#or maybe it’s guilt/ sadness/ whatever other natural feeling after an event | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blzzrdstryr · 4 years ago

Text

Misery

Sadistic!Yandere!Diluc x Fatui Harbinger!GN!reader

Wordcount: 6748

CW: torture, sex, foul language, isolation, sensory deprivation, extremely unhealthy relationships, dubcon, mindbreak, violence

Diluc isn’t a cruel person. Not necessarily. He punishes you only when you are difficult and for the last few weeks you tried to stay on your best behavior. Ragnvindr is nice to you, benevolent even, willing to look past your former affiliations and shower you with love. At times his affections seem suffocating and irking, blood red eyes following your every movement and him absorbing your every word as if it is a holy scripture, but you remind yourself that his love is the best thing that happened to you in your whole life.

Truly, Diluc is so kind to take you in and help you fix the errors of your old ways, even when you were snarling and spitting insults in his face, too stubborn to see how wrong your old life was. You were ignorant and ungrateful back then, seeing nothing but a Harbinger title and service to Tsaritsa. You forced Diluc to lock you up to make you realize that you didn't need your title or your vision or your archon. He is there for you and it's all that matters, you can rely on him for everything and he is happy to provide, persistent in his care for you and even now he is patient with your… deficiencies, waiting when you stop staring into the distance with vacant eyes.

You stand in front of an open but barred window, a typically Mondstadtian landscape revealed to you - bright green grass and patches of dandelions and windwheel asters growing in small groups with tall trees of the same shade finishing the picture. A gentle breeze flows through the opening, playing with your hair and caressing your skin, yet you imagine another type of wind - stronger and colder, relentless and carrying small snowflakes on the way. You close the eyes and see another image - tall, leafless trees covered by multiple layers of snow and the white ground between them. Snow shines and glitters under the pale winter sun, and you feel alive and bitter at the same time.

You know the place, having been there once, but your memory now is too blurry and fuzzy. All of the events prior to Diluc fixing you up are too foggy to make out the finer details and it somehow makes you feel sad, when you should be grateful instead. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t make them stop, rapidly going from silent crying to full on hysterics.

You hear Diluc asking what’s wrong with a concern in his voice, his hands slightly shaking your crying form. You can’t answer him, wailing even louder and stronger, hiding your face in both hands, ashamed from the sudden outburst and overwhelmed from unreasoned sorrow and heartache. Only when Ragnvindr painfully squeezes both of your shoulders and demands to know what is wrong with you in that tone that makes you shiver and gasp, do you stop, looking at him with wide scared eyes, hands that were used to cover your face, are now up in the air in a semi defensive stance.

He seems uncomfortable by your reaction, a slight frown appearing on his face, scarlet brows knit together and corners of mouth turned downward. “I am sorry”, you say, voice small and pleading, eyes casted aside not meeting his out of embarrassment. Why did you start to act so childish out of the blue?

“There’s nothing to apologize”, Diluc takes off the glove, using an uncovered hand to wipe away the tear tracks from your cheeks. There’s no irritation in his voice, just concern, so you risk a glance at him, as he continues: “You are just making me worry”

“I am sorry” you repeat, feeling a prick to your heart, as you process his words - Ragnvindr is so good to you, providing with everything you could ever ask of, and here you are, making him concerned and anxious over some silly daydreams. “It’s really nothing, I just need to be more attentive, that’s it”

You noticed that it’s harder for you to stay in the moment as you start to frequently space out, mind too occupied by the memories of days long past - playing with peers, entering Fatui, receiving a delusion. It’s a futile thing, but images still consume all of your attention and focus, keeping you from sleeping and eating.

“[First], I...” he starts, but then trails off, huffing to mask his hesitancy. Instead of talking he takes your face in one hand and leans in, his lips meeting yours. It's a slow and gentle kiss at first, but just like all other things with Diluc it quickly escalates into something more: his hands now take you by your waist and tug you closer to him, making you press with your entire chest against him, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue freely exploring the confines of your mouth as you moan into his from pleasure and such close proximity.

When you two part, Diluc leaves you flushed and dizzy, with heart quickly pounding against the ribcage. You feel a fire of arousal igniting inside of you, it travels from your chest to belly and soon spreads to the rest of the body. Your cheeks heat up as you stand up on tiptoes to whisper “Can we do it right now?” in Diluc’s ear, voice full of both shame and anticipation.

“Of course, my dear”, there are hints of a smile in his tone and he effortlessly lifts you up and heads for the bedroom and as he carries you you can’t help but zone out again, the memories of past days flashing in your mind.

***

Your first meeting happens during one winter night, as you receive the order to deal with him day prior, at a Harbinger meeting in the Zapolyarny palace. Eleven of you stay kneeling in the main hall, awaiting for Her Majesty to come in as Scaramouche and Tartaglia start to bicker as usual.

“I bet it’s about that mysterious person who’s destroying one stronghold after the other” Childe starts, voice full of bravado and smugness, fake smile blooming on his face: “Fortunately, Tsaritsa has me to take on whatever this stranger is”.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Tartaglia”, Scaramouche remarks, almost spitting out the last word.

“Why shouldn’t I? I am the youngest here, yet I am also the strongest. Why are you so upset? Feeling envious of my power?” Childe retorts, voice still sounding too cheery to be natural.

“If there was anything to envy. You may be the best at fighting among us, but it’s the only thing you are good at”.

“Huh, it seems I was wrong. Maybe little Scaramouche wants to be as tall as me and that’s why he spits out his funny silly slander”.

It must have struck the nerve, as Scaramouche snaps back with an angry tirade, from which their exchange escalates into a heated battle of barely hidden insults. You, just as the rest of other Harbingers listen to their conversation, half amused and half irritated, lifting the brows at the creative mockings.

“Silence”, domineering and overpowering voice says and you still yourself, eyes casted downwards, as Childe and Scaramouche stop their exchange at the same moment. Footsteps echo throughout the hall, as a feminine figure takes its place on a high throne in the middle of the hall. Tsaritsa has arrived.

“As I can see my children already know about the perpetrator attacking my servants” archon starts, divine power and absolute authority evident in each syllable. You feel how the deity’s eyes look at all of you, despite still keeping head bowed and stance obedient.

“Innamorati”, you hear your title and lift up your gaze, ready to take whatever order the Goddess has for you.

“I entrust you with this task, don’t disappoint me”.

***

Diluc is not a coward and he never was one, but now he can’t help but feel a pang of fear, looking at your approaching form.

“Let’s test our delusions, shall we?”, you almost purr, voice soft, silken smooth and full of unspoken threat. It sends shivers down his spine, yet he still equips this cursed thing and braces himself for the upcoming battle.

There’s a stillness in your moves, a confidence that whatever Diluc has in his arsenal, you can endure and answer with something deadly in return. This dangerous calm both disturbs and excites young Ragnvindr.

He lashes out on you with a stream of accursed chains, filling the air with the sickly sweet scent of mist grass. You easily side step his attack, letting out a cheerless laugh and then come back with a cold gust, frost air currents easily cutting through his skin.

He barely dodges the attack, slowly registering the pain from injury. It’s a shallow cut and a testament to your strength, Diluc thinks, as he touches the scrape, marvelling at your speed. In the end, Diluc can’t stand against you - you’re stronger, have more experience and infinitely faster than him, bringing down one overwhelming attack after the other, a catalyst shining and glowing as you do so.

He jumps and ducks and runs, avoiding one hit after the other, yet there's only so much his body can do. Soon his limbs grow heavier and his breathing labored, Diluc slows down and that's when your attack finally strikes him. It pierces his body, pools of blood quickly forming under him.

Diluc falls down, his battered body no longer able to stand. Memories and regrets alike flood his mind, reminding him of deeds he wishes he did and deeds he wishes he didn’t. He remembers his childhood - all daydreams and high hopes, the world around him bright and friendly. He remembers his father's dying face and Kaeya’s guilt-ridden expression. He remembers overwhelming helplessness and grief transforming into righteous anger and hate.

It all seems so pointless now - leaving the Mondstadt, breaking all bonds with Kaeya or spending years in a mindless massacre, satiating his thirst for revenge by destroying one Fatui stronghold after the other, with no regard for his body or spirit. What was the point of it all, if he's still there, lying and bleeding to death, as you look down on him?

He throws, what he thinks, the last glance at the world, a strange thought appearing in his mind as he looks at you: I want them. As Diluc's consciousness fades he misses a sound of an observer's footsteps.

Later, as he gets saved by the said third party’s observer, who commented and praised Diluc’s methods, he replays the encounter in his mind, getting confused at this particular thought. Why would he want you? Maybe he wants you to die or maybe he wants to see you defeated, but in no way he sees you as desirable. In the end he blames everything on his oxygen deprived brain at the time, explaining the strange attraction he felt for you at that moment.

Having a near death experience and a taste of his own dying regrets, he decides to return to Mondstadt and as he does, thoughts about you continue to pester him. They fly around and buzz, reminding Diluc of your face, eyes and voice, of your body and skills and that terrifying speed you attacked him at. He swats them away like a noisy, annoying flies, suppressing and burying feelings deep, deep down, and naming his interest in you “a desire for revenge and retribution”.

***

Your second meeting happens once the news of a sudden Stormterror attack reaches Tsaritsa’s ears - a perfect opportunity for acquiring anemo archon’s gnosis and a new step in her rebellion against Celestia. She thinks about sending La Signora at first, as your fellow Harbinger is fast and ruthless, able to complete a job no matter the cost, but soon archon changes her mind and picks you instead. For secrecy and subterfuge, she adds, don’t disappoint me.

I won't, you promise more to yourself than her, as Tsaritsa never asks but orders. With your head bowed in deep respect and the heavy gaze of the goddess on your form, you decide that you will do your best to bring cryo archon's vision into reality. You are dispatched to Mondstadt the same week, first by ship, then by carriage. Pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya quickly morph into bright Mondstadtian green, and you finally arrive.

Despite or maybe because of Mondstadt having almost nothing similar with Snezhnaya, it steals a breath from you for a moment - city stands on a lone isle in the middle of deep blue lake, tall windmills and bright red roofs seen from a distance, along with a giant statue of Barbatos blessing the city.

Acting Grandmaster Jean greets you, her stern blue eyes intently observing you, as she says standard Favonius salute and you return your own cliche lines - about Tsaritsa’s concern and a peacekeeping mission, empty phrases that don’t elaborate on what actually Fatui will do. She fails to suppress a frown upon hearing it, sensing your real intentions, but you pay it no mind - Jean has no way or reason strong enough to ban you from Mondstadt without causing a diplomatic conflict.

You turn on the heels after brief negotiations, heading for the Goth Grand Hotel, mind already full of plans and schemes of obtaining the Gnosis. Before you departed, Tsaritsa shared a very interesting fact to you - throughout the centuries Barbatos used only one mortal form, disguising himself as a young cheerful bard named Venti. You dispatch a couple of agents and cicin mage to look for a person fitting the description, and then turn your attention to the rest of the fatuis.

You scold Anastasia for unprofessional rudeness towards Jean. “We need to maintain a benevolent image”, you say to her, right before demoting her and temporarily sending her off to Dragonspine as a punishment. Under your rule fatuis cease sneering and belittling Mondstadt in public, lessening no doubt growing ire of locals.

All goes well, until several events happen. Stormterror attacks the city and some blonde foreigner fights off the dragon, wielding mind blowingly strong anemo powers and riding the wind, like a flying bird. Then your agents finally find a bard, reporting that “Venti" prefers to spend a considerable amount of both time and mora in two local taverns - Angel’s Share and Cat’s tail.

You don civilian clothing, heading for the former tavern and send off a couple of other disguised agents to the latter one. Now, stripped of your mask and harbinger attire, citizens stop gawking and staring at you, their eyes passing your form, as you make your way as an ordinary passerby.

No one pays you attention, as you enter the tavern, save for the strange six fingered bard at the entrance. He tries to sell you his performance, but you wave him off, heading for the bar. And here you see him again - you recognize the unknown attacker, his bright red hair and eyes betraying him the same second. Your faces mirror in recognition as a tense silence settles between you.

“So what is Fatui doing in this tavern?”he asks loudly and half of the customers stop drinking and stare at you. You sigh “enjoying” the atmosphere he created, and utter a premade excuse: “Mondstadt is known for its wine industry and the best wines are sold by Dawn Winery. It would be a shame if I left the city without tasting its finest drinks first”.

You glance at the red gem on his collar, an obvious heirloom of a famous clan: “Didn’t know that Ragnvindr heir would spend his days working as a bartender. You must be Diluc, then. Am I right?". He doesn't dignify you with an answer, preferring to wipe the glasses and serve other customers, his eyes still observing you from time to time.

You quit the tavern early, as “Venti”, as it turns out, leaves the same second he hears about your presence. You order agents to spy on him, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, that you don't get a chance to act on.

You get attacked by Diluc on your way to the Windrise tree, where according to your intel, Barbatos decided to go. He slowly pulls out his claymore and you notice a difference between old and current him.

He is calm this time, his movements lacking fervent hatred and anger that was present during your first battle. He must have gotten stronger then, if he feels so confident, entering a battle with you. Or grown foolish, your mind supplies.

You start to fight, exchanging one blow for another, as he surprises you - there's no barbed chains rushing into your direction, only an orange light fire surrounding the claymore. A pyro vision dangles on his waist, glowing and shining as he activates it's powers. You masterfully dodge his hits, shooting combined anemo and cryo attacks from the catalyst.

Suddenly you step on a burning grass, and hiss and close your eyes from the sudden pain. Diluc uses this time to disarm you, his heavy claymore crushing a delicate catalyst into small pieces. It happens so fast, that you are left speechless at the sudden turn of the battle tides.

With no weapon left, all you can do is dodge and run - you almost reach the city again. it’s walls become visible as you do your best to push your body beyond limits, fatigue weighing down on every muscle. Diluc sends a phoenix - a damn phoenix! - on your way. Fire licks your skin and scorches ends of your hair, but you manage to dodge it too - if only by a small chance - and fall to the ground, mind drifting off to the unconscious world.

***

You come up to your senses slowly and gradually; first there are sensations - a rough rope around your wrists, wet, yet rugged stone walls, then the smells, tastes and sounds - stale, musty air, a coppery blood on your tongue and a shift of a fabric, and then the images at last - dark basement and a bright red blotch, that after a time becomes a head.

There’s a man sitting beside you, Diluc Ragnvindr, your memory supplies. You feel calm and confused for a moment until you remember the fight you both had. Seems, he finally overpowered you.

“You are awake” he says, voice grim and quiet.

“It seems I am. Let me guess, you dragged me here because you want to know what this big bad harbinger plans to do?”. Control your breathing, don’t let him hear the tremble of your voice, don’t let him see the fear in your eyes.

He looks at you with an unreadable gaze and you hold his stare, looking absolutely untroubled in return, a knowing and somewhat self-confident smirk playing in your lips. No matter his status in Mondstadt, Diluc kidnapped you, one of the fatui Harbingers and a close associate of Tsaritsa. His action, no doubt, will force Fatui to severe action, an action that neither his nation nor his people will be able to withstand.

“Think bigger”, he finally says: “I don’t care what you planned to do. I already have you here, weak and helpless. No, what I want is intel on what your goddess and organization are after”.

“Oh, mister Diluc, you want to play a big game? It’s dangerous in case you didn’t know. Maybe after I tell you all of our wicked plans, you will wish you had never asked” you purr, sensing how it grates his nerves, despite him keeping his face and stance impassive.

“How so?”

“Tsaritsa is the greatest of all seven, her vision is absolute. Even if you learn of her plans I doubt you will be able to stop any of them”.

“I asked what the plans were, not what you think of cryo archon”. Diluc’s voice becomes a tone louder, the already present frown on his face subtly deepening.

“Then I am afraid you won’t get any from me”.

He suddenly gets closer to you, his hand yanking you by your head. You hiss, trying to free the bound hands, as he drags you to a nearby barrel with water by hair and then he dips you in it. You instinctively jerk in his hold, a cold water seeping in your nose and mouth as he holds you underwater. Ten second passes, twenty, thirty, you jerk again, your head throbbing and aching from the lack of air, he pulls you upwards.

You nearly black out from the abrupt change, gulping down in the air and coughing out water. He repeats his question and you deny him again. He dips you more, each time becoming a bit longer than the last, only to repeat his query. You lose how many times he lowered you into liquid, absolutely wet and shivering now, when he finally stops and ties you up to the same place you woke up to.

“We will continue tomorrow, I have business to attend to. I suggest you use this time to rethink whether you want to tell me Tsaritsa’s plans or not, as I can get much worse” He heads for the exit from the basement, as you greedily inhale the air.

“Wait”, you say, still breathing heavily: “Aren’t you afraid of the punishment? You kidnapped me, a harbinger, and then proceeded to torture me. Tsaritsa will have your head for this slight against her.”

“Tsaritsa won’t find out. Your Harbingers won’t find out. No one will find out if there’s no evidence”. He steps closer to you, his voice becoming firmer with each word.

“And how do you think you will manage to hide the evidence? You left the knights years ago, you are nothing but a businessman at this point. I doubt they will cover up for you”.

“How did..”

“Oh, Diluc, people talk and I am very, very nosy. That girl, Donna, she told so much to my subordinates about you ”, you mock her, imitating her high breathy manner: “Oh Diluc, he was the youngest captain, but then he left. I wonder why he left? Maybe the knights wronged him!”

“Honestly, with the amount of ire you subject poor knights to, only a deaf and a blind won’t know about how much you despise Favonius Order'', you continue, anger and hatred seeping into your voice.

“I still have connections”, he says absolutely nonchalantly.

“Oh, do you bribe them, then? You criticize the knights for being corrupt, yet you are willing to ask them to hide my abduction? It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

Diluc doesn’t answer this time, finally stepping out of the room and locking the door. You sit alone in a dimly lit room, water still all over you and heart quickly beating in your chest, trying to calm down. Later, when your heartbeat stops booming in your own ears, you pray to Tsaritsa, asking Goddess to grant you strength and endurance.

***

You manage to doze off once your clothes are almost dry. The dreams you see are vague and murky, dripping with a sense of unease and anxiety, you see dark silhouettes that morph into looming shadows that later transform into phantasmagorical monsters. It must be why you wake up the same second door opens with Diluc entering the room.

He looks grimmer now, more determined. You brace yourself for his hands tugging at your hair again and lungs burning from lack of oxygen, but none of it comes. He uses a dagger to slice your clothes off, careful not to damage skin underneath. Out of pure nerves you quip some stupid joke about dining first, but he pays you no mind, his hands soon touching your bare legs and looks at them with a filthy stare, his red eyes consuming revealed flesh.

You still under his stare, heart pounding as you try to distract yourself from the thoughts of what he might do to you right now. Almost a minute passes, when he finally stops staring at your legs and begins to move his arms, caressing your inner side of the thigh instead.

You shift from the discomfort, alarmed when his palms start to heat up. He wants to burn me, you think and barely stop yourself from screaming by biting your lip. A disgusting smell of burnt flesh fills up your nose as tears start to travel down your face. He removes the hand, revealing two angry red imprints with a collection of small blisters already forming. Diluc, again, asks the same question, and just like the last time you refuse to answer.

He does upkeep his threat of becoming much worse, with his hands burning your naked body - he targets sensitive spots or joints,so everytime you shift or move they throb and burn, disturbed at the smallest of motions.

“You're not the one to think about the consequences, are you?”, you ask when he finishes, voice quiet and raspy from screaming.

"No one will find you".

"I am one of the Tsaritsa's most trusted servants, of course they will find me", you pretend you don't hear desperation in your own voice.

"Time will show", Diluc says philosophically, looking as gentlemanly as possible despite him torturing you seconds ago.

