#just slightly less self isolating since he still has his family

[s0fter-sin]

reverse verse where soap takes on the mask instead of ghost. he wears his red skull mask so you can see the lower half of his face and his chin scar extends along his whole jaw to look like exposed teeth

[moonyeclipses]

Rant(?) incoming I’m just gonna be talking about my fav boy and how much I hate his mischaracterization

But am extremely excited for the new season and maybe it’ll happen less cause I think a good chunk of the fan base probably just, view him differently from being anime only?

Hopefully lol (also manga and light novel spoiler warning!)

Excerpts from my priv twitter (but slightly altered to get my point across more):

Of all the bsd characters I think I could write the most about Ranpo and his characterization and how ppl completely fuck it up

Like- it’s hard to read a lot of fanfic with him cause they don’t portray him right? Like just the ‘UwU sweets loving boy who knows everything but is still oblivious’ OR ‘self centered arrogant man who acts too childish for his age and thinks he’s better than everyone’

LIKE NO‼️‼️

I know we haven’t really gotten to it in the anime yet but his whole thing is the fact HE DOESNT KNOW EVERYTHING- but he’s also aware that he knows a lot more than everyone else so people view him as this all-knowing unbeatable person when it’s simply not the case

Like, he puts himself on such a high pedestal cause he knows his family puts him on such a high pedestal, they expect him to be able to do everything and to know everything, and that’s why he fights so damn hard for the agency - he doesn’t want to let his family down

He’s always feels so isolated cause of it, and he’s so scared of messing up and he does mess up and it RUINS him

That arrogant front he puts is cause once your the best of the best there’s no where to go but down right? He keeps trying to prove himself and prove himself - he also doesn’t want to give anyone the idea of otherwise because he feels he has to be the one to keep everyone safe- if he shows weakness their enemies will find the loopholes and unfortunately for him that did happen

And yes he’s childish! He was literally sheltered from the entire world besides his also super genius parents for the first FOURTEEN YEARS of his life, he genuinely believed the world was out to get him and didn’t understand it once he was shoved into the outside world alone without the guidance of his now dead parents

They planned on raising him as a normal child to be a good person and not use his genius skills for bad, but they died early into the plan so he just, doesn’t know, doesn’t know any different

He thought everyone could see what he could and just refused to acknowledge it, and every time he would call something or someone out HE would be the one punished for it, it wasn’t till Fukuzawa came along and told him that he’s the only one to do that

AND, he knew to protect him at the time he told Ranpo his deduction skills were an ability, and Ranpo held onto that for protection, cause he refused to believe he was different for no reason, Fukuzawa knew he would be isolated from both normal people AND gifted people because of it

Please read the Untold Story of the Founding of the Detective Agency if you haven’t, it’s the third light novel and it’s about Fukuzawa’s and Ranpo’s meeting when Ranpo was only 14 years old and how Fukuzawa took Ranpo in and eventually created the Agency - it really helps you understand him more and why he is the way he is

Also! Once he discovered he is different, his first reaction wasn’t to use it for this benefit, his first reaction was “the people in the world are like infants, I understand now, the world isn’t cruel, it’s just stupid, and I need to protect them!” This has been his mindset since them, if no one else can see it, then he can and has to save them

It’s like having a pet and calling them stupid in an affectionate way whenever they do something dumb and taking care and nurturing them

Even if he’s not all that emotionally vulnerable and caring, he shows how much he cares through his actions - he’s different, he knows it, he states it like the fact it is, he brags as a manipulation tactic, but he still is a man who’s childhood was cut short, and grew up thinking murder is normal and a everyday casual thing, he loves praise and sweet things because he just simply does, he acts childish I believe as a way to keep a happy front and to stop others from worrying

“Alls well that’s well for me” he means it in the sense of, “if I’m happy, if I’m not worried about something, then no one else has to be, because I have the situation handled” and we see the opposite of this during the DOA arc, when he’s trying to outsmart fyodor and suddenly he gets dead serious - everyone is unsettled by it, they realize how serious the issue is

Idk guys I just, yes he’s a man child at times, yes he acts arrogant and self centered, yes he loves sweets and a lot of things children love but I hate it when people see it as his only traits

They don’t realize how deep his character is and how much he knows. His deduction isn’t just towards mysteries, he can read people in an instant, figure out their life story and more

He may not be a manipulation expert like Dazai but I don’t think he gets the credit he deserves in his other skills and how just, aware he is of everything happening around him - and how normal he tries to perceive himself and live his life in other non serious situations

And people don’t tend to realize how much he cares for everyone, all the innocent people in the world, and especially the agency who is family to him - he’s sacrificed himself on more than one account to protect them

He also puts his trust in the world even though he knows not everyone is as smart as him, because he knows he doesn’t know everything like when he did the press conference to prove the agency innocent

And you can see how relieved he is when some of them do, even if there’s a book that change reality to point all fingers at him

Anyway yea, I sincerely hope with the fourth season (and praying they animate the untold origins for the first couple eps like they did with the other light novels) more people will appreciate Ranpo, and the true Ranpo and not just some simple aspects of his character traits

Thank you for coming to my TED talk LMAO

[0averysillygoose0]

I can still make the whole place shimmer (with the skin of a killer, Bella)- Chapter five

Prologue and previous chapters are in my master list♡

Summary

Angelica Cullen was supposed to have died over 300 years ago, but now she gets to watch as her adoptive brother stalks some girl from Arizona.

Born in the 1600s to one Carlisle Cullen and his first wife- a woman whose name has since faded into obscurity, Angelica was never supposed to amount to much more than marriage and children. Now a perpetual sixteen-year-old who wants nothing more than to be able to paint her nails in peace to the Mama Mia soundtrack, she finds herself with little to occupy her time.

Her relationship with her family is growing more strained by the day. The cycle of high school has long since become dull and draining, and despite her desperation for something else, she's forced to stay stagnant for 'the good of the family'.

A family who's wearing her patience thin.

Then Bella Swan moves to Forks and Angelica's pressure is suddenly raised as the Cullen family is thrown into a potentially life-ending challenge every five business days. The Quillute are watching closely, as are the Volturi for any slip-ups, and in the world of the supernatural, Angelica has the grace of a baby deer.

♡ ♡ ♡

Chapter five A pretty girl in the woods? How very demure.

Edward had been gone for five days and Angelica should have been having the time of her life. He’d left in a hurry for Alaska, seeking refuge with the Denalis, after the “Bella incident” as it had been deemed and since then the entire household had been on high alert. A strict lockdown had been enforced on all members of the family until the boy returned and they could get to the bottom of what exactly about the Swan girl’s blood was so potent.

“I was around her for all of PE and I was fine.” Angelica had insisted when Carlisle had first told her of his decision. 

Edward had left only an hour earlier and Esme was already beside herself with worry. She was downstairs in the kitchen pacing back and forth. Alice had assured them that he wouldn’t be long, a week at most, but Angelica couldn’t care less. 

“You can’t prove that nothing would happen.” He’d shaken his head, leaning against her bedroom wall. “If any of our control isn’t as strong as Edward’s-”

“You don’t think I have better self control than a teenage boy? ” Angelica demanded incredulously. “Are you kidding me?” 

She sat stubbornly on her bed, wearing a faded mustard sweatshirt for a highschool that she could scarcely remember attending and a pair of worn blue pajama shorts. Irritation pricked her words and had blood still flowed through her veins, her face would have undoubtedly resembled a tomato in hue.

It was insulting, more than anything, the insinuation that her three hundred years of resistance was nothing compared to one girl, simply because Edward’s willpower had almost faltered. 

She was being trapped, or at least that’s what she felt was happening, confined to the house for a struggle that wasn’t her’s. Rationally, Angelica knew that she wasn’t alone in her imprisonment, that it wasn’t anything personal, that the whole family was isolating, but she felt resentment brewing in her stomach nonetheless. 

“Angelica, it’s not just you we need to consider.” Carlisle let out a sigh, rocking back and forth slightly on his heels.  “I want all of us to air on the side of caution.” 

“If it’s not me, then why do I have to be stuck here too?” She protested. Her voice was petering off into a childish whine and she was painfully aware that everyone else in the house could hear it. “Why can’t you just trust me-”  

“I do trust you.” He insisted.

His voice was steady and firm but Angelica refused to take his statement at face value. Carlisle always claimed to trust her fervently, and the words he used to assure her were always solid and earnest. But she wasn’t to hunt alone, she wasn’t to settle her own disagreements with her siblings and now she wasn’t to go to school because, despite successfully resisting her most basic instinct for over three hundred years, Edward couldn’t crack it and surely that meant she too was incapable.

She’s been on edge since she’d seen him in the parking lot. Something inside her, a voice that had started small but had grown wings, that insisted they were headed off the deep end. Her chest, that didn’t need to rise and fall in the first place, had felt tight for the past several hours.

“Then let me do this.” Angelica insisted, attempting to keep her words level. “I was around that girl for an hour and I was fine - I would’ve barely remembered her if it wasn’t for this whole clusterfuck.” She gestured around her vaguely.

Carlisle hesitated, opening his mouth only to shut it quickly once more. “I don’t want you there without someone to keep an eye on you.” He said finally. 

“Because you don’t trust me.” “No.” He said quickly, stepping forward. 

“Then why do I always need a chaperone like it’s still the 1800s?” Angelica demanded. She wanted to say more, but she knew that using examples of her limited allowances would only be met with rationalizations and explanations so set in stone and trodden out that she couldn’t maneuver an answer around them. 

“I can go places alone, Dad- I can handle it. Almost every other teenager goes to school without someone there to watch them, I’ll be fine.” She continued.

“No one is going anywhere until your brother returns.” Carlisle said firmly. “It’s not up for debate.”

Edward had told Carlisle he was leaving for Alaska. He hadn’t asked for permission, yet he’d been given it anyway. And in return, he didn’t owe anything , not a phone call, not a date or time or even an explanation, while Angelica had to beg to attend school and was denied.

“But we don’t know how long that will be.” She insisted.

“Alice said about a week at most, that’s hardly anything. “ He tilted his head to the side, studying her thoughtfully. “Esme told me you said that you were getting tired of school, sweetheart. This is a good opportunity to take a bit of a break.” He tried, a pursed smile tugging at his lips.

Angelica could feel a swell of panic rise up in her as she realized what was happening. This was surely the beginning of the end of their time in Forks. The incident from the hunt had been a mere precursor and Edward’s obsession with the new girl’s blood was taking the stage as the main event. Carlisle always did this, always tried to distract her with half baked positives. Her foot tapped against the wooden floor, drumming out a rhythm of nerves and worries. 

“Why  should my life be put on pause for him?”  Angelica demanded suddenly.

Carlisle sighed. 

“Because we’re a family and sometimes we need to put others’ needs above our own.” She could hear the irritation lacing his words. She wanted to just shut up and be fine, but she couldn’t.

“It’s always their needs though!” Angelica protested and she knew it had come out as a whine by the way her father’s face creased with frustration. 

He never yelled, or hit her. Carlisle’s anger, rare as it was, was a cold and calm thing that almost unsettled Angelica more than a regular outburst would have. Almost.

She could see the emotion building up in him, slowly and surely. A part of her wanted to push it further. 

“Angelica, we give up a lot for you as well.” He said quietly. “You and Edward had an argument, I drove you. You want to have human friends, we do our best to accommodate-“

“That’s a normal thing.” Angelica snapped. “Me having friends is a normal thing .  That shouldn’t be a sacrifice. I need friends- Everyone needs friends. Humans are social animals.“ Her voice kilted up and settled further back in her mouth as it slipped into what had once been her accent, as it often did when she was upset.

“We aren’t human.” Carlisle reminded her, and his voice was gentle once more, almost pitiful. 

“Our bodies changed, not our minds!” Angelica protested. “Why do you think we’ve collected all these people- we want a group! You have yours, why can’t I have mine?”

Carlisle frowned. “They’re yours as well, Angelica.”

“And I love them, but I need more.” She said, the words familiar on her tongue. “Please just let me go to school until Edward gets back.”

“Why do you need to be there so badly?” He asked and there was a foreign edge of suspicion to his voice. Carlisle lowered himself beside her on the bed and Angelica frowned.

“Because I know you’re going to drag us away soon.” She muttered. 

“I told you last night that isn’t what’s happening and that’s still the case. I’m just waiting for everything to settle down is all.”

“But it feels like you’re going to,” She insisted, “And if I feel like you’re going to and I’m here all day. It’s going to be in my head and it’s not going to leave.” 

Carlisle was a profoundly talented doctor when it came to bodies, perhaps the best in the world. His knowledge was vast and his skills were masterful. But the mind was another matter altogether. Being kind and considerate could only take you so far.

Angelica had tried to explain it before, the sudden pangs of fear and worry that held her down and lingered past their welcome, and he would nod sympathetically and tell her it would be fine. But it wasn’t fine, not really. It hadn’t been even when she was human. It was like there was something inside her, not a monster like Edward claimed, but a spiral that tightened around her.  

“You need to trust me.” He said. 

“But-”

“What you’re worried about is just in your head, that’s all.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently.

“I know it’s in my head, but it’s not going anywhere and I know it sounds dumb, but if I’m just stuck here wondering if we’re leaving or not, it’s not gonna leave.”

“I’ve told you what I can for now.” He murmured, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “I’m sorry that you feel this way. But now I need you to follow through with what I’ve asked.”

“But I-”

“I’ve said no, and that’s what my answer will remain.” 

“You aren’t listening to me!” She snapped, throwing her hands up in frustration. 

“I’m trying, Angelica, but you don’t seem to want to listen either.” He said evenly. “You’re staying until Edward returns.”

Angelica glared out at the window.

“Whatever, forget it.” She said tightly.

Carlisle sighed and rose up from the bed, dusting off imaginary grime from his freshly pressed pants.

“I’ll be downstairs. I think Esme wants us to play a board game.”

Angelica didn’t respond. She didn’t leave her room for the rest of the night. When Carlisle returned a few hours later, he found her phone discarded on the floor  and her bed empty. 

***

Angelica sat in the forest, atop a rotting log. Behind her, lay a clear path of destruction, leading to the spot she’d finally stopped at. Battered tree branches lay in her wake. She wondered how long it would take for them to realize she’d left. She probably didn’t have more than an hour.

Morning haze poked through the sky, dampened by rain clouds. Not for the first time, Angelica wished she could properly cry. 

Tearless sobs wracked her body and she took gasping, unneeded breaths. She was so frustrated and tired she felt like she could explode. Her nails dug into wood below her, leaving crescent scars in the log.

She was sick of it all. Sick of Edward and his melodrama, sick of Carlisle treating her like a baby, and sick of the world for keeping her trapped in a cycle of the same issues for over a hundred years.

Moss, damp with rain, soaked into her leggings making them cling to her skin. Angelica kicked at a clump of dirt.

She’d wanted a boiling point with Carlisle, finally a conclusion for years of an unspoken issue she’d tried time and time again to vocalize. Instead, she’d allowed him the last word as usual and she was miserable for it. Her words hadn’t been right, she’d stumbled over them and had tied them messily together.

Why did I yell at him? She shook her head. 

Angelica’s rage had boiled away, leaving a pang of guilt and a nagging frustration directed at herself this time, not her family. She’d let her emotions get the better of her, again.  Angelica knew that raising her voice would get her nowhere. She couldn’t recall what specifically had set her off, whether it had been a particular phrase or if it had just been the accumulation of everything mashed together.  

She wanted to believe that was the problem, that it had just been her inability to speak her swirling thoughts into reality. But a bitter part of her couldn’t help but think that even had she been able to communicate with the smooth perfection she longed for, nothing would have changed.

She took a shuddery breath.

“Hey! Are you okay?” A voice called from behind. 

Angelica turned sharply, expecting Carlisle or Rosalie. In her haze of cluttered emotions and heaving breaths she’d failed to catch the sounds of twigs snapping underfoot or the crackle of underbrush being pushed aside. 

A girl stood behind her, palms raised up defensively. She had tan skin and long, shiny black hair. She smelled like vanilla body spray and her eyes were carved out with mascara. Her face darted through Angelica’s mind. She’d been there at the treaty meeting back in November. She was one of the Quileute. 

Angelica had never spoken to a member of the tribe before. At the gatherings they had to ensure the terms and conditions of their contract was being followed, she'd always stayed quiet and tucked in at Carlisle’s side, told that it was better if she didn’t run her big mouth for once. 

In truth, she didn’t know much about the treaty, just that they weren’t to trespass, and any interaction between the two parties would be best left to scheduled meetings. Carlisle had made it abundantly clear to her on multiple occasions that Angelica wasn’t to interact with the group without a family member present. He hadn’t given her a straight answer when she’d asked why just a mumbled string of blather about contracts and clauses.

As the girl took in Angelica’s face, her golden eyes and pale skin, a look of realization dawned on her.

“Oh.” She said, her voice tight. “It’s you.”

“Shit.” Angelica mumbled, jolting upward and the girl flinched. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was on,” She swallowed past the irritating  lump in her throat, “I was on your land,” She finished stiltedly. 

“You aren’t technically, just.. close.” She frowned.  

 The girl was lanky and dressed in a navy blue hoodie. She pulled the sweater sleeves over her knuckles. 

“I’m really sorry. I should go.”

“No, you’re… you’re fine.” She toed at the ground below with her converse. Her hands were tucked into her jean pockets. “Are you okay?”

The question took Angelica by surprise. She felt the weight of her hair shift off of her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side, confused.

“I didn’t know you guys could cry.” She continued.

“We can’t.” Angelica mumbled. She didn’t know if she should feel embarrassed. “Not really. No tears.”

“Oh.” 

“I’ll get going.”

“You don’t need to.” The girl frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk before. It’s Angelica, right?”

She nodded. 

“They make sure we know which one of you is which.” The girl supplied. She had chocolate brown eyes that crinkled at the edges as she peered out at the vampire. “I’m Hailee.”

“Angelica.” She replied automatically. “Wait no you already- yeah.” Angelica shook her head, her voice trailing off. 

“Yeah.” The other girl looked around.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She sighed. 

“You were ‘crying’ because you’re fine?” Hailee asked skeptically. 

Angelica frowned quizzically at the girl before her. Wind rustled the trees and the smell of rain hung heavily in the air. Above, swollen gray clouds were beginning to darken and the distant rumbles of thunder could be heard as they darted through the grove. 

“Why are you being so nice to me? You aren’t scared or anything?”

Hailee shrugged. “You seem fine from what I’ve heard. ” She hummed. “You’re friends with my cousin actually, Lillian?”

Angelica paused. In the stubborn waves of Hailie’s hair and the sharpness of her nose, she could make out glimpses of her friend. She was taller than Lilly, no doubt, leaner too. 

Pretty. The word flitted through her mind.

“Really?”

“Mhm. My dad wasn’t happy about it but obviously like he couldn’t tell her why.”

Angelica felt a weight fall off of her shoulders as she realized this girl knew and that no act on her part was necessary. 

“Lilly’s my favorite.” Angelica smiled sadly. “I’m gonna miss her when we leave.”

“Is that why you were crying? Are you guys leaving?”

“No, well… not yet? I don’t know.”

“Do you want to like… vent?” Hailie sat down beside her and Angelica could feel the warmth radiating from her body.

Carlisle’s warnings about the treaty reared their head and his words flashed through her mind. She felt a tug in her stomach, a satisfaction in ignoring him for once. Perhaps this could be a boiling point, a small one that was only for her, but a boiling point nonetheless. 

Angelica’s struggles from the past week began to pour out from her like a flooded fountain as she divulged in her worries and irritations, all while Hailee, who’d been a stranger only a mere five minutes ago, listened with rapt intent. She nodded along, chiming in with the ocassional comment, but for the most part, sat thoughtfully.

“I just feel like no one trusts me,” Angelica continued, halfway through a ramble about Edward's sudden vacation, “I’ve been fine for three hundred years but everyone acts like I’m six or something. ” 

"That sounds shitty.”

“It is shitty!” Angelica exclaimed. “But no one admits it is! And then like the stuff I can do never gets acknowledged. Like I can handle myself around people, but just because Edward couldn’t I’m also on lock down. And he didn’t ask to leave either, he just said he was going to and left but I’m not allowed anywhere without someone with me and even though I didn’t do anything I have to deal with the consequences of his choices. ”

“How is that like even remotely fair?”

“I know right? And you know what like for sure happened?” Angelica scoffed. “He saw a pretty girl and he didn’t know what to do because he’s a 107 year old virgin.”

“No shot that he’s 107 and still got his card.” Hailee scoffed. “I mean like, I always thought he was a bit off. I don’t know.”

“We’re all a ‘bit off’ .” Angelica muttered.

The other girl shrugged. “You seem fine honestly.” 

“I don’t feel fine.”

“I think you’re just feeling human emotions, girl.”

“Yeah, but I’m not supposed to be.” Angelica shook her head. 

She kicked at a stray twig, soggy and rotten. It fell apart with the impact. The thunder was drawing closer, and the clouds were growing thicker and darker by the minute. And yet, Angelica didn’t want to leave. 

“Why? Your brain didn’t change right?”

“That’s what I said!”

Hailee shrugged. She fished out a bag of pretzels from her pocket and held it out.

“Want one?”

“I can’t.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “Yeah… ‘forgot.”

Angelica smiled sadly.

“It’s nice to talk to someone who knows.” She hummed. “It’s a lot of lying.”

“Yeah I hate lying to Lilly too if it helps.” 

Angelica nodded and for a moment there was silence. It filled the small grove and curled comfortingly around the two girls.

“So why are you here then?” Angelica asked finally. 

Hailee took a dutiful bite of a pretzel, and despite her mouth being closed as she chewed, Angelica could hear the snaps of the brittle treat being crushed up within the girl’s mouth.

 “Bored.” She said simply, shrugging. “My friend Leah is like one of the only girls on the res since my sisters left and she’s obsessed with her boyfriend right now so we barely hang out.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, gross.” “Yeah.” She sighed. “I don’t know.” 

“You should hang out with me and Lilly sometime.” Angelica offered. “We have movie nights sometimes with our friend Anna.”

Hailee smiled and Angelica couldn’t help but notice that she had a small dimple beside her left eye. “I think she’d like that.” 

There was a sudden echoing cry as Angelica’s name was thrown out into the forest. Her stomach churned. In the distance, she could hear footsteps approaching, perhaps two minutes away. 

“Fuck.” Angelica sighed. “I should go.” She lowered her voice to a whisper as she jumped to her feet. “It was nice,” She paused, “Meeting you, I guess. Yeah.” 

“I’ll ask Lilly for your number?” “Sounds good.” Angelica looked out into the forest. “I’m gonna meet up with them. I don’t wanna get in more trouble for breaking ‘treaty rules’ or whatever.” Hailee nodded.  She pulled another pretzel out of her bag and with that, they were done.

