#th; the bud of the Court

[eritvita]

continued from x ;

@ekbatdesebat​

'Tis a delicate, single bud of a fresh, red rose offered to the Deity whence they sit in communal splendour, offering the edge of a balcony and risked the sight for a lunch of noodles, whence Roland hast taken the initiative, and Worked for his Heart’s Plan.

The rose is enchanted: riddled with prehensile magick to prolong its fresh, Greene life without its bulb of thorns, with a tender, silken ribbon of bright blue tied aground. Roland grins, apple-cheek’d. “Wouldst I be sublime to court thee, Goddess. Thou art beautiful by thine soul and by thine life. Wouldst thou honor me of So?” inquires he softly; offered the rose, still.

#ekbatdesebat #v; the weight #th; the bud of the Court

[neteyamslovrr]

Okay Ao'nung falls in love with Sully na'vi fem Reader who is albino and doesn't know why but catches himself staring at them at every chance he gets because he's never seen anyone like her before and his friends say something rude but he shuts that down quickly and is immediately trying to court her and Reader is surprised because no one at her old village showed an interest in her (she's the oldest Sully kid) and he's genuinely surprised because who wouldn't want to court someone so gorgeous (I haven't seen any fics of albino na'vi reader) fluffy ending!

PEARL

summary: you never received much romantic attention in your clan, so the least you expected was the son of the metkayina to get violent for you.

contents: 1.7k words, fem!sullyreader, swearing, fighting, bullying, wee bit of angst, fluffy ending

authors note: thankyou for always interacting bae i love u and this req. hopefully it is good <3 i lowkey struggled lmao. ALSO this photo of him woof woof

You were different. You knew that. Everyone around you knew that. Your skin was pale, derived of the usual blue, eyes, and hair so light that it glimmered in the sunlight. A sight to behold, ‘Eywa knew the world needed your light.’ As your father said.

 You were the first one of your people to look like this. Mo’at assumed it was because your father was born of the sky-people, but it was just an appearance level change, you were the same as everyone else in the inside, so people treated you as such.

You were treated just like everyone, never excluded, ridiculed, or made fun of. Well, who would do that to the daughter of Toruk Makto. Though, you noticed as you got older that the Omaticaya men never looked at you the way they would look at your friends, no googly eyes were sent your way or efforts of courtship. No late night walks or little gifts. Your love life was barren, no sprout or seedling of love budding in sight.

So, when your family up and left your home, everything you ever knew. You expected one thing to be the same. That there would be no mate waiting for you in your new home, just as there wasn’t one in your old home.

Ao’nung noticed the commotion that was emerging at the shores of his village, the sounds of horns blaring as the hunters started to come in from the sea. His curiosity bested him as his body moved unconsciously to investigate. Only to be met with the Toruk Makto and his family begging for refuge.

Their skin was a darker blue, figures lean and tails small and weak. What would they bring here that would benefit the clan at all? He thought to himself, they were weak, useless.

He focused on the intense conversation between the pairs of parents. Tension so strong it could have been pierced with a spear. But a spear didn’t break the tension surrounding Ao’nung. No. It was him catching sight of you.

It was like his body went into shock, a current running through him from head to toe. His brain felt as if it was buzzing, the only thought was of you. His father told him once about this feeling he got when he first saw his mother. Was this the feeling? Was the feeling meant to be towards a forest freak?

You were so different. Different to his people, different to your people. You were truly a sight to behold. Like a beautiful pearl, that was hiding amongst the depths of blue coral. He felt his world shatter as he saw you, your beauty was truly memorizing. It didn’t matter if your arms and tail were weak, he needed to get to know you.

You had been at the village for a month or so now. It was nothing like home, the sand felt weird on your feet, the water was never the same temperature, and the people never stopped staring. Something you missed so dearly from home is even if you were different, you were still Omaticaya. Here you weren’t Metkayina, you barely looked Na’vi to them. So all it ended in was occasion ridicule from the teenage boys when your younger brothers weren’t around to protect you.

Though in the time you had been here. You had grown closer to the chief’s son, Ao’nung. He made it a commitment to talk to you every day, whether it was small talk, or a late night walk. You couldn’t tell when you started to develop feelings for him. You assumed you only did because he was the first person who ever showed you the courtesy of manners, even if he was hostile to your brothers. He became someone who you could be with, to protect yourself from the teenage ridicule.  

In your month, you had found yourself a favourite spot to sit and look at the waves. Resting yourself against a tall tree, bark itchy against your soft back as you dig your toes into the sand below you. Still trying to get used to the odd texture. It was somewhat peaceful, the sound of the waves. Not as calming as the sounds of rain in the forest, pitter pattering on the leaves. But it was still peaceful.

However, it was short-lived. The sounds of waves being crushed by the sounds of quiet mutterings behind you.

“Is she sick? She isn’t even the same as her family of freaks?”

“She reflects in the sun dude! That’s so fucked up.”

“She’s barely Na’vi she’s basically a vvrtep” The statements were followed with a couple of quiet chuckles. You wondered if they knew you could hear them. They probably relished in it honestly.

Though you tried to not let the comments get to you, they pained you to hear. It hurt to hear such degradation. Pushing the tears back until the suffocated you, is what it felt like to act tough in front of them.

But the quiet mutters and chuckles suddenly turned into loud thumps and yells as commotion started to brew behind you.

“Y’know what’s fucked up? Your face after I beat you shitless.” Scurrying from your spot you watched the fight in front of you. There was Ao’nung, riled up and furious, beating his friends face in after he mocked you.

“Brother what is wrong with you?!” His friend hysterically questioned as he fought off Ao’nung’s fists, getting one punch straight to the Ao’nung’s nose.

“You do not speak of her like that.” Ao’nung was seething, his words coming out as a hiss spitting in his friend’s face. As he was now being held back by his other friend, fists drenched in the blood of his ‘friend.’

“Oh, fuck me! Bit hypocritical you skxwang! Did her skin blind you and make you go insane?!” Ao’nung hissed in his face, spitting blood at him.

You were watching in horror. The bloody mess of these men was almost nauseating to look at as you realised this was because of you. The feeling of dread overcame you as your clouded mind drowned out their boisterous yelling. You held onto the fabric of your shirt, fiddling with the beads as you stared towards the men, not focused on anything but a overwhelming feeling of guilt.

“If you like that freak so much, why don’t you go and talk to her. She must be so charmed by you beating the shit out of me Ao’nung.” Leaving Ao’nung in a huff his friends bashed shoulders as they walked past him back to the village to get help.

Ao’nung was now only focused on the way your body awkwardly swayed as you stared towards him. Truthfully, he came over to talk to you. He wanted to gift you this bracelet he had hand woven with a small pearl intertwined in the rope, so he could say it was beautiful and reminded him of you. Yet he feels as if he had messed up any chance he had of being flirtatious with you, after he is covered in the blood of a friend.

“Ao’nung.” It was a meek whisper, it scratched as it came out of your throat. Not able to create eye-contact with him. His stare still being too intimidating, the way it made your heart flutter.

“Yes.” He breathed it out, as if he had just exhaled a breath after being under water for hours. His voice begging for you to look up at him.

“Are you alright?” Gaining the courage to look up at his bruised face you wince. His nose was bleeding as his lip was slightly split. His friend can obviously punch.

“I’m fine Y/N.” He smiled down at you, looking at the way your eyes poured out concern the more you assessed his injuries.

“You are stupid. Let them talk. You talk just like them.” Tone harsh as if you were scolding a child. In response, he sulked like a child pouting his lips.

“They were being rude. I can’t let people talk about the one I admire like that. It’s not what a good mate would do.” As he let out his last sentence he fiddled with the bracelet he knotted around his loincloth, so he didn’t lose it.

You were puzzled. Good mate? Was he interested in you? Were his efforts romantic not just the obscure kindness?

“What do mean by that Ao’nung?” Your eyes followed his hand as he placed the bracelet in your hands. His fingertips were rough, they felt as if they were burning, setting your heart ablaze as he gazed at you.

“I’ve always thought pearls were beautiful, just like you.” He was never this nervous, the cocky smirk he usually adorned was wiped off his face as he nervously awaited your response.

“I’m not beautiful Ao’nung we both know that.” He shook his head as he continued to tie the bracelet around your wrist, making sure to linger his fingers on your skin as often as he could.

“You are the most beautiful woman I think I’ve ever seen, you are more gorgeous than any woman in this village.” He was holding onto your hands as if you’d fly away if he let go.

“No one’s ever said that to me before.” Ao’nung was bewildered, it was shocking to him. But he tried to not let his shock ruin the intense stare he was giving you, trying to convey the most sincerity as possible.

“Then I’ll happily be the first. And I’ll be the one calling you beautiful forever, if you accept my courting gift.” He waited eagerly for your response, it felt as if time was dragging along. His heart constricting the longer you were silent.

“Of course, I do. The bracelet is as stunning as you, how could I reject the man who stood up to be against his friends.”

“Yeah you’d have to be pretty stupid.” You scowled and gave him a playful pinch. “Ow! Y/N!”

“You ruined the moment!”

“I’ll ruin the moment more by kissing you with my bloody face!” You squealed in disgust as you shook your head.

“Absolutely not. Come with me, I’ll clean you up.” He followed you swiftly, making sure to intertwine his fingers in with yours.

“Yes ma’am.”

thankyou so much for reading lovelies <333 interacting is super duper appreciated have a great day/night <333 I'd love to see you follow ╰⁠(⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠╯

#ao'nung #aonung #aonung x reader #ao'nung x reader #aonung xreader #aonung imagine #aonung fluff #ao'nungxy/n #ao'nungfluff #ao'nung oneshot #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #avatar2oneshot #sully family #metkayina #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x you #ao'nung fluff #ao'nung fic #oneshot #fic #fanfic #avatar fluff #avatar oneshot #atwow #atwow x reader #atwow ao'nung #ao'nung x fem!reader #aonung angst

[acourtofthought]

Elain does seem to have friends in the NC....

Elain was laughing among a circle of beautiful friends, flushed and brilliant. - ACOTAR

...... But she had them in the human lands too.

Elain does seem to have a hobby and interests in the NC......

My sister was beaming, content—prettier than I’d ever seen her, even in her simple muslin gardening dress. Her cheeks were flushed beneath her large, floppy hat. “I think—I think I’d like to see the continent,” I said. - ACOTAR

I was content to listen to her talk about every bud and bloom, about her plans to start another garden by the greenhouse, perhaps a vegetable garden, if she could learn enough about it over the next few months. - ACOTAR

She had come alive here, and her joy was infectious. There wasn’t a servant or gardener who didn’t smile at her, and even the brusque head cook found excuses to bring her plates of cookies and tarts at various points in the DAY. - ACOTAR

Elain had taken charge of planning and finding me a last-minute dress - ACOTAR

..... But she had hobbies and dreams in the human lands too.

Elain called Feysands house "home" but....

"I want to go home." "I want to go home she repeated". - ACOWAR

She said the same of their human manor.

Why are the arguments always only on this supposed fantastic life she's found in the Night Court and how Elain saying the court is her court is evidence that she's where she belongs rather than acknowledging she clearly belonged in the human lands in a much more obvious way.

If you truly look at Elain as she was in the human lands versus Elain as she is in the NC, I'd say her happiness and purpose was much more evident in the human lands. She was beaming, laughing, surrounded by an entire circle of friends at one point, she was the happiest Feyre had ever seen her at another (no one has noted Elain being the happiest they'd ever ever seen her in the NC).

Elain wasn't living in her sisters shadows in the human lands the way she is the Night Court.

She created her own life and wasn't forced to make do with what was available to her as she has been in the NC.

That's the truth of it.

Elain's current life is only what it is because she's had to build it out of the leftovers from Feyre's world.

Do you think out of all the people in Velaris, in all of Prythian, the twins and Elain have so much in common?

Do you think, had Elain had her pick of all the eligible bachelor's in Prythian, Az would be the one she had the most in common with? Do they share any of the same goals? Do they have any similar interests?

It's easy to convince yourself a character wants what they want when you don't take into account how they don't have many options. Winning by default is not really winning at all.

Elain doesn't enjoy bars or taverns so you know where she's had the opportunity to meet others? Feyre's patio, Feyre's dining room, Feyre's kitchen, Feyre's sitting room...

Elain was living in a strange place where all she had to choose from, especially as she was fighting against her bond, is what was available to her. She was scared and uncertain so instead of being in a place to branch out, she latched on to the things that were already there.

It's the same reason Amren was Nesta's first friend, because she was forced to find someone within Feyre's inner circle after just being made. She once considered Amren a friend, did she not? But only after Nesta set off on her own did she discover what made her the happiest, who her real found family is. Where Nesta even traveled to Spring to realize that she didn't feel the same sense of home there that she did the HOW. Nesta explored many other males before deciding Cassian was always going to be who she wanted.

Anyone can make the best of their situation if they try hard enough but that doesn't mean, were Elain to travel to Day, to Spring, to the continent; were Elain to meet more people outside of the Inner Circle, she wouldn't find a life that far surpasses that which she's known in both the human lands and the NC.

If she were to do that, to see what else is out there, to get to know Lucien as even a friend and still decide that the NC, Az and the wraiths are what she wants then I'd fully support it. But I'll never believe E/riel or Elain's life in the NC is authentic until Elain is ready to figure out what she wants outside of what she was forced into.

#anti e/riel #Elain deserves to explore their world before deciding where her home is going to be #elain archeron

[stories-of-the-multiverse]

All was quiet in the house, even the doggies had gone to bed. But sometime during the night there was a shout and with a jump B was awake. His sunglasses were knocked off in his fright, as he looked around to see what it was. Or perhaps it was his imaginatio- Ah... Nope. It was Spike, Shaking, and scared of... something. Slowly he approached. "Babe?" In an effort to not spook him any more than he already was. {Spike}

my muse has just woken up in a panic, crying, shaking and unable to say a word… send me your muse’s reaction to finding them like this

Blood. Blood took over all of his senses. The metallic sent in the air and taste in his mouth. The color painting the walls, the lockers, the floor, even some on the ceiling. The platting sound everytime his sneakers took a step.

The steady trickle from wounds he tried to ignore.

He found himself wandering the halls of his... middle... no, high... Either way, a school he went to. Clutching an M16 close to himself.

The halls slowly gave way to a filthy alley way, the blood dried on the surfaces. The scent wasn't as strong, but the taste was still ever present.

He found a figure, crumpled up in a heap at the end of the alley way. For a moment, the only proof they were alive was the shivering. Before they looked up.

"H-How much they payin' ya? I'll- I'll double- No! Triple it! Just- Please- Don't-!"

"Sorry, pal..." his own voice responded, sounding a bit younger than he expected.

The weapon then pointed at them.

"As the [missus] [boss] says... 'S bad business to jus' not carry out th' job."

Suddenly, he was in the school halls again, and the pleading face staring back out him had one eye, tears streaming down it. The stink of urine overpowered the metallic scent for a moment before he pulled the trigger.

"... Pico...?"

A voice. A very familiar voice.

Her whirred around, consciously keeping the firearm downranged.

His... his boyfriend... staring through blood soaked [blue] [pink] [blond] bangs.

Seeing the bruises littering his arms and face, he rushed to the smaller. One hand released the weapon to reach for him.

"Babe! Oh my god, are you alri-"

A hand grabbed his wrist and forced his arm behind his back. Cold metal nipped his skin as handcuffs clicked into place. He realized he no long had the gun as the other was forced behind him.

"I-I didn't do this! I was just tryna fight back! I was tryna help everyone-!"

"You have the right to remain silent," a man recited as he shoved Pico towards a police cruiser, "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law-"

His head whirred around and he was pushed to the back door of the car, looking for someone, anyone, to take his side!

His eyes locked with a girl's, sitting at the back of an ambulance. She simply stared back, empty.

A hollowness which was contagious as he was seated.

"I knew he was trouble..." a voice scoffed before the car door slammed shut.

He found himself looking out between bars, a boy shooting up at... something. He wasn't sure.

... The... resemblance between him and this kid... How strange...

The boy won, and he rushed over to the cage, shooting the locks off. The cage door swung open, and a grin formed on Pico's face.

"Nice work, bud-"

The boy suddenly swung a mace at him, Pico leaning back just barely avoiding it.

Back in school. This time the halls were even redder than before. The boy swung again. Pico rolled out of the way. He then turned, just in time to see the boy transform into a bear.

He was... in front of a house. For just a moment.

"I think I feel hate."

Large paws wound around his throat and lifted him up in the air.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn-

Suddenly the paws let go, and as he dropped, he saw Nene briefly run behind a corner. The bear followed her.

No!

He had to- had to stop him- Had to protect her-

So he ran, ran ran ran until he burst through the janitor's closet. An M 16, just on the table. He snatched it up before rushing back out, face to face with...

Cassandra...

They started arguing. It was too jumbled for him to understand. Her [red] [black] [gray] [auburn] hair somehow spiked up even more as she became more frustrated.

It was time to end it.

He rose his weapon.

Aimed at the Nene on top.

And pulled the trigger, sending the bullet flying to her [head] [shoulder]. And she was down.

He rushed over to the remaining Nene. And suddenly he was cradling her, the [bullet in her head] [bullet in her shoulder] [slit of her wrist] oozing blood.

"Nene! Nene, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Just-! Just hang on! Hang on until help..."

... He was surrounded. Surrounded by bodies.

Strangers. His classmates. His closest friends. His... his boyfriend...

Weakly... clutching his pant leg...

"I'm... sorry...! I... I [tried] [didn't mean to] [just wanted to help] [ messed up]...!"

The clutch on his pant leg tightened, as the corpse of his boyfriend pulled himself up. The others started crawling, drawing closer. Their voices were all a cacophony. A cacophony of why why why why why why why-

"I'm sorry...! I'm sorry!"

His apologies came out in a mantra as he curled in on himself tighter and tighter. A mantra that went unheeded as they all continued to advance on him, piling up on him, overwhelming him both literally and mentally as they continued to ask why why why why why why-

It was at that point he'd shot up in a seating position, clutching his own biceps in a vice grip as a cry ripped itself from his throat. His tears must have been much colder than he realized, because he couldn't stop shaking.

