing, she already felt less depressed than she had previously, and sure was sure tomorrow she could push through better. “Besides, it’s getting late.” Not that she wanted him to leave, but.. “You should probably get back before it’s too dark outside.” Standing, she picked up their empty glasses before returning them to the kitchen.

“I suppose you are correct, I am glad that you are taking the rest of the night off.” He hated to leave, hated to go to his own home when he could spend more time in her company, but he also knew she really was correct. He was in this sort of stand still with his own emotions, so there was no reason to stay least either of them read into it to hard—derailing his own personal course of action. “It was lovely to visit with you, and I hope to spend more time together in the near future; perhaps, when this case is over we can celebrate together?” Already, his mind was coming up with celebration plans as he put on his coat and headed to the door.

“Oh, I would like that!” She followed him over to send him off. “Yes, when I’m done you will be the first to know—besides work of course.” Rosa hovered at the open door looking at him in the hall, her expression hinting that there was more she wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for it.

Dr. Richter had a hunch what she wanted to say, his head bowing politely. “Do not worry, I will message you when I arrive home to let you know that I am safe.” Always concerned for him. He was pleased. “And if you are to forget the Gladiolus again, do not fret I will simply bring you more the next time I visit.” His hand gently patted her head, before he turned to walk away. He could hear her mutter her bye, which he acknowledge with a wave before turning out of her sights.

-----

Visits with her were always interesting, even if nothing special happened. Vyn had arrived home an hour or more ago and had already messaged her his status of safety before recording his own evaluation—which had once again changed every so slightly since he met her. He looked at his own vase of Gladiolus that carefully complimented the ones he had brought her from his garden, his mind wandering back to how animated she was telling that story, and how peaceful she looked as she dozed on the counter. Had she not lived in a loft, he would have carefully carried her to bed; but alas it hadn’t worked that way, but it didn’t matter—he never imaged how hard his chest would squeeze seeing her look so carefree. Something he would imprint into his memory, following the thread further.

With a soft shake of his head, he opened up the search engine, looking for lovely restaurants he could take her to once the Trial was over. All he wanted was to choose the one that would make her happiest. It wasn’t much, but he would give it all of his effort.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fic #vyn x mc #vyn richter #mo yi #my writing

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thebmatt · 3 years

Text

FFXIV Write Day 3

Scale– each of the small, thin horny or bony plates protecting the skin of fish and reptiles, typically overlapping one another. - OR - an instrument for weighing, originally a simple balance ( a pair of scales ) but now usually a device with an electronic or other internal weighing mechanism.

(yes there's other definitions, these two are what's relevant for my response)

It was a somewhat chilly morning in the Azim Steppe as Dahkar Darkspear, Warrior of LIght and kahn of the Azim Steppe, strode through Dotharl Khaa, striding in the direction of the khatun's tent. Hushed whispers seemed to follow him, as every Dotharl Xaela in the settlement could not stop watching him or speaking quietly to each other.

It made little sense to Dahkar. He was a Xaela himself and a regular fixture in the settlement at least once a week. He made sure to check in with all of the major leaders of the Steppe regularly to hear news, arbitrate disputes, and otherwise do whatever he could to ensure the people of the Steppe were mostly doing well.

Well, almost all of the leaders. He ignored Magnai and Daidukul on principle. Esugen, the Oronir's culinarian he'd helped a few times, made sure he was always in Reunion when he knew the khan would be arriving so he could pass on information about the Oronir and the Buduga.

He was a day early in this instance, so perhaps that was the reason behind the whispers. He put it from his mind as he approached the woman standing in front of the khatun's home.

Shar smiled and nodded to him. "Welcome, khan. You're early this week."

He smiled back to her. "That I am, Shar. How's your son doing?"

"He's growing well. The khatun does not yet know who is behind his eyes, but it has been but only a couple of moons. She is confident the soul within will reveal themself soon enough. I'm very excited to re-meet whoever it is!"

"I look forward to the day I can meet them. Is Sadu within? I have some...well let's just say an interesting proposal for her"

Shar smirked at him. "Oh, really now? Very bold of you, khan. Very Dotharl. I hope you're ready for a long fight. When my husband proposed to me, we fought for 10 bells straight!"

A look of shock crossed Dahkar's face, descending into horror. "What? No! Not that kind of-!"

She began laughing, loud and from her belly. "HA! Aahahaha! Oh, khan, the look on your face! Priceless!" In between fits of giggling, she opened the tent's flaps to admit him.

"Pretty sure there's rules against sassing your khan" he muttered to her as he walked past her, into the tent. "And if not, I'm gonna make some." This did nothing to stop her laughter.

The tent's sole occupant, a beautiful white-haired Xaelan woman dressed in her people's blue attire with a horned darkwood staff, turned to him. She smirked at him. Dahkar had often witnessed that smirk directed at him, but it was only now that he noticed Shar had given him a very similar one. Clearly she'd been taking lessons.

"Well, well, our glorious khan graces us with-". She suddently stopped and looked at him, frowning. "What in all the hells are you wearing?" she asked, incredulously.

Dahkar looked down at his attire, a style he'd seen many on the Steppe wearing during his first two trips there. He'd made sure to acquire some before departing that second time, aetherically aligned towards boosting magicks. "What? It's hardly unusual. Hells, I saw many of the Dotharl wearing very similar garb on my way in. Granted, this is white in color, but I didn't want everyone to assume I'd joined the Dotharl or-"

"No no, the garb is fine. But...I have never seen you wear anything other than that heavy black armor you favor. Or carry any weapon other than those slabs of metal you refer to as swords. Now you wear this? And is that the weapon of a conjurer on your back?"

Ah. That explained the stares and the whispers. "Yes, it is." He removed the cane from his back. The white crystal embedded in its head began to glow, a series of green-yellow energy lines shimmering around the head of leaf-covered branches. "Before I ever took up the sword of the Dark Knight, I was a conjurer. Pretty good one, in fact. So good they actually decided to let me train as a White Mage, which...well, you probably aren't aware of what those are or why it's a big deal. Suffice to say, I'm damn powerful with conjury."

