#And focus on mentally blocking out what's happening as much as you can to endure what's happening to you

[thelostgirl21]

Okay, I don't know where and how you (as in me. As in how one) should put triggers on this, but that's just 100% how my experience being raped was like.

You try to pull away and offer some resistance at first, but when pulling away hurts you more and/or makes the person more vicious, you just stop resisting and will give them exactly what they want - might even try to pretend to like it - in the hopes that it will hurt less, and minimize the overall damage being done to you.

Sure, maybe Jaskier will get one of his fingers burnt to a crisp; but at least it'll be just that one finger... If he's lucky - assuming he survives this - his whole hand might not also get crushed and become utterly unusable, on top of that one finger.

Better just mentally brace yourself, become passive, and wait for it to be over, whatever the outcome might be. Don't make it worse for yourself.

That's why whoever is saying that "If you'd really been raped, you would have been fighting for your life! Your assailant would have had bruises and bite marks, etc." doesn't remotely grasps what "fighting for your life" entails.

When your assailant is stronger and you know you can't win, doing everything you can to pacify them and avoid triggering more aggression from them is the very definition of you "fighting for your life".

It's you using every single tiny bit of personal resources and strength in your body to keep yourself alive!

You're fighting with your life with all you've fucking got!

Jaskier's a survivor. He's a fighter. He's someone that keeps pushing and tries to protect those he loves and himself, regardless of how bad things get and how awful the odds of survival are.

And what you see here is that fighting spirit in action doing everything it can to keep himself alive as long as he can!

No matter how terrified he is, he still keeps fighting.

no bc can we fucking talk about this

the fact that jaskier tries to pull away the second he sees rience reach for him. he tries. he fucking tries. even if he knows he can't move his hand more than a few inches he fucking tries out of sheer terror.

but rience still grabs his hand anyway. of course he does. jaskier never had a chance of avoiding this and both of them know it.

but you see how fucking hard rience squeezes jaskier's fingers.

you see how tightly he grips jaskier's hand, even if it's barely a second before his grip relaxes (and in the clip you can hear him hiss in pain). it's not even a necessary movement, since Jaskier would never have been able to evade his grip; it's very clearly a nonverbal command to stop resisting.

and it works.

jaskier keeps his hand stretched out. he stops trying to evade it. he knows rience will do this and he's too terrified (and exhausted from previous torture) to evade it anymore. because he knows it wont work.

and once jaskier's hand relaxes, rience's grip loosens again. he's not even gripping Jaskier's hand anymore. because he knows he doesn't need to. because he knows jaskier won't pull away again.

at this point all rience has to do is just. keep his own hand opened up to keep jaskier's fingers outstretched and laying on his. he's relaxed. he's almost absentminded about it. because he can be at this point.

because jaskier won't pull away even when he sees rience conjure the flame that he knows he will use on his hand.

i just. the way rience emphasizes his control over the situation by making jaskier keep his hand still even though he fully fucking understands what rience is going to do. he's literally holding what makes jaskier who he is in his fingertips and fully intends to destroy it and knows he can hold it gently because there will be so little resistance. because he has already terrified and tormented and shaken jaskier so badly that all he needed to do was squeeze his hand to get him to stop resisting. I'm just. I'm so sick.

[bestworstcase]

re: talk of Burn, do you have any idea why Yang's aura clearly broke when Neo struck her in V8 (right after activating Burn)? my theory is that perhaps activating her semblance does something like Tock's where it makes her aura manifest more solidly on her body (which is how it can make her hair light on fire) and therefore also, like Tock, means that her aura is more vulnerable. to me this would also explain why Yang would use it as a finisher at first; using it when she's already going to run out of aura makes it, in a sense, less dangerous because she's already gotten most of the other uses out of her aura that she can get.

would love to know if you think this is accurate, or what you actually think is going on with yang's semblance on a mechanical level (if you're interested in that anyway)

first, a general point about aura and aura breaking. the characters’ use of meters has led to a sort of popular fanon that aura works like hit points in a video game, where you have this many and taking damage reduces your HP by a certain number until you hit zero and then your aura breaks; (dark souls splash screen voice) YOU DIED.

i do not think it works that way.

from world of remnant:

aura is a manifestation of the soul, a life force that runs through every living creature on remnant—whether they are a meager shopkeep or a renowned knight. however, what sets true warriors apart from all others is their ability to amplify and control their aura.

aura is the power of one’s soul. it’s guided by emotion, self-knowledge, and spirituality. in its purest form, it becomes a semblance.

defensive aura is not a passive effect. we know this for a fact. in V5, oscar finds it physically exhausting to engage his aura in this way and ren tells him that’s normal—it requires intense concentration at first, then becomes second nature with practice. in V7, jaune’s aura-training demonstrates that recovery, regaining aura once it has been depleted, is a conscious action that can be improved through practice. this is because the “aura level” tracked by those meters is not a measurement of how much aura you have in the tank, as it were, but something like the density of the aura-field you’re pushing outward, or speed of flow, or something along those lines.

(the way i’m handling it in TDT is there’s a hard upper bound to how much aura you can hold in your skin, like a sponge not being able to absorb more water, and what auraleric gauges attempt to measure is % of maximum saturation because everyone’s aura will break around 5-10% saturation even though the amount of aura you have at 100% varies. anything you push out above that threshold is projected as transient bursts of energy and that’s where you start getting into offensive techniques.)

hazel’s phenomenal endurance is noted to derive from his rapid recovery, not the basal amount of aura he has. (he even just shrugs off being impaled.) i believe his semblance gives him an edge here, because it requires concentration to amplify one’s aura and hazel can’t be distracted by physical pain.

which brings me to aura-breaking. it doesn’t happen when the proverbial tank is empty. auras break when you can’t sustain the mental effort of generating enough aura; this might happen because the well you’re drawing from really has run dry (<- think this is what happened to nora with the high voltage door), but it might also be because you’re too tired, or you took a really painful or unexpected hit that shattered your focus, because you’re panicking or furious.

i think tock’s semblance is in the same ‘family’ as hazel’s and ironwood’s in that it puts her into a state of intense focus by blocking out anything that might shake her—with hers being far, far more potent than theirs but so potent she can’t maintain it for longer than sixty seconds, and possibly needs the ticking clock to ‘anchor’ her focus.

(fic stuff again, because tock’s alive in TDT for butterfly wing flaps reasons: sixty seconds is not a hard limit of her semblance; she can and on one occasion did go for much longer. to project an aura field you draw aura out of your reserve, which is the aura that naturally ‘pools’ around your soul; if that runs dry and you’re desperate enough, pushing hard enough, you can wring more aura out of your soul. blood from a stone. it hurts a lot, it will mess you up, and it can do permanent damage similar to what the aura transfer machines do to pietro. sixty seconds is how long it takes for tock’s semblance to drain her aura reserve, rounded down to allow for a margin of error.)

so. yang.

i think, mechanically, when the average person with aura training gets hit, their aura burns up to disperse most of that energy. (<- when they’re swatting gunfire away, the bullets bounce; the energy is reflected.)

but yang’s semblance absorbs energy—which is to say, if you had a ball throwing machine shoot a tennis ball at yang and someone else with equivalent training from the same distance, it would hit yang harder because her aura is less reflective; more of the ball’s kinetic energy flows into her body. then, like a battery, her aura converts that energy into some other form that can be stored.

sort of like dust, in fact. dust has a lot of potential energy, which is released when the material reacts with aura. given the literally explosive firepower yang gains from burn, i think that she’s storing this absorbed energy in the same form as occurs naturally in dust, which would put burn in the same ‘family’ as coco’s hype or arrastra’s equilibrium…

…and would also mean that this statement:

some prefer to use dust in its raw form: elegant, yet destructive. those who choose to wield dust in this state must possess a certain level of discipline to ensure that their resulting powers do not break free of their control.

is true of burn, too. and that tracks with who yang is and how she uses her semblance—even in V1-3, yang takes a more head-on approach to fights and tends to soak up more damage before exploding bigger vs her increasingly nimble and even acrobatic style post-beacon, but her control over those massive volcanic eruptions is immaculate.

the way burn works in general requires that yang be very, very in control of her aura at all times because she needs to balance between absorbing energy to charge up her semblance while reflecting enough to prevent injury, and this is one reason why i think yang is probably the best out of the cast when it comes to using aura. ren might have her beat on the more spiritual, extra-sensory perception side of things, but yang has to keep her focus while getting hit harder than anyone else Because Physics.

and that brings us to neo one-shotting yang’s aura. here is what happens: cinder is gloating from atop a pillar of fire while people scream and run in a panic all around them, and out of the corner of her eye, yang sees a glint of steel and realizes that neo is about to stab her unsuspecting baby sister in the back, she’s too far away, she can’t get there fast enough—burn is, in that moment, a reflex. instinct. she panics and hurls herself in between neo and ruby without even thinking about it because the only thing in her mind is GET TO RUBY NOW.

and that’s why her aura just shatters. it requires concentration—you practice until it becomes instinctive, until you don’t need to think about it, muscle memory. but it still takes focus. intention. yang has incredible self-control and thus incredible control of her aura, but everyone has limits, and hers are “holy fuck that guy stabbed blake” and “neo is going to kill ruby go go go.”

her semblance in itself doesn’t make her defense any weaker—but when she’s terrified enough for burn to activate reflexively like this, her aura will break if she gets hit because she’s freaking out.

[system-of-a-feather]

Less moody about it cause - actually no equally moody but less bothered by it if that makes sense - but as much as I am glad to be working through the gender stuff with the system, or rather for the system until now, finding out just how deep this rabbit hole of misery goes fucking sucks and is literally draining as shit.

I think I'm getting fatigued cause I've been bearing it on my own for what, like three years? Solely to give Riku the time to focus and catch up on healing sexual trauma (which I've been responsible for monitoring and guiding them through) and so that Ray - who is our stability backbone - didn't have to endure or risk his stability for longer than needed when little could be done (cite Riku's sexual trauma being a blocking point for any genuine deep thought on gender at the time)

Like, in hindsight, and Riku pointed this out the other day, but in a polyfragmented system that is majorily transmasc, I'm the only part that has actively stayed focus on this and have kept a very intense tab and focus on it while juggling being the ferryman for Riku's sexual trauma recovery, the advocate for EPs for like a year and a half of that time, and the Persecutor Breaking-In Guy like

It's totally fair for me to "start getting burnt out" and if anything its really impressive that I am only NOW getting burnt out being the only one dealing with a topic that regularly makes me suicidal (not active but not passive either, a secret third thing - active but absolutely not doing it)

And honestly though, having dealt with that and been the ferryman through trauma processing of CSA shit for like 3 years and forcing persecutors to communicate their trauma and issues effecticely to help them, I REALLY don't get why anyone would think someone would CHOOSE to be trans or that it is anything but a group of people just trying to live life with a fucking shitty hand

Like I'm sure others would disagree, but as someone with a lot of trauma thats carried less experienced trauma holders through living inspite of what happened to them, dysphoria is literally the only mental / psychological / physical means of suffering that has ever had me **depressed properly** rather than any form of depression or hurt that immediately turns into a burning fire and rage of some sort

Literally raising myself, being a trained dog, regularly handing my dad his own ass on a plate in fights, dealing with an oppressive DID system, fucking America existing, first hand and second hand shit with sexual trauma, betrayal from the person who was supposedly our "only support" - literally dysphoria is the top dog of a beast I have ever had to push through

And the fact that some people minimize how much people with dysphoria could be struggling? It just blows me the fuck away

If you gave me the option to solve our dysphoria and all its complications in a snap or resolve our trauma and all its complications in a snap I would rapidly click dysphoria without hesitation and without consulting the system

Cause at this point I am the Trauma King. I'm the best at handling it and Im (at least one of) the best at dragging parts through Trauma Coping 101. And I'm also the dysphoria king, and as it is such a hypothetical situation would fall into my domain to make decisions on since I have the largest breath and experience with both

And it would be such an easy decision I kid you not.

But anyways, this is equally for the trauma / DID community as it is for the trans community. And for the transfolk out there, good god know your misery is valid and you arent being dramatic or asking for too much to have people respect you and make small changes to make your suffering slightly less

It shouldn't be needed, but if you need a socially normalized right to validate your hurt and need for aid, this post stands here as verification as a survivor of a shit ton of traumas that the suffering is absolutely, at the very least, comparable. If people can understand how bad it is to have to deal with PTSD let alone the shit thay gives you DID (diagnosed), there is at least one person out there that says dysphoria is more unbearable.

So what with all the American stages of transgenocide going on especially in America, I just wanted to let you know that they are the fucking atrocious people and whatever garbage transphobes say that might make you question your "choice" throw it in the fucking garbage.

Being trans isnt easy and wouldnt be anyones choice with how bullshit it can be

[you-are-my-joy]

The Return of an Empress | 07

Title: The Return of an Empress

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Isekai, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut (Later on), Slow burn

Characters: Empress!Reader, Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook

Word count: ~9k

Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive.

Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.

Masterlist 

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In the 380th imperial year, on June 9th, two days after the nobles were caught red-handed and thus apprehended, was the day of the largest massacre of high nobility in the history of the empire. 

At 8 am in the morning, a total of 18 of some of the most well-known and influential nobles of the empire were executed by the city plaza.

With tired steps, you trudge inside your bedroom, immediately falling onto the comfort of your bed. You let out an exasperated sigh, tossing your head back until it rests on a nearby pillow. Despite getting rid of the duke and the rest of the nobles, you can’t help but still feel a sense of unease and tension. Would the original empress make the same decision? You don’t know the answer, but what you do know, is that you’ll most likely be haunted by the cries and screams of those who lost their lives today for the rest of your life.

It’s one thing to actually read of the graphic murders and deaths that occurred in the novel, it’s a whole different story when you actually experience and see first hand how gruesome the public executions truly were. Back in your world, you’ve never witnessed anyone’s death before, as it was the 21st century, public executions were prohibited decades ago. But suddenly you had to endure an entire morning witnessing the horrifying deaths of 18 people as their heads detached from their body, a large pool of blood staining the once clean pavement. 

You weren’t keen on torturing people, so you were merciful in the sense that you chose to execute them through a beheading, with a fresh and sharpened axe to be exact. In this world, beheadings, although gruesome and bloody, were seen as the most ‘humane’ form of execution as the deed would be done in one swift motion, a painless execution to some extent. 

You remember hearing many of the nobles and commoners who attended the public executions express their disappointment at your choice, thinking you were being much too kind considering the heinous crime they committed. Despite their disappointment, they were slightly relieved over your choice, many were still skeptical over the empress’s supposed changed behavior, but seeing you wince and grimace at each beheading finally convinced them otherwise. 

News spread like wildfire around the empire about what had occurred at the party, news articles being published nearly a day later. The most popular topic of course being the Grand Duke himself drugging the empress, and so countless of nobles all around the empire scurried to watch the spectacle. Thus, the grand finale of the execution came when former Grand Duke, Lee Joong-Gu finally stepped forward. 

Many people had looked at him in disgust, throwing rotten fruits and vegetables his way and cursed out his name. The entire time, he wore a solemn expression as he kneels down without complaint unlike the rest of the criminals who wailed pathetically until their last breath. 

You remember that in the midst of it all, he had looked up at you, your eyes instantly locking with one another, and you swear from where you stood, you saw a hint of remorse and guilt in his face. Your mind reeling as he tearfully mouths ‘I’m sorry’ to you, but before you could even react any further, the axe gets raised in the air and in the next second is swung down with much force. His head rolling down the pavement as the cheers of the crowd rang out excitedly at the gruesome sight. 

However, the cheers seem to fade from your ears as all you can focus on is the dukes rolling head. And somehow it stops, facing in your direction, empty eyes that were once so full of life, ingraining themselves in your memory forever. You blink away the tears forming in your eyes, confused as to why your body was reacting like this. You flinch as you stare at his body slumped over, but your view gets blocked when Jungkook steps in front of you.

The entire morning, Jungkook and Taehyung have been right beside you, acting as your escorts as you had requested. Always attempting to block your view when they noticed your grim and disgusted expressions at each beheading. Jin and Namjoon were also present, but they stood a few meters away from you, ensuring that the executions ran as quickly and smoothly as possible. Hoseok was present as well, but as the general, he was in charge of security and surveying the city plaza, prioritizing your safety over everything else.

The only ones who hadn’t shown up were Yoongi and Jimin. Yoongi, you had expected, though you had a glimmer of hope that he would make an appearance, but Jimin? You thought he would come to greet you after the party, but you haven’t seen him since he left you by the ballroom doors. You were extremely worried, thinking something bad had happened to him, but Namjoon reassured you that he was fine as he had ran into him the other day. He further informs you that Jimin wasn’t feeling good, which explains his sudden absence. Though you remained unconvinced, you choose to give Jimin his needed space, thinking it would be better for him to come to you when he was ready.

When the executions were over you stood up from your seat, ready to leave the area in a hurry as the overwhelming stench of blood nearly made you puke on the spot. But suddenly you heard loud cheers as everyone directed their attention to you, “All Hail Empress Y/n!” many of them yelled out, grinning at you as they praised your actions. 

You hadn’t expected to be well received so quickly, since less than a week ago, some of these same people trembled in fear over your presence. You send them a charming smile to express your gratitude, but this only seemed to ignite something in them as they seemingly cheered your name even more.

Despite the cheering, all you wanted to do was go back to the palace and rest. So here you are, groaning as you lay flat on the spacious bed. You feel the bed dip slightly to your left, prompting you to open your eyes to see Jungkook looking down at you with a small smile. “How are you feeling?” he reaches his hand out to gently brush a strand of hair in front of your face. 

“Absolutely exhausted,” you let out a groan, closing your eyes once more. And you weren’t only talking about the past few days. It seemed that you were never truly able to catch a break the moment you arrived in this world. You can’t even imagine the amount of work the past empress had to endure. 

Taehyung, having found comfort in your couch situated in the middle of your grand bedroom, hums at that, “Mentally or physically exhausted?”

You scoff before letting out a yawn, “Both.” 

Jungkook nods as he moves his hand away from your face to lazily trace shapes on the palm of your hand, “I'm sorry to hear that your majesty,” he replies, sending you a pitiful look, as he notices traces of stress and exhaustion written on your face.

Still with your eyes closed, you rest for a moment, “It’s fine. This is my duty as the empress.”

Jungkook nods, “I understand, but before you’re an empress, you’re a human. You need to rest, your majesty,” he says, concern laced in his voice as he continues tracing odd shapes on your palm. 

Though after a while, you’ve come to the realization that rather than shapes, he was actually tracing your name on your skin.

You open your eyes to stare at Jungkook who was too distracted writing your name to pay attention to your gaze. You just stare when a sudden thought crosses your mind, “Hey Jungkook, can you try calling me by my name?”

Jungkook seems to freeze in his spot, his hand stopping right above yours as he stares at you with wide eyes, “Pardon?” this seems to gain Taehyung's attention as well when you see him from the corner of your eye snap his head instantly in your direction.

You shrug, sitting straight up now facing him. Both your faces nearly inches apart that Jungkook instantly blushes and shifts a bit further away from you to calm his racing heart, though you take that gesture as discomfort instead, “What’s wrong? You don’t want to?”

Jungkook stutters as he waves his arms in front of his face in an ‘X’ shape motion, “N-No, It’s not that I don't want to… but why are you suddenly asking that of me?” Both Jungkook and Taehyung stare at you in a mixture of confusion and interest since they haven’t addressed the empress by her name in nearly 3 years. Not after she had scolded the both of them until they complied to her wishes. 

“I figured we might as well go back to our old ways you know?” you suggest, but after taking in their shocked reactions you quickly add, “Of course if you’re uncomfortable with my request then I don’t want to force you to do anything. But I do give you permission to call me by my name when it’s just us.”

Jungkook turns his head to Taehyung as they look at each other wearily, as if doubting your words and thinking this was all just one big test. He hesitantly turns back to you, “Is that truly alright?” he asks while fidgeting nervously with his hand. 

“Of course it is,” you smile reassuringly, your eyes staring at him in anticipation, “will you?” You ask, you try to hide your excitement in order to not pressure him, but who were you kidding, it’s practically written on your face.

Jungkook’s lips curve upward slightly as he couldn’t deny your request, especially when your golden eyes shined brightly at him, “Yes…. Y/n…” though he had said it in a shy whisper, you still heard him loud and clear. You didn’t think hearing your name come out of his mouth would affect you so much but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling widely. It’s times like these that you’re extremely grateful for sharing the same name as the old empress. 

“Woah that’s not fair,” you turn your head to find Taehyung with his arms crossed, playfully glaring at you both, “why does he get special treatment and I don't?” 

You chuckle as Taehyung's pout reminds you of a child who got their toy taken away and wants it back. Your amusement grows even more as you sit back and watch Jungkook be equally as childish when he sticks his tongue out at the older knight. And Taehyung, the ever mature knight, mimics his actions in return. 

You grin at the older knight, wanting nothing more than to ruffle his hair, “this applies to you as well Taehyung.” 

Taehyung finally turns to you after seemingly having a contest with Jungkook on who can contort their face in a mocking way better, “thank you… Y/n,” he replies softly with a gentle smile now on his face. 

They’ll admit, addressing you by your name sounded strange coming out their mouth, but they couldn’t deny the nostalgic and warm feeling in their chest when they finally did. And your smile definitely brightened their day even more.

“Y/n.” you hear Jungkook call out softly, though he flinches when he gains your attention. 

You furrow your eyes in confusion at his odd reaction, “Yes?”

You notice his cheeks glow with a tint of red, “Sorry, it’s nothing. I just wanted to say your name in front of you,” the ending of his sentence becoming a soft whisper as he was embarrassed to have been caught by you. But he should’ve known better than to believe your ears wouldn’t catch him. 

You have to mentally slap yourself to stay calm and composed as to not squeal in delight to embarrass him further. So to spare him, you fight back a giggle as you beam back at him, “you’re more than welcome to call me by my name anytime you want Jungkook.” Gaining a wide smile from him in return.

“Y/n?” Taehyung suddenly calls out, causing you to face him now. Though he chuckles at your raised brow, “I’m not just calling out your name, I genuinely have a question.” You chuckle right back, nodding your head, gesturing to him to ask his question. “Are you still feeling sick?” You understand he wasn’t referring to earlier, rather he was talking about your symptoms from withdrawal. 

Thankfully after properly taking medication daily or as suggested by the royal physician, you’ve been experiencing a lot less symptoms as the days go by. Joy reminding and ensuring that you actually took them definitely helped with the process. 

You nod sending him a soft smile, “no, I’ve been feeling a lot better nowadays. Though, I’ll admit I kind of want to throw up. But I’m pretty sure the main perpetrator to that is the blood.” Despite having left the plaza awhile ago, you seemingly couldn’t get rid of the stench of blood in your nose. Even just the thought of it makes you involuntarily gag. 

Jungkook softly chuckles, “from being in countless battles, you’d think you’d get used to the sight of blood,” he jokes with a teasing glint in his eyes as he grew bold enough to hold your hand after tracing on it for so long.

You stare down at your joined hands, his large ones nearly covering yours completely. You feel him squeeze your hand lightly prompting you to look up at his mischievous grin as he caught you staring. You playfully roll your eyes, “it’s been awhile, alright, I forgot,” you grumble.

Though Taehyung hums at that as leans his head back on the soft cushions of the couch, “you seem to be using that excuse quite often,” he mutters, not looking you in the eye, but instead choosing to stare out your window.

At his statement, you gulp nervously. You immediately take note from the corner of your eyes the prying look of Jungkook as his hold on your hand seems to tighten. 

But before you could come up with yet another excuse, you hear a knock at your door. Someone was definitely looking out for you as you had no idea how to respond without you being even more suspicious than before. 

You sit up straight, briefly glancing at your knights who refuse to look you in the eye before calling out, “come in.” You quickly let go of Jungkook’s hand causing the boy to snap his head in your direction before his shoulders seemingly drop. Though he doesn’t say anything more as the doors to your bedroom open wide.

Soon enough, the double doors reveal Hoseok, Namjoon and Jin. They bow out of respect before briefly making eye contact with Jungkook and Taehyung, to which they send a curt nod, acknowledging each other’s presence.  

For some reason, you felt a shift in the air as the three men stepped into the room. As if they were... hostile? But that doesn’t make sense, you question. Shouldn't they be on good terms with each other? You thought, but you were so wrong when you could feel the tension around you. Something unspoken between the five males. 

You understand that you haven’t known these men for long, but even you could tell that there was a sudden shift in their relationship. You saw it in the ballroom and now your suspicions are confirmed when you observe their body language in front of you.

After many moments of silence, Namjoon finally turns his attention to you, “more of those journalists keep requesting for your time your majesty,” he reports, only now do you notice his tired eyes. He must’ve been dealing with those journalists since he got back, and from what you know, they’re almost as ruthless as those in high society. 

But before you could respond, you hear Taehyung let out an annoyed groan from where he sat, “They bombarded her all throughout the morning, can’t they give her a break?” he scowls when turning his head out the window as he caught a glimpse of those pesky reporters from the border of the palace walls. Their cameras steadily aimed at the palace, hoping to capture a lucky shot of the empress. 

“It’s alright, I can handle them,” you reply, having already mentally and physically prepared yourself for this since you knew this would be a hot topic in the empire. A topic that the reporters wouldn’t let go of until they were satisfied. But just as you were about to stand from the comfort of your bed, you feel a hand gently rest on your shoulder, prompting you to turn and find Jungkook staring at you in concern. 

“Y/n, you need to rest,” Jungkook says softly, “you truly did look sick early, maybe it's from withdrawals or maybe it's from the blood, who knows, but I think it’s best you rest for the day.” You knew it would be hard to go against Jungkook, especially when he had that determined look in his eyes. Though that wasn’t what everyone else was thinking as his statement piqued their interest. 

“Y/n?” Jin questions loudly. He had thought he was hearing things, but by the looks on Namjoons and Hoseok's faces, he indeed did hear correctly. Jungkook had addressed you by your name. 

The boy blushes, not having realized he had blurted out your name in front of them. But before he could explain himself, Taehyung beat him to it.

“Y/n gave us permission to call her by her name,” he boasts with his head held high as if he was bragging about some great achievement he got. Which in a way, it kind of was. 

Hoseok raises his brow as he turns to look at you now, “may I know why?”

You clear your throat, “well, when I got rid of the alcohol and drugs in my system, I wanted to make things right and go back to how they were before. So I gave them permission to address me by my name like old times,” you reply confidently, having already prepared an answer for this question long ago. 

Though after some time, Hoseok’s blank face shifts, “I see,” he replies with a smile, but you knew better than to trust that, you knew hidden in that expression was a man that still had doubts despite witnessing the downfall of the nobles before his own eyes. You had thought Namjoon would be the one you needed to be careful of, but it seems you were wrong in that sense as you become anxious at Hoseok’s judging stare. 

Jin clears his throat, an attempt to get rid of the growing tension in the room, “we also came to discuss plans regarding the property of the nobles as well as what's to come with their families and who would be the ones to take their positions,” he pauses before nodding his head in Hoseok’s direction, “we brought along Hoseok in case military services were needed.”

You nod, though you couldn’t help but wonder, “Where’s Yoongi?” 

Jin stills for a moment before tilting his head, visibly confused from your question, “why are you suddenly asking for him?”

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you furrow your eyebrows, “Because he’s also one of my advisors,” you answer as if it was obvious. 

As if sensing your confusion, Namjoon responds, “pardon our rudeness, your majesty. You just don’t normally call on him for these types of things.”

Now you’re even more confused than before, “I don’t?”

Namjoon nods his head in confirmation, “I believe it’s because he’s not from nobility, that it may hinder and influence his judgment on these types of cases,” he explains in the nicest way possible. 

Dumbfounded, you remain seated on your bed, “I see,” is all you could utter. You knew that out of the 8 of you, the only ones who came from nobility were Namjoon, Jin, and Hoseok. Their families were one of the few nobles who secretly opposed the former emperor, which made it easy for the main character to gain their support in the rebellion. There’s no doubt that Hoseok’s military family, Namjoon’s intelligence, and Jin’s abundant wealth, had an immense influence on the success of the rebellion. 

Of course that’s not to say that the others are any less important. Jungkook and Taehyung were among the best of the best in terms of strength and fighting, not to mention Jimin being an ace when it came to agility and swiftness. They had the skills to go against opponents 10 times their size, and yet somehow win. The three were known to be the best fighters in the empire, after the empress herself of course. Afterall, they learned everything they knew from her. 

Yoongi on the other hand, proved himself to be worthy to stand by the empress’s side as an advisor due to the fact that when it came to forming tactics, he always had the perfect plan to go along with every scenario. Much of the rebellion's success was derived from the various attack plans that Yoongi came up with.

He also knows how to handle her the best out of them all. He knows how to approach her when she gets mad or upset. And he is one of the few people who isn’t afraid to go against her if he needs to, only with her and the empire’s best intentions in his mind. 

But when it came to politics, Yoongi had a harder time due to the fact that he was just a village boy who didn’t receive the same amount of education as Namjoon or Jin. Granted neither did Y/n, having been born from the same village, but she was so determined to become the empress that she worked strenuously day in and day out in order to fit the role. Having Namjoon as her teacher definitely helped the process run smoothly. 

Sure Yoongi isn’t as book smart as Namjoon, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t smart at all. You know that despite things being said about him, his words and inputs at national council meetings have proven to be of great help to the empress and the empire in the past. 

And so without another word, you stand up from your bed with a newfound determination. 

Jungkook and Taehyung eye you in concern. “Y/n?” Jungkook asks, reaching out to hold your hand, causing you to stop in your tracks. 

“I’m going to go and personally find Yoongi. Regardless of our differences, he’s still my advisor, and his presence is just as important as every single one of you.” You feel Jungkook loosen his grip on you, allowing you to slip away from his grasp. 

