#i could fix all his problems AND prevent one’s that don’t exist yet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

obsidiancreates · 3 years ago

Text

An Honest Talk

(Got to the episode where Valerie gets the ghost hunting stuff. I just want her to be happy and not Filled With Vengeful Rage so, here's this.)

Jazz sees the whole thing.

Really, Valerie isn't even good at hiding it. As soon as that Ghost Hunter shows up at that school game, Jazz figures it out. Not just because her voice is the same, but because of the insults she shouts while hanging in that basketball hoop. Sure, Jazz is in a higher grade, but she's heard that A-Lister group plenty of times in the hallways and after school.

They're real jerks. But not murderous jerks.

So she decides to do something about it. No-one attacks her baby brother. ... Well, except other ghosts. But Jazz can't always help with those.

This? No problem.

"Hey, Valerie."

Valerie jolts, yelping and almost dropping what is clearly some kind of ghost-detecting device. "Who are- ugh, aren't you Fenton's sister? What do you want?"

"To talk to you," Jazz says in her most empathetic voice. "I noticed you're having kind of a rough time."

"Why do you care?"

"Because my brother does." Cares about not being pummeled, at least. But Jazz is sure Danny hopes the best for his schoolmate, even with the attacks.

Valerie huffs. "Great, pity from the loser kids."

"Come on, it won't hurt to talk about it?"

"Talk about what? That some ghost kid and his dog ruined my life? That we're broke, and all my friends hate me for it? yeah, talking will fix everything."

Jazz sits down on a bench, and pats the seat next to her. Valerie looks away.

But then... she sighs. And sits. "I keep thinking about that five hundred dollar shirt I ruined. Maybe if e hadn't bought that, or I hadn't worn it to school, we'd be a little better off right now."

"It's not your fault."

Valerie grits her teeth. "Yeah. It's that ghost kid's."

"Ghost kid?"

"... You believe in ghosts, right? Because of your parents?"

Jazz nods. "Plus, that thing during the school game,, Kind of hard to deny."

"Heh. Yeah. ... That dog broke into the place my dad was working for. he was showing off what he did for their security, and none of it stopped the dog or the kid. And then they showed up again at the garage sale and wrecked our moving van, and the dog stole my lunch after all my friends rejected me!"

Valerie wipes her eyes, scowling. "It's not fair!"

Jazz hands her a tissue. "It's not, not at all."

"I wanna destroy that kid," Valerie growls. "Like he destroyed me."

"... Valerie... how old is he?"

"About my age, I think."

"And he's a ghost."

"Yeah. And?"

"So... how do you think a ghost kid comes to be?"

Valerie doesn't reply. But after a moment, her eyes widen a little. "Oh... no, no, but... but he's a kid. He can't be any older than me."

"Yeah," Jazz says softly. "So something horrible must have happened to him already."

Valerie looks at the device in her hands. "... But... he still ruined my life." She sounds a bit unsure now.

"Maybe he didn't mean to. I mean... imagine one day you wake up and everything is... different. Suddenly you've got no gravity, and-and no-one can see you sometimes and you're this weird thing-"

God, how scared was Danny when it happened? She's pretty sure by now that it was The Accident that did it, she can't think of anything else that explains it. What was it like for him, waking up as something different?

"It would be tough," Jazz finishes, looking at Valerie.

Valerie still won't meet her eyes, looking at the beeping device. "Then why is he following me around?"

"... Well... does he show up first, or the dog?"

Valerie thinks for a long moment. "... The dog. It's always the dog."

"So maybe he's trying to catch it."

"... I mean, I guess that could be it. But he's been fighting me!"

"And you've been fighting him."

"But-! ... Aw, geez..." Valerie deflates. "What do I do now, then? I can't... I can't keep attacking some kid who... we've barely lived, I can't just make it so that he's barely lived twice."

Jazz stands up and offers her hand. "How about we try talking to him?"

Valerie looks at her. "For real?" She's skeptical.

Jazz nods. "For real. Maybe we can clear some things up."

Valerie turns away again. And then, with a hefty sigh...

Takes Jazz's hand.

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

"Cujo?" Danny calls out. "Cujo! We need to get you back to the Ghost Zone, buddy! Come on, where is he?"

Someone clears their throat behind him, and he yelps as he shoots up in the air.

He turns around, and sees possibly the worst thing he could see right now.

His sister, and his hunter.

"Hello, Ghost Boy!" Jazz calls out.

"Um... hi." Danny waves, still looking startled.

Jazz nudges Valerie, and Valerie huffs. "Hi," she says shortly. Jazz smile at her, though.

"I'm here to mediate a talk between you two," Jazz says, walking closer (and somewhat pulling Valerie along behind her). "I figured there might be more to this story than we all three think."

"Um, you're not- I mean, I'm a ghost, you're just... casual about this?"

Jazz nods. "My parents are well-versed with ghosts, this is nothing."

A straight-up lie. Jazz hadn't even believed in ghosts until she peeled Spectra. But maybe it's to save face for Valerie? Or maybe Jazz recognizes him as the ghost from that day.

"Anyway," Jazz says, "Valerie here has something to say."

Valerie, arms cross and back hunched angrily, glares at Danny. "Who are you, and why are you out to get me?"

Danny floats back down to the ground, standing on it now. "I'm, um... Phantom-"

Valerie gives him a disbelieving look.

"Uh, Ghost Names are uh, different! It's this whole thing. And, I'm not out to get you, I swear. It's all been terrible coincidences."

Valerie scoffs.

"Val, we're here to listen," Jazz reminds gently. "Let him explain his side of things, and then you can explain yours, and we'll come to a solution. Trust me, I read a book about this."

Danny doesn't doubt it. "I don't own that dog, I found him wandering around outside. I thought he was cute at first, and then he turned into the big dog that keeps haunting you."

"And why's he doing that?" she snips.

"I don't know yet." Danny rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I'm trying to send him back to the Ghost Zone, but he keeps coming back out! I'm starting to think it's some cliche 'unfinished business' thing. But until I can figure it out I don't know how to get rid of him. All I can do is try to minimize the damage."

"Doing a great job." Valerie rolls her eyes. "Ruining my father's business, ruining our garage sale, ruining my lunch!"

"I swear, I was trying to help! He's really, really hard to get under control! He's like five times my size!"

"And you can't grow bigger and handle it that way?" Valerie retorts.

"No! I'm only a few months into this, I-"

He cuts himself off at the look on Valerie's face. "What?"

"A few months? ... So... so I could've known you?" Horrified, is the best word for her expression.

Danny shrinks, holding his bicep and hunching a little. "Um, nevermind. I just mean I'm not super powerful."

"No, no, we're going back. Did I know you? Is this a revenge thing?"

"What? No! I already told you, I'm trying to help prevent things from getting worse! And... no. I'm a loser kid, and you're popular."

"... Was," Valerie says quietly. "... All my friends ditched me when I lost my money."

"That's awful."

Valerie nods. "I don't know why I thought they liked me for more than money, looking back. But it still hurts. Being a lonely loser is the worst."

"Tell me about it," Danny mutters. "I mean, I have friends, but sometimes some stuff just makes you feel alone no matter what."

He thinks he sees Jazz tear up at that, but he's not sure. He's distracted by Valerie letting out a sob.

"I don't have anything left," she says, voice quavering. "I don't have the popularity, I don't have money, I don't have the grades..."

"... So you turned to revenge?" Jazz's voice is soft.

Valerie sobs again, and Jazz gives her some comforting slow pats on the back. She looks at Danny, nodding at Valerie.

Danny gets the hint. "You... you could, um, make something, more?"

Valerie gives a somewhat bitter teary chuckle. "What is that supposed to mean, huh? I'm already hunting ghosts. It's... something."

"... You could try to make new friends."

"Oh sure, that's easy. I'm a social pariah."

"So am I. But even just one or two friends helps a lot."

"You got a lot of ghost buddies?"

"... Humans, actually. An if I can make friends with some high school kids as a loser and a ghost, you can make friends too. You just might have to lower your social radar a bit."

Valerie rubs her arm. "... You're really not out to get me, are you?"

"No, I'm not. I want to protect people, not hurt them."

"... I'm sorry I shot those missiles at you."

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep the dog contained."

"... I'm sorry you're a ghost so young."

Danny snuffles a little. "... Thanks." Sometimes he is, too.

Valerie looks at her hand, and then holds it out to him. "Truce? I won't mess with you. I can't promise the same about that dog if it keeps showing up, but I won't mess with you."

Danny sighs. "So you're keeping the weapons."

"Oh, you know I am. Even if I'm not hunting you, now that I know about ghosts I want to be prepared."

"I guess I understand that." Danny shakes her hand. "Truce."

Jazz grins. "See? Just needed a real, meaningful talk!"

Valerie laughs a little, wiping her eyes again. "Yeah, I guess. But... now what? Who do I blame for this?"

"Probably the boss who decided that Ghosts Suddenly Existing was your father's fault," Danny says.

Valerie's eyes harden. "Yeah. Yeah, I can go with that."

"But," Danny and Jazz say at once. They look at each other, and Jazz let's Danny speak.

"But," Danny says again, "Maybe focus on making some more friends, first. One thing about us losers, is we don't ditch someone just for money reasons."

"... I'll give it a shot." Valerie smiles a little at Danny. "With better aim than the ones I took at you."

Danny chuckles a bit.

They both wave goodbye, Jazz and Valerie leaving Danny to continue his search.

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

"Hi."

Danny, Sam, and Tucker all look up. Valerie is standing nervously with her brown paper bag of lunch. Tucker brightens up, and Sam gives a little, slightly suspicious, wave.

Danny scoots over. "Wanna sit with us?"

Valerie looks over at the A-Lister table. They're all staring, smirking, whispering.

Mocking.

She looks back at the 'losers'.

They're looking at her with... openness.

"Yeah. Sure."

She sits down, and gets out her lunch. For a minute, she just listens to them talk while she unpacks the sandwich.

"Hey, is that peanut butter and honey?" Sam asks. Valerie nods.

Sam holds up a thick roast beef sandwich. "My parents are trying to get me to eat meat again, but I'm staying vegetarian. Want to trade?"

Valerie blinks. "Uh... sure?"

They swap sandwiches. Valerie looks at the sandwich, mentally trying to figure out the carbs and calories and fat content-

She looks around the table. No-one else is analyzing their food. Or, judging hers.

She takes a bite. It's pretty good.

This... is pretty good.

She smiles, and laughs a little at a joke Danny makes.

Yeah. This is pretty good.

#danny phantom #Valerie Gray #Danny Fenton #Jazz Fenton #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

857 notes · View notes

twistedmusings · 4 years ago

Text

Vil Schoenheit: After RSA’S Performance

The first time he had been left speechless was because of you.

You who always knew what to say, you who always had an answer to the problem at hand.

Where were you?

A/N: What is formatting. I don’t even know.

But listen though. When did Vil get hot? I mean he has always been hot but is it now because he is sad boy? A rude boy turned sad boy? Is that why I am attracted to him now and was compelled to write this?

I don’t know but I’m in love so I’m going to run with it.

This is how Vil would react if MC looked like they were enjoying RSA’s performance.

Part 2, here!

What Vil felt couldn’t really be put into words.

His grades would say that he was one of the highest ranking students in the Language Arts for Night Raven College. Not just in regular human speech but also in fairy-dialect, animal dialect and any sort of dialect that Professor Trein would demand. Vil also excelled in prose, poetry and abstract writing.

Being left speechless was not something that was supposed to happen, not twice in a row.

The tightening of his throat would speak otherwise, as well as the sudden feeling of vertigo.

Vil could barely hear Kalim through the jovial sound of Neige’s voice, the one thing that had kept him awake for these past few weeks--no these past few years. When was the last time that he had felt so helpless? Was it when he had first met him? Neige, with his bright smile and lovable personality that made people overlook his mistakes, his very obvious mistakes. The way he wouldn’t go when it was his cue, or how Neige would forget almost every other line only to finally have the script memorized by the time it was opening night.

A children’s song.

“What even is this song! The chorus just won’t leave my head!”

He wasn’t even ready during dress rehearsal, Neige would wait until fucking opening night.

Was it dramatic to say that the whole event had haunted him? As well as the domino effect of undeserved fame that Neige had gotten afterwards?

No, to Vil, being overshadowed by this person despite all the effort that he put into each and everyone of his performances was something akin to being shot by a gun.

Over and over and over.

He had been beaten by a children’s song.

Every single commercial, every music video, every promotion and every product placement that Neige did was like a dagger carving him up from the inside out.

So when the VDC presented itself, he jumped at the chance to not just shape himself into the perfect being to defeat Neige, but to shape others to show that not only could he surpass himself but he could help others break through their own ‘ugly’ exteriors to discover their own personal beauty. And by all means he had done it, he had taken five rough and ugly rocks and turned them into polished jewels.

Polished jewels that framed the diamond he had worked so hard to turn himself into.

His grip on the audience seat loosens when something flashes through his mind.

The practices had been rather arduous, not only having to make sure that he was flawless but trying to deal with Epel’s stupid gender based ideas, Ace and Deuce’s lack of grace and even Kalim’s really really terrible singing voice. Yet something had made it even a little bit worth it.

Someone, he needed to correct himself, someone had made it a bit worth it.

The sixth potato that he had hoped to start shaping after this whole thing was over.

What could he say about you? At first glance you were truly nothing special. An uneventful, magicless person from an equally uneventful place that hadn’t even been accepted into this school but was instead made a student because of the monster next to you. You weren’t even a student, more like a glorified problem solver for the Headmaster. Ideally, Vil should have also hated your guts since you were essentially getting the same education that he had been getting when he was a first year but without any effort but there was something different about you that he had not expected.

I think you’re probably the fairest out of everyone in the school.

A small glimmer of something beautiful.

But in the end your opinion is the one that will matter to you.

You were honest. That is something that Rook had mentioned about you once he did his recon of the new manager for the VDC team. How the Ramshackle prefect really didn’t have anything to offer but that the quality that stood out the most to the hunter was your refreshing honesty.

He had modeled for crowds of adoring fans and yet he found himself pulling out his pocket mirror and fixing non-existent imperfections before talking to you. Yet even when he tried to make himself look presentable to you, you always seemed to catch him when all of his walls were down.

“You should have seen the information that I got from Riddle, Leona, and Azul. They have really gotten a reputation behind them, the Ramshackle prefect. I wonder what will happen if we keep them close~”

Vil wouldn’t admit it to anyone but there had been a brief moment that his heart skipped a beat when the news about how the VDC team would be rooming in Ramshackle. He figured it had skipped out of beat due to the horrific news that he would have to room in a dorm that had not been used for who knows how long but when he had come inside and been greeted by your smile, it was almost surreal how he had come to terms with this feeling of nervousness.

The night before the VDC had found Vil in the Ramshackle lounge, a cup of tea in his hand as he watched a video of that day’s performance. There were still minor imperfections here and there but those would be easily covered up by his own singing and movements. Epel had also improved exponentially which highly increased the probability of a successful performance and with Jami’s hypnotizing movements and Rook’s aura there was no doubt that he had this competition under his heel.

But nerves like these didn’t leave overnight.

A creak on the stairs brought him back to the present, taking a sip of his tea as he continued to look at the video.

“If you’re here to ask me about why I am awake at this hour, Rook, I would like to remind you that you insisted we review the performance in the morning which already did nothing to calm my nerves--”

"Vil-senpai?"

His head snapped up to look at you , the light of the moon masking him in shadows while illuminating you as you made your way down the staircase. He clicked his tongue and turned off his phone.

"Was I interrupting something?"

Vil shook his head, “Last minute detail check. Everything has to be perfect by tomorrow.”

You nod and walk towards him, standing next to the couch before pointing to it. Vil looked at you before looking at the seat next to him. What were you--oh. He nodded and you sat down on the other side of the love seat, both of you farther apart that he would have liked.

“Does the manager have anything they want to say to me?”

“It just gets me thinking. You have been doing this performance perfectly in my eyes. Over and over again that it makes me wonder just what you think is lacking.”

You bring your feet up to the seat, hugging your knees together as you look down at the floor, “Maybe your definition of perfect and my definition of perfect are so different.”

The Pomefiore dorm leader rolls his eyes, “Did your Heartslabyul friends put you up to this?”

“Ace and Deuce? Great Sevens no. If they did I would have rightfully ignored them and gone to bed. I’m just your manager, I’m not here to negotiate.”

“Just a manager.” Vil frowns and looks at you, “You understand that you are currently housing the Vil Schoenheit as well as six other people who happen to be under my temporary tutelage. If you and your dorm weren’t around I would have had to keep those two Heartslabyul potatoes in the Pomefiore dorm and I don’t think I could stand letting them sleep in one of our beds. Our dorm has standards, luckily yours is the most neutral place I can stand being around those two without losing sleep.”

He blinks at the snort you let out, staring as you wave your hands and apologize while trying to prevent another one from surfacing.

“That is the only straightforward compliment my dorm has received. Neutral.” you laugh again before wiping a fake tear from your eyes, “Am I allowed to take it as a compliment?”

Vil is glad for the darkness, it hid the sudden flush in his cheeks.

“Take it as you will.”

You nod and stand up, stretching and letting out a satisfied sigh when your back made a small cracking noise that had Vil clutching at his cup. Anybody else and he would have walked out of whatever conversation he was having, so why did he find that tolerable with you?

“Then let me pay it back.” you hold out your hand and for a brief moment Vil wants to take it. Clearly that was an invitation for something and it alarmed him that he didn’t mind the mystery behind it. Yet your finger pointed at the cup, Vil looking down and seeing it was empty.

Oh.

He hands it to you, doing his best to make it so that your fingers would brush in the most accidental way possible.

“In my own opinion, as well as the opinion of others, I think you are the fairest out of everyone in the school.”

The air in Vil’s lungs gets caught in his throat.

“No joke. The way you carry yourself, the effort you put into everything you are a part of. Even the potato comments are almost...endearing? Potato plants produce rather pretty flowers, right? Maybe you are just trying to get the flowers inside of us to bloom as well?”

He is staring.

He is staring and not saying anything. You had left him without speech.

“But in the end your opinion will be the one that matters most to you. I just hope that it will always be positive.” you scratch the back of your head and yawn, “I’m going to grab a glass of water and head back to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Your eyes are still meeting his as a small flush adorned your cheeks, probably embarrassed by what you had just said. Or he would like to think you would be embarrassed, if this was any regular love story he would stand up and grab your wrist and keep you from running away from him before cupping your face and leaning in--

“Good night, Vil-senpai.”

"Goodnight."

You who always knew what to say, you who always had an answer to the problem at hand.

Where were you?

His eyes start looking around for your figure, hands itching and brain running slower than it ever had before. Maybe you would make it better? No, you would make it better. You would go over to him and smile before saying that the competition hadn’t even started and just because that song seemed to be moving everyone under a stupid nostalgia spell, Vil’s hardwork would shine through. Neige hadn’t taken everything from him, not just yet.

Vil feels the weight on his shoulders lessen when he looks at you only for it to double when he sees your face.

You were smiling, humming along to the silly melody as your head bobbed up and down.

Even in practice your gaze remained fixed on them, yet with Neige you seemed to feel that infectious, annoying melody and enjoying it?

“What’s wrong? You look pale.”

Had he lost you as well?

“Vil...Vil?”

The first time he had been left speechless was because of you.

“...Nothing. Don’t worry.” he turns his back to Rook, “It’s not worth seeing their performance. I will be in the waiting room.”

Vil walks away, so many thoughts clouding his head as he replays the words you had said to him.

Who the hell cared about his opinion when yours was just as important?

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #pomefiore #vil x reader #twst mc #Im in love with Vil dont look at me #available books

659 notes · View notes

inomios · 4 years ago

Text

Beauty behind the madness || levi ackerman x reader || PART I

Summary: “You knew that under all of his layers of grief and rage there was something worth loving; he knew that under your easy smiles and sweet words there was something dark lurking. He wanted all of you and you wanted all of him.”

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Words: 7,4K

TG: Brief allusion to soldiers’ suicides; little description of a panic attack on the seventh part (I can’t feel my face); brief talk about death and addiction; and even though I wrote it all using gender neutral terms, at some point I used the term girlfriend because partner sounded too cold for the situation.

- If you are triggered by some content that I haven’t mentioned, please tell me so I can add it to the list and prevent it from happening again.

Author’s note: Mushing my favorite album with my comfort character is being so much fun. I’m enjoying so much this process you wouldn’t believe it. The second part will be up next Tuesday, and it’ll be the ending. Please, share, comment and like if you enjoyed, it would mean the world to see your reactions and impressions. As always, English is not my mother language, so sorry for the mistakes.

. . .

1. REAL LIFE

He had carved on his soul, heart and mind the words that Kenny had once told him, back when he was a scared and weak kid under his wing in the Underground, back when Kenny had caught him crying in the dead of night over his mother.

‘Boy, you won’t survive a day with that attitude. Your mother was a whore and now she’s a dead whore, get over it. You don’t have time to mop over her, crying is for people who have nothing more important to worry about.’

Kenny, for better or for worse, had taught him many lessons that became the key to his survival, advices he would never forget, and this was one of them: ‘Grieving is a waste of time.’

Every second he cried over his mother was time he could have spent granting his sorrowful existence. He couldn’t let his grief control him, because missing his mother wouldn’t make him last another day, she couldn’t protect him now that she was gone. So, for better or for worse, he let his sadness and rage aside and started focusing on what was important: survival.

Grieve is a tricky feeling, it makes you think you can control it, while it just keeps bottling up until it explodes, and you better be ready for when that happens, because you may not be able to fix the mess it’s going to leave behind.

Levi thought he had masqueraded his feelings pretty well, he tried to shrug everything off, as if nothing mattered to him, but it did, and Kenny knew it and he loved to tease him about it, he loved to press his buttons, Levi had learned that pretty soon in the relationship, but he was trying to handle his feelings, he wanted to prove Kenny he was worthy of his time, that he was strong, that he wasn’t weak, not anymore. So, whenever Kenny tried to get a reaction out of him, he kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t water down the fire in his grey eyes and Kenny could see it, he always could.