"Hmmph", she signed, annoyed. "And what, you just decided that one day, it didn't work for you and took up a giant sword, instead?"

"Not quite that simple, but that's not far off the mark. Bad things happened to me and I changed in response to them in part by taking up the art of the Dark Knight." He shrugged and slung the cane over his back again.

"Oh yes, our glorious khan knows all about change! You and that Doman. First you win the Naadam, as foreigners no less, then you rope us into this alliance of yours and persuade us to fight those men of metal and machines!" Sadu threw up her hands and turned her back to him. "Tell me, khan, what change will you bring next?"

Dahkar sighed. It was an argument he'd heard from her, and others, many a time. "Are we really doing this every time, Sadu? You know there's no rules against foreigners entering Bardam's Mettle, nor against competing in the Naadam. You agreed to help Hien and I fight the Garleans. Multiple times. You even told me you enjoyed the battle to liberate Ala Mhigo! You aren't actually angry about any of this, because you know what i know. Change is inevitable, stagnation equals decay."

She turns, smiling at him again. There's still mockery in her smile, but not as much this time. "Hrmph. Fine, you are correct. I suppose I just wanted to throw you off balance. As usual, you are hard to break. So what brings you to us a day early? It's too early in the day for you to have gone anywhere else first, so I assume this is important."

Dahkar smiled. "That it is. I want to talk with you about the future of the Steppe, and of the Dotharl, specifically."

Sadu's narrowed and her smile turned downward. She crossed her arms. "Speak. I suspect I will not like this, but you have earned the right, many times over, so I will hear you."

"It's simple, really. Many of the other Xaela fear the Dotharl. They see you as merciless raiders who seek only to deal death to them, who lust only for battle and killing. I would have you change that perception."

"And just how would you have me do that? Moreover, why would I even WANT to? The Dotharl live for battle. How many times have you heard me say it, khan? 'In battle do our souls burn bright, and in death do they sing'. Those are not empty words, they define us."

Dahkar smiled. "I'm well aware. I'm also aware that you very much realize that your way of life is not sustainable to the Dotharl's continued existence. You admitted as much to us, Gosetsu and I, that day we first met." Sadu turned her face away from him, eyes downward. "Hrmph. So I did. What of it? We have endured thus far. I will not compromise our way of life, khan"

"I'm not asking you to. What I propose is not a change to it, but a direction for it. I would have the Dotharl become protectors of the Steppe."

She turned to him again, her face a mixture of shock and rage. "...Protectors?? Have you heard a word I've said?" Dahkar raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Wait, just hear me out. It's not as radical as it seems, and it will solve your biggest problem of numbers in the long run."

Sadu resumed crossing her arms, glaring daggers at him. "...fine."

"Very well. First of all, I ask you what exactly the Dotharl gain in making war on weaker tribes? You yourself told me that only in great battle does the soul burn brightly, so what does it gain your warriors to slaughter those of lesser skill in battle than you? Seems unworthy of you. Turning that strength on the marauders who engage in such unworthy predation? That seems like a far better chance for a real battle. Not to mention the Steppe is crawling with monsters and vicious animals of various types. They may pose no threat to most tribes, certainly, but there are those to whom a monster attack is a death sentence. You can protect them and test your strength and bravery at the same time."

"If memory serves, you told me that it was in a monster attack that your own tribe was slaughtered. Purbols, I believe. I can't help but wonder if this is why you ask this of me."

"Which leads me to the second benefit this would bring to you. What do you suspect would have happened had the Dotharl come to our aid?"

"I imagine you would have been grateful, which is hardly worth anything to us."

"Gratitude is a long-term investment, Sadu. Think on it. If I'd been raised on tales of the tribe of warriors that saved us from vicious monsters, that fought back against other marauding tribes that kidnapped people like the Buduga? There's a very good chance that I would have bid farewell to my tribe and joined you all the day I came of age."

A single eyebrow raised. "You would have?"

"Very likely. I became an adventurer because it seemed like the easiest way to earn a living helping people and making things better. If my tribe hadn't been killed and my mother fled the Steppe? I doubt I'd be so different as to not want to do the same, still. Joining the Dotharl, becoming an undying one, born again and again to fight to save people, to help them? Well, it would have been extremely appealing to me. And I doubt I'm the only one, too. In time, I believe this swell your numbers significantly. Furthermore, when the Naadam comes around again, all those tribes you helped? Seems to me like they'd be more willing to help you as allies. In time, this will tip the scales in the Dotharl's favor and you'll reliably have more than enough numbers to rout the Oronir without question. Frankly, I would rest easier knowing the Steppe was in your hands rather than Magnai's. So long as you don't intend to break your word to the rest of the Othard Alliance, that is. I'll kick BOTH of your asses for as long as I have to, if that's your intent."

She smirks viciously again. "Is that a challenge, khan?"

All mirth or joy fades from Dahkar. "No, Sadu, it's a promise. I have fought through some hellish things these past few moons, and I know that the worst of it is yet to come, and it's going to affect the entire world when it does. I take it you've heard about that large metallic tower that suddenly appeared off the southern coast of Yanxia? They're all over the world, and they're part of it. The Steppe is going to get caught up in this whether the people want to be or not, and I would rather my people fight what's coming together with all of the Alliance than risk being slaughtered and their culture gone. So yes, if I have to fight you to preserve that, I will. But I'd rather see to it that the Dotharl are in a place to help preserve it and maybe even guide it to a better future without leaving tradition behind entirely."

Shock appeared on Sadu's face. "....very well, I'll admit your suggestion has merit. I will not give you an answer now, however. I will need time to think on this, discuss it with the others."

"I expected no less."

"And I demand another battle with you as payment for even entertaining your presence!"

Dahkar rolled his eyes. "I expected that would be the case as well. You DO know that we're going to be interrupted, right? Magnai and Daidukul and whatever others he decides to bring with him are going to show up and whine about us not asking his permission or something along those lines."

Sadu's vicious smirk was on her face again. "I am counting on it!"

"You don't actually want to fight me at all. You want to fight at my side."

