#I’d let them mistreat me if it meant I got some kind of attention from them and that really makes me hate myself lol

[wireboy]

days without crying over them counter: 0

[venusoppositesaturn]

It makes me so fucking angry that I never sent that email back in October. That I never got to tell you how awful you are as a person without fear that I’d never hear from you or see you again. That I didn’t just leave you in the fucking dark to torture yourself with the knowledge that I would never think about you again. I let you squeeze every bit of joy and happiness and love from my body, I watched you ,in real time, discard me like a fucking juiced orange. Nothing but pulp and rind and skin. Your obsession with me turning to ice cold apathy in real time, and I let it happen. You are like a child who pours salt on a slug. Watching it melt and wither and die before your eyes with the righteousness that it deserved it because of how ugly it is. Your treatment of me made me ugly. It made me hateful and insecure. My brain is so rotted now that even worms won’t live inside it. All I can think of is you. Day after day. How I want to call you. How I want to scream at you. You picked me up and put me down so many times and I let it happen because I am so fucking starved for affection that even now, after all you have done to me, my hatred of you is at war with my love for you. I only wish that I knew what it meant to feel real love so I can bleach every stain you have left on my body and soul away for good. I write how much I miss you in my journal nearly every day as if you actually brought something to my life other than anxiety and self doubt and shame. I am haunted by the ghosts of women I have never even met. Women who will experience all of your affection and attention at once, just the way I did. I think of all of it in such excruciating detail. How much kinder you are to them because they are prettier than me, smarter than me, more successful than me. That you would never even dream of leaving them on the side of the street at 8 AM in the cold because you couldn’t spare the extra 15 minutes on your morning commute. How you’d make sure they’d get home safely instead of expecting them to walk 2.5 miles home in the freezing dark because they live “out of the way” and surely not because you informed them beforehand of that. I feel so much guilt for co-signing that behavior. For loading the gun with you over and over again to shoot it straight at my face with such gross mistreatment. I should have known better, right? In the last hours of being near you, all I wanted was someone to make me feel less scared. I never asked anything from you but kindness. To get you to try and understand me the way I tried so hard to understand you. You couldn’t even give me that. You got everything you ever wanted from me and it still wasn’t enough. I was grieving not just for the loss of another member of my family, but for whatever shred of interest in me you had left. I tried so hard to push through it but the months of abuse just kept rising to the surface. It wasn't fucking fair that you got to move on and be happy after everything you've done to me. The House always winning. But the punishment truly did not fit the crime. I pray every day that you die. That I don’t have to think about you out in the world living guiltless and happy. Knowing that you feel truly vindicated for leaving me on that sidewalk. That I am just some attention-seeking head case who thrives on conflict. Not someone who had the misfortune of loving you and being treated like a dog for it. 

[spockandawe]

So this morning, I tripped across this excellent post about Xue Yang and classism, and it shook something loose in my head. Specifically, it got me thinking about the idea of Xue Yang taking revenge for ‘only’ losing a finger. Xiao Xingchen doesn’t say anything as directly dismissive as saying he only lost a finger, but I do think that is at least partially the way that Xue Yang takes the argument.

And I’ve thought a lot and said a lot of words about the way Xue Yang feels hurt and betrayed and frustrated as he tries to explain himself to someone, for once, and that person completely misses his point. And I’ve said words about how in the three years in Yi City, Xue Yang gets hooked on the quiet comfort of domesticity, even if he and Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing are still, objectively, poor. But I’d never thought about this particular angle of their last argument before now.

This is going to be long, I can tell, so let’s throw a spoiler cut in here

Now, I do think it’s important that Xiao Xingchen doesn’t say directly that it was only a finger. I think it would have been cruel of him to say that. But I also think that his upbringing and position in the world make him a bit… oblivious to the implications of Xue Yang’s story, and what he’s trying to communicate, and that leads to him saying some things that are more insensitive than he would have chosen to if he’d realized.

From a very early point, he knew that Xue Yang grew up without parents or money.

Unhurried, Xue Yang began, “Once upon a time, there was a child.”

“The child really liked eating sweet things. But because he had no parents or money, he could rarely eat them.”

And he was told how that child was exploited, and how hard he was beat up and used even before things reached the point where he lost a finger

[The huge, brawny man] took over the paper and looked at it, and he gave the child a slap so hard that his nose started bleeding. The man pulled the child’s hair and asked, ‘Who told you to take such a thing over?’”

[…]

“[seven-year-old Xue Yang] felt scared and pointed the direction. The man went to the liquor shop, carrying the child by pulling his hair.”

[…]

“The store was in a mess and the waiter was feeling quite cross. He slapped the child a few times, so hard that his ears were even buzzing, and chased him out the door. He crawled up and walked for a while.”

[…]

What do you think happened? Just a few more slaps and a few more kicks.”

(It’s interesting to me that he dodges even mentioning his hand being run over in this version of the story, but later goes into a lot of detail about his hand later with Xiao Xingchen, even though Xiao Xingchen has completely turned against him)

And, something that I hadn’t really noticed until I went to collect these quotes, is how Xiao Xingchen reacts to this story.

After Xiao XingChen tucked her, he walked a few steps, then asked, “What happened afterward?”

Xue Yang, “Guess. There was no afterward. You didn’t continue telling your story either, did you?”

Xiao XingChen, “No matter what happened afterward, since right now your life is fairly adequate, there’s no need for you to dwell too much on the past.”

That’s… a very high-minded approach to take, where I can see the good intentions, but I’m also kind of wincing at the accidental implications.

And then, to mix it up, let’s have some screencaps for the second half of the story, because these actors seriously knocked this scene out of the park

“The wheels of the cart milled over the child’s hand, one finger at a time. He was seven!”

And then another book quote, because it’s fascinating to me how directly he begs Xiao Xingchen to empathize with the child who was used so poorly and lost a finger in the process.

“Is it that, since the fingers weren’t yours, you guys were incapable of feeling the pain?! You guys didn’t know how horrifying screams sounded like out of your own mouths? Why didn’t you ask him why he decided to amuse himself with me without a single reason?!”

Only, right after he does this, Xiao Xingchen talks about how disproportionate Xue Yang’s revenge was. This really kills me, honestly, because this is the point where Xue Yang stops trying to appeal to him and explain himself, and takes a sharp turn towards losing control over his emotions instead.

Xiao XingChen spoke as though he couldn’t believe Xue Yang’s words, “Chang Ci’An broke one of your fingers in the past. If you sought revenge, you could’ve simply broken one of his fingers as well. If you really took the matter to heart, you could’ve broken two, or even all ten! Even if you had cut off an entire arm of his, things wouldn’t have been like this. Why did you have to kill his entire clan? Don’t tell me that a single finger of yours was equal to more than fifty human lives!”

I always just accepted that this was enough to hurt Xue Yang that much. But also… Xiao Xingchen knows that Xue Yang was a poor, parentless child, and he’s heard about how this child was callously exploited and mistreated by three separate adults. And there’s a couple class-related details in here that I want to touch on.

One, Xue Yang was again, a poor, parentless child, and I imagine he was living on the streets in a situation like that. Chang Ci’an broke (amputated) one of his fingers. And ran over the whole rest of his hand, which I have to imagine did other significant damage. Okay, so he wrecked this seven-year-old child’s hand. Now…. how much did this child have? What did he have besides his body? Did he even have a home to retreat to and recover? Because I have to imagine he didn’t. He didn’t have money for medical treatment, it’s not even clear if he knew anyone he could go to for basic medical help. Let’s not even talk about setting the bones in a shattered hand, did he even have access to anything to prevent infection? If he had any means of making a living (at age, again, seven), it would almost have had to be either begging or stealing. Having one ruined hand would have done awful things to this parentless child’s ability to survive. He made it through, clearly, but god. 

And Xiao Xingchen isn’t approaching this from a position like most of our main characters, who grew up wealthy and privileged. He’s not approaching this in a way like how Jiang Cheng scolded Wei Wuxian for breaking his arm, because he had to get it all plastered up and spend weeks recovering, and that was super inconvenient. Xiao Xingchen was never wealthy, and he grew up as a feral mountain child with Baoshan Sanren. But that means that he wasn’t subject to the same social forces as a city child like Xue Yang. Even if he was injured as a child, even if he was badly injured, it wasn’t probably an act of cruelty or callousness on the part of an adult. And if he was injured, he might not have had access to formally trained doctors, but he had a teacher who was highly trained spiritually, and who would at least care for him.

In a way, I think that makes it all hurt… more for Xue Yang. Because Xiao Xingchen isn’t gentry, he never was affiliated with the great cultivation sects, and he and Xue Yang and A-Qing have been living together in a city in fairly poor circumstances for three years now. But Xiao Xingchen is an adult, and one who’s used to making his own way in the world. He has no personal understanding of what it’s like to be a powerless child in similar circumstances, without anyone. And in this moment, he’s not able to understand how awful and how serious this was for a child like Xue Yang to experience.

Like, compare and contrast. When the Wens are starting to move against Lotus Pier, there’s half a moment where Wei Wuxian makes his peace with losing a hand. He’s like ‘yeah, that sucks, but i’ll deal. i’ll just learn to fight with my other hand, whatever!’ But just imagine how serious that would have been before Jiang Fengmian found him. Without money, without a home, without anyone to care for you, without access to any real medical care, how dire an injury would that have been? Xue Yang might not have lost his hand altogether, but the cart ran over his whole hand, and hands are just full o’ bones. The consequences of that injury were significant. 

And Xiao Xingchen’s initial reaction is ‘okay, so this wealthy cultivator broke your finger. why didn’t you just break his finger?’ and then he manages to escalate his way up to ‘idk, you could have even cut off his arm???’

In retrospect, it’s completely unsurprising to me that this is the moment where Xue Yang totally shuts down and starts asking why Xiao Xingchen even got involved, if he wasn’t capable of understanding.

“You shouldn’t have meddled in other people’s business. Right or wrong, kindness or hatred are not clearly distinguished, so how could an outsider possibly understand?”

“Your martial mentor, Baoshan Sanren, was indeed insightful. Why didn’t you listen to her and obediently cultivate in the mountain? If you couldn’t understand the human affairs and this world, then you shouldn’t have come!”

It makes me wonder what would have happened, if Xue Yang had leaned harder into what kind of suffering and hardship an injury like that meant for a street child, but considering how reluctant he was to share in the first place, I’m not exactly surprised he didn’t go there.

Incidentally, it’s interesting to me that when Xiao Xingchen calls Xue Yang ‘disgusting’, that’s when Xue Yang pivots into really trying to hurt him. I think it would hurt, coming from Xiao Xingchen, no matter what, but I have to wonder if he takes it extra hard in light of the way he’s just been trying to explain his history as a mistreated street child.

I’d been idly wondering if I was reading too far into this dynamic (not that that was going to stop me, but still, wondering :P), but this last addition to the conversation really caught my attention

“The people I hate the most are ones like you who say they’re righteous, who think they’re virtuous. Stupid, naive, dumb idiots like you who think the world’s better just because you did something good!”

And then I was like no, I’ve been right this whole time, haha :V

Xue Yang’s anger and hurt sense on a purely personal level, especially with the extra pain of trying to explain himself, for once, and Xiao Xingchen missing the point. But the extra frustration on behalf of his younger self makes so much additional sense. 

Xue Yang likes Xiao Xingchen, he likes living with Xiao Xingchen, or he wouldn’t still be there three years after a chance encounter. It would be a whole other meta to source this claim, but it very much feels like there are things he admires about Xiao Xingchen, even if it’s kind of a condescending, indulgent fondness for his foolish, naive innocence instead of a straightforward admiration. Until it tips over here, and becomes personal. 

And I think there were a lot of ways where he was prepared to disagree with Xiao Xingchen on a deep, fundamental level. They have very different values. But I don’t think he was prepared for Xiao Xingchen to be so oblivious to the class-based aspect of Xue Yang’s history. I don’t think Xiao Xingchen intended to be cruel, and I also think he had other significant things on his mind, but the seriousness of this incident doesn’t seem to occur to him. For someone with money, for someone with a skilled martial family, for even someone with a family, period, this would have been a traumatic experience, but one that could be dealt with. But then Xiao Xingchen equates the finger of this wealthy, purposefully cruel cultivator to the finger of a poor, parentless street child, and Xue Yang begins to lose control.

I already didn’t blame him for how upset he gets in this conversation, but now, even more than before, I find his reaction incredibly understandable. I mean, yes, their whole relationship is built on a foundation of sand, but he thought that he and Xiao Xingchen… supported each other, at least. They mattered to each other. And when Xiao Xingchen rejects him in the present, well, sure, that was going to happen if anyone was stupid enough to tell Xiao Xingchen the truth, that was understandable. But when Xiao Xingchen casually brushes aside the suffering of little innocent seven-year-old Xue Yang, that hurts Xue Yang more than he could have ever anticipated. 

[ohnobjyx]

Taking care of you

Hi, guys! I initially wrote this post for an ask, but it got too long to be included, so I separated it in another post.

Disclaimer: fake info.

I’d like to highlight the moments they take care of each other. It must be because of how my own relationship works, but I really feel there’s something real between them when I see them just caring for each other.

Dd taking care of gg

From gg’s angle, I think the biggest clue is not just him taking care of dd, but letting himself be taken care of. From my experience, a independent, proud and competitive person like gg admitting that he doesn’t want to do something, asking for help or letting others defend him like dd does, shows a great deal of trust in the other person. He trusts the other one to do the right thing, to say the right words. And that’s present from start to finish in all of their events.

In the Thai fanmeeting (0:13-0:40 here), when asked a difficult question, gg and dd both said: “you answer”. Gg said in a very low voice “I don’t want to answer”, so dd inmediately turned to the reporter and thought of an answer. However, his answer was too short, so gg jumped in to complete it. Gg is perfectly capable of taking care of himself in events and interviews. He has done so before and continues to do so. However, whenever he’s with dd, he relaxes more, and lets dd take the reins or   even asks him to (he asked him in this segment, but dd always rushes to defend him if needs arises, like the “you look at the waist” or the “why rush into marriage” moments). That doesn’t mean that he just disconnects, but remains attentive so he can help dd too if necessary. The way they rely and complete each other is really cp goals.

In CQL bts (the scene of the boat), dd keeps peeling lotus seeds for gg and giving them to him. Gg just naturally takes the seeds from him, and when YB hands him another stem, he just hands it to dd. If it wasn’t dd, just any other coworker, I don’t think gg would bear to just sit there and have another person peeling lotus seeds for him. He’d probably peel them himself, because that’s the “polite” thing to do. However, there’s no such need with people you’re really close to, and gg just sitting there speaks volumes of their closeness to each other.

(And note that when YB asks dd to pass him a lotus seed, dd just throws an unpeeled one to him, and YB has to peel it himself, because dd is only peeling lotus seeds for gg. Dd’s double standards).

In TTXS 11th anniversary, dd brings gg as his special guest. Gg says: “wang-laoshi please take care of me”, and dd answers: “I can’t even take care of myself”. But in the episode, he never leaves gg’s side, slows down the dance so gg can follow and jumps in to dance himself when gg is asked to and uncomfortable to say “no” (note that he also defended gg in the Thai fan meeting interview, when the reporter asked if gg could dance for them, dd was the first one to answer “no”)

Gg’s hearing is quite poor, so he often misses hosts’ questions. Dd is used to it by now: sometimes gg doesn’t even needs to ask him and dd will already be turning to him to repeat the question to him. I can think of at least three times that dd helped him like that: (1), (2) and (3)

(In Tencent Awards night, gg didn’t even hear the host telling him to stay for a bit, and only stopped after seeing dd. He didn’t hear anything the hosts said either. What is remarkable is that dd started to explain as soon as he turned. How did you know that gg hadn’t heard anything if you were facing the other side, dd?)

In Nanjing concert (191101), gg had a infection in the throat (faringitis). He could barely talk in the practice, and it’s part of the reason he’s much more silent in that concert. His throat was bothering him at the end of the concert, when they were both singing WuJi, so dd just simply sang his lines for him, hitting the high notes even though his voice isn’t suited for them. He continued to sing the leading voice of the song, just so gg could rest his voice. Gg’s reaction is so sweet too (his surprised stare, their smiles, gg nodding his head giving his thanks... judge for yourselves). He was smiling much more afterwards too.

Gg taking care of dd

But of course, gg also takes care of dd. As I’ve said, this goes to them both.

We’ve the famous knee pads moment in the 9-minutes boat video. Gg notices injuries in dd’s knees and looks very sad when he asks “b-but these are new injuries?”. They even bicker for a second, but gg keeps looking at dd’s knees and out of concern asks him to wear knee-pads. We all know that more than a year after that, dd is indeed listening to gg’s words, even though at first he laughed at them and asked “who would wear knee pads?”.

In the same 9-minute boat video, gg also asks him “I heard yesterday was so hot that an extra fainted... how were you?”. From my pov, this video allows us a small glimpse into how they interact, and by dd’s answer I think it’s usual for gg to be caring and attentive of dd. Even when they are playing and joking around, gg keeps in mind dd’s health, like when he said “yes, I’ll let you off since you haven’t slept for 2-3days and that’s sad. Rest well, please” here.

I don’t even think gg was thinking of anymore than just friendship with dd at that moment. But it already started to show that he cared a lot about him.

There are also multiple instances of gg taking care of dd’s throat. For some reason, it seems dd is very prone to colds and coughs (he once said he was the kind of kid that got sick every season, and I don’t think the idol life workload is doing anything to fix that).

Bxg digged out that gg gave dd a certain brand cough drop in the Thai fan meeting (and it’s the same one he was sharing with the other hosts in SDoC). Then we jump at Tencent Awards night. Gg sees that dd has something candy-like in his mouth and inmediately asks: “does your throat hurt?”. The amount of knowledge necessary here: as his cohosts from SDoC demonstrates for us, when we see a friend eating a candy, it’s more normal to ask “oh, you’re eating a candy?”. But gg inmediately knows that it’s a cough drop, most likely because he knows that dd doesn’t like sweets and snacks and he gave him those. From there, we jump to gg’s worry about dd “does your throat hurt?”.

In TTXS episode with gg, at the end, when they are eating meat skewers, gg advises dd to eat less of them: “they have black pepper, it’s bad for the throat”. For me, it’s a sign of how gg takes care of dd in a more domestic and daily basis. The comment is taken naturally by dd, as if he’s used to it.

(Actually, I’d like to know what gg has to say about dd eating so many spicy hotpots with his cough. In traditional Chinese medicine, “spicy, sweet, oily and alcohol” are the four prohibitions for people who want to take care of their voice and their throat. By gg’s comments and the brand of cough drops he gives dd, I’m almost sure he wouldn’t like dd mistreating his throat like this).

I’m sure most of you has noticed the next one, but gg always clears the seat for dd. He did so in Nanjing fan meeting, and took the papers and the pen away so dd didn’t sit on them, and again cleared the seat next to him in Tencent awards. So when gg wasn’t sitting next to him in w/ibo night, dd simply sat with a water bottle behind him, and gg noticed when he sat in dd’s seat later, when dd had left.

(It’s also interesting to analyze gg’s movement in Tencent Awards. Everyone in that sofa where sitting widely apart from each other, so a pen placed next to gg shouldn’t bother dd if he simply took his seat keeping the same distance everyone was keeping. But gg assumed naturally that dd would be sitting next to him).

(At the left, an actress who is rumoured to follow other actors cp’s, and was seen observing gg and dd that night quite closely).

Also from Tencent Awards night, dd was confused as to how to leave the stage, which gg kindly points him the correct way. The same thing, though much more subtle, appears again at the w/ibo night, when with a glance from dd, gg points the way with his fan for dd.

Gg also cares about dd’s career. In c-culture, connections and relationships with important people play a large part in your success in any industry. So at first gg was standing between ZLY and dd, but when he noticed ZLY talking with dd, he just gently pushed dd towards her, so they could chat.

This is why I don’t really believe in the famous video of a “jealous gg moment” (when they got off stage and were walking down the stairs, dd looked at ZLY, and that glance was supposedly seen by gg, who stormed off, leaving dd behind). I think gg didn’t react like that because of dd (though he did look at him), but because someone signaled him from afar. 

Dd even waited for ZLY to get on stage, and offered his help to her because she was wearing a long dress. This was also seen by gg, who turned to check if dd was following. If this moment didn’t get a reaction from gg, and he doesn’t react poorly when they both chatted at his side, I don’t know why dd just looking at her afterwards would sit so badly with gg (and we get back to the fact of ZLY being married and with a baby).

At the Nanjing concert, in the first day, when gg and dd were singing Wu Ji, there were some problems with their earphones. You can actually see them trying to fix it from here. However, dd ends up taking off his, and there’s a moment of silent communication, where I think dd was asking gg to cue him the start of the next part of the song (which is dd’s). From here, you can see gg keeping up with the beats of the song, and see him pointing with the mic towards dd when is his turn to start singing.

I particularly love this Wu Ji interpretation from them, because it’s first dd asking gg for help, and inmediately after, dd taking care of gg.

They rely on each other, trust each other and they move around each other like the other one is meant to be in their personal space. Neither gives or receives more help from the other, they are in an equally balanced relationship. Now you can take this and compare it to real relationships you know of to get your own conclusions about whether it resembles a romantic relationship or a strong friendship.

[arsonistvoyager]

A Jedi for a Clone Pt. 2 // Captain Rex x Reader

pairing: Rex x Reader

If you haven’t already, read part 1 here!

Summary: Rex sits down and is determined to talk to you about some unpleasant things that happened on Umbara — you’re ready to slice his head off. 

a/n: Thank you all so much again for the feedback on the first part! They definitely boosted my confidence a lot and as a result I picked up writing regularly again after a long pause. A lot of you wanted a second part and I also wanted to go a little deeper into their relationship so here we go! I hope you all like this one just as much. 

taglist: @starflyer-104​ @mangoberry43​ @kaminobiwan​

“Master I did it! You saw that right? Mention it to Master Luminara when we’re back in the temple! I heard Barriss when she was gossiping about me and I want her to know that I improved.” One moments negligence and you landed flat on your back with one of your lightsabers flying upwards, before falling down and crashing with your nose and landing next to your head. “Ouch!” You managed to catch the other one before it fell on your face as well. It was worth it since you had dodged the blaster hit but in the end you had landed on the ground anyway.

Master Krell had put up this exercise for you, which required you to stand on a bunch of unstable crates that got continuously smaller, the higher you got to practice your physical balance as well as your ability to control the force while reflecting blastershots. On top of that of course you had to do it blindly.

You pulled the blindfold down your face while extending your hand into the direction your lightsabers were lying and wrapped your fingers around each of them.

“But that’s not fair. I thought the last one had hit the blasterdroids main computer... it shouldn’t have been able to function anymore!”

Your Master was sitting a few feet away from you, his legs crossed and his eyes closed – potentially trying to meditate.

“Didn’t sound like that now, did it.” You frowned, sitting up and facing him, unintentionally mimicking his pose. “I’m tired. I’ve been trying to balance on that pyramid of junk half the day now.” “Patience, young padawan. Experience is your greatest asset.” Your Master hadn’t opened his eyes yet. “I don’t need patience when I wield the force.” You gripped your stomach the moment it started growling quietly. “But maybe I need some lunch.”

