#the three of us have been discussing this about ****** ever since it released. people pls have some self-reflection oh my god | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leviaju · 4 years ago

Text

forgiveness

pairing: belphegor x GN! reader, hints of everyone x reader

words: 8.1k+

genre: angst, fluff at the beginning and a bit at the end if u squint

warnings: mentions of mc and lilith’s death, foul language

preview: “I’m sorry,” He begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. “I know that will never cut it, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

hey guys what up. so... i’ve done a lot of thinking about belphegor’s dynamic with MC, and, like many others, was really bothered by the sudden switch after... he killed them. u know. typical stuff. i wanted to fill in the gaps!!! if im being completely honest, this has sat in my wips for.... like half a year. it’s my first time writing for obey me, so i hope that everyone’s not too terribly ooc LOL

anyways yeah. i mention how belphegor killed mc a couple of times, so proceed with caution! hopefully, if i get any ideas, the next stuff i write will be a lot lighter. hope you enjoy! (also requests r open soooooooo)

The weight on your chest crushed your rib cage, threatening to snap your bones like they were nothing more than twigs. All you could see was the pitch black of eternal night, and whether your eyes were opened or closed you couldn’t tell. What commanded your attention was the searing pain in your lungs, growing exponentially every half-second, and the unrelenting grip that was slowly shattering your esophagus. No matter how hard you struggled, squirmed and fought against the weight holding your body down, there was no use. It was pointless. The pain spread from the raging fire in your lungs to the tips of your fingertips, and everywhere felt as if you had been set aflame. Slowly, a light illuminated the force keeping you down.

You couldn’t make out much, save for the cackle that rang insufferably through your ears, and the intense eyes that were staring you down.

They held no remorse.

Bones ache as you rest against your bed, finally allowing the tension in your muscles to melt away. You’d never mistake this feeling for regret of a busy day, having spent so much time with the people you care about, but it certainly took its toll on you.

It began with Satan, who’d asked you the night before to accompany him on an early morning walk. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence — he’d invite you to join his morning routine on every day off, and you’d never refuse — hence, at the wonderful time of 7:00am, you were venturing around the Devildom, hand in hand with the Avatar of Wrath. The two of you would walk, occasionally resting on a park bench for longer than either of you would like to admit, for about an hour and a half before you took an official break. The time was filled with pleasant chatter and comfortable silence. Every so often he’d squeeze your hand, and when you’d look over, the fondest of smiles crossed his face. It was a reminder of how glad he was that you joined him.

At around 8:30, he took you into a café for breakfast, and two of you spent only about thirty minutes there chattering away happily. For the most part, he was vividly and excitedly discussing a book he’d just finished the night before…

Until you were interrupted.

“Hello, lovely!” Asmodeus wrapped his arms around you from behind, just before pressing a kiss on your cheek. Satan sighed, resting his head in his hand as he watched the interaction.

“My selfish older brother’s been hogging you all morning, I couldn’t help but want to whisk you away!”

Despite the glare Satan was sending his way, Asmodeus took a seat next to you, happily engaging in conversation as he completely ignored his brother. He told you that the mall was opening in about an hour, and Asmo desperately wished to get his perfectly-manicured hands on a new makeup product being revealed that day.

“But of course I can’t go alone! How positively dreary that would be.” His fingers twined with yours as he looked at you hopefully, and you ran your thumb across his hand. A sheepish smile crept its way onto your lips, and you looked over at Satan. He simply nodded, flicking his hand as a gesture for you two to leave, and Asmodeus didn’t hesitate. He was quick to stand and pull you with them, holding tight to you as he whisked you away. You called out to Satan, now alone at the table with a reluctant smile on his face as he waved goodbye.

“Thanks for breakfast! Get home safe!”

You almost missed the chuckle that left his lips, the café door closing behind you.

Asmodeus kept you until noon. He got a hold of the lipstick he wanted almost right away, but insisted on buying an outfit to match the colour. Regardless of what you’d initially thought, the outfit wasn’t for him.

“Oh, we’ll look positively stunning together!” He exclaimed after about two hours of forcing you in and out of changing rooms, putting his hands all over you to “adjust the clothing” as he deemed necessary. Near the end, you could feel soreness deep in your muscles creeping in from such an active morning, but Asmodeus’ cheery face and constant flirtations helped you forget about it almost completely.

It wasn’t until you got home that you truly felt the effects of on-and-off walking since early in the morning. Be that as it may, your stomach was growling, loudly reminding you that it was now past lunch. As much as you wished to give up on food for the time being and instead head to your room to collapse, the pain in your belly was enough to urge you to cease any arguments, instead ready to try and ignore the ache in your bones in order to quell the angry rumbling of your stomach.

Unfortunately, when you finally made it to the kitchen, there was no food prepared. Instead, what you found was a dejected Beelzebub, frowning softly as he once again was at the receiving end of a lecture from the eldest of his brothers. As quiet as possible, you snuck into the kitchen, trying to listen in on their conversation.

There was silence, followed by a sigh.

“It’s easier to simply ask what’s going on as opposed to trying to eavesdrop, MC.”

You jumped, then bashfully made your way into the kitchen, a sheepish grin on your face. Lucifer was rubbing his temple.

“Beelzebub was supposed to be on lunch duty, but ended up ‘taste-testing’ to the extent that he ate it all. Again.” Lucifer sighed. The typically perfect eldest brother was being run ragged, if the bags forming under his eyes told you anything. “So, instead of working on the papers I have to get finished for tonight, I’m stuck making lunch while he cleans up.”

Beelzebub’s frown tugged at your heartstrings, and in spite of the exhaustion clawing relentlessly at your bones, you relented.

“Why don’t I help? Four hands are better than two,” you proposed, and a small smile graced Lucifer’s face. He lifted his hand to brush the disheveled black hair out of his face, and your chest ached just a bit at the sight. You made a mental note to drag him to bed for a nap the next time you saw him like this.

“That would be more than welcome. Please, if you may.” Already you turned to start working, but Lucifer’s voice made you pause.

“But no feeding Beel. He’s eaten more than his fill already, he can wait until we’re all done.”

Needless to say, every so often you’d slip Beelzebub a piece of chopped vegetable or cooked meat, and he’d very happily (but quietly!) munch away, his expression radiating warmth and joy. And Lucifer, who seemed to almost be omniscient at times, never once mentioned it. Once the three of you were done cooking, Lucifer placed his hand on your head, patting you gently.

“Good work, MC. I must leave now, but I trust that the two of you will be able to clean everything up. Your help was much appreciated. You will be paid back in kind for all of your hard work.”

If nothing else, the slight blush on Lucifer’s face as he ever-so-gently pressed his lips to the crown of your head was more than enough payment.

“Thank you.” Beelzebub cleared his throat, washing the dishes as you dried them. “I… Thanks for helping. And feeding me.”

His smile warmed your heart, and you nodded, bumping your arm with his gently. The small bit of pink that dusted his cheeks compelled you to coddle him, but you resisted the urge. Barely.

“Anytime, big guy.”

After you ate lunch, the only thought in your mind was the prospect of curling up under your covers and passing out. The fretful, broken sleep the night before wasn’t helping at all in keeping you awake, and that on top of the rest of the day’s events had you yearning for the feeling of your pillows.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t even made it through the door when your phone began to blow up, one notification after the other in quick succession.

GGKKJFLFJG

CMOE QUIC K

PLS

SUPE R RARE EVENT IN MONONONOKE

PELASE

YOU HVE TO BE PARTNERED WIHT SOMEONE TO GTE THE PRIZE

PL E A S E

HURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHURRYHHHUUURRRRRYYYYYYYYYYY

You found yourself in Leviathan’s room, sat in his lap as he explained the event to you. Your half-asleep brain did its best to keep up with his quick speech, but that, along with the warmth of his chest against your back, became the most soothing lullaby.

“Hey! Normie! I agreed to let you sit here so I could easily help you through the event, but if you’re going to fall asleep on me, I’m pushing you off—“

“I’m awake! I’m awake.

...Now, what was I supposed to do?”

The unintentional giggle that escaped your lips at his expression caused Leviathan to huff, exasperated, despite the flush of his face. Diligently, however, he thoroughly explained the event, for the second time, and the method to obtain the rare prize: a level 2000 I’m Going To Murder You So Hard That You’ll Come Back To Life Just To Die Again Death Sycthe, the strongest weapon ever released in the game. It was a partner event, which explained Leviathan’s desperate and urgent request for aid. You didn’t mind though. While yes, you’d probably never be able to get to his level of gamer, you were more than happy to go along for the ride. It made him happy!

Leviathan rested his chin against your shoulder as he played on his phone, focused to such a degree that the usually easy-to-fluster demon was completely unphased by your proximity. Your phone, set to AutoFight, rested untouched near Leviathan’s leg, abandoned on the floor. You watched him expertly take out enemies that would have one-hit KO’d you through heavy eyelids, and every time he beat a wave of enemies, his attention would momentarily avert from the screen, looking at you from the corner of his eye expectantly. A kiss on his cheek was more than enough to motivate him to continue on, albeit with a pink glow on his cheeks until his attention was once again completely wrapped up in the game at his fingertips.

“Levi! I said open up, goddamnit!”

The pounding against the door was enough to distract Leviathan from his game, subsequently killing his character in the process. He groaned, cursing the demon who interrupted the two of you as he gently lifted you off of his lap, before getting up to open the door.

“The hell do you want?!”

To be completely honest, you were so wrapped up in watching Leviathan play his games that you had forgotten about your weekly movie night with Mammon, who had come over to his younger brother’s room to drag your ungrateful ass back to your own. Leviathan had cleared the event in Mononoke Land hours ago, but not wanting you to leave just yet, invited you to keep watching him play. Setting aside how tired you were, how could you say no? You’d wanted to spend time with him, too.

Unfortunately, you lost track of time, and your phone, battery completely drained from the event, rested uselessly in your pocket. A consequence of this happened to be missing the countless messages and calls Mammon had sent your way, before he began his hunt for you throughout the house. The last place he checked was, of course, Leviathan’s room.

“Come on, human, I ain’t got all day. No one keeps the Great Mammon waiting!”

“Except for MC,” you heard Leviathan mumble under his breath, and a laugh escaped you before you had the chance to slap a hand over your mouth. Mammon flushed deeply, before striding into his brother’s room.

“Hey, wait, you moron! I never said—!”

The force of Mammon throwing you over your shoulder wasn’t enough to hurt, but it certainly was enough to leave you breathless for a moment. “Let’s go, fragile human. I picked the perfect movie already.” Mammon’s words came out in a bashful mumble, but he had enough courage to lift his head and smirk at Leviathan as he carried you out of the room. All you could do was smile apologetically at the blue haired demon before Mammon turned, bringing you out of sight.

Mammon was all complaints as he carried you to your bedroom, but you knew it came from a place of love. Even though he’d never admit it, you could tell he was hurt by you unintentionally ignoring him. Because of this, instead of demanding he let you down, you allowed him to hold you like this, not a single complaint leaving your lips.

When he brought you to your room, you were set on the bed you’d missed dearly and he went to put the movie in the player.

“Hey! No sleepin’ on me, alright? I wanna watch the movie with ya, and I can’t if you’re passed out, now can I?”

And so here you are now, bed frame creaking as Mammon climbs onto the mattress. Rubbing your eyes, you nod, and lean into him once he gets close enough for you to.

“Seriously, I’m gonna hafta have a serious talk with Levi,” Mammon grumbles, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you in so that you’re almost in his lap. He pulls the blankets over the two of you as you rest your head on his chest, and hum quietly in return. “He used up all your energy, and now we won’t be able to get to enjoy the movie as much! Honestly…”

The vibrations of Mammon’s words can be felt through his chest, and you simply cuddle into him more and try to train your bleary eyes on the television screen. The Avatar of Greed shuts up completely when you take his hand in yours and press a gentle kiss to it, before doing your best to focus on the movie. As time passes, however, the idea of giving into your whims grows more than tempting, and oh-so-easy for you to do.

“Hey! Yo, MC! Seriously… You’re hopeless.”

A chiding, yet gentle voice draws you from the confines of rest. You puff air from your nose in response, cuddling closer to whatever it was that had been so comfortable in the first place.

“MC… Come on. Ya gotta wake up, ya didn’t even watch any of the movie! It was really good, y’know.”

Mammon’s hand rubs circles on your back as you mumble incoherently, a noise to acknowledge the fact that he‘s been talking, and that you are indeed awake now.

It takes a good amount of time, as well as some gentle encouragement from Mammon, to get you to finally open your heavy eyes, and even longer for you to be able to apologize to him for missing out on the movie he was so excited to watch. He pouts a bit, but the blush on the highs of his cheeks lets you know that he didn’t mind all that much. You smile and yawn, and his chuckle resonates in your ears.

“I gotta go now, otherwise Lucifer’s gonna kill me for staying so late. Sorry I woke ya up, but ya look so tired now that you’ll probably fall back asleep right away.”

And so, after a quick goodbye and a kiss on the cheek (which made Mammon turn the prettiest shade of red), you close your door and… sigh. If you had been able to stay asleep, the fact that you aren’t in pajamas and haven't brushed your teeth wouldn't be that much of an issue. Now that you‘re slightly more conscious, however, it’s hard to convince yourself to simply climb back into bed. Your breath is bugging you a bit, and the jeans you’re wearing certainly aren’t at all as comfortable as your pajama pants. For that reason, to your own dismay, you begin getting ready for bed — properly this time.

A small “finally…” tumbles from your lips after you finish your nighttime routine. Lacking any form of grace, you plop into bed once more and pull the blankets to your chin, nuzzling into the pillow. Your bed still smells like Mammon’s cologne, and you hum softly to yourself before closing your eyes and waiting for sleep to take over once more, and hold you hostage until late in the morning.

Alas, sleep seemed to be evading you now, similar to how you had ignored it during the day. The mattress you lay on simply isn't comfortable anymore, and the blankets that hug your body cause you to overheat. Unfortunately, if even one limb is out of the blanket, you get so cold you start shivering. None of your typical sleeping positions are anywhere near as effective as they typically are, and you’re left to wrestle with sleep alone, hoping to beat it into submission so you can finally get some proper rest.