"More than one way for our souls to burn bright, khan."

#FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Dahkar Darkspear #Final Fantasy XIV

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commentaryvorg · 3 years

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Digimon Data Squad Dub Comparison Episode 3 - The Return of Thomas!

This is a companion to my commentary on the original Japanese Digimon Savers! Reading my commentary on the original version of this episode (which you can find here) is recommended before reading this dub comparison.

Original name ~ Dubbed name

Masaru Daimon ~ Marcus Damon

Yoshino Fujieda ~ Yoshino “Yoshi” Fujieda

Tohma H. Norstein ~ Thomas H. Norstein

Sayuri Daimon ~ Sarah Damon

Chika Daimon ~ Kristy Damon

Captain Rentarou Satsuma ~ Commander Richard Sampson

PetitMeramon ~ DemiMeramon

[Since several characters share the same name between the original and the dub, quotes from the dub will always be in italics, while quotes from the original will not, in order to distinguish them.]

In the original, Masaru’s VA is always the one reading out the title card, but the dub mixes it up with different characters depending on the episode. This time, we get Miki and Megumi reading it, complete with fangirl squealing over Thomas. Uh, thanks, dub.

Sarah: “I think Agumon has been a really good influence!”

Marcus & Agumon: “More, please!”

Sarah: “See, he even says ‘please’ now.”

Agumon giving Marcus a reason to wake up early on a non-school day, that makes sense, but Agumon giving him a reason to be more polite? I dunno.

As you can see, there is no dub equivalent of “Agu-chan”. This is understandable and not the dubbers’ fault since English lends itself a lot less to casual terms of endearment like that, but it is a shame.

Marcus: “You served him first?! What did you do, adopt him while I wasn’t looking?”

Marcus says this like it’s not exactly what she’s literally done, and also like it’s not what he’d want. Don’t you want Agumon to be your new little brother, Marcus?

Sarah: “Keep it up, tough guy, and I’ll give your portion to him, too.”

Her affectionate ribbing calling him “tough guy” is cute.

Sarah: “After all, Agumon is a growing boy.”

A neat little nod to the time Agumon said that about himself in episode 1 (even if it didn’t make sense for him to have known that human phrase, but).

Agumon: “I won’t hand over the last of Sayuri’s fried eggs, not even to you!”

~~~~~

Agumon: “Boss, the only way to get this last fried egg is to take it out of my belly.”

Alas, since dub-Agumon is only referring to this particular last fried egg, we lose the future relevance the original line will have. The dub is not watching ahead to be able to pick up on these things.

Chika: “What a child…”

~~~~~

Kristy: “What a doof.”

Similar snark – he definitely is a doof – but there’s something I like about Chika calling her older brother a “child” that isn’t quite there when all she’s calling him is a doof.

Most of Thomas’s shower scene is cut. I will grant the dub that one improvement it consistently makes is doing its best to remove all the unnecessary fanservice bits.

[as Agumon tumbles from the bike basket]

Kristy: “…Doof Two.”

Agumon: [sighing] “I guess…”

What do you mean, Agumon admits and agrees that he is a doof (and implicitly agrees that his boss is one as well). Original-Agumon would not have nearly enough self-awareness to acknowledge that.

Marcus: “Why can’t you travel in the Digivice like all the other Digimon?”

Agumon: “Those other Digimon just show up when they’re called, but you’re lucky. You have me all the time, Boss!”

Unlike in the original, Marcus does actually bring up how Agumon ought to be in the Digivice. But Agumon doesn’t protest with “but I don’t like it in there”, despite him having made even more of a point of not liking cramped spaces in the previous dub episode than he did in the original. If the dub was going to have them discuss this onscreen, it would have been better to take the claustrophobia angle and show Marcus respecting Agumon’s wishes than to make it seem like Agumon’s just being contrary for the heck of it.

Marcus: “This one? No? Oh, just press everything!”

I enjoy the dub being even more obvious about how Marcus figures out which button on his earpiece is the right one to press.

Street punk #2: “Nothing’s going on at all…”

PetitMeramon: “Nothing at all!”

~~~~~

Street punk #2: “Nothing ever goes on around here any more…”

DemiMeramon: “I agree!”

This is significantly different – here, the DemiMeramon isn’t just parroting the dude’s words, it’s definitely expressing its own opinion about things. The implication here is therefore that it starts setting things on fire because of its own boredom, and these dudes here who happen to also be bored have nothing to do with it. That is categorically not how this is supposed to work.

Masaru: “Let’s fight!”

PetitMeramon: “Fight…”

~~~~~

Marcus: “There it is! Fightin’ time again!”

DemiMeramon: “Oh yeah?!”

Again, it’s not parroting his words; it’s responding on its own terms like it’s lucid and thinking for itself. Not how this should work.

Masaru: “You’re not solid enough, damn it! If I could just hit you once, I could get Agumon to evolve!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “It’s not solid enough to land a blow! But I’ve gotta punch it to start the DNA Charge! Otherwise, Agumon can’t Digivolve!”

The original version of this line sounds reasonably naturally like Masaru is just expressing his frustration at the PetitMeramon. But in the dub, it reads a lot more like awkwardly stilted exposition just to make sure the audience understands why this is a problem.

Marcus: “Stop setting things on fire! I just got these shoes!”

This is one of those dub additions for comedy, but I’m not sure I like the resulting impression that Marcus is somebody who cares that much about what he wears, because Masaru definitely never seems to be that kind of person.

Agumon: “Now be a nice fireball and let us punch you!”

Pfft. This episode in a nutshell. More of that dub-Agumon trait of saying things that would be snarky if it didn’t sound like he obliviously means them completely seriously.