The branches slapped uselessly against her skin as Angelica raced through the woods, a warmth rising up in her chest as she drew further away from her new friend. It had been so long, too long, since she’d last had someone listen to her so wholly.  It felt good. Just good. No need for synonyms or bells and whistles or clever analogies. Just good. She’d had talks with Lilly and Anna, of course, and there had been times where she’d allowed herself to divulge into fractions of her problems. But it was only ever that, a fraction. She told them what they’d been allowed to know, confining herself within the lines that had been drawn for her.

Angelica was pulled out of her stupor by the sudden force of running into what she’d first assumed was a boulder, the only thing she could think of that would be able to withstand the impact. She stumbled away, confused as to where the rock had come from. 

“Oh thank god.” Rosalie’s voice cried as she stepped out behind the stone, which, upon a second glance, didn’t look like a stone at all but rather a blonde vampiric doctor. Her sister rushed forward, only to come to a sudden stop, her brows furrowing together as her nostrils twitched. The blonde girl looked less put together than usual, her hair frizzed and thrown clumsily in a ponytail. She was wearing a t shirt that was clearly Emmett’s and a pair of flannel pajama pants.

“Where were you?” Carlisle demanded. His eyes flitted across her body, checking for scrapes and bruises she wasn’t even capable of obtaining. He took her right shoulder in an iron vice. The worry in his voice sent a flood of guilt darting through her, and she did her best to ignore it. It was easily suppressed with remembering why she’d felt the need to run off in the first place. 

“On a walk.” Angelica replied stiffly. 

“You stink like a dog.” Rosalie snapped. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously although Angelica was clueless as to what her sister was trying to uncover. 

A dog? 

Angelica rolled her eyes as her father tugged on her arm, pulling her back in the direction of the house. 

“What were you thinking?”  Carlisle pressed. “Everyone’s out looking for you- You can’t just run off whenever you like.”

“I just wanted to clear my mind.” She tried to shrug Carlisle off but his grip was unrelenting. “It felt better than just staying in my room- I just needed some alone time.”

“Well you better get used to ‘just staying in your room’ because that’s where you’ll be spending the next few days.” Carlisle said tightly. 

*** 

Angelica was curled up on her bed, rereading a worn copy of the Great Gatsby when she heard the creak of her door opening. Many of the lines were highlighted in sage green and scribbled annotations dotted the paragraphs. It was her sixth, and final day of isolation, and she was counting down the minutes until she would finally be able to return to class and rejoin civilization. Apparently the new girl Silver moonlight streamed in thinly through the cover of clouds.

Angelica didn’t look up as the familiar sound of Edward’s footsteps approached her.

“Alice said you’d be back today.” Angelica kept her eyes trained on her book. “Carlisle is down the hall, waiting for you.” She flipped a page monotonously. 

Edward frowned at her use of the doctor’s name. 

“Fun week?” He pried dryly and Angelica could feel something within her head, a twinge as he rifled through her thoughts. 

Nosy bastard. 

“Yeah, we were all grounded, it was a blast.” She scoffed.  

Edward rolled his eyes. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, you know.” He sighed.

“Excuse me?” “Esme texted me about it.” Edward shook his head. “You scared her. You can’t just run off like that.”

Angelica set her book down and the highlighter and pen she’d been annotating with slipped soundlessly onto the carpet. She gave a small twirl of her finger and the writing utensils swiftly returned to their spot beside her on the bed. 

“Can you pass me that dictionary?” She asked, pointing at the bookshelf above her desk.

“Why?” “I want to look up the definition of hypocrite, you ass.” 

“I had no choice..” Edward snapped defensively. “The bloodlust just overcame me.” He shook his head. “I had a reason to leave.” He said with such self-importance it made her want to gag. 

“Do you have a reason for being in my room?” Angelica scoffed. 

“I wanted to ask you to apologize to Carlisle for worrying him. I could hear him thinking about it from a mile away. He feels horrible.” “Dude, mind your own business.” 

“It’s hard to do that when you’re disrupting the business of everyone around you.” “I’m disrupting-” She shook her head in disbelief. “My brother in Christ, we had to all go on lockdown because of your little Alaskan vacation!”

Edward shook his head. “Forget it.” He scoffed. “Don’t expect me to drive you to school tomorrow.” 

Angelica bit her tongue, deciding that informing him that his ‘threat’ was actually a massive weight off of her shoulders would only drag out the conversation more. She was so caught up in trying to mask this thought that it took a moment for her to register the word “tomorrow”. 

“You’re going back?” She frowned. “What about your whole-” “Carlisle and Esme trust me.” 

Angelica’s eye twitched and she picked up her book again, waiting for his footsteps to draw further away from her. He took a moment, perhaps taken back by the lack of response before finally making his leave.

Don’t fucking touch her, Ed, because if we have to move early because of this, I’m gonna rip that fucking ‘monster within you’ out of your spine and use your vertebrae as a tooth brush.  Angelica allowed her defenses to fall as she flipped another page, not looking up. 

He frowned. 

“You need to be studied or something.” Edward muttered, shaking his head as he stepped into the doorway. 

♡ ♡ ♡

A/N

Hey guys, in this chapter we are introduced a member of the Quileute (albiet an oc) and I just wanted to take a moment to acknoweldge how innacurately Twilight originally potrayed this tribe. Not only does it twist their stories and culture to suit Stephanie Meyer's needs, but the wolves (and therefore the Quileute) are also often potrayed as wild and "lacking control" (ie what happens to Emily). These ideations are based on racist stereotypes and will not be included in this book (Jacob is still gonna be an asshate, but thats just him being him). I'm gonna link the Quileute website, below ran by the actual community if yall would like to learn more about the real people! While this fic will follow the twilight version of the quilute in terms of story, it will not include the depictions of S. Meyer that reflect some uneducated beliefs and any chapter including them will include a link to the Quileute website.

So glad to finally be introducing Hailee, my baby girl!! I loved writing Angelica for this chapter as well, it's fun to write her acting like a little shit (even if some of it is justified anger).

[cdroloisms]

i think that although the theories/aus of puffy's son dream and wil's brother dream are interesting to think about, especially the implications, the (probably) canon statement that he really has no family to me hits the hardest. because it's just dream, you know. his friends hate him, he has none (p relatable), but i can't really imagine,, both not having friends and not having a family. that's kind of what keeps a lot of us sane and okay ( - quill anon (same anon from the c!tubbo c!wil ask) )

ouch quill anon ,, this ask Hurt. it’s true - usually, it’s our family and friends that keep us going, that are the ones that we fight for and live for and love for. c!dream’s “family” was his reasoning behind ,, a lot of the stuff he did, good or bad, and even now you can hear his desperation in getting someone, anyone to visit sometimes, in wanting to know how people are doing outside the cell. 

at the same time, he’s a character very much defined by his solitude, by his isolation, by all of the time he has spent,, alone. by the alliances that had been broken, betrayed, forgotten. by how- at the end of the day - he sits for hours on end in an obsidian box with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. it’s awfully ,, sad, despite everything he’s done. through it all, he’s alone. he survives the horrors of the vault (until this current arc) alone. nobody’s there to hear his thoughts. nobody knows his mindset, or feelings, or wants, or anything that really makes him human. for someone so driven by people, he spends so much time completely isolated - and it’s. honestly really, really tragic. 

anyway, this is a sad little drabble set pre-roommates arc abt c!dream in the prison, alone, bc he makes me Sad. 

tw: mentioned torture, abuse, violence, broken bones, blood, injuries, mental deterioration, isolation, panic attacks, self-deprecation, trauma, memory loss, death, contemplations of death, dark content, dark imagery

The blank book in his hand stares at him stubbornly, the stark white of the untouched pages nearly burning his eyes, used to the dark walls and floor of the cell. Dream’s hand shakes around his quill, ink splotches marring the pages from where his too-unsteady hand had let the nib brush against the paper and left freckles of black spots behind. He pulls his thumb back from the bottom left corner, hissing slightly when it leaves a dull red fingerprint behind, a smudge of half-dried blood further dirtying the paper.

He’d pulled out one of the books for some reason, probably on a whim, letting his hands run over the leather spine and along the thread of the binding absentmindedly after Quackity left for the day. He hadn’t touched them in a while - he liked to save them, at the beginning, just in case visitors came and he wanted to thank them or if he needed to communicate (though he hadn’t gone silent since Sapnap left, ‘cause Sapnap wanted him to talk and he doesn’t know why he still clings to that visit when it’s been months and he still hasn’t come back, but he promised that if Dream behaved he’d visit again and - it’s stupid to hope, but Dream can’t give up, not yet) and then he kept them because he would need them for the revive book and the Warden would confiscate them, anyway, so it was better not to get attached. Regardless, he’d stubbornly ignored the chest of books for a long time, let the remain closed and the clasp go unlatched as he wasted his days away watching the walls drip bright purple and pretend he didn’t miss his clock.

Until now.

He runs his fingers along the surface of the paper again, ignoring the red and black smudges they leave in their wakes, ruining the previously unblemished pages. The paper is smooth, bearing a very slight grain, and smells clean and woody - this book must’ve been a newer one the Warden replaced into the chest. He’d counted the pages a few times, front and back - there are fifty sheets, so a hundred pages to use as he sees fit, completely empty and untouched. The quill shakes in his hand, the tip pressed against the paper, unmoving.

What is there to write?

He’s forgotten why he pulled out the book in the first place, already - his head keeps getting fuzzier, memory impossibly fragmented and seemingly worsening with every passing day. He knows he had a reason because he’d been very determined about it, had spent what must have been hours dragging himself along the obsidian floor with a broken shinbone jutting out of his right leg and a dislocated left shoulder that he’d taken an extra few minutes to jam back in place by pressing it against the floor. Something had come into his head, probably in the middle of Quackity’s daily session, and he’d found himself desperate to write it down before he forgot despite the throbbing of his head and the pain in his chest making it impossible to take a full breath.

(He must have talked back, or acted defiant, or something - he doesn’t remember much besides the look Quackity had given him after, dark and angry and tight with rage. There had been a hand tangled in his hair, a blade jammed right up against his throat, curses and screams in his ears dying into a singular ringing echo as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Quackity realized that he’d gone too deep and that Dream was choking on his own blood - his memories shatter, and there’s nothing but more screaming, red and black and blood everywhere, warm against his skin, the sweet-sour taste of glistening melon on his tongue, a healing pot desperately stitching his skin together and bringing him back from the darkness that he’d swelled in the corners of his vision - mostly, he remembers everything going cold and numb and he’d realized, halfway into the Void, that he would never leave the Vault alive.)

His hands tighten on the book as he breathes a shallow, harsh breath through his teeth, because - oh. Oh. He looks back at the trembling white plume in his hand, at his shaking fingers clenched tightly near the end, and he swallows the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. Quackity had- and he had- and then-

Right.

He forces air into his lungs steadily, counting the seconds off in his head. He’d learned how to stave off panic attacks on his own ages ago, and the knowledge had come to full use in the Vault - the struggle to stay calm seems harder with every passing day, but he can’t exactly risk himself passing out every three seconds when he’s inevitably set off by the smell of blood or a twinge of pain or any of the million other triggers crammed into this tiny box that’s been the source of all of his torment for months. He keeps up the slow, steady breathing for another few minutes, just enough time to pull back the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, and looks back down at the blank paper.

It stares back at him, almost judgmental of his hesitancy. You opened me up, it seems to challenge him, why aren’t you writing? The quill still shakes in his hand. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop shaking again.

Dear, he begins, almost in defiance, proof that he Is Going To Write Something, thank you very much, he isn’t just going to chicken out and leave it a blank book (like you have before?) but the quill tip digs into the paper as he grinds to a sudden halt, the empty space next to the first word nearly taunting. He feels his mouth dry, heat rising behind his eyes - the book, silent and blank as ever, stays imprinted in his vision even as he squeezes them shut.

Dear, what a stupid, sentimental way to start a letter. He can’t even fool himself into thinking of it as a business venture, turn it into an elaborate plan to escape and address it to either Techno or Wilbur (who would never receive his message anyway), not without admitting his regard for the two edged past his pretense of professional interested and owed favors. He can hardly write it to Ranboo, not without compromising their already fragile alliance (if it even exists, anymore. The enderman hybrid had yet to visit for months - and sure, it was probably for the best, who knows how Quackity would react if he found out about the nature of their relationship, but that didn’t make it sting any less.)

In the back of his minds, name rise from where he’d kept them carefully buried despite his best efforts. Punz. Bad. Puffy. Sapnap. George. He shakes his head, trying to wave away them from his thoughts, but the effort is as fruitless as it has always been - he stares at the first word angrily, like it has betrayed him, and receives no response. The words are messy, shaking, his script overly looping and rounded like a child’s. He hates it, hates how cheery it looks, even on the bloodstained page - it looks like the beginning of a birthday card, or a perhaps a particularly dedicated Halloween party invite. Like he’s some sort of lovesick teen, writing letters to crushes that would never pay him a second glance. He laughed a little, without any real humor - minus the romance, that description isn’t all that far off.

Because- well. His memories might be shot to all hell, but he doubts he’ll ever forget the hatred on Sapnap’s face, a loaded crossbow pointed between his eyes, George’s expression set in disinterested apathy - “George, you can give the word.” Bad’s face, twisted in pity and resignation, voice carefully measured as he looks away and gestures at the cell, “you did do some pretty bad stuff to get put in here though, Dream,” the hidden “you deserve it” that he’d heard, just as clearly behind the words. Punz - “you should’ve paid me more” - jaw set stiffly as people poured through the portal, watching, wordless, as Dream bled out twice on that blackstone floor. Puffy, poorly hidden disgust flickering over her face as she looks away from him being dragged away in chains, sword held steady in her hands. Sapnap, that same fiercely determined expression on his face so familiar that thinking of it aches, even now, “it’s gonna be me, who takes your final life.” Months and months and months and months, alone.

Always, always, alone.

The page makes a quiet, complaining groan under his pen - he looks down to see it torn under the tip of his quill, the word completely unreadable under line after line of black ink scratched over it, each one deeper than the last. He stares blankly at it for a few minutes longer, the brief flash of anger that had seared through his body settling into numbness once more.

To whoever may find this: he scratches the words on the page slowly, keeping his print deliberately blocky and neat. The heavy feeling in his throat returns, stronger than ever, and he ignores it as he pushes on.

He pauses for a moment, wondering what more to write. Apologies? Accusations? He could detail every second that he remembers from Quackity’s visits, describe every inch of pain that had been pulled from his aching lungs, every line etched into his skin. He could apologize for every act of cruelty that had ever been caused by his hands, every bridge he’d ever torched to light the path to a better future. He could explain - everything, every tortured thought that had circled his head for hours on end and every night that had passed without any sleep and every time he’d pushed on without complaint or hesitancy because it would be worth it, even if he was the only one who saw it, it would be worth it because he’d sacrifice too much for it to be anything but. He could- he could, he could write and write until he’d filled every page of every book back and front, and would they even believe him? Would it even matter?

Goodbye, he writes at last. It feels strangely final. (He won’t be leaving this Vault alive. He knows this as surely as he knows that he will leave this world uncared for, unheard. As surely as he knows that he’ll always be alone.) With a quick snap of magic following the signing of his name, the book is preserved, shining slightly with a purple glow as he sets it back down in the chest. He looks around, the cell once again stiflingly quiet without the book to busy him, Dream once again completely alone as he’s been for - well.

(Pandas, eyebrows drawn in uncharacteristic seriousness from the usually painfully spirited eight-year-old, pinkie raised between the two of them, solemnity belied by the gap in his front teeth poking out between his lips.

“We’ll be together forever,” he whispered with the volume control you’d expect from a kid that age, which is to say that it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, but Dream, newly ten years old, remembers being particularly moved by the gesture anyway, moving to hesitantly hook his own pinkie in the other’s.

“And we’ll never be alone ever again,” he’d replied, voice faraway with a disbelieving sort of awe.”

“Never,” Pandas’ voice had been just as firm as his first statement, twisting his wrist to tighten the grip of their linked fingers further. “Best friends for ever and ever, right?”

“For ever and ever.”)

“For ever and ever,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps down against the floor, and only the lava bubbles in reply.

[demonsandco]

Okay okay we know with their demon forms it requires a lot of upkeep now what do you think they would do and what they need help with. Cause what comes to mind is a family grooming session 😊

I love this ask thank youuuu. I wasn't sure if you wanted their canon forms, but this is mostly based on my own personal headcanons for their demon forms! I hope you don’t mind that :) It would be much easier for them to handle their insane forms, but what's the fun in that?

Before I start, all demon horns need constant maintenance. Demon horns never actually stop growing, so routine sanding, usually with a custom shaped whetstone, is important to keep horns smooth and to keep them from getting too long. Without proper care, horns can easily become overgrown and asymmetrical, as well as gain a rough, dry and almost scaly texture, which is rather uncomfortable for the demon in question

All other forms of upkeep vary from demon to demon, depending on what features they have (ei. scales, feathers, fur, hair, etc.).

Lucifer

Lucifer's horns are rather easy to reach, curling forward along the sides of his head, so it's fairly simple for him to keep them maintained himself. It's something that he does often, especially because neglecting them could easily impact his image. After all, it's common to see him bring out his demon form to intimidate others, and he wants to make sure he looks well put together. Caring for his horns is not much different than shaving his face in the morning, nothing more than a quick and simple part of his routine.

The thing that actually gives Lucifer trouble is his wings and tail. General self care is something he can handle easily, but feathers naturally wear down and need to be replaced, which means molting. Molting leaves him feeling absolutely miserable. His entire back starts looking patchy and he feels itchy and irritated all over, but he can never seem to properly reach the areas giving him trouble himself. His pride tends to get in the way of asking for help, so he's often left to suffer through it until the new feathers finish growing in.

Lucifer would need to trust someone quite a bit in order to let them help, but it's always a huge relief to have that itchiness soothed by a caring hand. Most often, Mammon ends up being the one to help out. Not only is the second born the only other one who still has feathers, but he's also very skilled at reading Lucifer's moods and telling when he needs help. They never speak about it afterwards, but it's a much needed binding experience for both of them.

(The rest are under the cut)

Mammon

Being a model, Mammon takes very good care of his appearance. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he does it, his horns always give him an insane amount of trouble. They're very tightly coiled and rest at a slightly backwards angle, making it difficult for Mammon to reach the inside parts of his horns. It's not uncommon to see him sulking his way over to Asmodeus' room for help with those hard to reach areas, after spending hours trying to do it himself and failing.

Other than his horns, Mammon has it pretty easy. Like Lucifer, he has to deal with molting, but it never seems to last too long for him, much to the eldest's envy. His wings are also featherless, so molting is nowhere near as uncomfortable for him. The only big feathers he needs to worry about replacing are the ones on his tail. The rest are much smaller and less irritating to regrow.

His wings and other featherless areas do need extra care, though, in the form of moisturizing. Without protection from feathers, those areas get dry and cracked easily, especially if he goes flying. To deal with it, he's got a pretty big collection of scented moisturizing lotions and oils that he can pick from, most of which were gifts from Asmodeus, since they have similar wings.

Leviathan

Levi's demon form is rather unique compared to his brothers. Instead of having true horns, he has antlers. Rather than needing constant care, his horns grow to their full size, shed their outer layer of skin and then eventually fall off to start the process again. Levi often goes to the ocean to isolate himself when his horns are ready to fall. He usually lets them sink to the bottom, where they take the form of the devildom equivalent of coral, providing shelter for aquatic life.

On top of shedding his horns, he also sheds his skin. His sheds are entirely determined by his horns, happening once when the antlers are full grown and ready to lose their protective, velvety skin, and again later on when they're ready to fall. While his antlers' life cycle is reminiscent of a deer's, the shedding of his skin is very similar to a snake's shed. It's not hard to tell when Levi is close to shedding. The old skin begins to separate itself from his new scales, giving him a dull gray sheen over his body and his eyes begin to look dull and glazed over.

It's definitely not a pleasant feeling and he can't see very well through the skin either, so he tends to avoid his brothers. High humidity is also needed for him to shed properly, so if he can't go hide out at sea, Levi's going to lock himself in his room and soak miserably in his bathtub.

Satan

Satan's self care routine isn't too difficult, but it's definitely the most time consuming and he absolutely hates it. He's not the most patient demon, especially when it comes to tasks that he thinks are wasting his time. When it's time for him to maintain his more demonic features, Satan needs to put aside an entire day for it.

Satan's horns are easy enough for him to handle. The inside part of the sharp curve of them often gives him some trouble, but he's nothing if not stubborn, so he usually manages to sort it out on his own. Horns on their own are rather time-consuming to care for, but what really takes up all of Satan's time is the multiple other horn-like protrusions along his body, as well as his tail. He's got boney spikes in the areas that his bones are closer to the skin (elbows, spine, ribs, jaw, etc.) and, like regular horns, they're constantly growing.

Whether he likes it or not, he always ends up needing to ask someone for help, and that someone usually ends up being Asmo. Not only is the process tedious, but he also has a very hard time reaching the spines on his back properly, so a helping hand is very useful.

Asmodeus

Unsurprisingly, Asmo has a very in depth routine that he follows to a t. Every week, he sets aside an evening to take care of his horns and wings specifically, sanding down his horns to keep them smooth and shiny, and moisturizing his wings with oils and lotions to keep the skin supple and soft. Being related to scorpions, Asmo also has a carapace in his true form that resembles the exoskeleton of actual scorpions. It doesn't need much extra care, but he always makes sure to keep it bright and polished.

The downside to his carapace is that it can't actually heal unless Asmo molts and completely replaces it. He's not the biggest fan of molting, but he'll force himself to molt early if he gets scratched or hurt in any way. He can't stand the thought of any part of him looking dull or banged up.

Overall, though, Asmo definitely has his self care handled perfectly. He's also very particular about how things are done, so he's very hesitant to let anyone else do it for him. He does, however, love helping his brothers out with grooming and self care. Especially the ones that he knows are likely to neglect themselves without a proper push.

Beelzebub

Beel's self care leaves much to be desired. He's completely horrible at taking care of his demonic attributes, but he often forgets about it or runs out of time. It's not uncommon for his horns to be rough and chipped or for his insect-like carapace to look dull and roughed up, especially with how aggressive his sports matches can get. Between school, working out, fangol and his constant hunger, regular upkeep gets put on the backburner.

Luckily, Beel and his twin often partake in allogrooming! They both find it easier to take care of each other, rather than themselves. This is especially helpful when it comes to Beel's horns. They curve so tightly along the sides of his head that he can't actually fit his hands between the horns and his skin to smooth them out. Belphie, on the other hand, has much smaller hands and can easily reach around and sand them down, while Beel takes care of him in turn. They rarely talk during these moments, but it serves as good bonding time for the two of them.