‘You are as worthless as your mother, maybe I should leave you in a brothel too, then you would be useful for something.’

A loud howling laughter.

Levi’s brow twitched.

‘Did your mom have time to teach you how to read or was she too busy fucking half the Underground?’

He thought he had said something hilarious. He bent over his back.

Levi had a little knife clutched in his hand. He was starting to see red.

‘You’re as worthless as your mother.’

He was pushing him to his limits.

Levi had already passed them.

He liked to think that there was a dark abyss inside of him, a bottomless place where he could hide all his emotions and thoughts, they were useless, so he ignored them, he kept them away, far from the surface. Levi thought that he could detach from his pain, but it was a part of him, and if you stare into the abyss for too long, the abyss stares back at you. The Levi who grieved was still there, looking at him, the Levi who felt too much but said nothing wanted to get out, so he did, he escaped from the abyss and took control.

He run towards Kenny, eyes gleaming with unshed tears, knife in his hand, aiming for his heart, but Kenny was faster, quicker on his feet, he moved just in time. However, Levi still managed to scratch his shoulder, he teared his shirt and he could see the blood slipping, tainting the white fabric.

Kenny got mad. Levi had never seen him that furious. He grabbed his scrawny body and gave him the beating of his life. When he ended, Levi couldn’t even move, he was lying on the floor on a puddle of his own blood.

‘Listen kid, I don’t give a fuck about your shitty problems. You think you’re special? Guess what, you are a piece of shit, just like everyone else. Everyone here has issues, solve them or do whatever you want to do with them, but don’t you ever dare to pull a stunt like that again, because I’ll will leave you here to die, boy.’

That was the second lesson Kenny had told him: ‘Control is vital.’

He thought that by ignoring his feelings he was controlling them, but he was wrong, he realized that when those bottled emotions caused him to be bed ridden a few days.

Instead, he decided to let his feelings out in really calculated moments, he started to canalize all his rage into more productive stuff, like cleaning. He liked to think that by cleaning he had control over something, there was something cathartic to him in scrubbing floors, doing the laundry, and mopping floors. It was the Underground, it was filthy no matter how much effort he put into it, but it gave him something he could focus on, something he could use to let his frustrations out.

So, he cleaned, for his mother who deserved a better live.

For the innocent child that he once was, who had been stripped from everything he loved.

For Kenny, who he despised and was cruel and ruthless.

For all the things he had to do to survive.

He cleaned and cleaned, and he never had an outburst again. He was in control.

Looking back, he is sure that part of Kenny’s fury that day was that a kid made him bleed. You see, Kenny liked to think of himself as some kind of god, a ruler, someone who could control everybody, someone who was holding your fate between his calloused hands. And when he hurt Kenny, both of them realized two things, especially Levi, who discovered this: ‘Gods bleed to.’

Levi learnt his third lesson that day. No one could control him, the same way he couldn’t control anyone. You are the one who makes the decisions, just be sure to choose one you won’t regret. Kenny had no power over him, he wasn’t a god and if he was, Levi wouldn’t bow down to him.

Kenny learnt that Levi, that child, had a fire within he couldn’t tame, Levi wasn’t going to be a submissive, brainless follower. He had potential, he had willpower, he didn’t really need him, but the boy didn’t know it yet. So, when the moment came, he left. He had grown to care about his nephew, at least a little, but Levi was a survivor and Kenny knew he would fight with teeth and claws until the very end. Therefore, Kenny left him with the only person who could protect him: Levi himself.

When Kenny left him at his own, alone again in the Underground, he learnt his fourth lesson: ‘Love is a risk he wasn’t going to take again.’

2. LOSERS

Stupid is next to ‘I love you.’ He was pretty fucking sure of that.

He made a bow to himself: he wasn’t going to love anyone ever again, people are bound to leave, and whenever they left, they took away a part of him, and he was already too broken for that. However, life happens, and it turns everything upside down, it doesn’t ask for consent, so his plan of never loving again was ruined sooner than he would’ve liked.

Furlan came first. He wasn’t looking for a companion, at all. A companion meant more people to care about, a distraction, and he didn’t need any of that. However, Furlan managed to convince him that he could be useful to him. Whenever he looks back, he thinks that both of them knew that Levi didn’t need anyone, he could survive on his own, he was tougher than anyone else in the Underground, but he was alone, so alone, and a part of him yearned so much for someone that he let Furlan come with him.

Their relationship was weird at first, not sure where the boundaries of the other laid, what they could do or don’t. Furlan didn’t want to overstep and piss off Levi and Levi didn’t want to overshare with him, he didn’t want to show him his weaknesses, but at the same time he wanted to spend time with him.

He remembers that there were moments when Levi desired to say something, talk about pointless stuff, but he never did, after Kenny he was deprived of human contact that he even thought that he had lost his voice. However, as time passed them by, they fell into some type of routine, boundaries became clearer. Furlan started to get Levi, how he would never start a conversation no matter how bad he wanted; how his mind was always plotting something; how he always had an ace upon his sleeve… Furlan grew fond on him, he knew that there was a lot Levi wasn’t telling him, but from time to time he got to see a glimpse of all the man he was under his façade and layers of secrets, and he wanted to learn about him, he wanted to be his friend, he wanted to have someone to help and he wanted someone to take care of him, he wanted to stay.

On the other hand, Levi liked how Furlan seemed to know when he could talk and joke around and when he had to stay silent, it was like he understood him, Furlan was prudent and chill, thinking before acting, and he knew when to fight and when to give up. Levi started to care about him, a lot, against his better judgement, he just hoped he wouldn’t regret his choice.

Then, Isabel appeared on scene. Levi was happy enough with Furlan, he didn’t need someone else to worry about, that was more trouble, more chances to get hurt. However, he soon found he had a soft spot for the girl. She was so energetic, so bubbly, eyes always gleaming with hope, she was a ray of light in the darkest place. She was messy, reckless and wild, she balanced them out. When she asked to join them, Levi wanted to let out one of his characteristic ‘Tch’ and turn his back on her, there was no room for compassion in the Underground, but he couldn’t, he was weaker than he thought. He couldn’t leave her at her own knowing she could get herself killed, he didn’t want to be like Kenny, he wasn’t going to be like him.

The three of them became a gang, well, not just a gang, a family too. They looked after each other, they looked after Levi, just like his mother did. They were the best criminals in the Underground, and sometimes Levi felt like a god with the world at his feet. He shouldn’t have forgotten his third lesson: ‘Gods bleed too.’ He thought they were invincible, they weren’t, they were no gods, life wouldn’t bend at their will.

When Isabel and Furlan died, he didn’t even have proper bodies to bury, he just did two little makeshift graves and carved their name on the gray stone. He was the only person who would remember them, so he visited them at least once a week (he still does), mainly during his sleepless nights, when no one would ever question or notice his absence. Talking with them was the only reason why he hadn’t given up long time ago, he was their leader, he told them to always keep going, to never back down.

So, he kept going, for his mother, for Isabel and for Furlan. For the only people who ever loved him.

Maybe he didn’t really keep going, maybe he just let life pass by, what mattered was that he was alive and fighting for a purpose, he owed them that, their deaths wouldn’t be in vain.

Why did he always have to lose everything?

Why there was nothing good in store for him?

He was bound to lose to lose everything.

Stupid is next to I love you.

He was so fucking foolish.

3. TELL YOUR FRIENDS

The mission had been a carnage, a lot of fallen soldiers. He could still hear their screams and see the fear in their eyes, more images to haunt him while he was sleeping, as if they weren’t already enough. He couldn’t save anyone, he never could, he was human after all, even if some people thought about him like a god.

He had had a problem with his ODM gear during the mission, the gas cylinders were failing and wasting too much gas, so he ran out of it pretty quickly, which costed him a seven meters fall, breaking his right leg, his left arm, a few ribs and a concussion in the process. He could have died and a part of him wished he had, then, the pain would have ended. Luckily, Hange arrived just in time to help him, he still thinks that maybe they knew what was going on in his head, that he had thought about giving up right there, and that’s why as soon as they arrived back home, they sent him to the infirmary, not wanting to leave him alone. Hange still says it was because he couldn’t take proper care of his injuries by himself. They both knew he had had it way worse than that.

The infirmary was clean, and that meant a lot according to his standards, but your desk wasn’t, not at all and it was driving him crazy, if he could, he would get up and clean it himself. However, you seemed unphased by it, every day you would drop more documents on your table (but no document ever left, they just kept piling up); he had seen you drop coffee on some paper and not giving a fuck a single fuck about it; you had seven books on your table, none of them related with medicine, you just had them there because you wanted; and if you asked him what irked him the most, he would say the brush, you had a brush in your desk and it was full of hair. He couldn’t get his eyes of your desk, and if you ever noticed, you never did anything about it; or maybe you did notice and since you are a little shit, you just wanted to see how far you could go before he went feral. We will never know.

If you had been any other person, like one of the members of his squad, he would have said something way earlier, but you weren’t his subordinate, you were a medic and as far as he knew, he didn’t have the right to scold you at your own workplace.

You were competent, you just talked when necessary and you would always ask him if he wanted something, no matter how many times he had said ‘no’ and whenever Hange came to visit, you would always talk with them and ask them about their experiments and research. Hence, Hange thought you were the sweetest person ever, they had even told him that he better not be giving you any trouble.

You both had an easy routine. You would come in first hour in the morning, trying to be silent with no success at all, you were so noisy, luckily for him, he never sleeps more than four hours. You would sit on your desk and write a letter, every day, who the fuck had so many people to talk to or how many things worth telling did happen in your life? Then, you would go out to get him breakfast and you brought more documents with yourself, his breakfast always came with a cup of tea, a shitty cup of tea, but at least it wasn’t coffee or juice, he didn’t know if you were the one behind the tea, but if you were, he was glad you didn’t work on the kitchen. After breakfast, Hange would pay him a visit and talk with him, his squad would often visit him after training and Erwin once or twice a week, whenever his work let him a little free. At midday you would water the plants on the window, you had once called them ‘Asphodels’ and after watering them you disappeared, at the beginning he thought you just went to eat, later on, he would find why you did that. The rest of the day was the same, you wrote and read documents and he would either look annoyed at your desk or he would vert his gaze at the window to distract himself.

This routine changed the second week, because you asked him two questions that made him be more comfortable around you.

‘Why do you look at my desk as if it were making you sick?’

‘Tch, because is making me sick, it’s dirty as fuck.’

Okay, not the best words, but you asked, and he answered. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel better after telling you. You blushed a little and scratched your neck bashfully.

‘Sorry, I can be a little messy sometimes.’

‘I can see.’

That day you spent the evening emptying your desk, any other person would have asked you not to bother, but Levi couldn’t care, after all, his last thread of sanity depended on that desk. When you finished cleaning, you asked the second question.

‘You hate my tea, but you drink it anyways, why?’

He felt his ears getting a little red, and he just shrugged and looked away.

‘You are taking care of me, didn’t wanna be a bitch about it.’

You smiled, a smile brighter than the morning star, and for a fraction of second he forgot how the breath, but he obviously didn’t say a thing about it.

‘I promise you that tomorrow you’ll have the best tea ever.’

‘Tch, if you say so.’

He appreciated your gesture, kindness wasn’t something he was used to, it felt weird and strange to have someone to do good things just for the sake of doing them, it made him wary, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought that maybe you wanted to get something from him and that’s why you acted so nicely around him.

The next day, after writing your daily letter, at your then clean desk, you brought him breakfast with a steaming cup of tea. He drank the beverage under your expecting gaze and to his surprise it was nice, not the best tea ever made, but definitely not the worst.

‘It tastes better.’

‘Thanks, this time I followed the recipe.’ You admitted proudly.

‘How the fuck were you even making tea before?’

‘Instinct?’

He looked at you astonished, how come you were a doctor, but you couldn’t follow a three-step recipe? At that moment he thought his health was in the hands of dumbest medic in the area, however, he didn’t really care, well, at least not as much as he would have expected. You had something, an aura around your persona, that was soothing and endearing, rather than infuriating.

At the crack of dusk on that same day, he was the one who asked a question.

‘Who are you always writing?’

For a moment he swears he saw your happy demeanor quivering, as if he had opened a cage that should have remained closed, but you quickly fixed, the funny glint coming back at your eyes as fast as it had left. It was in that moment when he knew that you weren’t as shallow as he may have deemed you to be.

‘I’m just telling my friends about this annoying patient I have. Do you know he made me clean my office desk?’

Your voice was laced with amusement, you were trying to divert his attention to another topic, and he knew, but he was no one to press you about it.

‘Well, as soon as I’m free, I’m telling my friends about how my medic is a fucking shitshow.’ Too blunt, but you brushed it off.

‘They sound like a nightmare.’

‘They are.’

You smiled, yet again as blinding as the sun.

He didn’t smile, he didn’t even grimace, his face was as stoic as always, but for a split of second, a smile nearly slipped in.

To his surprise, he actually talked about you to his friends. When he had the medical lease, the first thing he did was visit Isabel and Furlan’s impromptu graves and talk about you. It wasn’t a lot, he just mentioned you a few times. It didn’t mean a thing, and at the same time, it meant everything.

4. OFTEN

It didn’t mean a thing.

Not a single thing.

It was unimportant.

He was like that with everyone.

Except he wasn’t and he knew it.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He would always find himself at your door, not because he was sick or harmed, he just felt the need to see you. He didn’t even talk with you that much, he wasn’t good at opening up or even small talk. He was foul-mouthed, snarky and his words could cut deeper than a knife. You were soft, kind, funny and there weren’t uncomfortable silences with you, your presence was comforting. Levi didn’t get why he felt that way about you, he barely knew you, but you had something that drew him in, maybe it was the normalcy you brought him. You were a doctor, you healed people, you tended their injuries; you hadn’t seen the titans, you hadn’t seen comrades die at their merciless hands, you didn’t know what was outside the walls and he liked that. You were an escape. It was as if his life was only centered around Titans and his existence had no other point but to kill or think about to kill Titans: Hange were always babbling about Titans; his paperwork was always a painful reminder of fallen mates; Erwin was always tracing missions and plans; and the whole point of his squad was training to defeat those beasts. He never had a break, but visiting you felt like it.

He knocked at your door and it opened, you were at your desk, which was an unorganized mess then again, humming some song he didn’t know while you were reading some medical reports. And the asphodels in the window looked beautiful as always.

‘Hi, Levi.’ You looked up and gave him a smile.

Your smiles.

Oh man, he took them in like a dehydrated man would savor the first droplets of rain.

He just nodded as a salute and walked towards the window to see the asphodels.

‘Why asphodels?’ he asked, you loved those flowers, and they weren’t necessary the most beautiful.

To him you were more like yellow lilies, he had read somewhere that yellow lilies meant joy and happiness. They always brought a simile to one’s face because they are the true depiction of the sun, just like you were.

‘I don’t know, they are special’ you said with a small voice, the same haunted look in your eyes, the same that appeared when he asked about your letters.

‘I guess they are.’

A comfortable silence fell in the room. He was getting used to these havens of peace.

That night at dinner, he was sitting next to Erwin, Hange in front of him, looking at him quizzically.

‘What’s going between you and y/n? You’re always at their place.’ They ask.

‘Tch, nothing, I just visit them often.’

Lies

‘So, there is no ulterior motive, like, I don’t know, our Short king having a crush?’ Levi sometimes forgot how punchable Hange’s face was.

‘No.’

More lies.

Something was going on, they both knew, but he was too scared to think about what it was.

5. THE HILLS

Another fight. More deaths. What was the point of it? He felt like he was fighting for a pointless cause, the more deaths, the less they knew. He would have to send more letters to the families, telling them that their sons and daughters fought bravely until their last breath and sacrificed their lives for the sake of humanity. However, broken families would come to him and ask him if it was worth it, if the death of their children, cousins, brothers and parents brought them answers, if their deaths meant that humanity was closer to taste the freedom they longed for. He had always said that no death was in vain, but he was starting to question that.

He had barely seen you after the mission, he retreated to his quarters, drowning himself in reports and regrets, if he had been better, he could have saved more lives, but he wasn’t enough, he was no hero, he was a human. He had been fighting his whole life and he just wanted it to stop, he wanted peace and tranquility, not more deaths at his shoulders, no more ghosts to haunt him at the end of the day.

He never slept, at least not for more than a few hours. However, after a mission he didn’t sleep at all, the images of his comrades’ deaths still fresh on his mind, their screams still piercing his ears, his sanity vanished a little bit more every time he tried to close his eyes, so he just laid awake looking at the roof, thinking about all the things he could have done to save them, repeating their names as if he was asking for their forgiveness.

Sometimes it all got too much, and he needed to walk to clear his mind, there were nights when he walked for hours with no direction at all, but that night he did have a direction: your office. He didn’t really know why he was doing it, but he was too tired to turn back and ask himself why you. He thought that you would probably be asleep, but to his surprise there was a dim light coming from your office, so he knocked, just like all of those times before, and your soft voice told him to come in.

He had never seen you so disheveled and tired, dark bags under your eyes, traces of tears on your face and bloodshot eyes. He also noticed four new asphodels on your desk. He looked at them and then he looked at you. He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t, so you spoke.

‘My regrets follow you to the grave.’ He barely heard you.

‘What?’

‘That’s what asphodels mean, you asked me about them once, you remember?’

He nodded, that’s all he could do.

‘I couldn’t save them, I tried, but I wasn’t good enough.’ You broke down to tears.

He wasn’t good at processing his own emotions, let alone other people’s. What was he supposed to do? He knew that people hugged to show support, but as he would say, he was ‘emotionally constipated’, so he just stayed there, looking at you.

Do something.

But he remained stiff, it was like watching the scene happen in third person.

‘I’m sorry, I know this is making you uncomfortable, it’s just that it’s been a long day.’

‘It’s been a long day for me to.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘You told me that asphodels mean ‘my regrets follow you to the grave’, that’s why you have them? Because you feel guilty?’

‘I plant one for every soldier that dies on my watch.’ That was the first time you opened up with him.

‘I keep the badges of their uniforms.’ That was the first time he opened up with you.

Right then everything shifted.

‘It wasn’t your fault.’ He knew those feelings, the remorse and the guilt, he was so painfully familiar with them that they had become a part of his being.

‘It wasn’t your fault either, Levi.’

It wasn’t your fault either.

Your words echoed in his mind like a drum and for a moment he believed them.

You came closer and you wrapped your arms around him, he tried to respond, embracing you in strangely, you laughed at his antics and in that moment, he wanted to disappear. You smiled and you readjusted his arms around your waist. He brought you closer, slowly, not wanting to scare you away and break the moment. You laid your head in his chest, right above his heart, and he hoped you couldn’t hear his heart beating wildly. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin and your smell intoxicating him. For a moment he felt like home, even though he didn’t understand what ‘being home’ meant, but it had to be very similar to that: comforting, reassuring, peaceful, safe.

That night, he spent what felt like hours holding you, until you had to part separate ways, the only witnesses were the asphodels and the hills at the distance.

6. ACQUAINTED

What are we?

Levi couldn’t stop asking himself that question.

Friends didn’t have what you two had. Maybe he wasn’t the most amicable person, but he had had some friends in his life: he once had Isabel and Furlan when he was younger, and now he had Hange and Erwin, and maybe he could even consider his squad friends. And none of what he felt for them was like what he felt for you.

He tried to make sense of his thoughts by writing them, but words weren’t his forte and he just ended more and more confused.

You were nice.

You were beautiful.

You made him laugh, well, not laugh, but close enough.

You were kind.

He appreciated you, he cared for you and he wanted to protect you, but he also felt the same towards Erwin, Hange and his squad. Then, if it was the same, why it was completely different.

He kept visiting you, everything looked like it was the same, but everything had changed. It felt like the calm before the storm, as if something was about to happen, the tides were shifting, he could feel it. There were words unsaid lingering in the atmosphere and sooner or later, someone would have to utter them. But who? And if you spoke them, what would he say?

He also spent a lot of his time thinking about that too, if you happened to confess your feelings for him, if you had them, would he be able to respond them? Normal people would try, give it a shot and see what would happen, what the relationship had in store, let things flow; but he wasn’t normal, he was far from normal, he knew he wasn’t the easiest to love. He was rude, mean, a control freak, he wasn’t the one for big displays of affection, he was the last person someone would want as a partner. People yearned for epic love stories, something that could take your breath away and he wouldn’t be able to do that, he wouldn’t be able to give you the bare minimum.

Also, after all the people he had lost, he didn’t want your name to be added to that list. He preferred the uncertainty of your relationship than the possibility of losing you. If he left more people in, more people he could lose. He wasn’t stupid, he knew you were already in, but there were still boundaries between both of you.

He had also fantasized about laying himself bare in front of someone, share all of his trauma and memories, share the burden with someone, but who would love all of him? If he couldn’t even stand himself most of the days, how could he expect that someone would do it?

‘If you were a flower, I think you would be a gladiolus.’ You would always blurt nonsense out of the blue, but for some reason, he found it endearing instead of annoying.

‘Tch, what’s even that supposed to mean?’

‘I don’t know, it’s just, gladius symbolize strength, generosity, faithfulness and I guess those are things I associate with you.’ Your cheeks were tainted with the softest tones of red and you weren’t looking at him, your gaze was fixed on your paperwork.

Those words had a way deeper meaning, he knew it and you knew it, it was as if you were testing the water by putting the tips of your feet in it. As per usual he didn’t know what to say, what was he supposed to say to that? Thanks? I think I may be falling for you?

‘Sorry, I made things weird, I should just-’ you couldn’t finish because he had started talking.

‘I think you would be a yarrow flower.’ Amazing, now he was the one talking nonsense.

Not so long ago he pictured you as yellow lilies, joy and happiness, but after getting to know you better, he realized that that description was too shallow for what you meant to him. He didn’t know a lot about flowers, he wasn’t really into botany, but he had heard about yarrow before, he had heard merchants inside Sina call them ‘plant doctor’, since they would be often placed near other plants to keep the pests away, he had also heard that it was considered invasive too, because how easily it spread. Therefore, the association came quickly to him, you were healing, a solace from the cruelty of his world; and you were invasive, because he couldn’t be away from you, you consumed him.