Master Krell opened one of his eyes and smiled. “How about this. If you manage to meditate with me for at least 10 minutes without any interruptions I will take you to Dex’s Diner.” Your eyes widened in disbelief and excitement. “Really? Okay!” Shortly after you rose to your feet and took a few fast steps forward before swiftly falling to the ground right next to your Master and adopting the same position he had. “Remember Padawan. Patience.” You smiled back at him. “Yes, Master.”

Your lightsabers shined brightly as you polished them for the 4th time in a row. They had not even been dirty in the first place. Maybe some light dust had settled on their surface when your shuttle had landed on Arami and the wind had blown up dirt from the ground. But it was certainly a good distraction and an even better way to calm yourself. You sat far from where the rest of the battalion had set up their campfires. 

The Clones sat around several fires in their own little groups and your enhanced hearing allowed you to hear the conversations they were having. Half of them were about missions, attacks they had used, stunts they had pulled, people they had flirted with. Normal clone-talk you assumed. The other half of them were about you. And you had to admit it was almost cute how they thought you could not hear them, or that you were too occupied with cleaning your sabers to pay attention to your surroundings. Because of course they thought like that. How could simple minded beings like they were understand how a Jedi’s mind worked. Maybe they didn’t even care.

Your movements slowed down and you stared at your shiny reflection on the metal of one of your sabers for a brief moment. Then your eyes shot up and landed on a particular clone with bleached blonde hair. You didn’t like how he had been able to sneak up on you earlier. Nor had you liked the way he had observed you in the tent when you were discussing battle strategies with Skywalker. 

Speaking of the Jedi General... Out of politeness Anakin had sat next to you and talked to you – you of course not saying a word but that did not seem to bother him a lot. He had excused himself earlier to take what he called a very “important and unpostponable” holocall. The blonde clone, Rex, had risen to his feet immediately and asked if he needed his help. Skywalker had glanced your way for a second and assured him that he did not. Reluctantly Rex had sat down again.

Now, almost 20 minutes later he hadn’t returned yet and you were sitting alone, watching Captain Rex. Most of the clones had taken off the upper part of their armor, so they were sitting in their blacks, seeming relaxed.

Your eyes trailed down for a second, noticing how the clothes outlined their muscles. You wondered how many scars the fabric hid. And where those scars were.

It didn’t take long for Rex to notice the stare you were sending his way and he shifted around a little before looking back to you.  Unlike you he couldn’t hold it out for too long. It kept shifting into other directions and back to you. 

One of his brothers with a goatie was telling a story to some shinies, a wide smile on his lips. Something about dominos. Whatever he meant by that. The goatie-guy stopped talking only for a second, when Rex leaned towards him and said something not audible enough for even you to hear. Shortly after goatie shrugged his shoulders and continued talking. Rex however stood up. Your eyes narrowed into slits before widening slightly. No no no. Had you sat in the dark too long and your eyes were deceiving you? Or was that reckless bastard actually walking towards you?

You gripped your lightsabers tighter, the closer he got and finally lowered your gaze. You did not need to see him to know where he was. One or two steps were left when you ignited both of them, a bright luminous blue hue falling over your features and lighting up the area around you. Rex stopped dead in his tracks and you noticed him shaking slightly, before composing himself again. A dozen pairs of eyes turned towards you, half of them were smart enough to look away again and pretend they didn’t see anything.

Your gaze was locked onto the bright blue light. “What do you say, captain?” His title left your lips with a hint of venom. “Are they clean enough?” With that your eyes wandered up to him and stared back right into his. Rex gulped. This was an awkward position. Although he was the one looking down on you, the power was in your hands.

An uncertainty crossed his mind. Would you be bold enough to hurt him? In front of his brothers? He knew they would not hesitate to defend him and stand up to a General – not after Umbara. But he was also convinced you could take them all on. He had heard your stories. And General Skywalker was nowhere near to help.

“Yes, General.” You didn’t turn off the lightsabers. Nor did you speak. But you stared at him and held him frozen with your gaze. This time, he told himself, he would not fail though. He was gonna speak to you one way or another. “Would you...like to join us, General?”

You sat in silence for what felt like minutes before furrowing your brows.

“What did you just say?” You could tell he was getting more nervous by the second. Very slowly and almost intimidatingly you swung your lightsaber, while tilting your head ever so slightly to the side. “I didn’t hear you.” His eyes followed the blade of your weapon and you could see a pearl of sweat roll down the side of his face.

“I asked...If you wanted to join my brothers and I. At the campfires I mean. It seems cold and lonely here.” He was getting braver, the longer he stood there without you mutilating him.

“We also have spicebrew if you would like some.” Your gaze was merciless. “Drinking the night before the mission, Captain?” His eyes dodged yours, looking to his right side, then his left, then the ground and then his right side again. “Uh...No I mean yes. But. We would enjoy it, if you just sat with us. It’s an honor to work with a Jedi…” Your other lightsaber rotated clockwise in your hand – his eyes followed the motion. “Quite like you.” “Cut the flattery.” The surprise made him look right into your eyes. “I’d rather meditate.” 

The next thing he did surprised you to say the least. Rex sat down opposite of you. “Then do you mind me sitting in your company?” Now he was the one looking up into your eyes, as you were sitting on an old log. Your eyes narrowed once more. “What are you trying here, clone?” Before he knew it one of your lightsabers was pointing at him, resting inches from his chin in front of his neck. “Don’t mistake my professionalism for kindness. I don’t trust your kind.” 

Rex, though trying his hardest not to move, seemed weirdly calm about the situation. As if somehow he knew you would not kill him on the spot. “Can I ask why that is, General?” He almost whispered, as he was too scared to strain his vocal cords too much. The fear of them being sliced by the jedi weapon still present.

Your eyes were burning now. “You’re asking me that? You’re actually asking me why?”

Now he had done it. You were angry. So angry. Who did this guy think he was? He was surely trying to provoke you. Where the hell was Skywalker? “Need I remind you it was one of your kind that murdered my Master in cold blood? Did you forget that already? Maybe your cloned brain doesn’t hold enough capacity for that.” Rex bit on his lip. He would not let your words get to him. Besides him and his brothers were pretty much used to distrust and mistreatment from the republic and its organic citizens.

“Who told you...about what happened on Umbara, General.”

“The council of course.” You lowered your lightsaber when you realized the other clones slowly stopped their conversations. Seeing the deadly weapon not in lethal proximity of their captains head anymore had a majority of them pick up their talking again, though many eyes continued to linger on the two of you.

“Did they leave out the part where he told us about abandoning the Jedi to join the new order he thought would rise to power?” For the first time since Rex had looked back at you from all the way over at the campfires it was you who looked to the side. Not wanting to look into his eyes this moment. “Master Krell was confused. The light would have surely found its way back to him.” Your features hardened. “Not that the council would have let him try…” you mumbled, more to yourself, than to Rex.

“But who are you to judge about that, clone.” Your eyes landed on Rex again. They still burned with hate but he was a lot calmer now that he had seen the glint of vulnerability in your eyes and was a little more certain that you would not try to harm him. Rex stood up and your eyes followed his. You did not move when he walked over to you and sat down next to you on the log. Your lightsabers, though, were still ignited and if it came down to it you would still be able to slice his head off clean.

“Did they tell you about the way he had us kill our own brothers?” You stared at the blue hued ground in front of you. That’s not quite what they had told you. 

A mission gone wrong. False Calculations. A deception of soldiers and an unlawful decision by Master Krell that had led to a horrible string of events which obliged the soldiers to act on their own. That’s how the council had worded it. 

“Surely you know General Kenobi. The 212th is his battalion. Many good men I knew. Waxer he...was a good man. Always tried to do the right thing. Always followed orders. The last time I saw him I watched him bleed out. on the ground of enemy territory.” You noticed him grip his left wrist in his right hand.  He was nervous. And scared. But you had not killed him yet, neither had you screamed at him to shut up. So he continued. 

“The betrayal he must have felt in that moment…” Rex rubbed his face. “General I know you don’t like us. Not a lot of people do. But we have each other and that gives us strength. We’re bred for war. And we fight without complaining. But we’re no tools. We still feel. And sometimes...sometimes I wish we wouldn’t.”

Waxer cried in his last moments. Knowing the few people he trusted had fought him with the intention to kill him” He looked away, then towards you and you turned to face him as well. His eyes were...sad. “General Krell ordered this attack on both sides, knowing fully well what was gonna happen. I hated him for what he made us do. I hated him and I wanted him dead before he could hurt any more of us.” You tensed up at the images of your Master being shot. “And I achieved that. I was the one that killed him, General. I didn’t enjoy doing it. And I am sorry about it. Not because he is dead, but because he was important to you. And you lost him because someone else made the decision that he did not deserve to live.” By now tears were building up in your eyes.

“He could have…” You couldn’t even finish your thought. He was right. They weren’t tools. And if anything they deserved their free will. Master Krell had taken that from them. But were you ready to admit that? The Master Krell you knew was kind and compassionate. The Master Krell you knew had let younglings climb onto his 4 arms and swung them around like they requested, while they laughed. The Master Krell you knew had taken you to Dex’s Diner because it was your favourite and had laughed when you told him he’d probably look like Dex himself if the Order hadn’t trained him.

But then he was forced to fight in this stupid, seemingly endless and catastrophic war that raged across the galaxy. Was that enough to change a person? What if the Master Krell you knew was nothing but a memory.

We’re bred for war. No one had given the clones a choice when the war had started. You didn’t notice it but Rex did. The eyes you were looking at him with now were not filled with rage, nor hatred. They held empathy and maybe – confusion. 

“You have every right to hate me. But forgive my brothers. None of us ever wanted this.”

None of you said a word but what could you have possibly said in this moment. So you stayed silent and so did he. The more you looked at him the more you started to notice how genuine he seemed. How desperate for you to understand. And how beautiful he was.

You tightened the grip on your lightsabers once more before you stood up and turned them off. Silly thoughts. Looking over your shoulder back at him you looked him over once more. This man had killed your Master. And your Master killed his brothers. “I’ll decide that myself.”

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

a/n: Again I wanted to include so much more in this chapter but after reaching 2000 words I told myself to stop lol So I definitely have a third chapter planned out where I wanna get into a more romantic vibe! I’m so sorry if this feels too dragged but I didn’t wanna feel like I was forcing something too quick (I mean even that “how beautiful he was” felt kind of rushed ahh) 

[silveryinkystar]

Two Houses (both alike in dignity)

Rating: Gen

Characters: CT-7567 | Rex, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker

Summary:

 [“Did you not just hear what those sleemos said?” Commander Skywalker’s voice was high, loud, and grating in all the ways that Rex couldn’t care for at the moment with his splitting headache. “How can you just let them say those things, it’s – it’s –”

“I don’t disagree with you, Padawan,” General Kenobi said softly, shifting slightly so that Cody’s armour wasn’t digging into his back, “but your anger is not going to help you right now.”]

--

Or; a lesson in controlling emotion, from a certain point of view (or few).

Jedi June Appreciation Event | Saturday, June 5: There is no emotion, there is peace.

[Read on Ao3]

“Did you not just hear what those sleemos said?” Commander Skywalker’s voice was high, loud, and grating in all the ways that Rex couldn’t care for at the moment with his splitting headache. “How can you just let them say those things, it’s – it’s –”

“I don’t disagree with you, Padawan,” General Kenobi said softly, shifting slightly so that Cody’s armour wasn’t digging into his back, “but your anger is not going to help you right now.”

“You – it’s like you don’t even care –”

“Have I given any impression of that when we actually have the time to care? My priority at the moment is to get our men to a safe location and call for a medevac. As much as those comments incensed me, I cannot allow myself to be distracted by my own feelings right now. Not when it’ll do more harm than good.”

Rex supposed that it was some Jedi philosophy that the General was quoting, but he could see the reasoning behind it too. Although he found it a bit surprising that Skywalker didn’t seem to agree. After a few more minutes of this back-and-forth exchange, General Kenobi sighed and ushered the Commander away for scouting duty.

“Nice move, sir,” he said dryly, wincing when his hastily splinted leg caught on a particularly large stone. Kenobi smiled and extended his hand, which Rex eyed warily.

“You should get some weight off that foot, Captain,” he said mildly, shifting Cody to a single shoulder. “And I can bear your weight without issues, since I’m currently uninjured.”

“General, with due respect, you’re already carrying Cody. Injured or not, it’ll tire you out quicker than supporting just one of us.”

But Kenobi simply quirked an eyebrow. “I know my limits, Rex, you needn’t worry about me. It shouldn’t be so far off, anyhow, Anakin doesn’t seem to be too distanced from us over our bond.”

Sighing, Rex relented – his leg did hurt like hell, and if they needed to get into action quickly, he couldn’t afford to worsen the injury pre-emptively. Kenobi held him to his side with ease, and matched his unsteady hopping at a comfortable pace that wouldn’t strain his other leg too. It couldn’t have been comfortable with both Cody’s and his armour digging into his shoulder, but the man barely showed any signs of it, not even complaining once the way his insufferable brothers might have done.

“I sense you’re deep in thought, Captain,” Kenobi invited lightly, looking for the world like he was simply taking a walk along the corridors of the Negotiator, rather than holding up the weights of two fully armoured, grown men, without breaking step.

“It’s just… what you said to the Commander, earlier. Was it from the Jedi Code?”

He hummed. “It was and it wasn’t. It’s technically only a part of our philosophy, but given our nature of influence on the communities around us – and our use of the Force, Jedi are usually trained to manage their emotions effectively from a very young age.”

“I see.” Though he wondered what it would mean for nat-borns to learn those techniques, especially since they weren’t bred for psychological (well, and physical) hardiness the way the clones were.  He mentioned as much to the General, who momentarily had a strange look on his face before it smoothed into the usual geniality he’d begun to find comfort in.

“We provide any psychological help we can, of course,” he explained bluntly. “A lot of Jedi go through traumatic events in their lifetime, and while it’s not a flawless system – sometimes the situation at hand means that there’s simply not enough time to process things until much, much later – it helps. And aside from trauma, we still offer counselling to anyone who seeks it. Even if it’s for gentle reassurance about things people may consider to be trivial, or for specific issues that Initiates and Padawans approach them for, or for serious conditions that need long-term help and therapy, we don’t turn them away.”

It sounded like an incredible system, to Rex. “I’ve heard stories about the kind of missions Jedi usually go on,” he said carefully, “and I get what you mean about the trauma. But do you have the sort of infrastructure and support available at the scale that the war is producing?”

He snuck a sidelong glance at Kenobi, who appeared to be openly stunned at the question. Rex’s heart sank; had nobody asked the Jedi how they were doing since the beginning of the war?

Granted, only the Jedi had ever asked after the well-being of their troopers (other than their brothers themselves), but it was surprising to Rex that the group of people committed towards helping the galaxy around them got such little thanks for it. He knew that they never did it for the gratitude, but used their “gifts from the Force” for good as was their mandate (something they genuinely loved following, which delighted his brothers to listen to them about), but to see the way they were treated almost completely reflect the way that clones themselves were treated was unsettling.

That a simple check-in based on what new knowledge he’d gained had surprised a member of the Council, a leading representative of the Order who would have interacted with enough dignitaries to actually be privy to the thanks the Jedi may get, was even more upsetting.

Rex wondered if this was what the Jedi usually felt whenever they saw brothers being mistreated, and while he filed his indignation away for later, he thought he understood why Skywalker had reacted the way he had, before Kenobi had sent him off on his errand.

“I’m not sure that we do,” Kenobi confessed quietly. “We’ll continue to do our best, of course. We won’t turn people away when they need all the help they can get. But we may have to reorganise our structure, which is… disheartening.”

Rex personally thought that it was a lot more than disheartening, but he’d keep that to himself and make plans with his brothers later. He suspected a lot of nights of brothers coaxing their Jedi to talk to them, wheedling their burdens away from them as much as they could and sharing them together. Cody was going to be impossible when he was healed enough to know any of this, but Rex wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Master!” Skywalker winced at his own volume when multiple soldiers around him flinched, apologising quickly under his breath. “There’s an… alcove? Some form of shelter nearby, it looks naturally formed – and there are a few cave systems close by which look abandoned, they’re probably safe for us to stay in while we wait.”

“Very good, Anakin. Did you check the systems for unfriendly inhabitants?”

“They’re completely clear, Master. There’s no sign of life in them, but there are signs that people have camped there previously. Ashes in a fire pit, and so on. But they don’t look recent.”

“I suspect those caves may be a traveller’s lounge, now,” he said wryly, and Rex snorted. “Lead us on our way, then, my apprentice.”

Skywalker nodded eagerly, before giving a few troopers directions and setting up a new purposeful pace. Rex grimaced when he realised that this meant speeding up, but somehow Kenobi managed to find a new pace between them that didn’t jostle his ankle too much even as they moved faster than before.

Soon enough, they’d slipped past the alcove into the cave systems and set up a steady watch cycle while moving off to provide more medical attention to the injured troops. The campaign had been hard on them all, and where brothers weren’t injured, they looked exhausted. Kenobi and Skywalker were among the few who looked like they would last longer than a few hours without immediately passing out, which he took to heart as a sign that the army had been wise to have the Jedi lead them instead of other nat-borns. Wolffe had vented to him about one of his older nat-born leaders who had managed to kriff up an entire mission to save his own skin, and that it was thanks to the crazy plans of Generals Koon and Fisto that they’d emerged alive, if not entirely whole, from that battlefield.

He’d emphasised the word “whole” too, indicating the massive bandage around his head where Ventress had sliced his eye out during her escape.

Skywalker had taken it up to himself to restart the old argument they’d had on the road while Kenobi helped Rex sit against the wall of the cave before gently setting Cody down and looking him over for specific injuries.

“Anakin, it’s not that I wouldn’t defend them, but my assessment of the situation meant that leaving quickly and ignoring the heckling was the best way to proceed. If I’d stood around and verbalised my defence of our men, I would have lost more men to injuries due to the time I would have wasted – yes, wasted, in relation to how quickly we managed to get them here!”

“You always say that we’re meant to defend others, to stand up for those who need us. And I’m not saying that they can’t do it, but…”

“Commander, permission to speak freely?”

Skywalker blinked when Rex spoke up directly, but nodded mutely.

“Permission granted,” Kenobi translated frankly, guessing that he wanted the verbal confirmation before he went for it.

“Thank you, sirs. General Kenobi’s right on this one. We appreciate your willingness to stand up for us, Commander, but at the time, it wasn’t what we needed. We needed a quick exit, and the situation may have gotten out of hand if we’d stayed and argued with them for longer. Even if we’d sent out a batch of scouts to find this place, we would have been stuck between waiting for a promise to help – one that would be uncertain, anyway – and trying to get people to that distance. As it is, a lot of the troops are close to critical condition.” He nodded at Cody’s prone form, and Kenobi’s look of concentration as he presumably stabilised his brother’s condition as best as he could without overtaxing himself.

“I thought you might say that you value a leader who sticks up for you,” Skywalker admitted. “Not that we won’t, but wouldn’t it be easier to trust us if you know that we’ll be your first line of defence without you needing to ask?”

“Pardon me, sir, but that sounds like banthash-”

“You make a fair point, Anakin,” Kenobi cut in smoothly with a heatless glare at Rex for his language. He fought back a snicker. “Actively, verbally making your allyship known to someone would bolster their confidence in you – but that’s in a situation where they’re safe enough to acknowledge and process it. Your anger is well-directed, my apprentice, and that is not what I find an issue with.”

“Sir, you’re not wrong that we appreciate you defending us,” Rex added carefully. “A lot of the men find it reassuring that you have our backs even off the battlefield. Especially the shinies, since the Kaminoans…”

Kenobi’s expression darkened a little, but he nodded encouragingly even as he carefully unwrapped Rex’s ankle. Rex hissed when the man felt around the break, but aside from a quick apology, all he received was the request to keep talking.

“But… on the battlefield, if we stuck around defending each other without paying attention to the bigger picture – ow – we’d all be dead in seconds. We’re trained to push those impulses away. Not that we have those coping mechanisms you Jedi talk about,” he added wryly, wincing when Kenobi re-wrapped the ankle in a fresh bacta-soaked bandage. Where he even found the bacta, he didn’t know, considering the General hadn’t moved from where he was kneeling before Rex the entire time.

Must be some Force nonsense, he thought to himself.

“So… how do you manage it?” Skywalker squatted down next to Kenobi, frowning at him. “As Jedi, we’re also taught to put aside our emotions, but…”

“It’s not so much about putting them aside as… well, I suppose Captain Rex would be able to help you here, a lot more than I could, given the way we each process things.”

Rex supposed that it had to do with how calm General Kenobi always was. Of course, the man felt things – he’d seen him determined, elated, exasperated and even downright irritated sometimes, but the depth of emotion he expressed outwardly was remarkably controlled. And for all that he felt emotions, they never quite seemed to be so intense, in the way he himself experienced his feelings. He was just good at setting them aside or using them as a drive for his actions.

“Well… that anger you showed earlier – it can be performative if it isn’t followed through. The men need affirmation that you’ll stick with them on and off the battlefield, so I’m not saying that you should stop defending us if that’s what you’ll continue to do anyway, but… we spend our whole lives justifying our right to live. On Kamino…” Kriff, he’s never said this to anyone before – a brother would understand, and whyever would a Jedi want to hear this–

But they did want to hear. And Rex, upon really thinking about it, found that he wanted to tell them.

“On Kamino,” he repeated slowly, “it was always something with the trainers. Not to mention the Kaminoans themselves. If we weren’t the best, certain… actions were taken. Please don’t ask me to get into specifics,” he added hurriedly when Skywalker started glowering, “but we’ve always had to put our success over ourselves. Not in the way that you Jedi prioritise a mission, but…”

“In an almost self-destructive manner,” Kenobi surmised, looking about as close to angry as Rex had ever seen him.

“Yessir. It’s kind of… habit, now, for us to channel our emotions into the battlefield – you’ll find a lot of brothers who refuse to voice their thoughts but let out their aggression in the field, because it’s the only way they’ve learned how. And by doing that, they learned that they can keep more of their brothers safe. So… when General Kenobi says that your anger isn’t helpful, it’s because it’s… reactionary? It resolves your emotions, but doesn’t really do much after that.”

Skywalker nodded slowly. “I think I get it now.”

“With anger,” General Kenobi said softly, “it’s purely, ah, performative, as Captain Rex put it. You can yell at someone for a while, toss them around if you’re that type of person, and sometimes it’ll give you short-term relief, but it doesn’t achieve anything good in the long run. But if you channelled all that anger into something else, let it go and focused on the next action rather than the reaction…”

“‘There is no emotion, there is peace’?” Skywalker quoted, and Kenobi nodded.

“Precisely, Padawan. Act with intention, with rational thought, not with emotion.”

“So I should just cast my feelings aside? I don’t think I could hold them off. I’ve tried.”

“Holding them off isn’t the goal, Anakin, but shifting your focus is. Think of it this way – Rex, you dual-wield blasters, right?”

Rex nodded, wondering where this was going.

“Which means you’d need to be aware of both of those weapons in the field – how they weigh, the recoil on them, and managing your aim with both hands.”