"Yes, it will", you agree with him, picturing the bastard's face once he gets thrown in prison.

He leaves the room and you allow yourself to slump, careful not to move burned areas too much, and then he returns again, this time with food and medicine. He works fast at bandaging and disinfecting the burns, seems he is as intent at patching you up, as he is at tearing you apart. As he swathes another burn, you look at the brought food.

It’s unlikely he would drug it to make you tell the truth, given that he already tortures you and he doesn’t seem to be a type to play mind games. It still could be laced with poison though, not lethal one, that would be counterproductive, but the one that can cause pain and tremors all over your body. You’ve seen such substance at work once, when Il Dottore decided to show you the fruits of his experiments - victims were thrashing and shaking on the floor once a five minute mark had been passed, by the twentieth they already admitted to all crimes, regardless of how innocent they were.

It might be even a new torture method, devised by Diluc, just to strip you from the short respite when you are not in pain. He finally looks up to you, finishing the bandage, noticing the stare you look at the food with. "It's not poisoned" he guesses your thoughts, taking a small bite and a sip to prove his words. A minute passes, then the second and the third ones, nothing happens with him, no blushing or paling skin, no wide blown or pinprick pupils, nothing. It still could be a slow acting poison, but you doubt it - they're usually harder to cure, Diluc wouldn't willingly consume it given the long list of aftereffects that remain even after antidote was administered.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stay to feed you, leaving you with food alone. It’s a potato hash browns, absolutely unseasoned and cold. You almost swallow them whole from hunger, realizing how starved you are once the smell of food reaches you. After a day(?) of fasting, satiation hits you full force, drowsiness pulling at every muscle. The tableware he brought is metallic and easily bends, so you can't smash it and use sharp pieces, nor are there any utensils to weaponize. You lay down on the side, as something falls on you. It's a stone.

Your hands take it, feeling its shape - mostly smooth with one angular protrusion. It's not sharp or pointed enough for you to cut through the bindings, but with enough time and effort it can break the rope with friction alone. You begin to work, grating the rope again and again, fighting off the sleepiness.

***

Diluc nods to Adelinde, as he returns from Mondstadt after signing the contract with winesellers from Inazuma. She understands this wordless gesture, starting to talk: “The.. guest you brought has eaten, last time I checked they still were awake. I did my best to be quiet, master Diluc”.

He dismisses her, thanking for her observations and decides to go down himself. A strange sort of fascination fills him, as he turns the key in the lock, that also prompts a burning shame that he grew accustomed to in the last few days.

It’s an awful thing, to find pleasure in another’s suffering - a trait of a heartless monster, as his father once said, but despite the chagrin he still can’t help but feel a quickening of the pulse as a pained whimper escapes your lips. It’s addicting honestly, to have you of all people, naked and trembling and helpless at his total control, when you were so close to ending his life just a couple of months ago. He supposes it's a type of karmic punishment to you, a fatui harbinger, no doubt a killer and horrible person - you deserve it, he tells to himself - you deserve it for being a fatui.

Moreover, you are not only a terrible, terrible person that deserves much more gruesome torture that he allows, you are also a source of priceless information - how many lives will be saved and avenged if you just tell him what fatuis plan to do. You are a harbinger, you are bound to know something, unlike most of the fatui.

Diluc carefully glances at you as he enters - you are still sitting in the same spot he left you in, head slumped low and shoulders relaxed. It seems you are asleep. He still makes his way to you, steps slow and quiet. Your hands are bound with rope and Diluc knows how much the rough fiber pulls and chafes at skin, grating it to the blood and ropeburns - he needs to use this short respite to quickly disinfect and bandage you again.

Diluc crouches down, as you twitch and then something aims for his head, he flinches a second too slow to dodge. You nearly manage to hit him right in the temple. His head almost splits in half from the burst of pain, vision blurry and disoriented.

You quickly stand, enduring the pain from the burns and make your way to the room. Diluc runs after you, panic and anger distorting his face in equal manner - he can’t let anyone see you like that! - but you manage to lock him in using his own keys. He kicks and thrashes the door, angry at himself for not carrying claymore with him, as something loudly collides with the wall at the other side. He hears a short surprised yelp and whimper - your whimper and the too familiar footsteps descending down the stairs- Adelinde.

“Master Diluc? Is everything okay?”, the headmaid unlocks the room, concern in her voice:”I saw.. the guest running out of the basement, so I pushed them back before other maids could see”

“Everything is fine, check on the Harbinger, I still need intel”.

Turns out, you blacked out upon the impact, a small trail of blood making its way down the head. Diluc is still angry at you, head throbbing and hurting, his hands itching to hit and burn you, but he can’t allow himself to lose control: you are hurt and he doesn’t want to kill you.

In the end, it’s all predictable, Diluc muses, you are an animal first and human second, your allegiance testament to that. He was too soft, too forgiving on you and you decided to twist his kindness like a blade in the back. His head still hurts, but he finally calms, reasoning your attack as an outlash of a mindless beast.

He carries your limp body in hands, finally taking out of the basement and takes you to one of the guest rooms at the second floor of the winery - it’s a risky move, but you injured your head and in Diluc’s experiences such traumas almost always carry a great risk - maybe you will even forget who you are and there’ll be no one for Diluc to interrogate to.

Placing your body on the bed he clasps a cuff around each of your limbs and gags and blindfolds you. After a second, he asks Adelinde for cotton and stuffs your ears full of it.

Human mind stripped of all stimuli is such a dangerous thing, tearing itself apart.

***

You wake up to darkness and silence, head slightly pulsing from pain. You lie on some sort of very soft bed, silk smooth sheets consuming and hugging most of your body as you wiggle your limbs, tugging at the cuffs.

A small wave of panic washes over you, as you remain absolutely blind and deaf to the world, but you try to remain calm, unsure if Diluc is standing near or not. The bindings on your hands are made of iron now, so you soon stop, knowing it's a futile thing. The only thing you can do is wait.

You don't know how much time passes between you regaining consciousness and the air shifting around you. Having been stripped of both sight and hearing, your other senses became a bit sharper, mind focusing on them to compensate. It's a subtle change of pressure but you still feel it, it's enough for you to guess where this person stands. Suddenly hands grope at you, touching and probing the place near burns. You would scream if it wasn’t for the gag, from pain and violation alone. It's a smaller palms, judging by sensations, they change the bandages. After whoever that was finishes patching you they leave you alone, their departure evoking both relief and sadness - they were a source of stimulations, stimulations that your mind desperately needs.

You start to tug at the bindings again - this time to procure pain, just to feel something again. You are bored, you are in pain and you are scared - not the best combination. Soon, you decide to distract yourself from ever increasing boredom with memories. Images of your past life flash and change before you - here’s you playing catch and hide and seek, here’s you receiving a vision, here’s you entering fatui and climbing through the ranks, here's you receiving delusion from Tsaritsa’s own hands and here's you battling Diluc for the first time.

I should have killed him, you think, I should have spent less time talking and more time fighting, the bastard wouldn't live to see another day and I wouldn't be here.

A strange feeling of panic settles in your bones, as you try to occupy yourself, it's subtle but never ending, slowly growing with each second. You try to daydream but you can’t, not when you are cuffed and your body burns. You try to reminisce again, but you can do only so much, memories becoming dull and repetitive. Soon, the subtle panic becomes not so subtle and you realize you are gasping and thrashing, limbs achings as you rub them against the rough shackles.

You must have blacked out or drifted to sleep, because the next time you wake up you feel a bit different - a little cleaner and more sated - they tend to me, when I am unconscious you realize. Diluc wants to limit all interactions I have.

You don't know how much time you spend there in the end, but it has a profound effect on you - at first the concept of sharing fatui plans with your captor seems nonsensical and traitorous, but after a couple of days-weeks(?) of being chained to one place with limited movement and perception, it stops looking like such a bad idea to you.

Time distorts around you, you can't tell how long you were lying there, seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into near eternities. At one point you started to cry again, scared and panicked and then you proceeded to scream.

***

Diluc comes to you again, taking out the cotton and blindfold from your person. Your eyes hurt and your head starts to ache again from the rush of noises, and you blink a couple of times to see the man before you. A strange mix of emotions washes over you - you hate Diluc, you truly despise him with every fibre of your being, yet now Diluc is the only person you have, the only person you see. It’s so confusing and overwhelming that you start to cry, unable to process any of the feelings.

Diluc looks as prim and proper as ever, as he shushes your crying and promises to let you go if only you will tell Tsaritsa’s plans. You almost believe him, Fatui secrets dancing at the tip of his mouth, yet you hold on to the pieces of your loyalty, slowly shaking your head. He asks you again, doubt and concern in his voice. It will be better if you tell me, he says, his hand still stroking you, don’t you want to walk and see again?.

His hand stops stroking you, face turning back to stone when you refuse him for the second time. He fixes blindfold and cotton again and part of you is howling - it’s scary, so scary to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts.

This time you start to break far faster, having tasted freedom for a mere second. You break down and tell Diluc everything you know next time he visits. His hand on you feels like salvation and punishment at the same time. At the end of your confession you are too empty, all of your secrets laid before him, no place for sadness or grief left inside of you. You feel whatever was inside of you was scorched off by Diluc and it left you thoroughly burnt. Dead. Made of ash.

“My name is [First]”, you wail and howl, shoulders slightly shaking as you do. You want so much to have some human contact, to hear someone call your name for once.

It’s cathartic in a way, to tell all the secrets your mind has been bustling with ever since becoming a harbinger. He doesn’t flinch or frown when you tell what exactly you witnessed or did, intently listening to each word.

He keeps his promise and uncuffs you from the bed, but you are still not allowed to leave the room, which doesn’t really disappoint you. There are books and a small barred window that opens a view to the wineyard, a feast for the starving mind. You spend at least an hour standing at the window at first, amazed that you can see people working.

He gifts you clothes and other books, assigns a housemaid to look after you, the same one that pushed you down the stairs when you were running away, she doesn’t speak to you, preferring to avoid your gaze.

Sometimes you do feel sad - you betrayed Tsaritsa, you betrayed your homeland, you lost both vision and delusion - but you quickly shove it down, unable to process feelings properly. You know you are defeated, having seen similar behavior from fatui prisoners, and Diluc knows it too, a malice and triumph and satisfaction burning on his eyes, despite the impassive face.

He sees you as a trophy, a reminder of how he reduced the great fatui harbinger to your current condition. He orders you around and punishes when you disobey, calls it reeducation, calls it teaching you how to be a decent person, calls it a punishment for your sins. A part of you wants to retort and point out his own failings, but you stop yourself at the root, unwilling to be stripped from the world again. You comply, you suppress, you break little by little. It all pleases him.

You learn to love what hurt you the most out of pure fear.

***

“First?”, it’s Diluc, shaking you slightly by the shoulders. You snap back to reality, seeing that he already carried you to bed and undressed you.

“I am here, you can continue” you whisper as he leans down to pepper your chest and collarbone with kisses, and then hiss as he bites you.

“Mhm, that’s good,” he says, warm hands traveling down to your thighs, caressing the inner side: “Could you spread them a bit?”

You obey, equally parts scared and excited.

Truly, Diluc is the best thing that happened in your life.

Note: All fatui harbinger names are taken from commedia dell'arte. Innamorati are a couple of lovers, madly in love with each other and with the idea of being in love. I thought it would be ironic.

#yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #Yandere diluc #yandere x reader #yandere #I am lowkey dissapointed in myself #Both reader and diluc are bad people #My sleep meds stopped working:(((#my writing

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imasimpforshanks · 4 years ago

Note

hiii, how are you? may i ask angst alphabet for Ace? thank you ❤️

Angst Alphabet - Portgas D. Ace

a/n: hi hi!! here you go! OMG angst is still really hard LOL I don’t want to think about their rough life 😔😔😔😔😔 ANYWHOOOOO thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy<3

warnings: on the letter S there is mention of self harm

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

Ace would definitely blame himself. He’s always thought he was a no-good demon child, son of a criminal that didn’t deserve to be alive (despite finding people that truly cared and loved him). You dying in an accident and him not being able to do anything about it would just reinforce what he already thinks of himself.

Regardless of your cause of death he is likely to attribute it to your association with himself, and because of that he will think it is entirely his fault, even if he wasn’t present at the time of your death.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

His lessons with Makino really helped him develop manners and just a general sense of acceptable behaviour. So, Ace would just be clear and up front, no mixed messages, no miscommunication. He would take you some place quiet and away from others, and then he would be as honest and vulnerable as possible – it’s the least you deserve. The break-up would be very civil, you would definitely end on good terms (doesn’t make it any less sad though).

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

Sometimes Ace can take his teasing a little too far. Usually you can handle it, but there are just some days where his words cut deeper than ever intended (even if they have no malice behind them). It’s not his fault you’re having a bad day, or not realizing you are having a bad day. It’s just one of those things that happens sometimes. As soon as you start to cry though, he apologizes and reassures you so much, to make sure you known he doesn’t mean it and he’s only playing around.

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

It would start out with a lot of confusion, like “what t-that must be some kind of a sick joke. H-how… w-what… they wouldn’t just die like that.” After it really sinks in that you have in fact died, Ace will just get angry. I don’t see him as much of a crier (spoiler alert – we only see him truly allow himself to cry on two occasions 1) when luffy got crazy hurt as a child and 2) when ace was on deaths door), so I believe he would react with anger.

Regardless of your cause of death (natural causes, accident, died in battle etc.) Ace would be unbelievably angry with himself, the world and you. He would be angry at himself for being unable to save you, someone he cares about and loves deeply. He would be angry at the world and whatever higher being there may be for choosing now to be your time. There are so many horrible, horrible people in the world, yet you had to die? It makes no sense. Lastly, he would be angry at you. Not a genuine anger but more so a “how could you just leave me like this? We were meant to be together forever.”

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

I think Ace tends to try his sadness. He tries to put on a brave face, not wanting anyone to see him cry as he doesn’t want to be viewed as weak or be even more of a burden on others.

F-Fight (how often do you fight? What do you fight about? Do you fight often? Etc.)

Fights with Ace, although they don’t happen often, can quickly get out of hand. He’s stubborn and his inability to accept that he’s not always right can cause a minor disagreement to escalate into an all-out fight. On a few occasions you have argued about him never turning his back on an opponent.

Your fights tend to be followed by cooldown time. Things can get quite heated (no pun intended) so you need some alone time and space to breathe. After that though, you comeback together and apologize.

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

For his entire life, Ace has lived with the guilt of simply existing. He doesn’t think himself worthy of being alive. Can you blame him? It’s all anyone ever told him growing up. Despite eventually finding people who loved him for him, those feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness still remain and continue to plague his mind.

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

During a break-up Ace is quiet. He doesn’t want to be around anyone or anything. He wants to be left completely alone so he can sort out his thoughts and feelings. He’d be quite devasted because he’s had so few people in his life love him on as deep a level as you did.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

Ace would absolutely lose it if you were injured. He’d be concerned, upset, and angry all at once. First things first, he needs to know if you are going to be ok. Once that’s been established, he’ll be upset at himself for allowing this to happen. This will be replaced by the pure anger he feels at whoever, or whatever, caused this.

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

When he gets jealous he turns into such a man child. He’s pouting and moping around while mumbling to himself. He develops quite a petty attitude. If you were to ask him “want to go get something to eat?” he’d respond with “why don’t you just go and ask ____ for some food.” But, as soon as you begin commenting on how jealous he’s acting he’s going to deny it to the end of his days.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Ace literally hunted down Blackbeard so he could get revenge on him for killing Thatch. It’s not certain whether or not Ace had the intention of killing Blackbeard, however, he definitely had both the spirit and anger to go through with killing him. So, it is possible that Ace would kill for revenge. However, for the most part, he would prefer to just beat them senseless.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

Either Sabo or his mother’s death, would be considered Ace’s greatest loss. His mother died when he was a new-born, so he doesn’t particularly remember, or know, anything about her other than the fact that she was a kind wonderful woman. However, the loss of Sabo is something he remembers vividly. Losing Sabo had a major impact on Ace. It was an unfortunate wake up call as to how awful the world truly is.

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

One night, after a particularly bad day filled with a horrible series of events, Ace was letting off some steam (quite literally I suppose). Messing with his devil fruit power, throwing some flames around. He hadn’t noticed your presence and so his flames nearly burnt you. He was horrified, and he only felt worse after he noticed the pure terror in your eyes.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?

Ace has nightmares frequently, they vary, but they all have the same underlying theme, that is, the people in his life don’t actually care about him and only view him the same way everyone else views the son of the pirate kind – a worthless devil with no right to life. He wakes up from his dreams in a sweat and finds himself in desperate need of fresh air (ya know to try and clear his mind). He ends up just sitting out on the deck of the Moby Dick looking up at the sky trying to tell himself it was all a dream. But his insecurity and self-doubt begin to resurface and soon he can’t discern imagination from reality. However, the moment someone else on the crew even speaks to Ace with something as simple as a “morning dude” he’s brought back down to earth and thinks to himself “no that’s right…. They love me… I wouldn’t be here right now if they didn’t.”

It’s a vicious cycle, but in the end, he manages to remember (even if it’s just for a little bit) that he is cherished.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

When you continuously tell him there’s no need to stay and fight every single opponent. It’s okay to turn and runaway – in fact it’s safer to do that. When you say that he feels as though you don’t understand him. He’s not some careless, impulsive child who’s just looking for a fight (okay maybe he is a little bit). So he doesn’t really get super angry, it’s more so that he is frustrated and a little upset that you don’t try to see it from his perspective.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

It’s the same as the worst mistake he’s ever made with you – nearly burning you with his devil fruit. It made you realize that Ace can actually be quite dangerous (although you know he would NEVER hurt you intentionally). It made Ace realize that he needs to be more careful, the look of pure terror in your eyes has stayed with him ever since that incident, serving as a reminder.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

His tendency to not back down from a fight is simultaneously his most endearing and toxic trait. He constantly places himself in dangerous situations with minimal concern for his own safety.

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around))

Having his confession rejected by you was definitely a blow to his self-esteem, but he respected and accepted your feelings. Instead of moping around about it he decides to laugh it off, trying to make light of a slightly disappointing situation.

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

Ace does not have any scars, battle related or self-inflicted.

TW self-harm: I do think ace got worryingly close to self-harming, but Sabo and Luffy made him rethink it all.

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

The one and only time Ace broke your trust was after Blackbeards betrayal. You made him promise to take you with him when he left to hunt down Blackbeard because you didn’t want him to go alone. He promised but he had no intention of keeping that promise.

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

For a while Ace manages to get by by keeping himself preoccupied. But as soon as he lets up for even a minute, he realizes how much he misses you and is beyond tempted to just sail on back to wherever you are and tackle you to the ground plastering your face in lil kisses. When he’s not distracted, he really does miss you a lot. He hyper-fixates on what you could be doing at this very moment, whether or not you miss him too etc.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

When ace gets mad, he tends to get very loud. He raises his voice quite a lot and it becomes very, very frightening. He would never physically hurt you, but the anger and frustration in his voice is more than another to scare the shit out of you.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

Constantly being reminded or associated with the Pirate King. Maybe it doesn’t make him feel weak, but it makes him feel horrible inside and stirs up a lot of feelings and remarks people would make when he was younger. Unfortunately, once word gets out there isn’t much Ace can do to stop this from happening, however, before this, Ace avoided this by not telling ANYONE. He only told Luffy and Sabo, with a very small handful of others knowing (i.e Garp).

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

He hates turning his back on a fight or turning his back on people that talk shit about those he cares about. This is seen during the Marineford arc. He doesn’t let Akainus words about Whitebeard slide. He doesn’t runaway. He has no tolerance for that shit.