After about 45 minutes of tossing and turning with no results, you finally relent. The nap you’d taken while watching the movie royally fucked you over, and you groan. Eventually you decide to give up on trying to fall back asleep, and huff as you sit properly on your bed.

Blanket dragging behind you as it drapes from your shoulders, you slowly make your way through the silent hallways of the House of Lamentation. The only sounds floating through the walls were the light buzz of electricity running through the wiring of the house, and your own footsteps as you began walking up one of the many staircases in the large building.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been walking, the passage of time different at night to a hazy mind, but eventually you arrive at your favourite area in the house, second only to your lush bedroom. There are no artificial lights, only the gentle cast of the night sky providing the ideas of shape in the planetarium. You’ve never seen stars so vibrant and bright, and there are so many more in the Devildom than anywhere you could go back home. Even though the only light comes from the stars, it’s enough to create soft, fuzzy edges around everything in the room; this includes the bundle of various blankets mussed in the centre of the floor. Slowly, cautiously, you make your way towards the pile.

Since you’d arrived in the Devildom, the planetarium at the top of the House of Lamentation became your safe haven. Your room, without a lock on the door, was way too easy for intruding demons to enter without permission, and on nights when everything became too much for you to handle, you’d head up to the planetarium to clear your mind. There’s just something so calming about a starry sky on a clear night that releases you of your fears and anxiety, and helps you get a grip on the situation around you.

After freeing a certain someone from their attic-based captivity, however, you learned that the planetarium was a place favored not only by you. Since he’d been freed, you’d been kind, but there were still fears plaguing your mind, reminding you of everything that has transpired between the two of you. It’s something that you can’t escape, following you even - especially - in your sleep, when you wished you’d be the most at peace. It makes sense, considering the sin he embodies, but you wish it wasn’t like that nonetheless.

Once you’d learned that this was one of his favourite rooms in the house, especially on nights when he can’t fall asleep, you found yourself avoiding this area. It’s not that you hate him; it’s the opposite, really. Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel the tightening of his fingers around your neck, and the burning sensation in your lungs that’s screaming for oxygen, and the desperation to alleviate the seer of deprivation.

Still, you trek on. Closer and closer to the pile of blankets, your gut cries to you to run away. You ignore it. The nearer you get to the nest of blankets, the faster your heart beats, the more lightheaded you feel. But you continue.

Eventually you get close enough to make out the shape of a familiar pillow, the cow print on the case worn and well-loved. From the moment you walked in the room, you knew he was here. All the same, you walk on, and the only sounds in the room are the gentle taps of your clothed feet against the tile, and the quiet noises of your quickened breaths.

You’ve avoided being alone with him since… Since you… Since the event. Your heart screamed at you to forgive him, to love him just as much as you love his brothers. That said, there’s nothing in you that can stop your stomach from churning whenever he gets too close.

Butterflies beat aggressively within your heart and stomach, and it’s years before you get within his range of sight, but you sit down on the floor, holding the blanket tight to your body.

There’s one beat,

two beats,

three beats of silence before you can hear him sucking in a breath through his teeth. In your peripheral you can see his lips parting, closing, parting again as he tries to find the words. He heard you walk in, and was pleasantly surprised when you didn’t immediately bolt in the opposite direction. However, this proximity leaves him with an entirely new predicament. He wants to talk to you, he wants to laugh and joke with you the way his brothers do, but one look at your face and he notices the dark bags under your eyes, and the frown that tugs at your lips as you stare up at the stars. He can hear your heart racing, and feel his own in the tips of his fingers. He opens his mouth again, but the crack in his voice betrays his usual collected personality.

“I’ll go,” Belphegor begins, begrudgingly starting to gather his blankets. His body freezes when his eyes pass over your figure and you’re looking right at him, through him, and he swears he can feel the blood in his veins stop pumping. Your expression is unreadable, almost scary, and he’s never in his life been in fear of a human until this moment.

The seconds pass as years do, both of your bodies chilled to the bone but neither of you able to look away. In the end, the one who casts their gaze somewhere else is you, and he exhales loudly.

“Don’t.”

Your reply is simple, but he’s stuck in place. Slowly, he nods, sitting down again the way he had been prior, and pulling his beloved pillow close to his chest. He can’t breathe, the tension suffocating. It doesn’t help that now you refuse to look at him.

“... If you want,” he replies dumbly, staring at the floor. He feels trapped in place, afraid to move and scare you off. Despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to leave you be, he stays. You told him to, after all. Slowly, you sit down, his blankets creating a low wall between the two of you.

It’s only now that he gets a good look at you. You're tired, he knows, watching as your eyelids droop and your lazy movements when you get more comfortable under your blanket, but there’s more to it than just that. You seem so fragile, like sugar glass, breaking with even the slightest amount of pressure. He feels he can reach over and shatter you with the gentlest of touches, and that thought alone roots him in place. Since you came back, he’s never seen you without a smile. Your genuine smile was the prettiest, he decided rather early on, one that lights up your face and brightens those around you. Belphegor really, truly loves your smile.

He knows there was a point in time, not long ago, where he could have made it so no one saw it ever again. He can’t help but be grateful he didn’t succeed when he sees you smiling at his brothers.

That’s never the smile you show him though. It’s not for lack of effort; you certainly try, and he loves you for that. But the smile you show him is always plastered on, and he knows you’re doing it for his sake. With Belphegor, your smile never reaches your eyes. Be that as it may, you’re never weak around him. Fake smiles prove exactly how strong you really are, but your heart races every time he enters the room. As much as he wishes your palpitations are out of excitement, he knows better than to give himself false hope.

That’s why he’s so taken aback when he looks you over and you seem so vulnerable. Never, not in a million years, would he ever let himself believe that you’d allow yourself to look weak in front of him, not after what he did. Even so, here you are, shaking, knees drawn into your chest, and his heart soars because you’re showing him a new side to yourself. It aches at the knowledge that you’re feeling so vulnerable because of him.

His eyes burn holes in the side of your head. You know he’s watching you, studying you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not when the hands he uses to pull the blankets over his body are the exact same ones that led you to your untimely and violent demise, and not when every time you look at his face, you can also see Mammon’s above you, sobbing as he tries to will you not to fade away into nothingness.

There’s no putting it nicely. You were murdered, and Belphegor was the one who killed you. As much as he tries to pretend it never happened, to act around you the same as his older brothers do, you would never forget. Neither would he, regardless of the effort he puts into pushing the memory out of his mind. His chosen way of coping was to laugh with you, to get close and have you forgive him without acknowledging the situation. It was too painful to talk about, after all. He willingly, happily snuffed out the life of someone his brothers love, and someone he’d find himself loving too. You became someone who changed him, helped him grow and be better. It was easier, simpler to act as if you’d met him the same way you’d met any of his brothers.

Belphegor killed one of the last remaining parts of his past, a part that, while once warm and light, mutated and infected him, causing his anger to grow out of control, like a weed that suffocates any flower that tries to flourish. He killed a descendant of his sister, and the fact that you’re here now is more of a second chance than he thinks he could ever deserve in all his millenia of living.

And yet, here you are. Scared and shaking, but here. The silence has stretched on for longer than he’d like; he wants to be able to love you, openly and happily, but knows it won’t happen. It can’t, unless he does what he thought was the very last thing he’d do.

“I’m sorry,” Belphegor begins, voice much weaker than anticipated. He can hear your heartbeat pick up, and he curses himself mentally. Your lip between your teeth, you remain silent. His nerves force him to speak more.

“I know that will never cut, and it will never be enough, but I’m sorry.”

There’s more silence. He feels like he can’t breathe, the tense atmosphere forcing its way around his throat and tightening its grip. He doesn’t know how long it takes you to even contemplate replying, let alone allow yourself to respond. Belphegor’s ears ring almost deafeningly loud. He can’t take it.

“You’re right.”

His eyes, which he trained to the ground, dart up to your profile once more. You pause, wetting your lips.

“You’re right, Belphegor. It won’t cut it.”

There’s not enough time to process your words before he really, really looks at you. Almost fearlessly, you meet his eyes.

Almost fearlessly.

The shaking of your hands betrays the strength of your voice. Belphegor’s chest aches.

“But…”

There’s a pause as you speak. He can’t look away again, even as your eyes meet the stars once more. There’s no chance he’ll miss a word you say, even if it tears him apart.

“It’s… it’s really difficult. I know you know that, but…”

Each time you pause, Belphegor’s mind begins storming. He can’t figure out what you’re going to say, or how you’re going to react, and it drives him crazy. He’s usually so good at reading people, but you’re an enigma. It sends a chill down his spine.

His throat is caught. Even if he had words to say, they wouldn’t be able to come out. So he sits in silence as you find your own.

“I don’t want you to feel worse than you do.” You lick your lips. “Or maybe I do? I… I really don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about you, Belphie.”

The nickname tugs at his heart, more than he could ever admit. He wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to do anything other than look at your melancholy face, knowing he’s the problem. He wants to run and hide, to sleep forever. He can’t, though. Not when you’re here. Not now.

Knuckles turn white as he clutches desperately onto his pillow. His breath shakes as he draws in air.

“I want to love you. I want to love you as much as I love your brothers, and care about you as much as I care for them…”

You struggle to find the words.

“... But it’s hard.”

You curse your lack of eloquence. Now, of all times, when your words are the only thing that enable you to communicate how you truly feel, they fail you. This might be your only chance to ever properly show Belphegor how you feel, what makes you so conflicted every time he walks into the room with a smile on his face, and yet all you can say is “it’s hard”. Obviously.

A breath finds its way into your lungs, and the sound of your lips parting in the otherwise silent planetarium echoes in your ears.

You continue.

“It’s hard because every time I see your face, or I hear your voice, or I-”, you falter, heart catching in your throat, “or you touch me, I can’t help but be reminded of what happened.”

Belphegor doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from your form. The grief that settles into his face perfectly matches your own, eyebrows upturned and bottom lip quivering just the slightest bit. Even the trembling of your hands is replicated in his own. He’s never seen you like this, so incredibly vulnerable, and it tears him apart inside to know that he is the cause of it.

A shuddery breath comes from Belphegor, and you fight your instincts to check if he’s okay. You know he isn’t.

The silence deafens you, thundering in your ears so harshly that you're tempted to place your hands at the side of your head to muffle how quiet it is. You don’t, however, and whether it’s because you don’t want to look crazy, or because you’re afraid you might shatter if you move, you’ll never know. Do you want him to talk? Do you want him to say anything? Do you want an apology?

If you had an answer for that, you’re sure that things would have patched themselves up much quicker than this. You caution a glance at Belphegor, and the weight pressing down on your chest gets heavier at his expression. It feels almost as if you can inhale the guilt he feels, the emotion radiating off of him in waves.

“I… Logically, Belphie, I get it.” Again with that cursed nickname. Usually, hearing it from your lips makes Belphegor feel warm and goddamn near giddy, but now it only seemed to drive the knife in his gut further.

“I understand what happened and why you did it. I may not agree… but I get it, you know?” You swallow.

“In the end, I’m still here. And… and I’ve come to learn that you’re nothing like that anymore. You’ve grown, and changed, and the guilt and anger that consumed you took control, and that's why you-- that’s--”

You pause, clutching the blanket around you to try and ground yourself. The shakiness in your voice is not missed by Belphegor, and even if it had been, there’s no way he’d be able to ignore the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. Slowly, subconsciously, one of your hands comes up to rest against your neck, a phantom of the grasp that once threatened to crush you.

“S-So… I understand why you did it. And I’m alive, and we’re friends, so it should all be okay, right?” Belphegor casts his glance away.

“But Belphie… as much as I want to forgive you, I also know that I’m never going to be able to forget what happened. It’s there in my dreams, and it’s there in your smile, and it’s there every single time your arm brushes mine and I flinch like a total loser.”

A weak chuckle makes its way out of your chest, and the halfhearted smile that follows forces a tear from your eye. You’re quick to wipe it away, hopefully quick enough so that it goes unnoticed by Belphegor.

It does.

What he does notice, however, is the frustration that holds tight to the edges of your sentences. The frustration is not directed at him, no. You would be yelling if that were the case, and maybe that would be easier for him to hear. No, this frustration is directed at yourself. You’ve been trying so hard, and all Belphegor has been doing is running away. His teeth dig so hard into his bottom lip, trying desperately not to show any anger he feels at himself, that he tastes iron.

“And then we became all buddy-buddy, you know? Like I was never lied to, or used, or manipulated, or-- or--”

Belphegor is torn from his self-pity when you continue, and he almost wishes you’d stop speaking. The thought that you might break him with your words has him shaking, and a feeling similar to fear courses heavily through his veins. Please, stop. He wants to go back to running away.

But you continue, as you always have.

“And I’m left not knowing how to feel. I’m so mad at myself for being such a coward and not being able to just get over it like everyone else, and I’m so fucking pissed that I can’t just exist around you like I do for everyone else. I mean, I used to be terrified of Lucifer, too.” Another fragile laugh, and you sweep the hair from your eyes with a shaky hand. Belphegor swallows hard.

“But I… I can’t pretend like nothing happened. As much as I want to be near you, and hug you, and take naps and play pranks on Luci with you… I can’t. I can’t act as if what I feel isn’t real, and what you did didn’t happen. It’s so hard, Belphegor.” You sigh, and finally look at him once more. He can’t meet your gaze, slumped over himself and hugging his pillow so tight to his chest it seems as if he wishes to disappear into it. “Especially because I really, truly want to understand why everyone loves you so much. And I want to love you, too. I want to know why Beel smiles every time you’re brought up in conversation, and I want to smile just the same. But… But right now, I can’t.”

Talking has gotten easier. The words that used to escape you have become accustomed to being used again, and confidence has restored in your gut. You sit a bit straighter as you watch Belphegor carefully, a sad smile lifting your cheeks.