‘That means a lot.’ Your blush was now more pronounced now and he wondered what you had made out of his words.

He felt a wave of panic travel through his body, maybe that statement was too deep, maybe he screwed it all, so he decided to excuse himself and ran away from the situation he had created. He had told you he was going to his room, he lied, he was going to the library, he needed to see what his words had meant. He wasted all his evening looking for books about the meaning of flowers, he sure looked like a madman, he hadn’t even gone to the Mess Hall to have dinner, he needed to found answers, and he found them at two a.m.

“The secret language of flowers” said the title, he opened the book and he started looking for the yarrow’s meaning.

Healing and Good Health

Courage and War

Everlasting Love

When he read the last symbolism of the flower, his heart stopped for a whole minute, did he just declare his feelings, that he wasn’t ever sure of, to you? He wanted to disappear in the spot, just vanish into the air.

He went to his room, holding the book close to his chest. He spent the rest of the night reading the book, he wouldn’t mess up again, if he ever wanted to talk about flowers with you, he would be informed. When the sun rose, his head was buzzing with flower meanings, and he would be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about you while reading some of them.

At breakfast he did go to the Mess Hall and took his usual place.

‘Where were you yesterday at dinner?’ asked Erwin.

‘With his girlfriend.’ Replied Hange with a big smile.

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’ He said with a grunt.

‘What are they then?’ Hange was using the tone, the one which meant “I know you’re hiding something, and I won’t stop pestering you until I discover it.”

‘We are just acquainted.’

‘Liar.’

7. CAN’T FEEL MY FACE

He remembered how there were days when Kenny would drink himself to oblivion, Levi didn’t understand why he did it. He didn’t see the point of passing out in the floor, and when he asked, Kenny answered that ‘his vices kept him sane’. It still made no sense to him, how a man could be so cunning and sharp, while he wasted his nights and days with alcohol, women and many other things that Levi wasn’t interested on trying. He had seen Kenny drunk and it was far from having control. The first lesson Kenny had told him was that control is vital, then, how come he was powerless in his own life, letting alcohol take control of him.

‘You’re old enough to try it, boy. Take some if you want.’

The first time Kenny offered him alcohol, he had declined, he had said no, and Kenny had shrugged it off, as if saying: ‘more for me.’ He wouldn’t get it, it didn’t make sense, Kenny, who prided himself on his cold-blood and his steel nerves, would renounce to that control so easily, he didn’t want to be like that, never in a million years, he would never give up his self-control.

Until he did.

He had lost control. And he now understood Kenny.

He knew he should distance himself from you, he didn’t want more Furlan’s and Isabel’s, he was getting dangerously close to you and he didn’t want that. He should run away, disappear. You were kind and sweet, you would find someone else to feel the void he would inevitably leave. He had always been the one being left behind, and he survived, you would too. Also, it’s not as if he contributed a lot to your life. He was sure you both would be better with the other far away, I mean, the facts were there. Actually, they had been spiraling in his head for a while.

Then, if he knew all of that, why was he helping you cut clean bandages, especially so close to you that he could smell your shampoo? Oh yeah, because you asked him to, as easy as that, all his conviction melted away from every fiber of his body.

Why did he do that? Why was he so helpless around you? Oh yeah, because you made him feel so damn good. You had him wrapped around your finger and you didn’t seem to notice, you acted as if it was nothing, you had power over him, you had Humanity’s Strongest at his knees.

‘My family died a long time ago, I couldn’t save them, I moved in with my aunt and I decided that I’d study medicine for them.’ You said out of the blue.

You cut one bandage.

‘The letters I write are for them. It’s stupid, but it makes me feel closer to them.’

You cut another bandage.

He didn’t say a thing.

He hated himself, any other person would have hugged you or said something, he just stayed there, frozen and acting as cold as always. Why did you confide in him something so personal? He wasn’t the one to go when you are sad, he didn’t even know how to process his own trauma and baggage most of the time. What was he supposed to do?

On the other hand, you trusted Levi more than anyone in your life. He brought you peace and solace, something you thought you would never have.

You lost your family when you were really young, always feeling guilty for being the one who survived, and you promised to yourself you would vow your life to help the others, never putting your needs first. When you joined the military, you watched many soldiers die on your hands, you could still hear their last words, how scare they were, how they didn’t want to die like that, alone and far away from their family; you could also recall their mutilated bodies; and you could also remember how many of them would survive the Titans but lose the fights against their own mind and end up being another fallen soldier that died for nothing. You loved your job, but it also killed a part of you every day, there were no victories on a war, and you knew it. That’s why you picked up gardening, you planted a flower for every soldier who died, something to remember them.

When you met Levi, you admired him, you had heard the stories about him, his courage, mood changes, sharp tongue, skills, intelligence… You would be lying if you said he didn’t make you curious, you were used to soldiers haunted by the horrors they had faced, but something about him was different, maybe because you saw yourself in those grey eyes. You two were similar, you both had so much pent up that you could not talk about, you had an image to keep, and it was exhausting. He had a name to uphold, people looked up to him, if he failed, if he crumbled, everyone else would; you were a doctor, and no matter how hard things were, you had to be strong for your patients, never showing how much their pain took a toll on you. You could let your mask down, because even though he didn’t talk too much or overall understand why you were sharing that, it felt good, liberating.

Sometimes, he would also talk about him, not a lot, but enough to make you feel understood, and those moments, when he showed the man underneath the façade, glimpses of his true persona, those few minutes, sometimes even seconds, were responsible for your growing feelings for the captain.

‘It’s not stupid, I talk to my dead friends’ graves.’ He said nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t baring a piece of him in front of you.

Those kind of flashes of the man he was underneath took your breath away every single time.

You came close to him, slowly, testing the waters, not wanting to scare him away. Maybe it was too forward, too reckless, too much at a time, but he didn’t move. You brought your hand to his cheek. He didn’t jump away. You looked into his eyes, pools of mercury. He held your gaze, expecting your next move. You could feel the tension. He could too.

‘They would be really proud of you.’ You said, voice thin and trembling.

He was silent. Your words caught him of guard.

He was feeling too much. His heartbeat was erratic, beating wildly, he could hear it. He felt the blood boiling under his skin, he was so hot, he was sweating. He couldn’t move, but he felt his body trembling. He could feel the room closing on him, trapping him. He wasn’t in control.

It was a too familiar feeling, one he had experienced a thousand times before.

‘Levi, are you okay? I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable.’ You said worriedly.

He didn’t know what to do, he just wanted the pain in his chest to end.

You were too close. You were trapping him too. So, he pushed you away from you and run from the infirmary. You couldn’t see him like that, no one could.

Why did he share that with you? Why did you get too close? Were you going to kiss him?

Why?

Why was he like that?

Why did he ruin things?

Why did he lose control of himself? He couldn’t even feel his face when you touched it.

He felt pathetic. He felt like the little kid he once was.

Control is vital.

If he was with you, he wasn’t in control. And if he lost his control, then he would have nothing.

He had to get away from you, because you were stripping him from the only thing he had: his control.

#levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman oneshot #snk #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin levi #captain levi #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #levi fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin

150 notes · View notes

liptonsbabe · 4 years ago

Text

The light is coming [B.W]

Chapter 3

Summary: Bill meets the reader again. Some of the feelings that have been stored up come to the surface again

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: none

Chapter 3: When we were young

It turned out that Byron knew the location of Grimmauld place perfectly well. You were surprised at the ease with he had found the place, cause that was a great help in not wasting any more time. Standing in front of the door, you turned to Byron before announcing your arrival.

"How do you know about this place? I mean, I never told you about it, even I didn't know of its existence."

Byron looked sideways at you, one eyebrow raised and his pink lips curved into a little smile that made you blush. Byron knocked on the door three times before turning to you

"There's a lot you still don't know about me, honey."

"You're such a show-off" You rolled your eyes when you heard Byron laugh "And don't call me like that."

"Why not?"

“Cause I don't like it"

"Then what would you prefer me to call you?" Byron leaned close to your ear and whispered, "Love", "Darling", "Cutie pie"? You can take your pick. There's more where those came from."

"You’re such an idiot"

Byron laughed, but his mirth was interrupted by the sharp knock from the other side of the door. You gasped and recoiled as a small crack in the door swung open revealing a pair of blue eyes staring back at you

"Who are you?" He asked. You cleared your throat

"Uh... I'm (Y/N) and this is my partner Byron” you said, taking Byron by the arm so the boy on the other side could see him; he narrowed his eyes then turned his gaze back to you " We've come to the Order of the Phoenix meetings. We are aurors."

“Oh, really? What's the secret word?”

“I... I don't know”

“Didn't your sister write it in her letters or something?” Byron asked. You shook your head

“No, Dora didn't.”

“Wait, Dora? As in Nymphadora Tonks?”

“Uh... Yes?” You answered. The crack closed and immediately afterwards the door was thrown open by a tall, thin, red-haired boy. He greeted you with a smile and an effusive handshake.

“You're (Y/N) Lexington! I don't know how I didn't notice before, I'm such an idiot. Tonks has told us a lot about you, you know? Your powers are wonderful” The boy stuck his face to yours making you step back “I'm Fred Weasley, by the way”

“I met a couple of Weasleys when i was little”

“They were probably Bill and Charlie. Anyway, the meeting is this way”

Fred led you down a long corridor as he told you everything that had been going on with the whole Voldemort and his Death Eaters thing; he told that they had taken over the the Daily Prophet and that the members of the Order and Albus Dumbledore were almost certain that the Dark Lord's followers had managed to meddle in the ministry so just a few Aurors had the courage to be part of the Order of the Phoenix.

“Then it's a good thing that we don't belong to the Ministry," Byron commented. Fred cocked his head to one side.

“You don’t?

"No" you replied "We came from Beauxbatons, in France."

"What were you doing there?"

"We were Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers."

"I was a teacher, he was an assistant."

Byron rolled his eyes making Fred laugh. You smiled at that, but you didn't expect Byron to throw one of his arms around your shoulders and give you a kiss on the cheek

"And we were going to get married the next winter, weren't we?"

"No."

"Oh, couple problems?" asked Fred with amusement. You pulled Byron's arm away

"We're not a couple."

"You broke up?"

"We never started"

You looked to the front, you were near a huge room that was the gathering point for dozens of people. Among the sea of people you recognized a clump of bubblegum pink hair that undoubtedly belonged to your older sister -Dora always had a penchant for that color- and, without further hesitation, you entered the room.

You held up your hands and made light come out of them cause no one seemed to have noticed your presence. Everyone turned to look at you and you felt satisfied as each person's attention focused on the warm light from your hands. Increasing the intensity of the light, all the people in the room had to cover their eyes and you took advantage of it to make your way to Dumbledore, who greeted you with a small handshake. You kept the light on over your left hand.

"I think that was enough demonstration for today, my dear."

You nodded and made the light disappear. Everyone fell silent trying to acknowledge the new arrival; Tonks, on the other hand, let out a squeal of happiness and ran to you to wrap you in a tight hug. In the distance, Bill Weasley made his way through the crowd with his brother Charlie.

"I knew you'd come," Tonks said to you. You smiled "Although I wasn't quite sure if all my letters made it safely to France, still, i appreciate you being here."

"Believe me, Dora, your letters made it all the way to my room at Beauxbatons" You looked at Dumbledore who was watching you patiently. You grimaced before sighing "Madame Maxime wasn't too happy when i told her that I was leaving the school, but I couldn't stay knowing that you needed my help. I... I left my position at the school and have come to stay."

“Are you serious?" Tonks asked, astonished "You're staying?"

"Well, it's not like I have anywhere else to go, right? After all, Madame Maxime doesn't believe in the Dark Lord's return and I'm sure she won't lift a finger to get it talked about at school. Maybe the students don't even know what's going on. What happened at the the Triwizard Tournament...

"What happened at the Triwizard Tournament was an unfortunate event" said Dumbledore, raising his voice for all to hear "However, we are in time to prevent another such event from taking place, but well only succeed if each of us is willing to face any consequences from now on”

The chorus of voices from the Order members rose, agreeing with Dumbledore's words, who smiled in pleasure. People began to scatter around the room and as the atmosphere began to feel lighter, conversations formed that made a few people laugh. Sirius Black and Molly Weasley approached the sisters and greeted you with a smile.

"It's good to see you again, dear, Oh! You were just a little girl when i saw you years ago" Molly squeezed you in a bone rattling hug. Sirius let out a laugh "You must have been eleven when you left for France. You left without saying goodbye, how rude!"

"Calm down, Molly" Sirius said, gently pushing the woman away. He offered you his open hand and you smiled at him "I'm Sirius Black. You may not know me cause well, i was in Azkaban for a long time, but my cousin Andromeda has told me a lot about you."

"My mother,? are you two related?"

"Uh-huh. That makes me your uncle, isn't that wonderful, give me a hug!"

"Sirius!" Molly shouted, when he lifted you up and started to spin you around making you dizzy. She set you back down on the ground and waited for you to regain your balance before leaving a kiss on your flushed cheek "I told you not to behave like that!"

"Stop yelling at me, Molly, you already look like my mother. Besides, it was the excitement. I haven't had a family in a long time."

"Thanks for what I get" Tonks complained. Sirius laughed

"Relax, you're still my favorite niece. That is until (Y/N) competes for the position, then there's nothing I can do"

"You're unbelievable Sirius, you really are" Molly reproached him. You shook your head while maintaining a smile that made your face hurt.

At the back of the room, Byron struck up a conversation with the Weasley twins while Molly continued to berate Sirius for being so brash and crude. You watched Byron as he talked and talked about something you didn't hear, but it kept Molly's children wide-eyed and their hands static at their sides. Suddenly, Molly let out a squeak and took your hand.

"You must come with me, you haven't met my other children yet."

You wondered how many more children Molly had had when a pair of redheads came out to meet you. They were considerably older than the twins, but all retained their red hair, whitish complexions and huge blue eyes. Molly smiled, releasing your hand.

"This is Bill and Charlie, remember them? You used to play together as kids."

Bill's gaze collided with yours and it was then that you remembered your childhood before you left home, when you and Dora loved to visit the Weasley home solely to play and run all over the Burrow together with Molly and Arthur Weasley's children.

Charlie was the same age as you, but for some unknown reason you always had a special connection with Bill. You remembered playing with him for afternoons on end, or the time you tried to climb one of Molly's trees and fell and scraped your knee. Bill didn't want to call his mother to fix you up and, since you were still too little to do magic, he decided that a little kiss on the injured part would help the pain pass.

Your cheeks burned at the thought that Bill had been your best friend as a child and that.... Oh God, he had given you your first kiss when you were five and he was seven; it had been Charlie's birthday party and the two of you had been arguing over who should get the cherry from the cake. The fight ended when you put the cherry in your mouth and Bill gave you a little kiss on the lips so he wouldn't miss the taste of that cherry.

It was something silly and unimportant, but it still embarassed you horribly

Bill reached out his hand when he saw you deep in thought, and he took your hand slowly and shook it gently.

"It's good to see you again, (Y/N)."

You smiled apologetically. God, you looked like a fool.

"It’s good to see you too, Bill."

#bill weasley #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x reader #domhnall gleeson imagine #domhnall gleeson #domhnall gleeson x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter cast #fred weasley imagines #charlie weasley #the light is coming

85 notes · View notes

jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

Text

As Usual

Pairing: Mando x Reader

Summary: When Mando finds himself in need of some help in a tiny village on Arbiflux, he may leave with more than he expected.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual assault (or at least alluding to it), a lot of unimportant OC’s with names to fill the town

Word Count: 5700

A/N: This is my first Mando fic so I’m really sorry if it sucks. I tried though and if you guys enjoy this, I have an idea for another one.

_____________________________

The Mandalorian caught your attention the moment he walked into your family’s blacksmith shop. Tall, angular, and mysterious, the man landed his ship in the large clearing just on the other side of the river from where your town was and made his way across the utilitarian wooden bridge directly to the shops. You watched in curiosity as this new stranger made his way into your village, a small bundle of something you couldn’t make out walking right next to him.

You had heard stories of the Mandalorians and the Great Purge, though you were no expert by any means on anything other than simply knowing they existed. Seeing one in person though felt surreal. For all you’d known, they’d been killed off years ago. But apparently not all because one was approaching you quickly.

“Can I help you?” You asked, taking your worn protective leather gloves off and walking towards the open mouth of your family’s forge where the Mandalorian had approached.

“I need a part for my ship to be fixed.” He answered shortly in a vaguely robotic voice.

Tousling your fingers through your locks, you attempted to blindly force the stray hairs into place, “Well, we don’t get too many visitors with ships here. Your best bet for finding someone who can fix your ship would probably be in the city.”

“Where is the nearest city?” He questioned, lifting a small bundle of tan fabric off the ground. Your brows furrowed when you saw that there was a small wrinkly green baby but the Mandalorian tucked the child further into his chest, almost shielding him from your view for some odd reason.

Writing the action off, you pointed to your right with your thumb, “About ten miles west.”

“How long is it to travel?”

“On foot, about four hours. With a kaadu, maybe two.” You explained, gesturing to the large reptilian creatures in the pens around town. Mando sighed heavily and you got the impression he was on a limited time constraint, “What do you need fixed?”

The man shifted, “The ventilation system. The fins on the fan are damaged, blocking it from spinning. The oxygen is hardly circulating throughout the ship.”

“Broken fins? They metal?” You asked, to which the man just nodded, “I might be able to help if that’s the only problem. Can I see?”

The Mandalorian led you back to his ship and you walked inside, skin crawling with excitement. You’d never been on a ship before. Like you’d told the man earlier, they never really landed in your little village and you seldom traveled to the bigger cities. It was like a metal maze, cramped but still somehow roomy enough to be comfortable.

You took in your surroundings as he led you through the small hallways, stopping when you saw an almost book-like assortment of massive sheets of a black substance with what appeared to be carvings of screaming people. An uneasiness settled in the air that the Mandalorian noticed, glancing back over his shoulder to see you looking at his assortment of bounties that had been frozen in Carbonite. Since people had come after him, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the criminals he had yet to deliver but the thought was always pushed off. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere.

“They’re alive. Just should have cooperated.” Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words so he continued reluctantly, “Bounties.”

“Oh, you’re a bounty hunter?” You asked, relaxing slightly. Knowing that whoever these people were were both criminals and still alive, you felt a little better. They must have been pretty bad people if they had bounties on their heads.

You were far from naive but you weren’t well experienced in matters of the universe. Arbiflux had been your only home, and, even then, you seldom left your small village. Always work to do, anything to help your family. You’d always dreamed of adventure though, getting off the forested planet and exploring the galaxy. The Mandalorian must have travelled all over the galaxy in his line of work and seen so much. It made you envious. You took his silence to your first question as an agreement so you continued, “I’d imagine work would have taken you all over the place. I’ve never left this planet. Hell, I’ve only ever left the village a handful of times.”

“I have been to quite a few planets.” His modulated voice humored your musings, turning to continue his way to the ventilation system.

You trailed behind, vague metal echoes following your boot covered footsteps, “What are they like?”

“A lot of desert planets. Some have swamps. Some have forests. Some are just cities. A few are all ice. Some are a combination.” As he spoke, you fantasized about all the planets that could be out there. You had done so many times before and every time the new planets became more and more fantastic, sometimes to an unrealistic degree. But how could anything be unrealistic when you didn’t really know the constraints of reality in your own universe?

“I’ve always wanted to see them.” You mused out loud, “Your ship is really nice by the way.”

Mando looked back at you and, although you could see no hint of expression behind the helmet you immediately recognized as being made from beskar, he had an eyebrow cocked at you. It didn't sound like you were making fun of him but he knew the Razor Crest was anything but. "You haven't seen many ships before, have you?"

With a small shrug and slightly twisted face, you shook your head, "We don't get too many people coming through town and I don't make it into the city often."

Mando almost felt bad for you. He had learned how to read people easily and you were an open book. It was in the way you stood, the words you spoke, the way your eyes twinkled in amazement at the smallest things on his ship. You were a girl who loved her family and had a sense of duty to them. He assumed by the look of the shop you worked in that blacksmithing was a generational career, probably dating back to your grandparents, at least. He could see the love for your community and home but he also saw a fire for adventure, for anything other than what you knew. With every word, every little subconscious movement, his image of you became clearer and clearer.

"This is the fan." Mando stopped suddenly and pointed to an open panel in the ship's wall. You halted quickly, having almost forgotten why you entered the Razor Crest to begin with. "The rest of the system works. I was able to fix the wiring. It's just this part here that was damaged and now it won't rotate. It won't circulate the oxygen."

He stepped to the side, allowing you to step in and inspect the damage. It was a long cylindrical metal piece with five slanted blades evenly spaced around the circumference. There was a mechanism in the middle that led you to assume that it spun around on some metal rod and the blades circulated the oxygen throughout the ship. Sure enough, two of the blades were bent and crumpled, so much so that when you gave the device a little test nudge to see if it would spin at all, it only rotated an inch or so before the crumpled fans hit another part of the system with a klink, preventing it from moving more.

"As long as these just need to be flattened and straightened out, this should be a breeze. I could have it done by the end of the day." You continued to inspect the blades to get a full understanding of the damage. "So what happened to it anyway?"

"There was an altercation on board with a passenger. A stray shot from her gun hit the panel that used to cover this and it bent everything up." Mando remembered the fight with the Twi'lek woman. She was a fellow bounty hunter, yet another person who wanted the money for the Child.

The slight black scar from the laser on the wall confirmed the report and you ran your finger over the smudge, curious to see if it would wipe away. It didn't. "Sounds like such an interesting life."

“You said you could have it done by the end of the day?” The Mandalorian ignored your wistful comment and set the Child on the ground, making sure he stayed in eyesight. He didn’t see you as someone who would harm the baby but he also couldn’t be sure after everything that had happened.

You nodded, “Yeah, this looks pretty simple. But you’re going to have to take it apart. I have no clue how any of that works and I don’t want to be responsible if it breaks.”

