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lady-eny · 3 years ago

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TITLE: ON THE NATURE OF DUTY (10/17)

Some tags: AU - Spies & Secret Agents, Enemies to Lovers, Action, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Mikenana, Minor Zekehan, Minor Character Death, Reincarnation

Summary:

When Levi, Eldia’s best agent, is sent to kill the marleyan star analyst Hange Zoe, he doesn’t expect what awaits him.

Forced to team up with his enemies to save the world, he soon starts losing sight of his duty. Despite reminding himself how much he hates her, Levi can’t prevent his brain from scrambling at her mere presence, ever closer…

Perhaps it’s that he knows her from a long time ago…

CROSS-POSTING ON: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 11 12 13 14 15 Notes: We're in the second half now! O.O And I've got news: Tomorrow begins the Levihan Drabble Week!!🎉To avoid overwhelming you, next chapter will come out in two weeks (meaning: around JUN-17)

I'm sure this week will be full of amazing works, so pls support the Levihan fam! Thank you so much for reading! See you soon!

✨Feedback is very much welcome! Hope y'all have great two weeks!

Chapter 10

She threw her ODM gear and dropped to the ground. Raised her goggles to her forehead and looked up at the starry sky.

“Come see this! I don’t think I’ve ever seen them shine so brightly...”

He winced at the dirt she was wallowing in. “No way.”

She tugged on his pants. “I promise not to ask you to capture a titan for me all day tomorrow.”

“For a week.”

“Three days.”

Reluctantly, he flung himself down next to her and allowed his muscles to relax. She snuggled closer to him and an unusual warmth washed over him.

Maybe being down here wasn’t so bad...

Levi didn’t know how used he was to meeting Hange’s eyes whenever she was around until now that she’s purposely looking elsewhere. Though he maintains he didn’t say anything incorrect. She acted wrong and trusted way too much back at Tybur’s. Excessively so.

At least they’re on the right track, which makes him assume they can succeed. He’s closer to completing this mission, returning to his apartment, and living like nothing ever happened.

Bliss.

First things first. They have to uncover those bastards and stop them. A step forward is not yet the finish line.

As soon as they enter their new hotel room, Levi pulls out his phone and dials Erwin, anxiety quivering his insides. They continue in Helos, the city of Tybur’s primary headquarters. He’d have preferred to stay in one that practically doesn’t belong to that company, but it couldn’t be helped—the yacht party will be held close.

He sits at the desk next to one of the three identical beds. Twists his neck while waiting for his boss to answer, dreading the sound of his voice. Like yesterday, he’s been out of reach the entirety of the day, something Erwin absolutely hates.

“Ackerman,” Erwin answers dryly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

An expected reaction from Erwin. Levi blows out a breath and briefs him on today’s happenings, everything orbiting around the same simple implication: he had no time to call back—even when, truth be told, he did.

“You took such a great risk for nothing,” Erwin concludes, disapproving. From the years Levi’s known him, he can tell Erwin’s hardly containing a scold.

“Not really. I…” Here comes the hard part. Levi glances at Hange and Mike, who are acting all busy with their bags but secretly remain attentive to his conversation. It’s kind of awkward, speaking with Erwin under their scrutiny. How are they perceiving the exchange? “I… We need an invitation to a birthday party in honor of Willy Tybur. We’re certain it’ll take place tomorrow night.” Silence on the line. “I know you have many favors stored from the times when Eldia and Tybur were on friendly terms, so…”

Securing an invitation to that precise event wouldn’t be an easy feat. Levi knows it. Yet their stolen one won’t do it, as it contains a code that won’t be admitted unless issued correctly. In addition, it’s addressed to Mr. Magath, a prominent businessman who’ll be in attendance. Without the invitation in its rightful owner’s hands, the code will surely get deactivated. Erwin, for instance, can move his numerous contacts and collect some favors to attain a genuine one—if he wishes to.

“So, you’re requesting something from me after disobeying my every order for the last few days? Even when your behavior has been nothing but irrational as of late?!” Erwin’s shout resonates through the room. By Hange and Mike’s bug-eyed expressions, they overheard it.

Levi clears his throat. “Err… Yes?” He won’t dwell on explanations while the gaze of those two burns on his nape. “In that party, we can find out if Tybur’s indeed implicated and how to end this. And successfully fulfilling this mission would position us on good terms with the WCO—no more public censorship, no more exorbitant fines.” Levi’s aware his convincing skills are rusty at best. That doesn’t stop him. “This can be good for us in the long run.”

“I wonder if we’ll get any direct benefit from this in the end.” Another thing Erwin hates? Someone else telling him what would be best. It’s one of the reasons he’s constantly fighting with their superiors. “No eldian has been killed in the recent attacks. Furthermore, it will do us little good to be on friendly terms with the WCO if the war resumes and our most valuable agent is incapacitated. Or dead. Stop being delusional,” Erwin fumes. The optimism Levi gained prior to this topples. He doesn’t even want to imagine the face Mike and Hange must be making.

“I’m asking for this favor as your f—friend.” Levi internally coils at the break in his voice.

After a moment, he hears Erwin sighing. “I’ll see what I can do. But if you disappear like this ever again, Ackerman, consider your salary cut to half. Permanently. Wait for my call.”

Erwin hangs up and Levi lowers the phone with an exhalation. For some reason, Hange’s reports to Nanaba come to his mind. Even when one of them was in a higher position, they never talked with each other as boss and subordinate. Rather, they did it as comrades. Friends.

Because above all, that’s what they were.

Maybe he and Erwin have never been real friends. Maybe he’s the faulty one for believing so, due to never knowing what true friendship looked like. Until now.

“That was…” Mike trails off, sounding insecure. “How much time should it take him?”

Levi shrugs. “Some hours.”

Mike throws himself into the middle bed and turns on the TV projector up front. In the meantime, Hange puts on her sweater.

“I’ll get something to eat,” she announces, walking to the door.

“I can go instead,” Levi suggests, quite futilely. Hange doesn’t as much as acknowledge his words before leaving.

Uneasiness crawls under his skin. He’s juggling with the idea of following her when the TV projection captures his attention. A reporter is talking.

“As far as we know, the explosion in Liberio hasn’t shed light on the investigations. We obtained some footage of the moment of the explosion. Viewer discretion is advised, as the following images might contain sensitive content.”

The screen shows the late airport. Levi’s brain struggles to link that massive building with the pile of rubble he saw this morning. In the bed, Mike stiffens when a smiling red-headed woman appears on the screen, talking to the camera about her travels. She’s showing her cellphone when a violent boom deafens her. The airport behind her explodes, and then there’re only screams. The video fades to black and the reporter returns into view.

Levi doesn’t get to hear the reporter’s next words.

The bathroom door slams shut. Mike’s no longer in the bed. Levi didn’t see him moving, abstracted by the screen as he was. Unsure of what to do, Levi uselessly hangs in the same spot. Ignoring the constant danger of Hange exposing herself in public, this is another excellent reason why he should have gone looking for food instead. Unlike him, Hange would know how to deal with her friend. He awaits her coming in at any second.

She doesn’t.

Does he have another option? He drags a hand through his hair and knocks on the bathroom door.

“Mike? Are you alright?” Mike doesn’t reply, so Levi lets himself in.

The blond is on the floor with his head between his knees. Levi shifts uncomfortably in the doorway. Finally, opts to sit at Mike’s side, whose faint cries echo in the bathroom’s acoustic. Settling, the white tiles under him are ice blocks and the whole space smells like toilet paper—not so bad, taking into account how most bathrooms reek.

Mike’s shoulders are shaking. Levi looks from his hands to the ceiling. What can he possibly say?

Mike beats him to it. “I didn’t see it happening live before. T—The explosion. I should have been there…” Mike chokes through his tears. Levi identifies this feeling, blaming yourself for not preventing a loss. Knows it overly well. He recalls wild desperation in his legs, a sensation from a bygone day compelling him to run faster and faster. And still, no matter how hard he forced himself to move, arriving when everything was already in motion. His mother calling him with her last breath. Chaos all around. Too late. The memories make him heavier, but Mike’s cries remind him that his pain isn’t unique. “I only want for her to come back with her sly smile. To stop feeling like shit. I miss her. Will I ever stop?”

Levi has no good answer. His features and voice soften. “I don’t know... I hope it gets better.”

One doesn’t feel like shit every single day afterward. But in his personal experience, it’s because he hasn’t been feeling much since that day. Is that preferable to constant pain?

“This is embarrassing.” Mike wipes his tears with the back of his hand and throws out a teary laugh.

“No, it is not. I… I also know how it feels to lose someone who mattered too much,” Levi admits, a phantom ache squeezing his chest. Mike meets his eyes, and Levi encounters a sense of understanding between them. Reassuring in some way, knowing that someone else goes through the same. After all, it proves they’re not completely alone.

Silent minutes tickle by until Mike’s faint sobs subside and his spine erects taller.

“She isn’t mad at you.” At his confusion, Mike explains, “Hange.”

“Brilliant way to show it.”

“She’s mad with herself. And ashamed for putting lives in danger. I don’t think she considered that possibility.”

“Clearly.”

“Hange,” Mike begins with a fond tone, “is very trusting, which can be a problem. Still, she’d never put someone in danger on purpose.” I know, Levi sorts out. “She believes union is one of the many things needed to end the war, for which we should rely on each other. But… I think not everyone deserves her faith.”

Levi wholly agrees with Mike, as he’s the first one undeserving of it. He lies his head on the tiled wall behind him, which is like touching snow to his skin. Ignores all the germs that must be rubbing on his hair. “She has never had trouble sleeping in a room with me.”

Mike snickers. Levi lifts an eyebrow at him. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just that… I didn’t mean you. You’ve proven yourself highly reliable relating to her.”

What? “Are you nuts? I’m the last person she should count on. I’m an eldian.”

“So what? Do you really fool yourself into thinking you hate her?” He shakes his head. “And what if she’s a marleyan? I didn’t peg you as the prejudiced type.”

“I…”

Do you really fool yourself into thinking you hate her? Mike’s words reverberate in his head. He… can’t, because he truly doesn’t. Not completely, at least, and not anymore. Hange might not be one of the worst creatures to ever inhabit this planet, as he once believed.

Levi glances at the disgusting floor where he’s sitting, focusing on the dirt between the tiles which he hates so much. But maybe, just maybe… He doesn’t. Maybe he’s always forced himself to despise it, because otherwise, how could he continue living, knowing how much of it he’s swept from this earth?

The main origin of his strong loathing used to be more due to his body feeling out of control in their first meeting than her nationality. However, now… He still dislikes her, of course—being her a marleyan, that couldn’t be any different. And yet…

“I don’t hate her,” Levi states. His declaration doesn’t surprise Mike in the slightest. While he doesn’t hate her, she remains a marleyan, something he can’t forget at any cost. Doing so could only harm his land and himself. “I just don’t get her. What are her motives?”

It’s challenging to shake out the idea of marleyans being deceptive, except… Hange looks so open—so sincere, saying she wouldn’t let his leaked information be used for anything but.

Can he believe her?

He can’t. Shouldn’t. But… he wishes he could.

“Ask her, then.” Mike jerks a shoulder as if that was the most evident, easiest solution to everything. Which may be.

“Mike? Levi? Where are you?” Hange’s muffled voice comes from out of the door.

In an instant, Levi becomes aware of where he is, and what he’s been talking about with Mike. A feeling of camaraderie was flowing between them, but her voice woke him to awkwardness. Dammit, perhaps Hange’s teeming openness has infected him.

“Here!” Mike stands and goes back to the room. “What did you bring?”

Hange’s slit eyes glide from Mike to Levi with suspicion before handing them packets of cookies. Popping cookies in his mouth as if they were candies, Mike sits down on his bed, and Hange on the floor. Levi takes the desk chair and starts eating, the TV noise filling the room. Hange looks weary, hands slow and posture slouching. Chewing, she glances up and catches his gaze for the first time tonight. He can’t read her expression, but her hazel eyes appear dimmer. She lingers on him for a moment without expression and then turns to the TV.

It stings.

In the news, they’re interviewing relatives of today’s explosion victims. It dawns on him that the reason those people lost their families is because of them. Because they haven’t done a good job unveiling those responsible for this. The previously sweet chocolate cookies taste rancid in his mouth. Mike and Hange seem to be sharing his thoughts; he looks like eating shit while her shoulders sag lower. Her hand reaches out, in search of what Levi now recognizes as reassurance from the fur peeking out of her bag. She clings to Mr. Sonny as unnecessary repetitions of the explosion play on the screen. But neither of them makes a move to change the channel.

On the nightstand next to Mike’s bed, Levi’s phone rings. They all look at each other. Levi strides to the phone and looks at the screen—an unknown number. He accepts the call with his guts tied up.

“… Yes?”

“Ackerman?” Probes a fruity voice.

His guts untie. “Petra,” he breathes out. “What’s wrong?”

Hange’s head snaps to him with a deep-set frown on her face, looking even more bothered than a minute ago. Levi flops on Mike’s bed, rubbing his brow. How did Petra get this number?

“Erwin told me to call you,” she reveals. Naturally. “Erwin got to convince someone about the invitation, the people with it merely need an address to send it.”

He taps his feet, thinking of logistics. “I’ll send you a location.” He can pick it up in the morning.

“Very well. And… Ackerman.” A pause. “Even though I can’t make a lot of questions, I know this has something to do with Tybur, so… Take care!”

Levi smiles. Petra’s one of the best people in his life, always taking care and worrying about others. “I will. You take care, too.” He gets off the phone.

Mike cocks his head to a side. “What happened?”

“Erwin got it.” Tomorrow they only have to study the area, make the preparations, and lastly, adhere to the plan.

“All is settled, then.” Hange immerses herself in eating her remaining cookies.

Mike finally switches channels to one with a movie where a spy is parkouring from one building to the other. Levi scoffs; that’s sheer fantasy.

“Ackerman,” Mike says, “I wanted to ask you this since I met you… Is the rumor of you jumping from a third floor with only a blanket as a parachute, and still surviving with an insignificant wound, true?”

Levi scratches his heated cheek. Understanding he possesses a reputation is never the same as hearing one of the many rumors surrounding him. Some people even consider him to be a myth, and he prefers it like that.

“It is,” Hange affirms. Grimaces instantly, as if regretting saying it a second too late.

“How do you know?” Levi wonders. She’s right; it is true—it wasn’t as effortless as Mike implied, but no one but him and Erwin should know it for sure.

Mike grins. “Don’t you know how much of a fan Hange is? She has probably watched all your supposed videos, although I believe half of them are fak—”

Hange shoots Mike with a glare so intense that the blond shuts up mid-sentence. And with that, the silence restores.

Mike falls asleep first, his loud snores almost rumbling the entire hotel. Levi climbs to the bed nearest to the door and lies down. Instead of following suit, Hange slides open the balcony door and disappears from his sight. He hesitates for a split second before joining her.

She’s observing the horizon, the glistening and colorful lights from the many billboards shining over her skin. Without a look back at him, she collapses to the floor. There, those artificial lights can’t reach her. Her back leans on the side concrete fence of the balcony, head tilted up at the starry sky.

He settles across from her, one leg outstretched and another bent to support his arm. Arctic wind blows against his skin and chills his bones, but he doesn’t come back inside. He has something to say.

“I… I’m sorry for snapping at you. Earlier.”

She doesn’t reply right away. Her gaze won’t meet him yet.

“It’s okay,” she eventually says with a hint of tiredness, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You weren’t wrong. I didn’t consider the girls’ safety. Even without that, we didn’t know anything about them. It was a mistake…” Her shoulders hunch along with her head, bangs shadowing her eyes.

Levi strokes the back of his neck. It’s less sore than most of the time. “Right. You can only trust yourself.”

“There I disagree.”

His frustration mounts at the sight of her defiant chin. “Oh?”

Her eyes finally catch his. She crosses her arms over her chest. “To achieve great things you need other people, to work together and believe in them. I firmly believe it. Maybe I overdo it, maybe I need to doubt more, true. But confiding in no one, never? That’s not the solution but the problem, and the reason why we’re still in this fucked-up conflict. We never let our guard down.”

Because your people have betrayed us on countless occasions.

An impatient snort from him. “It’s better to work alone.” Less danger and risks for everyone. Levi likes the control it confers him, the steadiness. Why would he prefer the contrary?

“It isn’t.” Her jaw sets. “Such as today. The plan would have worked better if only you had waited for me and trusted me.”

“Trust is difficult to achieve,” is his brusque reply. He knows better than to rely on someone working for the enemy.

“Because you don’t put anything of yourself into trying!” Her nostrils flare. “Do you know how difficult it is…” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in. “How many times have I told myself I shouldn’t even talk to you? You literally tried to kill me!”

Her statement floats in the space between them for a while, making the air dense.

Levi wants nothing but to dissipate the tension, but a thickness in his throat prevents him from responding. Unable to bear her glare, he angles slightly away from her. Summons her words; she said it was difficult not because he’s an eldian, but because he tried to kill her. Somehow, how genuinely unprejudiced she is keeps taking him aback.

“How come you don’t hate me?”

“In truth, I used to hold only hate for eldians. Raw, bitter, consuming hate. But then I thought, this will never get me anywhere. There and then I chose to stop.”

Levi flaps a dismissive hand. “Pff. You make it sound as if it was something you could just decide and voilà. No more hate. Choices aren’t that almighty.”

Her expression grows turbulent. “Oh, but they are. Our choices define us, wholly and entirely. Regardless of what happens at the end of our lives, everything hitherto is simply a succession of them. That’s what we are. Choices. We keep making them and following those we believe are the best.” A tight smile forms on her mouth. “But you’re partly right. It is not easy at all. Wasn’t. Yet it was my choice and I stood by it. Even so, I was wary of eldians afterward and for a long time. I didn’t genuinely try to understand your lot until recently. I have to thank you for that.”

“Me?”

She doesn’t reply, her gaze lost in the distance. Completely disregarding his presence.

He wishes he could fade into the floor underneath him. It’s like they crashed into a wall. A massive, solid wall they can’t get past unless he does what, deep down, he knows he should have done a long time ago.

Levi clears his throat. Glances at his hands. Swallows.

“I’m sorry… about that night. In Odiha.”

She flinches. And something between them fractures. More importantly, something in him shatters; the idea that his work justifies the damage he inflicts. That by protecting his people, the corpses he leaves behind are unimportant.

They aren’t.

They’re significant.

They matter to him and have always done so.

His head hangs, and there is this empty, draining feeling.

She purses her lips, pensive. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Killing.”

His head jerks up, muscles tensing. How can someone enjoy something like that? He feels like dying little by little with every life he takes. If those missions were more constant, would there be anything left of him?

“No.”

“Okay, then.” She droops against the wall and presses her palms over her eyes, glasses askew. “Apology accepted.”

Albeit her words are agreeable, he can practically touch the waves of anger still coming out from her.

“What do you want from me?” He blurts.

“Excuse me?” She drops her hands and blinks. He repeats the question and her eyebrows furrow. “To be friends. I want to be your friend. But you don’t… you can’t trust me, can you?”

How can he? It’s not like she isn’t harboring secrets. “You say you want to be my friend and talk about trust all the fucking time, but you don’t trust me either. Why were you going to that museum that night?” Her teeth clink loudly by the speed with which she closes her mouth. “See? You ask me to do something but you won’t do the same.”

“I…” Her eyes snag on his. “I was looking for my sister.”

Her… sister? Didn’t she say she was dead? Levi racks his brain, but actually, she didn’t. He just concluded it. Didn’t she disappear more than ten years ago, though? To continue looking for her sounds…

“I’ve been seeking information on what happened to her ever since she went missing,” she mutters, and his chest folds painfully at the tinge of sadness present in her voice. “Well, not ever since—I was pretty young when my parents died, and then I moved with Nana’s family, which… wasn’t a pleasant experience, so I left after a year or so. It was when I moved to my last home that I started looking. The caller told me he had information about her, so… I stupidly went.” She toys with the hem of her shirt.

The unexpectedness with which she flew from Marley, the recklessness in her act… Was it all because of her sister?

“I see.” Levi wants to express how sorry he is, to remove some of her glaring sufferings, but he’s unable to do it. After some sluggish minutes, he changes the subject. “You really used to watch my videos?”

Hange’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing red. “No! Yes. Umm, I mean… you’re famous for your exceptional fitness… which I’m interested in… Ah! I mean… interested in the scientific aspect of it, as expected…”

Her sputtering sparks a weird twinge in his chest. A sensation of contentment spreads throughout his limbs. “Now I know why you recognized who I was in the elevator.”

“Your fighting style is unmistakable,” she nods, a smile dangling at the corner of her lips. “You should start diversifying a bit.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Hange dedicates him a smile, her hazel eyes bearing humor in them. Once more, meeting his eyes with ease. He returns the smile.

For the first time, he envisages how everything would be if Hange wasn’t a marleyan. Would they be friends? Best friends, maybe? Recalling how loose he felt talking with her last night, he can see it. And… doesn’t entirely hate it.

Nevertheless, things are as they are, and the reality is that she’ll always be his enemy and he’ll always have to eliminate her. There’s no point in crying over spilled milk. And crying, he never does.

She places a finger over her mouth. “Why do you think they didn’t ambush us on Tybur’s? I wasn’t even wearing a costume, as the last time they did it. Could they have given up?”

Whatever refrained them from going after her today, he doesn’t think it was for lack of motivation. They had plenty of chances for that before. So why stop now?

“It’s odd,” it’s the only thing he says.

Levi lets his muscles go slack under their comfortable silence. She lies down, her long fingers laced together loosely on her abdomen.

“Why don’t you like them?”

He notices her line of sight, toward the stars above them. Watches them, too. “I never said I didn’t. I do, and am glad to be able to see them from here.”

“Don’t you want to know how they look from closer?” Her tone is dreamy.

“No. Humans are fucking plagues. I don’t want to witness how the planets orbiting them are dying for yet more humans.”

“That’s so pessimistic… I think we’re bringing life to those lonely planets and that the stars enjoy the new company, don’t you think?”

Levi opens his mouth and closes it. He never saw it like that and doesn’t dislike her perspective. It’s a brighter picture he couldn’t have conceived by himself, one that makes him feel somehow better.

The canvas of the night is usually painted with gray and heavy clouds. But tonight it shines brightly, the points of light in the distance seeming, for a flicker, colorful. With her steady breathing and earthy scent floating to him, Levi feels so light. He takes a deep, satisfied breath in, and closes his eyes…

They left their building behind and went deep into Marley’s streets. Hours ago, he was feeling rather ill, so Hange and he separated from the others to get some rest. But she insisted on catching up with them, now that he was feeling much better.

“We’ll get lost,” he muttered, meaning that he was already lost.

Hange put a finger over her mouth. “Onyankopon said three blocks to the right… Oh, excuse me,” she said to a woman in a street stall. Marley had lots of these, he’d noticed since arriving. “Do you know where the theater is?”

“Four blocks in that direction,” the woman replied, pointing to the left. He sighed; Onyankopon got it wrong again. “Where are you from?”

“Ahhh… From far, far away!” She looked around in a panic, as if trying to find an answer. Slang an arm around his shoulders. “My dear brother and I got lost from our group.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You look nothing alike at all.”

“She was adopted,” he explained.

“Me?” She made a scandalized face. “But I’m the one who looks the most like mom!”

He couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping him. This was kind of fun.

Following the woman’s instructions, they arrived at the theater. Armin was the first to spot them.

“You made it! Come this way, the view is much better,” Armin urged, pulling them toward the front line, where the other kids and Onyankopon were already settled. Everyone looked overly enthusiastic—even Eren, who had been down lately.

A red curtain opened in front of them, and the show started.

Two hours later, the group left the theater with equally down faces.

Mikasa brushed a tear from Sasha’s cheek. “It was… so sad!” The brown-haired cried, chewing a blue cotton candy.

Jean and Connie agreed with a nod. Levi exhaled; it was definitely not what he was expecting.

Hange stepped in front of them, hands on her hips. “It wasn’t sad.”

Onyankopon glanced at her with confusion. “They all died!”

“Mmm.” She paced in front of them, a hand holding her chin. “But didn’t you see everything they suffered before? And it was implied that they reunite afterward. It was happy,” she declared.

“That’s true…” Armin rationalized. “It wasn’t that sad after all!”

The smile resurfaced on the other’s faces.

“Exactly.” Hange clapped. “Now, we should go looking for something to eat.”

“Yesss!” Sasha shouted, leading the way ahead.

Hange turned to him and tilted her head. “Shall we?”

Levi’s stomach fluttered. He was aware she also found the show sad—he was right beside her, hearing her sniffling. Still, she put her emotions aside and found a way to make the kids happy, offering them an alternative viewpoint where it all looked more radiant. That’s what she always did: examined all the possible aspects to find the correct answers, the beauty in the ugly. Either with titans, people, or plays…

“I won’t eat whatever crap Onyankopon suggests tonight,” he replied, following the others with her by his side.

Her eye acquired a thoughtful quality. “I read that the fish here is prepared differently…”

Everything always looked better when she was around, more so in these depressing days, when she became the Commander they needed the most… Constantly looking forward.

***

D-5

Hange hasn’t breathed once since they started their march to the yacht. They reach the guard at the beginning of the boarding ramp and hand him the valuable invitation. The guard dedicates a brief look at the paper, scans it with a little device in his hand, and nods at them. Just then, Hange expels all her breath.

The night is clear and the wind pure and refreshing as they walk through the ramp. No one pays them any attention as they blend with the crossing crowd. Yet Hange clings to his arm, her fingers curling and uncurling in anxiety.

“We are completely, one hundred percent sure he’s here, right?”

“It’s his birthday. Plus Erwin confirmed it himself. He’s here.” Levi controls the impulse to pat her arm in reassurance.

They pass the narrow yacht’s threshold, and Hange looks around in apprehension. “We could try some other way.”

Levi looks at her. Her hair falls around her shoulders in soft jagged waves; one hand is smoothing down her onyx dress, while the other’s nails are biting into his skin. Forcing himself not to linger on her current appearance, he quickly directs his attention to the long hallway at their front.

“We don’t have time for any other way,” he retorts, dusting off an imperceptible fluff from his sleeve. He adjusts his suit jacket. The clock is unstoppable as it ticks-ticks toward another explosion. They have to hurry and act promptly.

There isn’t a better time to fool one of the most powerful men in the world than now.

Or attempt to do so.

They discovered the yacht is Tybur’s property of many years, so the hope is he spends some time here, thus leaving personal stuff behind. Their plan is straightforward. Levi tries to find something that could lead them to the criminal organization (unlikely to succeed), while Hange goes to Willy Tybur and clones his phone (likely to succeed). That way they’ll get a glimpse into his private matters, and hopefully, something relating to the attacks. Even if they don’t, it’d help them locate Tybur wherever he hides later. With that sort of information, getting him in a less crowded place should be easier. Or so he was told.

“He could have hundreds of phones,” he complained earlier, when they were in the middle of their planning session.