Belphegor knows that this is when he should swoop in, say something so intellectual that you’re caught off guard, and he can save you from… himself. This knowledge does nothing to save him from himself. He can’t even open his mouth to mime a sentence, let alone actually speak. The thought of how pathetic he must look settles under Belphegor’s skin, and he can feel his irritation rising. Not at you though, never at you. Not even when… When it all happened. His anger was misplaced, but he has never been angry at you.

Finally, when the quiet becomes too much, he forces himself to meet your gaze. The way you look at him, just as vulnerable and bare and scared as he is… he feels safe. He knows, even though your words sear his heart, that you never mean to hurt him, especially now. You’re being honest, and simply expect the same from him.

Belphegor inhales a deep breath, before willing himself to speak.

“I thought--” he croaks, and quickly clears his throat. Fuck. “I thought that if… if I could pretend that nothing happened, then I wouldn’t have to face any consequences.”

He curses audibly. Just how pathetic can he sound? Belphegor’s voice is hoarse and quivering, and weak. “Weak” is never a word that he would have used to describe himself, but now it echoes hauntingly against the confines of his skull. One of the most powerful demons in existence, and he finds himself quaking before a mere human. He cares for you, though, and he cares for you viciously. Something in Belphegor knows that he’s never going to be able to prove that to you unless he pushes his way through this.

So he forces himself to continue, even with every cell in his body desperately screaming at him to stop.

“I did what I did out of a place of guilt… and regret. I couldn’t stand the fact that it was because of me, that it was my fault, that I’m the reason that Lilith--”

Belphegor stumbles over his own words, and he sets down his pillow before he accidentally tears a hole through it. Instead he braces himself on the cool floor, in need of something steady to hold onto. This whole conversation shook him to the core. He can hardly believe he’s talking about his sister. She’s a topic that he’s avoided even around Beelzebub…

But if Belphegor ever wants even the possibility that you’ll forgive him, he knows he has to. Everything is on the line. His blunt nails press against the tiles and he focuses on steadying his voice.

“I couldn’t accept that it was my fault.” A newfound steadiness weaves its way around his words, and he finds himself sitting a bit straighter. “I’m the one who introduced her to the human world, and kept bringing her back. I’m the reason she suffered, and why the war started, and why we fell, and why she…” Belphegor coughs. “In the end, I couldn’t accept that I’m the one who killed her.

Your heart yearns to tell him that no, he’s wrong, it’s not all his fault. You know it won’t help right now, though, and that it isn’t your time to speak. Settling back a bit, you let your blanket fall from your shoulders.

Belphegor’s heart stutters, and pounds so hard that he feels like it's trying to tear through his chest. Even so, he doesn’t miss the way your hand reaches out to smooth over his own, and for a moment he feels himself wanting to melt just from the simple touch.

Belphegor pulls away. He doesn’t deserve your comfort, not yet.

“So… So when you said that you’re a descendant of Lilith, I-- I couldn’t help myself. I jumped at the chance to get to know you, learn about what makes you similar and what makes you different. Her blood flows through your veins, and I was quick to ignore what I did in favour of getting to know you, and… and inevitably, becoming just as fond of you as my brothers… but that can’t erase what I did.”

The feeling of understanding floods you and you find yourself nodding at his words. To be completely honest, even now, you’re scared. Your heart beats for many reasons, fear one of them, but you don’t run away. Not anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to even if you wanted to.

Your hand, abandoned next to Belphegor’s, lay dormant. The need to comfort wills you to once again place your hand on his, but you don’t move. When he’s ready, if he ever is, you’ll be there.

Just as he’ll be there for you.

“I killed you, MC. And in doing that, I killed Lilith. Again.”

Countless emotions storm their way through Belphegor’s conscience, despair clawing at his throat, regret snapping his back, and guilt slowly crushing him under its weight. How is it that one can feel so empty, and yet so filled to the brim with misery?

“And not only that, but if I succeeded… I would have completely missed out on getting to know you, and caring about you as much as I do now. It would have been a loss that I never would have understood, but know for a fact that I would have felt. Even… Even when I was proud,” he spits out the word as if it’s poison, “of what I’d done, watching my brothers’ hearts break at the sight of your body… Even then, I felt it. The ache. It’s so fucking stupid.”

His tone, now bubbling with anger, stills you. It’s not directed at you, and you know this, but despite yourself, you freeze. Belphegor notices, and quickly clears his throat, relaxing his shoulders. He allows your heart a moment to slow as he regains his composure, and you find yourself breathing again.

“I know that me saying sorry is never going to cut it.” Belphegor turns his body to fully face you. He’s no longer running from his feelings, or from you. He knows he can’t anymore. Hesitantly, he lifts his trembling hand to place over yours. The muscles in your fingers tense, and he pauses to gauge your reaction. When you slowly nod your head once, he delicately places his hand on yours, using his thumb to gently begin massaging the tension away. “And I know that even if I do everything right from here on out, that there’s a chance that you won’t ever forgive me. And I understand why.”

Your heart sinks at his expression, his gaze locked on your joined hands. As aloof as he normally is, you can see none of that on his face now. When you turn over your hand he quickly pulls away, but your shaky movements to bring his hand back and intertwine your fingers urges him to go on.

“But I want to try. And really try this time. I want you to be honest with how you feel, whether I’m frustrating you or scaring you or anything like that, and… and I want to be honest with you too. I…”

Belphegor trails off, but you squeeze his hand. He draws in a slow breath.

“No matter what happens, no matter how you feel, we’re stuck together for the next few months. I want to spend that time getting to know you, and I want us to be as close as you are with any of my brothers… but I also want you to know that you shouldn’t feel forced. If it’s ever too much, I need you to tell me, and I promise I’ll back off.”

The smallest of smiles makes its way onto your face as you quietly agree. Belphegor doesn’t allow himself to try and figure out if it's genuine, out of pity, or sadness, but in spite of everything, it makes him feel a bit lighter. Just a bit.

“This won’t fix everything right away,” you say, and he now knows that your smile is a combination of the three. Along with this, though, Belphegor also knows the small sparkle in your eyes is hope, and he’s willing to take that hope and nurture it for however long he must.

“I know,” he sighs, but even he can feel the small tilt of a smile on his face, “but I’m willing to take as much time as you need to decide how you feel about me. And… And if you decide you hate me, which is fair, and that you never want to even be in the same room as me, I’ll respect your wishes.

Until then...Until you decide that you really, truly hate me, I won’t stop trying.”

There’s no way of telling how long his words linger in the air around the two of you, circling around your heads and making their way through your body. Even so, Belphegor diligently watches you, wanting to make sure he’s not overstepping his bounds. He even contemplates letting go of you, but is reassured when slowly, almost unnoticeably, you begin smoothing out the lines on the back of his hand with your thumb.

As much as you want to tell him that you could never hate him, you also know you can’t promise anything. Still, for now, just as much as him, you’re willing to try. You stay in silence, more comfortable than you’ve ever been in his presence, gently caressing the hand held in your own.

Eventually, Belphegor clears his throat once more. The vulnerability has made him tense and rendered his voice weak.

“Can… can you hug me?” He all but whispers, fragility making his body quiver once more. He was completely open about his feelings for the first time in a lifetime, and the intensity of it left him craving affection. He knows how unfair this is to you, but he can’t help himself. He wishes to be held, for his fears to be quelled by someone so much stronger than him. “If you don’t want to,” he falters, speaking quickly, insecurely, “I won't even touch you. I-If you do, I promise I can keep my hands behind my back, and I won’t even--”

His words end abruptly as he feels you release his hand, and his heart sinks. He debates running away again, until he hears you moving towards him, and he finds he’s frozen in place. Slowly, but surely, with more courage circulating through your veins than you’ve had all night, you make your way over the blankets that divide you and position yourself right next to Belphegor, pulling him into your chest. Even now, he can feel how quickly, persistently your heart races, and yet you stay. True to his word, Belphegor rests his hands on the ground behind his back, but he doesn’t stop himself from nuzzling into your chest… and he cries. The complete, uninhibited release of his emotions hit him like a truck, and he sobs heavily into you, tears slowly but surely staining your shirt. You adjust yourself so you can hold him closer, slowly and reassuringly rubbing his back as he lets go of everything he’s been holding on to for longer than you can even imagine. This is a man who’s run from his emotions for centuries, and the fact that he’s willing to face them for your sake comforts you, cradles your heart and presses gentle kisses against the cracks. You know that you’re not going to wake up tomorrow with everything okay, but for now… for now you’re comfortable with his touch. Heaving in a deep, steadying breath, you reach down just enough to take Belphegor’s arms, and guide them to rest his hands on your hips. At this silent permission, he slowly, delicately wraps his arms around your waist, despite craving your body closer, wanting to hold you tight and never let go. He cradles you like you’re made of the most brittle glass, and you smile. The gesture touches your heart, and… and you feel safe. You know that all he wants to do is embrace you as tight as he can, but he doesn’t, even with permission.

Here, in Belphegor’s arms, you feel safe. Here, where Belphegor’s grip on you is so gentle that it wouldn’t even crumple paper, you feel loved. As he cries into your chest, holding you as if you were an antique, hope slowly fills your heart.

Everything is far from perfect, but it’s still on the right track, here in the quiet planetarium.

1K notes · View notes

angelz-dust · 3 years ago

Text

masters of none - part 4 (jason todd x reader)

summary: after many months, we are back in action and back in reader’s head. pls enjoy these jason crumbs. if you need a refresher on the plot, the other chapters will be linked below!

word count: 3.7k

warnings: food/eating. alcohol. cursing.

part 1 /// part 2 //// part 3

gravity

ever since i ever felt ya, right there life couldn't seem better. tulip flowers in my sweater. ask me now, is this forever?

…

you rested your chin on the table before you, your arms hanging limply between your knees as you listened to your manager, dana. you were really just watching her mouth open and close while she pointed at a powerpoint. god, what you would've given for an extra hour of sleep. the all nighters in the studio were starting to take a toll.

the feeling of the back of daisy’s soft hands brought you back to earth. the smell of cocoa butter dancing beneath your nostrils as her smooth engagement ring rolled across your cheek. you breathed in her smell, exhaling in content through your nose.

“you good?” she mouthed and you closed your eyes, giving her a little nod. the bassist rubbed her calloused fingers against your forehead, pushing strands of your hair past your hairline. you pouted when she eventually pulled away, leaving you only with the sensation of touch that once was.

you heard tyler shift in his seat and then felt some air graze against your hand. you looked under the table, noticing he was holding something out to you. you two made eye contact briefly before you scooted back in, grabbing what felt like an envelope. looking down at your lap, you saw a sticky note attached to it. jason’s money was what it said. you carefully put the envelope in your jacket pocket, sitting back in your seat now and looking at dana’s powerpoint. she was going over reports from your publicist, jerry, which you didn't particularly care about.

“now, i have to ask,” dana’s words pierced your bubble of inattention. “have you all thought about what i said about this next album?”

jordy raised his hand like a school kid. “yes?”

“y/n and i decided that we'd be okay with making our album a group project. it has been, admittedly, kinda hard and boring without everyone else. we’d honestly be doing ourselves a disservice by not doing it together,” jordy explained, dana clapping her hands together.

“wonderful,” she nodded, keeping her hands clasped. “i know you two were excited to do your own thing, but i was talking to jerry and he was really pressing me to get a group album from you guys. the people wanna see you guys as a unit of established artists, which you all are. so what's the concept? we never discussed it.”

“uh,” you verbally paused, raising your arms above your head to stretch. “disco, jazz, and funk. it's a mix of those.”

“retro is in right now,” dana nodded, pacing around the room. “how far back will this set us on a release date?”

you grimaced, leaning back in your seat, the back of the seat lightly bouncing as it absorbed your weight. you pondered the question for a moment. “if it’s gonna be a group thing, it'll have to be significantly longer. we have a decent starting off point but i'm gonna need way more songs now.”

“what about the rest of you? any tracks that we could swing?” dana asked, looking at the rest of the group.

grabbing a pen and piece of scrap paper, you started jotting down notes as everyone spoke out to you. dex and quinton didn’t have anything, but they wouldn’t be a problem. you just needed to give them a beat to rap over and you’d be set. the twins had a finished song already that fit the concept, which was good. with tyler’s voice and aly’s excellent song writing abilities, you doubted very seriously that anything else needed to be done to it. daisy and hector had plenty of lyricless songs, too. funk and soul was their specialty, after all. misha even had a demo track she was willing to share.

you looked over the notes you had taken, tapping your pen on the table as you hummed to yourself. “this could probably work. we’ll need to go over everything in the studio, though.”

“we should just do it now. no one is doing shit else today, right?” dex asked the group, who all shook their head.

“i have a request,” you raised your finger, looking at dana. “i want gotham to be involved in this project.”

“gotham…” dana repeated slowly, unsure of what you meant. “care to elaborate?”

“music videos directed by student directors from gotham university, commissioning local artists for album art. dancers, actors, musicians, whatever. all of them have to be from gotham. i don't want any of the money we put into this project leaving this city,” you stated firmly, dana giving you a blank look.

“i like that idea,” hector said, giving you a kind smile before turning to dana, shifting in his seat. the drummer was like a big brother, always backing you up in moments like these. “accessibility to the arts is really limited here and we should change that.”

“i’d rather give back to the city, too,” quinton agreed, playing with the gold cross hanging from his neck. “we’re one of the only groups in gotham known outside of gotham. we should use that as an opportunity to rep our city.”

“it sounds like you have your minds made up on this,” dana narrowed her eyes, letting out a sigh. “it would definitely be good PR.”

“because god forbid we do something out of the kindness of our hearts,” misha laughed, rolling her eyes. “we're trying to put the city on and you're worried about how it makes us look.”

“that's my job, misha. don't you want me to do my job?” dana retorted. “besides, i'm more concerned with the funding. you all don't have disposable income, believe it or not.”

“but i know someone who does,” she said with a singsong tone, giving you a look.

“i hope you're not referring to me,” you deadpanned. your income was far from disposable.

“i’m referring to our good friend, bruce wayne,” she explained, grabbing a business card out of her purse, handing it over to dana. “ever since i got invited to that charity gala, i've had a direct line to a representative with the wayne foundation. i say we ask them to help fund the project.”

