#i just wish they existed with their true potential reached... not just partially reached | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simpingwriter · 2 years ago

Text

#13 Shota Aizawa x Nakano (MHA OC

'the offer'

__________________

The next day you dragged yourself halfheartedly back into UA's main building, your legs and arms recovered from what happened yesterday, but due to a sleepless night you felt yourself lose more and more focus on your surroundings. If you don't manage to get a hold of yourself and your quirk, at least back to the same degree as five months ago, Mr. Aizawa may find another reason to call you unfit for this school.

You shouldn't have let yourself go that much while you moved to Japan five months ago. While you thought it would be a good thing to move earlier to get used to the different life style, you now also missed out on the few people back home that still wanted to train with you. With them you always worked out together, their existence made it impossible for you to say "Another day/Tomorrow maybe...". But now, on your own, you had free reign over yourself, became way too slack with your own discipline.

Look where it got you. Yeah maybe UA accepted you...but your current fitness is much worse than the last month you had spent in America, you had been at the top of your game, going stronger each month. "Hey! Kaneko! Wait up!" Someone shouts behind you as you walk into the building that housed your classroom. Looking over your shoulder, you see a different Blonde from your new class. What was his name again?

"Oh hey..." You made it obvious with your tone that you never really caught his name, embarrassing for you, really. "Oh it's Kaminari. Buuut if you want to, you can also call me Denki!" Did he really just allow you to use his first name? How long did you know each other? "T-thanks...but I'll stick with Kaminari until we know each other a bit better...alright? It would seem rude if i begin calling you on first name Basis just like that..." Even if he allowed you to do so, you thought friendship always took a little while.

"Of course, that's fine. Wanna go to class together?" He seemed alright with you preferring his last name for now, probably not even giving it much of a thought either as you slowly nod at his request and followed him to the elevator in the big entrance area.

"You showed Bakugou really who's boss yesterday, huh?" He asks on the way up, a bright grin on his face as he looked at you with some level of basic admiration, "Eh, i didn't do it for that."

Big lie, biggest yet. More to come...

"I simply wanted to show my own worth..." "About that, isn't weird that we had to show Mr. Aizawa our quirks' abilities even though we got through the exams just fine?"

De- Kaminari was right, it was a bit weird, especially since you're quite sure that the teachers have been watching the full extend of the exams with cameras around the city-replica battle arena that got used for the exam. You knew because in your first and second year in NYC you had been your Teacher's aid and had been partially watching the exams of the new students that came into school after your class reached the next grade.

It wouldn't be much different here than back in America, right? Even if the stuff that got taught was somewhat different, the schools' systems would be fairly similar.

"That's true... but i'm sure Mr. Aizawa had his personal reasons?" The blonde squints at you in surprise at your words for your new teacher, "But weren't you the one who was ready to start a fight with said teacher for a pair of glasses? Why so tame now?"

Good question, maybe because he wasn't half as bad as your mind made him out to be after he actually praised your quirk's possible potential once everyone was gone...or maybe because you actually thought about taking his deal of him giving you some private tutoring? "Sometimes people start on a bad foot..." You give as your unfortunately just half-assed explanation, wishing you could still form a smart explanation instead, as the sliding door opened, letting the two of you out of the elevator and into the hallway of first year students' floor.

"God, i wish teachers at my old school would've been so cool looking as Mr. Aizawa!" Kaminari whines as you enter the classroom, the next surprise awaiting the blonde as it seemed that the both of you had been the first ones here yet. Not even... what's her name? Yaoyorozu? Right. Her... Slipped through the exam tests by literally nothing but recommendation. In NYC, you also got in due to recommendation, by your parents who taught at the school at the same time. Same treatment as all your other siblings, the one thing they did equally for their children.

The difference? Even then, future students still had to finish and pass the exams. No extra bonus just because a pro hero was like 'Yeah, she'll be good, i guess...'

You're truly surprised that she wasn't already sitting at her desk, ready to be a "recommended" smartass. You're most likely being also too harsh on her, just like with the other Blondie. The hot head. But you're difficult with people at the beginning, their worst attributes tend to stand out first for you.

Remembering that Kaminari had said something beforehand, you reply to him while unpacking your backpack for the first class in a few minutes, albeit with some difficulties as you felt your eyes unfocus once more. So tired... "Well, you're probably from Middle School, I'm guessing? 99% of teachers you knew beforehand, probably weren't pro heroes like Mr. Aizawa..."

Kaminari hummed from his seat behind you, playing with the blackboard's chalky sponge in his "before class boredom", "So I'm taking it that even though you're from abroad, you know some about the Pro Heroes existing in Japan?"

The voice, similarly tired as yours, came from the floor and now that you actually looked behind the wooden desk at the front, you saw the same yellow sleeping bag from yesterday. He was already here the whole time!

"Quick, Kaneko, list all Pro Heroes in Japan!" The blonde jokes, definitely having gotten that one from somewhere on the internet as you begin to grow a tad red. In all honesty, you did know some of them, but not all of them. The ones you knew about the best were All Might, Present Mic, Hawks, Endeavor and Eraserhead. Last one currently acting up as a yellow plastic caterpillar. Or mummy. Depends, the sleep deprived jury is still out.

"Knowing about the people you're trying to follow in their footsteps can be truly great motivation. Learning about them shows you what you still might need to learn yourself to be the hero you plan to become." Mr. Aizawa mumbles, clearly not showing any attempt at least sitting up in his human cocoon. But still, pretty inspiring and kind words, after yesterday though you thought that he was the kind of teacher that didn't show his kindness to everyone of his students, "But you also need to work on your own abilities instead of hyping up the older generation. Don't just research their achievements, find out about their mistakes and work on yourself to not make the same ones too." And of course...there was the tough-love remark.

When he talked with you yesterday, he threw a lot of these at your aching head, fully making use of the fact that you couldn't just leave him standing there since he had your sunglasses.

"Yes, Sensei, i know... And i will. I'm gonna work real hard on myself!" You claim now with the last of your enthusiasm, shakily standing up from your place to give your words a bit more weight, no matter if he saw that from his current place on the ground. But Kaminari watching you, it made him jump up as well, "Oh yeah, me too! You bet it, Kaneko! Mr. Aizawa!" Kaminari shouts just so much louder than you, cheering himself on as you already let yourself fall back into you wooden chair without hiding your obvious exhaustion any further. You couldn't sleep all night, thinking hours upon hours about the offer of your teacher.

You would ask Ochako or someone else for their opinion but you deemed his offer for just your ears, after all he would've given said offer to everyone else too otherwise, right? But why did he give you that offer in the first place...was it the same reason everyone else in your family joked about your quirk? He probably only offered his help because he thought you're too weak to do it on your own...after all he couldn't know that your performance was praised by your school. Before the accident.

And as you had already accepted, your past self in America would also call your current performance weak. To break down like this after nothing but a simple Quirk Test for first year students. You're so pathetic, such a fucking stupid joke...the exact waste of space your family uses to call you.

"Kaneko. Wake up from your daydream, you once again didn't listen to what I said, or am I wrong?" No. Mr. Aizawa was right, you heard not a single word of what he apparently said. You didn't even realize the one and only mountain of a hero, All Might, next to him. So instead of lying to them and to yourself, you shake your head, hanging your head down in shame. You're so...tired. In the past you've been awake for days without breaks for your endurance training, all to draw out more time from your quirks sadly limited activation, even that had been thrown out of the window in these five months it seems.

What a failure.

"I-i'm so very sorry, Aizawa Sensei. Could you...please repeat the assignment for me?" You ask as polite as you could, showing your classmates — who all collected in the hallway behind the two pro heroes — and the two teachers that you had a very different side to your usually difficult to handle personality. Even if you felt like your actual brain was still somewhere back home in bed right now, catching up on the rest it actually now needed. "I'll make one excuse but ju–" "Now wait just a moment, Aizawa. Look at her, she seems... awfully exhausted?" All Might himself interrupts your teacher, who glared up at him from his scarf, "What about it. Heroes are tired all the time, they can't hide from a battle just because they are exhausted. Isn't that right?"

The question targeted at All Might sounded a lot more personal than the taller individual probably liked, slightly backing away before he stood his ground once more, "No matter your opinion, Aizawa, since i am the teacher for the class's battle training, it's also my say who's even capable of attending." All Might exclaims loudly, staying adamant about keeping you out of the first battle training today. So that's what's on todays lesson-plan, a battle training.

One team would be the heroes, one the villains. That type of physical lesson also existed in NYC and you tended to like those. It let you strategize for something that could very well become a very serious reality. Much like Student vs. Student or vs. Teacher training or Rescue training.

Rescue training was something you sometimes struggled at because your quirk may be definitely possible to be used for defense, or for support. But all your training had been mostly offense heavy because that's what your parents pushed you into. All with the childish and outdated idea of support heroes being weaker than the "actual" front force.

Bunch of garbage in your eyes, every hero had it's greater use, that's how you wanted to see this world. There is a use for everyone...

Right?

"What do you want to tell me with that?" "That i will NOT take young Kaneko with the rest of the class today. I do not want my students collapsing mid-exercise and neither do you, right?" Mr. Aizawa crossed his arms as his dark eyes wander over to you, fixated on yours. For a moment, he seems to look you all over, seeing your upper body lying somewhat pathetically on your school desk by now, before he exhales in defeat. "Fine. I'll take care of her. You take the class as planned, alright?"

Very satisfied with Mr. Aizawa's decision, the taller, buffer hero grins even wider with a thumbs up, not just for his colleague but also towards you, "Always make sure to get a full night of rest, young Kaneko! Now, let's go Class, your training awaits!"

Nodding from your desk, also giving back a thumbs up, albeit less enthusiastic than All Might's, you watch your classmates leave you behind with your homeroom teacher. Kaminari and Ochako visibly looking worried for you as they turned around to follow All Might as well.

Now you're left alone with Mr. Aizawa, who tsked at you, probably with deserved disappointment, "I remember telling you to rest up for today, that you would need it. Guess, with you especially, i can actually run my mouth for nothing at all, huh?"

Right, he told you to rest. But how are you supposed to do so if all your head was filled with was ways of how you could fail him, how you could fail anybody that trusted you, which weren't all that many anymore to be honest. Not in NYC. Not after what happened.

"I couldn't...i really tried, but i couldn't." You meekly tell the tall man, knowing exactly that he now probably was back to thinking you're weak or something similar because you couldn't even manage to rest your body. So simple, yet sometimes so impossible.

"Maybe...ugh...i know that feeling..." He did? You're quite shocked as you heard those words, mouth opening to gesture said shock too as you tried to sit up more straight for your teacher. "You do?" "Why exactly did you think i sleep in class?"

Maybe because he was lazy? Because he wasn't exactly a fan of teaching? Or this school — you still thought those are the reasons as well. Anything but the idea that maybe he also sometimes also didn't get any sleep at night passed your thoughts. Once again, you realize that maybe you have judged a person too early. "I'm sorry, Mr. Aizawa..." You apologized out of reflex, without even knowing if he knew what you thought about him beforehand. "Stop fucking apologizing and start doing better. Then you won't have to constantly apologize for the stupid shit you do..."

Of course you were trying to do better, but it was hard when you constantly had the pressure from abroad on your shoulders. You didn't want to be abandoned but at the same time whenever you tried working for it not to happen, the fear basically ate you up.

"Now that we got a minute alone, did you at least manage to think about the offer?"

At the mention of the said offer from yesterday, you drove down your seat slightly, discomfort written onto your face as you look over to him, still standing in the doorway, probably not giving a flying fuck about where he now stood to talk to his student. "Don't give me such a look, i told you it's your choice. No matter how you choose, the end result would only haunt you." Right, haunt was the correct word for your fear.

It haunts you, to this day.

You didn't want to hurt Mr. Aizawa, he's just your teacher, he just offered you his — surely once in a lifetime — help. If it happened again, but now to him...you wouldn't be able to live with something like that a second time!

"I know... that's...not it." You mumble, feeling the difficulty of even thinking about that day. It all went so well before it happened. He was proud of you too, celebrated your milestones when your parents didn't even bat an eye at them. Mr. Aizawa eyed you with the intention of asking you of the 'why' right now, when he realized that you're still just about there to hold a conversation. Your energy left you rather quickly today, feeling the regret of getting out of bed before you even left your home. "Tell me about it while you eat, you're still my responsibility. If you collapse, it's my fault. Even if you don't get it done to sleep right."

At first you didn't know exactly what he wanted from you, if you should eat right here or not. Until he turned around, waving you after him. Silently nodding, even though he wouldn't even see it, you took your backpack after packing back up your utensils before you went after him, already with enough questions in your head to fill at least a whole school lesson. Both of you ended up two floors lower, on a floor you were formerly told by Present Mic himself that you shouldn't enter unless your current teacher had ordered you to. It was the floor for teachers only, so most likely with their break rooms, meeting rooms and the principals office... wasn't the principal of the UA a mouse? Or was he dog?

Maybe it also held the school's briefing room for emergencies? Did the UA have one like the school in NYC? They had to, the UA was far more advanced and clearly more heavily funded by the state and the agencies than NYC's even could be, no matter how grand your old one was. The UA is a whole different caliber. "Stop thinking about irrelevant stuff...I'm getting tired of holding the damn door open." Mr. Aizawa pulled you from your internal brain chatter as if he knew that being on said floor caused all kinds of theories to pop up in your brain.

"And don't you dare say 'I'm sorry'...i don't want to hear it. Just try to look less obvious when you're, for some special miracle, start using your head."

Giving him a quick 'Yes, sensei', clearly struggling to hold back the now forbidden two words as you squeeze past him into the room. As you take in the big lounge, your teacher quietly watches you instead...well, for a few seconds, "Go sit down at one of the couches, I'll be back in a few minutes...look lively in the meantime." He orders you before already having left you behind, taking the route back to the elevator. As his footsteps faded in the hallway, so did your questions you had been ready to ask him, making sure to try and remember them for later.

Not knowing what to do while he was gone, other than of course actually sitting down because he told you too, you stare into the pleasantly cooled air and try to analyze some of the furniture in the apparent teachers lounge.

How come that a break room for teachers has...has beanbags? You were very sure that most of the teacher at the UA are Pro Heroes, professionals in their careers. So what are beanbags doing in an equally professional school?

One of them practically screamed at you to sit in it, a black one with dark red and grey spots. Even if tired, mischief was never not an option for you. If sitting in a beanbag instead of on a couch as he told you to was actually mischief. Not giving it anymore care than you could offer, you switch your resting place from the couch to said beanbag. Immediately you felt your body sink into it, a delighted gasp leaving your lips. Beanbags are so...comfy~!

Comfy enough to forget that you probably should've stayed awake...

Mr. Aizawa surely didn't have you just suddenly napping in a teachers lounge in mind when he took you down here. Food, that was all of it. After that, he would probably let you write down some stupid text in exchange for not being able to join the battle training, all while he slept himself. It didn't take a minute for your eyes to fall shut and stay shut, your mouth just slightly hanging open as you began to softly snore and mumble incoherent garbage.

"I said 'lively' not 'roadkill'..." His deadpan voice ripped you from your all too gratifying nap time, not noticing the glare you automatically sent him instead. Thankfully he couldn't see that through the darker sunglasses of yours. "Here. Eat up..." He hands you a warm Styrofoam box that smelled botheringly familiar. Opening it, you realize why: It's the curry from the restaurant you sometimes went to if you forgot to buy food to cook yourself and the supermarkets had already closed.

Pulling your eyes off of surprisingly your favorite food from said favorite restaurant, you saw him flop down onto a chair nearby, eyeing you back, with his unreadable but probably simply tired dark eyes. "Only one box? Are you not going to eat?" You dared to speak the first words in the pressured silence of a student and her teacher being in such an unusual situation. You both didn't know how to talk with each other outside of class without sounding weird, at least it's what you thought when you watch the tall man turn even quieter than before.

"It's about you, you're the one who barely manages to take care of herself. Or am I getting the wrong impression from you wandering after me like a zombie just now?" Guilty as charged, you avert your lighter colored eyes, definitely too proud to openly tell him he was right. In these five months you struggled to keep up with yourself and your needs. You got by, sure, after all you're alive and not malnourished. And usually you also got a great night of sleep.

But whenever a certain memory once again returns to haunt you...you become a mess, physically and mentally.

So instead of immediately giving him the gratification of being absolutely spot on with the fact that you sometimes could barely keep yourself going, you rummage through your backpack to find something. "What are you doing now, just eat alr–" You hear him stop mid-sentence as pull out your bamboo and steel lunchbox, holding it out to him.

"So you had food already? Why didn't you just tell me that?" "I want to share, sensei, please. In exchange...for the offer." You tell him with some held back volume, you didn't want to weird him out. After all he's your teacher, of only two days now too. But you definitely didn't want him to go hungry while you ate the warm and fresh curry in front of him.

Mr. Aizawa's eyes, actually now fully open instead of looking like he was ready to nap himself once more, looked down to your place in the beanbag, surprise at your own offer written over his scruffy face. "You need it more, Kaneko." He still tried to insist until you simply put the lunchbox on his lap, accidentally touching his hand in the process. He had incredibly big and warm hands. "Plates, please." You request as innocent as you could when he was about to put the lunchbox back to your side, watching him stop in his track.

Shortly, he grunts at you thinking you could just "order" him around, until he made the mistake of looking back down to you, your mouth childishly in a pout. Usually he wouldn't give it a second thought, but for some reason, maybe because you didn't seem the type to usually pout — big mistake, you pout a lot if needed — it unfortunately worked on him.

"Fine." He only adds, putting the lunchbox onto the table he just sat at with the chair turned away from it, "But get your ass out from the beanbag and sit at the table like the goddamn adult you're supposed to become..."

Pulling yourself from your comfy former napping place, careful to not spill the curry, you groan at how difficult it actually was. But eventually you actually got up, placing the still hot curry also on the table alongside the lunchbox. Mr. Aizawa already came back with two plates and two sets of cutlery that he took from the small kitchen corner in the room, placing them down.

"You better talk now, no student has ever gotten this kinda treatment from me..."

He opened the lunchbox while he told you, pulling his eyebrows up at its contents.

"Salad? Did you make that?" He somewhat cautiously asked, giving you a glance from the side, pushing his grey scarf to the side. Why won't he just take it off instead? "Yeah...does it look bad?" Why would you care? At least you knew that it tastes good, after all you had some yesterday already.

"Well...no. It looks actually pretty...good, i guess." His voice sounded a bit odd...he probably isn't much used to saying something nice about anything from a student. He's probably very used to being disappointed. Or annoyed.

But nonetheless you felt like cherishing the oddly kind words from the stoic man, "Thank you, Mr. Aizawa!" It gave you back some small amounts of energy to smile up to him. Even while sitting, he was a lot taller than you.

"Yeah yeah...but, that's quite a lot of meat, isn't it?"

Oh right, you only ate two strips yesterday, believing foolishly that it would be enough to fill your reserves for today. Obviously that was a false belief. Obviously you were a stupid fucking idiot. "Because i only ate two yesterday... thought it was enough." "Wow...that's stupid."

Thanks for kindly confirming, Mr. Aizawa...

You ate partly quietly through your now shared meal, slowly feeling better bit by bit, bite by bite. Then he continued the actual topic of discussion. He wanted you to spill the beans, he knew...he probably thought your reaction to his offer was a bit off yesterday. "Usually students would tear themselves apart to get the chance of one on one tutoring from a pro hero..." He begins after eating one of the teriyaki beef strips. The ones he actually called "kinda tasty" a few minutes beforehand.

"What happened to make you react so... irritated... at my offer to get your quirk...s under control?"

How did he know that it was connected with your past? Why couldn't you just be the kid that didn't want any special help in his eyes? "I don't know what you mean...it just surprised me."

Trying your best to act like he wasn't itching the right spot, you continue chewing your curry and some of the salad as well, which he noted as "a grotesque mix of two foods" but he also said he could care less if you at least got something into your system, "Grip the fork any tighter and it'll bend." Shit.

"Talk. Now."

You shouldn't.

You can't.

But how else will you fulfill your parents wish? Or more...their ultimatum. Become worthy enough to carry the last name Kaneko or get legitimately disowned. You had not much of a choice. It wasn't even that maybe you didn't want to be hero. Of course you wanted to be one, the best of them all if possible — hardly, with your naturally self-destructive quirks. But you also never even had the second choice of trying to become something different in the first place. Even though they didn't believe in you from day one your quirks showed themselves, they still forced you down this path.

"How does a person stop fearing their own quirk?" You ask with your eyes staring blankly at your still half filled plate, no longer trying to hide your obvious discomfort with his offer. In the end, the fork lost the battle, bending under your shaking grip on it. As you got no reply from Mr. Aizawa in a total of at least five silent minutes, you had been sure than he was questioning how you managed to even get into the Academy in NYC, nonetheless the UA.

And sometimes you did too.

"By fighting them head on, just like any other fear." The sudden acknowledgment of your question let you jolt slightly, no longer having expected a serious answer from the Pro Hero. After all it must've sounded just so silly. Afraid...of your own quirk? It made you sound like a pussy, even in your own head. But he still gave you his answer, no matter how ridiculous your question must have been to him. "And by head on...i take it that you mean accepting your offer?"

He nods as he finished his own plate, eyes wandering to your own plate. He points a finger at it, nudging you with a shoulder. It felt surreal next to the serious topic you started minutes ago, but it also reminded you of where you are. "You should eat." He adds to his nudge and pointing finger as he took himself a small portion of the left over salad.

Choosing to not point out in front of him that he seemed to like it enough to actually eat more of it, simply in his favor, you do as you're told and continue eating the curry until the plate was empty and basically licked clean. It had been getting more cold now, but it was still so good.

"And yes, that's what i mean, the more you train your body for your quirk, the easier it theoretically should become for you to handle its drawbacks...and i offer you my help and knowledge for said training." He wanted to actually help you...you couldn't believe it at first, blinking at him dumbfounded, there had only been a handful of people in your life that actually meant or even gave you such heavy promises.

Surprise, surprise...your own family has never been a part of these people. The only way they "supported" you is with money and the "permission" to stay in Japan on your own until your graduated.

Even if your body told you too, you didn't shed even one tear, not even out of happiness, as you smile up at your new teacher and now mentor as well. You had your worries about him, especially since he gave you that offer so quickly without even fully knowing what expected him with you.

You still did have certain worries, but after the talk yesterday and now today as well, you felt like you could put your trust in him. Trust him to actually train you well and reach the peak of your quirks' performances. You wanted to trust him too...it had been so long you had someone that let you follow their path and learn of their words that only you got to hear. School itself never matched the one on one training sessions you had with...with him. With them.

"I don't...i-...T-thank you, Mr. Aizawa!" You almost flew from your chair as you jump up from it, bowing down slightly to show your gratitude. He gasps a bit taken back, never having expected a student with your type of feisty personality to show themselves so thankful. Nonetheless so quickly. You must've been desperate to find someone's help...but something clearly had been on your mind as well. Something that made you so defensive about it when he asked you yesterday.

As your teacher, he would find out what had you so afraid...even if it took it's time. He wasn't the kind to be impatient anyways. And at some point you would speak on your own, he was almost sure about that.

But at least she now wasn't as exhausted as before anymore, her enthusiastic behavior currently showing so. If he could see her eyes right now...were they hopeful? Did they believe in him, did she actually believe in him?

"It's alright, Kaneko. Just one rule as of now..."

You nod, sitting back down as you realized that you still had been standing up, almost falling on top of the unkempt looking teacher.

"Nobody can know you're getting trained by me. No student, no teacher, no parents. I always said that teachers shouldn't have students that they train personally, since it gave them an unfair advantage against the other students...but now that i have one on my own, I've broken my own rule."

Understanding where his concern comes from, food helping your brain work more normally again, you nod, "Of course, Mr. Aizawa, i won't tell anyone!"

Now having filled up your inner battery, Mr. Aizawa told you what you two had to do in exchange for you not being able to tag along to today's battle training. Which had been incidentally observing Class 1-A during their Battle Training!

Now chewing on some candy you bought yourself on your short break given by the Eraser Hero, you try your best to do as Mr. Aizawa told you to and analyse the fighting styles of each of your classmates. You would have to make notes similar to Midoriya's weird little books if you wanted to keep it all in your head...

"You better still be watching them closely, you'll need it soon enough. Believe me."

You'll need it? Did he mean Battles against each other? Or something else?

What did he know that you didn't?

__________________

#MHA Shota Aizawa #MHA Shouta Aizawa #MHA Aizawa #Aizawa #Aizawa x reader #Aizawa x OC #MHA Aizawa x Reader #MHA Aizawa x OC #BNHA #MHA #13 #Shota Aizawa x student reader #Shota Aizawa x Student oc #My Hero Academia fanfic

17 notes · View notes

messymessyml · 4 years ago

Text

Breaking and Entering

I'll be moving this one over to AO3 at some point (done, available here), but I'll start this off on Tumblr. This is a lighthearted, multi-chapter Jasonette story.

Summary:

Marinette is away from home when a curious visitor drops in. The kwami don't see any problem letting the man in; the question is: what will the guardian think when she realizes an intruder was in her house while she was gone?

Chapter 1 is below the cut.

Chapter 1: What did I come back to now?

Marinette felt a wave of relief hit her as her key turned smoothly in the lock. She was more than ready to unload her bags and take a well-deserved night in after a whirlwind week of consulting with clients in Metropolis. She’d decided to take Tikki and Sass with her and rent a hotel for the week as most of her clients were only available for early morning consultations, and while it was the most effective way to make sure she didn’t miss a meeting, she was glad to be back home.

Gotham may not be as glitzy or have as many potential clients as Metropolis, but it more than made up for that with the anonymity that Gotham allowed her. The local mentality of ‘take no shit’ and ‘mind your own damn business and I’ll mind mine’ allowed the kwami and her freedom that they wouldn’t get in Metropolis, a city crawling with news stations and a baffling love of all things mundane. Half the time when she visited Metropolis it felt like she had a target on her back; the paparazzi were worse in Metropolis than they ever were in her Parisian hero days and that held for her professional pseudonym as well as plain Marinette. It was a wonder that with so many news outlets (and Superman to report on for crying out loud) that she was still the topic of a news piece twice in the past week: once as MDC and once as plain old Marinette. In all seriousness was helping with a local tree planting event for Earth Day that newsworthy?

‘Enough of that’, she thought, realizing that although her door was now unlocked, she’d thought so much about arriving home that she hadn’t even fully opened her door. A slight twinge of embarrassment hit her. Carrying her tiny friends everywhere was always a blessing, but sometimes, she mused, it might be nice not to have an audience for every action she took—no matter how embarrassing.

Letting go of that train of thought, Marinette stepped through and closed her door behind her, feeling tension bleed out of her shoulders. The underlying scent of vanilla and blossom honey hit her nose as she strode over to the kitchen island. She set her bags to the side and took a hold of one of her swinging barstools with the intention to sit for a bit before making any attempt at dinner for the kwami and herself. Absently tracking the path Sass and Tikki took as they flew in the direction of the room where she kept the Miracle Box, she hesitated to sit as she noticed a slowly building feeling of unease hit her. Something, she thought, was off.