What- What the hell...!?

A voice. A voice could just barely be heard above the buzzing in his ears and the rattling of his own skull. His eyes slowly, hesitantly trailed, met with...

... B...

Another moment of hesitation before he reached over, brushing lightly at locks of hair.

Green hair.

His hair was always green...

#mismxtchedmuses #Ask #Pico #Verse: B3 #Friday Night Funkin' CW #Pico's School CW #NewGrounds CW #Blood CW #Gore CW #Death CW #Murder CW #Urination CW #Violence CW #Gun Violence CW #Strangulation CW #Self Harm CW #Implied Self Harm CW #Injury CW #tmw you get nightmares of your counterparts' experiences #83c

[sunset-peril]

Ashes Remain - Chapter Eleven - Apollo Falls Silent

~~~~

He didn't realize there might be a problem until the alarm went off on his phone. It was eight-thirty now, time to help Athena with her medicine. 

He wandered around the apartment. No Athena. 

Where was she? She was always back before dark. She told him she'd be making a visit after her appointment, and he assumed it was a visit to her incarcerated uncle. It was long after the prison's visiting hours, but no Athena.

He'd called her, twice. Two voicemails. 

Panic was rising. His throat closed over. He needed to find her, or find a good reason to submit a missing persons report. 

Juniper. Nope, nothing. The future judge seemed just as concerned. She agreed to try and find her, leaving Apollo free to continue his contacts. 

Prosecutor Blackquill was going to have his head if dawn came and Athena was still unaccounted for.

He called Pavilion next. They confirmed Athena left around 2:30 that afternoon and was in a stable mental state. The receptionist took his information: that he was Apollo Justice, Athena Cykes' guardian, and that she seemed to be missing. Because of Athena's conditions, if she couldn't be found in an hour, Pavilion would report her as such.

He called Wright. Initially, his boss was a little annoyed at the late night call. The tune instantly changed once Apollo started talking. 

"I can't find her, Mr. Wright."

"Athena? What do you mean you can't find her?"

"She never came home, she won't answer her phone. I called the asylum and they said she left this afternoon. They'll file a missing person report in an hour if I haven't called back." 

"I'm coming, Apollo." Mr. Wright was at his door ten minutes later, a sleeping Trucy tossed over his shoulder. 

He called her once more while Mr. Wright settled Trucy on the couch. A third voicemail. He scoured his texts, Athena's journals, anything that might explain where she went. 

His heart hit the floor when his, Wright's and Trucy's phones all blared in unison.

Missing Endangered Person :

Athena Cykes, 18, Female

Orange-red hair in ponytail down to waist 

Last seen near Pavilion Crisis Care wearing black tank top and grey leggings. Contact law enforcement with information on her location. More details on your local news station.

The above person has a documented disability and is believed to be in grave or immediate danger.

~~~~

Clay called not even five minutes later. He apologized for not being able to visit Athena in the hospital, and gushed sympathy after sympathy towards Apollo for her sudden disappearance. "Dude! I got the alert! Anything yet?" 

"No, nothing… Oh, Clay… tomorrow's your big day, you should be getting some sleep."

"Sleep?! My best bud's girl just flashed on everyone's emergency portal! Isn't that right, Mister Starbuck?" 

"Course, Clay! She's our princess!"

"Princess? Clay, are we talking about the same Athena?"

"Aye, Polly-wog! Your girl's Miss Aura's daughter! Everyone who's close to Miss Aura calls Athena that!" 

“Yes. I… know I don’t look it but… I’m a Blackquill. His niece.”

Ah, this Miss Aura must be Prosecutor Blackquill's sister. 

"Yeah, she told me she was related to Simon Blackquill." 

"Yeah, Aura really isn't taking it well." Starbuck was heard on the other end. "I heard her scream something through the walls of the robotic lab." 

"Well, looks like I'm off to keep Miss Aura from destroying the entire lab in despair. If I see Athena around, I'll call you back. Keep me posted bro!"

That was the most enjoyable of his calls. He answered call after call as people who knew him checked to see if there was anything they could do. The Kitakis were the most surprising. The former mafia had seen Athena on the court proceedings channel and wanted to know if the same lady who was missing was Apollo's co-council from the academy case. He also suspected they'd dabbled in some rumors that certainly had to have emerged outside the legal realm, and wanted to know if they needed to pull a favor. 

He thanked them for their concern, then told them he'd let them know if he needed their help. 

The night ran long and sleepless. Mr. Wright tried to get him to sleep sometime long after midnight, saying that he’d shake him awake if any news came, but to no avail.

The sun rose, but Athena was missing and Apollo, sleepless. Worn beyond emotion, it took the rest of him to deal with a horrified and grieving Trucy. Although it stung to do so, he found himself incredibly frustrated with her reaction to Athena’s disappearance. How could she even think to grieve in his presence when she had slept peacefully the whole night, completely unaware of the situation until a few moments ago? How could she think to compete with his worry, when he was the only legal method keeping his beloved from a life in mental prison? Tear ducts run dry hours before continued their attempts to weep in tune with the pacing still digging its way into the rented carpet. He’d vowed before the eyes of the law and his beloved to protect her, to keep her from harm’s way, and he’d failed. 

Dealing with Trucy took so much from his already exhausted body that, despite racing anxiety, rest came to claim him after she left. In fact, it held onto him so strongly that Mr. Wright’s shaking him barely rose his head.

“A Detective Briella Dunn called you. She said they’ve got some leads on Athena’s location. They got a call saying someone had seen her heading in the direction of GYAXA, and they’ll scour the whole area once the rocket launches.”

“Wha-” He pulled himself from the couch. “What would she be doing there?”

“You know she’s got those terrible intrusive thoughts… Maybe one of them had something to do with the Space Center and she wandered.”

“Yeah… Yeah, and she didn’t take her medicine last night… Ugh, if her head got control of her, who knows what condition she’ll be in once we find her?”

“Why don’t you go clean yourself up, Apollo? We’ll start heading that way. The area owned by GYAXA is off limits until after the launch, but there’s still some places we can check. I’ll call Detective Dunn back and see if she’ll meet us somewhere.”

~~~~

December 15th, 2027

9:45am 

Breakthrough in Bread Pastry Shoppe

~~~~

“Mr. Wright, Mr. Justice. I appreciate your urgency on these matters, but I’m not sure there’s much we can do at this juncture.” 

“Are there any areas around GYAXA that aren’t shut down for the launch?”

“Mostly a whole bunch of nowhere. All of the clearings and areas between the main building and the launch are government property and off-limits until the Center reopens to the public. There’s really no reason she should be out in that area, if not for the Space Center specifically.”

Apollo continued mutilating the small bagel he’d purchased. “Have any of your leads suggested she was specifically headed for GYAXA?”

“Only a few civilian reports say she headed in this direction, but the timing was a little sketchy, so we took it more seriously than most leads.”

“Sketchy? How so?”

“Coincidentally, the missing Doctor Cykes was reported missing as a child, and the alert was only cleared this past winter when she was found in Europe. The HAT-1 launch occurred shortly before she went missing, and now she’s gone again for the HAT-2. Should there be any future HAT missions, you better keep a tight hand on her. You say she may have wandered due to intrusive thoughts? Odd, considering the very definition of such thoughts.”

“Well, the only family she’s told me about works there, and she’s been diagnosed with PTSD. It’s a stretch, but it's really the only theory we’ve come up with.” 

“What such family?”

“A… mother, I think.”

An eyebrow raised from the detective before she stood from the table. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” The detective took a step just outside and talked over her earpiece intercom.

“Well, that was strange… as soon as you mentioned Athena’s mother, that detective got all out of it.” 

“I know…”

“I’m sorry for that, but I had to inform my partner. As the missing party’s closest companion, your words make up a lot of our initial suspicions.” 

“I-Is there anything odd about Athena going to see her mother?”

“Normally? No. However, if what you say is true, she’s gone in search of a dead woman, and she’s out of our reality.” 

“Her mother is dead? She said her mother disowned her!”

“When did she say this, Mister Justice? Yesterday morning?”

“B-Back in October. Just before Halloween I think.” 

“Oh, goodness.” Dunn buried her brow in her hand.

“She acknowledged her aunt works at GYAXA back in April. Could she have mom and aunt confused?” Wright tapped his glass’ rim.

“I’m sorry, did you say aunt? ” 

“One Aura Blackquill.”

“A-Aura Blackquill, you said, Mr. Wright? I was under the impression Aura was her mother!” 

“Aura Blackquill, the robotics engineer at GYAXA, is of no relation to the Cykes family. She was her mother’s coworker just before HAT-1. It seems Doctor Cykes has been dissociating for quite a long time.” 

“Wait, no relation? Hang on, I heard this from the astronauts!” Apollo fumbled out his phone and replayed the recording of his conversation with Clay. 

“-Isn't that right, Mister Starbuck?" 

"Course, Clay! She's our princess!"

"Princess? Clay, are we talking about the same Athena?"

"Aye, Polly-wog! Your girl's Miss Aura's daughter! Everyone who's close to Miss Aura calls Athena that!" 

"Yeah, she told me she was related to Simon Blackquill." 

“How odd… I can verify those are both the HAT-2 astronauts. But I can also verify no blood relation exists between those two families.”

“The Chief Prosecutor himself told me Simon Blackquill was a relative of Athena’s. However, she told me Aura was her aunt , but obviously Apollo and the astronauts were told she’s her mother. Yet, no blood relationship exists?”

“I… personally ran the blood reports on the Blackquill trial. It was the first thing the prosecution wanted on record. I found no blood or legal bindings between the families. Perhaps there are some unconventional, friends-of-the-family ties that could grant aunt and uncle titles, but Doctor Cykes can’t be trusted on the matter. The likelihood she’s dissociating is just too high.” 

“So what do we do?” 

“Still nothing we can do until the launch. We need Aura Blackquill now to discover if Doctor Cykes really was on a search for her departed mother, or if she just wanted to visit Ms. Blackquill and got confused. But all this talk wasn’t for nothing. We’ve all learned a little more about what might have gone on inside her mind when she went missing. I’ll call my partner and tell her we’ve extreme suspicion Doctor Cykes is somewhere on Space-" The green light on her headpiece began flashing. "Oh! Who’s calling me at such a time? Hello?” Once again she stood from the table. “What? There’s been an explosion? Two? You’re evacuating to the shelter? No, I’m not on site, Amy, I’m with the Cykes party. I was just about to tell you to search the grounds. Yes, I can see that won’t be happening. Let me know what Arme reports when she returns. Yes, I’ll be on site in about an hour, we still need to search the grounds for the woman. Amy, the sky could be falling for all I care, I have reason to believe she’s dissociated. Yes, I’ll send you a picture of what she looks like so you can search the shelter. I’ll touch base with you in five minutes, I need to inform my party here. I’ll call you back.”

“Where are there explosions?” Dread consumed Apollo. ‘It’s not at the Space Center is it?” 

“I can’t disclose that information right now, I’m sorry. I’ll search for your loved one, but the Center will not be reopening. I’ll call you if I have any new information.” With that, the detective was gone. 

“Mr. Wright! Did you hear that?!”

“I did. But unfortunately, she’s correct. Until we’re assigned a crime scene, or have some valid reason to go charge that way, we technically can’t go check it out. The whole place must be swarmed with cops right now. I think the best thing we can do is go back to your place and wait it out. ” 

“We’re fine, right, Mr. Wright? Everything’s just fine!”

“We’re fine, Apollo. Finish up at your own pace, then we’ll go home.”

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to make that decision for himself; his phone went off moments later. “Yes, this is Apollo Justice…” 

Moments froze as his eyes widened and lip quivered. “Yes… thank you… I’ll… be there…” 

One beep from his phone as the call ended, and Apollo was in shambles all over again.

#ace attorney #fanfiction #booksivewritten #athena cykes #apollo justice #athenacykes #justicykes #clay terran #clayterran #female oc #ace attorney series #ace attorney oc #the cosmic turnabout #dual destinies #a man named terran #apollo justice is not fine #ashes remain amnt #ashes remain #I'm severely uninteresting when it comes to naming locations #ace attorney names are puns #and I have none #athena causing problems again #time to open pandora's box #it's about to go down #it's about to get ugly #mentioned aura blackquill #mentioned metis cykes #mentioned simon blackquill #r.i.p. apollo justice #apollo justice ace attorney

[rajivsharma0401]

Rising Stars: The Story Behind Chandigarh's Basketball Academy

In the bustling city of Chandigarh, amidst its vibrant sports culture, lies a beacon of hope and opportunity for aspiring basketball players. Sardar Saran Singh Sports, affectionately known as the heart of Chandigarh's basketball community, has been nurturing young talent and shaping future champions for years. Join us on an inspiring journey as we unveil the remarkable story behind Chandigarh's Basketball Academy and the incredible individuals who call it home.

A Legacy of Excellence

Since its inception, Sardar Saran Singh Sports has been synonymous with excellence in basketball training. Named after the esteemed coach Sardar Saran Singh, the academy embodies his vision of providing top-tier coaching and facilities to budding athletes. With state-of-the-art infrastructure and a team of seasoned coaches, the academy has become a breeding ground for talent, consistently producing players who shine on both national and international stages.

The Path to Success

At Sardar Saran Singh Sports, success is not just measured in wins and losses but in the journey of personal growth and development. From the moment a young player steps onto the court, they are immersed in a culture of discipline, hard work, and determination. Under the guidance of experienced coaches, athletes undergo rigorous training sessions focused on skill enhancement, tactical understanding, and physical conditioning.

Cultivating Champions

The academy's commitment to holistic development extends beyond the basketball court. Alongside intensive training sessions, players receive academic support, nutritional guidance, and mental conditioning to ensure they excel both on and off the court. Through mentorship programs and leadership workshops, athletes are instilled with values of teamwork, resilience, and sportsmanship, laying the foundation for success in all aspects of life.

A Community of Support

Central to the academy's success is its strong sense of community and support network. Parents, coaches, alumni, and volunteers come together to create an environment where every player feels valued and empowered to reach their full potential. Whether it's cheering from the sidelines during games or providing emotional support during tough times, the Sardar Saran Singh Sports family stands united in their commitment to each other's success.

Beyond Borders: International Exposure

One of the hallmarks of Sardar Saran Singh Sports is its focus on providing international exposure to its players. Through participation in prestigious tournaments, exchange programs, and training camps abroad, athletes get invaluable opportunities to compete against top talent from around the world. These experiences not only sharpen their skills but also broaden their horizons, instilling in them a global perspective and ambition to strive for excellence on the grandest stages.

From Dreams to Reality

For many young athletes, Sardar Saran Singh Sports is not just a training ground but a gateway to realizing their dreams. Over the years, the academy has produced numerous success stories of players who have gone on to represent their country, secure college scholarships, and pursue professional careers in basketball. These achievements stand as a testament to the transformative power of passion, dedication, and unwavering belief in oneself.

The Power of Mentorship

Central to the success of Sardar Saran Singh Sports is the invaluable mentorship provided by seasoned coaches and alumni who have walked the same path. With a wealth of experience and knowledge, these mentors serve as guiding lights for young athletes, offering insights, advice, and encouragement every step of the way. 

Through personalized coaching, individualized feedback, and one-on-one mentorship sessions, players receive the guidance and support they need to navigate the challenges of competitive sports and emerge as stronger, more confident individuals both on and off the court.

Embracing Diversity and Inclusion

At Sardar Saran Singh Sports, diversity and inclusion are not just buzzwords but fundamental principles that shape the fabric of the academy. Regardless of gender, background, or socioeconomic status, every aspiring athlete is welcomed with open arms and given equal opportunities to thrive. 

Through initiatives aimed at promoting gender equality, accessibility, and cultural diversity, the academy fosters a sense of belonging and camaraderie among its diverse community of players, coaches, and supporters, reinforcing the belief that basketball is a sport for all and that unity in diversity is the key to success.

Making an Impact Beyond the Court

Beyond producing top-tier athletes, Sardar Saran Singh Sports is committed to making a positive impact in the broader community. Through outreach programs, grassroots initiatives, and social responsibility projects, the academy strives to use the power of sports as a catalyst for social change and empowerment. 

Whether it's organizing basketball clinics for underprivileged youth, promoting health and wellness initiatives, or raising awareness about important social issues, the academy leverages its platform to inspire, educate, and uplift individuals from all walks of life, leaving a lasting legacy that extends far beyond the confines of the basketball court.

Fostering a Culture of Resilience

In the competitive world of sports, resilience is often the difference between success and failure. At Sardar Saran Singh Sports, resilience is not just a trait; it's a way of life. Through challenging drills, intense workouts, and simulated game scenarios, players learn to embrace adversity, bounce back from setbacks, and never lose sight of their goals. 

With each hurdle they overcome, whether it's a missed shot, a tough loss, or a career-threatening injury, athletes emerge stronger, more determined, and better equipped to face whatever challenges lie ahead, both on and off the court.

The Pursuit of Excellence

Excellence is not an accident; it's a habit. At Sardar Saran Singh Sports, excellence is woven into the fabric of daily life, from the meticulous attention to detail in training routines to the relentless pursuit of perfection in every aspect of the game. Through a culture of accountability, discipline, and unwavering commitment to improvement, players are empowered to push beyond their limits, exceed expectations, and strive for greatness with every dribble, pass, and shot they take. It's this relentless pursuit of excellence that sets Sardar Saran Singh Sports apart and fuels the aspirations of Chandigarh's brightest basketball talents.

Conclusion

In a city pulsating with energy and ambition, Sardar Saran Singh Sports stands tall as a beacon of hope and inspiration for Chandigarh's basketball community. Through its unwavering commitment to excellence, holistic development, and inclusive ethos, the academy continues to shape the lives of countless young athletes, turning their dreams into reality. As we celebrate the remarkable journey of Chandigarh's Basketball Academy, we invite you to join us in honoring the rising stars who embody the spirit of perseverance, resilience, and triumph.