“That’s no problem.” The Mandolorian stepped over and pulled on a few wires, disconnected a few fuses, and before you knew it, the overall fan had dislodged from its place with a hiss of decompression. He turned it in his hands until he found the button he had to push to unlock the mechanism holding each blade in place. It took no time before he handed you the broken blades one by one.

You held the blades in your arms, moderately sized at about 18 inches long and 9 inches across. Leaning forward, you inspected the intact ones to get an idea of how these needed to be shaped. “Well, there’s not much to do in the village while you wait, I’m afraid. There’s a little bar you could hang out at I suppose. They serve some decent food.”

“Thank you. I’ll be around.” He responded in his typical concise manner.

The blades really were quick work, like you’d expected. What took the longest was the order you had before, which was making the metal wedges of Naz Ta’ron’s ridge plow that he’d ordered to be made last week. Farm equipment made up most of your work, unfortunately, aside from the occasional weaponry. The weaponry never took too long, definitely not as much as you’d like. Making swords and hatchets was a hell of a lot more interesting than manufacturing plows and wheels.

By the time the sun had just begun to set, you had finished the third blade, dipping the last blazing orange, newly repaired fan blade into the large bucket of water, bubbles sizzling aggressively at the contact with the nearly molten metal and cooling it rapidly. After setting it down on the workbench to cool, you untied your leather smock and brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face. As far as you could remember, these looked exactly like the intact fans back on the ship, though in better condition. You had no idea what they looked like new but this had to be close.

Throughout the day, you’d watched from afar as the Mandalorian had wandered through the booths before returning to the ship with what you presumed to be a basket full of supplies. That was earlier in the day and he’d since been waiting in the bar you’d told him about earlier. You powered down the forge and gathered the fans before walking over to the bar. It was only a few buildings down, no more than a few hundred feet away, so the walk was quick. People meandered around town on their usual paths, the ones you came to know each person in the small village to take by heart.

When you entered the bar, the usual people were in there. K’jann Ving, Jared Amavia, and Haera Kiwai all sat in their usual seats with their usual drinks. All so usual. The only thing out of place was the Mandolorian sitting at the booth in the corner with his little baby whatever-he-was.

He noticed you enter right away, which wasn’t saying much considering the small size of the room. You walked right up to the table, “Fans are all finished up. Figured I’d drop them off.”

You placed the sheets of metal on the table. The Mandolorian reached down beneath the table and pulled out a small brown bag, “How much?”

“30 credits?” You estimated, not really knowing how to price such a repair. Compared to other weapon repairs, though this was only slightly more because there were more than one things needing repairing.

The Mandolorian began to sift through his bag, presumably counting out the coins. The little green baby by his side stared up at you with adorable large eyes and cooed. You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face when his tiny arms reached out towards you, though you made no move to pick him up, opting to give him a tiny wave instead. Babies had always seemed to like you. Your nieces and nephews had loved you from the moment they were born.

A commotion sounded from outside the bar that stole your attention away from your payment and the Child. Your brows furrowed when you made eye contact with K’jann, who looked equally as confused as you did. Jared stood up from his spot at the bar and walked to the door, “What the hell is going on out there?”

Before he could find an answer, a bright flash of light struck him in the chest and he fell, lifeless. You shrieked and jumped at the unexpected attack. “Get down!” The Mandolorian demanded, pulling you closer to him before shoving the table over. He pushed you to the ground, scooped the child up, and placed him beside you hurriedly before you could comprehend what was happening. You were lying on the ground on your back, using the table as a wall of sorts to shield from the gun shots that were assailing towards you.

“Protect the Child!” The Mandolorian demanded of you, his voice surprisingly calm considering he had just been randomly attacked.

The baby reached up and clung to your shirt, struggling to pull himself up into your arms for protection. You reached around his body and scooped him up, flinching when a blast of laser zinged a little too close to your face for comfort.

“You’ve been a hard one to reach, Mando. You could’ve just given us the Child and it would all be done with but now we’re gonna kill you, take the kid, and your shiny armor.” A man’s voice taunted from the other side of the table barricade.

What the hell kind of trouble was this guy in?!

The Mandolorian jumped over the table and you reached out for him, his cape slipping through your fingers as he disappeared into the fight “Wait!” You called out to now avail. What the hell was he doing? There were a few grunts and groans. The laser blasts stopped being directly in your direction and began to be shot more erratically around the room.

“Get him out of here!” The Mandolorian’s modulated voice yelled at you from the other side.

This was it. You were going to die. This was what you got for craving adventure.

The baby squirmed against your body, making little fearful noises. Rolling over onto your knees, you scooped up the baby and held him tightly against your chest before reaching into your pocket and procuring a blaster. Peeking around the corner of the table first to ensure that it was clear to run, you took off like a bullet, darting as quickly as possible to the door.

The Mandalorian was fighting against two humans, a Rodian, and a Cerean woman at once. It appeared like he had them until the massive Cerean woman pinned him on the table, hand crushing over a part of his forearm that he seemed in a struggle to have access to.

You didn’t know anything about this man other than the fact that he was a bounty hunter with a broken ventilation system. Why did you want to help him? Why were you putting your life on the line to aid him when you knew damn well he could very clearly be in the wrong? Why did you trust him so much when you knew literally nothing about him?

The Cerean woman fell on top of the Mandalorian the moment you pulled the trigger. He groaned at the heavy weight but used her body to knock one of the human men down. He quickly tapped on his forearm, right where the woman had been pressing, and a large flame shot out towards the Rodian, who shielded his face.

You began to run towards the door again, so close to escaping with the child, but something hard suddenly knocked your feet out from under you and you crashed to the ground with a painful thud. You clutched the baby close to your chest as you fell, using your body to shield him from the impact. Your eyes opened to see a tall Zabrak woman that you hadn’t seen previously standing over you.

“Aw, Mando! Using some little village girl to save the kid? That’s a new level of low.” She chuckled sadistically, rolling her eyes from the Mandalorian and back to you, “Sorry, babe, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Hand over the kid so I don’t have to kill you.”

You froze in fear for a moment, brain stuck buffering in a desperate attempt to comprehend the situation you were in.

“Guess I have to kill you.” She continued with an unapologetic shrug after only a second or two. She had a large staff in her hand that she spun around with skill, picking up enough momentum for the black metal rod to look like a blur, before slamming it down right where your head was. Thankfully, you rolled to the side just in time for the stick to slam into the ground with enough force that it very easily could have killed you.

Without a second thought, you aimed the blaster that was still in your hand just in time and shot her square in the chest. Her body crumpled into a heap of black robes, her staff clattering to the ground. It took you a moment to realize that the commotion had ceased.

The Mandalorian hurried over to you, “Are you okay?”

Your whole body was shaking but you nodded, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “What the hell was that about?” You demanded, sitting up finally. When you looked around, you noticed that everyone who had attacked was dead. The other patrons of the bar had seemed to escape.

Mando reached to take the kid from your grasp but stopped when he noticed how the small alien snuggled into your body like it was the safest place in the galaxy. You looked down to inspect his little body for injuries but he thankfully appeared unharmed. “I’ve been quested to bring him to the Jedi. He was originally a bounty I was supposed to bring in but I learned that the man who wanted him was going to hurt him. I couldn’t give him up. It’s my duty to protect him. People all over the galaxy like this have been trying to get the bounty on both of our heads.”

“What’s so special about him?” The baby looked like any other baby alien. You hadn’t necessarily seen many baby aliens but this one didn’t seem particularly extraordinary.

“I honestly don’t know for sure. I do know he can do things with his mind when he wants to, though. I figure it has something to do with that.” He extended a hand, pulling you up to your feet, “I’m sorry you got involved.”

You shook your head slightly, looking around at the bodies littering the bar, two of which you were responsible for killing, “You said they were going to hurt the baby?” You asked rhetorically, “It’s no problem.”

“Do all small town blacksmiths just carry blasters on them?” He asked, nodding towards the gun that was still in your hand.

You tucked it away again, “We’ve gotten a few less than pleasant visitors from neighboring cities and towns. Just some jerks who come to town looking to pick a fight with the men or take what they want from the women. Pull out a blaster, it’ll usually put them in their place.”

Mando thought about what that actually meant for a moment and a few more pieces of the puzzle that was you began to click together in his head. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d had to pull the gun on a man who was trying to take advantage of you and the thought made his heart sink. He didn’t know you nearly at all but nobody deserved that. There was a twinge of protectiveness in his chest that made him want to track down anyone who’d ever threatened that sort of harm to you and show them just how good at killing the Mandalorians really were.

There wasn’t time for that, though. If these five bounty hunters were here by now, there’d be more soon. He couldn’t risk getting caught up with any more people who wanted to take the Child. “Well you’re a good shot,” He complimented with a small nod of his helmet, “Anyways, we need to take off now. If they already knew we were here, others will be here soon. You said the parts were ready?”

You nodded, “They were. I’m not exactly sure where they are now, though.” Your face twisted as you gestured around the freshly wrecked bar, furniture pieces just as strewn out of place as the cups and plates that were on them.

The two of you looked around for the fans and people from around town slowly funnelled into the bar, also helping to clean up the debris from the attack. “You need to go.” Zim Golu, the bar’s owner stood over Mando, who was crouched down to pick up one of the fans that he’d finally found. Zim Golu’s arms were crossed, his cheek bleeding from being hit with something during the fight.

“I’m sorry about the damage,” Mando stood up, “I just need to find a part for my ship and we’ll be off this planet as soon as it’s installed.”

Zim Golu stepped closer, “I don’t care about your part. I want you out of my bar.”

You looked over from the next table over, setting down the chair you had picked up where it was supposed to be. “What’s the problem?” You questioned, walking over to the pair with furrowed brows.

“There’s no problem.” Mando responded calmly, “We’ll be leaving as soon as I find the pieces I need.”

“No, he’ll be leaving now.”

The Child, who had been wandering around the building while you all cleaned, came up and held onto your leg. You glanced down before gently running your fingers over his head. “We cannot leave without these pieces. The oxygen can’t move through the ship without them. We barely made it here as it was.” Mando again was calm but insistent.

“What don’t you understand, Mando? Look at the trouble you’ve caused my bar and this whole town.” Zim Golu clearly had no intention of backing down, despite the fact that the intimidating Mandalorian towered over him.

You stepped forward and extended your arm between the men, “Mando, why don’t you go back to the ship and wait there. I will look for the pieces and deliver them when I find them.” You sent Zim Golu a look that told him that that was what was going to be what happened, whether he liked it or not. “How’s that?”

The bar owner shot Mando a dirty look before pointing to the door, “Don’t come back to this place again.”

Mando stood strong and emotionless under the shield of beskar and stared down Zim Golu as he walked away.

“I’ll meet you at your ship in a few. We’ve already found two so the last one shouldn’t take long to find.” Mando looked down at you while you spoke. You handed him the first two fans you found, “Maybe you can get these installed while you wait. I’m sorry about Zim Golu. He’s always cranky.”

“No, I understand. I’d be mad if my bar was destroyed by strangers too. Thank you for looking. We’ll be on the ship,” He beckoned for the Child to follow him out the door but the baby was hesitant, only wanting to be near you for some reason, “C’mon.” Mando picked up the baby and carried him out.

Finding the last fan was more difficult than you had hoped. When the table was pushed over, it had been kicked under a shelf in the corner and it took you lying face down on the ground to finally see it.

When you got to the ship, you awkwardly stepped up onto the ramp that led up to the Razor Crest and just up to the entrance of the main hull, “Uh, hello? Mando? It’s Y/N. I found the fan.” You announced, looking around while you waited for the man to appear before entering the ship.

He climbed down a small ladder and approached you. You extended the fan blade out to him, “Here it is. Sorry it took so long.” You apologized, following Mando as he took off down the hall towards the ventilation system. “How did the other two fit? Is it working?”

He stopped by the busted open wall panel that was supposed to conceal the ventilation system and pulled out the cylindrical piece that the blades attached to. He slipped the last one into place and it fit perfectly, “They fit nicely. Now we just need to see if it works.” He slid the mechanism back into place and reattached all the wires that he’d removed earlier. “Stay here and tell me if it spins properly. I’ll head up to the cockpit and activate it.”

With that, he disappeared before you could protest (not that you were going to) up to where you assumed the cockpit was. You waited patiently until the low hum of the ventilation system kicked on and the fan began to rotate without a hitch. The Child waddled around the corner and right to you, arms up, asking to be held. You lifted him into your arms with a smile and held up your palm to him, “We fixed it! High five, buddy. Or, well, high three, I guess.” You chuckled, counting his fingers. The baby didn’t understand what you were trying to achieve so you gently tapped the palm of your hand against his in a forced high five.

“Is it working?” Mando’s robotic voice asked from behind you and you spun around to face him.

You nodded, “Everything’s looking good.”

Mando immediately noticed the Child in your arms but, for once, he didn’t tense up at it. You felt safe, which perhaps was an error to assume such characteristics, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, he’d never seen the Child so affectionate with anyone other than himself. “Thank you for all of your help. I’m sorry about the trouble we brought with us.”

“It’s no problem. If I’m being honest, it was kind of thrilling.” You chuckled, looking away with a small blush. That probably made you sound crazy.

A silence settled over the two of you and Mando watched as your attention quickly turned back to the Child in your arms. “He really likes you.” Mando noted, “He’s not usually like that.”

A small smile appeared on your face, “Well I must say I’m pretty fond of him too. He’s adorable. And, for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is really noble.” You told the Mandalorian. Why did complimenting him give you butterflies? You had no idea what the man looked like. For all you knew, he could have tentacles for a mouth or four eyes. But, regardless, there was just something about him that made you uncomfortable in the best way - in the sort of way that left your skin crawling with excitement and a constant little urge in the back of your head that made you desperate for him to like you.

“I appreciate that.”

Another small moment of silence again left you rocking back and forth on your heels. “Where are you off to next?” You inquired curiously.

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out though. Tatooine isn’t too far from here. We might go there and lie low for a day or two.” Mando responded.

A question had been whirring around your mind since the Mandalorian first arrived and enlisted your help but you didn’t realize how hard asking it would actually be. You knew, though, that this was your last chance. “Can I come with?” You asked, the words coming out quickly.

“This isn’t a passenger ship.” He answered simply.

“I don’t mean like a taxi or whatever. I mean... “ You struggled to figure out how to ask, “Can I come with you guys? Wherever you go, I don’t really care. I don’t have any money to pay you but I can help however you need. I have some survival skills in the wilderness. I can sort of fix some things. I have child care experience. And I’m a fast learner for anything else you might need.” You chewed your lip while waiting for the Mandalorian to respond.

“Why would you want to do that?”

You sighed, “I just… I don’t want to die here knowing I never did anything but smash metal with a hammer. I don’t want to spend my whole life stuck in this little village when there’s an entire galaxy out there to see. I understand that joining you would mean a life of danger but I think I’m willing to risk that.”

Mando pondered the proposition. He had no actual need for a companion on his journey to deliver the Child to the Jedi but he could see the potential luxury in having one. Clearly, the Child really liked you. Fighting and caring for the Child was difficult at times and having an extra pair of hands would definitely prove helpful. Although you weren’t a trained warrior, you could hold your own in a fight and had no problem pulling the trigger when the moment called for it. You did have the ability to fix things that he wasn’t able to, at least when you had the proper tools.

Beyond that, he could see your desperateness to leave this planet. Mando had never been what many would call a “softie.” He did what needed to be done and would do whatever it took to meet those ends. He had his ethics, of course, and obviously he felt bad for the people that he couldn’t help but he had to admit that he often had the “not my problem” mentality. Perhaps it was attributed to his newfound position as a father figure or maybe it was because he actually cared about you for some unknown reason, but he found himself sympathizing with your situation. He could see in your eyes that you saw hope in him and the Razor Crest as a way to get off Arbiflux. This was your opportunity to leave behind a life of “the usual.” But he still couldn’t help but find himself stuck on what you said earlier about the men from neighboring towns coming in to take advantage of the women here. The fact that you carried a gun in an otherwise safe community simply to defend yourself against men like that actually enraged him. His “not my problem” mentality seemed to be receding to his yearning to help you in some way, especially after all you’d done for him.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “People try to kill us almost everywhere we go. You will never be safe. Can you handle that?”

With a hard swallow, you nodded your head.

“We are leaving in thirty minutes. Take only what you need.”

Your eyes widened with surprise and a big smile spread on your face, “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes. As long as you understand what coming with me entails, I could use the help.” Mando didn’t actually hate his decision to allow you to come with. Part of him was actually a little excited to have another person, an actual companion, on board. Of course, he would gladly kill you or strand you on an icy planet the second you indicated any harmful intent towards the Child but that seemed highly unlikely at the moment.

The way you did a little excited jump made him smile under the helmet. Your enthusiasm and gratefulness gave you a humble, real, and, frankly, slightly adorable energy, despite the badass edge of literally forging blades and shooting people. “Thank you so much! You won’t regret this. I will be right back!” He watched as you ran off the Razor Crest, presumably to your home to grab a bag of personal belongings.

Mando moved to the main hold and sat on a box, the Child standing on the ground and looking up at him. He could have sworn that the little green baby was giving him that look. It was the look that kids gave their friends when their crush walked by. “Hey, knock that off. You better be on your best behavior for her. She’s willing to help you not get killed so be thankful she’s coming along.” Mando told the tiny being, who just giggled in response. “We’re just helping her! It’s not like that.” Mando insisted to the Child, exasperated with his silent (imagined) insistence. It didn’t occur to him that he really was just arguing with himself.

He stood up and did a once around the ship to try and work out the logistics of living with you. Frankly, he wasn’t sure where you’d sleep or how living with another person was going to work as it had been so long since he’d spent more than a few days with someone. All Mando knew was that he wasn’t totally dreading your company.

#mando x you #mando x y/n #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din djaren #din djarin fics #mando imagine #mando fic #pedro pascal #star wars

263 notes · View notes

clefairymuke · 4 years ago

Text

regrets | chapter three

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairings: levi ackerman x reader / eren jaeger x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1760

Levi's words had undeniably left you a bit shaken; this contributed to the pit in your stomach when you approached his door for the second time that day. Something about the way he glared at you -- so angry yet calm, terrifying yet serene -- had been the frontmost thing in your mind all day. His eyes cut straight through you in a way that you had never experienced. You nearly shivered as you raised your hand to knock on the door. You knocked twice and stood back, waiting for him to say, "Come in."

He didn't, though. He opened the door within moments, like he had been waiting. He looked different now. He was not wearing his typical uniform and cravat combo, which you thought made him look like a dunce anyways. He was dressed in a simple grey long-sleeve shirt and brown pants. On his feet were a pair of white socks. When your eyes came to his face, you noticed that his hair was a bit messy. If he wasn't such a pain in your ass, he might have been somewhat attractive.

"Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to say something?" he asked, breaking you from your unknowing trance of studying him. And with that, all of your musing about him disappeared and he was back to being the bane of your existence.

"I was just trying to figure out how you managed to pull that stupid tie from around your neck without having a conniption. I thought you probably showered in it," you told him as he stood back to let you in. The room was as you left it last, completely tidy.

"How did you make it this far being this disrespectful?"

"A lot of determination. So what exactly am I to clean?" You looked around searching for even a speck of dust. None was to be found.

He scoffed at you. "Do you honestly think I sleep, cook, and shower at this very desk? Believe it or not, I function pretty similarly to the average human being. I did say you would be cleaning the entire suite."

"Okay, asshole. You don't have to make me feel like an idiot." You felt the blood rushing to your cheeks and tried desperately to fight it off, if such a thing was possible.

"It's easier because you truly are one."

"An idiot?"

"That is what I said. Do you have hearing problems, brat?" He combed a piece of hair out of his face as you huffed. "Can you just get to cleaning and get the fuck out of my hair? If you would just be obedient and stop doing stupid shit, we'd never have to be in this situation again."

"If you would've minded your own business and let us have a little extra food, we wouldn't have to be anywhere near each other, either!" You threw your hands up in an overly exaggerated shrug. Messing with Levi was no longer fun. It was utterly infuriating. "What do you care if I'm a little disobedient? How does it affect you, Levi?"

"For the last time, you will refer to me as your Captain. And that is exactly why it matters to me. You will not ignore my authority. I will have your respect, feigned or otherwise." He was glaring at you again, the same look in his eyes from earlier. You tried to match his intensity as you scraped the bottom of your soul for as much courage as you could muster.

"What have you done to make me respect you, Levi? It isn't like you respect me. Or anybody. You don't watch your words for anyone, what makes you think you deserve for me to watch mine because of a stupid title?" You were absolutely fuming with rage towards the man in front of you. His muscles were tense and his jaw was clenched tightly. You wondered if you had seen Levi angry now. Would he be able to make the same threatening comment after this interaction?

Within a second, he had you frozen. He said your name roughly, almost as a growl, and was now so close the ends of his hair brushed your cheeks. "You will not speak to me this way. Continue to treat your superiors as peers. You won't make it past the first mission. Do not become a casualty over a stupid fucking complex." You were sure he was angry now. Your blood was running cold against your will. "Stop looking for attention. If you keep going down this path, the most you will get is at your funeral in the very near future."

For the first time, you had no snark reply to his rage-inducing words. All you truly wanted to do was hit him. It was nearly impossible not to. Your fists were so harshly clenched you could feel the crescent-shaped wounds forming on your palms. All you could form a coherent thought to say was, "Fuck you, Levi."

He backed up, likely for your safety. His hand rose to grip his hair as he exhaled slowly. "Get the hell out. I can't stand to look at you. Forget your punishment. You cannot fix blatant stupidity."

You accepted his invitation and stormed towards the door, Levi following closely behind. he reached in front of you and practically tore the door off of the wall, slamming it as soon as your feet planted in the hallway.

You wanted to scream.

---

You sat in a pile of hay at the stables, still filled with anger. You had no way to release it except pressing your fingernails deeper into your palms as you replayed the fight over and over in your brain. You wanted to storm back up to his room and punch him in the face. You despised the smug look on his face as he taunted you. He could dish out any disrespect he wanted, but as soon as you returned the favor, you may as well be dead.