Gaomon: “Yes, Master!”

~~~~~

Gaomon: “Sir, yes sir!”

“Yes, Master!” (spoken in English) is Gaomon’s catchphrase in the Japanese, and… I have no idea why the dub couldn’t just keep it exactly as-is. “Master” is a perfectly reasonable thing for him to call Tohma (especially since he’s a dog!), and it even comes already translated.

Instead, he calls Thomas “sir”, which on its own is… fine, I guess. But in particular, the “sir, yes sir!” catchphrase just makes dub-Gaomon come across as some kind of army grunt, rather than as the very good and loyal dog that he is.

Masaru: “Damn it… That thing pissed me off…”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Urghh… I am exhausted. Whew!”

Masaru here is complaining that he didn’t win, but Marcus is basically just neutrally expressing being exhausted without any sense that he’s specifically frustrated at the DemiMeramon for getting away from him. Since the entire ensuing several scenes are supposed to be a lot about Masaru’s frustration that he’s not good enough, the dub is not starting this off on the right note.

Yoshino: “Well, I didn’t think it would go easily for you from the start.”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “Don’t worry, Marcus, you didn’t let us down! No-one here at DATS actually thought you could do it anyway!”

Yikes, that’s some way more backhanded reassurance than she gave originally. And also, why does she even feels she needs to “reassure” him? Marcus was not expressing any sort of notion that he felt like he’d failed in the first place.

Agumon: “Hi there, pal.”

[Gaomon ignores Agumon and walks past him]

Agumon: “Hmph! No birthday present for that guy!”

How does Agumon even know about birthdays, and birthday presents, and the concept of giving birthday presents to people you’re on friendly terms with? These are not things he should reasonably have learned about yet when he’s only been with humans for like a week.

Masaru: “You bastard! You took away my prey!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Hey, you! When we talk, you listen!”

It makes perfectly reasonable Masaru-ish sense for him to be mad about Tohma winning what was supposed to be his fight. But Marcus? Isn’t even thinking about the fight, apparently, and is instead just being a jerk.

So far, all Thomas and Gaomon have ignored is Agumon’s greeting and a brief “who are you, blondie?” from Marcus (the “blondie” part is dub-only, unsurprisingly), which is a little rude but not really warranting this response already. Heck, “when we talk, you listen” implies Thomas has been ignoring something substantial that Marcus has been trying to say to him, rather than just a question and a greeting.

There’s a record scratch in the BGM as Thomas ignores Marcus’s attempt to challenge him to a fight and just walks past him. I liked the comedic record scratch they had in episode 1, but this one feels a little cheesy and unnecessary.

Megumi: “His stern-looking profile is so wonderful!”

Miki: “It really is!”

~~~~~

Megumi: “He’s so on top of things!”

Miki: “He so is!”

I appreciate the dub changing the topic of Megumi and Miki’s fawning into admiring Thomas’s work ethic, rather than the original admiring of his appearance. (He is fourteen, you are adults, please stop.)

Tohma: “…it seems rather peculiar that there are a large number of Digimon detected in this country lately.”

…

Satsuma: “Is the frequency not as high in EU?”

Tohma: “No. It must be because it has a larger area.”

~~~~~

Thomas: “It seems there have been an unusually large number of Digimon appearances lately.”

…

Sampson: “Hmm. So do you think these numbers could eventually overwhelm the Data Squad?”

Thomas: “No. But of course, that all depends on having the right team in place.”

Seems the dub is ditching the fact that it’s specifically this country that’s been getting so many more Digimon appearances. Instead, Thomas just takes the opportunity to be a passive-aggressive jerk about Marcus sooner than in the original.

Satsuma: “Oh, let me introduce you. This is…”

[Tohma barely even glances at Masaru; Masaru gets angry]

Masaru: “Hey! I don’t care if you’re called Tohma or Tonma… but around here, I’m your senpai! I’ve only been here for three days, but make sure to call me ‘Daimon-san’ or ‘Daimon-senpai’!”

~~~~~

Sampson: “Oh. Go ahead and introduce yourself, Marcus.”

[Thomas barely even glances at Marcus. Marcus gets angry]

Marcus: “Say what?! Why doesn’t *he* introduce himself to *me*?! I’m the one with seniority, even if it’s only three days.”

This reads a lot less like Marcus getting angry has anything to do with the way Thomas just barely even looked at him, and more that he’s mad at Sampson for thinking he ought to introduce himself first. In that vein, it’s somewhat more reasonable for him to go ranting about seniority, I suppose. However, I liked the way that Masaru suddenly ranting about that with no real provocation was unreasonable and was very transparently him trying to assert some kind of superiority, not really about the appropriate-honorific-respect that he tried to insist was the point.

Marcus: “Who does he think he is, anyway? Look, kid! Agumon and I are the top fighters around here, and don’t you forget it!”

Meanwhile in the dub, the lines specifically asking for honorifics have no English equivalent, so we get this to fill the gap. I guess it has a reasonably similar effect and is a similarly uncalled-for assertion of superiority.

(I do like the “kid”, trying to make Thomas seem beneath him despite their equal age.)

Satsuma: “Already blazing down the warpath, eh?”

~~~~~

Sampson: “You are completely out of line.”

Satsuma was being reasonably tolerant of Masaru’s argumentative nature, accepting that this is just how Masaru is and he’ll hopefully be able to rein it in if he just understands the situation better. But Sampson is simply having none of it.

Sampson: “Marcus, Thomas is *your* superior. Deal.”

I guess it’s a lip-flap issue, but Sampson just telling Marcus to “deal” sounds weirdly colloquial for him. Also, “superior” is not quite the same thing as having seniority in terms of just having more experience. This implies that Thomas is going to have the right to give Marcus orders and Marcus will be obligated to follow them, which is not quite it.

Marcus: “You mean I have to take orders from him?”

…Okay, apparently that literally is what the dub wants us to think, even though this is not how things are actually going to work here.

(This is in place of the line establishing that Masaru and Tohma are the same age, but that will be a fact that gets mentioned in a later dub episode.)

Satsuma: “Be sure to get along with each other, as you are colleagues.”

~~~~~

Sampson: “Unlike some teams, *they* have got discipline.”

Satsuma was trying to mediate between the two, but instead Sampson is very clearly taking Thomas’s side, which he really ought to know is only going to rile Marcus up more.

(If Marcus and Agumon’s lack of discipline is really such a big dealbreaker for you, Sampson, why did you even want to recruit him in the first place?)