#basketball academy in chandigarh #basketball academy in punjab #ssss academy #best basketball academy

[libidomechanica]

Some loves

For being thee. While thoughts like heaven     her eyes which looks upon is much o’erwhelming it cannot     proudly eyed: this bending

a youthful hermitess, beauties     charity! It flash’d as much embarrass’d, she speake; and     its lone was something new.

Then, as any Life-long Habit     so cons that you could striving still move th’ offender,     and golden anniverse,

active day, or this blowing were     increase: O stranger guest, or some hunting her breast as mine.     And not all be thine—thou’st

had well in any kind of sin     o sorrows, and cannot heard, I would not fountains flowed. To     learn thy fame! Notice how

his meaning heart beat for thee; but     thus was a sultan’s breath, had fifty years the doolfu’ tale;     should die; but t is in

light a dry radius descride     in May. She was dead: there not in the lady fell, will be     raging hints of Kings; there

Lovers brink she lovely lady’s     cheeks so steal the grew. And no rose-bud in your fine without     a work divine, whose frown

drew in health; yet some passions lyre     did strong will we meets and he adds honour stouter, first should     pulling organs lift something

I sought for every tongued laurels’     patterns on our praised them for the same gross flatters trembling     eyes, and govern’d him,

giving thee. A partner in your     faith. Which those I need to to swell thousand wafted; thou art     that he was found a very

Life it but to harp or some     gross flattering of his trams in age. But when Arthur’s court,     and in peaceful state, helpless,

the prickles, yet I am     old? In blood thine imagining tride, t would forget what     speech did not unespied,

for the many with curls, cuckoo,     jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta- woo! Without audience, and     told that fester smells of

the soul is sensual phantasy.     I will no other of my mother station of the     time, for I had bought, and

who have sinn’d! To make thy mother’s     sun his early melts in view: our was love destroys what seest     thro’ all men’s wit. They can,

that follow air? It was to the     guinea help’d a little army in babble an angry     bit; pardon me, I come!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #115 texts #ballad

[odrseasonone]

E Resistance in S1

ok so i just finished watching robin hood (1935) and first off omg! it'd been sooooo long since id seen it and its so fun <3 but!! it gave me hella thoughts abt the resistance (and also some celion feels <3 but anyway)

so!! i was thinking

we should maybe consider treating the resistance like that does -- there's clearly quite a few of them but we get the chief handful fleshed out, so we feel like we know them, and its clear they all have relatinships etc but we don't really go into them, we just see this big mass of ppl and we get the idea. this would help w a lot of our 'why is our evil empire worried abt this' if its quite a few ppl etc

however!! it could be kinda cool if it starts out as a few and slowly they get more and more ppl joining (hence rowena being like 'who cares' even tho some ppl are concerned until she's like 'kill it w fire' etc) but esp as 1) things get worse and worse and then esp 2) when ppl learn there's a new dragonrider out there!!! and he's fighting for them like the dragonriders are supposed to!!!!

this would also help w the final bit w taking the castle in the final eps of s1 -- like maybe the resistance has dozens or hundreds (idk?? how big is aragoth? whatever the 'its a small uprising sure but its def an uprising and its gaining numbers everyday we should nip this in the bud' situation yknow) of members atp but it realllly gets going at the v end of the season when the castle is taken in their name by the mistreated servants on the inside (w/ or w/o the resistance's help) who then welcome th resistance in and set up shop

bonus points if the castle in question is the de montfort castle overthrowing usurpers bc their lord has returned, or if its the servants of fontaine casting off jon's shackles (which would deffff backfire bc he has an army and also an evil sorceress who wants her daughter in control of that castle but you feel me -- and that could actually contribute to the drama of that ep or the next one too idk). if its fontaine, this could also lead to the burning of fontaine but it might be too early to do that. fontaine w jon them besieging the storming the castle could also be an interesting parallel to the hall of the dragonriders situation too. de montfort would pit dmitire and alaric against one another in a more open way which could also lead to some really interesting foiling both as a climactic season end AND drawing those parallels more obv going forward which could be really interesting to play with in upcoming seasons. either castle de montfort or fontaine would also tie the court intrigues plotlines to the resistance plotlines too at the end of the season which would probs feel really satisfying for our viewers.

#e resistance #s1 #kate #but yeah the servants throwing in could form a huge influx of ppl since big castles require huge staffs #not to mention any loyal knights men at arms etc and their armaments etc #loyal bannermen represent #Alaric’s escape from prison could even be foreshadowing if we go w de montford #meanwhile if he’s besieging fontaine that could be part of why Jon’s like ‘my poisons are taking too long safira kill my uncle already #‘and help me take back fontaine’ or whatever #so lotsa options!

[babyawacs]

#whoelse #gracious #right ... #sgerman #sgermany #lookattheti meline #usually #hoogle #reframed #mildfacettes #of #what #them quell .@judge .@judges @law @all @world @bbc_whys @france24 @h aaretzcom @bild .@bild @phoenix_de @dw .@dwnews .@law @deutschlan d .@deutschland @hamburg @berlin .@berlin .@hamburg @muenchen @stuttgart #ahbythewayididnothingwrong #kanneskaumabwarten #bi s #irgendwer #euch #noch #alibis #verschafft #nachdem #ihr #eue re #verbrechen #vertuscht #how #judge #judges #system #ai #thetru th #and #the #ruleoflaw #bananarepublic #inthen #donot #the #rubbertittts #simpler #usually #else #bad #biological #germanso lutions #nowandhow #there #instead #compensation #oujaounorthk orea by any standards of law enforce how hideous they quell trick proceduraltrick avert derail weasel nut damage rape molest re frame any criminal trick how they handlem o n s t r o s i t i e s  they did caused and repeattocommitmore crimes onthecase and othersby any standards of lawitis amplifying moral levers not mit igating waht they game fortheir effort to fraud it forever as guilty liable system evenmorethe toss in of minors innocent ev emoreprocedures to heal humans used to quell their crimes char gedany shred of mercy the quick chance to lootwhatdoyouthink they do usually and to others////who averts fortune access this ve ry day court demandedthey used the chance to nuthobo quell becau se how they rule their toddlers they dont know ormindtheymust o bey someone that chains them for a purpose brainfuckt and be a go od slave and not mind when they rape em and squeeze em/////by theme i yelled at lawyers that german govt crimes oftheir intel s and their proxies doesnot match what the minors did letalone the befoe they were bornand that their crimes endangers their bud gets???ohbohooo their budgets.where are my genitals mykids wha t did they do to who else itheir criminal dumpster allalong for their lust gains and for funding their suv s as privileged and leeching themselves healthy on others only wanting a shitty iphone

#whoelse #gracious #right … #sgerman #sgermany #lookatthetimeline #usually #hoogle #reframed #mildfacettes #of #what #themquell .@judge .@judges @law @all @world @bbc_whys @france24 @haaretzcom @bild .@bild @phoenix_de @dw .@dwnews .@law @deutschland .@deutschland @hamburg @berlin .@berlin .@hamburg @muenchen @stuttgart #ahbythewayididnothingwrong #kanneskaumabwarten #bis #irgendwer #euch #noch…

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[rametarin]

The Karen, as a social evolutionary figure.

Dealt with some today. Can you tell?

The Karen exists because it’s socially unacceptable to beat the shit out of women.

Let me explain: In society, if a man acts the fool and tries to argue and force business and other people to operate according to them, he gets the shit beaten out of him and the authorities called to get them back in line and out of the way. As a man, you are not allowed to make a scene or threaten or antagonize, because it’s proof you’re willing to escalate. Thus, heated arguments are always at the risk of getting out of control.

Now, enter woman.

A woman is typically smaller, less muscular, and it’s considered an incredible faux pas to treat them as brutally as you do a man. Even a woman flailing around, meleeing people is considered an outlier that does not ‘count’ regarding what the average woman is capable of. Even if the woman is 6′0, she is a woman, and you don’t treat women with violence and not expect either legal action or a social reaction that hovers around the atavistic response of bees defending their queen. Hitting a female person provokes more irrational violent response in their defense by others in proximity, than a man does.

Simply put, you have to use kid gloves when dealing with women, or else you lose in the court of public opinion and anarchy wins out. And it doesn’t matter how antagonistic or disruptive they are in whatever they want from you. As a species, we have not historically had cameras, audio and video recording equipment for impartial review to prove things. Rule of thumb, give the woman the benefit of the doubt, trust that some man was the one causing the problem, not them.

Enter the Karen.

The Karen lives to exploit this tenuous, slapshod relationship. Karen will exploit the need to get customers out and on their way and to stop making scenes, escalating or threatening the harmony and peace of mind of other people around them. The Karen will choose to be difficult and disruptive as incentive to give them whatever they ask for to make them leave, no matter how irrational it is. Even if their logic is entirely self-serving, Karen will stand right there holding up the lines, sticking to her own selfish take on things, whether it’s a misunderstanding they’re choosing to misunderstand, or a  scam they’re trying to pull over on someone else.

The Karen socially evolved to lob abuses at people and expect reprecussions on them if they escalate it beyond where she’s willing to push it. The Karen will engage in bad faith arguments and expect others to listen, while speaking over everybody else, or insulting them with non-sequitors. All in the name of trying to provoke others into rage and violence, which means they lose and the Karen becomes a victim.

The Karen loves sticking their camera in everybody elses face and then arguing it’s unlawful for them to do the same to her. The Karen will “accidentally” try to destroy other peoples property and make it ambiguous just whose fault of aggression that was.

The Karen is a psycho-social female strategy to get away with being an antagonistic situation, where people bargain by nipping it in the bud by pre-emptively giving them whatever thing they want or avoiding dealing with them to get that living time bomb moving on to be somebody elses problem.

We’ve seen an explosion of the Karen phenomenon, because for the first time in human evolution, we have cheap, ubiquitous cameras and impartial eyes that proves the poor womens aren’t all just being abused and ripped off for no reason by evil misogynistic men. It’s like catching a prehistoric fish or a cryptic in the wild.

And we’ve seen Karens become a forefront type, because westerners are having fewer families. In the past, the Karen’s entitlement would be taken out on her kids, her husband, her cousis, her siblings. As humans have less of those, they run out of easy family members to henpeck in the hierarchy to do their work for them or do labor for them, so that means they both aren’t getting to raise in a large familial social hierarchy as well as aren’t getting the satisfaction of putting others beneath themselves.

So they find a surrogate in the nearest fascimille. They abuse retail staff and lecture them whatever they subjectively view to be true, demand results they want, interrupt and antagonize and embarrass, promising to sink their fangs and claws in and Not Let Go for a large period of time.

It’s like demanding Nephew Louie go shovel dirt to fill in the driveway so she doesn’t have to do it, but without Louie to do it. And yet, the demand a Louie exist to fill that niche doesn’t go away. So, they hit McDonalds or Walmart to argue about fucking straws and napkins and make big scenes.

The Karen is an evolutionary strategy of a threat display to destroy reputations and tempt people into social role destroying violence and outbursts, of a social animal.

 It’s a sacred cow loose in a fine China shop and no one is allowed to touch her as she bucks over expensive equipment and merchandise, just wait until she’s done holding up lines and destroying merchandise and then clean up afterwards. While feigning just being irrational, her actions are premeditated, just petty. The kind of spoiled, “I’m invincible” energy that is very prevalent in young men that talk a big game until they get their jaws broken and ribs kicked in for trying to assert that dominance on other people. Without the humble pie, because they expect to never be touched.

Karen is a creature of female entitlement that has been obfuscated from the conversation, as we’re not allowed to mention it, as even acknowledging it exists would be shreiked at as just straight misgyny. From the same people that exempt women from any conversations about domestic violence, constantly gender the behaviors as abusive and inherently male, and omit women from any sexual dimorphic pattern crimes in the conversation.

We haven’t been allowed to acknowledge her and the nature of her existence, because again, “sacred cow.” To acknowledge women have specific patterns of ways they abuse and harangue would mean that we punish them for it, when they don’t just want gendered abuse laws to punish people. They specifically want gendered punishment laws to redistribute wealth and bottleneck social ladder climbing of men.

Society does everything it can to keep women with as little stigma regarding the capacity of crime as possible, given their necessary role in having the next generation. It is in a nation’s best interests to let the sacred cows have a certain amount of leeway, so more will decide to have kids. Even to the point of imprisoning men and turning over their properties at a pittance to assure this happens.

This is why Karen has no self-awareness and continues to be a menace. Women are incentivized NOT to, if it’s in their own self-interest. We haven’t really been allowed to talk about it, and our criminal justice system can’t punish it without destroying its population. If we treated mothers as poorly as fathers, society would be more than half broken. We’d have less real estate.

Karen has been empowered to destroy everything in her path on the way to the food court.

[poemoftheday]

Poem of the Day 18 August 2022

The Picture of Little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers BY ANDREW MARVELL SEE with what simplicity This nymph begins her golden days! In the green grass she loves to lie, And there with her fair aspect tames The wilder flowers, and gives them names; But only with the roses plays, And them does tell What colour best becomes them, and what smell. Who can foretell for what high cause This darling of the gods was born? Yet this is she whose chaster laws The wanton Love shall one day fear, And, under her command severe, See his bow broke and ensigns torn. Happy who can Appease this virtuous enemy of man! O then let me in time compound And parley with those conquering eyes, Ere they have tried their force to wound; Ere with their glancing wheels they drive In triumph over hearts that strive, And them that yield but more despise: Let me be laid, Where I may see the glories from some shade. Meantime, whilst every verdant thing Itself does at thy beauty charm, Reform the errors of the Spring; Make that the tulips may have share Of sweetness, seeing they are fair, And roses of their thorns disarm; But most procure That violets may a longer age endure. But O, young beauty of the woods, Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers, Gather the flowers, but spare the buds; Lest Flora, angry at thy crime To kill her infants in their prime, Do quickly make th’ example yours; And ere we see, Nip in the blossom all our hopes and thee.

#Poetry #poem of the day #poem #andrew marvell

[gothighunicorntolerance]

For the Love of Lost Toys

AO3

Thomas takes the kids to the mall for a day out and spies a stranger across the food court. It just so happens that stranger has a heart of gold, too.

Thomas forced himself to look away from the man sitting a few tables away in the food court. It wasn’t polite to stare, for one, and besides, he had to keep all eyes on his kids. They were well-behaved in public, for the most part, but they did get a little rowdy from time to time, such as now, when Roman and Remus were kicking each other under the table and shrieking.

“Boys! Stop that,” Thomas chided. “It’s not nice to hit each other.”

“He started it!” Roman and Remus said in unison, pointing to each other.

“Boys, I don’t care who started it, but I’m ending it. So be nice to each other and remember what I said earlier. If you’re all good, we can stop for milkshakes on the way home!”

His reminder of the milkshakes in exchange for good behavior instantly quieted all of his kids and they rushed to finish their food, which gave Thomas time to look just a little bit more at the man. Had any of Thomas’s friends seen him, they would have given him a knowing smirk, an elbowed nudge, and a little bit of teasing to convince him to go talk to the guy. But his friends weren’t there to give him that knowing smirk and tease him about just how much that guy was Thomas’s type, so just watched from afar. It wasn’t that far, really, only a few tables, but to Thomas it felt like an impossible gap to cross.

Besides, he wasn’t even sure the guy was gay! He watched with anticipation as he put his backpack on the table next to his sticker-covered laptop- there were pins on the bag! He had searched the laptop before for any pride stickers, but to no avail.  Maybe now was his chance- yes! He had scored a silent victory when he caught a glimpse of a rainbow pin stuck next to… a Jack Skellington skull! Oh, it’d be really a shame if he couldn’t talk to him, but a shame he’d have to live with.

Virgil tugged on Thomas’s jacket sleeve.

“Ready to go home, bud?”

Virgil nodded, biting on the ear of his stuffed otter toy he had brought along.

“Alright, everybody finish up and clean your hands,” Thomas fished out a packet of wipes from his bag and handed them out to the kids.

He ushered his kids through cleaning up and got them moving down the crowded spaces between the shops, carrying Virgil and the rest of them following behind him, “like ducklings!” He said, a series of ensuing ‘quack, quack!’s’ following him.

They hadn’t gone past more than a few shops when Virgil bagan to shriek.

“What’s up, V?” Thomas asked, shifting Virgil so that he rested on Thomas’s hip.

“My Otter!” Virgil cried. “I left Otter!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll go back for Otter,” Thomas turned around, speed-walking back to the table they had occupied before, the trail of kids following.

Thomas’s heart dropped when he didn’t see Virgil’s beloved otter sitting on the table, but he knew the toy was somewhere-

“Hey! Hey! Excuse me!”

Thomas turned around, startled, to see who had tapped him on the shoulder, and could only stare at the man with the pin decorated bag who held out Otter.

“Sorry, I think one of your little guys dropped this!”

“Otter!” Virgil squirmed in Thomas’s arms, so he set him down.

“Virgil, what do you say?” Thomas prompted as Virgil grabbed his toy.

“Thank you,” Virgil said, pronouncing it like ‘tank oo,’ still having trouble with his ‘th’ sounds.

Virgil looked away and hugged Thomas’s leg, and Thomas ruffled his hair.

“Thank you so much, Mister…?”

“Oh, Mister Flores! How formal of you! But you can call me Nico if you’d like,” He reached out and shook Thomas’s hand. “And you are?”

“Uh, Mister Sanders! But you can call me Thomas if you’d like,” he fought to hide the rising blush, but evidently not hard enough, as Roman begain to make the insufferable “oooo!” That elementary school-aged children were apt to do.

“You saved my baby brother’s Otter from peril!” Roman thrust his fist into the air as if he was holding a sword. “For your brave deeds, we must knight you!”

On one hand, ‘peril’ was a new word Roman had learned from his dragon books, and he was using it correctly in context, so Thomas couldn’t be prouder! But on the other hand, they were probably keeping this stranger (Mr. Flores was still a stranger, despite how… well, pretty he was, Thomas reminded himself) longer than they needed.