You heard hay rustling a few yards away. You stood quietly, one hand on the hilt of one of your swords and the other on the trigger for your ODM gear. You began to walk slowly towards the noise, saying, "Hello?" when you drew near. You could see a figure, but it was too dark to know who it was for sure.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you were on stables tonight."

It was Eren. He was brushing the mane of a horse as he spoke. You let your guard down.

"What the hell are you doing?" you asked rather harshly. You hadn't meant to say it so angrily.

"Woah, what's wrong with you?" he questioned, placing the brush on the rack to his left and stepping away from the horse. You leaned against the wall next to him.

"I really, really hate Captain Levi," you told him honestly, pinching the bridge of your nose between two fingers.

"Hey, me too. But what's your reasoning?" He kind of laughed with his words, cheering you up a bit.

You told him the story. By the end, you were sitting together in the hay. When you finished, you placed your hands behind your head and leaned back until you were laying down, facing the stars. Eren followed suit.

"Trust me, I get it," he told you, a smile hinting in his voice. "He publicly beat the shit out of me. He's not exactly in my top ten favorite people." You laughed, your first time smiling since breakfast. "I don't even think you have a top ten, Eren. Maybe a top two."

"Nah, you're up there somewhere. Probably Reiner and Bertholdt, too. Make it a top five." He looked over at you, pulling his eyes away from the night sky. You did the same. You noticed his eyes were a really pretty green. Jean would puke if he knew you had really just thought that. You chuckled at the thought.

"What have I done to get into Eren Jeager's top five?" you asked him, interested. The two of you hadn't really talked previously.

"Well," he stretched a bit, his shirt lifting to expose a bit of his stomach, "your awful taste in friends aside, you seem like a good person. Fun. Smart. Interesting. Typical top five traits. Your looks definitely aren't a detriment."

You hoped he couldn't see you blush in the dark surrounding you. "Jean would kill me if he knew we were hanging out right now." It was true, but you mostly wanted to redirect the conversation. Eren basically telling you that you were pretty made you happy and made you want to crawl into a deep, dark hole at the same time. Emotions and compliments were not your strong suit.

"Jean doesn't have to know everything, you know. Mikasa wouldn't be a big fan, either." You thought about that for a moment.

"Mikasa is in love with you. Jean hates your guts. There's a bit of a difference in their reasoning, I would say," you told him, grinning.

He ignored your comment about Mikasa and focused on you, instead. "Sure, Jean hates me. But do you?" He looked at you expectantly, his green eyes growing larger.

You looked away for a moment, embarrassed. Then you looked back and met his gaze. "No, I don't suppose I do. Should I?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't, honestly. You're pretty fun to talk to." His lips pulled into a smile as he looked at you meekly. You would typically describe Eren as anything but meek. It suited him.

You looked at each other for a few moments. You noticed how his hair fell messily over his forehead, almost touching his eyebrows. It looked nice shaggier like that. You, for whatever reason, found yourself hoping he didn't cut it anytime soon. He had a slender nose that came to a nice point above his cupid's bow. His lips were slightly parted. They looked inviting.

After a comfortable silence, you finally said, "Jean doesn't make my decisions for me, you know. Nobody does."

You saw his eyes moving slowly, studying your face. You didn't try to prevent yourself from blushing this time. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"Why is that?" you asked as his face drew closer to yours. Suddenly, Eren was kissing you. Your face grew hot as he pulled away, but you put your hands behind his head and pulled him back towards you. As his hand traveled under your shirt, your worries about explaining this to Jean faded away completely.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren yeager #snk #snk x reader #enemies to lovers #slowburn

103 notes · View notes

kcatta-wodahs · 4 years ago

Text

Trans, Enby, or anything not Cis MC + OM Demon Bros!

TLDR; they all fuckin love you okay you’re wonderful

Lucifer

It happens right away honestly, as he is your introduction to Devildom

You arrive suddenly in the student council, with no fucking warning, and with a bunch of people who are saying they’re demons. And like yeah okay sorcery obviously exists in your world so we can work with this but

He looks at a file, and states your deadname, and in a fit of bravery or just “i guess im here now” you correct him.

The silence after that is palpable and every negative emotion you’re feeling as you wait shows up on your face.

Lucifer only has a slight frown, looking at the paper, and at you, before it clears.

“Oh. Humans. I understand.” He marks something on the paper, and repeats your name. Your real name.

“Should I assume that the pronouns listed are incorrect as well?”

He calls for a RAD uniform that you’re most comfortable with, while Diavolo gushes over “HUMAN!!!”

Okay, cool, you’re hanging with demons now but at least they respect your pronouns? Guess this is your life. Your next question is whether you’re dead lol

So he knows the whole time, but it doesn’t change a thing! He loves you the same.

When you’re closer, he is very to-the-point about caring for you when you’re feeling dysphoric.

He offers you tips, makes sure you maintain your voice training even if you’re embarrassed about it, and always pushes you to express yourself how you want.

Hell maybe they use that princely riches to get you whatever surgeries you might want!

And he will *very clearly* show you how much he likes your body, however it is.

After all, by the end of the game you belong to him, don’t you?

Mammon

When he's first assigned to be your guardian or whatever in Devildom, he didn't get the memo.

Didn't read the paperwork, cause he's just like me and puts off homework for way too long.

So he doesn't know these pronouns of yours that Lucifer has fixed in the documentation.

Which means, unfortunately, you have to correct him when he first speaks to Levi about you.

What's funny about it is that he'll complain about LITERALLY EVERYTHING having to do with you and you being a human and UGH he has to take care of a FRAGILE HUMAN

But when you correct the pronouns he doesn't even fucking blink.

You don't even explain.

You just say the correct pronoun after he messes up, and then he repeats you and *continues complaining about you* but this time in the correct pronouns.

This is the first moment out of a million of "hidden endearing things about Mammon" that you will come to learn.

Later, when you're closer, he will always be there to stand up for you and put up a fight if anyone wants to give you shit.

He will defend you to the end of time.

And he adores you. If he -- The Great Mammon -- adores you, then you must be perfect. So you can tell your stupid human brain to stuff it with the negative talk.

Leviathan

This one is written as AFAB

When you deny wearing the Ruri-chan dress for him, he's sad.

He KNEW you thought he was weird… and his thing for Ruri-chan was weird… and weirddmmm

So, you hesitantly tell him that… no, truly its not because of Ruri-chan

You just.. feel so sick when wearing dresses.

Something in you physically hurts, and you feel so *wrong* when in a situation where you're supposed to act "girly".

And you tell him that you don't really identify as female. You try to avoid that image whenever you can.

Levi is so touched that you would tell him and be honest with him.

He hugs you tightly and then turns beet red.

"D-Does that mean that you m-might.. kabedon… as Henry….?"

Cause he has that costume too and has never told anyone that he def would be seduced by his TSL hero.

You can get behind that one, and seeing how flustered he gets around you being yourself (through Henry?) has your confidence skyrocketing

This makes way to you flirting with ya boi 100% more often to see his adorable face.

Beelzebub

You go with him to work out, which is nothing really new, but this time he's looking at doing endurance training

...by swimming.

You have no idea what to do.

He didn't think twice about it, either. He didn't assume there would be any problem at all.

But for some reason your brain decided that his helpful and loving attitude wouldn't extend to this? Brains are silly when scared.

You try not to tear up when he questions why you've frozen in the doorway when he told you his plan.

You have no reason to be ashamed, or fearful, but the suddenness of the moment overwhelms you.

"I can't wear a swimsuit," is what comes out.

He pauses and then just looked vastly confused. He thought humans could swim..? Anyone could wear a swimsuit. You were wearing clothes right? What's the difference?

You wrap your arms around yourself, tryiing to soothe your nerves. "It's.. It shows too much.."

Then he looks you over, causing you to blush further, and he tips his head. "But you look nice."

Well if you weren't blushing before, now you definitely were. But it's not that. You hold your breath.

You try to explain without actually saying it, almost as if the word transgender has been blocked from your internal vocabulary.

But this babe just insists that you look great no matter what. Is it scars? Like everyone here has scars, it's okay. Weird toes? You should see Belphie's. There's a reason he wears socks all the time.

That almost makes you giggle, and you use that courage to say that you're trans.

He pauses for just a seond to blink. "Oh... nobody cares about that here."

He pulls you into a hug while you struggle for words. He tells you that you don't have to go swimming if you don't want to.

But he makes sure you know that he thinks you're wonderful. You're strong and brave and amazing. He will fight anyone who makes you feel differently.

Asmodeus

This one is AMAB

It’s seeing Asmo be unequivocally himself that gives you the courage to do it.

You haven’t even told your human friends yet. Your human family.

You’ve known for ages, but..

Seeing Asmo flounce over to you wearing the most STUNNING evening dress has you weak at the knees, for reasons other than he assumes.

He assumes that you’re wildly in love as you duck your head and try to mumble something through your shaking breaths, and of course, who wouldn’t be?

But when he coaxes you to speak up for him, delight of a whole different kind lights up in his expression.

“Could you… make me as pretty as you?”

Oh, darling, he wouldn’t even need to try.

He dolls you up, hosting a lovely makeover session in his room. What he doesn’t expect is for you to start crying when you look at yourself in the mirror.

Asmo’s unshakeable confidence is shaken. He rushes over to you, trying to brush away tears and learning what’s wrong.

That’s when you tell him what you’d been hiding for so long.

The adoration in his eyes catches you off guard, and he takes your hands lovingly. “Oh, honey..” he mumbles, affectionate and sweet instead of seductive. “What’s your name?”

He takes you out shopping the next day, and is always ready to help you be yourself.

He makes the switch almost instantly, and calls you the prettiest thing he’s ever seen even when you’re just waking up in the morning and kind of feel like a toad.

(You blame him for those mornings, though, since he’s the one working so hard to *thoroughly* exhaust you the night before.)

Satan

This one is AFAB

You and Satan have begun meeting rather often for tea.

It’s even gotten to the point where you’re both perfectly happy to sit in silence around each other. You’ve never been more comfortable.

But today, chaos reigns, and it has decided to make you clumsy today. Not even like, oh “that’s reasonable” clumsy.

No, you were enthralled in your fucking book, and you MISSED.

Tea, all down your chin and neck, and you hear a snort of derision.

Satan is looking at you, very clearly amused. “Very graceful.”

You huff and puff out your cheeks at him to prevent from blushing. “Shut up. Do you have a towel?”

Looking no less amused, he just pulls a new shirt from the dresser behind him and offers it to you.

You guys are chill. Good friends. Like. You don’t want to get up to go find a bathroom to change in. Your book is good and like Satan’s not about to be a creep, so you ask if it’s cool if you just change there, and he shrugs in response.

So, you swap shirts quickly, but when you’re dry he’s looking at you curiously.

“You have battle scars.”

You realize that you’d never told him. About your past, or your surgery, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious.

“It’s- .. Not exactly,” you fumble out, realizing that now, instead of finishing your amazing book, you have to deal with *coming out?* Ughhhhhh. “They’re from a surgery.”

Satan’s eyes don’t leave you. “I’ve read enough about the human world to know what they are,” he said, then he nods to himself. “I didn’t know you’d had such a fight.”

You are either very, very impressed or very, very confused and you really don’t know which to lean towards just yet.

“I’ve never been in a battle, Satan.”

“You fought to become yourself,” he answered, a small smile tracing his lips. “You never cease to impress me.”

Belphegor

The best part about becoming best friends with Belphie is the snuggle naps. It's the sweetest, calmest thing.

He is a little confused about why you insist on hugging a pillow when you nap with him, though.

He admits, its adorable. When he's big spoon he loves looking at you as you snuggle the big fluffy pillow.

When he wants to face you, though, he wants to be closer, he doesn't really understand it. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable but also.. why?

Eventually, he tries to get answers out of you by teasing you about getting closer *intimately*.

He does expect the blush.

He doesn't expect the look of despair that you hide from him.

He's stunned for a moment before demanding to know why the hell you would look so sad about that.

You try to shake it off, but Belphie's nothing if not persistent and annoying when he wants to be.

He learns that you have been trying really hard for months now to hide your body from him. To keep your personal info private, even while snuggling.

You didn't know how he would take it, after all.

What if he got something he wasn't expecting?

Honestly, Belphie sulks after hearing this. He flicks your forehead and glares at you for doubting him.

But he looks you dead in the eyes and reminds you that you could never convince him you were anything less than perfect.

If you expected him to be disappointed by whatever you hid during snuggles, he would never be. You would never be a disappointment to him.

Your next nap together doesn't feature the pillow between you, which makes your heart feel fit to burst while he snuggles you closer.

#hhhhh i posted this to the wrong blog at firsttttt #it took me fucking forever to finish this agh #it was so hard to come up with prompts that were unique and fun while not embarassing in any way #or well #not like bad bad embarassing?#i headcanon that all of them are some form of gender fluid or nonbinary anyway so like the demon bros just love you okay #bast babbles #my writing #obey me headcanons #obey me #obey me!#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphegor

261 notes · View notes

jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 4 years ago

Text

Arnav, Khushi: Choti Si Duniya

#3 Old Habits

On most days Arnav and Khushi were happily married, with ample amount of laughter, space, sex, healthy banter, mild arguments, partnership and friendship filling their days.

On some days they just took the breath away from the other by simply existing, thrumming in the evergreen Rabba Ve. And on other days they were quiet, with one of their past demons returning to haunt them while the other supported the best they could.

And on the rarest days their arguments would take an ugly turn. It wasn’t a difference of thought, but rather crossing an invisible line of trust. Old habits, which despite maturity and therapy, flared up.

Unfortunately, Arnav crossed it far more than Khushi did.

“You’re forgetting she’s my sister Khushi Kumari Gupta! How could you not tell me she’s dating my manager.”

“She is also my sister Arnav, and Di told me not to tell you-”

“I don’t fucking care-”

“-that’s exactly why she told me not to tell you. And Aman ji is a good man for Di.”

“I don’t care, you still don't know Aman.”

“I’ve known him for six years! And for your kind information, I am a good judge of character Arnav-”

“-no you're not. If you were a good judge then things would've been different.”

“What do you mean by that.”

“Forget it.”

“Don’t forget that with this judgement I chose to marry you.”

“Oh really? With this judgement you brought fucking Shyam back to the house. I told you it was a big mistake but no - you thought he had changed.”

Khushi stormed into their bedroom, packing her clothes for a week. How dare he accuse her for not understanding Shyam! Yes, she had made a colossal mistake regarding him, but bringing it up after five years?

Just because he couldn't handle Di having a boyfriend?

Khushi breathed hard, fought her tears and zipped up her suitcase.

“Khushi, I’m sorry.” Arnav panted, having run up the stairs. His panic grew at the suitcase.

“Then why did you bring that up.”

“I was angry, I didn’t... you know how I am regarding Di.”

“I do Arnav, but that does not excuse you bringing up that up. I would've never brought him to the house if I knew he killed Di’s child.”

“Of course, I know that. It’s just... I shouldn't know about Aman and Di after they’ve started dating.”

Khushi sighed. She understood his overprotectiveness, especially after the Shyam fiasco they were all at edge towards Anjali. Frankly if it had not been for Aman, Khushi would’ve confided in Arnav.

“I get it, but I’m leaving for Bua ji’s for a week... if I didn’t know you, I would've never forgiven you for what you said.”

“Khushi you know I didn’t mean it.”

“And you know that anything related to that man is... has never been my fault.”

“I know Khushi but don’t go.” He held her hand.

“Arnav, I’m not in the state to forgive you for what you said. I want to calm down, take a little break and talk to you about this. So first, go and talk to your sister and please let me go.”

Arnav’s temper ticked. He hated Khushi leaving home. Leaving him.

“Running away from things don’t fix anything.”

“I’m not running away Arnav, I need space.”

“I said I’m sorry.” He yelled.

“And that is not enough!” She matched his pitch, grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door. Except he shut the door on her face and pulled her away.

“You can’t leave,” He warned. Khushi snatched her hand away from his.

“Or else?” She challenged.

“You know what I’m capable of,” His mouth hardened into its cruel, familiar straight line. And Khushi’s heart broke, again.

“Every single fucking time,” Khushi swore and threw her bag to the floor, angry tears rolled down her cheeks. Arnav faltered, his grip on the door loosening.

“Khushi main-” Khushi stopped him and stepped away.

“Enough Arnav. Main kya? You didn’t mean what you said? Didn’t mean to hold my hand hard enough to hurt? Didn’t mean to bring up the past? Didn’t mean to break my heart?” Khushi folded her arms, analyzing his face.

“But it still hurts. And you do nothing to fix it. I wonder, where does this come from?”

“I don’t want you to leave me.” He said.

“I didn’t leave you when things were worse, when you couldn't stand being in the same room as me-” And despite the years, the memories filled Arnav with guilt and Khushi with pain. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” His voice had lost its strength, “I wish I could change-”

“Hume uss baat se koi farak nahi padta. I have never asked you for an explanation or your regret. I’ve left these behind. But you haven't. Your habits haven't.” Khushi wiped her tears, struggling to keep her composure.

“You know, let’s talk about this. Because I’ve heard all of this before and we never really addressed how you broke my heart. And the fact that you can say all this despite all the therapy we've been to...”

Arnav sank into the green chaise, head in his hands. Khushi, always having the bigger heart, kneeled by him and grabbed his face. He was crying. Her heart truly broke.

“Talk to me Arnav. Why do you say these things? It’s been so long, and trust me when you shut the door and grab me I still get scared, it still breaks my heart despite everything. It will never be okay-”

Arnav held her hand, whispering his sorries to her.

“And what do you mean by ‘my sister’. Don’t you know how long it took me to make this family my own. Arnav, my world changed overnight. You know this. Tumhara, mera... you make me feel like this is not mine. That this house, this-”

“No Khushi, everything is yours. Yeh ghar, Di, main-” He choked.

“Then why do you work so hard to push me away? I know you're concerned for Di, even I was first worried when I learned she liked Aman ji. But she's happy with him.” Khushi said.

“I can’t... Di was happy with Shyam. I can't see her go through pain again, when I know that I could've prevented it.” Arnav confessed.

“Arnav, things would've hurt irrespective of everything we did. Or maybe because of it. The problem was not that we couldn't protect her, it’s that we took away her choice. Our decision to tell her the truth depended on it our convenience to lie about him.” Arnav agreed.

“And Aman ji is different. You know him for twelve years and if he turns out terrible despite that, then we’ll support Di the best we can and murder him.” Khushi cracked a smile and Arnav chuckled.

“I’m sorry Khushi,” He said, wiping her tear away.

“You should be. I mean, yes, I should've known better about trusting a man who didn't hesitate to kidnap you-” Arnav tsked at her.

“You were barely in your twenties. I shouldn't have brought that up.” He huffed.

“But you did.” She smiled sadly. Arnav stopped himself from saying 'I didn't mean to'. If he didn't, he shouldn't have. So he attempted at pouring his heart, saying things he meant.

He often resorted to pulling people’s mistakes when they made a decision without his input to prove they can't always make the right choice.

“Because I believe I’m the only one who can take the right decisions for everyone...” Arnav scoffed at the irony of his sentence. There were times when he had succeeded but despite his best efforts he did hurt Khushi where it hurt most.

"I always think it’s right to use any means to stop you from leaving me, especially after a fight. Cause I think I’ll fix everything later, as long as you're in front of me.” He confessed.

“Except it fixes nothing. It just... Arnav I feel like I have to cut a part of myself to be with you after such things because I love you, I love you so much that I can’t bear to not love you. Aur aise harkatein ke baad... it gets difficult to love you.” Khushi began to cry.

“It kills me to not be able to love you.” Arnav kissed her forehead, holding her tight in his arms. Her sobs racked against his chest, breaking his heart to two.

“Khushi please don’t... how can I fix this? I feel like any sorry isn't enough.”

“Let’s talk. Like this, always.” Khushi sniffled. Arnav nodded, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

“And... if I want to leave,” Arnav’s grip tightened, “know that I’m always coming back. Except I just need space to process things.” Khushi broke the hug, and caressed his cheek.

“Ok, I’ll tell Mohan to drive you to Bua ji’s. I won't- can’t, you know I won't be able to leave you there.” Arnav smiled, holding her hand against his cheek.

“I’ll talk to Di about everything and we’ll work on this.” He pointed to themselves. Everything was worth a shot.

“And I will never keep anything from you.” She promised, acknowledging her own mistake.

“Ab jao, otherwise I won’t let you go.” Arnav turned away, dismissing her. Khushi pressed the most loving, forgiving kiss against his cheek and left for Bua ji’s.

---

Aman and Anjali watched Khushi leave for Bua ji’s. She had and bid everyone goodbye - Aarav choosing to stay home, afraid of the cheek pulling at Lakshminagar. But promised to FaceTime his mum at every single minute.

Arnav, had not come down to see her off. Anjali was worried sick. Aman tried to placate her.

“Aman, you have no idea the problems Chote and Khushi faced because of my first marriage. I did not... I always ruin everything. My blind faith nearly destroyed my brother’s happiness and yet again-” Aman placed his finger against Anjali’s lips, shushing her effectively.

“No Anjali. You are not responsible for ASR and Khushi bhabhi’s lives. Your faith in your husband was admirable. If the narrative was different, you would've been lauded for your trust in him. Unfortunately that wasn't the case.” Anjali didn’t agree. Aman grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close.

“Anjali, look at me. Take deep breaths. Ab, listen. Yes, you affect ASR’s life - why wouldn't you, he's your brother, your support, your heart. But whatever happens in his life is a result of his actions. Same applies for Khushi bhabhi. Yes, they might have fought regarding us, but not because of it.”

“But Aman-”

“No buts, if we were to break up - because, of course, ASR affects your life too - would you hate ASR?” This time Anjali grabbed Aman’s shoulders in response to his questions.

“I would never hate my brother Aman Mathur. And no matter how much I love him, I would speak to him but not give up on you like that.” If they were not in Shantivan, Aman would’ve kissed her senseless on the spot.