“now that could work,” dana admitted, eyeing the card as she tapped her foot. “if we pitch for more youth involvement, it'll probably go over better. we all know how much bruce wayne loves saving the children.”

you frowned at how dana described bruce’s initiatives as a philanthropist. you were sure his motivations for favoring youth projects were good intentioned, considering his parents had been killed when he was just a little boy. you wanted to go into this good intentioned, too and you hoped that they'd agree. they being the wayne foundation and subsequently, bruce himself.

“ty and quinton could do something with forrester. if we’re going for the youth involvement route, i mean,” aly spoke up.

“forrester correctional. our old stomping grounds,” quinton sighed wistfully as he patted tyler on the shoulder. “i think that would be a good idea.”

“they use the arts as an outlet for them, so it could be beneficial for everyone,” tyler nodded. “there are a lot of good kids there. just unfortunate circumstances, that’s all.”

“wasn’t one of bruce’s son’s a troublemaker before he was adopted?” aly continued, not noticing the look you and tyler shared. “i’m sure he’d probably be interested in doing something with them if his son comes from the same background.”

“it’s settled, then. you all keep working on the music. jerry and i will handle the rest. we need this album out before hector and daisy’s wedding,” dana said, grabbing her suitcase.

…

hey, i have your money. did you still want it?

you stared down at the unsent message, your thumb floating over the send arrow. you hadn’t spoken to jason since that night after the race, as per his request. your mind kept wandering back to it, even as time still went on. what happened was scary, to say the least. fun, but scary. you wondered how the hell jason didn’t get the two of you killed. that part, you didn't want to think about too hard. everyone in gotham had their secrets and it was an unspoken rule amongst citizens to not pry. secrets were secrets for a reason. nothing good ever came from unearthing them.

speaking of secrets, you hadn't exactly told tyler and quinton what happened that night. not in detail. you conveniently left out the chase and stopping to get something to eat. omitting the first part was obvious, but the second one was for your own sanity. you didn't need them teasing you over nothing. besides, all that mattered was no one was dead or arrested. and for the way the three of you used to get down, that was a win.

you considered texting jason earlier this week, just to check in on him, but you decided against it. he obviously wanted you to text him and you obviously had to do the opposite. his little mind game wasn’t going to work on you. you pressed send, frowning immediately as you did so.

maybe it already had.

“it’s too many people in this bitch,” dex sighed, the cold of the water bottle you had asked him for against your hand bringing you back to reality. blinking, you were suddenly very aware of the chaos surrounding you in the studio as you put your phone back in your pocket. you looked to your left, where jordy was leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone. to your right was aly, who was scribbling in her songbook in the chair next to you. you remembered you were supposed to be working, too. “we need a new stu.”

“i’m working on it!” hector hollered from inside the booth as he and daisy were setting up equipment and instruments. you glanced up at the glass in front when you heard his voice, accidentally catching the pair share a little kiss. you quickly averted your gaze, smiling to yourself.

“new stu, new view, what it do?” quinton began to freestyle to a beat he was making on the coffee table in front of him. “off 92, posted up with southside crew.”

“okay,” dex laughed, noddinh his head as he was vibing with the beat, making his way out of your line of sight. you heard someone, presumably tyler, join in and add some depth to the beat. it sounded like he was hitting a pencil against a shot glass.

“i got a new boo, but i’m tryna slide with misha, too,” quinton continued, dex adlibbing in the back as quinton lowered his voice to his signature melodic whisper. “on the low, nobody gotta know.”

“would you shut the fuck up?” you heard misha say, followed by a barrage of muffled smacking noises and verbal objections from quinton, who you assumed was on the receiving end of what sounded like an assault by pillow.

laughing to yourself, you leaned your head in aly’s direction, not fully facing her. “pass me the flash drive?” you held your hand out weakly. once you felt the plastic in your palm, you leaned back over and put it into the computer, pulling up the proper files.

“we’re done back here,” daisy smiled at you, she and hector coming out from the booth.

you clapped your hands together. “wonderful. everybody shut up, please.”

you pulled up the twin’s song and let it play, your eyes fixed on the colorful audio loops on the screen. the green ones were tyler’s vocals, the purple were aly’s. it looked like blue was reserved for instruments and red was any added sound effects or layered sounds.

“you two sound really great,” jordy walked up behind aly’s seat, leaning against it as he swayed his head to the beat.

“thanks. i wrote it with our mother in mind,” aly said, the words coming out of her mouth uncomfortably. you placed your hand on hers and gave it a little squeeze, which earned you a look of appreciation.

“it's missing something, though,” tyler scratched the back of his head. “i need the producer squad to give us some assistance.”

“oh, say less,” dex laughed, snapping his fingers to the beat with one hand and holding his glass of hennessy in the other. he danced his way over, taking aly’s seat as she, tyler and jordy moved to give you all some space.

misha sauntered her way over, sitting against the table and flipping her hair over her shoulder. the smell of her sweet perfume floated in the air around you. “i think it just needs some fluffing up. some snapping might work. more vocal layering in certain spots.”

“i agree,” you nodded, dex letting out a satisfied sigh as he took a sip of his cold drink.

“is it good?” misha asked him teasingly and he took his final swig, letting out a more dramatic and drawn out sigh. this time, though, it was on beat with the song. you were pretty sure it was unintentional on his part, since he and misha just shared a laugh before returning their attention to the screen.

after a moment of pondering, you swiveled around in your chair, looking at tyler. “okay, hear me out…”

…

two weeks of very diligent working between the nine of you had given you a lot to work with for the album. all that was left was to start putting things together. you still had a ways to go, but you had a good starting off point. as much as you hated to admit it, it was a good call on dana’s part to have you all do a group album. the fans seemed to be greatly anticipating the release and the work ethic the nine of you shared was incredible. even in that cramped little studio, you all made it work.

you all agreed to take the day off, but you were still working at some capacity. you had just traded one small space for another, working in your walk-in closet/home studio for the day. you still needed said walk-in to function as a closet, so there were still garment bags pushed up into a corner and shoe boxes haphazardly stacked, surrounding your desk that you had shoved in there. there was just enough space for you to move your chair and safely get out without twisting an ankle, a fate you often flirted with in that room.

in the spirit of your day off, you hadn't done anything too difficult. you were just trying to decide what order you wanted the completed songs to go in. it may seem like an insignificant detail, but the order was important. the transitions between songs couldn't be jarring for the listener. everything had to flow together with natural progression. at this point, it didn't matter since you weren't done with the album, but it was just giving you an idea of how to fill the gaps with future songs.

the sound of your growling stomach indicated that it was time to stop for the day. you quickly saved all your work and headed to the kitchen. you popped some leftovers in the microwave and scrolled on twitter while you waited. the microwave beeped at you, so you set your phone back down and grabbed the bowl, mixing up the contents with your fork. the flash of light coming from your phone got your attention. a text notification.

are you home?

oh, so now he wanted to respond? cute.

despite your annoyance with the situation, you quickly responded with a yes and set the phone back down. you leaned against the counter, eating what little food you had in your reheated bowl. you mixed the contents around with your fork, grumbling. stupid jason and his stupid inability to text back. he could have at least had the decency to leave you on read. he probably didn't even have read receipts on. you weren't sure which was worse. tossing your now empty bowl into the sink, you grabbed your phone to read his next message.

i’ll be over soon.

soon was very vague and you wished that you would've demanded an exact time, but that opportunity had passed by the time you thought about it. you busied yourself with tidying up, trying to make your place look presentable. you even lit your new candle, which you found yourself focusing your attention on while you waited for him to show up. staring at the flame was much more entrancing than you anticipated.

you heard the door buzzer go off. you weren't expecting anyone else, so it had to be him. you leaned against the wall, pressing your finger to the button.

“who goes there?” you presented the question as a joke, but your tone was a little flat.

“it’s the irs,” jason’s voice came through and you buzzed him in.

not too long after, you heard him knock on the door. you cracked it open and the first thing you noticed was his cologne. it was a strong but pleasant scent. spicy and sweet. it was very intoxicating, actually. so much so that you almost forgot you were angry at him.

“hi.”

“hello.”

you opened the door fully and handed the envelope to him. jason eyed it suspiciously. he opened it up and began to count it out in front of you. he made an effort to do it very slow, the sound of the crisp dollars echoing in the quiet hall. his eyes stayed glued to yours as he counted out loud. you leaned against the doorframe as you watched.

“six… seven… eight,” he said, pulling out his wallet and stuffing it with the cash. “thought you would've skimmed some off the top.”

“i should have with how long you made me wait,” you said matter of factly, letting your annoyance be known now.

“i know. i’m sorry,” he sounded honest but you couldn't see it in his face or in his eyes, which was worrisome. it was a nice alternative to listening to a sputter of excuses, though. “let me make it up to you?”

“how do you plan on doing that?”

“i’m so glad you asked,” he smiled. “as it turns out, i've recently come into some money. let me spend it on you?”

“so you like throwing money at your problems?” you asked him. well, you weren't really asking. it was more like you were telling him.

“no,” he said, sounding a little offended. “i just thought-”

“you just thought that throwing money at me would make me forget about the fact that you ignored me for a month.”

“no, no,” he shook his head, sighing in frustration. “listen, i-”

“i really don't wanna hear it,” you said honestly, watching as his frustrated look turned into kicked puppy. you almost felt bad. “i don't like feeling stupid, jason. that's how i feel right now. i want you to make it up to me but you'll have to be a bit more creative than this.”

“you want me to make it up to you?” jason had repeated, confusion on his face.

you poked him harshly in the chest. “you do that or you leave me alone. those are your options. goodbye.”

you shut the door in his face and let out the breath you were holding in. you weren’t sure how jason was going to react to your little ultimatum, but those were your terms. you liked him but you weren’t going to stress over someone you barely knew, especially with your assumptions about him floating around in your head.

“i’ll be right back,” you heard him say through the door, catching you off guard.

“what?”

“don’t go anywhere.”

you didn’t respond but you heard his footsteps getting quieter as he walked down the hall. the elevator ding indicated that he had left. you stood there, confused as to what it was he was trying to do. you were still stewing in your negative emotions, so you went and busied yourself again. you decided the dishes needed washing and got on it right away. in the middle of scrubbing the stubborn sauce stains out of your plate, you heard your door buzzer go off again.

so he did come back after all. interesting.

you buzzed him in like you did before and waited by the door for him. he knocked and when you opened it, you were met with two gifts: a bouquet of pink tulips and a small box of something from the bakery around the corner.

“i shouldn’t have ignored you. it was rude and stupid and i’m sorry. it won’t happen again,” he said to you, holding out the items to you. you hesitantly accepted them, taking the opportunity to look through the plastic opening of the box to see chocolate covered strawberries.

“it better not happen again,” you pouted, looking up at him. you had to appreciate the effort he put in at such short notice. it was a sweet gesture and he actually looked sorry this time.

“it won’t,” he assured you and you smiled.

“i forgive you. but you’re on thin fucking ice,” you reminded him and he grinned at you with a nod.

“i’m going to make it up to you. just you wait,” he said confidently. “not all of us are naturally creative like you, though. you gotta give me some time to think of something else.”

“seems like you’re getting your feet wet with the flower selection,” you noted, taking a whiff of the delicate and fresh scent. they’d look nice on your coffee table.

“lady at the shop said they would convey my sincerest apologies,” he explained, a hopeful look in his eyes. “did it work?”

“for now,” you shrugged, setting the items down on the table next to the door.

“i can accept that.”

“you’re gonna have to because that’s all i’m giving you,” you said firmly. his charm wasn’t going to get him out of this one. not completely. “now go away. i want to eat my berries in peace.”

“i’ll text you as soon as i get the chance,” he told you as you were shutting the door. you peered at him, narrowing your eyes before shutting it again. “i’m serious!”

“goodbye, jason!” you said through the door. you heard his faint farewell as you walked away, plopping on the couch with your dessert in hand.

were you still a little mad at him? yes. but you weren’t going to pass up free stuff, even if you had made all that fuss about the money earlier. at least the gifts had some thought behind them. so long as he held up his end of the deal, you had a feeling being friends with jason wouldn’t be that bad.

hopefully, anyway.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #jason todd #red hood

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deonideatta · 4 years ago

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hi hi i heard you like chief kim and i'm here to get all the intel on why it's a good drama 😊 and what you love about park jae bum's other dramas 😊 pls let me know if there's romance bc that's the oxygen i breathe when i watch a show 💕

Hello!!! Thank you for asking me about Chief Kim!!!! I can go on about it for ages lol. This got a bit long so i’m putting it under a cut

Chief Kim (aka Good Manager) is a comedy office drama with 20 eps, and it aired in 2017. There isn’t a main romance plotline, but don’t let that put you off! It’s an incredible drama in so many ways. (tho there is a subtle romance side plot, but it doesn’t involve the main character and it’s never the main focus, though it is cute). It does feature a bromance that was so great that the two actors literally won an award for it tho lol, so there’s also that!

In a way, the general premise is somewhat similar to Vincenzo in that it’s the main character and an unlikely team of others fighting a big corporation. The comedic tone is also more or less the same. The drama follows Kim Seong Ryong (the titular Chief Kim, played by Namgoong Min), a man with a talent for handling numbers who goes from running a seedy accounting firm to quite accidentally becoming a champion of employees rights in one of the biggest corporations in the country. He originally joins the company with the goal of embezzling a lot money and moving abroad, but he gets swept up in office politics surrounding high executives and the sinister goings on surrounding the position he was recruited for, as well as the shady things the higher-ups want him to do and the suspicion of the other members of his department. Eventually he starts to work alongside them to fight the corruption of the higher ups, and quickly becomes the bane of top management’s existence by being so incredibly annoying that they begin to regret hiring him.