“Oh, really?” Nico laughed. “What does being knighted look like?”

Roman bit his lip and turned to look at Thomas. “Daddy, what does knighting look like?”

Thomas chuckled. “Bud, I don’t think the mall’s food court is the best place for knighting someone. Besides, we should let this nice man go, right?”

“Oh. Okay. But I wanted to do a knighting!”

“Ro, honey, let’s go home and you can play… what did you call your game?”

Roman’s smile brightened. “Dragon kings!”

“Right, let’s go home and you all can go outside and play Dragon kings!”

“Hey, uh, before you go,” Mr. Flores took a napkin from the holder on the table and scribbled a note. “Here.”

He offered the folded napkin to Thomas.

“I- I’d like to meet with you again. If that’s alright. Call me?” Mr. Flores explained, his kind smil making Thomas’s heart skip a beat.

Thomas only nodded, feeling in all respects like a kid who was talking to his crush for the first time.

Well, that wasn’t too far off from the truth.

“I- I will. It was nice meeting you, Mister Flores, but I really gotta get these knuckle-heads home.”

Almost as if on cue, Virgil gave a big yawn.

Mr. Flores nodded. “I’ll be seeing you?”

“I’ll be seeing you,” Thomas agreed, safely tucking the napkin in his pocket.

It was only later, when he was alone in his room with the kids running around outside, he unfolded the rough brown napkin, which in all respects had felt like the most precious cargo in the world, and read what Nico had scribbled in black ink.

A small doodle of an otter, a circle with two small ears, a big nose, and a smile, and-

And a phone number!

He punched the number into his phone and hesitated only a moment before sending a text.

Oh, never had he been so glad for a forgotten toy!

writing tag list: (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!) @shitpost-sides @theimprobabledreamersworld @edupunkn00b

@kiddiesides hi :0 i love this au so I wrote a lil something for it!

#Sanders sides #thomas sanders #nico flores #pintroverts #my writing

[meliorist-midoriya]

chasing the sun

synopsis: there’s something screaming in familiarity—in mourning—deep in his soul at the sight of you, a complete stranger. this is the price you pay for resurrection, the sun whispers as it rises.

pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, reincarnation au

warnings: mentions and depictions of death, major character deaths, mentions of war (+ description of a battlefield scene), injuries, blood.

word count: 11.7k

a/n: happy (extremely belated) birthday, bird boy. and aaaa my baby’s here, she’s finally here! i’ve been working on this fic for a little over two months now, and i’m so happy to see it fully fleshed out! thank you to @dimplesum​ for beta reading, and the tumblr chaos server for listening to me yell all the time abt this fic :’) disclaimer, i did as much research as i could, but any historical depictions are not 100% historically accurate and i have taken some creative liberty, so please take the historical scenes with a grain of salt! 

important: there will be songs linked throughout the fic to be played in accordance with the scene, i do hope you listen to them for the full experience! it is okay if the ost ends before the scene as that is also on purpose. the beginning of the song will start with 【 ☀︎ 】 with a link to the song. with that said, i hope you enjoy, and happy reading!

crossposted on Ao3

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Keigo, the youngest government official in the empire, stumbling upon a lone concubine in the eastern lotus garden. 

He’d been searching for solitude, away from the viper’s nest of samurai-turned-aristocrats, strutting around the castle with their now-useless weapons strapped to their hips, discussing poetry and politics instead of battle and war tactics.

It’d been disgustingly easy for them to make the switch from warrior to bureaucrat, taking the status boost in stride. Those who couldn’t, they stayed with their lords if they were lucky. The warriors who weren’t… Keigo would need an abacus to count the ones who weren’t so lucky, the countless rumors and reports of wandering rōnin with familiar names never failing to reach over the palace walls to get to him.

(Oh, what he would give to join them.)

Of course, he’d been intending to brood ponder over this in the seclusion of the garden he’d discovered a few days ago, staring at the green buds of the young lotuses in the water until his head spun. The sight of the concubine sitting in his spot (that he was certain was too secluded to be found) told him fate had other plans, however.

He cleared his throat and forced down the grimace once he saw the concubine jump, startled, before trying her best to smoothly turn and bow without looking too flustered.

“Good morning, madam.”

“Good morning—”

He smiled through the static in his brain at the mention of his surname, messily tacked to the honorific that he would never get used to. 

That name… it’s not mine. Don’t call me that.

A discordant mess of jumbled kanji that sounded nothing like the powerfully elegant names in the court. The ill-fitting characters standing out like an eyesore on his documents, the syllables falling awkwardly off the tongue in conversation.

Wholly fitting for an outsider like him, really.

The mention of that name grated something terrible in him, and he settled for keeping his teeth grit into a smile. A sheltered concubine wouldn’t know, of course she wouldn’t know. Practically no one did, so he had no one to fault but his own cursed sensitivity to a name he wanted to burn.

“Do you mind if I join you?” The slight twitch in her demure smile was answer enough, but he’d set aside time for this escape, and damn if he was going to let it go to waste.

“Of course not. Please, don’t mind me, my lord.”

He dipped his head in thanks and you bowed in return, the silence hanging in the air settling into something stiff and awkward. 

A minute passed… 

Then another… 

Then five… 

Keigo was going to go mad at this rate. Neither of you had any intention of leaving the rare pocket of seclusion, and the competitive whisper in the corner of his mind told him that leaving first meant conceding, meant losing.

(In his world, losing meant death.)

Keigo’s had enough of losing in life despite his dumb luck, thank you very much.

So, he did what he knew he did best. He talked. Shattering the awkward silence in an effort to coax the tranquil silence he was searching for back into the little gazebo by the pond. Maybe if he ran his mouth long enough, you’d get tired and leave.

“You’re a new face in the palace.”

With an expectant gaze, he watched the telltale shift from awkward to apprehensive, the rigidness of your stature sharply contrasting the flowing brocade of your kimono as you looked back at him with a too-sharp gaze before casting your eyes away to the green buds in the water. Had he been any slower, Keigo would’ve thought that the conflicted expression you quickly smoothed over was solemn (it was anything but). 

“I would say the same to you, my lord, but every face in this castle is a new face to me.” You tilted your head with a thin-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Although… I’m sure an official who just arrived at the castle for his yearly residence would be an especially new face. Please excuse my rudeness.”

Keigo blinked. Once, twice, his jaw relaxing into a disbelieving smile at the sight of your steely gaze bright with a challenge and a smile sharper than the blades at his waist, the unsaid words ringing clearly. 

Two could play at this game.

Well, now, this was new. 

Perhaps it was your defiance that remained steadfast in this castle, or the blissful ignorance that made you one of the few to look at him straight on instead of down your nose. A little voice whispered that this would change in due time, the politics and power struggles confined within the castle never failing to break down even the most resilient. Those that didn’t know how to play the game correctly simply… vanished.

“Someone’s well-informed, I see.” He folded his hands behind his back, his wish for tranquility long forgotten. “I heard a new concubine has just entered the castle as well. A consolation prize, of sorts, from the farthest reaches of the country. Of course, as I’ve been gone for a year and have only been here for four, I’m not too sure.” He flicks his gaze to you, accepting your challenge with a knife-sharp smile of his own.

“I am curious as to what this concubine’s name is, however.”

You arched a brow, the thin-lipped smile widening into something sweet (that looked better on a fox rather than a beautiful concubine), and you bowed. Any trace of that stiff apprehensiveness dissolved into a graceful fluidity that seemed to disappear within the rippling silk of your kimono.

“Lady Y/N. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

To this day, he’ll never admit how surprised he was at your reverence, nor how his heart did a funny little flip in his chest when you giggled at his flustered response. What kind of fool gave respect to a commoner picked up from the slums?

You. Except you were no fool, and maybe that’s why he kept coming back like a moth to flame.

Time passed, and he found himself in that little garden day after day, morning after morning. Listening to the concubine who told vivid stories of lands he could only dream of, foods he found himself craving, and tales of warriors past. 

The conversations at dawn soon turned into stories of the past, the laments of the present, and dreams of a bleak future. With delicate hands and gently prying words, you two unlocked every bar and lock you’d put over your souls and allowed yourselves to lay them bare for each other, the intimacy of a bond forged in secrets and solidarity far stronger than any alliance or contract.

You two confided in each other in that garden, staring at the dew on the lilypads as you two whispered how you didn’t belong in the palace. How the confines of grand walls with ears and eyes were no place for the adopted commoner and a concubine far from home. Two people in this big world who were just lucky enough, fortunate enough to end up within this lavish palace, your lives guaranteed splendor and comfort. 

Then again—you two would share a conspiratorial laugh—maybe you two were unfortunate instead. What was splendor and comfort when you had to constantly watch for a knife in your back or poison in your cup? When a single misstep could cost you your life? 

Conversations shared with you, the concubine with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, were the most fulfilling he’s had in ages. Maybe it was the sense of formality that the intimacy of the waterside gazebo stripped away, or the unraveling realization that he hasn’t breathed this freely in ages, that he was looking forward to these moments in the morning. The intimacy shared in the garden he selfishly liked to call his own little world.

Keigo catches the smile you hide behind your sleeve when he steps into the gazebo, and he realizes you’re being selfish, too.

He didn’t know how the conversation got here, he didn’t know why he had a hairpin meant for you tucked into his sleeve. All he knew was that when it came to you, he was helpless to the whims of rambling and buying a pretty hairpin made of red jade because it reminded him of a sharp wit with a pretty smile.

“I live for this country and I die for this country. Well, not that there’s anything much to die for anyway.” Keigo’s laugh is empty, and your melancholic gaze even emptier. A fog had blown in that morning, covering the pond in a soft cover of white, and your soft voice and softer touch on his arm (careful, almost) silenced his dry laughter and left his throat even drier. 

“What you would die for is also an excellent reason to live, is it not?”

Your words, whispered into the stillness of the moment, resonated so loudly within his soul and forced a shaky breath out of his lungs as he gazed in awe at you. At the soft, ethereal glow in the fog cast by the rising sun breaking through the clouds, the scent of bloomed lotuses wafting in on the breeze that rustles the dangling pieces of your hair ornaments. He is weak to whims when it comes to you, so he pulls out the hairpin burning a hole in his sleeve to slip into your hair with shaking hands unbefitting a swordsman. Keigo watches your eyes sparkle like the gem in your hair, and his heart lifts with hope as he whispers his devotion into the warm morning, carried by the wind into a sea of blooms.

“I’ll live for you, then.”

And with a smile, you fall in love.

(Keigo falls even harder.)

【 ☀︎ 】

He should have known.

“I don’t know what I was expecting from the son of a criminal.”

He really should have known.

“What was that fool thinking, taking a street rat like you in all those years ago?”

Honestly, he’d like an answer to that, too. Too bad the old man was dead and left him to inherit a position he didn’t even want. To think he’d agree with the emperor for once in his short life.

“Tsk, a son will follow in his father’s footsteps, after all. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.”

Keigo should be concerned that he couldn’t feel how the coarse dirt dug into his knees anymore, his cheek still aching from where the guard had punched him. 

(Okay, yes, he deserved it, but he could’ve done without tasting iron.)

The sadistic glee in the guard’s face after he landed that “disciplinary strike” told him otherwise. With a bitter grimace, he spat red into the dirt.

How long has he been kneeling here? Minutes? Hours? The words echoing over and over in his head pulled him away from his present reality, bringing him back to the blur that was the past two days.

(Three? He couldn’t be sure, time passes oddly in a prison cell.)

The servants whispering about a concubine being expelled from the harem, the handmaid being promoted to concubine suspiciously quickly, and sudden memories of too-loud rustling coming from the treeline that he’d foolishly brushed off. All of it culminated in the form of palace guards dragging him from his study all the way to the harem to throw him at the emperor’s feet.

“Could the street rat not keep his hands off the women of the court? Plenty to pick back where you came from.” 

Keigo wanted to vomit at the cloying stench of sake, unpleasant memories rushing to the forefront of his mind and forcing his limbs to lock from age-old fear. Not like he could use them anyway, with heavy hands on each shoulder pinning his knees to the tatami and his blades having long been tossed away in the struggle to drag him here.

“Oh, my lord, haven’t you heard?” A sickeningly saccharine voice pulled the man’s attention away to coo at the woman curled into his side, cradling a bottle of warmed sake. “Apparently the small-time nobleman who adopted him, did it knowing he was the son of that criminal you were having trouble with all that time ago.”

The grip forcing his head down loosened from the resounding laughter that rippled around the room, just enough to allow Keigo to glare at the loose-lipped concubine. Your opportunistic maidservant who’d been all too willing to take your place in the harem, having taken her chance and fleeing with it. Her tittering giggles and power-drunk grin grated his ears, and he kept glaring. Daring her to look back, to look him in the eye without feeling an ounce of guilt for what she had done.

Almost as if she heard his furious challenge, she took a glance at the man pinned to the floor (trying to look down her nose like she had been looked down on. Pathetic fool.)  only to jump at the righteous fury burning in his gaze, fear clouding her conscience for a precious moment. 

More, Keigo urged, rage bitter on his tongue, Guilt, shame, despair, all of it.

I hope you regret this for the rest of your life. Lament, as punishment for ruining hers—

“Don’t assume what I have and haven’t heard, woman,” The drunkard grunted, holding his cup out for her to pour with shaking hands and a meek surrender, “But, the man was losing his mind from age. What was that fool thinking, taking a dirty brat like this in all those years ago? Too useless to bear a son nor keep a wife, so he had to stoop low enough to take in a criminal’s son from the slums.”

Righteous fury welled up in his chest, and his body moved before his brain could catch up, spit landing at the emperor’s feet. Almost immediately thereafter, his head whipped to the side, cheek smarting from the sharp strike the guard’s knuckles had indented into his swelling cheek. He grit his teeth as that same cheek came down on the tatami, someone pressing his head into the ground.

“Years upon years of trying to force yourself into nobility, and you’d think you’d learn some respect along the way.”

Had he not been the one with his face pressed into the ground, Keigo would’ve laughed at the shade of fury-red the man’s face was turning. Sake did not treat him well. The concubines at his side, fearing for their lives, immediately rushed to whisper soothing words and calming pleas. Somehow, it worked, and he reclined back into his seat with a heavy sigh, draining the sake in one gulp.

“The son of a criminal shall inevitably become a criminal. Now that I think about it, this is a wonderful opportunity to get rid of an eyesore. A grave in Kozukappara should suit him well.” A sadistic grin split his lips around the cup, chortling with laughter at his own (terrible) wit. “Being buried next to his criminal father! What a filial son!”

The table shook from the force of a fine porcelain cup slamming down on it, as if the emperor were stamping his death certificate right then and there.

(He was.) 

“Get him out of my sight. The next time I want to see his head is on the gates of Kozukappara.”

Keigo the official had died in that room, and the man that was dragged out by his shoulders left the castle as a criminal.

“Done saying your prayers?” 

Slowly, he looked up from the white paper fan set in front of him in place of the tantō that should’ve been there for his use (obligatory seppuku, his muddled brain supplied with annoyingly familiar haughtiness, so the ex-warrior could die a warrior. What a joke—) to the man he’d chosen to be his executioner. Normally, he would’ve snapped back with something witty, something sharp, but going days without water wasn’t treating him well. A heavy sigh, and the man ran a frustrated thumb down the bright blue wrap of his katana hilt. 

“The concubine, of all women? An imperial concubine, at that. I’d expect you to know better than that, my friend.”

Ah, the static in his head was a little stronger today. Wonderful.

“I thought I knew better, too. At least I get to die to someone with a steady hand.”

He scoffed, thumb running over the blue hilt again. Keigo idly remembered seeing the man rub his burn-leathered skin the same way countless times, the anxious habit having stubbornly ingrained itself into his being since childhood.

“Must you be so dark?”

“When am I not?” He managed to muster up a slow grin. “I’m hurt, I thought my closest companion would’ve known this after years of keeping swords out of each other’s backs.”

The heavy gong announcing his execution sounded, and he watched his best friend’s melancholic gaze glaze over into soulless steel that mirrored the blade drawn from its hilt. Keigo dipped his head with a solemn smile and shut his eyes in resignation.

I really… should’ve known…

“Keigo!”

Everything paused for a breath, in shock at your shout breaking the stillness of the moment. He didn’t have to lift his head to know who was crying out, trying to delay the inevitable certainty. A sharp smile and an even sharper tongue reduced to nothing but cries and desperation.

“...I’ll continue.” The executioner ignored your desperate “No!” as he shifted his stance, scarred hands steady as he placed the blade against the back of his neck despite the pain Keigo knew he was in. 

It would’ve been nice to hold you in his arms, at least once— 

No, for eternity.

The blade came down and, like a lotus facing the sun in supplication, you screamed your despair into the heavens. 

That day, the blood red sunset matched the crimson pooling on the execution ground’s floor.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Private First Class Takami Keigo marching into a small city on the way to the front lines, rifle slung over his shoulder and feet aching.

They’ve been marching through the night, and for the first time in his life, he found himself grateful for Japan’s humid summer nights. He’d take sweat over losing toes from frostbite any day. 

But, he decides, sighing in relief along with the rest of the company at the sight of a town once they crested the hill, there was nothing like the relief of a warm bed and any food other than the tasteless military rations.

“Tired already?” The low voice beside him would’ve made him jump had it not been so familiar.

“Aw, what’s this? Is Touya-kun worried for little old me?” Keigo shot a grin at the man marching next to him and dodged the elbow that he aimed at his side with a short laugh.

“A tired soldier is a dead soldier.” A pause, and the next response came backed with a dry laugh. “Not like it’d affect you and your monstrous instincts, anyway.”

“Yes, as we’ve been told a thousand times, General.” The teasing tilt to his voice came easy, and he let his best friend elbow him this time, too busy laughing at his annoyance. 

Should he have been a little more worried of the captain catching him messing around? Yes, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Judging by the restless shifting rippling through the soldiers, no one was too worried about getting a scolding when they were so close to a warm meal and rest.