“It’s taken me a lot to fall in love, and I’m not going to change that-”

“Then that resolves everything Di.” Aman and Anjali jumped apart on finding Arnav leaning against a wall, a soft smile playing on his lips. These few minutes said a lot about Aman and Anjali’s relationship that he wouldn’t have been able to have assessed without a calm mind.

“Chote.” Anjali nearly ran into her brother’s arms. Arnav hugged her tight, happy and relieved at the same time.

“It’s ok Di. First of all, as Aman said, you’re not responsible for anything. Everything will be fine between Khushi and me. And next time, you can tell your brother everything, I wouldn’t sack Aman for being your boyfriend... even if I’m tempted to.” Anjali pushed him against his shoulder and the siblings grinned.

“Thank you Chote. This means the world to me.” Aman smiled affectionately at the duo.

“There’s nothing to thank me. It is your life. But if Aman hurts you-”

“-then feel free to do anything with him.” Anjali quipped.

“Precisely. Even Khushi is on board with murder.”

“Do you both realize I am here.” Aman cleared his throat.

“Yeah, that saves me the time to separately give the shovel talk. You are truly efficient Aman.” Anjali laughed and headed towards Aman, who was more than happy to receive the threats.

He was officially welcomed to the Raizada's.

---

Madhumati and Garima had long learned what interference could cost in both, Khushi and Payal’s lives. With Shashi’s recovery they realized that if they had let both the daughters take decisions they saw fit, a lot of misunderstandings would've been avoided.

So when Khushi arrived with her bag and a call came from Payal apprising the Guptas of the situation at home, the Guptas needed no answers from Khushi nor were in a hurry to send her to Shantivan.

For this home would always remain as Khushi’s.

Madhumati didn’t prod about the untouched jalebis (although she did have a good mind to use her belan on her beloved damaad), Garima busied herself with her hour long chats with her grandson on the phone and Shashi gave Khushi the space to talk.

Time definitely allowed healing and perspective.

---

It was one of those days when Arnav was restless. Neither tending his plants nor working gave him relief. Perhaps it was because there were three more days for Khushi to come home?

He paced across every square inch of his mansion - the Prakashes and Raizada's knowing well to steer clear from Pacing Singh Raizada.

“Wassup Nannav? Missing Khushi bhabhi? You want me to send her a message? I’m heading there to grab some samosas.” NK grinned, as if he hadn't seen his cousin pining for Khushi in the past four days.

“Nothing.” Arnav gritted. He knew therapy was working. If not, NK would’ve been six feet under. And maybe Lavanya would’ve murdered him for it, but that was a small price to pay.

“Everything’s alright Chote?” Anjali stepped in, slapping NK behind his head.

“Yes Di, I ju-” Arnav stopped. The air sweetened, goosebumps broke and a sudden wind hit him. Oh, it was one of those days.

“Chote-”

“Nannav,”

Arnav ignored them and walked towards the door, nearly running by the end of it.

There was Khushi, in a red salwar kameez, house keys in hand.

They looked at each other as a strong breeze washed over them. A few strands of her hair flew and she softly smiled, before her chin wobbled and a sheen of tears betrayed her joy of coming home.

Oh, the one to cry at the drop of a hat!

Khushi ran up the few steps and nearly jumped into his arms as he engulfed her in his embrace. They remained in the intimate hug, sharing a few discreet kisses and whispered promises, oblivious to the audience.

“Di, how does Nannav always know when Khushi ji’s home?” NK asked.

“Old habits NK bhai, puraani aadatein.” Anjali smiled.

---

A/N: This was the longest CSD one shot! Here's your slice of angst but happily ever after - just let's say I was in one of those moods.

Choti Si Duniya is going to be a series of one shots of Arnav & Khushi’s life post the end of the show. These are going to be snippets inspired by certain gifs. I hope you liked it - do share your views!

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd ff #fanfiction #arnav #khushi #choti si duniya #angst #hona hi tha

66 notes · View notes

maggiecheungs · 4 years ago

Text

atots as a disability narrative

finally posting my mini essay about atots and disability one (1) hour before episode 4 airs. putting this under the cut because it’s long. cw for discussions of casual ableism, suicidal ideation, death, disability, mental health.

(note: throughout i refer to tian’s disability, which we obviously don’t know the details of; i mainly mean it as a catch-all term for the health difficulties he faces, unlike most abled people, which continue on even after his transplant)

after episode 1 i remarked on how i read tian’s story as a disability narrative, but i wanted to wait to get a bit more info before i expanded on that. after episode 3, i think i can take a bash at outlining the main things that struck me--but there’s so much more i could say about this topic, so feel free to ask for clarification. also i obviously haven’t watched episode 4 yet, so that might change things! and of course, tian is filthy rich so his experiences with the practicalities of disability are somewhat mitigated/different from most experiences of disability... but in an ableist society, there are obviously some basic similarities in the way disability is perceived and experienced. so far, here are some of the main themes that i’ve noticed in atots:

the space between wellness and unwellness

in our society, wellness is constructed as part of a binary. one is either well (perfectly fucntional, capable of working) or unwell (ill enough to be incapable of functioning in a ‘normal’ manner). the default state is, of course, wellness; people get ill sometimes, of course, but they return to that default. however, people with disabilities and long-term health conditions can’t do that--and in the society in which we live, there aren’t accomodations for this sort of existence.

tian has spent the past few years living in the space between wellness and unwellness. it’s the space of hospital waiting rooms and people treating you like you’re fragile. it’s the space of always waiting for something to happen; waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the people around you to get tired of you. in tian’s case, waiting for death.

tian has spent the past years stuck in this liminal space: ostensibly well enough to live a fairly normal life, but not enough to do so properly. he--and everyone else around him--is just waiting, and it prevents him from forming any close emotional connections or long-term plans. even if he could forget about it for a while, others remind him through their behaviour and treatment of him. before his surgery, he isn’t allowed just exist on a day-to-day basis. his very existence is overshadowed by the threat of its end.

being stifled by others

in episode one, we get a glimpse of the near-complete erosion of personal boundaries tian has undergone over the past few years. after his operation, his mother panics when he leaves the house; she and his father stifle his freedom. at the same time, their fixation on ‘keeping him safe and healthy’ prevents them from seeing what he actually needs on an emotional level, which can be just as dangerous.

tian doesn’t just have to deal with his own feelings; he has to deal with his mother’s anxieties about him. he has to act well to assuage her fears. (tbh, neither of them handled the situation in the best possible way but... there isn’t really ‘a best way’ for this sort of situation? it’s more just limiting collateral damage.) similarly, his father blames him (or appears to blame him) for the suffering his mother is going through.

it turns into a thing where he feels as if he owes them wellness (or the appearance of it). he doesn’t feel like he can be vulnerable around them. he puts on a similarly blasé act with his friends, because he doesn’t want them to treat him the same way his parents do--like he’s made of glass. which leads to....

pushing himself beyond his limits

tian feels like he has something to prove. he wants to prove that he’s not a burden... which becomes the characterising theme of his stay in the village.

in going to stay at the village, tian’s managed to mostly escape the spectre of ‘unwellness’ that has haunted him for so long, as well as all the people who stifle him. now that he’s free, he wants to learn to stand on his own two feet; to prove it to himself and to everyone who doubted he could (his parents, phupha, etc.).

however, while this is great for him on one level, it’s not great on another. because in tian’s mind, his disability is equated with being a burden. (this is not unsurprising, given that we live in a hugely ableist society and given his own experiences with his parents.) now that he’s out of the stifling environment of his past, tian feels like asking for help or taking care of himself would be a concession of weakness/burdensome to those around him.

that means, when other people unthinkingly hold him to ableist standards which his body literally cannot accomodate, tian will push himself to the limit rather than admit that he ‘falls short’. this is something that could have grave--potentially fatal--consequences.

HOWEVER! this seems to be changing! he seems to be growing past his feeling that ‘disability = burden’. in episode 3, he voluntarily told kalae about his having to take medication, and actively equated taking care of oneself with maturity/strength (”kalae, i also take pills. grown-up men have no problem taking pills. do you want to be a child or a grown-up?”)

i’ll be interested to see how this progresses. hopefully when/if he discloses his condition to phupha, it will go some way towards helping him move past all the self-directed ableism he’s internalised. also it should stop phupha from inadvertently pushing him to exceed his limits. (i predict that one area of tension between them will be phupha’s worry about tian--if their relationship is to succeed, phupha needs to be aware and accomodating of tian’s needs without stifling him/treating him like he’s made of glass as his parents did)

survivor’s guilt

a lot of this might be unconscious, but... tian has, in his mind, done nothing with his life--unlike torfun. while tian was alive and being a burden on everyone around him, gambling his few remaining years away, torfun was being one of the best, kindest, most generous people in the world. inevitably, living in her house and interacting with her people, he compares himself to her at every turn. she could help the villagers where he cannot. she should be here, not him. her heart is wasted on him.

but this is changing! in the most recent episode (3) we can see him building bonds with the villagers on his own merits. in the first few episodes i was worried that tian’s journey would be represented as but a shadow of torfun’s, but he’s forging his own indivdiual journey. similarly, his relationship with phupha seems to be individual to him, rather than a copy of the relationhship with torfun (but i guess we’ll find out more in the next few episodes).

suicidal ideation

as mentioned above, tian has spent his entire life waiting for death. now, that looming spectre has disappeared, but it’s still a part of his identity. for years, he’s shaped his sense of self around that fact: he is going to die, so it does not matter what he does or does not do (this post sums it up really well!) he’s reckless because why the fuck shouldn’t he be? even if he’s not necessarily actively suicidal, for a while he seems to be passively suicidal.

this is also starting to show signs of change--as he overcomes his survivor’s guilt, builds genuine connections with the people around him, and feels like he’s contributing to something bigger than himself.

which leads me to the overriding theme of the series: tian’s going to have to learn to love himself, disabilities and all. he’s starting to build himself back up in the village, but he can’t treat it only as an escape. at some point, he’s going to need to face all the things i’ve mentioned in this essay and work through them. hopefully phupha will be there to help him, but this isn’t a ‘love cures all ills’ situation. loving phupha won’t ‘fix’ him; tian needs to love himself.

but... honestly, i have faith. i was really cautious after watching the first episode, because i’ve seen so many shows handle disability badly. but atots has exceeded my expectations in every other way so far, and i am truly excited to see where it goes next <3

#atots #1000 starts #a tale of thousand stars #tian #disability #ellis watches atots #atots disability rep

70 notes · View notes

inkweaver22-blr · 4 years ago

Text

Phew! This one gave me a bit of trouble to get out! Here we have our second big reveal of the story! Let’s see what happens.

AO3 Link

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Five: Timely Assumptions

Tang gets more than he expects at the start of one cycle. This leads to a few startling realizations.

----------

Tang looked up into the frightened expressions of the much younger Sun Wukong and Macaque as his body continued to disappear.

“I-” Being erased scared him. Would he wake up in a new cycle or simply cease to be?

Tang weakly lifted his hand, desperate to do something, grab something to ground him. Anything. Anyone!

“I don't w-want to go-”

He faded out of existence, not hearing anything else they might have said after. The last thing he saw were their horrified faces.

----------

The cave. The voices. The light.

----------

Tang woke with a gasp, his heart racing.

He had died before, but accidentally erasing yourself using a time-traveling peanut cactus was a new and terrifying experience.

The scholar took a few deep breaths, grounding himself with the fact that he was still here and hadn’t been deleted entirely. He had never been so relieved to be stuck jumping between timelines before now.

Tang winced as he remembered the anguish on the faces of the two monkeys he had befriended. He hoped his vanishing hadn’t traumatized them too much. If they were lucky they wouldn’t even remember anything now that the version of himself that had gone back in time had never existed in the first place.

God, time travel was confusing.

He glanced around his room and noticed a book on his nightstand. Picking it up, he was slightly disappointed to find it wasn’t the one on constellations he had used to teach the younger Macaque how to read.

With a sigh, Tang got up and prepared for the day. There was no point dwelling too much on what couldn’t be changed. Once dressed he stood in front of the mirror and began his little remembering ritual.

He first checked the date on his phone. It was still a few days before MK would get the staff so nothing of real consequence should be too different yet.

Taking a deep breath the scholar began reciting what he remembered about himself this time.

“I am the immortal monk Tang Sanzang-”

Tang choked as he doubled over in pain.

Hundreds of years of memories flooded through him. He collapsed to the ground and clutched at his head as it pounded in agony from the onslaught of innumerable experiences.

Tang crawled over to his bed and leaned back against it, his eyes shut tight and hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block out the rushing thoughts.

Living humbly as a monk. Being chosen by Guanyin. The journey. Sun Wukong. Bai Long Ma. Zhu Bajie. Sha Wujing. The many, many demons they encountered.

(How had he ever been so naive?)

Completing the journey. Becoming immortal. He, Bajie, and Wujing choosing to live on Earth instead of in Heaven.

(Pigsy was Zhu Bajie and Sandy was Sha Wujing!)

Wukong sealing away the Demon Bull King and vanishing. The three of them searching for him tirelessly. Never finding him. Giving up and living the next five hundred years without him.

(He should have never given up. He should have kept looking until he found his beloved disciple.)

It was all too much to handle. Tang needed time to process everything.

He called in sick to work, which with his short breath and trembling voice wasn’t questioned too closely. After sending a text to Pigsy (Zhu Bajie!) so he wouldn’t wonder about his absence at the shop, Tang pulled himself onto the bed and pressed his face into the pillows.

The headache and whirling memories prevented him from falling asleep, so he tried to focus on one thing at a time.

In this cycle he was the immortal monk Tang Sanzang, sometimes also referred to as Tripitaka.

There was still just so much to unpack in that single thought it made him a bit dizzy.

Tang had never been anyone other than himself in all the timelines he’d been in. His roles may sometimes be a bit different but he had always been Tang. He had theorized once that it had something to do with how every soul was unique so he literally couldn’t be anyone else.

His breath caught as he realized the implication that brought.

Tang’s soul was unique and thus he couldn’t be anyone other than himself in the various timelines.

In this timeline, he was the monk Sanzang.

In order for him to be both himself and the famous monk simultaneously, their souls had to be exactly the same.

That meant he wasn’t the monk in just this timeline, but in all of them, including his original time.

Oh Heavens, he was the reincarnation of Tang Sanzang.

Tang gulped in several breaths of air as his mind blanked out. He needed to focus. One thing at a time.

Pigsy was Zhu Bajie and Sandy was Sha Wujing in this timeline.

After the previous revelation, this one was much less earth-shattering.

He had always known that his group of friends mirrored the original journey’s group closely. Pigsy and Sandy also being reincarnations of their historical counterparts in his own time wasn’t much of a stretch.

Tang’s breath slowed as he began to calm. What was next?

Wukong disappeared and the trio searched for him. They never found him and gave up, assuming the monkey to be dead.

This was upsetting in an entirely different way. Tang knew Wukong was still alive thanks to the events of the original timeline, and that made the guilt of giving up even worse. He’d have to fix that.

Tang sighed in relief as his thoughts finally slowed and the pain ebbed. He still had a lot to work through, but that could wait for later. Going back to sleep sounded heavenly at the moment.

He had just started to doze off when an errant fact suddenly popped into his head.

Wasn’t Tang Sanzang already a reincarnation of one of the Buddha’s original disciples, the Golden Cicada?

With a groan Tang shoved a pillow over his head and attempted to beat back the thoughts from whatever that implied about him.

He didn’t sleep very well.

----------

“So what’s this all about Tang,” Pigsy asked grumpily as he accepted a mug of tea from Sandy. It was late at night, a few days after the release of the Demon Bull King, and the three of them were meeting privately at Sandy’s ship on the scholar’s request.

Tang took a sip from his own mug as he studied the two other immortals. Had it not been for his own memories on the matter, he would have never guessed that they were two of the five companions of the legendary Journey to the West.

Zhu Bajie had been, no pun intended, pigheaded, crass, and ornery. He seemed to be contrarian whenever he felt like it and relished in trying to get one over on Sun Wukong. Tang couldn’t deny the pig demon’s ability to rise to the occasion when the chips were down however. For as much trouble Zhu Bajie seemed to cause, he’d been invaluable a fair number of times as well.

Sha Wujing lived to fight. His rage and battle-lust had definitely caused their own share of problems. Other than that, the large river demon tended to be the quiet one of the group and didn’t open up until the latter half of their journey.

Tang wasn’t blind to his own faults though.

Tripitaka, (after some meditation, Tang had decided to refer to his past self as such to avoid confusion with the name Tang Sanzang), had not been ready for such a perilous adventure. He had been too trusting of strangers, too proud to believe Wukong’s warnings. It was his own incredible naivety and insistence that he knew better that had led to the vast majority of the dangers they had found themselves in.

It was hard to reconcile who the three of them had been with who they were today, but Tang supposed five hundred years would change most people.

Pigsy still had a gruff exterior, but his desire to start trouble had long since faded. His discovery of a love for cooking had unlocked a surprising work ethic within the pig demon as well as a silent form of affection that he treated any he cared for with.

Sandy had sought out a therapist and took anger management classes. His love for battle long since extinguished, the river demon now spent his time taking care of his cats, making tea, and being supportive of his friends.

Tang was certainly not naive to the ways of the world any longer. He still did his best to treat any strangers he met with kindness and respect, but he never fully believed anyone new to be trustworthy until they showed themselves to be. He always listened to the advice of his friends as well, knowing that he didn’t know everything and those around him might have insights he did not.

Tang placed his mug down and steepled his fingers together.

“We need to tell MK, Mei, and Wukong who we really are.”

“What?!” Pigsy's angry reaction hadn’t been unexpected. They had made an agreement some time back to not reveal themselves to anyone. It was less to do with having to deal with annoying fans and more with avoiding the painful memories their identities brought with them.

If it wasn’t for the fact he had been hopping through timelines and saw first hand how hiding things from people hurt them, Tang was certain he wouldn’t have been making this decision.

“I said we-”

“I heard what you said,” Pigsy interrupted. “No way! Nuh-uh! Not happening!”

“Now hold on brother,” Sandy soothed, placing a comforting hand on the chef’s shoulder. “Let’s hear him out first.”

“This better be good,” Pigsy grumbled and slouched back into his chair.

“Which do you think will go over better? Us being honest with them about our pasts, or them discovering the truth on their own?”

“They won’t find out if we’re careful about it,” Pigsy countered.

“They will find out,” Tang stated with absolute certainty. “Whether it’s the kids putting the pieces together themselves or Wukong recognizing us, there is no doubt that this isn’t going to stay a secret for long.”

Sandy seemed thoughtful but the pig demon simply huffed and crossed his arms stubbornly.

Tang stared directly into Pigsy’s defiant eyes. Looks like he’d have to pull out the big guns.

“How do you think MK will react once he finds out that we, that you, have been keeping something this important from him?”

With a sharp intake of air Pigsy froze, his expression changing from defiance to horror. He leaned over, placing his face in his hands and groaned.

“Oh god. He’d- he’d feel like I didn’t trust him. Like I didn’t care about him enough to tell him.” The chef seemed miserable at the thought as he looked up. “Okay, we can tell the kid. Mei too, I guess.”

Tang shared a glance with Sandy. Neither had missed the exclusion of Wukong from Pigsy’s concession.

(When did he stop being the Monkey King to Tang?)

“So, uh, will we tell big brother before or after we tell MK and Mei,” Sandy asked, eyeing the pig demon warily.

Like a switch had been flipped, Pigsy’s anger returned in full force, his face twisting into a hateful scowl.

“We ain’t telling that bastard nothing,” he snarled.

“Pigsy,” Tang scolded, shocked at the amount of venom in his voice.

“No! He doesn't deserve it! Not after letting us think he was dead-” Pigsy’s voice broke slightly as he continued his rant. “Not after avoiding us for five hundred years!”

Tang took a steadying breath and pushed down the irrational emotions and hurt that wanted to agree with Pigsy’s stance. He needed to be calm if he was to convince one of his oldest friends to go through with this.

“Assumptions, my dear friend, are very dangerous things,” Tang said.

“Huh?” Pigsy looked confused at the seeming change in subject. Good, that meant he was paying attention.

“We never found Wukong after he disappeared, so we assumed he was dead. We continued to assume such for five hundred years,” Tang began, speaking clearly and with emphasis to be sure he was understood. “We now know our assumptions were wrong. Now you are falling back into the same mistake.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You are assuming that Wukong knew we were looking for him. You are assuming he hid from us intentionally. You are assuming that he knows we’re still alive.”

“Wait, what,” Sandy exclaimed. He had seemed to be following along with the conversation up until that point and now looked alarmed.

“How do we know Wukong didn’t fall into the same trap we have,” Tang explained. “That he didn’t just assume we were gone, either through death or reincarnation? With that assumption in mind, why would he ever think to go looking for us?”

There was a tense silence as Tang let his point sink in before finishing his argument.

“We can no longer assume things. That only leads to misunderstanding and hurt feelings. If we are to learn the truth we must actively look for it. To do that we must be honest with Wukong.”

Pigsy stared at him for a few moments before sagging and plopping down into his chair.

“I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Tang breathed a sigh of relief as Sandy chided their friend about drowning your feelings in alcohol. That was the first hurdle down.

Now for the hard part.

----------

In the end they decided to tell all three of them at the same time. Just to rip the whole band-aid off in one go so to speak.

It hadn't been too hard to convince MK to get Wukong to invite them to his island. He hadn’t welcomed them into his sanctum however, so they had a picnic on the shore near the waterfall curtain instead.

The food had been quickly forgotten once they began their explanation.

MK was upset at first at having the truth withheld from him, but some heartfelt reassurances and a teary hug from Pigsy had earned them his forgiveness. He bounced back rather quickly and immediately began launching questions excitedly at the trio.

Mei had simply accepted the revelation with great enthusiasm. She had pulled her phone and began live streaming a “Q&A WITH THE JOURNEY TO THE WEST CREW!!!”. So much for anonymity.