“Shall we escort you there?” Jungkook asks tentatively, while Taehyung had already stood up, prepared to follow you on your command. 

But instead, you shake your head, “Considering what transpired last time, I don’t think it’d be wise to bring either one of you two along,” Jungkook rubs the back of his neck while Taehyung turns away as they’re both suddenly reminded of the way they had behaved towards Yoongi. Although they were opposed to the idea of you going alone, they couldn’t argue with your statement, since even they don’t know how they would react if they were in each other's presence again. 

“I’ll accompany her majesty,” Hoseok suddenly speaks up with a raised hand, resulting in everyone turning their heads in his direction, “I think it should only be fair after all,” he pouts, lowering his hand to cross both his arms across his chest. 

Namjoon raises a brow at his claim, “Fair?”

Hoseok nods as he accusingly points at every man in the room other than himself, “Every single one of you have spent more time with her than me, that's why I think it’s only fair if I escort her,” he declares with a puff of his chest. 

Taehyung scoffs at him, “Can you blame us? We’re her escorts, of course we’re going to spend more time with her,” he fights back a roll of his eyes due to Hoseok being of a higher rank than him. 

“Exactly, so I hope you don’t mind me stealing your ‘Y/n’ for the time being,” and before you could even utter a word, Hoseok strides towards you, reaching for your arm and practically begins dragging you out the room, “see you boys later!” 

Jin shakes his head disapprovingly as he watches Hoseok roughly pull you, “would you be more careful with her majesty!” 

Hoseok scoffs, “She’s not weak,” he responds as he turns around abruptly, your chest nearly colliding with his if it weren’t for his arms steadying you. 

“I agree, but she’s also not a ragdoll that you could just push around as you please,” Jin snaps back at him, eyes narrowing at the grip on your arm.

Namjoon nods his head at this, “Indeed. Be more gentle Hoseok,” he warns sternly as he shifts his body towards the both of you intimidatingly. 

And you don’t even need to turn around to know Jungkook and Taehyung were both shooting daggers at the general. 

Hoseok sighs and finally lets go of you with his arms raised above his head in defeat, “alright alright I get it. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Though the men in the room only stare at him with unconvinced expressions as he smiles innocently right back.

You stifle a laugh at their reactions and begin to turn to leave, “we’ll be leaving then,” at this you turn to stare at each one of them, “while I’m gone. Behave.”

Taehyung scoffs, crossing his arms as he plops back down on your couch, “We’re not children Y/n.” But his pout tells you otherwise.

The corners of your lips quirk upward in amusement, “could’ve fooled me.”

He turns to you with an offended expression, mouth wide open and before he could give you a piece of his mind, you scurry out the door with Hoseok tailing right behind you. 

“Y/n!” You hear Taehyung’s voice yells out as he appears by the doorway in a matter of seconds. 

You turn around and almost laugh at his dumbfounded expression. Though, you nearly trip over your own two feet if it weren’t for Hoseok skillfully reaching out and steadying you. You quickly thank him before looking back towards your door to now find the rest of the men staring back at you. 

“We’ll set up a proper meeting tomorrow! See you boys then!” You call out before you’re reaching for Hoseok’s hand. He widens his eyes for a moment staring down at your joined hands before he feels you pull on him in the direction you were running to. 

You could still hear their protests coming from your bedroom as both you and Hoseok run away. But Hoseok can’t help but be more focused on your angelic laughter over everything else. 

“So what did the general want to talk to me about so badly that he wanted us to be alone?” you say finally after creating a fair enough distance from your bedroom.

From the corner of your eye, you see him smirk, “What makes her majesty think I had ulterior motives?” he asks innocently, his pace matching with yours as you both walk down the quiet halls.

You shake your head with a smile, “because you’re Hoseok,” you reply with a teasing glint in your eye. 

Hoseok lets out an offended noise as he dramatically brings his hand to his chest, “That hurts your majesty,” he pouts, “couldn’t I have just wanted to spend some time with you?”

You laugh at this, “Sure, but you and I both know that that’s not the case,” your mouth forming a smile, an attempt to show him you meant no harm. 

Hoseok finally lets the innocent facade fall as a smirk begins to form on his face, “Our empress sure has a sharp mind,” you hum in reply, prompting him to continue speaking,  “you’re right, I did want to talk to you.”

Though after some time walking in silence, he speaks up again, “But I had nothing in particular to talk to you about, I just wanted to see for myself whether you had truly changed or not,” he responds bluntly. 

“Your verdict?” you question with your arms behind your back, a carefree aura surrounding you. 

“Hard to tell for now,” he teases with a wink in your direction, “however, something tells me it won’t be long before I give you my answer your majesty.”

“Well let’s hope it’s an answer we both will like,” a wide optimistic grin now on your face.

Hoseok stares down at you, giving you a small smile in return, “Yes, let’s hope.” 

You two don’t speak for a while, though you can’t say it was awkward. There was a comfortable air between the two of you that you actually didn’t mind walking together in silence. You took this moment to look around the scenery, admiring the window view as you don’t really have much time to do that since Taehyung, Jungkook and even Jimin would often preoccupy your attention, not that you were complaining about their company, you rather enjoyed talking to them. But you can’t help but be grateful for this moment to yourself. So for the time being, you just look out the window, little did you know, Hoseok was staring right at you. 

Hoseok couldn’t help but admire the way the sunlight glows on your skin as if you were an ethereal being. Even the slight quirk of your lips mesmerizes him as he watches you bask in the sunlight. A picture perfect moment that he desperately tries to ingrain in his mind. 

“You know, you’re more than welcome to address me by my name as well Hoseok,” you suddenly speak out, turning your head causing the male to widen his eyes momentarily at your abrupt attention. 

But Hoseok’s eyes soften, giving you a small smile before turning his head straight in front of him yet again, “I’ll keep that in mind... thank you.” 

Neither of you speak again after that, just enjoying each other's company in silence. And after everything that you’ve been through, you didn’t realize that this was exactly what you needed. 

“Hey Yoongs”

The man hums, his eyes closed as he lays comfortably against the grass right beside Y/n.

“You’ll be with me forever right?” the young girl speaks up after some time.

At this, Yoongi opens his eyes as he stares at the far away look in her eyes, “Of course Y/n, where else would I go?” he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “why do you ask?”

She shrugs looking straight up at the passing clouds, “just making sure,” the wind softly breezing against her hair.

Yoongi nervously laughs as he turns away from her, “Sorry, but it’s gonna take a lot more for you to get rid of me,” Y/n chuckles at this causing the corners of his lips to curve upward at the sound. “Unless I got it all wrong. You’re not trying to run away from me once you become empress are you?” he questions with a teasing tone. Though he had a smile on his face, he couldn’t deny the feeling of anxiety at the possibility of her leaving him.

She scoffs before turning away, “Of course not, what would I do without you nagging me all the time, you’re practically my brother at this point.”

Yoongi feels a pang go across his heart as he faces away from her, “... right… you just see me as a brother huh,” he mumbles, more so to himself but she could still slightly hear him.

She tilts her head in his direction, “hm?”

Though he just shakes his head, “Nevermind,” now sporting a more cheerful expression as he nudges her shoulder playfully, “so suddenly I’m your brother huh?”

She nods her head, turning away from him, focusing her attention back to the sky, “Of course you are, what else would you be?” she genuinely asks.

Yoongi stills for a moment before responding with a long sigh, “Nothing,” he pauses, watching the clouds pass by both him and her as they lay on the grass in peace, “absolutely nothing.”

“Her majesty told me about it and left the job to me,” Jin responds in a tired voice as he lets out a sigh. If he had known accepting the empress’s orders would lead to this, he would’ve never done so in the first place. Because not only does he need to deal with a pile of work, but also a very pissed off Yoongi. 

“Why would she give you all the work and not me?” Yoongi asks, tone slightly offended and irritated. 

“I don’t know Yoongi, why don’t you just ask her yourself,” Jin replies tiredly as he massages his temple at his growing headache. It’s not that he wanted to get rid of Yoongi, but because he himself couldn’t provide him an answer to his question. He too couldn't understand why Y/n would give him all the work instead of him, frankly he wishes she would divide up the work evenly but alas, that doesn’t seem to be the case as every inch of his desk is nearly covered in piles of documents. 

Yoongi lets out a huff of air before standing abruptly. Jin stares at him and widens his eyes when he notices that he’s about to leave. Nervously he stands from his seat as well, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to ask her myself,” Yoongi replies as if it was the most obvious answer, his hand reaching for the door handle.

Jin gasps, “I wasn’t being serious!” he moves around his desk to grab hold of the advisor.

But Yoongi shakes his head, stepping back from his reach, “I know you weren’t, but you’re right. If I want change to happen, I need to go to her myself,” he watches concern wash over the older male before placing a hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry, I won’t lose my cool,” he says in an attempt to reassure him.

Though both Yoongi and Jin knew he was lying. He was just telling him what he wanted to hear. Jin wanted to stop him, but in the end, he lets it go since he knows that once Yoongi’s got his mind set on something, it was nearly impossible to get him out of it, ”fine, but I don’t want to hear about you getting sent to the dungeons again Yoongi.”

Though Yoongi only chuckles, “I won’t get angry, don’t stress about.”

And boy was he wrong, because it hasn’t even been 10 minutes that he walked into her office until hell broke loose. 

“Just let them handle it Yoongi, why are you so upset, I’ve given you plenty of work before,” she barks angrily.

“I’m upset, because you never give me the same amount of work as them!” He snaps back at her, tone equally as harsh. 

She nearly growls at his attitude, “Would you relax Yoongi, it’s just pieces of paper! If I had known you’d get so fucking irritated over it I would’ve sent the entire pile to you if that’s what you really wanted!”

That’s not what he wanted. He wanted her attention, her trust, he wanted to be the first person she sought out when she needed help.

He wanted her. 

“Y/n-” he gets interrupted when Y/n grabs a pile of documents and throws it in the air in front of him. He watches as the pieces of paper float down everywhere in the room, making it look as if a tornado wrecked havoc in the area. 

“Here! Just do it all for all I care, they’re just damn pieces of papers anyway,” Y/n growls tiredly. Yoongi could not have come at the worst time. Not only did she have to deal with a raging headache, but now her own advisor was yelling in her face far too early in the morning for it to be tolerable. 

She could feel her head ringing at the volume of his voice, but when she told him to leave as she wasn’t in the best mood to argue, he kept refusing stubbornly, insisting she listen to his complaints because apparently what he needed to say was so important to go against her orders. And so when she realized his important reasoning was because he was upset over his workload, her anger only rose from there. 

With her already sour mood, him snapping back at her surely didn’t help his case either.

“I have way too much shit to deal with right now, don’t add onto it Yoongi,” she spats loudly, the piles of paper covering nearly the entirety of the floor around them. 

His shoulder drops, finally coming to terms with everything as he stared into the once cheerful eyes narrow dangerously into tiny slits.

The girl before him, was never and will never be his. 

For the past few days, Yoongi had been actively avoiding not only you, but everyone else. No matter how hard they tried, neither Namjoon or Jin could reach out to him. It was almost as if Yoongi somehow knew just when and where everyone would be to successfully avoid them. 

In the beginning of the empresses reign, no one took him seriously because he wasn’t from noble descent like Namjoon and Jin. when they would attend national council meetings, no one spoke directly to him as if his previous status of a commoner was still intact. And so he had to put on this whole ruthless persona for people to show an ounce of respect for him. He had to exert more effort to prove to everyone that he was equally as worthy as the other two advisors. That he was capable of doing the same amount of work, even if he didn't receive the same strenuous education as them.

And because of the comparison between him and the other two advisors, insecurities were born and shattered his mind. 

So seeing you put your trust in Jin and Namjoon hurt him a lot more than he would like to admit. The fact that they both knew and yet you hadn’t brought it up with him once was like a shot to his heart. 

And yet throughout his time spent alone, Taehyung's voice echoes in his mind.

“When was the last time you ever treated her as one of her advisors? When have you ever truly cared for her majesty?”

He groans out of frustration at the entire situation. Because as much as he hated to admit it, he was right. When was the last time he treated her with respect. Even though the rest of the boys joined the rebellion with him, never once did they blatantly disrespect the empress the way he did. 

And with the current situation, he doesn’t even think he deserves his position of advisor anymore. Never in his life did he imagine that someone was drugging the empress. All this time, he’s been bitterly blaming the empress about the current condition of the empire when in reality, it wasn’t even her fault. He pushed her away when she needed him the most. When she was suffering he unknowingly made things worse. And because of that, he doesn’t even know if he has the courage to face the empress ever again. 

Yoongi freezes when he hears a tentative knock at his door. Slowly, he raises his head from his hands before responding in a loud tired voice, “who is it?” ready to curse out the person on the other side of the door.

“It’s me hyung.” 

Yoongi widens his eyes at the familiar voice that he can’t help but rise from his seat. He carefully walks over and finally opens the door to reveal Jimin’s figure standing before him. For a moment, the two men stand opposite of each other in silence. 

“I need to talk to you,” Jimin finally says. Yoongi nods and steps aside for him to enter, still in complete disbelief that he wanted to speak to him after everything that’s been said between the two in the past month.

As if reading his mind, Jimin turns to him with an uncertain smile, “You’re probably wondering why I'm here,” Yoongi only nods, unable to produce words at this point. Jimin stops at the center of his office before continuing, “I know we’re going through a rough patch right now, but at the end of the day, you’re still someone that I deeply care about. You’re my brother and I’m just worried about how you’re taking the situation,” he explains with a nervous expression. 

Yoongi’s eyes soften, of course they weren’t on good terms at the moment, but Jimin was right, at the end of the day, they’re brothers. He could never truly hate or get mad at him, or any of them for that matter unless they truly betrayed him. 

Jimin wasn’t certain this would be a good idea, unsure how the older male would react to his presence. And so when he hears Yoongi let out a chuckle, although not so enthusiastically, that alone causes Jimin to visibly relax.

Just then, Yoongi lets out a long sigh, “I’ll be honest, I feel like shit. But I know she’s probably going through it way harder than I am,” he finally replies as he rolls his neck.

Jimin nods, “I’m sure she is,” he mutters looking away.

Though Yoongi raises a brow, Jimim’s tone almost hinting at the fact that he doesn’t know about your feelings which was surprising to Yoongi since he knows how close he is to you. At that realization he furrowed his brows, “you haven’t spoken to her, have you?”

Jimin seems to stiffen at his claim, he contemplated lying but knew the older male would see right through him anyway, and so he just shakes his head, “no I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

Jimin lets out a low chuckle, “I wasn’t able to keep a promise with her,” he answers softly, running his fingers through his hair.

Now Yoongi was even more confused than before, he wanted to ask more questions but felt like now wouldn’t be the right time based on the downcasted look on the younger man's face. And so he only nods in return. Though Jimin’s lips quirk up, grateful that he doesn’t push the topic further.

Jimin leans against the back of his couch, crossing his arms, “I saw you that day,” he added, wanting to change the subject. “The day at the ball,” he clarifies when he saw the puzzled look on Yoongi’s face. 

“You attended the ball?”

Jimin shakes his head, “no I was watching from above, her majesty wanted me to be her ‘eyes in the sky’, or something like that,” he pauses before chuckling, “she’s been saying some strange things recently.”

Rather than laughing along with him, Yoongi can’t help but feel annoyed, “Of course you fucking knew about it, too,” he mutters furiously under his breath.

Jimin widens his eyes at his sudden harsh tone, “Pardon?” 

Yoongi scoffs, now stomping his way to his desk, “The empress told you of her plans,” Yoongi uttered with resentment, “everyone but me.” 

And as if the world wanted to continue mocking him, here you appear through the open door, with Hoseok right beside you. You freeze in your spot, when you realize Jimin, who was now staring at you like a deer in headlights, was also present in the room. Despite his surprise, he bows out of respect. Though you can’t say the same about Yoongi.

“What are you doing here,” Yoongi curses at himself, he didn’t mean to take his anger out on you. You just happened to arrive at a bad time. 

Though his cold icy tone doesn’t deter you in the slightest, “I came to inform you that we’ll be holding a meeting tomorrow,” you explain hesitantly, careful not to say the wrong thing to aggravate him even more.

He raises a brow in doubt, “you came here to personally tell me?”

You nod, “the rest of the men wanted to have a meeting regarding the situation, but I didn’t want to attend if you weren’t present.”

Yoongi scoffs, “I'm not some charity case.” Although, Yoongi can’t deny the warm feeling in his chest from what you said.

You stop, taken aback from his words, “Is that what you think you are?” you pause before continuing, “Why do you think you became one of the empress’s advisors?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at this, “Because you think of me as a brother,” he spats bitterly. 

“No, it’s because you’re one of the few people I trust most in this world, I know we had a bumpy road getting here, but you have to believe me when I say that I trust you,” you insist as you take a step closer into the room.

Though your statement seemed to have ignited a fire in him as he snaps his head to you with narrowed eyes, “If you trust me so much then why didn’t you let me know about this entire situation?!” You jump back at his tone, surprised by how angry he got.

Hoseok steps forward in an instant, “Hyung I had no idea about the drugs either,” he blurts out, trying to dissipate the tension in the room as he moves to stand in between you and Yoongi. 

Jimin nods in confirmation, shifting his body to stand protectively in front of you as well, “he’s right hyung, Hoseok also had no idea what was going on.”

“That may be true, but she still sought your help, no? She needed military strength, she needed someone to hide in the shadows and she went to you two,” he snaps at them. Hoseok shuts his mouth, unable to form words to counter his claim. 

Though it’s not like Yoongi was going to let anyone else speak, not until he was finished, “Where do I come into play? Jin hyung and Namjoon helped with the plan, Jimin looked out for you from above, Hoseok provided the military strength, Jungkook and Taehyung came as your escorts. But what about me?” At this point, Yoongi paces around the room frantically, you try to reach out to him but he jumps back as if your touch would burn him. 

“Why am I always in last place!” He yells at the top of his lungs, “Is it because I wasn’t born into high nobility like Jin hyung? Is it cause I’m not some fucking genius like Namjoon? Or as handsome as Jungkook and Taehyung. Or as confident as Jimin. Or as reliable as Hoseok?” He continues his rant when everyone is too stunned to react.

“Yoon-”

“Why am I never good enough for you!” He shouts, slamming his fist hard on his desk. The room becomes silenced in an instant. The only sounds coming from the broken advisor standing before you. 

“Am I not enough?” He sniffles, his voice cracking as he stumbles, grabbing hold of the corner of the table to stabilize himself. He bows his head low, an attempt to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

You turn to look at Jimin and Hoseok, giving them a solemn look as you nod your head in the direction of the door, wanting to speak to him privately. 

They seem to understand your gesture as they begin to silently make their way out of the room. Although Jimin hesitates for a moment standing by the doorway. He takes one last look at Yoongi and back to you, his expression unreadable before finally closing the door behind him. 

At the click of the door, you turn your head back to Yoongi, your eyes focused solely on him. Carefully, you take slow steps towards him, you don't know if he notices but if he did he didn’t take any further steps away from you. “Yoongi, you are more than enough for me, you have to believe me,” you urge as you stop a few feet away from him. Careful to not overwhelm and crowd around his space. 

His silence urges you to continue, “I just felt like you didn’t want anything to do with me so I gave you your space,” you explain softly, “But you’re still one of my advisors, I should’ve communicated with you better on the situation. I'm sorry.” 

You take a few experimental steps towards him, assessing his reaction carefully because if you saw any indication that he was uncomfortable by the distance, you would step away immediately. But he gave you none. Even when you were now standing in front of him, he didn’t make an effort to move away. Instead, he finally lifts his head, holding your stare as his tears now running down his face. 

You don’t know what got over you, but at the sight of his tears, you find yourself reaching your hand out until they cup his face gingerly. His breath hitches when your hand caresses his cheek, your fingers wiping away the seemingly never-ending tears.

“Yoongi, you’re more than enough for me,” you repeat softly as you stare into his eyes. Almost mesmerized as his glossy eyes shined back at you making it look as though you were staring at the night sky.

You lean your body forward until your arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing him into a tight hug, “I’ll always need you,” you say in a soft whisper. But no matter how quiet you were, he heard you loud and clear.

He sucks in a breath as a sob escapes his mouth. He doesn’t try to fight you, instead, he wraps his arms around your waist instantly, tightening his grip around your body.

But instead of calming down, his sobs grow louder at the feel of your body against his.

Concerned, you try to pull away but Yoongi only tightens his grip around you as he shakes his head. 

“Don’t,” he whimpers softly, clutching onto you tighter as if you would slip away forever, “please don’t leave me. Not yet,” he cries out. Your heart nearly shattering at the sound of his voice cracking. 

Your eyes soften as you once again relax in his arm, your hands rubbing his back reassuringly as he continues to cry, his tears falling onto the nape of your neck. “I won’t,” you soothe gently, “I won’t leave you Yoongi.”

He sniffles once more, “You’re really back?”

You don’t have it in you to respond with a straight answer. You just couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him like that, especially in his current state. Lying to his face knowing that the empress he knew was no longer the owner of this body. That you were a completely different person, but who in their right mind would believe you. 

So instead, you nod softly, reaching a hand to run through his hair. His tears stream down his face as he chokes back a cry at the feel of your nod. 

You smile bitterly, as you have to keep reminding yourself, the girl he loves isn’t you, it’s the empress. He’s not crying for you, he’s crying for her. 

You had seen this coming, but it still hurt a lot more than you had expected. The world for some reason just wouldn’t stop being cruel to you. 

A young man approaches the darkly lit room slowly, the only source of light being the fireplace that’s barely holding onto life as it seems as though it’s about to die out at any moment.

“Master, I’ve come with urgent news,” the boy announced, news so important he fidgets in his spot nervously as he anticipates his reaction. It’s silent in the room, the only sound coming from the crackling of the fire as the wood burns. 

There, sat in front of a large window was the boy’s master, he had not turned around to face him, instead, opting to stare up at the moon as it shines brightly down on him, “Speak,” he commands in a dominating voice.

The boy nods his head, “We received a report confirming the death of Grand Duke Lee Joong-gu as well as Sir Taehyung, Sir Jungkook, and Sir Jimin stepping down from the rebellion.”

The man hums, immensely intrigued by the sudden news, “and the others?”

The boy shakes his head, “there have been no reports being made of the others stepping down as of this moment master, though many speculate it’s just a matter of time at this point.”

The man bellows loudly at that, as he leans back comfortably in his chair, his eyes shining with mirth, “I told that damn duke not to get too greedy and look what happened. He got caught,” he scoffs as he turns fully around, hands crossed on his desk as he traces the letter he had received from the late grand duke a mere few weeks ago in a bored manner, “Seems what that fool said was of concern after all, her majesty has truly changed.”

The boy nods, “What do you suggest we do now?”

He turns back around, admiring the night sky, “tell my men to continue keeping an eye on her majesty. And report everything to me.”

The boy bows, “yes master,” he responds before turning away, ready to inform those of the new orders. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” the man whistles as he leans back on his chair, “so you truly did succeed in changing the story,” he chuckles and with a dangerous glint he stares up at the moon, “I can’t wait to meet you, new empress.”

A/N: Hey guys!! I’m so sorry for taking so long to upload this chapter, I had to focus on my final exams and all the assignments my professors piled on me at the end of the semester. So I tried to finish this chapter as fast as I could!

I hope you’re all happy with how things went in this chapter. Also sorry for all the drama, I just felt like it would be better for the reader and Yoongi to make up instead of making more chapters of them avoiding each other when they could just communicate about their feelings. 

Thank you everyone for supporting and reading my story! I also love receiving all your kind messages so thank you so much for that!

And as always, I hope you have a wonderful day!!

Tagslist: (those in bold, I’m not sure if it worked for you, I’m really sorry, I’m not sure how to fix it) (I also apologize if I forgot to add someone, just comment again and I promise to add you in the next one!!)

@reallysparklychaos, @unknownsageking, @casspirit0705, @fangirl125reader, @silscintilla, @serefara29, @chimtaesty-main, @xxqueenwxtchxx, @diamonddia-mond, @vishakhas-world, @purelyecstacy, @resticou, @woopetals, @magicsweetener, @splaterparty0-0, @daydreambrliever, @strangeobjectmaker, @luna-xial, @m0chilattae, @celaenaelentiyavox, @lindsayjoy444, @layzfeelit, @kimsaerom, @songtiddies, @untamedgrape, @sonnymii, @moonssuga​, @kassandravictoria, @galaxyflab, @blank-et-noir, @nynhope , @midnight1199, @yessii-i, @protontippens, @gguktings, @borahebangtan, @katkrusade, @handsupanddropthepotato, @missseoulite, @cellula-staminale, @red-bow-tie3, @whateveritis616, @ggukkieland, @sbroces, @nnessworls, @yoonieebear

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 25

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 25 - This Venerable One Hates Him So Much!

Chu Wanning couldn't force a "go away" to leave his throat. There was a long sombre pause before he changed his answer to: "Come in."

"Huh? Your door isn't locked?" They had been giving each other the silent treatment all day. But now, Mo Ran had the intention of reconciling with him, so he pushed open the door as he spoke like nothing had ever happened. Chu Wanning, on the other hand, sat expressionlessly at the table. He raised his eyes and glanced at him faintly.

In all fairness, Mo Ran was incredibly beautiful, and the whole room seemed to brighten as soon as he walked in the door. He was indeed very young. His skin was tight and seemed to exude a faint glow. The corners of his mouth were naturally slightly curled, and he seemed to be smiling even when he wasn't showing any emotion.

Chu Wanning didn't move his eyes off of Mo Ran. His slender eyelashes drooped and raised his hand to pinch out the incense burning on the table. He coldly asked:

"What are you doing here?"

"I came. . . to check your injury." Mo Ran awkwardly coughed. His eyes fell on Chu Wanning's shoulder and he froze. "You dressed it already?"

Chu Wanning faintly said: "Yes."

Mo Ran didn't know what to say: ". . ."

He really hated Chu Wanning, and he was furious that Chu Wanning had hurt Shi Mei. But, after calming down, Mo Ran wasn't completely without a conscience. Yeah, he hated him, but he didn't forget that Chu Wanning's shoulder was injured.

In the claustrophobic coffin, Chu Wanning had tightly guarded him in his arms, blocking the Master of Ceremonies Ghost's claws with his own body. His body had trembled in pain but he didn't let go. . .

To Chu Wanning, Mo Ran was disgusting.

But in addition to disgust, some very complicated emotions were always mixed in with it for some reason.

He was a rude person. He didn't read books when he was a child. Although he obtained some literary knowledge later, he still couldn't grasp many concepts easily when it came to many delicate things, especially when it came to feelings.

For example, when it came to Chu Wanning, Mo Ran rubbed his head and pondered. The back of his head was going to go bald, but he still couldn't figure out what this feeling was.

He can only identify certain kinds of feelings: love, hate, detest, happiness and unhappiness.

If all these emotions were mixed together, the wise and powerful cultivation emperor would get crossed-eyed and really dizzy.

He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. He didn't know. Help, my head hurts.

So Mo Ran didn't bother to dwell on it. Besides, he didn't have time to focus on any details other than Shi Mei.

He didn't hold good feelings for Chu Wanning in his heart, and while secretly plotting when he might have an opportunity in the future, he would make him pay with double the ferocity. On the other hand, he felt guilty. After an internal battle with himself, he finally knocked on Chu Wanning's door.

He didn't want to owe Chu Wanning.

But Chu Wanning was more stubborn and ruthless than he thought.

Mo Ran stared at the pile of blood-stained cotton gauze on the table, the bowl of hot water stained red with blood, and the sharp knife that was thrown haphazardly thrown aside. The tip of the knife was still coated with flesh and blood. His head was spinning.

How did he manage to heal himself?

Had he really cut off the festering flesh without so much as blinking? Just imagining it sent a chill down his spine. Was this guy even human?

He thought about when he had cleaned up Shi Mei's wound. Shi Mei had groaned softly in pain with tears in the corners of his eyes. Even though Mo Ran didn’t like Chu Wanning, he couldn’t help but silently give him credit——

Elder Yuheng was truly a domineering and righteous man, no arguments there.

After standing in place for a while, Mo Ran was the first to break the silence. He coughed, tapping his toes against the floor, and awkwardly said: "What happened in the Chen house. . . Shizun, I'm sorry."

Chu Wanning didn't say anything.

Mo Ran stole a glance at him: "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Chu Wanning still ignored him. His face was still. As always, he had no reaction, but that didn't mean he wasn't aggravated and just not saying anything.

Mo Ran walked over. When he got closer, he saw the mess of bandages on Chu Wanning's shoulder. The cotton gauze was tied in several different ways. It looked like a group of crabs that were stuck together.

". . ."

Also, for a person who doesn't know how to wash his own clothes, can he really be trusted to treat himself?

Mo Ran sighed: "Shizun, don't be angry."

"Do I look angry?" Chu Wanning angrily responded.

Mo Ran: ". ."

After a long pause.

"Shizun, that's not how you wrap a bandage. . ."

He retorted unceremoniously: "You want you to teach me?"

Mo Ran: ". . ."

He raised his hand. He wanted to help Chu Wanning untie the gauze and wrap it again, but he was observant and felt that if he dared to touch him, he might end up with a lashing, so he hesitated.

He raised his hand then lowered it, and then raised it again, repeating the action several times. Chu Wanning was getting annoyed. He squinted at him: "What are you doing? Do you still want to fight me?"

". . ." He really wanted to fight him, but now wasn't a good time.

Mo Ran smiled sheepishly. Throwing caution to the wind, he suddenly reached over and grabbed his shoulders, dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth: "Shizun, let me help you re-bandage it."