Hange scoffed from where she was sitting on the hotel room’s floor. “That’s an overestimation.”

“He might,” Mike agreed with him. “But the man believes himself untouchable. He must carry a personal one with him.”

Levi wasn’t convinced. “Say you’re successful. Say we get out of there alive. Will we have a chance if we let him go tonight?”

“It’s the only choice we have.” She had a point there. “We can’t kidnap him with all the security he’ll have around. And we’ll be in the middle of the ocean without resources. I say this plan is as good as it’ll get.”

“Well, maybe,” Levi conceded. “Is he even that smart if he’s one of the people behind this? They must know the government will never resign their power but still made that silly demand.”

She rose to her feet, as if assaulted by an epiphany. “Maybe they do know it. The public didn’t know them before. Now they do and the ones in power are painted as the true villains. Maybe that was their goal all along!”

In that case, it isn’t they aren’t smart, Levi mused. They must be pretty damn intelligent, because it’s working. The public is giving their backs to their leaders.

Mike nodded. “Yeah. Years ago in my psychology class, I learned people tend to associate things. Here they must be associating the murders with the ones they can see and easily blame. Their governments and the WCO.”

Instead of regarding most of his words, Levi got fixated on one part. “Psychology classes? Aren’t you an agent? What do you actually do for a living?” Hadn’t he mentioned something about acting classes just yesterday?

Mike shrugged. “Why should I do one sole thing my entire life?”

“I can’t stop feeling there’s a reason we’re habitually a step behind.” Hange was pacing in the room. Suddenly, she stopped and snapped her head at Mike. “Mike. Don’t inform the WCO about the yacht location.”

“Okay?”

“Thanks. And Levi…” Her pleading gaze met him. “Just trust me on this. Erwin didn’t see the invitation before, right? So just don’t tell your people and I won’t tell mine. At least until we’re already on our way there.”

“… Fine,” Levi said after a few uncomfortable seconds. He didn’t fancy the idea; in fact, he did it so little that in the end, he couldn’t keep his word.

Erwin hadn’t known much about the Yacht party. He’d only asked for a favor and received the invitation, but never held it in his hands. Yet he knew of its existence and Levi’s future assistance, so he couldn’t possibly keep him in the dark. Therefore, when he called, Levi left the room and the prying ears to provide his report. Sharing his whereabouts with his boss and obeying, as he must have been doing all these days, was somewhat relieving.

That’s why he’s currently relaxed. A weight is off of his back. He’s finally doing his duty, behaving as the eldian agent he is. And they’re about to take a massive step toward the end of this, so, yeah.

It’s a good night, isn’t it?

Following the flow of people, they pass the deck and enter a barely illuminated hall. Underneath their feet, bright green and blue water blend, and in each corner rests a vertical green water tank with a woman swimming and dancing inside. It must be some kind of android or hyper-realistic projection, obviously. No one would survive that long without oxygen.

In the center is the bar, whose ceiling is surrounded by green lights. Although there are tables with velvet lounges, they move to the bar—or struggle to do it. They can’t take a step without running into someone with increasingly extravagant and phosphorescent makeup; gleaming yellow, purple, and blue lipsticks glowing in the darkness. Despite the coolness outside and the air conditioning inside, Levi feels sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

Hange and he finally make it to the bar, where Levi glares at the seats. Is everyone a fucking giant, or what? Hange stifles a laugh at his face while he hoists himself onto the too-high stoll next to her.

“This is the biggest yacht I’ve been into,” Levi comments, glancing at the high ceiling and the breadth of the place; and he hasn’t even seen the room’s section, whose corridor he can catch a glimpse of on the other side. Maybe someday he’ll come to one invited for real.

“This is the only yacht I’ve been into.” Hange snatches a wine glass from a waiter’s tray and empties it at once. Takes another one. “Want some?”

Levi shakes his head and asks for a glass of water from the barman. Just when she’s about to booze the drink, he plucks it. The last thing they need right now is alcohol.

“Boo! I won’t get drunk!” She complains and retrieves it. “It tastes great…” Another waiter walks by, and Hange steals yet another drink before Levi can react. She offers it to him. “Want to taste it?”

Levi takes a sip and then drinks it in one gulp. “Now we should focus.”

She nods, and then mutters, “You look great.”

Heat consumes him from all around. “Ahh… thanks. You… too,” he says, sounding strangled.

I look great, he tells himself. She’s plainly stating a fact. Nothing else. To make himself think about something else, he turns to the bar and sips his water, examining all bottles displayed. Some must be worth more money than himself.

Hange blows a short breath. “Alright. It’s that one over there, yes? He looks like Tybur-father, at least.” Her chin gestures to the left, where three men in tailored suits huddle around another man with long, blond hair and a charismatic smile.

“By the way everybody glances at him,” Levi says, observing the people at the party, “I’m inclined to agree.”

Erwin told him the Tybur heir looked much like his father, and he has no siblings, so…

“I’ll go now, then.” She swivels, but Levi puts a hand on her arm before she leaves.

With Mike, they went over the plan hundreds of times: Hange merely has to butter up Tybur long enough to get his phone cloned. With that, they’ll get knowledge of his locations and conversations. Simple enough.

Only, Levi hadn’t paused to think what Hange would have to put up with, just to entertain that man—up to now.

“I…”

A red tailored suit hogs Levi’s vision. He looks up.

Argh.

He knew there was a reason why the air suddenly reeked acridly.

Hange’s hand flies to her chest. “Zeke! What are you doing here?”

A bottle of beer dangles from Zeke’s fingertips as he looks at Hange from head to toe. Levi feels a weird drop inside his chest and straightens. What the hell is he doing here?

Zeke shares a smile that dsplays the teeth, his hair combed back with something that stiffens it and makes it shine. “You told me you’ll come here and I was nearby. I thought backup wouldn’t hurt.”

Hange takes a sharp breath in, gaining a squint from Levi.

When did she tell him the location? How close was he? How did he even get in? Could whatever he was doing have something to do with Eldia? Erwin doesn’t swallow the ‘family matters’ explanation; he theorizes Zeke is secretly working on something relating to their war, something shitty. Levi can’t disagree, but is aware his personal bias is an influencing force in his opinion. Better said, it most surely is.

“Oh, really? I merely told you half an hour ago,” she says, her voice unnaturally monotone. Levi has spent so much time observing her, deciphering the nuances in her expressions to later use against her, that he can’t but notice how something in her face is… off.

Zeke grabs her hand and kisses her knuckles. “By all means, I couldn’t let you take such a risk without me around.”

She wraps her arms around his neck. Levi adopts a sullen look while hot spots burn in his stomach. They don’t have time for this bullshit! Hange needs to get to Tybur as soon as possible, not to fraternize. They’re losing momentum.

Hange separates. “Thanks for coming. You’ve seen Tybur before?” She inquires, still sounding flat.

“No, no. Yet I’m sure you won’t have a problem with him—all the time we had to sweeten those tycoons will finally pay off.”

She responds with a tiny smile. Levi’s mind stirs under the new pictures parading behind his eyes, of Hange and Zeke attending fancy parties, of them working together toward their shared goal, Marley. How many memories do they share that he’d never know about? Not that it’s important at all, it’s just… a little annoying.

“I’ll go now, then.” Hange tips back the rest of her drink. Looks ahead, betraying her emotions, which summarize as: quite frightened.

Levi takes her elbow aside. Draws her closer and inclines to her ear, all but touching it. “Are you okay? Don’t do anything too uncomfortable, we can always find another way. And… don’t you dare die tonight,” he whispers at her neck. “I’ll be close.”

She quivers. “I know… See you later.”

For some reason, her phrasing evokes a sense of dread to his chest. Levi empties his water glass as she slides to Tybur, her spine firm and confident, dress slipping behind her and gleaming with the greenness of the floor.

“Wonderful, right?” Zeke asks, glowering at him with contempt.

Hange or the party? Levi decides to interpret it the easier way, and spits, “Snob’s party.”

Zeke bursts a laugh. “So, tell me, Ackerman. How much do you tell your superior? Erwin’s his name, I believe?”

Levi’s face automatically fades to neutral. What is he getting to? “Uh?”

Despite the loud music, Hange’s laugh reaches his ears, followed by Tybur’s. Levi hopes it’s a good sign.

“I’ve been investigating,” Zeke explains. I couldn’t care less, Levi thinks and huffs. “Part of my work is knowing everything that’s happening everywhere, and I just tripped over something beyond interesting. Seems like the ones who have been trying so hard to kill our dear Hange are related to Eldia.”

Levi paralyzes. “That’s… impossible,” he states, though lacking conviction.

“It truly isn’t. I actually know for a fact that Eldia has been the one giving the orders.”

Levi’s mind speeds.

No. They wouldn’t, would they?

Yes, they would.

But without notifying me?

Levi’s brain goes memory after memory to prove Zeke wrong. He remembers the call after meeting The Ripper, Erwin ordering him to let her die and even to help if necessary. Everything sorts itself in his brain; how Erwin knew about the bridge without him mentioning it, how familiar the man he fought with was, how angry Erwin got with Levi’s interference… The reality hits him and settles like acid in his gut.

“You honestly didn’t know?” Zeke smirks. “Didn’t they initially send you for that?” The little alcohol Levi drank sloshes around his stomach. Levi’s eyes throw flames at the other man, whose curled mouth and ugly beard and ridiculous glasses… “Oh, you like them?” Zeke takes his glasses off. “Hange made them for me, years ago. Aren’t they special? Just like her, and us, of course.”

Levi glances at Hange, whose hands wave while speaking with Tybur. Her head tilts the slightest bit to a side to hear him with attention—and she always pays attention, Levi realizes. Colorful light dances over her smooth skin as her pinkish and silky lips curve into a smile.

Unable to look longer, he gives her his back and supports his weight on the bar counter. The acid recedes, but it’s replaced by a dead weight pulling him down.

Yes, they did it. He’s sure.

Eldia desires her death above everything, and he knew it all this time.

Could that mean they’re also behind the bombs?

No, Levi instantly rejects. That would be going too far, even for them. He’d never doubt his people, not even for a second, on something of that scale. And about this… He can’t blame them for trying to kill her. It’s their job. His job. Constantly out of her home’s protection, she’s an easy target: someone dangerous in need of extermination. It’s a logical tactic he should have recognized sooner. An understandable one, but—

Wait.

Levi’s muscles freeze. He leans on the bar counter…

We need to get out of here.

He swivels. Hange is nowhere in sight, and neither is Zeke or even Tybur. Where did they fucking go? He goes straight to the dancing crowd, head snapping from side to side in search of a glimpse of her. Bodies push and pull him, their body odors asphyxiating him from all around.

She’s not here.

He drags himself out of the throng and hurries to the door through which they entered. Outside, couples are looking at the vast ocean before them, smiles on their faces. Levi throws himself to the rail. His breathing comes faster and faster until he’s gasping. He looks up at the same ocean which seems to be so beautiful to the others. To him, it’s only one thing: deadly.

Erwin knows they’re here.

They’re here, isolated in a yacht in the middle of this trashy body of water with no easy way out. Only sea and more sea surrounds them. The perfect place to attack, without reinforcements or anything able to aid her in time.

Levi grips the icy rail with force. How could Erwin keep him in the dark about this?

He dashes back inside. Pads down the hall to the room corridor, where the men who used to be with Tybur are chatting.

“Where are they?” Levi spits to them.

“Who?”

Levi seizes a man by the neck and pins him against the wall, lifting him off the ground. The man’s wine glass falls to the ground and shatters with a crash.

Many heads turn at the disturbance, their wary eyes on Levi. He doesn’t care. Fuck anonymity.

“Where. Are. They? Tybur and the person he just met! Which room?”

“Whoa, calm down buddy.” The man raises his hands in surrender. “No idea!”

Hange and Tybur must be in one of the rooms, but which one? Levi lets the man go. Sweeps the corridor. He hears nothing. Jolts the doors to find them all locked. Does he have time to break into every single one?

Against Tybur and whoever dares to confront her, Hange can handle herself just fine—he knows it. But Erwin’s men… some of them even trained with him. She wouldn’t be able to hold on forever—not without a weapon, a place to run, or a warning. Not alone.

At the end of the corridor opens another hall, this one elegantly adorned with a gold chandelier hanging on the ceiling, tables with white tablecloths, and velvet crimson curtains on the walls. Elegant people wander around; dark black hair, long tanned neck, thin-fabric dress, red hair, green suit… None is Hange.

Where is she?

Levi advances, pulse elevating. His finger taps his thigh uncontrollably as he looks around, and around and around at the dozens of faces that look the same.

Suddenly, a door opens from the corridor he just left, and a disheveled Hange comes into view along with Tybur. Levi stops breathing, his body going limp at her sight. His hand covers his forehead to recover.

She’s fine, and he found her. Now they can get the hell out of here.

A touch of red infuses her cheeks as she nods at something Tybur is muttering. The man hands her a wine glass, and she’s accepting it with a grin the second she encounters Levi’s gaze. Hange glances at Levi over the rim of the cup, eyes smiling; discreetly, she gives him a thumbs-up, communicating her success. Levi can only look at her from a distance.

All this time, his people have been the ones trying to hurt her.

Whatever his expression is, it manages to wipe the grin off her face. She opens her mouth as if to say something, and...

The sound of a gunshot reverberates through the room, stunning everyone present. Screams. Running. Panic.

Levi doesn’t move. He stands in the same spot, watching as Hange’s eyebrows begin to crease and her skin pales, as her hand reaches to hold her side and redness drips to the floor.

Tybur reacts first. He pulls Hange’s arm and bodyguards appear out of nowhere to spread around them, forming a protective wall that moves in unison towards Levi’s opposite direction.

Their departure wakes him up.

He rushes towards them, running into the panicked crowd that drives him in the opposite direction. And then, men dressed in brown, a badge he now recognizes, pour into the hall. Levi tries to run away, but in his frenzy, the men detect him and lunge at him.

They surround him. Levi steps back until slamming into a table.

“Don’t let him interfere,” a tall, masked woman commands. Accompanied by many others, she slips into Hange’s direction. The remaining half encircles Levi. His mind tries to find a way out without harming them. It’s his people, after all, even when they don’t understand that she matters. That she can save this fucking world if only they let her.

He should allow them to do their job and do his, which is following orders, the ones that stipulate he must do nothing. He’s sick of failing them, but—

The boom of more gunshots resounds loud and potent in his ears.

Levi just can’t let them.

He drops to the floor and crawls back under the table. The men charge at him. Too soon, Levi jumps to his feet at the other side and pushes the table to them. He needs to get out of here, not to hurt them. Just get to her.

Levi bolts to the room’s corridor. But someone grips his shoulders and sends him spiraling against a wall.

The men must have orders not to injure him seriously, because instead of pulling out his gun, this agent uses a dagger. Aims at Levi’s arm. Moving more swiftly than the man’s reflexes, Levi easily ditches the attack. Kicks the man on the chin. On the neck.

Another agent grips him from behind and tries to tie his arms. Levi dips his heels on the carpet and rotates the man over his back and to the floor.

The others are struggling to get to him, stopped by the frightened people rushing around.

One frees from the crowd. Levi takes a food tray and throws it like a frisbee to his head. It knocks him with a metallic sound, and the man falls. Levi ducks, narrowly avoiding the punch of another agent, who collapses from the impetus. Another directs a dagger straight to his head—perhaps they weren’t ordered to avoid anything. Levi grabs the heavy curtain behind him and manages to stop it, trapping the dagger in the material and snatching it from the man. Levi points the dagger at them, yet more and more come to encircle him.

Levi glances back. The curtains must cover something, right? He slides them open. Even though he’s no expert in the matter, the glass in front of him looks thin. Fragile. He grasps a chair as the men get closer and closer. Hurls it at the window, breaking it with a loud crack followed by tiny tinkles. Levi jumps out the window and runs as fast as he can. Footsteps soon rumble behind him, but not many people are faster than him.

He strides into the hall where the bar is. It’s deserted.

They are not here.

But they came in this direction, so they must be nearby.

Levi seals the door behind him, blocking it with tables. It shudders with every hit from the men outside, not budging. Across from him, a door is ajar, swinging in the wind. They must have gone that way.

From his peripheral view, Levi catches sight of a stocky man in a dark suit coming at speed. Levi lunges toward the swinging door, but the man charges first. He crushes Levi with his heavyweight, knocking him to the floor. Levi’s forehead hits and bounces off the glass that covers the glittering green water on the floor, causing a break in the surface. His head spins, a metallic taste filling his mouth.

Levi tries to get rid of the weight, but it’s too much for him. He can’t move, and with difficulty manages to breathe. He feels something hard against his head and hears the familiar click of a gun.

“Don’t move,” the person above him orders.

And Levi recognizes the voice.

From the doorway, the icy wind brings whinings and a cacophony of gunfire. Louder screams explode in the air, halting his heart.

They’re Hange’s.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levi ackerman #hange zoe #aot #aot fanfiction #snk #mine #myfics #OTNOD #multichapter

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heejinnien · 4 years ago

Text

bts | roses chapter one

word count: 3.9k words

pairing: bts x reader

synopsis: y/n is a member of the seoul behavioral analysis unit. usually, she’s the cat in the typical game of cat and mouse played with the criminals they catch, but when a mysterious string of murders has her on edge, she discovers she’s caught the attention of one of a dangerous criminal — and he’s determined to make her pay for it.

or, not all attention is the good kind.

genre: horror, angst

warnings: yandere themes, descriptions of gore, descriptions of violence, murder, the reader carries a gun because they need to defend themself against bad guys, guns, manipulation, victim blaming, this is overall just a very dark fic

author’s note: this chapter takes place one month before the events of the prologue, and the prologue isn’t necessary to understand it. this chapter was originally 2k words before i did a deep edit. the “terms used throughout this fic” section of the masterlist was updated to include terms in this chapter. if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or dm, or just let me know your thoughts! i would be happy to explain things to you, and i would also love to hear your feedback or who you think is suspicious. as always, adhere to the warnings and do not read if any of those things trigger you.

roses masterlist

“Y/N! How have you been?”

The elevator doors open with a ding, revealing your best friend and coworker, Jungkook. He gives you a hug, squeezing you tightly. “I missed you so much, how was Busan?”

“It was great, Kook, thanks for asking.” Your lips quirk upwards as you smile at your best friend. “I’m ready to be back, though.”

“I’m ready for you to be back, too, Jimin has been insufferable with you gone. He keeps stealing my banana milk,” Jungkook whines, and you laugh, ruffling his hair playfully.

“Well, did you steal his jam? Again?”

Jungkook coughs, suddenly taking interest in the floor’s pattern, and you laugh. “I haven’t been gone that long and you’ve already managed to get yourself into trouble.”

“He started it — ”

“Y/N, Jungkook.”

Jungkook immediately ceases his accusation, and you both turn at the familiar sound of your team’s leader’s voice. Namjoon walks down the hallway towards you, air full of authority and pristine shoes echoing against the tile floor, giving you a nod in recognition. You recognize the grim set of his mouth and already know what he’s going to say.

“I’m sorry to cut the reunion short, but we have a case,” he says.

Silently, you and Jungkook follow your team’s leader to the briefing room. The rest of your team is already there — Hoseok gives you a friendly wave, Seokjin blows you a kiss, Jimin nods in your direction, Taehyung smiles, and Yoongi grunts, leaning back in his chair and looking as if he’ll fall asleep at any moment. As you and Jungkook take your seats, Namjoon turns and powers on the TV screen mounted in the room, pulling up an array of photographs. Three unfamiliar faces are positioned at the top of the screen, and photographs of the crime scene and what you assume are their bodies are displayed below.

“This is Soojin, Miyeon, and Soodam. Over the past month, Incheon police have been finding their bodies scattered in alleys cutting through the city. Soodam is the most recent victim and was found this morning, and that’s when the police contacted us. Yoongi has sent further details about the crime scenes to your tablets.”

You reach down for your bag, pulling out a thin, black device. Around you, your teammates do the same, and you power the device on, quickly bypassing the standard security protocol and pulling up the recent photographs. Instantly, the photographs of the crime scene make you reel back in a mixture of surprise and disgust. Although you are by now a decorated agent, the sheer brutality of each murder catches you off guard.

Stab wounds and lacerations cover each victim. Blood mats each victim’s skin, making their features almost unrecognizable, and a jagged, gaping incision at the neck immediately draws your attention. Each victim’s skin is ashy and waxen, and copious amounts of blood are spattered throughout each crime scene. Beside you, Yoongi, never one for gore, looks as sick as you feel.

“The coroner said that the cause of death for each victim was exsanguination,” Jimin says, reading the forensic report off his tablet. You quickly switch to that file, scanning through the official document.

“This definitely looks like overkill,” Jungkook adds, and his face is so calm and composed it is as if you are discussing the appearance of a floral arrangement. Looking around the table, the rest of your teammates’ faces are also indifferent. You suppose that’s what happens when you’ve seen as much as you have, but the sheer brutality of this crime still makes you uneasy.

“It says the unsub has been leaving behind white roses at each crime site,” Jin, passively swiping through the crime scene photographs. “They look staged, each victim was posed so that they’re holding the rose.”

“White roses typically symbolize innocence and purity, while red ones symbolize love.” Taehyung ruminates. “Maybe the killer is trying to make some sort of point about his victims?”

“Like they’re cheaters?” You suggest. “This could have a double meaning, maybe he sees them as tainted or impure.”

“Whatever it is, it’s clear he has a preference.” Hoseok waves his hand idly. “Each of the victims had black hair and brown eyes.”

Namjoon nods at each member’s point, face thoughtful. “When we get there, we should break up into smaller units and examine each part of the profile. Y/N and Jungkook, head to the crime scene. The leading detective on the case will meet you there, see if he can tell you anything else. Taehyung, begin a geological profile, Hoseok and Jimin begin the unsub’s profile, and Jin and I will begin victimology. Yoongi, start checking into each victim’s lives, we need to see if they had any overlap or somehow knew each other at all.”

You and your teammates nod at your assignments, standing and gathering your things. Yoongi gives everyone a lazy smile before slipping out the door, heading back to his computer lab.

Namjoon continues. “The unsub will strike again soon so the Incheon police need us down there now. It’s a half-hour drive down there, so wheels up in twenty minutes.”

“Detective Jaehyun.”

You and Jungkook slam the doors of your car shut, gravel crunching underfoot as you greet the Incheon police’s head detective. You give him a courteous smile, you and Jungkook both giving his hand a quick, firm handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you, although I wish I could say it was under better circumstances.” You jerk your head in the direction of the alley. “What can you tell us about this victim?”

“Agent Y/N, Agent Jungkook.” Jaehyun nods at both of you before waving an arm in the direction of the crime scene. “A random passerby stumbled upon the body this morning.”

“What were they doing in this alley? It’s pretty remote,” Jungkook asks, boredly appraising the empty lot around you that the alley leads from. “You said they were coming from this direction, too, right?”

“The other end opens up along a busy shopping street, and if traffic is busy sometimes people will park here and use the alley to get there.”

“Are there any cameras?”

“Here? Unfortunately not.” Jaehyun’s face is grim. “We’ve been asking the city for months to get them repaired, but with everything happening an old parking lot isn’t on their priority list. They would rather keep making the main city look more modern and impressive because that’s where all the tourists go.”

You hum, noncommittal. You step in the direction of the alley, soaking in every detail of the scene. Although you saw photographs of it, you still don’t ever think you could ever be truly ready for the gravity of it to sink upon you.

Blood coats the walls like a mural, pools on the ground like a shimmering mirror. The blood staining the concrete and brick is dark, while the liquid pooled on the ground still appears bright, fresh.

“This is a lot of blood.” You observe dryly.

“Yes, well,” Jaehyun purses his lips. “Recent lab results show that most of the blood doesn’t actually belong to the victim.”

You pause, head snapping up to look at the detective. “That wasn’t in the report.”

Jaehyun swallows dryly. “We didn’t think to check for it in our first few victims.”

“Did you not run toxicology on them?” Jungkook asks, voice hard, and if possible Jaehyun looks nervous.

“We didn’t think to; the cause of death was obvious.”

Jungkook exhales, closing his eyes for one beat, two, and then opens them, fixing Jaehyun with a look that could send him two feet under. “The report you gave us said that there was a one week window between when each of the victim’s was reported missing and when they were found. That means they were most likely kidnapped and subdued during that time. There are abrasion marks on their wrists and ankles from when they were held captive, but no blunt force trauma to the head, which rules out the unsub launching a surprise attack on them when capturing them. Did you not think to investigate how they were taken?”

Jaehyun stutters, unintelligible, and Jungkook scoffs. Glancing at Jungkook, you speak to the detective, voice soft.

“It doesn’t matter now. What kind of additional blood was found?”

Jaehyun’s eyes flicker between you and Jungkook, and he swallows hard. “We aren't sure, but the coroner narrowed it down to animal’s blood. He thinks it might be lambs.”

You silently exchange glances with Jungkook, recognizing the familiar furrow of his brows that signals he’s deep in thought. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, the killer definitely knew their way around the streets here,” Jungkook theorizes. “The use of lamb’s blood was probably to add to the terror of whoever finds the body.”

You nod in agreement. “This is a city, so there aren’t many farms or areas to house animals here. So if the animals aren’t alive, then they’re probably dead and the next likely answer would be a butcher. We should ask Yoongi to see if any butchers or any businesses who deal with animals, alive or dead, reported anything suspicious.”

Jungkook nods and steps out of the alley, pulling out his phone. You watch him go for a moment before refocusing your attention on the alley.

“Um, Agent Y/N.”

Jaehyun shifts from foot to foot beside you, looking as though he’ll vomit. When he speaks again, it’s as if the words pain him. “There’s something else we didn’t mention.”

You allow a beat of silence to pass before raising an eyebrow, waiting for Jaehyun to continue. He clears his throat, once, twice, before continuing.

“We found a note next to the latest victim, along with the rose.” Jaehyun wordlessly pulls out his phone, seeming to struggle under your scrutinizing gaze as he searches for something before he holds the device out to you.

Displayed on it is a picture of the bloody rose that you had seen in official crime scene photos, a pair of hands wrapped around the stem. You recognize the photograph from the report sent to you, and you open your mouth to ask Jaehyun about it when you spot a small piece of cream-coloured stock, poking out of the hand.

Your eyes flicker up to Jaehyun. “Why didn’t you include this?”

Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know if you know much about us, but we’re a small force policing a huge city. If word of this got out, there would be panic — much more than there already is.”

“Lives are at stake here, Detective,” you say, voice firm but not unkindly. “You can’t play around with that.”

“I know,” Jaehyun says quickly, before sighing. “Listen, Agent. Both of our jobs are to keep the people safe. You may not agree with me or my decision, but this was the right call.”

You stare at Jaehyun wordlessly, scanning Jaehyun’s face to see if you can detect anything that will tell you what to say next when you hear a crunch of gravel and look to see your best friend approach. He scarcely saves Jaehyun a glance, focusing instead on you.