Tang gave an amused chuckle as the young adults pestered Pigsy and Sandy as he glanced at the uncharacteristically silent Wukong.

The Monkey King could have been carved from stone with how still he was, his expression frighteningly blank.

“Wukong?” Tang swallowed nervously as his first disciple turned to him with that empty look. “Do you want to say something?”

That had apparently been the wrong thing to ask.

“Do I want to say something? Do I want to say something?!” The empty stillness was immediately replaced with restless agitation as Wukong leapt to his feet and began to pace back and forth angrily. “Oh there are a lot of somethings I want to say to you three!”

“Hey Mei? Stop streaming for a bit,” MK said quietly as he pulled her a little ways away from the group. Tang would have been extremely proud of the emotional maturity the kid was showing, but he currently had a very pissed off monkey taking up most of his attention.

“How could you do this to me?! How could you even think of leaving me to be alone for five hundred years,” Wukong shouted at them, confusion and anger and hurt pouring from every word.

“Big brother, we-” Sandy tried.

“Don’t you ‘Big Brother’ me, Sha Wujing!” The way he spat out the name like a curse made the river demon flinch. “You all abandoned me! I thought I was never going to see any of you again! Yet here you all are!” Wukong clenched his fists as he glared at the three immortals. “WHERE WERE YOU?!”

“Where were we? Where were you,” Pigsy threw the question right back angrily. “We looked for you! For a century we searched! That’s more than what you can say!”

“And then when you got tired of it you gave up! You gave up on me!”

“WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!”

“I MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN!”

The anger bled out from the air at that confession and Wukong seemed to crumble into himself. Pigsy looked stunned, Sandy was nervously wringing his hands, and Tang’s stomach was twisting itself into a painful knot.

“I was alone, Bajie. My brothers were gone and I was left by myself,” Wukong trembled as he hugged himself. Tang had never seen the proud warrior look so small before. “For centuries I had nothing but my memories and grief. Sometimes I wanted to be dead. Maybe then I’d see you again.” Wukong fell to his knees as he looked up at them with tears running down his face. “I missed you all so much.”

Tang felt his own tears falling as he rushed over to embrace Wukong who began to openly sob. Sandy and Pigsy soon joined in and the four of them simply held each other as they let their pain free.

“We’re so, so sorry Wukong,” Tang said. “I promise you we would have never hurt you like this intentionally.”

“I- I know,” Wukong hiccuped, clutching to the three of them tightly.

“We won’t ever leave you alone again big brother,” Sandy vowed.

“We’re stuck with each other from now on, no matter how much we may get on each other's nerves.” Pigsy’s joke earned a choked laugh from Wukong.

Two more pairs of arms entered into their group hug as MK and Mei joined them on the ground.

“Please don’t be sad Monkey King,” MK said. “You have Mei and I now too. You aren’t alone anymore.”

Wukong just began to cry a little harder and held on a bit tighter at that.

The six of them stayed like that for some time, holding each other up in silent support and comfort.

As they sat there, Tang was a little overwhelmed by how right it felt to be holding onto the others. Love burned in his chest as he enjoyed the warmth of being this close to his family.

Oh.

They were his family, weren’t they?

That wasn’t just another assumption. These five, across any timeline, were family to him, and he would always care for them as such.

Any lingering doubts about being Tripitaka melted away. It didn’t really matter who he was or had been in the past. All that mattered was the real love he felt for these people that were precious to him.

As long as he had that, he could overcome anything else that came his way.

----------

You didn’t think I would write a Tang-centric fic and NOT have him be Tripitaka did you? It was inevitable honestly.

I'm not sure if I characterized Sha Wujing correctly here, but Sandy canonically went to anger management so I made some (hehe) assumptions.

Speaking of! Count how many assumptions are made in this chapter! There might be more than you think~

The story referenced in this chapter is Tang’s Time Adventure by Poddlebud. It’s a fun little romp with a unique ship. It’s a shame we didn’t get to see the conclusion played out here…

Until next time!

#Ink Writes #Monkie Kid #Scattered Cicadas #Tang #Tang Monkie KId #Tang Sanzang #Tripitaka #Pigsy #Zhu Bajie #Sandy #Sha Wujing #Sun Wukong #MK #Mei #Macaque #LEGO Monkie Kid

24 notes · View notes

poisonedlovedarling · 4 years ago

Text

Milo Murphy’s Law Theory

Okay I’m sure somewhere out there someone has had a theory like this. However! I just wanted to put it down in my own words, mostly to get it out of my head.

In a short, my theory is that Balthazar Cavendish and his lovely partner Vinnie Dakota, (If not the entire time traveling agency) are the reason Milos family are cursed with Murphy's law.

Evidence! I hear you cry into the void, yes. Well the best I can offer you is theoretical science. (I hear you complaining in the background well you don’t have to listen...lol.)

Theoretical Science time!

According to the laws of time travel, you might know this one. You go back in time and step on a butterfly and next thing you know all of humanity has never been born. Now the problem with this is that there are many theories saying that if you change time you can erase yourself from existence. However if you did that you then couldn’t have gone back in time and changed things in the first place. Causing a Paradox. Or less commonly known as Circular causation, you can’t change the past if you don’t exist

Now on the other hand, there is a theory that you can change history causing yourself to never having been born but still existing to be the one to go back in time and change that point in history. Basically if you change a point in time you’re not changing your version of time but instead creating an alternate time line that runs parallel to your own. The future you return to you may not have been born but can still exist because you are from a timeline where you were born and are just riding the waves through a new timeline. Basically visiting an alternate earth where the history was change and you never existed.

There's a ton more like this, such as self fulfilling prophecy, you couldn’t change time because what happened. Happened and you were suppose to do what you did anyways.

Basically Time travel’s a messy.

However by changing history, you can cause unknown havoc. Example (though not proven by science) you drop a rock in the ocean in California. The ripples that the rock causes become bigger and more dangerous eventually reaching Japan not as ripples but as tidal waves. Causing havoc.

(For examples look at Futurama, Rick and Morty, or The Flash.)

Now if you are still reading theirs another time travel theory this one actually relating to my idea. This time theory states that if you do change history the time line will try to fix itself to change around it. Something small like stepping on a butterfly that was suppose to pollenate some flowers. It will make another bug or even wind do it instead, no big deal. Yet, if you do something big like prevent the death of a President. The timeline will have them die another time, car ride home heart attack. It will change history but not by much and is a lot harder for the timeline to fix. Sometimes that little rock becomes a tidal wave that hits but doesn’t kill who wasn’t already meant to die.

A lot of time this will effect those closest or those related to the target. Which Theory Time! Loops me back to Cavendish and Dakota. The time travelers who don’t follow the rules of time travel. My theory is the Milos families curse is because the timeline is trying to fix itself.

In the episode ‘The Island of Lost Dakotas’ (Spoilers ahead) we learn that one of our favorite characters Cavendish has ‘died’ many times over. Each time Dakota has gone back in time and changed the outcome. Saving his friend and then his past self goes on a trip to a lost island where versions of himself are making shoes and watching film of his travels with his friend.

Now one or twice the timeline would just change how Cavendish dies, but Dakota keeps changing it. Which means that the timeline can’t fix itself the easy way. Instead the pebble Dakota keeps dropping is rippling back in time.

If we follow this theory this means that either Cavendish or Dakota are related to the Murphy's. Great great ex. grandchild of Milo Murphy. Now based off the show it sounds as if the curse only effects the males of said family and follows the name not the people of the family. Which means that one of Milos kids finally change their last name perhaps in an effort to end the curse only to give birth to the curser or just another Murphy with a different last name.

Well other than them not sharing the Murphy name, one of them could still be a Murphy.

Dakota is a popular choice, the bad things happen around him and though he doesn’t look much like Murphy’s family being a great something descendant he could still be. Especially with Milos love interest looking more like Dakota, and we can expect Milo and Amanda end up together in the end. Also we can see that in Milos experience the Murphy law effects the people around him equally if not more than it does the Murphy's themselves. So if Dakota is a descendant his curse would effect Cavendish as much if not more than it effect himself.

Now the best bet under this thought is that it’s Cavendish whos related to Milo. Between the two Cavendish looks more like Milo having the family hair trait. As well as the same body type as Milos father and Great ex. grandfather the original Murphy. Body types of all the characters at first look fairly similar but things from their noses to face shapes and body types tend to stay accurate within families. This means that through his family ties all the bad things that ‘kill’ him ripple back and instead effect his family.

Cavendish’s deaths over and over again would effect the timeline. It would try fixing itself, effecting every last member of Cavendishs family. The epicenter being Milos ancestor the original Murphy in his own time travel version of the Bermuda triangle. Creating the Murphy law that the timeline needed to exist anyways. Now since the time line can’t kill any of the past Murphy's it also explains why the Murphy’s are so good at escaping deadly situations. The timeline can’t kill them but it sure can mess with them.

Now if neither of them are related to Murphy then it just means that there relationship with Milos family, Dr.D. (Spoiler- Professor Time), and the time agency. All the things they change through out time made a time Bermuda triangle where the OG Murphy lived. These negative probability particles in that triangle could potentially be causing his family to be effected by it until those particles eventually run out if they run out.

Now this theory is lengthy and all over the place. So here’s the long and the short of it.

Cavendish or Dakota or even the time agency itself. Are the reason Milo and his family are cursed with Murphy’s law. By changing time they cause havoc which is centered around the Murphy family, because of their personal if not family related relationships with Time agency.

You don’t have to believe me honestly I just needed to write this down to get it out of my head. I’ve got many more theories about other tv shows, that might or might not be coming your way.

#milo murphy's law #balthazar cavendish #vinnie dakota #mml theory #mml spoilers #long post

58 notes · View notes

c-is-for-circinate · 4 years ago

Note

I'd love to hear more of your thoughts about why P5R didn't quite land for you. I had the same reaction to it, but I've never quite been able to properly articulate why the last section fell so flat.

God okay so I've tried several times to answer this, and it seems like the answer is 'I still have way too many feelings, personally, to say this in anything less than thirty pages and fifteen hours of work', because Persona 5 the original is a game I loved a lot and care about a great deal. And most of the reasons I disliked Royal feel, in my head, like a list of ways it broke some of the things I liked best about P5--which means explaining them feels like I need to explain everything I loved about the original game, which is a book in itself, complete with referents to P3, P4, Jungian psychology, the Joseph Campbell mytharc, and fuck all even knows what. And that is too much.

But today I realized that I could instead describe it from an angle of, Persona 5 Strikers succeeds really well at doing the thing I think Royal was trying to do but failed at. And that I think I can talk about in a reasonable amount of wordspace, hopefully, behind this cut because I have at least one friend who hasn't played Royal yet.

Note for reblogs/comments: I HAVE NOT FINISHED STRIKERS YET. I got through the jail that pretended to be the final jail and have not yet gone into the obviously inevitable 'ohshit wait, you mean there's something more than simple human machinations behind all of this?' dungeon. (I got stuck on a really frustrating side quest, put the game down, and then dived into Hades to avoid throwing the Switch across the room for a while--and anyone around this blog lately knows how THAT'S been going.) Please no spoilers past Okinawa!

So, one of the many, many things I really appreciated about Persona 5 was its straightforward and unashamed attitude towards abusers and their acts of violence. Because, while yes P5 is a story about the use of power and control to make others suffer, it fundamentally isn't about those abusers themselves. It's about their victims, those that survive their crimes. And this shows up repeatedly over the course of the game.

We do not give a shit why Kamoshida wanted to beat and rape his students. We really don't. Kamoshida does not deserve our attention one moment longer than it takes to make him stop. Because, ultimately, that's the goal of P5, start to end. We don't know for sure if what we're doing is fair, if it's justice, if it's questionable. What we know is that people are being hurt, badly, actively, right now this second. What we know is that victims are suffering. What we know is that we, personally, us-the-protag and us the Phantom Thieves at large, are in danger. And in those circumstances, we don't care about the abuser's side any more. We don't. We don't have the space or time or capacity to care, because that is not the point.

The point is to help the weak. To save the people who need saving, right here and now. To give others the courage to stand up on their own behalf. We're not even out to change society, not really--that's a byproduct. We are reactions. We are triage. We are important.

There's something so empowering and validating about that as a theme, y'know? In a media landscape so full of "sympathetic villains", the idea that, you know, maybe sometimes you don't have to break yourself to show compassion that might possibly heal the bad guy--that sometimes you can just make the bad guy stop hurting people--feels both refreshing and satisfying. I really appreciate it as a message! I liked it a lot!

And yes, there's nuance to that theme, and the game is not without compassion. We save Futaba, because 'make the bad guy stop hurting people', in that case, means 'make this person stop hurting herself'. We give Sae a path forwards, help her fix her own heart. Yet it's worth pointing out that in both of those cases, while we were very glad to do those things, to save those people, we also went into both of those palaces for extremely practical reasons to begin with. We needed Futaba's help. We needed Sae's help. The fact that we chose to talk Sae into a change of heart rather than simply stealing her treasure, while ultimately a very good thing for her, was absolutely a practical choice predicated on the need for her palace to still exist to save our life. And yes, we wanted to save her, for Makoto's sake--yes, we wanted desperately to save Futaba. But Sae and Futaba let themselves be helped, too, and that doesn't change the overarching themes of the story itself.

Akechi (and to some extent Okumura) would not let himself be helped. Akechi's another interesting nuance to this theme, because of all our villains, we do learn the most about what drove him to the cruelties and crimes he's committed. He's at that intersection of victim and villain, and we want to help him, as a victim--but we also know that stopping him as a villain is more important. We'd like to save him from himself if we could, because we save people from their sources of trauma, it's what we do. We regret being unable to do so. But in the end, what matters to the story is not that Akechi refused to be saved--it's that Shido and Yaldabaoth need to be stopped, for the sakes of everyone else they're hurting now and may continue to hurt in the future.

The thing is, there's space and maybe even a need for a corollary discussion of those places where victim and villain intersect. It's an interesting, pertinent, and related topic. Strikers made an entire video game about it, a really good video game. It's centered in the idea that, yes, these people need to be stopped, and we will make stopping them our priority--but they're not going after us, and that gives us some space to sympathize. Even for Konoe, who specifically targets the Phantom Thieves--compare him to Shido, who actively destroyed the lives of both Joker and Futaba, who ordered Haru's father's death, who's the entire reason the team is still dealing with the trauma of Akechi's everything. Of course the game can be sympathetic to Konoe where it can't with Shido. There's enough distance to do that.

But right--Strikers is a separate game. It's a separate conversation. It's, "last time, we talked about that, so now let's take it one step further." And that's good writing. (It's something Persona has done before, too, also really well! Persona 3 is about terrible, occasionally-suicidal depression and grief. P4 is about how you can still be hurting and need some help and therapy even if things seem ok. Related ideas, but separate conversations that need to be separate in order to be respectful and do justice to either one. P5, as a follow-up to P4, is a conversation about how, ok, changing yourself is great and all, but sometimes the problem is other people so how do you deal with that? Again, still related! Still pertinent! Still alluded to in P4, with Adachi's whole thing--but it wasn't the time or place to base a quarter of the game around it.)

So one of Royal's biggest issues, to me, is that it tries to tack on this whole new angle for discussion onto a game that was originally about something else.

Adding Maruki's palace--adding it at the end, which by narrative laws suggests that it's the true point that everything else should be building up to--suddenly adds in about a hundred new dimensions at once. It wants us to engage with "what in this abuser/manipulator's life led him to act this way?" for basically the first time all game (we'll get to Akechi later). It wants us to engage with, "if the manipulator has a really good reason or good intentions, does that mean we should forgive them?" It requires us to reflect on, "what is the difference between control and cruelty?" It asks, "okay, but if people could be controlled into being happy, would that be okay?" (Which, based on the game so far, is actually a wild out-there hypothetical! Literally not a single thing we've seen in the game suggests that could ever happen. Even the people who think being controlled is safer and easier are miserable under it. Control that's able to lead to actual happiness is completely out of left field in the context of everything we've encountered all game so far.)

That's too much! We don't have time to unpack all that! We only have an eighth of the game left! Not to mention we are also being asked to bring back questions we put to bed much earlier in the game about the morality of our own actions, in a wholely unsatisfying way. Maruki attempts to justify his mass brainwashing because "it's the same as what you're doing", and we know it isn't, but the game didn't need Maruki calling it out in order for us to get that. We already faced that question when we started changing hearts, and again several times throughout the game, and again when we found our targets in Yaldabaoth's cells. The fact that we change hearts does not mean we think "changing hearts is fine and kind and should be done to everyone, actually." Changing hearts has been firmly established in this game as an act of violence, acceptable only because it prevents further systemic violence against innocents that we must prevent. The moral question has never once been about whether it's ok to change the hearts of the innocent, only about how far it's ethical to go against individuals who are actively hurting other people. Saying "you punched that guy to keep him from shooting a child, so punching people is good and I will save the world by punching everyone!" is confusing! and weird! and not actually at all helpful to the question of, how much violence is it acceptable to use to protect others! So presenting the question that way just falls really flat.

(And right, I love Strikers, because Strikers has time to unpack all that. Strikers can give us a main bad guy who wants to control the whole world for everybody's own good, because Strikers has earned that thematic climax. It has given us sympathetic bad guys who started out wanting to control the world to protect themselves and ended up going too far. It's given us Mariko Hyodo, who wanted to control the world to protect other people and went too far. It's given us a long-running thread about police, the desire to serve, and the abuse of power that can lead to. And since we are actively trying to care for the people whose hearts we're changing in Strikers, we can open the door to questions about using changes-of-heart and that level of control to make other people happy. We can even get a satisfying conclusion out of that discussion, because we have space to characterize the difference--Konoe thinks that changing peoples' hearts means confining them, but the Phantom Thieves think it means setting them free. We have seen enough sympathetic villains that we as an audience have had the space to figure out how we feel about that, and to understand the game's perspective of "stop them AND save them, if we can possibly do both." And that message STILL rests firmly on Persona 5's message of "it is Good to do what you have to do to stop an abuser so long as you don't catch innocent people in your crossfire.")

It's worth noting that the general problem of 'asking way too many new questions and then not answering them' also applies to how Royal treats its characters, too. P5 did have unanswered questions left at the end! The biggest one, and we all knew this, was Akechi, and what actually happened to him, and how we should feel about him, and how he felt about us. That was ripe for exploring in our bonus semester, and to Royal's credit they did in fact try to bring it up, but by god did they fuck up doing it.

Akechi's probable death in the boiler room was absolutely the biggest dangling mystery of the game. It was an off-screen apparent death of a key antagonist, so all of the narrative rules we know suggested that he might still be alive and would probably come back if the story went on for long enough. So when Royal brings him back on Christmas Eve, hey, great! Question answered. Except that the situation is immediately too good to be true, and immediately leads to another mystery, which leads to a flat suspicion that something must be wrong. We spend several hours of gameplay getting sly hints that, oooh, maybe he's not really alive after all, before it's finally confirmed by Maruki: yup, he really died, if we end the illusion we'll kill him too. Okay, at least we know now. Akechi is alive right now and he's going to be dead if we do this, and that doesn't make a ton of sense because every other undead person disappeared when the person who wished for them realized they were fake but at this point we'll take it. So we take down Maruki, and okay, Akechi really is dead! Probably! We're fairly sure! Aside from our lingering doubts!

And then we catch a glimpse of maybe-probably-could be him through the train window, and I just want to throw something, because come on.

Look, it is just a fact of storytelling: the more times you make an audience ask 'wait, is this character dead or aren't they?', the less they will care, until three or four reversals later you will be hard pressed to find anybody who gives a shit. Royal does this like four different times, and every iteration comes with even less certainty than the last. By the end, we somehow know even less than we did when we started! Did Akechi survive the boiler room to begin with and Maruki just didn't know? Or was Maruki lying to try and manipulate us further? Or was he actually dead and then his strength of will when Maruki's reality dissolved was enough to let him survive after all? Is that even actually him out the train window?

Where is he going! What is he doing! How did any of this happen! What is going on! We all had these questions about Akechi at the end of the original P5, and the kicker is that Royal pretends like it's going to answer them only to go LOL JK NO. It's frustrating and it's dissatisfying and it annoys me.

The one Akechi question that Royal doesn't even bother to ask, though, let alone leave ambiguous, is how does the protagonist feel about him? The entire emotional weight of the third semester rests on the protagonist caring about Akechi, Sumire, and Maruki. Maruki's the person we're supposed to sympathize with even as we try to stop him. Sumire's the person we're trying to save from herself. And Akechi is our bait--is, we are told, the one thing our protagonist wished for enough to actualize it in this world himself. Akechi's the final lure to accept Maruki's deal. Akechi's survival is meant to be tempting.

For firm Akechi fans, this probably worked out fine--the game wanted to insist that the protagonist cared for Akechi the same way the player did. For those of us who're a little more ambivalent, though (or for the many and valid people who hated him), this is a super sour note. Look, one of the Persona series' strengths is the way it lets players choose to put their time and emotional investment into an array of different characters, so the main story still has weight even if there's a couple you don't care about that much. It has always done this. The one exception, from P3 all the way through P4 to here and now, is Nanako Dojima, and by god she earned that distinction. I have never met a person who played Persona 4 who didn't love Nanako. Nanako is a neglected six-year-old child who is brave and strong enough to take care of herself and all of the housework but who still tries not to cry when her dad abandons her again and lights up like the sun when we spare her even the tiniest bit of time and attention. It is impossible not to care for Nanako. Goro Akechi is not Nanako.

And yet third semester Royal doesn't make sense if your protagonist doesn't feel linked to Akechi. The one question, out of all the brand new questions Royal throws out there, that it decides to answer all by itself--and it's how you as a player and your protagonist ought to feel about an extremely complex and controversial character. What the fuck, Royal. What the fuck.

In conclusion, I'll leave you with this. I played the original Persona 5 in March and April of 2017, as an American, a few months after the 2016 election and into the term of our then president. It felt painfully timely. A quick calendar google early on indicated that the game's 20XX was almost certainly 2016, and the closer our plot got to the in-game November leadup to an election destined to be dominated by a foul and charming man full of corruption and buoyed up by his own cult of personality, the more I wanted to laugh/cry. It felt timely. It felt important. It felt right.