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

Ok this may be dark as hell but, Ace just wants to not feel like a burden to the world. He wants to be viewed as something different/separate from his father, but he can’t change history.

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

He doesn’t let you go. He’ll hold on to you until he is forcefully separated from your body. He just starts to spout a lot of nonsense – things don’t make sense at all, but he can’t help it right now. He can’t think properly when you’re about to leave him. He just wants you to stay.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #portgas d ace #angst alphabet #one piece alphabet #portgas d ace x reader #fire fist ace

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kataraslove · 3 years ago

Text

katara: “do you hear that?”

aang: “sounds like it’s coming from over there...”

for kataang week day 3: post canon @kataang-week

newly wedded aang and katara (now sporting a cute little bob) were travelling across the world for their honeymoon. on their way to the kingdom of omashu, the two decided to stop and revisit the cave of two lovers. as aang and katara leaned in for a quick kiss by the entrance of the cave, they heard a blood-curling scream come from inside. immediately pulling away, the couple shared a suspicious look with each other before deciding to investigate.

katara cautiously grabbed her pouch as aang drew out a small flame to lead the way. however, the waterbender stopped her husband to remind him that the tunnels were filled with fluorescent crystals that glowed in the dark.

“oh yeah,” aang recalled. he looked down at the flame dwindling in his palm. “i’ll put it out when we get further in there. if we hear screaming again, we’ll be able to find out where it came from.”

“you can also use your earth bending this time around.”

aang nodded. “that i can.” the gentle lines of his face - reserved especially for his wife - quickly switched up to the avatar look, the signature look that he bore whenever there was danger and people in need of his help.

“let’s go.”

(continued under the cut, 2.4k words)

the broad sunlight of the summer day was reduced to a small crevice against their backs, as the two lovers made their way into the shadows of the labyrinth. their primary light source came from aang’s flame, which had grown brighter the farther they travelled. the avatar could not help but become a little bit mesmerized with the vivid red and orange hues that danced in his left palm, the warmth that occupied his hand having stretched out to his entire body. the flame synchronized so perfectly well with his heartbeat. fire is life, he recalled the words of the sun warrior chief. not just destruction.

aang nearly chuckled out loud. firebending came so naturally to him now - almost as natural as his airbending. to think that there was ever a time that he had outright hated the element and vowed to never learn it, even if it had meant jeopardizing his avatarhood.

however, a small voice crept to the back of his mind, uncomfortably reminding of the exact reason as to why he initially refused to learn the element at the age of twelve. it was the same reason that brought shame and guilt inside his gut - even eight years later - whenever the memory unexpectedly crossed his mind. what he had done to katara on that day, how he had refused to listen to jeong jeong’s advice and lost control of his fire, the image of her fresh burns - it was all there, forever smeared across his brain and heart as a painful reminder. no matter how many times katara had insisted that good had come from that day through the discovery of her healing abilities, aang could never wash away the trauma associated with that event.

he inhaled sharply. it won’t happen again. he wasn’t twelve anymore, and he had full control over all the elements now. fire was energy, he had learned, and life.

sparing a glance at katara, who had been awfully quiet since they got into the cave, he noticed that his wife was chewing anxiously on her lower lip. the trouble in her beautiful features was easily detectable by the bright flames within his hand. he moved closer to her, his shoulder gently bumping hers in an attempt to comfort her. “you okay?”

she met his eyes, and he could see the hint of fear reflected in them. “aang, i’m worried.”

“you have nothing to be worried about,” aang reassured her with a small smile. “whatever it is, or whoever it is, we can take ‘em.”

katara shook her head. “i’m not worried about the who. we’ve probably dealt with far worse than whatever is lingering in this cave. but i - aang, what if it’s bad?”

he frowned, confused. “what if what’s bad, then?”

she studied her hands carefully. her hands were the hands of a fighter, of a healer. the same hands who had resurrected an avatar back to life and saved a firelord from near death, while dismantling another firelord from the throne. he felt the sudden urge to draw her hands in his own, to hold her tight enough to ease away her fears.

“what if there’s a bunch of dead bodies stashed away in this tunnel, rotting away for days or even weeks?” she answered in alarm, eyes widening at the dark path ahead of them. “or, what if there’s a bunch of people lying around in pain, on the brink of death, and I don’t have enough water to save them all?”

his eyes turned to the road ahead. he saw nothing, except for earth and more earth. but he knew better than to dismiss those kind of fears.

“that wouldn’t be your fault.” he responded gently. “we’ll do our best to help, to make sure that whoever is out there is safe and unharmed. but if they do happen to be harmed - or worse, dead - and we’ve tried everything that we could,” he shuttered out a breath at the imagery. “i don’t want you to blame yourself for whoever you can’t save, katara.”

“and i don’t want you to blame yourself, aang.” she placed a hand on his shoulder as they walked on. he tried to ignore the immediate sweep of panic churning in his stomach at her proximity to the fire. if he envisioned a future with both katara and firebending, he would have to get used to accepting that she would be around the times when he required the element.

“i know you feel a sense of responsibility, as the avatar, to ensure that the world is kept safe,” she continued on. her voice softened, a sad tone. “i know it upsets you when it isn’t.”

“wasn’t i the one consoling you just a second ago?” aang joked, deflecting.

“we’re consoling each other.” katara insisted with a small smile. the corners of her mouth dropped at her next statement: “i know you don’t like to talk about it, aang, the stress and pressure that you feel. but i also know how it keeps you up at night. why you choose to sometimes spend long periods of time meditating.”

just like that, she had flipped the switch on him in the way that only she knew how. katara was undoubtedly right. of course he had seen and experienced his fair amount of injustice and morbidity; they all had. but the guilt of not being able to do anything about it - to know that people all over the world were counting on him to end their suffering and plight and despair, while there were many days when all he could do was sit in lavish cushions arguing endlessly with politicians who could not relate to the earth kingdom boy who had nothing to eat, or to the water tribe girl who had lost her parents, or to the air nomad who was the sole survivor of an entire culture - ate away at his heart and mind at every minute of every hour. even now, when he was supposed to be enjoying his blissful vacation with his wife.

“aang.” he felt katara lightly pull his chin towards her, forcing him to look at her before his mind could wander down the same dangerous road that it had so many days and nights before. she stopped the two in their tracks, the light from his palm illuminating their darkened features.

the fire reflected back in the indigo of her eyes, embodying the energy and intensity and life that was katara, his best friend, his saviour. suddenly, he was transported back to a time during the war, when he had just been a fidgety twelve year-old boy staring up at his fourteen year-old best friend. his heart thumped furiously against his chest the closer he inched to her face. when their lips met, he felt electricity course through his veins and wondered if the warmth that pooled in his stomach was what love felt like.

as he caught her lips in his own again, this time at the age of twenty, he could confirm - a memoir to his twelve year old self - that the warmth was indeed love. but love was also so much more, he came to realize over the years. love was the cautious hands of a fourteen year-old girl spending weeks at his side, healing him from his coma, sobbing in despair and frustration when he would not wake up. love was the way that he had thrown his arms around her waist, and she around his neck, relief flooding each other’s veins at the knowledge that they were both alive and safe and together after his defeat of ozai and her defeat of azula. love was the way her hand fit so perfectly in his, palm pressed to palm and fingers intertwined, as the two watched the early formations of republic city from their home, vowing to leave a lasting legacy on a world where benders and non-benders of all types could live together in safety and harmony.

love was also the brief kiss in an abandoned cave that said a million more things than he could ever say in words.

when the two pulled back, he noted the way that her eyes twinkled up at him under the fluorescent light. the crystals shone overhead, leading them down a familiar path, just as how it had done when he was twelve. aang checked his left palm and realized that he had extinguished his flame during the kiss.

katara’s smile reached her eyes when she grabbed for his hand, pulling him along. “funny,” she said, bemused. “that thing you said when we were kids. guess it held up all these years, didn’t it?”

“what thing?”

“oh, you know,” she replied with a casual shrug, a mischievous glint forming in her eye. “you choosing to kiss me over dying - ”

he groaned. she was never going to let him live that one, was she?

“did i say that?” aang feigned innocence. “i can’t quite recall. maybe what my awkward twelve-year old self had meant to say, instead, was that the thought of not being able to kiss you is just so unbearable that i would rather have chosen death.”

“mmhmmm. sure you had.” a blush slowly crept up her cheeks, betraying her sarcastic tone. success.

“good thing that hasn’t happened yet, though. the not being able to kiss you anymore part.” he paused, adding as an afterthought: “the death part, too, if we’re being honest.”

“don’t speak so soon. what if there’s a serial killer in here?” she hushed him, looking around conspiratorially.

“you’d rather a serial killer kiss you instead of your own husband? ouch.”

she smacked his arm. “aang! i’m serious. with the recent bender supremacy uprisings going on in major cities of the earth kingdom, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. what’s stopping a bender supremacist from kidnapping a bunch of non-benders in omashu and dumping their bodies in this cave right now?”

“well, for starters, we would’ve heard by now if that were the case, wouldn’t we have? there’d be rumours, like with what happened with hama. so far, there hasn’t been any reports of mysterious non-bender disappearances in the cities where the uprisings are taking place. definitely not any in omashu.”

a dark look settled across katara’s face at the mention of the estranged bloodbender. “an earth bender supremacist could be dragging bodies from the city and burying them in the rubble of the tunnels. no one would even think to look because the legend says that the cave is cursed.”

aang scratched his head, suddenly very wary about his surroundings. his eyes scanned everywhere around him, from the plethora of crystals that provided them light on top to the solid stone that held the cave in place, trying to spot any semblance of a decomposing body. just as before, he couldn’t detect anything unusual.

while he knew that katara’s suspicions had merit to them, his mind still hesitated over the idea of a bender supremacist trapping people in caves. he would have heard something by now, if that were the case. besides, they were drawing all of these inferences from a scream that he wasn’t even sure came from a human. the high-pitched sound could have belonged to a species of wolfbats, for all they knew. and even if it were to emerge out of a person, who was to say that it was connected to the victim of a bender supremacist murderer? it could have been from a lost and hungry traveler stuck in the cave for days, unsure of their way out. or perhaps it was from someone whose foot was trapped under rubble, screaming out in sheer pain. maybe it even belonged to a villager being chased by an angry spirit.

he walked over to one of the walls, running his hand over the sharp rocks that pricked at his skin. or perhaps, he thought bitterly, gritting his teeth, it was his own refusal to accept that he was failing the world again that led him to dismiss such possibilities. given the political climate, it was entirely possible that bender supremacists were using their bending to hide bodies within the cave. he just wasn’t aware of any of it because it was all taking place underneath his nose, while he remained in blissful ignorance with the women he loved on what was supposed to be his vacation.

aang closed his eyes. he focused on the vibrations emitting from the ground, trying to detect if there was anything that could give him a clue, like a direction to the source of the scream. he was even searching for the large footsteps of badger moles or the fluttering wings of wolfbats. while he was no toph, his earthbending had vastly improved over the years to the point where he had gotten very good at perceiving the world around and underneath him through vibrations. but this time around, he was sensing absolutely nothing.

well, not entirely nothing. aang noted that some parts of the earth below his hand felt kind of fresh. and quite warm. it didn’t take an earth bender to realize that their texture and temperature were evidently different from the rocks comprising the rest of the cave. this new formation of rock - whatever it was - also felt very familiar to him, almost like he had dealt with this type before.

his eyes widened in recognition. it was rock that had hardened after the eruption of a volcano. and not just any ordinary eruption; a special kind of eruption that didn’t require any volcano whatsoever.

lavabending.

“hey, katara. would you be able to come over here? i think i found something.”

aang’s words were interrupted by the sudden howl of a blood-curling scream. this time, he had felt the vibrations perfectly through the earth, and spirits did they hurt. he winced in pain, his ears ringing, reflexively removing his hand off the ground.

the screaming did not seem to stop the longer the seconds passed. multiple more emitted from the path ahead in unison, echoing off the chambers of the cave. his heart pounded. there was no denying that the cries had unmistakably belonged to humans.

katara already had a stream of water out from her pouch. she had sprang into action, pointing in the precise direction that the noise was coming from.

“this way,” she shouted, running ahead.

be careful, he couldn’t help think as he trailed after her.

this art was adapted from the following comic panel in imbalance part 2:

#kataang week 2021 #kataang #kataangtag

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saphirered · 3 years ago

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Could you write another fic for Kingsley? I absolutely adored The Lovers and there’s so little content for the pirate tiefling, it leaves me so sad. I was thinking something where the reader and him have been flirting for awhile but he’s still doubtful of wether they like him as Kingsley or they just see him as Molly. (The reader doesn’t, and they end up comforting him, just overall some of that good Hurt/Comfort)

Don't know why writing is taking so long for me but I blame the double shifts. Sorry this took so long to write. I hope it was worth the wait 😘

Some things are doomed to repeat themselves. Mollymauk had always been a huge flirt regardless of actual interests in people he knew exactly what to do and say to make someone blush. That’s not something lost in the resurrections. Kingsley is no different. Flirting comes like a second nature to the lavender tiefling.

Molly’s goal had been to make you blush a task difficult to achieve so when you quipped back each and every time the flirtations escalated to what some might consider inappropriate to be spoken in certain social circles. This little back and forth turned into a bit of a competition to see who could make the other blush or gasp the most because you did manage to get those responses of each other.

It was your game and when Kingsley began with endearing pet names you automatically felt yourself falling back into that habit. You don’t really know when you got back to the point where you’d be outright flirting but the gradual escalation happened before you caught on and since neither you nor Kingsley seemed to mind or made any efforts to stop your little game you continued to play.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and you were both in full force with the flirtations where you might make others around you blush. Even those used to your comments. That’s something both you and Kingsley took pride in. Despite your words you’re always mindful of each others’ hardline boundaries. There’s a mutual respect. You always know when to stop and not take it too far. Though that doesn’t prevent you from walking that boundary like a tightrope.

Currently you’re standing on the bow of the ship looking over the ocean when an all too familiar voice calls for your attention. You look over your shoulder fully prepared in case you have to quip right back.

“Would you mind moving that pretty behind of yours somewhere else, love?” You watch Kingsley standing spyglass at the ready to take a closer look at the islands up ahead.

“If you wanted a closer look you could have just ask.” You wink and blow him a kiss as you move away from the bow to let Kingsley take your place and take a look as he does you catch him glance at you for just a moment. Of course you can do nothing but put on your best seductive face.

“If you’re offering, the lighting in my cabin will be perfect for the occasion.” Kingsley returns with a half smirk lowering the spyglass. Leaning on the wooden border you make sure to arc your back just a little crossing your ankles as you look over your shoulder thoughtfully.

“Hm. Any suggestions for a specific spot? Lighting can be quite tricky. Maybe you should show me every corner of the room just to make sure the view is perfect?” You tease. The Tiefling’s smirk widens, task forgotten, he wraps an arm around you pulling you close to him.

Kingsley leans in and for a second you think he’s going to kiss you. Not that you would stop him. You’d grown to like him but since he’s new to the world you didn’t want to push him into the deep end before having had a chance to discover and figure things out for himself. Your hands slowly snaking up his arms to his shoulders you wait for him to quip back.

“Don’t make offers you have no intention to make good on.” Kingsley breathes removing his arms from you and taking a step back. You’re confused. Mixed signals? Not at all. Not to you. You know he’s a tease and so are you but this is not a quip back. This is a statement. Why? The flirty demeanour drops so you’ll reply with a statement of your own.

“Who says I don’t intend to make good on it?” You gage Kingsley’s reaction but come up blank. Nothing that gives away the sudden mood change. He excuses himself and goes back to work so you do the same; replaying the events of the day to figure out what may have lead to this shift. Still nothing.

Next day comes around and every attempt at flirting is shot down. You know how to take a hint and at first just assume Kingsley just isn’t in the mood or headspace to play the game. You’ll leave him be for a few days to sort out whatever he needs to sort out. No more flirting for a while until he initiates it. Your conversations are more cordial and less warm than they used to be but Kingsley doesn’t avoid you so you at least take comfort in that.

After two weeks you’ve had enough. Another day of work gone by, sun setting slowly you find yourself standing in front of the lavender tiefling’s door. Rapping your knuckles against the wooden door you feel confident the knocks are audible. There’s no response so you knock again but again nothing. A little frustrated you try the handle and the door opens. You don’t fully open it just yet.

“Kingsley? Are you there?” You speak softly in case he’s asleep. You hear a muffled grumble and decide to step inside. There you see the tiefling sprawled out across the bed on his back, pillow over his face held in place by one hand. He doesn’t move but you see the rise and fall of his chest; enough to give away he is breathing and in fact awake.

You close the door behind you taking a look around the room. As expected there’s very few personal artefacts; a spare shirt thrown over a chair, a coin pouch on the table, coins spilled, blue book, a pair of fine boots, an empty bottle and a half full one as well as a half eaten plate of food presumably for dinner. The light of the setting sun bleeds through the paned window providing just enough lighting to make out the finer details of the room. It’s well kept and actually surprisingly tidy. The bed’s made and the pillows neatly placed, the shoes next to the side table and a chest at the foot of the bed. Not a speck of dust or grime to be found.

“Kingsley? Are you alright?” You ask sitting down at the edge of the bed hesitantly. You’re not really sure how to approach him. You don’t even remember your plan you had before you got here. There’s a hum in agreement as the pillow is lowered from his face.

“Yes. Yes, I’m totally fine.” Kingsley sighs staring at the ceiling as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. He rubs his eyes and sits up facing you. He looks a bit tired but what did you expect after a busy day of work. You don’t look any different.

“Are you sure? You’ve been a bit out of it the past few weeks. I miss my flirty tiefling.” He snorts at the latter. Does he know something you don’t? Why the attitude? You’ll have to get to the bottom of this because you fear your- whatever it is you have with Kingsley depends on it.

“Fine then. I’m worried about you. One second we’re doing our thing and the next you push me away distancing yourself from me and giving me the cold shoulder. If my words upset you you should have just told me like you’ve always done. Why the sudden change? If you wanted me to stop or if I made you uncomfortable you should have said so.” You twiddle your thumbs awaiting a response fearful his shift behaviour was because of you because what else could it be?

Kingsley doesn’t answer just yet. A single glance at you and your stupid pretty face has him melting like chocolate on a hot day. He’s filled with regret because you’re right. He should have said something. Anything. You deserve that much but no, he had to be stupid and avoid the topic in the hopes it would go away. Problems don’t disappear into thin air. It requires communication.

A hand hesitantly grasps your twiddling fingers. You cease the motions looking at the man. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the look on his face is guilt and pity as he finds the words.

“This is not on you. This is on me being an idiot instead of just talking to you.” There’s a brief moment of silence as he silently begs the gods will be kind and you won’t hate him for bring this up. Then again, you’ve been nothing but understanding and patient in the past.

“No matter how much I love our flirtations I think they should end. If not for your sake, then for mine. It’s not… healthy.” You see him glance at the blue notebook on the table. So he’s read it. That explains the sudden shift. You’re mentally preparing yourself for whatever comes next fearing that what he might have read about you and your past has driven him to push you away. It’s his choice and his right but that wouldn’t make it less painful.

“I know now you had this thing with Mollymauk and now you’re continuing that with me. It snowballed into what we have-had but it can’t keep going. You’re holding onto a thread of the past and I feel like I’m trying to fill the spot he left just because I like you. It’s not healthy for either of us.” You give him a sad smile, your fears have been pushed down and you’re happy it’s not what you thought was going to happen but how wrong he is; it’s almost painful.

Kingsley is conflicted because he really does like you and wants to be what Molly used to be but he also knows he can never fill the spot of a ghost. Nor can he compete with it. He won’t force himself to be someone he’s not or fight to live up to the expectations even if he really wanted to because that’s not what a relationship of any kind is about.