“Namjoon wants us back at the station,” he says. “The rest of the team is going to share their profiles with us.”

You nod, glancing at Jaehyun briefly before heading in the direction of your car. As you turn, you spot Jungkook staring at Jaehyun, expression unreadable, and then they are both out of your sight. You open the car door, sliding into the SUV’s passenger seat and waiting as Jungkook walks around the front of the vehicle, slipping into the driver’s seat.

“I don’t trust him,” he says simply, staring out the dash as you fasten your seatbelt and he starts the car.

“Jaehyun?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything else, humming as he pulls out of the parking lot. The tune is eerily beautiful, and it sends chills down your spine as Jungkook pulls onto the main avenue.

“That tune is beautiful,” you confess.

From his profile, you see Jungkook smile boyishly. “Thanks, I picked it up from Jimin while you were gone.”

“What song is it?”

Jungkook’s smile vanishes. “I don’t know, he never told me.”

For some reason, an uneasy air settles over the car. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out if it’s something you said, when Jungkook laughs and the tension dissipates.

“Do you remember that time you got a pair of chopsticks stuck up your nose?”

You let out a string of expletives as Jungkook laughs, the sound light and cheery, and Jungkook’s suspicious behavior is pushed to the back of your mind, already forgotten, as you two trade sarcastic comments.

With the conversation flowing smoothly, it doesn’t take long for you to arrive at the Incheon police station. You quickly hop out of the car, a sharp wind that wasn’t present earlier biting at your exposed flesh. A shiver wracks its way down your spine as you hurry to the station’s entrance, pushing open the doors, Jungkook close behind you.

Inside, Taehyung is the first to greet you, standing near a desk and flashing you a smile as he jerks his head in the direction of the back of the station. “Namjoon and the rest are in the back, I’m just picking up some files from the detectives here.”

Jungkook nods, heading in the direction Taehyung indicated and you move to follow him when Taehyung’s hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, grip gentle but firm.

“I need to talk to you.”

He glances over his shoulder and then tugs you after him, scarcely giving you time to follow his words and react.

“What is it, Taehyung?” You ask as he drags you down an empty hallway. He stays quiet, stopping outside of a door labelled “break room” and pushing it open. It’s deserted, the door swinging shut with a soft click behind you, and Taehyung turns to you, expression is inscrutable.

He opens his mouth, speaking so quickly in a low, furtive tone you strain to follow along with what he says. “I was doing some research into each of the victims. Before she went missing, Soojin had red hair, and Miyeon had brown. I couldn’t find anything on Soodam, but…”

“You’re assuming her hair was dyed, too?” You presume.

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you telling the rest of the team this?” You grab Taehyung’s wrist gently. “And I thought you were doing the geological profile.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” You ask gently, recognizing the fervent, determined glint in Taehyung’s eyes.

“I am, I mean, I was. I was going to, I just…” Taehyung groans and runs a hand through his hair. “I was, but something about the victims was nagging me so I called Yoongi to see what he had.”

Taehyung fixes you with an unimpressed look. “You know why, Y/N. Don’t tell me you didn’t think about it earlier.”

You swallow, remaining pointedly silent. You had thought about the similarities between you and the victims earlier, but had pushed it aside as your paranoia, a hazard of your occupation.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?” Taehyung pleads, voice soft.

“I will be,” you promise. “We’ll catch this guy, don’t worry.”

Taehyung smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you can’t erase the sinking feeling in your gut.

“Detective Jaehyun, I just saw you a few hours ago.”

You release a pair of gloves, feeling the latex snap against your skin and give the Incheon detective a wry smile, flashes of blue and red lights illuminating his face. You and Jimin stand at the entrance of another alley, the lights of the police cars responding to the scene and flashlights from the other officers providing you your only source of luminance. “Who’s the latest victim?”

“Kim Jisoo,” Jaehyun says, holding up the police tape for you to enter the crime scene. You do so, Jimin following close behind you. “She was found by Kim Jennie, her roommate. She said she had just seen Jisoo this morning, and they often cut through this alley to get back to their apartment.”

You crouch by Jisoo’s body, nose wrinkling at the combination of death and copper that pervades your nostrils. Out of the corner of your eye you see Jimin cringe at the sight, and you can’t help but agree. Somehow, it looks more visceral, more horrifying in person.

Like the other victims, multiple stab wounds litter Jisoo’s body. Blood matts her hair and clothing, and a gaping, visceral hole is torn in her neck. Her hands are positioned so that they are resting on her stomach, a single rose clutched in between them. Your eyes seek out any hints of cream, but you find none and your eyes flicker up to Jaehyun.

He opens his mouth, hesitating. Ultimately he decides against whatever he was going to say next, staring at you wide eyed, and you gather the meaning perfectly well. There was also another note. You purse your lips, annoyance rippling through you.

Jimin reaches for the flower, gently tugging it from Jisoo’s grasp. “The flower is freshly cut,” he says, prodding carefully at one of the petals. “I’ll have the lab run the blood who or what it belongs to.”

“Most of the wounds on her body aren’t as deep as the previous victim’s.” You gesture to the victims’ body. “Maybe because she wasn’t kept as long as the others and the unsub couldn’t take his time.”

“That means the unsub is speeding up his attacks and most likely devolving,” Jimin says grimly.

“I’m willing to bet the victim was killed in this alley, the time frame was too short for the unsub to abduct her, transport her to wherever he kept the other victims, and dump the body.” You chew on your lip in thought. “Detective, are there any cameras nearby?”

“There are cameras positioned on the main street, but with the way they’re positioned none of them capture the alley’s entrance,” Jaehyun responds, grimacing.

“How many alleys aren’t covered by camera surveillance?” Jimin asks, handing the rose to a nearby officer to place in an evidence bag and standing, peeling off his gloves.

“I don’t know for sure, but I would say about fifty or so.”

Jimin swears, and Jaehyun flinches at the sound. “That’s fifty places the unsub could be heading next. This city is ripe with potential victims, too.”

“We should head back and let the rest of the team know,” you suggest to Jimin. He nods, and together you walk out of the alley. You pause by the entrance. “I’m going to get a ride back with Detective Jaehyun, there’s something I need to talk to him about.”

Jimin nods, unquestioning, and slips silently into the car. You stand, watching him drive away before turning to the detective. His appearance is ashen in the light, and you give him a dry smile.

“Well, Detective? Shall we?”

He nods stiffly, slipping into the police cruiser. You slide into the passenger seat as Jaehyun turns the key in the ignition, the car rumbling to life beneath you.

You waste no time, and as Jaehyun backs the car out you ask, “What did the notes say?”

“Agent Y/N — ”

“Listen,” you say forcefully, cutting the Incheon detective off. “I don’t agree with your reasoning, but I’m not going to fight you on it. But I need to know what those notes say.”

Jaehyun is silent. Finally, he sighs, keeping one hand on the steering wheel and, briefly pressing his finger against it, tossing you his phone with the other. “It’s in the gallery.”

You pull up the app, ready to chastise Jaehyun about why he has official evidence from a crime scene on his personal phone when you spot them.

It’s a basic photo, the cream paper the focus of the frame and resting on a desk, words typed on it in black ink. You swipe through them, quickly scanning the paper’s contents until you reach the most recent one. This photograph is different, blurry and dark, and you can tell it was taken at the crime scene you left moments ago.

“Do you see why I kept them hidden?” Jaehyun asks when you wordlessly hand his phone back to him.

“Let’s just say,” you begin, pausing to consider your words. “For your sake, I hope that your actions aren’t to blame for anymore deaths, Detective.”

You sit cross-legged on your hotel bed, idly scanning through case files and eating a carton of take-out jjangmyeon. Even though Incheon is not far from your residence in Seoul, Namjoon had still decided that the team would stay in a local hotel; in case anything happens, you can respond quickly.

Taehyung had shared his discovery about the victim’s hair with the team earlier, and you would have been blind to notice the glances that flickered between your teammates and the photographs of the victims and yourself. Luckily, Namjoon had chosen not to comment on it, instead instructing you all to focus on the results of your team’s earlier profiling.

Hoseok and Jimin reported their profile of the unsub (“upper twenties to early thirties, male”). Jin reported that he hadn’t found any overlap between the victims’ lives, and you and Jungkook reported what Jaehyun had told you about the animal blood. You had chewed on your lip earlier, unsure whether or not to tell your leader about the notes. Fortunately or unfortunately for you, that’s when Namjoon had received the call about the latest body, sending you and Jimin to check out the crime scene before you could say anything.

You pick up a photograph of Kim Jisoo, your latest victim. It is a recent picture of her and a group of her friends, given to the police by her roommate to help with the positive ID. In the picture, both are wearing a pleated uniform and holding up diplomas. Your heart wrenches as you realize that she was a recent college graduate and now will never have a chance to pursue her dreams. Another life cut short, just like that.

A heavy knock on your hotel room door causes you to jump, your hand knocking your noodle container aside. You curse, quickly scrambling for the napkins on the bedside table.

“One moment!” You say loudly, hoping whoever is knocking can hear you. You swear under your breath as you throw the napkins on your bedspread, moving aside the case files that were luckily spared and pressing down on them, hoping that can remove the dark stain that formed from the oily noodles. After a few frantic presses and a few noodles thrown off the bed, you rush to the door, hurrying to unlock it.

“Who is it?” You ask, sliding the lock open and pulling open the heavy door.

You are greeted with silence. The hallway is empty.

You frown, scanning the empty corridors for any sign of life but tacky, floral wallpaper is the only thing that greets you.

You glance down at the disjointed striped carpet and see a blank white envelope. Glancing down the hallway once more, you pick it up, retreating into your room and shutting the door behind you. You reach for your phone, tempted to text Jungkook about it, but you stop before you can press the call button, assuring yourself it is nothing. You plop in your desk chair, tearing the side and running your finger along the top of the envelope.

Peering inside, you are greeted with a plain piece of cream colored cardstock. Realization dawns on you and the stench of copper and rose wafts out of the letter as an image of Jaehyun’s phone flashes in front of your eyes.

You scream.

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nordleuchten · 4 years ago

Note

what was the whole involvement of lafayette during the battle of monmouth

thank you :)

Hello Anon,

thank you for your question. La Fayette’s involment in the Battle of Monmouth is quite an interesting one. It actually started before the Battle of Monmouth. On May 20, 1778 our dear Marquis was engaged in the Battle of Barren Hill. I will keep the account brief because the Battle of Barren Hill is not what you wanted to know - but it sets the stage for Monmouth.

La Fayette was given the command over 2.200 troops. They left the American encampment at Valley Forge on May 18, 1778. Washington gave La Fayette very clear instructions regarding his mission. He wrote the day La Fayette departed:

The detachment under your command with which you will immediately march towards the enemy’s lines is designed to answer the following purposes—to be a security to this camp and a cover to the country between the Delaware and Schuylkil—to interrupt the communication with Philadelphia—obstruct the incursions of the enemies parties, and obtain intelligence of their motions and designs. This last is a matter of very interesting moment, and ought to claim your particular attention. You will endeavour to procure trusty and intelligent spies, who will advise you faithfully of whatever may be passing in the city; and you will without delay communicate to me every piece of material information you obtain. (…) You will remember that your detachment is a very valuable one, and that any accident happening to it would be a severe blow to this army. You will therefore use every possible precaution for its security, and to guard against a surprise. No attempt should be made nor any thing risked without the greatest prospect of success, and with every reasonable advantage on your side. I shall not point out any precise position to you; but shall leave it to your discretion to take such posts occasionally as shall appear to you best adapted to the purposes of your detachment. In general I would observe that a stationary post is unadviseable, as it gives the enemy an opportunity of knowing your situation and concerting successfully against you.

Although Washington wrote La Fayette that “a stationary post is unadviseable”, La Fayette took up camp on Barren Hill (today Lafayette Hill). The British troops managed to encircle the American troops and trapped them against the Schuylkill River. La Fayette however knew of some roads that would allow him to bypass the British forces while simultaneously distracting them. The whole mission bordered on a disaster, although the American troops were able to fulfil some of their goals and suffered only three casualties.

After Barren Hill, the Americans undertook numerous efforts to slow the British troops under General Clinton down, to harass them and to interrupt their supply lines. Washington held several councils to discuss a long-term strategy. La Fayette attended these councils as well - just like Major-General Charles Lee did. Lee would be a major player during the Battle of Monmouth.

The Council of War from June 24, 1778 resulted in a plea for caution by most of the officers. Many of the attending officers thought that a victory in battle would be most unlikely and that a defeat would be devastating for the army. Washington did not agree but could only argue for a compromise. 1.500 troops would be send under the command of General Scott to reinforce the vanguard and to support the Generals Maxwell and Dickinson in their effort of slowing Clinton down. While many of the officers in attendance were in favour of this strategy, many were not. Most outspoken amongst them were the Generals La Fayette, Wayne and Greene. La Fayette had signed the compromise (due to peer-pressure as he later claimed) but Wayne (and Greene as well for all that I know) had outright refused to do so. They all communicated with Washington that, although a major battle should still be avoided, a larger body of supporting troops should be send to interfere with the British. They wanted to dispatch between 2.500 and 3.000 troops directly and keep the rest of the army within a short distance to strike if necessary. La Fayette wrote in his Memoirs:

“In a council held on this subject, Lee very eloquently endeavoured to prove that it was necessary to erect a bridge of gold for the enemy; that while on the very point of forming an alliance with them , every thing ought not to be placed at hazard; that the English army had never been so excellent and so well disciplined; he declared himself to be for White Plains: his speech influenced the opinion of Lord Stirling and of the brigadiers - general. M. de Lafayette, placed on the other side, spoke late, and asserted that it would be disgraceful for the chiefs, and humiliating for the troops, to allow the enemy to traverse the Jerseys tranquilly; that, without running any improper risk, the rear guard might be attacked; that it was necessary to follow the English, manœuvre with prudence, take advantage of a temporary separation, and, in short, seize the most favourable opportunities and situations. This advice was approved by many of the council, and above all by M. du Portail, chief of the engineers, and a very distinguished officer. The majority were, however, in favour of Lee; but M. de Lafayette spoke again to the general on this subject in the evening, and was seconded by Hamilton, and by Greene, who had been lately named quarter - master in place of Mifflin. Several of the general officers changed their opinion (...).”

Washington, who was keen on taking a more offensive stance, send additional 1.000 troops on June 25, 1778. La Fayette wrote in his Memoirs:

“(...) and the troops having already begun their march, they were halted, in order to form a detachment. When united, there were 3,000 continentalists and 1,200 militia; the command fell to the share of Lee, but , by the express desire of the general, M. de Lafayette succeeded in obtaining it. Everything was going on extremely well, when Lee changed his mind, and chose to command the troops himself; having again yielded this point, he rechanged once more, and as the general wished him to adhere to his first decision (...).”

We see from this excerpt that Lee could not really make up his mind concerning the command. What happened? Washington offered Lee, his second in command after all, the command over the vanguard. Lee refused, basically saying that such a command was beneath him. Washington next offered La Fayette the command - the Marquis happily agreed. La Fayette moved his troops fast - too fast. Although he managed to come within three miles of the British troops, he moved too fast, outrun his supplies and his men were exhausted and vulnerable. Washington wrote La Fayette on June 26, 1778 that:

“In order that the Troops may be supplied, I wish you would always send up, an Active Officer in time to the Commissary, who might never leave him till he obtained the necessary supplies. This will be attended with more certain relief than by writing by common expresses. Though giving the Enemy a stroke is a very desireable event, yet I would not wish you to be too precipitate in the measure or to distress your men by an over hasty march. The Weather is extremely warm and by a too great exertion in pushing the Troops many of em will fall sick and be rendered entirely unfit for service. I (...) I must repeat again my wish that you do not push on with too much rapidity. You may be, in case of Action, at too great a distance to receive succour and exposed from thence to great Hazard. The Troops here are suffering for want of provision, as well as those with you, and are under the necessity of halting, till they are refreshed. (...) Your provision is on the Road.”

La Fayette moved to Englishtown where he was supposed to meet up with Lee and his troops. Lee in the meantime had come to the realisation that La Fayette’s command actually was not that bad and he now wanted to be in command. He requested Washington to put him in command and Washington agreed. At Englishtown Lee’s vanguard now consisted of round about 4.500 troops.

La Fayette described it as follows in his Memoirs:

“(...) M. de Lafayette was delayed by want of provisions; and it was not until the 26th, at a quarter to twelve at night, that he could ask for Lee, who was sent with a detachment of one thou sand men to Englishtown, on the left side of the enemy. The first corps had advanced upon their right; and M. de Lafayette, by Lee's especial order, joined him at midday, within reach of the enemy, from whom he fortunately succeeded in concealing this movement.”

Washington was with the main army close behind them. Lees behaviour in the coming days was not what it could be. He held his own Councils of War where Washington was not in attendance and gave order were he probably was not in a position to give orders.

The Battle of Monmouth was fought on June 28, 1778. Compared with his, in my opinion really exciting part, in the days and weeks leading up to the battle, La Fayette’s role in the battle itself was relatively unassuming. He followed Lee into battle while commanding a portion of the vanguard. Lee, who had halted is advance prior, continue to advance as soon as La Fayette arrived. The Marquis helped to secure the right flank of the American troops. Later on in the battle, his troops started to retreat after being unable to put down a British artillery unite. The retreat of his troops was probably one of the reasons why Lee later decided to retreat with the entirety of his venguard.

Washington arrived some time after and was not at all amused by Lee’s conducts. Not at all. In fact, Lee’s behaviour was one of the few times that made Washington loose his temper in public. He took over command from Lee and organized the Battle anew. Washington is still today praised for his excellent behaviour that day. La Fayette wrote in his memoirs how impressed he was by Washington and some of the other officers.

“During this affair, which ended so well, although begun so ill, General Washington appeared to arrest fortune by one glance, and his presence of mind, valour, and decision of character, were never displayed to greater advantage than at that moment .* Wayne distinguished himself; Greene and the brave Stirling led forward the first line in the ablest manner.”

The Marquis ends his account of the Battle of Monmouth with this sweet little remark about how he and Washington spend the night.

“The general and he passed the night lying on the same mantle, talking over the conduct of Lee (...).”

Washington and La Fayette both fell asleep on Washington’s coat under a tree, both being exhausted by the events of the day. Allegedly General Greene found them asleep together but could not bring it over him to wake them - the scene was just too touching.

I hope that answers your question thus far. I hope you have/had a wonderful day!

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years ago

Text

the great divide part six

summary: Who knew that eight words would be your undoing. If you had known then what you know now you wouldn't have signed up for Suyin's dance troupe, you probably would have left Zaofu just to be safe. But you didn't and fate had branded you with a path that chained you to someone who would break your heart.

a/n: The last part! Please remember there is an epilogue, Gif is made by @stelladonna and a massive thanks to @medeliadracon for beta reading this series! And also a big thank you to @ladyxffandoms for helping me figure out what was missing.

word count: 8k

When you leave her office, Kuvira is filled with rage so hot she fears it may burn her insides. She hears the slam of her doors and the muffled conversation between guards before it’s softly shut once more. “It shouldn’t be a tough decision, Kuvira.”

The malice in your voice, the use of her full name, it shattered through the toughest of walls within her. Ones you’d never breached before. She’s never been good with her emotions, ever since she was a child she warped her sadness, her loneliness, and sometimes even happiness into anger as a way to protect herself.

She was a difficult child with a temper the size of Ba Sing Se, so difficult in fact that her parents deemed her unfit for their life. It felt like the world was ending when she first arrived in Zaofu, the way her parents spoke to her before they left, making her seem like no one would ever truly love her unless she let Suyin mold her into a model citizen.

And that was another problem, Suyin always tried to turn Kuvira into a miniature version of herself. It didn’t matter how different she was, Suyin tried to bury who Kuvira truly was with a perfected version of herself, a false one.

Up until her parent's abandonment, she always assumed love would be easy and that she would instantly marry her soulmate. She’d pull her shirt up just a bit and look at the words swirled across her hip bone in wonder. “Would you mind helping me memorize the routine?”

Those words, however minuscule and mundane, proved to her that she was worthy of love. That one day she would be loved. But as she grew older in Zaofu she felt a disconnect regarding those words on her hip, the first time she had sex she had covered it up, as if trying to shield the person she hadn’t even met yet. Hara, the name of the girl who had eyed her since the first day of guard training, didn’t seem to care at all.

Kuvira feels like she should lie and say she had her eyes on you since the first practice you attended but honestly she hadn’t even noticed the new addition to the troupe. When you had pranced over to her, still light on your feet after the routine, and spoke, she wondered what kind of soft-spoken woman would end up loving someone whose own parents hated her?

She remembers that night in the metal flower in vivid detail. When you were spinning alongside her in the air she suddenly was consumed with the desire to kiss you, she didn’t even realize she had pulled you close until your soft lips touched hers.

She knew from the moment you spoke that first day she should have broken up with Baatar Jr. But Kuvira, even though she will never admit it out loud, is a stubborn and flawed woman who can’t stop once she sets her mind to something.

The fourth night of the second month on the train after she had been uncharacteristically gentle with you, was the first time you said you loved her. She asked you to repeat yourself again and again until you pulled her into a deep kiss, pouring all your love into it. The action left her breathless, and with that kiss, you broke her first wall.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she starts to think about you and all her memories of you. You’re most likely in your room erasing any trace of her there may be, completely ready to extract her from your life.

Kuvira forces herself out of her office and over to her front door, she opens it up just a few inches, enough for the guard nearby to see. She doesn’t care if he can see the tears racing down her cheeks. “Have a guard stationed outside of Y/n’s door.”

Once she shuts the door after he nods, Kuvira walks into her room where she sits on the edge of her bed. If she goes to sleep, will you still be in her life tomorrow? Kuvira shoves off her boots but otherwise stays in her uniform as she lays down and stares blankly out the window, her country needs her. They need her to protect them in a way no one has ever protected her before.

Kuvira doesn’t sleep that night, she stays awake, her gaze focused on a potted plant out in the courtyard, and imagines every possible scenario in her head. These last few years have spoiled her in a way, you were always by her side through it all. You were there cheering her on and making her feel loved and wanted. She doesn’t know if she can go back to how it used to be, to loneliness.

When rays of sunshine start to peak through her window, she pulls herself up and out of bed. Kuvira goes to the bathroom to smooth out any wrinkles in her clothes but doesn’t feel the energy or motivation to change into a fresh pair. She slept in her bun, it’s a bit frizzy now with a few loose strands that she tries to tuck into her braid, there’s a pesky curl that won’t cooperate. Kuvira eventually gives up on it, letting it stay out and frame the side of her face.

You love when she has her hair down, when it’s down you immediately run your fingers through the dark curls and let out this content sigh that fills her heart with adoration. Kuvira shoves her feet into her boots on the way out of her room, beyond caring about her appearance. The guard outside her door, the same from last night steps forward when she walks out of her room.

“Ms. Y/n left her room around one A.M, it’s been reported that she’s staying at the encampment.” Kuvira frowns, did she take too long? Have you given up?

You were her guiding hand, her moral compass and now you’re gone. “Thank you,” she says monotonously before heading towards the kitchen. Despite her desire to shut herself off from the world, her stomach is cramping in pain due to hunger. She should have eaten the food you gave her last night, now it’s strewn across the desk in her office, cold and gone bad.

She takes herself the familiar route to the kitchens, growing up here has its perks. She'd seen how you look around in a mixture of confusion and wonder when they had gone to try and negotiate with Suyin. Kuvira knows this place, she ran down these very halls when she was younger. Despite the hollowness that echoes through the halls, the lack of laughter and conversation turns the whole home into a colorless husk of what it used to be.

Kuvira hadn't noticed the lack of life within as she walked into the empty kitchen. Her guards had gotten Suyin's chef to cook breakfast and dinner, and she had given him lunch off. It was for sentimental reasons, all the birthday cakes he baked her and midnight snacks. He might hate her now but she'll keep giving him lunch off in hopes of paying him back for the happy memories. She doesn't like to owe people.

He must not be in yet, it's barely dawn. The kitchen is empty, giving Kuvira the perfect moment of respite before her dreadful day. She grabs a piece of bread, most likely baked yesterday, and an apple. Part of her doesn't have an appetite, to upset about her fight with you to want to eat. She forces it down with a glass of water, the food helps her slightly, helps her feel stronger than before.

Kuvira walks down the hall, her feet carried her out of the estate and towards the tram. “I need to get out of the city,” she says to the operator waiting for any passengers by the tram doors. He nods and briskly walks over to the operating booth, she decides to grab onto the pole at the center of the cart and stand. The machinery starts with a jolt but Kuvira remains unmoving, staring straight ahead. Slowly the scenery around her begins to change, it takes her around the outer domes where a few people are toddling about, most likely walking off to work.

The tram goes under a tunnel before entering the main dome. That towering golden statue of Toph Beifong comes into view and Kuvira sighs as a memory of you enters her mind.

You’re moving around your room on the train as the view from outside is blurred due to the speed you were moving at. You and Kuvira were beginning to get to know each other in the safety of the night, which brought you such joy. Standing in front of your vanity with only Kuvira’s undershirt on you begin to take the pins out of your hair. “What was your home like?” She had asked. A wide smile made its way onto your face as you set the bobby pins into a small ring dish.

“Just so cozy. We have a townhouse in the main dome across from the botanical gardens. I had the best view from my bedroom window,” you let out a wistful sigh as you begin to untie your locks. “Our home was directly situated to the center of it, all you had to do was walk across the street to enter. So I got to wake up with a view of every flower Zaofu has curated, it felt like it was just for me.”

Kuvira watches you fondly from the bed as you continue “my dad and I made a metal planter to hang from our kitchen window by the front door, during summertime hydrangeas bloom from it.”

Without thinking Kuvira rushes over to the emergency brake button and slaps her hand onto it, the tram stops with a harsh jolt that sends her stumbling to the side. The doors automatically open with the lights above flashing red. Kuvira stands on the edge, looking below. The fall isn’t far but it could still hurt her, so she bends two of the metal seats, ripping them out of their places screwed to the floor and warping it into a crud shape of a ladder.

She bends it to the edge, moving the nails that popped out to screw them into the floor to secure the ladder. Kuvira lets out a deep sigh before beginning her descent below. This is stupid and will most likely blow up in her face, but if you decide to say goodbye to her today, she wants to see the place that you once called home. There are a few inches between the ladder and the ground so Kuvira jumps, She bends at the ladder back into the tram so if it starts whilst she’s away it won’t break any buildings in the process.

An old man opening up shop stares at Kuvira with wide eyes, watching her walk away as the tram above stays frozen. She’s a block away from the garden she’s heard you gush about, more and more people begin to filter out from their homes to start their day and each one eyes her with disgust. Squaring her shoulders, she stares ahead and away from everyone's watchful gaze.

The gardens come into view, towering bright green trees with vines growing on the wrought iron fence surrounding it. Kuvira stops at the entrance, looking inside with hesitancy, as if worried she’ll destroy it upon contact. There’s a pond in the center with a few lily pads floating around with two benches across from one another by the pond.