“Yes, sir. If I got careless, I’d shoot a brother, or either of you.”

“Which brings me to my point – while you were still in training, you would have had to do it all consciously, right? Think about each of those elements, get used to the weight of your blasters if you replaced them, figure out how you can do every one of those small checks faster and faster until they became instinct.”

He nodded again, catching on. “Act with intention until it’s instinct.”

“Precisely! Now, if you were to act too hastily based on an emotion, how do you think that would work?”

The reply is instantaneous. “I might misfire. Forget to check my gear, or my aim, or my hands may be too shaky. And if the shot goes wide, even if I don’t hit a brother or either of you, that means there’s one more droid in the battlefield that could kill us all at any point of time. It’s about them, not me.”

“You think of yourself as a part of a whole, and as a whole. And it’s usually the former that gains precedence here,” Kenobi completed, pleased. “Anakin, it’s not so much that your feelings are invalid or too strong in that they must be held off, but you must be aware that their strength does not consume your judgement in decision-making.”

The Commander bit his lip, but nodded. “Okay, Master.”

It wasn’t the best confirmation that he’d actually understood, but evidently Kenobi was satisfied, so Rex dropped it.

“I wasn’t expecting a philosophical discussion today, though,” the General murmured to him when Skywalker moved off to mingle with the other troopers – and probably to help, if their talk had been any indication. “Has it occurred to you that the theory that you often share about yourselves often mirrors what we learn as Jedi, if with different reasoning behind it?”

“Sir, Cody’s always said that the Jedi are the closest it gets to a nat-born understanding us clones,” he said bluntly. “And you’ve said that the reverse is true.”

“I suppose it’s why we work together so well,” he said, smiling up at him.

Rex couldn’t help but agree.

[kendrixtermina]

Interesting details about the 3 houses cast (From dialogue in ‘Heroes’)

The first name Ferdinand’s father is ‘Ludwig’ and he is apparently an insufferable braggart who also said his own name alot

Before moving into her uncle’s castle, Anette spent her early childhood in a small, humble house in the Capital. Gilbert & his wife couldn’t afford domestic servants so she did the chores herself.

Mercedes’ father died in a “conflict in the empire”. Before he died, he taught her mom the secret recipe that Mercedes mentions in the Constance and Dedue supports. A bit of her fatalistic passive attitude early on comes from feeling that she couldn’t change much about her life while she and her mom were being mistreated at the Bartels’ home

Claude has a lot of fun with the mushroom poison.

Despite their student’s glowing opinions, Byleth isn’t actually all that confident about their professor-ing, which is probably not unexpected given how the job was suddenly dumped in their lap.

They’re somewhat uncertain about whether they have real connections with people beyond just the professional level. I guess that’s another parallel to Edelgard.

Someone observed that they look “more like a mercenary and less like a teacher” while they’re fighting.

Apparently their students described them as “a bit eccentric at times”

They seem to like/appreciate it when other ppl can pick up what they’re really feeling/thinking. (I really hope Jeralt knew that) 

 It’s considered rare for Claude and Dimitri to agree on anything

The sad thing is that the trio is noted to be quite effective when they cooperated. I guess we also saw this in Cindered Shadows

There is a hilarious sequence where Byleth is like, “This may call for drastic measures” and everyone starts looking at Claude and correctly assuming that he’s probably already cooking up some sort of crazy plan

 Ferdinand apparently likes the “refined way” that Edelgard swings her axe

Petra considers hunting one of the most important skills you can have, both because you acquire many crucial materials (like leather etc) and because it also hones a lot of skills. Bridgid is very green & plentiful, so most people do some degree of hunting and even the rulers are expected to know it. Someone remarks that it’s probably a culture that places emphasis on self-sufficiency. That’s an interesting way to think about it, especially if you think about Petra’s attitudes, how she approaches even this cobjectively crappy political hostage situation as an opportunity and has a very problem-solvy approach to things. I’d noted that, but I’d never connected it with the hunting thing; I thought it was just Petra being awesome, which it basically still is, but it adds a cool layer to consider how she got this way and how this may be her way to stay close to her homeland’s values even in exile.

“In Brigid, there is a phrase we say. A gray sky will be pierced by the sun. A raging tide will be leading to land. Beyond failure, success is waiting.” 

Hubert seemed to know that he ten elites fought against the godess even pre timeskip. 

He also sees Edelgard as one of the few ppl who really paid attention to him when he was younger -  I guess this goes with this understated complex he has about his looks & personality.

Edelgard likes to just lie around and relax, but only when she’s all alone. At least pre timeskip or pre holy-tomb scene she didn’t think like she could really be herself in the company of others. She does seem to put some deliberate thought into what image to project/embody

Dimitri seems to think that having a crest (and high status) makes it his duty to protect & take care of the people – I guess that’s another way in which he’s completely ruled by obligation. He gets characteristically intense about this. “My life was never mine to begin with, I guess I haven’t the right to throw it away”

the glorious “nice weather” exchange has already been posted. Edelgard (and Lysithea) are the first to clarify that they shouldn’t bring their grudges into this situation since they’re not in Fodlan atm.

Edelgard and Claude are beyond shook when AzureMoon!Dimitri actually agrees. Chill Dimitri is apparently not something they ever imagined. He is obviously the most changed in “his” route, with the other two its no less profound but a lot more subtle. 

Lysithea has an interest in botany (now I really want her to talk plants with Bernie )

Hilda: “I haven’t heard about there being a future me here. She’s probably busy relaxing on a beach or something…”

Mercie and Anette immediately reassured each other that their future selves are probably cute af. Aww

 This is probably unsurprising, but future!Dimitri is still very tormented by his less than stellar actions during and right after the timeskip

Small Dimitri is heartbreakingly surprised to hear that there’s any version of him that’s alive and on the throne, though he hides it because his friends (or at least Annie and Mercie) did not have such doubt

Edelgard decides from the get-go not to concern herself with the future version of her. I get the sense that she really wants to avoid the scenario where she allows her resolve about what she feels absolutely must be done to falter after meeting a regretful future version of herself; I really like this, I know some haters will probably spin this into something about her not caring about the consequences of her actions but it really circles back to how she’s philosophically all about self-determination & can’t let something like a future possibility determine what she does… nor can she back off a sacrifice meant for the greater good just because it might turn out poorly for her (which it does, just not in the CF timeline that this particular future version is from)

 Cut to the future versions who have contrasting ideas about what to do about their tiny selves. Claude thinks they should not risk causing any time paradoxa. Dimitri ponders the thought of warning his younger self (and past!Byleth). Edelgard doesn’t think it would make any difference at all, especially since they would each be showing their tiny self the timeline where they win.

Though I guess one think to consider here is probably that Dimitri would be the most surprised by a sucessful older version of himself

Claude eventuallly agrees, since they were each doing what they thought was best (Claude, too, is sort of uniquely situated to grasp this as the one who can part on good terms with each of the other two in their respective timelines) – though he’s hoping that the time crash will maybe send their younger selves in a different direction (in which you see that this is distinctly VW!Claude & thus a bit more hopeful)

 the others actually agree & it ends with a fun semi-friendly sparring match

 Edelgard wants to show past!Byleth how awesome she’s going to be in the future

it is very in line with my interpretation of her character that she would describe her own disproportional strenght as “hideous”

Claude’s lines are solid gold in this. Like he’s just being aggressive irrevent to bridge the obvious awkwardness “Go on, we’re old dining hall palls!”

This gets Lysithea wondering what might’ve happened if they’d actually graduated as planned. I mean I kind of respect that they DIDNT put in a golden ending but I guess if you want one you can imagine that they got one after returning from Askr I guess.

let’s just hope that “the timeline none of them experienced” doesn’t just turn out to be silver snow lol

[dappercritter]

Invader Zim: Taller Tales of Terror - The First Fic That Wasn’t

This was going to be my first fanfiction that I ever published, but things came up and I found other story ideas and fandoms to get into. However, because there’s nothing I hate more than leaving a story untold and forgotten.

 So like a writer jilted by a big name studio working on a big superhero movie that went terribly wrong after they left, I’m going to share it with you good folks to see if you still think there’s hope for it in some capacity. If so maybe I’ll choose to revive it in some capacity, or one of you kind folks can adopt it. Whatever you think of the once untold tale I’m about tell you, I hope you enjoy it.

The fic would have been either a mini-series/anthology or a movie-esque sequel—or two—to Enter the Florpus.

It would have followed the stranger further misadventures the kids would go on as teenagers, all of which have at least something to do with getting taller, literally or metaphorically.

 Although I'd do my best to recreate the series' darkly comic tone, there'd be more to the story than just that. I'd like to do a sort of character study with my fanfics and explore what they would do as they got older, how they would change if they could change, if they'd mature and try to connect with each other more, or if they really do just hate each other. It'd be like a coming-of-age story but done in the style of Invader Zim.

 But don’t be fooled, folks! It's not going to be one of those big dramatic fanfics with high stakes (nor any smut) thrown in. At it's core it's still just a fun, dumb, mildly disturbed "What if?" sort of fic. There would be a bit more emphasis on character and plot than normal, because I do love me a good character-driven plot, but still plenty of room for (what I hoped would feel like) the usual weird dumb creepy fun that original series excelled at.

 The story is set in basically the same continuity (or at least the closest thing to a continuity that can exist in Invader Zim) as the show and comics. The only difference is that the Battle of Meekrob actually happened—but not really.

 Long backstory short, there was a big showdown between the Irken Armada and the Meekrob-allied Resisty, but Zim and Dib missed it because a food fight got them stuck in detention. Zim tried to get Skoodge (who was rooming with him at the time because the scrapped Season 2 episodes were sorta canon here) to cover for him until her got there, while Dib tried to get Gaz to take Tak’s ship to provide support against the Irken. By the time they got out, however, the battle was over, Gaz blew the whole thing off to get a new game, Skoodge and some other Invader became the war hero Zim always aspired to be, and The Almighty Tallest decided to cancel Operation Impending Doom 2 because after the big exciting space battle they felt like they couldn’t top anything after that. Suffice to say, Zim took it pretty hard. Dib however would have seen this as something of a win since Zim still failed in a sense. Albeit it was a very anticlimactic win, even to him.

The actual story would have taken place about 5 years after the Battle of Meekrob, where Zim, Dib, and Gaz have made it to high school (or “hi-skool” as this is the Invader Zim universe, after all). Setting wise, things haven't changed much but the characters have made a few surprising or not-so-surprising developments. The most important of all, so important that it would be the focus of the entire story, in fact! would have been Zim developing a brand-new disguise utilizing an exoskeleton, based partially on the Almighty Tallest, in attempt to make him look like a normal teenager AND impress superiors. Naturally, things go horribly yet amusingly wrong for everyone involved.

 Now just where and what has everyone been up to/going through in those five years? Here’s a rundown:

-Zim spent those 5 years obsessing over his crushing failure, begging the Tallest to give him another chance, which they refused every time. Being stuck on a planet of smelly, stupid, and increasingly annoying creatures for so long without any real victories has left him bitter and frantic with more shmoopiness than usual. Even the little "VICTORY FOR ZIM!" moments he used to have got harder and harder to come by. By the time he reached high school, he was so messed up he didn’t realize his classmates had all had growth spurts until Dib easily overpowered him in one of their petty fights and points it out to the whole school. Thus, leading to the new exoskeleton and subsequent schemes to redeem himself in the eyes of the Tallest while looking normal in the eyes of his human classmates. Unfortunately, due to his desperation and general lack of understanding about the human body, the exoskeleton comes out looking like a lanky robotic nightmare with clawed fingers that jerks around like a big cybernetic marionette.

-Dib meanwhile has been doing slightly better. He and his paranormal research are still looked down upon, but he's persevered through the hope that someday he'll prove he's right. After (indirectly) stopping Zim from joining the Battle of Meekrob, Dib got a small confidence boost, thinking of it as a big step to exposing for Zim real now that he’s effectively trapped on Earth with him now. Although, following a rather blunt intervention from his family, he's started thinking about what he’ll do with himself once Zim is gone. He still hates his guts and he's still hellbent on beating him, but he's also started getting out more and trying to socialize more—however awkward his attempts may be. That he's also gotten taller and his head isn't quite as big compared to the rest of his body has been good for his self-esteem too. But make no mistake—when he's not going for runs, working shifts at his dad’s lab, or looking into a “totally normal” science major, he's toiling away on improving his array of anti-Zim strategies and defenses.

-Gaz is doing pretty good but she is totally done with Zim and Dib's junk. Although she's still her old apathetic self, she's doing everything in her power to broaden her horizons so she doesn't end up in the same, stupid rut that they ended up in. She would have gotten into indie art and game development; although her work is still fairly obscure, it's quickly gaining attention for it's macabre, edgy, punishing and geeky nature. (Imagine the works of Jhonen Vasquez, Toby Fox, Hidetaka Miyazaki, and Hideki Kamiya mashed together.) She also participates in e-sports tournaments on occasion, if only because crushing countless so-called “gamers” brings her amusement. Her psychic powers have also gotten stronger with her age, and she likes to experiment with them whenever she can—usually when somebody really annoys her. She's doing fine in the story until, after a run-in with a certain unkillable spoiled brat at an e-sports tournament, sends her over the edge and she trashes the place in a Carrie-esque episode. This gets her sent to anger management therapy, and now she's trying to find a way out to avoid sitting through an endless slog of "sappy" sessions.

-Gir would still be insane.

-Minimoose would still be the ultimate techno-lifeform Minimoose.

-Zim's Computer is still tired.

 -Prof. Membrane is still the greatest and most powerful scientist who ever lived but he’s also trying to make time for his family more and mentoring Dib to be the successor to his legacy he always thinks he was meant to be. That is if is experimental new immortality machine doesn’t work out. May or may not have to fend off Clembrane whenever he comes to visit.

-The Almighty Tallest are still living content, tyrannical lives. They didn't take canceling Operation Impending Doom 2 very hard because, as it turns out, they just got bored with it after a while. (Of course, Zim's repeated interference didn't help keep their spirits up either). However, they'd come up with the perfect plan to obtain absolute control of the universe AND get the feeling back: by making Operation Impending Doom 3 a thing and setting up a huge hype campaign for it. Thing go pretty well for them until Zim calls them and tells them about his new exosuit. They believe that Zim is trying to make himself look like a Tallest so he can lead a rebellion against them and get revenge for treating him like garbage. (He's not, obviously, but they're too dumb and paranoid to realize this.) So, they pretend that they're ok with it and let him carry on his merry way while they figure out how to dispose of him without making him look like a martyr figure of some sort, thus giving the other Irkens they mistreated any ideas.

-Tak would show up again in the second half and this is where it gets spoiler-y. She would come to Earth on the Tallest’s orders with a squad consisting of a reformatted Mimi, rogue SIR units, as well as Tenn and Skoodge who she had recruited to aid in her vendetta against Zim. She would subsequently reveal that after drifting through space in an escape pod, she crashed landed on Meekrob just as the battle was about to begin, and using the element of surprise, rescued Tenn from captivity and assisted Skoodge and the Tallest in devising a battle strategy so brilliant that it crushed the Resisty and Meekrob’s alliance and earned her the status of Irken Elite. She grew comfortable in her new position but could never get over her fear that Zim would eventually ruin it all again, so she waited and prepared for the day she would strike back. I don’t know how or if she would adopt an updated disguise (perhaps a hologram of her older humansona projected over her, Tenn, and Skoodge standing on top of her shoulders?) or hide in the shadows while Tenn, Skoodge, Mimi and the berserk SIR squad did her dirty work.

 -Skoodge would have gone from aspiring to be Zim’s friend to being his worst enemy after Tak turned him to her side by digging into his past with him, making him realize how little his supposed old friend cared about him. Despite this he still keeps an unusually cheerful disposition—even repeatedly apologizing to Zim whenever he attacks him—and acts as the heart of Tak’s squad. He thinks of them as his real friends, so he always goes out of his way to help them out or keep the energy up. Even though Tak looks down on him because of his size, she appreciates his gullibility and unquestioning loyalty. Tenn just thinks he’s nice, especially since he’s good at keeping the SIRs in check.

 -Tenn has recovered from the traumatic escapades she endured on Meekrob at the hands of the rogue SIR units and imprisonment under the enemy, returning to her usual competant Invader self—something Tak values quite a bit in an armada largely composed of egomaniacs and morons. Tenn values Tak’s companionship even more, viewing her as a conquering hero who not only won the most important battle of Irken history, but also, her heart. …Not she’ll ever act on her feelings. That would inconveniance the mission! (Although Skoodge has picked up on this and gladly supports her, thinking they’d make an adorable couple.) After investation revealed that Zim was supposed to receive the rogue SIR units instead of her while he trashed the Megadoomer that was rightfully assigned to her, she bought into Tak’s view that Zim’s very existence was a threat to all Irkenkind, gladly assisting her efforts to eradicate him.

 -Mimi and the rogue SIR units have been reprogrammed to be less insane and follow orders again thanks to Tak and Skoodge’s efforts. However, Tak also had a berserk mode installed specfically for eradicating targets with optimal, brutal efficiency. Mimi still tends to glitch though. In addition to Mimi retaining her cat holo-disguise, the berserker SIRs would gain new disguises resembling either feral cats or rabid teacup poodles. (I hadn’t decided yet.) Tenn still gets anxious around them.

 -Gretchen might show up again and would possibly get to reconnect with Dib, maybe even finally be honest with him about her feelings for him when she surprises him with her surprising new position at Membrane Labs: the janitor.

 -Keef will… er, uh… actually, don’t get your hopes up.

 Well, I think that’s everyone important. Okay back to the plot now!

 So, right up front, the biggest part of the plot as well as the biggest reason why I got uncomfortable with the whole thing was there wiould be some romance in here between a few couples and that it would have figured into the plot. The most significant of all: ZAGR (a.k.a. Zim and Gaz Relationship). But I wanted to make it feel organic and even sweet without sacrificing the feel of sardonic madness but also keeping it in the wholesome zone.

 I always felt like Zim and Gaz were a natural fit for each other (like quite a few other people, admittedly) because I always felt like their personalities were a good fit and they could have a lot in common. The story would follow them as they unexpectedly developed a romantic friendship, bonding over their resentment of the Earth and humanity, their absent family members, a love of technology of questionable intent, and subjugating those who anger them. It would all start with Gaz agreeing to help Zim improve his suit and his unassuming human act just to get back at Dib for annoying her. At first they’d be acting entirely out of spite and necessity, but as they spent more time together, they’d start to enjoy each other’s company more.

 Gaz would be the first develop feelings, since she voluntarily rejected the concept of love instead of being programmed to reject it like Zim, as she slowly realizes how much they have in common—much to her horror. Zim would take more time but when he begins to understand how he feels about and just what these DISGUST feelings are, he’d handle it just as poorly. (e.g. I pictured a scene where Zim has such a hard time admitting his feelings for Gaz that he ends up vomiting black goo like he’s possessed or something. For comedy of course.) But they’d both start to open up to each other in the end, if only because they’re the only two people in the universe they can stand. Gaz would try to help him overcome his anxiety and stop caring as much about what humans think of him, while he would be someone that she can actually relate to.

 Dib, however, would take sincerest offense to it. He’d be totally freaking out, nearly diving off the deep end to put his plans to defeat Zim into action and expose him before he could be exposed. He’d also make a point of demanding what Gaz could see in a monster like him, even reminding her of everything that Zim had done. Probably in an exchange like this:

 DIB: He stole our organs! He tried to crush the planet with Mars! He kidnapped me and threatened to turn me inside out! He tricked me into helping him teleport Earth into outer space so his rulers could destroy it! He turned me into bologna, Gaz! (*holding back tears*) BOLOGNE!

 GAZ: I thought you got over that.

 DIB: Well, physically I did, yes, but not mentally.

 Gir would be pretty on board with it though.

The other biggest plot of the series would have been Tak’s return and the reveal of her and the Tallest’s master plan to destroy Zim once and for all: kick off Operation Impending Doom 3 by placing Zim on trial, executing him, and completing Tak’s plan to turn the planet Earth into a snack bowl for the Tallest (which she still insists is a good plan, she just never got to complete it) big enough to feed them while they watch the conquest of the rest of the universe in style. Zim and the Membranes get through to her and her squad, and possibly the other Irkens, by turning them against the Tallest to stop the Irkens once and for all. Maybe.

Finally to wrap this little nightmare up, here’s a vague outline of the stories I had planned for this wannabe whopper:  

 -A Whole New Nightmare – Following an amusing prologue about how Zim and Dib ended up missing the battle of Meekrob, Zim finally realizes that his natural Irken height threatens to expose his façade to all the classmates who have reached proper adolescent human height. He creates his exosuit then proceeds to cause a scene when he calls the Tallest and goes to hi-skool. Meanwhile, Gaz bugs Dib about still wasting his time bullying Zim. Zim then challenges Dib to a contest of normalcy: a series of challenges that are just overhyped normal teenage things like loitering, hanging out with friends, and finally a dance-off. Whoever loses has to admit they’re a complete weirdo and admit they’re most embarrassing secret. Dib wins the first round, but after he blows off Gaz to hang out with the other kids, she and Zim strike up a nice conversation and he wins the second round. The final dance-off ends in a draw when Zim and Dib both end up looking like total dorks. The story ends with Dib and Zim standing up for themselves against their judgemental peers, but Zim ends up overtaking his big speech and convincing his classmates to completely forget about his bizarre new appearance.

-Gaz the Befriended - Zim and Gaz make a deal: Gaz helps him fine tune his suit while posing as his "NORMAL HUMAN!" friend, and in return he helps her figure out how to control her powers while posing as her friend so she won't have to go to anger management counselling. While they do drive each other nuts, they eventually learn they have a lot in common and start acting like real friends. Dib grows suspicious of their "friendship," sets out to uncover the truth.

 -They Follow - Dib goes on social media to share his findings on Zim with the world in an attempt to verify all his evidence via wisdom of the crowd. Zim finds out and retaliates by joining social media as well to make himself look like a hard luck case in an effort to gain sympathy from the (basically ignorant) public. As their war of words escalate and their follower bases grow, they end up starting a flame war that threatens to destroy society itself.

-Star Dib - Hoping to find some real help, Dib sends a message to outer space looking for reinforcements. He ends up with what remains of the Resisty, who dissolved after their crushing defeat on The Battle of Meekrob. Taking pity on them, he volunteers to become their new leader. Shenanigans ensue on a galactic level.

 -C for Conspiracy - Dib stumbles across a mysterious conspiracy involving Earth tech being backwards compatible with alien tech. He wants to take it on himself, but realizes that he might actually need Zim’s help. So he has to swallow his pride and ask him for help, and as if that weren’t enough he has to put up with his and Gir’s (who tagged along) antics.

 -Night of the Living Prom-goers - Prom night comes along and all the hormonally-imbalanced kids are ready to go, except for Zim, Dib, and Gaz. Until Gaz works up the nerve to ask Zim out, which he actually accepts. While Gaz prepares for her perfect tolerable evening, Dib desperately tries to convince her that Zim’s up to something while trying uncover his true motives, only for her to snap at him and challenge his views on Zim. Little do either of them know, Zim plans to use the prom as an experiment to harness Gaz’s power for his own ends. But at the same time, he ponders whether his friendship with Gaz is just a means to an end or something more. Either way it will be a night they will never forget. Or survive! Probably.