“Kingsley… You fool… You really are a shit communicator.” You laugh. Taken aback he doesn’t know wether he should be confused or offended.

“If you’d only just asked… You’ll never be Molly and I do not ever want you to be so never try to. I like you because of who you are and yes we might have fallen into a habit he and I once shared but that ended and what we have is not the same. Never pretend to be someone you’re not.”

“Well, not unless you’re conning someone.” Kingsley quips. The relief your words are honest washes over him. It’s like he can breathe again or was holding a breath he didn’t know he was. He had been so afraid that facing you with his conclusions would drive you away forever. Maybe he really needs to work on his communication skills to you?

“There’s the Kingsley I know. Never pretend to be someone you’re not for me because you feel like you have to. That’s not healthy. Just be you. If you’re gonna make me fall in love with you, you don’t need anything but your own charm and that grin of yours.” You can see him fight that very grin from crawling up his face but it does anyway.

“I think you got me pegged, love.” You raise an eyebrow suggestively and smirk as he swats at you but you catch his hands. You’re about to comment but he breaks your grasp and pushes his hand over your mouth to quiet you down. You fight against him so determined to make your comment to the point you’re on your back held down by the tiefling, giggles muffled.

“When I remove my hand, you promise to say literally anything but the thing you’re thinking?” You nod and hum in agreement. Kingsley gives you a threatening look before slowly removing his hand to reveal your grin mischievously. Still looming over you awaiting any kind of comeback.

“You know, when you said the lighting in this room was lovely you weren’t lying.” You pat his cheek and trace the peacock feathers curling up his neck and side of the face as you bask in the final rays of sunlight illuminating the room in a deep orange glow.

“The view definitely has improved.” His gaze is on you not at all paying attention to the horizon. You laugh. So cheesy and he knows it. You become more aware of your current position. Some people might think it inappropriate but neither you not Kingsley give a single flying fuck. As long as you’re comfortable be damned the opinions of others.

“You know, when I suggested you showing me the corners of the room I had hoped you’d be more creative than starting with the bed.” You obviously feign disappointment. Kingsley accepts your challenge as you weave your fingers in the hair at the back of the neck pulling lightly to tease him.

“Oh shush you. Your words might come back to haunt you.”

“Is that a promise?” You bat your eyelashes but the grin on your face remains. Of course it’s a promise. You’re counting on it and Kingsley tends to keep his promises. Maybe this miscommunication is exactly what you needed because it lead to where you are now and wherever it might take you. The possibilities are endless and unpredictable. Just the way you like it.

#critrole x reader #critical role x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #kingsley x reader #kingsley tealeaf

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hollowandmerciless · 4 years ago

Text

So it was a love story after all

One of the things that has been said over the years about Attack on Titan is that it had no romance. Isayama, was the general consensus, didn’t write a love story. AOT is not about ships. It’s about the nature of humanity, about hatred, about racism and the will to survive. It’s got its roots in Norse mythology, in real life events from the recent past and a more ancient past. But love and romance, so everyone thought, never had a place in this story.

How wrong we all were.

As it turns out, Eren’s motivation for everything he did was always his eternal and undying love for Mikasa.

Here’s where I stumble.

I never saw any convincing signs of Eremika in this story. I didn’t like their dynamics in the first place – Eren seemed annoyed with her a lot of the time, or at best consider her his adopted sister – and what really rubbed me the wrong way during the entirety of the story was Mikasa’s unhealthy obsession with Eren. Yes, he saved her, and yes, she’s an Ackerman, who are known for their intense bonding to their host (although this was a false assumption as well, according to Zeke), but her obsession was unhealthy and annoying to the point that I was unable to see her character development or her actions.

Her looks didn’t make her special to me (contrary to a lot of male fans I encountered on social media and irl), to me she was just one of the characters, albeit a rather uninteresting one, so I wasn’t paying as much attention to her as they did – we all pay most attention to our favourites (which in my case are Eren and Levi and to a lesser extent Hanji and Connie), and as a result I may have been blind for any character development she had.

Maybe it’s because I’m a woman and I feel like she’s one of those poorly written -“the man is my only goal in life” -women. Women who in a story solely seem to exist as an appendage to the main character and have no life or will of their own. Eren and Mikasa were, in my opinion, never equals in this story.

I know many people do see Mikasa’s character development, and do see meaningful interactions between Eren and her, but I’m sorry, I can’t see them unless I use a microscope, and I think this is the main flaw in Isayama’s writing: with all the twists and foreshadowing (which I so thoroughly enjoyed), some hints he left are way too small, while some of his red herrings are too in your face to ignore.

It also feels like Isayama changed the ending too often and forgot about a lot of foreshadowings along the way.

This is why it feels that we’re left with so many plot holes – if you read closely, there aren’t many, but the red herrings were sprinkled so abundantly throughout the story that we may have expected way too much. The origins of the Ackermans, the importance of Historia’s’ baby and “who is the father”, Zeke’s presumed 4D chess and Eren’s 5D chess, the Underground cities as protection against the rumbling, what caused the titan forest trees to grow so large, what happened 854 years ago in the year 0, Reiner heavily being foreshadowed to become the new Helos, what is the Hallucigenia thing, where did it come from and how does it create titans, where did Ymir’s first titan come from if there was no one in PATHS yet to build it – we don’t need all these answers, but somehow Isayama made us believe there was more to this than there actually was, and that’s why many of us feel robbed of the ending we wanted or expected.

The Historia storyline bothers me the most. The dynamics between her and Eren were much more interesting and realistic than those between Mikasa and Eren. To begin with, they were equals. Whatever happened, they always had each other’s backs. So it made sense to me that Eren had at least something to do with her choice to have a baby, especially because he was so vocal against it. Instead, she too married a guy who hadn’t been particularly nice to her in the past and nothing of it had anything to do with Eren or his plans, or their shared memories of previous founders.

Parallels between OG Ymir and Historia seemed abundant, but apparently, in the end, we were supposed to see an essential parallel between Ymir and Mikasa. Her Stockholm-syndrome-love for the first King Fritz felt like a sort of deus ex machina (and yes, if you reread chapter 122 there were hints, but so scarce, so small, that they didn’t seem to hold much significance).

I find the fact that OG Ymir needed to see someone break loose from the clutches of obsessive love in front of her own eyes to finally break loose from her own love for Fritz a bit far-fetched, especially since I consider that this is what the entire story hinges on.

(Now we do understand why Isayama had Levi so severely wounded in chapter 114 (the explosion). Had he been fit, then he had most likely been the Ackerman who killed Eren (because this has been foreshadowed too, multiple times) – and that wasn’t supposed to happen. It had to be Mikasa, or else OG Ymir wouldn’t understand how to break loose from her bond.

Another thing that bothered me was Eren’s sudden confession of his love for Mikasa to Armin. Like I said, I found the Eremika dynamics particularly uninteresting, so this confession felt very unnatural and far-fetched to me – but, again, this is what the entire story is built upon.

He does what he does for them, specifically for her.

It’s actually kind of sad that some fan theories were better/more interesting than the canon ending, but Isayama is the creator of this story and we’ll have to accept his ending – I do know that the more I’ve been rereading the final chapter, the less it bothers me how the story wrapped up. I might even come to like it, and when I reread the full story (which I will certainly do, I LOVE this story) I’ll pay more attention to the small hints Isayama sprinkled between the lines for us about the love Eren felt for Mikasa, to see if his words in 139 will finally make sense to me.

For now, Eren’s motives don’t feel real or grounded. If he’d cried about the millions (billions?) of deaths he’d caused instead of about Mikasa, it would have made more sense in the grand scheme of things. He’d cry for the lives he’s taken, and for the realisation that it has all been in vain, because the ones he tried to protect so that they can live long and happy lives, will now be consumed with grief and survivor’s guilt.

Still, could any of this have gone differently?

No.

Eren was rightfully desperate when he, from behind the bars of his cell, yelled at Hanji if there was another way. Because there wasn’t.

The irony was that Eren always fought for freedom, but all his life he had been a slave to his own destiny. He was unable to change the future, and could only try to influence it. Or else, as Kruger said, this cycle would repeat itself, again and again.

All in all I feel there was more to this story than what we got, it could have gone deeper, more foreshadowing could have paid off instead of being a red herring.

A bittersweet ending

Levi surviving and finally getting closure with the knowledge that this was what all of his old SC friends died for, brought me to tears. And that smoke, was that the disappearing of his Ackerstrength?

The frame where he travels the world with his carers/adopted children Gabi and Falco and his new best friend Onyankopon (friend? lover? just look at that glance they share) made me so happy that this is now the desktop background of my laptop.

(I hope they’ll travel to the AOT equivalent of the UK so he can finally enjoy some decent black tea)

To me, at least this part was sweet. The rest: bitter, even the fates of the Alliance members. This is a story with an open ending. We don’t know if they’ll succeed on their peace mission, we don’t know what the Yaegerists will accomplish, we don’t know what the rest of the world will do; all options are open again, but maybe that is the point. Eren never meant to end the hatred, there’s no fighting the nature of humans. Erwin knew this already: mankind won’t stop fighting among themselves until there’s only one person left.

Eren’s goal was to end the titan era, and at the cost of his own life and that of 80% of humanity, he succeeded.

Learning that Eren, who held freedom in such high regards, was a slave to his own destiny all along was painful and ironic, but in a way he lives on as a bird, finally free, finally Vogel aus dem Käfig.

Thank you, Isayama.

#snk #aot #snk meta #eren yaeger #snk spoilers #snk 139 #snk 139 spoilers #mikasa ackerman #levi ackerman #eremika #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot 139 #long post

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karliahs · 3 years ago

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It’s been months since he was this close to anyone. It might have even been Jon the last time, too; helping him walk down in the tunnels. How did they get from there to here? How-

“Tim?” Jon asks softly, pulling back to look him in the face, and it’s the loss of that warmth and pressure that makes Tim realise he’s started breathing in great, shuddering gasps. He screws his eyes shut and Jon reverses their positions, pulling Tim into his chest with unpracticed but fervent hands. His T-shirt is soft against Tim’s face; he hadn’t thought Jon would own anything so soft.

Tim’s throat is burning, but as long as he keeps his eyes screwed shut then he isn’t crying. He isn’t crying on Jonathan Sims the night before they both-

“It’s alright, Tim,” Jon says, searching for words of comfort he only half believes himself. “It’s - whatever happens tomorrow, it can’t - we’re safe here.”

Tim laughs bitterly. “Nothing’s fucking safe.”

Jon seems unable to decide between rubbing soothingly at his back and just holding on as tight as he can. Tim shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be giving into this. But there's a reason he lost so much time when he should have been searching for the thing that killed his brother. The Institute was full of potential answers, but it was also full of bright, lovely distractions. He's buried in the arms of one of them.

Tim didn't used to think of that as weakness - but he didn't used to think there were worms that burrowed through your flesh, or creatures that took every true memory of your friend without you ever noticing, or monsters that played with skin, played with the fabric of who you were, because it was fun.

Tim doesn't know fucking anything, and maybe he never did, and now all that's left is to-

"What can I do, Tim?" Jon asks, and he sounds so honestly lost.

"Turn back time," Tim murmurs into his shirt. "Don't let go," he adds a moment later.

“I won’t, I won’t.” Jon clutches him impossibly closer. Tim’s world narrows down into warmth and pressure. “Tim, we don’t - we don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

The gentle vibration of his words is almost enough to distract Tim from the words themselves. He turns his head so he can speak un-muffled, and immediately misses the comfort of being closed in. “I do, Jon. I can’t…” Tim fumbles for the right words, wondering faintly if this is how Jon feels all the time, struggling to give voice to the unspeakable. “The worst thing in all of this, the worst thing would be if they hurt someone again while I’m just standing there."

Still not crying, not as long as his eyes are tight shut. He feels Jon hesitate, then push forward anyway. "Even if...Tim, even if you had moved, what could you have done?"

Tim squeezes hard at Jon's side and isn't sure if he means it as a warning or a plea.

"I'd never have met you," Jon says, so soft Tim isn't sure if he was meant to hear it.

"Was just thinking before,” Tim replies, because he’s fucked up enough that he might as well keep going, “I wish I'd met you somewhere normal."

Jon’s hands still, and for a moment the rise and fall of his chest does too. It’s the closest thing to absolution Tim’s ever offered. He’s glad he can’t see Jon’s face, can’t see whatever shock or gratitude is playing out there. At some point, he made himself into someone who no one expects to be kind. He wonders, vaguely, whether it counts as forgiveness, to want someone to spend what might be their last night on earth forgiven.

from: enemy of my enemy, aka jon and tim sit in various rooms and talk: the fic

thank you for asking!!! here we go:

It’s been months since he was this close to anyone. It might have even been Jon the last time, too; helping him walk down in the tunnels. How did they get from there to here? How-

do you ever just think about how fast things went wrong for the s1 crew...they were friends just a few months ago!! a few weeks in between no current supernatural experiences -> trying to survive supernatural experiences together by physically holding each other up -> complete alienation. some experiences just defy comprehension, emotionally speaking, even when you can see every step that led from there to here

i also like to make myself sad by thinking about the practical day to day aspects of everyone in the archives being alienated from everyone else. like...when were either of them last touched (non-violently)

so much has changed but they've circled back around to each other

'person starts crying without noticing until someone points it out' is a trope i generally try to stay away from partly because i just can't imagine that ever happening to me and therefore it doesn't ping my realism senses, but i get one (1) because it is undeniably juicy

this fic is very zeroed in on tim's perspective in terms of small sensory experiences, for a few reasons - drive home emotions, portray dissociation, and because i like writing about how it actually feels to be in a romantic gesture, to make it more real than just like...an image of people holding each other

small detail that jives with bigger points - jon's shirt unexpectedly soft, jon's surprising ability to still provide him with gentleness and comfort

i think jon here has no idea what to do but has been given permission to touch so is living his best tactile life with this inexpert hugging and is hoping that does something

Tim’s throat is burning, but as long as he keeps his eyes screwed shut then he isn’t crying. He isn’t crying on Jonathan Sims the night before they both-

“It’s alright, Tim,” Jon says, searching for words of comfort he only half believes himself. “It’s - whatever happens tomorrow, it can’t - we’re safe here.”

Tim laughs bitterly. “Nothing’s fucking safe.”

tim spends a lot of this fic having his inner-monologue cut off to try and show as well as tell that he's struggling to stay present

that 'both-' hurts me, honestly. hurts more than it actually being spelled out, i think. write to upset yourself, maybe you will upset others in the process

half is a word i absolutely overuse in writing but cannot stop. no one ever does something all the way, they are half- believing, wondering, worrying, etc.

i'm never 100% sure if i'm accurately capturing the way that jon speaks in canon but i did always like and want to emulate the fact that he speaks kind of hesitantly, trips over his own words, etc

again, jon does not know what to do so he is just trying. just trying to do any kind of soothing hand thing

i thought quite a lot about reconciling the seemingly happy-go-lucky tim that gets presented to us early on vs learning why he came to the institute in the first place. tim here is framing that as a failing because he's miserable and traumatised and guilt-ridden, but i think at least part of it was actual healing. he was taking time and enjoying the people around him and trying to make the best of things, until it all went wrong

related, the self-recrimination of tim hating himself for not having seen any of this coming, even though they were not predictable events...very human nature after you have been through something terrible. how dare i have not anticipated every trouble that ever befell me

'played with skin, played with the fabric of who you were' - a lot of this story was me just enjoying the themes of stranger-horror. i love the terror of knowing there are creatures who can change aspects of you that should be unchangeable, physically in skin and otherwise in terms of identity and memory. love applying that to jon and tim, who have been fundamentally changed against their will by trauma and their roles in a story neither of them wanted. skin as metaphor for identity, and learning that people can take away your skin is then utterly terrifying to someone who already feels like his identity is being forcibly eroded. and then that shared terror brings them back together, just a little

Tim doesn't know fucking anything, and maybe he never did, and now all that's left is to-

"What can I do, Tim?" Jon asks, and he sounds so honestly lost.

"Turn back time," Tim murmurs into his shirt. "Don't let go," he adds a moment later.

this fic...is so sad. why did i write this. why am i being attacked by my past self and their awful words on this day

explicit admission that tim wants/needs jon here...even a chapter ago he was like yeah i'm going to america with jon bc i am regrettably relying on him as my reality-anchor, nothing emotional here

“I won’t, I won’t.” Jon clutches him impossibly closer. Tim’s world narrows down into warmth and pressure. “Tim, we don’t - we don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

Still not crying, not as long as his eyes are tight shut. He feels Jon hesitate, then push forward anyway. "Even if...Tim, even if you had moved, what could you have done?"

Tim squeezes hard at Jon's side and isn't sure if he means it as a warning or a plea.

warmth, pressure, vibration...continuing to be fascinated by the little tactile details of what it feels like to be close to someone

emotional logic is so powerful. tim moving most likely would have either made no difference to the outcome or worsened it (because both him and danny would have died) but of course for tim standing still while someone he loves was destroyed counts for everything about who he is. sometimes blame feels better than helplessness, which mirrors what happens with his friendship with jon - is it scarier if they are all helpless, or if this one guy is The Enemy

‘give voice to the unspeakable’ sometimes i like poetic descriptions of jon’s role as archivist

"I'd never have met you," Jon says, so soft Tim isn't sure if he was meant to hear it.

"Was just thinking before,” Tim replies, because he’s fucked up enough that he might as well keep going, “I wish I'd met you somewhere normal."

tim views talking with and connecting to people as fucking up. how much of that is even slightly shrouded in logic and how much is just - tim is depressed and deep in self-loathing, somewhere still at the core of him tim loves people and making connections, so of course doing the thing he wants to do is wrong

‘At some point, he made himself into someone who no one expects to be kind.’ tim has this thought once and then worries at it like a sore tooth because his default state is hopeless fury with himself, with everyone. i also think this demonstrates how new information/realisations often can’t help you out of a bad mental state on its own, because it’s all too easy to slot it into your existing thought patterns. pushing everyone away was making tim worse - he starts to feel like that was a mistake, but it just becomes more self-recrimination

forgiveness is one of those words that seems to encompass so many different concepts that i find it hard to know exactly what it’s meant by saying you forgive someone. specifying what’s meant by this little shard of maybe-forgiveness makes it mean more, at least to me

may i reiterate: :(

#jontim #asks #give-me-a-minute-to-think #talking #tma /#long post #ps to the other person who sent me an ask for this meme: thank you!!! it'll be friday probs before i can answer

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agent-cupcake · 4 years ago

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So happy you but up the headcanons! All of them are gems and I love them so much. Rereading the Dimitri and Felix rivalry hc made me want to ask for claude and yuri rivalry, but dark of course because both of these boys are sane and logical and would move on if they both caught feelings for you and weren't attached to you by a dark obession lol.

Sorry, I know you asked for love rivalry but I simply could not help myself and got a little carried away with seeing the so-called rivalry to his inevitable conclusion :3c

~Not that it’s probably necessary, but I had to consider the timeline for this. A rivalry between them wouldn’t fit in the events of the game because of Claude’s ambition, but he leaves the country in most endings. My solutions would be to have Claude split his time between Fódlan and Almyra as a politically active prince such as in his solo ending or to propose that Yuri would spend a lot of time in Almyra. Reasons for this could be that he went in aid of his good friend and military commander Balthus (Yuri would make for an awfully good royally sanctioned spy) or that he’s abusing the newfound system of open-market international trade for his criminal enterprise. Either way, Claude is powerful Almyran royalty and Yuri is a shady figure of the underworld. Not too unlike a story I’ve written, but this is separate from that. None of this really matters, ultimately, but whatever I like to think of how this would work out.