Flowers of all shapes and colors are scattered around and when her gaze locks on the towering Sunflowers in bloom, Kuvira suddenly remembers once finding you tucked behind them with bloodshot eyes and a raspy voice from crying. That was the second time she had knowingly hurt you, the first being asking you to keep it a secret. Kuvira takes a step back, not feeling worthy of stepping inside such a radiant place, and begins her trek around it to your house.

Most of the homes don’t have many outdoor decorations, a welcome mat or a potted plant seems to be the theme so when her eyes lock onto that metal planter with blue hydrangeas Kuvira knows she’s found the place. It’s a two-story townhome with some sort of stick figure drawn on the second story window and when she looks over her shoulder she sees how perfectly centered the house is to see all of the gardens from above.

She doesn’t know what to do now. She never really thought through her plan, which is incredibly unlike her, but that memory came flooding back through her mind and she knew she needed to see it for herself. Slowly she takes a step forward, and then another and another until she’s in front of the door with her fist raised, rapping three times against the metal.

Kuvira doesn’t know why she does it, maybe it's the sleep deprivation or an act of desperation to feel your presence again, she honestly doesn’t know. There’s the sound of thunderous footsteps from behind the door and a masculine voice calling out “I’ll get it!”

A man opens the door with the same color hair as you, he’s a bit on the chubbier side and looks to be roughly 6’2 or maybe even 6’3.

Kuvira can see the resemblance in certain features of his and it makes her long for you even more. Your father scowls at the sight of her, his demeanor has changed from cheery to vexed in a matter of seconds. She shouldn’t be surprised.

“I’m Kuvi-”

“I know who you are, you made us kneel before you.” His voice is gruff and his words clipped. Kuvira sighs, right, she did do that. “What do you want?”

‘I’ve come to talk to you and your wife about… well about your daughter.” Spirits this is awkward, your father stares Kuvira down for a few moments before frowning. Slowly he steps aside, letting her in. Your home is warm with family photos framed and hanging from the wall, the entry is a narrow hallway with an archway that leads into a small kitchen. As Kuvira follows your dad down the hall her eyes catch on a photo of you.

You can’t be any older than eight in it with your arms wrapped around your father's neck as he carries you on his back. Your mother is beside the two of you, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. All three of you are grinning and Kuvira notices that one of your front teeth is missing. Both of you have lived such different lives. At eight Kuvira was being abandoned by her parents for being too out of control.

Two people who grew up in completely different environments with such clashing personalities are soulmates, in some ways, it seems like a sick joke. But she can’t be upset about it when she loves you this much, just confused.

Your father clears his throat, ripping Kuvira from her thoughts. She looks over and tenses, he’s looking at her like he wants to say something but shakes his head and enters the room at the end of the hall. Kuvira reluctantly leaves the photo behind and follows after him.

The room is a living and dining room with a small circular table that has an elegant bouquet of yellow and white flowers in a simple vase with four chairs tucked underneath it. There is a cozy looking periwinkle sofa and an unlit fireplace with a photo hanging above it, this one is larger and is of you before the performance all those years ago. You look so pretty in that costume and so happy. Kuvira swallows.

Your dad walks up the staircase tucked to the right, leaving her in the living room where she awkwardly stands. She doesn’t think he wants her to go up. Kuvira makes out the sound of aggressive whispering from upstairs, she can’t make out any of the words but soon after two people come walking downstairs. Your father and your mother.

Kuvira’s eyes widened, you always mentioned your mother being part of the guard but you never mentioned her being the Lieutenant for the main dome. Not only did she help train Kuvira, but she also placed the captain's pin onto her uniform during her ceremony. She had smiled at Kuvira, having seen her as her own, and said quietly “I’m so proud of you.”

That smile is long gone and replaced with a scowl. “What could you possibly want to say about our daughter?” Your father places a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down a bit.

Kuvira gulps as she eyes the both of them, there're so many emotions raging within her now that she doesn’t know if she can even speak. Suddenly this place somehow seems too much like you and she wants to run away from your mother's wrathful gaze. “I’m… Your daughter,” Kuvira internally groans. This shouldn’t be so hard. “ Y/n and I are soulmates.”

“So the rumors are true…” Your father mutters as he plops down onto the couch with a dumbfounded expression.

“What rumors?” She had locked herself up in her room all of yesterday and this is her first time having a conversation with someone that’s not you. Your father grimaces.

“That guards found you in her room, naked,” your mother spits the words out. Oh spirits, this is not a good first impression. Kuvira feels her face flush a deep red “that you imprisoned your fiancé because he caught the two of you.”

“It’s a lot more than that” she offers, neither seems to care. Your father seems to not want to hear any of this because he quickly stands and walks off towards the kitchen. The sounds of pots and pans being moved can be heard through the otherwise eerily silent home. “I didn’t want to imprison him.”

“I don’t care, what I want to know is why you were even with him if my daughter is your soulmate. She abruptly left with you three years ago.”

The explanation floating around her mind isn’t good enough, she can’t seem to figure out how to eloquently explain herself without it seeming like she doesn’t care about you. Suddenly as she thinks over the last three years and she starts to notice how harshly she’s treated you.

Up until now she always claimed it was for the good of the country, when you both finally got married the world would try to eat you up and chew you out for being with her. She needed you to have a perfect image and be resilient.

“I-I needed him for engineering and he wouldn’t leave with us unless he thought I loved him,” Kuvira says sheepishly. Your mother looks unimpressed as her jaw begins to clench. “I have always loved your daughter though.”

“So you hid my daughter, my beautiful, amazing, and sweet daughter away like something to be ashamed of?” She takes a step closer, scowling. Kuvira feels like the collar of her jacket is choking her.

“No! I have never been ashamed of her, I always told her how much I loved her.”

“But you turned her into the other woman for your own selfish desires!”

“They weren’t selfish, they were for the good of the empire! She understood.” Kuvira thinks you understood but right now she’s not too sure. A kettle in the background begins to whistle.

“My daughter dreamed of the day she’d meet her soulmate, she had everything planned out and I know for a fact that the woman I raised would not be okay with what you’ve turned her into!” Your father quietly reenters the room with a tray that holds three teacups with steam coming from them.

“I love her, I just want to fix everything! It's why I came here,” that’s the real reason that compelled Kuvira to come here, if anyone knew you better than her, it’d be your parents.

“How is she doing?” Your father asks, Kuvira looks over at him and notices how sad he looks. His eyes are bloodshot and a few tears fall from his eyes before he wipes them away.

“She’s healthy but upset with me.”

“As she should be,” your mother mutters under her breath. He picks up a teacup and blows on it, “why is she upset?” His voice cracks.

“She wants me to end this, told me it's her or the empire and I don’t know what to do.” Kuvira sighs and runs a hand through her hair, messing her bun up a bit.

“And why haven’t you chosen her already?” Your father's voice is calm, there’s a sadness to it but he doesn’t shout or rage like your mother who has her back turned to Kuvira as she goes to pick up one of the teacups. She can see how tense your mother is, how angry she still is.

“Because it's my country, if I give it up to Wu and Suyin then I am turning my back on the people I promised to protect.”

“You once promised to protect Zaofu at all costs” your mother snips out, he places a hand on her shoulder and softly says “honey, please.” She relaxes just a fraction as she takes the seat beside him at the table, glaring at her tea.

“These people are vulnerable and need someone to make sure they feel safe again. I’m that person, and your daughter understood that, or I thought she did.”

Your father sets his cup down and pats the chair beside him that’s situated across from your mother. She shyly walks over to it, she doesn’t want to sit down but she’s already pissed your mom off just by existing and she’d rather not give her another reason to hate her.

“They were vulnerable, but you have gotten rid of the bandits and raiders. You’ve stabilized the empire as you promised, now it’s time to let go and hand over the reins to someone else.”

“I can’t do that,” Kuvira says, her heart is racing. Let someone else rule? Give up the control she craves? The idea makes her feel unsafe, like the second she does it someone will destroy not only her but also you.

“You have to, my daughter won’t stay with you otherwise. Are you really ready to give up love for power?” He hands her the last cup of tea, the scent of jasmine wafts up and fills her senses. She slowly goes to pick up the cup, her hands shaking.

She’s so overwhelmed, none of this is meant to be happening. She’s supposed to win and you're meant to love and support her, then she proposes with a beautiful emerald ring that she’d make herself and you’d say yes. That’s how it’s meant to go, that’s how she has envisioned it since day one.

“This isn’t how it’s meant to go” she confesses, your father sets a soft hand on her own to help stop the shaking.

“How do you think it’s meant to go?” And so she tells him what she just thought, and she adds on how both of you would continue to better this country together and maybe, one day in the far future, have a child.

“Did you ever ask Y/n if that’s what she wants?” Your mother tries to keep her voice calm, tries to keep from yelling at her again. Kuvira stares down at the cup, trying to wrack her brain around the time you’d chime in with the future you wanted, or a time she even asked. “Just because it’s the future you planned for her doesn’t mean it's the one she wants. You can’t just plan everything out without including your partner's opinions and desires into the equation.”

You once talked about what your wedding would be like with Kuvira chiming in every once in a while, but that was it. That was the only time you mentioned anything regarding the future.

“Love is about equality, you both should be putting in equal effort. It’s a delicate balance that takes time to learn, give, and take. It’s not always going to be perfect even with your soulmate but you make it work for each other. If my daughter stayed with you all these years then she must love you, but for her to put her foot down shows she has had enough.” Your father's voice is soothing and calms her down just a bit.

“But…” Kuvira’s voice shakes, “what do I do if I give up control? It’ll never go back to how it was before, how am I meant to go back to everyday life after everything I’ve done? After knowing I probably could have done more.”

“No one knows what life will be like after. But I think a few years down the road you could get back to the place you were at before, maybe a new and improved version due to all the knowledge you’ve acquired over the years and due to having Y/n with you,” he takes a sip of his tea after speaking and delicately sets it down on its saucer.

“I know you need control in your life Kuvira, it’s what made you good at being Captain, but you need to let go. Everyone has to let go at some point and this is your time,” your mother says. Kuvira’s eyes glance around the room as she feels her heart begin to pound, it feels like any second it’ll leap out of her chest. Let go? The idea sends her mind spiraling with horrifying scenarios of what might happen.

“We may not like you, but if you drop this once and for all, and make our daughter happy then,” your mother lets out a deep sigh “we will be here to support and help you.” Tears glisten in her eyes as she stares at the both of them. “If our daughter loves you then that must mean there’s still some good left in you.”

Kuvira begins to softly cry, a hand comes up to cover her mouth as her shoulders hunch in on themselves. Your dad lets out a soft sigh and says “c’mere,” before pulling her into his arms and hugging her. Kuvira doesn’t hug him back nor pull away, she just sits there and cries into his shoulder. She knows what she must do and it terrifies her, fills her with doubt, and causes her stomach to clench from anxiety.

“You need to bring her back to us, please,” he whispers, and Kuvira nods. Slowly he pulls away from her and offers her a gentle, comforting squeeze on the shoulder. She desperately wipes at her eyes, suddenly embarrassed to have cried in front of them, and lets out a shuddering breath.

“You should go find her,” your mother says. Kuvira stands on wobbly legs, her hand placed firmly on the table for support. When she’s fully upright your father pulls her back into a hug, a short one this time. Kuvira awkwardly pats his back until he lets go.

Your mother stays seated, staring her down. “Don’t break her heart,” she says. Kuvira vehemently nods, her eyes wide. She will do whatever it takes to protect your beautiful heart and if you forgive her she will cherish it every second of every day.

She leaves shortly after that, your dad gives her a cookie before letting her leave which turns out to be really good and she walks over to the tram station. It’s since been fixed so when she presses the button requesting its presence it zooms by and opens its doors for her. The chairs are still messed up, just laying there a mess of something hardly resembling what they used to be. The tram takes her out of the city and to the entrance where she wastes no time hopping into a jeep and speeding off.

The midmorning sun beats down, today is incredibly hot and causes little beads of sweat to form on her forehead. When she gets to the encampment Kuvira slows just barely and everyone moves out of the way at the sound of the car barreling through. She abruptly stops it and jumps down before heading into her tent.

Inside Kuvira marches to her radio, she disregards the state of it and doesn’t even notice the filing cabinet you broke as she tunes into the main radio station the encampment uses. “Radio Freedom, what do you need?”

“Find y/n and send her to my tent.”

“Of course, great uniter. I’ll tell all my men to search for her.” The voice stutters out a reply before she switches it off. Spirits she feels like she might go crazy whilst she waits for you. She leans against the front of her desk with her arms crossed as she tries to come up with some grand speech of how much she loves you, of how your love and presence is what has kept her sane over these last few years.

She looks up at the ceiling and sighs, the idea is terrifying but she chooses you, she’ll let go of her defenses and send her men home for you.

The sound of fabric rustling has Kuvira snapping her head back down to stare into your eyes. You look pissed, you don’t have on your jacket so the white undershirt sticks to your sweaty skin and you have your hair in a messy ponytail instead of the usual bun.

Kuvira wets her lips before speaking, “I spoke to your parents.” Your eyes widen at that, Kuvira continues “I didn’t realize I knew your mom, she helped train me when I first joined the guard.” And she hates my guts which I don’t blame her, Kuvira thinks. I let her down, just like I let you down.

You finally look into her eyes and spirits, even with that furious look on your face you take her breath away. “So?”

“She’s a blunt woman, and when I told her about us neither of your parents were pleased.” You wrap your arms around yourself and frown, she wishes she could know what’s going on inside your head. “But they gave me a piece of useful advice, something I probably could have had use of hearing all those years ago.”

She slowly walks over to you, hesitantly so. When she’s close enough you look her over and purse your lips. There’s a slight look of concern written on your features and it swells her heart with a hint of hope.

“That if I love you, it shouldn’t just be me taking from you, but by asking you to hide everything and go along with my plans that was exactly what I did. I realize now I never even asked what you want, what you envision when you see our future.”

You begin to silently cry and she has to use all of her willpower to keep from reaching forward to wipe away your tears.

“It should be equal. Give and take and be there for each other. There shouldn’t be punishments or silent treatment,” Kuvira pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What do you want?”

You squeeze your eyes shut at her words, your bottom lip trembling. You get lost in your thoughts, something you do often but Kuvira decides not to pull you out. She’ll give you all the time you need to reply.

“I want peace,” you say, your voice a mere whisper. But she hears you loud and clear. “I want this all to end and I want us to finally be able to love one another in front of others. I don’t want any of this, I can’t peacefully live in a world where this… this mission is a success.”

Kuvira takes a step forward and opens her mouth to pour out all of her feelings, to promise that she’ll end it when something interrupts your moment. A shout and gunfire pierce through the air. Kuvira’s heart drops and she rushes forward to look outside of the tent.

Her men are scrambling around like ants, stumbling to get to their places. She makes out a clash of fire and earth up ahead and runs out, leaving you behind. She turns a corner and comes face first with one of her men, instead of informing her of what’s going on he shoots a ball of fire at her. Kuvira’s eyes widen as she bends up a wall to protect her.

“C’mon oh great uniter! Fight me” he shouts. Kuvira’s nostrils flare as she pushes the wall forward towards the man, it hits him and sends him stumbling back. As she advances with hands clenched, ready to activate his bracelet he shoots a spiraling wave of fire out of his foot that has Kuvira jumping out of the way. “It’s even ground now,” he says in a smug tone as he raises her pant leg to show a naked ankle. What?

Her heart races as she stands back up, cracking her neck to the side. She fought the avatar, she can fight this puny fire bender. Kuvira gets into stance, smirking as she shoots out two pieces of metal, one wraps around his ankle and the other around his neck, and with a twist of her wrist, he’s flying backward, slamming into the metal wall of one of the guardhouses.

“Kuvira!” She hears you spit out, her head turns as she watches you desperately run over with an enraged look on your face. You bend the metal off the poor man, he falls to the floor with a groan. “Leave him alone.”

“He is defying me!” Her eyes widened in rage, how could you defend him? “He is one of my soldiers and he just tried to kill me.”

“He was never one of your soldiers!” Your fists are clenched as you try to control your anger, “you forced him into this!”

With both of you distracted he raises once more, letting out a pained groan before shooting a small, weaker bolt of fire. You shoot up a wall for the both of you, keeping your gaze trained on your lover. “It’s him or me.”

Kuvira lets out a growl of anger at your words, loyal earth empire soldiers rush past towards the battlefield, ignoring the lover's quarrel as they shout out commands to one another. “Why are you defending him!?”

“Because Kuvira what we did back then wasn’t right, because I made a promise to myself to protect them and I will not break it!” Her eyes widen, stumbling back a step. There’s so much going on in her head, she just wants to silence all the anger and confusion that burns within this situation.

“You freed him?” She asks incredulously, you thickly swallow before nodding.

“I freed all of them.” Your wall begins to crumble, the fire bender has since left, leaving the two of you to stare at one another. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I should have never let you cage them in as you did. You asked me early what I want? I want you to let this war go, I want you to leave them alone and surrender!”

“I can’t do that!” Not now, not after being attacked, not after seeing that her men are in some sort of danger. Your hands reach up to cup her cheeks, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Yes you can, I know you can Kuvira.”

She rips herself out of your grasp, suddenly feeling like your touch will poison her. Poison her resolve and burn away all of her control. She needs this war to thrive, she needs it more than air itself.

A deafening boom is heard from behind her, once more she leaves you behind but this time she feels you hot on her heels as she runs towards the battle. Kuvira vaguely makes out something moving in the air, she squints her eyes to figure out what it is and the object swoops down just a bit to drop down soldiers that aren’t hers. It’s a sky bison she realizes, that must mean Korra is here.

She sees that one of the people that dropped down is Bolin as he lava bends a circle around him and his team to protect them from her soldiers. He wastes no time as he bends up a chunk of earth and hurls it towards the soldiers, most don’t jump out of the way in time, the force of it knocks them down and causes them to pass out. She hopes they are just passed out.

The others around him are all different kinds of benders donning makeshift armor under their shaggy and ripped clothes, Kuvira realizes with a stunned expression that it’s the reeducation camp uniforms. Her heart pounds as more of her men fall all around her, the comforting words of your father worm their way into her head as she squeezes her eyes shut. The young dictator stumbles back and pulls at the roots of her hair in frustration, she can’t let this go, can’t give up.

This is the most in control she’s ever felt, she no longer fears for her life or for her future, it was within reach and exactly what she imagined it to be. With her rule, she thought she erased any chance of reliving her younger years, alone and heartbroken as the longing for someone to hold her ate her up. Suyin’s comforting words never worked, but the sound of her men marching did.

When Kuvira opens her eyes she sees that more of her men have fallen and Bolin’s group has moved on, she surges forward to eradicate them when your hand wraps around her forearm and pulls her back. She looks over her shoulder with a snarl, not realizing it’s you.

“Don’t make me choose between you and my country.”

“It shouldn’t be a tough decision, Kuvira.”

But if she does choose this war, this overabundance of control she will be alone and heartbroken because you will leave her. You made it clear yesterday that you won’t stand by and support this anymore, that you won’t stay by her side if she chooses this path. Your fingers through her hair work too, your soothing words are like a balm to her soul and your smile eases her into this warm state of calmness.

With you, she doesn’t need the marching of her men or the rush she gets when getting someone to sign over their land. You give it to her without a second thought, you give to her because you love her and your love doesn’t come with a price or consequences.

You tug her to the trunk of a jeep and force her climb onto it. When she stands up on the hunk of metal you grab her cheeks and force her to look at the battle ahead. More and more of her men are falling as air benders use their full force and mecha suits shoot them down. Kuvira then notices the lack of mecha suits on her side and how in the middle of the field there’s a clash of green uniforms going against one another. The field lights up with all forms of bending as each man readily gives their life to her cause.

“If you surrender your men will be fine! Kuvira be the woman I know you are, stand down!” You pull her eyes away from the scene so she can look at you, look into your eyes that are full of fear and desperation.

“Bu-” Her heart begins to race, she feels like she may vomit.

“I need you Kuvira! I need you more than them, so surrender,” you bite your lip. “For us, please Vira.”

You pull her into a breathtaking kiss that's anything but romantic, your fingers squeeze a bit tighter at her cheeks as you slant your lips against her own, she shakily brings her own hands up to grip your waist in a bruising hold.

When you pull away, there’s a tear racing down your cheek as you stare into her eyes. “Please.”

“Fine!” She spits out, her throat feels like it’s closing up as her fingers begin to shake. This is everything she’s worked towards for three years, every agonizing day spent pouring herself into documents and threatening governors and mayors into submitting to her will.

Every kiss she ever gave Baatar, every time she ignored your pleading eyes.

She’s about to give it all up for you and feels panic scrap through her as if it were wrapped in barbed wire and she doesn’t know what to do, her whole body shakes as she looks around at the mess she created.

“We need to get to the fro-” Your eyes widen, trained on something behind her.

“Watch out!” You scream, pushing her out of the way. An icicle bolts through the air, it all seems so slow and yet happens so fast. Kuvira goes stumbling back, barely able to keep herself up, her gaze moved from you during the push so when she hears the sound of you letting out some sort of strangled sound her head whips over to see the icicle lodged in your lower left stomach. Your white shirt begins to turn red as blood spills out. She’s frozen in place as she watches you slowly lift a hand to touch your wound as a pained whimper leaves your lips.

That terrible noise rips her out of her frozen state and she dashes over to hold you as you begin to fall to your knees. When Kuvira looks over to see where the icicle came from she looks into the wide, terrified eyes of one of the rebels. It’s one of the ones you helped free.

Before she can even think of all the ways she’s going to kill that woman you croak out “Vira?” Her gaze flickers back to yours, tears are welling up in your eyes and Kuvira feels the warm blood begin to spill onto her hands.

“I’m gonna save you, gonna find someone to heal you.” Her voice is high pitched and cracking but she doesn’t care. “You are not going to die.” Kuvira looks around for someone to help save you, her one chance at happiness from going up in flames. She feels her vision blur as she desperately turns her head in all directions when it lands on the blue robes of the water benders fighting on Korra’s side.

One of them has to be a healer, she thinks. “I need to lay you down so I can drive,” you grip at her wrist, your eyes widening at the idea of her letting go of you. “It’s the only way I can save you, I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly she doesn’t care about anything but you, her fear of losing control has been replaced with the fear of losing you. She can’t lose you, you're the light in her life and without you, she’ll once more be the abandoned, unlovable ward of Suyin.

She quickly leans down to press a firm kiss to your forehead before gently setting you down in the trunk of the car before clumsily jumping into the front seat and turning the key. The jeep roars to life, the only problem is how her pathway is blocked.

Kuvira stands in her seat and pulls two large walls from the earth, soldiers stumble out of the way as she pushes it through the battlefield, offering a small, clear pathway for her to drive through. She floors it and hears you groaning in the background, causing her to grip the steering wheel harder.

Her hands keep slipping from being soaked in your blood, she fights with all her might to not look down at them, knowing she needs to focus on the road ahead. Her wall ends halfway so with one hand she bends two walls again, it takes a bit longer and these walls are much shorter and less sturdy but it does the trick.

Suddenly Korra appears at the end of the pathway, her hands once lit with fire extinguish at the frantic look on Kuvira’s face. She makes it to the end of the pathway, Korra jumps out of the way as Kuvira slams her foot on the brakes. The car comes to a screeching halt and without a second to lose Kuvira is scrambling out of the front seat to where she left you.

Kuvira lets out a loud, strangled sob at the sight before her. Your skin is so pale and there’s so much blood, the floor of the trunk is coated in the deep red and Kuvira bites back a sob. You look up at her, softly saying “Vira?”

Kuvira’s wet hands go to rest on your cheeks, she looks up at Korra and screams “I need a healer!” Her scream snaps Korra out of her daze and she rushes over to the jeep, when she opens the door of the trunk and sees blood begin to trickle off the edge, her heart drops.

She’s never met you before but Suyin told her enough to know you're the one who helped them. She climbs into the truck, her brown pants slowly sticking to her skin from the blood.

The icicle has melted now, leaving in its wake a gaping hole as she summons water from one of the vats they brought for the benders and encases her hands in it. She’s only ever healed herself and it was never something so severe.

“Please,” Kuvira says to the avatar, her wet words scraping out of her throat as she continues to cry. “Please save her.” Korra nods, keeping her gaze on your wound as her hands begin to glow and hover over the gaping hole.

Neither of them notices how the fight has halted, Kuvira’s soldiers waiting for her to end the avatar due to how close they are. Their leader begins to sob as she desperately holds your neck so she can lift your head and set it on her lap. The metal probably isn’t very comfortable. Your cheeks and neck now have bloody handprints on them as Kuvira repeats like a mantra “You’ll be fine, you’re gonna be fine. I love you so much, you’re gonna live.”

Korra calls over her shoulder “I need another healer!” Two waterbenders rush over, water already bent around their hands as they climb up to help. All of their hands glow as they hover over your wound, “she’s lost a lot of blood” one of them says to the other.

“Just fix it!” Kuvira demands, her heart dropping at his comment, neither of them acknowledges her as they continue to work on her soulmate, one of your hands weakly grab at her wrist so she’ll look at you, her gaze snaps to yours and she softens in an instant. “Everything’s gonna be okay, my love. Okay?”

“Okay,” you weakly reply. Kuvira rests her forehead against your own, trying to keep from screaming out. “I love you, Vira.”

“I love you too, y/n. I love you so much.” She continues to repeat herself, you look up into her eyes with a small, adoring smile.

It feels like hours go by as they work on you. Whilst the three water tribe members try to save your life, Suyin walks up with a solemn look on her face. “You need to end this, Kuvira.”

Her eyes pull away from yours to look into those of Suyin’s and she angrily spits out “I don’t care, end it. So long as Y/n lives I don’t care.” Her men at the very front of her army hear her though and all let out differing noises of surprise. “I surrender.”

Suyin begins to spit out orders on how to arrest her men, she sends the other Beifongs back to Zaofu to clean up Kuvira’s mess whilst everyone else stays on the battlefield to help her arrest and detain the earth empire loyalists. Kuvira places a kiss on your forehead and closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to watch it all be ripped from her, she focuses on your breathing as she tunes out the youngest Beifong sister.

Every once in a while you groan out in pain and Kuvira’s heart clenches with fear each time. “We’ve done all we can for now,” Korra says softly from behind her. Kuvira looks over her shoulder at the Avatar and sees Suyin walk up to the edge of the trunk with her arms crossed over her chest. “You can send me away to prison once she’s better, just don’t take me away from her just yet.”

“I made a promise to Y/n and I may not like it but I will stand by it. By ending this war you will be put under house arrest, we need Y/n awake before we can do that though.” Suyin sighs, Kuvira’s gaze shifts to your own at Suyin’s words but she finds them shut.

Frantically, fearful that you won’t ever wake up, she places two fingers on your pulse. It’s weak, but there. “She’s just sleeping, she’ll need lots of it.”