Beel's carapace is something he can handle himself, mostly because it doesn't really require anything. Like Asmo's, the only way for his carapace to "heal" is for him to molt and replace it, which he puts off for as long as possible. It's thick and hardy and since he doesn't put much stock in looking perfectly put together, he doesn't worry about it all that much. Whenever he does feel the need to molt, it goes by pretty quickly and he's back to his regular schedule in no time.

Belphegor

Belphie is honestly the worst at taking care of himself. Not because he doesn't care, but because he has such a hard time gathering up enough motivation to even get up in the mornings, much less put in the effort to look nice. If no one steps in, he can go days at a time without brushing just the hair on his head. Even on the days that he does that much, chances are that he didn't bother brushing the rest of his fur, too. After all, if he just doesn't show off his demon form, then no one will notice right?

Luckily for him, Beel does notice when his twin hasn't been caring for himself. While the rest of the brothers only need to worry about their demon forms every other week or even just once a month, Belphie needs to do it daily because of his coat. Without proper daily care, his hair gets oily and matted together very easily, which only makes it harder to deal with later. Beel knows that that's a lot to handle and often steps to brush out his twin's coat, even if he doesn't need any help in return. It's much easier for Belphie to feel motivated enough to help groom Beel than it is to care for himself, so their joint grooming helps them both.

On a similar note, Belphie has quite a bit of trouble with his horns and he constantly puts off taking care of them until they begin causing him physical discomfort. In the past, there's been a few times where he's let them grow a couple extra curls before they started weighing him down so much that he had to take care of it. With his twin's help, and a strictly imposed schedule, his horns haven't gotten that bad in ages, but they still tend to be rather rough most of the time. He also needs to sand down his hooves in a similar fashion. Normally, they'd be maintained just by walking on rough surfaces, but Belphie definitely doesn't walk around enough for that.

If Beel's not around to help out, Belphie has no qualms with playing the baby brother card and whining until one of the others agrees to help him. He's always willing to groom them in return, though, so he usually gets his way pretty easily.

[vimeddiart]

Strangers

Patron-voted fic of my D&D beeflings! Read the previous comic and the first comic for this series for context!

On AO3

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

The zinging cadence of his hammer hitting a new blade usually tempers his fraught emotions and lessens their intensity. The rhythm and beat usually calms him, the heat of the furnace and the steady drip of sweat as well. Except his heart thunders on and his breathing remains irregular and his eyes sting—not from stray embers or errant drops of perspiration—and his agitation grows.

It grows so powerfully that he miscalculates and swings his hammer much too harshly, breaking the blade he was trying to fashion which frustrates him further and he throws down his tools with a clatter, pressing the gloved heels of his hands to his brow.

Lazlo.

Tuhka releases a trembling breath.

Barely a day had passed since he had regurgitated all of the regret and agony of his childhood friend’s death right into said friend’s face before gracelessly fleeing, the bitter taste of tears still on his tongue and Lazlo’s look of resounding disbelief haunting him even here in the safety of his forge.

It wasn’t fair.

Why must he have been forced to carry the burden of grief and guilt for so many years? All those moments of remembrance, thinking of a friend—the only one he ever had— ripped away from the world much too soon, endless nights of pain and suffering, wishing he’d been taken instead...and for what? Lazlo was alive. Had been for perhaps as long as Tuhka had grieved his loss.

How much hatred—or worse, indifference—must Lazlo have harboured to fail in seeking Tuhka out...to reassure him, to reunite with him, to talk with him. They had been family.

Tuhka wrenches off his gloves and tosses them to the side, stalking towards the entrance of his smithy for some air, unable to concentrate anymore on his craft. His hands shake when he grasps the wrought iron gate.

A sound distracts him for a moment, one that carries over on the salty evening breeze that cools the sweat of his brow. Gravel crushed underfoot. It’s gone in an instant and even with his sharp hearing, Tuhka strains to listen for something further, ears swivelling in the hopes to catch it.

It doesn’t take too much investigation to track down the source of the sound once he decides to; a dark figure perched somewhat dejectedly on a boulder that offsets a scenic cliffside path Tuhka often takes to clear his head.

“You didn’t waste your grief, if that’s what you’re bothered about,” the figure says.

Tuhka’s breath leaves him in a rush as he’s met with a familiar blue gaze. He feels pulled forward by some invisible thread and settles himself on the far edge of the same boulder, leaving a bit of distance between them.

Lazlo sighs, drops his head into his hands. “When you left that day and never came back, I...believed you’d abandoned me, that you’d made good on your promise—”

“That was a child’s threat, I never meant to—” Tuhka began, needing to explain despite the betrayal he felt, still very fresh, that had upended years of mourning.

The other tiefling shook his head, dropping his hands away from his face and letting them fall to his lap. “I made a terrible decision, I paid for it,” the spectral left hand twitches and Tuhka notices it properly for the first time, heart squeezing despite everything and mind filling with more questions, “and I...went away for a long time. I didn’t think to look for you...I thought you despised me.”

He releases a mirthless laugh. “I don’t think I would’ve found you anyway. I’d have been looking for someone...quite different.”

Tuhka swallows hard. “I’ve...probably grown a bit since you last saw me.”

This startles a small, but real, laugh out of Lazlo, even if it does sound a little wet.

After a pause, Tuhka gathers strength from the stars and attempts to keep his voice steady. “That day...I went back for you. I did. I wasn’t going to, I was about to start a new life away from those bloody mines and I was so angry with you that I hoped you would stew in them forever...but then I remembered you wanted to get out just as desperately as I did and we swore to do it together so I went back to fetch you.”

Tuhka didn’t dare raise his eyes to Lazlo’s face, staring intently at his own hands grasping his knees even though the image was beginning to waver and blur.

“It was snowing and freezing and I walked through it without stopping, thinking that I would see you soon and whisk us away to a better place, until I saw the smoke from over the hill and I knew you’d gone ahead with our plan without me,” Tuhka let out a shuddering breath, “they said you got crushed in the tunnel along with that bastard foreman. Don’t remember much of what happened after that...just that I’d gone to fetch you and came back empty-handed.”

Tears flowed freely, despite previously believing he had run out of tears to shed. From the corner of his eye he noticed Lazlo wipe his face with a pure, white square of cloth.

“Told you the truth though…” Tuhka continued, after a none-too-discreet sniff, “mourned you like a piece of me had died. Couldn’t think of much else for a good few years,” He runs a forearm over his face roughly and finally turns to Lazlo, raw and exposed, “I would’ve looked for you in a heartbeat if I’d known you were alive. I would’ve.”

Lazlo lets out a sound like an animal in pain, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks that he no longer tries to wipe away. “I didn’t know...I didn’t know— I mucked up my plan and ending up losing everything, I— I was trapped for years without knowing how much time passed, I was...I was isolated from the outside in a way you won’t be able to understand but you must believe me, I never wanted to lose you—”

That final crack in Lazlo’s voice is what forces Tuhka to move closer and wrap an arm around his shoulders, mumbling soothing words until the sobs that wrack Lazlo’s frame subside. It reminds him of when he was younger—and much smaller—when Lazlo would do the same for him after a tumble, a run in with the awful foreman, or when overcome with a sadness he couldn’t understand, much less explain. Lazlo would have been there to comfort him, always.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lazlo lets out a tremulous sigh. “...Tables have turned, hm?”

Tuhka makes a tentatively amused sound in response. There is a whirlwind of emotion to wade through, but he can take this moment just to experience how real and solid Lazlo is. That he’s back.

“A right pair of bellends we turned out to be,” he ends up saying.

“Quite.” Lazlo sniffs, but there’s a small, albeit watery, smile on his lips as he straightens out of Tuhka’s one-armed embrace, and Tuhka tries not to let the empty feeling that remains affect him too much.

Something that has been niggling in the back of Tuhka’s mind takes on more force and the reason finally dawns on him.

“You sound different.”

Lazlo finishes wiping his face with a fresh, white handkerchief and makes a noise, muffled by the fabric.

“Yes, ah...I trained out the accent I used to have and replaced it with a new one.”

Tuhka blinks. “What’s wrong with your old accent? That’s the accent I have! I got it from you!”

“I needed to, ah...move in higher circles of society and I couldn’t very well sound like a common miner, could I?”

Tuhka opens his mouth to argue, a nostalgia for their juvenile arguments filling him in a split second, but Lazlo interrupts, “You know, we don’t have to speak Common if you’d prefer.”

They fall back on Infernal so naturally that Tuhka has to swallow a lump in his throat and keep the waver out of his voice. He never thought he would have this again. He’s a little rusty and out of practice but that doesn’t seem to matter in the moment—it’s like they’re back in the mines, speaking their language out of earshot of the foreman, making plans for the future in a world that was all dreams.

Tuhka tells Lazlo how he adopted Ooria (and not the other way round as she claimed to recall) and how she had helped him find his true self. He tells him about his work, his smithy and how he made a home on this cliff by the ocean. He doesn’t talk about the painful things, like crying himself to sleep every night for years from missing him, or the search for his adoptive mother who was now lost.

Lazlo talks about— what Tuhka suspects is— superficial milestones, his expertise in identifying gemstones, the places he’s visited and the night skies he has lain under and commemorated on his skin. Tuhka notices the glittering constellations peeking out of Lazlo’s clothes and his heart thumps, wanting to ask what made them special enough to wear permanently but he stops himself...still feeling like a stranger. There’s an undercurrent of darkness in Lazlo’s vague statements, of secrets untold, and Tuhka is slightly surprised by a keen disappointment that bubbles within him at not being trusted with them.

There’s a lull in conversation, an impending finality that Tuhka does not appreciate. He refuses to remain a stranger as well, which prompts him to realise that he hasn’t even properly introduced himself yet.

Feeling bold, he holds a hand out in the human way. “Tuhka Turunen.”

Lazlo’s gaze lands on the proffered hand and then flickers up to Tuhka’s face, seeming to weigh his options. He breathes out a laugh and leans forward, ignoring the hand to press his forehead slowly but firmly against Tuhka’s in customary tiefling fashion. An echo of the greeting they shared when they first met as children.

“Lazarus Astrophel,” whispers the tiefling formerly known as Lazlo.

Tuhka smiles. “Nice to meet you, Lazarus.”

They part and Lazlo—Lazarus—clears his throat, “My close acquaintances sometimes call me Laz. You may do so, after all we’re—” a beat of hesitation, “—old friends.”

His vibrant blue eyes are on Tuhka, almost as if expecting him to disagree. Tuhka doesn’t.

“Laz,” he says, smiling, “lot less likely to get mixed up with that.”

The sea breeze sighs around them, ruffling hair and clothing. Tuhka watches as Lazarus gets to his feet.

“It’s late. I should be going.”

Panic flickers through Tuhka. “You’re leaving?”

“I have business in town for a day or two, I’m staying at an inn there...The King’s Cushion?”

Tuhka nods, recognising the name. He gets to his feet as well, unintentionally towering over Lazarus.

“Stars...I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.” Lazarus grimaces.

“You’re welcome to visit,” Tuhka blurts out, trying to keep any semblance of desperation out of his voice and getting the impression that he failed, “you wanted to commission something, we can talk about that whenever you like.”

After a moment of confusion, Lazarus’ expression clears. “Ah, right, yes, that was what got us into this mess in the first place, wasn’t it? Yes,” he smiles, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

This time when he leaves, it’s with a lot less anger than moments after their first confrontation only days ago, and with a promise to come back. They had once shared everything, even their deepest desires. Now, after fifteen years apart, they’ve become completely different people—the fact that Lazarus came here, willing to talk, making promises to return even if there’s a chance he may not keep them...it’s a start. And that will have to be enough for now.

Tuhka sits back down once Lazarus has vanished from sight down the path and gazes up at the same stars he had begged night after night to return his best friend to him.

He thanks them for listening.

[goldenspecter]

Cosmo’s TMNT Masterpost

(Rise, 2003, 2012, and others)

Here’s where you can find pretty much everything I’ve ever made for the TMNT fandom! Fanfics here[haven’t gotten the courage to post fanart here yet], hope you guys enjoy my work. Reblogs are appreciated!

Fanfics

1. Finding my way home(and moving forward)

Out of sheer curiosity, Leonardo and Donatello looked up, and there it was.

A portal.

Had the Universe really taken pity on them? Had it really heard his desperate prayers for one more chance?

It was not like the ones they had seen before, it was an irregular circle made up of several shades of blue, completely different from the perfect and symmetrical pink triangles of the Kraang.

Leonardo and Donatello looked into each other's eyes for a few moments, "Should we go in?" Donatello asked, almost shouting, drawing the attention of the others, who quickly turned to the portal and to see each other, then the two brothers in question.

"It's our best bet, and our only chance," replied Leonardo.

Or rather, with the 2012 kids' home gone, they end up in the Rise verse after a strange portal shows up. Therapy is needed, and start the slow process of healing from their trauma.

(Rise/2012, Work in Progress, written with @keeryd​ )

2. Strawberry Cookies:

"Mikey here was just about to tell me what we could do to cheer Raph up while he's sick," Donnie says. "Mikey continue?"

Now that Mikey had both of his older brothers attention, he grins. "I was thinking we make strawberry cookies!" He does his jazz hands as he says this and is met with looks of something that he can only put as disapproval. "What?"

"You do know that everytime that we have tried to make it-" Donnie starts.

"We mess it up and Raph has to come in and save our butts from burning the cookies?" Leo finishes, "What would be different this time?"

Mikey huffs, "We are doing this so we can cheer him up and to prove that we can do something on our own!" he says, "That's what got Raph sick in the first place!"

Or rather, Raph gets sick after helping his brothers recover from the poisoned pizza puffs. Mikey, Donnie, and Leo take a shot at baking cookies for Raph while trying not to burn their kitchen down.

(One shot, complete)

 3. Chicken Fried Rice:

“I only poured in half a pot of rice,” Donnie complained.

Mikey stared at him, really stared at him before he spoke. “You do realize that rice expands when cooked right?” he said, “You do realize that?”

Donnie was silent, looking away from Mikey.

“Donnie!”

Donnie makes chicken fried rice. Mikey watches over. Shenanigans and brotherly fluff ensue.

one shot in which Donnie is in the kitchen, cooking rice and Mikey, Mikey is positive he should have gotten Donnies braincell. 

(One shot, complete)

 4. Tea Time with Hortense and Patty: 

"Sooo," Raph starts. She's always been weird with awkward silences. "Are these grandma kinning hours?"

"Grandma hours!" Mikey exclaims excitedly. "Grandma time!!!"

"Ah, if it isn't our favorite girl and her little brother!" Hortense tilts her head over in their direction slightly. "Are you going to join us? We were just about done arguing," she says.

---

Today is Tea Time. Two old ladies have a tea party, one of them forgets to bring the food, and they are joined by Mikey and Raph. A good time is still had.

(One Shot, Complete)

5. One of those Days

When Donnie woke up this morning, he woke up with the familiar thrum of anger and irritation running through his body with more intensity than normal. Rubbing the crust out of the corners of his sleep-addled eyes, he jerkily grabbed his phone and turned off the alarm. It's one of Those Days, Donnie noted. Those Days where Donnie isn't capable of handling Mikey's over-enthusiastic optimism or Leon's chaotic trickster nature. His safest bet is to hang out with Raph, his calm and mellow demeanor always helped calm down before Donnie went on a rage fest and say anything he couldn't take back.

Or, Donnie and Raph help each other out, balance each other, and make things a little less difficult.

(One Shot, Complete) 

 6. Gift Hunting: 

“It’s Leo. Tiny Leo,” the voice answers. “I need your help with something.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t say until you say yes first,” Leo says. “It’s really important though.”

Angelo is silent, weighing his options. He could say no, he really could-

“Please, Angelo, you’re the only one who can really help me with this,” Leo pleads.

Rather, Angelo and Leonardo go out in the streets of New York to help the blue banded turtle find gifts for his brothers' sixteenth mutation day. Bonding and fluff ensues.

(One Shot, Complete)

 7. Aftermath:

“Raphie bear?” Mikey called out, gently tapping Raph, with relief washing him when Raph turned his head to face him. “What’s the matter teddy bear?”

“Th-thi-this doesn’t feel real.” Raph stuttered out, his voice cracking as a sob broke through. “I’m not really here. Neither are you and everyone else. I’m still alone with Draxum and his minions. No one’s coming to save me because I was stupid enough to get captured and no one wants such a worthless turtle like me.”

In which Raph was kidnapped and tortured by Baron Draxum and his family has to deal with the aftermath of it.

(One Shot, Complete)

 8. To Be the Eldest

Donnie, the second youngest in his family, wishes he was the eldest for once. Then one night, Donnie gets his wish granted and now he was three small turtles in his care.

Donnie adjusts to being the eldest, comes to some realizations, and makes a promise to his (now) younger brothers.

(Work In Progress)

 9. Wanted: Snaggletooth 

Dr. Noel bent down on his knees in front of Raph, a manic smile that showed too many teeth coming about on his face speaking of pain and suffering that has yet to come. He stretched out his hand towards Raph’s face, placing a thumb under his mouth, pressing into his snaggletooth. “Beautiful. Just as I expected,” he crooned, pulling out a syringe and injecting it into Raph’s neck, pushing the contents of the syringe into his system.

Raph’s eyes fluttered as he started losing consciousness, watching through hooded eyes as Dr. Noel's smile grew even wider, with his last thought right as darkness consumed him being that he hoped his family would find him before it was too late.

Post S2 Finale, Dr. Noel remembers Raphael, his snaggletooth, and manages to find and capture the red masked turtle. It doesn't end well for Raphael.

(Work In Progress)

 10. Dimensional Differences:

They bow. Not like one of those pretentious bows like she would do at Yokai parties and not like the ones she would do with her brothers when they hosted tea parties. They bowed deeply, heads stopping at her stomach, one hand closing around their fists. This spoke of respect and honor.

And that unnerved her a little bit. Why are they bowing so deeply?

“Thank you,” they said in unison. It’s unnerving to April and she felt the uneasiness coming from her brothers too.

“Why are you thanking me?” She said finally, voice sounding foreign to her.

“You saved my life?” Baby Leo said slowly, voice tinged with confusion. “That was an honorable thing to do?”

April blinked, “It shouldn’t be considered honorable for doing what any big sister would do,” she said. “That’s not honor, that’s just being a good older sibling.”

In which April, Sunita, Casey, and the turtles end up in the 2012 verse after a mishap with Leo's ōdachi and stay with the 2012 turtles until they can go home. They find out a lot of things that don't quite jive with them. Some things are the same, some things are different and they're not quite sure how to handle those differences.

(Rise/2012, Work In Progress)

 11. Mind Meld Part Deux:

“Oh thank Galileo that you all are back to normal!”

“What do you mean we’re back to normal?” Raph questioned, pulling back from the hug. Mikey and Leo also pulled back to stare at Donnie. “We’ve-we’ve always been like this?”

Donnie went quiet. He shouldn’t have said that.

“Donnie, what did you do?”

The brothers found out about Donnie’s Mental Intelligence Reprogrammulator. Arguments are had, words are said, words that tear a rift between him and his family, and it’s up to Donnie to earn his brothers’ forgiveness. The only thing is, will he get it?

(Work In Progress)

 12. I'm a little kid and so are you(don't you go and grow up before I do):

The 2003 turtles somehow, someway ended up in the Rise verse, with Rise Splinter and his turtle tots, and stay with them while the boys try to figure out their way home. 2003 Raphael got attached to his tiny counterpart the moment he laid eyes on the tot. (Raph centric)

(Rise/2003, Work In Progress)

 13. Dimensional Self-Isolation

Post S2 Finale, Raph finds himself trapped in the 2012 universe and has a difficult time coping with all of the differences that this world has in store for him. From new villains, unfamiliar familiar faces, and the way the 2012 boys and Splinter treat each other and him, Raph has a heavy plate on his hands during his long term stay.

(Rise/2012, Work In Progress)

14. A Collection of Turtle Thoughts

A collection of drabbles and ficlets about Turtles I've been writing since October 2020. Ranges from humor to hurt/comfort, I have it all.

Requests are open. SFW only though.

(All Iterations, Work in Progress)

If y’all reblog, read, and share my work, I’d really appreciate that! Anything and everything is appreciated, money or not! Thanks folks 🐢💕

[braunbakery]

salvation, maybe (ii)

☞ reiner braun x reader [fem bodied] [chapter word count: 2.5k]

☞ sfw, angst, fluff, post-season 3 [after 4 year time jump], season 4 spoilers

☞ cross-posted on ao3 (very much ahead on ao3, just wanted to bring it to tumblr)

☞ fic plot: you have walked these streets many times before. you have passed this bench many times before. you have seen this man (lost in his thoughts, always drifting, always looking lost) many times before. but this time, this time you take a seat.

prev. next

ii. company

the glass clinks against the bar counter and reiner shifts idly in his seat as the bartender slowly pours him another drink. he watches you bring your glass to your lips in the bar stool next to him, your other hand rested on the counter. the orange lighting of the bar reflects off of the two glasses and, even though the bar is filled with the lazy chatter of other customers, reiner feels like he can hear your every movement.

he doesn't know how a walk through the streets of liberio wound up with him sitting with you at a bar in the middle of the night. he doesn't know how his daily trip to the bench in front of the fountain wound up with him sharing a drink with a stranger when he had been isolating himself since his return from paradis. he doesn't know how the hours passed so quickly, or why you had decided to spend an entire day with him. he can barely remember what you had talked about, faintly recalling sparse conversation about your family, about his family (about gabi and how there was definitely no one in liberio who didn't know her with the way her voice echoed around the alleyways.) he remembers a calm quiet settling between you two, he remembers visiting an empty, overgrown park. most of all, he remembers the feeling of your company.

his chest doesn't feel as hollow, his thoughts don't race as rapidly. and, even though his eye sockets are still full and his muscles are still tense, there is a part of him that is happy to not feel alone. even if just for a day.

and this relief that you offer him eats away at him like a parasite. he locks eyes with you and you offer him a small, kind smile, fully content to sit in the comfortable silence you have both accustomed yourself to. reiner doesn't know why he's letting himself have an escape. he doesn't want to find solace, he doesn't want to feel at peace, he doesn't want the warmth of someone else being with him and not expecting anything of him. he is guilty. in his head, he should always remain guilty, no matter the pain or the agony. no matter how dark the circles under his eyes become, or how tight his jaw clenches.

but, at this moment, he brings himself to ignore his self-condemnation as he watches you raise your glass once more to your lips. he doesn't know if it's just because you are a person, if anyone would have done, if it's because you seem like you would like the company too or if it's something particular about you that makes him want to stay. that makes him feel like it doesn't matter whether or not he deserves to stay. but he can't believe he had gone this entire time without the presence of this other someone with him.

"are you okay?" you ask him, noticing him slowly losing himself in his thoughts. reiner snaps out of his conflicted daze and loosens his tight grip on his glass.