It’s the kind of drama that really gets you to laugh, while still being incredibly heartwarming. The main character is so unashamedly funny, and the character dynamics are all so warm, and none of it ever seems forced. The first tag for the drama on MyDramaList is “character development”, and that says a lot! There’s so much growth that goes on for all the characters, even some of the villains! It’s especially funny because to begin with all the good things Kim Seong Ryeong does are completely by accident, and he’s annoyed but also pleased with all the attention it gets him. Over time he begins to own it, and begins to actively try to stand up to the corrupt people at the top of the company. The other highlight for me besides the humor is definitely the characters. From the eccentric main character, to the no-nonsense second in command in his department Yoon Ha Kyung, to the aggressive finance director Seo Yul who is always eating (one of my all time favourite characters, played by 2PM’s Junho), to the janitor lady who always roasts everyone, there isn’t a single dull character, whether good or bad. And Seo Yul gets one of the best character arcs I’ve ever seen in a kdrama. You get to watch the characters struggle and triumph, and you feel for them because their struggles feel so real, and the drama really gets you invested in them. You see the ways in which they fight to survive as normal working class citizens and you want them to win.

It differs from Vincenzo in that the main character isn’t considered evil and loses his less savoury traits over the course of the drama (his character arc is one of becoming a more upstanding citizen), and the message is one of fighting against corporate greed using the corporate system against itself in order to make things better for the average working citizen. But there’s the same plotting, and the same feeling of rooting for the protagonist team to win as you watch them plot and plan. I never rewatch things, but i’ve rewatched Chief Kim twice already and i’m looking forward to rewatching it again soon (just writing about it is making me want to rewatch it right now lol). It especially hits well for me because i love office dramas, and the humor and the bromance are just right. (Also, not entirely related, but it’s the first drama Kim Seonho was in!)

Another Park Jaebum drama i can definitely recommend is The Fiery Priest! It’s also a comedy action drama with 20 eps (released in 2019), and it follows Kim Hae Il (Kim Nam Gil), a catholic priest with a real temper, as he works to solve the mystery surrounding the death of a senior priest. No romance there either, but it’s got the same humor as Chief Kim and Vincenzo, and the same overarching found family trope (that really shines for this one). It’s darker than Chief Kim, but not as dark as Vincenzo. The plot is very intriguing, and it’s the kind of drama you feel compelled to keep watching to see what happens next. And the host of characters in that drama is still one of my favourites to this day. Every character was incredibly written, and they all played vital roles in the overall story. Again, lots of character development all round, and great character arcs not just for the main character (even for a few of the villains!). Plus it was lovely to watch the various characters interact, get closer, and build relationships. Such an iconic squad. Not to mention how funny it is?? And the fight scenes??? In fact, I enjoyed it so much that when I checked Park Jaebum’s page on MyDramaList after watching it around June last year and saw Vincenzo as an upcoming project, I added it to my plan to watch list immediately even though there was only a single line of synopsis lol. It’s also got an absolute banger of a soundtrack!

When you think about it, all three (Chief Kim, TFP and Vincenzo) can be simplified to “guy with dubious past sets out to fight corruption and creates a great support circle in the process”. All three are dramas of finding people who care about you and are willing to fight alongside you, and fighting for your convictions/what you think is right. Each main character starts out as a somewhat solitary figure, and you get to watch as they each find people who are willing to fight alongside them and support them. What exactly those specific convictions are varies in each drama, but Park Jaebum writes the character development arcs incredibly each time, and the relationships between the characters are so real and so satisfying to watch. And yet the integrity of the main character in each drama is never compromised either, it’s shown that they can grow and become better without losing themselves. The growth is also in the way that they learn to work with and rely on others, because teamwork makes the dream work. And then to cap it all off he lets them have victories, and he makes it SO satisfying??? There are highs and there are lows, and you feel all of those right there with the characters, which makes the victories feel so so good. In each we see the ensemble cast get involved with the fight and the plotting, and we get to see all their epic plans and their execution, and the victories they win that build up over time. And it’s so satisfying to me! I love it a lot, just thinking about it is making me smile lol. It also shows how well humor and darker/more serious plotlines/events are balanced in the dramas, neither is compromised in favour of the other, but it always works so well that the humor never feels forced or out of place. As someone who doesn’t like overbearingly dark shows, I really appreciate that. They all give you lots to laugh at, while not losing any of the plot to the funny.

Of course there are differences, notably the romance, and the fact that Vincenzo is bad vs bad rather than good vs bad like the other two. They deal more with redemption (especially The Fiery Priest), but that works for the stories that are being told, and it’s very well executed.

It’s worth noting that Park Jaebum also wrote Good Doctor and 4 seasons of God’s Quiz. I haven’t checked those out yet, but I’ve heard good things about all of them. He also wrote Blood, I haven’t seen that one either but opinions seem to be split on how good it was. All of those are medical dramas (which is the reason I haven’t watched them lol, i can’t stand medical dramas) from before 2017, when he wrote Chief Kim. It seems he’s been on a roll since then, good for him and good for us lol. You can see everything he’s written on his MyDramaList page.

Overall I enjoyed the Park Jaebum dramas I have seen for first and foremost the comedy, but also for the warmth of the character relationships and for how well developed/written each character is. And I love how he balances the humor with more poignant/darker moments, I laughed a lot watching all three dramas, but I’ve cried over each of them as well. It’s a good balance to have, it gives you a good plot to be interested in, but doesn’t keep you stressed and sombre the whole way through. I’ve seen people say that Vincenzo wouldn’t be as good if it wasn’t so wacky, and I fully agree. It’s the same for both TFP and Chief Kim, and that balance is definitely what I appreciate most in Park Jaebum’s dramas. I know I will laugh, but I also know I will get an incredible plot and incredible characters, and that’s really important for me. Plus I know I can trust that there will be a good ending because the writer cares about his characters.

I definitely recommend checking out both TFP and Chief Kim after Vincenzo is done, especially since they’re so similar in terms of comedic tone and basic plot direction. If you ever get to watching either of them feel free to hmu to chat about it!! There’s lots of plot stuff that can be can discussed.

lol this got v long (i have lots to say about how much i love these dramas haha), but I hope it’s helpful!!!

#a breakdown on why i love the park jaebum dramas i've seen so far #it was nice to sit and actually think about it/write the reason out lol #im very passionate about it sdfsdf #chief kim and the fiery priest are perhaps my favourite dramas ever #and vincenzo is looking to join them #vincenzo #the fiery priest #chief kim #kdrama #no spoilers

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pocmuzings · 5 years ago

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hello hi , it is g , ur friendly local neighbourhood hindu indian ( as in south asian ) ! so a few people requested that i just make a guide-esque sorta thing on hindu indian characters ! im not really good at guides , so instead , these are just little things i’ve noticed or picked up on that could really potentially strengthen the next indian character u ( pretty please ! ) pick up !

disclaimer : i am writing this from my perspective and it is NOT definitive , nor do i speak on behalf of all hindu indians ! i am a 23-year-old bisexual cis female hindu indian , with one older gay brother, and a Train Wreck middle brother . my mother is from new delhi , and my father is from nairobi but has indian heritage ( not sure which part of india bc he’s an Engima ) . i have extended family in india and have visited india about 10-15 times throughout my entire life .

so firstly , im so glad u all are here and want to write more hindu indian characters ! please please do so ! i hope this helps , encourages u , and isnt too confusing !!

psa : i need everyone to know that this is a very basic ‘ guide ‘ and theres a lot it DOESNT touch on or address bc i didnt want to get too Extensive and Detailed and have people Turn off and not Read it . this is just written in the terms of hopefully helping build character / be relevant to characters a bit better that ive employed into writing my OWN hindu indian character creations ! but if u have any other questions pls reach out to me or any other indians in the rpc and im sure we’ll try our best to assist u !

FCS:

one thing i’d really like to say is that its great to see fcs like dev patel , deepika padukone and avan jogia picked up every now and then in rps , but there’s actually a LOT of other indian fcs you could be and should be using ! the main reason people don’t seem to know them is because they’re not ‘ hollywood ‘ stars per se ( it was a super big deal when pr*yanka broke out of bollywood and into bollywood but we don’t talk about her on this Blog ) . they’re usually bollywood stars and i don’t really see bollywood discussed that much in the rpc !

if you’re after MORE indian fcs , i have a tag of indian females here , and indian males here . the fcs on my blogs are also not ALL that exist . there are plenty of other blogs out there that post indian fcs , such as sonamhelps & bollymusings !!! there’s also some really great faceclaim directories out there that include a LOT of indians with resources !

unfortunately , i do not know of any trans indians or nonbinary indians but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist . indian cultures and beliefs are still quite Old School and not super progressive . india only just had it’s first wlw mainstream bollywood film released last year . lgbtqia+ issues are NOT really spoken about in india or within indian families at ALL , and if they are - they��re usually dismissed or reacted to Very Very Badly . ( again this isnt definitive and im sure and hopeful that some indians have had GREAT coming out stories and been accepted by their families but this has not been a common thing ive seen or witnessed from my cousins my age , indian friends , myself and my brother who are lgbtqia + )

FOOD :

we do eat with our hands and we eat like PROS with our hands . we can shovel it so easily and quickly . i don’t know how to describe it but you use the first three fingers of your hand to place the Food there , and then use your thumb to kinda scoop it off and into your mouth . this is NOT unhygienic because indians wash their hands very regularly and most of the time we aren’t actually touching our mouths to our hands !

indian food is MADE to be eaten with your hands for the most part . it is literally NOT practical to eat food with a knife and fork . here’s a really great article explaining things more in depth re: indian food and using our hands !

cows are seen as Very holy beings in hindu indian culture , and for that reason - there isn’t a lot of beef being eaten or consumed. sure , some indians DO eat beef but i don’t think its super common, but in my personal experience as a non-beef-eater this results in A LOT of me asking ‘ oh , sorry what sauce does that pasta come with ? ‘ ‘ oh those are beef sausages ? sorry i can’t eat them ‘ etc etc . beef is in a LOT of things , and this makes me very very careful and almost pedantic about what i do eat and ask about , food wise !

indian food is seen as stinky by a majority of white people . it has a very very strong smell as im sure u know , and opening ur lunch box as a little kid to a Curry or Dal ur mum has made u ? one way street to being bullied . i also remember a time a real estate agent continuously told my dad nobody was interested in buying our house bc it smelled too much like curry, despite my mum not having cooked curry in Weeks ( just say what u Really mean , bitch ! )

indian curry exists but so does dal / daal . this is curry-like dish that is usually made out of lentils . so if ur going to talk about indian food and u know curries and samosas . . pls also bring up dals . and sabji ! ( sabji is usually just boiled vegetables plopped together . a lot of potato usually )

desserts are what we call Indian Sweets . this is stuff that is usually very VERY sugary and a bit of an accustomed taste . theyre very colourful and LOOK beautiful but even i , for one , can not eat many indian sweets bc they are a Lot of Sweet and Sugar . examples of indian sweets that u can google : gulab jamun , burfi , rasgulla , jalebi etc . here’s a great link for more !

give me spiced food or give me death . literally . . put some cumin in . . put some garam masala . . put some chillies . . flavour ur Food for my Indian Taste Buds

FAMILY :

if you are the oldest son of an Indian Family . . congratulations . you are now the Head of the family and must carry every weight and burden alone . it is extremely isolating and taxing on you ( my dad is the oldest indian son , and also - so is my eldest brother , obvs ) . there is a LOT that is expected of you to do . you are expected to quite literally run the family and be the ‘ man of the house ‘ by yourself .

if you are a daughter . . . even BIGGER congratulations ! you are basically a maid to every male or guest who EVER comes over to your house . you must be a Hostess , you must be in the kitchen cooking , serving snacks, bringing tea , and then washing up and basically waiting on Hand and Foot . you will not be included into a lot of dialogue or engaged in a lot of conversation and TRUST ME ! THAT WILL GRIND UR GOD DAMN GEARS IN THE 21ST CENTURY !

if you are a boys’ boy ( aka straight and Sporty ) , then congrats ! you get it the easiest : you are the favourite of every social event . the uncles and cousins love talking to you and dude-ing it up with you , and the aunts fawn over you and think you’re the Best Thing since sliced bread . sit back , put your feet up , and expect to be treated like a God. you can do absolutely no wrong . ( my middle brother is this to a T and listen . . he’s been in and out of jail for physical violence and ab*se for over 5 years . and family still FROTH over him . my teeth are gritted to dust thinking of this again )

indian aunties are lethal . they gossip like teenage girls . they will find out everything . they will bitch behind your back . they can NOT be trusted .

everyone is ur uncle or aunt, sister or brother . literally everyone . ur cousin ? no. thats ur sister . ur dads friend ? no , thats ur uncle . you will call them as such . EVERYONE is family .

family is in general a VERY BIG THING in indian culture , too . ‘ what will it Look like to everyone else if we don’t all arrive together ? ‘ my dad usually asks dskjdfjn . it’s all about Looking Right and Standing As A United Front . that being said , indian family has undying and unwavering loyalty for one another , they just show it in a very Weird way .

FASHION:

female hindu indian formal clothes are usually really embroidered to hell and back and this makes them very scratchy , uncomfortable, and HEAVY . you aren’t running anywhere anytime soon in a full blown lehenga or saree

most ‘ modern ‘ hindu indian women do not wear full Indian Clothes all the time . some do , but usually it’s a lot of wearing a kurti tunic with jeans , or just normal everyday clothing . again , this is going to be different based on which parts of india your character is from , though !

usually , older women and married women wear traditiona hindul indian clothing quite often . i know my mum wore a sari AT HOME everyday when i was growing up, until i was like 13 and took her shopping with me to get something Else to wear .

bindi’s just stick right onto ur forehead but they do fall off a lot , especially when ur wearing makeup or sweating . again , you don’t need to wear a bindi everyday , unless thats ur preference . i usually only wear them for festivals . ( festivals means indian celebrations , not like . . coachella ((which u should not be wearing a bindi to , if ur not indian fyi )) )

male formal clothes are usually just literally anything Formal and buttoned up for the most part , and u can get away with that , or you can wear a really nice kurta

indians wear white at funerals , not black ( not sure if this should go in the fashion section but this entire thing is being organised into a Mess by now anyways ) . you CAN wear black to a funeral of course , but its common to wear white !