Chu Wanning wanted to refuse, but Mo Ran's warm fingers had already wrapped around the bandage. His mouth felt dry and stiff. He couldn't speak, so his lips moved slightly but nothing came out.

The gauze was peeled off layer by layer. Blood had soaked through it, and when it was all torn back, the five holes were piercingly obvious and hideous.

Just looking at it, he shuddered. It was many times more serious than the would on Shi Mei's face.

Mo Ran didn't know what he was looking at. He was stunned, then suddenly asked softly: "Does it hurt?"

Chu Wanning lowered his long and slender eyelashes, and simply said lightly: "It's fine."

Mo Ran said: "I'll be gentle."

Chu Wanning didn't know what he was thinking, and suddenly his ear flushed a little red. As a result, he got angry with himself again. He thought he was going crazy. All day he had been thinking up such nonsensical thoughts. His expression grew stiff. His temper worsened, and he said dryly, "It's up to you."

The candlelight in the guest room flickered. In the dim light, he could see that he had completely missed some spots with the ointment. Mo Ran was honestly speechless. He thought it was a miracle that Chu Wanning was still alive and healthy today.

"Shizun."

"Hmm?"

"What happened to you today at the Chen house? Why did you suddenly lash out and hit someone?" He asked while applying some ointment.

Chu Wanning was silent for a while, then replied: "I was angry."

Mo Ran asked: "Why were you so angry?"

Chu Wanning didn't want to trouble his disciple, so he told Mo Ran a brief and concise version of Luo Xianxian's story. After Mo Ran listened to the story, he shook his head: "You're stupid. In this kind of situation, even if you're angry, you shouldn't confront them about it to their face. If it were me, I would've made a mess of things and lie to them that the ghost had been removed, and then pat their asses and leave, letting them fend for themselves. Just look at you making a scene over such a rotten man. You knew you probably wouldn't get through to him, and then you missed and wounded Shi Mei--"

Halfway through the sentence, Mo Ran abruptly stopped. He stared silently at Chu Wanning.

He tied the bandage carefully. He was a little forgetful and he was talking to Chu Wanning like he had when he was 32, pretty cheekily.

Chu Wanning obviously noticed. He squinted his eyes, looking coldly at Mo Ran. That look resembled a very familiar phrase - "See if I don't whip you to death."

"Uh. . ."

Before his brain had thought up a response, Chu Wanning has already begun speaking.

He said indifferently: "Is Shi Mingjing the one I wanted to fight?"

When Shi Mei was mentioned, Mo Ran's originally calm mental state started to shift and his tone hardened: "Isn't he the person you hit?"

Chu Wanning did regret hitting him, but he couldn't admit it. At this moment, his face was sullen and he didn't say a word.

Chu Wanning was the stubborn type. Mo Ran was the lovesick type. Their eyes meet and sparks crackled. The atmosphere that had just eased a little became hopelessly stagnant again.

Mo Ran said: "Shi Mei didn't do anything wrong. Shizun, you hurt him by accident. Don't you want to say that you're sorry?"

Chu Wanning narrowed his eyes dangerously: "Are you questioning me?"

". . . I'm not." Mo Ran paused. "I just feel bad that he got hurt but never got an apology from Shizun."

Under the candlelight, the handsome and youthful teenager finished wrapping the last bandage on Chu Wanning's wound and carefully tied a knot. It may have looked like the scene was quite warm, but the mood between them had changed. Especially Chu Wanning; his chest felt like a jar of vinegar had exploded in it. The feeling of sourness was overwhelming and he felt angry and annoyed.

Apologize?

How do you even spell that word? Who'll teach him how to write?

Mo Ran said: "It'll take half a year for the wound on his face to heal. When I gave him some medicine just now, he still told me not to blame you. Shizun, he doesn't blame you, but do you think that justifies what you did?"

This sentence was tantamount to adding fuel to the fire.

Chu Wanning had been enduring it but he finally couldn't hold it back. He suppressed his voice and muttered: "Get out."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

Chu Wanning exploded: "Get out!"

Mo Ran was forced out and the door slammed shut in his face, almost clamping his fingers. Mo Ran was furious. Just look at this! What kind of person was this? All this just to avoid apologizing? Such cherished and treasured pride. What was so difficult about saying sorry? All he needs to do is move his mouth. This Venerable One was the Emperor TaXian, yet this Venerable One didn't hesitate to apologize to others. As for the Beidou Immortal, half of his words were inexplicable, as if he had swallowed them. What a ridiculous temper!

No wonder no one cared about such a handsome face!

It was a waste of time. He deserved to stay single for the rest of his life!

Since Chu Wanning would rather ignore him and give him a closed-door to talk to, then of course the high and mighty cultivation emperor, the emperor of the human world, wouldn't lose any sleep over this. Although he was tenacious and as hard to get rid of as a piece of sticky candy, he stuck to Shi Mei, not his shizun.

He immediately left without a care and went to join Shi Mei.

"Why are you back so soon?" Shi Mei was in the midst of lying down to rest when he saw Mo Yan come in. He froze and sat up, long strands of ink hair hanging all over the place. "How's Shizun?"

"Very good. His temper is as strong as usual."

Shi Mei: ". . ."

Mo Ran brought over a chair and sat on it backwards. His hand rested on the back of the Taishi chair, a lazy smile hanging on the corner of his mouth. His gaze flicked across the appearance of Shi Mei's soft and long hair.

Shi Mei said: "Why don't I go and see him. . ."

"Don't think too much about it." Mo Ran rolled his eyes. "He's terrible."

"Did you make him angry again?"

"He needs someone to provoke him? He makes himself angry. I think he's made of wood considering he's so flammable."

Shi Mei shook his head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Mo Ran said: "Get some rest. I'll borrow the kitchen downstairs and make you some food."

Shi Mei said: "What's the fuss? You haven't closed your eyes all night. Aren't you going to sleep?"

"Haha, I am in good spirits." Mo Ran laughed. "But if you can't bear me leaving, I can stay with you for a while until you fall asleep."

Shi Mei hurriedly waved his hand and said warmly: "No, if you have to look at me like this, I won't be able to sleep either. You should go to bed early. Don't exhaust yourself."

The curvature in the corners of his mouth stiffened slightly. Mo Ran was a little sad.

Although Shi Mei treated him kindly, he always maintained such a distant attitude. It was the attitude of someone who was obviously close at hand, but as the moon in the mirror and the flower in the water, he could be seen but not obtained.

". . . Okay." In the end, he just tried to cheer up and laughed. Mo Ran's smile was very bright. When he wasn't completely evil, he was actually pretty silly and cute. "Call me if you need anything. I'm either right next door or downstairs."

"Okay."

Mo Ran raised his hand, wanting to touch his hair, but he held back. He spun his hand around in the air and scratched his head.

"I'm leaving."

Outside of the room, Mo Ran couldn't help but sneeze.

He sniffed.

Because Caidie Town produced incense, the price of all the different kinds of incense wasn't as expensive, so the inn wasn't stingy with it. Each room was lit with a long branch of special incense; one can ward off evil spirits, another can dehumidify, the last one can give the room a nice fragrance.

But as soon as Mo Ran smelled the incense, it made him uncomfortable. But if Shi Mei liked it, he would endure it.

Coming downstairs, Mo Yan wandered over to the innkeeper, slipped him a silver ingot. He squinted his eyes and said with a smile: "Innkeeper, do me a favour."

The innkeeper looked at the silver ingot and smiled more politely at Mo Ran: "What is this immortal gentleman's request?"

Mo Ran said: "I see that not many people come here to eat breakfast. I wanted to discuss that with you. I want to use the kitchen this morning. Please let the other guests know."

How much money would breakfast make him? It would probably be impossible to earn a silver ingot in half a month. The innkeeper immediately smiled and agreed, leading the swaggering Mo Weiyu into the kitchen of the inn.

"You want to cook by yourself? It's better to let the chef in our inn do it. He's very talented."

"No need." Mo Ran smiled. "Have you heard of the Jade Wine Building in Xiangtan?"

"Ah. . . Is that the famous music performance building that started getting popular more than a year ago?"

Mo Ran: "Yeah."

The boss took a peek outside and confirmed that his wife was busy and couldn't overhear. He snickered and said, "Who hasn't heard of it? It's the most famous restaurant on the Xiangjiang River. It used to have a lead musician there. It’s a pity it's so far away, otherwise, I'd want to listen to her play a song."

Mo Ran laughed: "Thank you for the compliment. I'll pass it onto her."

"Pass it on?" The innkeeper was puzzled. "Do you know her?"

Mo Ran said: "More than just know."

"Wow. . .You don't say? But you cultivators can be. . . well. . ."

Mo Ran interrupted him with a smile: "Other than the lead musician, do you know anything else?"

"Hmm. . . Their food was said to be a must."

The corners of Mo Ran's mouth curled higher and he smiled brighter. He skillfully picked up the kitchen knife and said: "Before I took up cultivation, I was a cook in the kitchen in the Jade Wine Building for several years. You said that your chefs make delicious dishes. Whose is better, theirs or mine?"

The innkeeper was even more shocked, and stammered out: "You're really. . . really. . ."

He couldn't get the words out.

Mo Ran gazed at him with narrowed eyes. His smile was barely holding back his smug and cocky demeanour: "You can leave. This chef is going to cook something."

The innkeeper didn’t know that he was talking to the former Lord of Darkness, and he put on a cheeky expression: “I've heard a lot about Jade Wine House's exquisite desserts. I wonder if you would let me have a bite once they're ready?"

He didn't think this was too high of a request. Mo Ran would definitely agree.

Who would've expected Mo Ran to squint his eyes and say with a smirk: "You want some?"

"Hmph!"

"Really?" Mo Ran snorted. He was bursting with pride. He scoffed: "You think I would cook for just anyone? This Venerable One is doing this just for Shi Mei. If not for him, I wouldn't even be lighting a fire to cook. . ."

He flipped a radish over and started to slice it, muttering.

". . ." The innkeeper slumped defeatedly. He rubbed his hands and stood there awkwardly. He halfheartedly chuckled at him then left.

He was also muttering to himself.

This Venerable One? For someone this young, his spiritual core hasn't even fully formed yet. He thought about his chatter and how he was probably referring to his elder sister disciple, but there was no female cultivator among the group who walked with him today.

The innkeeper rolled his eyes.

This person must be deluded.

Mo Ran stayed busy in the kitchen for several hours. It was almost noon when the work was finished, and he rushed upstairs to wake Shi Mei up.

When passing by Chu Wanning's room, he slowly came to a stop.

Should he ask if he wanted to eat together. . .

Thinking of Chu Wanning's harsh temperament, Mo Ran's heart skipped a beat, his face full of contempt.

No, no, no. He only had a few portions. There wasn't enough to share with him!

[jojikawa]

Mrs. Bucciarati | Bruno Bucciarati x Fem! Reader | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

┊❥ Part 6 - Down Time

MASTERLIST

✧『Fandom』: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

✧『Character』: Bruno Bucciarati

✧『Word Count』: 3,129 words 16,714 characters

✧『Summary』: The group kills time as they wait for Giorno and Mista to reach their destination.

The group quickly made its way back on the road to Venezia. Mista, Fugo, and Giorno were on the surface, driving the car while everyone else stayed inside to protect Trish as a second line of defense.

Inside the turtle, you had been sitting in between Narancia and Abbacchio. You had sat there first because Narancia wanted to show you something in the magazine he was reading but Abbacchio made it awkward by sitting next to you.

You had taken notice because previously, he was trying to avoid you.

Bruno was sitting on the other side of the table, his head tucked into the laptop that was used for communications. You wanted to talk but you felt like that would be distracting since he wanted to focus.

You didn’t know why but often, you would think of the first time the two of you met and the events that followed. You used to cringe at the memory of it but now that you were sure about your feelings towards him, it was wholesome.

One of your favorite memories with him was during a “charity” event your father held a few years ago. It wasn’t actually for anything charity-related.

Just another excuse to greet Italian capos. You hated it. You hated how corrupt your father was. He had a way of keeping investors while still doing dirty work.

Amongst them was Polpo from Passione in Italy and with him was a young Bruno Bucciarati. He was 17 at the time and you had just turned 16. Polpo agreed to take Bruno with him after much begging on his part. The boy just wanted to see you again.

That night, you were completely upset. Your father wanted you to sing since he and much of the staff agreed you had a nice singing voice. You were too nervous and honestly, you couldn’t even see yourself singing well at all. This upset him and he made you stay by him all night.

The ball was boring until Bruno had arrived. He found you quickly and wanted to talk. He figured that you were being held hostage by your father and wanted to help.

When we walked over, he cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” He said, grabbing your father’s attention. Your father had been speaking to a popular district attorney.

“It’s an honor to have been invited here, Mr. (l/n).” Bruno bowed, trying to seem as gentlemanly as possible.

Your father finished up his conversation before nodding the attorney away and taking a sip of his drink. “Oh, Bruno Bucciarati. I didn’t know Polpo was bringing you. I’m sure I only sent out one invitation.” Your father joked, even laughing when no one found it funny.

You just tried to tune him out, fiddling with your dress that was the same color as your father’s tuxedo.

Bruno humored him, laughing as well. “Well, you see, I couldn’t pass up the chance of hearing (y/n) sing so I had Polpo make room for one more.” His eyes lingered over to you. Bruno seemed so friendly and soft but he was tall for his age and it was almost intimidating…

You looked away, blushing after seeing the innocent twinkle in his eyes when he saw you were all dressed up. Normally, you were wearing loungewear since you were always inside. You looked so stunning!

“That’s too bad because little (y/n) over here decided that she didn’t want to help me pull any investors and she’s not singing at all tonight.” Your father lazily waved his hand in your direction, sipping more of his wine.

“I don’t believe I can sing. I’ve never had any lessons.” You spoke up for the first time. Your father narrowed his eyes at you. “Then after tonight, we’re getting you some.”

You sighed, looking away from your father and off to the side. This was so awkward… you wanted to leave.

Bruno saw what was unfolding and intervened before things could escalate.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Mr. (l/n). I’m sure (y/n) has an amazing voice. She’s just shy and there’s nothing wrong with that. Perhaps, I can help her build her confidence.” He offered his hand to you. You just stared at it.

Your father sighed. “I suppose so. I trust you, Bruno.”

Your father then let you spend the night with him and it was a lot better than just standing around.

All night, Bruno had been such a gentleman and even slow danced with you when no one was watching. You weren't very good and neither was he but you still found it enjoyable.

You had been reminiscing about the past when your thoughts were interrupted by Bruno who had been speaking to Abbacchio.

Bruno had gotten a message on the laptop asking Abbacchio to use his stand to reveal a message that was left behind.

Everyone had gathered around and you got up to look too.

Abbacchio decided to go back 15 hours. The person Moody Blues took the shape off was of the older man you had seen when you all first picked up Trish.

He explained more instructions for the team to follow. You felt so out of place. Everything about this was so bizarre. The moment you get to be with Bruno, you get wrapped up in some elaborate plan. You haven’t sat down with him since you arrived.

When you came to, you saw the image of Mr. Pericolo with a gun to his head. You had only zoned out for a moment! What happened?

Pericolo explained that because of his influence, the enemy knows that he’s helping Bruno deliver Trish. He isn’t a stand user so he doesn’t know how he could defend himself.

His only escape was killing himself before they got to him. It was tragic but these are things you sign up for in Passione.

He pulled the trigger and you saw red before Bruno hugged you to his chest and turned around to block the image of what you almost saw.

You tried to resist but he only held you tighter until the image of it was gone.

“Oh my god!!” You heard Narancia yell.

Trish and Abbacchio were speechless. You had wished that Bruno could’ve used his energy to protect the eyes of one of the children, especially Trish, but it was over now.

You wanted to cry but you were in so much shock. You felt like after everything was over, you would need some kind of therapy. It’s only been a few days and you’ve endured so much trauma. You were just a human.

“Bruno…” you tried to loosen his grip. “…let go.”

He squeezed you again when you had said his name but then without a word, he let go of you. He stood up to talk but his eyes were darkened and he was visibly sweating.

“Mr. Pericolo.”

You were dazed for a moment by his behavior but then you looked over at Trish who must have been traumatized.

You walked over and grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry that you had to see that. Are you okay?” You asked, sweetly. Her eyes darted over to you. She was shaking and sweating as well. It hurt you that she had to deal with all of this at such a young age.

“M-mhm.” She nodded and gave your hand a tight squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.” You told her.

You then realize that you would have to comfort Narancia, Fugo, and Giorno, as well. Being a mother figure wasn’t easy. You felt so obligated to be there for all of them but it was impossible.

You didn’t know how helpful Bruno was towards the younger members but you could only hope he took their mental health into account.

Before you could ask everyone about how they felt, Bruno had sent Mista and Giorno to drive while the rest of you stayed inside the turtle.

You couldn’t figure out why Bruno kept sheltering you. He wanted you by his side or inside the turtle at all times. You wanted to be able to help him protect everyone. You were tired of him acting like he could do everything on his own.

It was hard trying to get a good word in since everyone was in such close proximity. To everyone else, the way you and Bruno interacted was similar to parents. All of the kids had prominent parental issues so the two of you served as a support system when they needed it.

You were sitting next to Trish and you were unsure if you should give her space or make yourself available to speak to. You thought that maybe you should use this time to talk to Bruno but Trish had actually spoken first.

“Mrs. Bucciarati, what was your life like before you came here?” Her voice was pretty monotone as always but you could tell she was sad.

“My life? Well, I was pretty much a homebody. I just tended to my garden and practiced Italian.” You answered.

“Practicing Italian? Why?” She looked at you before realizing you weren’t a native Italian. It’s probably why your dialect sounded a bit different than most. You had a more formal way of speaking compared to the others.

“I’m from America and I know Bruno because I’m the daughter of a boss as well.” You explained with a smile. She didn’t reply to you. She just stared at you with her mouth opened a small bit. Maybe she could finally relate to someone.

You then turned your attention to Bruno who had been using the laptop. You were so worried about the boys. It didn’t feel right for you to send Mista and Giorno out on their own.

“Bruno.” You got up from your spot with Trish and went over to Bruno. You didn’t want to create a scene, so just in case things escalated, you spoke in English.

“I know you have faith in the boys, but is it really wise to send them out on their own? I could’ve gone with them.” You said down next to him, not really interested in what he was doing enough to look.

He just hummed before saying. “I don’t want you to be separated from me anymore. The last two times we got separated, you were hurt and every time we’ve been attacked, you were hurt.”

You huffed. “But you told me you were proud of me. You still don’t believe I can handle myself?”

“Cara mia, I know you can handle yourself but I just can’t have you hurt anymore. You were only taught to fight to a certain extent. If either of us makes a mistake then you could be killed.” His voice was firm. He’s never spoken to you in this tone before and it almost embarrassed you.

“But we have made mistakes. We both have. I’ve done my part in helping. I just still haven’t proven myself to you.” You turned away from him, upset that he was babying you and belittling the training you went through just for him.

Bruno look over at you who had been completely facing the other way. He reached over to your shoulder but you lightly jerked it away.

Why couldn’t you just understand that he was trying to protect you? Was it really wise to promise Giorno this ridiculous plan? Your first impression of Italy has just been filled with bloodshed. Although, if he didn’t then he never would have been Capo.

How long would it have taken him to reach the status of Capo normally?

Bruno pushed those thoughts out of his head. Maybe he was smothering you a little. It was just so hard not seeing you as a delicate flower anymore. He wished that he could’ve seen you more.

As an attempt to show affection, he reached out to your hand that has been free and resting on the sofa. The tips of his fingers brushed yours lightly but you had quickly curled them up, hiding them in a fist.

You didn’t seem to want to hold hands either.

Across the room, Fugo and Narancia were pondering on what you two could’ve been talking about. They didn’t know much English either. It was easy for the others to pay so much attention to you because of how new you were to them.

“Hey, Fugo, you know some English right? What do you think they’re talking about?” Narancia asked. “I’ve never seen Bucciarati so soft!” He hoarsely whispered into his ear.

Fugo, who was trying to rest his eyes, was getting annoyed at the boy. “No, Narancia, I don’t know what they’re saying. I’m not going to violate their privacy either. If it were meant for us to hear, then they wouldn’t have changed languages in the first place.” He explained. This made Narancia frown and retract himself.

You figured that maybe you should talk to Abbacchio for advice. You went over to the purple schemed man and Bruno’s eyes followed you curiously.

He watched as you talked to Leone with confidence and not anything at all like he expected. At first, when you first met them in Naples, he could sense your fear for that man but now you didn’t seem like you were at all.

“Leone,” You sighed and his head snapped over to you. You jumped at his reaction. “A-Abbacchio, I mean, sorry.” You raised your hands in defense and began to sweat. His neutral expression didn’t change. Deep down he didn’t mind your voice saying his name.

“As Bruno always called the shots this way? Sending the children out?” You asked softly.

This annoyed Abbacchio but still, his expression didn’t change. Of course, you would want to talk to him about Bruno of all people. Since you’ve been here, it’s just been about you and him and can’t even last 2 minutes apart when you’re just a foot away from him.

He knew that the only reason he felt this way was that he was jealous. He was probably just jealous of Bucciarati the whole time. What would it take for him to get a woman like you?

“Yeah. Always been that way.” He replied. “They know that they’re doing. Nothing new.”

A small gasp left your mouth. Everyone seemed so uncaring of the safety of the boys. But this didn’t have to mean the end.

You just had to be strong enough to protect them yourself. “I see.” That was all you had said. You didn’t care if it didn't seem like Bruno had faith in you or that there were so many children or how nonchalant Leone was about it. You had a stand too and you knew how to use it.

“Th-That’s all.” You smiled nervously before giving the man his space. You scooted further away, not wanting to move around too much and irritate everyone.

When you looked up, you saw that Bruno was just staring at you, watching. He looked upset but not angry. You wanted to comfort him but you were still upset with him. You’ve worked so hard and it’s like it doesn’t even matter to him.

For some hours, you occupied yourself with a magazine. You tested yourself by reading Italian fashion articles and keeping notes of things you wanted to buy with Bruno’s money. You made sure to bookmark pages with nice shoes and dresses you’d like to try on.

Your actions were interrupted by feeling a portion of the couch next to you sink. You looked to your left to see it was Bruno with the computer resting on his lap. He didn’t say a word and only shifted his weight so that his thigh was touching your exposed one.

This made you blush, so hard that physically acknowledged that he had done this when his goal was to be smooth with it.

“B-Bruno-” You whispered. Bruno ignored you, resting a free hand on the thigh closest to him. He leaned over, so close that the message you got was that he was trying to kiss you.

Really? In front of everyone? What’s gotten into him?

“Are you upset with me?” He whispered into your ear.

Your face heated up. You would feel his breath hitting your ear.

“N-No.” You replied, turning your head to him.

His eyes were narrowed and his face frowned. He leaned in further but he didn’t kiss you. He…licked your face?!

You yelped, breaking contact with him. What the hell was that!?

“To me, it seems like you’re lying.”

“Huh? Is this that lie detection thing you told me about? I thought that was a joke…” You wiped the faint sign of saliva on your face. “Warn me next time, okay?”

He chuckled before kissing you softly. “I thought it would cheer you up.” He said in between breaths.

You kissed back tenderly, your cheeks burning at his actions. Was this a dream?

Your minor make-out session was cut short when Narancia had brought you both back to reality.

Butterflies grew inside of you as you covered your face and turned away. You were always such a shy and delicate flower and now he knew that he could tease you with a public display of affection.

Narancia had been volunteering to be the one to go out to be on the surface so that he could use Aureo Smith to find Mista and Giorno.

You parted from Bruno, enjoying the remaining time just leaning against him. His body was warm and his cologne was faint with a hint of sweat from all the intense fighting.

You were an odd couple but the love was undeniable.

Mista and Giorno were found. Mista had sustained a lot of injuries, which the blonde male healed with his stand.

You played your role and scolded Mista at his lack of awareness to which he replied by calling you “Mom.”

“You should be more careful. You can’t always expect your wounds to be fixed. Giorno can’t help you forever!” You tapped his forehead aggressively.

“Hey, Hey! Yeah, I get it, okay, mom?” He swatted your hand away. This made you giggle.

“Mom? Where’d that come from?” You asked, chuckling to yourself.

“ ‘Cause, you’re annoying like one.” He yelled at you with faint pink dust on his cheeks.

You were the first female figure in his life that worried about him the way you did. It was very easy for them to get attached to you since they were all from broken homes.

It has only been a few days but with Bruno’s tough love and your soft and gentle nature, you two were scaffolding for what having parents was like. Minus the killing of the mafioso members pursuing you, of course.

It was unfortunate that such a cute “family” would come to an end.

[teyvattherapist]

Episodic

My sister and I had a long talk about how we both suffer from dissociation earlier today cause of an ask I got. And I got inspired to write a lil smth. This is based off of my experiences for the most part so anywayss.

tags: gn!doctor!reader + Kaeya, feat Diluc + Venti, dissociation, Kaeya story spoilers, Diluc story spoilers, mental health in general.

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Lies, so many lies, that’s all he was made up of! A liar, a cheat, a fraud, a dirty traitor. Years ago, well into his teens, he wouldn’t have cared. He didn’t give a damn whether or not the nation burned to the ground, he didn’t care if Teyvat as they knew it was ripped away from them and destroyed. But he was older now, and he cared so much. Oh too much. Torn between loyalties, his royal family who abandoned him to help them or the nation that loved and raised him. The lies stacked up, the nightly duties, the work within the shadows, the information he gave to his informants.

The lies were bearing down on him, he was being crushed, lungs screaming for air. It was almost like he was drowning except the ice above his head stopped him from surfacing for air. Kaeya Alberich could swim but he was not strong enough to shatter inches of thick ice. Every drop of water that filled his lungs, every lie that he needed to keep track of, they all froze over eventually. He was heavy, his body felt heavy, his shoulders hurt, and taking in air was a chore. He wished he’d just drown, but he kept scrambling, slamming against the ice, would anybody come-

“Are you even listening?” Diluc sighed, setting the glass down on the bar counter loud enough it shattered Kaeya’s thoughts and he lifted his head from his hand, star pupil blown as he looked around quickly. Diluc raised an eyebrow at the reaction, not expecting it from the ever composed cavalry captain he once called brother. The bar was relatively empty, Venti was asleep at a table tucked in the back. You were leaning against the wall while you did some work at the bar. Kaeya’s breathing was shaky, he realised as he tried to intake air, fill his lungs, stuff down the suffocation.

“Kaeya?” You set your quill down, concern quickly taking over your features. Diluc grabbed the glass Kaeya had been drinking from, opting to dump whatever remained. Kaeya didn’t even react to Diluc’s actions, instead he opted to look at his hands, opening and closing them, he did the action with his palms up and then repeated while looking at the back of his hands. Being a doctor for the knights, dissociation wasn’t the hardest thing for you to recognise. Approaching the situation, however, that was what became difficult.

“I don’t know how much longer I can endure this.” Kaeya’s voice was so weak, like he was testing out a tongue that didn’t belong to him. You stood immediately, Kaeya turning to you in surprise from the sudden action. You held your hands out and Kaeya looked at your waiting hands, he blinked and then looked up to you where he received a quick nod in return, a reassuring smile on your face. Kaeya put his hands into your own, his hands were surprisingly warm even through your gloves, slender fingers curling to intertwine with yours.

You gave his hands a gentle squeeze, he could feel two different sets of eyes staring at him outside of you directly in front of him. The weight of the world was so heavy and he felt himself slipping beneath the current again, it was relentless, endless, it dragged him down, the frozen lake was so dark- “Describe how my hands feel, please. What do my gloves feel like? Temperature?” You did your best to keep your voice reassuring, exceptionally kind as you crouched slightly so you could be at eye height with Kaeya who continued to sit.

The words dragged him to the surface and he struggled to remember who he was beyond all of these damn lies. There were so many lies, so much to hide, so many ties and loyalties oh how they swirled in his head. But he had to focus on the feelings of the gloves, thankful his seemed to be fingerless. “Cotton, your gloves feel like cotton.” He got a reassuring squeeze, an affirmative. Diluc snuck out from the bar, heading to the tavern door to lock it, sure an hour early, but given the circumstances.

“Okay, anything else?”

“Cold.”

“Haha, very good. Do you know your name?”

“Kaeya Ragnvindr. No, wait..” He trailed off, eyebrow furrowing. “I changed it, Alberich.” You quickly nodded, prompting him to continue. “You smell like mint and I smell like wine. Or is that the redhead? I’m not sure.”

“Both, probably.” Diluc responded casually, as if his heart didn’t just shatter hearing Kaeya say his old last name as his own once more. How long had it been since Diluc tore that family name from the navy haired captain? Diluc got closer, standing behind you, enough distance from Kaeya not to overwhelm him, but close enough he could watch.

The water still lapped at his legs, threatening, stabbing into him and trying to drag him back in. But he clawed at the sand, finding hold in the frost covered shore. “Are you back with us then, Kaeya? If not, you could try describing one of us.” You squeezed his hands again and Kaeya slowly nodded, his brain fog was lifting at least, he wasn’t entirely focused on the frozen lake anymore. When had he broken through the ice?

“Whoa, sorry- What happened there?” Kaeya pulled his hands back suddenly, gripping his head in one hand and shaking it with his signature laugh. Diluc had been frowning the entire time, and your reassuring smile vanished in an instant at his new words. “What? Don’t look at me like that, it’s embarrassing.” Kaeya smiled, turning his head to survey the rest of the empty tavern.

“You were having a dissociative episode. I’d offer a mora for your thoughts but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.” You stood straight again and Kaeya wished you weren’t on his blind side, that way he’d be able to see without turning towards you, instead the cavalry captain eyed the sleeping Venti in the corner. “I’m not going to ask you to talk to me, but at least talk to Diluc about what’s on your mind if nobody else. It will only get worse from here.” You moved by the redhead who made no objections, and you began to gather the paperwork you had been working on.