 -The Return of Tak’s Revenge Rises - Tak finally returns to take her revenge on Zim and the Membrane siblings. Striking them when they least expect with the aid of an upgraded MiMi, a squad of berserk SIR units, and two fellow invaders Zim had wronged in the past.

 -Doomed Together - Following Tak’s strike, the Almighty Tallest kick off Operation Impending Doom 3 with a mission of utmost importance: sending in the Irken Armada to ensure Zim is destroyed once for all so they can finally proceed with absolute universal domination. Now, Gaz, Dib, and some unlikely allies must come up with a plan to save their even more unlikely new friend and the rest of the universe from the most fearsome force in the universe! It’s basically the grand finale.

 And that is all there is, or was, to Taller Tales of Terror. I can’t guarantee I’ll ever revisit it, what with all the other stuff on my plate right now, but I’m glad to have finally shared the story of my first fanfic with y’all.

 So, tell me, my filthy monkey maggot mutual friends. After all that horrible rambling, what did you think?

[blkmxrvel]

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (18)- [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

The taxi dropped her off in front of the National City Mall at exactly 12:15. Y/N swallowed hard, staring at the structure with the 4 pillars at the door, before finally taking a deep breath and walking inside. She stopped just mere steps beyond the door, momentarily stunned by the crowd that was already gathering, busy shoppers bustling back and forth between Aeropostale, Bath and Body Works, Gap, the food court…  Her head swam with all the options stretched out before her, and though she’d been here before with Kara and was at least a little familiar with how things worked, Y/N’s first instinct was to run.

But she didn’t.

She glanced around at all of the possibilities, all of the people still scattered talking with each other and laughing merrily. She could do this. She’d prove to Kara, to all of them, that she could make her own decision. She tilted her head, her eyes landing on one store. Victoria’s Secret. That sounded like a nice one. Straightening herself up, Y/N made her way to the entrance.

Five minutes later she walked out, her face red to the tips of her ears. Maybe she’d save that store for later. Much later. Although that little blue outfit in the corner, Kara might look goo—

No. No, she would not think about that at all.

She was so embarrassed she was looking down at her feet while she walked, not paying attention, but her eyes soon snapped up as she collided with someone. Stammering out an apology, she found herself face to face with the flower seller from her previous visit to the mall with Kara.

“Don’t worry about it,” the girl said with a smile. “How about you, are you okay? You’re not hurt or anything are you?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I’m fine, I’m just sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m not... I don’t… I’m not from around here,” she finished awkwardly. “So I’m trying to figure out where everything is.”

“Oh, I see,” the girl said, nodding sympathetically. “Your domme not with you today?”

“My domme?” Y/N said, confused. “I don’t have a domme…”

“Oh!” The girl furrowed her brow. “Well you had someone with you the last time I saw you, and when you got the flower you said she was someone special, so I just assumed…”

“No,” Y/N shook her head and looked off into the distance. “She’s not my domme.”

It had been three days since she’d spoken to Kara. Her nose wrinkled every time she thought of her like that. Kara. Not Miss Kara. It felt bitter on her tongue, even just thinking about not giving Kara the respect Y/N felt she deserved. But then again, she hadn’t exactly been respectful to her the last time she’d seen her. She still couldn’t believe that she’d spoken to Kara that way, acted like she had. And when Kara had been so good to her, too. Y/N hadn’t deserved any of it. She’d let herself get tired and cranky, and as a result hurt the one person who had been trying to take care of her. Then instead of fixing it, she’d just left. And Y/N had blatantly not called her in three days, and not sent any texts. It had gotten to the point that Maggie had called, asking Y/N through sniffles and sneezes if she was okay – and if she was out of her mind.

She’d told her to get well soon, and hung up without answering any of her questions.

Nia had reserved any opinions until that morning, when she finally cornered Y/N in the kitchen as she made her breakfast.

“It’s not fair, you know,” she’d said. “I mean I don’t know what happened to you and Kara, but I remember how upset you were when she didn’t show up that week you were sick. And now you’re not talking to her, but she’s called me twice to make sure you’re okay. And she sounds heartbroken. So whatever it is, I think you ought to fix it.”

Y/N had just shrugged, and said that she couldn’t, so it was better for Kara if she didn’t talk to her.

“Hey, are you sure you’re all right?” the flower seller was asking her, and Y/N focused back on her. “You look really sad, and that’s not something you should look like.”

Y/N offered a half-hearted smile. “I’m all right. I think I’ll just do a little shopping.”

“Well…” the girl looked at her flower cart, then back at Y/N. “I’m going on my lunch break, why don’t you join me? I’ve always thought there’s nothing a good meal can’t fix.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, but… it’d be nice, to have lunch with someone. Even someone she didn’t know. And they’d be going to a public place, so it’s not like it wouldn’t be safe…

“All right,” Y/N said. “I’d love to.”

“Great!” the girl said, beaming, and then extended her hand. “I’m Kelly.”

Y/N moved to take her hand, and then stopped short, seeing the small X just above her middle knuckle.

The mark of a Dominant.

She took Kelly’s hand and shook it tentatively. “Y/N,” she said softly, feeling a little tense in spite of herself. “My name is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Kelly.”

She wondered if she ought to call her Miss Kelly, but no, Y/N decided. Kelly wasn’t her Dominant, and besides, it would just feel weird to give anyone else but Kara that respect. Even if she’d never be able to give Kara that respect again, Y/N knew it would stay buried in her heart somewhere, deep enough to never be seen but just enough below the surface that maybe, just maybe, one day…

And then Kelly was speaking to her again, as they walked towards the food court. “So, what are you in the mood for?”

“Oh, whatever you—“ Y/N stopped, then pursed her lips. “Burgers,” she said firmly. “I’m in the mood for burgers.”

“Burgers it is, then!” Kelly said, walking with Y/N to the nearest food station. Any nervousness Y/N might have had dissipated with the other girl’s cheerful attitude, plus the line moved entirely too quickly for her to be too nervous, as she found herself ordering and then sitting at a table in the middle of the court within minutes.

“So,” Kelly said, spearing her ketchup with a french fry and grinning at Y/N, “You’re not from around here? Where are you from, then?”

“Oh, um…” Y/N flushed, feeling anxious as she wondered what would be all right to tell Kelly, and what she might need to keep to herself. Finally she shrugged. “I am actually from National City but…” She looked away, not wanting to see Kelly’s reaction at her next words.

“I was living in Mt. Overland House. I’m not now, though, but I’m still trying to figure things out.”

There was silence, even amid all the noise and chaos going on around them. Y/N sighed inwardly. Maybe she should just get up and leave. Clearly Kelly wouldn’t want to be friends with someone so… broken.

But a hand on hers stopped Y/N from getting up from her seat, and she looked at Kelly.

“I’m sorry,” the other girl said seriously before pulling her hand away. She shook her head. “I can only imagine why you were there, and I am really, really sorry.” She met Y/N’s gaze and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t even know you,” Y/N blurted, then colored deep crimson. “I-I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “But I mean, I don’t even know you. Why would you want to listen to any of that stuff?”

And how do I even know you would care? She wanted to add. Y/N knew it was an unfair assumption to make, but Kelly was a Dominant. For all Y/N knew the woman wanted to hear the details because of some sick pleasure of hers. Like James’s friends who enjoyed hearing her cry and beg him to have mercy on her, to forgive her. She shivered a little, remembering, and tried to press it out of her head.

“I don’t know,” Kelly said with a shrug. “But you look sad, and kind of like you need someone to talk to. And I’ve been told I can be a pretty good friend.”

“I’m not sad because of that, though,” Y/N insisted, and then rushed to add, “And I’m not sad anyway.”

Kelly gave her a knowing look, and Y/N sighed.

“I-I had… a Sir,” she said uneasily, looking around almost as if she expected him to pop up behind her, ready to drag her away by her hair. He’d been fond of doing that. “I was with him a long time, and I-I ran away.”

“Because he wasn’t good to you?”

“He was the worst,” Y/N said, suddenly angry. It scared her, the way her hands clenched around the burger she was holding, the way the blood rushed to her head and made her feel dizzy. “He was mean, and he… hurt me. Any chance he could get.” She took a deep breath, feeling the anger rise within her then fade, but only slightly.

“He just liked to… hurt me. It was almost as if… he fed on making me feel things. He’d ask me all the time. ‘Feel that?’ ‘Can you feel that?’ ‘Do you even feel anything anymore?’ Even while I was screaming or crying. He knew I felt it, and I think the more he knew I felt it, the more he wanted me to feel. It doesn’t make sense, I guess,” Y/N trailed off.

She stopped short of telling Kelly what it had been like the night she left, the thing that he wanted to do to her. She didn’t tell her about saying that word, the one word that she had never spoken to him in defiance, the word that would forever break that unspoken rule, the bond between them that was meant to be forever, that she’d worked so hard to keep forever. Because she’d wanted to be his. She’d wanted him to look at her with love, to treat her with gentleness and care even as he was punishing her. She wanted more than anything to hear five words from him, and when she never heard it, she’d said the one.

Good girl, I love you.

No.

Her mind flashed back briefly to that night, to the moment when she’d realized she’d forgotten shoes in her haste to get away. It had been raining, and the ground was wet and slippery underneath her bare feet. She’d almost fallen, sliding on some wet leaves. A tree branch had smacked her in the face and she’d shrieked, for a moment thinking he’d caught up with her. She couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder as she ran; every snap of a twig she felt sure was him sneaking up behind her, every car she heard she was sure it was James driving up to snatch her back to the life she was so desperate to leave. She ran blindly, awkwardly, swerving here and there to avoid shadows and sounds that she was so terrified were him.

The last thing she saw was the headlights of the truck bearing down on her,  the last thing she heard was her own scream.

She’d woken up in Mt. Overland House. To strangers. To doctors. To questions and no answers, to a wheelchair and useless legs. To being… nobody.

And then Kara had walked in.

“Okay,” Kelly said gently. “So not a good guy. I hope he’s in jail.”

“I don’t know where he is,” Y/N said, and it was true. She’d shown up to the House battered and bruised, and though she wouldn’t tell Nia, the doctors, or any of the council members who’d come to question her any of her reasons for leaving, a cursory examination by the doctor had been enough to describe Y/N’s wounds, those not caused by the accident, as “beyond what should be found in a safe relationship,” and she’d heard one of the council members tell Nia that James would be arrested. Beyond that, she had no idea.

“He could be just over there for all I know,” Y/N said, gesturing towards the far end of the food court. “My friend Alex says there will probably be a trial, but I don’t… I don’t want to have anything to do with that.”

“Hopefully they won’t make you,” Kelly said, finishing off the last of her burger and pushing the tray away from herself. “But you never know, it might be good for you to stand up to him again. Shows you’ve got the power, not him.”

Y/N finished her own lunch and took a last sip of her drink, feeling full, content, and confused. She’d never really thought of it that way. What would it be like to stand up to Si- to James in court, to tell him that what he’d done was wrong?

Y/N blinked.

James was wrong.

Maybe he was her Dominant. Maybe she’d been promised to him since birth, she heard herself explaining to Kelly. But she couldn’t imagine that that meant he could do to her whatever he wanted, that she was to be used and abused like a toy belonging to a petulant child. She’d been taught that once she left her home and moved in with James that she was his property, that he owned her, her body, mind, and her soul. Her thoughts were not her own, her body and sexuality were not her own. Everything Y/N ceased to be, and James’s slut came into existence.

But Kara was so different from James… But Y/N kept from saying this to Kelly, instead preferring to fall silent after her little rant and study the pattern on the table in front of her.

“Not all Dominants are like him,” Kelly said. “I’d like to think I’m not.”

“Oh, I’m sure your submissive doesn’t at all think you’re like that.”

Kelly grinned wryly. “I don’t have a submissive. I am not-so-blissfully single at the moment.”

It was Kelly’s turn to tell her story, then, about how she’d grown up in a town just outside of National City, and attended a little school for Dominants and submissives called Metropolis. She’d moved out to live on her own when she was 18, and when she was 20 she’d met a boy, a submissive. Kelly’s eyes lit up, albeit a little sadly, as she described him; he was a graceful but powerful dancer, all muscle with a sharp mind as well, and eager to please. But it hadn’t worked out, she sighed to Y/N, and they’d gone their separate ways. Since then, there hadn’t been anyone to quite catch her eye.

“It’ll happen, sooner or later,” she said to Y/N, smiling to show that she wasn’t unhappy. “I’m satisfied with my life here, with my job, and I enjoy going out with my friends and having time to myself without having to worry about someone else. But at the same time, I can’t turn off that side of me that wants to dominate someone. I just have to be patient and know that I’ll find him, or her, when the time’s right.”

Y/N nodded, talking almost to herself. “That’s what I keep trying to remember, that I’ll find… that the one for me is out there. I just… I thought I’d found her already, but she didn’t want to dominate me.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Well isn’t it a bit early for that though? I mean you are just out of a bad claim, you need time to heal and make your own decisions.”

“I know that,” Y/N said defensively, then bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful. It’s just everyone keeps telling me to make my own decisions, and I made that one – I still want to be submissive. I still need it. But apparently no one trusts me to make that decision.”

“I don’t think it’s that they don’t trust you. Maybe it’s that they care so much for you they want to make sure you’ve had time to think about it, to make sure it’s the right decision for you.”

“I know it’s the right decision,” Y/N said. “I can’t turn off who I am any more than you can, or any other Dominant or submissive can.”

They fell away from that conversation then, moving to talk about more mundane things: Kelly’s job and Y/N’s life at Nia’s, her drawings and the ridiculous shows on television. It felt good to laugh, Y/N thought; she couldn’t remember when she’d ever really laughed at James’s. But now it was okay to laugh, it was okay to sit in a food court with her feet up in a chair, to let Kelly buy them both ice creams and not feel guilty about it. It was nice not to have to think about her life with James, or Kara being disappointed at her, or how she had messed things up and wouldn’t ever be able to fix it. She thought about the birds outside of Mt. Overland House, and Y/N realized that at that moment, that was how she felt. Free to fly and just be. She’d worry about getting home later.

But all too soon it was time for Kelly to return to her flower cart, and Y/N helped her put up the trays and throw away the trash, thanking her profusely for lunch. Kelly waved her off.

“I had fun,” she said. “And I… wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime.” She smiled a little nervously at Y/N. “You know, Y/N, you’re really beautiful, and if you’d like, maybe we could… go out, on a date. And I know it’s too early to do much but if you need someone to take control every once in a while… I can do that. We can go slow, and I wouldn’t be like him.”

Y/N’s mouth opened in a little “o,” and she blushed furiously. Someone was interested in her, she thought. Someone thought she was beautiful. And it was someone besides Kara. Not to mention, this someone was offering her what she wanted, what she needed. It’d be so easy, she thought. Kelly was nice, she was beautiful too; and it would be so easy for Y/N to slip back into that role, to let Kelly dominate her and be everything that Y/N wanted….

Y/N shook her head. “I-I’m flattered,” she said softly, “but no. it’s just that, well, there’s—“

“That someone special,” Kelly said with a knowing grin.

Y/N nodded, embarrassed. “It’s not just that I want a Dominant,” she said. “It’s, I want… her, I—“

Kelly reached out and squeezed her arm. “Relax,” she said, “I get it.” Her eyes were again briefly sad. “There’s still that special someone for me, too.”

“You should call him,” Y/N said, walking with Kelly back to the flower cart.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Kelly pondered this, then asked, “What’s she like?” Catching Y/N’s look of confusion, she rolled her eyes. “Your special someone.”

Y/N giggled, thinking back to that day Kara had walked into Mt. Overland House and planted herself next to Y/N as if they had been old friends. She’d been so sure of herself in the way she’d talked, in the way she’d offered Y/N an apple slice and spoke in a quiet and gentle voice. And though she didn’t know her, had never seen the girl in her life, she’d been disappointed when Kara had got up to leave. Then thrilled when Kara had returned with promises to come visit her again.

After Kara had left Mt. Overland House that first day Y/N had sat for a few moments, then picked up the apple slice and looked it. It was the first thing she’d been given in a long time that was completely hers.

She’d stared at it for a few long minutes before eating it. And then… she’d felt a little stronger.

“She came every day,” Y/N explained. “And I sat there and I didn’t say a word, but she was loud and bossy and sometimes wore the most hideous clothes…” She sighed and shook her head, feeling herself tear up.

“And she’s the most amazing, most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Kelly beamed at Y/N and nudged her. “Then you should call her.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile back. “Maybe I should.”

She took Kelly’s number and gave the woman hers, with promises that they’d meet again for lunch sometime – as friends. It excited Y/N as she walked along the mall, not wanting to buy anything but just to revel in the freedom of being alone, being on her own, being able to handle things and to know that she’d made a friend in the process. For the first time in her life she had friends. Her own little circle of people, of Alex, Maggie, Kelly…

Kara.

She went home empty-handed but happy, and even Nia wondered if things had worked out between her and Kara now that Y/N seemed to be in such a good mood. Y/N hadn’t answered that and simply went back to her room to watch cartoons. When it came time for dinner she made lasagna for herself and Nia, who had immediately fallen in love with it and jokingly wondered where Y/N had been all her life. Later that night, Y/N chose the berry body wash for her shower, along with the herbal shampoo. She decided on the blue pajamas instead of the pink ones, and laid out her blue dress and white cardigan for the next afternoon. They were tiny decisions, but the next one was major.

She set her the alarm on her phone for 8 a.m., because she knew that’s when Kara would be awake and having the first cups of coffee to help her get ready for the day. She knew that would be the best time to call Kara and fix the mess she had made of them both.

She’d apologize, she decided. She’d apologize and tell Kara that she still wanted to be dominated, but that she shouldn’t have tried to coerce Kara before she was ready. She’d apologize for pressuring Kara about New York.

She’d ask Kara to forgive her, and then she’d shyly ask Kara for another date. Maybe to the theater again, or a picnic. Y/N had seen couples with their blankets spread out with food tucked inside a wicker basket, and it had looked romantic and fun. Maybe Kara would like that.

She must’ve fallen asleep thinking about where she could take Kara for their date, because when she was startled awake by the phone ringing loudly in her ear the bedside clock read two twenty three a.m. She grumbled, wondering who the hell would call her at such an hour, and resolving to kill Maggie if it was her whiny, cold-afflicted self. She fumbled for the phone and her eyes widened at the familiar face on the screen.

“A-are you all right?” she said to the person on the other end of the line, sounding less frantic than she felt. “Do you n-need anything?” Her mind raced with all of the things that could possibly be wrong; she was so terrified that she nearly missed what was being said, softly and nervously, into her ear.

But the words made it to her anyway, and Y/N swallowed hard, brushing the back of her hand against her eyes. When she brought it away again, her skin was wet.

“Okay, Kara,” she finally agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

[jjba-hell]

Remember the Time...

Ah, a reader-insert? On my blog? It’s more likely than you think...

Definitely a difficult piece for me so it ended up a post-mission, hurt/comfort kinda thing. 

A bit more mild with the trigger warnings: alcohol abuse, blood, kinda gory, at home medical procedure, some suggestive conversation, prostitution (mention but not expanded on- yeah I know I should probably get some better mafia entry but I think things might lighten up a bit more in the upcoming pieces) ANGST

We taggin’ @a-nonnie-mousse​ cuz I know they LOVE this mans (tho I don’t blame ya) Also to @lasquadraweek2020 and @giogio-gucci-gangstar​ cuz I need to interact more with my mutuals. 

Reader is GN! 2,2K words, good luck

You pushed past the entrance to the squad base with a groan. You were actually just after the medical kit Risotto kept in his office so you figured it would be empty but instead Illuso sat like a lazy cat in front the TV with his feet up.

“Well now don’t you look shit.”

You kicked the door shut behind you. “Of all people why did it have to be your turn to keep watch at the base?”

You passed by behind the couch he was sitting as steady as you could but the bullet wound in your side was insisting on some medical attention.

You got into Risotto’s office and ducked into the metal cabinet in the corner for the medical kit. Sitting down on the couch brought another searing sting to your side but you pushed through and peeled your bloody shirt off of your body.

“Care to share how the mission went?” Illuso’s voice rang from where he was leaning against the door frame.

You didn’t bother answering as you pulled on some gloves and doused them in disinfectant.

“Wait, what are you-?”

You went in with your finger after the bullet in your side, trying your best to ignore the pain, clenching your jaw shut at an attempt to hide what you were feeling. Showing any inclination to your pain would just prove the bastard in front of you right- that you were the weak link between them. You had clawed your way up the food chain in Passione only to end up here, Risotto telling you that this was the equivalent of ending up in exile- where they did the dirtiest work for the least amount of money. It annoyed you to no end but you couldn’t think about that way. You needed to push forward, as of now your goal was to compete against Prosciutto for second-in-command of the squad.

“Fuck, could you give me some warning before you start fingering your wound?”

Those words fell from his mouth two seconds before you got a grip on the bullet and with a scowl you looked up at him and brought the bullet out of your side with a sly smirk. “I know my way around fingering holes, LuLu. I could teach you sometime.”

You curled your hand around the bullet before tossing it aside.

Illuso gave a disapproving grimace as he watched the blood splatter from the bullet in a line over the concrete floor between you. “Relax- if it were serious I’d be bleeding out on the floor right now. Why don’t you do me a favor and go get me some booze?”

You had said that as a way of taunting him but Illuso simply straightened from the door frame and moved to Risotto’s desk. He pulled out a bottle of vodka and tossed it between his hands. “I’m not particularly good at fishing foreign objects from flesh but I can staple you shut.” That same smug smirk came back to plague you and for once you could actually laugh at that.

The last mission you Illuso had been on was after a particular plastic surgeon that knew a bit too much about the organization and the drug OD’s on the streets. The two of you were assigned to shut him up real nice.

Illuso had taken it literally with the stitching stapler before you finished him off and disposed of the body. It was sadistic, maybe, but the guy was mouthing off at Illuso in the lobby for a bad jaw job he never had- how do you walk away from that kind of disrespect without some form of punishment?

You finished clearing off the dried blood off of your side before getting up to sit tall on the arm rest of the couch.

Illuso took the stapler and rather knowledgeably disinfected the equipment before gripping your shoulder and looking at you head on. He wasn’t easy to read- it almost looked like what he was asking was more of an afterthought. “Let me know when it feels wrong.”

You were about to make a sarcastic remark but instead decided to brace for impact.

It burnt like hell but it was allot easier than getting stitched up for the little cuts like when Melone did it. It was quick.

Literally three painful staples in your side and he was done- feeling perfectly fine. Or at least so you had thought before the support from Illuso’s hand on your shoulder pulled away and you suddenly felt lightheaded.

You suppose he had taken a hint to your immobilized form on the couch and got more disinfectant and gauze. You let him wrap you up, keeping yourself upright to properly patch you up before he tapped against your injured side as if to signal him being done.

“There.” Was all he said with a stoic expression as he cleaned up the medical supplies.

You took the opportunity to hop off your seat and reach for the bottle to just try and dull the pain.

“Not so hard to take the help offered is it?” Illuso started, that same sarcastic lilt to his voice.

“Oh?” You took a swig straight from the bottle. “That was you offering help?”