DATING ( tw’s for islamaphobia ):

modern day indian / desi fuck boys exist and my god they are Something Else . hasan minhaj did a really good piece about this and explaining them to a T ( starts at 1:43 )

( THIS IS THE POINT THAT WILL MENTION ISLAMAPHOBIA AND HOMOPHOBIA ! ) basically according to Older indians , , ur dating options in 2020 go like this ( if ur a cis female like me ) : hindu indian men are god tier , white men are Not Okay But I Guess So Bc We Have To Accept They’re Everywhere , females / being lgbtqia+ is not Taken Seriously , and muslims are literally not even close to being an option or Accepted . again this isn’t definitive but based on a lot of indian media i’ve consumed and seen how they portray muslims in general as well as Dating Options , as well as talking to other indians , both who are older / traditional and hold these ideals , whereas Younger gens generally do NOT hold these ideals / actively are Against these backwards ideals. i remember when i was in year 6 and had my first boyfriend . . he was a muslim and my dad FLIPPED the FUCK out . it’s not even that i was dating someone / young / his only daughter . . it was mainly because i was dating a muslim . again , this is a very OLD SCHOOL and traditional way of thinking and it is NOT CORRECT . pls don’t take this as a note to be islamaphobic if u write an indian character bc . . thats literally the opposite of what im trying to tell u here .

yeah arranged marriages are definitely still a thing for us , even now in 2020

YES if u are an unmarried / single indian ( ESPECIALLY if ur a woman ) about to enter ur 30s . . ur in DANGER and u are the black sheep and theres probably something Wrong With You bc why are u still single ?

TRADITIONS / BELIEFS / SUPERSTITIONS :

idk if its just me and my family but we are SUPER superstitious . if you say anything like ‘ he hasnt gotten sick in years !’ immediately , everyone knocks on wood or their head . if you were planning on leaving the house and sneeze ? thats bad luck , stand and wait for five minutes then u can leave . we have a strong belief in drishti , or alternatively : The Evil Eye , and making sure we don’t invite it into our lives . a lot of our prayers are about warding drishti away .

the evil eye is kinda Complicated but basically its an ill-wishing upon an unsuspecting person . if somebody is jealous of you or angered by you , they may wish upon you or cast upon you the Evil eye ( or even just glare at u whilst ur not looking and thats Big Bad ) .

a lot of older indians , like older people in general i guess , are not super progressive or Open . this isnt ALWAYS the case but older indians can be very very stubborn in their beliefs in what is Right and Wrong , Normal and Not Normal

theres a LOT of hindu indian festivals and events ! tbh too many for me to even keep up with . but without fail at least once a year ill say to ONE of my friends ‘ oh sorry i cant make it . i have an indian Thing on that day ‘ and its usually about a festival , so pls be aware that there are a LOT of indian festivals and if ur writing an indian character , its perfectly understandable and Relatable for them to say they can’t make it to a party or hang out with their friends that night , for that very reason !

the main / most popular ( ? ) festivities that i personally do celebrate every year without fail are :

diwali ( the festival of lights , celebrating goddess lakshmi roaming the earth . in my household this is usually turning on literally every single light and lighting candles and fireworks / sparklers and saying some prayers , and eating a formal dinner all together ! )

holi ( the festival of colours . celebrating victory and love . again personally for me , this was usually celebrated at the temple with all of us Kids running around throwing paint on each other ! )

rakhi / raksha bandhan ( a day of sisters celebrating their brothers . you tie a rakhi which is usually a bracelet / holy string around your brothers wrist , feed them some food , pray for their wellbeing and in return they gift you something . in my case, i usually get money from them ) .

navratri / durga puja ( 9 nights and 10 days of celebrations but tbh u don’t have to do all the days . or i mean . . i don’t . i fast one day from morning to night and then i slide on over to boogie and dance dandiya which is literally the MOST FUN dance ever bc its based off some Historical Fight and u go faster and faster and keep going until ur absolutely SPENT bc u dont wanna lose ur place in the circle )

there are SO MANY HINDU INDIAN GODS too . and so many prayers to all of them and to just general Life Wellness . chances are that ur character will know at least ONE aarti / gazal / prayer off by heart and have sung it at least 30 times in a monotone voice . the ones i know off by heart bc ive had to sing them 3000 times ? om jai jagdish hare , & the gayatri mantra

GENERAL LIL THINGS I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO CATEGORISE ( tw’s for skin whitening , colorism and classism ) :

( THIS IS THE POINT THAT NEEDS A TW FOR SKIN WHITENING AND COLORISM ) lets hold indians accountable right now : we advertise SKIN LIGHTENING CREAM . i think they finally stopped that earlier this year / due to BLM ( i’m not entirely sure / could be wrong ) , but thats literally how bad it is , that we would openly advertise and encourage people to literally bleach their skin rather than look darker .

( THIS IS THE POINT THAT NEEDS A TW FOR COLORISM AND CLASSISM ) colorism is a BIG thing in india and usually linked to class . generally speaking , the people who are Darker Skinned are usually people who work outside / labourers or homeless even , and are therefore seen as lower class / bottom class . the lighter skin you have , the more privileged and advantaged you are bc ur seen as working a Good job out of the sun and having a home . it’s incredibly classist as well as just generally Fucked Up . why am i telling u this ? mainly so u understand the importance of using a dark skinned indian fc vs a light skinned indian fc which i know is hard , bc a lot of darker skinned indians arent in hollywood / have resources , but its still something to Think About .

i have a long Ethnic name . literally my first name is 10+ letters , which i know doesnt seem that long Necessarily but its also a Super Ethnic name with e’s and and j and n . it Flows and Sounds very clearly different from a christian name . it is VERY important to me that my name be said Correctly because i’ve spent so much time having it said incorrectly or Westernised . i also know a lot of indians my age who ( like me ) have had to dramatically shorten their REAL first name ( which is usually also pretty long . not always , but it is Common ) , to fit their name into white people’s mouths better . please put some thought into ur indian characters name !

not all indians speak hindi ! hindi is one of MANY dialects within india . there is also tamil , urdu , bengali , punjabi , telugu and SO many more , so pls research which part of india ur character / their family is from bc hindi won’t always be the default language for them !

not every indian is hindu ! of course ur character doesnt have to be religious at all , bc if im being honest IM barely religious but my FAMILY is and this is smth u should think abt bc religion is a pretty big thing for indians . so even if ur character isnt hindu , they were probably raised with SOME religious beliefs . have a think about which religions they would have been brought up with ! there’s a very large percentage of practicing muslims , sikhs and buddhists too ! and even christianity !

WRITING WISE / CREATING AN INDIAN CHARACTER WISE :

the first step should be to consume indian media ! listen to indian music . watch bollywood movies ! theres SO MANY out there on everyone’s netflix . if u want some recs , let me know and i can try my best to find smth for u ! if u want smth thats Hollywood-indian . . . Hasan Minhaj is great to watch , especially his episodes on indian culture / politics , and Never Have I Ever on netflix was rlly good / relatable for me personally as an indian growing up in a western society !

i would really really love to see more indian rep in general , but i’d also like to discuss the Stereotypes that ive seen indians portrayed as in mainstream hollywood media :

indian women as soft spoken and subservient beings who are abused by their husbands and have no say in anything

heterosexuality within indian relationships and indian dating

indian men as sleazy

indians in general not being seen as Sexy or Sexual beings with any sex drive at all

Stumbling , Stuttering , Nerdy awkward messes of men who don’t know how to interact with anybody they find sexually appealing

an indian character that everybody ( usually white ) finds Uncomfortable and Weird and is seen as usually the Butt of the joke .

i think those mentioned above could be helpful in how to plan your next indian character and think about how to SUBVERT a trope theyre often portrayed as , or create an indian thats not stereotypical !

so what and who SHOULD you write ?

an indian character who is proudly and openly gay , or bi

a trans or nonbinary indian ( PLEASE ! )

an indian character with really super accepting parents and family

an aromantic indian

an indian who is focused on their career first and not their dating life

a fuckboy / fuckgirl ( honestly . . i’d love to see it )

a indian character who is a party animal

an outspoken indian female who takes no shit and is strong in every sense of the word

a confident , smooth talking indian businessman who is Sexy and Lusted After ( not in a gross christian grey way but just . i’d love to see indian characters seen as Sexy . not in a fetishy way , either , but just because it’d be a nice change in pace ! )

a character who IS traditional / religious but also very progressive and forward thinking in their beliefs

honestly just any character that isnt whats mentioned above

#guide #writing help #rph #rpc #islamaphobia tw #colorism tw #classism tw #idk if this is any good and i was very uncomfortable putting in the part abt how a lot of older indians feel abt muslims #but i mean . . lets just call it the fuck out bc its Gross Behaviour so lets call it out and work to change it #anyways every trigger is tagged super clearly in every point that talks abt it #i kept those parts Brief and as Direct and Honest as possible #pls let me know if u need me to tag anything #and lastly . . . pls write indian characters !!!!

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kyotakumrau · 5 years ago

Text

2020.04.16 BARKS interview with Hazuki

Hazuki talks about the feelings behind the plan to support music venues; songs to record were decided as well

interview and text: You Masuda

original interview can be seen here

translation: kyotaku (if you see any mistakes or typos pls let me know(*' ')*, ,))

The frontman of lynch., Hazuki. He just wrote about his plan on twitter using a hashtag #savemusicvenues on March 30th. Due to the rapid spread of COVID-19 many music venues were pushed into the situation where they cannot operate and an unreasonable trend started that they started to be seen as evil places, thus the band have decided to write a new song and donate and divide the profits between music venues. Below is the summary of the message Hazuki sent on that day:

"Looking at current turmoil, I started to think if there's nothing I can do to help and decided to take action. First, I'm working on a song now. When that song is completed it will be sold right away. And the profits from that song will be donated and distributed between the live houses where lynch. played at! We are currently discussing how we will sell the song or how to distribute the profits with our office and the recording company. We will announce the details when things are decided. Of course we ask our fans, but not only them, even if you're not a fan, everyone saved by a live house, please lend us your strength. Let's save our precious spaces."

Three days after that, on April 2nd I talked to Hazuki. Conducting an interview would likely not be seen as 'leaving the house unnecessarily', but mindful of the situation we decided to do the interview over the phone. There were some changes even over that little time that passed until the day of the interview and I received the demo which seemed to be the very early stage recording. The song was crowned with the title 'DON'T GIVE UP' even though there's not even one word of lyrics yet. When the readers can see the interview a week will pass by then, but I'd like to convey Hazuki's feelings from that point of time. I'm sure he will update us about the situation with the song's progress through his twitter etc, but this the very first interview about the birth of the song.

#ライブハウスを守ろう・savemusicvenues

――Something I want to talk about first. It feels really weird to be interviewing you through the phone even as we both are in Japan.

葉月：Right? It feels like I'm a foreign celebrity (laughing).

――You have first made the announcement on twitter on March 30th. Obviously there had to be some chance to discuss [the situation] that led to that stage, right?

葉月：Yeah. I was meeting with two staff members on Friday afternoon (March 27th), and naturally talk like this came up 'COVID-19 is worse than anyone thought' 'I never expected it to get to this point', and that led to the 'should I start working on a song in a response to the virus?'. Saying that, at the moment basically I have a lot of free time (laughing).

――No way (laughing). But the truth is in this situation there's no way you can play any concerts.

葉月：Yeah. Gradually my schedule got more and more cancellations. I had nothing else to do, so I thought why not create a song that can only be made right now. Then we discussed if the profits could be used to support the medical system or to help distribute masks. Then, an idea came out if we wouldn't be able to do something for the closer to us music venues ('live houses'). Actually, the idea came from the staff. Then it just clicked and we decided to start this movement. It's not a lot of hard work to create and record one song, and it's not like I didn't have some song ideas.

――You have just released a new album 'ULTIMA' in March, but you mean that you you still had some song ideas?

葉月：Yeah. Next I'll make a song like this, had something like that in my mind. Then, [we were planning] if I give shape to this one and made all profit into donation like this... . But if it's only us doing one project like that it'll be hard (not enough), so I thought it would help if other artists were also aware 'ah, there's this way too'. For example, I'm tweeting now using a hashtag #ライブハウスを守ろう (#savemusicvenues), but it's not like this is the only way of using it.

――So you mean it'd be better to have more projects for the same purpose?

葉月：Yeah. I hope that things can move into the direction of helping music venues thanks to this, and of course, we are also actually helping ourselves. When the current situation is over and we are able to play shows again, what would we do if there are no more venues?

――That's true. For lynch., first your 3 shows planned for mid March were cancelled. And then the next tour was supposed to start from April 18th, but...

葉月：All events planned for April are gone. I'm also aware that it's very likely for May and onwards events to be cancelled. But we are still preparing for the tour, actually other members are doing a rehearsal right now. So we could resume activities anytime.

(kyotaku: most of their act5 tour dates until July 5th were indeed cancelled, which was announced on April 17th)

――So while you were doing tour preparations you decided to start this new project writing a song. , I'll be frank, I wonder if you got any criticism coming from making this decision. It's not something talked about a lot, but people will have different opinions on such activity. There are some people who will think that no matter what happens to wait silently doing nothing is the wisest option.

葉月：Probably. But I didn't want to be idle and just wait for the situation to settle down, and it seems so far we didn't get any fierce criticism or anything (laughing). Actually, I got thousands replies to that tweet but only about two were negative (laughing). I wouldn't be able to start anything if I was worried about things like that. I mean, sure we don't have like a shocking number of hardcore fans, but at the very least there's this small [music] world connected by the comradeship. But being able to get those people's approval immediately made me extremely happy, not worrying about criticism is nice, or actually I don't care (laughing). More practical side is to care that the final form of the release is still not fixed, but I wanted to announce that 'lynch. will be doing a project like this!'. I'd be glad if people can get even a bit of hope from that. And I thought that the process from now on would be more interesting by announcing it before the song is made. We could enjoy the process and get exicted together with updates like 'oh, the demo is ready!' or 'we're finally recording!'.

――I get it. So by the detailed updates about the process until the release people will be able to enjoy it like an ongoing documentary.