“I promise, I’m fine. You’re worrying over nothing. And you, Diluc. I didn’t expect such concern.”

“We grew up together. Of course I’m concerned. You’re one of the few competent knights, and they need you to be on your best.” Diluc had his arms crossed over his chest, but he genuinely was trying not to seem so malicious, despite the biting words of his former brother. “How often has this been happening?” Diluc inquired, waiting for Kaeya to actually look back at them, but he never did, calloused fingers gently tapping the wooden bar countertop instead. “Okay, when did it start, then?” Diluc switched questions with a nod from you.

“A few months ago. They only lasted a minute or two, and I’d barely remember what happened. Recently the times I’ve blanked have been longer. I don’t remember what happened since coming in here.” Kaeya’s voice was quiet, low, ashamed maybe. He was so tired of it all, the lies and the burdens. He didn’t want to be a plot point or a chess piece. He just wanted to live his life, free of the whispering secrets of the dark.

“That was seven hours ago. [Name], is that normal?”

“Quite. Some dissociative episodes have been known to last years. The hours will turn to days, days into weeks. You know how it goes. I’ll bring Venti home so you two can speak.” You pulled your bag over your shoulder, heading off to grab the drunk bard from the corner. “Come on, bard. You can stay at my house.” You lifted the man easily, letting Diluc silently unlock and open the tavern door for you. The door was shut and locked once more.

“You don’t have to pretend to care, Diluc. I’m fine.” Kaeya pushed his barstool back, standing to his full height. He was exhausted, his brain fog may have been gone but his body still didn’t feel real and every step he took felt like walking on pins and needles. It didn’t help when Diluc blocked the door though, the usual bored expression replaced with something else.

“I do care, idiot. Whether or not you believe that isn’t my problem. You’re still my brother, even if we never shared any blood. Now you’re going to sit down and we’re going to talk about what happened that night, do you hear me?” Diluc lowered his arms, gaze dropping to anywhere but the captain. “Please, just talk to me. I won’t push you away this time.”

“Do you promise?”

“Obviously.”

[number5theboy]

Please elaborate on how Five could've turned into the most insufferable character to watch

Thanks for asking me to elaborate on this text post:

@tessapercygranger​, @waywardd1​ and @margarita-umbrella​ also wanted to see a more detailed version of it, and I ended up writing an essay that’s longer than some of my actual academic essays. So buckle up.

WHY NUMBER FIVE SHOULD BE THE MOST OBNOXIOUS CHARACTER IN TV HISTORY, AND HOW HE MANAGES NOT TO BE

Number Five: The Concept That Could Go Horribly Wrong

Alright, let’s first look at Five in theory in an overarching way, without taking into account the execution of the show. The basic set-up of the character, of course, is being a 58-year-old consciousness in a teenager’s body, due to a miscalculation in time travel. Right off the bat, Five is bar none the most overpowered of the siblings; by the end of Season 2, no one has yet been able to defeat him in a fight. He is a master assassin – and not just any master assassin, but the best one there is – and a survival expert, able to do complex maths and physics without the aid of a calculator, shown to have knowledge of half a dozen languages, has very developed observational skills and, to top that all off, he can manipulate time and space to the point where he can literally erase events that happened and change the course of history. And Five knows how skilled he is; he is arrogant, self-assured and sarcastic, and his streak of goodness is buried deep inside. David Castañeda once described Five in an interview as 90% chocolate with a cherry in the middle, meaning that you have to get through a lot of darkness and bitterness before knowing there is a good core, and I think it’s an excellent metaphor. However, Five is also incredibly, fundamentally terrible at communicating with anyone, and, because he is the only one with time travel abilities, the character a lot of the actual plot - and the moving forward of it - centres around. Also he’s earnestly in love with a mannequin, who is pretty much a projection of his own consciousness that functions as a coping mechanism for all the trauma he has endured. All in all, this gives you a character who looks like a teenager, but with the smug superiority of a fifty-something, who a) is extremely skilled in many different things, b) has a superiority complex, is arrogant and vocal about it, and most of the superiority is expressed through cutting sarcasm, c) has one very hidden ounce of goodness that he is literally the worst at communicating to other human beings, d) is what moves the plot along but is also bad at talking to anyone else, meaning that the plot largely remains with him, and e) his love interest is essentially a projection of himself. Tell me that’s not a character who is destined to be just…obnoxious, annoying, egocentric, a necessary evil that one has to put up with to get through this show. There are so many elements of this characterisation that can and should easily make Five beyond insufferable, but the show manages to avoid it, and I’m putting this down to three aspects.

That Trick of Age and Appearance

Bluntly put, Five as a character would not work if he was anything else than an old man in a 13-year-old body. Imagine this character and all his skills and knowledge, but actually just…a teenager. Immediately insufferable. Same goes for him being around 30, like his siblings, all of which are stunted and traumatised by their father’s abuse. If Five, being comparatively unscathed by Reginald to the point where he explicitly does not want to be defined by his association with his father, were 30 like his siblings, it would just take the bite out of that plot point and also give him a lot less time in the apocalypse, reducing the impact it had on him as a person. And making Five his actual 58-year-old self would make him very similar to Reginald, at least on surface level, with the appearance and attitude. Five and Reginald are two fundamentally different people, but having one of the siblings being a senior citizen that’s dressed to the nines and bosses his siblings around in a relatively self-centred way does open up that parallel, and would take away from Five’s charm as a character. Because pairing the life experience of a 58-year-old with the appearance of a teenager gives you the best of both worlds. You get the other siblings (and a lot of the audience, from a glance in the tags of my gifsets) feeling protective and paternal about Five, but his age and experience also give the justifications for his many skills, his arrogance, in a way, and his ability to decimate a room full of people. It’s the very interesting and not new concept of someone dangerous with the appearance of something harmless, a child. This is also where Five’s singular outfit comes in. I know we like to clown on Five to get a new outfit, but I think what gets forgotten often is how effective this outfit is at making the viewer take him seriously. The preppy school uniform is the perfect encapsulation of the tension between old man in spirit and young teenager in appearance. The blazer, vest and especially the shirt and tie are quite formal, relatively grown up. They’re not something we, the audience, usually associate with a teenage boy wearing; it makes Five just a little bit more grown up. But there is also a reason characters in this show keep bringing up Five’s shorts and his socks, because those are not things that we associate with grown men wearing; they’re the unmistakably childish part of his school uniform. Take a moment and imagine Five wearing a hoodie or a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers; would that outfit work for him as well as the uniform does? Would he be able to command the same kind of respect or seriousness as a character? I don’t think so; the outfit is a lot more pivotal in making Five believable than a lot of people give it credit for.

Writing Nuance

The other big building block in not making Five incredibly insufferable is the writing. Objectively speaking, I think Five is the most well-written, and, more importantly, most coherently written character on the show (which does have to do with the fact that the show’s events are all sequential for him), and his arc and personality remain relatively intact over the course of the two seasons. More to the point, a giant part of what makes Five bearable as a character is that he is allowed to fail. He is written to have high highs and low lows, big victories through his skills and his intelligence, but also catastrophic failures and the freedom to be wrong. His superior intellect and skillset are not the be-all end-all of the plot or his character, just something that influences both. His inability for communication has not (yet) been used to fabricate a contrived misunderstanding that derails the plot and left all of us seething; instead, it’s a characteristic that makes him fail to reconnect with the people he loves. This is a bit simplified, as he does find common ground with Luther, for example, but in general, a lot of the rift between Five and his siblings is that they can’t relate to his traumas and he does not understand the depth of Reginald’s abuse, which is an interesting conflict worth exploring. Another thing that really works in Five’s favour is that he is definitely written to be mean and sarcastic, but it is never driven to the point of complete unlikability, and a lot of the time, the context makes it understandable why he reacts the way he does. Most of the sarcastic lines he gets are actually funny, that certainly helps, but in general, Five is a good example of a bearable character whose default personality is sharp and relatively cold, because it is balanced out with many moments of vulnerability. Delores is incredibly important for this in the first season, she is the main focus of Five’s humanising moments, and well-written as she totes the line between clearly being a coping mechanism for an extremely traumatised man and still coming across to the viewer as the human contact Five needs her to be. In the second season, the vulnerability is about his guilt for his siblings, it’s about Five connecting a little bit better to them. There’s also his relationship with the Commission and the Handler specifically – which honestly could be an essay on its own – that deserves a mention, because the Handler is why Five became the man he is, and this dynamic between creator and creation is explored in a very interesting way – their scenes are some of the most well-written in the entire show. And TUA never falls into the trap of making Five a hero, he is always morally ambiguous at best, and it just makes for an interesting, multi-faceted character, well-written character, and none of the characteristics that should make him unlikeable are allowed to take centre-stage for long enough to be defining on their own. I know a lot of people especially champion the scenes where Five goes apeshit, but without his more nuanced characterisation, if he was like that all the time, those scenes would not hit as hard.

Aidan Gallagher’s Performance is Underrated

But honestly, none of the above would matter that much if the Umbrella Academy didn’t luck out hard with the casting of Aidan Gallagher. I think what he achieves as an actor in this show is genuinely underappreciated. Like, the first season set out to cast six adults having to deal with various ramifications of childhood trauma, and a literal child that had to be able to act smart and wise beyond his years, seamlessly integrate into a family of adults while seeming like an adult, traumatised by the literal end of the world, AND had to be able to create the romantic chemistry of a thirty-year-long marriage with a lifeless department store doll. The only role I could think of to compare is Kirsten Dunst in Interview with a Vampire, where she plays a vampire child who, because she is undead, doesn’t age physically, but does mentally, so she’s 400 in a child’s body. And Kirsten Dunst had to do that for a two-hour movie. Five is a main character in a show that spans 20 episodes now. That’s insane, and it’s a risk. Five is a character that can’t be allowed to go wrong; if you don’t buy Five as a character, the entire first season loses believability. And they found someone who could do that not only convincingly, but also likeably. As I said, he is incredibly helped by the costuming department and the script, but Aidan Gallager’s Five has so much personality, he’s threatening and funny and charming and arrogant and heartbreaking. He has the range to be convincing in the quiet moments where Five’s humanity comes to show and in the moments where Five goes completely off the rails. Most child actors act with other children, but he is the only child in the main cast, and holds his own in scenes with adults not as a child, but as an adult on equal footing with the other adult characters. That’s not something to be taken for granted. But even apart from the fact that it’s a child actor who carries a lot of the plot and the drama of a series for adults, Aidan Gallagher’s portrayal of Five is also just so much fun. The comedic timing is on point, he has the dramatic chops for the serious scenes, the mannerisms and visual ticks add to the character rather than distract from him, and his line deliveries, paired with his physical acting, make Five arrogant and smug but never outright malicious and unlikeable. It’s just some terrific acting that really does justice to the character as he is written, but the writing would not be as strong if it wasn’t delivered and acted out the way Aidan Gallagher does. He is an incredible asset for this show.

Alright, onto concluding this rambling. If you made it this far, I commend you, and thank you for it. The point of all of this is that Five, as a character, could have been an unmitigated disaster of a TV character. He is overpowered, arrogant, uncommunicative and could so easily have been either unconvincing or completely unlikeable, but he turned out to be neither. It’s a combination of choices in the costume department, decisions in the writing room, and Aidan Gallagher’s acting skills that make the things that should make him obnoxious and annoying incredibly entertaining, and I hope you liked my long-winded exploration of these. Some nuance was lost along the way, but if I had not stopped myself, this would’ve become a full-blown thesis.

[birdship]

Leave It In The Sun: Chapter One (a Disco Elysium fanfic)

Warnings: Full game spoilers, eventual spicy scenes, basically the level of adult content in the game itself.

General summary: A slow(ish) burn exploration of life at Precinct 41 after Harry and Kim wrap up the case and Kim makes the move to Jamrock. Mainly just about how Harry and Kim's relationship might develop, and a sort of character study of some of the employees of Precinct 41 in general.

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Chapter one summary: Two difficult weeks after leaving Martinaise, Harry finally reaches out to Kim. Chapter length: Approx. 4.3k words

The sun is only just setting over the streets of Jamrock, drenched in rain and neon. The city stops to catch its breath in the intermission between day and night.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: And so do you. You could’ve sworn the nearest payphone was, y’know, nearer than this. Maybe that bone-shattering gunshot wound also isn’t quite as far along in the healing process as you thought either.

PAIN THRESHOLD: Brilliant claws of pain rake down your thigh as you lean against the payphone and try to center yourself.

You glance at the phone resting in its cradle, with some trepidation. Phone calls are always a bit… difficult for you. Especially these days.

SUGGESTION: You can still change your mind.

VOLITION: No. You came here for a reason.

SUGGESTION: Or… you could always just call her instead.

VOLITION: *Focus.*

You take a deep breath. The late spring air is turning chilly in the slowly setting sun. The rain drizzles lazily as it has all day, showing no sign of stopping. A handful of people are still--or already--out wandering downtown Jamrock, laughing and talking and hurrying home and running errands and entirely focused on just about anything in the world *besides* a washed up middle-aged man having a minor anxiety attack and moderate-to-severe hip pain next to a public phone at 6:04pm in the rain.

INLAND EMPIRE: The loneliness knocks the wind out of you. You thought you were used to it by now. It’s worse outside, around people.

DRAMA: The threadbare costume you created for yourself in the privacy of your dark, trash-strewn apartment doesn’t seem quite as convincing with an audience.

VOLITION: Stop the goddamn pity party and pick up the phone already.

The receiver is light in your hand as you fumble for change and the crumpled slip of paper you’ve had in your jeans pocket for the last two weeks or so. You slowly, deliberately dial the phone number written on it, as if some part of you is afraid that your fingers might just automatically fall into the patterns of *her* number instead.

VOLITION: They might. But you’re done hurting yourself.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Well, maybe not entirely. Yet. But you’re done hurting yourself *with her* for sure.

INLAND EMPIRE: You still feel like you deserve that pain. But it’s wrong to keep using her as the knife you gut yourself with. She deserves better, even if you might not.

LOGIC: In any case, this isn’t about her. It’s about you, and it’s about--

“Hello?” Kim’s voice is muffled and tinny through the old, worn copper wiring. He sounds tired, but you guess that’s not particularly surprising. You’ve been pretty damn tired too.

“Kim, hey, it’s uh, it’s me,” you reply awkwardly.

“Harry? Do you need something?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: This is the first time you’ve called him since leaving Martinaise, despite carrying that little piece of paper around for the last two weeks. He’s thinking, why now?

“Yeah, no, I just happened to be downtown this evening,” you ramble, “and I thought--”

“You’re drunk,” he says. It is completely without judgment. A stated fact. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Harry Du Bois is drunk. “Where are you exactly? I’ll--”

“Wait, no!” you exclaim, a little too loudly. A nearby pigeon makes a mad dash in the opposite direction at the sound. “That’s not it! I swear I’m basically sober right now. Mostly.”

A long pause on the other end. “Alright,” he says plainly. “So what can I do for you?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Make no mistake, he’s picking his battles here and gingerly stepping *around* that “mostly.”

EMPATHY: He’s just relieved it’s even that much.

COMPOSURE: How embarrassing.

VOLITION: Just start over. Your first sentence was garbage, but you know you’re under no obligation to continue it, right?

You take a deep breath, then try again.

“Well, it’s really more about what *I* can do for *you*,” you say as smoothly as possible. “You know that big motor carriage exhibition in town? It just so happens I’ve got *two tickets* to it.”

Another long pause. “You mean the one that ends today?”

“Yes,” you confirm.

“And are you aware that it is currently around six o’clock in the evening?”

“Is it? I mean, yes. Yes it is,” you say confidently. “I am aware of the passage of time.”

“And you waited until now to do this?” he asks.

EMPATHY: He sounds more amused than annoyed, though you definitely detect a bit of both.

“Uh,” you falter. “Look, it’s open until 8:00, so do you want to fucking go or not?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: About half a kilometer away, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is sitting in the kitchen of his new apartment, already in his pajamas and winding down for the evening. It’s a bit early for that, but he figures he should take the opportunity to rest before he tackles that mountain of backlogged cases he was promised upon making the move to precinct 41.

Two weeks ago, he said goodbye to the strangest man he’d ever met. A man he found himself inexplicably drawn to in the week they spent together, and whom he thought about every day since. Wondering if he would take the lifeline Kim tried to throw to him, or if that little slip of paper would just end up forgotten at the bottom of a vomit-soaked trash can in some shitty bar. Wondering if the dawning trauma of everything that happened in Martinaise and the restlessness from sitting at home recovering from its aftermath would combine to pull him down into a dark place beyond Kim’s reach for good. Wondering and wondering to fill the silence. And now finally the silence is broken, but whatever this cry for help is, it is not the one Kim ever expected to receive.

But he knows one thing for sure: it *is* a cry for help.

“Alright,” Kim says finally. He takes a sharp breath. “Sounds good.”

The walk to his apartment takes a bit longer than you expected. It’s not that far from the downtown payphone, but you still wasted a good 20 minutes on the journey.

ENDURANCE: You are expecting too much of yourself too soon.

INLAND EMPIRE: It’s always one or the other with you, isn’t it? Too much or not enough.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: Twenty minutes to walk a few blocks? Fucking pathetic. What kind of cop are you? Hell, what kind of *gym teacher* are you? Man up.

ENDURANCE: No. It’s a miracle that you’re still standing at all.

PERCEPTION: Beyond the apartment door, you can hear footsteps and soft humming.

You knock, and the door opens almost immediately.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Shit. You were hoping you’d have a few spare seconds to think of something really cool to say.

REACTION SPEED: C’mon, say something fun and upbeat to prove you’re not a depressed sack of shit who’s been spending the past two weeks drinking alone in the dark.

DRAMA: Showtime!

“Howdy, pardner,” you hear yourself say.

SAVOIR FAIRE: Finger guns! For god’s sake, don’t forget the finger guns. Without them, you just look like a goddamn lunatic.

You do the finger guns.

Kim does not seem particularly impressed as he slowly looks from your outstretched gun fingers to the twisted grimace that now wracks your face.

“Please, holster those things before coming inside,” he says humorlessly.

You blow the pretend, metaphorical smoke from each of your hot weapons before stuffing your hands in your pockets. As you do this, he watches with an appraising look.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He’s wondering if this is *regular* weird or *drunken breakdown* weird. However, he is intimately familiar with your brand of stupid bullshit at this point and it doesn’t take long for him to place it in the former category.

“We should hit the road soon,” you comment as you peek curiously into his apartment.

“Hit the road,” Kim repeats with mild amusement, “in what?”

LOGIC: Oh. Right. The Kineema is property of Precinct 57. Not Kim Kitsuragi personally.

“Shit, yeah,” you concede. “But hey, if we call a taxi now--”

LOGIC: You’ll arrive just in time to immediately turn around and go home.

HALF LIGHT: You fucked up. You’re a fuck-up. Great job, idiot.

VOLITION: Try not drinking and blacking out all day next time.

LOGIC: Yes, but then…

“Fuck,” you inhale. “Fuckady-fuck-fuck. Shit. Goddammit.”

Kim waits patiently for you to catch up. You’re almost there.

“I should’ve called earlier, sorry,” you apologize. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

LOGIC: What is wrong with you is that you drank all last night, slept off a hangover most of the day today, and woke up in a daze about 45 minutes ago. But what’s done is done. No point in bringing that up now, right?

“Nor do I,” says the lieutenant with a small smile. “But whatever it is, I am no longer surprised by it, I assure you.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you repeat, leaning on the door frame pathetically, a congealed ooze of mental illness and embarrassment. “Sorry for bothering you in the first place. You’re always so nice to me, even when I’m a pain in the ass.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Which is to say *constantly.*

Kim says nothing. Just sighs almost imperceptibly.

EMPATHY: Your self deprecation is frustrating for him, and he does not know how to respond to it constructively and compassionately.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He *does* think you’re a pain in the ass sometimes, but a pain worth dealing with.

INLAND EMPIRE: For reasons beyond your understanding.

“Why did you agree to go in the first place?” you sigh. “You’ve got a brain that actually works, you knew it wasn’t gonna happen. If you’re trying to make fun of me, then, well…”

You pause.

“That’s just fine, I guess. Good job, carry on.”

He adjusts his glasses and looks away. “I appreciated the intention,” he says finally, in a measured voice. “And since I hadn’t heard from you the past couple weeks…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: ...He was afraid you wouldn’t bother trying again.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’ve been kind of busy. You know how it goes after cases like that.”

“I do,” he says. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “you’re welcome to come in if you like.”

You hobble into Kim’s sparse kitchen and collapse on a dining room chair. It creaks ominously under the velocity of the assault.

“I’m glad we have an opportunity to catch up,” he says politely, pulling up the other chair and gazing at your pained expression from across the table. “Your injury is healing well, I assume?”

EMPATHY: It is obvious that he does not in fact assume this at all.

You shrug, still trying to get a hold of yourself and push back the ache swirling at the edges of your mind.

He watches you struggle for a moment, then gently says, “it will take time to heal, but it *will* heal.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: *So please be patient and kind to yourself,* is the silent plea left unsaid. It hangs in the air pitifully. You both know it’s there.

“Time hasn’t exactly been a good salve for me in general,” you mumble.

He’s silent for a while. Opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

“Harry,” he says finally. “What happened in Martinaise is not your burden to carry alone.”

“I thought you didn’t like *personal issues*, lieutenant,” you say.

“I don’t,” he says with a frown, “but this…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: This is about me too, he thinks. As much as he hates to admit it. He doesn’t particularly like his *own* personal issues either. But the past two weeks were hard for him, and you didn’t make them any easier.

EMPATHY: He was worried about you, and--although he will never admit it to himself, let alone you--there’s a part of him that selfishly hoped you were worried about him too. At least a little.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He’s used to this line of work, and so are you despite the holes in your memory, but it never gets any easier to deal with some things.

EMPATHY: There was so much death that day. It haunts you. And now as you sit in Kim’s kitchen, the alcohol slowly filtering from your blood and leaving behind the dregs of a headache, you realize it still haunts him too. You both added perforations you never wanted to make.

ENDURANCE: It’s too much. Your head swims and your entire body aches in the throes of repressed grief fighting its way to the surface of a sea of quickly evaporating Commodore Red.

INLAND EMPIRE: Warning! Trauma containment center has been breached! Evacuate the area immediately!

HALF LIGHT: You’re going to cry, aren’t you? You’re going to fucking cry. Right here in his kitchen. Why can’t you keep your shit together for more than five minutes straight?

You are entirely unable to keep the tears from rolling silently down your cheeks, unbidden.

INLAND EMPIRE: You don’t have it in you to really cry properly, like a normal fucking person. Not anymore. Something has disconnected the wire from your “press here to begin sobbing during your emotional breakdown” button, and you’re not sure what or when.

ENDURANCE: But human beings *cry.* And despite everything inside you that’s broken and rotting, you *are* a human being. You can’t not be.

Kim’s standing next to you now, his hand resting comfortingly on your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything.

EMPATHY: That’s the point of this whole shoulder-touching business in the first place--your disconcertingly unhinged behavior has left him at a loss for words, yet compelled to offer *something.*

This goes on for the longest five minutes or so the world has ever seen. But finally, you’ve wrung it all out of yourself and the tears stop almost as abruptly as they began. His hand gives your shoulder a squeeze, then he sits back down in the chair opposite you, avoiding your eyes. He rummages in his pocket for something, then hands you a blue handkerchief.

“Where the hell do you keep all these?” you mumble as you reach for it. “Fuckin’... infinite handkerchiefs around here.”

“What can I say? I like to be prepared,” he says.

“For drunk idiots who throw up all over crime scenes and have mental breakdowns in your home?”

“Usually to clean my glasses,” he says flatly. “But at this point, I suppose it *is* fair to say that it’s also for your various crises as well.”

“Well, thank God one of us is prepared,” you say. “What would I do without you, Kim?”

He hesitates, a strange wistful expression tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. What *did* you do the past two weeks?”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t… That’s none of my concern,” he says quickly.

AUTHORITY: Who the hell does he think he is? You’re not a child who needs to be minded. You’re a grown-ass man who can sit alone in his apartment and get wasted if he fucking wants to. Assert yourself!

“Honestly? Drink, mostly,” you say with a self-conscious chuckle.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He just stares at you with the bleakest expression you’ve ever seen cross his face.

EMPATHY: He’s so tired. So frustrated. So disappointed.

INLAND EMPIRE: Oh God! He’s *disappointed* in you? This is terrible. Anything but that, please!

“I thought I was doing better,” you say quietly. “Guess not.”

“You were,” Kim says kindly.

INLAND EMPIRE: Tequila Sunset hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it still will. Maybe it’s inevitable. Maybe when you took up that mantle, it was like some sort of alcoholic event horizon. Tequila Sunset is the only way it was ever going to end. What other force in the universe could begin to exert as much gravitational pull over you?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: From the void we came, to the void we must return.

“Listen,” Kim tells you, “this is not surprising. It’s got to be harder now that you’re back in Jamrock.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: It’s *easy,* baby. All your old favorite haunts are here. You know all the cheapest bars, the sketchiest parts of town with the purest amphetamines… You can’t remember the names of half of them anymore, but the muscles in your legs can trace the steps there perfectly. That shit’s burned into your body forever.

“Yeah.” You swallow hard. “Anyway, what about you? How’s Jamrock treating you?”

EMPATHY: The darkness clouding his expression lightens a bit.

“Good so far,” he says. “I’ve actually only been here for a few days. G.R.I.H. wrap-up took longer than I expected.” He pauses and looks out the window. “But I’m glad to be here now.”

“Really,” you say with a laugh. “In this shithole?”

“It has its perks,” he says. “I’m looking forward to beginning work at Precinct 41.”

“You’re not working solo, are you?”

“For right now, yes I am,” he replies. “I’m fine with that. I’ve done it before.”

INLAND EMPIRE: The idea of sharing a workplace with him and yet not being at his side when he needs you… it makes you feel cold, lonely, somehow.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: You have a duty to Jean. Jean is your partner.

SUGGESTION: Fuck it, just say it. You know what you want to say. Say it and get it over with.

“You should work with me,” you blurt out. “We were such a good team in Martinaise. We could keep those good times rolling!”

“I’m flattered, but,” he says, turning his head. “Satellite-Officer Vicquemare…”

“Doesn’t give a shit about me,” you say. “Fuck him.”

EMPATHY: That’s not exactly true. You know it’s not.

INLAND EMPIRE: But the truth is complicated. It’s easier to just boil it down to *fuck that guy.*

LOGIC: Jean is bad for you, and you’re bad for him. Or, you used to be. And has anything really changed? Are you really any different? Maybe it was just the change of scenery that fooled you into thinking otherwise.

INLAND EMPIRE: Same old Jamrock. Same old coworkers. Same old bad habits. Same old *you.*

“I’m not so sure about that,” Kim says delicately.

“Forget about him,” you push, suddenly more serious about this than you intended to be. “I can arrange this shit with Captain Pryce, and I can deal with Jean.”

“I… uh,” he coughs. “I don’t know what to say.”

DRAMA: You’re in control of this show now. Pull an honest answer out of him.

You point at him and narrow your eyes. “I know what you should say: what you *feel* in your *heart*!” You pound one fist against your chest over your heart to drive home the point, then wince.

PAIN THRESHOLD: Please don’t do that.

You break the dramatic pose and lean back in your chair again with a shrug. “Or just tell me to fuck off. None of this wishy-washy noncommittal shit, though.”

He’s silent for a long time, watching and listening to the rain as it picks up outside. Then finally he gives you an apologetic smile and speaks.

“Harry,” he says kindly. “Fuck off.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Translation: maybe. But not now.

EMPATHY: He’s not angry, he’s deflecting. This is by far the nicest way you’ve ever been told to fuck off. Don’t take it too hard.

“Alright, alright,” you say. “Forget I said anything.”

You spend a while just making smalltalk at Kim’s kitchen table. None of it means anything, but it’s nice. It’s a nice, good, human thing to do, sitting and chatting with him. Makes your “regular well-adjusted person” costume fit a little better. The rain begins to let up a little in the fading sunset.

“You know, we could do something else if you like,” he says brightly. “Here in Jamrock, I mean.”

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Yeah. Lots of stuff to do in Jamrock. Like speed and hard liquor. Or crying in the bathroom of a dive bar because you’re too fucked up on speed and liquor.

SUGGESTION: He probably wouldn’t go for that.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: There’s got to be somewhere else to go. Something else to do with him. Think. What do you want to do with him?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Oh buddy, are you sure you’re ready to open that can of worms?

The lieutenant watches you as you rub your temples in an effort to massage the awkward thoughts out of your terrible brain. Then he says, “you know what, don’t worry about it. It’s fine, we can just stay here.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say. “Sounds good.”

“I’m going out on the balcony for a cigarette,” he informs you. “You can--”

“I’ll come with you,” you interrupt.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: He pauses, wondering how many you might’ve had already. Then again cigarettes are, shockingly, by far the *least* detrimental of your *many* vices.

The two of you step out onto the lieutenant’s rather small balcony. It’s still raining very lightly, but this is probably as good as the weather is going to get tonight. Good enough. There’s really not quite enough space for two adult men to comfortably lounge around out here, though. You try to make yourself as small as possible as you fumble in your pockets for a cigarette and lighter.

PERCEPTION: You hear the soft click of a lighter and smell smoke on the gentle evening breeze drifting over from your left.

“Fuck,” you grumble. “I forgot my light--”

You realize Kim is holding out his own lighter wordlessly, still gazing out at the city sprawling out below.

“Thanks,” you say.

He nods. He pockets the lighter again once you’re done with it, then leans on the railing and exhales smoke with a sigh.