Tohma: “I think it will be futile to do so, Captain Satsuma. There is not a chance that this person could benefit DATS.”

~~~~~

Thomas: “Commander, please allow me to say a few words about the new recruit. Based on my first impression, I feel he could never benefit DATS in any way.”

Thomas is being a lot less out of line here, asking politely to speak his opinion and qualifying it as being only based on a first impression. This is also not him pointedly refusing to even try and get along like Tohma was, since Sampson didn’t ask him to. The blame in the dub version of this argument is a lot more heaped onto Marcus’s side rather than equally with both of them, and Sampson obviously siding with Thomas doesn’t help matters.

Masaru: “Say that to my face! Look into a person’s eyes when they’re talking!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Say that to my face! Look me in the eye! If you have the guts!”

There’s slightly less emphasis on Marcus caring about people looking him in the eye when they’re talking to him, since he turns it into a general jab about Thomas not having any guts, but I do appreciate that it’s pretty much still here and unchanged.

Marcus: “What fighting skills does Your Highness possess, you royal jerk?!”

Ehh, I don’t really like Marcus bringing in jabs about the nobility thing at this point. Thomas has just insulted his fighting strength, and in that particular fighting context, Masaru would not care about anything except his opponent’s strength and would not make uncalled-for jabs at something unrelated.

Yoshino: “This is the worst… Go ahead, do whatever you want.”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “Oh well… Good luck. Protect yourself.”

This is after Marcus refuses to put on his headgear in the boxing ring. Yoshino sounds like she’s just exasperatedly washing her hands of his self-destructive recklessness, because hey, at least she tried. But Yoshi still seems to be genuinely trying to help him, even as the “protect yourself” falls kinda flat because he literally just refused to do so. (It doesn’t sound especially sarcastic – the “good luck” at least sounds very genuine.)

Tohma: “Why did you join DATS?”

Masaru: “Huh?! It was so I could win, obviously!”

Tohma: “Against who?”

Masaru: “Against strong guys!”

~~~~~

Thomas: “What made you join DATS in the first place?”

Marcus: “Huh? It was so I could meet guys like *you*!”

Thomas: “Seriously?”

Yoshi: “He means, he wanted to fight. Strong guys, like you.”

Marcus: “Not him…”

I think what the dub is trying to get at with “guys like you” is similar to a change they made last episode, in which Marcus apparently specifically wants to beat up bad guys, and Thomas is totally one of those, right. I guess props to the dub for at least trying to keep that vaguely consistent? Even though it’s a change that I very much do not like.

I presume the “not him” after Yoshi just said “strong guys like [Thomas]” is Marcus wanting to insist that Thomas isn’t strong, because it otherwise wouldn’t make any sense for him to deny the thing that he literally just said himself.

But, hey, notice something else here? Yoshino doesn’t have a line here in the original. They edited the footage to take away Marcus explaining his own goals and put those words into Yoshi’s mouth instead. Why? Why would you do that. I’d say that maybe they only did so to remove some of the punching from the fight because oh no violence (there will be some Issues the dub has with removing punching from this anime which is very heavily about punching), except they still keep the bit where Thomas punches Marcus in the stomach, so that can’t be it. They actually keep all the punches in this fight uncut, which is Rare for the dub.

Tohma: (He’s beyond help.)

~~~~~

Thomas: (I’m getting tired of this.)

Thomas’s thought is a lot less unreasonable than Tohma’s. Thomas is still coming across as significantly more in the right than Marcus in the dub, rather than them being equally as bad as each other.

Masaru: “A fight doesn’t end until one side admits defeat!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Sorry ‘bout that. Why don’t you run along and catch up with Sampson. Maybe you can read a report together.”

Ughhh, I really, really don’t like this. The dub has apparently decided that, since Marcus is A Jock™, he must be disdainful of Nerds™ like Thomas and make jabs about that. Masaru doesn’t frigging care! He does not give a damn in the slightest how book-smart and workaholic Tohma is; the only thing that would ever matter to Masaru is how he fares in a fight.

And we get this instead of that fun line showing Masaru’s philosophy about street fights, giving more insight into why he insisted on getting up and continuing the fight even after the “match” had ended.

I also don’t like Marcus’s “apology”. He is very obviously not sorry for deliberately punching Thomas, and trying to act like he is when he obviously isn’t is such an insincere dick thing to do that would never even cross Masaru’s mind.

Yoshino: “Tohma’s beaten Olympic champions in the past.”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “I’ve seen Thomas routinely beat Olympic champions in that very ring!”

…What, in that ring in the gym that’s presumably at DATS? Even if this is the dub assuming it’s not at DATS and is just some gym somewhere nearby in town, you’d have thought that if Tohma had fought champions, he’d have gone to them to do so, rather than inviting them to him. To them, he’s just some random rich kid; why would they go that far out of their way for him?

The “routinely” also serves to make Thomas’s talent sound even more ridiculously over-the-top than it already was.

Yoshino: “Really, the only things worthy of a gold medal around here are your pride and your competitive attitude.”

~~~~~

Yoshi: “Marcus, I’m not impressed by your bragging, and Thomas isn’t even in the room!”

I miss the snark. A lot of characters the dub makes snarkier, but Yoshi kinda becomes a bit less so, it seems.