~Both men are powerful and ambitious. Both of them are emotionally isolated despite (or because of) their positions. They’re friends, or at least on friendly terms so there’d be a lot of overlap in social circles. And, really, they are quite similar so it’s plausible that they’d go for the same type.

~I’ve since changed my stance on reasons why Claude might develop a fixation on someone. He is concerned with the intrinsic value of a person. He values the thoughts, feelings, and especially the perception of people he is close with. Claude is also a loner, a fundamentally lonesome person who wishes to be seen and loved on his own merits despite the guard he puts up and the social games he plays. Not to say I entirely retcon my previous opinion, but I focused too hard on the idea that he would need to dehumanize you by zeroing in on utilitarian usefulness rather than be driven to darker feelings by his fear of being alone and need to find a connection.

~This all goes for Yuri too, although it’s easier for me to imagine Yuri getting his authentic feelings twisted up and dark. Yuri’s circumstances were somewhat similar to Claude’s, except that he was shown genuine affection by his mother and the old man. Therefore, he knows what it is to lose that. He learned early on what it is to have people die because of him, to shoulder the burden of guilt that comes with such profound loss. Yuri’s scarred by a brutal, painful upbringing where “love” was a commodity to be traded in for favors (even by his mother) and genuine, honest relationships became nearly impossible to comprehend. If he met you and developed those true, affectionate feelings, if he found a so-called light in the darkness, maybe it’d make sense that he’d do everything he could to keep it from losing it.

~Their similarities in this instance would work out for this scenario. Somebody useful to them, somebody authentic enough to appeal to their deeply ingrained sense of loneliness, somebody clever or interesting or fun… There’s a lot of reasons they could develop unhealthy feelings for you born out of an innocently platonic friendship.

~And it would have to be platonic on both counts. Yuri and Claude are too self-aware for them to make a move if you made a choice early on. Or, I don’t think it’d become as big of a production because they wouldn’t have emotionally invested so much in you. Leading them both on unintentionally just by having a normal human friendship is kinda sad but also kinda funny.

~They’d know that you were close with the other. Of course they would. Maybe it would hurt, but neither would express that feeling to you. Claude would ask pointed (but not direct) questions about your feelings and dazzle you with grand overtures. Yuri would work the seductive and sweet angle, trying to win your heart the old fashioned way. But, you know, with more uncomfortable subtext and innuendo.

~Something that has not changed is my opinion that Claude would be obsessive about his darker feelings. Not on a consistent, all the time basis, but more like a hobby. A puzzle he couldn’t solve, an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He’d search for all of the pieces of you in the hopes that the final picture would allow him to understand his increasingly dangerous feelings. Claude’s not stupid, he’s really self aware. Enough to feel guilt, enough to recognize that what he’s doing isn’t right, and enough to justify himself out of the responsibility of doing amoral things for the right reasons.

~Yuri, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so… aggressive about it. He’d want you to come to him, to return to him again and again to prove to himself that what he feels isn’t wrong, to ingratiate himself into your life in a way that validated everything he felt for you and put you on more equal footing. He’d internalize everything a lot more, feel a lot of guilt about the intensity of his feelings, but he’d find ways to keep you close. Or, for you to keep him close.

~Don’t get me wrong, though, you wouldn’t get so much of a glimpse of this weaker, more vulnerable Yuri. He’d go the opposite direction of his guilt or doubt, wearing an impenetrable smiling, sarcastic, playful mask. My main point is that I see him as being more emotionally wrecked by having these dark feelings due to his self hatred. I also think Yuri would be more generally sensitive to unhealthy romance dynamics, especially if it became physical at all.

~In an interestingly twisted way, Yuri hypocritically recognizing Claude’s behavior as being dangerous would encourage him to be more proactive about his own feelings and feel less guilty about doing so. Being the protective type rather than the obsessive really just fits Yuri so much better, although I see it as one ultimately leading to the other.

~It’s not about winning. They’d be competing, clearly battling against each other for you in a way that would not only be creepily objectifying, but also emotionally strenuous, but they’d keep on insisting that it wouldn’t be about winning. They’d just want you to be happy, to be safe. They both would just want what’s best for you. And what is best for you? Just ask them.

~Claude’s argument: Yuri’s lifestyle is dangerous. He’s a good guy, Claude really does trust him, buuuuut he’s not exactly the type of man you’d be safe with, you know?

~Yuri’s argument: Claude’s not treating you right. He’s obviously manipulating you, how could you possibly miss that? You deserve better, don’t you agree?

~But in the same breath they’d both insist that if you didn’t want to be with them romantically, that would be fine. They both, truly and unselfishly, would just want you to be happy. Just want to stay close with you. Veeeeeery unselfishly.

~Their interactions with each other would be amazingly fake and aloof. Making small talk and smiling all the while vying for your attention in a nearly juvenile tug-of-war. Still, I don’t think, even through all of this, that they’d dislike each other. It’s not about winning, right? It’s not a game, right?

~Okay, so, I know the whole thing with scenarios like this is an inability to face rejection, but if you were to chose Yuri over Claude or vice versa, that’s where it would end. Committing yourself to one of them still wouldn’t work out super well because that’s the nature of giving into such dark and unhealthy feelings, but it would no longer be a rivalry.

~Let me propose, then, that you would eventually reject both of them. At first, the whole thing would have been so fun and so nice. Getting all of this attention from two powerful and attractive guys would be exciting. You’d feel so lucky, they’re both charming and friendly and kind. But then things would have gotten more intense and there’s this weird love triangle that is incredibly trite and uncomfortable and you wouldn’t have wanted to hurt either of them so it’s better to just leave it, right?

~Yuri would be more likely to use his personal feelings as a tactic of manipulation, I think. Worse, he probably wouldn’t see it that way. He knows, he truly knows, how dangerous and terrible the world could be and he’d do anything to shield you from it and his feelings would reflect that. Granted, if he felt you weren’t getting it, I don’t think Yuri would exactly be above veiled threats or bludgeoning you with fear tactics and even a dash of shame for how you’d played with both their hearts.

~Claude would do his best to convince you that you didn’t actually want to go. You didn’t have to chose either of them, but you couldn’t leave, either. That was way too dramatic. Besides… wasn’t it a little selfish? This was where you were needed, he relied on you. He trusted you. Sure, Claude’s a visionary, but what does that vision matter if the one who he shares his dreams with is gone?

~Maybe that wouldn’t work, though. Long term, it probably wouldn’t. I mentioned before that they wouldn’t hate each other, so if it came down to actually losing you, why not work together?

~Love triangles are for chumps, invest in a horribly unhealthy three person dynamic with possible kidnap and very overt tones of mental and emotional manipulation.

~That would solve all the the problems, wouldn’t it? Why would you try and leave them after they made so many compromises for you? Really, would you be that ungrateful and callous? They would both care about you so much, love you, even. Yuri and Claude would be trying to make it work despite the fact that it came down to essentially a tie in this bizarre game, why couldn’t you do your part? Landing such attractive and powerful guys, having them lay their hearts at your feet, you’d have to be a really terrible and selfish person to reject that. Not that you’d be given a lot of choice, but the devils in the details and if you fought them on this, it probably wouldn’t end up very pretty for you.

~Not saying either of them would hurt you. Physically, I mean. Probably.

~In some ways, the compromise would make the guilt easier for them to bear. The fact that they were also being forced to deal with something they wouldn’t necessarily want to would be a leveling ground for them to justify any of your unhappiness with the situation. Like, it was all an equal amount of compromise to make things work for all three of you.

~Claude would know how much Yuri meant to you and feel like the fact that he hadn’t taken that away from you absolved him of a lot of the responsibility of the other things he’d taken from you. Plus, Claude’s a distracted guy who’d lose track of things sometimes, always getting caught up in whatever project he was working on at the time, so he’d know that you wouldn’t be lonely during those times.

~Yuri would see Claude as being, in many ways, a better person than him. More out of a horrible sense of self perception than fact. So Yuri could have his piece of you with the recognition that Claude was there to balance the worst parts of himself and make you happy in ways this dark, twisty version of Yuri might not think he could.

~I don’t think that either Yuri or Claude would ever truly get along because of how similar they are and the fact that they both kinda lost to the other but I also don’t think that would be a huge issue. Their verbal sparring would be entertaining, honestly.

#claude von riegan #fe claude #yuri leclerc #fe yuri #yandere #yandere headcanons #claude von riegan headcanons #yuri leclerc headcanons #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #headcanons #i am trash garbage :)#yuri is so emo i hope it makes sense why

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escapetoluna · 5 years ago

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Writing Sibling Relationships

A sibling relationship is perhaps one of the most complicated things to realistically write about. Your character dynamics and personalities will help determine their relationships but here are some things to consider:

Building their past:

Think about how they were raised. Upbringing plays a large role in impacting a person's character, and it also helps shape relationships with siblings.

Consider their favourite memories. Good memories are important to a person, and people often seek to create new memories similar to the old good ones. On the other side, also think about their worst memories.

Who was the oldest? Who was the baby? Birth order does have some impact on personality. It also is especially important for the earliest memories.

Think about the roles that they ended up in. Siblings do, to some extent, define themselves by how they are different from each other. They pursue different interests, take on different roles, and explore different identities. These roles can be a source of self-realisation and sometimes frustration.

Giving siblings personalities:

Choose personality traits for each sibling. Even if the sibling is only a minor character, it's important to know their basic personality.

Think about each character's dreams, hopes, and struggles. What do they want in life? What are their goals? Every character needs something to strive for.

Figure out their insecurities. Everyone feels insecure about different things: skills, personality traits, perceived physical flaws etc.

The siblings in your story might have similar looks, qualities and characteristics. However it’s important to make them their own person too.

Keep in mind that siblings might have the same habits, sometimes without even realising it. (Personal example- My eldest brother and I do not look the same. He has green eyes, mine are brown. I have dark hair, he’s blonde. Our faces are shaped different. He takes after our mum, I take after our dad. However, we have a lot of the same habits and mannerisms. We both carry ourselves in the same way, we both quirk our eyebrows in the same manner when confused. Little things like that, that when growing up I’ve picked up from him and vice versa.)

Things siblings do: (This is a generalisation)

Siblings know how to push each others buttons.

Usually they spend so much time with each other, they know exactly how to annoy their sibling and the best way to do it.

Whatever annoys your character, his (or her) siblings already know about it. If your character’s siblings decide to get on his nerves, it shouldn’t take them very long.

Most (if not all) siblings make fun of each other to some degree. Usually they are just messing with each other. Depending on the circumstances, the insult may be forgotten almost immediately.

But it’s important to consider how siblings react when someone else is picking on their brother or sister. A lot of siblings will get defensive in this situation. Unless you have set up a reason otherwise, make sure your siblings know how to tease each other but also how to protect each other.

They rarely call each other “sis” or “bro” unless they’re trying to be annoying. This is seen a lot in films and TV but it’s not common. The occasional greeting like that is fine, but overusing it just sounds strange and unnatural.

Sibling conflict:

Siblings will argue other pretty much anything. Most of the time it’s just to get a reaction. Sometimes one will start an argument just because they’re bored.

The silent treatment! A lot of siblings, particularly children teenagers and young adults will give each other the silent treatment over the pettiest things. But it’s incredibly hard to ignore someone living in the same house as you for a long period of time.

The sibling on the receiving end of the silent treatment will usually do absurd and annoying things to get their brother or sister to speak.

Common things siblings argue about:

The tv remote

Who is going to use the bathroom first

Someone is taking too long in the bathroom

Who gets to sit in the front seat of the car

Who the favourite is

Estranged siblings:

“Sibling relationships are our longest, but it’s also an accident by birth. There are no guarantees that the siblings will grow up with similar personalities, interests or like each other,”

You should be able to find plenty of conflict amongst brothers and sisters. But most of the time there is a resolution.

If you were to fall out with a friend, you can unfriend them, you can’t un-sister a sister, whether you like it or not you’re stuck with that person in some sense.

However, some siblings do fall out and never speak to each other again. It happens, but if this happens in your story there are a few things to consider:

When asked about their family will your character acknowledge that they have siblings? Or will they claim to be an only child?

Why did they stop speaking?

Would they reconcile in times of crisis? For example, if a family member died would the siblings put aside their differences to deal with the situation?

Do they tell stories about their childhood that include the sibling?

It’s important to remember that if someone has a sibling, a lot of their childhood memories and stories from growing up will have some reference or include that sibling. It’s hard to complete cut them out, they will be mentioned at some point.

Given the entangled, long-lasting bond, what’s the price paid for suspending or ending it?

Does the sibling have other brothers or sisters whose relationships are satisfying? “

“If they have no contact with a sibling, it’s losing a shared history and there can be a sense of guilt,”

Or are your character’s relieved? Do they express a sense of relief.

“Like the end of a marriage, sibling estrangement is always sad, even when it brings relief. It’s not what anyone hoped for, but sometimes it’s the wise and necessary choice.”

Ways of bringing together estranged siblings:

Write compassion between your characters. Show them trying to see things from the sibling’s viewpoint alongside their own.

Have them say what they want from their sibling moving forward. Don’t just have your characters vent all the time. Your reader might grow tired of that.

Confirmation of love and affection:

Are the siblings in your story the type to talk about feelings? Maybe they don’t talk about it but the feeling is still there. Consider showing the depth of their relationship through actions.

(Personal example - When I was born my brothers were 4 and 6 years older than me. From what my mum has said they were both excited to have another sibling and would fight about who got to hold me first. When we were younger we used to cuddle on the sofa and play together, and frequently said I love you etc, however as we got older that stopped. I can’t remember the last time I said I love you to either of them, which sounds terrible. But it doesn’t change the fact that I know they love me and that they know I love them, we just show it and say it in different ways.)

Relationships with parents:

How did parents or caregivers react to fights between siblings?

Was there parental favouritism, real or perceived? How did the non-favourite sibling(s) react?

Do your siblings stick together when arguing with their parents?

Would your characters lie in order to prevent their brother or sister being told off by their parents?

Some siblings will join forces to tease their parents.

What if the siblings don’t have a good relationship with their parents:

If this is the case in your story, research it, google is your friend.

Try and read up on real life experiences.

Consider how the siblings view their parents. Do they stand together with the same opinion or do they have conflicting recollection of events?

Do the parents have a healthy relationship with each other? How has this impacted their children?

Writing siblings who have abusive parents:

If the siblings come from an abusive home, how has this affect their behaviour?

Do the siblings ever talk about what happened?

Do they have the share the same experience? Do they ever argue about the situation?

Are they over protective?

Has their own relationship become strained? Have they drifted apart?

Do the siblings ever acknowledge the past? If not, does this cause friction?

Common assumptions about sibling age order:

Oldest child: people pleasing, bossy, organised, punctual, natural leader, controlling, ambitious, expected to uphold family values, caretakers, financially intelligent, responsible

Middle child: flexible, easy going, independent, sometimes feels like life is unfair, sometimes will engage in attention-seeking behaviour, competitive.

Youngest child: silly or funny, risk-taking, creative, sometimes feels inferior, easily bores, friendly, outgoing, idealistic, the baby of the family.

Only child: close to parents, demanding, leaders, spoiled, self-absorbed, private in nature, may relate better to adults to kids their own age, independent, responsible

While these are common assumptions, they are not strictly true and it’s important to consider your characters personality before you apply any of these stereotypes because it may clash with how your character truly is.

Half siblings:

Half-siblings can run along several lines:

They might act like full siblings, depending on how long they’ve known each other.

They may view each other as space takers.

Your characters may feel “eh” about their half- sibling, they could just be someone who is there but they don’t have a relationship with. The half-sibling may even be a complete stranger.

Consider that they might be rivals. Are they friendly rivals or bitter rivals?

Don’t get caught up in trying to build their relationship based on what “should be” in accordance with society. As you establish these characters, let your own imagination lead you to what their relationship is. But remember that their relationship will be impacted on how the parents treat them too.

(@its-the-tear-in-my-heart thanks for asking about sibling relationships. This post is more generalised than your question but I hope it helped in some way.)

#long post #writing #writing resources #writing references #nano #siblings #my post #wiritng help #creative writing #oc's #character development #novel #novel resources #creative writing resources #writing inspo #wiritng inspiration

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may-day-voice · 3 years ago

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Haunting Sour Notes

Denki Kaminari's Timeline | 172732014

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

• Watch/ Listen on YouTube: https://youtu.be/iGM2u8mraCY

• Read on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1059472971-denki-kaminari-pro-hero-au-172732014-haunting-sour

"Why won't you tell me?" questioned Kaminari, following you around his apartment while you paced with heavy steps. "You've been showing signs lately."

"Signs?" you retorted with a derogatory smirk. "Me being scared of storms is a sign?"

"No, I mean, Mon Ange-"

"Kaminari," you interrupted, your tone stern. "I messed up yesterday. Tell that to the Head Agent."

He watched as you slumped onto one of his armchairs in the large space, looking away from him while you stared out from one of the large windows overlooking part of Endor Docks. The morning was calm while you slept, but as soon as you woke, he found you distant almost immediately. You refused to say a word, not a peep, as if you were still mute.

And then, this argument, empty of reason.

"I'm going to report all that I know from last night," explained Kaminari, soft and calm. "And I know you didn't mess up, but you have to tell me these things about you. Things that I still have no clue about."

"It's better you didn't know," you replied, still with your eyes away from his.

"Why? I can't help you if you keep blocking me out."

"Then take me back to the Commission. Put me under arrest. What good am I if I'm not helping your case?"

"You're a good person, I know you are!" yelled Kaminari in retaliation, his frustration growing.

"How do you know?"

"You took that blow for me back when we first met. Not any villain would do that. You may have your reasons, but that shows me that you are willing to put yourself on the line when it counts. And here I am, trying to understand you outside of the fame and the secrecy, and you-" Kaminari stopped himself, holding his tongue while he stared at your upsetment, seeing the glint of tears that forced their way in the corner of your angry eyes. He could see you holding back before he was about to spill, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"You told me back at that golf range-"

"Putt-putt."

"- that you wanted to make amends. Why won't you let me help you do that?"

You looked into Kaminari's eyes, filled with confusion and anger while the frustration in his voice was evident. Of course, anyone who would be treated this way would have every right to feel these waves of emotions, but this was your life. A life shouldered with the haunting memories of your actions, and of the people you surrounded yourself with. At the time, you thought nothing of it, but now, these memories were not even worthy for someone like Kaminari to hear.

"They're not yours to shoulder," you answered. "And I'm more afraid of you getting involved further in the matter."

"What do you mean? I'm already involved," explained Kaminari. "I know enough to understand that you're trying to stop the Front, and that this General is someone to be feared."

"But you don't know the implications of knowing her. I don't want you to get hurt."

"So, it's a she?" he asked, only earning an exasperated sigh from you.

"I've said too much," you mumbled under your breath, turning your eye away from him once more. You held back the tears that you felt pricked your eyes, spotting the murkiness cloud your vision a little. You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to rid them, but they only continued to spill.

Kaminari hesitated with his next few thoughts, eyeing your expression and the cross look on your face.

"Speaking of which, aside from all of this, there was something else that bothered me," he started, keeping an eye on your reaction. "Last night, you wouldn't say a word. Or, you couldn't. Can you tell me what that was about?"

You bit your lip, hoping the sharp pain would hold off the tears that spilled from your eyes. Every word he spoke felt like a knife in your chest. You recalled last night, almost vividly, innocently writing those words in paper. The fear returned, like it did long ago. You turned your eye away from Kaminari knowing that the overwhelming sadness rippled under your skin.

"Are you sick?" He asked.

"Non" you whispered.

"But last night-"

"Forget last night. I was a kid, I didn't know any better."