ESPRIT DE CORPS: Outwardly, he is silent and pensive. He almost seems anxious in a way. But in truth, he likes this. He’s enjoying standing out here in the rain and the dark and smoking his nightly cigarette by your side once more, just like that first night in Martinaise.

You rest your arms on the railing as well and try to map his sightline. Your arm presses against his in the cramped space, but he does not react.

“Pretty bitchin’ view here,” you comment. “Comparatively.”

“Mhm,” hums the lieutenant. “By Jamrock standards, quite bitchin’.”

PERCEPTION: His hand dangles loosely over the edge of the railing. It’s a bit smaller than yours and much thinner, bonier. Sharp and angled like a marble sculpture.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: A work of art. Just like the rest of him.

SUGGESTION: Wonder what that hand would feel like in yours…?

“Everything alright, detective?” Kim asks, smoke escaping from his lips as he speaks. You realize that you’ve been staring at his hand for longer than is generally considered acceptable by polite society.

“Just spacing out a little I guess,” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Par for the course with you,” the lieutenant chuckles.

VOLITION: Don’t make this too weird. Don’t think about that cigarette dangling loosely from his beautiful hands, or how soft his lips must be, or how nice it would be to just give up all pretense and embarrass yourself and hug him tightly right here on the balcony. Whatever you do, don’t think of any of those things.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Shit.

“Well, it’s getting late,” you say, stubbing out your half-finished cigarette in the nearby ashtray. “I should probably go.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. We’ve got work in the morning after all.”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: You do?

VOLITION: Just play it cool.

“Yes,” you say, nodding stoically. “Tomorrow is Monday. I am aware of this, and that is why I said that in the first place, and not for any other reason.”

SAVOIR FAIRE: Nailed it.

“Tomorrow is Tuesday,” Kim says flatly, his face expressionless.

“I know that!” you say defensively. “I was just testing you. Come on, Kim, you don’t think I’m really that stupid, do you?”

He starts to say something, then thinks better of it and instead takes a long drag of his cigarette before trying again. “No, detective. I don’t think that.” Then he puts it out on the bottom of his boot and drops it in the ashtray.

The two of you head back into the apartment as the rain starts up again. You pull on your tarpaulin cloak in preparation for the long walk back home. But as you reach the front door, the lieutenant stops you.

“You know, you could just stay here if that would be easier,” he says abruptly, looking tense. “It’s late, and it’s raining, and…”

ESPRIT DE CORPS: ...And the route from here to your home features at least a dozen bars along the way.

EMPATHY: He’s worried you might not be able to resist the siren song of their garish neon signs and blaring dance music spilling out onto the streets like a red carpet unfurling.

“And your injury,” he adds quickly. “It was causing you some pain earlier, wasn’t it?”

HALF LIGHT: You don’t need his *pity.*

INLAND EMPIRE: Maybe you *do.* He knows you too well already.

EMPATHY: And, for whatever reason, cares about you a little too much. A terrible decision on his part, really.

“Yeah, good point. Plus your place is closer anyway,” you reply. “Thanks. Sorry to impose.”

He gives you a little nod. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Soon, you’re settled in on Kim’s couch under a small pile of blankets that still smell like artificial flowers, cloying and too sweet, freshly laundered.

He says good night and disappears into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. It’s strange somehow, lying here in his living room alone in the dark. Like you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be. Like sneaking into a museum after it closes.

PERCEPTION: In the hazy twilight of impending sleep, you notice a calendar on the wall across from you. You can just barely make it out in the dim light, and you realize something.

“Son of a bitch,” you shout, “tomorrow *is* Monday!”

Just before you retreat into the blanket nest you could swear you hear a muffled apology from the next room.

[melzula]

Sozin’s Comet

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of injuries, mentions of burn wounds

request: Could you write a Fire Lilies blurb about Zuko's and Princess! Reader's fight against Azula during Sozin's Comet?

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

The torrid breeze was uncomfortably hot and dry against your skin as you sat on the back of Appa’s saddle and stared out into the reddened skies. Sozin’s comet was beautiful, but you couldn’t help the sense of sadness you felt knowing that something so gorgeous would be used for such selfish, sinister intentions. The royal palace was rapidly approaching, your nerves beginning to show as you fidgeted with the shark tooth hanging from your neck, and it was with one final glance at the comet soaring through the sky that you swallowed down your fears and worries. Everything you’d gone through, the heartache you’d endured, the training you’d done, all of it had led you to this moment in time, and there was no doubt in mind that you were ready for the fight.

Zuko sits at the reigns, guiding Appa through the skies and mentally preparing for the fight against his sister. You haven’t spoken much since your departure from the White Lotus campgrounds, but he knows it’s due to your need to think and meditate before going into such an important battle. A lot has happened for you over the last twenty four hours, and the strength you posses amazes Zuko to no end and encourages him to push through. The banished Prince hadn’t planned to fight for the throne nor become the Fire Lord so soon, but he acknowledged the fact that it was the only way the two of you would ever be able live a long, happy life together. Zuko would restore balance with your help as well as the rest of the Gaang, and then this war could finally be over.

Down below Azula’s coronation takes place, her head bowed low as she prepares to take on the headpiece traditionally worn by the Fire Lord. However, the Fire sage freezes uneasily at the sight of your fast approaching trio, and with Appa’s loud bellow Azula’s frenzied eyes look up to see the three of you now standing before her.

“Sorry, but you’re not going to become Fire Lord today,” Zuko states firmly. “I am.”

“You’re hilarious,” Azula replies with mock laughter.

“And you’re going down,” Katara retorts firmly. Azula’s eyes shift from your friend to you, her lips curling into a snide smile at the sight of your solemn features. You should be used to her maliciousness by now, but there’s something in the way that her eyes seem to glint with excitement at the prospect of fighting you that has you taking a step backward.

“I expected better from you, Princess,” she coos mockingly, lips curling into a sneer.

“Enough is enough, Azula. You’ve been a bully all your life and that ends now.”

“Such a sweet sentiment,” she utters sarcastically before rising from her position on the ground. “You want to be Fire Lord, Zuzu? Fine, let’s settle this. Just you and me, brother, the showdown that was always meant to be— Agni Kai!”

You expect Zuko to deny her challenge, to call her crazy and demand another option, but to your surprise he replies with a scowl, “You’re on.”

“Zuko,” you chide gently, “she’s just trying to trick you, you can’t do this. Don’t fall for it.”

“I know what I’m doing. I can take her.”

“But even you admitted to your uncle that you would need help facing Azula,” Katara argues, equally disturbed at the idea of an Agni Kai between the two siblings.

“There’s something off about her,” Zuko notes. “I can’t explain it, but she’s slipping. And this way, no one else has to get hurt.”

His golden eyes meet your own in an apologetic stare, his warm hands coming up to cup your cheeks and pull your face closer to his own so that he may gift you with a comforting kunik. Your anxiety is growing by the second, but the way in which he holds you so close and secure is enough to quell your fears for now.

“It’s going to be alright,” he soothes gently. “I promise.”

“I can’t lose anyone else,” you whisper, a single tear sliding down your cheek that Zuko is quick to wipe away.

“And you won’t.”

“Oh, enough already,” Azula snarls harshly. “Are you going to face me or not?”

With one final kiss to the forehead, Zuko releases you before taking his position across the courtyard from his sister. You stand on the sidelines with Katara, her hand held tightly in your own as you prepare to watch the match about to take place.

“It’s going to be okay,” Katara comforts. “Zuko knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope you’re right...”

“I’m sorry it has to end this way, brother,” Azula says with a smirk while unceremoniously removing her robe and tossing it to the ground.

“No, you’re not,” Zuko utters solemnly, and with a smirk Azula shoots the first blast of fire— the Agni Kai has begun.

Brilliant blasts of blue and red light up the courtyard as Zuko and Azula battle. Both fight with an intensity and ferocity like you’ve never seen before, the rooftops that surround them are on fire, but neither sibling seems to let up. Both are equally matched and filled with determination to win, but a blast that Azula narrowly manages to miss has her eyes widening in consternation. Her brows furrow with rage before she charges at Zuko, but a spiraling kick that vaguely reminds you of a move you’d seen previously performed by Aang sends Azula flying through the air until she tumbles to a stop. Her hair hangs wildly from her face as she rises back to her feet, appearance disheveled as she heaves and eyes burning with hatred for the brother she had deemed weaker than her the moment she learned what weakness was.

“No lightning today?” Zuko questions almost tauntingly. “What’s the matter, afraid I’ll redirect it?”

“What is he doing??” You utter in quiet disbelief. You can feel your nerves beginning to return at the deranged look on Azula’s features, and before you even realize your feet are moving you find yourself rushing towards the scene with Katara.

“Oh, I’ll show you lightning!”

Thunder booms from the sky as Azula begins to conjure the blue light, fingertips swirling in grand circular movements as she harnesses its power and readies the lightning to strike. From across the way Zuko stands in ready position; his shoulders are relaxed and he takes a small breath as he prepares himself to deflect her attack.

Everything seems to move in slow motion once Azula’s crazed eyes leave her brother and focus on your figure. Your features are sullen and fretful as you watch on, completely defenseless and unsuspecting of an attack. If it hadn’t been for you Zuko never would have become such a disappointment to the family. If it weren’t for you he never would have left to join your little group. If it weren’t for you Azula would have been crowned Fire Lord by now with Mai and Ty Lee still at her side. For some reason beyond her comprehension Zuko loved you, and it seemed it was up to her to teach the both of you a lesson. There was no room for weakness when it came to winning, and she’d make sure Zuko learned this good and well.

With a smirk and a sudden, fluid motion of her fingertips Azula’s blast of lightening flies straight towards you and Katara. Your body freezes in place and your first instinct is to shield her from the attack. Zuko’s eyes widen in horror as he realizes the danger you’re in, that that your life is mere seconds away from ending at the hands of his sister.

“No!” He shouts desperately, and a horrified shriek falls from your lips as the lightning strikes Zuko right in the chest. His body crumples to the floor, convulsing as the shocks of electricity course through him, and though Katara attempts to hold you back she can’t stop you from sprinting towards him.

“Zuko!” You cry out, vision blurry with tears as you rush towards his side only to suddenly be knocked off of your feet by the blast of fire you narrowly manage to avoid. Azula’s maniacal laughter sends chills down your spine as you scramble back onto your feet and skillfully avoid the relentless balls of fire she hurdles at you.

“You were never good enough for my brother!” She sneers. “You made him weak!”

“I never needed your approval,” you glower. With the motion of a roundhouse kick you guide the nearby water out from the stream through the use of your foot and send shards of ice hurtling towards Azula. She doges most of them, but one mages to rip through her sleeve and nick the skin of her bicep. She growls, golden irises aflame with anger and resentment, and just as she raises her hands to attack Katara is on the defensive.

“Go, I’ve got your back!” She calls to you, and you don’t waste another minute before rushing back to Zuko’s side. Falling to your knees beside his barely conscious body, you use your strength to flip him onto his backslide so that you have access to his wound. His robes are tattered and a gnarly scar is already beginning to settle against his skin. There isn’t much time.

You gather water from the air, a feat that’s much more difficult than usual considering how dry the atmosphere is but you manage, and with your powers at the ready you carefully rest your hands on Zuko’s chest and begin the healing process.

“Don’t worry,” you murmur quietly, tears welling in your eyes, “you’re going to be okay.”

A loud crash pulls your attention away from Zuko, and before you have time to react a gale of fire comes launching straight towards you. With wide eyes and a panicked gasp you attempt to use the water in your hands to create a shield of ice to block the attack, but your reflexes are too slow and the shield isn’t thick enough, and with a deafening crack the ice shatters and leaves you vulnerable to the flames.

The pained yelp that leaves you the moment the flames come into contact with your skin is gut wrenching for Katara who lies a few feet away in the rubble. Your first instinct was to hide behind your hands, and though the ice had lessened the force of the blast it hadn’t stopped the damage you’d endured. Your flesh is aflame and the pain is unbearable, tears welling in your eyes as you scramble to heal them, but bending only seems to worsen the ache.

“You’re nothing without your bending,” Azula cackles before returning her attention to your fellow water bender who is now back on her feet and rushing to hide behind one of the pillars. “Come back here, peasant!”

With Azula distracted you rush to the canal and stick your hands into the cool, running water. Anguished sobs fall past your lips as you push through the pain. You need to be able to bend so that you can protect yourself against another attack and, more importantly, so you can heal Zuko. You work so that burns become tolerable, not worrying just yet about completely healing them, and when you feel that you’re ready you remove your hands from the water and hurry back to Zuko’s aid.

His chest rises and falls slowly, and with the use of the water from the fountain as well as from your own tears you rest your hands upon his wound and begin to heal him. Uncomfortable tingles shoot through your palms and bite at your fingertips but you ignore it, holding back the tears and the whimper that crawls through your throat and instead focusing your energy on Zuko. Katara is suddenly at your side, and as she kneels down beside you with anxious anticipation in her eyes Zuko finally begins to wake.

“Oh, Zuko!” You exclaim tearfully, your whole body seeming to sigh in relief as he gives you the tiniest smile he can muster.

“Hello, Princess,” he utters hoarsely while Katara helps you get him back on his feet. His features soften at the sight of your hands as he carefully takes them in his own and assesses the damage. You’ll be lucky if you make it out of this without any nerve damage, and it’s likely that you’re going to carry permanent scars on your skin for the rest of your life. “Your hands...”

“Saving you was more important than healing myself,” you assure him with a faint smile. “Besides, now we’re a matching set.”

Your attempt to make a joke in the midst of such a solemn moment causes Zuko to crack the tiniest of smiles, but it fades at the sight of Azula. Chained to the sewer grate, the Princess thrashes desperately against her restraints in an attempt to free herself. Flames shoot from her mouth and as the reality of her situation finally starts to sink in she begins to cry. Her sobs are heartbreaking and full of agony, and despite your victory there is no celebrating. Azula was the product of manipulation and abuse, and despite all the horrible things she’d done to you and your friends you truly felt sorry for her.

Zuko guides you away from the scene and towards the palace, his arm tenderly wrapped around your waist and his eyes never once leaving your hands.

“Let’s get you bandaged up,” he suggests comfortingly.

“And then what?” You ask quietly only for him to exchange an uneasy glance with Katara. His eyes meet yours then, and though they are comforting they are also filled with the slightest hint of doubt.

“We wait and see if Aang finished the job.”

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @zukh03s @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal |

[stuckybarton]

One Punch One Kiss

Summary: You find a different option to relieve your stress and the fact that you might just be in love with Bruce Banner. Warning: Profanities. Mild Violence. Slight Angst, Self-Depreciation.  Grammar Errors. Not Beta’d. Characters: Unnamed Female Character x Bruce Banner Words: 3,092 A/N: So this happened. Lol. Masterlist

It been well over months now since you've found yourself in care of the so-called Earth's Mightiest Heroes, The Avengers. It was far from the life you once lived.

The poverty of the slums, where fighting was always the way to survive another day. It was always survival of the fittest for someone like you. One of the many reasons why it took so long for you to intergrade with the team. Your "power" wasn't that much special compared to the rest of the bunch.

You were a mixed martial artist, finally getting out of the bottom of the barrel but a freak accident left your hands, your tool for survival, barely able close into a fist anymore--you can barely even open them back then too. You find yourself mixed with the wrong crowd and after one too many experiments, you've gain this so-called mutation that lets you punch anything effortlessly. But it doesn't come without a price.

When the adrenaline dies down, you are left with an indestructible fist, but the pain was never far behind. Hands that would last the rest of time, but the pain, the burning torturous pain was something you can never get used to. It was better to dip your hands in lava than the excruciating pain. The insistent throbbing on each finger made it hard for you to open your hands, as much as you were capable of opening them. There there are nights were you want nothing more than to end things, end your suffering once and for all.

But out comes one Bruce Banner.

A man that has known about the demons pestering your life. Having to fight his own every single day as he tries to control the big green monster he calls his other self.

He had helped you so much. From physically helping you maintain the pain you had to endure post-mission, helping Tony Stark with designing the perfect gloves that could potentially lessen the pain you had to experience after each mission. Then there was psychological and mental help.

You were never one for meditating. Always using your fist to forget about your problems as much as possible. But without that stress relief, you were left to Bruce's method.

One hour every single day. Whether it was Bruce having a big research or in the middle of a debriefing. They would take time out of their own schedules just for the one hour to bring semblance to their frail state of minds.

Somehow it does work.

In either your room or in Bruce's room. An hour long meditation with nothing but the sound of white noise brings a momentary peace in your mind, while also making you realize something you try so hard to ignore.

You were in love with Bruce.

Madly, deeply, and crazily enough to be in love with the first man to have every taken care of you. You're fucked, that much you have known for yourself since the realization had occurred.

Now you're left with making sure to make as many excuses as you possibly could to avoid Bruce and your daily meditation. Everyone in the compound knew what you were trying to do, but knowing you and knowing how the aloof Bruce Banner could be, they try to mediate the situation without getting themselves too involved.

"What's up, One-Punch Woman." Tony's usual nicknames annoyed you when you first started out, but as time goes by, you just find yourself getting used to it. You got to talk to Peter about letting Tony watch anime. He gets more material from those.

"Today's not the day to piss me off Tony." You muttered.

You had enjoyed the momentary peace inside the training room. With only the resounding echoes of your first against the punching bag, the rapid breathing escaping your lips, and the low hum of the air conditioner. This was your compromise for not joining Bruce with meditating.

"Come on, Rocky." Tony's hand resting on your shoulder angered you. You hated anyone, aside from Bruce, from touching you.

"Get your hands off, Stark."

Your fist continued to collide with the punching bag, but every single time Tony would try to intervene. Either trying to pull you away from the punching bag or pulling the punching bag away from you.

It took all the control out of you to stop yourself from using Tony as your punching bag instead. Every deep breath you took, the resolve was slowly fading away and your hands were now screaming at you to stop pain finally coming in full waves.

"Stark, I am warning you."

"I'd stop if you tell me why you're avoiding Dr. Banner. It's affecting his productivity if I'm being honest."

And that was the straw the finally broke the camel's back. Punching Stark right in the jaw, but his nano-tech was quick to protect him from punch, but the impact left him stuck right through the walls and everything was now on high alert as F.R.I.D.A.Y placed the training room on lockdown.

"I told you to stay the hell away from me, Stark." You spat, now thinking of a way to get the hell out of the training room without anyone, especially the particular man, coming to see that you were falling apart all because of your god damn feelings. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. open the doors." You demand but the AI refused only wanting Tony to give the command.

"The hell is wrong with you Y/N?"

Now coming face to face with an Iron Man suit of Tony, the last thing you would want was to ruin the reputation you have made with the team. The unproblematic one. The one that would rather keep to yourself than argue with anyone on the team.

"You! Get the hell away me." Your voice grew hoarse as the genuine anger begins to manifest.

One punch, that was all it would take to shut the hell out of the man and you could escape the confinements of the training room.

"Open the doors, Tony. I'm not really in the mood to deal with you and the rest of your fucked up group."

"Well, you're part of this group whether you like it or not. So doesn't that make you just as fucked up as we are?" Tony was actually pointing his beam at you and it made it more evident that you didn't belong here in this group as much as Bruce had assured you were.

There would always be this power dynamic that you will never escape from. May it be the slums, the laboratory, or this compound. You will be nothing more than a tool for them to use and to exploit.

"Stand down, Y/N. You're being hysterical."

That was when you finally snapped, running towards him, clenched fist swung but it never met his face, instead a green being came quick to block your hit.

"It's okay, Y/N." Hulk assured--or was it Bruce. You weren't certain anymore.

Eyes trained towards where you fist has landed. Landing right onto his ribs, had he been in his normal body, you were sure you've fracture a few ribs or worse, punctured his lungs or heart in the process.

When your eyes trailed upward, the gentle look on the Hulk's face scared you. Even he was worried about and everything you had been doing for the past few days as you avoided Bruce.

You didn't flinch when his larger hand tried cupping your cheeks, instead nestling more into his touch. You had it bad. But it was enough to calm you down for the moment. Bruce was your peace.

"Breath, Y/N."

Slowly, you see him turn back to his normal self. Never once did his hand leave your own. Both hands now cupping your cheeks as he stared at you.

"Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, never breaking eye contact. You breath, you tried you best to calm the heart you never noticed was beating to fast as you slowed your breathing.

"You got me..."

Indeed you do. He was here, even after the days you've tried ignoring him, avoiding him, and downright pushing him away. You still got him.

"That's all that matters..."

You nod, eyes now stinging with the unshed tears. You were afraid of losing him. You feeling for him that presented itself to you now, you didn't want to lose it. You couldn't depend on anyone else in this compound but him. Your only sanctuary in your state of mind. Your Survival of the Fittest mentality scrambling at this man that would give you the world even if you so much as ask it from him.

The Strongest Avenger, but was the most vulnerable in your presence.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. open the door." Bruce requested as he pulled you to his chest.

With the AI following, you caught glimpse of the mess the Hulk had made through the wall just to get it. Wincing at what Tony would have them to just to pay for the damage of it.

Their journey has been silent. The only sound you could hear, or at least tried to focus on was his heart. The rhythmic calm beats against your ear made you focus on your own breathing until you arrived in his room.

Bare as Bruce's room was, it brought you a calmness of the familiarity it had with you. Not much decorations aside from the diplomas and achievements, one picture still stuck out the most to you in his array of achievements. It was a picture of you and Bruce. It was post-mission in the Quintjet, one bud on each of your ear and you still remembered the two of you were listening to Lofi music at the time. What made the picture so memorable was the sight of the two of you grinning ear to ear while icing your aching hand after going head to head with a colossus from who-knows what planet.

You still remember why the two of your were smiling. There was a bet between Tony and Rhodey that you wouldn't be able to take on the giant and had waged a hundred dollars each because they were just that confident. Yet a minute later, you've just punched the alien once before it run as far away from you as possible. Being owed two hundred dollar and just the bragging right you were having had a smile on your face and Bruce was quick to join along in the merriment of the moment.

"What's wrong, Y/N?"

Returning back to the present, the worry in Bruce's face was still evident but you pulled away, cheeks warm at the realization that the man had been shirtless this entire time and you were leaning on his chest all throughout.

"Nothing." You muttered, now unable to meet his eyes now.

"The hole you've punched Tony into isn't much of a nothing." His words, as agitated as you knew he was being at the moment, was calm.

"Tony is just being annoying." You tried to reason. "He was getting on my nerves and deserves it." You added knowing very well that if it wasn't for Bruce, Tony would more than likely be enduring a concussion or even brain damage at this point.

Just the thought of that happening brought a knot right into your throat making you incapable of swallowing. Had it not been for Bruce, you were sure you would need to pack your backs yet again and leave the compound. God know what the rest of the team would think of you if that happened, or what what they would do to you as retaliation.

"But it's not just because of that." It was as if Bruce can read your thoughts. All he wants now is just confirmation.

"It has nothing to do with you." Lie.

"Then what is it? You've been acting weird for the last few days. You're blowing me off and using every excuse in the book to get away from our meditation and away from me. So this definitely has something to do with me."

You didn't have an answer to him. Fear overcame telling him the truth, making him understand your worries.

"Just say it. Say that the other guy is scaring you and be done with it."

You blinked confused with what he was saying.

"That's not it." You assured, finding the right words was hard.

"THEN WHAT?" As the green tint quickly appeared on his skin just as quick as it disappeared, your adrenaline was still high from the incident in the training room, fist already already ready to defend yourself if he loses control.

Never once did you raise you hand at Bruce. Never once did you face with in your attack stance. But never once did Bruce raise his voice at you. This was affecting him just as much as it did you.

"I'm a monster, Y/N. I know that more than anyone else. All you had to do was say so and be done with it."

"You're not a monster, Bruce. You never were in my eyes."

"Yeah, avoiding me makes it so convincing." he snorts turning his back at you, a shirt already in his grasp. "Just say it, Y/N. I can take it. I'm not a child anymore that can't handle the truth."

Biting your lips, this was worse than you have actually anticipated. You watched Bruce ramble on and on about why he was a monster and why you have every right to avoid him. But that wasn't what truly had you speechless. It was this, this man that was aloof as he was had done nothing but bare his heart of to you. Show he was just pained as you were with this situation you've placed yourself in--placed the two of you in.

Was it still the adrenaline or your stupidity, you really didn't know as you surged towards him, lips mashing against his own. His lips was soft against your own. The taste of coffee and hint of mint. And just like that, the words in Bruce's mouth stopped and he was left just as stunned as your were for what you've done.

"I, I don't--I...I don't hate you, Bruce." you stutter, eyes refusing to meet his own yet again. "It's opposite really."

"Say it, Y/N."

"I love you, Banner." You muttered finally looking at him. "I love you and I know for a fact that you wouldn't want to be seen anywhere near me."

"What?"

"You're you. Smart, Got a good sense of humour. You care about me more than my parents ever did. You're the first person here in the compound that treated me more like a human instead of this asset or experiment."

It was now your turn to ramble on about why you don't deserve him. You knew very well why and whatever reason that would try to oppose those beliefs were quick to be stomped away. That was how your mind works, you don't deserve things, you work hard for anything and everything.

"Y/N close your eyes."

You blinked at  the sudden request, but the smile that now rested on Bruce's face assured you slightly. But knowing him, knowing he would be the last person to hurt you, your eyes finally closed.

In the darkness, you tried to calm you mind. As much as your trusted Bruce, the unknown scared you, the reason behind this situation worried you. to be this vulnerable in front of him, to be this defenceless.

The last thing you would have expected to happen was his lips against you own. Breathless, you open your eyes to see Bruce's own closed as the kiss continued. The gentle hands that had calmed you down in the training room were once again there to calm you don't. Gently you find yourself pulling more into the kiss, aching hands rested on his chest. The calm heart now coming alive against your fingertips.

Pulling away, Bruce opened his eyes, breathless just as you were and the uncertainty of just what happened finally becoming more an more evident. It was just how you would accept it at this point.

"Hope that's clear enough for you." Bruce muttered, now his own eyes refusing to meet your own. "Why you think so low of yourself? You're part of this team because you value civilian's safety more than our safety, more than your own safety that it's sometimes so annoying because I worry about you and your lack of safety."

You blinked, how the hell did this happen. One minute you were both self-deprecating yourselves, then the next minute it was lips and cheesy lines of admiration for one another.

"I'm not perfect. Far from it, but just seeing you avoid me. It makes it so hard for me to ignore my own thoughts. Maybe they were right." Bruce shrugged.

You shook your head, as much as you knew he wouldn't see. He really didn't know his worth, the irony that you yourself couldn't do the same. The smile just couldn't help but finally escape your lips before you head find solitude in his chest. The sound of his beating heart could do nothing but give you a calmness you didn't think you would need in your life.

"Can we start over." You whispered, the dysfunction that was the two of you wasn't ideal and you knew whatever this might end up becoming, it wouldn't be easy. Nothing was ever easy when it comes to the life they were living. But you knew you could make it work.

"What?"

Pulling away from him. You gentle punched his cheek seeing his lack of effort to block it. He knew just as much as you did that you will never hurt him intentionally.

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I love you, Dr. Bruce Robert Banner."

Shaking the man's shaking hand, you smiled as his hands held onto your own tighter and accepting the shake of hand.

"Nice meeting you, Y/N." he started, voice shaky. "My name is Bruce Banner, and I love you too."

With the smile only growing you both of your faces, you leaned once again for a kiss. Things will be alright between the two of you. A few bumps in the road would be a certainty. But you'll work on it. You both will.

"Who do you think Tony would start hounding first about the trashed Training room?" You asked after a second of silence between them.

"My guess is me. Might take a while to live down what just happened."

[djemsostylist]

Of Queens and Trash

Here’s the thing. SCK has been on a downward trend since 13. The breakup was long, getting together again was tiring, the amnesia plot was poorly handled and the mess that came following his recovery was, well, a mess. The necessary break for covid gave us a chance for a fresh start for Edser. All the bad stuff in the past, and a focus in the last episodes of them being able to finally fulfill all the promises they had not been able to. After all, this was a story that, at its core, was about two people who met and fell in love and who, no matter what, chose to be together. Invisible handcuffs. And with the return of the OG writer, it seemed we might finally get that. After 39 episodes of angst and only 7(?) of real togetherness, surely it was time? Forget the pain of the past, and start with Edser navigating their world together.

And then the trailer dropped. And all of a sudden, all the people who had spent months eviscerating Serkan for behaving badly in the 30s were celebrating this new plot, the “great angst” and Eda “being a Queen.”

For me, I can’t get over the hiding of the child. It's a hardline deal breaker. I don’t think it matters who writes it, I think it's an awful plotline. No matter how "good" the trailer looks or moments seem, I will remember that I was watching a show about two people who loved each other and never wanted to be apart, about a man who learned how to open his heart, and this ruined it all.

Now, I think it's worth noting that my hard line, in this particular case, is in response to Edser, if that makes sense. I’m not hardline, “if this is in a story I’m not watching”. If it works for the characters and story because that is the type of story being told, then fine.

I don't subscribe to the woke feminism brand of "all women are Queens and all men are Trash" which seems to be a trend of late (and not just in fandom). I think people are people and people are generally imperfect but also trying. I don’t think women, simply by virtue of carrying a child, get full say in what happens to the child, regardless of the father’s wishes. I'm not fond of a “hiding a kid storyline”, and while I get the whole "my body my choice" style of arguing, it took two people to make the baby. Two people get a say in what happens. I get you are growing the kid, but you didn't spontaneously conceive.

For me, Edser being apart and/or hiding a kid is a hardline. It doesn't fit with the characters as I know them and it doesn't fit with the storyline. And look--I hated the amnesia plot. I thought there were a literal million ways this could have been done better, but it's what we got. So for everyone suddenly defending this new plot, despite it making about as much sense as Eda getting married to make Serkan remember her, then that means everything goes. No blaming writers or ignoring canon...everything has context and meaning now. And since “it's realistic” is also a common refrain, then fine. Let’s go realistic.