You handed the bottle to him to which he reciprocated with a swig himself.

“I’m not hearing a thank you.”

You shrugged, deciding to fuck with him a bit. You stepped up and leaned in- giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for stapling me up, baby.”

Illuso dramatically rolled his eyes at that. “You have been spending way too much time with Formaggio.”

You took the bottle from him and walked out of the room. “I’m too drunk and too tired to drive home so I call the base bed.”

By that you meant the double bed in one of the rooms where the lookout for the night would spend the night.

You moved into the said bedroom and started looking for something else to replace your top- landing on an old band T-shirt.

“Nice choice.” You nearly leapt out of your skin at Illuso’s voice over your shoulder.

“Do you even make a noise when you walk?” You shouted behind you at Illuso’s kneecaps.

“Most of the one-night stands we bring over end up in that shirt in the morning.” He continued as of you didn’t just yell at him. He calmly turned around and walked away. You dropped the dinky shirt and ended up going for the plain purple one- hoping that you wouldn’t hear more history about the shirt you were wearing than absolutely necessary.

You came into the kitchen and found Illuso had left a bowl of pasta on the counter for you and it wasn’t some unexplained mystery how or why.

Now La Squadra, contrary to their profession, was actually a tight-knit group- some of the closest teams you’ve met. So when you came in, it was hard to try and meld into a group you dared say had no room for you but you’d be lying if you said they didn’t do anything to try and integrate you.

Prosciutto would lend you cigarettes or ask you if he should buy you a pack at his next stop, Ghiacchio always offered to give you a ride if you needed to get somewhere, Melone would offer checkups after injuries- granted that came with his lecherous side comments. Formaggio would even ask you for play bets when his game was on but Illuso had seemed indifferent to his teammate’s kindness until now.

You placed the pasta in the microwave with a heavy heart at your mistreatment of the whole team up until this point. You weren’t exactly doing anything to return their kindness.

So you brought the pasta bowl with you to sit beside Illuso as he stretched his feet onto the coffee table.

“Thanks for the pasta.” Was all you said as you sat cross-legged beside him.

“Don’t get used to it- that was my dinner scraps.”

Deflecting the thank you, should have known directly wasn’t the way to go.

So you didn’t bother saying anything else in favor of eating. Finished with dinner, you stretched out the same as him. “The bed’s yours.” Was all you said.

Illuso chuckled. “You’re easy to read, you know that?”

You didn’t react. It was a known fact that you flubbed like a fish when you didn’t know what to say or think.

“Listen, I’m a nice guy. Most of us do expect reciprocation but that doesn’t mean anything serious right now. I’d rather ask how you’re not used to this kind of treatment.”

You turned to him. “What do you mean and why?”

“You’re telling me you’re not used to the whole ‘newbie’ treatment?”

You scoffed, “Newbie meant getting life three times harder than necessary, not easier- you guys really are making a weird like that... Besides, why do you care?”

Illuso turned to you this time, that smirk on his face. “I deal with information. Recon and shit.” His face slowly soured into a scowl. “But since I landed on this team the rest of Passione had been closed off from me.”

You reached over to the forgotten vodka bottle on the table, sitting back and flicking the cap off. “Let’s talk then.”

You took two swigs per question, starting with: “Well then how did you end up here?”

Illuso laughed with his bottom lip against the vodka bottle. “I fucked a capo’s daughter.”

You laughed with your head back. “Figure’d you’d get here by being sleazy. But how’d you get caught?”

“Uh uh uh uh!” He took his two swigs then handed the bottle back to you. “You gotta answer a question for me first.”

You took it reluctantly, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Now you tell me how you got here.”

You didn’t exactly have an answer for that, but recently you had developed a theory. “I think I rose the ranks too quick- I was aiming at getting into Unita Speciale but that squad needs to be personally approved by the boss.”

You took to swigs and gave the bottle back- the quick succession of drinking started to make your mouth a bit more loose.

“So how’d your dumbass get caught?” You asked Illuso as he took his two swigs.

“Bitch drugged me when she found out I was fucking her friend. Got my ass handed to me halfway through the mirror- literally.”

The image of Illuso’s butt naked ass hanging out of a mirror in an attempt to get away made you snicker. “That’s too bad.”

This time you took the bottle yourself and waited for the question.

He cleared his throat and looked at you head on. “Do you ever wish you never got into this shit?”

You frowned at him, already feeling shaken by the personal question- should have known he’d want to delve deep while you were too drunk to keep your mouth shut. Didn’t stop you you from bringing the bottle to your lips. “Yeah. Who doesn’t?” You were extra generous with the swigs you were taking before Illuso tipped the bottle back down and took it from you.

“Save some for me you selfish fuck.”

He took his own swig but not nearly as much as you.

You didn’t say anything for a moment as you wondered if you were going to act out on your drunkenness or would you just excuse yourself before things got too personal. Of course your curiosity got the best of you, so with slurred words you asked- “How’d you get into Passione, anyway?”

Illuso gave the bottle a last gulp and without missing a beat answered. “I killed the bastard that was sleeping with my partner. Didn’t know however, that their murdered side piece was part of a gang. So when you have a on your tail and you’re too much of a coward to face them yourself, you run to Passion for protection. And you end up like me.”

You gave a satisfied hum and got up. You fucked up and you knew it- now he was going to ask you how you ended up in Passione.

“Where are you going?”

“The vodka is done and so am I.” You lied.

"Like fuck you are.” Illuso stumbled after you but once he was up he was much more steady on his feet than you were, trailing behind you as you wobbled through the hallway to the bedroom. He grabbed hold of your shoulders and turned you around- making you grab onto the wall for support.

The two of you, properly saturated with booze, leaned against the wall with your shoulders as you gazed into each other’s eyes. “How did you end up in Passione?”

You were pretty drunk- but not drunk enough to forget the pain that came with that question. The booze only helped to make you more emotional and more likely to spill the beans but you tried to turn around back to your destination once again but he grabbed hold of your hand again to stop you in your tracks.

“Pretty please. I spilled my guts now you get to spill yours.”

You balled your fists and tried to say as stable as possible as you turned to look him in the eye. “MY boyfriend had debts to pay to this shithole gang and he sold me as collateral.”

Illuso seemed to process your words and then almost victoriously said. “So THAT’s why you’re so fucking stuck up! The bastard stabbed you in the back, didn’t he?”

The words hit you and in response you pushed him away- it was lucky he was too tall for you to push over in your already weakened state but he did stumble back a few steps. “Fucking prick! Is that all you wanted to know? Why I don’t trust anyone? Why I keep to myself? I didn’t want to have my brains fucked out for the rest of my life so I clawed my way up through the ranks! Only to end up here! Which wouldn’t be so bad ‘cause I thought-“

You clenched your first again and turned around. You’d babbled enough at him.

“Y/n.” Illuso took a few steps closer again, propping himself up against the wall. “You thought what?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat- might as well finish what you started. “I thought you guys weren’t so bad. You didn’t treat me like an idiot so I figured you must have had some kind of respect for me.”

There was a beat of silence as you two stared each other down- a scowl on each of your faces. Then, rather awkwardly, Illuso’s hand landed on your shoulder again and perhaps it was just because both of you were too far gone to have inhibitions but you moved into his chest, pressing your chin into the nook of his neck- his hand moving up your back to hold you in a strangely comforting hug, Illuso slightly bending down to allow you to let the pain subside into him.

He rubbed over your back softly then spoke against your temple. “I know.”

There was some understanding between the two of you. You quietly separated and he guided you to the bedroom where you ungracefully face planted down in typical drunk fashion onto the bed. Through the pillow on your face you shouted-

“Don’t go.”

You thanked whatever was ruling the universe that he didn’t ask you anything. He tiredly moved away from the door, moving you to make room for himself beside you. He kicked off his shoes and splat down stomach first onto the bed.

He didn’t lull you with lies about being able to trust them. He didn’t reassure you that it was going to get better. But you suppose knowing he understood was all the comfort you needed. As the night passed you over, you woke up with a headache only to see Illuso’s hand cupping yours in the space between you.

So you laid your head back down and slept it off- feeling at ease.

[ziracona]

Sorry if this has been asked before but, I'm really curious about how you would have written Max in the story if he were to be there? He's one of my personal favorite characters and finding redemption stories about him is kinda hard (You have no idea how happy I was when I read Claudette threw him a scarf to stay warm, like yes please; he's a feral child in a killer's body, but please stay warm)

I don’t think I have been, and no problem!

If Max had had a larger role in ILM, I am not 100% sure how I’d have written his perosnality, since I haven’t had to do it yet in-depth, but I know he’d be very angry and both defensive and aggressive towards everything, warry, skittish, hostile. Not bad necessarily, but humans will raise hackles and be ready to lash out and bite if they’ve all they’ve ever known is abuse the same way a mistreated cat or dog would, or like, most any living thing. I think he’s very lonely and unloved, and it’s hard for humans to survive without positive contact and affirmation and physical affection. I mean, if we’re left alone totally, we literally just die. But since his only experience with humans—and his parents/the people who should have loved him most no less—was nothing but danger and abuse and isolation and imprisonment, I think it’d be very hard for him to be approached. Not at all impossible, but man, it is really, really hard to convince someone who’s been through torrential rains of abuse that there’s something else to be given.

I do have ideas on how you could get through, but let me think about personality first. Well, aside from aggressive, defensive, skittish, warry, and hostile, like inborn traits to go along with learned, I think he is a very volatile person. He must be enduring and strong to survive what he did and live, and so determined and tenacious. —Oh! Hang on, big one before I forget. So, I am not a forefront authority in Disability as it relates to narrative, but I know quite a bit and was lucky enough to have a professor whose central areas were Disability, Horror, and Disability in Horror. I don’t know who exactly popularized the idea of Max as having basically a child’s mind in an adult’s killer body, though I think I’ve been told it was one person or story? Maybe it was just a big fandom take. But that’s one of the most prevailing and harmful disability stereotypes, especially for mental disabilities, and horror is a massive offender in general with both disabilities and disorders, and we need to do better & listen to the communities themselves more. I don’t mean this in a harsh way at all—I don’t even know if you meant ‘feral child in a killer’s body’ that way, or meant like, ‘this feral man in a killer’s body is my child TuT’—which is a totally different statement—and even with the former, I know people have had that idea of Max super popularized and are inundated with it, and most people I think just don’t know it’s a very harmful and prevalent stereotype period—I didn’t until I was in my 20s. But I think it’s important to bring attention to it when it’s brought up. Many of the bad things done to people with disabilities come from treating them as not fully actualized humans (I guess I should say ‘us’), and some of those ways are easy to spot, because they’re cruel, and some are harder, because they seem positive. The ‘child mind in an adult body’ is a huge one for disabilities that doesn’t seem awful at first glance, but actually is a huge problem. Unfortunately, human children also get treated by and large as not fully realized humans (as in autonomous & worthy of respect and self-determination—obvs there are some differences that are important, but a child is still an entire ass human & should be respected as such). The painting a physically and mentally disabled character as childlike or mentally trapped as a child is used to control and take autonomy and gravity from our opinions and lives. It’s also just like, not accurate. But the biggest thing is that it takes agency from individuals and paints them as less intelligent, less capable of wanting or pursing more ‘adult’ things [such as jobs or sex or protesting for their rights or having informed opinions on current events and doing something about it], and tries to paint that permanent, life-long dehumanization as a positive thing by making it cute or innofenssive at first glance. While still discounting disabled as kids, passing off autonomy and decisions to their caregivers, and ignoring our status as equal and actualized individuals. Stunted learning or growth or different ways of speaking, moving, and limitations understanding certain things don’t actually make disabled people like children. They’re just adults who sometimes have some very different ways of speaking or thinking or seeming or being. But it’s super important that we’re still adults and like, have the actualized self of adults, even if our speech patterns seem weird. There’s a huge and extremely important difference between an adult with social hangups around sensitive areas and social norms, and being a child. If you didn’t know any of that, don’t feel too bad, again like, people who aren’t disabled almost never talk about disability theory or issues, and I didn’t know this till I was in my 20s. But I feel really bad for Max and bad about how he is usually characterized, so it is important to bring this up.

Okay! That all said, I think personality wise, Max would be really fun to write. Because you have two levels—you have the taught things—fear, aggression, etc, and his inborn perosnality. There is very little canon about Max, but we know he never left home after freeing himself, he steals clothes from scarecrows or whatever he can find, and he’s probably in his early 20s or maybe to his mid 20s now. Since he never left home, I’d think he’s probably a little more cautious and anctious by nature, even with all that rage. I think he’d be sentimental if he ever was given something to love. He must have attachment to things pretty easily, and would I think have liked people a lot because of that, if life had been different. Would have been a shy but friendly and hopeful farm boy. Now, he’s kind of a broken mess, sadly. He’s had it super pounded in by family he is worthless and horrific and disgusting and a monster and an abomination, so I think he expects all humans to take one look and violently feel the same towards him. Taught humans are cruel, and he isn’t safe with them, and the only thing that will stop them and protect himself is unchecked aggression.

So, when it comes to like, getting close enough to him to redeem him, it’s rough, because again, he’d be very very aggressive. I mean, even after killing his parents, he mutilated the animals on the farm in rage, and continued to viciously hurt and then kill anything living he could find on the farm, so he’s got a lot of danger, and he really leaned into violence to protect himself. It’s what he knows now. I think he’s still lonely — like, so lonely he’s sick with it — but unlike Anna and Michael, he’s never known love, so I don’t think he’s even aware of that, and it’s on a pretty subconscious level. Plus, he has even less understanding of human communication and rules and gestures than the other feral killers, so it’d be really hard to get through to him. I think about the only plausible way is really, really, really fuckin slowly, through repeated gifts and kindnesses for no reason (like Claude with the scarf but every day for three years)—the same way you’d try to get through to a feral cat, since like other living things, humans also are wary and mistrustful when hurt, but can be socialized into new situations and do have a pretty set list of gifts and actions we appreciate. I mean, if I was feral, I would start to soften if repeatedly left chocolates and big warm coats and picture books to look at, pretty rocks. I have a crow heart.... >.> Or, the much more likely option, you’d have to catch him or find him captured and helpless, and then be kind instead of doing anything bad at all, and help him for a somewhat extended period of time, nurse him back to health or such, so he’d be forced to actually realize this person isn’t trying to hurt him—they’re trying to help.

I think Max would get less hostile slowly and cautiously because like, if you’ve ever been horribly abused you know you’re afraid to be hurt again. But also, if you’re alone, there’s a battle between wanting some kind of constact and love, and the fear of trying to trust someone only to be brutally torn up again and cast aside. It’s a painful place to be. But I think once he made it over that initial trust hurdle, and could bring himself to stop shuddering at a touch and to believe the person helping him was just trying to give him food, not poison or something to choke on, he’d be absolutely overcome, becuase if you’ve never been shown kindness and then are, overwhelmingly, it’s really hard to process. There’s a lot of psychology stuff about how we form our understandings and processing of each other and the world that I’m not gonna go into much bc convoluted, but it’d be like the opposite weirdly of a Just World break. The realization some things are less awful than your cemented life understanding structure. It would feel wrong and be hard to process (and rewireing a brain takes some time), but he’s been so alone for so long, I think the longing for people would get through, and he would cautiously start to trust and be just bowled over and kind of intimidated by the strength of like, the love and affection and gratitude and belonging he’d start to feel. I think he’d be afraid, becuase it’s not how life is meant to go, and jumpy, but he’d also just be lost to the happiness of actually having some kind of positive human connection, and become fiercely protective of whoever (or whichever people) was/were helping him. Got something he doesn’t want to lose now.

He’s young, so he’s going to still be figuring stuff out, and he had an awful upbringing, so lots of confusion and anger and un-learning too, but I’m really glad you liked that scene!! 😭 and that you like Max too, because he needs more love. I like him a lot too, that’s why he ends up with an undetermined fate instead of, like, dead in ILM. I’d like to give him a fully story role sometime, when there’s more space for it. He’s such a complex and unfortunate guy, he deserves a chance to grow more right and find people who are different and have a better future. TuT. It ain’t fair how his life was.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #122

UPDATE 122: Kill the Endbringers

Last time Dinah had been taken to a hospital, and there was a very good chance Skitter would get everyone in trouble by letting her desires and ‘I know what’s good for you’ attitude cloud her judgment. Thankfully, she realized that before it was too late! Now what? Let’s find out.

Well looks like Dinah is convinced she won’t be accepted back into her home. Wow, the chapter has barely started and things are looking pretty rough already. Reminder Dinah is young. This kind of thoughts must hurt, wow. Skitter, trying to smooth things over, promises she will be received with arms wide open. Welcome home, Dinah!

“They will want you.  Just wait,” I said.  “They’ll welcome you with open arms, and there won’t even be a hint of fear.”

Oh dear. Don’t make promises that are out of your control, Skitter. Seriously, if this doesn’t go like she is saying it will...that’s going to scar Dinah so badly, and completely break her trust on Skitter. This is not good at all. I hope Dinah’s fears aren’t rooted in reality, I really do.

She even is worried because she looks pretty bad, consequences of Coil’s mistreatment and also the drugs. She thinks it’ll remind her family she has powers and freaks people out with predictions. Hmmmm...with some luck seeing her so...um, emaciated may invoke feelings of pity, perhaps some guilt if they’re aware Dinah feels so out of place. I almost would suggest she takes a look at the odds she will be welcomed back, but...but I fear they may not be favorable. Oh, geez...ignorance is bliss?

I’m not even human anymore.”

“You’re definitely human, Dinah.”

“Then why do they call us parahumans?  Doesn’t the ‘para’ part mean half?  Paraplegic, only half your body works.  Parahuman, half human.”

Hmm...is that really what ‘para’ means? I mean, paranormal sure doesn’t mean it’s half normal, it’s way above that. Paragliding is...um, it sure isn’t half gliding. Parasite doesn’t mean half a site, it’s all about adding an intruder into a body. The conclusion I’m getting is that ‘para’ is not really a reliable prefix. Thank you for coming to my linguistic discussion, was it too noticeable I have no idea what I’m talking about?

The next paragraph is Skitter making the point I was making, that ‘para’ doesn’t really mean ‘half’. She even brings up the word ‘paranormal’, like I did! Aaah, same wavelength! And she finishes her argument by saying her parents can’t judge her for stuff she didn’t choose. To that Iiii will have to disagree. They certainly could. They shouldn’t, but they could. Nothing to do but hope they don’t. I wonder if perhaps Skitter will get to talk to them before they see Dinah? I’m not entirely sure it’d be a good idea or not, but...perhaps she should consider that. Maybe.

The reason why Skitter is so aware of things like prefixes and semantics is because her mom used to be an English teacher. She has continued paying attention to that sort of things as a way to remember her. Honestly that’s pretty sweet of her. It’s...it must be nice to have something to remember your deceased loved ones by, like that. I’m glad. Speaking of family! She also mentions how she has a father, and how he is, well, not someone she has seen for a while because she puts him in danger.

As expected, the effects of Dinah’s withdrawal happen pretty quickly. Dinah is already heaving, with Skitter holding her hair. Damn, I hope she’ll be okay – but she says she won’t, the painkillers didn’t help at all. Afterwards, she says once again there’s no way her parents will accept her. You know, from how many times she’s saying it, I’m starting to fear she’s right. I want to think they will, but...with how much she has repeated it...I fear she’ll do something that’ll force the futures where they don’t accept her.

“And even if they do take me, it’ll be weird, because they can’t ignore my power now.  They pretended I didn’t have one.  Pretended I was an ordinary kid.  Pretended the headaches didn’t mean anything, like they pretended the heart disease wasn’t a thing.”

“Heart disease?  You?”

Dinah shook her head.  “Not me.”

She didn’t elaborate.  Related to her trigger event?

Oh. There’s that too. It’s going to be impossible to pretend things are fine and back to normal when Dinah was kidnapped because of her powers. I mean, measures will have to be taken so something like that doesn’t happen again, right? That’s got to include some sort of tinker technology, or guards, or something. Also, they’re a former mayor’s family. That could be used as a cover story of sorts for any noticeable security measures.

Reassuring Dinah this is the drug withdrawal talking, Skitter gets a comb and tries to make her look more presentable, so at least the parents don’t have a first sight of a young, haggard girl in the middle of the throes of withdrawal. Golly, I get shivers just from thinking about how Dinah will look. She’s feverish, she’s sweating like crazy...this won’t be pretty at all, obviously. But surely Dinah’s parents would look past all that and take her back, right? At least because seeing her like that will make them worry. Right?

...right?

Dinah asks Skitter to go knock on the door and bring her parents out. It’s time to face the music, let’s see how this particular subplot ends. Crossing fingers for a positive result! Skitter goes to the entrance and rings the bell, it doesn’t work. Instead she knocks on the door and lets a pair of flies go inside, she finds Dinah’s parents. The father takes a frying pan and gets ready, in case it’s an attack.

...

Skitter still has her costume on, doesn’t she? Cripes, what a thing to find when you open the door. No wonder the father closed the door right away! Damn! Still, I’d like to think that, if villains were to attack a residence, they wouldn’t be politely knocking on the door. Not that this fact is going to make the dad lower his guard, is it.

Of course, their first reaction is to think Skitter is trying to extort them – a reasonable thought, given she’s a villain and the first thing she says is that she has their daughter! Well, she said she brought Dinah, but still. Skitter hurries to make things clear, and doesn’t mince any words. Better that way, probably. Better for them to be aware of what Dinah is going through, than seeing her sorry state and then fall into more despair. I mean, the blow will be hard, but it’s...easier when you’re aware of what’s coming, no?

...

Gosh, that must be a nightmare for any parent.

“She has abilities, then?” the dad asked.

Oh. They didn’t know? If they didn’t, then that really adds to Dinah’s fears, then. Would they accept her, even though she has a power? Honestly, I had interpreted it all as the parents trying hard to pretend she didn’t, but...there’s really no point to feign ignorance here. Even if Skitter is a villain, she already has Dinah in her clutches.

Even though Dinah is still afraid, she accepts Skitter’s help and steps out of the car, being brought towards her family. Contrary to what Dinah was predicting – and much to my relief – her parents don’t hesitate to approach. The mother immediately hugs her, the father comes behind just a second later, which I’m sure was more out of caution towards Skitter than because of anything from Dinah. There we go! A family reunited, and there doesn’t seem to be even a bit of trouble brewing. Times will be hard for them, given Dinah’s withdrawal, but I’m sure they’ll be fine. I hope.

The father even thanks Skitter! Which she tries not to acknowledge. The guilt of having been indirectly responsible for the kidnapping in the first place, you see. There’s also something else, something that’s somewhat selfish, but perfectly understandable, in my opinion:

I wasn’t sure I felt good about that.  I’d gotten this far by making the most out of every resource I had available, and by being smart about things.  This was throwing away a resource, tying my own hands.  The decision felt dumb, even as I knew it was the right thing to do.

I know, right? It’d have been so tempting to try to convince Dinah to stay and give advice about how to fight the end of the world. Dinah herself saw that in the cards, so to say. If Dinah hadn’t said it, I think Skitter would have kept her, justifying that with how it was to prevent the end of the world. She’d have promised herself that she’d return Dinah once the end of the world was averted, even if that took two years, no? I don’t know what the rest of the Undersiders would have said, but I doubt they’d have tried to return Dinah to the family. All in all, Skitter has done the right thing, even though it may feel dumb right now.