"That's not true."

"Will you stop?" You turned to face him, your eyes cross and your anger now swelling inside, replacing the pain and guilt. "Stop the questions."

Kaminari stared into your eyes, fueled by hurt and anger as if he had done an injustice. Confused by your sudden outburst, he slowly approached you, his hand out to reach yours until you violently pulled it away.

"Just go," you ordered. "Leave me under house arrest and go do your job." You turned your back on him, your eyes now staring out towards the docks, watching boats in the distance.

Kaminari said nothing. You heard nothing before the sound of footsteps made their way towards the sliding front door, shutting in the empty apartment. You held onto your arms, trying to comfort yourself before you sank into one of his chairs, head on your lap, silently weeping.

Kaminari made his way to his car, seating himself in the driver's seat before he turned the ignition. He was silent, still processing your reaction and how distressed you were with him. He sighed heavily in exasperation, recalling his treatment of the situation beforehand when he slammed his palms into his driving wheel.

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath.

RING

"Hello?"

"Hey Kaminari, catch you at a bad time?" Asked Sero on the other line.

Kaminari eyed his front door, still his mind on you. "No, was about to head to the Public Hero Commission building."

"I need to talk with you about a few things first. Meet me in the city's park in half an hour?"

Kaminari thought about his request for a moment. He hadn't heard anything from Sero since the mission last night, recalling his sudden leave of absence. Perhaps something had happened during all the mania. Maybe another clue in this mess of a situation.

"I can be there in twenty if you can," advised Kaminari.

"No rush man, but yeah, gotta talk."

Kaminari pulled his car out before taking it off from the docks, heading straight into Musatafu. If he wasn't going to get to the bottom of this one way, he hoped he could find success through other means instead, even if that meant not involving you in the process.

Besides, there was a lot he and Sero needed to talk about, he thought.

——

Hours had passed since the argument and you had filled your time reading books for who knew how many rounds you had given them the light of day. However, none of them took your thoughts away from Kaminari's concern. Yes, you lashed out violently at any mention of your past - a thing you had tried to bury many times before, and thought had succeeded. Yet the events of last night, of your fears, your illness, your childish reactions to everything Kaminari was able, it felt hurtful.

The guilt returned knowing of your spiteful tone. And yet you heard nothing from Kaminari. He only left you alone. The thought of this morning replayed in your mind like a broken record, as cliche as it felt. It only made that knife sink deeper in your chest, one made by your own doing.

You knew Kaminari was right, that you had to tell him one day why you did what you did, with the secrets, the charade, and your insistent need to run away. The pain of knowing how many souls you had harmed along the way seared in your mind, like a branding that had scarred the very nature of your life. You were a thing, a tool to be weaponized, even so that whatever goals and purposes you thought were true, were now a stain.

This bodyguard business wouldn't last forever. The Commission would have their way eventually, leaving you with nothing left. Leaving the warmth and comfort of Kaminari's hospitality, patience, and determination, despite his almost goofy and dorky disposition.

Sunlight had now passed over the docks, casting a small shadow along Kaminari's apartment. The skylight itself created a spotlight of the sun's rays in the centre of his lounge. Everyday you've stayed here, you would often stand in the centre of the skylight, pretending it to be centre stage, twirling in its radiance. However, it burned your eyes today, still sore from the tears that sprung after Kaminari had left.

A moment of clarity cleared your mind, as painful as it felt, before coming to the conclusion you needed for yourself and for the sake of Kaminari; a man who had offered you a home despite it being under the Commission's jurisdiction; a man who had only accepted you for who you were, regardless of the actions you had taken in your dreadful past.

A man who comforted you, who tried every means to understand you.

"Sorry, roi de la fee," you whispered to yourself, swimming in your head from all of the painful thoughts-

SMASH

Glass shattered onto your skin while your arms shielded you from the shards that sprayed from the windows. It happened all so sudden, immediately taking to your feet to flee from the now destroyed windowpane. Outside on the docks, a group of men stomped into the apartment, rushing towards you with open hands.

"Grab them!" Yelled one before you felt their hands clutch onto your clothes and skin, grabbing hold of you while they slowly dragged you outside, fighting against your resistance.

"Let go of me!" You yelled, slapping one in the face, while kicking furiously in the air.

"Quickly before someone spots us!"

Amongst the chaos, you pulled against their strength, your flailing limbs swinging violently in the air hoping they would hit anyone nearby. Mid-swing in your violent resistance, you elbowed your assailant in the gut, enough that winded him to release you from his hold. You didn't think, you just ran, scrambling back into the apartment while being chased by the men behind you. You huffed and panicked, pushing any large object in their way to slow them down, whether it were chairs, lamps, or anything of the sort. You only had eyes for the front sliding doors, crashing into it before you pulled against its weight to slide it open.

The spill of the sunlight caught your eye first, blinding your already sore eyes from your tears until a silhouette painted against it, blocking your exit. The height caught you off guard until you recognized the man's long top hat and soon his mask once your eyes adjusted to the light.

"Long time no see, Sirene," he cooed playfully before a glint of something caught your eye in his fingers. You heard the smirk in his voice, turning around to flee from him. But as if time had slowed, you felt your body pull into a void, sucked into the familiar glass marble before you crashed into its glass surface.

"Let me go!" You yelled, your voice bouncing off from the walls, slamming your fists against the thick panes. "Laisse-moi sortir!"

The large shadows skewed by the glass shifted every so often while you felt the inertia of Compress' movements holding onto the marble you now resided in.

"So Dabi's little pet was right after all," he commented, his voice loud yet muffled by the glass. "I should congratulate them on their deduction skills. It's not often we find defectors."

You still slammed your fist fervently against the glass, hoping that you could break through, though you knew it was futile to try.

"Ne me ramène pas!"

Your cries were ignored when it suddenly went dark. Surrounded by the black, the sound of shifting and crunching glass echoed loudly before the rumble of a car's ignition reverberated through the glass space.

You felt truly lost.

How did they find you? What went wrong? In the dark all of these questions found their way to your head, recalling the few times you had carefully managed to keep yourself under wraps. Hiding in plain sight, behind a moniker and a pre-generated face. Making use of the fame to counter every move the Paranormal Liberation Front would possibly be able to exploit. Yet in turn, you exploited others in order to right your wrongs.

And then, there was Kaminari. The few times he had been warm and welcoming. The times he had shown his vulnerability, and his strength. The times he had trusted in you by sharing a part of his life with his friends, all Pro-Heroes to a degree. Everything about Kaminari was like a home, now only realizing this in the dark.

You felt your tears return, trapped wherever Compress had held you captive. The car ride was a one way trip, back to your past, back to the Front, back to the cold table where the General would examine you again, and again, and again.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Please forgive me, Kaminari."

——

Kaminari stood by his warehouse apartment, staring blankly at the shattered glass and rummaged furniture inside. Police tape surrounded the building while crime scene investigators carefully traversed through the mess, numbering evidence after evidence of the now labeled crime scene.

His meeting with Sero was more a cross-reference of notes on a few topics of discussion - Sero's current predicament with the thief as well as his encounter with Seek, at least before either of them would report it to their agencies and the Commission. However, Kaminari's eyes loosely scanned the floor, eyeing the fallen armchair, the glass and the open front door on the other side across the way, but you were nowhere to be found.

"I'm sorry dude," slowly spoke Sero, eyeing Kaminari sadly and unsure what else to say.

"No, don't say that," he retorted with a shaky voice. "This is my responsibility. I should've put the anklet back on. I didn't think." He stared into the apartment, spotting the device still sitting on the corner of his kitchen counter inside. His body trembled with anger and regret, holding back tears of his own while he recollected the argument this morning.

"Chargebolt, thank you for your cooperation in this matter," spoke a fellow agent, her voice calming. "I'm sorry about-"

"No, what have you found?" Interrupted Kaminari, his eyes straining from spilling tears.

"We've retrieved your surveillance footage for what it was able to capture and came across this during the invasion." The agent held a pad, its screen revealing the front end of Kaminari's apartment while the event played. He watched you run through the floor towards the front door, disappearing out of frame until moments after a familiar silhouette appeared, his top hat clearly recognizable.

"Wait a minute! That's Mr. Compress," he exclaimed, grabbing the pad from the agent, glaring at the screen.

"When did you ever have a surveillance system installed?" Questioned Sero beside him.

"We arranged it when we hired him for his services," answered the agent. "It was... precautionary."

"Right."

"How did the Front find out about this?" Questioned Kaminari, his voice shocked.

"We're trying to determine that now," immediately replied the agent, taking the pad back from Kaminari. "But it would be worth noting that we also spotted this onscreen as well." Taken back by the agent's words, she rewound the digital footage on screen, playing through the end of Kaminari's argument up until the moment the anklet began blinking a light. "Someone switched on the anklet's tracker."

A silence was shared between Kaminari and the agent, however Sero looked between the two, confused on what revelation occurred amidst the conversation. "What's so strange about that?" He asked. "Kaminari would've wanted to know where they were."

"I didn't turn it on," explained Kaminari. "Because that mechanism doesn't work unless the anklet was already attached to the person in question. Why would I turn a tracker on if it wasn't on their ankle?"

A multitude of thoughts ran through his head, his eyes darting while he mulled over possible reasons before-

"Who else knows?" he asked, his eyes stern while he stared at the agent.

"Um... only the three of us," she replied, a little taken back by his forwardness.

"Good, keep it that way. This may be an internal affair. I want you only to report to me about this and no one else, got it?"

"But sir, I can't-"

"Please, just trust me," reasoned Kaminari. "If Red Riot and Persona trust your judgement, then I do too." He held his golden gaze on the agent before she nodded, taking the pad and leaving to continue the investigation. His thoughts mingled about, hoping it wasn't the worst case scenario that he imagined in his head. By instinct, he reached for his phone, searching on speed-dial to immediately bring it to his ear.

"Wait, who're you calling?" Asked Sero, slightly anxious of Kaminari's sudden burst of energy.

"Shinsou, we need to speak with his partner about this. They've been following that guy's trail this whole time, right?" explained Kaminari, still waiting.

"Yeah, but how is that going to help?"

To be frank, Kaminari didn't know how to answer that question, but his anger needed to be redirected somehow. He felt the guilt weigh heavily on his shoulders, imagining all of the scenarios that could have played out if only he had made these seemingly available decisions. But time was now against him.

"What is it, Kaminari?" spoke an exhausted tone on the other line.

"Shinsou, we need to meet up. Sero and I have some information that may be important to your case," explained Kaminari over the phone call, his eyes on Sero only to notice his reaction, slightly fervent to quiet Kaminari's request.

"Really? Which one? I've got my hands full with the Tartarus case, and Kitten..." Shinsou's voice trailed at the thought, leaving the phone silent in Kaminari's ear. "Is it about that guy?"

"Yeah, it's about that guy last night," confirmed Kaminari, his eyes still on Sero who had now resigned to Kaminari's actions. "But something else has come up. I'm sure you're going to have a field day with this."

#denki kaminari #kaminari #kaminari x reader #bnha #bnha au #pro heroes #bnha angst #bnha fanfiction

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giant-sketches · 5 years ago

Photo

This is a flashback chapter that focuses on Virgil’s transition from a Dark Side to a Light Side, based on a prompt idea I was given by @sufferingartist17. Currently he is sick in bed with a high fever that is unfortunately causing him to size-shift at random. Normally the sides do not get sick but something inside Virgil’s body is changing.

P.S. I feel someone asked for a chest kiss or suggested it so that’s in here too!

As a side note I have made an Ao3 account where I will be posting all my works here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giantsketches If you can’t find a specific chapter for any of my series you can find it all there!

Virgil moaned as his body expanded past his bed frame and his heels touched the carpet. He had no idea what was happening to him, he simply woke up like this. His breathing was shallow and his face flushed from a high fever. Whatever was happening was affecting his core as he couldn’t control his size. The next jump came with his bed collapsing underneath him as his foot kicked the door in. It flew into the wall with a crash, waking up the other occupants of the house.

“What in the world was that?” shouted Roman, hurrying himself into robe and out into the hallway.

Patton had already made his way to where the sound came from and stood in front of the door frame leading to Virgil’s room. Logan followed behind in a panic.

“What was that crashing sound Patton?” Logan called out in worry.

Patton didn’t reply and only stood there at the doorway with a look of terror on his face. He really couldn’t explain what he was seeing as he stepped inside. Virgil was now pressed up against the wall of his room as his body covered any visible space. Needless to say he was extremely uncomfortable and scared.

Patton took a big gulped before speaking, “H-hey kiddo? What’s this all about, is everything okay?”

Patton’s eyes were teary...it wasn’t like he was scared of Virgil specifically, but this series of events was too similar to Remus’s destabilization. The memories of that night didn’t just haunt Roman’s mind, it terrorized them all. Virgil couldn’t be destabilizing could he? He was doing so well before.

Virgil was panting as he looked down hearing Patton’s tiny voice stuttering. “Pat, I don’t know what’s going on...my body feels really hot and my cores going crazy.”

His body was hot? “What do you mean hot Virgil?” No response as the giant groaned in pain. This tight space was taking a toll on his aching joints.

“It would appear he has a fever.”

Surprised at the sudden voice Patton whipped around to see Roman and Logan enter, the best they could, into the room.

“A fever? Lo we don’t get sick. How does Virgil have a fever?”

“I’m only reading out the report my scanner is picking up. I personally have no idea why his body temperature has risen.”

Roman’s face went pale at the sight, “He’s not de-destabilizing is he?”

Obviously, out of all of them Roman was not ready to ever relive that kind of nightmare again. Especially if Virgil grew into a 1000 foot tall raging giant!

“Both of you need to calm down, he’s not destabilizing. However, his body is going through a dramatic change of sorts that I’ve no data on. All we can do is observe and hope for the best outcome.”

It wasn’t everyday Logan of all people found themselves lacking the knowledge to assist someone with. He was frustrated as Virgil’s face winced in pain. What in the world was going on?

“You mean we can’t help him?” Patton whimpered.

“I’m sorry Patton, but that is correct.”

That was the moment the waterworks popped out as Patton started sobbing. Only able to look on as Virgil suffered was just too heartbreaking. Same as not knowing what was happening.

“Pa-tton.” Virgil whined.

He felt so far away from them, of how he wanted to just shrink back down. Instantly, like magic he did just that. The sudden down-sizing was so dramatic he was partially airborne for a moment as he landed hard back onto his broken bed. “Ow.”

“Oh my gosh Virgil! Are you okay?” Patton ran to his now normal sized friend and hugged him. The others following suit in worry.

Virgil sighed with relief, “Not really, but at least I can see you all better.”

He hugged them all back, but he could feel a warm pulse rising up again from his core. He pushed them back as he leaped out of bed.

“I can feel that what’s ever causing my random shifting isn’t going away anytime soon. I need to get out of the house for now, but…” Virgil fell to the floor with a loud thump.

His body wasn’t listening and it felt like it was made of lead. All his strength was gone as he started crawling towards the door. Virgil could tell the next spurt was going to be a lot bigger! Way bigger than his tiny room and maybe even the house. He was desperate to get out to a more open area. That’s when he felt two pairs of arms hoist him up and rested his arms on their shoulders.

“Don’t worry kiddo we got you!”

“Your carriage awaits!”

Carriage? Behind the scenes, Logan had ordered his robots to go clear out the facility and make a makeshift bed inside for their weakened patient. Finally, there was something he could do to help.

“Thanks.” Virgil blushed as he was dragged out into the hall and towards the front door.

Unfortunately, once they had finally stepped outside that’s when another surge hit. Virgil yelped as he tried his best to push his friends away. Roman had made it, but Patton screamed as a massive hand of a 40 foot tall giant slammed into him. He was now pinned to the ground momentarily and thrashing about in pain as Virgil’s vision blurred. The giant's head was spinning as the blood curdling cries of his tiny friends wails reached his ringing ears.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!”

In horror Virgil quickly felt Patton’s tiny form wiggling underneath his palm as he retracted it. No, no, no, no, no! Please, oh God please be alright. Virgil was in a panic as he lowered his head down to make sure Patton was still breathing. He hadn’t broken him right? Luckily, the sight of Patton’s chest rising and falling relieved his heart. Still, that didn’t change the fact that he had hurt someone important to him...someone who trusted him.

Roman had been paralyzed by fear for what felt like hours at the sight of Patton being trapped underneath Virgil’s gigantic. The screams now reaching his ears as he called out,

“PATTON!” he rushed straight to his friend’s side to check on him.

“Oh my gosh Patton! Are you okay? Can you stand?” Of course Patton was not okay, but he was still in one piece as he grabbed onto Roman’s hand and squeezed.

“Still kicking.” he giggled. How could he laugh at a time like this? “Sorry if I scared you kiddo, I’m just a bit winded and….sore.” He winced as he sat himself up. Roman sliding his free hand on the poor guys back to keep him steady.

“What about Virgil?”

At this point the gloomy giant had stood up and walked himself over to the facility. For some reason when he was big he had plenty of energy to move about. Although, his high fever caused him to stumble from time to time shaking the earth beneath him. He growled to himself, haven’t I caused my family enough trouble as is?

Once he reached the shutter doors he realized he was far too big to go inside. Defeated he just stood there thinking about shrinking back down so he could duck inside as soon as possible. I mean it worked last time.

“Virgil?”

Slowly, the sulking giant turned his attention towards Patton who now needed help from Roman just to stand. His heart cried out as the guilt and fear was building inside of him. He had hurt one of people he swore to protect...but who was going to protect them from him? This was too much!

“Hey now Virg, don't make that kind of face. I’m okay see!” Patton motioned to his slumped over body. How was that okay? “Besides I know you didn’t mean it. It was just an accident.”

Virgil shook his head, “No Pat I hurt you, like really hurt you! I need you to stay away from me for a bit while whatever ‘this’ is passes.”

Patton frowned, “I will do no such thing big man! You’re the one who needs our help the most right now and I’ll be healed up in no time!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt again. If you haven’t noticed each growth is bigger than the last and it always comes in two’s”

Virgil’s tone was cold as he could feel another surge coming. He backed away from the facility to give himself room. This was miserable, why was this happening to him? These thoughts cluttered his mind as he watched the buildings and people around him grow smaller and smaller. His towering frame rumbling the ground as he now stood at 100 feet. Now he really couldn’t fit inside the facility he huffed desperately wanting to lie down.

Carefully, he shifted his weight to at least get down on his knees to wait for himself to shrink back down. Guess thinking about it wasn’t what caused it to happen last time after all. Logan had returned shocked to see Virgil had grown to bigger heights and that Patton was clinging on to Roman. “What happened here?”

“Oh Lo, it’s nothing!”

Both Roman and Logan shot the sweet boy a look of, really?

With a scowl Logan motioned to Patton’s current posture, “This doesn't look like nothing Patton.”

A sad smile crept up on Patton’s face as he turned back towards Virgil. “It wasn’t his fault, but when we got outside Virgil had another fit and grew instantly.” Patton paused as his chest tightened, “I um….I got caught underneath his hand and pressed down into the ground. I couldn’t help but scream. It hurt so much!”

Finally he spoke his mind as Patton started breaking down in tears. Oh man, he was being a big crybaby today. This whole situation was so stressful. Logan shivered at the thought, but quieted his mind as he looked Patton over again. While his natural healing was taking its time, Patton showed no signs of cracking.

“I suppose Virgil was upset with himself and that’s why he’s now away from you both and mopping?”

“Yeah, the giant storm cloud is waiting patiently for the gates to open.” Logan had no idea what that meant as he sighed, “Once he’s shrunk back down we should head over to him. Whether he likes it or not we’re going to be there for him.”