Imagine being in a plane crash. You wake up, you have clear physical/mental blocks. For someone who likes to be in control, that's terrifying. You have a ring on your finger with a woman's name you don't know, and an entire year missing. You call the one person you know will come (since your parents and friends are useless) and she comes and tells you a story that jives. You can't remember shit and you keep getting flashes and your hands won't work, so you take what she tells you, because why would you have any reason to doubt? It’s not like you can remember anyway, and trying to remember hurts.

You finally go back home, and you recognize nothing about your own life. Friends, family...everything is different. Your mom is out, your dad is gone, your best friends are married. You don't even live in the same house, you have people working in your company you don’t know--even your dog is gone. And then you have a hysterical woman throwing pictures in your face of a man you don't recognize and your brain is still foggy and all your friends and family seem to be shrugging their shoulders at you.

You're terrified and alone and all you get is some vagueness about an epic love story and too much emotion and all you want to do is hide. From everything. Plus your heart is doing this thing every time the girl is near and you think you might be dying maybe and remember how your brother died?

So, the girl kisses you, you literally feel like you might be dying, and it's like naw. Fuck this. I'm getting back an ounce of control. So you propose to Selin. I mean you don’t love her and you barely want her but at least she is the same. At least she hasn’t changed, and at least she doesn’t stare at you with the weight of a million expectations that everyone else does. At least she doesn’t look at you and hope to see a man you can’t ever remember being.

But then the girl everyone claims is your soulmate is suddenly engaged to another man, and spends every moment after that claiming she hates you, she is over you, she is better off/happier without you, doesn't need you.

So it's like, okay, what is the truth. Your brain isn't helping, your friends aren't helping, she isn't helping. So you lash out, you close off, because really, what else is left. Your life isn’t your life, your mind isn’t your mind, you can’t even figure out what’s real and what isn’t. And she’s getting married and you want to die but she’s getting married and surely if she loved you she wouldn’t be doing this?

And then you get your memories back. Finally. Everything comes flooding back ,and it's a lot. You cope in shitty ways, you don't respond well, etc. You’ve returned from the dead twice, and everything feels just slightly off, but maybe you can make this work. At least you have her. After a few days, you’re feeling like your old self. You've got your memories, your girl, the possibility of the future you had snatched twice, and then BOOM. She rejects you, out of nowhere.

Won't talk, won't communicate, you have no idea what the fuck is happening. She’s crying and sad but also not leaving but also not staying and your brain can’t quite work things out but all you can do is promise that you love her, only her, always her, forever. Surely she must know that by now, right?

And then she tells you about the baby. You can't remember the sex of course, but then you find out it probably happened while your brain was fucked, and you barely have time to process this before oh yeah the love of your life is leaving you bc she would rather you raise a baby with your rapist. And suddenly you might be dying, again.

But you stop her. You stop her and even though she says she didn’t come back for you, why else would she have stayed? So, you finally get her back, she tattoos you on her finger and maybe just maybe everything will be fine when BOOM. Cancer. You aren't even over the other shit, and you have a fucking tumor. You are 30 years old, you've survived a plane crash, amnesia, and now you have a tumor. How many times can a person die?

And so you don’t cope well. You withdraw, you back away. Your brother died when he was young, you know what that does to a person. You know what it did to your family. You have this fear that curls around your heart that says “but what if she becomes my mother.” And she goes. She leaves and she takes your heart and your child (that you don’t even know about) and it’s like...fuck. Again. Because everyone leaves you, eventually. And somehow, it’s always your fault.

So, what I'm saying is, Eda endured a lot, sure. She was hurt. Their breakup in 14 was hard and I’m not denying that (although there is another post I could write about how since Eda never actually uses her words to tell him how she feels he can, perhaps, be understood in assuming that breaking up after barely being together would hurt but also that she would move on and live her life happily without him. Which I guess season 2 proves…) Losing Serkan to an accident/amnesia was hard, looking at the body of the man she loves but not seeing the man she loves must have been agony. But Serkan was fucking wrecked. So instead of choosing to write a plot where they both get to heal, where they both get to explore their pain and work through it together, we get Serkan who reverted to being a robot to cope with massive trauma and PTSD, and essentially is abandoned by everyone, again.

I guess what I'm saying is, if staying with him and supporting him when he was dealing with trauma was too much for her, then fine.That is very true for some people, and it’s certainly realistic. But I don't really think that jives with Eda and her character, and while it isn't a trauma competition, I'd still think Serkan comes out a winner here. Eda lost her parents, which was awful. She lost him, but she got him back. Twice. His trauma is losing his brother, being abandoned by his parents, a plane crash, amnesia, emotional manipulation/abuse and cancer. And then he gets punished by having his daughter taken away from him because he was having a hard time coping. Keeping a kid a secret isn't "protecting the child" it's punishing the father.

Tl;dr The direction they have taken the characters is gross for both mains, but if people are trying to justify Eda keeping his child from him because “he deserves it” or “she did what was best for her” then I think we maybe haven’t been watching the same show. Even if he said “I don’t want kids,” saying that to a hypothetical child is very different then being told “a baby is very much our reality.” Because that's the crux right? It's not that he decided he just didn't want to be a father ever, he's scared of having a family and losing them or of them losing him. And then she made that very fear be realized. Which is tragic and quite the opposite of what his life partner needed to do in that situation.

Bitte.

Thanks to @lolo-deli for the proofread and the final lines, you are the best. And for putting up with my uncontrollable ranting about this for days.

[nxrthmizu]

| the detective and the blue-eyed fox | ch.5

»»——⍟——««

title | all her fault 

pairing | Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng 

warnings | mentions of death, death, but nothing explicitly described

words | 3.1k 

author’s note | im emotionally invested in this series, i have ch.6 and ch.7 planned out too :3 prepare yourself for more twists and (maybe) a major death :))) also this wasn’t proof-read,,, lmk if there are any mistakes! enjoy :3 

»»——⍟——««

| beginning | previous part | ao3 | 

»»——⍟——«« 

Three walls of cement and one wall of two-inch glass. Gabriel Agreste faced the four blank slates of his confinement everyday for three months, pondering on how he was going to endure the remaining of his days in his dreary ‘home’. They wouldn’t even provide him with paper to create some sketches on- (What were they afraid of? Paper butterflies? He was powerless without his miraculous). 

“So, what business do we have today, Ms. Rossi?” He asked smoothly, business-like as ever despite not being able to remember the last time he had a conversation. Three months of complete isolation- The guards wouldn’t even spare him a single word, and to be fair, he couldn’t blame them. 

“Did you hear about Adrien?” 

Being straightforward when she wanted to be was one of Lila’s strong traits. Her words were driven to the point, cleared from the lies that typically shrouded them. A borderline sadistic smile traced her vermilion lips when a spark of curiosity glimmered in the man’s eyes- Oh, she was going to enjoy being the bearer of the staggering news. 

“What about Adrien?” She could tell- He was expecting something perhaps along the lines of his son screwing up the company he inherited, or perhaps his son making a public statement about- 

“He’s dead.” 

Gabriel froze from where he was seated on the cement block they provided him with, red draining from his already-pale skin and his bloodshot eyes. “What?” His voice was but a hoarse whisper, a denial, a beg, a plea for the woman to laugh and tell him that it was all some cruel joke. 

“He was murdered.” Oh, how she enjoyed seeing the anguish dawn into his eyes. The pain seeped into his body like a parasite, leeching away any will of survival the man had left. “Two weeks ago.” 

If getting stripped of his miraculous and being arrested was the sky crashing upon the world he tried so hard to bring his wife back into, then the revelation of his son’s death would be the universe collapsing into itself, becoming a black hole that self destructed from the very core of Gabriel Agreste’s heart. 

“Felix Graham de Vanily is combining the Agreste and the Vanily companies with a horizontal merger,” Lila continued, enjoying the acidic pain that burned through the heartless man’s soul. “Oh, and did I tell you? From the day Adrien died, Chat Noir stopped patrolling the city.” 

The rush of ‘What if he was murdered because I was Hawkmoth?’ and ‘There are no more Agrestes left...’ smashed into him like water reaching the bottom of the waterfall. There was no mercy behind the strong wave of despair; no mercy behind Lila Rossi’s cold eyes and satisfied smile; no mercy that the world had left for him as a punishment for all his crimes. 

“I think I might know who killed him, but I need you to be honest with me,” Lila said softly, enjoying the view of the man’s bowed head. The swollen red of his teary eyes made something inside her heart stir, and it wasn’t sympathy. No, not at all. Her heart swelled with a triumphant laugh, a satisfaction that can only be achieved through the means of revenge. “What happened to the peacock miraculous?” 

»»——⍟——«« 

[Paris, three months ago] 

In the midst of destruction you could easily find pain, agony, and despair, because wherever you looked, there was someone who had no time to mourn, but still mourned nonetheless. Ladybug had lost count of how many Paris lost after the hundredth- And the count was only increasing exponentially by every passing second. The former city of love was doing its’ best impression of a society undergoing an apocalypse- In fact, it was a society undergoing an apocalypse. 

Exhaustion clawed at Paris’s heroine like a monster that wanted to be released from its’ cage. It tore at her without pause, releasing soreness into her muscles and weariness into her mentality. How much longer did she had to fight? How much longer until she couldn’t go on anymore? How much longer until Paris would fall into the hands of the man who could only focus on what he wanted? 

And what would happen to Paris if she couldn’t stand any longer to defend it? 

Smoke painted every inch and corner of the skyline in an abstract painting, which would’ve been beautiful if it wasn’t because of the direness of the situation. The clouds were stained a dirty red and firetrucks wailed in the distance, too little of them to keep up with the demand of damage control. Screams echoed across the city, a painful reminder to the heroine of how many lives she had let down. Nothing pained the heroine more than the fact she had been trusted with so many and ended up failing just as many.

A little distance away, shrouded under the same red sky that Ladybug stood under, was the Le Grand Paris. A section of the grand hotel had caved in, leaving the top half of the building in ruins. The golden embellishments of the hotel were caked in dust, the grandeur of Paris’s greatest hotel submitting to the chaos and destruction around it. 

“Come on! Get in here! Hurry up!” 

Chloe couldn’t believe her eyes. 

There stood Mayor Bourgeois, urgently yelling out orders for as many people as possible to get into the hotel’s wine cellar, which would be underground and as safe as it got at the moment. The endless stream of Parisians flowed continuously through the open doors of the hotel, the hotel’s large wine cellar being able to accommodate about half of Paris’s (surviving) population. 

For once in her life, Chloe was proud to call the mayor her father. 

“Daddy! I’ll go get more people here!” She yelled over the bustling noise. Worry clumped over the mayor and butler Jean’s eyes, but her father nodded nonetheless, a smile slipping over his lips. 

“Be careful, my dear!” 

On the other side of Paris, Alya was holding onto her younger siblings as tightly as she could, all four of them hidden under the dining table. A loud ring startled all of them, the second-oldest Cesaire turning her attention to her phone. Earthquake-like vibrations made multiple household objects topple and smash onto the floor, much to the twins’ terror. 

“Chloe?” She breathed, picking up the call. 

The voice that came in response was panting, taking hurried, shuddering breaths. The consistent thump-thump-thump of footsteps also echoed through the phone, accompanied by the distance rings of destruction. “Where are you? Get your family towards Le Grand Paris, you can hide in the wine cellar!” 

Alya couldn’t believe the blonde’s words. 

“And if you’re up to it, spread the word! The wine cellar is the safest place we have right now.” 

The call ended, Alya blinking back her surprise in exchange of a courage that surged forward all of a sudden. “Nora, take Ella and Etta to Le Grand Paris and hide in the wine cellar.” 

“And where are you going?” 

Alya steeled her jittering nerves. “I’m going to get out there and help.”

Not too far away from the Cesaire’s apartment, Ladybug was swinging through the city, surveying the damage. The whizz of her yoyo felt deafening to her ears, and everything hurt. Her muscles were sore, her legs were shaking, and her vision felt blurry. Half of Paris was a rubble of cement and dust, and the other half was on the verge of collapsing soon. 

Ladybug’s eyes widened in horror as she jerked back, catching sight of a familiar building that was so burdened with destruction that she could barely recognise it if it wasn’t for the fact that she knew she was on the right street. 

“No. No, no, no. Nononono-” Her breath caught in her throat, suffocating and strangling her from inside. 

The bakery had collapsed. 

She prayed with all her heart that her parents had gotten out, but from the looks of it, the bakery was hit fast and the chances that- 

No. 

“Think positive thoughts, Marinette.” The heroine whispered to herself, desperate and unwilling to face what she was sure was the truth. “Maybe they got out. Maybe they got out. They’re fine.” 

Even as she swung off, Ladybug knew in her heart that despite the lies she insisted on telling herself, her parents’ dead bodies were somewhere underneath the rubble. 

»»——⍟——«« 

“Mamma!” Tears streamed down Lila’s face as she tugged and pulled at the portion of their ceiling that had chosen the diplomat as its’ victim. There was no use- Both of them knew as well as 1 + 1 that there was no way Lila could lift the concrete block by herself. 

The diplomat looked up with a weak smile, already having come to terms with how her life would end- With her lower half crushed by a ceiling. “Leave me here, dear, the building’s going to-” 

Lila shook her head stubbornly, desperately trying to lift the concrete again, only to look up in surprise, not having expected a pair of spandexed hands to join hers. Ladybug let out a grunt as she tried to nudge the collapsed ceiling even just a little, her suit tearing due to the rough surface of the collapsed ceiling. 

“Come on, we’ll push at the count of three!” The hero instructed, groaning and giving all her strength to the giant piece of debris, but it was no use. Ladybug was tired and worn out, and the little strength she had in her was not enough to overcome the concrete’s stubbornness to stay put. “I... I could...” She flung out her yoyo, trying to think of a way to use the concrete’s weight against itself. 

“Ladybug, the building is collapsing, please just leave me be.” The diplomat pleaded. “Lila, please get out of here!” 

The building groaned, supporting the woman’s statement. Ladybug bowed apologetically, guilt lurking in every corner of her eyes. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance, ma’am.” 

“You’ve done a lot for Paris. I should thank you.” The woman whispered, smiling painfully at her daughter. “I’m sorry, Lila. I love you, forever.” 

The girl sniffled, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I love you too, mamma.” 

“Come on, Lila.” Ladybug whispered gently, pulling the teen away. It was as heart-wrenching as abandoning a puppy on the side of the road on a rainy day, but the diplomat was right- The building was giving in, and if they didn’t get out themselves, Paris’s death count would only increase by another two. 

The escape from the building was quiet, only filled by the whizz of the yoyo. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more.” Ladybug said softly. 

“It’s not your fault.” Lila sniffled bitterly. Now that they were soaring over the city, Lila could see just how much of it was crumbled and broken- At least 70% of the city was reduced to rubbles, and the Eiffel tower, who had once stood tall at the core of Paris, had now bowed down to the wrath of the man who knew nothing but his own wants. 

It was at that moment that Lila Rossi decided that the person she hated the most was Hawkmoth.  

»»——⍟——«« 

You never know the true meaning of horror until you live that one moment that crushes you inside. 

It freezes your blood, it makes your heart stop, and your chest feels like its’ being constricted. You can’t breath, and your field of vision just narrows to the one point that defines the cause of all your pain. Sometimes, you don’t even know what you feel. All emotion has been drained out of you, and your brain has lagged behind, unsure of how to react. 

Chloe stood in front of Le Grand Paris- The remains of it, anyway, and came to the conclusion that her father saved at least a thousand lives that day. All by putting aside his own safety and shepherding millions of his citizens into the wine cellar. 

It was over. 

It took hours for the firefighters to dig out the entrance to the wine cellar, millions and thousands of relieved Parisians crawling from the hole. The daughter of the mayor sat and waited, helping wherever she could. There were too many tears shed, too much blood bled, and too many people dead. 

She watched the line of Parisians trickle from what was formerly Le Grand Paris’s wine cellar. She waited and waited until the sun finally had mercy on Paris and ended the day that would be marked as the end of the city of love. She prayed and hoped until she saw the last man crawl from the cellar. 

And then she faced the truth that neither her father nor butler Jean made it into the wine cellar themselves. 

»»——⍟——«« 

Adjusting to the bright light shining around her was difficult, to say the least. Paris had been shrouded in semi-darkness for the past twenty-four hours. 

Marinette sat up hurriedly, groaning at the piercing pain that shot thorugh her spine at the action. All around her were her friends’ worried faces, Alya’s, Adrien’s, Nino’s, Chloe’s- Were those tears on Chloe’s cheeks? And was that Lila comforting her?

“Alya found you passed out in the middle of the street after it ended.” Nino explained quickly. 

Ah, that was what they were calling it now, Marinette thought. The battle she had fought for over fifteen hours without pause was now labelled ‘It’. 

“What were you doing out there, you could’ve died!” Alya scolded, but despite the tone, the teen was more glad than anything to see that the bluenette had made it. 

“Where... Are we? And why is everything so... Destroyed?” 

The classmates shared looks that practically spelt ‘Who’s going to break it to her?’. 

“Ladybug disappeared after the battle was won. She never got to use her miraculous cure.” Chloe supplied the explanation coldly. “Thousands are dead. Almost every building needs to be rebuilt.” 

Adrien offered her a weak smile that was on the verge of breaking. “Hawkmoth is gone for good.” There was a faint suggestion in the boy’s eyes that he was going through much more pain than any of them knew. “Hawkmoth... My father. My father was Hawkmoth. He was arrested a couple hours ago. Nathalie was Mayura.” 

Silence shrouded the teens like a  black rain cloud. “I’m sorry, Adrien.” Marinette whispered. It was coming back to her now- Chat Noir’s anguished screams when they discovered Gabriel Agreste, decked out in his purple suit, standing in the attic of Agreste Manor, Mayura’s escape- Feeling like she couldn’t go any further. The last thing she remembered was her transformation dropping, and contact with the cold hard ground. 

“Don’t be.” Lila responded nonchalantly. “I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that this whole shit was Hawkmoth’s fault and no one else’s. Almost everyone has lost a family member. Some of us lost more than others. It’s no one’s fault, so don’t you go apologising, Dupain-Cheng.” 

Her friends murmured their agreements, giving her soft smiles despite the devastation that tore at each of their hearts. 

Marinette wanted to laugh. 

Thousands dead and it was because she couldn’t hold on for two more seconds to use her miraculous cure. 

Thousands dead, including her own parents, Lila’s, and god knows how many others’ parents, siblings, lovers, and friends. 

Thousands dead and it was all. Her. Fault. 

»»——⍟——«« 

“Well?” 

Impatience decorated Lila’s tone as she tapped her heels, waiting for the terrorist’s answer. The click of her heels echoed through the room, bouncing off the concrete walls to create the loudest noise Gabriel had ever heard in a long time. 

“What happened to the peacock miraculous?” She repeated one more time for good measure, irked and irritated by the lack of answer from the other side of the glass. 

“It’s gone.” Gabriel answered softly after a while. “When they found Nathalie passed out in that alley, she didn’t have her miraculous on.” The man’s former assistant had fled after Ladybug and Chat Noir confronted them in the Agreste Manor, but two hours later, she was found unconscious in a back alley, and it was later discovered in the hospital that she had fallen into a coma. 

Bewilderment lit inside the woman’s eyes, burning beside the fury that blazed inside her soul. “Are you telling me someone stole them?” She hissed, resisting the urge to slam her hands on something. 

“No.” Gabriel answered reluctantly, slightly afraid of the woman’s fury. If it was any consolation, he knew the two-inch glass wall would prevent her from inflicting any harm onto him. “I’m telling you that Duusu probably ran off with her own miraculous.” 

The woman sucked in a deep breath, regulating her breathing to regain her composure. “Then do you have any idea where she went?” 

“Duusu is corrupted and manipulative, but she’ll need a host to operate through. She’d probably look for someone emotional, someone who’s lost a lot and is in a lot of pain.” Gabriel sighed, looking up to be met by Lila’s annoyed expression. 

“Oh wow.” Said the woman sarcastically, hands propped on her hips in a pretentious, thoughtful manner. “Someone emotional, someone who’s lost a lot and is in a lot of pain. That just about defines everyone that survived the apocalypse you laid on us three months ago.” 

It was at that moment Lila’s sarcastic attitude brought Gabriel to a terrifying conclusion. There was no amount of sympathy in her eyes, and judging from the hate and loath in her eyes... The revelation splashed him like a cold bucket of ice water, waking him up from the small smudge of hope he got to hold for a couple of seconds. 

“You aren’t here to get me out.” He whispered. Just when he thought that the sly woman was going to get him out of the four walls he was trapped in- She slammed her true intentions back into his face with no mercy. 

“You killed my mother, you bastard.” She smiled so sweetly that he wouldn’t be surprised if she was instantly cast as the beautiful but wicked stepmother from Snow White or perhaps the enchantress from Sleeping Beauty. “As well as the friends and family of thousand others. I hope you rot in jail forever.” 

»»——⍟——«« 

If anyone’s confused on the timeline of the story, this is how it goes: 

3 months before current time, the final battle takes place (ch.5). Thousands die because Ladybug didn’t get to use her miraculous cure. Hawkmoth is arrested and Nathalie falls into a coma. Ladybug/Marinette leave Paris after the battle is over.

Ladybug/Marinette heads to Gotham, where Marinette gets hired into GCPD and becomes partners with Damian. She also becomes Gotham’s newest vigilante, Lan, who exposes corrupt politicians 

2 weeks before current time, Adrien Agreste is murdered and Chat Noir stops patrolling Paris. (This is when Marinette learns from Tikki that Adrien and Chat are the same person even though the conversation wasn’t written) 

Current time (ch.1) Lan asks Damian to help her find the miraculous of the black cat 

Damian, the next day, finds out that Plagg and the black cat miraculous have been in his apartment the whole time (He then emails her and asks her to go to his apartment to discuss things) 

(ch.4) Damian and Marinette talk 

At the same time, in Paris, Luka visits Chloe, who is apparently in kahoots with him 

Also at the same time, Lila breaks into the highest security prison in Paris and talks to Gabriel Agreste/Hawkmoth (also partly ch.5) 

That’s about it for now :3 

taglist. @demonicbusiness @animegirlweeb @roselynfey @2confused-2doanything @insane-fangirl-of-everything @promiswords @galaxylightmoon @fusser90 @ira-sairain @liquid-luck-00 @glastwime859

gen. daminette taglist. @maskedpainter @animegirlweeb @missmadwoman

»»——⍟——«« 

| next part | ao3 | 

»»——⍟——«« 

[littleabriel-blog]

My Problem with Loki

Loki is a character beloved by many people. He has been for a decade now, although some people who read comics before the Marvel Cinematic Universe was a thing were fans of him long before the first Thor came out. Over the years since his appearance in that movie the character has gone through a lot of changes, evolving from a villain to an anti-hero both in the MCU and in the comics, the latter even killing off his original incarnation to reincarnate him in a younger body resembling Tom Hiddleston in the hopes that the comics could capitalize on his popularity in order to sell more books. That move, unfortunately, did not bear fruit, with Loki’s solo series being canceled after only five issues. However, Loki remained popular in the movies, so much so that when he was killed off in Infinity War, people were pissed.

As a result of his enduring popularity, Kevin Feige and company decided to give Loki his own solo series on Disney+ when the decision was made to create a string of MCU tie-in shows to supplement the movies, and boost subscription numbers to Disney’s new streaming service. Fans of the character rejoiced. Finally, our favorite character was going to be in the spotlight, and not be merely a supporting character for Thor and hopefully not a butt monkey for the Avengers like he was in the third act of the movie of the same name. WandaVision and The Falcon and The Winter Soldier had previously had well-received and successful debuts on that same platform, and it was hoped that Loki would do the same. Loki turned out to be the most successful of the Disney+ MCU shows that have come out so far, scoring highest in the ratings. As of this writing, it holds a 93% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes and an 8.5 on IMDb.

Those numbers, however, don’t reflect the entire audience and there were a lot of people who were not altogether happy with the product we received. Many people who had been hardcore fans of Loki since Tom Hiddleston first put on the horned helmet were not pleased, myself included.  

The show wasn’t all bad. It did set up the multiverse, introduced Kang, introduced Mobius. The special effects were outstanding, a lot of the gags were hilarious, and we did get some character development from Loki before the spotlight fell away from him and he became all about panting after the real main character...more on that in a few.  

So many things, however, were wrong.  

If you liked the show, thought it was perfect, and were a fan of the romance, that’s perfectly fine. There is no such thing as a wrong opinion on a work of fiction. Everyone has their interpretations, everyone has their likes and dislikes, and there is nothing wrong with liking the show. There is also nothing wrong with not liking the show. This is a concept that people on both sides of the debate fail to understand, and I have witnessed flame wars, harassment from individuals on both sides, harassment of creators on social media from both sides, and various bits of biphobia, homophobia, transphobia, and other assorted types of phobias on display. I have seen people accuse people who have different opinions on the show than them of “not being a true Loki fan” and stating that people who have certain interpretations of the character don’t “truly know Loki”.

I’m not here to do that, and I assure you, if you liked the show, that’s fine. You’re allowed to. I’m allowed to not like it, and I’m allowed to explained why I didn’t like it just as you’re allowed to explain why you did. As long as both of us are being respectful, expressing an opinion is good. There is expressing an opinion and offering constructive criticism, however, and then there is namecalling, trolling, and having a tantrum and accusing someone of being “aggressive” when they don’t share the same opinion you do.

There is a huge difference between saying “I find the character of Sylvie to be problematic, and here is why” and “I think fans of Sylvie are sick and need therapy”, and people need to learn the difference between the two. Unfortunately, you have people who have become very protective of their favorite characters and tend to take any criticism leveled at said characters personally. It’s basically “You don’t like them? Well then you don’t like me, and since you don’t like me, I don’t like you.” Which is, frankly, a dangerous mentality to have. We are talking about fictional characters, not real people, and there is no need to jump to the defense of someone who does not exist. It is those people who tend to demonstrate that they have unstable personalities and immaturity, and they are the ones I have started blocking on Twitter because, being an adult woman, I don’t have the patience to deal with immature nonsense like that.

So, if you read this and then decide you want to hunt me down to give me a piece of your mind, tell me that I’m not a “true” fan of Loki, and accuse me of whatever, don’t bother. This piece isn’t here for that. It’s here because I wanted to compile my thoughts and feelings in a way that would better for me to articulate. It’s more or less a venting mechanism, purely for my benefit. If someone else gets something out of it, fine. If the creators of the show happen to see it, which is very unlikely because A) I’m not exactly going to push it onto them on their social media to get them to read it and B) they already get bombarded with tons of opinions on the show on a daily basis and aren’t going to care about one more voice added to the mix, even one who has basically compiled a novel, then alright.

And it is a novel, because I have a lot to say about Loki. I have been a huge fan of the character since long before Tom Hiddleston began playing him. My first encounter with Marvel’s Loki came in the form of the X-Men comics, specifically The Asgardian Wars run. It’s available in trade, and you should check it out. I read that run when I was around 10 years old, and I enjoyed Loki as the bad guy in the two stories that make up the collection. The first has him creating a special wish fountain that has a monkey’s paw effect in that it imbues mortals with special gifts and powers, and has the potential to make Earth a better place, but at the cost of killing every magical person and being on Earth. The X-Men and Alpha Flight find out about this after a plane piloted by the wife of one of the X-Men happens to crash in the general location the fountain is located. The two teams go to investigate, Shaman and Snowbird who are both magical beings begin dying, it’s discovered Loki created the fountain in order to score brownie points with The Ones Who Sit Above In Shadow (a pantheon of deities who are basically the Gods to the Asgardians), and after a lengthy battle Loki is defeated, he shuts down the fountain under pressure from The Ones, and slinks back to Asgard with tail between his legs.

In the second story, set after the heroes of Earth had helped Asgard defeat Surtur, Loki’s attention is caught by Storm, who at the time was depowered. He kidnaps her and brings her to Asgard intending to use her to replace Thor as the Goddess of the Storm, and use her as a pawn to, what else, conquer Asgard and seize the throne.  

I really enjoyed Loki then, and felt sorry that he never appeared in any other X-Men story, not even in an issue of the New Mutants, and that team boasted an actual Valkyrie (Danielle Moonstar) as one of its members. I was a kid at the time and read pretty much exclusively X-Men since those were the books my father purchased for me. I never felt right about asking him for other books since we were a family with money struggles and I didn’t want to be more of a burden by requesting Thor or Avengers comics--that, and I just didn’t find Thor or the Avengers all that interesting at the time, a sentiment shared by a lot of people until the first Iron Man made us actually care about Tony Stark. I wouldn’t have an opportunity to start reading more comics featuring Loki until I was an adult and able to visit comic book stores on my own. I read several runs that featured him as a character, including Ragnarok, the Broxton, OK run where Loki first appeared as a woman, Dark Reign, and finally Siege. I also went back and read Walt Simonson’s legendary run on The Mighty Thor, which I highly recommend.  

Suffice it to say, I’ve been a fan of the character for a long time, and in fact when Tom Hiddleston was cast in the role for Thor, I remember thinking that he was too young. But then I figured it was Hollywood, of course they’re going to deage Loki so that he appears closer in age to his adopted brother in contrast to the comics pre-Siege where Loki was often drawn to look like he was as old as Odin and therefore could be Thor’s uncle or even father as opposed to brother.  

Over the years I grew to enjoy the MCU’s version of the character, enjoy Tom Hiddleston in the role, and like most other people was greatly saddened by his death in Infinity War. Like other fans, I looked forward to his solo series and had high hopes for it. Hopes that were, unfortunately, dashed.