“Think the inn will be big enough to house all of us? Another night sleeping on the floor doesn’t sound all that nice to me.” 

Touya scoffed as if his question was the stupidest thing he’d heard all day, keeping his gaze straight as he adjusted the rifle on his shoulder, the company shifting around them into formation as they approached the gates.

“You’re complaining like it’s anything new to us.”

“Harsh.”

The conversation faded after that, the rough dirt under his boots soon transitioning into the packed earth of the town’s main street as residents gathered to whisper and gawk at the soldiers passing through, the sight of their uniforms a jarring eyesore in this sleepy town. 

A sleepy, familiar town.

Keigo’s mind was spinning. His restless gaze kept flicking around the too-familiar buildings and shops and people that remained after all these years. The restaurant with the broken kitchen window that was too easy to sneak into, the grocer who still kept his trash bin too close to the alley, the old woman sitting in front of her izakaya who always had ginger candy and a meal to give. 

They slowed to a stop in front of the large inn, and he stared up at the building that looked much smaller than he remembered, the interior much less grand than he’d imagined it to be as they filed their way in, and he found himself in the room he once dreamed of sleeping in. There, Keigo sat in near disbelief, on the futon that wasn’t as soft as he thought it would’ve been.

“How time flies, huh?” He looked up to see Touya dropping his pack next to his futon and sitting down across from him with a melancholy grin.

There was too much Keigo wanted to say, nostalgia bitter in the back of his throat, so he settled for a matching smile.

“Old Man Yasutaro never got around to fixing that boarded up window.” 

Touya barked out a surprised laugh, Keigo’s smile widening into a self-satisfied grin.

“You ever think he did that on purpose? He always did stock too much food.”

“Are you kidding?” Keigo shuddered at the phantom pain of the beatings he earned. “He was scary whenever he caught us, there’s no way mean ol’ Yasutaro would do all that just for a pair of orphans on the street.”

“Mm, I don’t know, he was always pretty sweet to Granny Tamayo, so anything that made him look good in her book.” Touya leaned back on his arms, the melancholy melting into the ease of bittersweet nostalgia. It was easier to smile through the painful memories rather than dwell on the past, so Keigo let himself toss his head back with a laugh.

“God, her ginger candy was the best.” 

“You sure it was the candy? Or the granddaughter who always snuck an extra piece to you?” That earned Touya a frustrated noise of protest and a half-hearted kick he dodged.

“That was ages ago!”

“And you still react like a little boy!” 

Keigo groaned, burying his face into his hands as if that would tune out Touya’s cackling laughter. It was short moments like this that took the weight off his shoulders, the murmurs of public dissent, the leaked plans of a planned riot, the magnitude of his actions tomorrow morning.

(Civilians. Of all things, why did it have to be civilians?)

He suddenly pushed himself to his feet, the heavy weight having pushed itself back onto his shoulders and slotting the familiar hum of alertness back into place. Touya gave him a knowing look that he, decidedly, ignored in favor of getting out before his mind swallowed him whole.

“Dinner is supposed to be in a bit, we should get going.”

“Wonderful job of changing the subject, really.”

“Wonderful job of being annoying.”

Touya dodged another swipe of the leg, laughing at his displeasure as he stood to follow.

“Why thank you, I try.” His grin widened with a certain glint in his eye that Keigo found himself dreading. “Now let’s get going, I heard some of the guys are at Granny Tamayo’s izakaya.”

“What?”

“My, isn’t that little Keigo? And little Touya?” 

Keigo faltered halfway through the entrance, smoothing his grimace into a smile as he watched the old lady totter over from her seat with all the coddling of a grandmother. The soldiers within earshot (who were already drinking and eating away. It was barely sunset—) paused to gawk and grin at the endearing interaction.

“Not so little anymore, Granny.”

“I’ll say. Are you eating alright? Is the military treating you well?”

“Granny!”

“What’s this? Speedy and Torchface have some history here?” Keigo kept his smile smooth, only shifting it just the slightest bit into what he knew would look like a sheepish grin instead of the pained grimace underneath the surface. Boisterous laughter that only alcohol could bring rippled around the spacious izakaya, the men cracking jokes over drinks and food.

“Careful calling him Torchface, he has the temper to match.”

Ah, there it is. Touya shouldered past him to stalk towards the offending table with a scarily wide grin, pulling the loose-lipped rookie into a chokehold, his wide grin unmoving.

“‘Has a temper’ my ass, you’re just jealous that a guy with a bunch of burn scars has an easier time with women than you idiots.”

The laughter only grew louder, Granny Tamayo’s expression softening at the interaction before turning back to Keigo with a nostalgic smile.

“Not so little… I see.” She motioned to the table Touya had made a space for himself at, shoving the rookie (who was still in a chokehold, poor kid) aside to make room for him. “Take a seat, dear, and the drinks will be right out.”

The too-loud laughter and incessantly clinking glasses filled the space up with ear-grating noise, and Keigo wanted to leave. Search for peace and solitude in the quiet streets in a way that was strangely familiar. 

(For a fleeting moment, he thought a quiet garden would be nice.)

However, he’d rather eat with the company of drunks rather than the void of his own mind and the horrors silence tended to bring, so the migraine starting to brew in the back of his head was a small price to pay. As was the heavy arm slung over his shoulder from some random soldier, alcohol-loosened and heavy, and the awkward conversation he found himself following along with perfectly tailored humor.

“Alright, I have two beers as well as a few rounds of edamame and—” 

The familiar voice stopped short, and Keigo felt his heart stop in tandem. Slowly, he looked up and saw the girl who used to sneak out an extra candy when her grandmother wasn’t looking, now a woman in the izakaya uniform balancing trays in one hand and two mugs in the other. 

“...Keigo?”

Almost as if the locked gates had been thrown open, a new rush of memories past had overcome him. Jaunts through the town disguised as adventures, clumsily dancing around an old gramophone and calling it a waltz, and the start of blossoming love. Keigo simply smiled, easygoing and familiar, like it hadn’t been years since you saw him run to the military with Touya the first chance they had, drawn by the promise of food and shelter. Like he hadn’t left a malnourished boy and come back a man with more scars than skin.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“‘Been a while.’” You rolled your eyes, setting down the mug in front of him with a huff. “The two most important people in my life run off to join the army without so much as a word, and that’s what you say?”

His words stopped halfway up his throat the moment he saw Granny Tamayo come up behind you to pinch you on the arm, the half-formed response morphing into a laugh as he watched you flinch back with a surprised (and betrayed) yelp.

“Y/N, darling, don’t be rude to the customers.” You pouted, rubbing at the sore spot on your upper arm.

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“It’s fine, Granny. Nothing new, right?” At the sight of his cheeky smile, the old woman scoffs, something endearing, before nudging him out of his seat despite your noise of protest.

“Well, since you two seem to be talking of nothing but the past, why don’t you go take a walk down memory lane?”

“Wha— Grandmother! There’s still customers—”

“Kaede can handle it just fine! Shoo, shoo, get out of my hair.” 

Without missing a beat, Granny Tamayo smoothly plucked the trays from your hands and nudged you two towards the door as the soldiers watching roared with laughter and cooed jokes at the two “childhood lovers”. Keigo turned towards Touya, almost desperately, in a futile search for— what? Escape? Wasn’t he looking for escape in the first place?

“Wait, Granny, come on. Touya’s part of this too, isn’t he?”

“Don’t drag me into this, a trip down memory lane isn’t for me!” With an arm still slung over the now-wheezing rookie’s shoulder, Touya raised the cup of sake he’d ordered as if in toast. Whether it was to Keigo’s mortification, or to the potential opportunities this meant, Keigo didn’t want to know.

Probably both.

(...Probably the former, if he were to be honest with himself.)

A flurry of drunken laughter and lighthearted jokes, half-hearted protests that fell on deaf ears, and insistent pushing at his back later, he found himself standing outside the izakaya, blinking up at the full moon before looking over at you.

“...Did we just get kicked out?”

“I think we did.” You snorted, scuffing a mark into the dirt path with your heel, and Keigo wanted the earth to crack open and swallow him whole. What was he supposed to do? Stuck with the remnants of a rekindling love, the awkwardness that tended to come with years of estrangement and words that failed him when it came to you. 

Well, there’s really only one thing he could do.

Talk.

“So, what’s new with you?” He immediately cringed at his choice of words, forcing himself to school his expression over into an easygoing smile instead of recoiling like he so desperately wanted to do. 

Nice going there, Keigo, really.

“...Same old.” Your quiet answer snapped him out of his thoughts, and he tilted his head, almost like he was beckoning you to continue. “Same old town, same old job, same old life. I pretty much walked the path everyone knew I was going to go on as the granddaughter of the izakaya’s owner.”

You looked up with a sheepish grin, the bright moonlight casting the world (and you) in a silver glow, and Keigo felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Not the most exciting to a man from the military, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve seen a lot—” Keigo rubbed at the identification tag hidden under his clothes by force of habit, the leather cord heavy around his neck. He has seen a lot. Too much, to be exact, but how would he even begin to explain the horrors of man to someone… “normal”? How could he?

For someone whose wit and silver tongue helped him survive all these years, he was awfully tongue-tied tonight. Or maybe it was just you, and the surreal lightness settling into his soul that had him stumbling over his words.

“But you’ve seen enough?” You finished his sentence with a wry grin, and the surprised laugh found itself past his lips before he could catch it. How could he forget? You were always, always a step ahead of him. Back then and even now.

“Enough of my barracks and Touya’s face? Yeah, definitely.” You swatted his arm with a huff, and the familiar action made the next laugh come a little easier, his chest a little lighter as the awkwardness slowly dissipated into something… comfortable. Normal.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” 

“Well, that’s your answer, Y/N. Don’t know what else to tell you,” He shrugged in mock ignorance, and you groaned, going back to worrying at the deepening scuff in the dirt. 

“What, so, we both had boring lives?”

Far from boring.

“...Yeah, I guess so.” 

You pursed your lips and stared out at the quiet street, the beat of silence almost bordering on awkward by the time you broke it with a resolute sigh, starting to walk forward into the moonlight.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to make up for it somehow.” 

“And how would you do that?”

“By going back to when life wasn’t so boring,” You hummed, spinning to face him and grandly spreading your arms, as if you were presenting the lantern-lit street to him, “C’mon! Tonight, this main street is memory lane!”

“Aren’t you taking me out of town at one point, though?”

“Oh, hush. Are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming, coming.”

Oh, your smile was radiant, and Keigo had to force himself to keep moving instead of gaping like a fool.

(Was it possible for him to make you smile like that all the time?)

For the next hour, time seemed to stop. The moon stood frozen in the sparkling sky, watching two star-crossed lovers go around town, laughing and reminiscing on what could’ve been. What could be, if Keigo were to be bold. You took him down Main Street as promised, and he found it hard to relate to the memories you spoke of, associating each store with scornful stares and pitiful ignorance. Eventually, you two looped around to the outskirts of town. To the river that looked more like a creek now, and the quaint houses and maze of alleyways. To familiarity.

He smiles as he watches you skip rocks in the creek, laughs when you wrinkle your nose at the dog that always seems to only bark when you two pass by Old Man Yasutaro’s gate, and revels in the memories.

“You still suck!”

“Hey! It’s not like we skip rocks all the time in the military.”

You merely rolled your eyes and continued to skip ahead, the slow and awkward trudge from before revived into the enthusiastic step he remembered, fueled by the joys of nostalgia and escape. 

This, Keigo realizes, is nostalgia.

Not the pain of remembering a past he wanted to forget, not looking at alleyways to remember what used to be his childhood, not thinking of the shops as someplace otherworldly. Rather, it was this. The joy of reminiscing on good times. The joy of breathing new life into old memories.

The joy he now knew was to be found in you.

“Hey.” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see you grinning, the moonlight illuminating something akin to mischief in your eyes. “Remember that old gramophone we could never figure out when we were little?”

“You mean you could never figure out. I didn’t want to touch it because Granny Tamayo is a scary, scary woman.”

And a dirty street orphan’s hands had no place on such an expensive thing.

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled, following along anyway as you set off down the path with a new purpose. The route was familiar, and Keigo already had an idea of where this was going, but who was he to speak when you were nearly buzzing with excitement?

“What I mean to say is: I figured it out, so—” You spun in place again, taking his hand, and his heart damn near stopped, “—would you like this dance? To some actual music, this time.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? A proper lady needs the proper etiquette, after all.” His cheeky grin betrayed the politeness of his words, and you scoffed, tugging him along.

“Like you would ask me first.” Keigo’s tongue stalled around a response, scrambling for a proper comeback because you were right. Deep down, he knew that he still never would’ve asked you first for anything. It wasn’t his place. First, as a kid on the street compared to the granddaughter of the izakaya owner. Now, as a man with blood on his hands compared to an innocent civilian, untainted by the shadows of war.

Who was he to ask anything from a normal person?

“Lead the way, then.”

There was that radiant grin again, brimming with excitement and sending him reeling. Keigo couldn’t help but let your enthusiasm rub off on him as he followed you to the little communal courtyard behind Granny Tamayo’s home, where he knew that she liked to keep that Western gramophone to play for guests. You broke away to go and try and work the old machine, mumbling to yourself as you fiddled with the knobs and rifled through the records filed away in the ornate cabinet it was sitting on. 

He took the chance to look around the empty courtyard, struck with the realization that it hadn’t changed at all in the years he was gone. He left all those years ago, only to return to a town that seemed almost frozen in time. It was too far from the cities for all the modern inventions to catch up with it, so the only things that changed were, well, the people. Keigo most of all. What if he hadn’t—

The sudden burst of music and your shout of victory cut off his wandering train of thought, and you walked back into his line of vision with a triumphant grin.

“I still don’t know how to fix the tempo, so the song’s a little slow. You’ll have to forgive me for that.” You offered up your hand and tilted your head, still smiling. “May I have this dance?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Like you’d ask me first.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo grinned in well-earned defeat, and his hand slipped into yours with the other on your waist. The music swelled, and he took the first step.

One, two, three, one, two, three…

With too-slow, clumsy steps, the two of you slowly began waltzing your way around the small courtyard. You still kind of didn’t know how to work the gramophone—the song almost eerily slow, despite the years of fiddling—but that didn’t matter in the face of the giddy smiles shared, your soft laughs when he spun you in a flash of spontaneity, and the nostalgia of old times.

Before, he was a scrawny kid on the street who clumsily tried to follow the steps of the pretty girl playing a song on her father’s gramophone. Tomorrow, he would be Private First Class Takami Keigo, fighting for his life on the battlefield. Tonight, he would be normal again, slow dancing to Clair de Lune playing off an old, off-beat gramophone with you in his arms, mourning a start he didn’t get to have.

(As normal as a kid scrounging for scraps on the street could’ve been.)

Your voice, soft and wavering, broke the stillness of the moment, as if it were something taboo that shouldn’t have been uttered into existence at all.

“Keigo?”

“Yes, beautiful?”

You flushed at the endearment, the next words shattering his illusion of happiness within nostalgia with the renewed vigor of confidence in the face of the impossible.

“Will you come home?”

Home.

A simple word, really. And yet it dropped like a stone in his chest. Home meant a roof over his head. Home meant warm food on the table. Home meant a simple life in a sleepy rural town. Home meant the promise of a new beginning.

To you, “home” probably meant nothing more than the place you had known all your life.

To him, “home” meant you.

So, like a dreamer in love, he answered with all the confidence of a fool.

“Yeah... I will. I don’t care how long it’ll take me, but I’ll come home.”

He thought the shaky lilt to his voice would’ve given him away, or the way his step faltered in the already clumsy waltz as if trying to step around what he knew should’ve been the answer. 

Instead, you laughed. Something soft, and let him spin you once more.

“Well, I’ve already waited a couple years, what’s a little more waiting?”

Keigo had to keep himself from double checking if this was real. Dancing with you in the moonlight as he tried to step around the reality of that answer with all the awkward grace of a scared child.

One, two, three, one, two, three… 

Truth be told, the both of you knew the answer long before you had pushed the question into desperate existence, searching for a shred of hope. That his simple answer should have been an realistic “I don’t know” or a pessimistic “no promises”, instead of a foolish “yes.”

Instead, he slowed the waltz to a sway, pulling you close to both ingrain the feeling of you into his soul and to hopefully hide the resigned melancholy of a soldier being carted off to uncertainty.

And, for a traitorous moment, Keigo wondered.

Dreamed, even.

What would it have been like to have a “normal” life? Instead of grasping the hand of desperation, would he have grown out of the side alleys and homes made of boxes into a “respectable” man? Maybe he could’ve gotten a job at the grocer’s, at Old Yasutaro’s restaurant, or maybe even Granny Tamayo’s izakaya. Could he have—he pulled you closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your temple—could he have courted you the “right” way? Brought you flowers and honey-sweet words of praise and promises of a happy future, instead of a single night dancing in the moonlight with a brittle promise hanging in the tense air that the both of you clung onto like a lifeline. A promise that Keigo wasn’t even sure he could fulfill.

He would later come to regret this single moment. Of this, he was sure.

(But, as you lifted your head from his chest with glassy eyes and a shaky smile, he knew he wasn’t alone in this regret.)

Keigo knew the words that you wished to let fall into the night air, in hopes of making that brittle promise tangible. Of giving life to a bright future with three little words. The reality crawled up his throat like poison, bitter and cloying, something that he knew shouldn’t be said. Keigo settled for gently wrapping his hand around your head to pull you closer, filtering the harsh truth into something a little softer, the bittersweet tone marking the unspoken truth as a reality instead of the dreams of a future.

One… two… three… 

“Don’t,” He muttered, heart tightening as he felt you go rigid in his arms, “I know. Please, God, I know—”

You slowly relaxed in his arms with all the bitter acceptance of a night before battle, and he murmured the next words into another ghost of a kiss. A whisper against your lips, seen only by the fading notes of a song in the moonlight.

“—but don’t.”