Roman and Patton both nodded in agreement. Virgil couldn’t get rid of them that easily!

Finally he thought as Virgil felt his core calming down. Quickly, his shrunken body fell to the ground. This time he was ready as he caught himself with his hands as he jumped towards the facility doors in an attempt to hurry inside. I say attempt because he missed completely. “FUCK!”

“Here kiddo, let us get that for you.” Slowly, the door to salvation opened and he was once again lifted up by his helpful friends. “You guys….” Virgil didn’t know what to say to this stubborn bunch anymore. Gingerly, he was placed on the massive mound of blankets and pillows the robots had gathered for him. Right now it felt like he was on a giant cloud as he laid his weary head down. His fever was spiking again as his body pulsed wanting to stretch.

“You all may want to step back a bit. I can feel another surge coming and I couldn’t bear it if I hurt any more of you.”

Understanding Virgil’s pleas, the trio took shelter up stairs on the balcony so they could watch as he expanded violently to 250 feet. The ceiling smacked his face as he placed his hands up against it. “Hope this works,” he mumbled.

Miraculously, the facility too began to enlarge to give him a lot more space. How did he do that, the three wondered? “Virgil! Wha-what was that?”

Panting the giant turned to his tiny companions with a pleased smirk on his face. “Recently I started thinking back to the first time I grew in here and how there was no way I could still fit inside at 1000 feet. So I did some experimenting of my own and found out I can shift non-living objects. That’s why my clothes don’t rip whenever I grow.” A collective ‘Oh’ could be heard from the tiny group. Why had they never questioned that before?

“You guys look so dumb right now.” He laughed, his booming voice softly rattling his surroundings.

“That’s amazing Virgil!” Patton was the first to pipe up with enthusiasm. He’s body had fully healed itself and he was peppy as ever now!

Virgil froze, he still wasn’t sure how to act around Patton. Sure he looked fine, but was he really? He decided to take a chance and reached out towards the little sweetie. To his bewilderment Patton didn’t flinch at all, but instead lept gleefully into his hand. Carefully, Virgil brought Patton to his chest and placed him on top.

“Patton, are you okay?” Virgil large eyes peering down at him with a solemn expression.

He knew Virgil would want a serious answer so Patton took a deep breath, “I am.”

Virgil didn’t look convinced. “Or...I am now. Before I was really scared and it hurt a lot, but you need to know that wasn’t your fault Virg. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, you’d never do something like that on purpose.”

Lying down Patton could clearly hear Virgil’s heartbeat as his body was lifted up and down to the rhythm of his breathing. This is nice he thought as he kissed the pounding chest. Virgil moaned a bit at the feeling of Patton’s lips pressed against him. The fever was getting to him again as he placed both hands over his little buddy for protection. Per usual he began to grow rapidly, continuing to fill up the space as he stopped at 500 feet.

Virgil groaned as his fever wasn’t going down and his growth wasn’t stopping. “Shit,” he whimpered, continuing to shield Patton in his colossal hands. Spontaneously, the giant shot up all the way to his limit of 1000. His feet pressed against the door begging to bust out of their container and the walls creaked. Virgil was sadly too worn out to expand his surroundings again. The two tinies left on the balcony grew concerned and hopped off, landing on the titan’s shoulder.

They could feel the immense heat radiating from their friend’s enormous body, but their tensions dropped at the sight of Virgil sweating profusely. It would appear his fever had broken as he huffed loudly from exhaustion. He could feel his friends moving about his person and remained still as not to jostle them about. Virgil was relieved to have his family there with him. He could feel his body slowly start to shrink back down.

“It appears his fever’s broken and the worst of this has passed.”

“Yeah, but we still have no idea what ‘this’ even was!” Roman protested.

“Indeed. Once we’ve all reached the ground again I’ll call over one of my scanner bots to take a new reading. It wasn’t able to collect anything during Virgil’s episode due to how random his spurts were.”

Gradually, Virgil down-sized steadily as the others on his chest slide off the sides of his body to continue watching curiously. The shrinking behemoth shivered with each drop in size. Finally he returned to normal completely exhausted on the heap of blankets and pillows beneath him. His limbs stretched out, free from the previous tension of the facility walls. Straight away Patton ran to Virgil and held him in his arms overcome with worry.

“Virgil, oh my gosh kiddo are you okay now?” How do you feel, do you need anything?” he continued to ramble on like this to Virgil’s amusement.

Moving his hand to stroke Patton’s face, he whispered, “I’m doing alright now. The fever is almost gone and my strength is returning. I’m sorry if I scared you earlier, but thanks for sticking by me.”

“Thank goodness!” In the spur of the moment Patton bent down. Virgil’s head was placed on the small sides lap as he planted a kiss on his sweetheart’s lips.

Surprised, Virgil blushed deeply as he let himself be swept up in the moment. Patton was so soft and tasted kind of sweet as they continued to lock lips. Eventually, Patton released his hold on the boy and smiled shyly down at him. That was amazing!

*cough* *cough*

Oh that’s right, there was an audience looking over them! Roman was flushed as he remembered his first same sized kiss with Virgil in his room. Logan on the other hand was not entertained by the show as he adjusted his glasses.

“Patton, please take a step back from Virgil so I may conduct an accurate scan.” Without hesitation Patton scurried backwards. He left the rest of ‘this’ to Logan.

Swiftly, one of Logan’s bots came over to scan Virgil’s body. Using his display pen he pulled from his breast pocket, Logan tapped the air and a hologram screen appeared. From the screen he read the results to himself. However, what he was looking at was groundbreaking!

“I-I can’t believe this...yo-you’ve restablized!”

Restabalized!? At just the mention of that word the others scrambled over to Logan’s side to sneak a peek. Virgil on the other hand was very confused.

“What in the world is restabilizing?”

“It’s a process I’ve only theorized about till now as a ‘what if’ scenario. It was one of many and the least fleshed at….meaning I had almost no data to go off of when constructing the idea. So to witness it in person is earth shattering!”

Logan’s entire body trembled at the possibilities of this new discovery.

“That doesn’t really answer my question though.” Virgil sighed as he lifted himself up.

His strength had returned enough to keep him upright sitting, but not standing. It was like he was in a completely new body he was learning how to control.

“What that means Virgil is your emotional core is now completely stable. This kind of thing shouldn’t ever happen again!”

“WAIT, is that true!?”

“It is kiddo, but it also means...you’re one of us now...a Light Side.”

A Light Side? Was he really now a Light Side? Is that why his body felt so foreign to him all of a sudden? Sure his outward appearance didn’t change, but inside he felt at peace with himself. This new enlightenment caused him to start sobbing with happiness.

“Oh Virgil!” Patton ran back to him for a warm embrace.

“Ah geez with the waterwork, and you call me a drama queen!” Roman teased as he joined in.

Logan faltered for a moment; he was not a hug guy, but it would appear this time he could make an exception. “Yes, yes congratulations.” He whispered kneeling down to add to the family pile.

There was so much love flowing into him he shifted in size to get a better grasp of everyone. His long arms reaching around all of them easily and pulling them up to his chest gleefully! This was the best kind of feeling he whispered in his heart. Still, there was a lot to figure out, but right now Virgil was in pure bliss.

To be continued.

@crystalk17 @paranoidgurl @gentlegiantdreamer @suckedinfandoms @craz-ewaters @rainbowbowtie @pattonvirglsanders @enby-phoenix @sanders-sides-virgil @just-some-gt-trash @notkolaidoscop @bluegreeninbtwn @lgbtqiaemo @avenirunknown @ncanspeak @maryann-draws @himeperson @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare @daydreamburritoworld

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years ago

Text

Hate To Love You

Vigilante! Eijiro Kirishima x Fem! Reader

Warnings: ANGST WITH NO HAPPY ENDING, brief mentions of violence and alcohol, soft-ish Bakugo

Word Count: 1.6 k

Author’s Note: Y’all this HURT to write and it’s gonna hurt to read (sorry, not sorry) This huts so bad and tbh I wanted to make it a different (slightly happier) ending but I just NEEDED THE ANGST FOR SOME GODFORSAKEN REASON. Legitimately cried while writing this. It’s not proofread, don’t come at me, I wrote this bs in, like, 30 minutes. Anywho, have fun crying.

Enjoy~

Now that you think about it, he’d been acting weird. For months he’d been changing, slowly, but you of all people should have noticed. At least Bakugo hadn’t either, which only made you feel a tad better. But it didn’t help with the guilt, the feeling that if anyone were to keep him from going down the path of villainy it would have been you. Maybe if you’d noticed sooner, if you’d realized he’d been less enthusiastic about being a hero, if you noticed how he began questioning hero society and its morals then maybe Kirishima would be here, graduating with the rest of class 3-A.

You remember the night he vanished six months ago. You’d fallen asleep in his bed that night, after he cuddled you more aggressively than usual. When you woke up he was gone, a note on his nightstand about how he couldn’t become a hero in this society anymore, how he had to fix it from the other side because from inside it was impossible. ‘You can’t think outside the box if you don’t know what the outside looks like.’ He promised he’d return, promise he’d be back to fix the commission and hero society as a whole. You waited for him to return until even Bakugo had given up.

***Seven years later***

“He made the most wanted.” Your fingers gripped the fabric of your hero costume tight as you strolled down the street for patrol. The blonde broke the news like it was forbidden to speak, like somehow speaking it would make it too real. It wasn’t all that surprising to you, if you’re being honest to yourself. The vigilante Red Riot is now on Japan’s most wanted list. With a sigh, you nodded.

“Just focus on patrol.” It wasn’t worth the distraction or distress right now. Bakugo looked at you out of the corner of his eye, his shoulders tensing just a little.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“It’s not worth the stress, Bakugo. Just drop it right now.” He gave his own sigh before refocusing. It was odd at first, seeing this softer more cautious side to the normally aggressive blonde. But he knew better than anyone how close you and Kirishima were, and he saw what had happened to you after he left. He was there to witness firsthand as you fell into depression, skipping meals, barely sleeping, and when you did sleep it was because you’d exhausted yourself crying. Bakugo was there for it all, and had dragged you out of that swamp. You stuck by each other’s side after that, bonding over a loss and becoming family like you never knew. You hold each other up when you’re too weak to stand on your own. It’s only natural he worries about you.

You’d been trying to hunt Red Riot down for seven years. Even then, you hadn’t been able to even get a glimpse of him. He’s evaded you for seven long years and now he’s managed to get himself categorized into the country’s worst of the worst. Over the years he’s killed countless villains, corrupt businessmen, politicians, heroes, and even those part of the hero commission. He always left evidence of corruption, along with evidence of smaller connected people and organizations for the ‘true heroes’ to take care of while he hunts his next target.

But he’s still killed people.

“Oi.” You snapped your head over to Bakugo, who had elbowed you. Taking a look around you, you realized you were already back at the agency. You’d completely zoned out and switched to auto-pilot for the rest of the patrol route. Taking a deep breath you looked at Bakugo.

“What is it?” He gave you a look, the one he always did when he knew exactly what happened no matter how hard you tried to avoid it. Still, he didn’t bring any more attention to it.

“The gala. You have your dress yet?” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. That gala was stupid, you hated it with a passion. It was supposed to be a celebration for another year of successful hero work, but it was only another cruel reminder that you failed to save the one person you loved the most. This year’s theme was ‘masquerade ball’. At least you could be sad behind your mask.

“Yeah, I have the dress. And the mask.” He hummed, nodded, remaining silent until you split off to the locker rooms.

Two weeks later you stand at the steps of the venue, arm looped with the blonde’s as you take a deep breath and prepare for a night of hidden regret and dread and sorrow. You wouldn’t be dancing, only sitting at your assigned table sipping whatever alcohol you could get your hands on, just as you had for the past seven years. And Bakugo sat with you, as always, making sure you didn’t completely break down in the middle of the event and stayed sober at least until the award ceremony was over. Until he had to wrangle a completely wasted Midoriya out of the bathroom, because even Denki and Sero combined couldn’t match his strength when he was using OFA. So you sat alone.

A tap on your shoulder had you turning to see who dared to bother you in your brooding, your eyes met with a bulky man in a black suit, deep red dress shirt underneath and a full face mask, the same color as his shirt and encrusted with black gems. Brilliant red eyes danced behind the mask, long black hair tied up neatly in a bun at the back of his head. He held a hand out to you, palm up. When he spoke, there was something familiar about his muffled voice.

“Care to dance?” You don’t know what possessed you to take the stranger’s hand, but you felt drawn to him. As you danced you felt yourself leaning into him, the old victorian waltz music making it all feel more romantic. The hand on your waist moved, pressing into your lower back and tucking you into him further, and then he spoke, making your heart freeze in your chest.

“It’s been so long since I’ve held you. I’ve missed you, baby.” Everything felt slower as you looked back up into those beautiful red eyes, the ones you haven’t seen in such a long time, the ones that used to smile at the thought of a certain Crimson themed hero. Those red eyes that now held so much blood and death and violence. Your tears fell freely, your body only able to barely keep up with the man’s dancing.

He’d changed a lot, he’s thicker, more muscular and his hair...he let it grow out and cut off all the red. There was no doubt in your mind he had scars marring his body. And he’s scarier. He’s a murderer, a criminal. He isn’t your Kirishima anymore. A thick, rough thumb swiped across your cheek, wiping away a few of those pesky tears.

“Kiri…” You choked on your words, hands grabbing his suit jacket tight, not allowing him the chance to leave.

“You left me...Why did you leave?” He heaved a sigh, cupping your face.

“I had to, baby. It was impossible to fix things from the inside, it’s too corrupt.”

“But you didn’t have to kill so many people...You didn’t have to leave me...I cried for you for so long…” All you could do was clutch his suit tighter, sobbing as he looked down at you. It was infuriating. He shouldn’t have left. He didn’t have to leave. His eyes flicked to the side briefly before he let you go and he was ripped from your grasp. All you saw was a blur of blonde and a massive explosion before Kirishima was being blasted to the far wall, the paint and drywall cracking around him.

Suddenly every equipped pro was on top of him, and he was cuffed within minutes. He didn’t even put up a fight, only smiling a sad smile at you, his mask having been lost in the battle. He’s still as handsome as the day he left. You were frozen in place, watching everything happen in a blur of motion. Suddenly Bakugo was dragging him by the collar, dropping him down to his knees at your feet. The blonde said nothing, only held him down and yanked his hair, making him look up at you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. This was the only way.” You didn’t believe him. Bakugo, now satisfied, yanked his collar again and tossed him at the others waiting to take him into custody. He came back and tugged you into his chest, but you were just...numb. Your body fell limp and he picked you up effortlessly, carrying you somewhere. You didn’t really care where, you just shut your eyes and curled into his chest, wanting to forget the world.

Kirishima came back, just as he promised, but he’d come back a different man. And now, he’s going to spend the rest of his life in Tartarus. You don’t visit him, even if you wanted to, Bakugo would try to convince you not to. You didn’t need him to convince you.

In your third year at UA, Kirishima was the love of your life. Now, he’s nothing but a criminal who shattered your heart, and you wish you’d never fallen in love with him.

You used to love Kirishima with everything you had, and maybe part of you still does.

But you hate it with everything you are and everything you will be.

You hate to have loved him.

#kirishima angst #eijiro kirishima #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima bnha #eijiro kirishima mha #eijiro kirishima angst #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro bnha #kirishima eijiro mha #kirishima eijiro angst #this fucking hurt #so bad

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sappheirs · 3 years ago

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♛ → THE STORMLANDS present CASIMIR TARTH, the HEIR of TARTH. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the BLACK would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the TWENTY-FIVE year old MALE who was FREEWHEELING & VEHEMENT before they saw the first of the flames, is now CALLOW & PUGNACIOUS after seeing the last. through the ash, now they struggle to find A SILVER & SAPPHIRE PLATED SHIELD THAT SHOULD NOT BELONG TO HIM, CHESHIRE CAT GRINS HIDDEN BEHIND HIS SISTER’S SHOULDER, THE CRISP TASTE OF A PEACH CRUSHED BETWEEN TEETH; JUICE DRIBBLED DOWN THE FRONT OF HIS TUNIC instead of the remnants of the war of succession. ( thomas doherty )

full name: casimir tarth. nicknames: cas, casi. age: 25. date of birth: december 3, 115 ac. orientation: undiscovered bisexual in training. religion: faith of the seven, mostly just in name at this point. casimir is known for skipping out on trips to the sept and really only appears when it’s deemed absolutely necessary. political affiliation: baratheon loyalist, has secret + silent opinions about the targaryens sucking. hair color: brown. hair length: generally grown out to just below his ears, in his natural state it’s shaggy and unkempt. you can always tell when minisa’s helped him get ready by how his hair looks. eye color: sapphire blue. height: 6 feet, 4 inches. father: bryndenmere tarth. mother: aemma tarth, nee estermont . deceased. siblings: petyr tarth * brother, deceased. arik storm * half - brother, deceased. minisa tarth * sister. children: none, yet. significant other: none, yet. pets: cider + mead, sibling otterhounds. rye, a black forest horse.

the final trueborn child of the lord and lady of tarth, casimir, better known to those around him as cas, had a torrential childhood. moments into his life, his mother passed, seemingly setting the scene for those he cared for to one by one find their own graves. what began with his mother carried into his eldest brother, and then his beloved bastard brother as well - casimir knows loss like the back of his hand, knows that in the blink of an eye what little remains of his family could be gone just like the rest. he clung to minisa just as much as she did him; allowed the coddling and kindness, because at least it was closeness. at least it was proof he wasn’t alone. she was, and continues to be, his closest confidant; as he grows closer to inheriting evenfall and the isle of tarth, cas longs to keep her by his side, despite knowing that she ought to have a family of her own, that he himself will need to do the same. but his chest aches at the thought of another loss, even if she exists somewhere in the world, it wouldn’t be the same comfort of having her at his side. and to be entirely truthful, he isn’t certain he can rule without her - doesn’t believe himself capable of being the lord he’s supposed to be when he knows the role was meant for petyr and not him.

his lows are low - fear and guilt tangled into one unfortunate web that lingers in the corner of his mind; but casimir on a good day is almost whimsical. full of boisterous laughter and jokes, blue eyes alight with life and a joy unmatched. he jests with his father and his men, hunts and fishes with the best of them and always manages to come back telling a harrowing eventful tale. he wants to believe in the good of others, so desperately, but the fact of his life is that he cannot depend on the kindness of anyone not loyal to the name tarth. he wishes it wasn’t this way - wishes for better things and better days, where his mother and brothers are smiling and laughing alongside him and not buried beneath the dark soil, a smattering of blue flowers marking each one.

casimir is fond of animals, and considers himself the proud owner of the equivalent of a pair of otterhounds named cider & mead, as well as a horse named rye. he isn’t much for reading, but is known for his singing - though he plays no instrument, he can often be found providing his voice to the tunes his sister minisa plays. his favorite song is ‘alysanne’.

wanted connections - new additions not in the group, i’ll be typing these up officially for the wc section i just needed to splat these ideas down sdflkj.

casimir’s best bro - he requires someone to be a himbo with him, tbh. maybe someone who was fostered @ evenfall and they kinda just ??? became inseparable and now cas is forever like NO NO THAT’S MY DUDE RIGHT THE FUCK THERE. cas is pure and truly sees this pal as a psuedo brother, would 100% die for him no questions asked u feel me? makes sense for this dude bro to be from another house in the stormlands or a house that was also aligned with the blacks.

because i enjoy spice ... casimir’s best bro’s sister. best friend’s brother from the hit nickelodeon show victorious plays in the bg except it’s his best friend’s sister and boy oh boy is this man w H I P P E D. he’s well aware that it’s probably never going to happen, has for the most part, resigned himself to fawning from afar. maybe she’s married to someone else, maybe she’s just not interested - either way, i humbly request and require an unrequited love for this sad, sad boy.

wanted connections - for pre - existing characters.

i think it’d be cool for someone to want to take cas under their metaphorical wing; and i think it could easily go for either a genuine, loving friendship or someone who just wants to be able to manipulate the future of house tarth and have them under their thumb. cas is naive enough to allow the latter to happen, and i think it’d cause some really cool tension for the tarth sibling dynamic.

characters who, for whatever reason they so choose, dislike cas / house tarth - yes i enjoy angsty bullshit, no i will not stop trying to ruin his life. he’s really like, a dumb golden retriever boy, and won’t fully understand why someone wouldn’t like him because he’s like: i’ve never done anything wrong ever? and would probably try to at least prove his goodness.

i mean, eventually he’s probably going to have to be betrothed, because as a very eligible future lord, that’s the logical step. i like to imagine that while casimir is the type to play a little fast and loose with his heart and probably has flings where he proclaims his never ending love and devotion, he’s also just dedicated and understanding enough of his position that he will do as his father and the storm king decree. what i’m saying here is . . . if you wanna be his lover, that’s cool, but he’ll very sadly leave you when his papa tells him to marry someone for reals.