Sharpening her gaze and gripping the barstool a little tighter, Marinette scanned her apartment. At first glance, the living space looked unchanged from how she left it; the furniture was where it belonged, and her shelves and wall art were unmoved. As she looked closer though, she saw items around the house that were shifted a bit more than they would be if the kwami had decided to explore while she was away: the living room rug was centered, the dishes she had left to dry right before leaving the house a week ago were put away, and the barstool she was currently grasping was a bit more level than it had ever been, thrifted as it were. The kwami were a joy to interact with and an honor to serve as their guardian, but cleaners and tinkers they were not.

Marinette released her grip on the stool, rounding the kitchen island to open the cabinets. Like she thought, the dishes she had washed a week ago were put away and the towers of plates and bowls looked straighter than they were normally. Her gut churned as the beginning stages of worry started to fill her.

A chorus of greetings from behind her met her ears, disrupting her thoughts. Turning, Marinette saw the kwami flying towards her from the hallway.

“Marinette, did you have a nice trip?” Mullo squeaked.

“Guardian, I hope all went well on your trip. It is wonderful to have you back home.” Wayzz said.

The other kwami threw in their own noises and words of agreement, mirroring Wayzz’s welcome.

Marinette couldn’t help her small smile, replying, “My trip went well, and I am happy to be back here with you all.” She paused, hesitating before she asked, “Did anything happen while we were away?”

“Not much, Pigtails.” Plagg swam leisurely into view, tailed closely by Tikki, both twirling as they approached. “Some fighting outside, and a bit of a showdown on rooftops at the end of the block, but no damage to our building.”

Wayzz intercepted Plagg’s path, floating into the center of her vision to say, “That may be true, Plagg; however, one of the combatants took a breather on our balcony by using the garden for cover. He didn’t seem injured, but he was breathing heavier than was wise. Most of us hid in the box while I continued to strengthen the wards on the outer walls and windows.”

Marinette interrupted, “No one entered the apartment?”

Wayzz hesitated, then said “The man stayed hidden as best he could, but he was quite large, and I could feel the shifting balance; if he stayed on the balcony, he would have drawn fire here. I strengthened the barrier outwards then loosened the barrier on the balcony doors, undid the latch for him, and asked Trixx to hide us from view. He had a protector’s spirit and none of us could feel an intent to harm any but the ones he’d been fighting outside. I am sorry, Guardian, for making this decision without your input.”

Marinette took a deep breath to fend off the impending tension headache, unclenching the hand she had used to subconsciously gripped her other wrist. She loosened the muscles around her eyes to soften her gaze. “It’s alright, Wayzz. I wasn’t there, and I trust your intuition. What did he do?”

“He seemed distrustful of the open door at first but ended up entering almost silently and quickly moved to scan the apartment.”

Trixx added, “I made sure he could not see the Miracle Box and that he was not visible from the outside at any point, but he stayed away from the windows for the most part.”

Roarr piped in, “He has a fierce spirit, and I agree with Wayzz that he has a strong protective streak.”

She heard some murmurs of agreement from the other kwami, some of them breaking out into small discussion pertaining to the man’s character. “If so many of you saw him, did you leave the Miracle Box then? What did you see?” Desperately, Marinette wished that the immortal beings she called friends could get to the points.

“Some of us came out to see, but most of us stayed in the box. Trixx’s illusions held; he didn’t see or hear any of us.” Barkk confirmed.

“Yes, he mostly stayed in the living room. He sat right here for a while!” Saying this, Pollen surged towards the end of the couch, landing with their back to the armrest in a bored sprawl. “Like this!”

Plagg, swaying upside down near the ceiling, lazily added, “He wasn’t much fun. All he did was check his guns then started cleaning the place. Boring.”

“Guns?! Cleaning? Why?” Alarmed, Marinette’s heartbeat started to pound at the picture painted by the kwami. They had let a large combatant enter her apartment and all he did was inspect his guns and clean??? ‘This can’t be real’, she thought. ‘Was I caught up in one of Scarecrow’s attacks on the way home?’

“He had good manners at the least.” Kaalki sniffed. “His gear smelled of money and he fixed that stool of yours that never would have entered the premises if you had listened to me from the start. At least now it isn’t horrendously squeaky.”

“Hey!” Mullo protested.

Kaalki just turned away.

“He needed the protection.” Wayzz apologetically said. “He didn’t seem interested in your workroom and he wouldn’t have been able to find the box, so we observed. He cleaned a bit and left after checking that the coast was clear outside.”

Marinette allowed her shoulders to sag. “Alright. If you’re sure.” Glancing around, she gave the kwami a smile, eyes hesitating on the glass doors leading to the balcony, she absently added, “Thank you for keeping an eye on things while I was gone.”

Striding over to the doors leading out to the balcony, she peered out. Nothing seemed out of place out here, but she couldn’t be certain. Checking the door handles, she noticed that one of the kwami or her mystery visitor must have relatched the lock. Unlocking it, she stepped out and went to sit at her patio table. Leaning back in her chair, she let her head tip back to view the sunset, partially obscured by the balcony two floors above her own. Her apartment building had mostly staggered the balconies to allow more light to reach its inhabitants, a must in Gotham’s dreary weather.

After a few moments, she let her head droop forward to land in her hands. As much as she loved them, the kwami’s survival instincts always seemed at odds with hers. She couldn’t tell whether that was due to her anxiety amplifying everything past the point of reason or that the kwami’s inherent existence rendering most danger obsolete, but while some intruder might not be a danger to beings that could turn intangible and invisible at will, she was definitely a bit more breakable (‘Mortal’, her brain whispered) than them. If she had been here? Who knows how that visit might have gone?

Taking a few more minutes to calm her body’s response, a few deep breaths, and a moment or two of gratitude that nothing bad had happened, she straightened a bit as the evening wind started to pick up and a splash of white started to flutter at the edge of her vision. Glancing up, her eye caught on a piece of paper at the other end of the table that was weighted down with a rock she had decorated a while back with paintings of ladybugs and cats playfully chasing each other across a meadow. That particular rock usually spent time in the catnip bed Plagg had insisted on and Tikki had seconded as a nod to both kwami. Curious, she reached out and grabbed the sheet of paper underneath. Opening it, she read:

Dear Stranger,

I was in a bit of a tight spot and hanging around your balcony when your door swung open. Haunted house, much? Hope you don’t mind, but I ended up using your house as a temporary safe house while you were gone. Don’t worry, I made sure no one saw me entering or exiting, so you shouldn’t have any problems from the type of shit that follows me.

On the topic of haunted houses, are you sure yours isn’t haunted? Your house is unnervingly the calmest- and safest-feeling place I’ve been in a while, but I kept seeing blurs out of the corner of my eye and I was NOT concussed. Might want to talk to someone about that.

I ended up tidying a bit while you were gone, hope you don’t mind. Fairs fair, you (unknowingly, I know) lent me a place to stay, I tidied up a bit. Stay out of trouble, alright?

Cheers,

- Red Hood

The Red Hood? The RED HOOD is who they let into the house? For kwami’s sake, what were they thinking?!?

#jasonette #Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng #dc x mlb #ml x dc #maribat #meet cute #fluff #my writing #multichapter #Jasonette Breaking and Entering #kwami as immortal beings

316 notes · View notes

volturiwolf · 4 years ago

Text

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 1)

A/N: This is the first Volturi- and Twilight-related story I ever started writing and it is quite long and elaborated/complex, as I tend to overanalyze in many parts. I have wrote a few parts until now and I'll be uploading them in the future. I have been quite emotional throughout writing it, trying to understand the reader's point of view.

A/N 2: I'm sorry if something doesn't make sense. English is not my first language. I also include Italian through the story, with translation, but I'm not a native or a speaker, so I'd like to apologize in advance to those who speak Italian. Enjoy :)

A/N 3: According to "The Amagi" on Youtube, Felix was born in 250 BC (their thumbnail), so I used that in my story.

No of Words: about 5347

Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My heart felt heavy. I may have just escaped the cruelest vampire of all, but I also ran away from the love of my life, my mate, the only person who could fully understand me in this world. I asked him to run away with me, but, although our bond was strong, he felt obliged to stay loyal to his master, his creator. I drove as fast as I could, away from the sunny Volterra, and away from him.

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

(Y/N) grew up quite privileged, in Vampire terms. Being born into the Volturi coven was something many vampires could only dream about. (Y/N) was abandoned by her parents when she was a baby, but Aro, one of the three Volturi leaders, took her under his protection, and offered her more things than she could ever have imagined. After all, she was his only biological granddaughter, the “Volturi princess”, an heiress to the throne; her mother lost that “privilege” when she met and fell in love with a wizard.

(Y/N)’s mother soon got pregnant with her, and then later turned her husband into a vampire to help her with her pregnancy, and stay together forever. However, (Y/N)’s parents couldn’t raise her because they wanted to run free and careless, not commit to anything permanent, so Aro took over and raised his granddaughter with the highest honors and privileges, “as a princess should be raised”.

(Y/N) was a mix of Vampire, Witch and Human, due to the grandmother, Sulpicia, being human when Aro found her; Sulpicia later fell pregnant with (Y/N)’s mother, and Aro transformed her to vampire, as he had planned all along. Aro raised (Y/N) according to his own rules and morals, teaching her how to kill humans to feed from, how to attack and slip away from her opponents, how to lead other vampires, and most importantly, how to keep her identity and existence a secret, not only to humans, but other non-Volturi vampires as well. No one could know that there was a possibility of a vampire having a child with a human, and that the child could be effectively controlled and raised as a regular vampire.

As (Y/N) grew older and older, reaching the human age of 25 within 7 years of her birth, Aro would spend more and more time with her, examining and studying her possibilities and her potential powers’ development. (Y/N) grew up to be extremely strong and fast, an excellent tracker with great intelligence and understanding of the world around her. However, Aro could not risk sending her to “Volturi duties”. She was his hope for a stronger coven; with (Y/N) in the throne, Aro felt like he could conquer the vampire world with ease.

That’s why he was always searching for the best guards he could find, to protect the coven and do his work instead of himself, Caius, or (Y/N). He couldn’t rely on Marcus, as he proved to be too emotional since Didyme died, but was still valuable for his plan. Caius, on the other hand, although powerless, was far more sadistic and “diligent” in following vampire rules, and (Y/N)... (Y/N) was just too obedient, following every order Aro gave her - a strong asset for the Volturi.

Aro was changing guards and trackers quite easily, disposing them when they were no longer needed or when he found better ones. He needed talented and strong vampires to serve the coven and do their work.

Chelsea was the very first vampire Aro created solely to serve the Volturi, after recognizing her potential when she was human. Chelsea’s gift of relationship manipulation was truly useful in bringing new vampires into the coven and was used thousands of times during Volturi's reign. It could also easily dispose of them, making their bonds with other vampires break at will; those vampires were isolated by the other vampires and then killed - Aro couldn’t risk letting them get away knowing the Volturi’s secrets and life.

About 100 years later, Corin joined the Volturi, just a couple decades after (Y/N)’s birth. Corin’s gift of addictive contentment was the one which kept Marcus in the Volturi after Didyme’s death - along with Chelsea’s to make him committed to Aro’s greater plans, and was also used on Sulpicia, Athenadora and any other vampire in the Volturi guard to keep them satisfied being in the Volturi. Under Aro’s instructions, Corin was keeping Chelsea content with being in the Volturi, and Chelsea was keeping Corin loyal to them, each of them using their gifts against each other, without their knowledge.

Sometime between 230 and 220 BC, while travelling in Rome, searching for additional vampires to add to the coven, Aro supposedly met a young, strong and ambitious fighter, who wished to become a gladiator one day, named Felix. Felix did not only look, but also was physically capable of fighting even with beasts, during his short time as a fighter, way before the Colosseum was built. Born into a poor family, his strength was his only way of making money, and becoming a gladiator was his only way out of poverty, a way to provide for both his family and himself.

When his family was almost imprisoned by Roman army officers for outstanding debts, Felix was forced to make a deal with them to fight, in whatever they ordered him to. Fighting turned out to be the only way for Felix to deal with his emotions and rage towards people in power. When Aro approached Felix, he was promised a good life, where he wouldn’t have to worry about surviving another day. Felix did not seem willing enough, not being fond of the idea of serving people in power, who he so despised.

Luckily for Aro, Chelsea was the one who “convinced” Felix to join the Volturi guard, with Aro changing him afterwards. Unlike previous guards, Felix showed impeccable strength, speed and talent towards both dodging and initiating attacks, eventually making him a permanent member in the Volturi Guard, along with Chelsea and Corin.

Felix was assigned as the leading guard for the three kings’ protection, this role extending to the protection of their two wives and (Y/N); though Aro knew that, if it came to anyone attacking his granddaughter, she would be able to handle it by herself. However, he still wanted to make sure that she was safe and that Aro would do anything to protect her.

For about a couple millennias, (Y/N) was content with her situation, being the “Volturi princess” and all that. Besides, having Felix in the Volturi was another reason to stay in the coven, apart from staying loyal and true to Aro for taking her in, when she was abandoned.

Every time Felix looked into her eyes, she felt her whole body burn - though, it wasn’t a feeling of suffering, rather a feeling of longing, waiting for something to happen so badly that her body couldn’t control itself. Although she was partially a vampire, (Y/N) would feel like she couldn’t breathe, like her legs were ready to give up on her, like she wanted to grab Felix and never let go.

Felix, although not admitting it even to himself, would feel the same way, but he knew that his position would not allow him to approach (Y/N) in such a way. He was just a guard - although he was the strongest of them all, and she was the Volturi princess, one of his masters, whom he was only allowed to approach in order to protect. He didn’t want Aro to know he saw his granddaughter like that; it could cost him his position in the guard, or even his life. So, he kept these feelings deep within him, not allowing them to resurface, or act upon them.

However, every time these two existed at the same place, the invisible sparks between them would fly left and right. And only one vampire was able to see them. One who hadn’t felt these sparks in centuries.

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

(Y/N)’s POV:

I yawned loudly as I woke from a long, much needed sleep. I was the only vampire around who was able to sleep, mostly due to my non-vampire natures. I didn't really need to sleep on a regular basis, but when I did, I could literally sleep 3 days straight and nobody would be able to wake me up. “For my own protection”, as Aro said, I would always have at least two guards outside of my room’s door, in case anything happened while I was sleeping. Like what could even happen? My room was at the furthest side of this huge castle. I’m pretty sure that if there ever was an attack against the Volturi, it would most probably have been dealt with immediately, and the attacker wouldn’t make it anywhere near my room.

I felt the warm sun on my skin, slightly glowing and sparkling beautifully. My eyes, mostly (Y/E/C) with a golden ring around the pupil, could easily adjust to the light. Unlike the other vampires, I could easily live among humans; I could sleep, eat human food, my skin not being as sparkly as others, and I could control my thirst far better than others.

Since Jane and Alec joined the coven, Aro would show an immense interest in them and their skills, helping them train daily and develop their powers further, eventually forgetting about me. I would spend more and more days away from the castle, “protected” by my anonymity, getting to know humans more and more. The longer I was observing them, the more they would trigger my interest in them. They could feel true emotions, real pain, real hurt, real love. They had their families, they received an unconditional love that I could never have.

Unbeknownst to Aro or anyone else for that matter, I have started developing new powers, similar to the other vampires in the Volturi coven or anyone else outside of it. I have also started noticing that I may have an immunity towards others’ talents, feeling that neither Corin’s addictive contentment made me satisfied with being in the Volturi, nor Chelsea’s relationship manipulation could keep me loyal to Aro anymore. If it weren’t for Felix, or Demetri and the Twins, who have all become my best friends by now, I would have probably left.

A vampire named Carlisle Cullen had visited the Volturi and stayed with us for a while, about 100 years ago. He saw the way the Volturi treated humans like they were nothing, and how they were as cruel as to kill other vampires, with the excuse that they were exposing our kind with the way they lived. Entire covens had been wiped out due to such excuses, a way to eliminate potential enemies from becoming too powerful and find as many talented vampires as possible and force them to join the Volturi.

Carlisle was talking about a new way of life, where vampires wouldn’t have to kill humans to survive, a life where vampires and humans could live in peace, without harming each other. He was insisting that vampires could survive on animal blood just as efficiently as with human blood; that animal blood would not make them weaker, and that it would be a much more ethical and sustainable way to feed.

Of course, Aro and Caius were the first ones to mock his proposition, clearly not caring about humans’ feelings and pain. Marcus did not budge at all, his heartache making him indifferent to anything around him. But I was growing more and more interested in this alternative way of life; I was, after all, feeding on human food already, so that I was feeding on human blood as little as I could.

It was a few years after Carlisle left Volterra that Eleazar joined the Volturi. Aro forced him to join after finding out he could detect if someone had any special ability. Aro considered his gift useful in identifying if any of his enemies had any special power when in battles, or when he sent Eleazar around the world to recruit talented vampires.

Eleazar was clearly not liking the way the Volturi forced their ways and wants on others, and how they could take advantage of others for their own benefit. I could just sense that he was displeased and was forcing himself to stay in the coven, one, due to Corin’s and Chelsea’s gifts, and two, out of fear of what could happen to him and his mate, Carmen.

Carmen, a vampire from Spain, like Eleazar, met with Eleazar while he was a guard here, they fell in love, and eventually, Eleazar decided to leave the Volturi and run away with Carmen. Aro decided that he did not care about him and his gift as much as others’, so he let him go unharmed, “blessing” them for safe travels.

Just a few days before he left, I consulted him on my own powers. Though a lower member of the guard, Eleazar had his own room, a decent place to stay, and spend his endless hours in. I knocked slightly on the door.

“Come in”, a calm voice was heard. I opened the door and came into his room. Carmen was sitting on the edge of their bed and Eleazar was reading a book on his desk. They both smiled sweetly. I just felt and knew they were too nice to fit anywhere in here, among the cruel and strict Volturi.

“(Y/N)! So nice to see you!”Carmen exclaimed and stood to hug me. The second we hugged I started seeing parts of her life in Spain, the calm waters of Catalunya, the vast vineyards where she would spend the early years of her life… I quickly detached myself from her embrace. I just couldn’t invade her privacy like that. She and Eleazar both looked at me worried, as if I had offended them.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t let you “show” me your whole life like that!” I looked at Carmen apologetically.

“(Y/N), you saw Carmen’s life?” Eleazar continued, intrigued by my words.

“That’s why I came to talk to you. I..I feel like I’ve been developing a gift, or a few gifts, to be completely honest. And I feel like.. like I have a specific power one day, and another power the next!” I stated frantically.

It was the first time I have openly talked about my powers to anyone, and I was shaking just by the words that came out of my mouth. Eleazar did not say anything, he just stood there for a few minutes, I supposed “examining” me, as if a doctor checking on a patient.

“Remarkable.” He said calmly. He looked at his mate with excitement, as if he just discovered a lost treasure. “(Y/N) has one of the most remarkable gifts I have ever seen.” He then turned to me. “You, (Y/N), are able to copy anyone else’s gifts and keep them as your own. You don’t even have to be in contact with them. Just by meeting someone, you can obtain their powers. I have never met anyone like that. You also seem to have obtained immunity to others’ powers, kind of like a shield. I have met such vampires before. From the stories Aro has been telling, your mother was like that. It is likely that you copied that gift for her. Such vampires are extremely useful to themselves or even others, in battles. Like themselves, you can use your gift to protect others from others’ powers, beside yourself.”

That came too sudden to my ears. I have assumed that I may have at least one power, but I didn’t realise I could copy others’ powers. That is why I was showing signs of Aro’s power!

“How can I train my powers? Eleazar! Carmen! You have to help me!”

“As you know, we will be leaving soon. I don’t know if there will be enough time to train you.”

“It’s okay. We will train as much as you want. Please, Eleazar! Please, Carmen!” I started begging them. As if they were hypnotized, they quickly looked at each other and agreed to help me.

The next few days, before Eleazar and Carmen’s departure, included intense training, far away from Volterra, deep in the woods, where no human could interrupt us. I couldn’t say the same for vampires, but I hoped nobody would cross paths with us. Eleazar and Carmen helped me develop my self-control and self-awareness, concentrating through the deepest parts of my mind, resurfacing my shield and expanding it beyond my existence. I started to have control over it, as if it was an actual solid substance, a veil floating around me towards any direction I ordered it to go.

After Eleazar and Carmen left, I started travelling the world more, trying to copy as many powers as I could come across with, while also training my shield. My excitement for the endless possibilities was what kept me going - kind of when Aro would add another talented vampire to his Guard. His Guard. Felix. I wonder how he was. I hadn’t seen him in a while. I wondered if he thought of me like I thought of him.

After travelling pretty much anywhere I could reach, I eventually went back to where it all started: I went to Greece. Aro met Sulpicia here, apparently my mom met my dad here. Maybe I could find out, understand why they left me. I have never met them, but I felt as if my tracking skills could detect them through my own existence.

I started travelling through the country, hoping that they stayed here or, at least, that they’re alive. I spent about 2 or 3 years in Greece, trying to take in every different place, while also avoiding the battles that seemed to take place in every other corner. I was feeding off animals mainly, mostly when I couldn’t find any other human food. I was washing myself in rivers, streams, whatever I could find.

I was stopping by any village that seemed to be still standing, asking about the current situation. The Greek Revolution, which started a few years ago, seemed to still be going on. The Ottomans, who had been occupying Greece for almost 400 years, could not allow Greeks to turn against them and start claiming their rights within the Ottoman Empire.

Many Greeks I met and talked to, admitted that some of the Ottomans were actually being nice to them; it was only the Ottoman government ordering their armies to execute massive massacres against Greeks, and after all this time, a few Greeks started gathering up and planning a revolution, away from Greece, in fear of being caught. They started getting organized and finding possible allies to help them with the Revolution; they just couldn’t risk getting caught within the country that they were hoping the independent Greece could become. The battles were becoming more and more intense, both on the mainland, as well as on the islands.

I started looking for answers, anything that could suggest that my parents were still alive and somewhere in Greece. To my surprise, I crossed paths with many Greek nomad vampires all over the country. They were also fighting against either Ottoman vampires or each other for territorial claims; however, they all talked me out of travelling north, towards Macedonia. The region had started being reclaimed back by Greek humans, but vampires were also seeing the potential for the area and they fought against each other for the land.

All of the nomads I encountered were talking about some of the most vicious vampires claiming the land, their enemies being literally slaughtered and burned to set an example for other vampires to back off their territory. I was intrigued, and I knew that, most probably, I would be able to deal with them or flee before they got to me.

So, I started travelling north, through the woods and mountains, in order to avoid any possible battle between humans, though many of them seemed to hide in the mountains, preparing for their battles. Macedonia was a quite big and vast region, so I had to travel quite a few days and search every possible corner.

I know I shouldn’t have done this, but I was feeling exhausted from all the searching. I haven’t fed in quite some time, and my throat was burning by the familiar need for blood. I haven’t seen any animals all these days, and I was wondering if they were gone or hiding.

Sadly, I came across a human. He seemed to be wounded, probably during a battle, his blood gushing out of his body. I couldn’t help myself, when I breathed in the smell, the burning sensation becoming unbearable. I thought of approaching him slowly, so as not to scare him, offering to help him, but deep down I just wanted to feed off of him.

“Γειά! Συγνώμη αν σε τρόμαξα. Σε είδα από μακριά. Μπορώ να σε βοηθήσω με κάποιο τρόπο; (Hey! Sorry if I scared you. I saw you from afar. Can I help you in any way?)” I offered calmly.

The man was trying to suppress his growls. I could sense his pain. I tried to help him stand on his feet, and then I saw all of his memories. He was in the army, fighting alongside Greeks against the Ottomans, in Macedonia, just outside of Thessaloniki. I didn’t even know I was so close to a city, let alone Thessaloniki.

He was trying to pass through the woods, when he came across what seemed to be two red-eyed vampires, one male and one female. They tried to attack him, but someone else managed to shoot him first, forcing the two vampires to run away. I don’t know how or why, these two felt familiar to me, I could feel that through his memories.

“Γειά! Μπορείς.. Μπορείς να πας στο κοντινότερο χωριό; Νομίζω.. Νομίζω ότι είδα κάτι στο δάσος, δε νομίζω ότι ήταν κάτι φυσιολογικό! Πρέπει.. Πρέπει να προειδοποιήσω τους άλλους! (Hey! Can.. Can you get me to the nearest village? I think.. I think I saw something in the woods, I don’t think it was something normal! I have.. I have to warn the others!)” He mumbled in between sharp shoots of pain.

“Με συγχωρείς πολύ! (I’m really sorry!)” I plead with guilty eyes. I put my hand in his wound, searching for the bullet, while he was consumed by pain. I took the bullet out of the wound, and quickly attached my lips on his skin, sucking the blood as fast as I could, biting deeply unintentionally. His screams were becoming louder and louder, so I covered his mouth with my hand, while trying to shut him up or break his jaw. A few seconds later, he stopped screaming, and I let his lifeless body fall, completely numb and drained out of blood.

I felt renewed, his blood travelling to every part of my body and giving me a new kind of strength that I haven’t felt in a while. I still felt guilty for killing him, but he was already wounded and I couldn’t risk him exposing our kind to others. I assumed that whoever found him - if anyone found him - would also assume that he died of blood loss, so I tried to position him in a realistic pose for that purpose, as best as I could. I left him there, and continued the search for my parents.

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

I was running through the woods, trying to locate the two vampires from the guy’s memories. My mind was chaotic, I wasn’t thinking about something specific. I stopped in my tracks. What Aro taught me, and what I understood from Demetri’s tracking skills, is that you have to stop, take a breath and realize your position in the world. Then, you would be able to realize everything around you and find your targets. I have successfully found other vampires like that before, vampires who I have either met in person or smelled their scent, but I didn’t know if I could find someone through someone else’s memories of them.

I took a deep breath and tried to concentrate as best as I could, focusing on the smaller details of the guy’s memories of these vampires. I felt two vampires running on my west, about 10 kilometers away, and I ran after them. They were running fast, but I was way faster. Within a minute or two, I was running right behind their tracks. They must have realized that a stranger was following them, but, instead of running, they suddenly stopped. I stopped as well, and we were now facing each other.

The female had long, brunette, curly hair, and the male short, dark brown, straight hair; both of their hair looked shiny, healthy, and rich. They were of average height and their eyes were piercing red, as if they also fed quite recently. The female was exceptionally beautiful and enchanting; I could only compare her to Heidi’s exceptional beauty. The male looked quite stoic and austere, though still beautiful.

Both of them on defensive positions, waiting for me to attack. I wasn’t planning to move any further from my position; I was only waiting for their own reactions. I felt that kind of a burning sensation within me again, like a feeling buried deep inside me, trying to find an escape.

Suddenly, the male growled at me, flames springing out of his hands, and being thrown at me. I felt my heart fall out of my chest, fearing that this would be my end. As if my body reacted on its own, I felt my own shield extending out of my body, building a wall around me and protecting me from the male’s attack. My hands started burning and flames came out, ready to counterattack the male. The male looked at the female, dumbfounded by what he witnessed, still in a defensive position, but ready to attack again.

“I’M NOT HERE TO FIGHT YOU!” I shouted at both of them. “I’M JUST SEARCHING FOR SOMEONE!”

The male shrinked back, the female following close by. “Who are you looking for? We haven’t seen you around. Who are you? Why are you here?” The male requested. His voice serious, but smooth at the same time; a voice I could only describe as the warm earth below their bare feet.

“No, I’m not. I come from Italy, though I think I was born around here. My name is (Y/N), I’m looking for my parents. I don’t quite remember what they look like, but I’m pretty sure that they lived around here. They abandoned me when I was a baby.”