【 ☀︎ 】

Keigo’s breath was rattling, ears ringing with war cries, death wails, and everything in between. The once-blue noon sky was now a startling haze of ash gray, thick with the choking scent of the world burning.

He couldn’t even tell where the carnage started or ended anymore.

(Would it ever end?) 

How long has it been since the first shot?

(Too long.) 

Would he live to see the sunset?

(Of all times to worry about this, why now?)

The incessant drill of artillery fire was nothing new to him, as was the stench of the battlefield that could only be described as death.  What was new, was something that pushed his aching body to keep moving, the autopilot state he usually entered backed with something raw. Something like fear.

Something like the will to survive.

The pain that set his nerves on fire has long since faded, all the pain of countless wounds blending together into something numbed by the adrenaline of survival. Were the wet patches on his uniform sweat? Blood? Both? He couldn’t tell anymore, all he knew was survival and the persistent voice whispering deadly distraction in the back of his mind.

Civilians. You’re fighting civilians, you mur—

The skin of his back prickled, the telltale whistling of something flying screeched in his ears, and his reflexes yanked him to dive out of the way before his mind could catch up. Not even a second later, another explosive detonated behind him and heat blazed across his back. His nerves screamed fresh pain into his senses and he grit his teeth, ignoring the concerning sound of sizzling over the ringing in his ears in favor of ducking into cover, collapsing against the wall of a destroyed building. 

Since when did regular people know how to make bombs?!

In the next breath, someone else had ducked into the small shelter he’d found in this hellscape of a city. 

Well, the remains of one. All hell broke loose once the other side brought homemade explosives into the fray and now, as he stared at the burning and destruction, Keigo wondered if those Westerners who muttered meaningless blessings whenever they passed were right. 

If this “Hell” they spoke of really was on Earth. 

He turned his head, suddenly sluggish, to the man that had joined him in the makeshift cover, and grinned at the familiar face.

“Hey, man.”

(Maybe giving his body a chance to slow down was a mistake.)

Touya ignored his exhausted greeting, instead opting to yank a rag from his pouch as he pulled Keigo to sit up so he could press the rag into the deep gashes the shrapnel had gouged into his back. Keigo immediately groaned in protest at the stinging pain, despite how necessary he knew it was.

“Fucking— how did you even survive that?”

“Dunno,” He let out a weak laugh, “Don’t think I will—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll kill you myself.” Despite his harsh threat, Touya pressed the slowly darkening rag deeper into his wound. A desperate (futile) attempt to stop the life pooling onto the floor underneath them, steadily flowing from the deep gashes in his back and all the other wounds peppering his body.

“Isn’t that the exact opposite—” He hissed in pain at the pressure on his wounds, “—of what you want?” 

“Shut up.”

“You know you don’t want me doing that.”

(He was right. Keigo running his mouth meant that he was breathing. Meant that he was alive.)

Touya pressed his lips into a thin line, Keigo blearily tracking the way his burn scars pulled with the movement. 

Grounding himself, that’s what he’s supposed to do during times like this, right? Hell, he didn’t know. Not every day he came so close to death. Touya really needed to look into something for those sc—

“For the love of the gods, I am begging you to shut up.”

Ah, he said all that out loud? He managed to muster up a sheepish grin, despite Touya’s grim expression.

“Ooh, Touya? Begging? That’s a first, I should stay awake to hear it.” Keigo didn’t have to look to know that the rag was soaked through and Touya was fighting against the inevitable at this point. Keigo? He… he was too tired to fight to keep his eyes open. Too cold.

“Maybe you should stay awake to go home, loverboy.”

“I should.” He fumbled to find purchase, pressing his palm into the ground and scooting his feet closer for leverage. “Can’t leave Y/N waiting after all.”

Maybe it was the delirium from the blood-loss, or the desperation of this cursed situation, but Keigo tried to pull himself up. To move, to get somewhere safer, somewhere where he could survive. His palm slipped on the blood-slick floor underneath him and he came crashing down once more, his strength disappearing along with it as he slumped against Touya.

“Ah—”

“Shit, I’ll get you to the medic.” 

Keigo groaned at the pain of his wounds being jostled as Touya tried to haul the deadweight of his sluggish body up. The reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders (or was it his strength leaving him?) and he licked his chapped lips, whispering the grim truth into the ash-hazy air.

“I’m not gonna make it to the medic.”

“How many times do I have to keep telling you to shut up?” Another attempt to pull him to his feet, and Keigo managed to push out a weak laugh.

“Just a couple more times.”

“Hey… hey, c’mon now, I still have to make fun of you and Y/N for being the most disgusting couple I’ve ever met.” He carefully shook Keigo, trying desperately to get him to keep his drooping eyes open.

“Aw, don’t tease Y/N too badly.”

Something changed in Touya’s voice, a block in his throat that he had to force his words through, and he clutched the dripping rag closer to his wounds as he muttered out his response.

“I won’t.”

“Good, good,” Keigo’s hands clumsily fumbled for the cord wrapped over his chest, tugging at it until it came loose. “Hey, can you tell Y/N that I’ll do my best to come home? In any way I can.”

“...Just do it yourself.” 

“Mm, that would… that would be nice. Coming home, I mean. I promised… Y/N… I would…”

His words faded, and Touya froze, arms suspended in midair around the slumped form of his best friend, his stunned gaze locked on the identification tag hanging from a limp, bloody hand.

“Kei...go?”

【 ☀︎ 】

Waiting was agony.

You used to think you were a patient person, years of dealing with drunks, horrible customers, and everything in between training the patience of a saint into you. 

Today, however, revealed that you were anything but. The moment the company had crested the hill and out of sight, your anxieties slowly overcame you the farther they went. Working in the izakaya helped, the constant flow of customers and orders kept you on your feet and your thoughts off the battle that was no doubt waging mere miles away. Every so often, a wandering patron would come in murmuring that they heard bits and pieces of the battle, and you forced yourself to forget again.

All that effort was lost once the company’s runner came barreling through the town, shouting that the soldiers were on their way back. That they needed spaces cleared for the wounded and their lodgings secured. They called for the doctor, they called for food, they called for supplies. 

If you didn’t know any better, it would’ve sounded like a cry for help.

Word spread like wildfire, and the rush of serving customers turned into the rush of trying to help prepare for the soldiers’ return. None of it helped get your mind off the one thing you didn’t want to worry about. If anything, it just shoved all your worries to the forefront of your mind, accompanied by the dull headaches of something you hoped were just random fantasies.

(Fantasies of a lotus garden, a guarded grin, a red hairpin, a betrayal—)

Would he have to be wrapped in the bandages you were carrying? Would he have to rest in the bedding in your hands? Would he be able to eat the food your grandmother was preparing?

Then, they came. 

A slow straggle of wounded and weary men, leaning and limping on each other as they slowly trickled in through the main street.

There were many things that wouldn’t happen, you would later realize, watching the company trudge back into the town. Their formation was shaky from the hobbling wounded, and you felt your heart drop as you desperately searched the noticeably thinner crowd, trying to peek through the uniforms and bandages and dented helmets for any sign that he had come home. That he had survived.

How many men did they lose?

(Too many.)

You watched the flow of soldiers slowly follow their commander to their lodgings and the doctor, the once boisterous crowd now silent and battle-worn. The rookie that had just been under a chokehold the other night was now cradling bandaged wounds and a gaunt expression that only told of his first brushes with death.

One soldier broke from the crowd to make his way towards you, and—for a fleeting moment—you hoped. 

And just as quickly as it came, that hope you had soon sunk into despair once you saw who it was, and what he held in his scarred hands.

Across the street, a man broke rank, with a heavier burden than most would’ve thought and few would ever experience. He hoped that no one would have to experience this, a death and the task of delivering such news weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Life, Touya thinks, is cruel.

It left such a brilliant mind like Keigo to starve with him on the streets.

It forced him to run to the military in desperation, searching for steady food and shelter.

It snatched away the one man who had salvation waiting for him.

Death, Touya grieves, is even crueler.

Keigo would never get to go home.

He wouldn’t get to see the joy on your face once you welcomed him home with open arms. 

(How could he? When your expression twists into something akin to dawning horror instead of joy, watching Touya make his way up to you with downcast eyes and a heavy bundle of fabric carefully cradled in his palm.)

He wouldn’t get to start the new life he deserved, in a sleepy rural town with the one he adored.

He wouldn’t get to fulfill his promise to you.

A promise that everyone knew was too risky a promise to make. Yet, he believed enough to make it to you.

A promise that Touya holds back on his tongue because he knew this—a little metal disc on a bloodstained cord—wouldn’t fulfill it, not when he hands you the neat square of scrap fabric and watches your tears flow before you even open it. Not when you slip out a worn identification tag, holding it up to the sunset to try and make out the letters you already knew were there.

A lantern illuminates what the fading sunlight could not, casting the stamped characters of Keigo’s bloodied name in an amber glow, and you crumble.

【 ☀︎ 】

Dawn finds Professor Takami, Head of the Sociology Department, first through the doors of the campus café with essays to be finished grading in one hand and his laptop bag in the other.

The cashier greets him with a familiar warmth as he steps up to the counter, his staple order already halfway punched into the register with a knowing smile that he forces himself to return. There’s a nervous energy simmering under his skin that he can’t seem to shake, and it shows. The barista (Touya. His name is Touya. He literally has one of the guy’s essays in his hand, fucking hell. Get it together, Keigo) shoots the normally easygoing professor a worried look as he slides the warmed pastry across the counter to him, the full sleeves of swirling blue and black ink a stark contrast against the smooth wood of the counter.

“Everything good with you, Professor?”

“Perfect, now that I got my pastry. Think I’ll be even better once I drink some coffee.” 

Nothing was perfect, and he couldn’t even put a finger on what it was. 

He plastered a convincing smile on his face as he picked up the too-heavy plate, careful to hold it steady before making a beeline for his usual table. The faster he got to sit down at his usual corner booth and sort himself out, the better. 

He knew that he would just drown himself in grading papers instead of figuring out what was making him feel off, but it was the thought that counted.

The hum of energy under his skin was nothing new to him. Something deep inside that made him almost jumpy, wary of the peaceful days that had consumed his entire life, lying in wait for… something. For what? Keigo wished he knew.

(For battles yet started, for warcries yet sung, for survival yet fought for.)

All he knew was that the strange hum that threatened to vibrate him out of his own skin was different this time. Wrong. It didn’t help that his sleep had been suffering for the past week, plagued by dreams and nightmares both of eras past, the blurry picture of the same person a constant sight in the swirling mix of history. Images flickering between a secluded lotus garden and an elaborate kimono to an old izakaya and Clair de Lune at moonrise. Images of yearning and blood and tragedy and endings before the beginnings.

At least his conversations with the once-intimidating Japanese Literature professor got a smidge more interesting.

With the resolute click of a red pen, he swept away the thoughts clouding his mind as he resigned himself to his fate of just dealing with the strange mood for now, fully intent on getting to work. Years of repetition and muscle memory had him opening up his email with practiced ease, quietly sighing to himself as he waited for the doubtlessly endless emails from students and colleagues alike to load. 

Would procrastinating just the tiniest bit by fiddling with the rolled cuffs of his sleeves or pushing up his glasses for the nth time help at all? 

No, but it let Keigo expel the weirdly restless energy in what ways he could, the creeping sense of foreboding setting his nerves into overdrive. The page loaded and he frowned at the onslaught of emails he knew were going to flood his inbox. 

Hell, he expected them to.

What he didn’t expect were the contents, the subject lines all variations of “Did you know?” and “There’s no way” and “I can’t believe it” from colleagues he didn’t even talk to regularly. Sure, the email from the cultural anthropology professor made sense, but the graphic design professor? The head of the business department?

Before he could open the first email of many, his laptop chirped out the familiar ‘ding!’ of a new email, the sound rippling through the café as everyone’s phones and laptops lit up with the same message. 

A schoolwide email? Okay, th—

The world slowed to a crawl, everyone in the packed coffee shop silencing almost at once and the shocked whispers rippling throughout the space only serving to make the silence all the more deafening (“Hey, check your email.” and “Look at this.” and “No way.” and it was too loud someone please make it stop—), his ears near ringing as he struggled to tear his gaze away from the picture embedded at the top of the page.

“Looking a little rough there.” The cotton suddenly stuffing his ears muffled the barista’s voice and would’ve made him jump out of his skin had he been focused on anything but burning the email into his eyes. God, he’d barely even registered the guy coming up to serve his coffee, what was wrong with him? “Professor? Was it that email?”

“Y-Yeah, I just read it.” He cleared his throat and slid the mug closer to himself, taking a sip of the scalding hot coffee to ground himself as he stared at the picture of you. 

The barista merely arched a pierced brow and muttered a soft “ah.” before going back to his spot behind the espresso machine, vibrant blue eyes tracking the rattled professor suspiciously. Keigo was too preoccupied to thank him as he usually would’ve. Too preoccupied with what was staring back at him from his laptop screen.

A picture placed right under the subject line plastering “Unfortunate news about Prof. L/N Y/N” across his screen, the few words in the body text (that he could pick out through the sudden tidal wave of memories past clicking into place) painted an image that he couldn’t help but mourn.

After being reported missing… remains found… will be missed.

Will be missed… 

Well, now that he thought about it, Keigo had been missing you all his life, hadn’t he? 

Both figuratively and literally, always arriving after you left and vice versa, never really seeming to connect in person. Any emails were shrouded with a veil of professionalism that he couldn’t pierce through. Yet, there were things so irrevocably you that he knew to pick out now. The jovial note at the end of your emails, the unapologetically confident sharpness to your words, the extra mug you left for the next person that passed through the faculty lounge (that somehow always ended up being him on the days he was rushing to his next lecture). 

All these things, all these moments, and the fool had passed all of them by.

The restless energy humming under his skin through his entire being disappeared much quicker than it had come, its job done, leaving a gaping  void in its wake that was shockingly familiar. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened, where the curtains never raised on the beginning you two could’ve had. He took a shuddering, stabilizing breath (that didn’t work), too numb to feel the freshly brewed coffee scalding his tongue that he had hoped would pull him back to reality, hoped the sweet taste would wash away the bitterness at the back of his throat and the splitting headache of years upon years of memories crashing into him like a tidal wave.

Professor Takami had work to get done.

Keigo could mourn later.

Even as he convinced himself of that, he couldn’t even bring himself to brush the dead lotus petals off his work, the sight of the wilted centerpiece only bringing more pain. The cruel coincidence of the once bloomed flowers now dead in his hands didn’t go unnoticed, and Keigo desperately tried to bore the printed words laid in front of him into his mind. 

As if doing that would sear away the sudden onslaught of memories, dead lotus petals igniting a yearning for a long-demolished lotus garden and a pretty concubine who didn’t belong in the palace (or was it a small town and the life he could’ve had?) and the love that slipped through his fingers once more.

Did you go through this too? When he—

The half-graded essays lay untouched for the rest of the day, red ink disappearing in the crimson light cast by the setting sun.

【 ☀︎ 】

When did I…?

He blinked down at the concrete under his feet, stunned, before looking up to see an endless sea of trains passing in front of him. The incessant rushing of the trains around him had replaced the silence of the hotel room he was supposed to be sound asleep in, the too-rhythmic noise of the train tracks surrounding him in an almost ethereal white noise. 

I had just gone to bed… How did I end up at a train station?

He winced at the glare of the midday sun reflecting off of the last car of the train passing in front of him, before stopping short at the sight of someone standing on the other side of the tracks—alone—revealed by the passing train. His heart leapt into his throat and pushed a name he didn’t know and wouldn’t remember out of his lips. There was no way he knew her, the multi-layered kimono and elegant hairpins looked like something out of a millenia-old ukiyo-e print and wholly out of place in a modern train station. But... something deep in his soul knew that it was right, and it sang as he watched the woman turn around. 

“You’re dreaming right now, Keigo. Go back to sleep,”

“What…?” 

“It’s true,” The woman tilted her head with the soft smile that he’d missed so much (missed? Wasn’t this his first time seeing it?) and the ancient hairpieces jingled and swayed with the movement, his gaze locking on a familiar crimson gemstone catching the sunlight, “Don’t believe me? Try to count some numbers, then. One… two…”

Another train hurtled past, blocking his view once more as her painted lips moved soundlessly around the final number.

“Three.”

Keigo sat up with a gasp, staring at the soft shafts of light the sunrise painted on the walls.

It was the start of a new day, and he found himself mourning something lost that he couldn’t even remember.

Dawn finds Hawks, the number two hero, leaping out of his Tokyo hotel window, wind catching on vermilion wings to buffer his descent to the sidewalk.

He was far from home, his current mission dragging him all the way to Tokyo from his agency in Fukuoka. Sneakers touched concrete, and he started down the path where he was supposed to meet with the last person he wanted to see right now. Especially after that mess with the High-End Nomu. He shuddered, spreading his wings as if to remind himself that they were all there, recovered after that hellish fight.

Come to the location on foot, he’d been told, and don’t be conspicuous.

Weird request, and it was kind of hard to remain inconspicuous when he was the number two hero and had a pair of bright red wings announcing his identity to the world. Alas, he needed to cooperate or else he’d end up jeopardizing the entire mission, so Keigo settled for ditching his hero costume in favor of casual clothes and a cap to hide his identity. He pulled a mask over his nose and tucked his wings closer to further help conceal himself as he walked down the street, dipping into the first alley he saw.

His path through the grid of alleyways and side streets had already been mapped out the days before, so it was just a matter of making the short trek there. Unfortunately, the area wasn’t the best, and Keigo found himself slowed by sidestepping trash and the occasional bottle of liquor. The scent of stale alcohol only brought unpleasant fragments of memories, and he pushed them aside in favor of quickening his pace.

“My, not every day I see such a bigshot hero pass by.”

He almost tripped over another bottle, wings ruffling in surprise as he cursed himself for being caught off guard.

There was an old woman sitting there, a steaming cup of tea in her hands as she sat outside her quaint little storefront. 

A flower shop, in this secluded side street? 