"yeah, thinking about how they're going to beat my ass for not showing up at HQ today," he jokes, offering a cheeky grin. you laugh, pretending not to notice his genuine concern over the issue,"i-"

"reiner," a soft voice interrupts. a woman with dark, raven hair and large deep eyes slowly approaches the two of you on crutches. she dons the same uniform as reiner (the same off-white jacket and red armband, reiner's jacket is currently bundled up on the stool next to him), and reiner feels his grip on his glass tighten again.

"pieck," reiner responds, suddenly aware that his earlier joke is probably the reality. pieck smiles softly at him, and he knows that she holds no contempt for his absence today. but, that doesn't make the bundle of anxiety brewing in his stomach any less.

"where were you today? everyone was wondering where you'd gone off to," pieck slightly leans on her crutches, her head tilting to the side as she questions reiner good-naturedly.

"i..." reiner trails off. he can't find the words. how can he say that, hours ago, he had unconsciously made the decision that spending an entire day mostly in silence with a stanger he had just met seemed like more of a pressing matter than his duties to marley. as he struggles to find the words to express himself, pieck spares you a glance, finally taking note of your presence. she doesn't introduce herself, instead content to offer you another warm smile in greeting.

"maybe you should get home, yeah?" pieck suggests. behind her kind voice and sympathetic eyes, reiner easily recognises the sense of urgency in her words. it's a warning. he should probably get an early night's sleep before his attempts to offer a multitude of excuses when he goes into HQ the next morning. also, knowing pieck is here, it would be safe to assume that porco isn't far off. reiner had already pictured his smug face when he sees him tomorrow, probably feeling like his superiority over reiner had once again been proven. if porco finds him here, in this bar, reiner would never hear the end of it. it would just be another reason for porco to assert the fact that between them, he was the warrior and reiner was the coward. and even though reiner doesn't necessarily disagree (he doesn't really have the energy to think about it anymore), it doesn't mean he's particularly looking forward to it.

"yeah," reiner replies, nodding thankfully at pieck. pieck nods back and raises a hand from her left crutch, waving goodbye before going back to her table. but, she stops in her tracks and turns her head back, "don't worry, by the way. porco hasn't seen you." with that, she turns back and makes her way back to her table. reiner is thankful for her decency.

he scrapes back the bar stool and begins to stand up, getting ready to leave. but, as he reaches for his jacket, his vision blurs. you watch as reiner slightly stumbles forward, grabbing onto the bar stool for support. how many refills has he had?

he seems fine enough to speak normally, but as you watch him rapidly blink his eyes to regain his composure, you stand up, grab his jacket from the seat, and tug at his sleeve as you make your way to the exit of the bar. he seems okay now, walking normally behind you and reaching for his jacket from your grasp. once you finally leave the busy bar, the chilly night air meets your warm faces and the glow of the orange lighting inside reflects off your skin. reiner quickly pulls his jacket on and turns to you. you let go of his shirt sleeve that you didn't realise you were still holding.

"you don't have to leave with me," he says. in truth, he doesn't want to allow himself to be in your company anymore. this was just a break. a day where he could forget everything that he had to do and be, and it took all of his will to reject the consolation your presence offered. the reality was grim and brutal, and even if it was a reality where he was condemned to eternal guilt, it was still reality.

"i don't particularly want to be left alone in a bar," you say, already beginning to slowly make your way down the street. reiner tries to ignore the small relief he feels in knowing that you won't leave yet. that you don't want to leave yet. it was starting to prove tiring having to drag himself back to the guilt he felt lost without.

"do you live far? i can walk you back first," he says, sidling up next to you on the footpath. god, he was pathetic. for someone actively trying to isolate himself, he sure did manage to find every excuse to spend more time with you.

"i live on just the other side of market square," you say, recalling reiner telling you where his family home was, "it's close to yours. i'm walking you back first." in reiner's stumbled state (even though he had all but regained his composure now), you don't feel right making him walk you home and then himself. at least, that's the excuse you were telling yourself. in reality, you don't want to be alone. you're not ready to say goodbye. when reiner hears your adamance, he can't help but smile. he's too tired to argue, instead just humming in confirmation.

"are you going to be in much trouble tomorrow?" you ask. reiner turns his head towards you, and even though he had looked at you many times already, he never seems to get over the initial shock of someone else being there with him.

"it'll be fine," he says (he hopes.) maybe commander magath will just chalk it up to another tired day of being a warrior? maybe zeke had offered magath some sort of excuse in reiner's absence? maybe porco had shut the fuck up and not encouraged retribution for reiner's slight insubordination? reiner knows that you can tell from his clenched fists that he's lying and that he has no idea what's going to happen. but, he's grateful that you don't make an attempt to address this. reiner wonders if you know that he doesn't regret it.

"i'm guessing you have an early morning then?" you say, shoving your hands in the pockets of your jacket as the temperature of the night drops.

"ha," reiner laughs drily, "it's always an early morning." he watches you laugh at his disdain, the corners of his mouth curling upwards, "you as well?"

"yeah. i think i'm delivering papers tomorrow," you respond. you had told reiner that you worked as an assistant for the newspaper. the manager was an old man. he was kind, but you often found yourself doing a bunch of odd jobs that were either his responsibility or the requirement of someone he had yet to hire.

"do you have a permit to leave the internment zone for that?" reiner says without realising. the words are tumbling out of his mouth as soon as he thinks of them, and it scares him. he had spent years in paradis having to carefully think of everything before he said it, and now the words were just escaping his mouth and he had no restraint.

"yeah, just for an hour on the specific delivery days. we only really get delivery requests from the marleyan soldiers living just outside the fence." reiner nods.

"you should deliver a paper to us," reiner feels that he basically blurted that out and tries to save himself, "to HQ i mean."

"i didn't realise the people the paper is usually about took an interest in reading it," you joke. you're already planning your route to the warrior unit HQ, already planning what you're going to say to reiner when you deliver. even though it's just a suggestion on his behalf, you can feel the delight rushing through your body at some sort of insinuation that he wants to see you again. reiner chuckles at your comment, knowing full well that he's probably not going to read that paper and he'll probably just toss it off to zeke (if he doesn't end up spending the whole day being reprimanded for his antics.)

god, he can't stand himself. how can he ask to see you again? what's wrong with him? is he seriously so pathetic that after one day of enjoying someone else's company other than the warrior unit and the candidates (who, even though he appreciates them, are just a constant reminder of his mistakes and shortcomings and everything he fails to be) he can't go on without it? even though you hadn't given a straight answer, he can't ignore the feeling of blood rushing to his cheeks at the thought of seeing you again, no matter how hard he tries to pull himself together and scold himself for being such a half-assed piece of shit.

before he realises, his vision is blurring again and he's stumbling forward. instinctively, you reach out and grab his upper arm. your hand wraps around it, steadying him in place, and you didn't expect him to be so...warm. is that a titan shifter thing?

reiner mumbles a quiet 'thanks' in embarrassment and continues walking on. but, your grip on his arm never loosens and reiner realises (rather embarrassed with the fact that this is something he considers worth realising) that, other than the odd tug to his sleeve to beckon him forward, this is the first time you have actually touched him. his muscles relax under your hand. and it scares him.

reiner slightly pulls away at your grasp, pulling down at the armband on his opposite arm as an excuse to distance himself. he doesn't know why he's doing this (yes i do, he thinks, coward. you don't deserve this.) without thinking, he shrugs off his jacket and places it around your shoulders, his hands slightly brushing against your neck. even though he's warm, goosebumps form under his fleeting touch and you watch as he puts his armband back onto his arm.

"you looked cold," he says curtly, rubbing at the back of his neck and looking away. he realises that, in an attempt to use taking off his coat as an excuse to distance himself from your grip, he managed to just end up being closer to you. you can't help but smile as he tries to avoid your gaze.

a few more minutes pass, and you both find yourself outside reiner's house. reiner turns to you, opening his mouth and about to bid you goodbye, ready to spend the night wondering how he let a simple conversation at a bench this morning get this far.

"reiner," you say, before he can say anything. "i..." as you look at him, you realise how bad you don't want to say goodbye. and maybe it's just the fact that he really doesn't know you that well, or that if you really wanted to, you could very well ignore him for the rest of your life if things went wrong. or maybe it's the fact that you had lied earlier, and you don't actually live on the other side of market square, but the complete opposite direction that you had started walking from the bar, and if you said goodbye now you'd have to walk back all the way by yourself. alone.

alone.

"yeah?" reiner says, hand on the door knob, eager to get inside. he doesn't want to leave. really. it seems like he does, but the longer he stays out here, with you wearing his jacket and struggling to make the words come out of your mouth, the more he has to think about a life he can probably never have. but, what you say next takes him a minute to register, and takes you a minute to realise has actually come out of your mouth.

"can i...can i stay?"

[volturiwolf]

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 2)

No of Words: 5182

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

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

part 1

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

Felix’s POV:

My days in the castle were becoming more and miserable by the minute. I couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N), she was always on my mind. When there was a mission, I would make myself forget her for a while and would focus on my job. But in times like this, when there was nothing to do in particular, I would stay in my room for hours and hours, and just wouldn’t think about anything else, but her.

It must have been about two decades or so that she left Volterra to “explore the world”, as she said. Time is pretty subjective when you’re supposed to live forever. Yet, I was mentally counting every moment she was away. I was taking mental notes of everything that was going around here, every prank Demetri and I would pull off to annoy either Jane or each other, every important event or mission we were sent to, so I could tell (Y/N) later. I smiled at the thought of her laughing along with me, and then my smile dropped when I realized she may never even come back.

Why would she? Living with the Volturi - with Aro - controlling her life, how she should have looked like, how she was expected to act in every different situation, and, on top of that, pushing her to her physical and mental limits to declare any gift besides strength, speed and tracking must have been exhausting for her. All these years.. All these years of emotional isolation must have affected her greatly.

Aro had never been the most affectionate person I’ve met. When the twins joined the Volturi, and then the Guard, he focused on them exclusively, training and mentoring them every day to develop their gifts. (Y/N) was pushed aside, a lost cause; she would never be the powerful vampire/weapon Aro hoped he acquired all these centuries ago.

He hoped that she would manage to declare a power similar to her mother - an exceptional mind-reader (and shield, as we found out centuries later) or even a new and unique power, given her father’s lineage. (Y/N) never expressed anything “unique” for Aro’s standards, but to me, she was just perfect. We were equally strong and fast - maybe she was even stronger and faster than me, and she was also an incredible tracker, like Demetri, though he could track anyone he has ever met, just by hearing their conscience.

And now, she is gone. She had left me. I caught myself quite a few times thinking what would our lives be like, had I told her how I felt - and still feel - about her. I am pretty sure that she was feeling the same, that she felt our bond, our connection. But, just like her, I never came forward; I was never true to myself, or her; I never told her that I would dedicate my immortal life to her if that meant that she would stay here with me.

And now, I pay for it. I've been drowning in misery and pain. Not physical pain, I could handle physical pain by now. Even Jane’s induced pain was nothing compared to the kind of pain I’ve been feeling ever since (Y/N) left. I felt as if I were a mortal and my heart was ripped out of my body and stepped on. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, though I didn’t actually need to breathe.

Demetri must have heard my sharp gasps for air, as my door opened widely, a terrified Demetri standing under the framework. He stared at my unwell state, and rushed to me, hugging me tightly. I left a few sobs and felt tears that couldn’t come. Demetri did not say a word for a few minutes, stroking my hair with his left hand and holding me with his right one. I held onto him as if I was holding on for dear life.

My mind was just blurry and I couldn’t think straight. Was that what it felt like, being away from your mate? I missed her dearly. All these years, I never told anyone other than Demetri about (Y/N) possibly being my mate, although I think Marcus would probably know already.

As my sobs started coming to an end, I was able to finally take deep breaths, and focus my mind on a particular spot on the floor to calm myself. Demetri cupped my face with his hands, trying to calm me down by saying a few comforting words. To outsiders, this scene may have looked strange, if not weird, but Demetri and I, being best friends for almost one millennium, had that kind of intimacy, and we both liked how open we could be to each other.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them slowly, feeling a bit calmer than I did 10 minutes ago. I needed to feel each moment of my pain; I needed to feel again what it’s like being apart from the only person I ever loved; I needed to remember every moment I was close to her, and then wasn’t.

“Are you feeling better now?” Dem asked calmly, still holding my face. I nodded slightly, and he let his hands fall on his lap. “Were you thinking about (Y/N) again?” I nodded again. I nodded again.

He frequently caught me thinking absentmindedly, or even sobbing slightly, but never a full-on breakdown. He took my quite big hands in his smaller ones, patting them condescendingly. I didn’t want to be pitied by others, but Dem never made fun of me for hurting, never made me feel less of the “evil executioner” I was known to be.

“I don’t know what it feels like, being separated from your mate, so I won’t tell you how to feel or act about it. I just want you to know that you can come to me if you feel down. It pains me to see you hurting, though I understand that her very absence has affected you greatly. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, and I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. You may not see it, but Alec, even Jane, worries about you and want you to be happy. We will all do whatever it takes to see you happy again, even if that means running after (Y/N)..”

My head jolted. I asked him if he was serious. “I’m not lying or joking, Felix. If we have to go after her and bring her back to you, we’ll do it. You’re our friend and we’re your friends. That’s what friends do.”

I couldn’t believe it! There was a chance that (Y/N) was still out there, and my friends were willing to help me find her. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the Witch Twins felt like true friends to me, and as long as I had them and Demetri, I think I could do anything in this world.

Now, we just had to talk to the twins, and see what they thought of it. I don’t know if we were even allowed to drop off all the missions and duties we had here and go search for (Y/N). I know we had to take the kings’ permission before we could do anything, and I was worried and kind of terrified with the idea of them knowing (Y/N) and I were mates, and how badly in love I was with her.

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

Demetri’s POV:

It was just another day in the Volterra castle. I was wandering around, having finished my duties for the day, probably for the week as well - it all depended on the Masters’ or the Twins’ mood for a “sudden, important mission” popping up in my schedule.

I wasn’t the type of person to spend their free time in the library, like the Twins, or in my room, like Felix. I vaguely remember my human life. My family was a typical middle-class Athenian family, and we were lucky enough to own a decent piece of land for cultivation. I would spend hours working on the fields, planning possible expansions and new techniques for richer crops.

I smiled slightly at the memory; that’s basically what I mostly remembered from my mortal life before Amun found me and turned me into what I am today. Before I traveled to Egypt to live with the Egyptian coven. Before Aro found me and converted me to his coven. I didn’t know how he managed to convert me then until I found out about Chelsea’s gift.

But even then, I never actually felt the need to leave the Volturi. I had a good life here; I had great friends; easy access to human blood, thanks to Heidi; I had it easy for the price I paid serving the three Volturi kings.

My train of thought was cut short when I heard quiet sobs. I wasn’t regarded as the best tracker for nothing; based on the volume of the sobs, the surrounding atmosphere, and the tone of the voice coming out, I could easily detect that it was Felix, sobbing in his room.

I run quickly, not caring about anyone walking through the corridors. I reached his door and opened it widely, not caring to wait for a response. I saw Felix sobbing on his bed, his eyes tearless but still desperate, trying to gasp for air, although we don’t really need to breathe. I rushed to his side, hugging him tightly, letting his sobs shake through my body.

I didn’t say a thing for some time, stroking his hair with one hand and holding him with my other, trying to find the right thing to say to calm him down. He held on to me for dear life, and I felt as if he was, once again, upset for (Y/N). His sobs started slowing down and he started taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Without thinking, I cupped his face, telling him a few comforting words, watching him close his eyes, and taking one deep breath.

“Are you feeling better now?” I asked him calmly, and I felt myself getting calmer as he nods slightly. I let my hands fall on my lap and asked him what I’ve been thinking about all this time. “Were you thinking about (Y/N) again?” Felix nodded, confirming my suspicions.

I caught him plenty of times not being himself - his cautious, meticulous, present self; the one who was always concentrated and focused on the present. He sobbed often these days, but never a full-on breakdown. This had me worried. I took his hands in mine and patted them, showing him that I understood what he was going through, although I, myself, never found my mate. I told him so, that I didn’t know what it was like for him to be away from his mate, but also that I would never disregard how and what he felt.

I just didn’t want him to hurt; I wanted him to know that I’ll always be there for him, whenever he needed me. And, though he may not actually believe it, Alec and Jane were also worried about him. He may have not noticed it, but I wasn’t the only one who saw that he was in pain.

Alec and Jane also saw that Felix was not his confident, straightforward self anymore, so I told them once what I suspected all along. That the absence of (Y/N) affected him way more than it affected Jane, who was (Y/N)’s best girlfriend, or even Heidi, Chelsea, and Corin, even Renata, who spent most of her time on Aro’s side, being his main bodyguard.

Without thinking clearly, I suggested that we could all go after (Y/N), find her, and bring her back to Felix. His head jolted, and looked at me in disbelief, not being sure if I was serious. I told him I was, and, at this moment, his whole demeanor changed. It was probably the first time after such a long time that I’ve seen him actually smiling, and my undead soul felt at peace at last. We now only had to inform the twins, and, probably, anyone else willing to help.

My only worry was the kings, especially Aro; he probably didn’t know about (Y/N) and Felix’s mate bond, and I don’t even know what he’ll think of it when he finds out. Now, I had other things to worry about; how to get the Twins to come with us and bring (Y/N) back to Volterra.

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

“We’re in.” Jane declared decisively, Alec agreed along with a nod, standing close to his twin.

“Are you both sure about that? We don’t know if the kings will allow us to go find her. Heck, I don’t even know if I could track her. I could never track (Y/N)’s mind, like ever. We may be wandering in vain, searching for her in places she’s never been. It may take a lot of time if we ever find her.”

I wanted to be honest with them about the worst-case scenario, feeling Felix slightly squirm nearby. I turned around to face the giant. His face was a mix of pain and anger, his eyes a dark burgundy, almost black from not feeding the past few weeks. This reminded me to get him to hunt soon, whether we left Volterra or not. I turned back to the twins.

“Demetri. You know that (Y/N) is our friend, too. Alec and I would do anything to bring her back.” Jane then turned to Felix. “Whatever happens, we will all stand by your side.” Felix mumbled a small “thank you”, so quiet that only us four could barely hear, still looking down, at the floor.

“We have to go and tell them.” I announced, gulping my non-existent saliva. They all knew I was referring to the three kings, and we all knew the possibility of being denied to leave on this mission of ours.

“Let me handle this. You know they cannot deny me anything.” Jane stated and led the way towards the throne room, full of confidence and reassurance.

It was true after all that Jane and Alec, being the kings’ favourite guards, were not denied anything. (Y/N) enjoyed such privileges as well, being the continuation of Aro’s bloodline, possibly our future Queen, if the kings ever decided to step down from their royal duties.

Within a minute, Jane opened the doors to the throne room widely and stepped in, followed closely by Alec and Felix and I following nearby.

“Jane! Alec! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my two favourite children?” Aro almost chirped at the sight of the twins, not even acknowledging Felix and I’s presence.

He has always been too nice to the twins, the Volturi’s most powerful offensive weapons. My gift and Felix’s raw strength are nothing compared to Jane’s ability to inflict mental pain, or Alec’s ability to deprive one or multiple people’s senses at will.

“Masters, the four of us request your permission to leave on a mission. We don’t know how long it will take us or when we’ll come back, but I assure you we’ll be back as soon as we’re done with it.” Jane informed the kings confidently, and Aro’s brows furrowed slightly.

“What kind of a mission, dear Jane? I don’t remember giving you all a mission recently.” Aro seemed curious, as he nodded towards Jane to come closer. Jane obeyed, stepping closer to Aro and extending her hand towards him, who gladly took it into his palms.

A few minutes passed by, with Aro looking nowhere in particular, while he studied Jane’s thoughts, until he came back, and let Jane’s hand slowly out of his own ones. Felix tensed beside me; we both knew now that Aro knows about the purpose of our mission, and that he may also know about (Y/N) and Felix’s bond, as he stared at him with an evil smirk. He turned towards Marcus.

“Is it true, brother?” He asked the melancholic vampire to his right. Marcus seemed unamused, which was quite typical of him.

“Yes. They’ve been mates for quite some time.” He dragged his words.

Aro turned back to us. “And yet, (Y/N) chose to leave Volterra, to “explore the world”, away from her mate. Seems that their bond is not as strong after all.”

Felix was becoming more and more furious beside me. I could sense his distaste towards our master, as Aro invalidated their bond, and probably, him being his granddaughter’s mate. Felix confessed to me multiple times that he didn’t feel worthy of being (Y/N)’s mate; that she deserved a lot more than just an average vampire guard.

That’s why he never confessed his true feelings towards her, only looking at her from afar, and hoping that one day, she would confess her feelings first, so they could be together forever. Neither of them ever confessed, and, with (Y/N) being gone for quite some time now, Felix seemed to have regretted not telling her. Maybe they could have been together now, and he wouldn’t have his heart broken over her absence.

Aro’s voice broke my train of thought. “You have my permission to go find my granddaughter, but, before you go, you’ll have to make a plan. I cannot risk my guards leaving Volterra for too long. You’ll have to decide who will come with you, and you’ll have to be back as soon as you find her. No procrastination. You have three days to plan and make your decisions. Now, go, and make sure you bring (Y/N) back!” Aro waved his hand, showing us our way out of the throne room.

We never thought we had to make a plan to find (Y/N); we didn’t expect Aro to let us leave on such a mission, where we wouldn’t know if we’d even find (Y/N). But he did, and now we had to make a plan. We knew that it would definitely be Felix, the twins, and me, but we didn’t know if anyone else wanted to join us.

Word spread fast because, within a few hours, most of the guards were already trying to help us decide on a plan, whether they could or could not join us on the actual mission. In the end, we decided it would be just the four of us, and we only had to make a plan as to where we would go to search for (Y/N).

We left within 3 days, going down to Sicily, traveling across the sea, to Malta, where we found Renata’s family. When we asked them about (Y/N), out of fear of Jane and Alec, her uncle told us she visited them once, about 20 years ago. “She kept saying how she planned to travel the world, Europe, Asia, America, Africa.. Wherever she could go.” Luca kept saying.

We left immediately after that. We decided to continue with our plan, first traveling across Europe. It wasn’t an easy task; most of the continent was at war with the Ottomans, and the rest was divided into smaller or bigger countries, nothing stable or permanent yet. We passed through North Europe, traveling towards the South, traveling across North Africa, ending up in Egypt.

I met with Amun, almost 700 years after I left him and Egypt for Aro and Italy. He was neither pleased nor surprised. He was rather cautious and guarded due to the Twins’ and Felix’s presence. He didn’t ask me why I left him, but he did invite us to stay in Egypt for some time. We told him we were in a hurry, we had to find (Y/N).

“So, it is true then? Aro’s granddaughter abandoned him at last..”. He grinned.

“What do you mean “at last”?” Felix became upset quite quickly.