“This has been our territory for almost 3 millennials! We would have known if any humans abandoned their offspring around here!” The female exclaimed, as if she didn’t believe a word I said. I didn’t want to tell them the whole story, but I had to show them that I didn’t mean to fight in any way.

“I never said they were humans. My mother was actually sort of a vampire, like you.”

The female started letting her guards down. “What do you mean sort of? I’ve never heard of a “sort of vampire” before!” She continued doubtfully.

“Believe me or don’t, my mother was born half vampire, half human. My dad wasn’t even a vampire before she met him. He wasn’t even human to be honest.” My eyes started stinging slightly. I could have had a good, happy life if they didn’t abandon me. I wouldn’t have to grow up with Aro.

“You said you were from Italy.” I nodded at the male, as he continued. “You never said where exactly.”

I wasn’t sure if I should tell them my real origin; I wouldn’t like them to know I was a Volturi, but I knew I needed help to find my parents. If they were actually here as long as they say, they might have known or met my parents at some point.

“Volterra. I was born here, in Greece, like my mother, but grew up in Volterra with my grandparents.” I looked down, kind of scared, kind of anxious, waiting for their next move.

The female gasped. “Are you a Volturi?!” I looked at her, straight in the eyes, swallowed, and nodded. “I know the Volturi. Who are your grandparents?”

“Aro and Sulpicia.” I answered so quietly that, if they weren’t vampires, they wouldn’t have heard me, my voice trembling slightly.

The female suddenly fell on her knees, the male wrapping his arms around her, comforting her. I didn’t know what was going on. Did I say something wrong? Were they scared? The sheer mention of the Volturi would scare a lot of vampires, but I thought that maybe these two seemed strong enough to deal with them.

The female started sobbing, no tears coming out of her red eyes, her body shaking. I felt something within me break. I felt that I didn’t want to upset them, that’s why I was hesitant in telling them who I really was. The male looked at me, pain in his eyes. I saw a familiar look. I saw me in his eyes, what I looked at in my mirror anytime I was thinking about my parents, or, sometimes, when I thought of Felix.

“Are you a half witch?” The male asked quietly. Something snapped in me. How would he know that?

“I swear, I didn’t do anything to your mate! I DIDN’T!” I shouted at the male. I didn’t want him to think that I would hurt his mate, or himself.

“I know you wouldn’t. It’s just..” He looked at his mate who had stopped sobbing, but was still down on her knees, unable to stand up. “..my mate is Aro and Sulpicia Volturi’s only daughter.”

My body tensed and shivered. If that woman is the only daughter Aro and Sulpicia ever had...could that mean..?

I took a few steps back. “AM I YOUR DAUGHTER? ARE YOU MY PARENTS?” I looked at them in disbelief.

Those were the people who abandoned me! That let me grow parentless, under Aro’s rules and directions! I was breathing heavily, in between sobs. I didn’t even realize that I set my whole body ablaze, until both vampires looked at me shocked. I didn’t feel any pain, but I couldn’t stop the flames licking my body, and in my frantic state, I started panicking even more.

The male started approaching me slowly, trying to not scare me away. “Shush, shush. You’re okay. You’re doing okay. I know how it feels at first. You’re experiencing some aspects of the life as a witch. It’s okay. Close your eyes and picture the flames in your head.” I closed my eyes and tried concentrating on the flames. “Now, imagine them burning out, becoming smaller and weaker.” I focused on the flames, imagining them weakening. After a few minutes, I felt them getting smaller and smaller, and finally disappearing. I opened my eyes slowly.

The female was standing next to the male, watching me carefully. In a quick motion, she pulled me and embraced me, stroking my hair lightly. I breathed in her scent, a mix of mountain flowers and the saltiness of the sea. Her touch was soft, and filled me up with what felt like a thousand different emotions.

But, I mostly felt safe. It was the first time in my life that I actually felt this safe. And whole. I felt like I actually belonged somewhere. I hugged her back. Tears started spilling from my eyes. That was my mom! That was actually my mom! After all this time, we were finally together. I felt the male, my dad, hugging both of us, and in that moment, I felt my legs giving up on me, and I finally fell into a long sleep.

#felix volturi #felix volturi imagine #felix volturi x reader #volturi #twilight #twilight renessaince #twilight post #demetri volturi #alec volturi #jane volturi #the cullens #the denali coven

209 notes · View notes

nanasparadise · 3 years ago

Note

Hiya! Can i have either (aged up) Narancia or Abbacchio [you choose!] and with prompt [28, 25, 24, 19, and/or16*] Thx so much luv <3 {*if you wanna really impress us all... us them all ;3}

Hiya love! Sorry for the wait, I’m still quite busy with school, but that should be over soon (hopefully). Please enjoy! <3

“Shadow” Yan! Abbacchio x gender-neutral reader

16. I will protect you from everything.

25. You shouldn’t have tested my limits.

28. You have no idea how much I have been holding myself back for you.

Summary: Abbacchio has been following around for a while. After a rather unfortunate incident, he finally gets closer to you.

TW: toxic relationship, homicide, slight gore, stalking, mentions of retching, angst, intoxication, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Word count: 4467

Beta-read by the lovely @dear-yandere

Abbacchio loved watching you from afar. The smile painted across your face gave him purpose, a meaning, in his quite miserable life. Even if it was directed towards your date.

The Italian mobster tried to tell himself he didn’t mind. The intimate chatter as the two of you leaned over the table, the staring into each other’s eyes, his hand brushing over your forearm, his lips dangerously close to yours- Abbacchio suddenly averted his gaze from the window he had been watching you. No, he did care. As much as he wanted to see you happy, he couldn’t help but feel jealousy rising up inside of him, infesting his mind like a parasite. “You have no right to be jealous, Leone,” he reprimanded himself, “they don’t even know your name.” This thought alone put the white-haired man into a state of sulking, making him wish he had a bottle of wine with him to dwell on and drink away the pain.

In the end, Abbacchio could only blame himself. After all, he chose to not approach you, seeing himself unworthy of your presence and affection. Besides, who could truly love him after what he’d done? What he still had been doing? Accepting briberies, being unable to protect his police partner, becoming the very thing he’d sworn he would save the city from, it all took a toll on the young man and his self-esteem. He couldn’t drag you down in his world of crime and bitterness, not wanting to tarnish the very happiness you radiated and he cherished so much.

But seeing you all flustered and bashful because of someone who wasn’t him made Abbacchio reconsider his initial avoidance. The mafioso couldn’t handle the scene unfolding in front of him anymore, resentment boiling inside him. Would it really satisfy him remaining your unknown shadow? On the other hand, could he be so selfish and worm his way into your life, risking your safety and maybe even your happiness? Yes, he loved to observe you from afar, but he would so much more prefer for you to see him, recognise him, touch him. Just like you did with your date. With all these bitter feelings still clinging onto him, Abbacchio turned around to leave this area of the city. But not before stopping by a store to buy a bottle or two of red wine…

Meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware of your shadow’s internal struggle. Instead, you enjoyed the mild evening breeze of Naples hitting gently your face as the sun was slowly setting, giggling like a love-struck teenager with your date while you exited the restaurant. The rendezvous you had spent with the man by your side had passed so fast, his funny stories and dashing charm having made you lose track of the time. The two of you chuckled some more at one of his jokes as you eventually bid farewell. Though before you truly could depart, you took heart and pressed a sweet goodbye kiss onto your date’s mouth. Pleasantly surprised by your action, he leaned into your touch. When you both eventually let go of each other, he offered you a sincere and dazzling smile. “Let’s do this again, alright?”

Despite his better judgment, Abbacchio couldn’t bring himself to walk immediately home after having bought the booze. Instead, he had finished three quarters of the first wine bottle while strolling through Naples. He could feel the slight fuzziness of his intoxication manifesting in his body and mind. Sluggishly, the Italian continued his walk, his steps weighing just as heavy as the thoughts occupying his head. After a while, without noticing, he had stopped in front of your flat. “Are you home by now, Y/N?”, he wondered quietly. He couldn’t see any lights turned on in your apartment (of course he knew where to locate your exact housing after having… observed you for a while), meaning you already slept or you hadn’t returned yet. You couldn’t have possibly gone back to this guy’s place, could you? Bile rose up his oesophagus and his face turned into a dark scowl as Abbacchio dwelled on that thought. His grip around the wine bottle tightened, threatening to break it into pieces. Though before that could happen, the mobster guided the bottle to his lips and let the tart crimson liquid travel down his throat in an attempt to drown his dark musing. How could he let this happen? How could you have already gone this far with that man? Why hadn’t he just reached out to you? If you were to end up with that guy, he wouldn’t be able to look at you again, not without thinking of himself as a failure. Abbacchio harshly squinted his eyes while downing the remaining wine, trying to chase his thoughts away. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, his hangover would be so big the next morning, he would have forgotten about this whole situation.

From a few metres distance, you carefully watched the tall man in front of your apartment complex clinging to his bottle. “Great,” you mumbled exasperatedly, “I definitely needed a drunkard now.” Not only did he seem to be intoxicated, but also potentially dangerous, as you could make out all the muscles under his tight and partially revealing outfit. “Deep breaths, Y/N,” you reminded yourself, attempting to stay calm, “you’re just going to pass him and then rush straight to your flat.” As you tried to make your plan reality, you felt the stare of the stranger glued onto your form. Nervously, you swallowed the gulp of saliva building in your mouth. You nearly reached the front door of the complex as you heard a voice utter your name. No one was around you, except for that man, so it must had been him. But how would he know your name? Deciding that your anxious mind just made that up, you fumbled for your keys. But again, you heard the same voice repeating your name. With a flabbergasted expression, you turned around to meet the stranger’s face. His sharp features were highlighted beautifully under the neon lights of the street you must admit, and his long white hair with a lavender hue almost appeared to glow. Only the bloodshot golden eyes indicated his current pitiful condition.

“Excuse me Sir, do we know each other?”, you eventually asked tentatively. Multiple emotions crossed over his face in a matter of seconds, as if he wasn’t sure he could reply to such a simple question. Little did you know about how hard it actually was for him.

“No,” the stranger managed to spit out an answer, “but we will soon enough.” Incredulous, you tightly knitted your eyebrows together.

“What do you mean?,” you countered, “And how do you- HEY!” Before you managed to say more, the man turned around to leave you on your own. Deciding it was best not following him, you just let him vanish into the darkness of a near alley. “What a creep,” you whispered to yourself, “I just hope he won’t come back.” At last, you entered the complex and made your way to your home, leaving this weird encounter a concern you had to face tomorrow.

Abbacchio couldn’t believe seeing you walk past him as he finally pulled the bottle away from his mouth, previously closed eyes now wide open and fixated on you. Having been so convinced that you were by now in your date’s bed, he didn’t trust his slightly drunk mind to not play tricks on him. But undoubtedly, it was you who tensely rushed to the front door of the building. It pained the gangster to see you stressed out because of his presence, but what else should you think about him? He was just a complete stranger to you and drunk on top of that, a potential threat. A sudden realisation dawned then on Abbacchio. If you weren’t with that guy now, it meant he still had a chance with you, right? He could still become a part of your life and make you forget about that pest’s existence, no? Then, you surely wouldn’t perceive him as a stranger. Maybe as an acquaintance, maybe as a friend, maybe – hopefully – even as a lover. The excitement of a possible future with you made the Italian instinctively whisper out your name, enjoying how it rolled off his tongue. Though he wasn’t the only one who had heard the sound of his voice as you stopped in your tracks for a moment and then proceeded to nervously look for your keys. Offended by your ignorance the man repeated your name, this time louder and with more force. Would you still ignore him? Was he doomed to be your quiet observer, a mere shadow? Not if he could change it. “There’s still a chance.” Finally, you were looking at him, a surprised expression scampering over your face as you truly saw him for the first time. With your lips slightly parted, you stared at his form, interest and wary dancing in your eyes. Did you think he looked attractive? Abbacchio internally smiled at that thought, his heartbeat increasing ever so slightly, hoping it to be true. When you eventually talked to him and asked, if you two knew each other, the Italian felt as if his brain completely stopped working. Of course you knew each other! Well, maybe not you, but he for sure knew you better than anyone else. Though he couldn’t exactly tell you this… “No,” the mobster opted to say instead, “but we will soon enough.” Abbacchio failed to realise that this too sounded creepy... Despite your questions, he promptly made his way into the narrow dark streets of Naples until he disappeared from your view.

And while wandering through these gloomy alleys, Abbacchio noticed the tears gently rolling down his cheeks. Why was he crying? After all, the two of you had finally met. “But under which conditions?”, he lamented. He was so eager to contact you again, to really connect with you. Would you give him that chance? Or would you only remember him as a drunk brute? His tears grew bigger as he continued pondering. “You have no idea how much I have been holding myself back for you, Y/N,” he whispered, voice cracking due to his intense emotions, “I’ve always contended myself with seeing you happy, but I can’t do it anymore. I just want to feel your warmth, want to know that I do deserve you, that I’m not scum…”

Eventually, Abbacchio managed to arrive home, feeling drained out of any energy to continue crying. Instead, he made his way to his bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes, and closed his eyes until sweet darkness surrounded him, welcoming the young man into a numbing sleep.

•

The next couple days, Abbacchio distanced himself from you. He knew better to pester you after your first encounter, so despite his obsessive need to see you, he left you alone for about two weeks. In the meantime, he made a plan as to how he could approach you again.

You went on with your life. Keeping up with work, entertaining yourself with your hobbies and above all, seeing your date more regularly with whom things worked out more than great. All things considered, you were truly happy, enjoying most moments in your life. The long-haired stranger with the wine bottles had been long forgotten, only an obscure memory in the back of your mind. Call it ignorance or naiveté, but you really wanted to believe he was just some confused drunkard who would leave you alone after having slept off his intoxication.

That was why it hit you double hard when you saw him this Saturday morning in front of your favourite bakery.

Undoubtedly, it was him. He wore the same attire and kept his hair in the same style. Only did he appear to be sober now, his golden eyes radiating in the soft Neapolitan sunlight. No trace of drunkenness was clouding his features this time. “Thank God”, you thought.

Upon noticing your form, Abbacchio slowly approached you. He’d been waiting for half an hour now, hoping you’d get your favourite pastries like you did most weekends, so that he could catch you. An uncharacteristic nervousness spread inside his stomach. He had seen you countless times, but never had he experienced such an intense uneasiness. There you were again, just a couple of steps away from him and yet completely out of his reach, as the wary expression on your face revealed. But the Italian would change your attitude, he was sure of it.

“It seems you remember me from last time”, Abbacchio eventually said, hoping to not come across as shady. He carefully scanned you: the way your eyebrows furrowed together in disbelief, your lips pressed into a thin line, your body slightly leaned away from him. Under different circumstances, he would have deemed your cautious behaviour as adorable, even praised it. But not when it involved him.

“Yes, I remember,” you replied, still wary about the stranger, “and I don’t know if that’s a good thing.” The man was now close to you, too close for your liking. You could see all the details in his face, such as the dark long eyelashes contrasting his light hair and the tint of purple in his irises. Hastily, you moved back a few steps from him.

“I think I owe you an explanation,” the man uttered upon perceiving your reaction, “and an apology as well.”

“I agree”, you answered, trying to not sound too brazen.

Abbacchio sighed deeply, gathering his thoughts. “Quite obviously, I was drunk and landed by your apartment complex by accident.” Well, that wasn’t too much of a lie. “I’ve seen you several times here in this bakery grabbing your pastries, that’s why I know you. During some conversations you had with the baker, I heard your name as well. I’ve never had the courage to approach you. I hope you can forgive my inappropriate behaviour.” The nervousness inside his guts only intensified. Would you believe his explanation? Or would you see right through the lie?

For a couple of moments, you just stood there, eyebrows still knitted together, and pondered on his words. “I don’t remember ever seeing you in the bakery”, you muttered, trying to think of an occasion where you saw the stranger before that incident. Abbacchio slightly gulped at hearing your answer.

“I tend to stick in the shadows,” he replied, wanting to save his cover-up, “I’m not that social, you see.” Oh God, would you really buy that? Did he now ruin his only chance with you?

“Hm,” you hummed absent-mindedly, still mulling over his dubious explanation. Would a guy like him not stick out like a sore thumb in the small bakery? Or had you never properly checked out your surroundings? As strange as his reasoning sounded, it was the only one you had. “To be honest with you, I don’t know if I should completely believe you”, you said. Before he could interject, you continued. “But I’m inclined to give you another chance. Under the conditions that you don’t behave creepily anymore and don’t show up randomly and drunk at my place.”

Abbacchio’s eyes widened at your words. You truly gave him another chance! This was finally his opportunity to be with you, proving his worthiness. “Of course”, he quickly answered, nodding slightly along his words.

“But, I just want to make clear that I’m currently seeing someone, just in case you expected more from me.” Those words coming from you did sour his mood a little and dropped him from his high. Of course you were still dating that guy, why wouldn’t you? But maybe, he could turn the tables, now that you gave him permission, even encouraged him, to enter in your life. So the mafioso swallowed his feelings of bitterness and tried to keep up with the politeness.

“I think I should introduce myself properly to you. My name is Leone Abbacchio and it’s nice to formally meet you.”

“Well, since we’re already here at the bakery, why don’t we have breakfast together?”

•

To your surprise, you became quite close with Abbacchio. The two of you had met numerous times and by now, you felt at ease around him. Under his harsh appearance and demeanour was actually a very caring and understanding man, who was always there for you. Though he kept some secrets from you, he never failed to let you confide in him, a steady presence during rough times. Your friends and date – who was now your partner – didn’t trust the Italian as much as you did. Every time you mentioned him in a conversation, they never ceased to point out his cryptic attitude and your weird encounter. Some of them even suggested he might be part of the mafia, but you always brushed these accusations off with a laugh. Just because he had one bad night the time you met and was a bit gloomy didn’t imply he was a mafioso! Plus, he had told you he used to be a police officer, surely he wouldn’t have turned into a criminal then, right? You couldn’t imagine him hurting, much less killing, someone when he acted so tender around you. Constantly checking up on you through calls when you couldn’t meet, buying your favourite food when you felt down, making sure you felt comfortable.

So the pain you felt when you had found out your loved ones were right about Abbacchio was intolerable.

It was a normal day, like most times. After work, you met with Abbacchio to catch up with him before going on a dinner date with your significant other. The pair consisting of you currently sat on a terrace of a bistro, sipping on a drink. You stared with interest at the people passing the narrow streets of Naples, a mosaic of faces and feelings. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Abbacchio gaze at you, an unusual soft expression marking his stoic face. Despite having repeated multiple times that you were happy with your current relationship, it seemed that the Italian’s promise to not pursue you didn’t always align with his true feelings. Uncomfortable, you cleared your throat before looking back at the man seated in front of you. Immediately, Abbacchio schooled his expression into one of impassivity again.

“So, you have anything planned this evening?”, Abbacchio inquired seemingly nonchalant.

“Actually yes,” you replied, your lips turning into a smile at the thought of seeing your partner, “we’re gonna go out for dinner. I can’t wait to meet him again, you know how his work kept him busy all week.”

“Oh yeah, must be great to hear him talking shit about me again”, your friend barked back, sarcasm dripping from his voice. You rolled your eyes at his snarky comment.

“I’d really appreciate if you two could behave like adults for once and leave this childish distrust behind. And no, he actually intends on telling me ‘big news’ and not bad-mouthing you.”

Abbacchio perked up his ears at your words? ‘Big news’? What was that bastard planning? “He can shove those news up his ass”, he thought gloomily. The young man had finally gained your full trust, he couldn’t let that guy ruin it. Even though you might not admit to yourself, Abbacchio knew you felt the same affection he harboured for you. He saw it in the way you radiated this warmth he had longed for so long when you two were together. Finally, he knew he had worth and a purpose aside his work at Passione, and it was to be with you. So, why would he let that little boyfriend of yours destroy that with his stupid news? He wasn’t going to propose to you, was he? Not that early in the relationship, right?

“What do you think he plans on telling you?”, the Italian asked you, genuine worry now coating his voice, though you remained oblivious to his concerns. You brooded for a moment over his question.

“Well,” you replied eventually, “I think he’s got a promotion at work and might suggest to me to move in with him soon. But I’m not sure though, that’s only a speculation.”

“And would you do that? Move in with him, I mean,” Abbacchio pressed on, nervousness spreading through his body.

“I think so? I guess it would be nice to live with him”, you answered truthfully. You looked away from your friend’s intense gaze, instead opting to stare at the people surrounding you again.

When you glanced back at Abbacchio, you didn’t expect his face to be adorned with such darkness. He was practically scowling at you, his usually shining golden eyes now oddly sombre. You gasped slightly at his reaction, his trusting atmosphere now completely gone.

But how couldn’t he react like that? Your confession felt like a hard slap in his face, more painful than any attack he had witnessed. You couldn’t move in with that man. He knew it would mean the end of all his plans. Once you’d live with him, you two would see each other less and less (especially since your lovely partner seemed to despise Abbacchio as much as he despised him) and eventually you’d break contact. The mafioso had been your quiet observer before and he couldn’t go back to that role, that was sure. So he needed to craft another plan, one where your significant other wasn’t an obstacle anymore…

“Leone?”, you hesitantly tried to break Abbacchio’s eerie silence. As if awoken from a state of trance, he snapped back into reality. The sight offered in front of him truly broke his heart: your eyes were wide, your lips slightly parted, short breaths escaping them. You were scared and he was the cause of it. Just like during your first encounter. Abruptly, Abbacchio stood up from his chair.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he murmured softly, “I just need to go now.” Throwing some money on the table and already distancing himself from you, he turned around one more time at your surprised form and managed to say while smiling through gritted teeth: “I hope you’re going to be happy living with him.” Of course he didn’t mean any single word.

•

You were patiently waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up. Meanwhile, Abbacchio’s behaviour from the afternoon still haunted you. Did you do something to anger him? No, you just told him your honest opinion. But still, he had been so enraged, as if you had done him wrong. Maybe he did feel even more towards you than had initially assumed and unintentionally hurt his feelings. But still, that wouldn’t justify him abandoning you like that since you had never lead him on. Sighing, you took a look at your watch again. Your partner still hadn’t arrived, even though he should have been there thirty minutes ago. Deciding that your patience had been sufficiently tested, you gave him a call. After the sixth ringing, he still hadn’t picked up. Slowly, anxiety made itself visible in your body as your phone began trembling in your hand. Your boyfriend was a punctual person, he wouldn’t show up this late without a good reason. And not notifying you? That also seemed very atypical for him. Suddenly, pictures of him being involved in a horrible motorbike accident flashed in front of your eyes, spurring your fear of an ominous evil taking hold of him. That was it. You were going to his place right now.

After twenty minutes, which had been dragged into painful length for you, you had finally arrived at your partner’s flat. Wanting to be polite, you first rang the bell. “Are you there?”, you called anxiously, “It’s me, Y/N!” When no one opened the door or answered you, you hastily fumbled for the spare key he gave you in case of an emergency. Practically yanking the door open, you rapidly entered the apartment. Though the unexpected sight in front of you made you quickly want to run away.

There he was, your boyfriend, laying on the floor, all covered in blood that had dripped from the big cut on the throat. The slightly brown discolouration of the liquid indicated that he had been dead for a while. Your hand found its way to your mouth, trying to repress your retching caused by smell of the decomposition process. Tears pricked in your eyes as you realised your partner was truly dead, murdered even. “Who could do such a horrible thing?”, you mumbled in shock.

As if the killer had heard you, he walked from your significant other’s door to the living room. Familiar long white hair and golden eyes appeared close to your form. Your eyes widened impossibly further as you immediately recognised the murderer. The suppressed sobs finally escaped your mouth, not being able to handle this nightmarish scene.

“I wondered how long it would take you to arrive”, Abbacchio said with his usual nonchalance.

“Why?”, you managed to croak in between your hiccups, “Why would you do that to him? To me?”

“You shouldn’t have tested my limits, Y/N”, he replied as he moved closer to you. You retreated more and more, scared of what he would do to you, until your back hit a wall. Trepidation overtook your senses as he now towered in front of you, your breath coming out shallow and your whole body trembling like a leaf. “I’ve tried to hold back, tried to let you see on your own that you should be with me instead. But the minute you told me you would move in with him if given the chance, I didn’t wanna take a risk anymore.” Suddenly, tears rolled from his eyes as well. With a mixture of disgust and despair, you kept staring at him, too scared to actually react. “You’re all I have left. You’re the only reason worth living for. I couldn’t let him take you away from me, I’m sorry.” A pair of arms encircled your middle, pulling you in an inescapable embrace, as Abbacchio continued crying into your shoulder, a train of endless ‘I’m sorry’s' following along. The hug, which you once had considered as reassuring and comforting, petrified you now, your skin seemingly burning from his touch. “I’m really sorry,” the man repeated for the millionth time, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll build a nice life for us, I’ll protect you from everything, just please don’t leave me.”

You continued standing there while looking at the rotting corpse of your partner. “You’ll protect me from everything, huh?”, you whispered so quietly, you doubted Abbacchio actually heard you under his sobs. “But who will protect me from you?”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere abbacchio #yandere abbacchio x reader #golden wind #yandere jojo #tw: yandere #tw: homicide #tw: slight gore #tw: blood #tw: corpse #tw: stalking #tw: retching #minors dni

180 notes · View notes

theravennest · 3 years ago

Text

Let’s Talk About Shang Chi...

I just got back from seeing Shang Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. I had a great time with it. Just a lovely experience.

The fights were dope. The music was rocking. The actors’ performances really sold me on everything. I loved all the Xianxia elements. Y’all know fantasy worlds are my JAM!

But it was the characters that really drew me in. Every one of them were pitch perfect for me. The final act got a little jumbled, imo, but the characters and their dynamics were so good that it was enough for me to completely forgive and overlook the somewhat messy final battle.

The story had a lot of heart. It was so personal and so anchored in real emotions. I highkey fell in love with all the main characters. I love their journeys and their complex and grounded relationships with each other. I really liked the movie’s examination of grief, loss, and pain and the lengths people will go to in the wake of being overwhelmed by those feelings.

Let’s dig into it! This is gonna be a whole discombobulated mess, I just know it. lmao

***Spoilers below the cut!***

I really felt for Shang Chi, Xialing, and Wenwu struggling to figure out how to be a family again after they were all broken in different ways by the loss of Mama Ying Li. And each one of them trying in their own way to heal from it, some to extremely destructive degrees.

How Wenwu treated his kids after being consumed by grief and violence was so utterly messed up but in two completely different ways.

He treated Xialing like she was anathema, like she was literally nothing. Even when they were older and she had grown into an adult, he barely spoke to her in the entirety of the movie, could hardly even look at her. Partially because she looked like her mom and he retreated utterly from the pain of that, and partially because he constantly underestimated her in favor of her brother. This, of course, seeded the resentful tension between Xialing and Shang Chi from the start.

I’m a real sucker for sibling dynamics, as you all know. They’re my favorite types of family-oriented stories. (Side note, I really love the way the MCU has dedicated several stories to sibling relationships. It’s like my favorite thing in the MCU as a whole.)

I completely ate up the harsh and tricky relationship between Xialing and Shang Chi. Shang Chi completely let her down when they were kids, for her POV. (Not really his fault, he was a scared and traumatized 15 year old. Totally understandable.) But there is something to be said about the fact that she was also a child. A child dealing with her mom’s death too AND her dad’s aloofness. Then she was utterly abandoned by her brother. It’s no wonder she never quite forgives him, even though they mostly team up in the movie. They still have a lot to work out between them.