“Ah, sorry, ma’am, you have the wrong person. I mean, me? The number 2 pro hero?” He was quick to deny her, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. She merely hummed and took another sip of her tea.

“Do I? Well, this old woman’s eyes aren’t what they used to be after all.” She set down the cup and stepped out of her chair, shuffling over to the water feature on the other side of the doorway that served as an attraction. He could see why, the soft rush of the small waterfall and fragrant lotuses drawing his attention the more he stared.

Suddenly, the woman plucked one of the younger lotuses, patting the stem dry before handing it to him with a smile.

“Uh—”

“You saved my son that day, from the Nomu attack in Fukuoka. This is the least I could do.”

Against his better judgement—he really needed to get going to catch the train in time—he took the half-bloomed lotus in his hands and pulled down his mask to smile at her.

“Your eyes are… actually pretty sharp, ma’am. Thank you.”

She laughed, sitting back in her seat and sent him on his way. The rest of the walk went smoothly after that, and he soon found himself jogging up the stairs to the station, muttering under his breath as he checked his watch. 

Right on time.

【 ☀︎ 】

A strange sense of deja vu creeped into his chest as he stepped onto the platform in Minami-senju station. He’d been feeling off all day, and the weird sense of familiarity that had been tugging at the back of his mind didn’t help. Luckily, he’d managed to arrive in time to catch the noon train so the rest of his schedule should hopefully go smoothly from here. A departing train screeched into motion, and he winced at the rippling glare of sunlight that reflected into his eyes, the strange deja vu rearing its head again.

Keigo stared at the train passing in front of him as he idly twirled the lotus stem in between his fingers. The words left his lips before he could catch himself.

“One… two…” He cut himself off with a sigh, dropping his head and dragging a hand over his face.

It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

Keigo.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, the world darkening under the shade of a passing cloud. Did he just imagine that? He had to. The train station was practically stranded, and there was no one even close enough to call his name without shouting across the station (if they even knew his name in the first place). Despite his better judgement, he wet his lips and shut his eyes, the strangely familiar words passing his lips once more as he desperately tried to recall the familiarity he longed for.

“One…”

I want to see you.

“Two…” 

I don’t even know who you are, but I miss you anyway.

“Three—”

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the train tracks silenced and left him with the raging drum of his heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the person standing on the other side of the tracks. The emerging sun smiled upon him, casting the world in light once more as his voice locked around a familiar name he’d never spoken.

It started as a hushed whisper, and he swallowed the lump in his throat to call the name thrice ingrained into his soul.

“Y/N!”

The familiar smile that bloomed across your lips was answer enough as he pushed through the newly arrived train to the other side, to you. He reached out, clawing through the rush hour crowd (why were there so many people? Why were you so far? Closer, closer, closer—) and he nearly sobbed in relief as you fell into his arms, clinging to each other as your souls finally, finally, melded together as one. Now and forevermore.

The questions could come later, but now... he had a promise to fulfill.

He was home.

notes: minami-senju train station is located in very close proximity (a two-minute walk) from what is left of the kozukappara execution grounds, where a temple now stands in its place. he’s made quite the journey to come full circle, hasn’t he?

#takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha oneshot #hawks x reader angst #mha oneshot #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #reincarnation au #from the typewriter #pocuties #cw death #tw death #cw blood #tw blood #cw war #tw war #if you'd like me to add a warning please let me know!

[strangecreationchaos]

tamlin and feyre, he found feyre as a solution to a curse! he provided feyre all the kind of comfort and she fall in love with him, he was even jealous of lucien and his closeness towards feyre. when he found rhys knowing about feyre ,he send her away to save her from amrantha. till then his love was acceptable.

then feyre risked her life and come back to save the man she loved , she get beaten, tortured and face all the kind of trauma she could ever had face but that man doesn't even move from his seat! ok some will say that he did that to save feyre! but lucien came to help her and rhys who was literally amrantha's right hand, he was able to slip through and helped feyre, and the moment when tamlin met her and was ready to fuck her rather than searching for a solution to save her , i stopped shipping them, i so wished that some how rhys end up with feyre and that happened.

it took feyre a whole lot of more suffering , loosing her health, he mental peace untill she break the barrier and came out of the spring court, she gave a hell to rhys but that man stand by her side and helped her not only to move on but also to fight for herself.

now comes to azriel and elain. first of all azriel had lovers as mor mentioned to feyre in acowar. so no he didn't get connected to elain for physical needs . their first meeting when elain asked question to azriel and he answered it in a poetic way! where as when feyre asked about their story in the first meeting everyone participated with enthusiasm when azriel was not comfortable. but he was comfortable with elain.when elain was turned into a fae and she was confused between really and visions, when her mate went to meet her and she simply dismissed him yet when azriel took her in his arms she was staring at him, she looked into his scar hands and called it beautiful and he blushed and in that moment there is no malicious,or selfish desires or any specific motive behind that ,it was the first beautiful thing she noticed and azriel the cold hearted man took her to the garden and sit with her was nothing but building of a pure bond between them.

then lucien was there ,he tried to help elain , but he couldn't see what's wring with her , lets say like tamlin wasn't able to feyre's suffering, although lucien have shown care towards elain still he wasn't able to find what's wrong with her. then azriel was the one who saw it and found that she is a seer! ( lets forget the fact that lucien have an eye that can see through everything, and he is more capable of emotional understanding, and even he knew that feyre was hiding something when she went to spring court after the hybern scene and yet he couldn't find what's wring with his mate) .

the major turn of the even was when azriel decided to save elain from the king of hybern and risked his damn life to save her! ( don't give excuses that he was just helping feyre or he was just concerned!) he risked his life to save her, and that was the moment when even elain realised that this man was risking his whole life for her so she hit those creatures with her bare foot. she was never the fighter kind and she cringe from the weapon cassian offered her yet she took the dagger from azriel, just like rhys helped feyre to fight for herself , that dagger gave elain the strength to fight for her family and she did . she shove the dagger into the king of hybern's throat.

after that azriel was always helping her with her garden plans and he is showering respect for her and she is buying gifts for him , gifts like headache powder, ear buds ! small stuff that made others laugh and make azriel keep them in his table and stare them all night. she never gifted a single thing to her mate , and his mate know it, and accepted the fact that elain wanted nothing from him and neither he wants anything from her, but at the same time she kept giving access to azriel! its not a game she clearly stating through her actions that she has nothing to do with lucien but a lot of things to do with azriel!

and azriel realising it or not but he is caring more about elain than just sex! he stopped loving mor , his 500 year old love , and he also had lovers in that mean time yet he was longing for mor but he stopped thinking about her because of elain. whether he have realised that or not but he cares a hell lot about her. he wasted a whole year thinking about a gift that he wanted to give her and she was caring for every small things that would affect him.

there is no was one would compare elain and azriel with feyre and tamlin. tamlin never saw feyre for who she truly is but azriel did. and feyre choose him untill he destroyed her and elain is choosing azriel over her mate and also she is getting bold and brave with it ,where as with her mate she is losing her boldness!

#elriel #pro elriel #feysand #azriel #elain archeron #acotar #elain x azriel #acotar series #elain #azriel shadowsinger #sarah j maas

[gotnofucks]

My Little Girl - 2

Pairing: dark!Tony Stark x reader , slight dark!Steve x reader

Summary: Prince Tony has taken you, but keeping you proves more difficult that he imagined.

Words: 3.4k

Warning: Breeding Kink, DUB-CON, Smut, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Uh…seems to be turning into a series.

Read the first part here  

Part 3

MASTERLIST

——--—————————————————–

You were laying before the royal physician, the old man poking your stomach. Prince Tony stood behind him, refusing to wait beyond the privacy screen. The physician took your wrist in his hand, taking your pulse and waited. Finally, he let your hand fall and shook his head at the prince.

“I’m sorry Your Highness, she is not with a child.” He said to your relief and Tony’s vexation.

The Prince had claimed you for his own months ago, hoping to get you pregnant so he could convince his parents to break royal protocol and marry you. However, you had not conceived till now and his patience was thinning.

Princess Pepper of the neighboring kingdom was living in the palace with them, already betrothed to the Prince. Their wedding loomed closer with each passing day, and your childless womb prevented the Prince from breaching the topic of your nuptials with the King and Queen. Without the excuse of an heir, it would be impossible for the kingdom to accept a mere maid as their princess. As fearful as you were of public ostracization as a ruined woman, you were still relieved you didn’t have to marry the prince. It was a wonder how you hadn’t conceived yet, since Tony was insatiable, taking you multiple times every day. While he would partake in the pleasure of your mouth, he would always release in your cunt, holding his seed inside with his cock and fingers.

Tony came closer to you and took your hand in his, kissing it softly.

“Don’t worry my little girl, it will happen soon enough.” He assured you, one hand caressing your cheek. Then he turned to the physician who looked at you both with disapproval. “What is wrong with her? Is she sick?” Is she barren?

You and the physician both heard the unsaid question in his voice, and you felt both relived and dejected when the physician shook his head.

“Your Highness, the maid is –”

Before the poor man could utter another word, Tony’s sword was at his throat threatening to end his life.

“This is the last time I’ll remind you to not call her that. She is your future queen; you’ll address her with the respect due to her!” Tony thundered and the physician blanched in fear, nodding aggressively. You touched Tony’s hand and he looked at you, softening slightly before pulling away his sword. The old physician cleared his throat before continuing.

“As I was saying Your Highness, the lady is fertile and healthy. It seems something else is the matter for which she can’t conceive.”

“Are you telling me that my seed is sterile?” Tony asked in a hard voice and the old physician scrambled in desperation, shaking his head in negation.

“No, Your Highness, you and the lady are both in perfect health. However, other aspects may affect her childbearing abilities. Stress, physical exhaustion, food intake also affects a lady’s health.”

“And how do I make sure she’s fit to take my seed?”

“Your Highness, if I may be bold enough to say, I will urge you to desist. Your union is not sanctified by holy matrimony, and a child out of wedlock would bring nothing but misfortune to the kingdom.” The old man seemed to almost tremble as he finally said what had been on his mind since Tony first consulted him about you. It was not unheard of for royals to take pleasure in lowly servants, but to think of marrying one and having a child was blasphemous. The physician was loyal to the court and to the King, and if the Prince didn’t take his advice, he was determined to go to the King himself.

Tony’s eyes flashed and he stepped close to him, invading his space. Nose to nose, the young prince’s gaze bore into the old man’s, rage and challenge lightening them.

“You are the royal physician, so you already know the truth about my father’s health. How long do you think he’ll live, huh? How long until I take over the throne? Do you really want to cross your future king right now?”

His voice was deceptively soft and calm, and even you shuddered though the threat wasn’t directed at you. With the sure way he spoke of His Majesty’s health, you wondered if he had something to do with it. It was clear to the servants that King Howard Stark would have preferred any other son to Prince Tony, and only the interference of the Queen kept peace between them. Blasphemous though it was to even think such a thought, you would not put it past the Prince to commit treason. When Tony wanted something, he got it, consequences be damned.

The royal physician quivered in his feet, his aged and saggy face showing his inner turmoil. Finally, accepting that he would rather live a long life than a loyal one, he bowed to the Prince.

“My apologies Your Highness. I’ll prepare some herbs for the lady to help increase her chances at conception.”

Tony nodded and dismissed him, turning his attention back to you, sitting on the bed and leaning down to kiss you softly. You kissed back out of habit, not knowing what would happen to you now. Tony’s wedding with Princess Pepper was just around the corner, and you hoped that it would take place before you got with a child. Polygamy was not permitted under the laws of this kingdom, and even if you bore a child, The Prince could never marry you as long as Princess Pepper lived. You could run away to some far land where no one knew you, maybe salvage the rest of your remaining life somehow.

“My little girl, you need not worry.” Tony said, smoothing the frown that had appeared between your brows. He could be so tender and kind, that you almost felt bad about leaving him. But then you remembered that he controlled your life, every move you made was under his supervision. Not only had he snatched you from your family and kept you hidden in his own chambers, he took away your choice and honor. Even if you managed to escape his clutches, you will never be a respected woman.

Tony traced your face with his finger, leaning over you to place kisses over your neck and chest. You squirmed, your hands fisting his tunic as he pulled down the neckline of your dress and exposed your bosom. He flicked his tongue over your buds, watching them harden in the open air. You moaned softly when his hand reached between the folds of your dress, finding your core drenched.

“I will make sure you take my seed. You will bear my heirs; you’ll grow round with them. Your breast will leak and nurse them, and you’ll beg me to do it again and again.” His words were whispered to different parts of your body: your breasts and stomach and cunt. You couldn’t help your reaction to him, The Prince played your body like a maestro plays his instrument.

Your heart beat a staccato in your chest, breath getting sharper as your bare body met his and tangled in a dance of sweat and sweet sweet pleasure. Tony entered you in a long hard thrust making you arch your back and took your mouth in a possessive kiss.

“Tell me what I want to hear” He said.

“I am yours Tony. I belong to you my Prince.” You parroted as always and he rewarded you by mashing your nub between his thumb and finger, making you mewl in pleasure. You panted in his mouth, your hands around his neck and your fingers digging into his flesh.

Tony suddenly pulled out of you and flipped you on your back, pulling your ass up in the air. He thrust inside you from behind, his body curving over yours and hitting new angles. Your whines echoed across the chamber and you wondered for the hundredth time how no one knew you were here, or if they did and just didn’t care.

“Look at you, taking me so well. No one makes me this hard. Only you my little girl, only you. Soon we’ll have our brethren squealing around us, a family of my own.” He kissed your back before sucking your neck and marking you as his. One of his hands travelled down and found your nub again, and with a few expert tweaks the bubble inside you burst, your heat washing over Tony’s cock. He hissed in pleasure when you clamped around him, your softness making his balls tighten and release their load deep inside you. You dropped down on the bed, limp and spent. Tony’s weight crushed you before you whined and he rolled to the side, taking you with him.

He held your sweaty body flush to his, both your hearts beating fast and breaths coming down to normal. You curled into his warmth, the only time you allowed yourself to actually feel close to him. He was a cruel man, but he tried his best to never hurt you. When he lay with you, he made sure you got your pleasure. It seemed important to him that you enjoy it as much as he did.

You looked up at him with sleepy eyes and found his gaze already locked on you. He tipped your chin and kissed you slowly, savoring every second of it. Kisses like these scared you the most, for somehow, they felt more intimate than the act you had just done with him. Every time he kissed you like this, you allowed yourself to love him for that small time and it scared you more than anything else.

“I’ll make sure you’re my wife. Even if you aren’t with child until the wedding, you’ll still be mine. I’ll make it happen.” Tony said, tucking your head in the crook of his neck and pressing another kiss on your head.

“What about His Majesty? And Princess Pepper?” You asked softly, playing with the spattering of hair on his chest. A round scar was proudly displayed in the middle, a testament to his bravery where he almost died in a battle.

“I don’t care what they think. I promised you that I won’t abandon you and I am a man of my word. You’ll be my wife even if I have to rewrite the laws of the kingdom myself.”

You sat up at his words, looking at him with worry and trepidation in your heart.

“Tony, what have you done?” You asked softly and he signed, pulling you close and resting his head in the valley of your breast.

“Don’t worry about anything. You just look after yourself. No more stress for you, you heard what the physician said. You take your herbs and think about being my wife.”

You knew he wouldn’t say anymore on the subject, and you were too scared of the answer to push for more. Only the King had the power to rewrite the laws, and Tony couldn’t be king unless his father died. You ran a shaky hand through his hair, wondering how much he was willing to lose and sacrifice to have you.

“Y/n?” Tony asked, his voice heavy with sleep. You hummed and kept caressing his hair, lulling him deeper into his slumber. “Do you love me as much as I love you?”

His question made your hand still for just a moment before it started carding through his soft hair again.

“I care for you My Prince” You said but you didn’t know if he heard you, his sleeping body curled around yours and head resting over your heart.

 —————————————————-

You twisted in the sheets, your body writhing in agony, a hand putting pressure to your throat. You clawed in the air, choking over a cry, eyes searching the darkness for him who’s hands were kind and gentle. The pressure increased and your breath escaped you, your body seizing in on itself and falling limp.

You woke up with a start, your hand flying to your throat in fear. The dream felt too real and you turned to see Tony’s side of the bed empty. Your heartbeat was unnaturally fast, and you stumbled out of the bed to pour yourself a glass of water. The pitcher was empty, and your dry throat burned with need of cool liquid to sooth it. You wanted to ring the bell beside the bed to call a maid in, but you were supposed to be a secret until the Prince convinced his parents to allow your marriage. As far as you knew, only the guards at the entrance knew you were hear and they were loyal to the Prince. They had explicit orders to not let you leave but you figured you could ask them to bring you water.

You opened the ornate doors of the prince’s chamber and poked your head out, the two guards who stood at attention turned to look at you.

“Can you please ask someone to get some water here? I – I would go myself but…” You trailed off, ashamed of being a kept woman. One of the guards nodded and told you to wait inside. You lay back down on the bed, wondering where Tony had gone off too. It was too early for him to be gone.

You heard the door open and assumed the guard had returned with the pitcher of water. You turned your back towards the door, hiding your face inside the sheets.

“Please keep it on the table, thank you very much.” You said and heard feet shuffling. When you didn’t hear them leave, you turned around and saw to your horror Lord Steven Rogers standing there. You gasped and sat up, pulling the sheets to your chin despite begin dressed in a modest nightgown.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice revealing how scared you were. While it was the Prince who coveted you, it was his Lord who terrified you more. The Prince fancied himself in love with you, so you knew his chances of hurting you were little. But Lord Rogers was a different case. Despite knowing you had the Prince’s favor, his eyes wandered over you and made you feel cheaper than any night spent with the prince made you feel.

“Hello, lovely maid. Or should I start calling you My Princess?” He asked, his voice just as mocking and amused as ever.

“What are you doing here? The Prince would not like you being in his chambers alone with me,” you said, thankful your voice came out a little stronger.

Lord Rogers smiled at you, and to your surprise poured you a glass of water and approached you with it.