With nothing else to do there, Skitter asks the driver to get going. She also finds two pieces of paper, probably left by Dinah. I hope they’re not meant to be private, because Skitter will have to ask someone else to read those for her. Perhaps they’re little predictions about odds? Possibly about the end of the world?

Scene cut!

Heeeere’s the team! The team and also Ballistic, who isn’t part of the Undersiders, but personally I’m not discarding he may join in some manner. The situation kind of demands it. Parian is also here.

I turned to Parian.  “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Tattletale got in touch.  I… I apparently missed a lot.”

“You’re up for this?”

“No.  But I want to know what’s going on, in case it affects my territory.”

Oh dear! I’m pretty sure it involves the entirety of Brockton Bay. Welcome to the Noelle situation, Parian, we’re very screwed right now. There’s only one hour and forty minutes until dawn, and then it’s showtime. Probably.

There’s been one sighting of Noelle. What’s she doing, I really have to wonder. Is she just wandering around aimlessly? Either way, Parian makes a wiener dog for everyone to ride, which is simply hilarious. Here comes the cavalry, riding a wiener dog! Hah! Awesome.

“This is so lame,” Imp said.  “How are you supposed to build a decent rep if you’re caught riding a wiener dog?”

Aw, come on, Imp, it’s great! Don’t be like that.

There’s some nice banter that ends in Imp having to settle for the plush wiener dog, while Skitter rides on Bentley with Heckpuppy. Along the way, Tattletale asks if everyone is okay with she taking charge, and they all ask Ballistic for an assessment of how dangerous Noelle is. Give the deets, pal!

“It’s why I’m here.  Consider Noelle a triple threat,” he said.  “She’s strong, she’s got nothing to hold her back, now, and she’s smart.”

She’s a natural tactician, he says. I’m going to have to doubt that a little, not because I doubt Noelle isn’t smart, or able to come up with plans. I’m doubting it because, well, she was in a gaming team. That’s completely different to something like this. Skills usable there may not transfer to other things. Still, it’d be bad to underestimate Noelle. It has been said a lot about how she’s very dangerous, I’m sure she’ll be a genuine threat.

Whooops, Ballistic is sitting out of the fight. So is Parian, but that one isn’t really terribly surprising, Parian has nothing to do with any of this beyond protecting her territory. The reason why Ballistic is sitting out is because he’s sure Noelle will use him against them somehow. That’s...a reasonable concern, really. It can happen.

...is Skitter seriously underestimating Noelle right now? Come on, you can’t be serious. Ballistic says the reason why Noelle was fooled with all the lies she was told was because she trusted Trickster blindly. Even though he got her into this situation in the first place, technically? I guess that, although she blamed him, she saw him as the only one who could help her. He being the only one visiting her must also be a factor, I’m sure.

“He became team leader more because he’s fast at thinking on his feet than because he’s good at making the right call.  He took it on himself to make a whole lot of wrong calls.  I let a lot of that slide because he used to be a friend.  And maybe because they weren’t blatantly wrong.  Just a little wrong, a little disagreeable.  But at some point every call was a disagreeable call and every word out of his mouth became a white lie.  He started lying to us for what he saw as our own good.  Not Noelle with her delicate state, but us.”

I read earlier Noelle was good at being intuitive and making moves because she read the situation well. This paragraph here makes it sound like they named Francis the team leader because he was the closest they got in terms of skill.

Speaking of Trickster! He may make things much worse, or he may be of help, depending on if he’ll help them or not. Personally I think he won’t help. Tattletale just said his focus would always be on Noelle and himself. No way he’s going to do a thing if it’ll hurt Noelle, even if it’s to save Brockton Bay. What does he care, if this isn’t even his world?

There’s some briefing about what Noelle can do, I don’t really see anything we don’t already know. What’s important to remark here, at least the way Ballistic says it, is that they have to get this all done before Noelle makes clones. Parian tries to say those clones are people, Ballistic quite reasonably says they’re not. And yeah, they’re not. The way those Cody clones were acting...yeah, I doubt they could be considered people. Oh boy, there’ll totally be some clones going on, right? I bet some if not all of the Undersiders will have to face clones of themselves.

As a general rule I still don’t like clones, but...honestly, the way Worm is doing it, it seems like it could be interesting to read! Neato!

The regeneration will be somewhat troublesome, especially since it’ll make it much harder to kill her. Skitter right away says she doesn’t want to do that unless there’s no other choice. Hum.

Ballistic turned my way, and he had a funny tone in his voice as he asked, “How do you think you’re going to handle this?”

“Containment,” I said.  “If I get enough spiders together, I could try to surround her in web.”

Hum. You know, I’m not sure containing her will be a terribly good idea. She has gotten stronger; the kind of long-term containment she’d need would have to be carefully planned in order to work. She can’t just be shunted into the Birdcage, after all! And anything can happen in the time it takes to finish a vault or something to contain her. It’s way too dangerous, way too risky. I’m not sure it’s worth it. I hate to admit it, but...maybe lethal force has to be considered? Because Noelle is pretty close to being too dangerous to not subdue lethally anytime soon.

I mean, personally I think it’s not impossible the characters will figure a way to defeat Noelle without killing her, but...given the situation...I admit lethal force is more and more like a necessity here. Oh well! Skitter has been really resourceful in the past, it’s not really impossible she’ll figure something out!

Still, Tattletale accuses Ballistic of having no consideration towards Noelle because he’s suggesting to kill her, and needless to say, Ballistic didn’t like that at all. Geez, Tattletale. That could have been handled waaaay more tactfully. I can’t blame Ballistic for deciding to leave right away, he doesn’t even wait for the sausage dog to stop moving before he gets off. Welp! There gooooo all the chances of Ballistic joining the Undersiders. No way it’s happening now, or at least it’s much less likely.

Then again...maybe I’m being too callous about Noelle? I just think she is a huge danger, given everything that’s been shown. It’s always possible I’m just taking it waaaay too callously. After all, it’s way easier to make these calls when they’re fictional characters in a story.

In what’s another possibly bad move, they try to convince Parian to fight. She refuses, asking what she can do to protect her territory. She’s not interested in dealing with Noelle.

“I really don’t think we have a choice.  You fought Leviathan,” I said.

Parian shook her head, “I almost wish I didn’t.  I only did it because I promised myself when I was a kid, when I first learned about the Endbringers, that I would fight them if I ever got powers.  That’s why I did it, because I didn’t want to betray the kid version of myself.”

“Wouldn’t your child-self want you to do this?”  I asked.

“I don’t know.  But I didn’t make any promises to myself about this.”

Honestly I can’t blame her for not wanting to get involved in that. Leviathan is an Endbringer who threatens to destroy so much of the world. Its name makes everyone tremble in fear. Noelle is...well, for now, she is more of a domestic affair for the Undersiders. I don’t discard the possibility Parian will have to fight at some point, but right now? I think it’s fair she doesn’t join the fight.

Not really any time to discuss it further, because they encounter the heroes. They’re right over there. Hi! Guys, there’s a pseudoEndbringer about to destroy the city! It’s another day in Brockton Bay – and I’m so making that the slogan for Worm: It’s Another Day in Brockton Bay.

Miss Militia is here, and her immediate reaction is to aim at them with a rifle. How welcoming. There’s some wreckage here, and Miss Militia wants to know if the Undersiders had anything to do with it. Skitter very truthfully replies they were indirectly responsible, which...is that really the best thing to be saying?

...maybe, because it’d be coming out at some point, anyway.

Miss Militia’s reasoning is that there are reports that fit with what the Undersiders have done in the past, and a hero has been kidnapped. Huh. Noelle is already making her move, it seems! How screwed are we?

“Vista,” I finished Miss Militia’s thought.  “You’re talking about Vista.”

Huh. That so? That’s one versatile combatant out of the fight, indeed. I remember Skitter had mentioned earlier that they should ask the heroes’ help so they could bring containment foam and also have Vista use her powers to help. That’s going to throw a wrench into Skitter’s hopes for containment. Right now, though, the priority is explaining to the heroes they didn’t do this...directly, and that Noelle is a huge threat. That shouldn’t be hard to convince, right? I hope, at least. Time to take a look!

...or not. It’s an interlude. Well, I guess that was a time for a cliffhanger, but it certainly wasn’t what I wanted to read, I admit. I wanted more of the current situation. I hope this interlude will be worthwhile, because...yeah, I wish I could skip it to continue with the story. But hey, let’s tackle it. Onwards!

Kevin Norton, hm...the name doesn’t sound familiar. Then again, it’s likely it has been a while since I read it, so it’s not impossible I just don’t remember him. Hell, it’s possible a Norton was already shown and this is a relative. Who could this man be? He has a dog, too.

“I’ve saved millions of lives.  Billions.”

Another hand signal bidding another small woof of agreement.

He’s making some hefty claims, too. I won’t be surprised if he’s telling the truth, though. A lot can happen in Worm. Who knows, maybe he singlehandedly prevented a widespread tragedy, by foreseeing it or something. Who knows.

Nobody’s paying Kevin Norton any heed. Some parts of his clothing are pretty much falling apart. Kevin talks to the dog he’s with, saying he’s not getting much money and calling himself ‘the most powerful man in the world’ when asking for money. There’s not really much success here, so instead he decides to give the vital backstory info for the reader’s benefit. Just who are you, Mr. Kevin Norton?

Seems like he was in this area ages ago, and so much has changed since then. Kevin reminisces, remembering people who treated him well, and hopes they’re okay. Meanwhile, he gets some comfort for himself by saying he has a lot of responsibilities and he hasn’t shirked them – in fact, he makes it sound like the mere thought of having left them aside is the worst thing that could ever happen.

Also, he’s very alone. Nobody to support him, it seems. As if the world wants to make things a little worse for him, it starts raining.

Seems to me Kevin has regrets. There sure is a lot of talk about courage and cowardice here. Perhaps it’s related to he being the most powerful man in the world, according to himself? Maybe if he had been a little braver, he wouldn’t be in that position – like being the most powerful man in the world ruined his life. It’s one of those ironic things so popular in fiction, no? I wonder what’d be Mr. Wildbow’s take on it.

A woman gives Kevin ten pounds. So this is England, most likely. Quite a distance from Brockton Bay. Kevin braces himself for the judgmental scolding people who give him a lot of money usually give, and the woman doesn’t do anything like that. Instead, she makes conversation, praising the dog and asking why it’s called Duke. Kevin brings up once again he’s the most powerful man in the world. Boy, he’s fixated on that.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Hm?” he perked up, withdrawing his hand.

“You had a look on your face.”

“Just wondering when the last time I had contact with another person was.  Might have been a few years ago.  Pastor gave me a hug as I left his shelter.”

“That sounds so lonely, Kevin.  Years without human contact?”

“Not so lonely.  I’ve got one friend,” he said, scratching Duke’s head.

Lisette nodded.

“But you shouldn’t forget.  The little stuff.  Even a handshake?  That’s something special.  Meaningful.  Value it, even if you get it every day.”

A lonely existence with many, many years without contact. Meaningful contact that wasn’t, say, the brush of fingertips when giving money. Makes me wonder what kind of life Kevin used to have before. So much melancholy in his tone, that’s for sure.

Kevin asks the woman – Lisette, is her name – to walk with him while he talks about himself. While the woman comes with him after some hesitation, she keeps her distance because hey, no harm in being cautious. Kevin starts talking. The beginning of his problems happened when he got into a relationship with a woman who in the end wasn’t really the right one for him, but he doesn’t blame her for his trouble. In the end, Kevin realized he’s gay. Still, that wasn’t the cause for the destruction of his relationship, anyway. It turned abusive in pretty much all ways possible, and Kevin left after a while. Since then he’s been living on the streets.

The place he has taken Lisette to is where he slept first. A bit of nostalgia there – I guess...we all look to our beginnings, huh.

Lisette is asked to hold Duke’s leash for a moment while Kevin got to the water’s edge, splashing some on his face. The situation takes a turn for the unexpected when suddenly there’s a golden man floating there. Huh. Parahuman, no doubt. Duke seems a bit...hm, ears flat against the head is a sign of apprehension, right? And Lisette is speechless.

You know, unless something changed very drastically in Worm and I don’t recall/didn’t notice, there’s only one golden guy floating around untouched by debris and dirt. Is this Scion? Did Scion just...appear out of nowhere to hang out here?

“Hello old friend,” Kevin said.

The only answer was the pouring rain.  The golden man didn’t speak.

“Wondered if I would see you here,” Kevin continued.  “Been a long time.  I’d nearly convinced myself I’d imagined you.  That old dog over there, he wasn’t even born when I left, and he’s on his last legs now.  Twelve years old.”

Apparently he did, and it’s not the first time. Kevin had met him before, in this same place. Probably after leaving that abusive woman. Kevin nonchalantly returns to Lisette, and reveals Scion wasn’t ever that guy’s name. An alias, really, like all parahumans have.

This here is the reason why Kevin is the most powerful man in the world. Oh, please give more details! I’m actually intrigued by that. What’s up?

So, looks like I was right in that he met Scion shortly after he fled, encountering him and finding out Scion is sad – even if golden man’s face never changes, he’s sad in the inside, and has always been. Kevin hadn’t liked that and went to shout at him for being more miserable than Kevin was back then. Since Kevin wasn’t instantly vaporized with a laser beam back then, I guess Scion didn’t take offense to that.

In a fit of frustration, Kevin shouted at Scion why doesn’t he go and help someone. Why doesn’t he do something useful with his powers like save people or something. I guess he didn’t use to do that before, hm. And so, since then, Scion has been the hero everyone knows...because that’s all Scion has, it seems. He’s empty, according to Kevin. Saving people is...pretty much all he has. So that’s why Kevin says he has saved billions – he gave Scion the push to go be a hero, and therefore countless lives have been saved. Good thing it was Kevin who found him, then. If Scion was as easily influenced as Kevin is making it sound, then someone coming and telling him ‘hey, go commit crimes’ could have happened too, and things would be so much different right now. Maybe there’s an alternate universe fanfic with such a premise, it could be interesting to write and/or read.

According to Kevin, Scion understands, he just...doesn’t say a thing or react much or even does anything. He marches to the beat of his own drum, except when Kevin gets his hands in the way and makes him stop the beat for a second.

“It’s almost like he’s autistic,” Lisette said.

“How’s that?”  Kevin asked.

“Too connected,” Lisette said.  “Too much in the way of stimuli, drowning everything out.”

“Enhanced hearing, hearing the whole city at once?”

“Maybe.  Or maybe he senses things we don’t,” she said.  “The most powerful person in the world, and looking at him now, he’s like a child.”

Huh. Interesting thought. I wonder if that’s what’s going on. Sensing too much at once, and willfully having to cut the connections to things – or perhaps even unconsciously as some sort of protection mechanism for his psyche. Could be, no? If so, it’s a bit of a miracle Kevin got through to him at all. Hmmm...lucky, that was.

“Why?  Why avoid him?”

Kevin didn’t take his eyes off the golden man.  “He scares me.  He chose me to listen to, of all people.  I’m the most powerful person in the world, just because of that.  Because I can tell the strongest, most capable man in the world what to do.”

Hmmmm...yeah, that sounds like it can be kind of unnerving. Scion is...a mystery. His origins are unknown, all that’s known is his actions, and those are thanks to Kevin. Kevin’s nudging is what has built Scion, pretty much.

At this point I just have to wonder if maybe there’s something up with Kevin and he doesn’t know it. I mean...there’s always the possibility Kevin is being deceitful in some way, but...I don’t know, something about him seems kind of sincere. I don’t think he’s hiding something. Why is Scion listening to him, of all people? There has to be a reason, no?

Still, that’s...such a scary thought. Because since Scion doesn’t even give any indication what he’s thinking, or how he’s interpreting things, if Kevin says a wrong word some bad stuff could happen, and I think Kevin is well aware of that. Honestly, anyone would be terrified. I know I would.

It seems Scion returned every once in a while just to listen to Kevin talk. Kevin just...tended to oblige, not really minding it much, until one night Kevin said something. Something that somehow got a reaction from Scion, and given how it was established he doesn’t bother reacting to anything, that’s very significant. Kevin doesn’t say what it is, but later Scion said it and the entire world latched onto it. That scared Kevin to no end. Okay, what was it? No way this intermission won’t say it! With all that’s been said about it, Mr. Wildbow just has to, no? I want to know!

“What did you say, if the word wasn’t Scion?” Lisette asked.

Ah, I see. So, I don’t really remember the details about Scion’s one and only word, but I faintly recall it was, well, ‘Scion’, and that’s why they’re calling him that. It seems Kevin said something and Scion latched onto it, but it actually was a word similar to that one.

Shenanigans ensue when it’s revealed it was actually Xion, because Kevin is a huge Kingdom Hearts fan and wanted to share some theories he had been building.

Okay, no, hah! Just joking. That’s just what came to mind when trying to think of something similar to ‘Scion’. I got nothing, I admit. Can’t think of a word.

“Only realized later.  Was talking about home, religion and family.  Talking about a memory from my childhood.  Don’t even remember it that well, now.  But the word he paid attention to was Zion.”

“That’s Hebrew, isn’t it?”

I went to search ‘Zion’ in Google, of course. The first result is Zion, a reggaeton singer, but unless Scion here is about to bust out some urban rhythm, that can’t be it. The next result sounds more like it:

Zion (Hebrew: צִיּוֹן‎ Ṣîyōn, LXX Σιών, also variously transliterated Sion, Tzion, Tsion, Tsiyyon) is a placename in the Hebrew Bible used as a synonym for Jerusalem as well as for the Land of Israel as a whole (see Names of Jerusalem).

That’s from Wikipedia, of course. So, as I see it, maybe it can be a hint about an origin. Nothing indicates Scion popped up into existence twenty years ago or whenever Scion first appeared floating in the air, maybe he has existed for way longer than that and heard that word before. Could be a hint about origins? Hm...

The other possibility is that it’s not so much something related to him, instead it’s something he’s familiar with. Or maybe he’s searching for it. I don’t know. Something’s up with that word, that’s all that’s plainly obvious. Doesn’t seem Kevin here has any ideas, either.

The reason why Kevin came here was to talk to Scion, and make a request. Seems that Kevin once told Scion to go fight the Endbringers, but he fears he wasn’t specific enough, that maybe he should have said to kill them so they couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. That because of that, Scion just...wasn’t bothering to try all he could to kill them, and that because of his bad choice of words, a lot of people have died. Boy that’s terrifying. It’s pretty much what I had said earlier. Part of me almost hopes this doesn’t work, if only so Kevin doesn’t blame himself for all the death and destruction.

Kevin is close to death. He came here to get his affairs in order, which he’s doing by telling Scion that about the Endbringers, and also by telling him to come to Lisette here if he ever needs anything.

Kevin sighed.  “I’m here to get my affairs in order, and you’re most important after Duke.  I want you to keep doing what you were doing.  Help people.  Try to communicate with the good guys more.  I told you to do that before and you didn’t listen, but you should.  And if there’s a problem, if you need someone to listen to, someone to visit from time to time, look for this young lady.  Lisette.  Because she’s good people.  She’s a better person than I am.  Braver.  Has to be braver, if she’s stopping to talk to a homeless motherfucker like me, following him someplace.”

Wow. That’s got to be pretty awful for Lisette. Here, Lisette, you deal with the superpowered guy who doesn’t even give any indication he wants to listen to you. Honestly, it’s a bit of a curse, given how much grief that brought Kevin, and how Lisette, who is privy to why exactly it made Kevin so antsy, will have to undergo it too. It sucks for her, honestly. Goodness gracious.

I’m not sure if Scion will come to her or not, but...what’s done is done, no? Guess she...well...will have to deal with it, if he does come. I know it’s not like Kevin could have asked her permission because really, who’d say yes? But still, wow, that’s rough for Lisette.

Of course, Lisette seems kind of panicked about this. With good reason!

Kevin didn’t turn around or stop walking as he raised his voice to respond over the sound of the pouring rain.  “Good deal, isn’t it?  Ten pounds to become the most powerful person in the world.”

Methinks she may be regretting giving those ten pounds, honestly. That’s pretty rough.

That’s where the interlude ends. I see the tags here, where the character names usually are written, only has ‘Scion’. I guess that means Lisette won’t appear anymore, which is...understandable, honestly. What are the odds she goes to hang out in Brockton Bay for no reason at all? As I see it, it’s possible she’ll appear in a future interlude, but that’s it. I hope she’ll be okay, even if she was given this burden to deal with.

So, the intermission was...it was interesting. Somehow, although half of the time I’m annoyed by intermissions, Mr. Wildbow always manages to deliver. I can’t remember an interlude I ended dissatisfied with. I guess next time the story continues! But for now, this update is over.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Sing Once Again With Me: Angel of Music (The Witcher; A Phantom of the Opera AU)

A/N: This being an AU, obviously, some details will change. Otherwise, I’d just be retelling POTO with substituted names and that’s not what we’re here for. Big change number 1: at no point in the story does Jaskier believe that the being that is stalking him/has expressed a romantic/sexual interest in him is the ghost of his father. It’s creepy. It makes me uncomfortable. It’s a metaphor now. Word Count: 1840 Content Warnings: Mild reference to depression? Taglist: @joz-stankovich @hermeowyn @sennextheassasinkingoflight Previous Chapter: Think of Me Cross-posted to AO3: here

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“Jaskier?” Y/N breathed, not wanting to break her best friend’s quiet contemplation.

He was tucked in a small unused part of the music hall’s dormitory, a room that she was fairly sure used to be a chapel but was now empty even of old props and other stored things. His knees were tucked up to his chin, his lute on the narrow window sill, and he seemed to be contemplating a single, flickering candle.

“That was incredible,” she said, kneeling beside him carefully.

Finally he looked up at her with a small smile.

“Truly,” she pressed, seeing the uncertainty behind his sky blue eyes. “You were perfect. I just wish I knew who he was.”

Jaskier raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Your mysterious teacher that Yenna hinted at. Has she been portalling you out to some great lutenist somewhere? Please won’t you tell me?”

He shook his head, eyes falling back to the candle. “You’ll think it’s silly.”

“I promise I won’t. When have I ever laughed at you when you weren’t laughing too?”

He took a deep breath, turning to her, their faces close enough that he barely had to speak to be heard.

“I don’t think he’s real,” Jaskier whispered.

“What?”

“My ‘tutor’ as Yennefer put it. It’s not possible for him to be real. Not like we’re real.”

Y/N frowned, giving her friend a puzzled look.

“My grandfather used to be a minstrel, before he married. Actually, he’s the one who taught me at first. He used to tell me stories about this spirit that came to him, and how it possessed him and filled him with music.”

“And you think that you’ve been taking lessons from what? The same spirit?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know if it’s the same spirit exactly. But when he was on his deathbed my grandfather told me never to turn aside my muse, that it would always be there and would get me through my darkest times, my guardian angel,” Jaskier plucked at a loose thread on his costume pants. “You remember how I was when I came here. I was empty. I had nothing left but a gaping hole in my heart.”