I really loved that she took on leadership of the Ten Rings at the end. The moment Shang Chi said she was “dismantling” their dad’s empire, I knew what was up. Though, the softy in me does hope that eventually they can find true reconciliation between them. I’m excited to see what we’ll see from her in future movies as a potential enemy of Shang Chi. It’ll be really interesting to see how Shang Chi tackles having to go up against his little sister.

And Shang Chi!!! OMG! Let’s talk Shang Chi and Wenwu now. When Wenwu drop kicked him into the ground and started the blame game for Mama Ying Li’s death like bro!!! I was so heated. He was 7 years old. A whole baby! She died because your thousand years of violence and conquering shit finally came home to roost.

But that one line when Wenwu said Shang Chi’s 7 year old self “just stood there and watched” while his mom was killed actually revealed so much about Wenwu’s character. (The cutting way Tony Leung, a literal legend, delivered that was masterful, btw.)

I actually think that it was the first time Wenwu has ever verbalized that he blamed Shang Chi for Ying Li’s death. Like maybe he’s always felt that way and all this time he was partially punishing Shang Chi for what he thinks of as a failure to protect or help the woman who meant so much to them.

Like, yes, he was training Shang Chi to take his place with him in the Ten Rings as an assassin but maybe he also wanted Shang Chi to kill his mom’s murderer as penance for letting her die in the first place.

Of course, it’s clear to see that Wenwu was absolutely shifting his own feelings of conflicting guilt onto his kids. Guilt that his past as a warlord is what got her killed. But also guilt that he put down the Ten Rings in the first place when if he had stayed a warlord, this never would have happened. But also the bone deep knowledge that if he hadn’t put down the Rings, Ying Li might never have stayed with him and loved him in the first place.

When Shang Chi threw it back at him that Ying Li probably wouldn’t love the person Wenwu had returned to, Wenwu looked so shook up. Phew! Perfect emoting from Tony Leung in that moment.

Honestly, Wenwu was having a very tragic and confusing time of it in this movie. Which is probably how that creature from beyond was able to find a crack in his psychic defenses and lure him to the gate. I had a lot of empathy for him even though I disagree so much with what he did to his kids, emotionally.

I really respect the fact that the movie never lost that sense of compassion for all of their feelings including Wenwu. I also respect that the movie really gave them space to grieve not just the loss of Ying Li but also the resulting dissolution of their happy family.

It’s just too bad that Wenwu’s grief made him push his kids away instead of pulling them closer. He completely emotionally abandoned them. A thousand years of power and supremacy yet he was broken because he never in that time fully learned how to process his emotions in a healthier way and his kids paid the price. They could’ve leaned on each other and on the love they found with Ying Li to help them get through but alas that’s the tragedy of the movie.

I really wanted somehow for Shang Chi to make it through to his dad before he went too far to come back again. I genuinely did not want to see Wenwu die at the end. I wanted him to live and see Shang Chi’s changing dynamic with his father continue. I wanted to see him finally acknowledge his daughter as his true heir and see her accomplishments (dark though they will likely become considering the “softer” version of her is the one that ran an illegal fight club in Macao lmao).

Though I am happy Shang Chi got through to him enough at the end for Wenwu to save Shang Chi’s life, willingly pass the rings onto his son, and somewhat accept his own death after a thousand years of life. That was such a poignant moment between them. And I wonder if in that instant, Wenwu had the thought that in dying he’d at least see Ying Li again.

(Side note: I really hope his soul and the souls of everyone that got eaten were freed when Shang Chi killed the monster. I really want them to be able to move on to the next phase of existence. I really hope they weren’t destroyed after being eaten. I want Wenwu to reunite with Ying Li even in the afterlife, gotdamnit! Sue me, I’m a romantic.)

Let’s talk Simu Liu’s performance here for one second. He was incredible throughout. I completely bought into this strange but so real feeling that while he has a lot of anger towards his father, so much hurt, he also felt a lot of heartache and love for who Shang Chi wanted him to be. And the strange desire to want to help a man who emotionally scarred him so badly.

Simu really brought both sides of Shang Chi’s journey to life. Like, he was tying to find his own path, reconcile with the mistakes he’s made in the past (his sister, killing his mom’s murderer), and facing up against his father’s ideals and expectations. But there was also a side of Shang Chi’s journey that was about finally understand both his sister and his father’s point of views, and of learning/embracing his mother’s history.

That moment by the lake when he revealed to Katy that he had actually killed the man who killed his mother. Whew boy! The emotions were so poignant. Simu Liu played it like *chef’s kiss* beautiful.

Speaking of character choices, I really rate this decision to have him actually go through with the assassination. It puts Shang Chi in an interesting position emotionally and somewhat morally. Instead of having his breaking point be him unable to kill as his father wishes, it’s instead the feeling of guilt and shame that he actually did kill the man.

I wonder if he felt a sense of satisfaction before the disgust and shame settled in. Because Shang Chi literally watched his mom die, he probably initially wanted to help his father hunt down the man because of that bit of dark need for vengeance. Until he got it, and felt ashamed to fully face his mother’s memory afterwards.

I’m interested to see how future Shang Chi movies and Simu will dig into and unpack that little bit of darkness these events instilled in the character.

Let’s talk Ying Li for a second here. This woman was incredible. An incredible martial artist, for sure, a mystical guardian and warrior...but she was also just an incredible person in general. Mama Ying Li was so self-assured, so steadfast in her convictions. She struck me as someone who knows exactly what she wants and is never afraid to reach for it.

Fala Chen portrayed her with such grace, warmth, and strength of character. It was extremely easy to see why Wenwu fell in love with her. She met Wenwu, a literal thousand year old warlord, and through shear strength of character led him to put down his weapons and his empire to make a home with her.

This man threw away his entire shadow army of assassins, threw away his whole plan to literally demolish her village in the pursuit of power...in order to play Dance Dance Revolution with her and their kids. (The highlight of their romance and the family flashbacks, for me, tbh.)

And I know it’s not necessarily...positive BUT there is something...hmmmm, crunchy in the fact that Ying Li so completely altered Wenwu’s life by simply loving him that when she died he was willing to raze the whole world to get her back, damn the consequences.

Trying to properly explore toxic and negative turns in previously loving family dynamics is such a difficult task to take on. I really liked the complexity of the Xu family. All the actors really sold the family side of things. It was an almost tangible thing how much you could see how the love they felt had turned bitter and painful over the years.

The final battle was epic and mind blowing (There was a fucking DRAGON flying around for gods’ sake!) but I do wish it had stayed a little more grounded for longer in the beginning of it when the Ten Rings were fighting the Ta Lo warriors. I wanted to see more of that fight before they had the turn to becoming temporary allies against the soul suckers. It became a little too much of a CGI mash, for me, in some parts of it.

Still, the emotional beats held and the core of the story of this grieving family trying to hold on to the tatters of their world stayed consistent even through the final battle. I can forgive a lot because of the strong sense of character and connection there.

Plus, it’s a comic book movie. Spectacle is the name of the game and at least this one had cool fantasy beasts and dope fight choreo.

Anyway, I’ve rambled enough. Let’s wrap it up here. Suffice it to say, I had a wonderful time with this movie. I’m ready for the next one!

#shang chi #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings #mcu #xu shang-chi #simu liu #tony leung #xu wenwu #meng'er zhang #xu xialing #ying li #fala chen #mcu spoilers #shang chi spoilers #liveblogging

107 notes · View notes

lavendersage · 4 years ago

Note

Your blog is a great source of comfort for me. While I know that the workings behind it is just a kindhearted person selecting tender content in their free time, there's something almost fae about the calm it gives me.

I hope it's not the wrong choice, but for a while I've wanted to try something. I come to this blog everyday for some peace -- sometimes I don't even check the rest of my feed, I just come straight here. This year has been dreadfully taxing on everyone, and I'm one of those everybodies.

I hope it's okay, but for a while I've had this idea of writing my heartbreak down and dropping it here, almost like letting it go on a scrap of paper in a stream. I havent been to the woods in a while; I'm a teen in a city that's been beyond ravaged by covid.

But still, I found time for a little #longing. Let's call her Jay. She's smarter than a whip. Math prodigy, piano prodigy, in line to be valedictorian. I, one might say, am nöne of those things. Someday she'll have a PHD, and all I'll have is my ADHD. I'm the class clown, a freelance dunce, but due to some stroke of luck, the same perfectionism that drives Jay's brilliance doesnt allow her to relax easily. I can make her laugh. She values that in me. I found a currency for which I could pay for her time.

I've loved her for years, Lav. And what hurts more is that I know she loves me too. The kisses I've stolen light a fire in my stomach at the thought of them. The memory of closing the distance between us in the big guest room bed when I used to go to her house to sleep over is what's keeping me from going mad during this third round of total lockdown. When we are alone, she is mine, and I am whole. But like I said, if Jay is anything, she's a perfectionist. We were once scolded for being too "flirtatious" at a dance -- the only instance of discipline she's recieved all high school (meanwhile, I have a desk in the detention hall that literally has my name on it). She's desperately closeted, and terrified of losing her image. That's the thing about people who study until they sweat blood so that they never fail: the only thing they never learn is that failure isnt the end of the world the way us flunkies do.

I keep asking her to be mine, publically. Or, perhaps not fully publically, but at least socially. Our peers have more than caught on to what's going on between us and are overwhelmingly positive. And while we'd still have to hide from the adults, that would be accomplished whether we did it totally and miserably, or with room for partial sunshine. My heart and my honor cannot stand the sneaking, the slinking. I am not a secret to be kept. But Jay isnt ready, so I suppose I can learn to behave as if ashamed of my love for her sake.

I fold this message up, and drop it in your stream, Goddess of The Pure Calm. Grant me peace.

first, i just want to say that i can neither confirm nor deny that i am fae 🧚‍♀️ i am so glad that you visit my blog so often and that it grants you peace throughout the day. it always boggles my mind to hear things like that from you guys 🤧

and please, as always, take my words with a grain of salt--i’m not an advice blog (i’m not even sure if advice is what you’re looking for), but i will do the best i can 💚

my heart breaks for you, friend. my teenage years may be behind me but i still remember how hard it was to exist in that stage of life. it’s hard in a way that adulthood isn’t.

i was a lot like you. i was always “the funny one” and never really stuck out academically. i was friends with a lot of people whose intellect and ambition intimidated me to no end. to be in love with someone like that must feel like something else entirely.

that being said, i can feel how much you care for jay just in the way you talk about her. “i can make her laugh. she values that in me. i found a currency for which i could pay for her time.” this made me tear up a little, i won’t lie. and darling, i’m sure she values you for far more than your ability to make her laugh. but i get it--people like us use humor for a lot of things, maybe to make up for something we think we lack, or as a way to get other people to see us as worth keeping around. i assure you, love, you’re worth keeping around if you’re the funniest person alive and you’re worth keeping around if you never utter another joke again. your presence in your friends’ lives is valuable. your presence to miss jay is valuable. your presence on earth is valuable.

it must be incredibly hard to be in love with someone who reciprocates your feelings, but be unable to move forward with your relationship. you don’t want to be a secret, you don’t want to sneak around. of course you don’t, love. i’m so sorry that you have to wrestle with those feelings.

however...i’ve also been in jay’s place. back then, i wasn’t necessarily concerned about my image, or my reputation, but before i was out, i was terrified of what my family and friends would think of me if they knew the truth about who i was. i lost my chance to be with someone i really cared about because i was too afraid to go public, and they weren’t willing to wait. i simply wasn’t ready.

i of course don’t know her personally, but it sounds to me like jay isn’t ready, either. it’s great that your peers are positive about your potential relationship, but there are probably some of outside factors that are scaring her out of wanting to go public. it doesn’t mean she’s ashamed of her feelings. it doesn’t mean she’s ashamed of you. she simply isn’t ready. and for plenty of folks, it takes time to reach that point.

i can only speak from my own experience and what i’ve witness in my friends’ lives, but darling, once you’re out of high school and move into adulthood, so much changes. you get the freedom to more deeply explore who you are. i cannot even begin to stress how much change you will go through in your late teens and twenties. i don’t even recognize the person i was back then, and chances are both you and jay will have plenty of time to grow into the people you’re meant to be.

i don’t want to turn this into an “oh, it gets better when you’re older” type of response, because that’s redundant and it isn’t even always true, but there is a lot of value in the freedom that comes with leaving high school and getting out into the world. you will experience it. so will she. give it some time.

jay may decide that her feelings are more powerful than her fears, and she may need more time to reach a point where she’s comfortable sharing that part of herself with the world. i truly hope that she comes to that decision in her own time, at her own pace.

i also wish you well, friend. i will keep you in my thoughts as you wrestle with these feelings of longing and frustration, and i will keep jay in my thoughts as well. if your situation changes, feel free to let me know. my inbox is always open.

lots of love to you both, and stay safe 💚💚💚

#asks #long post #if any followers have kind things to say feel free to comment!

14 notes · View notes

lordbloodysoul · 4 years ago

Text

Name:

Karma Doorman

Title:

"Dept Collector of Justice" - "Prosecutor of Consequences" - "Old Man Consequences"

Nicknames:

The Tall Doorman (Papyrus)

G. D. or Guardian/Big G. (the Human Children)

Old Timer, Pal, Buddy or "Karmamel" (Sans)

Old Freckle (Undyne)

Age:

[REDACTED]

Height / Weight:

6 feet 8 inches (or 2.11m) / 87 kg (112kg with entire attire)

Soul Type

"Collective Soul"

// - A Collective Soul shows trades of all known Soul Types and is shielded by a thin membrane of Void. It looks like a blank Soul with a black outline, that has a small pitch dot in its center from which a vibration rolls across the surface of the Soul. Those waves appear in different colors and strokes. To those who are very sensible to Soul Energy, the vibration will sound like an endless army of different voices breathing simultaneously in sync. The rhythm changes wit Karma's state of mind. It has an aroma/flavour that could be described as "a bittersweet taste of Salt and Iron". The feeling it would induces is more reminiscent of Guilt and Foreboding. Like standing before a King with an Executioner looming right behind you. - //

STATS:

[REDACTED] //Next to it often flashes the following message: "I can see ALL your SINS..."//

[REDACTED] // Their HP is so high that even a Critical from the LvL 19 Human affects it as if they would jut do 1 HP damage //

ATTACK

[REDACTED] //Next to it often flashes the following message: "I make the RULES."//

DEFENSE

[REDACTED] //Next to it often flashes the following message: "Your DEPT will be PAID"//

Doorman-Tier:

Tier S - Class S

History:

Karma Doorman is the original "Blueprint" of their kind within the Undertale Universe. Their Soul was a blank, purified Vessel with trades of both Human and Monster Soul. Within it, their creator stored the power of every willing being of the Old Dark's Court, forging a Soul of immense potential. Made from pieces of countless Entities and the Life-Blood of their Creator, this Doorman was chained to the purpose of "SAVING THEM", but left with a free will to decide on how to accomplish that Goal.

Karma's first appearance within the Undertale Multiverse was due to the waking call of UT Sans's Will to struggle against the Genocide Route's Outcome, which gave their existence a physical Form. Before that, they were just a spiritual presence and afterthought, mostly. A Dread looming above the Sinners, Cheaters and Fools of the World.

[!!!SPOILERS WARNING!!! - for those who wish to Read the FanFiction or wait till I get around to making the Comic, since the LITERATURE SUBMIT on DA doesn't allow much creative Freedom, so I have to do a lot of Re-Spacing and Editing on those Parts. This Section will spoil some of the Plot in exchange for Character Build - If you don't want that spoiled, please proceed to the APPEARANCE Section - !!!SPOILER WARNING!!!]

Karma's awakening shook the original Universe of Undertale at its Core, as they proceeded to exterminate the Genocide Timeline by removing the [ERASE] and [RESET]option from the Human Child and blocking the [QUIT] option. Their DETERMINATION exceeded any existent being in this Original Timeline.

After ridding themselves of Chara, Flowey and purifying Frisk's Soul, they continued [REWRITING]the Timeline, forcing Toriel to stay with Asgore and bringing comfort to his broken heart. They dragged Gaster and his Lab Assistants back from the Void and made Sans forget about the RESETS, weakening themself severely in the process.

Karma intervened in many upcoming Events, including saving the original six children, choosing to live with them in the RUINS, due to the absence of Toriel, and kept them save there. They properly locked the Gate towards Snowdin and became Sans's Knock-Knock Pal, as he recovered his strength, while waiting for time to unfold on its own. They dragged a Criminal into the Underground, who would serve as a trigger for Undyne's role in the future as head of the Royal Guards, as well as providing Gaster with a Soul for his research. When Gaster's experiment was about to end in failure, they leaped in and saved the staff, but Sans got struck and began remembering everything again, including his first encounter with Karma.

The Doorman left him that way, on behalf of his own wishes, closing the Rift towards the Void, straining their Soul towards its limits. When Frisk arrived, they were the one waiting for them, accompanied by the other six children. Together, they left the RUINS and began their journey through the Underground in order to reach the True Ending and the last option that would hinder their Safeguard over the Timeline. [TRUE RESET]

Appearance:

Karma Doorman looks like a tall, thin elf, clad in black robes and armor. Their cloak, which always rests on their shoulders, splits into multiple tendrils, which can move freely as separate limbs from the rest of their body. These tentacle-like arms are connected to his back, sprouting straight from a fissure across his spine. Their hair is charcoal black and slightly grayish in color, long flowing and smooth as silk. The eyes are red and always surrounded by a reddish blush, which runs along their pale cheeks.

When his expression and demeanor change, the eye-white turns blackish and their thin lips stretch into a wide, haunting grin. Often accompanied by streams of rusty, reddish liquid welling from underneath the eyes. This happens mostly in situations that call for them to use lots of Energy and Magic. It is due to the affects his tremendously powerful Soul has on their vessel body. The reddish liquid is not blood, but liquid-form Determinationseeping through their entire body. When reaching their limits, Karma often ends up with ripped skin or deep gashing wounds all over, which they have to let heal on their own.

Personality:

Karma was created by the remaining Will and Hope of Sans from across all RESETS, which shaped part of their personality. They are very intelligent and resourceful, with a developing love for puns and witty commentary. Karma sees his job as part of a Game, partially, but takes every step they make with utmost seriousness. They often hide the seriousness of their intentions to seem as less of a threat than they actually are, which paint them often in the lights of a sadistic psycho, rather than a helpful ally.

Karma is very kind, when not chasing after Sinners and Cheaters. As a manifestation of Consequences, their actions are justified in the eye of fate, however the Doorman has their doubts about it, acting to the best of their conscious, trying to find the best way to deal with every situation.

They are a selfless Soul, ready to give everything and more in order to see their goal achieved, which is the happiness of all deserving of it.

The Entity judges all on a fair standpoint, giving anyone the benefit of the doubt if it is present within their actions. Which is why they sowed pity and understanding towards Sans more than to Flowey, Frisk and Chara.

Karma is a follower of the principle of "Mutual Consent". They never force their way, feelings or the likes upon others (unless they need to judge that person for being a dirty Sinner, Cheater or the likes). Knowing that everything in life comes with consequences, they rather stay on a neutral ground till they’re sure of the others intentions.

Likes:

Puns and Humor (by that extend Sans)

Cooking

Baking

helping people

singing - ( he loves humming this Song here)

Children

hunting Sinners and Cheaters

napping

Dislikes:

Sinners and Cheater of all kinds

Mettaton (to some extend, since he finds the Robot quite obnoxious)

too spicy food

Capitalism (they've been trying to kill it off for since they've gained consciousness)

Gender- and Race Labeling (which is why they refer to themself as a "they" and won't accept anyone miss-gender them whatsoever)

Capabilities:

Due to their DETERMINATION, Karma is capable of blocking Tricksters, Sinners and Cheaters from abusing Fortune or, in the case of the Fallen Children and Flowey, the power of RESET. They can exterminate these Options and force their prey to face Consequences, without a backdoor to escape out off. The Entity can also alter the flow of time and space to previous states and interact with Checkpoints (which they mostly destroy instantly). They can reanimate people, by simply restoring their last intact living position. While restoring entire Landscapes and areas, they have to focus their manipulative power into a comfortable shape, which mostly appears as a Ring following near the ground, walls and ceiling behind them.

When they first appeared in the Universe of Undertale, Karma was only visible to a selective few. Mostly those aware of the RESETS. While traveling backwards through the Underground with Sans, they created Rifts within the fabric of the World to quickly advance. Similar in Sans's use of shortcuts only on a basic sense, as these Rifts interconnect on a completely different plain of thought. Like a Road along the weave of Space-Time itself.

Their strength comes not only from their Soul, however. Karma’s power forms from the Will of Justice and Vengeance lingering within the World they inhabit. Since their body was formed by Sans’s recollected strife to stop the fallen child from their murderous rampage, their power connected to it. As such, his memory became vital to their strength, but to ensure their goal was fully achieved, Karma decided to REWRITE him, even at the cost of a fair extend of their own power.

Karma's attack abilities range from direct hands-on Battle to them using their tendrils as extended limbs for range combat. They can use various magics, too.

Since their DETERMINATION is so high, Karma is capable of changing the RULES of Combat. They do so to 'playfully' dispose of their targets.

In such occasions, they like to play "JUDGMENT HELL", a game where he provides their foes with the means to battle them properly. Giving them armor, weapons and item to use. They also stag a persons SIN to their STATS, exceeding the limitations of the Universe’s limitations. Within the game they play the PROSECUTOR, who protects a JUDGE from the ACCUSED. While the ACCUSED try to kill or persuade the JUDGE it is the PROSECUTOR's job to keep the JUDGE save and eliminate the ACCUSED. When an ACCUSED perishes, they will be respawned with a penalty to their STATS. When the HP reaches 1, the next strike will indefinitely kill the ACCUSED. They will be erased with the severity of their sins burning their bodies and souls out of current existence. The PROSECUTOR can't act on their own, besides shielding the JUDGE. The JUDGE has full reign over their actions and decides if a person is worth of MERCY or not.

The Doorman is capable of all Magic Abilities. During Combat, Karma uses mostly White, Black and Red Attacks, although they like changing their Style up on the fly sometimes. Fighting them is quite the bad idea, due to them not acting upon the RULE of attacks having to always be in the same repeating patterns. Each of Karma's attacks is acting like a Critical Strike or Instant Kill Move, which makes the experience that much more frustrating. They also can slay foes straight outside of an open FIGHT.

For more casual activities, Karma uses their power of levitation for transport or just simply sitting in a floating position. They multi-task via their tendrils a lot, often preferring them over their own arms and hands. They can use healing magic to quickly close wounds, set bones or just giving a soothing warmth to distressed people. They usually, however, don't use that much magic overall. Only if it is absolutely required or helpful in aiding their goal or people in need.

Karma possesses the special ability of "REWRITE", which allows him to change any aspect of a Location, Item. Person or Rule. With this ability, they can change the flow of the world to befit their purpose. A REWRITE can only be undone by them or an outer-worldly Impact of similar Determination Power, which is rare.

Due to their massive STATS, which broke the readable Range of the World by a margin, attempting to destroy them via Battle is basically pointless. Bargaining with them will be seen as an insult, which often results in harsher punishment, while accepting ones fate is probably the smartest option.

Karma's destructive power can be placed easily above the power of most living beings in the Undertale Multiverse, however, he would struggle against other Doormen of their own respective Tier.

Relations:

Karma, throughout their journey will befriend many Monsters.

Sans will become their first friend among many, as they take the Role of Toriel after the REWRITE. Papyrus they meet briefly in his early childhood, but won't become a friend to the till later. They will bond with Undyne over a match of strength and perseverance.

The human children, as they fall one by one into the Underground, will end up being raised by them. They refer to them as their Guardian or Big G. for short. Karma collects them and ensures their safety while staying in the RUINS, up until Frisk appears. The children take a shine to them, as they cared for them, teaching them to accept monsters as part of their lives.

POTENTIAL SPOILER:

Similar to Sans growing an affection towards Toriel during the outplay of the Original Timeline, in the REWRITE he grows quite fond of them as they do of him.

In the Canon of the series, the two agree on a relationship based on both of their loss at what to do or expect from the newfound freedom they fought for. The human children encourage their romantic interest in one another, much to Karma's displeasure, as they are completely estranged to the whole romance business. Going even so far as to stopping Frisk multiple times, during their adventure, from flirting with every Monster they encounter.

Trivia:

Karma has no recollection of anything prior to their awakening to sentience. For all they've known, they were always a part of Undertale.

However, Sans and Papyrus both commented on "having seen their eyes somewhere before" and that this was not something good they've remembered.

It spun a bit of curiosity around their mind, which always leaves a bad aftertaste behind.

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

#Karma Doorman #Darktale #dark #tale #undertale #horrorpuppets #doorman #karma #au #alternate #universe #oc

6 notes · View notes

littlemisssquiggles · 5 years ago

Note

After seeing the latest episode of RWBY... Could it be that Robyn will be the next Winter Maiden? I think Winter is way too obvious, since she has officially been set up. If RT goes like that, it would be very untypical for their current style of writing. So... I can see this happening in one of two ways. Either Robyn is related to Fria in some way and that is why she gets the powers. Or Winter dies and passes the powers on to Robyn. They seem to agree on some stuff. Robyn nodded at Winter.

Umm…sorry Mizu but this squiggle meister is gonna have to disagree with you on this theory of yours. Given how the show had built up her story thus far, I doubt Robyn will have anything to do with the Maidens or their magic.

Sure I can see her learning of the existence of the Maidens and their connection to the Relics once the truth about Salem comes out. I can even see Robyn potentially learning this information beforehand courtesy of Yang and Blake with their little alliance from the seventh episode. However that’s as far as I believe Robyn will go in that regard.

I think the PLOT is more setting up Robyn and her Happy Huntresses to be unlikely allies to our heroes and Ironwood especially in this current time where the story seems to be heading in the direction of the Fall of Atlas and the possibly the brink of a Second Great War of Remnant lingering the air.

However that’s as much as I can see Robyn being. An unlikely ally. I don’t think she will become a Maiden. If anything, my assumption is that Robyn will become a founding leader to the next generation of Atlesian and Mantlese citizens after working to rebuild Atlas and Mantle kingdoms and reunite them as one kingdom once.

Based on what I’ve seen thus far, especially from the sneak peek clip of CH9 that was teased today in #FRWBY, it seems like the PLOT might be leaning towards the decimation of Mantle. Possibly. And once Mantle is taken care of,the next kingdom to surely fall will be its brother kingdom in the skies: Atlas.

I think the Writers may be setting us up for both Mantle and Atlas to cease no more by the end up of V7 and V8 and once both of these kingdoms are gone, the next step would be rebuilding them from the ground up with both the People of Mantle and Atlas coming together for the first in centuries to restore what’s left of their kingdom together. And at the helm ofthis revolution and new chapter in Solitas history would be Robyn Hill.

The more I observe her development, the more I can see Robyn potentially becoming a great leader for Atlas and Mantle. One who would stand, fight and continue to look out for the sanctity of both kingdoms. I think Robyn’s destiny is to be a kingdom leader. Not a Maiden. So yeah, I don’t think she will have any connection to Fria at all. Sorry for disagreeing with you but I just don’t see this development in the cards for this character.

I do agree with you, however, on the thought of Winter being unsuccessful inbecoming the Winter Maiden.