It Was Rushed

In the MCU, it took Loki years to go from troubled young god, to villain, to ambivalent ally, to anti-hero, to hero. Literally, years. Months had passed between the end of Thor and the beginning of Avengers during which Loki endured who-knows-what at the hands of Thanos. We don’t know exactly what still. The Loki series didn’t answer that, I guess because they didn’t want to devote precious screentime to an interesting backstory for what was supposed to be the main character when they could focus on something else instead. That something else will be elaborated on.

In Episode 1, Loki is still the villain from Avengers, something he would have remained as into The Dark World. It would take him being in Asgard’s prisons for a year and then him accidentally getting his adopted mother Frigga killed in order for him to begin to do a heel-face turn. From this, we can clearly see that a transition from ax-crazy bad guy to anti-hero is not going to happen overnight. For this person I shall call Ragnarok Loki, it was a process that took time. He suffered a complete mental breakdown while in Asgard’s prison, a fragile emotional state that was compounded by the anger and massive guilt he felt at Frigga’s death.  

Even after that, he still hadn’t completely abandoned his villainous ways. At the end of The Dark World we find out that after faking his supposed death earlier in the movie, Loki has assumed Odin’s form and taken his place on Asgard’s throne. In Ragnarok, Loki is still sitting on the throne in Odin’s form, and shows no indication at all that he feels any remorse for giving his adopted father amnesia, stripping away his magic, and abandoning him on Earth to whatever fate he might meet. Loki remains a selfish bastard throughout Ragnarok until the third act, after Thor had treated him to a taste of his own medicine by sticking a taser on him and then giving him a speech about becoming predictable and complacent.  

Loki’s arc was one that spanned four movies and six years, since in-universe there were a couple of years between The Dark World and Ragnarok. That meant that his character development took actual time and was realistic. It was one of the things that drew people to the character, the fact that he had a very relatable and believable redemption arc.

Compare that to Episode 1. In less than a day he goes from being the Loki that we saw in Avengers, batshit crazy, selfish, callous, and untrusting, to making personal confessions to a man he had just met only a couple hours previously and agreeing to help the organization that had arrested, stripped, imprisoned, tried, and almost executed him.

What?

I will give the show this: In Episode 2, he shows that he’s still up to his old tricks when he feeds Mobius and the agents all that horsecrap about how a Loki works in the Ren Faire tent, and then revealing that he plans to take over the TVA when he confronts his variant in the futuristic Wal-Mart. The weeping confession to Mobius, that I can’t really get over. How do you go from haughty, arrogant, and “trust is for children and dogs”, to “I don’t enjoy hurting people” in just a couple of hours? The show never indicated that it was a manipulation tactic on Loki’s part. Instead, we were basically told to believe that they became friends just that fast. That emotionally stunted and closed-off Loki made a connection with another person in a matter of hours. Makes sense. Don’t get me wrong, I like Mobius and feel he makes a good foil for Loki. I hope to see more of him in the future. I just have a tough time finding their friendship all that believable.

This would not be the only relationship in the show that happened too fast that we were forced to just buy, which leads me to Sylvie.

She’s the variant that the TVA had been hunting, that Mobius recruited Loki to help capture. And while I normally hate it when people ascribe a certain label onto a new female character because reasons (ones that are usually misogynistic), I think it fits rather well in Sylvie’s case.

Enter The Mary Sue

Mary Sue is a term that gets thrown around a lot. To sum up the meaning in very simple terms, it refers to a character who is too perfect to be believable. Mary Sues are often author-self inserts in fiction, they’re usually the love interest for at least one male hero and it’s usually the male hero the author will admit to having a crush on, their scenes usually are presented much more descriptively than those of the other characters, the story will revolve around them often at the expense of the development and plots for the other characters of the story, and they’re presented as beautiful, powerful, intelligent, beautiful, special, strong, beautiful, and desirable. Yes, beautiful is on the list more than once, and it’s deliberate.

The term comes from an old Star Trek parody fanfic, and while it is usually applied to original characters in fan fiction, the term has been used to describe characters in canon media as well. Some examples of characters who have been described as Mary Sues would include Bella from the Twilight books, Felicity from the show Arrow, Jaenelle Angelline from Anne Bishop’s The Black Jewel novels, Sookie Stackhouse from True Blood, Rey from the last Star Wars trilogy, and Jean Grey from the X-Men comics. Note I do not necessarily agree that those characters are Mary Sues, I have merely heard these characters referred to as Mary Sues, and when I look at them objectively I can kind of see where the accusations come from. Some other terms that can apply are Creator’s Pet and of course Author Self-Insert. Not all Mary Sues are Author Self-Inserts, but a lot of them are. Also, not all characters who can be labeled Mary Sues are female, though they often are. The male version of a Mary Sue is called a Marty Stu, and a couple of characters I’ve seen get ascribed that label include Harry Potter, Daemon Sadi from Anne Bishop’s The Black Jewel novels, Edward from Twilight, and Red Hulk from Marvel Comics. Even Batman and Wolverine haven’t been immune from the Marty Stu stamp, although you can argue that it does apply in their cases especially depending on who’s writing them. Sometimes it is painfully obvious they are author self-inserts...the aforementioned Bella is a good example. Others, you can only speculate on. And while there are theories going around that Sylvie is someone’s self-insert, we don’t have definitive proof of that.

There are good arguments, however, for her being labeled a Mary Sue and Creator’s Pet.

First are her powers. In the show we are told that Sylvie taught herself magic, especially her ability to “enchant”, the power to get into the minds of others and manipulate them. The fact that she taught herself would indicate that her education and skill in using magic should be lacking, right? She should not be as good as, say, someone who learned magic from his foster mother who herself was taught by Asgardian witches?

Yet in the show, Sylvie not only runs circles around Loki magically wise, she even teaches him a few tricks. This is startlingly in contrast to the comics. Loki’s Sylvie is partially based on the character Sylvie Lushton from the Young Avengers, a bad guy who was once a normal girl whom Loki imbued with powers before his death at the hands of the Sentry during the events of 2010’s Siege storyline. In the comics, Loki not only gave Sylvie her powers, but he was the one who taught her how to use them. Now, of course things in the MCU are not going to follow the way things are in the comics. MCU Loki is nowhere near as old as comics Loki and has so far not demonstrated the ability to give other beings powers. And MCU Sylvie is a composite of Sylvie Lushton and Lady Loki, which is also problematic, but we’ll get to that.

But the point is that Sylvie had no training. Her magic is some improvised slapped-together stuff that at best she picked up here and there and at worst she just pulled out of her ass. Now, knowing that, we’re supposed to buy that she can mop the floor magically wise with someone who was formally trained by a sorceress? And that furthermore, she can school him as well?

To make up for her lack of experience and knowledge, Loki is nerfed. Power wise and intellectually wise, he is nerfed. In Thor and Avengers Loki is smart, well-spoken, and a master manipulator. At one point he is able to turn all of the Avengers against one another, and while his magic has never been anywhere near the level it was at in the comics pre-Siege (after his resurrection, he was powered down and is currently nowhere near the powerhouse he had been prior to 2011) he was able to pull off some impressive displays of skill nonetheless. Shape shifting, illusion casting, it was a good repertoire.  

In Episode 3, however...well, he does use teleportation to some impressive affect during his fight with Sylvie, but he still doesn’t get the upperhand. And he should. Loki is a better trained fighter, better trained in sorcery, and realistically should have at the least managed to incapacitate his variant. He doesn’t however, because the moment he meets Sylvie his IQ drops about 20 points. He falls easily for her tricks, makes laughable plans, gets drunk and draws too much attention when he knows that is a bad idea, and manages to get them both stuck on a moon that will soon be dust courtesy of the rogue planet about to crash into it. Loki has made some blunders in the various MCU movies he’s been in, mostly due to his own arrogance and tendency to underestimate his foes, but he’s not that stupid. In fact, in The Dark World he screams at Thor and calls him an idiot for drawing attention to themselves by hijacking an elven ship and crashing into every column and statue within a fifty-foot radius.

Where exactly is that smart, calculating, more careful Loki we know from the films? He’s been transformed and dumbed down, in an attempt to prop Sylvie up. It’s a tired trope, making the male character a dumbass in order to make the female character look good. Well, I should say male-presenting and female-presenting characters in this case, but their supposed gender fluidity really is not represented well and it’s completely contradicted later on, but we’ll get to that.

Anyway, making the male character stupid in order to make the female character look better by comparison is not empowering. It’s insulting. It implies that women are not smart or capable enough to meet men on equal footing, that the only way we can shine is not by virtue of our own strengths, but merely by making us look better than the men.

She doesn’t just outshine Loki intellectually and power wise, she outshines him period. The show from Episode 3 on becomes about Sylvie. She is the show’s main focus, and Loki? He’s relegated to the role of supporting character in the series that’s named after him. Supporting character, and love interest. From Episode 3 on, the show might as well be called Sylvie.

Now, some people will say that since Sylvie is a Loki, the show was indeed focusing on Loki. The problem is, the show is very inconsistent as to whether or not Sylvie really is a Loki or a different person entirely. I will explain more later, but the writers seem to change Sylvie’s identity to suit whatever narrative they want to present to the audience, including the pre-Pixar Disney romance they foist upon us.

The Romance, and why some find it gross

One major characteristic of the Mary Sue is that she always draws the romantic and sexual interest of the main male character, who may or may not be a Marty Stu himself. Oftentimes he’s not, and Loki does not fit the criteria of a Marty Stu by any stretch of the imagination. These romances always happen fast with little to no buildup. There is no what writers of romance call “slow burn”, it’s just throw Mary at the male character, hook them up, and get the audience to buy it. Basically, it’s reminiscent of the romance stories in the Classical Era Disney animated films. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella all fall madly in love with their princes within minutes of meeting them. There’s no getting to know each other, there is no preamble, there is no slow courtship, no real drama to speak of. It’s basically Love At First Sight or True Love. This trend continues even into the Disney Renaissance. In The Little Mermaid, Ariel is willing to make a deal with a witch to give up her fins for a prince she hasn’t even spoken to yet. He doesn’t even know she exists, and she leaves her home and family behind, gives up her voice, all for a mere shot at hooking up with him.

That’s not love, that’s lust. That’s hormones overruling your brain, and it’s an insulting trope, one that feminists have railed against for years. Disney has made a little progress. The movie Frozen took the mickey out of the Love At First Sight/True Love trope with the song “Love Is An Open Door” and the prince Anna wanting to marry turning out to be a major sleazebag who just wants to use her, but we still only have three Disney princesses (Elsa, Moana, and Merida) who have never had love interests and two (Anna and Rapunzel) whose love stories come close to being slow burns, out of 12 official Princesses. There’s still a long way to go, and boy is there a major step backwards in Loki.  

In Episode 3, Loki fights Sylvie and they end up on Lamentis 1. Sylvie spends a good portion of the time insulting and trying to kill Loki, and Loki finds himself having to defend himself from her. That changes once they get on the train going to the Arc. After sneaking aboard the train using a disguise and a flimsy story, the two Lokis sit in a booth, where Loki proceeds to drink champagne. It is then that, out of nowhere, the conversation shifts from how Sylvie learned her powers to the topic of love.

Why? Why would you bring that up in conversation with someone who was doing her best to kill you a couple hours prior?

Then Loki makes things worse by asking Sylvie if she has a beau waiting for her. Why? It doesn’t make sense. The two of you are at each other’s throats, she’s done her best to kill you, neither of you trusts the other, and, completely out of left field, you decide to basically ask “So...are you single?”

Now, enemies to lovers is a trope that can work when done right. Typically, it’s a very subtle, slow progression that the audience witnesses over time in a novel, movie or television series. Weeks and even months will go by in the narrative during which the two people go from wanting each other dead to developing feelings for one another. There’s usually a “will they, won’t they period” that lasts for some time that’s full of teases and flirting before the couple does hook up and gives the audience the resolution. Done in this way, enemies to lovers can work.

This...this is not the right way to do enemies to lovers. Within a couple of hours Loki and Sylvie go from hatred and doing their damnedest to stabbing one another in the backs, to having a connection that causes a nexus event?

By the way, that nexus event makes no sense. In Episode 2, it is established that it is impossible to create a nexus event in an apocalypse. It is why Sylvie was able to avoid capture by the TVA for so long. In fact, just minutes prior to the two of them almost dying in Episode 4, Sylvie flat-out says that she figured out that she needed to hide in apocalypses because she discovered she didn’t create a nexus event when she hid in them.

Now the two of them are able to create a nexus event in the midst of an apocalypse? Why? Their “connection” isn’t going to lead to any consequences...they were about to die. No one else need never have known about the “moment” the two of them shared. It’s very confusing and the only purpose it really serves is to paint Loki and Sylvie as soulmates, which doesn’t make sense in the context of the show. The concept of soulmates is that for every person, there is someone out there they are predestined to be with. Loki is a show that, at the core of it, is about rejecting predestination and embracing free will. In that context, the idea of soulmates is ludicrous and contradictory to the message that we make our own destiny. This is why True Love is unrealistic, and I hate to break it to you romantics out there, but Love At First sight does not exist.

Infatuation At First Sight exists, but that is not Love, no matter what your hormones are telling you. Love takes time to evolve, and it takes work to maintain. It sure as hell doesn’t happen after less than 12 hours of knowing each other, during which a huge chunk of time was devoted to trying to manipulate, outsmart, and murder the person you’re supposedly in love with. No one falls in love in less than 12 hours, period, unless it’s a Classical Era Disney animated movie. They basically turned Loki into a big Disney Romance trope. I have a very hard time buying that Loki, who we have established is emotionally stunted and closed off, would form a love connection in just a few hours, especially with someone who was doing her best to murder him in that timespan.

That is not the only reason this relationship is problematic. The term “Selfcest” has been thrown around, and a lot of defenders of this particular ship claim that the term was very recently made up in social media for the sole purpose of badmouthing this particular romance. That is not the case. Selfcest is a term that has existed among fiction writers for years, it’s just that more people have recently become aware of it thanks to this show. The trope has been used and referred to in various works of fiction, especially in fantasy and science fiction where cloning, alternative universes, and magic occur. A lot of the insults I get from people who can’t stand that I don’t like the romance basically go along the lines of saying selfcest doesn’t exist. No, it doesn’t...in reality. But this isn’t reality, is it? It’s fiction. It’s a fictional world where such a thing could be possible, and even in works where it’s not possible it’s often alluded to.

In A Song Of Ice And Fire, we have the infamous twincest relationship going on between Cersei and Jamie Lannister, and it is heavily implied that sleeping with her brother is the closest that Cersei can get to banging herself and that is why she does it. Jamie is basically everything she feels she should have been and was denied due to being born a woman. In fact, in later books when he reunites with her after having been away from King’s Landing for over a year, during which time he’s grown a beard and shaved his head, Cersei no longer finds him as attractive since they no longer look as much alike.

And with advances in cloning, selfcest might be possible in the future. We already have sex robots, and people with money are capable of making those robots look like themselves. There is nothing stopping them from doing it.

Knowing all of this, the argument of “selfcest doesn’t exist!” falls flat. And it especially falls flat when you’re referring to a fictional universe where a large purple man once killed off half the population of said universe with a snap of his fingers, where scientists turn into giant green monsters, the Norse gods not only exist but regularly interact with people on Earth, and there’s such a thing as a Sorcerer Supreme.

As I have said, the show has been rather inconsistent in stating what exactly Sylvie’s identity is. One moment, we are told Sylvie is a Loki and that she and Loki are the same person. Mobius says it, Kang says it multiple times, Judge Renslayer says it, the director and the writers state it in interviews. But then in the next breath, they contradict it by saying that she’s not a Loki, she’s Sylvie and a different person.  

You can’t have it both ways. Which is it? Either she’s a Loki, or she’s not. The narrative is very confusing and it changes depending on how they want us to see Sylvie, especially in relation to her romance with Loki. It’s so much easier to avoid the selfcest/incest accusations when you can say they are different people. But then they say they’re the same person. Make up your minds!

Since the show first established that Sylvie is a Loki, I’m going with that. Especially since we saw a bit of her backstory. She grew up in Asgard as a member of the royal family, which means she had Odin as a father, Frigga as mother, and Thor as brother. She may or may not have the same DNA as Loki. We never got confirmation either way, and there are people who argue that they don’t to which I have to ask: How do you know? The show never tells us! “Oh, well, there’s Alligator Loki, are you going to say he has the same DNA as well?” Well, we are never told how exactly Alligator Loki came to be. Is he actually an alligator, or is he Loki who somehow got permanently stuck when he shapeshifted? People tend to forget that he can do that. Ragnarok established that he can turn into a snake, and a deleted scene actually had the childhood story go that Loki turned into a rug to cover a hole in the ground and then dumped Thor into it. There is the scene where Doctor Strange drops Loki through a portal, and Thor is left poking at a business card, and it is clear that for a moment he thinks that Loki turned into that. We know Loki can shapeshift, so Alligator Loki can very well have the same DNA. We just don’t know, because the show never explains it for the same reason the show cut out the scenes with Throg fighting Loki...to devote more screentime to Sylki.

Even if they don’t have the same DNA, it’s still established that they are the same person, they have the same family, they’re both the God/dess of Mischief, and even Sylvie herself acknowledges that she is a Loki despite the fact that she changed her name. So selfcest very much applies here, and a good argument can be made that selfcest is the ultimate in incest...after all, there isn’t anyone else you’re more related to than yourself. It is very understandable, therefore, that a lot of people would be very, very uncomfortable with such a relationship. Having the same DNA would merely be the icing on the very gross cake.

Furthermore, just because selfcest does not exist in reality does not mean someone can’t find the concept distasteful. “It’s not real!” “It’s just fiction!” Yes, and people are allowed to have their own feelings and opinions on fiction. If they find the idea of selfcest hard to stomach, that’s their prerogative and you really have no right to tell them they are wrong for feeling that way. They should not have to justify to anyone why they feel that way either. No one owes you an explanation for why they find real world incest or cannibalism distasteful, so they don’t owe you an explanation for this.

“Well, of course Loki would fall for himself...he’s a narcissist!” Is he though? Is he really? Having dealt with my fair share of narcissists in my life, I have to wonder if the fans who say that, along with the writers, know what a narcissist really is.

Is Loki a narcissist?

Bringing up Cersei Lannister again, the novels she appears in establishes that she is an extreme narcissist. She sleeps with her twin brother because it’s the closest she can come to sleeping with herself, and she desires to do that because she is a narcissist. A narcissist is someone whose personality is defined by an inflated sense of self-importance, troubled relationships, lack of empathy for others, and an excessive deep-seated need for attention and admiration. It’s a very simplistic definition, and there are plenty of YouTube videos devoted to delving into narcissists into more depth, as well as videos on how to cope with the aftermath of abuse at the hands of narcissists. Narcissists are so devoted to themselves that they ignore the needs and the feelings of those in their lives, which often results in abusive behavior. There are entire support groups that exist for victims of narcissists.

At first glance, one can see why some might consider Loki a narcissist. He does engage in some pretty selfish behavior, he goes to great lengths to get attention, his relationships to his family are indeed fraught with drama, and he seems to have a pretty overinflated ego. He even goes so far as to write a play featuring himself as the central character, and build a giant golden statue of himself after taking over Asgard in the guise of Odin. But really, is his ego truly that big? Or he is overcompensating for his self-hatred and self-disgust?

Loki suffered quite the emotional blow when he found out his true heritage, a revelation that shook him to his very core. Of course, his relationship with his father suffered as a result...the man lied to him for his entire life. Their relationship really was not that great even before that since Odin found it easier to relate to Thor, who was more like him in personality, than to Loki, who was more cerebral and quieter. Loki’s relationship to Frigga fared much better. He’s quick to forgive her involvement in covering up the truth about his parentage, and it is obvious that they are close. Even his relationship with Thor prior to the events of the movie is not all that bad, the two brothers are affectionate and playful, and when Loki interrupts Thor’s coronation, it’s not just for the sake of creating trouble, but to postpone Thor taking the crown for another little while because he is not fit to rule. At the time Thor had yet to go through his character development arc on Earth and he was still an overly arrogant, bloodthirsty, elitist douchebag, so Loki really had a good point.

A true narcissist would have done what Loki did just for the sake of making life difficult for Thor. Also, he would have done it because he wanted the throne. Loki states repeatedly that he never wanted to rule. A true narcissist would have been all smiles about taking the throne instead of being reluctant about it as Loki was when Frigga handed him Gungnir.

Throughout the films, and in the first episode of the series, we see that Loki does indeed love his family and is capable of feeling guilt over the things that he does to them, intentionally or not. Narcissists typically don’t feel remorse. As far as they are concerned, they are perfect and can do no wrong, so they have nothing to feel bad about. If they hurt you, it’s because you deserved it. You shouldn’t have provoked their ire.

Loki feels bad for getting Frigga killed, and then later on Odin. Then he is in tears when Odin dies, and later at the mere thought of never seeing Thor again when the two brothers talk in an elevator on Sakaar. Those are not the actions of someone who is incapable of loving anyone but himself, as I’ve seen so many people claim about him. And the fact that he sacrificed himself to save his brother also kind of kills the whole “narcissist” narrative.

In Episode 1, Loki breaks down and confesses to Mobius that he doesn’t like hurting people. He does it because it’s part of the façade, and admits that he sees himself as weak. A few episodes later, he admits to a memory illusion Sif that he craves attention “because I’m a narcissist” and admits to being afraid of being alone. That is far more self-reflection than a typical narcissist is capable of in my experience. As I said, narcissists tend to think they are perfect. A true narcissist would never admit to having any flaws, and sure as hell would never admit that they are a narcissist. As far as the true narcissist is concerned, if you find them flawed in any way, that’s on you. The narcissist has no need for self-reflection because they honestly see nothing wrong with themselves, and believe that they don’t need to change...it’s everyone else who does.

A good real-life example from my past is a former friend I’ll call D. D was a self-proclaimed brat who was quite proud of the fact that she could be difficult to be in a relationship with and tended to go through men like tissue paper. She was demanding, self-centered, extremely jealous, manipulative, and prone to wild mood swings. She could and did go from zero to insane at the drop of a hat. In the time I knew her, she left a string of burnt guys behind, and according to her it was because they just weren’t man enough to handle her. She also left behind a string of broken former friends, to the point where there really needed to be a support group for former friends of D who suddenly had her turn them into Public Enemy Number 1 when they either started taking attention away from D, or...well, that was it really. As I said, she was a very jealous person and had a chronic need to be the center of attention, especially if there were men around. Anyway, instead of working on herself to become less self-involved, self-absorbed, and more empathetic, she double downed on her abrasiveness and constant need for attention until she finally wore the poor man down and he either ghosted her or outright dumped her. She never broke up with them, preferring to keep them around for as long as they were willing in order to toy with them as a cat does with a mouse.  I tried to talk to her about her horrible behavior, but instead of taking my constructive criticism and maybe using it to make some needed changes, she completely turned on me and did her best to make my life hell until I finally cut her out of it. I learned two things: Narcissists don’t want help because they don’t feel they need it and they are never going to change as a result, and never, ever try to confront a narcissist. It’ll only end badly.  

A more famous example? Former US President Donald Trump. I won’t get into that, because really all you need to do is perform a quick Google search to see what all he’s done and witness his narcissism on full display. But really, place him side by side with Loki. Do you see any similarities at all? Maybe on the surface, but when you go deeper...no. Loki is not a narcissist. He’s capable of deep self-reflection, owns his faults, is capable of loving others, and feels remorse. I would argue that anyone who says he is a narcissist, either does not know the character, or hasn’t ever actually dealt with a narcissist in real life, to which I can only say: Lucky you.  

I honestly would argue that calling Loki a narcissist is actually doing a disservice to victims of abuse from actual narcissists.

What about Sylvie? Well, in contrast to Loki who does show remorse while Mobius is playing that “This Is Your Life” reel for him, Sylvie shows no remorse or regret. She knows that the TVA agents she kills are as much victims as she is. They are innocent variants who were kidnapped from Earth and forced to work for the TVA after having their memories wiped. She knows this, yet the first time we see her she burns a bunch of TVA agents alive, and she just stands there watching as they scream in agony. In the next episode she says right out that she’s “having some fun” while possessing the body of C-90 and murdering more agents. She is not at all sorry about doing what she did, and we’re supposed to be understanding since she was kidnapped as a child. Okay, but the entire TVA didn’t do that. The agents she kills didn’t personally kidnap her. The only one we see who was directly involved in that is Renslayer. Sylvie “did what she had to do”, fine. But she doesn’t feel bad about it, at all. The flashback to her as a child takes great pains to try to show us what a good person she is when she cries out “Help him!” as another prisoner is being beaten, but I guess she grew out of it.

We don’t know if Sylvie has any other narcissistic traits besides lack of remorse because, well, the show really doesn’t do much to show her personality. Other than killing people, trying to kill Loki, and then flirting with Loki, we just don’t really see much to her. It’s another trait of a Mary Sue. Mary Sues often have bland, one-dimensional personalities. After all, their only purpose is usually to serve as love interests for one or more male characters. Mary Sues break the “show, don’t tell” rule by having the other characters verbally inform us about their traits, usually while singing their praises, but we don’t actually see those traits in the Mary Sue herself.

Loki calls Sylvie “amazing”, but how amazing is she, really? She kills people she knows are victims, she endangers the timeline just to sneak into the TVA, and then she kills Kang despite knowing that there is a very good chance that doing so could unleash something far, far worse than him. Then again, it doesn’t have to make sense when you’re pushing an unwanted and unasked for romance on an audience who was expecting a scifi show, not a romance.

I have spoken in a few places about this. Romance is fine, but in a show that blatantly places itself in the scifi genre, it really should only be the background, not center stage. When I expressed this opinion, I got accused of being dismissive of an essential part of the human experience. Well, first of all, congratulations: You just invalidated the existence of people on the asexual and aromantic spectrums, not to mention people who are celibate by choice. Second, that is why we have the romance genre. To tell stories centered around romance. I like romance, I read romance novels, and I sometimes write romantic fiction. But there are some places where it just is not appropriate.

There are people who say that adding romance makes things more interesting. Nope, in those cases it’s just a smokescreen, something used to hide plot holes and distract us from just how empty the story really is. Writers like to say that if you need a romance to make things more interesting, then you really don’t have much of a story in the first place. And sadly, Loki does have some plot holes. The nexus event on Lamentis is a good example, and the romance is definitely used to distract us from that. People were so focused on “oh wow, they’re having a moment, they’re soulmates!” that they didn’t think “waitaminute...didn’t they say that nexus events can’t occur in apocalypses?”

We really did not need a romance in Loki. Period. It was unnecessary, it was distracting, a lot of people found it disturbing, and it actively hurt a marginalized group.

Loki Is A Queer Icon!...maybe

I am not going to say that the relationship between Loki and Sylvie is not a bisexual one. A bisexual relationship is a bisexual relationship regardless of whether or not the person the bisexual person is with is the opposite sex. Saying otherwise is biphobic. Biphobic people in both the straight and the queer communities have been excluding bisexual people who happen to be in opposite sex relationships for years because apparently one stops being bisexual once they get into a relationship with someone of the opposite sex. This is horseshit. I’ve been in relationships with CIS men, did I stop being attracted to other men, women, nonbinary, genderfluid, agender, and other genderqueer people? No. No, I didn’t, because while I was entangled, I was not dead. Heterosexual people don’t stop being attracted to other members of the opposite sex when they are in relationships, it’s no different with queer people.

So, stop saying that Loki and Sylvie are not a bisexual relationship. You’re not doing us any favors at all, and in fact you’re only helping the biphobes who want to kick us out of Pride and other queer spaces for daring to date members of the opposite sex.

I will address the “Bit of both” line however. In Episode 3, Loki has that response to Sylvie’s questioning about whether there had been any would-be princesses or princes in his life. Again, a conversation that comes out of nowhere. She stated outright that she didn’t trust him, clearly wanted him dead, and now she’s asking if he’s single. Whatever.

Anyway, people went nuts when Loki answered “A bit of both”. It was confirmation that Loki was bisexual, it was celebrated on social media...and it is really biphobic and Kate Herron, who is bisexual herself, really should have known better.

Biphobic people have long tried to sow division between the bi and trans communities (unsurprisingly, biphobia and transphobia tend to go hand-in-hand) by saying that the concept of being bisexual is transphobic. “Bi” means two, ergo bisexual people are only attracted to two genders, specifically CIS men and CIS women. It never occurs to anyone that the “two genders” a bisexual person could be attracted to could be, say, women (and yes, I include trans women in that, since they are in fact women, get over it) and non-binary people, or agender and gender-fluid people, it’s always CIS men and CIS women. This despite the fact that the definition of bisexual has been “attraction to more than one gender” since long before the Bisexual Manifesto was put out in 1990.

Some people have tried to remedy this by adopting the moniker of “pansexual” instead, which A) is basically reinforcing what biphobes are saying about bisexuals and creating even more division and B) doesn’t just mean “attraction to trans people as well, I’m not transphobic, I promise!” “Pansexual” is not interchangeable with “bisexual”. Pansexual is attraction to all genders. Bisexual means attraction to more than one gender, but not necessarily to all genders. You can have a bisexual person, for instance, who is attracted to all genders except for men. If you are attracted to more than one gender, but not to all genders, you are bisexual, and labeling yourself pansexual is lying and basically caving in to the biphobes.

I’m not trying to police what people call themselves...if you want to use the two terms interchangeably, if you want to call yourself bisexual, or pansexual, it’s fine. But just evaluate the reasons why. Are you calling yourself pansexual because you really think you can be, or are you just calling yourself that out of fear of being labeled transphobic? The latter, in my opinion, is not a really good reason, and it only helps deliver the biphobic message that bisexual people are transphobic.