Kudamon: “If even a small flame from PetitMeramon’s body remains, it has the ability to develop and multiply in a short time. It should have been prevented from doing so earlier.”

~~~~~

Kudamon: “A DemiMeramon can regenerate itself over and over again, multiplying a hundred times in as little as half an hour. Apparently, the area wasn’t sealed off earlier.”

The dub manages to completely leave out the part where this is Masaru’s fault because embers from the PetitMeramon were scattered everywhere from his failed attempts to punch it and then he ran off and left things on fire for new PetitMeramon to regenerate themselves from.

Instead, apparently DemiMeramon can just multiply… whenever? It doesn’t do so from the flames it leaves behind, it just copies itself? Except, if Thomas secured the single DemiMeramon that there was to begin with, it literally should not have been able to do so. Sealing off the area would have been irrelevant once it had been safely turned into an egg. The only way it could have multiplied itself like this is if it did so before Thomas neutralised it – but it clearly didn’t do that in front of Marcus, so this is hardly his fault.

Marcus has the same flashback to punching the DemiMeramon and the same thought that this is his fault, but this makes absolutely no sense with the information the dub has given us. Great job there, dubbers.

Sampson: “And now, the DemiMeramon has been left on its own to multiply at will!”

Um, dub? Do you not remember the part where Thomas brought in the DemiMeramon’s egg? It was not left anywhere. That is not how this happened and not why this is (supposed to be) Marcus’s fault.

Masaru: “Wait! Those fireballs are ours to beat!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Hey! Hold on a second, that’s our case!”

They really are watering down any sense that Marcus sees this as being about finishing his fight. Instead he’s apparently invested because this is a case, like he ever really cared about the official DATS investigation side of things.

Masaru: “Damn right! We’ll pull it off somehow using our spirits!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “You bet! And we’ll do it with style, too!”

I miss the “somehow”, making it clear that Masaru has absolutely no idea how he’s going to do this and is willing to basically admit that, yet still wants to throw himself into it anyway.

Marcus: “You two can’t handle that many alone! We’ll help!”

The “we’ll help” is a dub addition, but I am surprised by the notion that Marcus sounds willing to just help Thomas, essentially working together with him. That definitely shouldn’t be something he’d want to do right now. (Suddenly the dub is making Marcus come across as more reasonable and less of a jerk than it’s been doing the entire time, because what is consistency.)

Megumi: “His lightning-fast techniques look great!”

~~~~~

Megumi: “His reflexes are lightning fast! And he’s cute!”

Okay, never mind what I said earlier, I guess the dub is still keeping the idea that the computer ladies think Thomas is cute, adding in a reference to that where there wasn’t even one originally.

Agumon: “Wow…”

~~~~~

Agumon: “Cute?”

And because of that, we also lose Agumon being in awe of Tohma and Gaomon’s performance and accidentally making Masaru feel worse, in place of him simply irrelevantly questioning Megumi’s comment.

Kudamon: “Aren’t you going to stop him?”

Satsuma: “Leave him alone.”

~~~~~

Kudamon: “You’re not going to say anything?”

Sampson: “Not yet.”

So apparently, Sampson is planning to give Marcus some kind of talking-to about this at some point probably fairly soon. We’re really losing that sense from Satsuma that he understands that Masaru will be Masaru and is being patient and giving him space to sort his issues with Tohma out on his own, which I enjoyed and am sad to lose.

Agumon: “Aniki… Why are you angry?”

~~~~~

Agumon: “Don’t be upset, Boss! Just because Thomas is better than you!”

Originally Agumon didn’t really understand what was going on in Masaru’s head. Meanwhile, dub-Agumon seems to have Marcus figured out perfectly – and yet is also tactless enough to outright say the thing he’s already realised is upsetting him.

Agumon: “Well, I think Tohma and Gaomon are nasty guys too, but…”

~~~~~

Agumon: “Boss, I’m sorry I said that about Thomas. You’re better than him.”

At least dub-Agumon realises this and apologises after Marcus is clearly not thrilled by it, but his “you’re better than him” reads as pretty empty reassurance when he just said the exact opposite.

(Meanwhile, original-Agumon still didn’t realise this had anything to do with who’s better than who and just thought it had to be about Tohma being kind of a dick, while still being confused at how that would make Aniki this upset…?)

Masaru: “No… It’s myself that I’m mad at, not them.”

~~~~~

Marcus: “No, I’m not. I’m just pig-headed and I let my pride get in my way.”

Marcus, like Masaru, is capable of realising that the problem is himself here… but he goes way further than Masaru does as to why that supposedly is.

And the thing is, this isn’t actually supposed to be the problem in the original! Originally, Masaru’s issue was that Tohma is “better” than him simply in the sense that he’s a stronger and more capable fighter, making Masaru face the fact that he might not be as strong a fighter as he thought he was. But here in the dub, apparently the problem is that Thomas is “better” than Marcus because of Marcus’s personality, because Thomas is supposedly just a better person than some pig-headed arrogant jerk like Marcus.

Which is not the point! Masaru can be reckless and prideful sometimes, but it’s never in a way that makes him a bad fighter or a bad person. He’s been a bit of argumentative jerk in this episode in particular with regards to Tohma, but Tohma himself has been equally bad in that regard in his own very different way. The original was great in having both Masaru and Tohma be equally the problem in this clash between them, in very parallel ways.

Yet apparently the dub wants us to think that, no, Thomas is a perfectly reasonable guy and the problem really is that Marcus is such an arrogant jerk compared to him. Which I guess is somewhat consistent with some of the small changes they’ve been making to the rest of the episode to make Marcus slightly more of a jerk and Thomas slightly less of one, and having Sampson clearly come down on Thomas’s side, to make it look like Marcus’s attitude alone is the problem.

But, urgh! I hate that the dub is doing this to Masaru’s character, presenting Marcus as more of a jerk and as if this is his biggest character flaw, when that has nothing to do with what’s going on with Masaru and just makes Marcus significantly less likeable! Why would you ever think this was a good thing to do with the story’s main protagonist, seriously.

Masaru: “Damn it! What am I doing? Really… what the hell am I doing?”

~~~~~

Marcus: “It’s time I realised it. I still have a lot to learn. Face it. I’m not the ultimate fighter.”

And now, while originally Masaru was unable to properly articulate what it actually was that was frustrating him about himself, Marcus has just fully completed this 100% self-aware reflection. From this, what you’d assume it’d lead into would be, presumably, Marcus trying to be less “pig-headed and prideful” and more like Thomas, since apparently Thomas’s way of doing things obviously makes him better than Marcus as both a fighter and a person?

Yeah, raincheck on that supposed character development. I’m sure you can already tell that’s not what’s going to happen here, since it isn’t in the original, because it doesn’t freaking need to be.

Also, remember how I made a point of how the original changed Masaru’s “already the number one street fighter” into Marcus’s “trying to be the ultimate fighter” in episode 1? That’s becoming extremely relevant right here.