Given how the Writers tossed us that red herring with Vernal and the Spring Maiden back in V5, it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s done again for the Winter Maiden. However if I were to expect anyone else to become a Maiden in Winter’s place, my second choice would’ve been Penny Polendina.

In my opinion, Penny becoming the Winter Maiden would’ve been interesting. Penny is already such a unique character in terms of her story—an artificially intelligent sentient being powered by the soul of the loving father who gifted a part of himself time and time again to create his beloved daughter.

If Penny doesn’t wind up succeeding Pietro (in the event of his untimely passing)then I could’ve easily seen her becoming a Maiden somehow.

While I understand that the Maidens and the transference of their powers comes with their own set of rules, I’ve always been curious of how these rules would apply to a being like Penny. I mean technically Penny identifies as female. She’s young and she has a soul—a soul that was partially made from her father’s but…it’s still a soul. In spite of anything else, Penny is more than just a machine. She’s a person. Her own person and that makes her worthy of becoming a Maiden if it was possible. I’ve always wondered that should Penny be chosen as Maiden, would the power go to her. Would it work? That’s the curious question.

Let’s say …at some point down the line after becoming Maiden, Winter Schnee is blindsided by the enemy (Neo and Cinder) and becomes mortally wounded. And in her dying moments, she reaches out to Penny as her choice to become the next Maiden after her. After all, Penny was made to be a protector.

Apart from being the keys to the Relics, the Maidens have always more or less been young women who used their powers for the greater good of helping others when they are able to.

Well…at least they were in the past with the exception of the current generation of Maidens minus Summer. That’s another thing I don’t wish to see repeated a third time. I don’t want another example of a Maiden being murdered and having their powers forcibly transferred to their killers.

It happened with Cinder and Amber. It happened with Raven and the former Spring Maiden before her. I just don’t want to see it happen again for the Winter Maiden. I think it could be a cool twist if the PLOT sets it up that way again—perhaps Fria isn’t horribly murdered but passes away peacefully in her sleep and Winter successfully becomes the Winter Maiden as Ironwood had planned.

And this all happens by the end of V7 so that the next time Weiss sees her sister, she finds her already as a Maiden. We then spend the next season with Winter being a target for her Maiden powers by Neo and Cinder once they learn of her succession. And let’s say…for whatever reason, Winter is badly hurt trying to protect someone she loves. Like maybe that’s how she was lured out to be killed. Weiss is kidnapped by Neo and Cinder and used as bait to lure out her sister and once Winter arrives, Neo disguises herself as Weiss to force Winter to let her guard down a little bit long enough for Neo to try and kill her.

Let’s say…Winter had brought Penny along with her as backup since she feared Neo and Cinder may double-cross her as warned by Ruby. But in spite of this, Winter still gets injured protecting her little sister.

So we have this scene where Weiss is cradling her dying sister in her arms (maybe Neo and Cinder has escaped at this point)— Penny by Winter’s side to and during this moment, Winter turns to Penny informing her that she was going to give her powers to her because she trusts her to become a great protector to Atlas and Mantle or something along those lines.

Though it’s been small, we’ve received one or two decent examples of the show pushing a small friendship dynamic between Winter and Penny for this season that I honestly didn’t expect going into it. While it’s not as close as Winter’s relationship with her sister, if the Winter Maiden powers were to be stolen from her—even in her final moments, I don’t think Winter would chose Weiss.

She’ll probably think of someone who she could trust with being a better fit for Maiden than her and she would think of the only other person than herself who would make a great Maiden—Penny.

But that’s just my opinion. Honestly it’s anyone’s game at this point on who could become the Winter Maiden. Somehow my headcanons of how that storyline might end has been flip-flopping. I always had a feeling that Winter was going to be groomed to be Ironwood’s choice for Maiden. That part was as obvious as you said.

But in the event of it not being Winter, my second choice was always Penny since I liked the idea of an artificial being with a soul making for an interesting Maiden character. I saw Penny becoming a Maiden via the magic of the original Winter Maiden as symbolic as her fairy-tale counterpart of Pinocchio being turned into a real boy by the Blue Fairy.

However I’ve recently also pondered on the possibility of Nora becoming the Winter Maiden or…at least being considered as a potential candidate against her will?

Like it’s a scenario where we discover that Nora is the last living relative of Fria and as Fria is on her last lap, she confides in Winter that the last thing she desires before she passes away is to be reunited with her daughter who she was forced to give up years ago after she was appointed as Maiden.

That daughter somehow wound up in Mantle and grew up to become the mother of Nora Valkyrie who eventually passed away. So it’s a case where Fria never got the chance to see her daughter again but Nora is last remnant of Fria’s daughter and as it turnt out—in true RWBY fashion—Nora is the spitting image of her mother and the closest person to her that Fria has left.

The last person Fria wants to now see is Nora however Nora is denied the chance to see the only family member she had left since Ironwood fears that if Fria sees Nora, she might end up picking her as her candidate instead of Winter as he had been grooming her to be. So it’s this complicated thing where Winter, having grown to care for Fria wants to abide by her wishes but can’t out of her duty to the General.

Not to mention that Nora is conflicted about it too—perhaps we can have some conflict where some folks believe that Nora should be allowed to see her grandmother and become the Winter Maiden since it’s her family and birth right and not Winter’s, no matter how much Ironwood tries to control that.

The other side to that is that Nora doesn’t want to become a Maiden or have anything to do with that and after learning that a family member of hers is still alive, she becomes unsure of whether or not she wants to see them at all.Perhaps…Nora even ends up blaming Fria for her and her family’s hardships in a way because the last memories that Nora has of her mother were ones where she was always struggled to take care of her down in Mantle while dealing with the depression over the memories of the mother who abandoned her. In the past, Fria didn’t want Nora’s mother so why should Nora want to see her just because she’s dying?

As I said, it’s a complicated scenario which I think could’ve made for an fascinating story especially for Nora’s side of things. While I figured Nora becoming a Maiden would’ve been cool for the obvious nod to the Norse God of Thunder she’s inspired by, the more I pondered on it, the more I realized I like this headcanon more for angle of what it could’ve done for Nora’s own character development and backstory.

We have yet to have a JNPR subplot that focused heavily on Nora as yet. We’ve had for Jaune (V1) Pyrhha (V3) and Ren (V4) but nothing for our veteran goddess of the thunder thighs. So I really want Fria to be related to Nora just so Nora can have her moment of focus. But that’s just me.

And last but certainly not least, there’s Neopolitan becoming the Winter Maiden and using her newfound abilities to dupe Cinder Fall and pilfer the Relic of Creation for herself as I described more in depth in this previous answer post.

At this point, I really am torn on where the Winter Maiden subplot could go. If anything, my final hunch is that the Winter Maiden Arc could possibly revolve around Winter, Penny, Nora and possibly Neo.

Winter as the current candidate via Ironwood’s choice. Nora as Fria’s only living relative and successor to her power by blood and familial connection. Penny as Winter’s choice for candidacy in the event of her untimely passing and Neo via murdering the last Maiden and stealing her powers just like Cinder. Anythingcan go. But then again, these are all mainly my theories in that regard.

But all in all, what this mostly boils down to me saying is that I can see these young women more sharing a connection to the Winter Maiden story than Robyn Hill. Hope that answers your question Mizu.

Again, sorry if I might’ve burst your bubbles there. It’s not a bad theory,I just have a different stance on it.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

#mizuike #winter schnee #penny polendina #nora valkyrie #neopolitan #robyn hill #rwby theories #rwby volume 7 theories #rwby volume 7 spoilers #squiggles answers: rwby

29 notes · View notes

aspoonofsugar · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! About HxH. Do heavens arena and hunter exam (including Zoldyck family) have their own themes like yorknew, greed island, chimera ants and election? Or do they serve just as a build up? Also, from what I understand ca has most complex themes (in quantity and exploration) but I am not sure. How does it compare to yorknew in that regard? Are themes of greed island complex (in number and exploration) too?

Hello anon!

Sorry, for the late reply.

I would say that the CAA is different from the arcs before in the sense that it is as if it tells its own story and it even has its own protagonist (Meruem). Because of this, it also has its own specific themes which are easy to find. In this, I think it is similar to the current arc and partially to the Election arc.

When it comes to the arcs before, I think they can mostly be considered as a long introduction since the characters and the power system are introduced and explained.

Among these arcs, I would say YS is kind of an exception since it focuses on a different character (Kurapika is the protagonist of that arc). Because of this, that arc has themes which are linked to Kurapika and different from the ones present in all the other arcs.

I have talked about YS here and here if you are interested.

Kurapika is a character linked to the concepts of grief and vengeance and so the arcs centered around him deal with these ideas. What is more, they also delve in the importance of information and are more intellectual than other arcs. Finally, YS also deals with the concept of destiny thanks to the importance Neon’s power had in that arc.

When it comes to arcs like the Hunter Exam arc, the HA arc and GI (so the arcs where Gon is the protagonist) they are all centered on the idea of growing up because this is what Gon’s character is about. His story is a coming of age one and these arcs seem to deconstruct some aspects of typical coming of ages/shonen stories.

I will try to discuss more of it under the cut, but I would say in advance that this analysis will concentrate on what each one of these arcs specifically offers on the theme of growing up which I think is the theme shared by them all. However, one should not forget that arcs are not the only elements of a story which have themes. Characters have those too and I will not address all of them here.

If you are interested in themes linked to characters other than general themes of the series, I will think this post by @hamliet will be useful. She also offers there an alternative reading of the arcs’ themes.

The hunter exam arc introduces the characters and their objectives. What is interesting is that each character’s objective needs the hunter license in order to be reached. This is interesting because it introduces the idea that the exam is not really an end, but a mean to something. This is also why the exam is not given a clean conclusion:

Gon passes the exam, but he is not satisfied with himself, the same goes for Leorio and what happens between Killua and his brother leaves a bitter aftertaste in all the participants. This is why after the tournament we are shown a discussion among the new hunters where they get on each other’s nerves. It is because, all in all, many of them are not happy despite having officially become hunters. This anticlimatic conclusion is used to convey the fact that passing an exam is not something which can be used as proof of one’s value. Gon passes the exam because Hisoka kills his pursuer and later he is not able to win against Hanzo. Leorio passes thanks to his friends’ help and Pokkle passes out of sheer luck. However, the way they pass is not important. What is important is what they will do with the new chances they are given and with what they have learnt. This is true for Killua as well, even if he did not pass. He is still given permission to travel with his friends because of him taking the hunter exam. What a person learns and what a person gains by an obstacle vary, but what is important is that they can use it to face future challenges. The idea that life and growth are never over is something which lies at the root of the series:

The exam is just the first representation of such an idea.

At the same time, the different trials test different attributes a person must have to become a hunter aka to grow up.

1) The first test is a test of endurance both physical and psychological. Only strong people can become hunters, so this test verifies a person’s strength.

2) The second test is made to verify that the partecipants are both intelligent and curious.

Strength, intelligence, determination and curiousity are 4 attributes which keep coming out again and again throughout the series and they are tested at the very beginning of the exam.

3) The third test had the characters work together. They had to make every choice by voting in what is basically a form of democracy. Thanks to this, the limit of such a process of decision-making is highlighted:

At the same time, it is interesting that in a test which is so focused on the relationships among individuals, the characters are given individual fights where they can shine. In a sense it may be a way of reflecting the contradictions of society where one has to live together with others and to partially conform to what others want, but at the same time they are asked to develop skills for themselves, so that they can shine.

This contradiction is perfectly shown by the last choice the characters are asked to make:

They have been asked to work together, but in the end they are told they have to fight each other to go on. This can very well be seen as a synthesis of how society works. As a matter of fact society exists because of people cooperating, but at the same time people are not equal and are not granted identical chances. However, the answer Gon gives is one which bends the rules and uses a loophole to overcome the obstacle.

4) The fourth test could be partially seen as the opposite of the third one since the characters are asked to work alone in order to catch a target. The nature of the exam makes so that finding allies might be dangerous since one can’t be sure not to be another’s target. What is more, this test is seen by some characters (like Gon for example) as a chance to shine individually and to face a complex problem alone.

However, throughout the test many alliances are born and Gon being too concentrated on his own individual pursue makes him fall into the trap of his hunter.

In short, even in a situation where individuals should test their own abilities others keep being important and entities one can not ignore.

5) Finally, the last test is meant to test one’s character. As Gon’s extreme case shows, who wins in the tournament is not the strongest, but who never gives up. This is also used to underline the key difference between Killua and Gon’s approaches to things which will keep coming back as the story goes on.

I would like to highlight that HA and GI are two similar arcs and deal with becoming individually strong and with working with others (similarly to test 3 and to test 4 in the hunter exam).

Both arcs are basically training arcs which are used to give more details about nen before two complex arcs (YS and CAA) full of characters very expert at using this power.

In both arcs, Killua and Gon want to reach an objective, but are too weak, so they meet a master and start training. The fact that Biscuit used to be Wing’s master is nothing more than a way to show that GI is the continuation of HA since Gon and Killua will develop there their hatsus. There is also the fact that both in HA and in GI a hunter exam is completed. Gon passes his unofficial exam in HA and Killua obtains his license in GI. Basically, with these two arcs both characters can be considered true hunters just in time to take part in their first big operation in the CAA. It is also interesting that Gon and Killua end up in the HA and in GI because of respectively Silva and Ging. Silva is the one who sent Killua there in the past and Ging is the one who prepared GI as an obstacle Gon has to overcome to find him. What is more, Silva tried to hide nen from Killua for unknown reasons, while nen is necessary to enter the game and so Gon has to know nen to become a player.

That said, HA and GI explore slightly different things.

HA gives a lot of importance to individuality:

This is underlined also by the fact that the rules of the arena make so that the fights are between two opponents and not between groups of people.

What is more, the whole arena is nothing more than a metaphor for a person climbing higher and reaching one’s full potential. The arc explores the difficulty of doing so.

Growing up is complicated. One could do like Kastro did and choose to invest their talent and time into something which doesn’t suit them. One can also do like the minor antagonists of this arc did. The three opponents they face are people who reached the 200th before they were ready and as a result they lost a part of their bodies. This resulted in the fact that their nen powers end up becoming something which, instead of enriching them, are mostly there to compensate for what they lost. This is very interesing because nen in the hxh world is often a metaphor of a person’s personality and interiority. In other words, the protagonists developing their powers is symbolic of them developing their interiority and we can easily understand many things of a character by looking at their nen power. Because of this, Sadaso, Gido and Riehlvelt are basically people whose growth has been damaged because of them being in a hurry to reach their objectives. This is shown also by their behaviour. All in all they don’t really care about becoming better anymore and simply wish to be floor masters by targeting people weaker than them even if they don’t know about nen. In this way, they are ready to make others experience what was done to them.

In short, it is like Wing says:

One should not become obsessed with a single objective and not lose sight of the bigger picture. Growing takes time and effort. This is also why Gon and Killua do not choose a hatsu right away, but are given time to think properly about it.

At the same time, the arc also shows Gon and Killua’s opposite behaviours:

Gon wants to grow up too fast, whereas Killua wants to take things slowly.

This difference will come up again. For example, the CAA shows how dangerous it is for Gon to be willing to become an adult before the right time, whereas in the Election arc Killua is basically asked to grow up a little, so that he can care about Alluka.

Finally, this arc also show the different challenges Gon and Killua are faced with. Gon is mostly given focus when it comes to physical fights. He fights more than Killua and in the climax of the arc he faces Hisoka in an epic battle. Killua is given instead only a major fight against Riehlvelt. However, it is not that he is not given focus in the arc, but the chapters centered around him are not ones where he has to fight, but ones where he has to find an equilibrium between behaving as a good boy and not letting others trample over him and his friends. In the beginning, he would like to settle the conflict with the three men in a way which would benefit them and by being overly generous. However, this attempt fails, so he uses a more malicious approach, but still avoids killing them.

GI is a training arc with a more complex and flexible battlefield than the HA. Moreover, it is made in a way that it is more advantagious and even necessary for people to work together.

In short, GI explores the equilibrium one must find between working with others and being independent.

This is shown starting with the preliminary test:

It is explained that one should face this test sticking to one’s own convinctions without worrying about others.

However, once they enter the game, the players realize how difficult it is working alone and that it would make sense for them to join a bigger group in order to succeed. The strategy proposed by Nickes’s group is to basically find strength in numbers. This seems an optimal solution on paper, but it is soon revealed that trying to compensate for one’s absence of strength by simply sticking with others is not enough:

Weak players came together hoping to win against the stong ones, but in the end they were tricked by a stronger opponent and could not do anything against him despite their numerical advantage. This is because, in the end, none of them was self sufficient.

However, even if one is exceptionally strong, they can not succeed in GI if they are alone and the proof is the fact that in order to obtain Plot of Beach there must be 15 people willing to work together. At the same time, Goreinu states this:

As a matter of fact, even if a group of people must work together only a small number of copies can be made of the card wanted. This is similar to what happened in the third test of the Hunter exam when people are asked to unite forces just to fight in the end.

In short, the battle against Razor underlines the nuance of having multiple people working together. The players come together because it is useful and all of them are determined to take care of their own interests. For example, the main trio is quick to discard their first group because made of people too weak to win. However, this doesn’t mean genuine bonds are not born since in the end all the players who took part in the game (with the exception of Hisoka) ended up growing close as a result of their battle.

Razor’s fighting style is interesting too when it comes to this:

He is at the centre of a challenge which requires multiple players, but he himself fights alone. This is also why he loses:

However, he too is there because of another person:

He was able to change his life only because Gin connected with him and did not care about his past as a criminal.

In short, GI is an arc which explores group relationships much more than HA.

This is also shown by Genthru who is both a character able to fight alone and a person who works well wiht his comrades (as a matter of fact they seem to share some powers).

The way Gon fights him is also indicative of how the boy is trying to reconcile a strong wish of individual strength and the necessity to work together:

As a matter of fact Gon has been given by Killua a plan to follow and if he did, he would not have any problems in defeating Genthru. However, Gon is not completely satisfied because he wants to use the battle to test himself. So in the end he chooses to follow the plan only after he managed to injure his opponent on his own.

This solution is a good synthesis of Gon and Killua’s struggle to grow up together, but also in an independent way, so that the can keep being friends, but also become proper individuals. This is something which will be explored also in the CAA with their friendship being partly deconstructed after GI spent much time showing its importance and positive effects.

In short, I would say HA and GI are nothing more than two sides of the same coin and are compementary. They explore what it means to grow up using the structure of a classical training arc to do so. In HA the focus is on individuality. For example Win helps his mentee to find what they are good in and discourages them from pursuing technique in areas which aren’t theirs. When it comes to GI, the focus is widers since a person to grow has also to interact with others and to learn from them. Because of this there is a focus on teamplay and how to integrate it with personal goals and with the necessity to remain true to one-self. About this, let’s underline that Biscuit makes so that Gon and Killua starts practicing in abilities different from their own, so that they can become more flexible. This is because in order to grow healthily a person must both realize what they are good at and go out from their comfort zone, so that they can improve. In the end it is about finding a happy medium between these two things.

Finally, there are the Zoldyck family arc and the Election arc. These two arcs are centered around Killua and so they have similarities.

As a matter of fact Killus is a character linked to specific themes and these themes are explored in arcs focused on him.

Most of all, it is interesting to show that both the Zoldyck family arc and the election arc are arcs where it seems some major conflict are gonna explode. The Zoldyck family arc is presented as an arc which will culminate in Killua’s friends meeting his family and having to fight or at least to convince them to let Killua free. However, this does not happen and Gon, Kurapika and Leorio do not even see the family house and barely meet some family members. The situation which seemed perfect to explore a major conflict is settled in a pretty common way with simply a father and a son having a chat.

Similarly, the Election arc sets up a potentially dangerous situation with Alluka and her powers only to reveal in the end that if people treat Nanika normally and love her, she uses her powers without making cruel requests.

All in all, the Zoldyck family is used to explore extremely common family dynamics and the fact that they are presented as so over the top makes so that them settling their problems as any normal family could do highlights the importance of communication and connection even more.

The Election arc is also used to convey specific themes about general politics. For example, Leorio and Pariston can be easily seen as two different declinations of what a popolar leader is, whereas the Zodiacs can be see as an elite who has knowledge and abilities, but is unable to connect with the majority of people.

The fact that also this part of the arc ends with an anti-climax is interesting especially because the conclusion of the Election is framed as far more comical than the conclusion of Killua’s conflict with his family.

All in all it is interesting that while the majority of the hunters is concentrated on an election whose results have basically been rigged since the beginning, the true and more serious battle seems to be the one between a boy and his family. Moreover, this personal struggle goes unnoticed by the majority of people who are too concentrated on a large public even and ignores that a small chilod could potentially destroy the world if she is not helped and loved.

This is a very reduced discussion of each arc. Many points are probably unclear or not elaborated enough, but I hope you would still find them interesting enough.

I will also tag this meta where I discussed other general themes of the series.

All in all, I would say YS, CAA, Election arc and the current arc are the richest ones thematically, while the other three are usually used as introduction to something and introduce ideas which are fully explored in other arcs.

Thank you for th ask!

#hxh #hxh meta #asksfullofsugar #anonymous

42 notes · View notes

achronologyofbits · 5 years ago

Text

GOTY 2019

I wanted to write a personal Game of the Year list, but I realized I really didn’t play that many games that were new in 2019. So I’m ranking them, but it’s less a “top 10” and more a “10 games I played and how I felt about them.”

10. Kingdom Hearts III

Kingdom Hearts III plays like a game from 2005.

I’m not sure I can fully articulate what I mean by that. Maybe I mean its combat is largely simplistic and button-mashy. Maybe I mean its rhythms of level traversal and cutscene exposition dumps are archaic and outdated. Maybe feeling like this game is a relic from another time is unavoidable, given how many years have passed since its first series entry.

But there’s also something joyful and celebratory about it all — something kind of refreshing about a work that knows only a tiny portion of its players will understand all its references and lore and world-building, and just doesn’t care.

Despite all the mockery and memery surrounding its fiction, Kingdom Hearts’ strongest storytelling moments are actually pretty simple. They’re about the struggle to exist, to belong, and to define what those things mean for yourself. I think that’s why the series reaches the people it does.

Those moments make Kingdom Hearts III worth defending, if not worth recommending.

9. Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

Admittedly, I only played about 10-15 hours of this in 2019. Perhaps fittingly, that’s about the amount of time I originally spent on Dark Souls when it released in 2011. I bounced off, hard, because I didn’t understand what it was asking of me. Once I did — though, it has to be said, I needed other people to explain those expectations to me, because the game sure as hell didn’t — Dark Souls became an all-time favorite. And I’ve played every FromSoft game since then, and enjoyed them all. Until Sekiro.

Part of it is, again, down to expectation. Dark Souls trained its players on a certain style of combat: cautious movements, careful attention to spacing, committing to weighty attacks, waiting for counterattacks. In every game since then, FromSoft have iterated on those expectations in the same direction in an attempt to encourage players to be less cautious and more aggressive. The series moved from tank-heavy play in Dark Souls, to dual-wielding in DS2, to weapon arts and reworking poise in DS3, to the system of regaining health by attacking in Bloodborne.

In some ways, Sekiro is a natural continuation of this trend toward aggression, but in others, it’s a complete U-turn. Bloodborne eschewed blocking and prioritized dodging as the quickest, most effective defensive option. Sekiro does exactly the opposite. Blocking is always your first choice, parrying is essential instead of largely optional, and dodging is near useless except in special cases. FromSoft spent five games teaching me my habits, and it was just too hard for me to break them for Sekiro.

I have other issues, too — health/damage upgrades are gated behind boss fights, so grinding is pointless; the setting and story lack some of the creativity of the game’s predecessors; there’s no variety of builds or playstyles — but the FromSoft magic is still there, too. Nothing can match the feeling of beating a Souls-series boss. And the addition of a grappling hook makes the verticality of Sekiro’s level design fascinating.

I dunno. I feel like there’s more here I’d enjoy, if I ever manage to push through the barriers. Maybe — as I finally did with the first Dark Souls, over a year after its release — someday I will.

8. Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order

In December, my wife and I traveled to Newport Beach for a family wedding, and we stayed an extra day to visit Disneyland. As an early birthday present, Aubrey bought me the experience of building a lightsaber in Galaxy’s Edge. And the experience is definitely what you’re paying for; the lightsaber itself is cool, but it’s cool because it’s made from parts I selected, with a blade color I chose, and I got to riff and banter with in-character park employees while doing it. (“Can you actually read those?” one asked me in an awed voice, when I selected a lightsaber hilt portion adorned with ancient Jedi runes. “Not yet,” I told her. “We’ll see if the Force can teach me.”)

Maybe it’s because I just had that experience, but by far my favorite moment in Jedi: Fallen Order is when main character Cal Kestis overcomes his own fears and memories to forge his own lightsaber, using a kyber crystal that calls to him personally. It’s maybe the only part of the game that made me feel like a Jedi, in a way the hours of Souls-inspired lightsaber slashing didn’t.

I think that’s telling. And I think it’s because so much of Fallen Order is derivative of other works, both in the current canon of gaming and of Star Wars. That’s not to say it’s bad — the mélange of Uncharted/Tomb Raider traversal, combat that evokes Souls and God of War, and vaguely Metroid-y power acquisition and exploration mostly works — but it’s just a titch less than the sum of those parts.

Similarly, as a Star Wars story, it feels under-baked. There’s potential in exploring the period immediately after Order 66 and the Jedi purge, but you only see glimpses of that. And I understand the difficulty of telling a story where the characters succeed but in a way that doesn’t affect established canon, but it still seemed like there were a couple of missed opportunities at touching base with the larger Star Wars universe. (And the one big reference that does pop up at the end feels forced and unrealistic.)

When I got home from California, I took my lightsaber apart just to see how it all worked. Outside of the hushed tones and glowing lights of Savi’s Workshop, it seems a little less special. It’s still really cool…but I sort of wish I had had a wider variety of parts to choose from. And that I had bought some of the other crystal colors. Just in case.

That’s how I feel about Jedi: Fallen Order. I had fun with it. But it’s easier now to see the parts for what they are.

7. Untitled Goose Game

Aubrey and I first saw this game at PAX, at a booth which charmingly recreated the garden of the game’s first level. We were instantly smitten, and as I’ve introduced it to family and friends, they’ve all had the same reaction. When we visited my brother’s family in Florida over the holidays, my eight-year-old niece and nephew peppered me with questions about some of the more complex puzzles. Even my father, whose gaming experience basically topped out at NES Open Tournament Golf in 1991, gave it a shot.

I’m not sure I have a lot more to say here, other than a few bullet points:

1) I love that Untitled Goose Game is completely nonviolent. It would’ve been easy to add a “peck” option as another gameplay verb, another means of mischief. (And, from what I understand, it would be entirely appropriate, given the aggression of actual geese.) That the developers resisted this is refreshing.

2) I’m glad a game this size can have such a wide reach, and that it doesn’t have to be a platform exclusive.

3) Honk.

6. Tetris 99

Despite the number of hours I’ve spent playing games, and the variety of genres that time has spanned, I’m not much for competitive gaming. This is partially because the competitive aspect of my personality has waned with age, and partially because I am extremely bad at most multiplayer games.

The one exception to this is Tetris.

I am a Tetris GOD.