葉月：That's right. By doing that I wanted to get everyone involved so I wanted to make the announcement early. But even after the decision was made I had to wait for three days (laughing)

(kyotaku: this tweet omg😆)

――You must have been impatient these 3 days (laughing). Also, we just mentioned it earlier, but it's not only about lynch.'s action, I think it's important to see 'what can everyone do?'.

葉月：True. If it's only us the amount we will be able to donate will be very insignificant. I'd like to see the number of people who agree and try to do something increase.

――But you actually already got some requests/offers to join the project, right?

葉月：Yup. From engineers, photographers, recording studios and so on. Everyone was saying 'let me take part in it, I don't need payment!'. Bless them. I also got contacted by other artists. But this time we will be working on the song in Nagoya, so I'm still not sure what will come out of that.

――But nowadays people just send each other data using internet.

葉月：That's true. That way some people would be able to participate. But I can't say anything definite.

――Including these points, by the time we can listen to the finished song we will also get to know real time how it is evolving. And I got to listen to the demo as a perk of conducting this interview. As you said on twitter, 'it's not a ballad thats bringing everyone together', I'd say the song is the opposite!

葉月：Hahaha! Even as something like 'we are the world' would be better for this occasion (laughing). Usually it tends to be something like that, right? But we do what we do, we decided to go with something pure and feeling good but heavier.

――Demo had the title 'DON'T GIVE UP'. Will lyrics include this message?

葉月：Yeah. I haven't written lyrics yet, I guess it's time to start worry about that (laughing). In various ways many people are in a difficult situation right now, but this seemed like something common for all of them, like the best message to sent to everyone, it just came to me. It's quite unusual for lynch. as we had nothing to do with message-ness so far (laughing). Usually I'm not the type to have something to pass through lyrics.

――I guess it's a situation that makes you deliberately want to raise your voice. So, are you working on the song right now?

葉月：To be honest, we've done the demo for 'DON'T GIVE UP' yesterday, right now I'm working on another song. Actually, it won't be just one song, we will include two more songs. One of them will be 'A GLEAM IN EYE', now I'm processing the data for it.

――You're re-recording it, right? Will it change a lot?

葉月：Nah, I don't think so. But it's been recorded 10 years ago so listening to it now sound quality-wise it's a bit bleak. We're going to improve that side, there's no plan to rearrange it. Ever since it was released that song had an important role during our concerts as a 'strong light', I hope to deliver it to the heart of fans who lost the light in the current turmoil. As there are such feelings included we want to re-record it with as little changes as possible.

――So you will update the song to the 2020 version without changing it shape. And the other song will be an unreleased song?

葉月：Yeah. Originally, this song from Yusuke-kun was supposed to be included in ULTIMA, we decided to use it [in this project]. Initially, we were planning only one song, "DON'T GIVE UP", but Yusuke was worried that with only one song the price would have to be low and we wouldn't be able to raise much money so he suggested 'what about using my song?' and we agreed with him. And we decided to add that song and 'A GLEAM IN EYE'.

――So instead of only one song we can be excited like about an upcoming single. From now on I will be observing the process these 3 songs will go through until they're completed. By the way, when you adressed people on twitter you wrote 'everyone saved by live houses', do you also feel like you were saved by music venues?

葉月：Honestly I don't have a cool story like 'I could only be myself as a teenager at music venues' (laughing). It can't be argued that for us they are also our workplaces. Playing a concert is also a part of work. However, every and each band had the rough time in the beginning when their shows were not selling, in our case somehow we managed to get to this point [of being relatively successful], but the place where we spent all this long process were music venues. So our 'curent place' would be impossible without music venues, and of course we can't allow them to disappear. If there's something you can do you just have to do it. It's simple as that.

Release information:

lynch.'s single to support music venues

title：not decided yet

DON’T GIVE UP（new song）

WALTZ（new song）

A GLEAM IN EYE（re-recorded）

＊other information will be announced at later date

#lynch.#hazuki #葉月 #interview #translation #ライブハウスを守ろう #overcome the virus

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mistersshelby · 5 years ago

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the woman assassin | part seven

wow it has been a Minute, i’m really sorry for the wait, i’ve had the craziest writing block but i decided with the new year i’m going to try and write everyday even if it’s just a little bit and it has REALLY helped with my block and i’ve realized that i have a problem with like when things get hard just kinda stopping writing and seeing it as a sign that my writing is bad but i don’t think that’s the case i think i just need to start forcing myself to work through the blocks. but anyway, here’s part seven, pls let me know what u think!! i love hearing from you guys!! and thank u for all the sweet messages while i’ve been away

p.s. i’m starting to cross post on wattpad to widen my audience so if you have wattpad account and want to give it some love over there that u can follow this link! i only have the first chapter up there right now but i’m gonna update it to post the remaining six so that it’s caught up

“Tommy.” Polly says sharply as everyone files out of the family meeting. Clara turns to look back, but after a pointed look from Tommy, she too, files out. “Are you sure about this?” Polly asks as the door swings shut behind Clara.

“Polly, I don’t need you questioning me as well--”

“Lizzie’s concern is purely out of jealousy and we all know that, as is Michael’s.” Polly cut in, “I just worry that you’re allowing some silly attraction cloud your judgement, you remember when Grace betrayed you--”

“Please, don’t.” Tommy ground out.

Polly paused, “I know you loved her and I was sad to see what became of her, but I don’t want you to make the same mistake--”

“This is not that, Pol. I assure you, there is nothing between Clara and I beyond fucking, alright?” Tommy snapped. Part of him knew he was lying. He didn’t think he was in love with Clara, but it was pretty clear to him now that there was something more between them than just physicality. But he lied, conscious of the fact that he would not have done half the things he’d done and risked for Clara for anyone else.

“You should marry Lizzie.” Polly said after a moment.

“I won’t have this discussion again--”

“It doesn’t have to be for love, Tommy, she’s the mother of your child, it’s the right thing--”

“She will be miserable with me. I don’t love her, nor will I ever.”

“But she loves you.”

“Well she should bloody well get over that then. I’ve provided for her and Ruby well enough, there is nothing more between us.”

Polly watched him for a moment before turning her back on him, “You’re making a hell of a lot of mistakes lately, Thomas. You should try listening to your family for once.”

***

Tommy cocked the gun, aiming for Adrian who was strangling Clara. He could hear her gasping for breath. But when Adrian turned around to face Tommy, it wasn’t Adrian at all, but Lizzie who was crushing Clara’s windpipe. A smooth smirk on her face.

Before he could react, Tommy was pulled out of his dream. Taking in his surroundings, it took a few moments to realize he was in Clara’s bed and she was the one who was waking from a nightmare, which had pulled him out of his own dream.

“Clara,” He lightly touched her shoulder, not wanting to startle her.

She bolted up in bed anyway, her chest heaving, clawing at her chest as if to give the oxygen a clearer path.

“It’s okay, it’s alright, it’s just me,” Tommy said calmly when she realized there was someone next to her and reached for the gun under her pillow.

She dropped the gun, still breathing hard, and then the tears began to flow. Tommy was unsure at first if she even wanted him to comfort her, he knew when he woke up from his dreams he felt deeply humiliated if there was someone else in the room. So hesitantly, he reached out to hold her and she fell into his arms quite easily. As if they had done this several times before. So he pressed his cheek to her hair and rubbed her back, repeated soothing words in her ear, but her breathing did not slow.

“It’s raining,” He murmured, “Let’s go outside.”

“W-What?” She managed, pulling away from him.

“The water and the rhythm of the rain will calm you, I do it all the time.” It took a bit of coaxing, but he got her out of bed, they both dressed and then tiptoed down the stairs of her apartment out into the street. Clara stood, her face up to the sky, and let herself be drenched. She thought of nothing but the rain, the sound of it bouncing on the road and the windows above.

Tommy watched her, as slowly, her mouth turned upwards into a grin, and then she started laughing. She looked beautiful out in the rain. It was hard for him to remember that she was an assassin as she laughed like a child as the water drenched her. Clara turned to see him watching her and then walked into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He was a bit thrown off by the intimate gesture, but eventually wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his head on hers. Her warmth filled him and he felt at peace for the first time since Grace died.

***

Clara’s hands shook only slightly as she loaded the revolver, stuffing extra bullets in her boots.

“The boys will be waiting for you at the perimeter like you asked. If you are not in and out safely within twenty minutes, I’ve ordered them to go after you.”

She turns to see Tommy, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he buttoned his shirt. He had been staying with Clara nearly every night the last few days, but neither of them spoke about what it meant. She turned away to hide the warmth that entered her face at the sight of his chest and tattoos that peaked beneath his shirt.

“I told you, I don’t need babysitters.”

“And I told you that I’m in charge and I won’t have your life recklessly endangered.”

Clara turned back to him, “Who stops you from recklessly endangering your life, eh?”

He smirks, but his eyes remain cold, “When you’ve lost everything good in your life there’s nothing left to endanger.” Tommy turns to leave before she can respond, “Don’t fuck this up.” Is his parting request before he slams the door behind him.

She stares after him for a few moments before shoving more knives in her boots and heading out herself, trying to calm her nerves.

***

The truth was, Clara was afraid to face her family. She hadn’t killed anyone since before Adrian and the way she froze up in front of him, nearly allowing him to kill her, still haunted her nightmares. What if she froze again? There were three of them and only one of her.

“You don’t come in unless I signal you.” She told Tommy’s men while they stood outside the building.

“Tommy said--”

“This is my mission. I’m going in there to kill my family. You don’t come in unless I say you do.” She reiterated, “Understood?”

They all smirked at her and chuckled, “We mean no offense lady, but Tommy pays us, not you.”

Clara smirks back before quickly grabbing one of their arms, twisting and forcing her knee up into his crotch hard before pulling a knife to his neck. It all happens in a few seconds, the other two boys stare aghast, not even thinking to pull their weapons, “How about this then,” Clara says, still pushing the knife against the boy’s throat, “I see any of you fuckers in that house before I signal it I will shoot you point blank. Do we understand each other now?”

They all nodded quickly and she released him, adrenaline flooding her veins, she felt her confidence return to her. She was still capable of killing, she knew as she held that boy that one flick of her wrist would end him and it had filled her with seductive power. She could do this.

She walked away from the boys, leaving them staring after her as she sauntered into Alfie’s, trying to blend in with the crowd. There were few women there though, so Clara abandoned her plan of socializing until she found her cousins and instead began to blend into the shadows. She took note of the high ceilings, the rafters above them. She quickly snuck out of the large room to find a way up to the rafters. Soon enough, she found a ladder in an empty shaft.

Once at the top, she realized there were more people here than she expected, more people who could possibly whisper to her cousins that she was here. She tried not to let the panic set in, but she could feel the cold sweat building, damp on the small of her back as she scanned the people, looking for her cousins. She needed to get out of here.

Watching all the people mill around, she also was unsure that she would be able to hit her cousins from up here without harming anyone else. “Shit.” She murmured, and decided to climb back down the shaft, but when she turns, one of her cousins is below her, smiling with his gun pointed up at her.

“Hello there, cousin. Fancy seeing you here.”

Though in shock, Clara manages to kick his gun from his hand as he pulls the trigger, making the bullet ricochet in the shaft until it hits his wrist. Clara doesn’t wait, she slams the heel of her boot in his face, spraying blood as he yells in pain and falls from the ladder. Clara quickly jumps down and grabs him by the arms, dragging him to a secluded room before dropping him.

He’s still groaning in pain, cradling his wrist. She kicks him in the ribs and feels some satisfaction at the way he cries out. There’s a sick part of her that calls out, wants to take out her knife and carve him up like a butcher. It was inconceivable that just weeks ago she trembled while holding a gun to Adrian, now instead of being afraid that she would freeze up and not get the job done, she was afraid of going too far. She kicks him again instead to curb the desire, but she only feels more of a rush when she hears his ribs crack beneath her feet and he begs her, “Please, Clara.”

“How did you know I would be here?”

He takes too long to answer and she takes out her knife, he cowers just from the sight of it. Coward, he disgusts her. “Alfie warned us, said he would let us have you as long as he got a turn with you before we were done.” The things men would do for a chance to get their cock warm, she felt nauseous thinking of what could happen to her if she didn’t get out of here. Fucking Tommy was right, she should have taken the men in with her.

Her cousin still lays on the floor begging her for his life while she’s thinking, pulling her from her reverie. She cocks her head as she watches him, fascinated. The way a toddler watches a slug as they pour salt over the creature. She raises her knife again and quickly leans over, slashing his throat before he has time to react. The blood splatters on her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice, still watching as he claws at his throat, blood bubbling from his mouth.

She stares at him as the light ebbs out of his eyes, distracted by the power that blooms in her chest. It’s the mistake that will bring her down, because she doesn’t hear her cousin come in behind her. She spins almost a second too late, and he pulls the trigger.

Shouts ring out after the gunshot resonates through the building, “Fuck.” Clara murmurs. She only takes a second to look at the bullet hole in the wall, only inches from where she had been standing, before shoving aside her cousin and running out the door. She hears the agonizing roar of her cousin as he takes in his brother dead on the floor, she doesn’t have much time. She moves into the crowd, trying to blend in, keeping her gun close to her chest. She needs to get out, she has to abandon the mission if she wants to get out of here alive. As she goes, she spots the back of Alfie and shoves him, unable to stop herself from calling him out, “What the fuck did you do?”

He looks at her and chuckles, “A pretty lass like you should have stayed home making babies with her husband instead of trying to play at the games of men.”

This was about her rejection, the fragile egos of men, she felt her face warm with rage, “You stupid horny bastard--”

She doesn’t have time to finish her sentence as someone grabs hold of her collar and rips her back away from the crowd. Before she can turn around to see who holds her, there’s a gunshot. The sound echoes through the room before she realizes she is the one who’s been shot. She doesn’t feel pain, but feels the warmth of blood as it soaks the back of her dress. As she falls to the floor, her cousin smiles down at her and the edges of her vision grow fuzzy. She knows she must be dying. He leans down close to her ear and says, “Thomas Shelby can’t save you now.” And he spits on her before her vision goes black.

***

Tommy approaches the boys who stare at the building that has erupted in chaos before them, looking back and forth from the cacophony to each other in question. “She told you not to come in, eh?”