“You never realized it before? When Chelsea, (Y/N) and yourself came with Aro and took Demetri with you, I saw it in (Y/N)’s eyes.” We were all confused. Amun continued.

��She looked miserable. She probably didn’t even want to be here, doing Aro’s bidding. She wasn’t made to serve him and his every wish. She indeed passed by a decade or two ago. She apologized for her part in Demetri’s departure, and she stayed with us for about a month or two. I welcomed her because I understood Aro destroyed her life, just as he destroyed ours.”

“What did she want in Egypt?” Felix was becoming more anxious by the minute.

Amun continued his narration. “She wanted to learn about Egypt, the Pyramids, the Pharaohs. She told me she read a lot about Ancient Egypt; how Alexander the Great colonized Egypt and many Greeks have been living here ever since; how the Great Pyramids were built. She just wanted to see all the history from up close. She wanted to experience everything. Who wouldn’t, right?” He grinned again, like the proud Egyptian he was, having seen all of Egypt’s glory through the past millennia.

It was Jane’s time to ask the questions. “So, she just visited? She didn’t say where she was going after she left?”

“She said she wanted to go and visit places. Though, she didn’t say where she would go. I would tell you if I knew.” Amun looked arrogant but cautious. He wouldn’t risk getting on Jane’s bad side, so he chose to tell the truth about (Y/N).

“We won’t be staying then. Let’s go.” Jane ordered and ran out of Amun’s palace, Alec following closely behind her.

Felix stayed behind, and I stopped in my tracks. “If you have her and you lied to us, I swear I will rip you apart with my own hands!” Felix pointed at Amun while threatening him.

Amun didn’t seem to be phased at all. “Believe me, I wouldn’t want to get on Aro’s bad side. I already lost someone important to me.” He looked straight at me, and then back to Felix. “But, if you want to find her, you may want to find Carlisle first. She admired him, for choosing to be more human than vampire. When he visited me last time, he did mention how (Y/N) was the only Volturi that didn’t really seem to actually belong in the Volturi. She was too kind for her own good.”

Felix's jaw clenched, and I grabbed him before he managed to attack Amun. I mumbled a “thank you” to Amun, and we ran to find the Twins. My tracking skills could sense Carlisle from a distance, so it wouldn’t be hard to find him. Finding (Y/N), though, was a totally different story.

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

(Y/N)’s POV:

I woke up with a throbbing headache in an unknown place. My eyes couldn’t focus on anything in particular around me. I could barely distinguish the wooden furniture around me, and the burning fire in the fireplace. My hand traversed through woolen fabrics of different textures. Was I in bed? Was I in a bedroom? As my senses started to go back to normal, I started hearing people talking, a woman and man talking..in Greek?

“Αλέξανδρε, η (Ο/Σ) γύρισε! Το κοριτσάκι μας γύρισε επιτέλους!” (“Alexander, (Y/N) is back! Our little girl is finally back!”)

“Το ξέρω, Στέλλα. Πρέπει να την προστατεύσουμε, να την κρατήσουμε κοντά μας. Δε γίνεται να γυρίσει πίσω στη Βολτέρρα.” (“I know, Stella. We have to protect her, to keep her close to us. She cannot go back to Volterra.”)

“Τι θα κάνουμε αν την ψάξει ο Άρο ή κάποιος άλλος από τη φρουρά; Το ξέρουμε και οι δυο ότι, όπου και να είναι, θα κινδυνεύει.” (“What are we going to do if Aro or someone else from the Guard is looking for her? We both know that, wherever she is, she will be in danger.”)

“Το μόνο που μπορούμε να κάνουμε είναι να φροντίσουμε να την προετοιμάσουμε κατάλληλα. Πρέπει να μάθει το πραγματικό μέγεθος της δύναμής της. Ένιωθα τη δύναμη που είναι συσσωρευμένη μέσα της. Μπορεί να κάνει πραγματικά σπουδαία πράγματα, αρκεί να μάθει να ελέγχει τον εαυτό της και τις δυνάμεις της.” (“The only thing we can do is to make sure she is prepared accordingly. She has to learn the true extent of her power. I felt the power built up inside her. She can do amazing things, as long as she learns to control herself and her powers.”)

I was confused. My parents.. I found my parents. I faintly remember when I met them in the woods. I looked down at my body. I did not wear my white gown anymore, the one which I had once cut below the knee, so I could run around freely. I was now wearing a red dress, the vest covered in gold details. The vest’s sleeves went down, just a few centimeters above my wrists. The dress was made of silk, and it felt nice against my skin; I was finally wearing new, clean clothes and it felt nice.

I jumped out of the bed, and the dress flew around me, falling gently just above my ankles. There was a tearing to the side, which I thought was a nice detail, so I could actually run. I ran at a vampire speed towards the door and out of the room. I saw my parents talking in the living room, in front of the fireplace where another fire was burning bright and warmed up the room.

“Για τι πράγμα μιλούσατε; Σας άκουγα. Γιατί να έρθουν για μένα; Τι πρέπει να μάθω;” (“What were you talking about? I heard you. Why would they come for me? What do I have to learn?”)

My mother cupped my face affectionately. “Ψυχούλα μου, το ξέρεις ότι ο Άρο θα σε αναζητήσει. Θα κάνουμε τα πάντα για να σε προστατέψουμε, αλλά πρέπει να μάθεις να πολεμάς για τον εαυτό σου. Ήρθε η ώρα να μάθεις για τις πραγματικές σου δυνατότητες. Ο μπαμπάς σου θα σου μάθει ό,τι χρειάζεται να μάθεις για να εξασκήσεις τη μαγεία σου.” (“My little soul, you know that Aro will look for you. We’ll do everything to protect you, but you’ll have to learn to fight for yourself. It’s time to learn about your true capabilities. Your dad will teach you whatever you need to know to practice your magic.”)

“Now, follow us, (Y/N). I will teach you everything I know.” Dad took one of my hands in his and mom took my other hand in hers, and they led me outside, to the garden.

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

In the months that followed, I learned how to defend myself using my powers; how to cast spells; how to attack; I even learned how to use dark magic. And as time passed and I perfected my magic, the more magic and energy I could pump out of me, and the more I felt drawn to dark magic. It gave me an unexplainable power; a confidence that I could define my own life; a confidence that I could free myself from Aro.

My only concerns were my friends and Felix; though I was quite powerful by now, the only thing that kept me behind, trapped between what I have to do for myself and what I have to do for others, was the thought of Felix. I have already lost so much time being away from him, and sometimes, that was translated to physical pain, which I didn’t know could happen between mates. I assumed that it was the same for him as well, and I didn’t want him to be in pain.

Unlike the other vampires, I could cry, heck, I would cry for hours and hours. And that pain, that emptiness, would eventually feed the darkness in me. I couldn’t see it at first, but I started having darker, evil thoughts. I stopped feeding off of animals and started killing people. I killed people for their blood, or for fun - either way, I would still consume their blood. I was feeding my thirst and my darkness, becoming insensitive and slowly mad for revenge.

My parents wouldn’t say anything; I knew that it was part of their plan to get revenge on Aro. Unbeknownst to my mom, I also managed to copy her mind-reading, and having already copied Aro’s power, I could manage to know everything both of my parents have ever thought about. My magic penetrated her shield quite easily, and I managed to learn everything I needed to know about their plan, their lives, their abilities, and magic.

I was now way more powerful than them. I didn’t need them; they needed me - they needed me to take over Volterra. It all started as a need to take over territory and become powerful; powerful enough that they could challenge the Volturi and cease their powers, possibly manage to take me and any other powerful guard they found under their rule.

However, me finding them made their plan way easier - they knew that they could persuade me to do their bidding and join them. I was their daughter after all; we were family, and, although they didn’t raise me, they knew that I would much rather stay with them than Aro, given his past.

I didn’t oppose their plan; I wasn’t fond of it, but I didn’t mind. It could be a way to be finally recognized and appreciated. I could finally become the princess, officially, and I could take my friends and Felix away from Aro. We would be together; we wouldn’t be scared of what Aro may think of us; we would be finally free.

These thoughts pushed me day after day to push myself and my limits more. I had to become as powerful as I could ever be. The darkness was consuming my soul and I was welcoming it; I wanted to be in power; I wanted to be in control. I visualized the darkness surrounding me and consuming me; a black smoke swinging out of my body, surrounding me, and swirling around me. I could feel my eyes stink and I smelled the blood that was now oozing out of them. I felt my insides twist and turn, and I screamed in pain; my feet not being able to support my body anymore, as I fell down on my knees.

I felt the darkness “painting” my soul and turning it into a long abyss. I felt my humanity being stripped away from me, like a hand reaching out and ripping my heart out of my body and slowly crashing it. And then, it all stopped. I raised my head and looked at the world around me in a different light. The world was darker, meaner; everyone was my enemy. I would not let anyone subjugate me again; I would not be a victim anymore. I would take my revenge on the Volturi, I would make them pay.

[novantinuum]

On the corrupted!Steven theory...

So, originally when I mused on this yesterday I was just playing around with random possibilities.

After combing the series for info about corruption, though, I’m mildly spooked at the increased potential for this to... perhaps be a thing? I’m not saying that this is what I for sure believe will happen- to be honest, I’m not even sure Crewniverse would go this direction at all- but just for funsies, let’s see what kind of “evidence” or “foreshadowing” exists that might support this potential story path in the context of canon.

(EDIT: 10/7/19 

I honestly no longer think this creature is a worm at all whatsoever, it’s either more akin to a horned caterpillar or potentially has limbs. Either way we can see so little right now that it’s hard to tell. I’m not editing the rest of this post because I want it to exist in its original form- but do keep this in mind reading the rest! XP)

1) The design of this worm creature.

Let’s start simple. Let’s start tangible. 

For future reference and simplicity, I will be henceforth be referring to this creature as... “Wormy Boi.”

So, let’s see what we’ve got here. I’m definitely not the first person to point out this fella’s pink nature, and the jarringly human-like nose they’ve got. (Compared to other corruptions, which have had distinctly non-humanoid features.) In the photo above, we also have Wormy Boi sporting glowing pink eyes, which then send out a flare of pink light/energy. So, seemingly a powerful entity.

If you watch the short segment before they sit upright, you’ll see that Wormy Boi is super, super big. They’re in the background, but BOY do they loom. The shadows cast upon them especially push that sense of size. They’ve also got a whole bunch of spikes on their back and framing their face.

So, then. What evidence could be made for this being a corrupted!Steven, as opposed to some other run-of-the-mill monster?

Steven Universe Future is a limited series, described as ‘tying up loose ends.” To me, as a viewer, it would make far more sense for the antagonists/conflicts to deal with big concepts that have already been established since there’s such a limited amount of time we have left with this world. Introducing a completely alien species in the last act of the show would feel offbeat from both a writing and a viewing perspective. Corruption- on the other hand- is something we don’t have full answers to yet.

We don’t see any gem, yes- but Steven’s gem is- of course- on his belly. If this theory were to be true, that would translate to the gem being on Wormy Boi’s underside, far out of our sight in this shot, due to how massive they are. As an addition to this, not showing the gem gives an air of mystery to this creature’s true nature- which makes it seem like there’s something surprising to discover here.

A corrupted diamond would surely be MASSIVE. Also, very powerful. The beam of pink light hints at Wormy Boi being quite a powerhouse.

The spikes on Wormy Boi’s back and around their face highly resemble rose thorns. We all know how much the Crewniverse loves their rose symbolism, and design wise, this aspect would make a lot of visual sense for a corrupted Steven. Running off of that:

The face/nose shape and the five horns on this creature’s head give off a very Steven-like silhouette. 

The nose, of course. The face has a very Steven-like shape to it, overall- although noticeably more angular and sharp. The mouth is reminiscent of the Watermelon Stevens’ mouths. And as for the horns, there’s five of them positioned equidistant around their face, just as Steven’s hair is always formed from five lil’ bumps at the same positions.

Okay, moving on.

(Read more under the cut!)

2) We do not yet understand the true nature of corruption.

“I guess it’ll take more than a kiss to heal damage from the Diamonds…” -Pearl, Monster Reunion

Corruption is still- bafflingly- a huge mystery. The Gems we’ve watched the CGs bubble since season one have been healed, yes, but there are still many gaps in our understanding of it. With Steven Universe Future’s promise to address some lingering story threads, it would make sense if corruption was on the plate for further discussion. So, what DO we know?

We know it’s something the Diamonds can do. Interestingly, it doesn’t seem to require all four diamonds. Three of them together were able to cause all the damage to Earth. There’s also no statement made that more than one Diamond is required to cause effects like that. 

In Legs From Here to Homeworld, Blue and Yellow Diamond weren’t actually aware the corruption was something they were capable of producing. They seemed to assume they obliterated the Gems on Earth. Corruption is then, even a mystery to them. That’s... odd, isn’t it?

Pearl states that it’s “something nearly impossible to describe.” Garnet goes further to say... “It’s sorta like... if MC Bear-Bear didn’t tear the fabric of his arm, but the fabric of his mind.”

"A sound… A song?” There’s a lot of association between corruption and music.

It causes Gems to lose touch with their usual forms, instead warping into a more outwardly "monstrous” version of themselves that appear to be “just a bundle of fight-or-flight reflexes and survival instincts.” As seen by Centipeetle in Monster Buddy and Monster Reunion, it appears as if corrupted Gems try to regenerate with their original forms if unbubbled, but are simply not in a state where they can maintain that.

As seen with Jasper in Earthlings, extreme emotional distress very much seems to speed up corruption’s effects. This is less of a stated fact and more of my read on that episode, but I believe it to be an important tidbit, especially since Garnet states that corruption’s damage is mental rather than physical, at least at its core. This can also be seen in Monster Reunion with how Centipeetle’s partial healing backfires when she remembers the trauma of being corrupted and reacts strongly.

Now, when it comes to healing corruption, Steven tries to heal Centipeetle himself, and does make some nice progress... helping her regain a hold on herself as he treats her with love and compassion and understanding... but it’s ultimately not a healing that can occur in isolation, helping her on his own. She needs more support before she can heal from this corruption to a state where she can truly be herself again.

And that eventually comes in the form of the other Diamonds. So, all four diamonds can help relieve the corruption if they help these Gems all together. 

3) How could this theory potentially fit into the story anyways, you nutter?

Well, here’s the part of this post where I make some broad conjectures. I honestly am shooting fish into a barrel here because again- we know barely anything about how corruption actually happened initially, and my thoughts are very jumbled. Please forgive me.

"I don’t really know how the corruption works. It’s like they’re sick. They don’t remember who they used to be.” -Steven, Gem Hunt

So, corruption seems to be a mental ailment of Gemkind, turned manifest. It also seems to have a deep connection to a Gem’s emotions, with Centipeetle growing smaller and slightly calmer upon feeling more secure in Steven’s presence, and corruption speeding up as Jasper grew more and more emotionally overwrought and self-deriding about herself. 

When it comes to the Diamonds and how they perhaps caused it originally- without fully realizing- we know that at least Blue and White have abilities focused on causing others to act in certain ways. Blue has sway over one’s emotions, and White has a knack for forcing her thoughts and self upon others. (I’m not sure how Yellow’s ability would play in here.) Mayhaps, mixed with their grief and guilt and anger, their power simply pressed all of that hurt emotion onto all the Gems on Earth in one whole fail swoop...? Tearing their minds in the process of it all?

The question I still have, though- is whether a single diamond could produce effects like this. And whether a diamond could turn that ability on themself.

Could Steven accidentally corrupt himself? Why might that happen?

Well, let’s look at our boy here. 

He’s got a wide circle of support at this time in canon, but notably, he’s notorious for bottling up his emotion and not letting others in to help him- instead dropping everything to help them with their problems. Just to name a few examples (a few):

The Test. He feels betrayed and hurt at the Gems for a moment about the way they’re babying him with the rigged test, but instead of admitting the hurt he feels about the scenario, bottles that up to help them feel more like good guardians.

Joy Ride. He opens up to the Cool Kids about deep, incredibly troubling stuff that’s long been on his mind, but he’s never once talked about it with his family.

Mindful Education. The perils of bottling one’s emotions is literally the whole plot of the episode. The kid has a full out sobbing breakdown while he’s plunging to his death. Connie gets through to him a little here, but later episodes show that the resolution we see here is merely the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Steven’s internal issues. 

Storm in the Room. Externally, Steven tries so hard to put on a guise of content and positivity, but once alone in Rose’s room feels safe enough to let the full brunt of his emotional trauma come out in an almost explosive manner. Geeze, get this kid some hugs. 

Gemcation. Steven actually fails bitterly on putting on his customary smile in this episode, simply because the weight of his problems have become such an impossible burden to him. When the other Gems are trying to help him open up, he isn’t immediately responsive to their efforts. 

What’s Your Problem? Amethyst spends the whole episode trying to cheer Steven up and find out how he’s doing, and instead Steven downplays his own feelings on the matter and ends up helping her sort out her own emotional issues.

So to sum: Many an Emotional Issue, a chronic tendency to avoid outwardly addressing said issues in favor of helping everyone else instead... and to avoid accepting other people’s help.

Even if he’s surrounded by all these people who love him, the fact of the matter is that Steven still feels as if he has to face his own inner demons alone.

Now, let’s look at the lil’ teasing synopsis that was given for Steven Universe Future:

“After saving the universe, Steven is still at it, tying up every loose end. But as he runs out of other people’s problems to solve, he’ll finally have to face his own.”

Blatantly sounds like we’re gonna finally get some addressing of Steven’s emotional state, now doesn’t it?

4) A concept on what could, theoretically happen

“Maybe… it IS a guy in a monster costume. I don’t mean literally, silly! What I mean is... there might be a conscious Gem still inside there, somewhere. What if the monster is turning back and forth into its original form? If it is, it might not be as corrupted as we think! There might still be a chance to save it!” -Steven, Gem Hunt

Suppose Steven- by some as-of-yet unknown means- ends up accidentally corrupting himself. His sorry emotional state only further amplifies the effects of this corruption, and makes it really hard to retain control. Wormy Boi as a form could be like... all his inner demons made manifest, a metaphoric mirror into his current mental state. But- as he is half-human- he’s not entirely unaware of what’s happening. Perhaps... as the quote above could be sneaky foreshadowing for... how he’s turning back and forth between this corrupted form and his normal form. 

He likely wouldn’t want everyone to see him like this, doesn’t want everyone to visibly know the sheer depth of how much he’s hurting. But just like the corrupted Gems were only able to be helped in community, with the support of the CGs and the Diamonds in preparing the fountain, Steven can’t fix this on his own. 

He can no longer face the dark alone.

At some point, everyone has to take a brave step. Reach out. Accept help. 

Steven’s helped so many people, and surely he deserves that same love and care in return, too.

And perhaps, when he’s eventually healed from this- and has gotten the opportunity to be open with his family and friends about the hurt he’s facing- he’ll be left with “corruption scars” as well. I think it’s an important thing to address, that no one goes through experiences like these without lingering effects. Stuff stays with you. Healing is not always linear. But life is a continuous journey, and with the support of people who love you surrounding, you too can make a change... can continue to live to the fullest at every moment possible.

I think the above would be a lovely moral for Steven Universe to tackle in its last run of episodes, no matter how they approach it- daft corruption theory or not.

Now, in the end- a reiteration. This is just a wild theory. I’m not trying to be any authoritative voice saying that this is for sure what will happen, because in reality I have no idea what Crewniverse is cooking. However, I do think it’s fun speculation, and I am kinda spooked at how well things fit. 

Whatever happens, I’m sure it will make me weep like a baby, though. Hoh boy. Grant me sanity in these coming months as we wait for answers.

[foilfreak]

BEAUTY AND HER BEAST: Chapter 9 (temporary 1-2 week hiatus being taken from his fic, click ao3 link and read end notes to find out why. I WILL BE COMING BACK!!!)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below)

Despite the shrill echo of Nadine’s terrified voice being something Salvatore has prepared himself for since before the young woman even arrived in the reservoir, the real thing was still somehow 100 times worse than he could have ever imagined it being.

Chaos followed as Salvatore frantically left his hiding spot, crawling across the floor as quickly as his mangled body would allow, as a loud crashing sound vibrates the whole room once Nadine’s body finally lands, quite uncomfortably I might add, on the hardwood of the floor. The sudden frantic and terrified swinging of her arms following Salvatore’s verbal slip knocked the poor woman off balance, sending her right back down to the floor for a second time.

Staring at the writhing figure of Nadine from the other corner across the room, Salvatore sniffles pitifully to himself as tears cascade down his face. Oh how appropriately cruel, that the universe wouldn’t even give Salvatore the decency of a proper meeting with Nadine, much less a chance at friendship and even less at anything past that. It makes perfect sense that this would be the way Nadine found out how disgusting and pathetic he is. Sitting alone in a dark and dingy room, watching old romance films because he has no one of his own to hold and love like the men in the movies do, and eating entire blocks of cheese all on his own, because nothing pairs with unending loneliness like the tang of sharp cheddar and the horrible stomach ache that follows it.

Putting his hands up to cover his face, a final effort to hide himself away from the beautiful woman’s gaze, Salvatore merely sat in his new corner, his shoulders shaking with sobs of agony and his body trembling in fear as Nadine’s gaze finally locked on to him, and him alone this time, in the dark silence of the room.

“H-Hey… are you alright? I’m sorry I yelled like that, I didn’t mean to startle you like that, but you suddenly spoke up out of nowhere and it scared me half to death” The soft voice from across the room asks, causing Salvatore to pause in his moment of self-loathing. Did… did she just ask him if he was alright? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to ask her that?

“W-what…?” Salvatore chokes out, peering out slightly from behind the cover of his hood in confusion. The sight he’s met with is one that steals his breath away, much like the first time he laid eyes upon the stunning beauty this tiny woman held. However, unlike their “first” meeting, that took place back in Mother Miranda’s lab, this time there was no metal pod separating the two, Salvatore realized, as the sight of Nadine, slouched tiredly on the ground barely a few feet away from where he cowered in the corner, registered in the mutant man’s mind.

Next, of course, came her actual appearance. Black strands tousled messily across her forehead framed her round face and golden eyes perfectly. Her long white dress bunched up around her upper thighs, revealing the curves of her large, but muscular legs, that had previously been obscured by the material of her dress. Slouched shoulders and heavy breathing caused the material of Nadine’s nightgown to slowly inched its way down the front of her chest, not exposing her necessarily, but definitely revealing more and more of her lusciously plump breasts with every harsh up and down of her shoulders.

Tears continued to fall from Salvatore’s eyes even as saliva began to fill his mouth and his fear and self-loathing slowly gave way to the growing fire beginning to kindle in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his muffled sobs of anguish and arousal escaping from behind his hands causes Nadine’s face to immediately fall, agony replacing the previously wild look her face held.