Of course, that’s an incredible overstatement. Now that I’ve seen real Ecstasy of Order, Grandmaster-level Tetris players, I realize how mediocre I am. But in my real, actual life, I have never found anyone near my skill level. In high school, I would bring two Game Boys, two copies of Tetris, and a link cable on long bus rides to marching band competitions, hoping to find willing challengers. The Game Boys themselves became very popular. Playing me did not.

Prior to Tetris 99, the only version of the game that gave me any shred of humility in a competitive sense was Tetris DS, where Japanese players I found online routinely handed me my ass. I held my own, too, but that was the first time in my life when I wasn’t light-years beyond any opponent.

As time passed and internet gaming and culture became more accessible, I soon realized I was nowhere near the true best Tetris players in the world. Which was okay by me. I’m happy to be a big fish in a small pond, in pretty much all aspects of my life.

Tetris 99 has given me a perfectly sized pond. I feel like I’m a favorite to win every round I play, and I usually finish in the top 10 or higher. But it’s also always a challenge, because there’s just enough metagame to navigate. Have I targeted the right enemies? Do I have enough badges to make my Tetrises hit harder? Can I stay below the radar for long enough? These aspects go beyond and combine with the fundamental piece-dropping in a way I absolutely love.

The one thing I haven’t done yet is win an Invictus match (a mode reserved only for those who have won a standard 99-player match). But it’s only a matter of time.

5. Pokemon Sword/Shield

I don’t think I’ve played a Pokemon game through to completion since the originals. I always buy them, but I always seem to lose steam halfway through. But I finished Shield over the holidays, and I had a blast doing it.

Because I’m a mostly casual Pokeplayer, the decision to not include every ‘mon in series history didn’t bother me at all. I really enjoyed learning about new Pokemon and forcing myself to try moving away from my usual standards. (Although I did still use a Gyarados in my final team.)

As a fan of English soccer, the stadium-centric, British-flavored setting also contributed to my desire to see the game through. Changing into my uniform and walking onto a huge, grassy pitch, with tens of thousands of cheering fans looking on, really did give me a different feeling than battles in past games, which always seemed to be in weird, isolated settings.

I’m not sure I’ll push too far into the postgame; I’ve never felt the need to catch ‘em all. But I had a great time with the ones I caught.

4. The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening

I have a strange relationship with the Zelda series, especially now. They are my wife’s favorite games of all time. But I don’t know if I’ve ever actually sat down and beaten one since the original Link’s Awakening. Even with Breath of the Wild, which I adore, I was content to watch Aubrey do the heavy lifting. I know the series well, I’ve played bits of all of them, but most haven’t stuck with me.

Link’s Awakening has. I wrote a piece once about its existential storytelling and how it affected me as a child. I love the way the graphics in this remake preserve that dreamlike quality. It’s pretty much a re-skin of the original game, but the cutesy, toy-set aesthetic pairs well with the heavy material. If this is all a dream, whose dream is it? And when we wake up, what happens to it?

Truthfully, some of the puzzles and design decisions haven’t held up super well. Despite the fresh coat of paint, it definitely feels like a 25-year-old game. But I’m so glad this version exists.

Oh, and that solo clarinet in the Mabe Village theme? *Chef’s kiss*

3. Control

I actually haven’t seen a lot of the influences Control wears on its sleeve. I’ve never gone completely through all the episodes of the X-Files, Fringe, and Twin Peaks; I’m only vaguely familiar with the series of “creepypasta” fiction called SCP Foundation; and I have never endeavored to sit through a broadcast of Coast to Coast AM. I’m also unfamiliar with Remedy’s best-known work in the genre, Alan Wake. But I know enough about all those works to be able to identify their inspiration on the Federal Bureau of Control, Jesse Faden, and the Oldest House.

Control is an interesting game to recommend (which I do), because I’m not sure how much I really enjoyed its combat. For most of the game, it’s a pretty standard third-person shooter. You can’t snap to cover, which indicates you’re intended to stay on the move. This becomes even more obvious when you gain the ability to air dash and fly. But you do need to use cover, because Jesse doesn’t have much health even at the end of the game. So combat encounters can get out of hand quickly, and there’s little incentive to keep fighting enemies in the late game. Yet they respawn at a frustratingly frequent rate. The game’s checkpointing system compounds this — you only respawn at “control points,” which act like Souls-style bonfires. This leads to some unfortunately tedious runbacks after boss fights.

On the other hand, Jesse’s telekinesis power always feels fantastic, and varying your attacks between gunshots, thrown objects, melee, and mind controlling enemies can be frenetic fun. That all comes to a head in the game’s combat (and perhaps aesthetic?) high point, the Ashtray Maze. To say more would be doing a disservice. It’s awesome.

The rest of the gameplay is awesome, too — and I do call it “gameplay,” though unfortunately you don’t have many options for affecting the world beyond violence. The act of exploring the Oldest House and scouring it for bureaucratic case files, audio recordings, and those unbelievably creepy “Threshold Kids” videos is pure joy. The way the case files are redacted leaves just enough to the imagination, and the idea of a federal facility being built on top of and absorbed into a sort of nexus of interdimensional weirdness is perfectly executed. And what’s up with that motel? And the alien, all-seeing, vaguely sinister Board? So cool.

With such great worldbuilding, I did wish for a little more player agency. There are no real dialogue choices — no way to imbue Jesse with any character traits beyond what’s pre-written for her — and only one ending. This kind of unchecked weird science is the perfect environment for forcing the player into difficult decisions (what do we study? How far is too far? How do we keep it all secret?), and that just isn’t part of the game at all. Which is fine — Control isn’t quite an immersive sim like Prey, and it’s not trying to be. I just see some similarities and potential, and I wish they had been explored a little.

But Control’s still a fantastic experience, and in any other year, it probably would’ve been my number one pick. That’s how good these next two games are.

2. Outer Wilds

Honestly, this is the best game of 2019. But I’m not listing it as number one because I didn’t play most of it — Aubrey did. Usually we play everything together; even if we’re not passing a controller back and forth, one of us will watch while the other one plays. And that definitely happened for a large chunk of Outer Wilds. But Aubrey did make some key discoveries while I was otherwise occupied, so while I think it’s probably the best game, it’s not the one I personally spent the most time with.

The time I did spend, though? Wow. From the moment you wake up at the campfire and set off in search of your spaceship launch codes, it’s clear that this is a game that revels in discovery. Discovery for its own sake, for the furthering of knowledge, for the protection of others, for the sheer fun of it. Some games actively discourage players from asking the question, “Hey, what’s that over there?” Outer Wilds begs you to ask it, and then rewards you not with treasure or statistical growth, but with the opportunity to ask again, about something even more wondrous and significant.

There are so many memorable moments of discovery in this game. The discovery that, hey, does that sun look redder to you than it used to? The discovery that, whoa, why did I wake up where I started after seemingly dying in space? Your first trip through a black hole. Your first trip to the quantum moon. Your first trip to the weird, bigger-on-the-inside fog-filled heart of a certain dark, brambly place. (Aubrey won’t forget that any time soon.)

They take effort, those moments. They do have to be earned, and it isn’t easy. Your spaceship flies like it looks: sketchy, taped together, powered by ingenuity and, like, marshmallows, probably. Some of the leaps you have to make — both of intuition and of jetpack — are a little too far. (We weren’t too proud to look up a couple hints when we were truly stuck.) But in the tradition of the best adventure games (which is what this is, at heart), you have everything you need right from the beginning. All you have to do is gather the knowledge to understand it and put it into action.

And beyond those moments of logical and graphical discovery, there’s real emotion and pathos, too. As you explore the remnants of the lost civilization that preceded yours, your only method of communication is reading their writing. And as you do, you start to get a picture of them not just as individuals (who fight, flirt, and work together to help each other), but as a species whose boundless thirst for discovery was their greatest asset, highest priority, undoing, and salvation, all at once.

I don’t think I can say much more without delving into spoilers, or retreading ground others have covered. (Go read Austin Walker’s beautiful and insightful review for more.) It’s an incredible game, and one everyone with even a passing interest in the medium should try.

(Last thing: Yes, I manually flew to the Sun Station and got inside. No, I don’t recommend it.)

1. Fire Emblem: Three Houses

If I hadn’t just started a replay of this game, I don’t think I’d be listing it in the number one slot. I started a replay because I showed it to my brother when we visited him in Florida last month, and immediately, all the old feelings came flooding back. I needed another hit.

No game this year has been as compelling for me. That’s an overused word in entertainment criticism, but I mean it literally: There have been nights where I absolutely HAVE to keep playing (much to Aubrey’s dismay). One more week of in-game time. One more study session to raise a skill rank. One more meal together so I can recruit another student. One more battle. Just a little longer.

I’m not sure I can put my finger on the source of that compulsion. Part of it is the excellence of craftsmanship on display; if any technical or creative aspect of Three Houses was less polished than it is, I probably wouldn’t feel so drawn to it. But the two big answers, I think, are the characters and their growth, both mechanically and narratively.

At the start of the game, you pick one of the titular three houses to oversee as professor. While this choice defines who you’ll have in your starting party, that can be mitigated later, as almost every other student from the other two houses can be recruited to join yours. What you’re really choosing is which perspective you’ll see the events of the story from, and through whose eyes: Edelgard of the Black Eagles, Dimitri of the Blue Lions, or Claude of the Golden Deer. (This is also why the game almost demands at least three playthroughs.)

These three narratives are deftly written so you simultaneously feel like you made the only possible canonical choice, while also sowing questions into your decision-making. Edelgard’s furious desire for change is just but perhaps not justifiable; Dimitri hides an obsession with revenge behind a façade of noblesse oblige; Claude is more conniving and pragmatic than he lets on. No matter who you side with, you’ll eventually have to face the others. And everyone can make a case that they, not you, are on the right side.

This is especially effective because almost every character in Three Houses is dealing with a legacy of war and violence. A big theme of the game’s story is how those experiences inform and influence the actions of the victims. What steps are justified to counteract such suffering? How do you break the cycle if you can’t break the power structures that perpetuate it? How do good people end up fighting for bad causes?

While you and your child soldiers (yeah, you do kind of have to just skip over that part; they’re in their late teens, at least? Still not good enough, but could be worse?) are grappling with these questions, they’re also growing in combat strength, at your direction. This is the part that really grabbed me and my lizard brain — watching those numbers get bigger was unbelievably gratifying. Each character class has certain skill requirement prerequisites, and as professor, you get to define how your students meet those requirements, and which they focus on. Each student has certain innate skills, but they also have hidden interests that only come to the surface with guidance. A character who seems a shoo-in to serve as a white mage might secretly make an incredibly effective knight; someone who seems destined for a life as a swordsman suddenly shows a talent for black magic. You can lean into their predilections, or go against them, with almost equal efficacy.

For me, this was the best part of Three Houses, and the part that kept me up long after my wife had gone to bed. Planning a student’s final battle role takes far-seeing planning and preparation, and each step along the way felt thrilling. How can you not forge a connection with characters you’ve taken such pains to help along the way? How can you not explode with joy when they reach their goals?

That’s the real draw of Fire Emblem: Three Houses, I think: the joy of seeing people you care about grow, while simultaneously confronting those you once cared about, but who followed another path. No wonder I wanted to start another playthrough. I think I’ll be starting them all over again for a long time.

1 note · View note

kiruuuuu · 6 years ago

Text

Dearest @nutbrain, I wish you also a happy birthday and all the best 💗💗 Thank you for sharing and discussing ideas and for your neverending support and kind words. This is partly a birthday gift and partly a retaliation in our kindness war, and I do hope you like it :)

In this, Bandit asks a djinn-like Doc to help win a war. Or: a lot of things are impossible. No explicit ships but you can use your imagination! (Rating G, fantasy AU, ~13k words)

Doc is summoned to oppressive heat.

The ritual, as always, he could’ve done without – his essence is being compressed and forced into an imperfect, almost laughable body incapable of representing his true self, the process far from comfortable. Organs are rearranged, replaced, removed, limbs melt together to form two legs to stand on, two arms; fur regresses and makes place for naked skin and fabric materialises seemingly out of thin air to match his last excursion’s fashion: deep blue adorns him as a vest, puffy grey surrounds his lower half.

It’s disorienting but that’s nothing new: taking on the form of a human usually leaves him light-headed and struggling to compose himself for a few seconds. Their sense of balance is inferior, as is their method of communicating – if he’s honest, he finds most about them distasteful, from their thinking to their deeds and yet they happen to inhabit the sweetest space of all. Breathing clean, fresh air is pure bliss, as is feeling sand and dust between his toes, the gravity just right to allow for actual jumps even in this frail body. How he loves being here and how he despises having to deal with this race of selfish, bloodthirsty predators.

Once his eyes have adapted to the brightness assaulting him (and even this is ultimately better than any alternative, he enjoys the sun), he looks around curiously to face those who decided to call upon him.

He’s confronted with just one man.

Where’s the committee, where are the sacrificial offerings? Doc is used to lavish surroundings, the secluded wing of a cathedral, a peaceful clearing in a forest, next to a gentle stream inside a decorated cave – instead he finds himself in a nondescript landscape, dunes in the distance, no more than shrubs in view which suggests they’re high up North, near the sweltering deserts of death. He’s been summoned behind a tent like a secret lover, not like the deity as which he’s normally revered.

The more he lets his gaze wander, the more indignation rises: the summoning circle below his feet has been scratched into the dry, cracked ground instead of being carefully painted on by calligraphers, there seems to be no food ready for him whatsoever and on top of that, the man looks like a mercenary. A closer look prompts Doc to correct himself, no, not a mercenary, he’s wearing a crest of some kind with pride, though his dirt-coloured clothing is ripped, his sandals stained, his sword dull and his skin marred. It’s clear what he is, becomes even clearer when Doc takes notice of more and evermore tents behind him, catches sight of other men and women clad similarly to the one before him.

“I offer you my greetings”, comes only part of the usual phrases uttered whenever Doc or one of his brethren are dragged into this world, “it is the fifth year of the scorpion, following forty-six years of the snake following one hundred and twenty-six years of the fly. We are near the numeric ocean, two days’ journey east of the capital of Qina, formerly the province of -”

Doc nods and the man stops his history lesson. He now knows when and where they are, though there still is no indication as to why.

“They call me Bandit, it’s an honour.” Instead of a bow or a similarly respectful gesture, he receives nothing. “You may speak.”

“You don’t look Qinean”, Doc states sharply as soon as he feels some of the tingling around him dissipate. For right now, he’s at its mercy, unable to act or leave either way, so he makes his words count.

“That is correct, I’m Rangiin Kamaan. The highest general there is.”

“Why do you require my services?”

A shadow flits over the man’s face but his piercing gaze doesn’t lower. He’s a prideful one, if he dares to summon the likes of Doc without an appropriate welcome – prideful, foolish and arrogant. “We are losing a war”, he replies quietly.

“Isn’t that a shame.” It comes as no surprise. He might not have visited this part of the continent in decades, possibly centuries, and yet humans are the same everywhere, all of them open books with the same kind of boring story on display. Envy, ire, hurt, arrogance – it’s all the same, whether it’s a dispute between neighbours or a widespread conflict involving more than just two nations.

Bandit seems dissatisfied with his lack of compassion but forces an easy grin nonetheless. “I don’t like being on the loser’s side. So I thought I’d ask for help. You’re good with anatomy, isn’t that right? You know how to eviscerate someone? Make them die a slow, painful death? The most efficient kinds of poison?”

“You”, Doc spits back, hardly masking his disdain, “are a warmonger. I know your kind. Do you even know who stands before you?”

“Someone who is glad to be here.” They glare at each other, neither of them backing down. They’ve reached an impasse: Doc cannot exit this world of his own accord, not with the circle intact, and Bandit wants him to cooperate which he will refuse to do. “The knowledge of summoning you has been passed down in my family and with it, your earthly name. You are Doc, one of the ancient ones, able yet often unwilling to assist us.”

“My powers are of restoration”, Doc adds with venom, “not destruction. I refuse to utilise them according to the wishes of a murderer and furthermore, I have always refrained in changing the tide of battle as have most of my kin. If your army is losing, perhaps it would’ve been wise not to go to war in the first place.”

“We had no choice -”

“There is always a choice!” More glaring. Doc silently both commends the human for his bravery and condemns him for his insolence. If he knew exactly who Doc is, he must’ve been overconfident or desperate to call on him regardless – he’s known for upholding the balance others of his kind with inferior standing might upset, known for healing rather than harming. He is no help in a war, neither willing nor capable to lend assistance and therefore surmises this foreign army is on the brink of being eradicated. “Why do you wish to conquer land which isn’t yours? Why do you cause death?”

It’s meant rhetorically, in Doc’s experience there’s only one answer: power. Expansion of territory, pre-emptive strikes, tactical weakening of potential opponents. Whatever it is, wars are never started out of just reasons. Even so, what he expected to see on the man’s face was a sneer maybe, anger too, thought he’d be confronted with a defensive stance or a self-righteous smirk. Instead – there’s nothing. A careful stony façade pulled up to hide emotions, probably practised over the years. “We won’t come to an agreement like this”, he states very correctly. “Yet I can’t let you roam free without making sure you’re not going to join our enemies instead. You’re able to do that, right?”

Doc confirms wordlessly. Enlisting his services requires knowledge of his name and other details, a meticulously drawn summoning circle, strong willpower and constitution and a keen mind. Carrying the burden of being the anchor tying a being as powerful as Doc to this world is far from easy and negotiating terms with him usually demands either for a pure heart and earnest intentions – or hidden cunning. He’s been deceived in the past, involuntarily participated in horrendous acts which have long since been lost to time; in some cases, he helped humanity forget about his unintentional crimes. He has since become considerably more reluctant to act. But yes, compared to his weaker kindred spirits, he can exert his will much more freely, even act against his summoner’s wishes and orders, against their agreement. So Bandit is exercising necessary caution in not entering a verbal contract and therefore setting Doc free.

It’s possible that his family preserved the knowledge of just how much Doc relishes his stays in this world and he’s abusing it by allowing him to taste the sweet air, feel a soft breeze caress his temporary silhouette – dangling a carrot in front of him, in a way, until Doc gives in at least partially. He has a pronounced sense of honour. If he promises to stay and assess the situation, he’ll stay.

“How about this? It’s morning now. If I haven’t convinced you by sunset that we not only require but deserve your help, I will set you free.”

A cocky proposition. Also extremely improbable, given the lacklustre greeting Doc received as well as Bandit’s questionable status and rotten attitude. Nevertheless, he’s giving Doc an out, offering him to set foot into his world properly without tricking him. At least that’s what it looks like. “Those are your terms? As long as you do not expect me to interfere in any way, I am willing to grant you more time.”

Bandit pauses. He doesn’t strike Doc as the anxious type and yet he shifts his weight uneasily, his eyes flitting from object to object for a second. “Let’s say tonight for now.”

“Accepted”, Doc replies and watches as the half-hearted circle by his feet shifts, begins glowing in a rich orange and contracts, dragging the elaborate symbols with it towards the human shape in their midst, crawling up his bare soles, past his ankles and diving under his saroual. Though intangible by itself, the fizzing around him ceases and he can now be sure not to lose a few toes or possibly more if he takes a step forwards. It’s a little like surfacing after having been underwater: he inhales deeply, shakes out his limbs and inspects the cracks lining his skin. They’re vein-like, almost akin to a precious metal shimmering through and of a bright, warm colour; they keep him manifested in this plane of existence. Sometimes, they’re more prominent than his skin, brutish and ugly in their primitiveness, but now they’re thin and look almost elegant. It seems Bandit knows what he’s doing.

“I have something to show you before I answer your questions”, Bandit announces and turns towards the camp.

During the short walk, Doc sates his curiosity about the rest of the continent by allowing his companion to elaborate on the events shaping the past decades. Some empires have gained or lost land, kingdoms have emerged or fallen, but he’s pleased to hear that the people inhabiting the eastern part of the central mountain range cutting the continent in half are flourishing. He helped them gain independence from all surrounding nations by arguing that their rocky terrain has nothing of value to offer and that they’d be willing to trade for goods which they can produce more easily than anyone else due to experience – in the end, they were permitted to establish their own laws and customs based on what their members deemed sensible. Doc enjoyed aiding them, especially since they welcome curious guests, migrants or refugees with open arms and teach them to carry their own weight should they decide to stay.

Much to his surprise, Bandit speaks of them favourably instead of with sarcasm, so he inquires about his own nation. He has never heard of the name Rangiin Kamaan before. Formerly part of the once glorious empire of Qina which used to span almost the entire width of the continent, from one ocean to the other, it’s now independent, became one of Qina’s smaller neighbours. He never paid this region much heed as they generally followed whichever trend allowed them to survive at the time and involvement in any of the Great Wars was minimal. Bandit speaks with reverence of a kind ruler who inspires his people by practising what he preaches yet Doc doesn’t assume he’ll get to speak with him any time soon. Weak Kings like this one tend to either die early in war or avoid fighting altogether.

“I still do not understand”, he interrupts Bandit’s wordy speech. They’ve come to a stop beside a huge tent, the largest one Doc spotted during their trip. The camp itself is well-organised and kept neat, hardly any soldier is simply lounging around or even pausing to stare at him (which in itself is nothing short of a miracle – is this nation so accustomed to the likes of him?), their uniforms seem practical and the men and women determined. Iron discipline is indubitably a requirement yet Doc fails to spot any hint of dissatisfaction with their conditions. It seems they’re all convinced their cause is virtuous. “Qina by far exceeds your troop strength, has more allies and resources and, though not the force it once was, still possesses the strategical knowledge to easily outmanoeuvre you. What do you hope to gain by fighting?”

“See for yourself.” Bandit indicates the entrance next to them. “I won’t be following you but take your time, I’ll wait.”

Doc eyes him suspiciously yet can’t imagine a way how this mere human could trick him simply by entering a tent, so he obliges and steps through the protective flaps keeping some of the heat outside.

It’s a field hospital. This fact alone is hardly noteworthy but the size of it is unproportional to the amount of soldiers he’s seen so far – surely, if this many resources are necessary to patch up wounded troops, they’re better off giving up. Not only that, literally all the improvised beds are occupied with people who at first glance don’t display any injuries, few bandages visible, hardly any limbs missing. And yet they’re tormented by something, trembling and shivering, some of them curled up and moaning quietly, others passed out entirely. Helpers hurry from person to person in bustling activity and still, they seem unable to relieve whichever ailment plagues their brothers and sisters. All they offer is emotional support, some food and water, a soothing hand on heated or clammy skin.

The atmosphere is suffocating. It reeks of sweat and disease and the collective whimpers and groans make for a pitiful cacophony. All the impressions are strengthened by the stale air and assault Doc’s senses. He’s seen worse, walked among the plague-ridden and witnessed open mass graves, and yet the suffering here is sharp, tangible, spreads further in his lungs the longer he resides. An impulse takes hold of him, urges him to leave instead of investigating more closely but he squashes it before it grows irresistible. He knows he’s too kind. He knows he’s guilty of giving humanity the benefit of the doubt entirely too often, despite all.

Looking for answers, he steps up to the nearest helper, a tall, broad-shouldered man tending to a grim-looking muscular young woman whose clenched fists are shaking. “What is going on?”, he addresses both of them softly.

As soon as the man catches sight of him, he interrupts his whispering to bow in respect. “Great One, I offer you my greetings and joyous thanks to be graced with your -”

Doc holds up a hand to silence him. With Bandit readily answering his questions more like an equal than the puny creature he is, the otherwise so pleasant-sounding phrases have become hollow to his ears. He’s always enjoyed the awe he seemed to inspire, enjoyed the way humans cowered before him, asked for permission to speak, praised him and treated whatever he said as sacred. Right now, however, it feels oddly out of place after the light conversation earlier. He wonders whether this is the so-called vanity one of his kin once accused him of. “No more of this.”

“I apologise. In my experience, Bandit struggles a tad with common courtesy, so I thought you might appreciate an official greeting. My name is Monty, it’s an honour.”

The man’s smile is warm and youthful and Doc suddenly understands why he doesn’t mind the frankness and general nonchalance with which his presence is being met as much as he thought: it’s a good sign that he’s getting an authentic insight into these people’s lives instead of being shown a carefully staged play intended to sway him the desired way.

“If circumstances were different, you’d be offered a banquet to rival all you’ve had before but rations are tight enough already.” He turns back to the woman and massages her upper arm, loosening the tension in it a bit. “It’s going to start working soon, relax. You’ll be alright. Sleep will help. Will you allow the Great One to examine you? I assume that’s why you’re here?”

Blue eyes peer at him, similarly unwavering to Bandit’s – yet where the warlord’s gaze had been firm and at times even cold, this man’s is confident and calm. He seems pleasant to be around, much more composed than the other people flitting about the field hospital. Once the woman has affirmed her cooperation, Doc reaches out for her hand, gently uncurls her fingers and takes them between his – wounded, humans strike him as fragile and delicate, like a young animal which overestimated its abilities. He has mercy on the weak and injured, has always shown compassion for the unfortunate even if he likened it to nurturing a snake. By helping humanity, he probably aids it in harming itself further.

The almost golden cracks running over his skin brighten as soon as he heightens his senses but he pays no attention to the familiar sight, instead closing his eyes to see with his mind. A heartbeat overlays his and thumps until both have synchronised, his lungs fill with air at the same time the woman’s do, his sense of gravity flips, the temperature increases even more – and then he barely resists making a noise when they finally melt together.

The pain is blinding.

He’s trying not to upset her, so he keeps quiet and doesn’t cause her throat to produce sound without her approval, yet it gets more difficult with every passing second. He needs to be quick about it. Her organs are weakened, some of them not working as they should, her pulse is quickened, skin sensitive and sore, muscles only just shy of cramping, her head muddled – though this might be the aforementioned medicine – and above all is brilliant, cutting pain. Its origin, however, remains a mystery, no matter how much he searches. He calms her racing heart, removes the exhaustion holding her back, but it’s obvious he’s merely addressing symptoms and not the cause. There are no broken bones, no disease nesting in an unexpected part of her body, nothing he can pinpoint.

Nothing he can cure.

Puzzled, he does whatever he can for her and withdraws once she’s fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. Separating their physical senses is uncomfortable as usual, like leaving a warm bath to throw himself into the icy white desert of the South. He’s sat down on the bed without realising and looks down on the tormented body, watches as a mere minute later, the tension returns.

He’s powerless. Utterly incapable of healing whatever is slowly eroding this human in front of him.

“Would you like something to drink?”

It’s the man again, someone so filled with a sense of duty that he left Doc by his patient’s side to help others in the meantime. Mutely, he nods, accepts the mug handed to him and shudders as he feels the liquid fill his mouth, slide down his throat, arrive in his stomach. Ingesting anything for the first time in this form is usually a joy but as refreshing as the water is, the shock dampens the experience. “What is this?”, he wants to know quietly, gesturing at the entirety of the tent. “How did it come to this?”

Monty deflates visibly and follows his gaze with a defeated sigh. “We call it the divine disease. A second visit at night would reveal why.”

Following his implicit instructions, Doc leans down, blocks out the sunlight with his hands and looks at the woman’s hand in his little bubble of darkness. Her veins are glowing.

The light they give off is faint and barely comparable to the one emanating from Doc yet it’s undoubtedly there, the shimmering turquoise unnatural and unexpected. He’s never seen anything like it before. It’s the same further up on her arm, seems to follow her bloodstream and yet he failed to detect any trace of its source. “This is impossible”, he blurts out before considering his remark – the last thing he needs is to cause a panic.

“Unfortunately, it isn’t.” Monty sounds as if this wasn’t the first time he’s had to convince someone.