“Y/n said she’ll choose the city for herself, for now, we’ll need to cuff you and take the both of you back to Zaofu so she can get the rest she needs.”

She pulls your body up and into her arms so she can hold you, your head lulls onto her shoulder and you let out a soft groan at the movement.

She places a kiss on your forehead and closes her eyes as she hears orders being given by the younger Beifong sister. She doesn’t listen, too focused on your breathing to care. She has willingly given up her army for you, and she’d do it again if it means saving your life.

#kuvira #kuvira x reader #kuvira/reader #kuvira fanfic #lok fanfic #legend of korra fanfic #legend of korra #lok #fanfic #the great divide

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re-diesirae · 4 years ago

Text

13. Chris

Irritation was beyond what Chris was currently feeling. He and the Alpha team had been preparing to leave for Leon's location point when the second wave of B.O.W.s attacked the city. The emergency call required their immediate response, and the Alpha team's departure was pushed back, much to Chris dismay. His sister was somewhere in the middle of nowhere at the other side of the planet, most likely in great danger, and the damn mutants were preventing him from going to her rescue.

The second wave of attacks was on a bigger scale than the first one, but with the civilians evacuated, B.S.A.A had received permission to use any force necessary to stop the attackers. The city got engulfed in a sea of fire and destruction that brought him a bunch of bad memories, and what he hated the most was that his little sister would return to find her home destroyed.

"Fuck those terrorists," Barry's annoyed growl sounded somewhere close to his side. They had barricaded themselves in a building as they shot a horde of j'avo that had decided to open fire on them, "Can't I just throw them a grenade and end with their pathetic zombie asses?"

"More like mutant, insect asses, Barry," Jill corrected him.

"Who cares? It is all the same to me..."

"What's our status?" Chris groaned as he replaced the cartridge of his machine gun.

"Surrounded. These bastards won't give us a break," Jill replied.

"Have they ever done such a thing?" Barry spitted in annoyance.

"Get down...I'm using one of these."

Following a previous suggestion from Barry, Chris pulled off one of the grenade's security locks and threw it against the j'avos. The thing exploded, sending the foes flying in pieces.

"Well, that surely worked," Jill approved.

"Yeah, why didn't we do that from the beginning?" Barry growled.

Chris was about to articulate a response to that when the sizzling of his radio interrupted him in mid-sentence.

"HQ to Redfield, do you copy?"

"Redfield here."

"Redfield, a large scale B.O.W has been spotted north from your position. We sent the Betta team to size it, but we lost contact with them 10 minutes ago. We need you and Alpha Team to check on the situation."

"Understood. We will take a look. Redfield out."

Chris pushed his radio back into his utility belt and turned to the rest of the team. Barry looked at him and shook his head grumpily.

"So we get to do babysitting, huh?" Barry sighed, "Soldiers these days are useless."

"You sound like a cranky old man, Barry..." Jill teased.

"I'm stating a fact. I don't remember our men being such a joke when we started at this..."

"Not everyone can be like you or Chris, Barry."

"I should suggest some new training plans when this shit is over..."

" I am sure there are a lot of things we can do when this shit is over. For now, let's deal with this crap first. I still got to get Claire back."

"Relax, big brother. Claire is a tough cookie who knows how to take care of herself. The girl has survived three zombie apocalypses" Barry chuckled, "She might even be tougher than you despite being a girl."

"Hey, don't underestimate a woman," Jill smirked, faking an offended glare.

"Of course, I do not. Don't forget that I live surrounded by four. I am always on the losing side..."

Jill laughed, imagining how life in the Burton house probably was.

"Either way, Barry is right, Claire won't die so easily, she's a Redfield, and Redfields are hard to kill."

"And don't forget Kennedy is with her," Jill added.

"Yeah, I bet Kennedy will take care of her," Barry nodded, "So let's focus on cleaning up the city, shall we?"

"Huh," Jill snorted, "When Claire comes back and finds this mess, she won't be too happy with you, Chris."

Chris snorted. He could picture Claire's pissed look as she complained about him rushing to rescue her and leaving her beloved city at the mercy of a B.O.W. attack. Jill was right, Claire would be angry at him, and he knew better than to provoke his little sister's fury.

"Well then, let's clean up this city. If there is anything I fear in this world, that is Claire when she's angry."

He wasn't lying, and he found it amusing. He could face a war, survive a zombie apocalypse, fight horrifying mutants, and yet, Chris couldn't stand his sister's glare, tears, or anything she did to persuade him. Barry had always laughed, saying that he had a sister complex, but more than a sister complex, it was a soft spot for her. She was his baby-sister no matter how old she grew, and she had certain privileges that no one else in the world would ever get from him.

"Heh, I wonder how scary can the little Redfield be if she can make the almighty Chris Redfield scared., Barry laughed, "Is she that scary? I've never seen her mad."

"That's because she's the sort of woman who wouldn't get mad unless you did something truly despicable," Chris commented.

"Ow...and what exactly did you do to anger her?" Jill asked curiously.

"I am her brother. I am an exception. She always gets mad at me at the minimal thing," he said as he shot a couple of mutated j'avos that had been chasing them.

"So, you get the privilege to feel her anger for small things," Barry asked, shooting another group of infected, "I don't envy you at all, pal, and wait till you get married. Your wife will team up with Claire and make you miserable. I know what I tell you. When my girls team up against me, it is worse than fighting off zombies."

Chris wondered about that. He couldn't imagine how bad that would be, and he heard Jill amused laugh.

"This might be the first time I'll see Chris scared at all."

The two soldiers broke into a fit of laughter, and Chris rolled his eyes.

"You two….stop it already." Chris growled grumpily, "Focus on the mission!"

"Well, excuse me for trying to lighten the mood," Barry said with a chuckle," "I think this is the place," Jill said, checking her intel.

Chris looked around. The place was deadly quiet, and there were no signs of the soldiers or zombies. He signaled Jill and Barry to be alert, and both of them nodded as they took a position with their weapons ready. Chris walked into the place, looking around with his gun raised. So far, there were no signs of the B.O.W., but he noticed something lying a couple of feet from him.

"Redfield here. I've found the members of Team Betta. The situation is bad. I'll look for survivors."

"Understood, be careful, team Alpha."

Chris walked cautiously around the bodies, feeling disgusted. It looked like a slaughterhouse; something had torn the soldiers into pieces, and their body parts laid scattered all over the place. It was a massacre and a horrendous one. Chris was sad to say it, but he doubted that there were any survivors from Team Betta.

"Chris, watch out!" Jill's voice shouted out of sudden.

Chris turned around in time to dodge a reddish blur that jumped over him. The man rolled over his side and got back up with his gun raised. He shot the B.O.W. that had just attacked him, and he could hear Barry and Jill shooting, too.

"Watch out! I think this thing might be the one who slaughtered the whole Betta team."

The creature roared and vanished into the surrounding darkness.

"What the fuck is that thing?" Barry growled.

"I have no idea," Chris said, reloading his gun, "but I don't think it is good news. Alpha Team to HQ, do you copy?"

"This is HQ. We hear you, Alpha Team."

"We have a situation," Chris said, aiming his gun. He could hear something moving around them, but he could not see it. "Unknown B.O.W. Most-likely, the one responsible for Betta Team's slaughter. Requesting back-up."

"Copied. Hang on in there, Alpha team."

There was a screech, and the red blur jumped out of the shadows, trying to tackle them. The trio rolled over and evaded it.

"What the fuck?" Barry said, shooting.

Chris had no idea what it was, either. The creature in front of them was something they had never encountered before. It looked like a giant meaty caterpillar with four long paws that ended in curling tentacles. There was a long slash on its face, filled by long yellowish fangs. The drool was dripping disgustingly from it. The three of them were shooting endless at it as the thing jumped from a wall to the other, roaring.

The trio rolled over the ground dodging the whipping tentacles. The creature, despite lacking eyes, was easily tracking their movements. Chris had showered the meaty body with a wave of bullets, but the thing didn't seem to be affected. The creature roared once more, showing the second row of yellow fangs and a bifid black tongue.

"What an ugly face. Makes me wanna punch it."

"You are welcome to blow it up, Barry," Jill said.

"Heh..thought you'd never say it."

Barry pulled out one of his grenades and threw it into the B.O.W. The first grenade barely missed the creature, but the explosion effect managed to hurt it and throw it on the ground. Taking advantage of its vulnerable position, Barry threw a second grenade directly at it as Jill and Chris kept shooting at it. The explosion raised an intense flame, and when the fumes had dissipated, the monster laid dead and half scorched.

"Well, there you have it. Nothing can do against a well-aimed grenade... "

"What the hell is this thing?" Jill said with a disgusted look.

"Guess it is Neo-Umbrella's new toy, " Chris said, kicking the corpse to take a look. "Team Alpha here. We took down the B.O.W that attacked Betta Team. It's been taken care of, but we found no survivors."

"Those are unfortunate news. Understood, team Alpha. Return to HQ, let clean-up to the back-up team. You've received new additional orders."

"What new orders, sir? If I may ask..." Jill said, looking at Chris with a frown.

"We've received intel from a member from the F.O.S, concerning the location of agent Kennedy. The place might be testing grounds for developing B.O.W.s"

"Just great, another Santa's factory of B.O.W." Barry mumbled bitterly. Chris knew the man was still bothered by what had happened to his daughter two years ago. Heck, he was mad, too. They had taken Claire once, and they had taken her again and right under his nose. Those fucking bastards would have to pay.

"You've been ordered to rescue and investigate the place. An aircraft is waiting for you at the power building. You are to depart asap."

"Understood. We are on our way."

Chris looked at his companions. His face twisted in an angry look. Those damned terrorists would pay if they touched a single hair of his sister, and he wasn't kidding.

"Leon...Claire. We are coming for you."

NOTE: if you guys want to come and chat about the fic, or just about CLEON in general. Feel free to drop by the discord and say hi! JOIN SERVER

#Resident Evil #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #Cleon #claire redfield #claire x leon #leon s kennedy #leon x claire #chris redfield

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hailbop1701 · 4 years ago

Text

Only The Beginning

Chapter 4: My Bad...

Alas, another filler chapter. The reader finally meets Dorian! The bickering and fluff is on point my friends and I hope I got enough tension in there for you. If not there will definitely be more in coming chapters!

Thank you to my lovely Beta Reader @toppysammy! 🥰

-H❤🖖

John’s grip is tight on your upper arm. Wincing slightly, you allow him to lead you over to his car. A handsome-looking android casually leans up against the passenger side door with his arms crossed. He looks at you curiously, obviously scanning you for ID; you give him a little smile when he doesn't come up with anything. John yanks open the backseat and shoves you in.

“Rude,” you mutter, straightening in your seat and pulling your messenger bag close. Looking into the bag, you check on the heavy drive that is nestled inside. It has a small crack but otherwise is undamaged. Sighing in relief, you blow a strand of hair out of your face. Both car doors open up in front and the two detectives get in, bickering.

“Come on, John, you can’t be serious.”

“You heard what they said; rogue android turned on the security team.”

At that, you sink down in your seat feeling more guilty than before. John’s android partner rolls his electric blue eyes. “Security," he scoffs, "more like black market mercenaries. One of those men had a rap sheet longer than your attention span,”

You choke on a laugh as John sputters and glares at the DRN; you had heard about this model, but it's a wholly different experience to meet one. John shoots you a hard look in the rearview mirror.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?” he barks, turning around in his seat so he can fully scowl at you. Clearing your throat, you think over your words carefully. To give yourself more time, you hold out a hand and introduce yourself to John’s partner.

“I’m John's friend--” you glance at said man; he's losing patience. Grimacing, you amend, “I think…”

The android smiles kindly and takes your hand, “Dorian, John’s partner.” His deep and polite voice puts you at ease.

Pulling your hand away, you look back at your angry best friend warily. You mull over what happened for a second before opening your mouth to explain, “Well, I figured out what happened to Julia Lawson, and it wasn’t suicide,” you jerk your head in the direction of the building.

“The creepy death squad murdered her and staged it to look like a suicide. Which, by the way, was completely obvious; they did a horrible job. Whoever had the case was paid off to keep it clean-cut and closed."

Both men in the front seat looked shocked. “You mean you figured this out in, what, three hours?” John asks with a raised eyebrow. You simply shrug, “I have no red tape I have to constantly cut through. I talked to Julie's brother; he told me what I needed to know and I figured out the rest by using the internet. Breaking in was easy--”

John cuts you off mid-sentence with a warning. He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing out his frustration. Dorian looks at you like you're an entirely new species; fascination, amusement, and disquiet all flick across his face. Biting the inside of your cheek, you watch the two carefully.

“Look, Julie stumbled upon something very big and I think you should know about it,” you offer, holding out your bag like an olive branch. John watches you closely for a moment before taking the bag and looking inside.

“A hard drive?” he asks skeptically, pulling it out and handing it over to Dorian to peruse. You shrug and gave a smirk, “I downloaded everything I needed on to that thing; Julie’s ‘suicide,' who ordered it, and the plans Julie overheard that caused her death in the first place.”

Dorian plugs into the drive and the more information he obtains, the deeper his frown gets. “This is very...wrong,” he says with a wrinkle of his nose.

You grimace, “Yeah, I forgot about that part; it’s also about Speartips. Horrible name for a private tech company by the way; it's the CEO getting down and dirty with underage interns and paying them extra to keep quiet.”

Dorian stops looking through the drive and hands it back to John without a word. The android’s eyes are as hard as his partner's. John looks back to you, anger still in his gaze. Sighing, your shoulders slump. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t mean to get caught by the mercs. The android was a new addition,” you defend quickly.

“You threw him out a window,” John points out, losing patience with you.

You throw up your hands, “HE started it! At least his body didn’t hit anyone."

John groans and shakes his head, “Pushing anybody off the fortieth-something floor is bad!” he scolds, starting the car. You scowl at John and cross your arms childishly, “Well, I didn’t like getting choked out. I panicked."

John winces at your words, his posture changing from tense and angry to sad and sympathetic. “I’m sorry, I know you wouldn’t have done any of that if you didn’t have to,”

Dorian’s attention jumps back and forth between you and John, his eyes widening as he connects the dots. “You’re the one who--” he cuts himself off and looks at his human partner.

John sighs heavily and taps his thumb against the steering wheel anxiously, “This is where the whole trusting me thing comes in.” He looks over at the DRN pleadingly. Dorian stares at John for a nano-second before nodding and keeping silent about the whole thing. He was no doubt currently wiping your presence from everything involving what just happened. From camera feeds to bystanders, taking pictures and selfies of the chaos.

“I really am sorry,” you mumble, feeling guilty for more than just putting John in the position that he's now in. Your best friend looks at you in his rearview mirror.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, his shoulders slump just a touch. “I know. You’ve been away from people--well, civilian people for a while. You have to be more subtle from now on, though, alright?”

You grimace at John’s words but nod anyway, agreeing to what he's saying. This is his home after all. He built a life here; and here you were, wreaking havoc in that home like a maniac.

“What now?” you say in a voice just slightly above a whisper. Dorian glances over at his partner, wondering the exact same thing. John purses his lips as he drives through the city. You can’t help your wry smile in response; he always makes that face when he is thinking hard about something.

“We should get you settled into a place. I’ve been keeping an eye out and I got a message from a buddy of mine. There’s a little apartment right near where I live,” he says, handing his phone over to Dorian, who downloads the directions and information.

“I guess you do want your bed back, huh?” you ask with a slight chuckle. John huffs and nods, “My couch is great and all, but it does get a bit uncomfortable after a while,” he mutters with a wrinkle of his nose.

Dorian smirks, “That explains the changes to your sleeping pattern,” he muses, making John scowl. “How many damn times--” he hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at the android only to be cut off by your snort of laughter.

John’s lips twitch upward at the sound, the tense atmosphere of the car lifting as the car crawls through city traffic. “So, Dorian, has John ever told you the story about how he became addicted to noodles?”

You immediately have the DRN’s full attention; John sputters from the driver’s seat unsuccessfully, trying to shush you.

“Well, you see, it all started when he and I traveled to China and we stumbled across this little mom-and-pop shop. The food there was to die for, what was it called…” you trail off, trying to picture the little restaurant in your mind.

“Little Bo’s.” John supplies with a fond smile.

You snap your fingers, grinning from ear to ear, “Little Bo’s! Oh, my gosh, they had some damn good food, and the owner was so sweet; she tried her best to teach John how to use chopsticks.”

Dorian chuckles, “He still can’t use them,” he whispers none-too-quietly.

John shoots him an offended look, “I can too!” he yells indignantly.

Dorian rolls his eyes. “Not very well.” he mutters, ignoring John’s slight pout. You giggle and gently squeeze John’s bicep.

“Maybe when I get settled, I’ll make you dinner,” you offer sincerely. You yelp when John suddenly hits the brakes and looks back at you with wide eyes.

“Seriously?” he asks with a grin. You snort and nod. Dorian looks bemused at the action and his jaw practically drops when John holds out his pinky for yours. Grinning, you seal the promise.

“Just let me know what you wa--”

“Chicken and dumplings," he answers immediately.

You snicker at the quick response. “I should have known,” you sigh with a shake of your head.

Dorian is at a loss for words; he tries multiple times to add something but he can’t. He’s never seen his partner this relaxed and happy before (despite today’s events) and it's odd. However, it's a good kind of odd. John deserves happiness and that’s what you seem to make him.

Just friends, Dorian mentally scoffs, smiling to himself as you and John bicker about the best dishes you've made in the past. Something deep within Dorian’s circuits says that someday you’ll end up being so much more. The heated discussion becomes a bit louder and suddenly changes to whose fault it was in burning down a rental in Rio.

Dorian sighs. Maybe not today, but someday, he thinks ruefully before verbally stepping in to divulge how John once ate a slug in hopes to not offend an old Japanese man.

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"Only The Beginning" :

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creativedumpyard · 3 years ago

Text

The Emperors Finest

// a small tribute to a long gone campaign

Shah looked upon his Warriors. He was proud of them. He loved them all. The Squad of the Khornate Astartes, lead by the madman Loup always willing the destroy and murder.

Idawask Liskis men were just as bloodthirsty, although they were able to follow more than just the simplest commands.

His eyes fixed upon the newest recruits of his small contingent of warriors. A man named Nemelek and his ramshackle bunch of Heretics and renegades alike. They still had to show their worth. The leader of their crusade, Grand champion Tissav Kak just recently send these men to his command. Shah smiled, his perfect white teeth shone. They would make a fine addition to his plans.

His right hand Apollius cleared his throat. Shah ripped free from his entangling vision of greatness and started to speak to his underlings. “Welcome, my brothers! Welcome to another day of the Siege of this godforsaken Planet. We have taken City by City. Fortress by fortress. Now only this bestial Walled City is between us, and the Victory we so dearly crave! Cindar shall be ours, claimed for the Dark Gods!” As he spoke of Victory, an almost predatory smile sneaked on his face. Only to be immediately to be extinguished and replaced by a more heartfelt version.

“The grand champion, blessings on thy name, wants us to go in hard and fast. The main forces will be waiting in the north east, while we concluded a fast blow to the few remaining Void-Shield Generators! There will be resistance, but we assume that the most of them will be stationed closer to the North eastern gates.” Shah paused a moment. His Warriors seemed ready. “Loup, you will be going to head to the Gates. I have full trust in your ability to crush the resistance there. My personal squad and I will be behind you.” Loup and his bloody-red Men screamed and held their Chainaxes up high.

“Idawask, you will be going south over the wall. And the new Squad of brother Nemelek will be doing the same Maneuver in the east. All of you will be supplied Jump-packs for this Mission, but be careful not to damage them! We will start in about an hour, as soon as the Main forces resume the Shelling. Get Ready!”

He quickly punched his chest plate with his right fist and turned around. He still had some planning to do and no time to waste.

The gathering thinned. The Khornates were already running hot.

Nemelek turned to his newly assembled squad. He wasn't quite sure as what to make of his new position or the people he now lead into battle. There was the Beautiful Blood Angel renegade Cassiel. He was an excellent fighter that used an giant Eviscerator. Most of his red Armour still had emblems of his past. Just his Aquila was scratched and painted over with a black Chaos-cross. Nemelek wasn't too sure about why Cassiel joined the forces of chaos, but he was eager to prove himself. He was more concerned about the slow Nurgle Marine and the Slaaneshi Swordsman with the Insane Eyes. While the Nurgle Marine Ogmha Inititium was a Psyker and thus was extremely effective in battle, he was way too relaxed and always seemed to take this Siege more as a personal Hike.

The Slaneeshi pledged Astartes was just quite the Handful. Flavian Charosean did not enjoy getting commands. He had a slight tendency to go off course if it meant his personal recreation. And one could only assume what that meant, coming from the Emperors Children and their Offspring. A long Whip made from a stiff, Fleshy substance protruded from his left forearm. It ended in sharp hooks and tiny blades. Sometimes it almost seemed to move too quick or too agile to be just a weapon.

The last one was Venatus. A Nightlord far away from his usual legion or tactics. So far he had proven somewhat reliable. Venatus already had a Jump-pack, a longer and slimmer design with numerous silver arcs of metal lightning engraved on it. While Nemelek witnessed what cruelties this man was capable of doing, he seemed content with sitting in the dirt and cleaning his Bolter for now. He cleared his throat.

“Get to the Armory, I want all of you ready and with a Jump-pack in half an hour!”

Flavian and Cassiel rushed off to get their hands on better quality Jump-packs. Ogmha was slowly walking in the general direction of the armory, completely ignoring time limits.

“Lucky that you already have yours, huh?”, Nemelek said to Venatus. The Nightlord stopped cleaning his rifle for a second but resumed without even looking up. Nemelek shook his head slightly and went to get himself an Jump-pack as well. He had seen how bad some of those were in shape and he didn't want his to fail mid flight.

Nemelek stood on a burned out Chimera Tank. From this slightly elevated Position he was able to see the City in its full might, the sprawling gun towers on the walls, the trenches dug up before and the tiny dots of busy commute in between that were the defenders. He turned to check if his squad was ready. All stood ready, equipped with the Jump-packs. Flavian was already getting bored and flinging is sword through the air.

“Squad! Move out!” Nemelek jumped down from the Wreckage and activated his Power fist.

Since their Mission was not to clear the trenches, they jumped over them using the fire from their jet-engines. The Human defenders were largely too shocked or too scared to shoot at them. But sometimes Laser beams or bullets darted in their general direction. Their short jumps carried them far over the battlefield in mere minutes. Soon after they arrived at the Wall. Massive overhanging gun nests opened fire on them. Before the Gunners had time to properly take aim, Ogmha stepped to the front and held up his staff. He gestured with the bony, nauseating excuse for a Wooden staff and a bubbling green shield of psychic energy surrounded them in an instant. Bullets and lazers bounced off or evaporated. Nemelek voxed to his squad, “Ogmha and Venatus you take take of the gunners on the wall. Flavian, Cassiel and I will jump over and secure the other side”.

As he flew high on his howling engines, Nemelek saw that the inner wall was spiked with stairs and ammunition cranes. Then came a street, broad enough to fit several tanks with ease. Behind the street were a few warehouses as well as small bunkers and living quarters for the less fortunate civilian. A few blocks to his right he could see an opening in the buildings. Another thick gray wall with ugly fortifications climbed up high.

The bigger street to his left was his landing spot. Cassiel landed a few meters in front of him, Flavian further to his left on a small house. In this exact moment more armed forces streamed into the street from the inner city. They opened fire just a few moments later. Laser beams darting all around the Space Marines as they ran into cover. “Cassiel, go right. Flavian, jump into their left flank!” He saw Cassiel's Helmet head turn in his direction and nod. The Man let his Eviscerator scream with blood lust and anger as he flew a short arc to meet the first of the attackers. Effortlessly parting body parts and killing two men that stood too close to each other in a single blow.

Flavian cackled as He swung his Whip up high, crashing it down into a soldier, freeing him of clothing and skin alike. His victim had no time to scream in agony before the long silver blade of the Slaaneshi split open his torso up to is nose.

Nemelek used his Bolter effortlessly. Splattering blood and entrails through the ranks of the advancing Soldiers. The shock of the attack let the Mortals forget about morale and discipline. They opened up their formation to flee into cover. Unfocused Las fire punched through the air around the advancing Astartes, but their ceramite armor deflected the shots. Not more than small smoldering chips in the paint was all that stayed.

The street emptied after the Soldiers dove into Cover. Nemelek was able to see the end of the street where now two Chimera Tanks drove around the corner. “Heads up! We've got Light Tanks ahead!”. His Vox alarm was not necessary as the tanks opened fire immediately. The mounted Heavy bolters posed an actual thread to the Astartes, as well as to any cover that wasn't solid enough. As Nemelek jumped behind a thick half high wall of Ferroconcrete the explosive Shells hammered into the Asphalt where he just stood. These tanks had a higher priority than any of the scared soldiers left behind.

Flavian Reached for his Plasma pistol. A thin cable connected it to his power pack. He felt the Bone and Mother of Pearl decorations on the Grip, the powerful thrumming of the coils. The last Artifact of his Past in the III. Legion. His Jump-pack roared as he flew directly into the small crowd of Soldiers behind some Wreckage that they had used as cover. A few swings with his sword and whip were enough to send half the group to the warp and the other fleeing in terror. His engines roared again and he jumped in a short curve directly at the one of the tanks. The Gunner was still aiming at Nemelek. Far too late he got aware of the danger the violet clad Marine posed. As the Gunner tried to rip the Turret up to meet the new target, Flavian aimed almost based on Instinct and shot his pistol. The searing hot ball of plasma burned the Man and his gun but not before one bolt shell exploded on his pauldron, ripping him around. Flavian crashed, loudly swearing, into the pavement. He jumped to his feet the moment the ramp of the chimera lowered itself and more Human soldiers ran out into the open. “Filth! How dare you shoot at ME?” He screamed at the top of his Lungs while charging forward. While the Imperial standard Las-rifle is a good medium range weapon, it was never truly suited for close combat situations. None of the soldiers even stood a chance against a genetically enhanced warrior of the Adeptus Astartes. Sword met flak armor and sliced it apart. Blood and entrails spilled to the floor, as Flavian focused on his blade to agonize instead to kill. His whip sliced through the skin, ripping apart faces as well as disarming the few that tried to draw combat knives. Just a few seconds later and no mortal was left standing, most of them winding and crying at the feet of the Ceramite Monster. To fulfill his quest of destroying the tank, Flavian unhooked a Krak Grenade and threw it into the still open crew department of the tank. As it exploded, the blast broke through the thin inner armor and annihilated the Driver and the engine alike.