#c : / / 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 . 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐑 . . . meta ◦ .

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rainbowbutterfrosting · 3 years ago

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The Revived - Chapter 16:

This is chapter 16 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Tubbo, Ranboo, Michael

Word count: 3504

Cw: implied loneliness, discussions of bad coping mechanisms, jokes about drugs, guilt

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

The evening in the mansion was rather quiet and peaceful, all things considered. Michael had immediately handed the drawing to Wilbur, who reluctantly kept it close. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Tubbo or Ranboo to see it. Not so much because of his own appearance in it, but because he realized that the sight of his ghost counterpart would likely bring up some bad memories.

Another thing that was mostly quiet during the evening was the actual ghost counterpart, much to Wilbur’s dismay. It was simpler, to distract himself from it when Ranboo and Tubbo were talking to him during dinner, or when Michael wanted to show him something, but it bothered him nonetheless. Tubbo and Ranboo had let Wilbur stay in a medium-sized bed in an almost empty room, with a couple of boxes in the corner. Wilbur had promptly excused himself to it, once the silence in his mind, and the chaos from outside, became a little overwhelming.

“Ghostbur?” Wilbur asked, once the door was closed safely behind him.

There was a moment of silence before he heard a quiet gasp. “Oh! Hello!” Ghostbur said, sounding excited to be addressed, but disheartened nonetheless.

“Did you have a good day?” Wilbur asked, taking a deep breath, a little relieved to hear the familiar voice again. “You didn’t say much, so I wasn’t sure.”

“Ah, sorry!” Ghostbur said.

“There’s no need,” Wilbur said, gently. “You can talk if you want to, or remain quiet if you want.” He shrugged, because it shouldn’t matter to him after all.

“Right, right…” Ghostbur said, and Wilbur wasn’t entirely sure if it was understanding or defeat.

Wilbur strolled towards the bed, and sat down, at the tempting mattress. His limbs grew heavier at the feeling. He hummed, thinking of what to say. “Did you know Michael drew you?”

“Huh?” Ghostbur asked, a bit of interest creeping into his tone.

“He did! He made a little crayon drawing of you and Friend.” He laughed slightly at the sentence, “And me.”

“He did?” Ghostbur said, familiar excitement slipping into the words, “What does it look like?”

Wilbur went on to explain as many details of the drawings he could reasonably give, despite the minimalist art style. The ghost listened intently. It was strange, the peace Wilbur suddenly felt, as the ghost sounded gradually happier, and he was sitting there alone as the night grew darker outside. Eventually, the inevitability of sleep snuck up on Wilbur. It felt strange, unfair even, to leave Ghostbur hanging like that. Not that Wilbur concerned himself with it of course, but it was a bit sad to think about the silence Ghostbur would experience, as soon as Wilbur drifted off to sleep.

But it happened nonetheless, and the darkness surrounded him, carrying him to rest in a matter of minutes, all the events of the past day slipping away calmly. They wouldn’t bother him until he turned to the waking world again.

The next morning he awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and the sun barely visible, but still visible enough to fill the room with a faint light. He stretched in the bed, before lying there for a few moments. His mind wandered, mostly refreshing his mind of yesterday and if there was anything he was supposed to do again. He remembered Ghostbur’s gloominess from the day before with an awkward feeling in his chest. He mumbled, “Good morning.”

A few moments passed with no response. Wilbur slightly frowned, “Ghostbur?”

“Oh! You were talking to me!” Ghostbur’s tiredness showed through his voice. It wasn't tiredness from a lack of sleep that made your voice gently crack on itself, but rather an exhaustion that couldn’t be fixed with rest. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm.” Wilbur sat up from the bed, swinging his legs over so he was sitting normally. “I don’t remember being able to sleep that well in limbo, can you?”

He hoped it was different for the ghost. That maybe he could also have a copy of Friend there for him instead of only having a faint grip of reality through Wilbur. “Nope. What did you do for fun here?” He heard a sigh from Ghostbur.

Wilbur pursed his lips. “I mean, it wasn’t really the best place in the universe.” He heard a small hum of acknowledgment. “Sometimes I walked down the tunnel. I would go ‘til my legs were tired. Then I tried to go for longer.” The words slipped out effortlessly, yet his voice became quieter the further he got into it, “I timed myself in my head, the quickest I could collapse was… two minutes? There were some seconds added on, but I can’t remember.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll try that.” His voice wasn’t enthusiastic- something Wilbur was grateful for.

Wilbur shook his head, “No no no, I’m a bit of a hypocrite. You shouldn't follow in my footsteps.”

“Don’t worry, maybe I’ll run the way you didn’t go! Wait- why shouldn’t I run where you did?”

Wilbur sighed, “I didn’t mean that. I just meant you shouldn’t do what I did. I’m just…” Wilbur wanted to say he wasn’t a good role model because while it certainly was the honest truth, he didn’t care for the truth all that much. Information gives you the upper hand. “It was just a dumb decision and I don’t want to waste your time.”

Ghostbur’s voice was clearly dismayed, “There’s nothing much else to do. I mean- sometimes I can imagine stuff in my head! Like when I would play with Michael!” His excitement picked up at the end, but it wasn’t at the same level it used to be.

Wilbur tried smiling, “Yeah. That’s good. You should continue doing that.”

“I try to, but then it makes me sad. The feeling doesn’t go away anymore.”

Wilbur would’ve stood up from the bed and walked downstairs, but he didn’t want to end the conversation. “Doesn’t go away anymore?”

Ghostbur sighed, “Yeah. When I was alive, I would talk to people. Then- I think something bad would happen. At least that’s what other people said. After it was over, I would be talking with friends again! It was nice because I felt better a lot sooner than other people would.” Ghostbur paused for a moment. “I’ve heard that people get sad for multiple days, and I’m glad that never really happened to me. I wish it didn’t happen in general though. They deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah… being sad isn’t that fun.” Wilbur felt oddly empty at the words, the simplification of them making him remember the past. The days he went without sleep, trying to figure out how to win the election. The look of concern he got when Tommy told him that he should rest. Yet, he supposed those days weren’t exactly sad. They weren’t cheery, but they weren’t sad either. They held an odd sort of void to him, blending together before he even knew they started.

He’d known about it, partially. About how Ghostbur was shaped by the good and didn’t remember any of the bad things Wilbur had experienced, nor the bad memories he had on his own. Yet it was quite another to hear him say it. To hear him speak of it as if it was something natural. Feeling better faster than others, because the memories slipped away. Wilbur hadn’t realized that wouldn’t be the case anymore. Perhaps forgetting was more merciful.

Wilbur stood up from the bed, “I’m gonna go eat some breakfast.”

Ghostbur seemed excited once more as he clapped. “I love breakfast so much! It’s one of my favorite meals.”

Wilbur nodded as he let out a sound of amusement, “Good choice.”

He walked to the door of the room, opening it slowly, afraid of disturbing any peace inside the house. He peeked his head out and looked both ways, yet he couldn’t see anyone awake. He exited the room, closing the door behind him. He carefully made his way downstairs.

When Wilbur entered the barely set-up dining room, it was as if the entire place hadn’t quite woken up yet. Tubbo was languidly standing on one side of the room, half doing the dishes, and half making breakfast. On the floor on the other side, by an open box of whatever furniture or household items it contained, Ranboo was sitting up against the wall, flipping through a book. Michael was sitting right next to him, once again leaning over a piece of paper, happily doodling on it with crayons.

He walked to where Tubbo was, making his footsteps loud enough to be heard, but not enough to startle him. Tubbo turned around, a welcoming smile on his face, “Good morning.”

Ghostbur cheerily replied, “Good morning!”

Wilbur stood next to the boy, looking over his shoulder, “Whatcha making?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I’m just cutting up some apples right now. Makin’ pancakes. American ones specifically, because Ranboo says English ones are just sad crepes.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. He was surprised the centrist even had an opinion on food. He seemed to stay neutral on so many other regards, yet pancakes were where he drew the line, “What a weird guy. What should I start doing?”

Tubbo furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before speaking, “You’re a guest, you aren’t going to be the one cooking.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes as his tone returned gentle, “Like old times.”. He spent so many days making breakfast in L’Manberg that he hadn’t even thought that things were different. Most of those early moments were spent with Tubbo before he went undercover as a spy. They both couldn’t stay asleep or didn’t sleep soon enough and decided to just start the day. They formed the routine of the person in the kitchen, decided what they were making, and the other helped until it was finished.

Tubbo looked away, his posture more rigid. Wilbur pursed his lips, he ruined another moment. Another peaceful moment was torn out of Tubbo’s head by the hands of a person he only invited to his home out of pity. He forced words to roll off his tongue, ones that didn’t belong but had to be placed there, “Just joking, man.”

Tubbo hesitantly laughed, “Yeah,” He returned his gaze to the fruit in front of him. Wilbur slightly narrowed his eyes, not out of anger, but the confusion that persisted ever since his return. Everyone asserted that everything was different, but it all lingered in his head all the same. He could picture L’Manberg in its glory along with the uniforms that fit his soldiers perfectly. Yet no one else could.

“Michael, no!” a voice from the other side of the room suddenly exclaimed, Wilbur immediately turned his head. He was met by the sight of Ranboo, worriedly trying to pull a piece of paper out of Michael’s mouth. Only a small part of it was stuck in there as if Michael had merely tried to lick it and had decided to chew on it afterward. “Let go, it’s not food.” Ranboo tried. With a sharp pull, Ranboo landed on his back with the paper in hand, and Michael looked disappointed.

Tubbo’s squinted, looking confused and concerned at the same time. “Didn’t we take away the yellow crayons?”

Ranboo sighed deeply, “Orange.”

“Michael doesn’t eat orange though?” Tubbo said.

Ranboo sat up and looked at Tubbo with a completely deadpan expression. “You haven’t considered the implications of light orange.”

Tubbo gasped with realization. “Oh,” he rushed towards the packet of crayons, picking out the orange ones hurriedly. Ranboo discarded the paper, and Michael watched with crossed arms, looking a bit annoyed at the whole ordeal. Wilbur couldn’t contain some light laughter as the scene unfolded.

Not too long after, breakfast was served. It was a lot less strained than Wilbur had perhaps feared. They chatted about Michael’s strange habits of eating crayons along with similar childhood stories. Light-hearted chuckles passed around the table, with Michael joining in occasionally. Even when they all finished their plates, they continued to sit. They only started moving when Michael seemed fussy with his high chair. Tubbo quickly took him out, setting him on the floor again.

Tubbo picked up the dishes from the table. “I’ll clean these up. You and Michael can play for a bit.” Wilbur nodded and got up from his seat at the same time as Ranboo. Wilbur felt a pulling sensation on his pant leg, he goofily smiled when he looked down and realized it was Michael.

Ranboo took the plates from Tubbo’s hands. “You cooked breakfast, it’s only fair that I wash the dishes.”

Tubbo gently pulled on them back. “And you played with Michael all morning.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes as he set the plates onto the kitchen counter. “Oh my, it’s so hard to be a Dad. Wow, it’s so difficult to just watch a child when the child is still waking up.”

Tubbo groaned, “I can’t believe you.”

Ranboo nodded. “I make such good points that you can’t even try.” While he seemed disinterested in the beginning, a small smile appeared on his face.

Tubbo sighed, “Yeah. I really can’t compete with the world’s best dad and husband. If only I could wash the dishes to pay him back.”

“Awww, I think they’re flirting again,” Ghostbur cooed.

Ranboo let out a laugh, “Sure sure, maybe tomorrow.” He quickly leaned down and planted a quick kiss on Tubbo’s forehead.

Tubbo scoffed, “Bitch.” He playfully punched Ranboo’s shoulder before heading off in Wilbur's direction. Wilbur even forgot he was there, wrapped inside the domestic peace of their family. He blinked and looked down at Michael, the child still pulling gently on Wilbur’s pant leg.

“We’ll be in Michael’s room,” Tubbo called out to Ranboo. Ranboo nodded and continued putting the dishes in the sink. Tubbo started walking up the stairs and Michael quickly followed. Wilbur was walking a bit slower than before. Cautiously perhaps, though he wasn’t certain why. He smiled at Michael.

“Ooh, what are we going to play with Michael?” Ghostbur asked, though it was said in such a way, that he likely didn’t expect a response. Wilbur let out a relieved breath, at least a little comforted by the fact that Ghostbur had been talking this morning. It was going to be alright. Wilbur held on to the faint thread of a connection for now, each word from the ghost feeling like his one chance to take a breath.

As they returned to Michael’s barely furnished room, Wilbur almost felt as if he’d settled into a routine. It was silly really, having been there for just one night, but the walls seemed familiar. Familiar in a way that was a lot less suffocating than most familiar walls Wilbur could think of. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to settle into that feeling. It wasn’t there to stay, but he could pretend it was for the time being. Though the warmth almost seemed to burn him.

Soon enough, he found himself sitting on the floor, playing with little toys shaped like various animals and other mobs. While Wilbur found it difficult to figure out exactly what they were playing, he released a scream from a toy he’d dubbed the Skeleton King, as Michael played the chicken protagonist, defeating the king for the last time. Ghostbur chimed in every once in a while, despite him knowing even less of what was going on. Ghostbur suggested that the chicken hero had a friend who was a ghost cow, and Wilbur had decided to incorporate it into the story. Partially just to please Ghostbur, though the smile on Michael’s face was priceless.

He looked over in Tubbo’s direction. The boy was feeling the walls when Wilbur realized they had a bit of crayon on them. Not much, but enough to notice if you looked close enough. He gasped quietly at the thought in his mind. He reached in his pocket, feeling the sugar cane in his hand. A small grin slipped onto his face as he discreetly crushed it up, forming a small pile of sugar in his hand.

He shuffled slightly towards the edge of the table, gesturing for Michael to come along. The toddler tilted his head but walked over to where Wilbur was. Wilbur barely resisted laughing as he put the sugar on the table in a thin line. It wasn’t the neatest one in the world, but it would have to do.

Wilbur spoke loud enough for Tubbo to hear, “Alright, first you get it in a line. It can be a bit hard to do sometimes, but you can always use the edge of a sword or a piece of paper if you’re really desperate.” Tubbo raised an eyebrow as his eyes widened at the scene. He immediately ran over, picking Michael up as he quickly placed the child farther away from Wilbur. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t understand the situation as he attempted to run back to Wilbur.

Tubbo grabbed onto Michael’s shoulders before he could go far, turning the zombie piglin around to see him. His voice was tense, but still light enough. “Michael, how about you play tag with Dad for a bit, okay?”

“Tubbo doesn’t sound okay,” Ghostbur supplemented. Although Wilbur could’ve been able to read the room himself, the ghost’s voice was always a nice echo in his mind.

Michael huffed, looking between Tubbo and Wilbur. Tubbo nodded, showing him the direction of the door. He even slipped a smile into his voice, although the one on his face seemed tense, “You can go down the stairs by yourself.”

Michael squealed excitedly as he ran out of the room, his footsteps heard as he excitedly ran down. Tubbo closed the door behind him as his eyes met Wilbur’s. A foolish grin sat on Wilbur’s face, “Your reaction was priceless!” He cackled as he casually pushed around the sugar on the table.

Tubbo sharply exhaled, “Wilbur.” His voice was sharp and jagged in a way Wilbur didn’t quite expect.

“It’s just some sugar in a line. C’mon, man, you can taste it yourself.” He picked a bit of sugar from off the table and put it in his mouth, making slightly exaggerated expressions as he emphasized that it wasn’t anything bad.

Some of Tubbo’s edge disappeared, but at least half of it remained, “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t hurt Michael it’s just-” He cut himself off with a sigh. He looked away from Wilbur’s gaze and back at the wall with some crayon on it. “L’Manberg.”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “What about it?”

They waited a few moments in silence before Tubbo hesitantly spoke, “Why did you start L’Manberg?”

Wilbur stated his answer automatically, “To declare independence from Dream. You were there, Tubbo.”

Tubbo shook his head, “No no, what was the original purpose of L’Manberg?”

Wilbur thought for a moment. Tommy’s disks flew into his mind, but L’Manberg was never really centered on them, only Tommy and Dream did. He drifted onto the idea of community, but that was found after the nation was formed. Power maybe? Power seemed like a nice answer, but it somehow didn’t feel right on his tongue. He snapped his fingers as a look of realization came across his face, “Oh! We were gonna set up a drug empir- oh.”

History really does repeat itself in an ironic way.

Tubbo pursed his lips as he couldn’t meet Wilbur’s gaze, “Yeah.”

“Tubbo…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off before he continued again, “I mean, L’Manberg is over and done with. It’s not too big of a problem.” Wilbur scooped up the remaining sugar on the table and dumped it into his mouth.

Ghostbur seemed flabbergasted, “What are you eating? It seems… good? Is that the right word?” Wilbur nodded but Ghostbur couldn’t see.

Wilbur moved his gloves against each other, removing the rest of the remaining substance from himself. “Sugar never really loses its touch.” He stood up from the table. He slightly frowned when he spotted the cloudy look in Tubbo’s eyes. “You… okay?”

Tubbo met Wilbur’s gaze for a moment before looking towards the door. “I know it was yesterday when you read the destruction of L’Manberg, really, it’s a new day. But-” Tubbo shakily exhaled, “Just because you got to destroy all of your hard work, doesn’t mean you’ll get to destroy mine too.”

Wilbur sympathetically looked at the boy as he walked closer. Tubbo tensed up noticeably. Wilbur stopped a few steps in front of Tubbo. “Tubbo.” A gentle assertiveness filled his voice, “Tubbo look at me.” Tubbo narrowed his eyes for a moment but met Wilbur’s gaze. Tears laced the boy’s eyes, the shine of them giving it away.

Wilbur took a breath, “Dream is in prison. L’Manberg is… gone.” The word felt bitter on his tongue. “I don’t have anything against you. I- I care about you being happy. I wouldn’t do anything to purposely ruin it.” Wilbur opened his arms for a hug.

Tubbo stepped forward as Wilbur’s chest lept and a small grin went across his face, but Tubbo side-stepped at the last moment, opening the door just a bit behind Wilbur. Before the door closed, Tubbo mentioned a whisper into the air, “It’s okay.” The words seemed to waver slightly as if they were meant to comfort himself and not Wilbur. The door clicked and he was alone once more.

#c!wilbur #c!wilbur soot #c!ghostbur #ghostbur #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #wilbur angst #wilbur soot angst #dream smp #dsmp #ghostbur angst #tubbo angst #c!michael #michael_beloved #dream smp fic

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