“Tell me all you know.”

Another sigh. The woman between them twitches in her sleep, brows drawn together in agony. “It has several stages and begins with inexplicable pain. The initial location varies from person to person but over time, it affects the entire body, causing fatigue and severely inhibiting the afflicted, though the ultimate effects once again vary. One has gone blind, another developed a rash, there have been rotting limbs, muscle atrophy, tremors. The only common ground is the pale blue light, persistent aching and the fact that we don’t know how to cure it.”

Doc shoots up without a reply and approaches a different bed, this time with a whimpering, older man. His eyes widen once he catches sight of the orange markings denoting Doc as a higher being but doesn’t manage to utter a syllable as Doc forcibly fuses their sensations, barely avoiding throwing up in the process due to the suddenness of it. No, his powers are working the way he expects them to – he clearly is aware of all the differences between this body and the last one, instinctively repairs a few things here and there, closes a scratch on the man’s shin, rejuvenates his liver and tries to block out the omnipresent pain which presents a solid foundation to all other sensations. It’s the same as before, he finds nothing wrong except for everything being wrong somehow.

He’s frazzled, pulls back too fast and sways unsteadily until a hand rests on his shoulder. This can’t be. He’s never encountered anything like it. Just to make sure, he invades Monty as well, takes careful note of his regular heartbeat and breathing, apparently not at all perturbed by Doc’s behaviour. He’s in good shape, even better than the two soldiers, and yet Doc finds some things to improve, restores an awkwardly healed rib to its intended state, rids the man of all exhaustion and slight dizziness from spending all day in the stuffy tent, looks for any indication that his own abilities just aren’t the same as they used to be. But there’s nothing. No sign of the illness and therefore his powers are the same as always.

They’re both light-headed when he severs the connection abruptly and his tongue won’t obey him fully yet, causing him to slur his next words: “Is it contagious?”

To his credit, Monty remains by his side, doesn’t subconsciously distance himself from Doc despite the indubitably uncomfortable experience he must’ve just had. Doc shouldn’t be surprised, he’s noticed before that humans who devote their life to helping others tend to be much more agreeable. “Yes”, he responds after a short pause. “Though we don’t know how. Physical contact is necessary but not sufficient – I seem to be largely immune, for example. Some others are, too.”

Doc’s shock is still at the forefront of his mind. There hasn’t been an earthly ailment he wasn’t able to fix, some more easily than others, so this is inconceivable. He turns and marches out of the tent, feeling oddly sullied as if he had contracted the ‘divine disease’, as they called it, himself. A mockery, even an offence to all he stands for.

Bandit is yelling at a few young warriors when bright sunlight greets him again, but dismisses them immediately when he meets Doc’s dismayed gaze, turning towards him with a grim smile.

“Answers”, Doc demands with gritted teeth.

“I have but one to give.” He pauses momentarily and Doc almost grabs his neck to shake it out of him. “You wanted to know why we’re fighting Qina? Well.” Bandit’s expression hardens. “They have the cure.”

~*~

“This is preposterous”, Doc barks at the other man while walking back and forth, making no effort to conceal his indignation. “What you’re claiming is impossible.”

“And yet here we are.” Bandit inexplicably seems bored with their conversation, focusing more on sharpening his sword than on Doc’s words.

“None of us would ever go this far, no matter how much we’d believe to be in the right. You hear me? None. This must be a, I don’t know, a whim! Or an accident. Nature made an unfortunate mistake!”

“Nature has produced a variety of abominations of all kinds, I’ll give you that, but shouldn’t you be able to heal it in that case? You can take pain away, so why not this one?”

He’s fuming over Bandit’s accusations, can barely think straight. If he hadn’t seen, even felt the illness himself, he’d have silenced him on the spot, removed his tongue or his vocal chords, possibly made him die a slow and painful death for his open disrespect. As things stand, he experienced it himself, his curiosity urging him to find answers – but vehemently rejecting the one Bandit offered him. “Maybe my influence on this world has lessened. Maybe the passing of time weakened my powers to the point where I’m unable to adapt to this new malady. It might just be an odd coincidence.”

“It is not and you know it isn’t, I saw that look in your eye when you left the tent, you know it’s -”

“Do not dare to speak it one more time. I will wipe you off the face of this earth if you even imply it once more.”

Bandit drops his sword with a clatter, expression furious. “Threaten me all you want, it’s the most obvious explanation. This fucking disease which has caused so much suffering and death already, this plague which is killing the very people I have vowed to protect, is otherworldly and caused by a so-called ‘Great One’.”

Like a cornered animal, he lashes out without considering the consequences, and, like a rabid animal, he needs to be put down. Doc has come into contact with enough heresy committed by humans to know he’s not going to change his mind, but has never faced it quite as directly and bluntly as this. Blind rage seizes him, propels him forward and convinces him to try and touch Bandit anywhere so he can ravage his organs, eviscerate him from the inside out, find what’s most precious to him and gouge it out. His eyes maybe? His fingers?

The human displays an impressive reaction time, ducking away with a pale face full of terror, jumping aside yet not running away for some reason Doc can’t discern. He holds him in place with the sheer force of his will, feels an oddly triumphant excitement rise in him when Bandit realises he’s trapped standing up, incapable of moving his muscles. Doc approaches him, raises a hand and touches his temple, eager to maim and make this worm bleed, eager to -

“Wait.”

He pauses, unmoving. Bandit still looks terrified, eyelids fluttering and deathly pallid, but his eyes aren’t directed at Doc anymore. “I do not believe anything you have to say could change my mind”, Doc states loudly. Only now he realises that no one else is in sight, no wandering soldiers staring at them, no living creature visible except for Bandit and, behind Doc’s back, Monty. It says a lot about a leader when his own troops abandon him as easily as this.

“Please, show mercy. And let him explain. You’ve witnessed how my kinsmen suffer, and I don’t think you’ll give up on them so soon.”

Doc deliberates his words. He considers himself merciful, that much is true, and he wants to find a solution for this odd disease, though not for either of their sakes. Still, he removes his hold, takes a step back and watches as Bandit sags in relief. Of course he pretends not to have been affected as much as he was, waves Monty’s concerns aside but leans into his casual touch nonetheless when he checks up on him. His small smile is grateful and Doc doesn’t miss the way his gaze lingers when the tall man turns back to Doc.

“Maybe it’ll make you reconsider hearing that you’re not the first one he’s asked for help.”

“I imagine you’ve appealed to doctors all over the continent”, he responds with a shrug but is confused to receive a shake of the head.

“You’re the eighth”, Bandit admits. “I’ve summoned seven others before you.”

“That’s -” Impossible, he almost says once again. Wordlessly, Bandit lifts the hem of his top and reveals several scars on his abdomen which by themselves wouldn’t be remarkable if not for their blackened state; inflamed-looking tendrils crawling away from the wound, the dark colour sickening. Doc knows what kind of being leaves such marks. He knows because he’s inflicted them before.

“We acquired knowledge of eight of your kind, I summoned them to cure the disease or aid us in battle, and all of them refused. One of them left me this present. You’re the last one.”

Leaving aside the fact that Doc was convinced calling upon his kind several times in a row would lethally exhaust humans, this means that Bandit is currently managing to both recover from a wound like this and keep Doc anchored in this world. He must possess a greater strength and willpower than he was aware. Even so, this isn’t the time to marvel at an insignificant human’s abilities. “Why?”, he demands to know.

The two men glance at each other uncertainly. They’re familiar with each other, affectionate enough that Monty would step in and risk his life to possibly save Bandit’s, and Doc wonders whether it really was coincidence that he ended up talking to the taller one in the field hospital or whether it was carefully orchestrated. He does not see a way as to how it could be reliably achieved and therefore decides that Monty is simply someone with whom Bandit works together a lot and well. He certainly seems to cultivate close relations with the soldiers under his command, if his casual remarks to the people around him are anything to go by.

“Why did they refuse?”, he clarifies.

“I don’t know. One pretended to be bored, another claimed it was beneath her, and the most recent one said we weren’t in the right, the scales not tipped in our favour.”

“Is that so?” Doc’s eyes narrow. “Because assuming you speak the truth, there is no reason for either of them to ignore your plight. A small nation which will die a slow death seeking help from a much larger ally, being denied unjustly and then attempting to save itself warrants our meddling. Your continued existence doesn’t upset the status quo while your demise might have far-reaching consequences. None of us would decline.”

Bandit catches on first. “You’re calling us liars.”

“Not necessarily. Maybe my kind knew more than they let on. Explain to me once again why you believe that the Qinean empire possesses the remedy you seek.” Now that his immediate fury has calmed, Doc is determined to uncover the solution to this mystery. Even on the other side, he rarely communicates with his brethren but is steadfastly convinced they act the same way he does and fell sensible decisions when determining the fate of humanity as a whole. If they refrained from aiding Bandit’s people, they must have good reason to doubt his story.

“Publicly, they deny any connection to or even knowledge of the divine disease”, Monty speaks up. “Fact is that it broke out after a Qinean ambassador and his entourage visited our court. Furthermore, a servant witnessed the ambassador himself displaying the sickening glow, yet when he joined the court again a while later, it was gone. He must’ve gotten rid of it somehow.”

“Even the Queen herself paid a visit once the illness had spread and she showed no sign of worry about contracting it herself, nor did anyone with her”, Bandit supplies to a nodding Monty. “The last straw was a plea for help with further research which they denied outright under the excuse of lacking the necessary funds. We conduct regular trade with them, so it’d be in their interest to stop an epidemic – unless they already have the means to do so in their own country.”

Conjecture. Oh, how Doc despises the vagueness which encompasses this world sometimes. There are moments in which he enjoys its ambiguity, its resistance to be labelled one thing or another – almost all beings are at the very least twofold, never purely one thing or another: the sweetest honey can make him sick, and the annoying mosquito still fulfils a role in nature. He appreciates being challenged to fell the right decision, to weigh pros and cons and see which possesses more importance. But at times, he curses the fact that he majorly inhabits other worlds and therefore has to navigate the webs of lies and truths humans spin with their words. Taken at face value, he’s inclined to agree with Bandit’s interpretation of the facts, but how can he be certain of their accuracy?

“Our neighbours have reported similar inflictions. The only ones it doesn’t affect is Qina.” They seem to be sensing his hesitation yet none of what they say can sway him. Ideally, he’d need to talk to either someone unrelated or of relevance in Qina – but he knows that if he showed his face to the empire, stating that Bandit summoned him, it’ll look as if he’s taking their side, thusly prompting Qina to take similar drastic measures. He doesn’t want to provoke a great war so he’ll have to remain here.

“We’re currently on Qinean territory, correct?” They confirm with a nod, still looking unsure. “Is there a city nearby? Any place from where you could kidnap someone who can vouch for the other side of this conflict? I would like to speak with them without making my presence known.”

Oddly enough, Bandit looks to Monty for his opinion on the matter and the two of them converse quietly, gesticulating and decisively shaking their heads now and then. Doc is surprised at how casually they interact and how highly Bandit values his friend’s opinion but waits patiently until they’ve come to a consensus.

“There’s… a Qinean spy in our custody”, Bandit begins, looking slightly sheepish, “but we haven’t been able to extract anything from her. Maybe you can -”

“Take me to her.”

Being feared is normal. He’s always been feared one way or another, caused people to flinch away from him, leaving them tongue-tied, scared of saying the wrong thing. Over time, he got used to it and barely paid attention to whoever cowered before him, but here in this camp, surrounded by what likely are honest, hard-working, wronged people, it’s…

He doesn’t like it. His outburst was necessary and understandable, his self-defence justified. If Bandit’s accusation had been voiced not in private but so that the rest of the continent could’ve heard it, the damage to their reputation could’ve been disastrous. One of Doc’s kind, spreading disease without reason? Making it incurable? People would fear them too much to ever call on them again.

And still – watching these brave soldiers shrink away causes a bad taste in his mouth, which reminds him that he still hasn’t eaten anything yet. Despite their shocking lack of manners, he has to admit he’d feel guilty simply abandoning these people which is something he’ll have to monitor very carefully if he wants to remain unbiased.

Monty seems to be even more popular than Bandit, exchanging quick quips with passer-bys often accompanied by suspicious glances in Doc’s direction. He’s lost a lot of sympathy by attacking their leader and even more by endangering Monty. But he’s not here to develop any kind of attachment, so he ignores it. Eventually they stumble over a boy, hardly old enough to participate in a war, who’s obviously been crying but attempts to hide his tears nonetheless, and Monty promises to catch up with them later before he separates to talk to him.

“He has strange priorities”, Doc comments afterwards and earns a derisive scoff from his remaining companion.

“No, but you do. He puts others first, no matter what. You may have incredible power, but… that’s all which makes you ‘great’.”

Doc stops. There’s defiance showing in Bandit’s features, together with that same misplaced pride again he’s been displaying from the beginning. “You don’t think I’m going to help you. That’s why you feel secure enough in voicing your half-baked opinions.”

“Yeah. None of you have exactly filled me with confidence, you know.”

One of his eyebrows rises in disbelief. Bandit has – according to his own words – spoken with seven others of Doc’s kind so far on the same controversial topic and believes this to be representative of their ethical values. “This has always been the problem with you humans, you tend to think in extremes even if your world is so varied and rich and multi-faceted. You find it impossible to imagine someone might refuse their aid categorically at first but change their mind later, once sufficient information has surfaced. I might have formed a strong opinion on you yet that won’t influence my decision to either declare your cause just or unjust. That is what sets me apart from someone like you.”

“You know what, you’re really starting to piss me off with your fucking righteous attitude.” Bandit’s words are like venom which he spits gladly in Doc’s face. “Some might think you are, but you’re not a God, you’ve never been, so what gives you the right to act like you are? To decide on good people’s fate as if there was an objectively ‘correct’ solution when you’re just as fallible and closed-minded and biased as we are? You might have your own fucking ideals but don’t pretend they’re outright perfect by default.” He must’ve noticed the cold fury Doc is emanating at this point because he adds: “Go ahead, kill me if you want, hurt me, violence is the only argument you still have left.”

His bluntness is … troubling, to put it very mildly. He really does lack any kind of respect which does not help his case, no, it does not at all, and there’s an old, deep-seated voice in Doc whispering to him the same things coursing through his mind earlier. Honestly, the world would be a better place without someone as inconsiderate, as rude and derisive as Bandit, wouldn’t it? But, and this is strangely important, it’d end up proving him right. And that’s the last thing Doc wants to do. “I have half a mind to simply abandon you this instant”, he growls quietly, ignoring the worried glances they’re attracting. They don’t matter – none of these people do, in the grand scheme of things.

“Is that so?” His ugly grimace transforms into a sneer. “Wouldn’t that be the proof that you’re everything but unbiased?”

He -

Doc stares at him, thunderstruck.

He’s right.

Personal dislike must never triumph over his vocation to aid humanity as a whole. If Bandit’s nation really has been wronged, he simply can’t turn them down based on a reason as flimsy as this. But it can’t be, doesn’t Bandit’s arrogance justify his people’s demise? Does he not represent their ethical stance? Then again, who is he to determine the death of thousands, possibly more, just because they lack manners? Shouldn’t he instead show the world that his actions are justifiable regardless of his personal preference?

Frantically, he recalls former decisions, quickly tests them against this theory and tries to objectively judge whether he acted in humanity’s best interest – or out of self-interest. And even if it’s the former, would he recognise it?

“Come on. She’s right over there.”

Bandit’s softened voice snaps him out of his panicked thoughts and redirects his attention to the matter at hand. He can contemplate his words later, for now he has a spy to interrogate.

The woman is chained to a stake driven deep into the ground and looks as if this was all which keeps her from dismantling the entire camp by herself. Her glare is fierce and emphasised by the prominent scar adorning her face, yet her resolve wavers as soon as she notices Doc approaching. For a few seconds, she struggles with herself, probably overcome with contempt towards Bandit, but ends up slightly bowing to Doc nonetheless. A polite Qinean – in Doc’s experience a common sight.

“I greet you”, he addresses her in her mother tongue, causing her to sit up straight in awe.

“It is the greatest honour to be graced with your presence, Great One, and with deep respect I vow to be your servant. With eternal gratitude I trust that you will always act wisely and I plead for you to have mercy on us”, she instinctively replies in the same language, uttering the traditional greeting of her nation.

“Wait”, Bandit chimes in, audibly concerned, “she can speak my language, why don’t you -”

“You are being held against your will on the grounds of espionage on behalf of the Qinean empire. Is this true?”

Her eyes flit back and forth between them, calculating. Not even asking Bandit whether he speaks the notoriously difficult High Qinean is deliberate, he wants her to know that his trust in Bandit is shaky at best. “That is true”, she confirms and seems to enjoy the fact that her increasingly frustrated enemy won’t be able to listen in to their conversation.

“As for the allegations, are they true also? You act in the interest of your Queen? Tried to gather information about these troops?” She hesitates, glances at an upset Bandit once more. “If you are honest with me I will grant you the same favour.”

“Yes”, she states with a nod. So far so good.

“You know who I am and what I stand for.” Another curt nod. “Then you also know that as of yet, I am neither on your enemy’s side nor on yours, instead currently gathering information to decide how to act. It is important that you are as objective as possible as your account may turn the tide of this conflict one way or another.”

He allows for a few seconds so she can parse his words. It’s imperative she understands the gravity of the situation and simultaneously gets a chance to gather her thoughts.

“I remember your people as disciplined, honourable and well-educated but have no recollection of the Rangiin Kamaan. They strike me as very similar, from what I’ve seen.”

The woman’s face darkens. “A convincing show they must’ve put up for you. Compare it to a sinner who vows betterment behind sacred walls and relapses as soon as he’s left. Your imposing presence would inspire thieves and liars to put on their best behaviour.” She spits on the ground directly between Bandit’s feet, making him curse loudly and take a step forward. A single glance from Doc stops him, however, and convinces him to withdraw, grumbling, reconvening with the newly-arrived Monty to undoubtedly complain in hushed voices. Doc pays him no heed. “I’ve been their prisoner for a few days, and I’ve seen their real face. Hit me only where the bruises wouldn’t show, recently, before that they had no such qualms. My entire body must’ve been the colour of a rainbow.”

Concerning. Provided she speaks the truth, it’d subvert all that Doc has come to believe about the Rangiin Kamaan. “I have had similar suspicions”, he tells her calmly, “so it’s good to hear them confirmed. What can you tell me about the conflict between your nation and theirs?”

She shakes her head in regret. “It is messy and full of false accusations. They might’ve claimed it’s only them being affected by this odd illness – you have seen it yourself, correct? In truth, my motherland is ravaged by it as well, far worse than this. These snakes are trying to take advantage of our weakened state and attempt to rally our vassals and enemies alike to destroy what little is left of our empire.”

Once again, a direct contradiction of what he’s heard so far. The erasure of Qina would have unforeseen consequences and as oppressive and authoritarian the nation always has been, it is nonetheless the capital of all knowledge, has amassed countless books, scrolls and relics which, if lost, would set the entire continent back. If she’s speaking the truth, it’s in Doc’s interest to strike down this rebellion as swiftly as possible. “They claim you possess the cure to this disease.”

“They would. If we did, would an army of this size have been able to venture this far into our territory? No, we have just as fruitlessly attempted to heal our people and failed, just like them.”

“What of your ambassador? And your Queen?”

The spy once again sits up straighter at the mention of the Qinean matriarch. “I have heard the lies they spread. Ambassador Abyad has indeed been inflicted and suffers the consequences as we speak, he has not, as they claim, been cured. And our Mother took all the precautions necessary to ensure she wouldn’t suffer the same fate.”

“I see”, Doc responds, touches her temple and synchronises their senses.

Despite it being done without warning, he’d gathered the necessary focus pre-emptively and thus ensures smooth proceedings, a process much too quick for the woman to react. She’s in a state of extreme agitation, her heartbeat pounding and adrenalin coursing through her blood causing an almost painful alertness. Apart from her limbs complaining about too little movement, she’s in no pain and exhibits no sign of physical injury – broken and healed bones lie far in the past and other ailments are similarly unrelated. As soon as she understands what’s happening, she struggles against the intrusion, the first to do so this day. She must realise that her body is giving her away.

He never understood lying. Some people resort to it despite easily being disproved, they do it for sport or to feel a rush of power over being trusted blindly. It’s an ugly habit of humanity but one impossible to eradicate, Doc assumes, as it’s been around since the dawn of time. He hates it when humans lie to him implicitly, but hates it even more when they do so directly in his face.

With Bandit’s and Monty’s eyes in his back, he withdraws from the woman’s body and leaves her gasping for air. His hand travels down her jaw and forms a cup below it. “Give it to me voluntarily and I will have no need to take it with force. If you swallow it, I will make your insides squirm until I hold it in my hand.”

The Qinean glares up at him with an ironically betrayed expression, as if his deception had been in any way worse than hers. He had to pretend a more friendly disposition towards her to show she had indeed the chance to change his mind. No one is to blame for her failure other than herself.

After a few more moments, she procures a small vial from inside her cheek and drops it into Doc’s outstretched hand. With it intact, she can’t have been beaten – at least not in the face, it would’ve shattered. He wipes it off and inspects the liquid curiously, at first not understanding why it baffles him, but then it registers: it’s the same colour as the eerie glow the patients are emitting.

“Are you fucking done?”, Bandit snarls at him and is held back only by a calming hand on his midriff. “What is that?”

“You have to help my people”, the woman makes a desperate last attempt, her voice now pleading where before it’d been carefully even. “Please, I beg you. Help them. You might be the only one who can.”

Yet another reason for lying: despair. Doc is unsure of its source – the prisoner has been treated fairly as far as he can tell, and she must know he would never contribute to Qina’s downfall. Why is she discarding her pride now, after she failed to convince him?

“Let’s talk somewhere else”, he suggests. While they walk away, the prisoner’s sad wailing trails after him almost hauntingly.

“There are two options”, Doc announces once he and his two companions have reached a clearing of tents, the middle point of the camp bustling with activity and yet no one stops to eavesdrop. “Either this is poison which causes the cursed disease or it’s a cure. She might’ve carried it with her to afflict you, Bandit, as the highest in command, hoping you’d be unable to lead your troops into battle – or it was a precaution in case she contracted the illness herself and needed a remedy.” He hands the phial to a stunned-looking Bandit and expects him to pocket it immediately, yet instead he holds on to it, unsure what to do.

“But in either case it won’t harm anyone who’s afflicted?”, Monty clarifies and earns a nod. “So this can possibly cure a single person?”

“Yes. I can’t be absolutely sure but it is the most likely option.”

“What did the bitch tell you? Did she say anything about it?”

It seems Bandit is still hung up on the fact he couldn’t listen in to Doc’s conversation with the spy earlier. As typical as it is petty. “It is none of your concern.”

“Oh, but it damn well is. What if you made an agreement with her? What if you’re going to double-cross or abandon us, just like your other -” A hand on his wrist stops him in his tracks and Doc is once again grateful for Monty’s calming presence.

“Are you going to help us?”, the tall man wants to know and it’s not an accusation, not an ultimatum, merely an inquiry.

“I need time to think”, Doc replies simply. The accounts of no more than three people are insufficient but they grant him a foundation on which he can form his opinion, provide him with a good idea of what he can ask the other soldiers. If there are inconsistencies, asking a variety of people about the same story should unearth them.

“That is good enough for us.” When Bandit opens his mouth to protest, Monty turns to him with a gentle expression and reminds him: “Dom. We cannot expect him to trust us if we don’t show him the same courtesy. Let’s wait. Justice can’t be rushed.”

The warrior deflates visibly, slain by rationality and respect. “Yes. Alright. But here, you take it.” He thrusts the small container towards his companion, much to Doc’s shock. He does not keep it to himself?

Monty is caught just as off-guard as Doc. “What? No, you can hold on to it, I can’t decide what -”

“But your sister -”

“I won’t claim this privilege, don’t make me -”

“You have all the right to -”

“What about Blitz, he’s going to be invaluable in battle tomorrow -”

“Please, just take it.”

Doc perks up at this new information. “You are going to fight tomorrow?”

The two bickering men immediately cease their back and forth and turn to him. “We’re meeting the Queen’s legion tomorrow”, Bandit says quietly. “They’ve been gathering their troops and will meet us halfway to the capital. This is why I was unable to grant you more time than today. We’re all going to die soon.”

Now that he focuses his gaze, seeks out the signs, he realises they’ve been there all this time. The methodical behaviour inherent to all that the soldiers do, a grim determination lining their features, the odd kindness and forbearance accompanying those who have accepted that which they cannot change. These are people already lying in their graves, some of them going through practised motions with a blank expression, others seeking solace in mindless distractions, yet more seem to be set on making their last hours count. Doc stumbles over couples sharing secret, wistful smiles, friends reminiscing or playfully sparring, strangers opening up to each other.

They carry their doom with much more dignity than he would’ve guessed.

None of them blame him though he supposes their anger died down and gave way to resignation after his predecessors toured the camp more standoffishly than he did; it is a miracle that only Bandit carries an otherworldly scar like a battle wound. Their wariness hasn’t fully dissipated yet either, their trust still impeded which, if both Bandit and Monty really are as respected and loved as they seem to be, comes as no surprise. Regardless, they engage in conversations willingly, answer his questions with an open and authentic attitude he likes – and some of them even smuggle food into his pockets. There are dried dates, roasted nuts, even crumbly baked goods, and they’re a feast for his senses, explode into flavour on his tongue and make him curse whoever was responsible for putting this sweet nectar into this world specifically.

Most of them speak favourably of Bandit, hidden behind thinly-veiled insults lies a deep admiration and a loyalty only inspired by likewise devotion. They’re comfortable with him, are allowed to criticise and voice opinions, and even if he usually shoots them down mercilessly, he listens and considers them nonetheless. His style of leading an army is highly unconventional but he can demand discipline and absolute obedience if necessary.

Monty receives even more praise. It turns out he’s not even part of the medical personnel, yet his apparent immunity spurred him on to spend as much time alleviating symptoms as possible, bonding with the patients despite the position he holds – this part is emphasised wherever Doc goes. He supposes he’s Bandit’s second-in-command, a confidant and friend as much as a fellow warrior. It gives him faith.

Not all of it is rosy but with humanity’s past he didn’t expect it to be. Racist undertones, superiority complexes and bitterness leak through some of the more resentful comments and taint the milder ones. Even so, criticism towards their ruler is virtually non-existent and shut down quickly whenever it arises. Doc doesn’t ask any further, it’s obvious their King isn’t gracing him with his presence and so he wastes no thought on him.

The matter at hand remains … elusive. Its solution enigmatic, its cause a mystery. He’s at a loss because admitting Bandit might be right is overstepping a boundary Doc is not prepared to leave behind, especially not without any prior warning, no opportunity to confer with his brethren.

Sunset is fast approaching, the brilliant ball slipping over the horizon, threatening icy nights once the twilight has fully dispersed. Doc is perched on a stool someone gave up willingly, sits at the edge of the camp and gazes towards the source of dwindling warmth, towards where the Queen must be currently commanding her army to walk until their legs are sore.

“Do you get hungry?”

He breaks out of his half-meditation and finds himself facing Monty, holding two bowls and indubitably only just now questioning his own actions, judging by the slightly sheepish smile. “I don’t”, Doc replies evenly. “But this body does. I’m not sure how you humans manage.” Rarely does he share details as private as this, keeps his opinions largely to himself but finds that he lowers his guard around this particular human a little too easily. Under different circumstances, he’d watch his words more closely but either he’s going to aid these people or abandon them to certain death. In either case, they won’t be inclined to speak ill of him.