Cassiel was already weeding out the humans behind their fortifications. His massive chain sword cleaving bone as well as metal. When Nemeleks warning came, he already scanned to area for more targets. He was way closer to one of the tanks as he rolled onto the plaza. The Chimeras gunner turned the massive gun towards him, but Cassiel was already charging at the tank. His anger fiery hot in his chest, about to overtake his senses. In a short burst of energy from his back engines, Cassiel threw himself atop the tank, just behind the gunner. The man let go of the turret and stared in horror at the massive red angel looming over him. His Eviscerator catching the man atop his head and striking down, halving him along his spine. As the blood rippled against his helmet and stuck to his hands, Cassiel roared. Using his strength he leaned into the Chain-sword to slowly cut into the armor of the tank. The metal screamed and sparks flew, darting around him like small angry insects. With Blood lust he hacked his way into the Drivers chassis and disabled the tank by leaving nothing unbroken and no-one alive.

Flavian closed in on the Tank that got tortured by his furious cousin. He inspected the damage with childish glee and a bit of envy. “By the Mother! You are really a Danger to behold, Cassiel.” He turned to the still furiously hacking and slashing Man. “Cassiel! The Tank is done and so is the crew. You can stop it now?!” He said, raising his voice so that he could be heard over the clash of metal.

Cassiel turned. His shoulders squared and his head held low he assumed a vicious combat stance when he sighted the Slaaneshi. Immediately sensing the hostile intend, Flavian stepped back in confusion. Did he just offend Cassiel? “Cassiel? Are you alright?...I mean I- I didn't want to offend ..” But before he could finish the question, Cassiel roared and stormed at him, Eviscerator held up high. Flavian was shocked and reacted almost too slow, parrying the massive chain sword with an unusually crude flick of his Sword. But the Red Angel did not stop, hacking and slashing at the confused team member. Flavian was put into a defensive position that he did not enjoy.

“CASSIEL! By the Gods, what are you doing? STO- STOP IT”

Flavian was confused by the sudden aggressive action, as well as the pure Blood lust the he felt in every strike.

#warhammer #writing

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thecreaturecodex · 5 years ago

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Primal Inevitable, Safitsel

“Platinum Emperion” © Wizards of the Coast, by Chris Rahn. Accessed at InPrnt here

[Commissioned by @wyvernrider101. As far as I know, this is the first appearance of a stat block for a primal inevitable, which were a relatively late addition to PFRPG canon. The flavor text here is inspired by Concordance of Rivals, which states that most of the primal inevitables designed to fight in the Chaos War are dead, to the point that some of them represent concepts that are entirely lost to reality.]

Primal Inevitable, Safitsel CR 26 LN Outsider This humanoid titan appears as a gleaming statue of silvery metal, broad-shouldered and armor plated. A single eye glows in the center of its forehead, and a similar core is set in the center of its chest. It clutches a double weapon, with an axe head on one side and a spear point on the other.

Safitsel, the First Forged, Wardeneye Concerns defense, vigilance, fortifications Domains Law, Protection, Strength, War Subdomains Defense, Inevitable, Resolve, Tactics Worshipers architects, guardians, soldiers Minions inevitables, golems, lawful dragons Holy Symbol a single eye over a wall Favored Weapon dwarven urgrosh Obedience stand watch over your home, encampment or allies for 1 hour. Make a detailed report of everything you have seen, no matter how trivial. Gain a +4 sacred bonus on all Perception and Sense Motive checks. Boons 1: Bulwark of Defense (Sp) shield of faith 3/day, see invisibility 2/day or magic vestment 1/day 2: Hold the Line (Ex) The DC to successfully move past or through your square with Acrobatics increases by a number equal to your character level. You qualify for the Disruptive feat and other feats in that chain even if you are not a fighter. 3: Selective Interdiction (Su) As a swift action, you can radiate an aura in a 30 foot radius that blocks teleportation effects, as per a dimensional lock, except that you and your allies may ignore this effect. You may use this aura for 1 minute per character level, breaking up this duration in 1 minute increments as you see fit.

Legend states that Safitsel was the first inevitable ever constructed. As the forces of chaos made plans to seize Axis, the axiomites crafted a single giant of platinum and quintessence, who helped to construct an entire army of inevitable soldiers and build fortifications to defend the Eternal City. Although greater primal inevitables were created during the Chaos War, and many of them fell in battle, Safitsel continued to work in the background, shoring up defenses, securing tactical advantages and leading counterattacks.

Safitsel rarely battles mortals, instead turning their attentions to the constant incursions of proteans into Axis. Their presence disrupts teleportation and summoning only for hostile creatures, granting the inevitables precious seconds to mobilize and call reinforcements. They wield an immense urgrosh, and those dwarves that wield this weapon do so in homage to its efficacy on the battlegrounds of Law. They may also act as a siege weapon, firing a concentrated blast of crushing metal into the ranks of the enemy.

Safitsel has little interest in pomp or theatrics, and his cult among mortals is similarly no-nonsense. Their worshipers do not build dedicated temples, instead crafting small shrines in the temples of other lawful entities or academy settings. Most of their followers combine an interest in warfare with a keen intellect, and they are popular among engineers, architects and learned soldiers. Safistsel’s teaching is that the best offense is a good defense, and rarely considers proactive warfare a valid strategy. Some other divinities of war see their teachings as stogy and reactionary, but the truth of the matter is that Safitsel has endured while other powers have waxed and waned.

Safitsel CR 26 XP 2,457,600 LN Gargantuan outsider (extraplanar, inevitable, law) Init +20; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +53, true seeing Aura interdiction (60 ft.), shield of law (DC 27) Defense AC 45, touch 25, flat-footed 42 (-4 size, +4 Dex, +4 deflection, +12 insight, +19 natural) hp 615 (30d10+390 plus 60); regeneration 20 (chaotic and epic) Fort +34, Ref +20, Will +33 DR 20/lawful and epic; Resist acid 30, cold 30, electricity 30, fire 30, sonic 30; SR 37 Defensive Abilities constructed, freedom of movement, perfect prediction Offense Speed 50 ft., fly 70 ft. (perfect) Melee +3 defending keen dwarven urgrosh +46/+41/+36/+31 (4d6+22/19-20x3), +3 defending keen dwarven urgosh +46/+41/+36 (3d6+22/19-20x3) or 2 slams +45 (3d10+19) Ranged siege shot +30 (20d6+19 bludgeoning) Space 20 ft.; Reach 20 ft. Special Attacks supreme opportunist Spell-like Abilities CL 26th, concentration +35 Constant—detect chaos, freedom of movement, shield of law (self only), true seeing At will—banishment (DC 25), greater dispel magic, greater teleport, order’s wrath (DC 23), true form (DC 23), wall of iron (DC 24) 3/day—dictum (DC 26), quickened greater dispel magic, greater spell immunity, guards and wards (DC 25), move earth, summon inevitables, wall of force 1/day—freedom, imprisonment (DC 29), mass heal, shield of law (DC 27), wall of suppression Statistics Str 48, Dex 19, Con 38, Int 30, Wis 35, Cha 29 Base Atk +30; CMB +53 (+57 bull rush); CMD 71 (73 vs. bull rush) Feats Awesome Blow, Combat Expertise, Combat Reflexes, Disruptive (B), Double Slice, Greater Bull Rush, Greater Two-Weapon Fighting, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Initiative, Improved Two-Weapon Fighting, Lightning Reflexes, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (greater dispel magic), Spellbreaker (B), Stand Still, Step Up, Two-Weapon Fighting Skills Diplomacy +42, Fly +39, Intimidate +42, Knowledge (dungeoneering, history, religion) +40, Knowledge (arcana, engineering, planes) +43, Linguistics +40, Perception +53, Profession (siege engineer) +, Sense Motive +53, Spellcraft +43, Stealth +25, Survival +53; Racial Modifiers +8 Perception, +8 Sense Motive Languages truespeech, telepathy 300 ft.SQ primal inevitable traits Ecology Environment any (Axis) Organization solitary (unique) Treasure double standard (+3 defending keen/+3 defending keen dwarven urgrosh, other treasure) Special Abilities Interdiction Aura (Su) This functions as a dimensional lock effect in a 60 foot radius of Safitsel, except that Safitsel and their allies may still teleport into and out of the effect. In addition, any enemy attempting to use a summoning spell or effect must succeed a DC 37 caster level check or the spell is lost. Perfect Prediction (Su) Safitsel adds their Wisdom modifier to their AC and initiative as an insight bonus. Primal Inevitable Traits (Ex/Su) Safitsel is a primal inevitable, a quasi-divine being of great power. As such, they gain the following traits

Safitsel can grant spells and has access to domains as per their divine entry above

Safitsel’s natural weapons, as well as any weapons they wield, count as lawful and epic for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction

Regeneration (Ex) Only epic and chaotic damage, or damage from a creature of greater or equal power (such as another quasi-deity) can overcome Safitsel’s regeneration

Resist 30 to acid, cold, electricity, fire and sonic damage

Summon inevitables (Sp) Three times per day as a swift action, Safistsel may summon any inevitable or combination of inevitables whose total combined CR is 20 or lower. This functions as the summon universal monster quality with a 100% chance of success, and counts as a 9th level spell effect.

Telepathy 300 ft.

Siege Shot (Ex) As a standard action, Safitsel may fire a chunk of metal at a single target. This is treated as a ranged attack with a range increment of 200 feet. A target struck takes 20d6+19 points of bludgeoning damage. All creatures and unattended objects in a 10 foot radius of the target take 10d6+9 bludgeoning damage (Ref DC 38 half). This 10 foot radius is considered to be difficult terrain due to the rubble left behind. The save DC is Constitution based. Supreme Opportunist (Ex) Safitsel uses their Wisdom modifier instead of their Dexterity modifier to determine how many attacks of opportunity they may make in a round. In addition, Safitsel deals double damage on any attack of opportunity it makes.

#safitsel #inevitable #primal inevitable #pathfinder 1e #commissions

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grim-faux · 4 years ago

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2 _ 14 _ Some Space and Time

First

The house was simplistic with simplistic places and spaces, with far simplistic items to afford. In his brief scout of the area, nothing stood out immediately that couldn’t already be accounted from the multitude of other residencies he’d gone through. A few large rooms, the smaller rooms, a kitchen, in among a scant few amenities. Of course, the clothing left strewn on a couch or chair, and the televisions – one of which was left in the bathroom. Those devices he made certain stayed inactive, while in the child’s company.

While he continued to browse around the rooms, he left the main entries locked tight and let the child to wander under his own whim. For the time. Only to satisfy any anxiety for the security of the space, given it was larger than the condominium dwellings packed within the skyscrapers, and the living space expansive. Tuning the transmission had not been… as effortless, as it had been in the past. But his careful hand had delivered them to a relatively calm district, this ‘suburban’ territory; activity a minimal, which meant less food stuffs abandoned, and far stranger creatures lurked. The misshapen shadows detached from the Signal Tower still loitered out of distance and didn’t pay much attention to the Broadcaster.

The child was more attuned to threats, than those threats taking notice of a little anomaly pursuing an adult. Even if the Thin Man didn’t account fully of the hazards skulking on the fringes, he always suspected when they were present by the uncharacteristic closeness of the boy.

The Thin Man spied the child once more, creeping out of a clutter filled corridor. A cup clasped between his hands, which he sipped at cautiously. The day clung damp but the sky clear of drop or sprinkle, though a low fog swirled beneath the dense canopy. The kitchen had nothing to offer that was viable, but Mono might try scratching through again just to be certain. He offered a glass of water to preoccupy the child.

“Have you found your place for sleep?” the Thin Man grumbled, as he shut a cabinet door affixed to a bookcase. The child gave him a placid look while tugging the cup to his face. “Child? This is rest. You need it.”

Wearing a new hat, the boy shook his head. He turned and wandered off, slipping through a doorway near the staircase.

This was the mean of reasons why his charge was constantly lethargic and unfocused between actual scores on edibles. Often he was unable to walk straight, unless those aforementioned antagonists lingered too near for comfort, and for a short period the boy perked up. However, the moment the Thin Man identified a location with the prospect of safety, the child was ď̷͙r̸̗̐ï̶͉v̵͍̚e̸̖̽n̴̼͗. It would be a while before Mono actually sat down, and there would be no guarantee he’d shut his eyes let alone lay his head down. Observing this whole event... grated on his strained awareness.

Distantly, the Thin Man could recall the terse instances of resting upright, back pressed to a wall or wedged between two lockers in a school. Mind alert, half sleep, ready to spring at the first sound or sight of something nasty. Only the stylish coat and his paper bag to bar out the chill, the cover made his appearance less child and more debris. Rubbish to overlook by careless seeking eyes. A splint second for him to gather the wasted time, spring away, the precious added seconds to keep ahead of something he didn’t quite know or see – never look back. Don’t stumble. Every speck of a second tallied towards survival.

He gave his head a shake. Those days were gone. Distant, dusty recollections he held no association with.

The lights pulsed in the ceiling as he passed, his shoes clicking gently as he traced his way toward a tattered recliner stationed by a collapsed center table. He set one leg on the edge of the broken furniture and adjusted his posture, only to observe from afar the room he last saw the child skitter into.

“You are to be resting,” he called. “Why ever stop if not rest?”

Not long after his voice was raised, the smaller one made an appearance and came over to the recliner. Very firmly he delivered, “Look. S’careful,” Then as before, tottered off.

The Thin Man slouched and dug his cheek into his knuckles as he sat, watching the child zip up the stairs. “If you become stranded somewhere, don’t whine about it. I am not in the mood.” He debated activating the television on the nightstand, but that would be a poor choice. Any television within range, the boy delivered a longing look when he thought he was not observing.

It was no mystery the child wanted to learn the method to tune the transmission, dictate his way through the static with ease and confidence. Without blowing out the device. When the Thin Man utilized the transmission, the child was always peering, curious and prying. Often the hovering was obnoxious as it was jarring and the Thin Man would be forced to scoot his charge aside, in order to focus through the whirring snow.

The technique for how it was done remained a mystery the Thin Man was reluctant to share, even if Mono would learn in his own time. Inherit might be more appropriate. Most important and difficult to acclimate to was knowing the situation of the receiver television, to which the singular frequency connected. Much harder to do, when traversing long distance and detached from the various units across the city. The Thin Man never chanced a random leap.

While it was quiet, he tipped his hat down and pretended nothing could go wrong. All the while, the child was on the loose rooting for problems.

Upstairs in one doorway among the gloomy scatter of an eroded corridor, soft radiance flashed. In the room a sideways pole lamp offered an interesting diversion, as Mono twisted the switch. It was hard to do, the grooves hurt his palms, but he could do it. It was fascinating. Usually, he had to hit a switch with a dense object or pull a lever.

Briefly, he paused and gave a listen on the air whipping across the roof eaves. A busted window presented an escape if necessary, outside a crooked tree swayed and clacked against the waterlogged walls. Though the location felt bare of threats and catered to a more natural stillness – of the lack of anything rather than something mastering stealth – he remained alert. Always. Becoming too comfortable always brought about a lingering unease, and his heart would pulse erratically. It was normal, Mono just didn't like it.

He plucked up the cup of water and carried it to the side of a bed, slanted across the room at a strange angle. After a tentative sip, he set the cup down and then climbed the ragged mattress and stood on the surface. Adjusting his hat, he gave the room a survey. He heaved a bedsheet over the side, and tugged it down across the floor. This activity made a little cover, and he could hide under the shade provided by the papery thin veil. Under the bed lay a few crumpled boxes and a busted suitcase, additional cover from prying eyes. He made a note of this location.

From the mattress top, he scaled up the grainy wood of the bedpost and perched high on the flattened top. Nothing else of this room caught his fancy, aside from a partially opened closet space. Some shoes and shirts, or other discarded and useless pieces from the previous occupies. Nothing he could make use of.

He let himself down to the mattress, then hoped to the floor. He took his cup and wandered through the hall, ears wary and muscles tense. Through the roof, the foundation, down the walls – the entire structure creaked in a familiar but eerie way. In another place and time where buildings were not dilapidated and on the verge of disintegrating entirely, the noises might be soothing. But he had been in far too many buildings that felt the whisper of a presence and died instantly on top of his head.

He pressed his back against the grainy wood of a door and forced the panel open a few spare inches. Always, he’s careful of the cup in his grasp.

Not much to see in this room, apart from some outside elements decorating the floor, such as leaves and twigs. That was kind of nice and different. Bones of some animal or a person, he’s not sure, there’s not much; those pieces lay in one corner of the room. A short bookcase slouched beside one wall.

Up above, shelves stuck out from the wall. On one, he could define the basket work of a crud nest peeking out.

Despite it not being anywhere within range, Mono set down the cup and climbed onto the bookshelf. If the Thin Man was in a good mood, maybe he would check for eggs. They wouldn’t be his first choice, but he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. There was the stale popcorn, he didn’t blame the Thin Man for not wanting that. He was picky about foods, and that would never cease to irritate Mono.

He made his decision and clambered off the bookshelf. His presence among the rubbish stirred up leaves and dust, but his attention locked onto a steadily drifting thing in the draft. He waved his hand, as he scanned the area and the doorway for movement or eyes. None. Once assured, he brought his focus back to the floating feather. That was neat. If he blew on it, the feather coasted a little higher. So effortless. So carefree.

Gently, he clasped his palms over the feather stem, then, rushed out of the room and scurried down the steps. The Thin Man was still in the big room, maybe rest? Or not. The hat shifted a margin as Mono approached along the side of the chair, not a great amount, but enough to make him dubious. He hoped he wasn’t sleep, but the tall thin man didn't make smoke when sleep. Not always, but sometimes he forgot?

Keeping close to the chair side, he reached out to the furthest his arm could go and tugged the pants leg.

“Please, child.” It was off putting how weary the man in the hat sounded. But Mono had to show him. This was a rare thing.

“Hey,” he hummed. And waved the feather. He tipped his head far back when the lights flickered. “Psst?”

“What?” The Thin Man adjusted his hat and gave Mono some attention. That focus was drawn to the fluffy item, though he didn’t seem enamored by it. He stole his shoe heel from the center table and reached low.

Mono handed off his treasure and waited, titling his head as the Thin Man gave the small, peculiar thing a brief examination. He didn’t know what to do with it, likewise, his expression didn’t break from its indifferent gleam.

“Well, isn’t that magical?” He addressed the child. “Do I keep?”

Mono shook his head and reached out. With palms up, he made grabby motions with his fingers. The Thin Man relented the small find, and Mono took a few steps back. Casting his eyes to the Thin Man to assure he was paying attention, he opened his palms and blew on the feather. He’s pleased to see that the soft item would float down here just as well as it did upstairs. The way it spiraled and twirled with every little puff was his favorite; if he let it alone it drifted, simple and content.

Another puff, and it was sailing above his open arms as leisurely as before. Mono could use his hands to fan it, and that worked almost as well. He could guide the feather this way or that, but he decided most studiously it must never touch the floor. The spectacle of all this would be broken.

“Mage-ik-Al.” Another confident huff sent the feather swirling and coasting sideways.

“Oh, impressive,” the Thin Man spoke, and flicked aside his smoke stick. “I’ll do you one better.”

A little confused and anxious, Mono discarded his instincts and stepped back. The Thin Man reached low and settled a hand beneath the feather, before it could return to him. A faint tingle flashed through the air, not enough to disturb the lights – but the feather! The feather sort of repelled itself upward, without so much as a breath. It gained such a lofty height; Mono couldn’t hope to reach. Couldn’t hope to send it to such summits. Not even the plane could dream so big.

“Tol.” Mono twirled beneath the feathers anticipated trajectory, awestruck. He cast a suspicious glance toward the man in the hat, studying how his hand moved and his fingers swayed. The feather obeyed all suggestion, drifting or dipping, swinging into wide loops as it descended. Mono made certain he was always below, ready to catch in case. That was the game, after all. “How?” He sprang, trying to steal back his treasure. He missed the wide smirk on the Thin Man’s face.

“Trade secret.” This was in the least endearing, and easy to deal with. If the feather were allowed much too low, the child would tense and leapt. He kept it suspended just out of range, even when Mono tried climbing the center table to gain some elevation. Mono didn’t seem upset by this scheme; he was too dazzled by the wonder. The child did little whirls, coat flashing around his knees. Try and try as he might, he couldn’t retrieve the feather.

At last, the boy let his arms flop at his sides and gawked skyward.

“Do you want it back?”

The child nodded, not breaking focus of the winding feather. Utilizing a slight of hand, the Thin Man snatched the feather from midair and swept his hand around the child’s side. The boy wrenched around, tumbling and staggering away from the abrupt intrusion. He retreated a distance from beside the broken table and looked around, and then up.

The Thin Man reeled back his arm and braced his elbow to a knee, he settled his chin on his knuckles and observed. “Aw… did you lose it? It was right there.” Mono spun in place, still searching the floor. “No. No. I see it. It’s right there.” He twirled his other finger around, and pointed. “Try your coat.”

Mono was becoming exasperated. This wasn’t fair. He glared at the Thin Man, aware he was being messed with. The question was, where did he put the feather? Did keep, or what? Something brushed his elbow and he twisted, losing his footing and dropped to one knee. He got up and felt around his shoulders, then his sides. What?!

“Ah. At last, you’ve got it. Bravo.”

Mono hissed. He grabbed the feather, but when he tried to move it out from him, it stuck to his sleeve. He tipped his head, trying to clasp the feather in both hands and relocate it. No such luck. It had a very miniscule but distinctive pull, the plume threads stretched toward him when he swung it away from his coat. As if drawn….

He cast a casual eye toward the Thin Man sitting there, smirking down on him.

“Fix.” He still tried to swing the feather away, run away from it. Throw, and then run away. The feather chased no matter what.

“I don’t think so," snorted the Thin Man. "This is quite amusing.”

Mono went to the Thin Man’s leg and tried to shove the feather against his shin. Naturally, that benefits him to no amount. While backing away and trying to slap the feather off, he gets into a brutal fight with the feather. Swishing his coat, and hoping beyond hope that with enough distance he can dislodge the suspicious force which draws it to him. Anything, but remove his coat. He didn’t like that.

At last, exhausted of all remedies, Mono sat down, and worked for a while on catching his breath. The stupid feather glued to his shoulder, mocking. He let his hat sink over his eyes. Not fair.

“How sullen,” the Thin Man cooed. “But you look so stylish with your new accessory.” He reached out and swept the feather from the child’s shoulder. This time the boy didn’t move, aside from flinch. The feather he took and relocated it to the top of his hat.

Mono pulled the hat down and inspected the damage. He frowned, but resisted the urge to touch or tamper. Instead, he stood and swung his hat down, then with all his might he hurled it straight up. A little delayed, he realized what he had done and dashed aside, arms outstretched to catch his precious treasure. No matter if the feather began haunting him once more.

The Thin Man’s arm lashed out and stole the hat from midfall. Mono let his arms drop and pivoted, regarding the tall thin man. Took his hat.

“If you want these items back,” the Thin Man extracted the feather from the fabric untroubled. “You need to first quiet down and rest. No more play.”

Mono squared his shoulders and clenched his fists. Then, shot off in a silent retreat. He veered toward the offshoot room near the stairs.

With a groan, the Thin Man shifted and flashed, now poised upright. He pocketed the hat and pursued the child. If he had to, he would tie that boy to a table leg or something. “Don’t be this way. This is all excessive, and it is a high risk to your health.”

Upon flashing into the small room, it was in time to witness a brief glimpse from Mono as he stalled at a crumbling gap in the walls base. Then he was gone, vanished into the crevice to who the hell knew where. Typical! “Mono! You little—” He sputtered, clasping his face. He shimmered to the opening already knelt, searching for indication of where this went. The building had definite dimensions, but a crack could lead outside. He feared the child was very likely in a flighty mood.

“If you become lost or hurt, I won’t come find you. Child? Mono! Come here!” The walls vibrated with his agitation. Difficult, stubborn, poor sport of a fool. “Do you hear me? Come out now, or I will leave.” No indication, and the transmission was faint. Somewhere in the vicinity, but no specifics from where the child sought shelter. And he was not going to dig the child out from rotten plaster or tinder.

The Thin man was tempted to kick the wall, or something else. Instead, he spun away and abandoned the entire situation. “So be it,” he announced. Taking leisurely strides through the corridor, and to the back entry they initially entered through. No sign or sound of the child, as anticipated. However, he did pick up traces of the transmission frequency. From somewhere….

He set his hand on the door's handle and cast a view back. From a closet in the corridor, the faint movement of something whisked out of view.

“Mono,” the Thin Man rumbled, with barely restrained irritation. “I won’t speek again. You. Come here.” No hint of movement, and of course not a sound. “Last warning. Either you come here, or I leave.” He inched the door latch down.

At last, the boy barreled into view. Upon spying how close the Thin Man was to departing, he hurried his steps. A different hat adorned his head, and it covered his eyes as he caught up. Once Mono was close enough to peer up, the Thin Man speculated his face was flushed, though he doubted it was from crying.

“Better.” Easing away from the door, he strayed closer to the child, steps passive on the hard floor. “Now. No more scout. No play. This is rest.” Mono didn’t respond, aside from track his movement with acute precision and take a step backwards. “No run. Mono! Look! Mono….” He leaned down and held his hands out. The child twisted away, spinning round-and-around as he retreated a meter. This was too much effort for an essential that should not be contested with so fiercely. The Thin Man was losing resolve, and it was reflected in the distortions of his outline. “For the last time, c̶̝̈o̸͎̒m̷̬͝é̸͈ ̷̪̊h̷̝͝e̶͉̓r̸̲̄ẹ̵͐.” Internally, he was counting.

Mono glanced to the corridor, perhaps gauging if it was possible to reach the stairs, or the notch in the wall as before. In short, he relented and padded over to the Thin Man in a jaded fashion, raising his arms. The Thin Man plucked him up and fitted the child onto his forearm, holding one hand curled around his waist.

“This is why you are always lagging,” he chided, while clicking back through the corridor. “How are you to find food, if you can’t stand on your own feet?”

“Fhh.”

The Thin Man returned to the ratty recliner and took a seat. He tried readjusting the child, but the spry boy kicked away and nearly vaulted off the chair. If only the Thin Man didn't have such sharpened reflexes, he managed to snag the boy. Not dissuaded, Mono latched onto the papery thin fabric of the arm rest and attempted to haul himself out of the grip. The Thin Man scowled, and tugged.

“Give me a break.”

“Not.”

The Thin Man was trying to be gentle, and pry the hands off the frayed threads. “Child. Please.” It had been some while since he was forced to contend with the boy’s intolerable clawing, though usually he sought the opposite goal. “Could you stop? And hold still. Child? My word, cease this nonsense!” It was as if the child wanted to dig his way through the decayed fabric of the chair itself. “Child!”

“Safe. NoNo! Look care’ffu. Ne’d!” The next string of speek was incoherent, and sounded more akin to Her speek.

The instant he had Mono’s arms free, he crimped them down and held the child on his lap. His own hat askew, and one visible eye glaring. What was he to do with this boy?

“Not. N’look. T’r danger.”

“There is no need for ‘look’. There is no danger here.”