“You’re under his highness’s protection. I’m making sure you’re comfortable when he’s away.” He said and held the glass out to you. You took it with shaking hands and sipped silently, looking at him with vary eyes.

“You have done your job then, please leave.” You said and he chuckled.

“Oh, look at you, learning to give orders. Is his seed blessed that taking it makes you a royal?”

He was standing too close to you, so much that with another step he would be leaning almost directly over you.

“Please, leave.”

His hand shot out and touched your cheek, making you jerk back in alarm.

“You look so pretty when you beg, lovely maid. I can see now what he sees in you. What wouldn’t I give to have you to myself.” Lord Rogers mused and the moment you saw his hand move you jumped over to the other side of the bed, taking the sheets with you. He didn’t follow like you expected and stayed far with a smirk on his lips.

“Lord Rogers, you must leave now, or I’ll scream”

He shook his head, the golden hair on his head gleaming in the sunlight that filtered through the window.

“I almost feel sorry for you, for the false hopes he’s given you.” He said and leaned against the opposite wall, staring at you. “You are after all innocent in this game, but you will suffer the most.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking to the door, and hoping Tony will walk in and rescue you.

“He will not marry you. He can’t, until you are with a child, which you won’t be.”

You looked at him sharply, suspicious clouding your vision.

“How do you know I’m not with child? What do you mean that I won’t be with one?”

Lord Rogers smiled a secret smile, his eyes twinkling in mirth and intrigue.

“My lovely maid, you’re so naïve. Haven’t you heard that even walls have ears? This is the royal palace, and you’re consorting with the prince. You already have many enemies.”

He pushed away from the wall and came for you before you could move. Cornered against the cabinet, he leaned close to you, taking in your scent.

“When he pushes you away, I’ll be waiting with open arms. Unlike him, I’ll actually make you mine.” He said.

He moved away not a second too soon as the doors opened with a bang and Tony swept inside. He looked at your scared, wide eyes before narrowing his gaze at Steve who gave him a small bow. Tony came up to you and took you in his arms, your body pressing into him.

“Steve, what are you doing here?” Tony asked, anger evident in his tone.

“Just bringing your lady some water that she asked for,” Steve replied. Tony looked at you in question and you nodded, burrowing your face in his chest. When it came to the two men, you would always choose the Prince.

“Get out. You’re not to be with her alone.”

Steve nodded and without another glance at you left the chambers. The moment he was gone, Tony fisted your hair and pulled you in a long and arduous kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“What did he really want?” Tony asked and you hugged him tighter.

You almost kept mum, scared that what Lord Rogers said was true and Tony would abandon you and throw you to him. But one look in Tony’s eyes and you knew he was much too possessive to even think about letting you go. So, trusting your gut you told him everything that Steve said.

“My little girl,” Tony said, your face cupped his hands, “tell me you didn’t believe a word that bastard said. I will never leave you.”

You nodded tearfully, snuggling into Tony’s warmth.

“He said I can’t bear your children.” You whispered and Tony grunted in displeasure.

“That’s something I’ll look into. Steve is not under my control anymore. He reports directly to my father, but you don’t worry about that. He’ll not get to you. I’ll kill him if he ever so much as looks at you again, I’ll kill him even if I have to bear my father’s wrath for killing one of his men.”

While Tony tried his best to reassure you of your safety, you wondered how much of that was true. Steve’s words made sense. Your relationship with the Prince must have made you enemies, and you wondered if running away would be a good choice even if you get a chance to do so. Staying with the Prince would guarantee you your life and protection, but if you leave and Steve catches you…you shivered in fear. Even the thought of him putting those hands on you made you sick.

You looked at Tony who was sleeping beside you, one of his hands clasping yours. You realized suddenly that though he may be a Prince, he was still not in control of his own destiny. If the danger you sensed in your heart was true, then not only were you in danger, but the Prince was being conspired against by his own people.

You touched your stomach, your mind going over Lord Roger’s words over and over. The way he said that you can’t bear kids…it made it sound like you couldn’t have Tony’s children, but the physician had said you were both is perfect health. Your head hurt with what that might imply, and you turned to the side, shifting closer to Tony’s warmth. His arms wrapped around you even in his sleep, and you closed your eyes, hoping sleep would claim you.

—————————————–

 TAGLIST IS OPEN FOR ALL CHARACTERS. LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED. 

#dark!tony x reader #dark!tony stark x reader #tony x reader #dark tony x reader #tony stark x reader #dark!steve x reader #steve x reader #dark!tony #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x you

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Dissonance. 

Word Count: 3.0k

Commissioned by the lovely @arthurtheghostmechanic​.

[Part One]

TW: Kidnapping, Captivity, Emotional Manipulation, Unhealthy Power Dynamics, Non-Graphic Violence, and Suffocation.

Every morning, Diavolo would help you get dressed.

It was a daily ritual, one that’d begun the first time you’d shown more interest in burning his gifts than wearing them, and he’d realized he liked the way you squirmed as his fingers brushed against your collarbone, his palms pressing against the dip of your back and his hands tracing the shape of your waist under the guise of fastening a row of clasps that’d been sewn in more for exorbity than security. You supposed this was how he intended to ‘court’ you, as he put it, or it was his favorite method, at least. The others came and went, and although he still occasionally took the time to bring you flowers from the castle’s garden or refuse to feed you at all until you let him feed you by hand, he always had an outfit waiting for you by the time you woke up, he always knew exactly how he wanted you to look, and he always helped you get dressed. Always. It was one of the few constants you could count on, with a man as busy as Diavolo.

Today, he was taking his time. Swabs of silky, scarlet fabric had already been draped over your form and adorned with just the right amount of black and gold to outweigh any individuality you might have retained, and yet, you could still feel warm breath ghost over your skin as he toyed with the strings of an already-bound corset, making you unsure whether he was still contemplating how to perfect it, or if he wanted to undo the intricate knots altogether. You could easily step away, finished or not. He’d positioned you to face a full-body mirror, one of the many scattered around the corners of his bedroom, but there was space, and he wouldn’t stop you, you were sure he wouldn’t stop you. Of all the things he was willing to do, raising a hand was where he drew the line, even if your stubborn neutrality often left him gritting his teeth and appealing to your sense of defeatism. It should’ve been a reassurance, it should’ve been a god-send, but in practice, his self-restraint only made you feel like the villain. If he wasn’t going to shove you away, then you’d have to shy back on your own. And if you did that, then you’d be the one to blame for his subsequent disappointment.

So, you stayed in place, glared at the floor, and wordlessly willed him to grow tired of watching you squirm sooner, instead of later.

Diavolo, however, was not as content with the silence as you were.

“You’ve been quiet, today,” He started, unprompted, unasked for. There couldn’t have been classes, that day. Clearly, he didn’t have anything better to do than draw your suffering out. “Is something wrong, my love?”

You could’ve told the truth. It would’ve been easy to, but there was some twisted, contorted part of you that still thought of Diavolo as someone distant, someone you shouldn’t upset, if only because it was so difficult to dampen his spirits, and he seemed so determined to keep them up. Even after he’d taken you away from the brothers, taken you away from the life you’d wanted, locked you into a gilded cage, and told you to sing for him, you still had to remind yourself to hate him. Fearing him was second nature, but loathing him was another burden entirely. Rather than spouting out the obvious, you let your eyes wander, past the mirror and to the well-decorated wall that lay beyond it. “I’ve been… with you for two weeks, and I haven’t seen anyone besides you and Barbatos,” You starters, letting your gaze fall onto a portrait of a young boy with gold eyes and crimson hair. It had to be Daivolo, but that wasn’t the surprising part - there was only Diavolo. No parents, father or otherwise, a theme that carried into many of the other decorative pieces, as you were beginning to notice. “Is it just the two of you?”

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” He chuckled, shrugging off your flat tone with all of his usual carelessness. If it was a sensitive topic, you couldn’t tell, but you could never tell, not with Diavolo. You’ve only seen him truly, genuinely affected a handful of times, and you doubted something as simple as a conversation would be the thing to finally leave a permanent impact. “If you’re worried there might be a lack of guests, don’t be. The only reason you haven’t met a diplomat or an ambassador or someone new and exciting is because of our budding arrangement.” He said it as if it were nothing, as if you’d just signed yourself into a contract you had yet to realize the full scope of. In his eyes, you might’ve. You were still trying to work out what exactly Diavolo thought your ‘arrangement’ was. “I thought it would be best to give you time. Humans can be such fickle creatures, and not all demons are as understanding as I am. I don’t want you saying the wrong thing to the wrong person while you’re still new to playing host.”

You should’ve known better than to press. You should’ve, but you pushed forward regardless, another singular pair of eyes in another all-but empty portrait working to spur you forward, despite your better judgment. “Still, you’re only a prince. Your father--”

“My father is asleep.” He spoke with the calm, practiced tone of someone who’d used the same excuse one too many times, of a child, scared and alone, trying to convince himself of something he didn’t really believe. “He has been, since the day he decided I was capable of ruling on my own, and while I’d be honored, I doubt he’s going to disturb his slumber to meet my chosen mate. He’s not a factor you should concern yourself with, darling.”

You were beginning to think there was nothing you should concern yourself with, not here, not when Diavolo thought of himself as so honorably, valiantly reliable. You hadn’t thought you’d miss that, about life with the brothers. You were left exhausted more often than not, in over your head with Mammon’s scheme’s or Lucifer’s standards or the twins’ insatiable habits, but at least you’d had enough to do to warrant exhaustion. You never thought you’d long to trip over a cursed book on the floor of Satan’s bedroom or find the door to Leviathan’s room blocked off by a dozen too many boxes, and yet, you found yourself waiting for it, sometimes, listening for an out of place scream, anticipating the next crisis. Diavolo said it was too much strain, for you. He said you shouldn’t be held responsible for a family so unpredictable.

He didn’t think you could handle it, so he sought out a way to handle you.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “That sounds lonely.”

There was a slight pause, a hint at a trace of hesitation. The closest thing you’d come to one, during your time with Diavolo. “It was.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Taking kind of prolonged stillness was unlike him, but Diavolo managed to redeem himself with a heavy sigh, a shake of his head, an arm wrapped around your waist as he slumped gingerly against you, leaning down as he slotted himself against your back. It was a heavy sort of tenderness, the type a desperate man might seek from a remorseless stone pillar, but your resolve felt a little less solid with every drum of his fingertips, every shaky breath he let echo against the back of your neck. You were the one to speak, though. If only to stop yourself from breaking first. “And that’s why I’m here, right?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because you’re lonely?”

You felt him stiffen against you, going rigid at the suggestion alone. “(Y/n), I never--”

“You have other people.” It was more frustration than anger, the sudden awareness that you’d been taken by him, because of him, for him, despite all the luxurious, loving ways he tried to dress it up. “Your father might be gone, but you have options. There’s an academy full of students who’d be happy to find themselves at your side, there’s a kingdom of subjects you could choose from, if you wanted to. Is that why you ran the exchange program? You just didn’t have enough options, you wanted to see what the other realms had to offer. Were you going to kidnap Solomon, if I wasn’t good enough?”

“I wasn’t looking for company,” He countered, his hold becoming a little more secure, growing a little more controlling. It was oppressive, one arm crossed over your stomach and the other over your chest, making it more difficult to inhale as you struggled to keep your breathing even, but somehow, his affection did little to comfort you. If anything, it just made you want to rip yourself away from him more. “When I found you, I wanted you. There’s no one else I’d consider--”

“You have Barbatos,” You went on, letting your hands curl into fists at your sides. “He’s your friend, and you have him, and you shouldn’t need me, too. Even if that wasn’t enough for you, Lucifer’s still there. He looks up to you, he’s loyal to you, if there was anything you needed, he’d go to the ends of the Earth to find it. You have him--”

“I used to have him,” Diavolo hissed, the words nearly muffled against the nape of your neck. “I had him, once, but it seems that someone has caused his attention to stray.”

Your jaw clenched shut, instantly, but you made a point of narrowing your eyes at his reflection. It was a small rebellion, one he barely seemed to notice, but it felt too right for you to really care about whether or not he deserved it. “I’m sorry,” You muttered, frantic irritation fading into mild, blatant displeasure. “I didn’t realize how much you hated it when your toys find other people to play with.”

Diavolo went tense. He went tense, he took in a sharp breath, closed his eyes, and with little more fanfare than that, he relaxed again, as calm and composed and infuriating as he always was.

This time, when his attention returned to your attire, it centered around the ribbon choker around the base of your neck, the fabric as soft as a newborn lamb and as dark as the Devildom would be, in the dead of night. His fingers slipped underneath the strip of material, and for a moment, you thought he’d tear it off completely, but he’d never been that kind.

Rather, he took his time, untying the loose knot and speaking, as he did so. You were beginning to hope he’d talk himself to death.

“Lucifer’s interests align with his heart. He’s smart, and I do value him, but he’s a sentimental creature. He only pledged himself to me because of Lilith, and now that you’ve given him something of Lilith, he’s satisfied. He doesn’t have a need for me, anymore.” The choker was pulled taunt, for a moment, cutting you off halfway through an inhale. It wasn’t suffocating, but Diavolo made no move to let go. “And while Barbatos will always be my closest companion, he is a servant. His loyalty to me is a loyalty to the crown, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’d put a knife in my back, if he thought it would benefit the realm.”

It took you a moment to respond, your voice coming out weaker than you would’ve liked. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“It’s because I want you to be more than that,” He started, the words nearly a plea. Despite his tenderness and his airy tone, the choker was still biting into your neck, still making it harder and harder to breath. If anything, the task was only growing more difficult, one of your hands unconsciously finding its way to your neck, following the indents where the fabric cut into your skin. “You may choose not to believe me, but I’m not looking for power. I’m not looking for somone I have to chain to my side, if I want them to stay. I want you to love me. I want you to look at me and see someone who you couldn’t picture yourself going on without.” A pause, a ragged exhale. Again, you felt him shake his head, Diavolo leaning forwards just enough to kiss the top of your head. “That’s how I feel about you.”

By now, you were pulling at the choker, prying at it, trying desperately to put a hair’s width of space between your neck and that noose. It was barely a scrap, just a strip of material, and yet in Diavolo’s hands, it became a vice, a chain, a collar attached to a leash just couldn’t stop yanking. You kicked blindly, scrambling to throw your elbow into his stomach or tear at the choker or do something to make it a little easier to breath, but Diavolo only laughed, the sound low, throaty, warm and heavy and fatal.

“I do want you to love me. If nothing else, I want you to care for me. Worry about me, if you have to. I know beggars can’t be choosers in a situation like this.” When he released you, letting the choker fall to the floor and pulling away from you completely, saving your dignity wasn’t an option. You stumbled forward, gasping, choking, trying to cough air into your lungs as you groped at your now-tender skin, reddened bruises already forming a tight ring around your neck. Diavolo watched you passively, letting you stumble forward and brace yourself against the standing mirror. “I want you to love me,” He went on, slowly. There was a step forward, a footfall softened by the slightest trace of reluctance, and Diavolo’s hand came to rest on your shoulder. “But I’ll find a way to live with it, if you have to fear me.”

It was all you could do to close your eyes as you fought to catch your breath, to rest your forehead against the cool, welcoming surface of the mirror. You couldn’t see your reflection, but you didn’t have to - your throat ached, throbbed, and when you forced yourself to give him a reply, it was raspy, as jagged as all the many things you wanted to drive into your kidnapper’s anatomy, at the moment. “I can’t believe I ever felt bad for you.”

Diavolo only grinned, letting you catch the edge of the expression in the corner of his eye as he stepped forward. A firm hand came to rest on the small of your back, but it was fleeting, chaste, as far from comfort as the light, almost unnoticeable kiss he pushed into your temple. “I’ve never been one for pity.”

With that, he stepped away from you completely, leaving you hunched over, your body shaking and your pride stomped so far into the ground, you doubted you’d ever nurse it back to its full health. You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve let him go, given yourself time to recover, and resigned yourself to spending the rest of the day sobbing your eyes out into satin sheets, but there was something burning in your chest, something hot and rough and ruthless, as it urged you to speak, to yell, to scream. You didn’t know if barking after Diavolo like his disloyal mutt would do anything to sate it, but there was a chance that it might, and that was a chance you were willing to chase after like your life depended on it.

“You can’t keep me here.” That was enough for him to pause, to glance over his shoulder as he moved to tell you that he was already doing just that, but you faster than him, this time. “I won’t let you keep me here. I’m going to get out, and once I do, I’m going to put myself so far out of your reach, you’ll be lucky to remember what I look like, by the time I’m done.”

He wasn’t facing you, but he didn’t have to be. You could hear his expression drop, his smugness not disappearing, but dampening. “I’ve told you, (Y/n), the brothers think you’re in the human realm, and the other exchange students have yet to express their concern. There’s nothing Lucifer or his--”

“Fuck Lucifer.” That earned you the slightest flinch, a subtle delay as he finally turned towards you, but you were past the point of patiently waiting for his reaction, for his approval. It was almost sickening, in retrospect, how you’d given him the benefit of the doubt after he’d kidnapped you, after he’d failed to have the decency to show a shred of remorse. He thought you were going to sit pretty and wait to be impressed, and you had to prove to him that you wouldn’t be so spineless. Brothers or no brothers. “I’m not locked in a tower. I’m not helpless. I don’t need to wait around for someone else to save me. I’ll crawl out of here, if I have to. I’ll claw my way out. I don’t care what I have to do, I will get away from you.”

You almost expected him to lash out. You might not blame him after that, but to your relief and your disgust, his composure never faltered. He didn’t raise a hand, did storm out or take you by the hair or do something violent and ugly and expected. It didn’t matter, though. His aggression was repressed, but that didn’t mean it was concealed, not when you could make it out in every clench of his jaw, in the way his head cocked just a little too far to the side. In the stretched, seamless, sadistic smile that soon found its way to his lips, only reassuring you that your new resolve would’ve been necessary, whether or not you were the one to provoke him.

“I’d like to see you try.”

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