“N… N-no. No no, please don’t cry. It’s alright. I-I-I’m not going to hurt you… I mean it… see… I don’t have any weapons on me” Nadine says hurriedly, standing up and doing a spin to show that nothing that could pose potential harm to Salvatore was hiding between the folds or frills of the thin garment. “See! Nothing to hide.”

Salvatore merely closed his tear soaked eyes and shook his head, the motion moving his whole body along with it. “Nooooooooooo… y-you d-don’t… under-s-stand…”

“What do you mean? What don’t I understand?” Nadine asked, kneeling back down to the ground, moving slightly closer to Salvatore than she was before, a terrifyingly genuine look of concern and worry etched into her beautiful features.

The mutant man fought back a wave of nausea and choked on a sob at the angelic sight. Hoards of hormones equating to despair and arousal battle within the hellish confines of Salvatore’s brain. The mutant man was filled with so many mixed emotions that he genuinely couldn’t tell if he wanted to tear himself apart until not a scrap of evidence of his existence remained, or if he wanted to just spring forward and consume the delectably dangerous morsel that sat so prettily before him, like an octopus latching itself upon the almighty great white shark as it just passes above their home, pulling the now helpless and unsuspecting predator down into the depths of a true monster’s domain.

“Hey, come on now. It sounds like you’re having a hard time breathing. Why don’t you come out of the corner where the air’s a little fresher, ya?” The young woman coaxes gently, moving ever so slightly closer to Salvatore as she speaks. The movement does not go unnoticed by the hooded man, nor does the way it pushes her dress even further up her already decently exposed thighs, but with little ability to stop Nadine’s incremental advances, Salvatore merely buries his face into his hands, blocking as much of his disgustingly bloated maw as he possibly could, even as the young woman attempted to change her angle to get a better look at him.

“P-p-please… jus-just stop!” Salvatore commands, suddenly filled with a wave of confidence that abandons him just as quickly as it arrived. “j-j-j… j-just… g-go… please…”

A light mist has become visible in the light reflecting off of Nadine’s eyes, the young woman looking truly saddened by the strange man’s utter rejection of her. Whether it was out of pity for Salvatore’s sake, or fear of her own impending isolation should the likes of Salvatore even reject her company, the hooded man could neither tell, nor did he really want to know.

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone trying to be your friend now is it? I might not look as normal as I used to but I’m not here to cause any trouble” Nadine scolds lightly, her voice strong, though even Salvatore can detect a slight wobble. “But… if you can give me a valid reason why I should leave, then… then I’ll do it, no questions asked.”

A valid reason? What other reason did she need than to get away from him?

Salvatore takes a moment to wipe away some of the tears that coated his face, slightly peeking out to look at the younger woman once again before speaking. “Y-you… you can’t… s-stay here… th-this place… it i-isn’t… isn’t g-good enough f-for you… it’s… i-its not w-worthy… I-i… I’m… n-not worthy… of you…”

Nadine shifts slightly closer once again, a pained look cut into her face like a raging storm cuts through large waves out in the open ocean. Her whole body was a sea of turbulent waters as she gingerly reached her hand forward, slowly but surely inching her way closer to Salvatore, until her wine dark fingers just barely brushed against the thick, rugged fabric of his overcoat.

Silence befell the two mutants, permeating the room with tension so thick and heavy Salvatore thought he might suffocate.

The cornered man could not bring himself to look up as Nadine’s delicate fingers gently latched on to the article of clothing covering his wretched and disgusting form. Salvatore shuddered as he prepared himself for what was inevitably to come once Nadine removed his overcoat: the biting cold of the surrounding area pinching and nipping at his thick, but sensitive flesh; another shrill shriek of fear and terror that would pierce him to his very core; the sound of Nadine, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, immaculate Nadine, fleeing not just the underground tunnels that had lead her to discover this place, but also the reservoir, never to be seen again.

Salvatore wouldn’t blame her for this choice, of course. After all, it’s what he would do if he found himself trapped with a wretched creature as grotesque and pitiful as he himself was. Death wasn’t an option Salvatore had the luxury of entertaining, but he never blamed others if they chose it over him.

He would too, if he could.

Despite his earlier expectations, the hand on his coat never moves to take the garment off the trembling man, instead, moving to gently run along the side of Salvatore’s head, down his shoulders, before resting itself softly, but firmly, along the area of growths that covered the small of his back. After taking a moment to allow the violent trembling of Salvatore’s body, in response to the young woman’s gentle caresses, to calm down to something more manageable, Nadine slowly lifts her left hand and rests it on the opposite side of the hunched-over man’s head, yet she makes no move to try and take his cloak off or remove his face from his hands.

Stillness and silence return for a brief moment, almost as though Nadine were waiting for Salvatore to raise objection to her advances and stop her, as if he had the power or control to do anything but cower in the corner and cover his growing excitement in shame. With no explicit objections voiced, the hands resting gently around Salvatore began to slowly pull him toward Nadine’s body.

“Come here” Nadine’s soft, heavenly voice commands lightly, as Salvatore’s body does as instructed with no resistance whatsoever. A broken sob of humiliating arousal escapes the hooded man when he gently falls forward into Nadine’s lap, her arms quickly moving to wrap around and hold the hooded man against her soft, warm, and strong body.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. There’s no need to be so worked up. You have nothing to be afraid of, here” Nadine coos soothingly, as her hand gently caresses his thin, leather covered arm.

Salvatore cries pitifully as the painfully comforting words and actions make him want to vomit from overjoy. “Y-you… you d-dont unders-s-stand…” the hunched man weeps, his voice slightly muffled by his knees as he continues trying to hide his face by shoving it as far between his legs as he’s physically capable.

“What don’t I understand? Could you explain it to me?” Nadine asks, patiently holding the sobbing mess of a man firmly against herself as he collects himself enough to answer.

“I-it isn’t… you… th-that I f-fear…” Salvatore begins, trailing off as another wave of cold dread and fiery desire collide violently somewhere deep inside the hooded man’s chest.

“What is it that you’re afraid of then? If not... me?” The young woman’s angelic voice questioned, the slightly fearful and worried tone of her voice toward the end of her question, as if what Salvatore thought of her was even worth her precious time to worry about, made the mutant man’s stomach wretch sickeningly.

“I-I… I f-fear… oh god-” Salvatore began, before promptly shutting up and shoving Nadine as far away from him as he could from that angle, throwing himself to the floor, on his hands and knees, in the opposite direction just as a wave of acidic bile forces its way from the confines of the man’s mouth and out onto the floor in front of him. His own hideous reflection stares back at him in the growing puddle of stomach acid once he’s done.

A spiteful reminder from the universe of what he was and why he lived the way that he did.

Drunkenly reaching his hand forward to smear the vomit puddle around so he at least didn’t have to look at himself AND sit in his own filth while he gathered the energy to get up and wash off in the lake, Salvatore missed the way Nadine’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the man’s clumsy movements, before suddenly widening as she realized what the hooded man was doing.

“No, wait! Don’t touch that, it’ll only make you feel worse if you fiddle around with that nasty stuff” Nadine says hurriedly, as she rushes forward to take Salvatore’s moving hand in her own and presses it firmly against her bosom to prevent the man from playing around in his own throw up. She gasps in shock and her grip tightens around Salvatore’s hand, as though she’d suddenly remembered something important she’d forgotten about and Salvatore’s hand had brought it back to her conscious mind, before shaking her head and pulling herself from her thoughts.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let me wipe your face for you, and try to take deeper, slower breaths while you’re at it. You’ve managed to work yourself into such a panic that it's no wonder you’re throwing up all over yourself.”

The room is spinning far too fast and in far too many different directions for Salvatore to really be sure what’s going on, however the feeling of Nadine’s skin pressed against his own as she tenderly raised the edge of her pristine white dress to wipe away the lines of green acidic bile that had been left on Salvatore’s lip, was a sensation of euphoria unlike anything the hooded man has ever felt before in his entire life.

Not even Mother Miranda’s own embrace felt quite as… ‘brutal’ wasn’t the appropriate word to use based on its true definition, but in that instance it's the only word that Salvatore can think of to describe how intense everything around him, Nadine especially, feels at the present moment. Her touch, her scent, her warmth, her weight, her firm grip around him, the constant rhythmic thrum of her heart beat against his cold, bony hand, all of it was so intensely brutal that it was a wonder how the combined effect didn’t beat him into the floor. It was too much for Salvatore to handle all at once, and yet he knew that if the kind angel sitting next to him retracted so much as a single one of those sensations, he’d lose himself to insanity like careless swimmers lose themselves to sudden rapid currents.

Salvatore threw up 3 more times before his stomach finally allowed him the relief the hooded man had desperately been craving. The floor was an absolute mess by this point, but thanks to Nadine, who’d managed to keep his upper body upright the whole time, Salvatore hadn’t made nearly as much of a mess of himself as he normally did, though that still didn’t fix the primary problem that had resulted in all that vomiting.

“There we go. That must feel a lot better, huh?” Nadine asks calmly, pulling Salvatore in to rest against her chest once again, his face still turned downward and away in avoidance.

Although Salvatore does not grace her question with a response, the hooded man has long since given up trying to get away from the young woman, at this point just allowing her to move him however she pleased, taking in as much of her kindness and affection as he possibly could, before she inevitably hightails it out of here, of course. It was only a matter of time, at this rate.

“You know… you’re a lot bigger than I expected you to be” comes a sudden declaration from Nadine, breaking the silence that had permeated throughout the room and immediately pulling Salvatore from his dejected whimpering.

“I mean… I suppose I should have expected that, especially since most middle schoolers are taller than me, nowadays” the young woman continues with a lighthearted chuckle, “but you looked so small and stump-like from all the way up in that stupid pod that I couldn’t help but be a little surprised when I felt you had arms and legs. You could have very well had a snake for a body for all I knew and I still don’t think I’d have been as surprised, though this huge coat you're wearing certainly doesn’t make getting a good look at you very easy.”

“Th… that’s th-the point…” Salvatore mumbles, though seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

“Really? And why is that?” Nadine asks curiously, clearly having heard the older man’s muttering.

“I-if… if you k-knew me… you’d know… th-the answer to that q-question” Salvatore replies sadly, fresh tears beginning to prickle along his lower lid, threatening to spill over as the depressing reality of his meaningless existence makes itself more than obvious.

He was a filthy monster who deserved to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable, because why would something as unholy as him ever be worthy of anything else?

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s true at all. After all, I’d like to think I know you pretty well, and I still want to see what you look like” Nadine counters, her words shocking Salvatore beyond belief.

She… knew him? How? When? In what ways? What?

The only other time they’ve ever interacted was back in Mother Miranda’s laboratory. While the hooded man supposed his gifts could be aiding in Nadine’s surprisingly positive impression of him, he hesitated to call receiving a dress and a necklace from a random stranger “knowing” someone. How on earth could she say she knew him when, for all intents and purposes, they’ve only just met?

“B-b-but… h-how… how d-do you k-know… m-me? Y-you have… t-trouble… seeing… d-dont you? D-did… did y-you see me… b-back in the l-lab?” Salvatore asks, tears belonging to an unspecified emotion once again beginning to fall as a hand moves to gently grasp at the bones lining the top of his hood.

“Unfortunately no, I wasn’t able to get a good look at you before, hence why I was trying so hard to catch a glimpse of you earlier. You are, however, right in the assumption about my eyesight. I have severely impaired vision, yes, but it's manageable with a strong enough prescription; not that I see myself getting to an eye doctor anytime soon for a new pair of contacts. But even without my contact lenses, I can still make out general movements, as well as general shapes and colors, pretty easily from far away, it's just fine details from a distance and darkness that give me the most trouble. My vision is actually perfectly normal so long as whatever I’m looking at is within a few feet of me. If I looked down right now, I’d probably be able to see your face normally. Do you hide your face away from everyone around here?” the young woman asks curiously, gently pulling the dark fabric of the hood back, slowly revealing Salvatore’s face to the dim light of the room, even as her gaze remained locked on the wall behind them.

“N-not… e-everyone… th-there’s a f-few… who… who I sh-show my f-face to… regularly” Salvatore chokes.

Really?” Nadine asks, “like who?”

“M-my… siblings.”

“Oh, so you’re not the only one around here then? Are your siblings here in the reservoir?”

“N-no… th-they live… in o-other places… of th-their own… a-around the v-village.”

“Wow, so there is more of this place to explore, then!” Nadine states excitedly. “I’d love to get out and see more of the area for myself at some point, though I doubt that’s very wise given the amount of howling I’ve heard the past few nights and the fact I don’t know my way around this area... though, even if I did, that memory is probably long gone along with the fucking rest of them… not that I would have wanted to hold onto them anyways, I don’t think.”

Salvatore’s attention is caught by the last bit of Nadine’s statement, confusion filling him over what the younger woman could possibly mean by what she’d just said. “‘G-gone along w-with the rest o-of them?’... W-what… d-does that… what d-do you m-mean?”

Nadine remains silent for a moment as she continues to absentmindedly stroke the side of Salvatore’s head, the hooded man unable to tell what she could possibly be feeling right now without risking exposing his face to her.

Thankfully, Nadine resumes speaking before Salvatore loses patience and gets too risky. “My memory of the life I had before waking up in that damn pod is foggy at absolute best, but I don’t need my memories to know that I wasn’t very happy with my previous life and that I was actively trying to get away from it somehow. What exactly was I even running from and where was I going? Who knows, and frankly I don’t care to relearn it either. I do think it's quite funny that you were talking about me needing to go somewhere else because this place isn’t good enough for me though, because honestly, even if I could somehow get the hell out of here, it's not like I’d have anywhere else to go. Getting away from the shitty life I had before is probably how I ended up here to begin with, though if I’d known this was how things would end up I might have reconsidered throwing it all away so suddenly.”

Had it not been for Mother Miranda being there for him throughout the years, Salvatore would probably think much the same way as Nadine about the whole situation, but having Mother meant he always had a purpose and a goal to work towards, so it didn’t matter that Salvatore couldn’t return to his old life. What shocked the deformed man the most however, was the fact that Nadine appeared to not only already accept the fact that she couldn’t go back to her former life, but seemed to actively be searching for something, anything new to try and fill the void that had been left behind by the life she’d, more or less, willingly gave away to come up here.

Could… could this mean…?

“Thankfully my ability to make new memories doesn’t seem to have been fucked up at all, which I’m quite happy about since I'll be needing to make a lot to fill in the empty spaces in my brain. We met for the first time in the underground laboratory I was being kept in, though I suppose it was less ‘meeting’ and more ‘seeing’ for the first time, but… still. I don’t know why you were there, or who was with you at the time, but I remember waking up just before you were about to leave. There were a couple others who’d come, before you, to look at me and a couple others for some reason, but you were the one who stuck out the most, to me. You were… special!”

Shock and dumbfounded awe nearly choke the life right out of Salvatore. He could barely comprehend a single word the young woman was saying to him, yet he clung to every heavenly syllable she uttered like they were the foundations of the word of god itself. The pain and agony he normally felt due to his cadou mutations momentarily paused, slowly weaning from its usual constant thrum to a dull numbness that felt surprisingly euphoric in all it’s nothingness.

“S-special? Me?” Salvatore breathed, almost unable to believe the words, even as Nadine hummed in affirmation of their truth. “B-but… how…?”

The giddy chuckle Salvatore’s mundane question pulled from Nadine shook the deformed man to his very core. Her girlish laughter rattles violently around inside the deformed man’s head, playing the sweet, holy tune over and over again, like a broken record that Salvatore would happily go insane listening to for the rest of eternity if he could.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’d have assumed you knew exactly what you were doing with how sweetly you talked back there, why it's almost criminal how suavely you stroked and tugged at the strings of my delicate heart. All the others were so rude, boring, and/or annoying that I thought I might die if I ended up stuck with one of them, but then you came in and swept me right off my feet. It was like nothing else I’ve ever felt before and immediately told me that you weren’t like all the others, you were a kind man and if I ever ran into you I could tell I’d be able to trust you…” Nadine trails off for a moment. “When I learned that we were being moved out of containment and onto our “permanent homes”, I hoped and prayed that I’d be lucky enough to end up wherever you were, but I didn’t want to get too excited until I found out for certain.”

“Th-then how did y-you know… it-it was me?”

“How could I possibly not? You set yourself apart from all the others right out of the gate. I'm honestly shocked you don’t remember it yourself. But there's not a single doubt in my mind that I know exactly who you are… er- well, I suppose a more appropriate way of putting that would be “I know exactly who you are to me”, not that what other people say or think has ever really been something I’ve taken with more than a grain of salt” Nadine giggle beautifully, smiling kindly as she cradled Salvatore’s hoodless, tear soaked face against her, like he were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes upon and wanted to hold and protect him until the end of time.

Unable to look away any longer, Salvatore allows his head to rise from his knees until it settles upon the face of the woman currently cradling him in her arms. Her gaze remained turned away from Salvatore for a moment, though for some reason the hooded man had a feeling that it was more out of respect for him and his boundaries than a lack of desire to see his face.

What a strange thing, to be treated with more kindness, love, and respect from a complete stranger than from the majority of people you interact with.

Salvatore wanted to cry when Nadine’s golden eyes finally lowered to him, her face slowly shifting downwards until their noses were little more than an inch apart from one another, though whether his tears were from agony or ecstasy, even he couldn’t properly tell at the present moment. Only one question was on his mind and the deformed man would stop at nothing until he got an answer for it.

“W-who… who am I-I… t-to y-you?” Salvatore asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he forces himself to stare directly into the endless pool of honey yellow swirling around in her irises, wanting-no… needing to know, to see with his own two eyes, what exactly he was to this woman, and whether that answer would spell endless disaster for him and his deep seeded desires, or be the key that unlocks a world of possibilities almost as endless as the spheres of gold that Salvatore finds himself unable, or rather unwilling, to tear his gaze from, lest this be the first, and last time he ever be blessed enough to see them from this close.

A long moment of silence passes as Nadine returns Salvatores gaze, the fondness of her expression only growing as she lowers her forehead to rest against his, a soft, almost breathlessly enamored expression that he’d only seen on black and white screens cast toward men eons more pleasant to look at than he was, slowly spread across her perfect face as she finally answers Salvatore’s question.

“You’re the lovely man who held my hand!”

[something-tofightfor]

T'ad nayc or'atu (Two No More)

Pairing: The Mandalorian and his thoughts

Word count: 2759

Rating: None, really. Just very angsty. 

Summary: The Mandalorian’s got a lot of things on his mind. Some are things he’s known for years, and others ... well, they’re much more recent discoveries. 

Author’s note: This is my first attempt at writing something for a fandom that doesn’t involve a Ben Barnes character. I’ve been unable to stop thinking about The Mandalorian’s season finale since it aired ... and this is the result. I kept myself to a limited word count because I didn’t want to drag it out, but I overshot that by 700 words, so...

I have something else in the works for him, too... and I’m not limiting my word count on that one.

This takes place immediately (within a few hours) after the finale - and it contains spoilers from both seasons of The Mandalorian - so if you’re not caught up, you don’t want to read this.

Many thanks to @irishskyeomalley for pointing out that Din’s original pulse rifle wouldn’t exist at this point in the story - I appreciate you bringing that to my attention, and it’s been corrected. 

(Got the gif from a google search, but I *think* it originally came from @/bestintheparsec)

He has nothing now. 

 Nothing but the endless expanse of space, stretching out as far as he can see. 

 No ship. No purpose. No task to complete. No real reason to choose a specific destination, set the coordinates, and wait for whatever happens next, his eyes on the stars.  But most of all, nothing means no quiet coos or sighs in the dark, no tiny hands grabbing for his cape or his helmet, no need to turn his head slightly to the right, one hand reaching out for the small sphere to slowly twist it back into place atop the threaded end of the Razor Crest’s shifter. 

 For the first time in years, The Mandalorian has nothing driving him forward and urging him into action - and it’s shaken him to his core. 

His shoulders slump, though he isn’t wearing any of the armor he’s come to consider an extension of himself. His head hangs toward his chest, but it’s bare of the helmet that he’s kept on for the vast majority of his life. He can still feel those small fingers gently making contact with the skin against his jaw and cheek, though they’re replaced with his own now; bare and gloveless, as he cradles his own cheeks, as if keeping them there makes a difference. 

 It was the first time anyone - any thing had touched his face since he was a child, and the Mandalorian was barely able to keep it together while it happened on the light cruiser’s well-lit bridge. 

 Hours later? It’s impossible. He’s locked away in the cockpit of the small freighter he took from Moff Gideon’s light cruiser, hunched over in the pilot’s chair - and he is alone. 

 Cara won the argument over who got to take Gideon in; setting off toward Nevarro in the cruiser while Bo-Katan and Koska, Fennec and Fett went their separate ways. He doesn’t know - or care - who went where. The Mandalorian only concerned himself with replacing his helmet once the doors closed behind Grogu and the Jedi, the bridge as silent as could be as the man turned to face his allies - and Gideon. 

 From there, he set out to find a way off the ship, letting the others take care of the necessary arrangements. There was no reward to collect - Gideon’s capture, the destruction of the dark troopers, the seizure of a fully equipped light cruiser - all of those things should have been rewards in themselves, a bounty to turn in, credits and prestige to collect, a relief, but the Mandalorian felt nothing thinking of them, his thoughts consumed by feeling as though somehow, despite the fact that he was largely physically unharmed, he was on the losing end of the most important battle of his life.

 For as long as he can remember, he’s always had a purpose; direction leading him to his next quarry, the next location - meaning to an otherwise disjointed and difficult existence. It’s one that he knows, and knows well. 

 In fact, it’s all he knows. The creation of structure from nothing. Foundling to full-fledged member of The Tribe. No one to a feared Guild bounty hunter. It is The Way, but it’s also his way - or at least it was. 

 He has nothing now, but that wasn’t always the case. 

 The Asset. The Child. The package. The Kid. Grogu. In such a short time, the Mandalorian’s entire worldview changed; expanding from the way of life he’d known and accepted to something different, something more. 

 Something meaningful. 

 It happened slowly at first; gratitude for the help with the Mudhorn. Frustration at the way his small, wide-eyed companion was so curious about everything, slowing him down - and at the same time, hurrying him; the prospect of such a large reward motivating the Mandalorian to return to Nevarro, turn in the quarry and continue on. Simple. Routine.

 But unlike the hundreds of other assignments he was given, palm sized pucks passed over the smooth surface of the cantina tabletop, this quarry wasn’t simple. 

 He’ll never forgive himself for turning the tiny creature back over to The Client. Ever, even though he knows that he’s long been forgiven by the only person that matters. He’ll never understand how that’s possible - how, after nearly being responsible for a continued lifetime of torture and seclusion - and probably a slow and painful death -  he had a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the Child - and, maybe in his own mind at the same time. 

 At first, he didn’t understand why he even took the chance, why he pushed his entire belief system to the side for that specific bounty and no others before it.