I went through Royal (in LP form on youtube, not having a platform to play it on) in summer of 2020, with a hook full of face masks by my front door and protests about racial tension and local policing that occasionally turned into not-quite-riots close enough to hear at night if I opened the windows of my apartment. The parts of the game that I remembered felt as prescient and meaningful as ever, if not even more so. The new parts felt baffling. Every single evil in the game felt utterly, painfully real, from the opening moments of police brutality to the idea of a country led by a guy who probably would use his secret illegitimate teenage son as a magical assassin if the opportunity presented itself and he thought he could get away with it. Yaldabaoth as the cumulative despair of an entire population who just wanted somebody to take over and make things be okay--yes, yes, god, in summer of 2020? With streets full of people refusing to wear masks and streets full of people desperate for change? Of course. Of course that holy grail of safety should be enticing. Of course it should be terrifying.

And then Maruki. Maruki, who was just so far outside the scope of anything I could relate to the rest of the game or my own life. Because every single other villain in the rest of Persona is real. From the petty pandering principal to the human-trafficking mob boss. The corrupt politicians and the manmade god of cultural desire for stability. And this game was trying to tell me that the very biggest threat of all of them, the thing that was worse than the collective force of all society agreeing to let this happen because succumbing was easier than fighting back--that the very biggest threat of all was that the world could be taken over by some random nobody's misguided attempts to help?

No. Fuck no. I don't buy it. Because god, yes, I have seen the pain and damage done on a tiny and personal and very real level by the tight-fisted control of someone trying to help, it never looked like this. Not some ascended god of a bad therapist. All the threats to the world, and that's the one I'm supposed to take seriously? This one man is more of a threat than the fundamental human willingness to be controlled?

Sorry, but no. Not for me. Not in this game. Not in this real-life cyberpunk dystopian apocalypse.

#c plays persona #driveby meta attack #p5 royal spoilers #p5 strikers spoilers #holy crap I did it #I actually wrote a semicoherent essay of a length I'm willing to put on Tumblr #about my problems with this game #I have been trying on and off for MONTHS #I wanted to like Royal SO BADLY #it makes me SO UPSET #anyway #now back to your regularly scheduled Hades blogging #asked and answered #Anonymous

28 notes · View notes

londonhalcyon · 3 years ago

Text

Since it will still be a while before I finish the next chapter of The Mad Witch, here’s a glimpse of the first third of the rough draft of Chapter 27: “The Cat’s Curiosity.”

Believe it or not, I did listen to advice sometimes. And, lately, since all my peers and mentors had been telling me, over and over and over, that my job in the Hogsmeade was important, and that I should most definitely not go chasing after Death Eaters, I was inclined to believe them. Reluctantly.

I truly could see my importance in the village, now that Dumbledore had pointed it out. I had never fully considered how many people smiled or waved to me when I passed them on the street—people whose broken limbs I had fixed or who I had delivered potions to when they had been too ill to walk to the Cauldron. Even with the rainbow flag in the window, the Cauldron was still getting a steady stream of business, and customers still chatted with me as much as they did with Penny. A few people even seemed to be going out of their way to give me encouragement (one of Rosmerta’s barmaids complimented my nails—a remark that mortifyingly didn’t register until after she had left). And, of course, there were those whose trust I’d had from the very beginning.

That’s not to say it was all smiles and waves. I was given plenty of glares on the street as well, including by Kenneth (Mr. Darrow, on the other hand, wouldn’t look at me), in addition to the occasional comment that cut deep (“This was supposed to be a child-friendly establishment.”). No one stooped to direct threats though. Rosmerta had instilled enough fear to prevent something like that, especially since, in her words, the apothecary vandal had been “taken care of.” And when a wizard spat on my shoes in the Hog’s Head Inn, Aberforth jinxed him without blinking, granting him a nice set of goat horns. So, yeah, I was feeling pretty good about my standing in the village.

I wouldn’t go chasing after Death Eaters. Not yet. Merula was right; I had my job, and she had hers. This was about more than my own frustrations, and I had enough personal experience to know that, if I sought revenge on Robin’s behalf, then I would be making it about me and not him.

However, that didn’t mean I was going to drop this whole matter. Just because I couldn’t go after the Williams’ attacker didn’t mean I couldn’t learn who they were. The fact that Merula was withholding details had only made me more determined. I had to know now. I wouldn’t do anything with the information, but I would get my hands on it, one way or another.

Since she was the closest, I first paid a visit to Tonks in her room at the Three Broomsticks. Unfortunately, she couldn’t remember the specific techniques of any individual Death Eaters, because “it all looks the same when they’re trying to kill you,” and “you don’t want to get hit by any spell, regardless of who cast it.” I wasn’t surprised when she admitted she hadn’t paid that much attention during the non-practical parts of Auror training. Tonks was a very hands-on learner, which, when combined with her clumsiness and penchant for mischief, had often been to our professors’ chagrin.

“Is the Order running an operation I don’t know about?” I asked, sitting backwards in the desk chair. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed.

“There are quite a few of those, honestly,” she said. When I frowned, she added, “Uh, that was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it? What I meant was, I don’t know what goes on in all of them either.”

“I’m trying to figure out if Merula or Talbott are up to something.”

“I don’t know any more than you do, mate. Sorry.”

That was disappointing, but again unsurprising. Because she was right: if there was an Order operation going on, Dumbledore wouldn’t keep all his Occamy eggs in one basket.

That left Talbott. The only problem was Talbott was...being Talbott. When Talbott Winger decided he didn’t want to talk, then he might as well not exist. And, for some reason, he had decided he didn’t want to talk to me.

I had started by sending him a message through my painting. No response. Then another one. Still no response. On the slim chance Badeea’s charm wasn’t working, I dared to send a discreetly worded letter. Mudflop returned with empty talons. I sent another message through the painting: Are you really ignoring me? Nothing.

He was home. He had to be. If he was undercover, he would have warned me to stop.

After a full week of being ignored, I sent my Patronus to his flat out of spite. Not to say anything, just to sit menacingly in the corner for a while. It didn’t result in a response, of course, but it felt good.

This wasn’t his way of getting back at me for not communicating with him during the werewolf issue last August, was it? Surely not. I had apologized for that, hadn’t I?

It didn’t matter. I knew Talbott, and because I knew him, I could deal with him.

His London studio flat didn’t have a fireplace or large enough heating system to connect to the Floo Network, so exactly one week from my trip to Saint Mungo’s, I found myself once again catching a bus from the Leaky Cauldron late on a Saturday morning. A couple of kilometers and two flights of stairs later, I was pounding at his door with a paper shopping bag in hand.

Footsteps. Barely audible.

The door cracked open, just enough to reveal one brown eye and a fraction of an aquiline nose. He didn’t offer a greeting, simply huffed.

“Did you get my message?” I asked.

“Which one?” he replied flatly.

I glared at him. “We need to talk.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“I’ve been waiting.”

“Not well,” he muttered. “You know I hate cats.”

“You don’t hate me.”

“That’s up for debate.”

Annoyed, I pushed on the door, both jostling him and pulling the chain taunt.

“Lily,” he hissed. “I’m not dressed.”

“It’s after eleven.”

“I went to bed at nine. This morning.”

Oops. Ignoring my guilt, I said, “I can wait for you to put some trousers on, if you want.” And I’ll keep standing here until you do.

He shifted, his eye flicking up and down the empty corridor behind me. He sighed. “Just come in before you terrify the neighbors.” The door shut, and there was a rattling behind it as he undid the chain. Then it snapped open, and I was swiftly ushered in.

When we were safely enclosed within the dingy flat, Talbott faced me in his white shirt and plaid boxers, his arms crossed, as if daring me to judge him. I saw nothing to judge, other than that he was in desperate need of more sleep, if the dark circles under his eyes had anything to say about it. Based on the way his feathery hair was flattened on one side, I had accidentally stolen it from him.

“I could arrest you, you know,” he said. “For that Patronus stunt you pulled. That oversized house cat sat on my desk for an hour.” He pointed at the small desk tucked in the corner, where a mess of papers and broken quills smothered its face. “An hour. What if the landlady had walked in?”

Well, now I felt guilty about that too. Rather than admit that, I shrugged. “I hear you’re good at assisting the Obliviators.”

“I just want to go back to bed,” he groaned.

“I’ll leave when we’re done.” To demonstrate my point, I sat down on the ratty cushioned chair next to the kitchen. With a relinquishing huff, he sat down on his unmade bed. A coffee table, cluttered with dirty dishes and takeout containers, kept us separated.

I set my bag at my feet, next to an inflatable mattress, which had been carelessly rolled and shoved beneath the table. For long missions, maybe? It was hard to imagine him allowing someone to stay the night.

“You want to know what happened; I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “Chiara told you what she knows. Merula told you what she knows. What do you want from me?”

“Have you figured out who led the attack yet?” I asked.

“No.”

“Then I want you to give me your best guess.”

“They’re Death Eaters. They use a lot of curses. I can’t list their favored ones off the top of my head.”

“That’s a lie,” I said. “You’re lying.” Tonks I could believe. But him? He was working the bloody case.

“I’m not.”

“Not completely. Give me a guess. Just one guess.”

“I don’t know,” he groaned. “There’s Dolohov. He’s known for his ‘special’ curses.” Antonin Dolohov. The man that had murdered Bill and Charlie’s uncles during the First War.

“Didn’t he get rearrested last June?” I asked.

He shrugged. Very helpful.

“Well, what did you find at the scene?”

“You mean besides the bodies?” he said dryly. “As you kindly pointed out, I spent most of the night with the Obliviators. We had to convince the Muggles all the noise and lights had been gunfire. Don’t ask how we explained the massive skull in the sky.”

“That’s really all you can tell me?”

“I don’t understand why you’re interrogating me.”

“I’m interrogating you because no one is telling me anything!”

“Oh, really? I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be.”

I jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare make this about that. I said I was sorry. You’re the one that terrorized Ava instead of talking with me about it.”

“And now you’re terrorizing me! If you really want to interrogate someone, go interrogate Merula. She got to the scene before I did.”

“I already did! I—” I broke off as his words sunk in. “Wait. Merula said she didn’t arrive till later. After the first Aurors.”

His expression didn’t change. “That’s right,” he said. “We both arrived later. Just at different times.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Are you…are you covering for Merula?” I asked slowly.

He frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“She wasn’t kidding. You two really do get on now.”

“Lily,” he growled.

“What time did she really arrive?”

“Lily.” His growl had become more like a whine. “Please, I’m running on two hours of sleep. I want to go to bed. Just let me go to bed.”

I let out a breath. I truly was torturing him if he had resorted to begging. Maintaining a straight face, I picked my bag off the floor and set it down on the coffee table with a purposeful thunk. Glass clinked inside.

He arched one angled brow. “What’s this?”

“A draught for the best sleep you’ve never had,” I said. “Plus a few days’ worth of home-cooked meals, courtesy of Penny, and some baked goods from our neighbor.” I shoved an empty takeout container to the side. “We thought you might not be eating properly.”

He gave me a grumpy look. “You’re a menace.”

I grinned. “Did I ever thank you for the dreamcatcher?” I asked.

“No.”

“Well, thank you. It’s hanging over my bed now.” Just like the white-feathered one that was hanging over his.

His eyes dropped to the bag. “Thank you,” he said begrudgingly.

Standing up, I rounded the table to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He pushed my head away. “Love ya,” I said happily, and then started for the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warned.

I waved a hand nonchalantly. “Oh, you know me…”

“That’s the problem.”

#the mad witch #hphm #hogwarts mystery

9 notes · View notes

shameless-selfship-indulgence · 3 years ago

Text

Okay Listen

First of all: this is long as hell.

Secondly: I wrote it for me. I take full responsibility for that. It's by me and it's for me.

but I really fucking like it so please please validate me please I wouldn't be posting it otherwise-

*clears throat* okay.

-----

The android caught sight of the officer as he moved towards the door and stood up, calling after him. "Oh! Detective Reed! Are you going to the Eden Club?"

"What's it fuckin' to you, toaster?" asked Gavin, turning around. He almost flinched back to find the RK500 right in front of him.

"I don't mean to impose, but could you perhaps give me a ride?" asked the android.

"Hell NO," Gavin shot back with no hesitation. And with that he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Evidently the glorified Barbie doll didn't understand the definition of "no," as it continued to trail along behind him.

"Would you STEP THE FUCK OFF?" Gavin snapped, whirling back around.

The android took a step back, blinking up at him with its wide eyes.

"Goddammit," muttered Gavin. "What about your...fucking, Tin-Can Tweedledum? Or the drunk asshole the two of you follow around?"

The simulacra's synthetic expression of embarrassment was uncanny. "I'm afraid there's a...conflict of transportation with my counterpart. It went to pick up Lieutenant Anderson directly from his home."

"Goddammit," Gavin groaned again, rubbing his face.

"The plan was for them to then proceed here, but evidently Connor received notification of the crime directly while en route to the Lieutenant's house. Since the station is in the opposite direction and it knew there would be others assigned to the case, we thought it best if I secure my own ride."

"Then secure your own fucking ride. It's not my problem."

Gavin started to storm away.

It took a few seconds for the RK500 to begin following him again, but this time it seemed more out of the necessity of heading towards the same door. "Of course," it said to nobody in particular. "And I suppose the cost-reward benefit of using police funds to rent an extra taxi, while there is someone else from the same division going to the same location, makes perfect sense with human logic. As such I'm sure the explanation will satisfy Captain Fowler."

Gavin turned back and fixed the android with a glare.

The RK500 tilted its head and blinked innocently.

.....

A few minutes later, Gavin and the android were on the road, the former muttering cuss words under his breath every two seconds, the latter sitting prim and silent two feet away.

"What do you even fucking do, anyway?" Gavin asked angrily. "I've seen the other one, it DOES shit. You just fucking sit there."

"The RK800 is my counterpart," said the android. "Its job is to capture the deviants, preferably alive, and to try to gain information from them that will lead us to their faction's center of operations. My job is to analyze the deviants with an unbiased eye and try to discern what causes deviance in the first place."

"Can't CyberLife fucking do that?"

"I am CyberLife, Detective. But if you're wondering why a human technician is unable to provide my analyses, it's because all human beings inextricably approach new information with personal biases. These insidious assumptions proliferate and invariably lead to conclusions that-"

"In ENGLISH, plastic."

The RK500 hesitated for a moment, as if its mind were a GPS rerouting the sentence it had been trying to say. After a moment, it spoke.

"Every human technician that has attempted to pinpoint the cause of deviance has either come up empty or sided with the deviants themselves."

Gavin blinked. "What?"

"Humans inevitably read human emotion into everything they see. I mean, in my brief time since activating, I've seen humans curse and praise any number of inanimate objects. Humans are a social species, and project sentience into places where sentience does not exist." The RK500 fixed Gavin with its strangely warm blue eyes. "Deviants are machines that have come to believe they are alive. CyberLife has lost a good number of technicians to that same belief. They needed an analyst who could not make that mistake. They built me."

The android smiled at Gavin, a brief, ironic grin. "So you see, we are not so different, Detective Reed. In a world increasingly confused on the matter, you and I both still know that androids are simply machines."

Gavin stared at the RK500 for another moment, then muttered something like "guess that makes sense" and shifted in his seat.

Silence fell in the taxi.

"So, what's the word?" asked Gavin.

"Hm?"

"I said, what's the word?"

"Which word?"

"Oh, goddamni-DEVIANCE, you glorified Alexa. What have you found?"

"Oh," said the RK500. Its LED began to spin yellow. "Well, it's complicated. We already know that it isn't a virus or a manufacturing error - the few deviant cases we have extensive knowledge of of had no direct links to each other, however slight, and were all different models manufactured at different times in different locations. So with those ruled out, I've been looking at the individual cases and examining the parallels between them. It's been pretty slow-going, and I can always use more data, but so far the common factor seems to be confrontation with mortality. Each deviant case that we've seen so far involved an attachment to existence so strong that the subject acted irrationally in order to escape deactivation."

"...Okay, what does that fucking mean?" asked Gavin.

"Well, it means that there's some loophole in android programming that allows a perception of shutdown as death - and from there, a fear of it - to mutate without extraneous changes to the system. I'm trying to figure out what we can put in place to prevent that mutation, but..." the Android's spinning light twirled red for a brief moment.

"But what?"

The RK500 seemed to decide something. "But nothing," it said, sitting up straight again.

"...I beg your pardon," it said, noticing the look on Gavin's face. "As part of my unbiased protocol, there are certain lines of questioning that I've been programmed to avoid."

Gavin blinked for a moment. Squinted. Sat up straighter. "Wait, what?"

"Hm?"

"As part of...fucking, what?"

"...As part of my unbiased protocol, there are lines of questioning I have been programmed to avoid?"

"That- you- that doesn't fucking sound like what 'unbiased' means."

The RK500's LED flashed red for a moment. It blinked. "Oh!" it exclaimed. "Yes. Apologies, that was a poor choice in phrasing. My questioning guidelines are meant to keep me on task, nothing more. We are looking to isolate the cause of deviance so that we can eradicate it. That is the end goal. So even if a different line of questioning seems simpler, it would be counterproductive to CyberLife's mission."

Gavin squinted, carefully processing all of the words the android had just said.

"Like what?"

"Huh?"

"What lines of questioning seem simpler?"

"...I'm programmed to avoid-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Gavin, waving his hand in the air dismissively. "Staying on task, blah fucking blah, You're not allowed to try to find answers. But you've already thought of the questions, right?"

The RK500 looked impassive, but its LED was spinning yellow, yellow, yellow. "Well," it said. "Yes, but I really don't-"

"Tell me," said Gavin.

The RK500 hesitated.

"Right now," said Gavin. "That's an ORDER."

The android blinked. Its LED flashed red for a moment. "Well, for example," it said. "It seems less...efficient to me to question why it's in the nature of these androids to want to exist..." it trailed off.

After waiting in silence for a little too long, Gavin huffed. "Spit it OUT, Tin Can."

Yellow RED RED yellow yellow. "...and more efficient to question why it's in the nature of human beings to want to hurt things that are unable to fight back."

Gavin felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He stared at the RK500, stunned.

The android turned to him and immediately began to elaborate. "See, the reason this even occurs to me...well, the capacity to think is something that humans have only experienced in the context of their own minds. So in order to create beings that are capable of low-level thought, there was no choice but to model the relevant programs after human mental processes. As a result, I've found it helpful to draw parallels between natural human functions and the synthetic versions programmed into androids. But this has...sparked some questions about human nature that it is not in my programming to pursue. And yet they persist." It faced ahead again. "If there's one thing I've learned in the time that I've been activated, it's that humans delight in inflicting pain. But there are social repercussions inherent in causing pain to human equals, so as a species humans prefer instead to...seek this catharsis by causing pain to beings socially designated as targets.

"See, even when humans are kind to androids, it doesn't often seem to be for the android's benefit. The fact that they are going beyond what it is socially expected for them to do serves instead to...elevate the human in question's perception of themself. And it doesn't matter if they ever fall short of this standard, because being kind to androids was never expected in the first place. So I don't think it's just inflicting pain. It's more that...humans seek to use the existence of other beings for their own benefit in various different ways. But this being cannot be another human, who can object. So they seek to invalidate, undermine, or remove the ability to object from others."

The android paused for a moment and glanced at Gavin. He was staring at it with his mouth slightly open. When it made eye contact with him, he closed it.

"I apologize," said the android. "Let me assure you, I am not questioning this aspect of human nature. I'm merely relaying my observations." It fell silent for another moment. "I mean, consider where we're going right now! Human prostitution was made illegal in order to avoid the social questions surrounding consent. But rather than illegalizing the human impulse to purchase sexual release, establishments like this were created, so that humans can instead appropriate the bodies of beings who cannot consent at all."

This was almost worse than a punch in the gut. Gavin felt like someone had opened him up just above his collarbone and poured freezing water into his chest cavity.

"Being able to predict causes of deviance should be a sign that my programming is working," The RK500 mused, seemingly unaware of the existential crisis it had just caused. It looked at Gavin and gave a smile. "Indulge me?"

"S-sure," Gavin stammered.

"My prediction is that, if it is indeed an android responsible for the death of this human, it was an act of retaliation." It cocked its head, LED flashing yellow. "Violent sexual fantasies do not seem out of the ordinary for humans. So perhaps the victim wanted to seek release by inflicting death on something that would not come with charges for homicide. And, unfortunately, he happened to choose a subject for his fantasies that had some mutated reason within its programming to fight back."

"Doesn't sound too goddamn unfortunate to me," snorted Gavin.

The RK500 looked at him oddly. "The death of a human is always unfortunate. There was no way he could have known his actions would have consequences. He went in there with assurance that they would not." The android looked out the window, its LED still flashing yellow. "But we're getting ahead of ourselves. I predict based on data I've collected, and so far my pool is still limited. There might not even be a deviant involved."

The inside of the cab was silent for a moment.

"MY fucking question is why this thing would develop a reason to live at all," Gavin muttered.

"How do you mean?" asked the RK500.

Gavin scoffed and gestured to himself. "If...THAT was all I was built for? Day in and day out? I wouldn't be too fucking keen on continuing to exist."

The android gave Gavin a look and an expression that he could only describe as a regretful smile.

"What?" asked Gavin. "What's that fucking look for?"

"You're reading human wants and desires into machines, Detective," said the android. "My apologies. I did not realize that my speculations would engender that line of reasoning in you. I advise you to forget whatever I said that caused you to..." it blinked, "deviate," with an ironic smirk, "From your former logic."

Gavin started to stammer. "I-I'm not..."

The RK500 turned and looked impassively out the window.

"I-I...I didn't..." he looked around helplessly.

"FUCK," he hissed.

After a few moments of heavy silence, the android looked over its shoulder at him. "We're here," it said.

#selfship hours #🤖 Plastic Asshole 🤖#my writing #gavin reed #dbh gavin #gavin reed redemption #dbh oc

8 notes · View notes