“N… t’know.” Mono wriggled and tried to kick his legs, but the Thin Man didn’t give him any slack. “Hide. F’monster sss come, t’n run. Hide. B’know saf-err. Hav’n know—”

“Could you shut up and just pretend to rest? Quiet?” the Thin Man pleaded, the former intensity absent. Locking the boy in a closet would be easier, but knowing Mono, he was likely to gnaw a hole through the floor. Or something. “Shut your eyes. Five minutes, that’s all I ask. And I promise, I will let you go.” He knocked the child’s new hat off his head and tried rubbing his neck with a thumb. The child gawked at him, panic evident in his eyes. “Minutes. A few minutes. I will watch.”

For a moment it didn’t seem the boy was receptive to the compromise. He didn’t look affected in the slightest by the soft rubbing on his brow. After a grueling and unyielding stare off, the child allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Not likely under his own agency, they had traveled for some intolerable length, and the only feasibly conclusion would be eventual exhaustion. This always worked.

Mono flashed awake twice, but his tenacity wavered the third time. At last, his consciousness flatlined completely and his head tilted far back. The Thin Man adjusted his hold, so the child was at least inclined, and his head settled on the sofa arm.

In due time but not quickly, the Thin Man was able to relax his grip as Mono’s breathing lulled. He kept a wary hand looped over the chest; it was not normal for the child to uncoil in such a manner. At least he had ceased moving, and was not likely to drop dead in the street. This struggle was becoming a reoccurring nuisance. Another regret of their association, the child’s inability to stall for the barest moment. He was prone to stop and sit for a period in the open wastes, in the middle of a downpour. In the dry recesses of some dwelling, the smaller became a jittery wreck.

That’s all he asked. If the child could stop for a few moments, get off his feet so the adrenalin and survival drive could purge out of his veins. Eventually, he could only crash. That already happened twice, but the Thin Man was able to acquire his charge before some hazard stumbled along. Adrenalin only carried children so far.

Even if the world hated him and wanted him to fail, he was allowed a moment of reprieve. Even for the rarest span of quiet, in the blink of an eye, between his shuddering breaths – the child should be allowed a sliver of an instant to steal back some vigor. If only the child trusted him enough, would believe he couldn’t let anything come near to harming him. Not while he was present.

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #the man in the hat #the tall thin man #fanfiction #fanfic #mono just being adorable #thin dad being disgruntled parent that can't get his child to sleep

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adeliaharris · 4 years ago

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My Favorite Books...

1. Harper Lee "To kill a Mockingbird"

The story of a small sleepy town in the South of America told by a little girl. The story of her brother Jim, dill's friend and her father - the honest principled lawyer Atticus Finch one of the last and best representatives of the old "southern aristocracy". The story of the trial of a black guy accused of rape a white girl. But first of all it is the story of a turning era when xenophobia, racism, intolerance and bigotry inherent in the American South are warming to the past. The "wind of change" has just begun to blow over America. What will it bring?

- This is probably one of my favorite books.The book captured from the very first pages and did not let go for a long time after reading. You can say a lot of things but better read it.

2. Khaled Hosseini "The Kite Runner"

A heartfelt story of friendship and fidelity, betrayal and redemption, penetrating to the very core. Delicate, ironic and sentimental in a good way, Khaled Hosseini's novel resembles a painting that can be looked at endlessly set in pre-war Kabul in the 1970s. In this magical city shimmering with all shades of gold and azure two weather boys Amir and Hasan live. One belonged to the local aristocracy the other to a despised minority. One's father was handsome and important the other was lame and pathetic. Master and servant, prince and beggar, handsome and crippled. But there were no people in the world closer than these two boys. Soon the Kabul idyll will be replaced by formidable storms. And the boys, like two kites, will be picked up by this storm and scattered in different directions. Each has its own destiny its own tragedy but they like in childhood are tied by the strongest bonds. You run after the kite and the wind as you run after your destiny, trying to catch it. But she will catch you.

- Psychological novel on the theme of "crime and punishment". Deeply elaborated images, convincing children's characters, a remarkably built plot - everything speaks of a great master. For me it is "heavy" literature but it has the right to be because it calls things by their proper names. And most importantly there is light in the stories of Hosseini! The light of true human feelings.

3. F. Scott Fitzgerald "The Great Gatsby"

A jubilant, sparkling thirst for life, a desire for love, alluring and elusive, exciting pursuit of wealth - but now the dream breaks to the sound of jazz and the eternal holiday turns into a tragedy. "The Great Gatsby" is a novel about "how illusions are wasted which make the world so colorful that having experienced this magic, a person becomes indifferent to the concept of true and false." F. S. Fitzgerald

- I read it and was not at all disappointed! Elegant presentation with high meaning - everything in this life is done for the sake of love. And no amount of money can replace the woman you love... And even if she is stupid, frivolous and idly living her life. I have great respect for Gatsby and contempt for Daisy. There are a lot of wonderful quotes, phrases in the book, it's worth thinking about. I didn’t expect to literally fall in love with this piece! In the future I will definitely re-read it more than once!

4. Daniel Keyes "Flowers for Algernon"

Forty years ago it was considered a fantasy. Forty years ago it read like fantasy. Exploring and expanding the boundaries of the genre eagerly absorbing all sorts of newest trends trying on a common human face bravely ignoring the Cain's stamp of the "genre ghetto". Now it is perceived as one of the most humane works of modern times as a novel of piercing psychological power, as a filigree development of the theme of love and responsibility. It is not for nothing that Keyes called his book of memoirs published in the 1990s "Algernon, Charlie and Me."

- The book is an emotion that will not make you think about something particularly difficult. All the thoughts that it generates are very simple and understandable. Without revelations, of course, but not bad either. The assessment will, rather, depend on the degree of personal sensitivity because the author often uses the concept of "naive hero-evil reality-collision-squeezing out sympathy" during the work.

5. Agatha Christie "Murder on the Orient Express"

The great detective Hercule Poirot who was in Istanbul returns to England on the famous "Orient Express" in which it seems, representatives of all possible nationalities travel with him. One of the passengers an unpleasant American named Ratchett offers Poirot to become his bodyguard since he believes that he could be killed. The famous Belgian brushes off this absurd request. And the next day the American is found dead in his compartment with the doors closed and the window open. Poirot immediately takes up the investigation - and finds out that the compartment is full of all sorts of evidence pointing... to almost all the passengers of the Orient Express. In addition the train gets stuck in snow drifts in a deserted place. Poirot needs to find the killer before the express can continue on its way...

- I liked the book. Pretty easy to read. The plot is "confused" from the very beginning but Mr. Poirot is yet a world-famous detective. It is better to read about all the twists and turns of the investigation on your own, "immersion" is guaranteed.

6. Stieg Larsson "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo"

Forty years of the mystery of the disappearance of a young relative haunts the aging industrial tycoon and now he makes the last attempt in his life - entrusts his search to journalist Mikael Blomkvist. He takes on a hopeless business more in order to distract himself from his own troubles but soon realizes: the problem is even more complicated than it seems at first glance.

What is the connection between a long-standing incident on the territory with the use of mobile devices which happened in different years in different parts of Sweden? What does the quotation from the Third Book of Moses have to do with it? And who, after all, attempted on the life of Michael himself when he came too close to the solution?

- The whole trilogy left a deep impression. Such books appear very rarely. Out-of-the-box characters, amazing Sweden, dark atmosphere. I advise absolutely everyone!

7. Ray Bradbury "Fahrenheit 451"

Perhaps the best of Bradbury's writings. The story "Fahrenheit 451" depicts a dystopian society of the future but in fact - "our reality, reduced to absurdity." Bradbury invented a state where reading and keeping books is prohibited. For the sake of political correctness and general peace of mind the general level of spiritual and intellectual demands of citizens is artificially lowered. But there are rebels and fugitives.

This is one of Bradbury's rare sci-fi works. Very exciting touching and at the same time very lively and dynamic. With a relatively simple plot, it is full of allusions including biblical texts and complex symbolism.

- This is just a great book! I advise everyone to read it! Despite the fact that the author wrote it in 1953 this does not feel at all. A very interesting and poignant plot for our time.

8. Victor Hugo "Les Miserables"

All the works of the great French poet, novelist and playwright Victor Marie Hugo (1802-1885) are covered with a halo of romanticism. The idea of life-giving love, mercy, the triumph of good over evil - this is the core of his novel "Les Miserables". Among the "outcasts" are Jean Valjean sentenced to 20 years for stealing bread for his starving family and the little dirty Cosette who turned into a charming girl and a child of the Parisian streets of Gavroche...

- Brilliant work! So thoughtful, so overwhelming and so humane. The inimitable Hugo put all his philanthropy into this magnificent novel!

9. Stephen King "The Green Mile"

Stephen King invites readers to the eerie world of the death row where they leave in order not to return, opens the door of the last refuge of those who have transgressed not only human but also God's law. There is no more deadly place on this side of the electric chair! Nothing you've read before beats Stephen King's most audacious horror experience - a story that begins on Death Road and goes deep into the deepest secrets of the human soul...

- I have been familiar with the work of S. King for a long time and have read more than a dozen of his books. The work "The Green Mile" is a story that will not let you go for a long time. She leaves a residue in her soul - mixed feelings and indescribable impressions from the story itself, unique and ingenious.

10. Gregory David Roberts "Shantaram"

This art-refracted confession of a man who managed to get out of the abyss and survive, has sold four million copies around the world and has earned rave comparisons with the works of the best writers of the modern era from Melville to Hemingway. Like the author the hero of this novel has been hiding from the law for many years. Deprived of parental rights after a divorce from his wife, he became addicted to drugs, committed a number of robberies and was sentenced by an Australian court to nineteen years in prison. Having escaped from a maximum security prison in his second year, he reached Bombay where he was a counterfeiter and smuggler, traded arms and participated in the showdown of the Indian mafia and also found his true love, to lose it again, to find it again...

- It is very difficult to somehow categorically evaluate this novel. There are many advantages here: a fascinating story of the wanderings of the protagonist in the world of a harsh exotic country. Together with him, the reader develops, absorbs the alien culture and energy of other people, people of another world to which we are not used to. However there is something ridiculous about this. At times it seems that we are watching real Indian cinema - the brainchild of Bollywood naive and merciless. In general I liked the novel, it is interesting, bright, impetuous. During the period of reading this great story, I have never been bored. Despite some controversial points - I advise!

#book #books #classic #detective #drama #romance #comedy

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baconpal · 5 years ago

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Bravely Default and BD2

Here it is, the partially prompted bravely default rant/retrospective/whatever the fuck!

With the announcement and demo of bravely default 2 out now for a bigger market than the original game ever had, I feel that as a massive fan of the original I should put some amount of effort into explaining what the appeal of the original is, why bravely second missed a lot of the appeal, and why bravely default 2 has been very, very worrying so far.

If you care about any of that, come on in and I'll try to actually avoid spoilers this time and make this a more legitimate recommendation of a game than usual.

THE APPEAL OF BRAVELY DEFAULT The games obviously have a beautiful art style, especially when it comes to the backgrounds. Every city is like a painting, a beautifully composed shot that you see from just one direction to give you one very strong impression. While the overworld and dungeons are fully 3d and do not have as strong of an artistic impact, they are still very competent and have good colors and cohesive elements. The character design, including the job outfits, the monsters, and all the villains are just top notch. Simple, evocative designs that make the most of the 3DS' limited hardware and build upon the teams skill in making handheld games look good. (its the same team that did the ff3 remake and 4 heroes of light, which looks absolutely kino on original DS) The music is also consistently excellent, with great use of motifing, a full and varied orchestra, and many good slow paced tracks for most of the non-combat segments. Shit like "Conflict's Chime" being the main battle theme, "Infiltrating Hostile Territory" being a common dungeon theme, and "That person's name is" as the rival boss themes makes even the seemingly repetitive songs a constant joy to listen to.

The story is pretty decent, it's not the best part of the game, and there are definitely some aspects of the story some people loathe, but the characters (specifically ringabel fuckin love him) are pretty good and the make for an enjoyable experience. The side material like D's journal are really well done and integrate into the main narrative well for how tucked away and ignored it is.

The gameplay and systems are also some of the best of any RPG I've played, and I've played far too many. The job system from ff3 and 5 is brought to an even greater depth with the addition of universal job abilities, allowing any character of any job make use of another jobs features to create an endless depth to strategy. The way various jobs can mingle together, and how no job is completely perfect on its own makes for very compelling team composition and unit design. The extensive amount of jobs helps as well for replay value and for assuring that no easy winning strategy is found by all players.

The BP system makes battles take on a very unique pacing as the player and enemies can choose to save up turns or blow them all at once to make more complicated strategies possible, or to make the most of an enemies vulnerabilities. This powerful option gives the player a meaningful way to capitalize on their knowledge of the game, while also allowing them to make truly detrimental mistakes. That may sound not good if you're a fucking baby, but nobody wants an RPG you cant lose, but losing because you fucked up is much better than losing because the enemies are just stronger than you or anything to that effect.

But the single greatest part of bravely defaults, which creates the games wonderful balance and unique design philosophy, is that the player is expected to hit the level cap long before finishing the game. Reaching level 99 should occur somewhere just after the middle of the game, at the point where the player has access to almost every job and has encountered almost every type of threat. Reaching level 99 brings with it a certain security, the implication that from then on, all enemies will also be level 99, and that any failure to defeat an enemy will be a result of a bad strategy or the players own mistakes. The game is not easy, and is certainly intended for veteran final fantasy players used to the games with job systems and changing up your entire party to combat a single encounter. Leveling up is not a slow grind part of the game, as you have a lot of control over the speed and frequency of battles, and it is not difficult to keep up with the games level curve.

The other layer to this unique design is that the game expects you to "cheat", or use strategies that would be overpowered and frowned upon in most other games. Bravely default easily expects you to know or discover strategies such as: applying a status to all enemies and killing every enemy with that status using another spell, cycling a counter move over and over to have a nearly invincible party member, applying a healing attribute to a self-damaging character to get huge damage at little cost, casting reflect and dangerous spells on your own party to bounce them at the enemy, or duplicating a move that does maximum damage 15 times in a row. The game builds all of its encounters with the knowledge that your team will be the maximum level and that you will be using the most vile tactics you can come up with, and the game will do the same. Bosses and even common enemies will employ equally vile tactics using the exact same moves that you have access to, meaning you can learn from your enemies or quickly grasp the enemies strategy through your own experiences. One of the late game dungeons is entirely optional, but involves several fights against parties of 4 just like your, using the same jobs and skills you have gained during the game as a perfect test of your ability to develop counter-strategies, instead of relying on your own overpowered tactics. This type of design is really not something you find in many games due to the prominence of grinding or the lack testing strategies, and it is the most true appeal of bravely default to me.

BRAVELY SECOND EXISTS I GUESS So bravely second, a direct sequel to bravely default, definitely is a video game. It uses the original game as a base to generate more content, but completely misses the appeal of the original, and the new content added makes the experience even less focused. Overall, it's still a fairly alright RPG, but it fails to follow up on bravely default in a meaningful way or to provide as compelling of a gameplay experience. Here's some of the things it fucked up.

The game reuses almost everything the original game had, including the same music, world map, and most of the original's towns and dungeons, while adding a few of it's own. Going through areas you've been before never feels good, and the new areas lack the quality or brevity of the original game, leading to uninteresting areas that overstay their welcome, despite being the only break from repetitively reused content.

This extends to the classes but in an even worse sense. One important trait of the original jobs is that they were not perfect by themselves. While every job provided some useful abilities to be shared with other classes, or provided a good base with which to make a character, no class was without flaws. The new classes in bravely second are a lot of the opposite, they are closed loops that think of everything they could have to make a good standalone character. The 4 starter classes you get in bravely second are all brand new, and there's almost no reason to use any class besides those 4 as they are just insanely good. The priest and magician specifically augment magic in a way that makes spells infinity scalable into the end game, completely trampling on any other magic classes territory without needing the extra effort of grinding a new class out. Many of the new job concepts are actually really interesting, like going back in time to return to a healthier state, or a class that changes the stats and attributes of all units in a battle, allowing for all new kinds of strategies; but these classes lack any opportunity to be used to their full potential since they don't mesh well with other jobs and are limited by their self-centered design.

Another completely missed aspect of the original is the level curve discussed before. Bravely second only really requires you get somewhere in the ballpark of level 60-70 to comfortably beat the final boss, and getting too leveled up is really hard to avoid if you are plan to try out various jobs.

Second also fails to account for how many incredibly strong strategies the player can come up with, and even introduces some of its own strategies that it has no way to counteract, such as halfsies (the first skill the first class gets) pretty much splitting the game in two by tripling the value of items like phoenix downs, and allowing for fool-proof strategies by making 1 character focus entirely on defense, effectively making the party unkillable. Essentially, if you play second after having played the original (like any sane person would) then you will absolutely destroy the game with no sense of satisfaction.

The story is also a large step down, enough to become an annoyance, as the writing style changes to a strange romantic comedy situation with, for lack of a better term please forgive my sin, anime writing, but like bad anime writing, ya know the kind of shit that makes people write off all anime cus a lot of it is awkward and unpleasant to listen to. The story tries to mess with some big concepts like "what if new game + was a real thing???" and time travel and shit like that but it doesn't mesh with the tone the rest of the game has and that tone doesn't mesh with the world or art style and it's just a mess.

BRAVELY DEFAULT 2 SEEMS KINDA POOPIE SO FAR So unfortunately, the big appeal of bravely default being part of it's end game makes it hard to judge how 2 is gonna go given we only have a demo of the beginning, but given that the original team behind bravely default has slowly been stripped out of the series as it goes on, the outlook is bleek.

Most immediately obvious is that the artstyle has made a horrible transition from handheld to console, somehow even worse than pokemon. The areas are all fully 3d and lack the style or compositional excellence of bravely default, and the outside environment look like asset store products. The small proportioned characters with simple features to be readable on a small screen have been replaced with identically proportioned characters with excessive detail and ugly features, and look horrible up close on a big screen. Only the negatives of the art style have made it over, and everything good has been made unsavory. The character and enemy design overall is much worse as a result, everything is messy, unclear, and clashes with everything else. It's an absolutely shocking downgrade.

The characters themselves are overly hammy and feel like shallow attempts to have a similar party dynamic to the original without having identical character types, and the writing as a whole doesn't seem to have improved from second, which was already quite a step down from the original.

The gameplay also has not done anything different or interesting yet, and seems to be selling itself to people haven't heard of or gotten enough of the BP system. Enemies being on the overworld as opposed to random encounters shows they have dropped the player agency over encounter frequency, which is dumb. The battles lack any of the flow the original had, especially when using the battle speed option, as the camera does not present everything very well and changes position often as a result. Overall, I have not enjoyed the bravely default 2 demo and feel it shows nothing but a continued decline in the series that likely should have just been a single game. With the release date being set for sometime this year, I feel there is no chance any amount of player feedback could save the game or even begin to pull it in the right direction, as it seems to be fundamentally flawed with an inescapable feeling of shovelware.

SO WHAT? Basically, all I wanted to say here is that the original bravely default is a very unique experience I think every RPG fan should give a good chance (and just do all the optional stuff during the "repetitive" part of the game, it's where all the best content is you bozo) and that the sequels are NOT the same experience. I guess it's kind of mean to just say "hey don't buy or like this new thing cus its not like the old thing" but people should know why there's a bravely default 2 in the first place, and should fight for what made the original great. I worry that BD goes down the same sad path that FF did, becoming a completely hollow, middling series that strayed so far from it's home that a whole new series had to be made to give the fans of the old style a place to go.

Thanks for reading, and hope you got something out of it.

#bravely default #bravely series #bravely default 2 #juvenile rant #vote now for the next rant! including things such as The Great Ace Attorney and why it's kino #or why i think arms is a really well designed game even tho i'm fucking shit at it #very exciting topics indeed #or ya know whatever other shit you think i have a lot to say about

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

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Ragnarok

TITLE: Ragnarok CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 5: Sibling Rivalry AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you take care Odin when he was homeless on Midgard (based on the deleted scene from Ragnarok). You take him in and listen his crazy stories about Asgard and Thor thinking he’s just some crazy hobo who needs help. Then one day, Thor and Loki break into your apartment looking for their father. Hela returns in your living room and insanity ensues. RATING: T

AO3 Link: Here NOTES/WARNINGS: None for this chapter. Enjoy!

Loki, Thor, and Odin, walked towards the weapons vault with Commander Ingvild and a few more guards. Ingvild was a tall, strong woman, wearing silver armor and a gold cape similar to the rest of the Einherjar. Her cape had a thick band of embroidered knotwork along its border in a flashing gold thread that indicated her rank as High Commander among the Einherjar. At her side was a sword that bounced on her thigh as she walked alongside the King.

She had only faltered for a moment upon seeing Loki standing beside Odin and Thor but the rumor that Loki had finally revealed himself this morning at the theatre had spread through most of the city by now. She saluted her King and Loki acknowledged her with a smirk. Now, he walked beside her with purpose, ignoring his moping brother. Odin toddled along behind them, watching his son work.

“I want extra guards posted on this vault and the patrols updated immediately. Did the guard I send tell you of the new post on that doorway?” Loki asked.

“Yes, sire, I’ll add it to the log right away,” Ingvild responded.

“Good,” Loki said. “I want it guarded at all times as well. In addition, I want you to contact the other Commanders. I will call a meeting with all of you in the War Room tonight at dusk but in the meantime:

“To Commander Brynja, there is to be an increase of our atmospheric security, effective immediately. I want all traffic in and out of Asgard halted. There are to be no space-bound vehicles entering or leaving Asgard.

“To Commander Dagfinn, I want increased legions posted on our walls in case of a terrestrial based attack. Also, muster the Warriors Three and Sif. They are to uphold their oaths and protect this palace, should something happen.”

“Yes, sire,” Ingvild said. “We are preparing for war, then?”

“No, but there is an eminent threat. Two actually, possibly more. We need to be prepared. Make sure the people are well versed on evacuation procedures in case the alarm is sounded. There should be guards available to ensure those measures can be enacted, if needed.

“Post Destroyers on the walls and on Bifrost, the armored bilgesnipe at the gates, wolves, sabrecats, whatever we have. And, please, keep the handlers with the bilgesnipe this time. We don’t want another one getting loose in the city again.”

“Yes, of course, sire,” Ingvild said, sending a chilling glare towards one of the men beside her. He looked down at his feet and nodded, rubbing his arm as if remembering a rather painful and shameful memory.

“Instruct the Einherjar, to arm the plasma canons with the anti-proton missiles first, should something happen,” Loki continued. “The enemy ships have advanced defenses.”

“Loki, you speak as if you know the attacker that’s coming,” Odin said.

“I don’t know anything, I’m just trying to prepare us in case he shows up,” he said to Odin. “Go,” he ordered Ingvild. The High Commander trotted off along with a group of guards and legionnaires, barking orders to them as she went. Loki turned away and pushed open the doors of the weapons vault

“Who, Loki?” Thor asked, following him in with Odin close behind. “Who do you speak of?”

Loki did not answer. He stalked down the aisle towards the end of the vault. They walked past Surtur’s Skull which had only just been placed on a new pedestal. It was chained to the rock where it sat. The relics had clearly been rearranged and reordered in Odin’s absence. At the very end of the vault, the three came to a stop. There, on a pedestal, sat the Tesseract in an armored box. Loki sighed, seemingly relieved. He reached for it, hesitating a moment, before picking it up, ensuring it was genuine and quickly setting it back down.

“What is that, Loki?” Thor asked.

“It’s a birthday present,” Loki said, sarcastically. “What does it look like, you idiot? It’s the Tesseract.”

“No, ugh. I mean what’s that thing on it! Don’t call me an idiot, brother,” Thor warned.

“It’s a lock that I forged for it. Your Avenger friends think of the Tesseract like a door that opens between two points in space. To dumb it down to something you can understand, think of this as a lock on that door. Only I know where the key to it is, so no one else can open the door.”

“Smart,” Odin muttered as he looked around the vault.

“I also replaced the Destroyer you destroyed,” he went on to Thor.

“It was your fault,” Thor grumbled.

“Hmm, was it?” Loki asked, cocking his head to the side.

Thor wasn’t listening. He looked around the vault, frantically. “Loki, where is the Aether?” Thor asked.

“Nowhere. Come on, both of you, out!” he ordered them, shepherding them both back out towards the door. He liked giving them orders. It was a new feeling. A nice feeling. The two big guards that had followed them in, promptly turned about face and walked out with them.

“What? You lost it? What do you mean it’s nowhere?” Thor shouted.

“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a secret, would it? I’m the only one that knows, and I wiped everyone else’s memory that did,” he said, shoving them out of the weapons vault. “I even tried to wipe my own memory of it, so who knows if I even know, you know?”

“Ugh, you’re insane,” Thor whined, dragging his hands down his face.

“Yes, you’re probably right for once,” Loki laughed, shrugging.

“You did what, Loki? You wiped your own memory?” Odin asked but Loki did not respond.

The door closed behind them with a bang. Loki turned around to face it and lifted his arms, palms facing the door. With a green flash, a massive, stony serpent appeared on the door and began to slither back and forth across the panels, tying itself in intricate Asgardian knots.

Loki seemed to control it, tying each knot with a flick of his wrist; making the serpent’s head rise and fall, twist and turn. Loki’s arms moved in wide arcs, forming a large circle. The serpent copied him, forming a complete circle of knots on the door. It opened its jaws and grabbed its tail in its mouth, sealing the door shut with rays of green light. Loki lowered his arms. He was breathing harder, the magic seeming to drain him a little. He held his injured hand, rubbing the pain away.

“Hmph,” Odin said, stepping up beside his son and putting his hand on Loki’s shoulder. Loki flinched at the uncommon touch. “I’m impressed. Your mother would be proud.”

Loki looked at him, surprised. He still was not sure how to take these new compliments. Odin had never really shown him true affection before.

“Are you going to tell us who you’re so worried about?” Thor asked him.

Loki snapped to, turning away from Odin and addressing Thor. “I’m worried about this deranged sister of yours. You know, I’m starting to think madness runs in your family?” he said, walking past Odin and Thor towards the stairs. “Your great grandfather, your grandfather, your uncles, more than half of your cousins, and now him,” he pointed a thumb at Odin. “Perhaps you should have the matron healer check you over before you succumb to it too, brother.”

Loki patted Thor on the back and gave him a mock-concerned look before walking up the stairs. Thor desperately wanted to take a swing at Loki but knew well that he could not. He turned to his father and gestured at Loki, wanting Odin to help him, to say something, to stop him, to do something. Odin just chuckled, shaking his head, and followed Loki up the steps.

“Ugh, I will go mad if I have to stay here!” Thor whined, plodding along behind them. He stopped in his tracks a moment, realizing something. “All this preparation has something to do with the Infinity Stones doesn’t it, brother?”

Loki scoffed. “And what could you possibly know about those?” he asked, not turning back to look at his brother. They arrived at the top of the stairs in an elegant sitting room. Guards stood at the entrances of three hallways leading off in different directions.

“Plenty,” Thor said, confidently. “That’s where I’ve been all these years. Searching for them,” Thor said.