 Gratitude and frustration slowly changed into concern and contemplation, the Mandalorian thinking only about ensuring the large egg-shaped carrier stayed with him no matter what, or making allowances to keep the Child safe and close by at all times, even to his own detriment - and in a few cases, immense danger for the both of them. 

 Trust takes time, but when you don’t have time, what option is there? He survived for years on pure instinct - an ability to think and act exactly when necessary, to get things done, to guess what was coming and prepare for it.  Self preservation was key, but at some point, that need for self preservation shifted - the Mandalorian wasn’t only concerned for himself and his own well-being; he had to consider the Kid’s, too. 

 Mandalorians don’t have friends or attachments - at least he didn’t, but the insertion of the Child into his life changed that, too. It made the impossible seem possible, caused the silence and solitude of deep space to feel much less isolated. He wouldn’t admit it, but having a constant companion was something that the Mandalorian grew used to in the months that he cared for the Kid.

 He feels dampness on his cheeks beneath his fingers. Whether he’s currently crying or it’s remnants from earlier, he’s not sure. He knows the Armorer and the rest of the Tribe would be outraged to see him - a shell of himself, devoid of the armor and prestige that he’s earned throughout the years as a Child of the Watch and a member of the Tribe and then the Guild. In this moment, he’s nothing more than a man, one of trillions in the galaxy. 

 Has he shown anyone his face? Yes. Has anyone ever removed his helmet? Yes. Because the Mandalorian is someone - and he removed it twice himself. Once, out of necessity - the other time at the wordless request of the only thing in the galaxy he’d ever value more than his own code of honor.

 Grogu. Not the Asset. Not the Child. Not the package. Not the Kid. Grogu. His kin. 

 Even thinking the name brings on a fresh pang in his battered chest. His skin is littered in bruises from the fight with the single dark trooper; it’s a miracle his helmet wasn’t crushed from the force of the repeated blows. His body aches from dueling Gideon, the sleepy little boy awaiting the final outcome from his perch on the bench in the other room, the Mandalorian doing everything in his power to keep him safe and secure while fighting for freedom - and for both of their lives. 

 But none of it matters; the wounds will heal, the bruising and scrapes will fade. They always do. But until they’re gone, they’ll remind the Mandalorian of what he had, what he fought for, and what he lost. 

 Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood. 

 He thought he understood what that meant - growing up the way he did, but the Mandalorian never truly knew what a connection with someone was before Grogu. It was more than wanting to look after him; it was the need to understand him, the desire to protect him, find him someone like him, someone that understood him and what he needed to take control of his power - at any cost. Following the Creed - his personal creed - but in a way that wasn’t only about justice or brute force. 

 Or so he thought. 

 He has nothing left, but it’s about more than having no current purpose, more than not having his ship. He can still hear the Armorer’s words, telling him that he is as the Child’s father, that their destinies are no longer separate. 

 A clan of two. He sees the signet on his pauldron now as it rests on the floor of the cockpit, glinting in the low light as he stares at it through his fingers. Each day, that declaration became more real to him. The bounties, the missions, the journeys - they were all leading somewhere, and even though the Mandalorian knew his given task, he’s willing to admit that part of him never really believed he’d find the other Mandalorians, let alone Jedi … or Grogu’s kind. 

 And, finally lifting his head slightly, the Mandalorian realizes that that same part of him didn’t want to. It  goes against the Creed, it goes against his teachings, but it’s the truth - and if there’s one thing that he’s known for that has nothing to do with his reputation of never failing to bring in a bounty, it’s speaking the truth. 

 He told the truth to Greef and Cara. To Omera - even to Cobb and Peli, his voice always modulated but no less strong and certain. Only Grogu ever heard him waver, the Child teetering on the edge of sleep in the tiny compartment on the Crest as the Mandalorian prepared him for a new life with Ahsoka. 

 But the Jedi’s refusal to train him, her unwillingness to even try, despite Grogu’s obvious abilities gave the Mandalorian pause. What happened after is little more than a blur to him. 

 He remembers joking with Grogu about “Jedi things” as they climbed the Tython mountainside, remembers the fear he felt, deep in his chest at the initial glimpse of Fett’s ship, the anguish that began building with the appearance of the first assault ship and his inability to penetrate the force field that surrounded Grogu’s vulnerable body, no matter how many times he tried. 

 But none of it compared to the way it felt seeing his son clutched in the black arms of the dark troopers, speeding back up into the atmosphere. Throughout all of his years, the Mandalorian had never experienced that type of fear or devastation. By the time Mayfeld was on board with the plan, the Mandalorian was almost on autopilot; repeating that he wouldn’t be showing his face to save the boy, but knowing - deep down - that it would likely come to that. And he didn’t hesitate, lifting his helmet in the presence of other living things for the first time in decades, getting the necessary information and then enduring what came next, heart beating a thunderous rhythm behind his ribs the entire time he was exposed. Sending the message to Gideon had made him feel better, but it still wasn’t enough. Using the man’s words against him felt good to the Mandalorian - it felt right. But words aren’t actions - and so he’d done what was necessary again before setting out for the cruiser.  

 Even those thoughts weren’t as clear in his mind as things became the first time he’d seen Grogu again - handcuffed and sitting on the bench in the hold, sleepy eyed and visibly exhausted - but perking up at the sight of him. 

 The Mandalorian couldn’t ever remember feeling such relief, the emotion growing as he gently lifted him to his chest and turned toward the door. Taking Gideon down hadn’t been about winning, it was about making the man pay for the singular most important crime that he’d committed: tearing the Mandalorian’s clan apart, even for a short time. 

 The first time, their parting was the Mandalorian’s choice. The second? His fault for being too slow by just a few seconds. The third? 

 The Mandalorian’s cry of anguish fills the confined space, the man finally rising from the chair and lifting his right arm to strike the inside wall of the ship with his fist, bare knuckles instantly aching from contact with the metal. There’s no cushion from his gloves; no armor or padding on his arms to absorb any of the impact’s shock. The pain is there, adding to everything else, and it’s more than dull. 

 But he wants to feel it. He needs to feel it. Because the third separation is the one that hurts the most - and yet it’s the one that needed to happen. 

 He knows this. Knows that it was his destiny to reunite Grogu with his own kind, people that can understand him, train him, help him become stronger. They can keep him safe. That’s their way, the Jedi way. He knows this, but it doesn’t make things any easier, or cause the still-blooming ache he feels to subside. 

 The Mandalorian straightens up and inhales as deeply as he can; chest expanding without the weight and shape of the beskar restricting it. He closes his eyes and remembers the last glimpse of Grogu; huge brown eyes peeking over a black-caped shoulder as the hold doors slid shut. That’s who you belong with. 

 He said the words, staring into those eyes and willing the tiny, warm thing in his hands to understand - he wasn’t giving him up or abandoning him. He wasn’t trying to pawn off his responsibilities. He didn’t want to say goodbye. No, he was doing exactly what he’d spent many previous decades avoiding - putting the needs and interests of someone else before his own for the greater good. Doing what was best for someone he loves.

 As the Mandalorian looks through the front viewport of his temporary vessel, he takes another deep breath, letting it out in a shaky exhale. His fingers curl around the edge of the console, gripping it so tightly that his joints creak, but he doesn’t care. This is the Way. 

 Space is silent and dark. It’s endless and full of possibility. The Mandalorian knows that he knows almost nothing about the true extent of it. His bounties have limited him to the Outer Rim territories for most of his life, and it will likely stay that way. 

 If he were to tell anyone that he had nothing, they would disagree. 

 He’s got his life. He’s got his armor and weapons - beskar forged in capable hands, meant to last generations, his trusty blaster, and his newly acquired spear. He’s got people he can count on - Cara and Greef, Cobb Vanth and Fennec and Boba Fett. Peli - ornery to her core but her loyalty as certain as each day’s double sunrise on Tatooine. 

 He’s got newfound and unwanted responsibility; the hilt of the Darksaber hanging heavy at his hip. With Gideon out of the way, there’s no more running - no need to planet hop, never staying out of hyperspace for too long. He has freedom. That’s new for him, and something he hasn’t yet had the time to consider fully. 

 He’s got his memories, the feelings he let bubble to the surface during his time with Grogu unable to be shut away. The Mandalorian spent so long alone that it took time - too much time - to open up to the small creature, but now that he has? He won’t ever close himself off so wholly again. The Creed says that once a Mandalorian’s helmet is removed and his identity is no longer a secret, there’s no going back - but for this Mandalorian, that won’t be the case. 

 He can’t lie about it - and he won’t, if asked. Because the Mandalorian also has his word, and his word is his bond. The Mandalorian says what he means, and means what he says, no matter the situation. Eyes widening and lips parting, his right hand releases the console and reaches into his pocket, fingers curling around the small metal ball he carries there - the only physical remnant of the Razor Crest he has left.  

 He has nothing now, but there was a time when he had everything without ever realizing it - and that time will come again. He’s sure of it. 

 It only takes a few seconds to twist off the ridged knob on the shifter in front of the co-pilot’s seat, replacing it with the smooth, curved piece of durasteel. Glancing down at it, the Mandalorian’s lips twitch into a quick smile before his eyes close, and he gives a single nod to the empty space surrounding him. 

 “I promised.” 

 ---- 

Tagging: (a few people that I thought might be interested based on responses to earlier posts; If you want to be added to future Mando stuff, please ask!)

@the-blind-assassin-12​ @malionnes​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @pheedraws​ @alraedesigns​ @gollyderek​ @lloveyouinsecret​

[unweavinglies]

Gonta Gokuhara Character Analysis: When a Genius is Treated like a Child

So a quick disclaimer: Yes, I am very aware that this is most likely not canon, or at least not what the writers intended on being canon, nor am I saying that this is 100% canon and should be considered as such. This is just a fan theory/analysis I came up with for my own enjoyment and wanted to share with others, as I like coming up with theories/analysis posts and reworking canons to make enhanced stories and character development in my perspective. I firmly believe that the idea of making theories isn’t supposed to be a shouting contest to see which opinion is the most loud and correct, but should be something to share with others and find acceptance and understanding in different interpretations, even if you don’t agree with them.

Well, this has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?

I’ve been talking about wanting to do this analysis for months now to various friends and acquaintances, but I’ve only had the motivation to do as such recently, after writing a short story that dived deeper into Gonta’s mindset over the Mercy Killing Plot he and Kokichi attempted to carry out. Regardless of that, however, Gonta has been one of my favorite characters for quite some time, and I really feel like his character arc and the unfortunate tragedy behind the unintentional mistreatment of Gonta via his classmates.

So without further adieu, let’s talk about that--about what happens when a genius is treated like a child.

Warning, this does discuss some rather unfortunate topics, such as ableism, depression/self loathing, and the concept of mercy killing. Viewer discretion is advised.

The first thing we need to elaborate on, is why I am calling Gonta a “genius.” Gonta has shown difficulty in understanding simple concepts, and struggles to follow along complicated plots, such as we see in his Salmon Mode Event where he mentions that he cannot follow the plot of high fantasy stories because they tend to be so complicated. He even refers to himself as not very smart, tragically enough.

However, not is all what it seems for Gonta, as his intellect is a matter of fact, and not just an analysis, and the game’s introduction of him opens up this fact to the player in a round about way that may or may not be so subtle.

Gonta admits here that he was a wild child, lost in the forest for ten years. While the logistics are... questionable, this is a work of fiction, thus I will suspend some disbelief. Gonta being lost in the forest for ten years means that he was probably about 5-8 years old when he was lost, depending on how old he is in the game.

Touching upon this briefly, studies of wild children, specifically referencing this case here, have an extremely hard time readjusting and learning to human language, customs, and interaction. The younger a child is upon becoming a wild child and the longer they are in the wild, the less likely they will be able to learn language and certain social behaviors and skills. While it is not impossible, the likelihood of Gonta being 15 or 16 in the game is very low, and even impossible once I elaborate, and we can safely assume that with the context of him being a wild child, he is probably at least 17 years old. So a safe assumption is that Gonta was lost in the forest when he was about 7.

(Note: I am very well aware of Gonta’s potential forest family not being wolves, and instead the reptites, but these creatures Gonta speaks of very well be his own imagination spiking from the isolation from humanity, or be something else entirely. Gonta makes several references to video game characters as well, claiming he met them in real life, so I consider it highly unlikely that “reptites” are an exception to this. Either way, it won’t matter if you believe otherwise, just that it may change certain aspects of what I’m about to say in regarding education and the sort.)

What’s the point of this elaboration? Well, quite a lot, once you remember that Gonta is the Ultimate Entomologist.

Firstly, there is the fact that Gonta is a high school student at all. Gonta was lost at a very young age--it would be impossible for him to be, since not only had he spent 10 years int he wild, but he also had to rejoin human society, relearn human language and customs, and then be put back into formal education. If Gonta is still a teenager and not over 21, then Gonta would have to cram in a decade’s worth of formal education into a few months, or a few years, at most.

This makes Gonta a literal prodigy.

Had Gonta not been isolated from humanity for a decade, Gonta would have been a child prodigy, a literal genius with an intellect that couldn’t be so easily matched. Having the capacity to learn advance mathematics, language (although in the English version, he is struggling with speak (speaking with the infamous “caveman” speech pattern) scientific methods, all of it within such a short amount of time proves that Gonta is, without a shred of doubt, a genius.

Even if you take the aforementioned reptites into account, it only makes Gonta’s accomplishments slightly less impressive, depending on your interpretation of what the reptites actually are. This is because Gonta still had to engage with formal education, and even in the best case scenario where the reptites were fully advanced beings with a civilization and education (which I quite doubt, if they were, then why not give Gonta back to the human race when he was still a child? Why not guide him back to his kind? Why keep him? Even if they were afraid of humanity, it would be far, far worse for the humans to find them while looking for their lost son... I digress.) Gonta still had to learn Japan’s education. Their history, their language, their social customs--and then, Gonta had to learn how to be an entomologist.

You need to go to college to be an entomologist.

According to this website here, the basic, bare bones higher education one needs in order to apply for certain positions related to entomology is a bachelor’s degree, with most positions and places requiring a doctoral decree. There are, of course, youth clubs for students under eighteen, but from my understanding, in order to be considered an entomologist, you need a college degree.

Gonta is a high school student.

For him to be considered an Ultimate Entomologist, Gonta would have to have taken college courses and gotten some kind of degree in order to be recognized as such. Thus, Gonta is still learning a higher education within a short period of time that is incredible for any human being his age, whether it be as drastic as him having no sort of education while living in the wild, or living with the reptites.

Either way, it is safe to say that Gonta is very intelligent, whether or not he is potentially a prodigy for it.

However, this has very unfortunate implications of the way Gonta is treated by his peers in the game.

Not only does Tsumugi here reenforce that idea in everyone else’s mind...

She blatantly tells Gonta that he was being manipulated and or “tricked” into abducting everyone...

When, in actuality, not only did Gonta know exactly what he was doing:

Kokichi even elaborated on his plans quite explicitly to Gonta:

And earlier on, the rest of the class had been treating him differently than they treat one another, sort of like he was a young child they needed to guide.

For example;

Kirumi assumes Gonta is not very aware that hitting someone with such an object is dangerous... despite him being a peer to his classmates and a young man.

And when Gonta has a pretty valid concern;

He is instructed against it and/or ignored on the subject:

Even Kaede slips up a little;

And during the investigation...

Himiko is 100% convinced here that Gonta is the culprit, to the point where she is trying to trick him with this kind of phrasing.

“Are you not, not the culprit?” equates to “Are you the culprit?”

“Are you not, not, not the culprit?” equates to... I believe it would be “Are you not the culprit?”

And that’s the thing:

Like how even I was confused and unsure about the triple ‘nots’ of Himiko’s statement, Gonta is too. Very reasonably so, actually--it’s extremely awkward phrasing purposefully meant to manipulate Gonta into saying he’s the culprit of Rantaro’s murder, and it takes Kaito and Himiko to realize that it was them causing the problem when Kaede called them out on such.

And again, after Gonta explains his actions during the murder, he gets very frustrated;

Already, we are seeing the effects piling up, leading to a frustrated, angry outburst.

And by far, one of the worst examples of this sort of unintentional ableism is this:

And Himiko even just... flat out does this:

By “dumbing down” the explanation of right and left, and not noticing that Gonta is left handed, she caused him to accidentally switch the wires on the headset, causing the memory error and making this entire trial all the more worse for him. By treating him like a child, like the theme of this trial, she only made things worse for him.

And that’s the problem.

Despite Gonta trying to tell everyone that he has no idea what they’re even talking about, everyone just assumes he “can’t understand the Virtual World” and brushes him off. Again and again, Gonta was treated like a child and brushed off, and this time, it came with a heavy consequence.

These instances of “guiding” Gonta are subtle, and on their own, aren’t much to address as anything more than suggestions or words of caution. However, there is a very clear theme of “we have to tell Gonta what he should do” that starts in Chapter 1 and continues on until the end of Chapter 4. They’re unintentionally telling him that Gonta needs to be guided and needs to be reminded of pretty obvious and basic knowledge, and worst of all, that he can’t be trusted to think for himself and thus needs someone to tell him how to think and feel.

If it was one or two times, that would be a whole other story. However, these instances pile up, higher and higher throughout the entire span of Gonta’s time in the Killing Game, and the majority of the class ends up dismissing or ignoring Gonta’s concerns.

This sparks a growing desire to prove himself, to prove that he can be useful during the trials. To prove to his peers that he can do something on his own, think for himself, decide for himself, except even until his final moments;

Even after Gonta’s Alter Ego telling himself and everyone explicitly that he was not tricked into killing Miu...

... No one listens.

Instead of listening to Gonta, over and over, they continue to brush him off and treat him like a child they had to care for, and yet no one stopped to consider that Gonta is a young man. An intelligent, young man who’s socially awkward, but never the less, a peer to them. Yet they didn’t treat him like a peer, and in the end...

Gonta died thinking he was an idiot. A child. A burden who made everything worse for everyone else. They all considered him as a child, and that’s how they saw him even in his final moments.

Gonta throughout the game constantly tries to prove himself, but no one is paying attention. When he learned of the Secret of the Outside World, Gonta didn’t even have anyone else to turn to for help or comfort. His feelings of uselessness compounded by the desperation to prove himself as an equal to everyone else drove him to agreeing to mercy kill the rest of the group... because how else was a stupid, burden of a child supposed to help anyone as he was? Even though he knew killing was wrong, with Kokichi’s plan, he was able to do something “for everyone,” and even that compounded into the ultimate failure.

It’s an unfortunate reality, because had the class treated him as a fellow classmate and peer, this might have been preventable.

Either way, what do you think? Was discussing the unintentional class ableism in depth towards Gonta a bit... too much? I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever done such a post, so you’ll have to forgive me. It’s also been quite a while since I made a proper analysis, hasn’t it? I must be a little rusty...

I will say--please, do not use this post for any discourse regarding the ableism and what have you if you choose to agree with this interpretation. I will not stand for it.

Either way, I hope you at least found this post to be food for thought. See you all next time.

[catty-words]

Why Not Just Anyone Will Get Their Own Narration

Or, the narration meta no one asked for.

Never Have I Ever shifting the POV to Ben Gross for an episode was a pleasant surprise for most viewers—certainly was for me!—and, as a result, I’ve seen/heard the other cast members get asked who would narrate their own POV episode. And as much as I love the speculation, I’ve noticed a pattern in the narration that makes me a) think not just anyone will get a breakout POV and b) appreciate the way Ben getting his own is, not forecasted, exactly, but highlights an internal consistency in the universe that I really enjoy.

To start, let’s take a look at how McEnroe discusses Kamala—the best example of what I mean from the first episode.

Intro: That’s Devi’s cousin Kamala. She moved in after Mohan’s passing to complete her PhD at CalTech. Devi is not a fan.

Later in the Ep: Kamala was expected to have an arranged marriage after she finished her studies abroad, but she felt less than enthusiastic about that idea.

The intro is similar to what most characters get in the first episode—a brief rundown of why they’re in Devi’s orbit and a hint at their main personality traits. And, in addition to this intro being framed in how Kamala relates back to Devi, we get the bit of insight that Devi doesn’t like her. It’s all very much grounded in Devi’s head.

McEnroe popping in during the Vishwakumar family dinner, on the other hand, deviates from Devi’s perspective. Even though Kamala is clearly sarcastic about finding the potential-husband news exciting, it’s also clear that Devi is too self-involved to pick up on this. Instead of frowning sympathetically at Kamala’s clear frustration, Devi excuses herself from the table because Kamala “[doing] nothing and [getting] a full husband in the mail” niggles at her insecurity about being undesirable.

Contrast that with the Ben-centric narration from the episode.

This disgusted reaction, belongs to Ben Gross, Devi’s nemesis. … Ben Gross’s father, Howard, whom he idolized, was a top entertainment attorney in Beverly Hills. This allowed Ben Gross to dine out for years on the fact that Blake Griffin was at his Bar Mitzvah. And he and Devi have been vying for the number one spot in the class every year since first grade.

We learn of his relationship with Devi, but we don’t actually get additional insight to his thoughts and feelings. The fact that his dad’s a lawyer and that Blake Griffin was at his Bar Mitzvah are both bits of common knowledge around the school. If anything, the slightly mocking tone in which this information is delivered makes this bit of narration even more grounded in Devi’s POV rather than Ben’s.

Kamala goes on to get a couple more moments of character-building in the narration that go beyond what Devi notices about her cousin. 1.04 is a prime example (As the aunties praised her, Kamala had a sinking feeling. She didn’t want to get married, but she put on a happy face, like I did at the trophy ceremony when I lost the French Open to Ivan Lendl in 1984).

McEnroe also gives us insight to Fabiola’s inner life—insights that Devi couldn’t be said to know because, even though she concedes that it makes a lot of sense in 1.07, Devi’s clearly finds Fabiola’s coming out to be a revelation.

1.03: As a scientist, Fabiola was used to a clear-cut, data-driven life. Which is why she was struggling with these new, complicated emotions.

1.05: We’re gonna jump ship and check in on Fabiola, who has much more interesting things going on. Fabiola had told no one she was gay, except her robot, Gears Brosnan. She knew the next logical step was to come out to some humans, specifically her family.

McEnroe even makes it explicit that we’re leaving focus on Devi to tune into Fabiola’s life in the episode-five narration.

The narration over scenes involving Ben in these episodes, on the other hand, goes like this.

1.03: What made Devi most sad wasn’t seeing Paxton all over the hottest girl in her grade. It was that she let herself believe she actually had a shot with him. … Drunk and rude, Devi was indulging in what I would call self-destructive behavior.

1.05: Years ago, Devi and Ben split all extracurriculars down the middle, except for sports, which required too much locker room nudity for either of them. // Devi was panicking. How did Ben find out about her lie? Simple. Her friends told him.