Y/N nodded. It had been heartbreaking to see this trembling, lost soul curled up on his bed in the dormitories at all times of day and night, always looking like he had lost something so great that the grief would consume him. It had taken weeks to get him to even care for himself properly, months to cajole him to coming to a practice. When she’d found him in this very room the first time, strumming reverently on the lute which had lay in the chest at the end of his bed for so long, she had lingered in the doorway, not wanting to give herself up and scare him back into himself. That had been the first day they truly met and the beginning of their sibling-like friendship.

Jaskier smiled, knowing the look in her eye and gently poked the end of her nose to recapture her attention. She wrinkled her nose at him with a giggle and an apology.

“As I was saying,” he gave her a pointed look, “I had never felt so low, so hopeless and worthless. And then one night, I heard a voice, calling out to me. I answered; I had nothing to lose after all. It was the angel of music that my grandfather spoke of, I’m sure of it. He was so kind to me, guiding me out of my own misery, teaching me, helping me, supporting me. He has been ever since.”

“So you’re saying that the reason you’ve become an unfairly good musician, even better than you were to begin with, is just…because of your muse? Or some mysterious spirit?”

“Yes. Both. I can’t explain it any more clearly than that.”

“Jaskier, I love you, but I hope I am the only person you’ve ever told that to. Anyone else will have you hauled off to an asylum. Next you’ll be telling me this place is really haunted.”

“I’m not mad Y/N.” There was a fierceness in his eyes that made her flinch, burned by his anger.

“I…I know you’re not Jaskier, I’m sorry. I never meant to imply. But that sounds like something out of the ballads we play, or one of the productions. Those stories aren’t real.”

Jaskier froze, looking around. “Don’t say that. He is everywhere. He’s here even now, all around us.”

She reached down to clasp his hand comfortingly; she had seen most of Jaskier’s moods, but in the years now that she had known him, fear had not been part of him. As they touched, she sucked in a sharp breath.

“Your hands are like ice, and I’ve never seen you so pale. Jaskier, are you alright?”

“I don’t want him to take you from me, Y/N. You are my dearest friend. So you mustn’t anger him.” His voice dropped even lower. “At times, he frightens me.”

Y/N tightened her fingers around his. “There is nothing to be scared of. I promise you.”

~

“No…No…Leave!” Yennefer snapped, brushing past the various people who stood outside Jaskier’s door waving pages to be autographed, flowers for the bard, more intimate things for the bard. She scowled at all of them, flapping her hands in a shooing gesture as if they were a flock of annoying birds, and ducked into the dressing room.

“You did very well,” she said as soon as the door had closed, taking Jaskier by the elbows to get a good look at him. He was still in most of his costume, though he had discarded the black brocade doublet and, as usual, undone half of his shirt buttons. “He will be pleased.”

Jaskier blushed at her praise. If someone had told him that he and the sorceress would become such close friends, that she would be the first he’d tell of his secret (though somehow she knew of him before Jaskier even spoke) he would have laughed himself sick. And yet, now he relied on her, alongside Y/N, and to hear her state such a matter-of-fact compliment, her second of the day even, made his heart soar as much as the applause from any audience could.

“But actually, I came here to tell you that there’s someone from the audience who wishes to see you.”

“There are quite a few people from the audience who wish to see me,” he gestured toward the crowd on the other side of the wall. “You very succinctly got rid of them for me, which is good. For once, I’m not enamored with the idea of being accosted by adoring fans.”

“This one is not so much an adoring fan as an apologetic one. I can send him away like the rest?”

“Apolog…Yennefer are you trying to tell me that Geralt is here and wishes to speak to me?!”

“Yes. I am.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Do you want me to let him in or not?”

“I…I…” Jaskier floundered. The very idea of the witcher’s presence with him, especially in this small room, after the last time they had spoken made his heart race. “I…um…yes. Okay. Sure. I’ll talk to Geralt.”

“I’ll go get him.” She vanished in the flash of a portal and Jaskier could not help but laugh. She really had walked all the way there just for the sake of sending away his unwanted admirers.

~

“I’m sorry, Songbird,” the words slipped from Geralt’s lips like a prayer as soon as he laid eyes on Jaskier again.

Yennefer cast a last look at Jaskier over Geralt’s shoulder, hesitant to leave the pair alone, before allowing her portal to close.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, plastering on a welcoming smile. “Don’t tell me the new managers took the rumors of a ghost seriously and brought in a witcher?” He flinched at the blatantly false cheer in his voice.

Geralt stared at him, amber eyes cutting through him and all of his bluster, the same as they always did. “I was…just passing through.”

“And you suddenly felt the urge to go see a musical showcase? Something you have never had any previous interest in and in fact would have scorned if I had suggested it when we travelled together?”

“Yes.”

“Horseshit.” Jaskier glared as he planted his hands on his hips.

Geralt growled, stepping closer to the bard who refused to back down.

“I was passing through the city. I felt something compelling me to stop here. Maybe it was Yennefer. Or maybe, it was you.”

“Yennefer is the one your fate is tied to. It was probably her. You should go talk to her instead.”

“Yen and I made our peace already. You’re the one I still haven’t made up for hurting, Jaskier. Please…I never should have said those things to you or cast you away like that. I was angry, and hurt, and you deserved better than for me to take it out on you. Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re right, I didn’t deserve to be mistreated like that. But I should have expected it by then. You have always made a habit of cruelty.”

“If you come with me, I will do everything I can to make it up to you. Songbird… Dandelion… Jaskier,” Geralt frowned, digging for the nickname that felt right on his tongue and hesitating before he finished his plea. “I’ve missed you. Please.”

“Why now? There was plenty of time before this for you to find me and make amends. Yennefer was important enough to seek out. But no, I am an afterthought and you’ve waited until I’ve found a new life. I’ve settled here. I have a promising career. I may even be the next star of this stage, after tonight’s performance.”

“But are you happy?”

“What?” Jaskier’s eyebrows snapped down into a crease that Geralt wanted to kiss away. He pushed the feeling down.

“I asked if you were happy. If you say yes, I’ll go and leave you be.”

“And if I say no?” Jaskier asked softly.

Geralt cocked his head, looking fondly at Jaskier. “Then I’ll ask you again to forgive me and tell you that Roach is waiting for us in the stables.”

Jaskier hesitated. He was content here, but he did miss the adventure of travelling with Geralt. And more than that, he missed Geralt. If he was being honest with himself, he had forgiven the man long ago for their confrontation on the mountain, Y/N and Yennefer and even his Angel showing him that holding on to that pain was only hurting him more.

He smiled at Geralt with equal fondness, and the other man took the expression as acceptance.

“Get packed. I’ll wait for you outside,” Geralt said, tentatively reaching out, and then, unsure of what he’d planned to do, awkwardly patting Jaskier on the shoulder.

“Actually Geralt I—”

“It will be good to have you back,” Geralt said, as he turned to leave.

[the-toppat-king]

Chapter Three: Conversations

Henry tried to ignore Reginald's presence as he worked out a possible plan for the Clan after the abrupt change in leadership.

First thing to deal with was Charles and the General. Okay so maybe saving them wasn't a great idea, but he couldn't just let them die, especially not like that. It was cruel and pointless. Death should be fast and painless if possible, that was one moral of the Toppats that stuck with him.

You don't make people suffer needlessly. Even the "ceremony" of dethroning a leader was typically falling to their death(or a shot to the head if necessary, usually only if the leader was being a direct threat and it couldn't be done traditionally. One thing Henry did remember about Terrence's death was his threat to shoot Reginald the second he had a chance), sure it was terrifying, but hitting the ground usually killed them instantly. Sometimes they even passed out before hitting the ground. It was generally fast and there wasn't much pain involved there.

Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair and pulling his turtleneck up a bit higher as a feeble attempt at comfort. At least Reginald wasn't trying to make conv-

"What happened to you?"

Dammit.

Henry just glanced at Reginald with a shrug, feigning a "I have no clue what you're talking about" look. He had a feeling it wasn't going to fool him, but he didn't know how to even start explaining anything. There wasn't really much to talk about, until he successfully stole the Tunisian Diamond he was just a petty thief going about his life. He'd gotten into a few scraps, been betrayed once or twice by fellow criminals and just...survived. Henry was nothing if not resilient.

"You know what I'm talking about." Reginald leaned back in his seat, looking over a floor plan of some kind. Henry did appreciate that Reginald was willing to help him with mapping and planning, at least. "You don't really act like a Toppat anymore."

"Out there," Henry managed to rasp out, refusing to look up at him. "That gets you killed."

"Is that what happened to your throat?" Reginald asked, eyeing him. "I saw the scar. You hid it well but nothing gets past me. I also notice that you're quite defensive. You've been in your fair share of fights, haven't you?"

Henry shrugged, falling back on signing. "Would try to talk my way out of confrontation at first. Tried talking my way out of a fight after a bigger guy thought I was challenging him and he decided I talk too much. Went straight for the throat, I'm lucky my voice box was only damaged and not completely ruined. Prison doctor fixed me up but talking hurts."

"Your selective mutism got better?" Reginald brightened a bit.

Henry shook his head. "Had to force myself to talk, no matter how hard it is. Not many people understood sign language."

Reginald frowned. "You shouldn't have had to do that."

"I did what was necessary to survive."

"You could have come home."

"Was it still home for me?" Henry frowned.

"Of course!" Reginald stood up abruptly, making Henry tense up again. "You were always welcome back here, Henry, you're a Toppat. How could we blame you for leaving when you were only a child at the time?" Realizing he had startled him, he sighed and sat back down, reaching for his hand. Henry jerked back, eyebrows furrowing with a frown on his face, and Reginal took a breath. "Henry, I wish I had told you what was going on. I wish I'd taken better care of you after Terrence died, maybe then you wouldn't have felt the need to run. But I didn't and I paid for that dearly, and I promise I'm not going to make that same mistake and leave you to handle this all on your own. Right and I are going to be right here to help you with all this."

Henry nodded, the smallest smile on his face.

"Now!" Reginald grinned. "I think we have a couple government workers to drop off and a heist to plan before we start laying low a while."

Henry nodded again with renewed vigor. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to pull off a good heist.

______________________________________

It'd probably been a little over two weeks since Henry had taken over the Toppat Clan

Reginald, Right and Sven's assistance had started to make him much more confident in his abilities as a leader, and while the Toppats were certainly hesitant at first, they certainly weren't complaining about anything. They were especially much happier once Charles and Galeforce were gagged and dropped off in a rural town and Henry had pulled off his first successful heist as leader of the Toppat Clan.

(Henry adding the Tunisian Diamond to their collection of treasures also certainly helped. Right and Reginald were quite surprised that he'd gotten his hands on it and gotten away.)

Of course they weren't happy about laying low until investigations died down. But the complaints stopped when they heard that Dmitri Petrov, warden of the Wall, was involved. If you were sent to the Wall, there was no coming back.

You either died of illness or old age or you were killed through freezing, starvation or abuse. Not even the best Toppats could escape there, and that was considering they'd had spies there for years trying to save captive members. Henry had heard horror story after horror story, each worse than the last.

He would never want any of the Toppats under his command to end up there. It was a death sentence.

"It's not getting any better." Right sighed, sitting down across from him. "T'ey're getting too close, t'ey're gonna catch someone at this rate."

Henry shook his head, poking at his food a bit as he tried to figure out a way to keep the Clan safe. They had been talking about just leaving the planet entirely, launching a base into space and only coming down for heists, but even with their resources it would take time to prepare.

"Stop picking at your food and eat." Reginald scolded, elbowing him. "If I find out you've gone more than twenty four hours without eating I swear I'll-"

"Okay, Mom." Henry laughed a bit. At least warming back up to his family hadn't taken long. They weren't as different as he thought they'd be: Right was still stern and hid his emotions and Reginald was still a damn mother hen who would kill for the Clan. "Is it possible to speed up preparations?"

"Yeah, but it'll be risky." Right frowned. "We could lose people."

"What if we recruited more members?" Sven asked. "The more people we have with us, the smoother and faster we can get off the planet."

"That's also risky." Reginald sighed. "We'd be putting our trust in complete strangers, and who's to say the government won't sneak in some spies?"

Henry tapped the table, before starting to sign. "Speeding up preparations is risky because we might draw attention, right? What if we set something up to distract them while we finished?"

The three stared at him.

"A...distraction? What, are you going to dance for them?" Sven asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We could have a small group or two hit spots away from the jungle then it'll be harder for the Government to realize that we're trying to leave." He continued. "If the Clan agrees it's worth the risk, I'll lead a group them myself to cause problems until you give us the all clear."

"No way!" Reginald stared at him. "Henry, you could be killed!"

"But w'at choice 'ave we, Reg?" Right sighed. "We're running out of places and ways to 'ide. 'Enry's smart enough to avoid capture, 'e managed to avoid us for twenty years."

"Trust me, Reginald." Henry grinned. "It'll be a cold day in hell when they get their hands on me!"

Reginald looked between the three and sighed. "Just...be careful. Please. I don't want to lose you again."

______________________________

"Are you sure about this, Charlie?"

"We have to do something, General, I'll be fine!" Charles smiled despite General Galeforce's concerned expression. "It's just a week, anyway. And there's no better time than now, the Toppats have been laying low a lot lately."

The Toppats have been hiding for two weeks now, and didn't look like they were going to be coming out any time soon, which meant they had an opening. Galeforce had been suspicious of The Wall for a couple months now. While Dmitri did a great job containing dangerous criminals, it wasn't all them. There had been more and more reports of mistreatment and cruel punishment for minor crimes.

So Charles was posing as a petty thief, by all means someone they shouldn't give a shit about. His job was simple, get "arrested", record how inmates were treated, grab some files and get the fuck out.

"If they get violent at any point-"

"I'll get out and call, I've got this." Charles promised cheerfully. "I can do it, I do sorta owe some field work for the helicopter."

He had been so lucky not to be discharged for that.

General Galeforce sighed, leaning back into his chair.

"Just...be careful. Please."

[breachtopology]

prompt: we’re secret friends with benefits and you accidentally wore my shirt to to the party so you’re pretending you came as me and it turns out your impression of me is on point and you know me better than you know myself are you sure you’re not in love with me?? \\ requested by @hermannsthumb

sorry this is so late (but it’s still halloween on the west coast? did I make it??) some shatterdome-era, halloween-themed com dram.

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Newt cracks an eye open, waking from a nap he hadn’t realized he was taking. He lifts his head and looks where it had previously been resting—on Hermann’s bare chest. Newt’s eyes drag upward to Hermann’s face—eyes still closed, gently resting.  

Reaching over to his nightstand without looking, Newt first mistakenly grabs his glasses, then his remote for the A/C setup he cobbled together from scrap jaeger metal (not officially approved, but no one has to know), Newt finally picks up his phone and checks the time. He bolts upright immediately. “Uh.” He glances down at Hermann. “Not to kick you out, but I’m gonna need to kick you out.”

Hermann props himself up on his elbows. “Oh?” He says coolly. “Plans this evening?”

“The Halloween party, dude!” Newt exclaims, leaping up out of bed, tossing the covers back so forcefully that they’re flung off Hermann as well. “It’s only like, my favorite holiday out of the whole year.”

With a yawn, Hermann reclines back onto Newt’s mattress and pulls the comforter back over himself. “In July you said Christmas was your favorite holiday,” he says up at the ceiling.

“It was in the heat of the moment,” Newt says, fishing through various piles of clothes—piles he insists are clean but just haven’t been put away yet. “We really do need some kind of mid-year holiday to break things up, you know? Why save all the good stuff for the last three months? Anyway.” Newt retrieves a white tank from one such pile and pulls it on. “I’d invite you to come,” he says as casually as possible. “But there’s a strict costume policy.”

“How gracious of you,” Hermann says, again in that cool tone. “I’m not interested in costumes.”

“Or socializing, or games, or fun. Yeah, I get it.” Newt hops into a pair of tan pants, belting them at record speed. “Now hurry up, will you?”

Hermann groans as he sits upright. His hair is mussed and sticking up at odd ends. Newt swallows down an impulse to run his hands through it one more time, to straighten it, to tuck it in place just the way Hermann likes it.

Instead, he tosses a discarded white shirt from the floor of his quarters, pelting Hermann squarely in the chest. “Here.” He follows up with a deep maroon sweater. “We’re burning daylight.”

---

They step out into the concrete hallway of the Shatterdome and start to walk toward the Mess Hall, the same direction as Hermann’s own quarters.

“You could have given me a bit more time,” Hermann grumbles, fussing with his hair, still sticking up a bit at odd ends. “I look...disheveled.”

“Hey, it’s working for you.” Newt steps in front of Hermann quickly, but continues to walk backward as he holds his arms out wide for display. “How do I look?”

Hermann looks him up and down. After a short pause, he says, “I can’t evaluate your costume until I know who or what you’re supposed to be.”

“John McClane!” Newt falls back to Hermann’s side. “You’ve seen /Die Hard/, right? Tell me you’ve seen Die Hard.”

“I’ve seen Die Hard,” Hermann says, deadpan.

“You’re lying. It’s okay. You’re forgiven. It’s unforgivable. But I forgive you.”

“Gracious of you,” Hermann murmurs with a small smile. He tugs at his sweater collar. “It’s bloody warm.”

“There’s an easy solution for that, Erdos,” Newt quips. “It’s what you get for wearing sub-zero-ready knitwear in a tropical climate.”

Hermann scowls and stops, handing Newt his cane as he proceeds to pull his sweater over his head. He looks down and lets out a groan. “Newton, this is—“

“Dr. Geiszler, Dr. Gottlieb!”

Mako approaches from the other end of the hallway, clad in a long black trench coat—clearly borrowed from someone who was at least a foot taller and broader than her—and thin sunglasses.

“Mako!” Newt waves. “Are you Neo? Dude, did you watch The Matrix? Amazing, right? That is so badass.”

She lifts her sunglasses and smiles broadly. “Keanu Reeves, he’s the best.” She lifts her sunglasses and considers Newt’s attire.

“Dr. Geiszler...Are you...someone whose clothes have been stolen?”

Newt twitches. “I’m John McClane. Die Hard? Don’t worry about it, it’s from before your time.”

Mako shrugs and smiles politely as she turns her attention to Hermann. “Dr. Gottlieb, you are a...Velvet Underground fan?”

“No, Newton is—“

Newt snaps his attention to his left and sees what Hermann had noticed—under his maroon sweater was Newt’s own Velvet Underground t-shirt, the iconic Andy Warhol banana print. Something that Hermann would never wear, on principle.

Hermann is wide-eyed in surprise. “Er, what I meant to say is...” He clears his throat. “That’s, er my costume,” he says simply. “Newton.”

“WHAT?” Newt exclaims reflexively, unable to stop himself. The corner of Hermann’s mouth twitch upwards. His expression is some bizarre distribution of mortified and smug. “I—...Yes.”

“That is cute.” Mako looks back at Newt, mildly disappointed. “I’m surprised you did not come as each other.” Before Newt can protest and explain, she lowers her sunglasses back down, strikes a pose of such genuine intensity that Newt feels momentarily frozen, before breaking out into a smile and gently leading the two of them, each with one hand, into the mess hall.

Tendo, leaning casually on the snack table, greets the two of them as they grab a couple of drinks—beer that had been snuck into the Shatterdome by some brave anonymous individual, he explains. “So,” he says to Newt. “What are you, a discount construction worker?”

Newt flips him off. Tendo laughs and turns to Hermann. “What’s your ‘stume, doc?”

Newt watches Hermann take another drink before responding, “I’m, er. Newt.” He laughs nervously. “It’s a shallow approximation—“

“Don’t sweat it, doc, no one’s got time to do anything detailed.” Tendo waves his plastic fangs. “You know. More important stuff going on. But—“ he pauses to put the fangs in. “You’ll also be amazed at how far an impression goes to sell it. I’m sure you’ve got some stories.”

"Well, yes, just the other day...” He glances quickly at Newt. Newt looks back at him and crosses his arms.

Hermann straightens up and starts speaking, more quickly and pitched than usual. “‘OSHA procedures are more guidelines than rules,’” he says, quoting—Newt realizes—something Newt had said the day before. A few near bystanders turn their heads to casually tune in. “‘So by extension, I’m the Captain Barbossa of lab safety.’”

A few scattered laughs. Hermann looks around, shocked, possibly by the getting any sort of reaction and possibly by his own delivery.

“Ha!” A nearby J-Tech officer exclaims. “That is legit.” He turns to someone on his left. “I heard the Marshall chew him out a couple weeks ago for—“

“Hey, asshole.” Newt shoots him a glare. “Shut up.” It’s not intelligent, Newt knows, but it’s enough to make a new officer wince.

Tendo lets out a laugh and claps Hermann on the shoulder. “Good one, doc.” He glances at Newt and smirks before taking a sip from his cup. Newt calls that glance and raises it with a death glare that fully transmits, Don’t you say a fucking word.

The initial bystanders disperse. Newt crosses his arms. “That’s not an impression. That’s just one single thing I said once. Taken way out of context, I might add.”

Hermann starts to silently fish through the candy bowl on the snack table.

Newt leans over to watch. “Lookin’ for something?”

At last, Hermann meticulously plucks a green Jolly Rancher from the bowl. “Green is the best flavor,” he says facetiously, delicately unwrapping it from the plastic. “Never mind that green isn’t a flavor but a color.” He pops it into his mouth and grimaces. “These are so sweet,” he says, returning to his usual tone. “Newton, how on earth do you eat these.

Newt rolls his eyes before taking a green Jolly Rancher out of the bowl for himself. “That green was wasted on you, dude” But when he looks back at Hermann he’s smiling slightly, albeit not looking in his direction.

---

For the next half hour, Newt tries to keep a safe distance from Hermann. He makes lap around the mess hall. One engineer, dressed as a pirate (basic, but effective) calls out, “John McClane!” And Newt makes a show cheering and giving her a high-five that is audible throughout the hall.

But the space is finite, and eventually his path leads him back to Hermann, who’s at the center of a small group of PPDC staff who are amused by his current monologuing. Newt slides up behind them and catches Hermann in mid-sentence.

“—and it’s an album from the point of view of a man who’s wretched, who is confronting his misdoings, his mistreatment of others, his skewed relationship with love, in this operatic way—“

In that moment, it strikes Newt that Hermann may have actually been listening. Through all the monologues, through all the rants. Newt flushes with equal parts embarrassment in the accuracy and another feeling he’s tried to push down for seven years.

“But the thing about Weezer,“ Hermann continues, emphasizing the band with an American emphasis on the -er, “Is that they created two perfect albums, so their next twelve mediocre ones are forgivable—“

“The White Album is not mediocre!” Newt finally exclaims from behind the small group, unable to stop himself. He pushes forward and softly grabs Hermann by the arm. Hermann looks up at him with a raised eyebrow, defiant. Newt turns around at the small group casually listening in. “Yeah, yeah, he’s great—excuse us for a sec, will ya?” Without waiting for a reply, he gently pulls his colleague by the arm to the hallway outside, promptly stepping in close, so Hermann is the only thing between Newt and the wall.

“What the hell, dude?” Newt hisses.

Hermann leans his head back against the concrete wall. “Being you is very easy,” he says scathingly.