“And how has that gone? Have you found any? What have you learned about them?” Loki said, stopping in the middle of the room. His tone was condescending and sarcastic, as usual. He turned to face Thor, raising a brow at him expectantly.

“I know that there are supposed to be six. I know that the scepter you had on Earth was one. And now the Mind Stone rests in the head of Vision, a being that the humans created.”

“Oh wonderful, I can’t see that blowing up in their faces at all,” Loki said.

“And then, there’s the Aether–”

“Yes, well done. We all know that,” Loki retorted.

“And the Tesseract.”

“Goodness, brother. Have you brought me any useful information or do you just—"

“AND, there is another one on—”

“On Xandar,” he and Loki said together. Thor blinked in confusion.

“Yes, brother,” Loki continued, turning away from his shocked brother’s face. “You may think me idle these past few years but I, too, have been looking for the Stones.”

“To do what with them?” Thor asked darkly, suspicious of his brother.

“What do you think I’d do with them?” Loki asked. He turned back to face Thor.

Thor looked around, not wanting to say aloud what he truly thought. Odin stood behind his sons, watching their argument closely. Loki was hiding something that he was not yet ready to reveal to either of them. Frigga hated when their boys fought. She hated it more when Thor became physical, but now that Loki was surrounded by guards to protect him, the playing field had been leveled.

“Do you think I’d try to rule with them?” Loki asked, snidely. “Well, I already have a kingdom, a throne, a people,” he gestured to the palace around him. “I didn’t need the Stones to get all this; I did that by myself!”

Thor faltered, unable to respond. “Do you think I’d kill with them?” Loki continued, taking a step closer to Thor and Odin. “Well, I’ve already done that too, haven’t I, brother? You were there. You saw how ‘savage’ I was. You saw what they could do. What I could do with them.

“You know now what the Mind Stone is capable of now, but you still think I was in full control, don’t you? You think I wanted all this to happen? You think I wanted to hurt that poor Midgardian girl in there?” he shouted, pointing towards the Healing Room. “I barely even remember it! It’s not even in here!” he shouted, hitting his head with his good hand.

Odin lifted his hand, wanting to stop Loki from hurting himself. He took a step toward Loki, but Thor put his arm out to stop him

Loki was stepping closer to them both. He put his hands behind his back. If Thor had learned anything from fighting his brother in the past, he knew that this was Loki’s battle stance. Loki was gearing up to throw knives at them, to use his magic, to do something. Thor felt vulnerable without Mjolnir and he did not like how aggressive Loki was getting.

Thor was not used to his brother being so loud. He had to protect himself and Odin, but he had nothing to defend either of them with nor anyone to come to his aid. Loki’s voice was growing louder, booming through the halls. Thor took a few steps back, pushing Odin with him. Loki followed them, taking three heavy steps towards them.

“Do you think I’d try to change my fate with them?” he shouted. “I already have! What do I need them for! I want those horrific things as far away from me as possible but its like I’m a magnet for them! They just keep coming back!” he roared. His fists clenched tightly behind his back. His temple bulged in his head, a vein popped in his neck, straining with anger. His face reddened.

“Don’t you see, you moron! I’m trying to separate them! I’m trying to keep them as far apart as possible!” he shouted. His voice echoed through the halls. He stopped, as if regaining himself for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter but no less venomous. “If he finds them… if he assembles them… you have no idea what he could do with them!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Sire,” a guard squeaked from the doorway.

“WHAT!” Loki exploded at him. The echo of his voice could be heard at Bifrost.

The guard fell backwards in fear of his King, the spear he carried clattering to the floor.

“The mortal woman, she… she… escaped out of the Healing Room after she started having vivid hallucinations from the potions the healers administered to her.” The guard was crying, nearly wetting himself with fear of the King’s response to the news he had given.

“Argh,” Loki’s whole body tensed as did the whole room with him. His fists clenched, his arms flexing with rage. The air in the room seemed to vibrate with a powerful magical current. The guards braced themselves for the furniture to explode into splinters, for the drapes to shred themselves, for the carpets to set themselves on fire, and possibly for their clothes to do the same. Some of them still had painful memories from long ago when the young prince had similar outbursts. Back then, only his mother could stop him from destroying entire wings of the palace.

“Wait!” Odin shouted at him. “Stop!”

Loki’s head snapped around to him. His nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing on Odin. Thor thought his father would burst into flames himself at the look Loki gave him.

Odin took a deep breath. He admitted internally, he had never been good at dealing with Loki’s outbursts. Frigga had always took control if Loki lost his temper, and that was rare. It was more often that Thor was losing his temper, crashing through walls in the garden or flipping over long tables in the dining rooms. He had been rather easy to calm with some mead or a good spar but Loki was far different.

“My son, take a deep breath,” Odin said. “Theo is a big girl; she can take care of herself. We can go look for her and bring her back to the Healing Room.”

Loki held his stance a moment. He wanted so badly to let this rage inside of him explode like a volcano. He had been hiding inside an old man for four years. Not just any old man: the Allfather. He was not stupid. He had to keep some level of the reputation alive. But now he was himself again. And all he wanted to do was let out all of his anger on the two men that had ruined his life.

“Please, Loki,” Odin said. “Take a deep breath.”

Loki realized he had, indeed, been holding his breath. He took in a breath through his nose and closed his eyes. The muscle in his jaw tightened and released. He thought for a moment. He did like being King. Exploding like this would not look good on his first real day as himself as King.

He deflated like a balloon. His hands rose to his face and he rubbed his throbbing temples. A collective sigh of relief could be heard from around the room. Thor was wary of his brother after such a display. He had never seen Loki so angry. The room was still, all eyes were on the King, waiting to see what he would do. Loki straightened up and took a deep breath, shaking his head.

“Of course, she got away,” he muttered. “No one can do their jobs, today,” he grumbled to himself.

“Where’s Heimdall? He can find her,” Thor asked, trying to keep his tone as even as possible.

“I charged Heimdall with the treason you made him commit, he exiled himself, no one’s seen him since,” Loki said, rubbing his eyes. “And good that he did. I would have chopped off his head if he didn’t.”

Thor rolled his eyes but made sure his brother didn’t see.

“I need some datura for myself,” Loki groaned. “And a girl or two in my bed, and maybe a man, too.”

Odin turned down the hallway towards the Healing Room, satisfied that his boys were no longer going to rip each others throats out and that his palace was going to stay intact.

“Gross, Loki,” Thor muttered.

“What? Are you jealous?” he smiled, devilishly. “Since you’re, you know, single now?”

“Please, don’t tell me you’ve been doing that disguised as father.”

“Ok, fine. I haven’t been doing that disguised as father,” he replied, giving his brother a wink and following after Odin.

“No, no,” Thor whined, putting his hands on his head. “I can’t unimagine that. It’s in my head now. What have you done to me, brother? You’re disgusting! That’s disgraceful!”

Loki could be heard cackling, maniacally down the hallways as they made their way back towards the Healing Room.

They walked in to find the healers bustling around frantically. There was broken glass on the floor and blood splattered everywhere. Torn linens draped over the Soul Forge and made a trail towards one side of the room. One of the healers was nursing another healer with a bruised forehead and blackened eye. Odin walked over to the Soul Forge where Theo had been laying. The sheets were strewn over the pallet and he could see blood and darker, decomposed tissue that had come off in Theo’s struggle. It appeared more like a murder scene than the scene of an escape.

“What happened?” Loki asked.

“We thought that we calculated the right amount of datura to give to her, but she is apparently sensitive to these botanicals, sire, I apologize,” the matron said, walking over to them. “She woke in a frenzy and tore off her bandages. We tried to settle her down again, but she went on a rampage through the room, screaming about monsters attacking the city. She was clearly hallucinating.”

Thor glared at Loki but Loki paid him no heed, keeping his attention trained on the matron.

“She got into the potions over there and who knows what she inhaled. She hit poor Aslaug, there. Though, I don’t think she meant to hit her; sent her flying across the room,” she pointed to the woman in the corner being healed. Thor grimaced at the poor, old woman’s injury.

The matron continued, “We did our best to restrain her but she got free and then leapt nearly ten feet to that window and escaped! I think she must have gotten into one of the strength potions over there, I’m not sure, yet. She hasn’t been gone more than five minutes, sire. I sent the guards after her.”

Loki looked at Odin, flatly. “Now, your pet has superpowers. Still think she’s going to be okay on a planet she’s never been to?”

“Oh, she’s not my pet,” Odin said, gruffly, waving away Loki’s comment with his hand. “If you and Thor go quickly, you both should be able to find her with the guards’ help. I’ll only slow you down.”

Loki scoffed. “You think I’m going to leave you here in this palace by yourself?”

“Loki,” Thor scolded.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” Odin said. “I’m retired now.”

“The guards will find her or they’ll bring her body back,” Loki said. “I have bigger problems to deal with right now.”

“Loki!” Thor shouted. Odin hung his head.

Loki whipped around to face Thor. “We are on the brink of an attack by this sister of yours and whomever may have helped her escape! The people have no idea! Not to mention the ten billion other problems this planet is dealing with right now! The other Realms have felt the instability this throne has perpetuated in the last century; they’re on the verge of revolt and while you’ve been galivanting through the cosmos, I’ve been here trying to pacify them!” Loki shouted. Odin rolled his eyes as the two started fighting again.

“Oh yes, you looked very busy this morning watching plays in your bathrobes—in his bathrobes!” Thor shouted.

“Don’t criticize the way I rule. You have no idea! You never wanted to know! You left!” Loki shouted back.

“Don’t put this on me! You tricked me! I didn’t fake my death again! I didn’t put my brother through mourning again!”

“Oh, you’re such a victim,” Loki said, folding his arms and turning away. “Go be a cry baby somewhere else.”

Odin waddled over to both of them. The rest of the room had quickly gone back to their business, trying to ignore the two fighting brothers. Centuries of sibling rivalry had taught many of the palace staff to get as far away as possible from a fight like this, lest they be hit with a stray bolt of lightning or rogue spell or worse.

“DON’T YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME, BROTHER!” Thor shouted.

Loki snapped around ready pounce on Thor but Odin made a swift move with his new cane, swatting first Thor, then Loki on the back of the head with his it.

�� “Agh!”

“Ouch!” the brothers cried.

“Now, the two of you need to stop this nonsense and work together. Figure out where Theo is,” he said, gruffly.

“Why does she matter so much to you?” Loki asked.

He glared at Odin. Loki expected Odin to shout at him, to growl at him, to tell him to shut up, but the old man just stared at him with that icy, blue eye; his brow furrowed with worry for this Midgardian girl. Loki’s shoulders drooped and he sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Huginn, Muninn,” he called. Two ravens flew in through the window.

“Oh!” Odin drew in an excited breath at seeing his pet ravens again. He used to throw bread at every crow he saw in Central Park hoping it were Huginn or Muninn. Loki hated his ravens, Odin had feared Loki may have gotten rid of them or killed them when he took over.

The ravens landed gracefully on Odin’s shoulders and both gave him loving headbutts before flapping over onto Loki’s head, pecking at his scalp and pulling his hair. Loki shook his head to get them off, swatting at them. Thor laughed at his brother as he struggled to wrangle the two ornery birds. The ravens finally hopped down onto Loki’s extended arm, satisfied that they had thoroughly annoyed him.

“Now, listen to me, carefully, this time,” he said, pointing at them. Loki’s hair was frazzled from all the pecking and pulling. It hung in his face. He desperately tried to flip it behind his shoulders as he addressed the birds. He held up a piece of raisin bread for them. They were both very interested in this snack.

“Find the Midgardian girl before she get’s herself into trouble,” Loki said. “AND,” – he withdrew the bread from them to make sure he had their attention – “Report back to me when you find her. Don’t forget that part this time, got it?”

“Ask them nicely,” Odin whispered.

“Please,” Loki sighed, rolling his eyes. The ravens made soft clicks in agreement, taking nips at the raisins in the bread. He gave them their treat. They snapped it out of his hands. Loki recoiled, trying to save his remaining fingers as the ravens both flew off, cawing to each other as they went, eating their treat. Loki’s whole body shuddered. He sighed and then fixed his tussled hair.

“I hate those two,” he muttered.

“It’s good you tried the raisins this time. They like raisins,” Odin said, nodding approval at Loki’s choice of treat.

“Maybe, if you didn’t throw rocks at them all the time when we were kids, they wouldn’t hate you so much,” Thor teased.

“I only did that because he was spying on me!” Loki hissed, pointing at Odin but he was not listening to them anymore. He hobbled across the room and picked up several golden apples from a basket on a table, stuffing them into his pockets. Theo would need them when Huginn and Muninn found her. In truth, he was very concerned for her. The longer she was away from the Healing Room, the worse that wound would become and the less time she would have.

“Well, now that we have some time to kill, there’s some things I need to speak to you about, Loki,” Thor said.

“Thor, we just tried speaking and it really didn’t work out well,” Loki said, rubbing the lump on the back of his head. A guard walked up to him addressing him about another matter. Loki gave him a few orders and he trotted off as more servants, guards, and councilmen began to enter the Healing Room to address the King. “So, let’s not do that. As you can see, I have a kingdom to run.”

“No, I’m serious,” Thor said, stepping in the way of noblewoman as she was about to address Loki. She withdrew with a gasp at Thor’s disrespect and turned away in a huff. “This is about Ragnarok. About Surtur.”

“Yes, you did a very good job killing him,” Loki said, slowly, like a parent congratulating a child for a minor victory. “Well done. Do you want a medal?”

“No, I… He said Ragnarok had already begun. That there’s no stopping it.”

“And you’re going to trust a crippled fire giant whose soul purpose in life was to fulfil the limelight role of a prophecy spouted by an equally insane, severed head that the old man trusted more than his own council and which, on multiple occasions, ‘whispered’ prophecies to him that ‘foretold’ the death of us all?”

“No. Well, when you put it that way it sounds like madness, but—”

“Yes, because it is,” Loki said, promptly. “Matron, this man is suffering from bouts of insanity, please restrain him.”

“Loki, I will kill…” Thor’s fists clenched as the matron gently pulled him away to sit down.

“Hmm? I’m sorry? What was that?” Loki asked with a smile. He continued to address his other tasks, watching the matron press a wet cloth against Thor’s forehead.

Thor growled. “Loki, I really have been having these dreams of Asgard in flames. We still don’t know what’s happening! When Hela will strike again or what any of this means!”

“How long have you been having these dreams, dear?” the matron asked.

Loki chuckled and left the Healing Room, instructing the guards to keep Odin and Thor there until Huginn and Muninn returned. He did have a kingdom to run after all, and those two were nothing but in the way today.

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Others #Submitted fic #submission #ragnarok #traveling-classicist #chapter 5

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feminetflix · 5 years ago

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De atracos y ab*rtos - Of heists and ab*rtions or How women are being robbed.

⚠️ this contains major spoilers for LA CASA DE PAPEL / MONEY HEIST season 1, specifically episode 3!

Personally, I have experienced the series la casa de papel (original title) or money heist as progressive, realistic and not afraid to deal with certain topics like domestic violence which I will be commenting on in posts yet to be published, female trans representation and occasionally peppered with numerous feminist parentheses (see characters like Nairobi and dialogues around/involving her opinion).

However, there are certain aspects I did not enjoy to watch / do not support. That is normal and every show has its flaws, those resulting all the more dangerous however, as money heist is not just any show. The series is thanks to its popularity by now a relevant aspect of people’s opinion-forming and plays into the perception of many people all around the world, coming from different cultures and having experienced all kinds of upbringing. The target audience is not specified, yet crime drama (the genre) is estimated to target both females and males aged 15-40 years old. Means, also targeting minors and adolescents. Again, all cultures / religions / races / classes etc etc included.

I am fully aware that this kind of range was not expected and therefore not taken into account by producers, talking about the first two seasons that were solely meant for a Spanish audience, not an international one. (The series was initially intended as a limited series to be told in two parts. It had its original run of 15 episodes on Spanish network Antena 3 from 2 May 2017 through 23 November 2017. Netflix acquired global streaming rights in late 2017). The analysed / discussed scene is indeed part of this maybe not so carefully crafted content. Cough.

Let’s get right into it.

Characters interacting: Mónica Gaztambide (Esther Acebo), one of the hostages who was also Arturo Román's secretary and introduced as his mistress and “Denver” (Jaime Lorente), one of the robbers participating in the heist [Denver is an alias, all robbers being referred to with city names]

Context: Mónica has an affair with Arturo Román (Enrique Arce) -hostage and former Director of the Royal Mint of Spain- which leads to an unwanted pregnancy. Numerous factors influence her (for now) final decision: she doesn’t want the child. Shortly after, the robbery unfolds and she’s taken hostage among other people. She then requests an ab*rtion pill, which at some point arrives in the mint alongside other medical supplies. The scene analysed: one of the robbers (Denver) is supposed to hand her mentioned ab*rtion pill. Before that he holds an emotional speech on the subject, morally risen forefinger, accusations and tears included.

Here the dialogue without comments:

————Now my opinion / the actual post:

“You need money, right?” One might think that the amount of money seen in this frame (20.000,-€ approx. $21.701,50 according to Denver) is an exaggerated, way too generous gesture. Let me tell you, it is not.

According to a 2017 report from the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the average cost of raising a child from birth [to] age 17 is $233,610. If that made your heart skip a beat, take a deep breath before you read on. Incorporating inflation costs, it will be more like $284,570. Since that’s based on 2015 numbers, we can expect the cost will be even higher, babies born since then.

[…] This average includes everything from housing, food and transportation to healthcare, education and childcare to clothing, personal care items and entertainment.

Let me now remind you that Mónica is a secretary, so she likely earns (barely) enough money to be financially independent herself (taking into account that she lives near or maybe even in Madrid, her workplace, the Royal Mint situated there, so housing alone is hella expensive) and can’t really expect reliable support coming from the potential child’s father, Arturo Román, either, who initially denied support himself, their relationship a secret to the family and wife he already has. Phew.

Btw: A University of California at San Francisco study found that women who were turned away from ab*rtion clinics […] were three times more likely to be below the poverty level two years later than women who were able to obtain ab*rtions. 76% of the "turnaways" ended up on unemployment benefits, compared with 44% of the women who had ab*rtions.

“Enough to get the kid diapers until he graduates.” The problem or let’s say points raised above are now also being ridiculed or not taken seriously to say the least.

She takes the money, sticking to her decision however. “So, what’s the problem?” Or “Then, what is it?” A million additional things, Denver, believe it or not a potential child is a big deal. That and none of your business.

Also, see the reaction? How he stares at her in disbelief (and possibly even disgust, see the risen corner of his lips?). How he looks at her as if she were heartless, selfish, a monster – the picture often painted in this debate when it comes to women who decide to terminate a pregnancy. How he doesn’t respect her “no, thanks” and continues. Continues influencing her, later on even starts to mansplain his way into her stone cold heart. Okay, then let me continue as well.

“That he’ll f*ck up your life? […] Your son. Better to have your life f*cked up by your son than any of these sons of b*tches. Or me.” Call it ‘f*ck up’ or not – that is entirely her perception, her decision and I’d dare to say…she knows best.

First, because regardless of the fact that she is a woman and you are not – well it is indeed her life and, uhm, excuse me Denver, you’re no sibling, no friend, no acquaintance, quite the contrary, you have known her for what? Three minutes and already jump to conclusions?

Take the privilege of explaining her how a child would f*ck or not f*ck up her life?!!

Secondly, what makes him assume the gender of this cluster of cells, this potential future life, this basis for a potential life that may later on develop into a life (it is not a walking talking baby boy already, my friend!).

Personhood begins after a fetus becomes “viable” (able to survive outside the womb) or after birth, not at conception.

Does it provide a smooth transition for that awfully funny and figurative “son” – “sons of b*tches” (org. Hijo – hijos de p*ta) line or is it literal propaganda?

Why does he say “your son”, although he cannot possibly know? I’ll tell you. In order to distract the audience from the fact that he is referring to a pea-sized basis for a potential life by painting the picture of an already existing male human being. Mónica, do you really want to murder your son? Mónica, does that cute little doe eyed baby boy really f*ck up your life? Yeah, propaganda at its best.

Also, another example for ridiculing the point “a child would destroy my life” by comparing an unwanted pregnancy to a literal robbery at gun point. Great one.

“This f*cks your life up. A kid doesn’t.” Do you see that raised gun, that is quite literally an extension of a raised index finger? Wow, the drama. On a different note, did you notice the symbolism? A weapon stands for death, murder and guess what is also often equated with murder.

“How do you know what f*cks up my life? What do you know?” Finally. Exactly. He doesn’t know her, like at all. He doesn’t know her situation and no, he’s also not the pregnant one or anyone who would have to worry about that.

What do you answer to that, hmm? Let’s make this whole dispute even more emotional and dramatic. That ‘a cute little son isn’t as bad as a robbery’ didn’t convince her?

Let’s try with an extraordinary f*cked up and tragic life story, nobody asked for. Its goal? Showing the oblivious, naive, little secretary what real ‘f*ck up’ means, despite the evident lack of any sort of knowledge when it comes to her life (story). Again, conclusion-jumping and wallowing in prejudice at its best.

Have a look at his expression while ‘lecturing’ her. How disrespectful, how belittling. ‘Oh please, what do you know about life?’. On a wider scale: ‘How could we possibly trust women to rationally and with a clear conscience decide such things for themselves – concerning life and death, if they have not the slightest idea, living in their bubble of security and stability and no real problems’ etc. This is everything but taking women and their reasoning abilities, their judgement seriously.

“My mother was going to ab*rt me.” Now the audience doesn’t only have the mental image of a potential cute little son, it is furthermore provided with the image of a living, breathing human being standing right in front of them. Just look at him and his pleading puppy dog eyes. No actual child actor could have done it better.

Thank god she did not go through with the ab*rtion, right? Oh thank god she was not allowed to.

Taking advantage of this frame to remind you of the fact that we are still talking about a POTENTIAL future life, not an existing one that is nevertheless put above the mother’s already existing life in this impudent, low and unfair debate.

“But first…she inhaled the heroin she had to sell to be able to pay for the ab*rtion. Then she was caught by the police. Between jail, drugs and the police, I was born. What do you know?”

1)Adding even more emotions, subtle accusations and drama to that oh so rational dispute? Check. Making his situation seem two thousand times worse than hers (which he, again, has no clue about)? Check. Subconsciously painting the picture of reckless, irresponsible drug addicts/ “lowlifes” or generally female members of “society’s margins” usually being the ones to abort and make it seem like the state’s or whoever’s responsibility to prevent them from deciding for themselves? Check.

2) Then he even tears her valid ‘what do you know (about my life)’ out of the initial context of being confronted with endless assumptions and prejudice and blows it way out of proportion in order to demonstrate the insignificance of … everything concerning her? Her background, her life, her reasons. Everything.

And FINALLY *drum rolls* the wild theories and hypotheses and presumptions she was dying to hear because since he, I repeat for the twelfth time, has no actual clue about her life, let’s make up one.

“Because it seems that you don’t have a very exciting job. And maybe outside of work your life is not that great either. Or what is it that you do? ‘Kilates’? And Friday night drinks, right? What a f*cking drag. Another plan ruined by the kid[…]” That and the entire following paragraph. Wow. All accusations thrown at women who decide to abort in one.

Because OF COURSE a middle aged, down to earth, intelligent, responsible woman like Mónica Gaztambide has no other reason for terminating a pregnancy than not being able to drink alcoholic beverages or party anymore. Because OF COURSE it is valid to assume a woman or any person for that matter one has known for half an hour and interacted with for literal five minutes has a boring enough life that would not be affected in any way by a pregnancy, birth and ultimately being forced to raise an unwanted child. Because OF COURSE Denver would know how much a pregnancy can affect somebody, especially one that is forced upon a person. Quite frankly he has no idea and no right. The audacity.

“Do [your friends who are also mothers] seem f*cked up? / Do their lives look f*cked up? No, right?” Because you know best. Not only regarding her life but on top of that also that of her friends. Because those pregnancies or motherhood in general did under no circumstances end a career or prevent them from pursuing one in the first place or cause the end of a relationship or force them to stay in a toxic or even abusive relationship or change their financial situation completely or rob them of their fragile financial independence and/or free time altogether or cause any (mental) health complications or … you get the point. Oh, and because their situations are completely identical to Mónica’s situation, that is additionally not half as dramatic as your life story. Of course, Denver.

Seeing the ‘rational’ argument doesn’t really work, let’s add yet another dramatic, emotional rhetorical question. As a precaution.

“Do you know how much a child can love you?”

How could she, being the heartless, cruel, selfish, irresponsible, ridiculous and impulsive murderess you’re ‘exposing’ her as?

⚠️ Another spoiler warning for seasons 3 and 4 and still 1.

Would Cincinnati - that’s her sons actual name, not alias – really love her like he does now?

Friendly reminder: his biological father (Arturo Román) let her know - right from the start - that he wouldn’t take on any responsibility whatsoever, regardless of his later statements about doing so. Why those statements don’t matter? Despite his awareness of her state, despite knowing she was pregnant he shortly after urges her on to steal the cellphone she is caught with right after the analysed scene, ready to risk her life and the potential life of his unborn child. Literally, because as soon as she is caught with it, Berlín orders Denver to execute her.

So to those of you who will now say “but- but Cincinnati is okay and has an amazing life and does love her” etc etc, first think certain things through. If Denver wouldn’t have spared her, if she didn’t just happen to get together with him and if the heist didn’t just happen to work out like that, what then?

Cincinnati would have a different name. What else? Well for one, he wouldn’t have a father (that is now Denver) like at all, resulting in possible daddy issues / issues in general. How I know Arturo, the biological father, wouldn’t be there for them, wouldn’t fulfill all his empty promises?

Did he canonically care about his son? Was he devastated that he was not given the possibility to see him or did he instead focus on that random book of his and his speeches about heroism and honour and so on? If he wouldn’t have called his wife by his mistress’s name and through that expose himself, if his family wouldn’t have left him all alone, don’t you think he would stick to them? Just to paint a picture of who the father is and how he behaves and what we can assume from that behaviour. So the probability was high she would’ve been left alone with I quote “all the love” and of course all the responsibility. It’s a thing, Denver.

Secondly, if she didn’t just happen to turn into a millionaire thanks to the heist working out, would she really be able to provide a life for Cincinnati? Would she really be able to remain financially independent? Would her life at her son’s side really be all peace and harmony if she wouldn’t just so happen to be able to live from heist money?

So many coincidences, so many risks and no security. Can we really blame her? Do we have the right?

With these questions I will end this seemingly endless post and leave you to think about it, reflect certain things and – if you want to – share your opinion(s) with me. Please don’t hesitate to do so, as long as those contain rational arguments and most importantly respect. Thank you for reading!

(Also: sorry for the extensive censoring, I had to, otherwise it wouldn’t appear in the tags.)

#la casa de papel #lcdp #money heist #choice feminism #why we need feminism

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