In 1.03, even though Ben is present, the narration over the scene is all about Devi. If anything, Ben interjects into/interrupts the discussion of Devi’s mental state, and she promptly ignores him in favor of being “self-destructive.”

And even though we get the insight that Ben isn’t comfortable with locker room nudity, it’s—again—something Devi obviously knows/intuited because of the pact.

The second bit of narration I included from 1.05 tells us something Devi doesn’t know—that it was her friends who told Ben about her lie—but rather than being a special insight to Ben’s POV, it’s simply expository. An in-case-you-forgot bit of narration.

The only other bit of narration involving Ben after 1.06 comes in the final episode of the season, where McEnroe sets up another in-case-you-forgot exposition flashback, which makes me curious to know how McEnroe-provided narration involving Ben might evolve for season two.

Eleanor and Nalini land somewhere in an ambiguous middle in terms of McEnroe knowing their inner thoughts and feelings.

For Eleanor, the only bit we have to go off of comes in the second episode.

Devi strode off, confident her friends had believed this bullshit story. Fabiola and Eleanor were confident their friend had become completely unhinged.

This line obviously steps outside Devi’s POV, but it’s also not solely Eleanor’s moment. Everything else that would be—involving her mother—is the same expository, facts-Devi-would-know style of narration. Therefore, I think Eleanor’s still totally in the running for her own POV episode.

As for Nalini, we get these moments in 1.04.

Nalini was a little on edge. This was the first puja they had gone to since Mohan’s untimely death and Devi’s paralysis.

The day had been a long one for Nalini, and she needed a win, even if it was a small one.

They’re grounded in the isolation Nalini feels and one of the major conflicts of the season is that Devi doesn’t have access to the fact that Nalini’s struggling as much as she is. So, we can probably call this a step outside Devi’s POV. It’s simply not as dramatic a break as for Kamala or Fabiola.

Of course, for episode ten to have the emotional impact it does, it makes sense we wouldn’t spend the season discussing Nalini’s heartbreak. It has to be more subtly communicated to the audience via Poorna Jagannathan’s acting and the flashbacks we’re given. Therefore, I think it’s unlikely that Nalini would get her own episode, but definitely not out of the question.

And, finally, there’s Paxton. As the object of Devi’s desire, so much of the narration revolves around Paxton—far too much for me to compile here or discuss individually, since I’m looking to wrap up this meta in, like, a hundred words.

So, here are the bits I’ve pulled out.

1.02: Whoa, Paxton speaks Japanese? Guess his last name makes more sense now.

1.09: Even though Nalini was talking out her frustration more than anything else, Paxton was stung by these little digs at his intelligence.

In 1.02, our narrator is actively surprised by new information, which makes a pretty solid case for the fact that McEnroe doesn’t have access to Paxton’s inner-life. And that makes sense because, when I call him the object of Devi’s desire, I’m putting a lot of emphasis on object. Devi doesn’t fully let herself acknowledge that Paxton’s more than a fantasy, so of course McEnroe—the voice inside her head—wouldn’t be super concerned with his personhood, either.

The line from 1.09 seems to throw a bit of a wrench into the works, since Paxton being insecure about his intelligence has every appearance of being a special insight. And I’m not going to go all the way and say that’s not the case, but I will bring up Devi’s line from 1.05: “Paxton’s not dumb, okay? He’s just…consistently bad at school!”

Obviously, Devi’s at least semi-aware that intelligence is Something to Paxton. On the other hand, she’s saying the line to fend off criticism from Ben, so it could just as easily be posturing as protectiveness over Paxton’s insecurity rather than actual knowledge the insecurity exists.

In summation, I still think Paxton’s the most likely candidate for a breakout POV episode in season two—boy desperately needs some interiority, so this is certainly high on my s2 wish list—with Eleanor a close second and Nalini a potential third. I think it’s unlikely that the show will (or would even consider) writing one for every character, though.

[shenlongshao]

GGStrive Redesign Analysis: Leo Whitefang

Welcome to the continuation of the redesign analysis series! The next character is another one who first debuted in XRD SIGN; Leo Whitefang! This will be another long post and also the last one until Anji Mito’s trailer in 2021. Please enjoy reading! LEO WHITEFANG ------------------------------- There’s been some mixed reactions to Leo’s reveal. Positive comments like “Leo Whitefang is back! GG Strive is saved!” “He’s a hot burly man!” “Dream Daddy!” and etc. came from fans of the character. But other comments from those not too happy with his reveal were like, “NOOOOOOOOOO!!!”  XDD   Time to examine his previous look.

Every aspect of this character boldly shows his motif is based on a lion, which I always think is awesome. Leo’s design focuses on the unique and cool factor rather than unorthodox. First is his long, blonde hair and beard that looks like a lion’s mane. Actual fur of the same color can be seen on the collar of his trench coat and at the cuffs. His trench coat bares a brownish orange hue, accented with black trim and unfasten belts that exposes his attire. On the sleeves of his coat is a black cross shaped like the Illyrian one, decorated with 6 metal buttons and a yellow one in the center. Metal Illyrian crosses is also at the corners of the coat’s collar, which they connect by twin chains. Six metal buttons is on each part of the collar, adding up to twelve that gives a hint to a rock metal look. His attire is a black, spandex-type body suit with light orange trim baring cross designs in the middle of his chest. Layered on top is a light orange shirt(or vest?) with two straps hanging on the sides. On his hands is simple, fingerless black gloves while his tight pants also has the style of crosses and detail, though slightly different shade of black. Lastly, his ankle-length boots contains tannish brown cuffs with black trim and three metal buttons on each side. The base color is also black with tannish brown trim at the bottom and dark gray plating on the frontal part. Leo’s design brings something different while still fitting in the world of GG. I love the exaggerated mixture of regal and combat style in his look. It’s one of those designs where I could tell what the character is about from just looking at him. I even like design of his weapons, which I notice their shape is like a German cross. I like how the chosen colors compliment each other, especially since it has a vibrant and warm essence to it. Since orange, black, yellow, and silver are his main colors, let’s examine how it relates to his personality. Color Personality of Orange: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-orange.html With orange as your favorite color, you are warm, optimistic, extroverted and often flamboyant. You are friendly, good-natured and a generally agreeable person. You are assertive and determined rather than aggressive - having a personality color orange means you are more light-hearted and less intense than those who love red. You thrive on human social contact and social gatherings, bringing all types together. As a personality color orange, you enjoy partying and socializing and planning all types of social events - orange people are the life of the party, the uninhibited performer! You are often the loud talker in a group. While you are charming and sociable you do tend to be a show-off. You get great satisfaction from helping others and they find you inspiring with your vitality and positive energy. You are tolerant and accepting of others just the way they are. You are full of life, always on the go, determined and competitive, always looking for new challenges - and this can lead to restlessness and impatience with others who do not have this need. Lovers of orange like to take risks in many areas of their life, particularly in the physical areas. They prefer to explore their outer world rather than their inner world. Patience is not one of your virtues and you can be quite forceful and domineering over others when under stress. You may be an unkind practical joker. When operating from a negative perspective, a personality color orange can become aloof, egotistical, and self-centered. Color Personality of Black: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-black.html Prestige and power are important to you. You are independent, strong-willed and determined and like to be in control of yourself and situations. You are methodical in your work, making sure everything is completed as required, down to the last detail. Color Personality of Yellow: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/color-yellow.html You have a happy disposition and are cheerful and fun to be with. With a personality color yellow, you can be very critical of yourself as well as others - you are a perfectionist. You analyze everything, all the time, and are methodical in your thinking. You are spontaneous - you are able to think quickly on your feet and make instant decisions. You have a modern outlook. New technology doesn't faze you. You communicate well on a mental level with like-minded people, but can become bitter and sharp-tongued if crossed. You are good at networking and getting information out of others. Journalists often resonate with the color yellow. With a personality color yellow, you can be stubborn but dislike pettiness and spitefulness of all kinds. You like to think you are intelligent and well educated, with knowledge about many topics. Color Personality of Silver: https://www.empower-yourself-with-color-psychology.com/personality-color-silver.html You tend to be introspective, often preoccupied with your own world. In your search for meaning and fulfilment, you sometimes isolate yourself from others as you reflect and ponder on the deeper questions of life. If you love silver, you are imaginative and creative, particularly in expressing yourself with the written word. Making speeches, writing poetry, and writing novels are three means of self-expression you may be drawn to, allowing you to satisfy your need to fantasize and reflect. With a personality color silver, you are open to trying new things and exploring any new opportunities that are presented to you. Change does not frighten you, in fact you welcome it. Resourceful and flexible, and open to new possibilities, success often comes easily to those who love the color silver. You will try almost anything once! Immediately introduced as the Second King of Illyria, Leo is heavily involved in worldwide affairs. From typical paperwork duties to investigation events surrounding Bablyon and the Japanese Colony, he takes on his responsibilities without hesitation. Throughout the story of Xrd SIGN and Revelator, he displays leadership qualities and knows it takes way more than just giving people orders. He tries to carefully analyze the situation and decide the best course of action, showing compassion and understanding for not only the troops, but others around him. This aspect is really shown when in Revelator 2, when the showdown with Ariels occurs and freeing Elphelt from Justice’s body. King Daryl shows to be technically logical with his plan to go for the attack, though detached from the internal details. However, Leo considers the entirety of the situation and wanting the safety of his allies(like Sol and Ky). There’s also the aspect of while he is very boastful and has high self-esteem, he’s definitely not a narcissist(a word often misused). He’s able to boldly admit his flaws and even having a hearty laugh about it; grading himself a C-(from Xrd SIGN). With Leo’s development as a person and what he has to deal with in the aftermath of Revelator 2, it was time for him to get a redesign!

The essence from Leo’s previous design is kept, though still quite a departure from it. The first is his hair is dramatically cut and his beard is trimmed, instantly giving him a more mature appearance. The concept of the fur trench coat is apparent, such as the Illyrian crosses on the sleeves, except their color is beige instead of black. However, it’s obviously not the same coat due to the style; it lacks the Illyrian crosses and little chains in front. And how his new coat would be fasten by the silver buttons instead of buckle straps. On the new coat, the buckle straps securely loop from under his arms and the fact the hue is a warm brown instead of orange with black trim. The clothing he wears underneath is also different, starting with a slightly opened, white collar shirt layered with a dark brown and black vest. There’s the detail of little silver buttons evenly spread out and a side zipper. Around his waist is three belts in slightly different shades of brown. On his lower body, Leo wears a fitted, beige-colored pants that slightly curtains over his mustard yellow and dark brown dress shoes. Lastly, the pants also has pockets, accented with brown strap in front. Since Leo’s new main colors includes brown and beige with a hint of white, Let’s see what the additional colors mean for him. Brown Personality: https://colorogy.com/brown-color-meaning.html Brown personality people are strong and dependable. The strength is not only strong in body, but also strong in convictions and emotional strength. If brown is your most favorite color, you have a good understanding of your own capabilities. You have the mental grit to stand up to and face the challenges life throws at you. You are a reliable partner and true to your friends. You are loyal and sincere in your relationships. For you, feeling safe, loved, and appreciated in a relationship is essential. You look after your family and gladly devote time to your home and responsibilities. Material security is paramount to you; you meticulously plan your goals and work hard to achieve them. Your career is an important aspect of your life. You have a vision for your career and you will do what it takes to get there. You do your best to succeed in whatever you set your heart on achieving. You do your best to maintain a good reputation. Being seen in a good light is vital to you. You dread the idea of being thought of as untrustworthy in any way. Beige Personality: https://colorogy.com/beige-color-meaning.html You have the ability to grasp new ideas and concepts quickly. You amass knowledge for wisdom and for knowledge's sake. You are interested in everything that goes on in the world and in your areas of interest. You are much in tune with all that occurs in your immediate environment. The efforts you put in towards achieving all that you want in life are consistent. You don't back down; come what may, when you really want something. White Personality: https://colorogy.com/white-color-meaning.html They have a compassionate outlook and are kind. Their kind words sooth, heal, and calm those they interact with. They may attract people in their lives who depend on them for emotional support, as they are good listeners and are wise beyond their years. They are grounded, balanced and practical. They have a deep understanding of the world they live in. It doesn't take alot to make someone with a white personality type happy. They find joy and contentment in small and simple things life. Watching a beautiful sunrise or sunset can make their day. They are free spirited and carefree. They enjoy their freedom and feel unrestricted by conventions. It’s interesting how brown is one the chosen colors for him. I think storywise, it could relate to Leo’s heighten resolve and determination to whatever comes next. It also hints he’s matured since the last game, though he still has his jolly pride and charm he’s known for(especially from his expressions and animations.)

I like how Leo’s design still contains his unique style, even though it’s seemingly more casual in comparison to his previous look. Due to his haircut, it’s easier to tell which is his hair and which is the fur from his coat(in the previous games, I sometimes think the fur collar was part of his hair, lol). Part of me will miss his long hair, but the new hairdo definitely looks great on him. I’m also kind of getting Attack on Titan vibes from his clothing and suddenly imagine him killing Titans with ease, XD.  This is another design done well; time to give it the GG style rating! Rating: S + + + (The Lion King!)

[schnees-and-schnugs]

I’m going to create a canon divergence that is so self indulgent- *insert willow-whitley and kitty AU*

This is a concept I want to write in multiple short parts until I get bored and wear it out- so consider this just a pt. 1

I also wrote this with these last few   fics in mind, so you can think of this as a continuation of those. Or not. But a lot of the same themes do apply.

This is probably going to be first fic that I don’t write in one/two sittings but my classes are a pain in the ass ;_;

tw: eating disorder, alcoholism 

_______________________________________________________________

  “I want a cat.”

  Willow blinked. “What?”

  Her son fidgeted nervously on his feet. “A cat. I want to adopt a cat.”

  Well this is a... surprise. 

  Despite her and Whitley having lived on their own in Patch for a few months, he’s hardly spoken a world to her since the fall of Atlas. Or spoken a word to anyone, really. She put it up to the radically new environment, and well, the fact that Atlas is gone, the SDC is in shambles, and Jacques had been MIA (probably dead) since the fall. Winter and Weiss had insisted that Willow and Whitley settle down somewhere quiet and safe, and the islands off the coast of Vale weren’t exactly next on Salem’s attack checklist. 

  It was two of Weiss’ teammates who suggested they head to Patch, even offering to let their father know about their arrival. Willow had gently denied the kind offer, saying that Tai Xiao Long didn’t need to bother with them. They’ll be fine. She pretending not to notice the look on all their faces: a depressed alcoholic and her previously isolated, emotionally traumatized son?  Fine on their own? 

  She had then turned around, gathered Whitley (who was sitting on the bench behind her, ignoring attempts made by a few of Weiss’ companions to cheer him up even a little), and bought tickets for the next ship going from Vacuo to Vale.

  Yet when the ship docked on the shore of the island, there stood a blonde, muscular man with a sign that read: Willow and Whitley Schnee, Welcome! in sharpie. He must have saw the confusion (and honestly a little fear) on her face from his standpoint on the harbor because he had quickly flipped the sign over and scribbled on it before holding it up again. My name is Tai Xiao Long. Yang and Ruby’s Father.

  It seems that Weiss’ friends didn’t listen to me.

  Nevertheless, Willow had breathed a sigh of relief. She had quite a few run ins with people on the journey east who recognized her and/or Whitley. The interactions have ranged from stares that were a little too long to pure hostility. It also didn’t help that some people thought it was okay to just grab any well known person they see- she almost broke a man’s arm after he had suddenly seized Whitley’s wrist and jerked him around. He’d probably be dead if Winter and Weiss were there, but Willow had settled on ripping the mans arm away with a glyph and dragging Whitley off quickly.  

  And now here they are, three months later and Willow was drinking a can of soda while enjoying the afternoon breeze on the front porch of their little cabin when Whitley approached her.

  “A cat. I want to adopt a cat.”

  She looked up at her son’s face and saw a familiar look of apprehension that everyone in their family had when faced with the prospect of having to ask for anything. Of course, before it usually involved asking Jacques, or begging more so. Willow had to approach this carefully or else Whitley is just going to recede back into his shell and not speak a word for another three months.

  “Well... we can ask Mr. Xiao Long about it. He surely would know about any animal shelters around here.”

  He scrunched up his nose, a face that she knew in Whitley Terms meant yeah okay... but I’m not happy about it.

  Willow knew better than to suspect that Whitley disliked Mr. Xiao Long specifically. He avoided everyone these days- friendly neighbors, SDC businessmen, etc. Tai had made sure they were comfortable every step of the way. He had shown them around, introduced them to soon-to-be friends, brought them into his home for meals until Willow figured out her way around a kitchen, even invited Whitley to study at Signal Academy. He refused, but Willow appreciated the offer. And she knew Whitley appreciated it too, but he’s having a hard enough time coming to terms with Willow’s protectiveness of him, much less accept the fact that a stranger may also care slightly about him.   

 “Then what do you suggest we do?” Willow couldn’t help but to smile at his childish apprehension. She relished any show of adolescence in her son these days. After years of walking on eggshells and maintaining a facade just short of perfection, he needed to clumsily blunder around like any young teenager would do.

  Whitley tugged at his long red sleeves. “There’s a stray kitten that comes around here at night...” 

  “You have that one in mind?”

  He nodded. “I always hear it meowing outside my window. I want to try to bring it inside- I leave scraps outside my window but it always disappears by the time the sun rises. Maybe if I could get it to come to the porch... In Atlas, they said in the animal shelter that it takes a few weeks to socialize a kitten.”

  He started at her expectantly. Willow had forgotten that Whitley would occasionally volunteer at one of the few animal shelters in Atlas. Jacques only allowed him to go just so he could milk all the PR he could out of it, obviously. But to this day, she had never actually heard Whitley speak about it unprompted. It must have been something he genuinely liked if he was so quiet about it. He knew full well that any hobby that he actually outwardly enjoyed was the first on Jacques’ chopping block if Whitley ever slipped up. 

  Willow stood up on the porch steps and faced her son. “Very well then. Tonight we’ll leave food out on the front porch and watch to see if it comes by.”

  Whitley’s face brightened for the first time in months. “Really?”

  “Mmhm.” She hummed. “Hopefully soon enough the kitten will like us and come inside...”

  Willow’s chest ached at the overwhelming surprise on his face. Asking Jacques for anything always came with a catch, a quid pro quo. Looking back, Willow always knew love was a transaction to him. But being young and blinded by the man- she just accepted it as a slight character flaw. Whitley didn’t know anything other than this.

  She was going to get him this kitten even if she had to crawl in the shrubbery at midnight looking for it.

  For the next few hours he assisted Willow in the kitchen for the first time since they got to Patch. Mostly because he wanted to get the kittens food out as fast as he could, but she wasn’t complaining. She watched as Whitley cut up a cooked chicken breast into bite sized little pieces, his tongue slightly sticking out as he concentrated. She wondered, briefly, if it was safe to allow him to handle a kitchen knife. Willow shook the thought away. He isn’t a child. She wouldn’t insult him by treating him like one. But she still had to be a mother... if it wasn’t too late.

  She tried to be as hands off as she could in these last few months while trying to muster what parental authority she could without scaring Whitley away. He was free to spend his time to do whatever he liked just as long as it was safe and he went to bed on time. Eating three solid meals a day was also a requirement, but that was a sensitive issue that Willow didn’t know how to approach with conviction. He has been cooperative for the most part in this aspect- which came as a surprise since Whitley has spent years trying to maintain whatever little control he had over his own life by strictly regulating what went inside his mouth and when. Which often meant very little eating.

  Willow didn’t want to name the condition out loud. If she did, then it would become a problem. Then she would have to admit that all of this still wasn’t enough to fix everything. Then she would start wanting a drink-

  Maybe everyone was right. Maybe her and Whitley were simply too broken to be able to live on their own.

  But they haven’t been living on their own, have they? Mr. Xiao Long still came by a few times a week to “check up on how y’all are adapting”, as he says. More like to make sure I’m not passed out drunk and Whitley hadn’t taken the opportunity to jump off a cliff, Willow thought bitterly.

  She still didn’t know how much Weiss and her friends told him - but they must have been pretty honest if he was going to be this concerned. Willow cringed at the thought of how he must see her - a failure of a mother. Not only that, but one who’s too afraid to confront the fact that her son is sick and needs help, but she can’t help because she’s not enough-

  “I’m done.”

  Willow blinked out of her increasingly chaotic thoughts to see Whitley holding a small bowl of chopped chicken, staring at her expectantly.

  Maybe I should stop thinking so much.

  “Lets put it out on the front porch then,” Willow grabbed both their plates of spaghetti off the kitchen counter. “We can eat by the window and watch for the kitten.”

  Whitley frowned. “Can we keep the front door open? Maybe if it sees us enough times then it will get used to us eventually.”

  “Whatever you want darling,” She replied, already on her way to the living room.

  And so they sat eating dinner, she on the edge of the couch and he on the floor on front of the open door. They sat in silence, but it was a comfortable one - Whitley watching the outside intently for the kitten and Willow watching him absentmindedly eat. A few minutes turned into an hour and she began to wonder if the kitten was going to show tonight, but a tiny scampering sound brought her and her son back to attention.

  The kitten emerged from the shrubbery.

  It was beautiful.

  It was small, only about a few weeks old. Its pitch black fur made it almost impossible to see without the aid of the moonlight. Its little white socks on its paws and glowing eyes gave it away as it inched slowly towards the now cold bowl of chicken. 

  Willow held her breath, and she knew Whitley was too. The kitten tentatively ate from the bowl, unaware of the two humans watching it. It seemed about half way through when Whitley, unknowing, leaned forward- causing his now empty plate to slide off his lab and hit the wood floor. The sound wasn’t loud, but in the silence of the night it was like a gunshot.

  The kitten’s head snapped up, ears perked in attention. For an almost comical millisecond, the kitten stared at the two of them and they stared back, everyone wide eyed. Then it turned and ran off back where it came, leaving behind nothing but a bowl of half eaten chicken.

  Willow braced herself for Whitley’s inevitable disappointment. But instead, when she turned toward him she saw an expression of joy. His eyes are brighter than she had ever seen them, not since he was a child.

  “She’s a girl,” He said.

  She furrowed her brow. “How do you know that?”

  “When she turned around and ran - I saw her backside. I think she’s a girl.”

  Willow smiled. “Very well then. One discovery is good enough for tonight.”

  Standing up, she reached for both of their used dishes and softly closed the front door shut. “Time for bed.”

    Whitley didn’t complain. He headed off the bed while Willow cleaned up the kitchen- a menial task that she never had to do back in atlas. But she found a peace in it. If given the choice, she would take a lifestyle of chores over the decadent one she had before. Ten times out of ten. This felt real.

  In the back of her mind, she remembered the chicken left outside. After considering, she decided to leave it out in case the kitten came back. She would make sure that Whitley would have this kitten eventually. It was the least she could do.