With a short laugh, and Newt goes in for the kiss. Rough and agitated, how this sequence of events typically starts out. How things started hours prior in the lab, resulting in the change of location to Newt’s room to tear off one another’s clothes as quickly as possible. He slips a hand under Hermann’s/Newt’s own shirt and slides it up and beside Hermann’s ribcage, pulling him in closer.

“This is a new level of narcissism,” Hermann says breathlessly when Newt pulls away. “Even for you.”

“Says the guy who tastes like green.” Newt smirks. “You think you know me?”

“You are impossible not to know.” Hermann says, lifting his chin.

They lock eyes. Newt searches for some confirmation of something in Hermann’s gaze. There’s a hint, close, just behind his eyes, but it’s just out of reach. Despite his better judgement, Newt slips his hand out from under Hermann’s shirt, lifts it, hesitates momentarily, but proceeds to card it gently through Hermann’s hair, smoothing out the odd ends. From front to back, then around to rest on Hermann’s cheek. Hermann looks at him, wide-eyed.

“Newton,” he says softly.

Newt swallows. “Yeah?”

The faceless drone of the party on the other room extends the silence. They look at one another for a minute. And it strikes Newt that it’s longest either of them has gone in each other’s company without a word.

But as “Monster Mash” comes on the speakers, the mess hall erupts into cheers. The incongruity of it all breaks whatever was there, between them in the hallway. Hermann swallows. “I’ll be returning to my quarters, now,” he says, voice just above a whisper. Newt steps back, giving Hermann the space to collect his cane and step out. He gives Newt one last look, opens his mouth to speak, but closes it. He walks away without another word.

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [6]

masterlist

Words: 4.7k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: spoilers for season 7&8 of Game of Thrones

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: Here it is! I ended up finishing it later than usual but earlier than anticipated, so instead of waiting till 11:59, imma just post it now!It’s a bit on the shorter side so I sowy but it’s what ya’ll get since I basically wrote this in one day oof. thank you all for reading... engoy! 😘

You were walking alongside Jin, who was currently babbling about how difficult it was to have to cook for the members of his kiela all the time.

“You just can’t imagine the stress! And they eat like animals!”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye as you ducked beneath a branch. “Honestly, Jin… I don’t feel that bad for you because you were the one who turned down my help, remember?.”

At your retort, the Saeni huffed then mumbled something along the lines of maybe letting you help cut the vegetables or some other tiny task from now on.

You chuckled and repeated what you had told him before, “If you ever want or need help, just let me know Papa Jin. I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

Brushing some leaves out of your face, you sent the black-haired male a smile, hoping he would understand that you genuinely just wanted to help and not try to steal his “caretaker position.”

You waited until he sent you a smile back, and then you glanced around to see how everyone else in the kiela was doing. Personally, your legs wet sore as heck, and your feet felt like they were about to fall off from all the walking and running you’d been doing, but the others seemed to be in no distress at all. Then again, they were definitely more used to this kind of hiking than you were.

You had been on the move for a couple of hours, still trekking toward the group’s destination. The only difference was that now you knew what that destination was.

I hope that makes you happy, chickpea brain.

After Jungkook had left you and Jimin alone earlier, you were finally able to sit down and have your much-needed talk with your best friend.

“I don’t have an alarm! How the hell am I supposed to do that!?”

Jimin let out an exasperated puff of air. “You literally just got punched in the face… and making sure you’re up on time to get punched again is what you’re worried about?”

“Hey, if getting punched a few more times helps me learn how to protect myself, then I’m doing it.” You sat back down on the mat and looked up into Jimin’s brown eyes. “Enough about Coco and punching, though. We need to talk.”

Leaning back on your hands, you titled your head to the side. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re a prince?”

“Wha-who-I-not-n-no!” He stammered out. “I’m not a prince, don’t be ridiculous.” He ran a hand through his apricot locks and avoided eye contact with you.

“Oh, save it, Slim Jim. I know you’re a prince, so don’t even try to lie.”

The half-Saeni let out a groan, closing his eyes and tugging at the roots of his hair. “Who told you? It was Tae, wasn’t it? That feather-brain can never keep his mouth shut.”

“Oh my gosh, it wasn’t Tae. Have some bloody faith in your brother, would you?” You rolled your eyes. “It was the bad guys from yesterday. They said something about it after they knocked your ass out.”

Your friend dropped his hands and blew out all the air in his lungs before he finally replied, “I’m… I’m not really a prince. Some people just call me that because my father was the previous king.”

“So, what? You’re an ex-prince?”

“More like a bastard.”

“Wait, so you’re like the Jon Snow of Illain?” Your eyes twinkled in excitement.

Jimin raised his eyebrows and looked down at your buzzing figure. “You know that Jon wasn’t actually a bastard, right?”

“Eh.” You waved your hand dismissively. “With how the writers treated that information in season eight, he might as well have still been one.”

“That… is a fair point.”

The conversation died down and all you could hear was the sound of the forest for what seemed like several minutes but was probably only ten seconds.

“Jimin…”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jimin had sat down next to you and explained why knowing his heritage was dangerous, for you and him. He began his story by having you recall how his mom had stumbled into Illain (you still weren’t sure how that would happen, but hey, no point wondering about it now) and met and fell in love with his dad. What he had left out, was that his dad had been the king of Illain and was already in an arranged marriage. He didn’t love the queen and vice versa, but nevertheless, he had to keep his relationship with Jimin’s mom a secret. Both because it would have been considered taboo in addition to how it would have caused an uproar among the court officials.

Shortly after Jimin’s mom found out she was pregnant, the queen discovered the relationship and… she had not been pleased. She ended up murdering Jimin’s father and tried to kill his mom as well. Luckily, she had been able to escape back to Earth with the help of a friend, who had been one of the few who knew about her.

Once the king’s guard (who didn’t exactly excel at their job, in your opinion) caught the queen and interrogated her, it was reported that she kept saying that she wanted to see Illain fall into chaos and how she needed to eradicate the “key within the bloodline.” Whatever that meant. Nobody could really make sense of her, it was like she had suddenly went batshit insane.

After the events, nobody thought much of her words, beyond them being those of a crazed person. The world grieved and then crowned a new king. Eventually, the Saeni forgot about what the previous queen had said… until five years later. Stories rose up about an anarchist who preached about unleashing pain and suffering upon all of Illain. Those who felt as though the world was against them, that life hated them, that the gods mistreated them, were captivated by his message and joined his ranks. They began terrorizing Illain in the name of an unknown person, Uzjuk, and were soon known as the draikensu, or “the dark ones.”

Over the years, the draikensu had somehow learned that the deceased king had had a child out of wedlock, and they turned their attention to finding that child. To finding him and eradicating the “key” that lived within him. Nobody knew what they meant by that, but it was clear that it was not safe for Jimin to be honest about who he was. Which was why he goes by Chim in Illain and why he didn’t tell you the full story from the beginning. Those who know of his heritage are not only in danger themselves, but they also put Jimin at risk of being exposed. The only ones who are supposed to know are Jimin’s kiela, his father’s friend (who was the new king), and now you. Though, obviously, somebody else must have figured it out because the draikensu from yesterday had known.

As for your destination, Jimin had informed you that he had been summoned to the royal palace. He didn’t know exactly why and neither did his kiela, who had been sent to retrieve him, but the king had said he was needed urgently.

What a fucking shit show.

You had gotten some answers, but in their wake, more questions had sprung up. Who the hell was Uzjuk? What was the “key” within Jimin? Why did the king need him? Do the Saeni even train their royal guard? You pondered the questions as you stepped around a big hunk of rock that was covered in moss. Yet, although more unknowns had arisen, there was one thing you definitely knew: there was no way in hell you weren’t going to learn how to fight now. It was only a matter of time before more of those draikensu fuckers came after Jimin again. You needed to be ready. You wanted to help protect him. There was only one week left of travelling before you reached the royal palace, and you didn’t know what was going to happen once you got there. Would you be able to continue training with Jungkook? Would you all turn around and go back to the tree bridge?

Ugh. More questions!

No matter the case, anything was better than nothing, so you were going to make the most of the asshat’s training in the upcoming week.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Come on, little scorja! Wake your cute ass UP!”

You groaned and tried to push the weight on top of you off, but it only collapsed onto you even more and began poking your sides.

You cracked an eye open and whined, “Tae! Let me sleep!”

It was so damn early that your petals from yesterday were still in effect.

“Nu’uh! A little flower, aka you, told me yesterday that you needed to be up two hours earlier than usual to go to school.” He hoisted you up and you hung limply in his arms, making him hold your dead weight. “So, I’m your alarm clock and I say it’s time to get up!”

He emphasized his words by giving your body a hard shake. You reacted by slapping a hand over his face and then smacking him again and again in various locations on his head.

“Where’s the freaking off button?”

You continued smacking him until you heard his whimpers of how he had just wanted to help. You looked up into his pouting blue eyes and instantly succumbed to them.

Dammit. He knows how to get to me.

“Ugh, fine.”

He beamed, mood instantly shifting back to delighted. He gripped your head in his hands, squishing your cheeks and contorting your face into a forced, closed-lipped smile. “Ah! There’s that pretty, scorja smile!”

That made you genuinely laugh, and you peeled his hands away while stuck your tongue out at him. Then you pulled him into a hug, and whispered into his ear, “Thanks for waking me up, Tae.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back. “Oh! Here are your petals for the day.”

You took the delicate objects out of his palm and popped them into your mouth, stretching once their disorienting effects went away. You looked around and noticed that, besides Yoongi giving the two of you a glare for waking him up, the rest of the kiela was still snoozing away except for…

“Good, you’re up. Let’s go.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw Jungkook dropping down from a tree. He had a bow and quiver in his hand, and you wondered where he got it from since you hadn’t seen them before.

“I’ll see you later Tae Tae!” You parted after giving the Saeni a kiss on his cheek.

“They grow up so fast.” He wiped away nonexistent tears as he returned to his on-watch spot. “Learn lots and be safe!

You approached the burgundy-haired Saeni while chuckling. “Good morning, Coco.”

He grumbled out a “good morning, human” and started walking into the trees, leaving you to trail after him.

Jogging to catch up, you asked, “Where’d you get that bow? It’s not Tae’s and I didn’t think anyone else had one, besides Jimin of course, but his is… I don’t know where it is.” You briefly paused to admire a funky looking plant with wavy leaves before continuing. “Is that Jimin’s?”

Jungkook raised a brow at your talkative attitude, bewildered you were that peppy after just waking up. “Not Jimin’s. It’s a spare we keep in a … magic locker? I’m not completely sure how it works, but Yoongi is able to tuck things away into a space and I asked him to bring this out for you last night. It’s one of Tae’s old bows that he used during training. It’ll be easier for you to draw with.”

“Oh. Um, thanks for having him do that.”

It was another small glimpse into the thoughtful and soft side of Jungkook that often, or more like ninety-five percent of the time, disappeared around you.

After the two of you had walked far enough into the foliage to not wake up the others, Jungkook abruptly stopped, which caused you to stumble as you tried to evade running smack dab into his back.

As you regained your balance and moved around to face him, he said, “Okay, today we’re going to start by correcting your pathetic punching technique and then we’re going to do some tests with various weapons to-”

“You’re going to let-”

“Uh… I’m not finished.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

You couldn’t stop your snort. “Geez, who are you? Tyler the Creator?”

“No. I’m Jungkook the Maknae.” He said in a serious tone, lifting his chin up.

You blinked at him. “I… literally cannot stand you.”

“Perfect. We’re on the same page then, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? Wooow.” You smirked and placed your hands on your hips. “I’ve really gotten an upgrade on my nickname.”

“I swear to Exia, if you don’t let me finish, little human-”

“Oop. There it is.”

He growled.

“Alright, alright.” You raised your hands to signal your peace. “I’ll stop and be a good girl for you.”

Jungkook’s body froze and his pupils dilated as he stared at you. The only movement coming from his form was now the rising and falling of his chest.

You furrowed your brows. Sure, your words could’ve sounded a bit sexual, but you didn’t think you had to worry about the male in front of you thinking that way. Not with his low opinion of you. Plus, some part of you was still convinced that the boy was celibate as hell. Though, you found it odd that he wasn’t moving or taking his green eyes off of you.

“Jungkook?” You pursed your lips.

His eyes bugged out at your voice and he looked away before clearing his throat. “Ah, as I was saying, we’ll test out different weapons to see what kind of fighter you’ll be. Hence why I got the bow. You’ll also try out some throwing knives, a dagger, and a short sword.”

Anticipating your question, he quickly rolled his eyes and said, “Yes, I’m letting you use my short swords.”

“I just figured that you wouldn’t want anyone else touching your shit. Especially me. You seem a little… possessive in that way.”

He shrugged, shifting his gaze to the leaves above his head. Though you didn’t miss his hand moving to gently touch the handle of his ruby dagger.

That must be the thing he gets stingy with. I wonder what’s so special about it?

“We won’t be trying out a normal sword though, because, quite frankly, you just aren’t strong enough for that.”

You couldn’t even get mad at him for saying that since it was probably, most likely, definitely true.

Before anything else happened, Jungkook set down the spare bow and its quiver and led you through a series of static and dynamic stretches. Even though you already knew how to properly warm up your body, you were a dancer for crying out loud, you let him do his thing. Not only did you not want to piss him off, but he was also the one who offered to train you, so you were going to listen and do as he instructed… But he didn’t need to know that you were more focused on the birds’ singing and chirping than his voice while you stretched your quad.

“Alright, I want you doing that before every session, got it?”

You gave him a salute after brushing off your dirt-covered butt. “Aye, aye captain.”

He then directed you to show him how you held your hand during a punch. You did so, and he immediately sighed. He took your fist in his rough, scar-covered hands and turned it this way and that, observing and clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction.

“At least your thumb isn’t inside your fist. It’s good you know not to do that.” He prodded at the appendage. “Move it to rest below your curled fingers, between your pointer and middle fingers.”

After allowing him to adjust you as he saw fit, he also told you to squeeze your fist more, but not to the point of cutting off circulation. You listened attentively to his directions as a crisp morning breeze ruffled both of your hair. When he was pleased with your first, he nodded.

Tapping the knuckles of your ring and pinky fingers, he said, “Never lead your punch with these because it’ll break the shit out of your hand. And don’t try to make contact with this part,” he rubbed the flat part of your fingers that was between the knuckles, “always make contact with your actual knuckles, okay?”

“Okay.”

He went on to show you the proper stance as well as the best way to utilize your weight and momentum in an attack.

“Before I have you practicing actual punches on me, I want you to just practice the action to get the movement and feeling down so that you’re comfortable with it.”

With that, he told you that you were now going to start working with some weapons. Not to learn any advanced moves with them, but to simply see if you had a natural affinity for a any certain type. Your mind reeled a bit at how he wanted you to practice before punching, but was about to hand over some weapons and just… let you have at it? It seemed a wee bit backwards to you, but oh well. You were honestly more surprised with how patient and informative Jungkook had been thus far. He had yet to be condescending or snappy toward you. Instead, he gave off the impression that he was… excited. It was apparent that he really enjoyed fighting, both physically and conversationally. Even if it was just teaching a little human like yourself the basics, his voice was lighter and his eyes brighter than they usually were in your presence.

You were brought out of your head when he handed you a throwing knife, the coolness of the metal making you jump out of your thoughts. The blade was about ten inches long with cut-outs and it had a thick, sharp point. He told you that the end you hold when throwing depends on the blade, and to always hold whichever end is heavier, as it creates a more forceful throw. You hummed, and he moved on to show you how the grip the knife: pointer, middle, and ring fingers on one side, thumb on the other, and pinky finger curled at the bottom. When you finally grasped the blade correctly, he made a noise of satisfaction and eased it out of your hand. Then, he demonstrated how to move your body and follow through on the throw. He repeated the motion a couple of times and on the third he calmly released the knife and it embedded itself deep into a tree trunk a solid 25 feet away.

You whistled. “Well hot damn, Coco.”

He smirked at you and told you to go through the motion. You felt like you were transported back to when you were in little league softball, learning how to throw a ball for the first time. After several minutes of you throwing nothing and him tweaking your form, he gave you another knife identical to the previous.

Taking a deep breath and settling yourself into position, you waited for a big gust of wind to subside. Once it passed, you brought your arm back, took a small step, and threw the knife forward. Er… you had wanted the knife to go forward. You must have released prematurely, though, because it went up and to the right instead. Wincing, you held your breath as you waited for the asshat to say something about your misshap.

“Again.” He only handed you another blade.

This time, the knife went forward, but it still missed the tree by a good 10 feet.

“Again.”

Another blade. And another miss. This one to the left of the tree, since you had tried to compensate for your previous blunder.

“Well… that wasn’t as bad as Namjoon hyung, I’ll give you that. Though it still kind of sucked.” His green eyes met yours and you were shocked to see that they held no malice. “And yeah, yeah, yeah, I know ‘it’s your first time,’ but I don’t think you’ll be our new Hobi, sweetheart.”

“I… yeah, me neither.” You released a stream of light laughter as you thought about your failed attempts. “What’s next?”

“Dagger.” Jungkook reached behind him and withdrew a short, curved blade.

“What the heck,” you gasped, “I didn’t even know you had a dagger back there.” You ogled at him like he had just performed a magic trick.

He raised an eyebrow at you, mouth slightly curving upward. “That’s kind of the point, little human. It’s supposed to be hidden.”

Once your awe at his abracadabra moment faded, he asked if you had ever used a dagger before.

“No? Well, um, not before the… tent,” you said in a small voice.

“Oh, right.” He coughed awkwardly. “Uh, so anyway, you know how to use it on a surface level, yeah?”

You gestured to the end of the dagger, which was gleaming in the morning sunlight. “Stick ‘em with the pointy end.”

Come on… there was no way you couldn’t say that.

He looked at you blankly for a few moments, and you were about to tell him it was just a reference, but then he tipped his head back and yelled.

“Not that fucking line again! Chim wouldn’t stop saying it one summer and it haunts me!”

“Wait, you know Game of Thrones?”

“Is that what it’s called? I don’t know, sure. But that’s a quote from the wolf girl, right?”

You excitedly nodded and clapped your hands together rapidly, hoping you could take a short break and talk about the show.

The burgundy head moaned in defeat. “And to think I already had all the reasons to not like you, you go on and say that.” He chuckled to himself in pity.

You didn’t join him, though. The brightness of your eyes died at his words and you looking away from him.

Why are you so upset, Y/N? You knew he didn’t like you.

Well, maybe if he wasn’t so fucking back and forth between being civil and then saying something like that out of the blue, it wouldn’t be so shocking. You had also thought that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t dislike you anymore after the whole draikensu ordeal. Or at least, you thought that he wouldn’t be so openly vocal about it. Looks like you were wrong.

When he realized that you had gone silent, and he thought back to what he had said, his green eyes widened.

“I didn’t-I mean, I don’t…” He sighed when he saw all the playfulness gone from your y/e/c eyes when you returned your gaze to him. “Anyways, here’s how you use it.”

Eventually, you disregarded his comment and focused on the matter at hand. You knew you wouldn’t be drawn toward fighting with a dagger, especially after the other day, but you didn’t want to half-ass your way through it. After going through the dagger and the short sword, both of which you were mediocre at, Jungkook picked up the bow.

Prior to handing it to you, though, he presented an arm guard. Quickly slipping it over your wrist, you grabbed the bow and one of the arrows he offered.

Much to his surprise, you already knew how to notch an arrow. You threw a smirk his way. You also vaguely remembered the basic grip and stance for archery, so you fell into what you hoped was the proper form.

Thank you, middle school archery seminar.

Ignoring your smug display, Jungkook crossed his arms and told you to draw back. Gritting your teeth slightly at the tension, you did and waited as circled and assessed you. After a while, your arms were beginning to shake from holding the position, your muscles not used to that kind of exertion.

“You need to raise your arm a little bit.”

He stepped up right behind you, bringing his chest flush to your back, in order to correct your form. As you felt his firm front pressed against you, you flashed back to when you saw him shirtless. To when his muscles were out on full display and his thick thighs were evident through his damp plants. You recalled how utterly good he had looked, half-naked and dripping water.

Shit. Y/N, snap out of it!

You shook your head like the physical action would make the thoughts fly out of your mind.

“No?” You heard Jungkook question.

“Wha-huh?”

“I asked if feels comfortable for you? The position?”

Hell yes, does it feel comfortable… AH STOP IT! HE’S TALKING ABOUT THE SHOOTING POSITION, YOU HORNY IMBECILE!

Coughing, you choked out a yes. He looked down at you in confusion for your weird reaction, but instead of inquiring about it he just hummed and stepped away.

You were almost appalled with yourself. Yeah, he was really good looking, hot even, but how could you be thinking about the asshat in that way? You know, the person who basically hated your guts? Not to mention the fact that you had a big, fat, lovey-dovey crush on your best friend… and Jungkook was most definitely not your best friend!

You seriously wondered how he could make you feel so many different things in such a short span of time. You had gone from perky, to teasing, annoyed, happy, excited, disappointed, angry, and finally hot and bothered all within two damn hours.

You were so confused by this male and his words and actions. It was truly exhausting to try to keep up with his mood swings. You dropped your arms with an irked sigh, lowering the bow and bringing some relief to your straining arms.

“Everything okay?” The Saeni asked, his voice sounding slightly concerned.

“Yeah, I’m just… my arms aren’t used to this, and they were hurting. Go ahead and make fun of me for being such a weak, little human.” You had tried to add some fire behind your last statement, but it came out with barely a flicker of heat. You were just too confused as to whether you wanted to be turned on, mad, spiteful, or ashamed.

“Whoa, hey look, I’m sorry for what I said earlier… about, you know, not liking you… it’s just-I don’t-”

“You don’t have to like me, Jungkook. I don’t need every person I come across to like me.”

“It’s not that, it’s-I don’t know-”

You whirled around to face him, and you could see that his face was heating up. Yours was too, but yours was in complete frustration.

“Well, if you don’t know, then can you figure it out for fuck’s sake? If you like me, then great, like me and be pleasant toward me. If you don’t like me, then fine, don’t like me and be a dick.” You were in his face at this point, poking his solid chest with your pointer finger. “I just need you to fucking stop with the going back and forth! I never know which Jungkook I’m going to get, and I’m constantly worried I’ll say something to set you off and I don’t know what it’ll be, and it’s so. Damn. Annoying!”

You turned back around and raised the bow, shooting at a nearby tree. Although it didn’t hit where you had aimed, the arrow still thumped into the trunk nonetheless. Jungkook gaped at you as you angrily faced him once more and shoved the bow at him.

“I want to be an archer. And I want to learn hand to hand fighting. Does that sound good with you? Alright, perfect.” You didn’t even give him a chance to reply before you began stomping your way back to camp. “Thanks for the lesson Coco, I’ll practice the punching and see you bright and early tomorrow.”

As the burgundy-haired male watched your back vanish into the trees he let out a curse and crouched down, gripping his head with both hands. He stayed that way for minutes, letting himself be enveloped by the sounds of the leaves, birds, and bugs… but it wasn’t enough to make the sound of your echoing voice disappear from inside his head. He released a loud noise of annoyance and frustration, and moved a hand to clutch the handle of the dagger strapped to his waist before whispering to the trees, “What the fuck am I doing?”

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