So, by saying “a bit of both”, Loki is really helping to reinforce that biphobic assertion that bisexual people are attracted just to CIS men and CIS women. It’s disappointing, but it is Disney so I suppose that is the best we can expect for now. It just shows that Disney really has a long way to go.

What’s more problematic is the supposed genderfluid representation. Now, I am a CIS woman. As such, I feel unqualified to really say that the representation is shitty and fluidphobic. However, if I’m not qualified to say that it is, then Kate Herron and the writers are unqualified to say that it isn’t. Rule of thumb: If members of a marginalized group are telling you that you did a poor job of representing them and that you are being transphobic or fluidphobic, instead of ignoring and dismissing their concerns like a good portion of the population already does, it’s a really good idea to listen to what they are saying and learn how you can do better.

There have been some genderfluid and trans people who expressed that they liked the show, and good for them. But I have seen a lot of very valid criticisms and concerns from genderfluid and trans people about the representation on the show, and I think they really should be listened to. Kate, you and I are queer, but we are still CIS women. Ergo, we have no say in whether or not the way you attempted to present Loki’s gender fluidity is transphobic. If genderfluid people say it’s fluidphobic or trans people say it’s transphobic, then it is indeed fluidphobic/transphobic. To say otherwise is gaslighting a marginalized community who already faces gaslighting on a daily basis.

I will touch on a couple of things.

First, in Episode 5, Loki asks a bunch of his variants if they have ever encountered a female version of themselves, a question that is met with varying levels of incredulousness and even disgust. If Loki was truly genderfluid, this question wouldn’t have been asked. Genderfluid means the person shifts genders along the spectrum. Loki does this in the comics. Comicbook Loki switches between masculine and feminine presenting on the drop of a dime, especially in his current incarnation. Loki in the MCU we are told is also genderfluid, and should also be able to hop along the gender spectrum on a whim. There should not be a “female variant” therefore, since they are all the same gender. There could be a female presenting variant, but that is not the same thing. They would still be all genderfluid in that case. Also, Sylvie’s nexus event would not have been “being born the Goddess of Mischief”. Okay, the show never actually says that is the nexus event that led to her being arrested, but it heavily implies it. If Sylvie is a Loki, and as a Loki is genderfluid, her being the “Goddess” of Mischief should never have been an issue since they can change genders anyway.

Second, making Lady Loki a separate person is problematic. A lot of genderfluid people felt that this move invalidated their identity by basically showing that the same person cannot indeed be different genders along the spectrum. I don’t feel I’m totally qualified to really get into this. I will just say that if you’re going to write a genderfluid character, maybe at least get an actual genderfluid person to advise in the writing room.

Third, there is a transphobic movement called trans exclusionary radical feminism. You might have heard of it. Unfortunately, it is a very widespread movement that has done a lot of harm to the trans community, successfully blocking funding to organizations that help trans people, blocking laws that would benefit trans people, and the movement includes celebrities like Graham Linehan and JK Rowling.

One of the weapons they like to use against trans women is the concept of “autogynephilia”. It is basically the sexual fetish of becoming aroused from thinking of oneself as a woman.  Many, many of these transphobic “feminists” love to say that trans women are merely men who have this particular sexual fetish.

It’s bullshit of course. Maybe there is a small segment of the male population that has that fetish, but trans women are not included in that. For trans women, things like dressing as women, changing their names, having state and federal issued IDs that say they are female, and being able to use the restrooms and change rooms that match the gender they actually are as opposed to the one they were assigned at birth is not a matter of sexual arousal. It’s a matter of making their external realities match their internal ones. It’s a matter of validation of their identities as women. Sexual gratification has nothing to do with it.

Now, Loki is not trans, but genderfluid people do tend to fall under the trans umbrella. We have Loki, a supposedly genderfluid individual and masculine presenting, falling head over heels in love with a feminine presenting version of himself. Maybe it’s just me, but it just seems like a form of autogynephilia to me.

Way to go, Kate...you just gave the TERFs more ammo.

One more note: At one point, Kate tweeted a list of the different Loki emojis, and “jokingly” included #FiretruckLoki with an emoji of a firetruck. Kate, you do realize that a “joke” transphobes love to harp on is that they can identify as an attack helicopter, right?

It’s his way of learning self-love!

That is not how you learn self-love.

First, the people who are making this argument often contradict themselves by then saying that Sylvie is a different person. Again, make up your minds. Either Sylvie is the same person as Loki, or she’s not. You can’t have it both ways, and you can’t continue to change the narrative to fit whatever it is you want to shove down the audience’s throats.

Second, romantic love and self-love are two different things entirely. Loki isn’t feeling self-love with Sylvie, he’s feeling romantic love. That’s not learning self-love. That's narcissism, and it’s character regression in his case. He’s supposed to be evolving past being a self-centered, egotistical shitweasel, and falling in love with a variant of himself makes him, as Mobius put it, “a seismic narcissist”. It’s not character development.  

Third, this argument tends to come in the same breath as saying that Loki is a narcissist so of course he would fall for a variant of himself. If Loki is a narcissist though, why would he need to learn self-love? Narcissists already love themselves, that is the very definition of the word. If Loki needs to learn self-love, that would imply that he actually hates himself, which is the opposite of narcissism. Again, the writers and the fans who make these arguments when they feel the need to defend this relationship need to make up their minds. Either he’s a narcissist and therefore already loves himself too much, or he hates himself and needs to learn to love himself. It’s once again changing the narrative to fill a plothole.  

Fourth, the whole learning self-love and trust narrative is completely thrown out the window in Episode 6 when Sylvie decides to toy with Loki’s emotions, using his feelings for her against him by kissing him as a distraction so she could grab Kang’s temp pad and toss Loki back to the TVA. To Sylvie, her revenge was more important than the bond she had with him. The move basically set Loki’s progress back several steps. What little progress he made anyway.

TL:DR, is there hope for Season 2?

Whew, this went on for a while, didn’t it? Told you I had a lot to say.

As I have said, if you liked the first season of Loki and think I am completely full of shit, that’s fine and it’s your prerogative. More power to you.  

But, and this is a huge but, that does not give you the right to harass and bully people who did not like it.

I have witnessed horrible things from both sides of the now split Loki fandom on social media. Harassment and even death threats towards the creators. Telling people who don’t like the Loki and Sylvie relationship that they need to drink bleach. Homophobic attacks. Gatekeeping.  

There’s constructive criticism and sharing your opinions, and then there is...this.

Both sides need to chill.

Anyway.

Even though Kate Herron has left the show, Michael Waldron is still the showrunner and as such I am not altogether optimistic for Season 2. I would like to see more emphasis on Loki himself for that season. Yes, it’s a novel thought, wanting a show that is called Loki to actually be about Loki, but here we are.

I would like to see actual character development in Loki rather than the old “true love transforms bad boy and conquers all” trope. There is a reason Disney has started to abandon that trope in their animated movies. They’ve been getting dragged about it for decades.

If Sylvie must return, there needs to be some actual consistency surrounding her character. The show needs to decide if she is a Loki or not and stick with whichever one they decide. And seriously, no more romance. Frankly, after what she pulled in Episode 6, I will be severely disappointed if the writers have Loki crawling back to her. That would make him pathetic, and Loki deserves better.

Really, Loki does not need a romance, period. He’s too emotionally immature, he has a lot of character growth to go through, and a romance would do nothing but be a distraction and an impediment to that growth. Anyone who got married too young can confirm that it is important to learn more about yourself and figure yourself out before you even think of getting involved with another person, who should not be your whole world. The Loki and Sylvie romance was reminding me of Classic Disney in another not-good way in that the two of them, especially on Loki’s side, were starting to revolve around one another and that does not make for a healthy relationship. Again, turning Loki into a Disney Prince (or, seeing as how he’s supposed to be genderfluid, Princess). Stop it.

Again, the romance was a smokescreen. It was a distraction from just how thin the plot was. Please, for the love of G-d, give more focus to the actual plot.

Do some research and talk to some psychologists for healthy ways Loki can “learn self-love" and develop as a character. If Ragnarok Loki can do it without relying on a romance with a variant with himself, then surely TVA Loki can pull it off.

Speaking of talking to people, listen to the concerns of the trans and genderfluid fans. Listen, talk to them, maybe get a couple in the writer’s room. CIS people should not write genderfluid people, and this season is a good example of why.

Please remember that Loki is not an idiot. Yes, he has pulled some fast ones and hasn’t been the greatest planner, but he is not downright stupid like he was in season 1.

And...really that’s all I have. As I have said, this thesis really wasn’t about making suggestions to the creators because I seriously doubt they will ever even see this. This was more less me screaming into the void, venting because I was that upset about what I saw as character assassination happening to one of my favorite characters. Keeping all of this in was proving to be bad for my blood pressure.  

I am attached to the character, have been for years. Loki is just one character in the MCU who I love, who I want to see done right. I had been looking forward to his solo series for a very long time, and the disappointment I felt was something that I just couldn’t keep in. I kept my mouth shut when they killed off Tony Stark for no reason other than that Ronnie Downey, Jr. didn't want to renew his contract. I didn’t say anything at the Russo Brothers’ “happy ending” for Steve Rogers, even though I feel it made no sense and is a massive plot hole.  

What they did to Loki, however...I couldn’t keep silent.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 42)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2, Lewis POV 6, Vivi POV 5, Lewis POV 7 Vivi POV 6 Vivi POV 7

Part 43: here

...

(ARTHUR POV)

“Maybe, if you’d been even half of what he was, you wouldn’t have been possessed so damn easily. I mean, this kid put up more of a fight, and he’s pretty much a walking collection of neurosis,” the demon taunts.

“I said shut up!”

The demon, and by default, Arthur, narrows their eyes. Micky’s sudden appearance has thrown a wrench into its plans, drawing its full and undivided attention. Irritation curls around Arthur, replacing the previous sensations of smug satisfaction and amusement. The emotion is unpleasant, making Arthur’s mind crawl but it’s better than the sadistic joy he had been forced to endure as it was stabbing Lewis. For the first time since that disastrous meeting in the hospital’s car-park, Arthur finds himself completely free of surveillance. The demon’s attention is focused solely on Micky and the gun. The shift is so sudden and is Arthur so panicked, that he almost doesn’t recognise the opportunity. 

Luckily-the only luck he’s had in a long while-he does recognise his opening. His one chance to make things right. 

A desperate calm settles over him. Lightning flashes, illuminating the faint blue and purple of Vivi and Lewis’s clothes. Mystery glows ever brighter, casting a red tint on the concrete around him. Everything else is darker shades of grey, fading into black.

In his new state of calm, Arthur can envision how the next few seconds would play out. Micky would shoot. The demon would dodge.  Even now, he can feel how his body is tensing, preparing to duck to the side. The demon is hyper-focus on the gun, watching Micky’s every muscle twitch. To dodge, the demon would have to already be moving even before the gun went off. It would need precise control and a split-second warning just before the shot. After the gun fired, Vivi would run forward to ‘save’ him, putting herself in danger. Then, Mystery would be forced to transform and save her. In the commotion, the demon would make their escape. 

“Did you even go back to bury him, or did you just leave him there? What happened to all the ritual, funeral nonsense to send his soul on its merry way? How disrespectful.” The demon’s voice is full of malice, coloured with amusement, aiming to both harm and insult. 

The gun clicks in Micky’s hand. Already, Arthur can feel himself tensing, preparing to move fast.

“Stop!” Vivi lurches upright and Mystery blocks her from jumping between them. “If you shoot, you’ll kill Arthur!”

 This is okay. Arthur has already accepted that he might never see his friends again. The demon would run, take him away, and they would be safe. Mystery would pass along his apology and it would be fine. The only one to really suffer would be him and he thinks he can live with that. Is that true though? 

“That fucking brat sent us to our deaths. He’s just as guilty.”

It wasn’t just him that would suffer was it? This thing would keep on killing. It would use his body to kill other people and maybe, one day, it would go after Lewis or Vivi again. The creature wanted Arthur specifically and he is aware enough to know that the demon has got some sort of plan involving his messed-up soul. 

The body snatcher sniggers, “I’m sure Dan would be very unimpressed with how you're threatening this poor innocent human. I mean, if he weren’t a shish-kebab at the bottom of a cave.” 

Micky yells, loud, animalistic, full of pain and rage. Arthur feels a pang of empathy for the man who had had the misfortune of running into him and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like Darrel.

In that fraction of a second before the gun goes off, his body, under the direction of the demon, lunches to the right.  Everything slows, time crawling by. Arthur can already see Mystery leaping, his dog form rapidly expanding. Vivi is also running towards him, face white with fear. 

His way out was suddenly blindingly clear.

With all his remaining will power, throws himself to the left. He slams into the mental barrier separating him from his body. Similar to when he’d first tried this in the van, the demon falters ever so briefly, its attention refocusing onto him and away from Micky. For a fraction of a second, in between heartbeats, the demon’s movements slow. Unlike when he had tried this before, there is no time for the demon to react.

 “ARTHUR!”

 The shout rings in his ears alongside the loud CRACK of a shotgun discharging. 

A sudden weight smacks him in the chest and he stumbles back. This time, Arthur’s sense of fear is mixed in with his own cold vindication. In a moment of role reversal, it is Arthur feeling spiteful and the demon experiencing surprise. 

“You little shit,” He feels himself spit the words out, angry, even as new wetness clogs his throat and the metallic taste of blood floods his mouth. Time accelerates again. Arthur hits the pavement and doesn’t even care that his head cracks on the hard surface. All bodily sensation is fuzzy now. Any pain one would expect to feel after getting shot is dulled. Surprise quickly turns to anger. The demon is almost brittle with furry, its full attention bearing down on him from all angles, pressing in. Suffocating. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit…Bleeding…that’s a lot of blood. Need to control the bleeding.” Arthur focuses on Vivi’s face which materialises above him. For the first time since his possession, Arthur managers to move of his own violation, taking a hash breath. The process is an immense struggle and he’s not sure if it’s because of the demon or blood loss. 

“Vi…” His tong feels heavy and foreign, the words he tries to say are garbled by the blood coming up through his throat. He doesn’t get more than a syllable out before the control is wrestled away. 

‘You think this is over?’ The voice echoes in his head, low and threatening.

“Shh. Don’t speak. Everything will be okay. I don’t think its hit anything important. Just lie still.” Her expression is a mix of horror and worry. Regret quickly roles over his vindication because the last thing he wants is for Vivi to have to watch her friend bleed out and die.

His vision blurs. A purple outline appears alongside Vivi. It’s Lewis, equally, if not more panic-stricken. He can feel to demon’s attention re-centre, staring Lewis right in the eye. 

 “What’s…up. You…goin…watch him die …with me?” The demon jerks, trying to grab a hold of Lewis’s bear unprotected hands.  

‘You can’t have Lewis.’ 

Arthur slams his full mental weight into malicious presence, pushing it to one side, cutting it off mid-sentence. As his body weakens so does its control. They’re both weak now. 

‘Sharing is caring.’ Is sneered. A wave of malicious intent  chips away at his control, paralysing rational thought with uncontained fear.  Arthur feels his hand lift under the demon’s renewed power, reaching weakly for Lewis, beckoning. 

“Lew…is.” Arthur tries to speak and warn his friend off.  

 ‘Don’t do it.’ He can’t get the words out, his control failing. It is like being back in the cave, unable to stop the unimaginably terrible from happening. His vision distorts, made worse by the night around them. He can barely see the conflict waring across his friend’s face.   His arm is numb. He and Lewis are standing on a ledge overlooking a steep drop…green is pooling at the edges of his vision. It doesn’t matter that they are both weak, the demon’s got him beat in the willpower department. Too many past mistakes occupy his thoughts, distracting him. 

Lewis’s hand hovers then closes around his, drawing his focus. The hand is warm almost comforting.

NO.

He claws at the demon, ripping and tearing at anything he can reach, trying to drag it down with him. A patronising laugh bounces around and there is the sensation of something rushing to escape. Arthur scratches and grasps but it is hard to hold onto something that hardly exists. The result is an exercise in futility like he’s trying to dig his nails into loose shale. 

‘Nice try but you’re a few centuries too inexperienced to hold me down.’ The demon slips away, leaving him to sink downwards, alone. ‘Try not to die while I’m out would you. I would hate for all this drama to be for nothing,’ Arthur can still feel the echo of rage and malevolence underlining its final amused jab as it fades from his consciousness. The demon is angry. He knows it is going to do its level best to hurt Lewis. There is nothing he can do to stop it. And, suddenly, Arthur is alone in his own mind.

“Why?” He coughs, wishing he could shake an answer out of Lewis. ‘Why did you do that Lewis?’ The last he sees of Lewis is a green discolouration creeping up the other’s arm. Lewis stumbles away, swallowed by the night. 

Vivi’s shocked face fades to nothing a second later. Then there is only darkness. No demon, just himself and all his mistakes.  No snarky running commentary on how screwed up and pathetic he was. No weird dissonance as he experienced two sets of emotional responses. He is just Arthur existing alone. He should feel relieved. This should be a triumph. 

It's not...

.

It’s dark and he’s falling, slamming into a stone spike. Two sets of memories blur together, becoming one extended nightmare. Two failed timelines are laid before him in a spread of damning evidence against his very existence.

Lewis is dead…then alive, grinning, eyes flashing bright green as he looks down on him, “Once in a millennia chance and you managed to screw it up.” There is fire rising around him, growing increasingly not, framing Lewis’s human visage. “This is your fault.”

 He coughs, gripping the spike piercing up through his chest. 

“How many can say they’ve had a second chance? None. That’s how many?” Lewis growls and the flames become unbearably hot till even the air itself hurts. “Face it. I just wasn’t that important to you.” Arthur should just stop trying to fight and let the fire burn away all that was left of him. 

It’s what he deserves. 

“So that’s it.”  The female voice cuts through the crackle of the fire, “You’re just going to give up?" 

The stone around him shifts, colours mutating from purple and green to a gleaming, blue-tinted ice. Gone is the stone spike, the cliff, and the cave, to be replaced by an empty snow-filled field. He is no longer in pain. He is kneeling, half-buried in snow, surrounded be an empty silver-grey landscape. 

“What about your promise to answer my questions. You’re going to leave everyone behind wondering what the heck happened?” Lewis and his fire disappear, replaced with cold air and a familiar voice. He squints up at the blurry Vivi-shaped outline but can’t make out her face. The word around him is too blindingly bright to make out any details.

“I can’t…” he pleads, “I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“So what. That’s never stopped you before.”

He drops his gaze, ignoring the the rustle of fabric as a person knelt in front of him.

“We all make mistakes.”  Her voice is soft.

“I don’t know what to do?”  

If there’s one thing the demon has taught him it was that things could always get worse.

“It’ll be okay Arthur. Just explain what happened. I’ll understand.”

He looks up, desperately searching for the face of a familiar older Vivi. 

“I miss you.”  He doesn’t care that he is angsting over what was probably a figment of his imagination. The shadow of a Vivi he’d left behind in a future that would never happen. 

“Silly, I never left.”

The white space above him splinters, shattering like glass, falling on him like flakes of snow.

.

.

.

His next breath is heavy like he is struggling against some immense weight.  It is nothing like being on the cliff, struggling to breathe against the heat and having it cut with frigid cold, this is real. The sensation of forcing his lungs to expand and take in the dry air is almost too real. A dull ache settles over him and he can’t tell if it is coming from his body or somewhere deep in his chest. Everything feels floaty and unreal and he struggles to pull together a coherent thought. Arthur wills his eyes to open, almost afraid to try and have this illusion of control snatched away. 

Light eclipses the dark. The imprint of spikes, fire and ice, fade into a nightmare. He stares up at a familiar off-white ceiling. A pattern of square panels, broken by two overhead lights, one of which is switched off, meaning the room in only half lit. The faint smell of anaesthetic and bleach lingers in the air. Absently, he recognises the hospital ceiling. The dejavu is painful.  

Slowly, almost too afraid to try, he turns his head, scanning for his arm. There is a needle disappearing into his skin just above his wrist which is connected to a machine beeping a faint rhythmic pattern. It is his flesh and blood arm. This is his original arm, meaning this is the other timeline. The one he had just royally screwed up. His fingers twitch when he wills them to move, jerking inwards to grasp at nothing. This is the timeline where his Uncle is dead, and Lewis is probably off somewhere killing people under the demon’s control. An unbearable sadness descends upon him. He takes solace in the melancholy, welcoming it, wrapping it around himself like a familiar blanket. Maybe, if he waited long enough, the demon would return, and he would be able to save Lewis. Arthur doubts it, he has nothing of value to trade aside from himself and Lewis is ten times more valuable than him. It was pointless. Maybe he hadn’t learnt his lesson about wanting things. Maybe he will just lie here forever, wasting away.

 Maybe that didn’t sound so bad.

“Arthur.” The surprised voice cuts into him, slicing apart his thoughts.

He blinks, twitching to glance to the side, focus shifting  past the empty hospital chair placed next to his bed and towards the doorway. Vivi. She is standing in the entrance. Her clothes are wrinkled, speckled with dirt, and she has smudges across her face that look a bit like wood ash. Her eyes are wild with open surprise. 

Her surprise becomes relief, mixed with conflicting joy and apprehension. 

“You’re awake.” She speaks slowly, voice halting. 

“V…” His throat is far too dry to speak so the word comes out as a wheeze. 

Whatever misgivings had Vivi frozen in the doorway, they don’t hold her for long and she is across the room in a flash of blue. The next thing he knows her weight is resting across his shoulder and chest, gripping onto him. There is a brief flash of purely physical pain as she bumps the wad of bandages he only just notices are covering the upper half of his torso, wrapping his collar bone. Her face is awkwardly pressed against his opposite shoulder.

When his vision blurs, he panics, momentarily thinking he was losing his control. However, he quickly recognises it as a different sort of loss of control. A normal loss of control. There is water pooling in his eyes, running down his face. He’s crying, making breathing hard. 

“You idiot.” Vivi’s voice is unsteady now, full of hurt, “You colossal idiot.”

“I'm…sor…” He swallows, coughing out the apology “…ry”  He doesn’t know what exactly he’s apologising for but he’s made so many mistakes that it’s the only thing he can think to say. 

“I thought you were going to die.”

Sluggishly, Arthur tries to raise a hand, the one without a needle sticking into it, to hold onto the fabric of her jacket. His muscles feel a bit like jelly, spasming occasionally, as his mind re-associates mental commands with movement. He realises with a pang of grief that she is wearing Lewis’s jacket. What happened to Lewis?  He tries to speak, to explain, to ask questions, but his throat is still too dry. After attempting this a few more times he gives up and allows himself the small comfort of being able to hug Vivi again. 

..

NOTE: Happy Holidays!! Have an update as a gift :) Hope everyone is safe and wish you all good luck transitioning into the new year. Thank you for another years worth of support of this fic, it means a lot. 

Part 43: here

[the-courage-to-heal]

When you witness or experience something terrible, you may try not to think about it. To help you, your brain may call on one of its most creative and ingenious coping strategies to keep you going: dissociation.In the simplest terms, dissociation is a mental block between your awareness and parts of your world that feel too scary to know.

Dissociation happens to just about everybody at some time. It takes many different forms for different people. But for people with a complex trauma history, dissociation keeps the brain in survival mode. Nobody can endure a constant state of fear and still function well. You can’t get through life unscathed while always feeling frozen, worried or shut down by your greatest fears. Dissociation can function as protection, by keeping people unaware of the distress of being traumatized. That’s when it can eventually cause problems for people who have been hurt very badly, especially as children.

Children are especially likely to use dissociation to manage the inescapable pain of family problems that lead to complex, developmental and relational trauma. Such problems can include ongoing abuse, neglect or disorganized, avoidant or insecure attachment. Children must do something to endure experiences that make them feel unsafe. They cope by becoming disconnected to the memories, feelings and body sensations that are too much to bear. On the outside, they may look okay. But constant dissociation as a means of protection or survival for years then follows them into adult life, where it doesn’t work so well. As a coping mechanism, dissociation often interferes with the life a person wants to have, when the abuse is no longer ongoing in the present.

When dissociation blocks awareness of pain, it can also obscure the path to healing. So let’s take a close look at dissociation as a coping mechanism for trauma survivors. If we can safely see where it comes from, and how it evolves, we can also see what healing looks like.

What is Dissociation?

Dissociation is a state of disconnection from the here and now. When people are dissociating, they are less aware (or unaware) of their surroundings or inner sensations. Reduced awareness is one way to cope with triggers in the environment or from memories that would otherwise reawaken a sense of immediate danger. Triggers are reminders of unhealed trauma, and associated strong emotions such as panic and fear. Blocking awareness of sensations is a way to avoid possible triggers, which protects against the risk of becoming flooded by emotions like fear, anxiety and shame. Dissociation allows you to stop feeling. Dissociation can happen during an experience which is overwhelming and which you can’t escape (causing trauma), or later on when thinking about or being reminded of the trauma.

Dissociation is a coping mechanism allowing a person to function in daily life by continuing to avoid being overwhelmed by extremely stressful experiences, both in the past and present. Even if the threat has passed, your brain still says “danger.” Unprocessed, these fears may stop you from living the life you want or changing unhelpful behaviors as you grow. Some level of dissociation is normal; we all do it. For example, when we get to work and have to leave the personal concerns behind, we choose to put them out of mind for a while. But when dissociation is learned as a coping strategy – especially in childhood for survival purposes – it carries over into adulthood as an automatic response, not a choice.

Children with Trauma Are More Likely to Experience Dissociation

As a protective strategy for coping with trauma, dissociation can be one the most creative coping skills a trauma survivor perfects. It detaches awareness from one’s surroundings, body sensations and feelings. Children who experience complex trauma are especially likely to develop dissociation. It often co-occurs with the earliest incidents of recurrent trauma, since the only way to survive the horrific experiences emotionally is to not be there consciously. There are many possible conditions that cause dissociation. Therapists are aware and focus their understanding of dissociation in connection with the underlying trauma – what happened to you.

A few simple examples of risk factors for dissociation are:

• A disorganized attachment style. Trauma inflicted by abuse from a primary attachment figure, for elementary school age children, can lead to dissociative disorders for the child. When someone the child depends on for survival is also a source of physical, sexual, or emotional abuse, a protective response is to vacate being present in their body in order to survive the abuse, while preserving the needed family tie or even their life.

• An insecure attachment style. A child consciously develops behaviors or habits to dissociate, like using loud music, so they don’t hear frightening arguments between parents that terrify, for example. They may turn to video games or other distractions while dad paces the floor worried because mom is out drinking.

• Recurrent abuse or neglect that threatens a sense of safety and survival of any kind, by anyone!

• Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and Complex PTSD (C-PTSD). Dissociation to cope with events that cause PTSD or C-PTSD (developmental, relational ongoing trauma) can include out-of-body responses to trauma. A neurological response causes some trauma survivors to dissociate to a level where they look out at their bodies from another perspective. This can be looking down from above or looking at a part of their body that doesn’t appear to belong to them.

Dissociation occurs on a continuum, often impacted by how long or often one relies on it, whether the person has any other coping strategies, or whether other trusted helpers or a safe space is available. Helpers or places where the child feels secure can provide a way to safely be connected to feelings, sensations and body, despite the overwhelm elsewhere.

Childhood Dissociation Persists In Adulthood

As children with trauma get older, they may use self-harm, food, drugs, alcohol, or any other coping mechanism to maintain the disconnection from unhealed trauma. As therapists, we see these behaviors serving two functions for trauma survivors

As a dissociative mechanism or way to dissociate (for example, using alcohol or drugs to physically disconnect them from their thinking brain) As a way to sustain behaviors that keep them dissociated (I’m not connected to my body, so I can cut without pain, or I’m not connected to my body, so I don’t notice that I’m full and don’t need more food to consume). Ultimately, this coping strategy that was useful in childhood, in adulthood compromises abilities to trust, attach, socialize, and provide good self-care. These challenges follow trauma survivors throughout their life, if not attended to.

Recognizing Dissociation In Adults

Adults don’t just outgrow dissociation learned as a childhood coping skill. It likely becomes a go-to coping mechanism for maintaining life. Adults may not be aware of their ongoing state of dissociation, while words and actions like these tell a different story:

• Someone tells a therapist their most traumatic experiences without knowing or trusting them first and does so without emotion connected to the story; they are speaking from a dissociated place.

• Someone uses drugs, alcohol, cutting, food, pornography, or other forms of self-injurious behavior to continue to dissociate and not be present with their feelings.

• Someone disconnects from the here and now when they’re triggered by a certain situation or even a scent, such as cologne, and find themselves inside a flashback which feels very real.

• A veteran hears a noise that causes a flashback to a wartime event.

• Someone is arguing with their spouse, but when their spouse yells, they “check out.”

Dissociation is sometimes the best way a person can survive a terrifying ordeal in the moment, or chronic developmental trauma over many years. Yet it actually becomes a problem, a roadblock, in adult life. Dissociation interferes with forming secure relationships and connections. Dissociation can prevent you from developing these relationships or being present for them.

The reality is, in your adult life, you may actually be safer today learning to notice, reconnect and reintegrate the dissociated parts. Perhaps you are safe now and don’t need this coping mechanism to protect you anymore! Most times, an individual will show up in therapy for some other reason besides the use of “dissociation” or even trauma—they are there because they feel sad, or are drinking too much or fighting with their spouse. They can’t figure out why these issues persist, as they have a nice life now. As trauma-informed therapists, we can help people safely discover what issues are showing up due to their past history. We can help them discover and notice what made sense at the time given what was going on in their life that they had to survive. We can help people understand they are not “bad” and something is not wrong with them – their issues are based on the dissociative coping skills they learned in childhood to survive (which were very useful at the time, but not anymore)!

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