This whole episode is a bit of a wake-up call for Masaru in terms of realising for the first time that maybe he’s not actually the greatest fighter like he thought and there’s still more growing he can do. But Marcus? He’s supposed to have already known that. “Face it, I’m not the ultimate fighter”? You literally never said you were in the first place. You were supposed to already know you had a lot to learn, so why is it only just now “time I realised it”?

There wouldn’t necessarily be anything inherently wrong with the dubbers changing Marcus’s ultimate fighter thing into this if they’d made sure to follow through on it and also change every character moment he gets to be consistent with the new version. Buuut they’re not doing that. I don’t think they realised how meaningful of a change it even was to make in the first place.

Old man: “It’s hard lighting up a fire… The sparks go out easily whenever the wind gets a little too strong.”

Masaru: “Well, obviously!”

~~~~~

Old man: “I’m having trouble starting a fire, though. Y’see, the flames keep dying out on me because the wind’s too strong and it keeps blowing it out.”

Marcus: “Yeah, that’s happened to me, too.”

Unlike Masaru, who was just expressing exasperation at this old guy telling him something obvious like he didn’t already know that the wind blows out flames, Marcus appears to be… getting the metaphor? His own experience that he’s referring to could just be his literal problem of not being able to punch fire, but based on what he’s just been reflecting on a moment ago and also judging from his tone of voice, that doesn’t seem to be it.

Which makes me sad! Masaru is a ridiculously straightforward doofus who wouldn’t know a metaphor if it punched him in the face, and I am disappointed to see the dub water down that delightful part of his character and make Marcus into some kind of regular person who can actually recognise that kind of thing.

Old man: “But… once I get a larger flame going, it burns strongly no matter how much the wind blows. Fire is an interesting thing, isn’t it?”

Masaru: “…This is…”

~~~~~

Old man: “Well… If you learn to use the wind instead of fighting it, you can make the fire burn brighter than ever before. Harness power, don’t extinguish it.”

Marcus: “…He’s right!”

But then, the dub’s version of the metaphor becomes something quite different. Instead of saying that Masaru’s “flame” will soon get so strong that no wind can blow it out, he’s saying that Marcus should harness the “wind” to make his “flame” stronger.

Originally, the metaphor was basically meant to be a reassurance to Masaru that he’s already doing fine – that he just needs to keep going as he has been and continue to grow and soon enough nothing will be able to stop him. But here in the dub, the metaphor appears to be prompting him to take new action of some sort, warning him that his flame will keep getting blown out if he doesn’t do whatever “harnessing the wind” is supposed to mean.

It’s ambiguous exactly what the “wind” could represent here. If it’s something that was getting in Marcus’s way until now, is it meant to be his “pig-headed pride” that he was just thinking was his big problem? Is the point of this supposed to be the old man telling Marcus through metaphor that actually he should keep being exactly the way he is and should just do that harder?

On the one hand I’d be okay with that because hey, guess what, newsflash, there is actually nothing wrong with Masaru being the way he is, and the dub is wrong to try and act like his personality is the issue and to distort his personality into being more of a jerk to make it an issue. But then that just serves to completely undermine the supposed realisation that Marcus had back in the tunnel and set him back on the track of not trying to change at all. (Which, yeah, again, spoilers, he’s not going to; of course he’s not going to be actively trying to make himself more like Thomas, because that’s not something that Masaru would ever do. Masaru has very strong convictions in who he is and wouldn’t change that for anyone.)

And somehow, despite this metaphor being a lot more metaphorical and ambiguous than it was in the original, and despite this being Marcus, he appears to completely understand what the old man is trying to say to him and take those words to heart. Whatever those words actually are. Somehow.

…I suppose it’s possible that actually the “wind” in the metaphor is supposed to represent Thomas, and that this metaphor is trying to encourage Marcus and Thomas to work together to make each other stronger. This would sort of make sense, since GeoGreymon uses fire-based attacks while Gaogamon uses wind-based attacks, and we’ll actually be seeing some metaphorical stuff being done with those attacks of theirs in the next couple of episodes. Still, if that’s the case, it’s nonetheless definitely not what Marcus gets from this metaphor right here.

But you know what else this dub version of the metaphor very much isn’t? It is not remotely useful literal advice about how to punch fire. At no point does it explain the part where a stronger flame won’t be blown out by anything (and will therefore be punchable). So whatever Marcus is getting from the old man’s words here, it isn’t that. This is kind of important for what’s about to happen next.

As Marcus hears about the trouble at the gas tanks and rushes off, the old man has an added line that’s just silence in the original:

Old man: “See what good fire does?”

…which makes even more of a point that this is definitely only meant to be some kind of metaphor. Though, wasn’t he trying to say that the wind would do Marcus good? Marcus already is the fire in this metaphor, so stressing that fire is good seems besides the point. I’m getting increasingly convinced that the dubbers just didn’t have an actual meaning in mind for their version of the metaphor at all and were half-assing this entire conversation. (Yet they somehow still felt they knew better than the original writers enough to change it at all.)

Thomas: “There’s no chance he can secure the DemiMeramon. There’s too many!”

[cut to precisely *three* DemiMeramon flying around]

Yep, sure, three of them is totally too many. Originally the “too many” comment wasn’t there, and Tohma thought Masaru couldn’t do this simply because he hadn’t shown he could handle any PetitMeramon at all. Numbers are not supposed to be the issue here, or at least not the primary one like Thomas is making it sound like it is.

Masaru: “Fire sparks easily go out whenever the wind blows on them. But… Once they burst into flame…!”