They eat in silence. Doc vaguely recalls previous meals and supposes the stew falls on the flavour-light side but as he only gets to eat every couple of decades, he relishes it nonetheless. He recognises coriander and savours every bite.

“How is it? Being here – compared to where you’re from?”

Very nearly his mouth releases the same platitudes so familiar to him that they’ve been etched into his tongue by now but something in Monty’s innocent curiosity quells the urge. Somehow, he deserves honesty and maybe it’s the compassion he shows all those around him, maybe his reluctance to accept the possible cure despite having a personal incentive to do so, maybe the fact that he convinced Bandit to trust Doc despite all. Whatever it is, it tips the scales in his favour and Doc knows at this moment that he’s going to assist the Rangiin Kamaan. “You have a name for the place where I usually reside. Hell.”

Monty halts but does not respond, merely waits for Doc to continue.

“This, in comparison, is a paradise. You take fresh air for granted, the force allowing you to walk the ground, all these things without which you never had to manage and thus you can never appreciate them the way we do. This is why we serve humanity. This is why we attempt to be agents of justice so that we may never side with a civilisation which could potentially perish. If we weren’t allowed this outlet, weren’t able to walk the earth now and then, we would cease to be. Our existence is so painful and so horrifying even to us that we desperately cling to the hope of being summoned here. It is our oath: by resolving conflicts we ensure humanity’s and therefore our own survival. It is why the mere thought of one of us sabotaging our collective future is abhorrent.”

Emotion colours his speech and he silently reprimands himself for it. Revealing this much, too, is forbidden, yet he felt the strange need of justifying his actions to this man. His bodily functions tell on him, let him know he’s upset even though he’s had half an eternity to come to terms with this fact. And still he harbours more anger than the soldiers awaiting their fate.

“I’m sorry”, Monty says and, oddly, Doc believes him. He’d like to provide more details because there are aspects he misses while he’s on this plane, but trusts that Monty understands. Nothing is ever black and white, is it?

“I’d like to talk to Bandit. I have reached a conclusion.”

To his credit, Monty doesn’t ask and simply points out the tent in question. “He’s given strict orders not to be bothered after sunset but I’m sure he’ll make an exception for you. Thank you for listening to us.”

Like Bandit, he seems to have accepted the possibility of Doc refusing their plea as fact and he doesn’t feel like correcting him, so he just hands him his empty bowl and gets up.

It’s going to be a tentative agreement, that much Doc has already worked out. For the moment he’ll do reconnaissance, buying time, assessing the situation after having talked with Qinean officials to decide on further proceedings. One step at a time, he’ll unravel this mess into its components with which he’ll deal one by one – it’s a cautious approach but one which will hopefully not end in bloodshed. He needs to decipher Qina’s motivation first and foremost.

Mulling over all the information available to him, he ignores the uneasy glances between the people outside their commander’s tent and enters without hesitation, not at all expecting to be confronted with something which makes him freeze, leaves him petrified, almost forces a noise of shock and dismay out of his throat. A cold sensation settles low in his stomach and spreads out to his limbs, takes hold of his tongue and prevents him from exclaiming, asking, accusing.

Bandit is his own source of light.

Here, in the semi-darkness of his hideout, the blue is crassly visible and almost turns the lithe man into a terrifying creature haunting a world where it has no right to be. It pulses softly in the same rhythm as his heart, covers his naked arms, feet and face in a glowing spiderweb of pure disease, his features faint against the prominent veins. He doesn’t seem human anymore, features contorted in a pitiful grimace as he sits on the floor, pressing palms against temples and breathing deeply, consciously. He is but a shadow of the prideful fool Doc met earlier this day.

As soon as he realises his solitude is interrupted, he jumps up onto trembling legs, eyes wide in shock. “You – you had until sunset”, he blurts out idiotically, as if this detail somehow invalidated the view in front of Doc.

It can’t be, and yet a sickening idea takes hold in his mind. “Why did you hide this from me?”, he wants to know, tone cold.

“No.” Bandit is shaking his head, apparently knows exactly what Doc is considering. “No, that isn’t it – I didn’t -”

“The only reason you’re doing everything you can to cure your people is because you selfishly want to cure yourself. If you weren’t afflicted, you’d act differently. Is all of this a ploy to save your own life? Have you deceived me this entire time?”

“Please. Please, don’t.” Even now with his legs nearly giving in, Bandit refuses to kneel before him. He might be begging for his life but this bit of pride will not die, no matter what. “That is not why. I kept it from you because you’d think exactly this. I didn’t want you to believe I’m only doing it for myself, I’m not, it’s -”

His voice dies in a pitiful croak when Doc grabs his jaw and uses his power to keep the man upright as well as rooted to the ground. This time, he won’t be able to evade him. “And I am supposed to believe this?”

Wide eyes are filled with fear and yet he pleads: “Kill me. Do it, it won’t prove me right, I promise – it’s – I’m a horrible human being and need to be erased from history, you need to kill me. But please, please promise me that you’ll save them. Don’t let this deter you, they deserve it. You know they do.”

Doc examines him, momentarily ignoring the sinking feeling of having been betrayed somehow. Slowly, he loosens his hold on the man until he slumps a little, fragile body shivering and teeth working to probably hold back undignified whimpers. It must’ve cost him immense willpower to suppress his symptoms all day, not let anyone see the condition he’s in, hide all this suffering from Doc and possibly his soldiers too. Even now, Bandit refuses to back away, lightly grabs Doc’s wrist to keep it in its place and stares him down in a mixture of defiance and genuine terror.

Maybe it really wasn’t deceit. Maybe him refusing to take the cure himself wasn’t a display for Doc’s benefit. Maybe he really does care about others more than himself, as showcased by him desperately trying to win one of Doc’s kind over.

And wait.

This is impossible.

This time, it actually is impossible, no human could ever carry the weight of Doc’s materialised form while simultaneously bearing the aftermath of an otherworldly scar as well as suffering from this divine disease – no one possesses the physical and mental strength necessary.

A vicious ache stabs through his head once he’s linked his consciousness to Bandit’s and he’s lost for a moment, disoriented despite being so familiar with human bodies. It’s as if there were several more limbs despite him knowing there aren’t, and yet there’s a phantom sensation of a much more expansive form, like a container which is larger on the inside. It’s bewildering and causes a painful throb under his scalp but it’s simultaneously familiar, strangely enough.

Even now, Bandit doesn’t struggle against him and instead allows him easy access to his body, yet the more Doc finds the more astonished he is. Internal organs show hardly any signs of age and are as invigorated as they would be had Doc rejuvenated them already – the omnipresent pain of the illness is prevalent but not nearly as prominent as in the other subjects Doc examined, instead it’s more an ebb and flow in the background, intensifying now and then but fading in between the spikes. As if something interfered with it.

He presses on: Bandit is distraught and his emotional state is mirrored in his body but parts of it are remarkably calm and merely trying to uphold the minimum; it takes him a moment to realise that resources are being allocated towards a very specific part in his midsection. There’s a tumour here, a growth of not insignificant size spanning the width of his belly on the inside – three, actually, and it doesn’t take Doc long to identify it as following the pattern of the ugly scars Bandit received from one of Doc’s kin. Normally, wounds like this heal extremely slowly, sometimes not even for a lifetime, but they cause no other side effect other than a persistent ache. He’s never felt or witnessed anything like this before.

Poking and prodding it reveals that it’s painless, merely causes discomfort where it presses against other organs. Is it possible that it counteracts the disease? Doc inspects the bloodstream, muscles, bones, anything he can find to either prove or disprove his theory but it seems he’ll have to rely on conjecture yet again. And then he delves into one of the non-existent limbs, body parts which should not be – under no circumstances should they belong to a human body, but they do.

It hits him out of nothing, a sudden realisation which he pushed aside out of pride, out of self-preservation instinct. …no, that is not why, and in this case it’s not righteous thinking which prevented this idea from springing up sooner. This revelation, too, is a sharp pang in his mind.

They’re left reeling once he’s severed their connection, hold on to each other like drunkards and gasp for air, hands clutching fabric, feet seeking balance, eyes unfocused. It takes them a long time to regain their composure and when they do, Bandit takes a step back, confused, embarrassed, hopeful.

“You didn’t kill me”, he states full of wonder.

“There was a human who studied us.” The non-sequitur startles Bandit into speechlessness. “He was as persistent as he was hungry for knowledge – he summoned us, one by one, travelled the continent until he had spoken with us all, even sought the help of minor beings. During his quest, he realised he gave up more and more of himself: every time he allowed one of us to walk the earth, a piece of him crumbled, irretrievable. But it wasn’t lost, instead our essence replaced it and imbued him with our nature. Once he realised what was happening, he couldn’t stop it.”

How could he have forgotten him? It’s the one black sheep, the one who doesn’t fit. Will never fit.

“He became one of us. He followed us down into our realm and felt what we feel, learnt what we know. He didn’t take it well. He attempted to convince all of us to tell the humans of him, to make them summon him to his original home so he could experience peace again, escape our reality – but he was rash, unjust, cruel. If he were allowed to roam free, he would tarnish our name; he was planning to sow discord among humanity so that our services – his services – would be required more often. We declined. We damned him to an eternal existence in our world.”

Bandit absent-mindedly runs his fingertips over glowing veins, brows drawn together. He understands. “So he’s the one who did this.” No gloating even though he’d been right. “Why didn’t you think of him earlier?”

“I believe our memories of him were sealed. You might find this hard to believe but there are beings of greater power than myself. The only possibility I see is that he found a way to escape. It explains the nature of the disease, the unnatural light, the seemingly random symptoms and its spread, and the fact that the cure seems to stem from the same source as the illness. It’s consistent with all that we know and the most likely explanation that he invaded this world and put a plan into motion to cause conflict rather than resolve it in the hopes of making us redundant and himself invaluable.”

The man before him is now pacing back and forth as if he hadn’t been in mortal danger mere minutes ago which only cements Doc’s theory. His resilience is extraordinary and only increasing. “How come the others refused their help then? If he’s a liability to you all, shouldn’t they interfere instead?”

“I can only guess as to their motives. They might’ve felt his presence and decided not to intervene.” As expected, Bandit’s expression darkens, so Doc adds: “We all have different control over the forces holding this world together and access to different layers, so while others of my kind might’ve immediately understood the situation, they’re unable to copy most of my skills. It is not impossible that they knew more than I did. As to your question – a fight between two of our kind can be devastating and cause irreparable damage to this world. They were likely scared of this possibility and thus preferred not to remain here. Additionally, the Qinean empire is worth conserving and more important than your nation in the grand scheme of things, making his transgression not as severe as if he’d tried to destroy them.”

Suddenly, he remembers the spy’s words: You have to help my people. You might be the only one who can. The situation might be more dire than he was aware – he can’t discard the possibility that the Qinean Queen is under the control of this defector, acts on his wishes and thus goes against the interests of her people. The prisoner might’ve realised someone far more powerful than any human is influencing her matriarch and that Doc can be her saviour, too.

“So”, Bandit speaks up abruptly, still fidgeting uncomfortably. He finds no solace in having been right, now that the consequences of this reality have sunken in. “Does this mean you’re going to help us?”

No more accusations, no more implied mistrust. He’s learned. “Yes”, Doc says simply. “I am equipped to negotiate, hopefully without antagonising him. And if it should come to it, I am also prepared to fight.” If it means peace in the future, he will take lives in the interest of both his and Bandit’s kind. He knows he can do it, knows he can walk the battlefield like an omen of death, slaying with a single thought and wiping out entire armies should the need arise. He hopes it won’t come to this – but if it does, he’s ready.

Bandit nods and, once it has fully registered, even graces him with a smile. “Took you long enough. Let’s go then, we need to talk -”

He was on his way out of his tent, past Doc, but is stopped by a hand on his torso. It slowly lifts the hem of his top to reveal almost vibrantly illuminated marks on his skin, three slashes frightening in bright daylight already and only more foreboding in half-darkness. “Do you not want to know what made me remember? What unsealed my hidden memories?”, Doc murmurs. This, he has to do. If he doesn’t, the collective repressed energy might tear Bandit in half eventually.

The man looks down at himself and rejects the thought, Doc can read it on his face. “No”, he says but in his heart, he knows the truth.

“You are going to share his fate. The repeated summoning, the disease born from unnatural sources, the injury caused by a being not from this world – it’s too much for your body to bear, so it’s adapting a new form which can carry this burden. You are going to become like me.”

“No, this isn’t – I didn’t want this. I don’t want this.” Once again, eyelids flutter, a lip quivers. “I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to be stuck.”

“You won’t. This is where you two are different. You were ready to sacrifice your own life to save those of others. Your actions speak of more honour and compassion than he ever displayed in his life as a human. I will speak on your behalf and you will not be condemned to rot like him. But for that, you need to accept it. Allow it into your mind, into your body, just like you allowed me. It’s waiting.”

He takes Bandit’s hands and calms the staccato of his heart without probing too deep, keeps their link delicate – just enough to even their breaths, relax muscles, reduce faint aching. He wasn’t present when the traitor changed forms but somehow knows that Bandit possesses the strength to begin this journey right now. It might take months, even years to fully take hold but those he’ll spend in comfort. Under his gentle guidance, Bandit lets loose and concentrates, seeks out the source of the disease in him, feels for the remedial influence of the scars. Doc’s own arms are increasing in brightness, the orange cracks lighting up in resonance.

A shockwave emanates from Bandit, no more than a momentary gust of wind yet an exceedingly forceful one, causing loud clattering around them.

When they open their eyes again, the tent is gone – and so are all the others, flattened by the power of Bandit’s awakening, leaving behind an entire army of confused and vaguely frightened soldiers, most of them gathered around what would’ve been directly outside the tent. They must’ve been waiting to hear Doc’s final verdict.

They make for an intimidating picture as a large part of them is emitting an eerie glow, unlike Monty in their midst. He looks as if someone had slapped him.

Next to Doc, Bandit seems no different to the cocky and outwardly disillusioned man who greeted him this morning, but like an utterly different person to the broken one he discovered in the tent a while ago. That Bandit had been desperate, in pain, ashamed. This one is… confident.

“It’s going to be fine”, he assures Monty, sounding very sure of himself. “I promise. We’ll be fine.”

“I will do everything in my power to resolve this matter as peacefully as possible”, Doc adds. “I am at your service.”

It takes a few seconds. Then the cheering begins.

The jubilant atmosphere sparked by his statement is contagious and even Doc feels the corners of his mouth lift up. Monty sags in relief, exchanges a slightly questioning smile with Bandit but seems content with this promise for now. He can’t have known of Bandit’s illness, not with the way his eyes keep straying to his arms, and yet he holds back on reprimanding him for keeping it secret.

Even so, the celebratory mood remains hesitant, as if the men and women believed it too good to be true, but Doc has no doubts it’ll catch on once they’ve made progress. For now, one important matter at hand remains aside from teaching Bandit about what will happen to him, which changes to expect and how to contain his ever-growing power for now.

“I need to discuss strategy”, he announces loudly over the excited chatter and waits until it has died down to a reasonable level. “Take me to your King.”

Strangely enough, people tilt their heads in confusion, exchange glances, frown. Until one young woman slowly raises her arm and points. More follow, and in the end there’s a myriad of fingers all directed at a modestly smiling Monty.

Oh.

“You didn’t know?”, Bandit asks him, surprised.

More puzzle pieces fall into place retroactively. No wonder everyone spoke of him so favourably.

Thinking back to the way Monty so naturally tended to his suffering subjects, addressed their concerns directly despite his status, settles something in Doc. Knowing this, he’s suddenly very sure he will not regret aiding these people, come hell or high water.

#rainbow six siege #doc #bandit #montagne #fanfic #oneshot #there's a whooole lot more I could've shoved in but it was so long already #I hope it turned out okay!#fancy that two of the sweetest people I know share their birthday #with valentine's day no less

34 notes · View notes

agentpink-writes · 6 years ago

Text

WIP Intro: God of the Machine

“Such, such is Death: no triumph: no defeat: Only an empty pail, a slate rubbed clean, A merciful putting away of what has been.“ Charles Hamilton Sorley

Note: This is the very first version of the WIP page for this one, so it’s going to be a bit underwhelming (at least for the moment). However, I’ll be adding more once I actually write more. So once I do that, I’ll delete this note.

Genre: Science Fiction

Status: Outline/1st Draft

Date created: December 18th, 2018

Trigger Warnings: mentions of violence/war

Summary:

In near-future America, robots are now the new norm, and nearly every household has one. This is seen nowhere more than New Athens, a hive-mind of entertainment, manufacturing, scientists, and other communities focused on the existence and creation of robots. People flock to this great city and enjoy what the latest in technology has to give to them, specifically Androids: robots who imitate humans in order to better serve humans as caretakers, emotional support systems, or just being friendly in general.

David Cowen, however, has alienated himself from this exact society for several years. He’s a recluse who, although interested in robotics and the potential of Androids, is disinterested in what this “new” world has to offer him.

In his isolation, he creates Lucy, using the last spare parts he has in order to create what he considers to be one of his “better” creations. Although naive and seemingly unemotional at first, Lucy grows interested in this new world and wants to explore it, along with identity as an Android.

However, this all changes when a rising force threatens to upset life between humans and Androids. A hardware virus, known only as Phage, has been unknowingly spread to Androids, turning them into unhinged zombies and forcing them to attack one another, spreading the virus even further. In an attempt to help find the source and stop this megalomania, the company, Olympia, orders David to assist them on their quest, due to his scientific background.

Lucy, in the meanwhile, helps David as much as she can, before she delves into a tough, harsh world, even going so far as to encounter the very forces causing this virus.

In the end, David not only has to stop the virus from wreaking havoc in a city he grows to care for once again, but also prevent himself from being consumed by his past demons and mistakes, which unfortunately play a large role in the present.

And Lucy, despite her seemingly naive nature, might not turn out to be so innocent after all.

Main Characters:

David Cowen | 34 yrs old | Robotics Scientist/Engineer

One of two of the main characters of the story, though he is the most central part.

Not much is initially revealed about his past, except for the fact he used to work for a rising robotics corporation simply known as Aesop, named after the Ancient Greek fabulist. He left off on a bad note, however, and isolated himself from the rest of society, living off welfare checks while living in a small house. The corporation he left, however, turned out to have merged with another company to become Olympia, which he doesn’t find out until later.

Physically, he has sharp black eyes and black hair he regularly slicks back into a short ponytail (his hair reaches near his shoulders when it's down). He normally wears work-related outfits, similar to lab coats, or stuff he doesn’t mind getting dirty, mainly because he often gets dirty. He once had a young, fairly attractive complexion before the years of isolation grew on him, leaving him with a pale, slightly wrinkled face and tired eyes. He constantly gets back pains as well, due to stress, depression, and work in general.

As a person, he is quite laid-back and pessimistic. He seems exhausted most of the time, which he is, but is mainly just depressed or in an overall sad mood. However, he does feel guilty whenever he feels like he’s being too much of a pain, and likes to reward people often for having to deal with his attitude sometimes. This happens quite a bit with Lucy, whose very presence helps to check his attitude, considering he’s no longer alone with his own anxious/cruel/depressive thoughts and has to watch himself. In addition, he is also very pessimistic about the state of robotics in New Athens and doesn’t agree with the widespread use of “emotional bots”, since he thinks its just society’s way of deterring their attention from real, serious issues. However, Lucy points out that he’s a bit hypocritical as, she soon realizes, that part of the reason he did create he was for some type of emotional connection.

Lucy | Less than 1 yrs (16) | Android

The second main character of the story and also has several chapters from her POV. She is technically less than a year old, but her intended age/appearance is around 16 yrs old.

Lucy was created and named by David during the present time the story begins. After a few days of being in his house, exploring and studying his world, she thirsts for more knowledge and yearns to know more about the world. Despite knowing she’s an Android, she wants to learn more about human society anyway and she begs David to show her, which he eventually gives in to. Through her exploration of New Athens, Lucy begins to open up David a little more to see this type of society has to offer and reflect on his own hypocritical behavior. However, she starts to wonder more about he came to be this way (negative, depressed, and pessimistic). She becomes so curious she even escapes for the night to go to a place nicknamed the Barrens, where David tells her to avoid, thinking it might have a connection to him. There, she meets Micheal, who goes by the nickname Major. After that, she meets the rest of his “gang” and is thrust into the center of the Phage virus conflict, going so close as to possibly being infected with it.

Physically, she is young-looking and of average height, with nothing that peculiar about her appearance besides her white hair. David made it so she would stand out and even offers to change it if she dislikes it, but in the end, she likes it quite a bit, constantly having to pass it off as if she dyed it. In addition, despite her small frame, her exoskeleton of a strong type of metal as well as some bits of titanium, so she has the strength to put up a decent fight (in comparison to other Androids). However, her skin/flesh is weak so its susceptible to damage like any other Android/robot body.

Personality-wise, she is initially quiet and unemotional, still adapting to her surrounding environments and how emotions work in relation to her programming. There’s a sort of child-like quality about her, especially after she first introduced to NewAthens society. After experiencing the world, however, she still maintains some level of docility but quickly learns how to express her emotions properly, even going as far to form complex and diverse opinions. Before and even after she meets Major, Lucy believes that Androids, in contrast to what some make them out to be, aren’t just imitation, but a form of improvement. She wishes to share this improvement with humanity. However, she doesn’t come to this conclusion any time soon, as there is a point where she feels envious of humans due to the greater level of acceptance, and even feels she’s less of a being simply because she was made. However, this is twisted later on, when she inevitably delves into the harsh underbelly of New Athens and really explores what, she thinks, it means to be an Android vs. a human, with dangerous consequences (of course).

Other Characters:

Micheal (Major) | 18 yrs old | Member of the “Titans”

A human side character who encounters Lucy when she is assaulted in the Barrens. After finding that she actually managed to injure the attacker, he tells her that he, along with some other guys with him on bikes, will help her find the attacker. She hesitantly agrees, hoping to learn more about the Barrens and, secretly, get some revenge. When they do find him, Major and the others violently beat the assaulter until he’s down on the ground. Major reveals that he, including the friends with him, are part of a new-found gang known as the Titans, a group adamant about their contempt for robots.

After this first introduction, and the eventual rekindling between Lucy and Major, he is revealed to be one of the main leaders of this underground crime gang, as they search for unwanted or isolated robots or Androids to steal and sell on the black market for parts, while also “cleaning them” off the streets. And with the growth of the Phage virus and the slowly growing fear towards robots, the gang is rising exponentially in numbers. Major, in this case, is hoping to rise in the ranks as well, and soon become the Titan Leader.

Physically, he has dark brown hair and chestnut eyes. He seems older then he looks, but he only recently turned 18 yrs old. And despite his young age, which several of the other members make fun of, he has managed to make quite a name for himself, mainly under his nickname “Major”. Lucy finds that his real name is Micheal, but he hates it so much he refuses to also tell anyone what his last name is (partially to help to prevent anyone from discovering his true origin).

Personality-wise, he can be rather ruthless, especially towards those who commit violent crimes, ironically enough, or those he deems guilty of such punishment (he’s an eye for an eye type of guy). However, he seems to soften a little around Lucy, due to his developing interest in her (unbeknownst to the fact she’s actually an Android). Her personality seems to wear off on him a bit, as he slowly opens up more as they interact. He eventually goes into the details of his personal life, which isn’t nearly as violent or “abusive” as one might expect.

Sara Hogsworth | 41 yrs old | Chief Officer at Olympia (originally Aesop)

Sara is a career woman who's made quite a name for herself in the past years. While she isn’t the head of Olympia, she does hold a great amount of power since she’s in charge of their security and all things related to it (she even has control over certain manufacturing decisions in the corporation, due to how trustworthy and reliable she is). She is also the one who ends up contacting David about the Phage virus since she seems to be one of the few in the Olympia hierarchy who doesn’t initially see this as a problem. In fact, David used to work for her during his time at Aesop, where she oversaw his main project(s), at the time.

Despite her polite and confident demeanor, however, Sara can be ruthless if she doesn’t quite get what she wants. She always sees Olympia as part of the future, and always defends it even if they might do something wrong. Her goal is to help society in any way she can, even if it means having New Athens citizens dependent on Androids for comfort. Most of this is because of her mother, who inspired her to share her smarts with society in order to better it, as a whole. She even has an emotional support bot in her nursing home, which further solidified Sara’s idea of a progressive future alongside humans and Androids.

Yet, this doesn’t mean she’s totally good-hearted. She is also the type to commit “necessary evils” if it means it will bring improvement to the country and society as a whole. In fact, this is one of the reasons she and David conflicted in the past, since David, while a risk-taker, doesn’t believe that good can arise from such cold-hearted decisions. However, that isn’t one of the only reasons, as she is the one, who turns out, to have fired him from Aesop, for reasons currently unknown...

William (Will) Jimmison | 45 yrs old | Military Overseer at Olympia (former Colonel)

(This starts 7 years prior to the current timeline)

A military man at heart, William returned to America near the end of the Tyro War (will explain later) after being medical/honorably discharged. He was about to retire until he was introduced to the Aesop corporation, which focused on building war robots to help end the war. Considering his options, he decided to become a Military Overseer, a position that allowed him to work with the military and Aesop even when he’s not fighting directly.

Ironically enough, even though he’s working with Olympia, he despises robots due to his experiences during the War. However, he suppresses his hate due to the fact he, like Sara, believes its the best for society and the war.

Additionally, he actually oversees David, who he was actually friends with during the War (and yes, David was part of the war as well, but eventually left). This is the first time they met after about a year or two after leaving a War, so there’s a bit of a disconnect but they are still on good terms, still.

Personality-wise, he appears to be a tough, aggressive military type at first glance (which is how David first viewed him when he met him) but he is soon revealed to be a kind/light-hearted guy. He’s a bit traditional and stubborn, but he generally has a good sense of reason and will listen to both sides of an argument.

There’s also a sense he might have PTS(D) or at least symptoms of it, like how he’d rather go up ten flights of stairs if it means avoiding an elevator since it reminds him of the event and how closed off it was (tight space). He also gets stressed/anxious at the mention of his time during the War. But its never really defined.

Background:

Before Androids became commonplace, there was a twenty-year long war with a neighboring country called the Tyro War. Most have forgotten why the War originally started, but they fight regardless, with no real aim. However, near the end of the war, the opposing country has developed new and improved war robots, gaining the advantage and growing even closer. Desperate to win, America begins experimenting and developing war robots as well. One of the main facilities is Aesop, which is created solely to tackle this very issue. This is when David and his old friend, William, begin working at Aesop. David works mainly since they promise to give him more funding for his personal projects (as well as a stable job) while WIll focuses on the “greater good” at hand. Eventually, however, the project goes awry and David is left jobless. The project fails, yet America ends up winning just a year afterword, gaining mass resources and rewards from it. Because of that, the country experiences an economic boom over the next seven years, which prompts citizens to widely buy Androids in order to forget about the tragedies of the past.

Links:

None.

Other:

None.

Oh gosh, I think that’s about it for now! This took a while to make! I know it a lot, but I wanted to get as much down so I can translate it later when I set up character links and what not. So for now, this will serve as a basis for my WIP!

#wip page #masterpost #post #wip #writing #write #writblr #sci fi #sicence fiction #God of the Machine #Gotm #work in progress

29 notes · View notes