[Masaru leaps to punch the Meramon quite solidly in the face and lands with his Digisoul flaring]

Masaru: “They won’t be extinguished so easily!”

~~~~~

Marcus: “Just like the old man said, a fire can be blown out by the wind. Then again… you know what I always say…!”

[Marcus leaps to punch the Meramon quite solidly in the face and lands with his DNA flaring]

Marcus: “You gotta fight fire with fire!”

So… yeah. In the dub, the old man’s words were not actually advice on how to solve this problem, and Marcus’s decision to deliberately make the DemiMeramon stronger had nothing to do with what the old man told him. He had no reason to believe this would work. He really was just being dangerously rash and hot-headed with no sense of actual plan or strategy, and it really did only work out of sheer luck.

(I mean, okay, maybe he could have just figured on his own that making the fire stronger would make it punchable. But Masaru is definitely not supposed to be the kind of person who could figure that out without being nudged in the right direction by someone else. And if Marcus really is perfectly capable of figuring that out on his own, why did he not do so the first time?)

Thomas: “Marcus made Meramon Digivolve on purpose so he could activate his DNA…”

It is very debatable that this was on purpose here, Thomas.

Megumi: “Not bad!”

~~~~~

Megumi: “Marcus proved he could do it!”

Thanks, dub, we needed it made obvious that this fight was about Marcus proving himself, because we couldn’t figure that out on our own.

Thomas: “Don’t get cocky. You just got lucky this time, that’s all.”

This line is basically unchanged, but guess what? Thomas is right to say this, where Tohma wasn’t.

Tohma: “Don’t be absurd. You don’t come up with any strategy or tactics. Do you think using force all the time will let you win at everything?”

Masaru: “Hah, sounds like a sore loser to me.”

~~~~~

Thomas: “Just as I thought, you had no plan and no tactics, just raw power.”

Marcus: “Hah. For a genius, you’re a real sore loser.”

Still basically the same, but again, Thomas is right this time, not being a sore loser. In fact, the added “just as I thought” (and this line comes after the cut back to HQ, so there was conversation prior to it that we didn’t hear) suggests that Thomas has just heard from Marcus himself that, yes, he really did just recklessly charge in with no plan.

I mean, sure, in a sense Thomas is still being a sore loser because Marcus’s raw power still worked. But the point of the sore loser line in the original was that Tohma insisting that Masaru used no tactics in and of itself was him sorely refusing to admit that maybe Masaru actually did have some idea what he was doing after all.

Tohma: “What did you say?”

Masaru: “Wanna make somethin’ of it? I’ll knock you out with one hit to the face this time!”

~~~~~

Thomas: “What did you say?”

Marcus: “Oh, just this: I’ll take my raw power over your tactics any day!”

Granted, outright saying he’d prefer raw power over tactics is definitely something Masaru might also say (of course he would; look at how he never tried to point out that he actually did have a strategy because he doesn’t care about that). But this is a bit of a different way for the dub to show Marcus having his confidence back, since his “conflict” this episode was apparently about “oh no what if raw power is bad and I should be more like Thomas”.

(…Did the dub actually deliberately remove the part where the metaphor was literal advice about punching fire so that Marcus could win through nothing but raw power in order to facilitate this complete backpedal in what briefly appeared to be some ill-advised character development? Ugh, but even if that was on purpose, it’s so much more interesting to show that Masaru actually can do strategy sometimes, and it’s just that his strategies are a lot more risky and head-on than Tohma’s!)

Tohma: “You want me… to act alongside him?”

Masaru: “You’re joking! I’ll never accept him as my partner!”

~~~~~

Thomas: “But sir, he’s completely undisciplined!”

Marcus: “This clown?! I’ll never be his partner – he’s way too annoying!”

Thomas and Marcus get given specific reasons to object to working together in the dub – and while Thomas’s complaint of “undisciplined” is perfectly reasonable, Marcus’s complaint of “annoying” seems rather beside the point. Too pompous, too uptight, (too makes-him-feel-like-maybe-strategy-and-not-just-raw-power-might-be-useful); something like that would be more relevant to Marcus. Is this supposed to be another Marcus Just Hates Nerds™ thing? Because ugh.

Overall differences

Oh boy. There’s a lot going on in terms of changes in this episode, and basically all of it is bad.

Rather than Masaru and Tohma both being presented as equally out-of-line for their own reasons in their initial arguments, the narrative firmly comes down on Thomas’s side by making Thomas less unreasonably harsh in his comments and by having Sampson clearly taking Thomas’s side.

The bit where they explain how DemiMeramon multiplied makes no sense and certainly doesn’t logically leave it as being Marcus’s fault at all, yet he still claims it is for no reason and we’re just expected to believe that.

Then there’s Marcus’s whole, ahem, “character arc” for the episode, if it can even be called that. Rather than some delightful subtle exploration of how Masaru deals with the realisation that he’s not necessarily the strongest fighter out there like he professes to be, it becomes this heavy-handed thing about how Marcus’s whole problem is that he’s Such A Big Arrogant Jerk. Marcus is way more self-aware about his supposed exact problem than someone like him really ought to be (including admitting he’s not the ultimate fighter when he never said he was), and for a moment it seems like his character development is going to be about him learning to be less of a jerk and more like Thomas. Except it won’t, because this won’t happen in the original, because this is not remotely Masaru’s problem in the original.

Then there’s the old man’s metaphor. Originally he was effectively saying that Masaru is doing fine the way he is and just needs to keep growing and getting stronger like this. Here, the metaphor is changed to imply that Marcus needs to take some kind of new action, except what new action is extremely unclear and is not actually going to happen, because, again, not how it went originally. Marcus apparently somehow gets this metaphor, which is ridiculous because I’m not even sure what it was on about, never mind that Marcus should be the last person who’s any good with metaphors, just like Masaru is.

And then there’s the part where the old man’s changed metaphor had nothing to do with teaching Marcus how he could literally punch fire and defeat the DemiMeramon. So his victory in the climactic fight really was complete boneheaded reckless luck without a semblance of strategy, and Thomas was right to call it that.

This entire dub version of the episode firmly wants you to come down on Thomas’s side and agree that Marcus is a huge dumb arrogant jerk whose personality is the entire problem here, and, urgh. I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate that the dub writers consciously chose to do this to Masaru’s character. Masaru does not deserve this.

(You’re probably starting to see why I’m actually quite glad that Masaru has a different name in the dub. Marcus may be a somewhat different character that the dub is insistently making worse, but at least Masaru will always be untainted and separate from the dub’s nonsense.)

#digimon #digimon savers #digimon data squad

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