“Mister Shelby she threatened to shoot us--”

“It’s alright, boys. You’ll still get your pay.” And then he walked into the fray that he had orchestrated.

All of Alfie’s guests had fled, but Tommy still walks slowly through the building, pushing open the door to a small room. There’s a body of a man, Clara’s cousin. Looking closer, Tommy can see Clara played with him for a while before slashing his throat. It was always a game to her, it was why she made so many mistakes. He left the room and saw more bodies spread apart on the floor, two were men with single gunshot wounds to the head. Tommy knew this was the work of the Russians, just as he had asked.

***

One Day Earlier

“Thomas Shelby, you have quite the reputation around here.”

Tommy sat across from the head of the Russian family, Ivan Sokolov. His accent was heavy, he had long blonde hair that he slicked back, and eyes the color of storm clouds. When Tommy offered him a cigarette he refused, opting to chew on the tobacco leaves instead, a habit Tommy found particularly off-putting. “Spare me the niceties, I’m looking to make a deal with you. Your presence is making some people around here particularly nervous. I have been asked already to find a way to remove you from the territory, and believe me, it would not be difficult for me to arrange.”

Ivan sat back in his seat before spitting in a spittoon. Tommy did nothing to hide his disgust. “Does my presence make you nervous, Mister Shelby?”

Tommy shrugged, “I mind my own, I pay no mind to others until they become an inconvenience to me and then I take care of it. You don’t interfere with my business, I have no problem. Unfortunately, the Jews have already become quite restless with your presence and so have asked for my help to root you out. I will honor my word.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because Mister Solomons has a tendency to betray me, so this time, I will not make the mistake of trusting him again. If you want my protection, I ask only for a small favor in return. If not, I will remain true to my word.”

Ivan chews on the tobacco leaves contemplatively for a few moments before speaking again, “What is the favor you ask?”

***

Slowly, as if he knows what he’s about to find, Tommy’s eyes landed on the third body. Clara. His knees practically gave out when he saw the amount of blood that pooled around her. His mind immediately shot back to Grace. He had done it again, he had put her in danger, made her a part of his scheme without telling her and now she was going to die here. “Clara.” His voice shook as he knelt beside her, putting a hand to her cheek to try and wake her. She was still warm. He pressed his fingers to her neck, almost too afraid of what he’d find, but he felt a faint thrum against the pads of her fingers and his breath shuddered through him violently.

“You made a deal with the Russians.”

Tommy looked up at Alfie and stood, regaining his cool composure, conscious of the fact that if he did not get Clara out of here soon, she would be gone. “I made a backup plan for when you inevitably betrayed me. You fuck me, I fuck you. Simple.”

Alfie nods then looks down at Clara, “Could you get her out of here? She’s staining my floors. Very porous material, wood. Pain in the arse to clean.”

Tommy keeps one eye on Alfie as he bends to scoop Clara into his arms. She grunts as he moves her and the sound fills him with relief, “Are you going to try and kill me while I have a woman bleeding out in my arms or am I free to go?”

Alfie looks around and shrugs, “I’d say we’re even, don’t you think, mate?”

If Clara died, Tommy decided then and there he would kill Alfie. But for now… “Goodbye Alfie. Always a pleasure.”

And he turned and walked from the building, trying to ignore the way her blood trickled down his arm as he carried her. It was good she was still bleeding, he tried to reassure himself, it meant she still had a pulse. He placed her in his car as gently as he could and then sped away, only then allowing the panic to seep through his cracks just a little bit. He kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye to detect movement, but she was impossibly still.

It felt like hours until Tommy reached the hospital, skidding into the courtyard. He ran with her in his arms and yelled for help until someone put her on a stretcher and left him there, his forearms drenched in blood, the floor spotting with it. He sat and waited for hours. He didn’t wash off the blood, waving off well meaning nurses who approached him with wet towels. What if it was the last time he would have anything of Clara’s on him? The last way he could touch her?

Eventually Polly showed up, having grilled the boys who had waited outside the building on where Tommy went. They sputtered out that they saw him leave with Clara in his arms and she didn’t look well. Polly looks torn between lecturing Tommy and trying to comfort him, but Michael barrels in soon after, his eyes wild as they land on Tommy’s blood drenched arms, “Where the fuck is she? What did you do to her?”

Polly immediately stands between them, but Tommy doesn’t move to defend himself, “Michael, now is not the time, go take a walk,” Pol says lowly through clenched teeth.

“I told her, I fuckin’ told her if she didn’t stay away from you you would ruin her.”

Tommy looks up and his eyes are cold and empty, “So what, Michael, do you feel like a big man now because you were right?”

Michael shakes his head, his face red with unadulterated fury, “When all this is done, I swear to God, Tommy, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes while you sleep.”

“Michael.” Polly said sternly in warning, hospital staff were looking over now.

Tommy was trying hard to keep his temper leashed, knowing it was only being amplified by his panic at the idea of Clara not walking out of the hospital, but he couldn’t resist the retort that left his mouth, “I hope you can see well in the dark, you might hit Clara by mistake.”

Polly wasn’t able to hold Michael back this time when he barreled through her looking to punch Tommy, but Tommy grabbed his wrist and twisted hard before using his other fist to pummel Michael in the jaw. The hospital staff was already calling the police, Polly was yelling, and Tommy leaned down to whisper in Michael’s ear, “You can try all you like Michael, but you’ll never be me. And Clara will never love you. S’time to grow up and stop throwing these temper tantrums. The day you raise a pistol to me, after everything I have given you, it’ll be your last day in this world.” And then he walked out of the hospital before the police could arrive to drag him out.

tag list:

@mariamermaid @gingertaurus @tommy-scum @lil-black-heart @wildmavs @unrulyhealy @shadow-of-wonder @trash-can-beebo @alyciaswhore @godsaverosemary @parochialism @zazasblogxx @randommostlypotter @julietswildchild @sunsetsandbooks @thetrappednerd @deliciouspsycho @l0tsofpennies @lucy-xxxo @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @annabethgranger123 @shannonmcc212 @urbansaint @soulslaststand

#mine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #tommy x oc

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kdtheghostwriter · 6 years ago

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SNK #119 - Jaeger ni Kissu

Let me get some Fs in the chat, pls.

So, what the hell? Shiganshina am I right? What’s the deal with that crazy place, huh?

You would think this fandom, more than all the others, would be used to getting the slider when they expect a fastball. (That’s right! I know baseball stuff!) Even I have to admit, though, Isa got me with this one. It’s all pretty thrilling to me as a reader. I’ll explain why later but first, some housekeeping. Remember when I said this a few months ago? That Eren’s expression was less relieved and more shocked leaning toward concerned? Welp.

Arm extended; mouth agape. The universal signs of “No, not that you asshole!” It’s also masterful paneling to have Colt’s cry of “Wait!” superimposed onto the Attack Titan, which we know can’t speak. Eren was mortified by the idea of his hometown being overrun with Titans yet again. That was hardly surprising. What did surprise me was Zeke’s look of shock as the Grice brothers revealed themselves. He still screamed, of course, as should have been expected. But that moment of hesitation…hmm. I guess he really did like Colt. It’s not out of the question. He just liked his plan more.

And since we’re on the topic, I’d like some words about this panel right here.

Dammit all, this one hit more than any of the others for me. See, Zeke, it’s not just you who understands the joys and the sorrows and the burdens of being an older brother. I do myself. Falco realized what was about to happen and tried to save his brother’s life by pushing him away. Colt refused and held him tighter.

Don’t worry, Falco! Your big brother will always be with you!

Fuck me, how am I supposed to keep my chill after a scene like that? Sure enough, Colt was scorched as his brother transformed into a mindless, lumbering monster which transitions me nicely into something else I said in the aftermath of #117. Someone did indeed have to die. I only guessed wrong who.

Reiner is going to survive this manga whether he wants to or not. More importantly, what a champion Porco is. Knew he was cooked, so he put all his energy into healing his body. Then he left the cockpit to distract Falco’s Titan and save two people. The fact that he did this right after seeing the memory of his brother confessing to Reiner that he lied is no accident. He wasn’t just proving to Reiner he was better; he was getting one back at his big brother. It’s equal parts heroic and tragic which is par for the course of this series. He died in almost the exact same way Marcel did all those years ago – saving Reiner’s dumbass from being nommed up. I’ll miss you Porco, but at least you’ll live on in the memories of the little one.

Speaking of little ones: maybe we should start calling her “Deadeye” Gabi Braun. This was such an inspired choice. Not just because of who pulled the trigger in the end (and partly because of whose gun she used), which got the intended reaction, but also because of who she hit. I thought for sure she would have taken aim for Zeke. It would have made sense. A wounded, stationary target is a lot easier to mark than one sprinting at full speed. (That’s what MGS3 taught me at least.) She’s a soldier, though, and the main reason she hijacked the blimp in Liberio was to kill The Usurper. It’s unclear to me if Magath’s mission here is strictly Dead or Alive or if they were trying to capture him but either way her mission, for now, appears to be accomplished. I say “appears to be” because it’s time for my favorite monthly mini-game:

WHY, SWAY, WHY??

There’s a lot we don’t know yet about Titan powers, Eldian biology and the transference from one vessel to another. If Marley’s goal specifically was to recapture the Founder instead of simply stopping Eren from using it, this is what Zeke would call a miscalculation. We know that Titan Powers get transferred Avatar-style to a rando newborn Eldian when a Shifter dies before succession. I actually believe there’s a lot of story left to go. But! There isn’t enough left to now try and track down, out of all the Eldians still in the world, which one holds this terrifying power. (That would make a great AU, though.) Not to mention, we don’t know what happens in the case of a Shifter holding more than one power. Do all three Titans go to one child? Do they get split up back into three by the P A T H S? We don’t know. All of this is reason to expect some chicanery in the next few months or so. Besides any of that we are no closer to knowing what Eren’s true intentions are in regards to why he wants to use the Founder. Isayama Hajime is absolutely the kind of author to blast his main character into oblivion before the story has concluded. He is not the kind of author to leave a stone unturned. We found out about the Shifters and we found out about the basement. Whatever knowledge was revealed to him will not be kept secret, even if it isn’t by his own hand.

Sidebar: decapitation is weird, even in messy circumstances like this one. The electric signals in the brain often keep firing for minutes after the head has been removed. This is how beheaded snakes continue to hiss and bite after the fact. My troll prediction would be Eren’s head landing in Zeke’s hand like so many baseballs in his lifetime; the Coordinate is activated and Shiganshina proceeds to have a bad time.

I don’t know, folks. I couldn’t help but think of one very important rule as I read the closing pages.

youtube

Always Double Tap, dude. Gabi just had to go for the swag. See, if she had popped Eren’s head like a bloody firework I would have said, “Welp, you had a good run, kid.” But nope. You went and left the most powerful being in existence an outside outside chance of survival, and if he does, even for a few seconds more, everybody is screwed.

No segue, I just love these two teaming up. It makes sense that Mikasa and Armin have gotten closer as Eren has gotten more distant. I think seeing how that dynamic evolves as the story builds to its conclusion will be very important. For now, on the surface level, they just really care for each other.

The last time I got a feeling like this, I was a young lad watching Samurai Jack in the early 00s. I would watch every week without fail on the Cartoon Network, engrossed for the entire runtime. And then, oh, the long and nagging wait. I can admit that having most stuff On Demand is impossibly handy for this particular moment in history, but goddamn do I remember having to wait a whole ass week for my favorite show to come back. Fans of Shingeki no Kyojin don’t realize how good they have it.

Replicating that feeling is almost impossible, not just because of how product is released now. Every story has been told before, in some way. Sometime in the last Millenia or so, our slimy lizard brains have come to expect certain beats and structure from stories. It makes the stories good, but also predictable. I can tell you as a writer, it’s so very difficult to find a way to surprise people in a genuine and engaging way.

This is going to sound more cold and callous than intended but, it does involve manipulating an audience to achieve your desired outcome. You want to lead them to the place you want to go and let them think it was their plan all along. This is the Art of Storytelling: I know what you want better than you do. This involves knowing your audience, and I think it’s safe to say after his “I want to hurt people with this,” comment that no writer on the planet right now knows his audience better than Isayama.

Fans of SNK should be happy. I’ve said this before: it isn’t the best book out right now (that’s still OPM, read that shit) but it is the most unpredictable. That doesn’t always make a story good, but in this case, it’s the greatest factor. Feel free to speculate and discuss. That’s what fandom is for. Just give up now on trying to work out what comes next. Only one person knows that. Isa has had this story plotted out for years with diversions here and there. We won’t know until it all ends. Enjoy this ride now. I can promise you we will never see anything like this manga ever again.

Stray Thoughts

- Still no Kyomi. Still no Tiny Queen. I know the main character just got his head yeeted but let’s get some deets now, pls.

- I was so looking forward to the memes and am happy to report that I wasn’t let down. Well done, friends.

- The 104th Squad continues to persist, as does Yelena. We’ll earmark this for later.

- The fact that both the Jaeger Brothers got shot before Floch Forster is high dark comedy.

- In a battle this chaotic, things like skill and experience are often nullified. It makes perfect sense that Eren would be caught off-guard by a soldier he didn’t even know was there, child though she may be. Right place, wrong time. These Things Happen.

- Armin taking out the Cart’s turret gun was a slick little callback to when he bought time for Eren to take down Bertolt.

- I’m interested in Armin’s game plan here. Marley’s infantry is about to be overrun by Titans, so what else does he aim to do? And how will Yelena interfere?

- Nile said he wouldn’t see his family again. We all knew he was right but man, the look on his face when his number was called. That’s tough. Shout-outs to Pixis, getting one last sip in. You a real one.

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hazkiwislutt · 6 years ago

Text

{prologue: chasing love series}

{ hi friends, it’s athena and this is the prologue to a series i’m writing. basically, it has a famous female character who is younger than Harry, but it’s set a few years in the future, like... Harry is going to be 29 and the mc is going to be 21 when they first meet (pls don’t shoot me) so that it fits in with some of the plot. i hope you like it, because if i do it right, this story is supposed to pull on all sorts of heartstrings and throw a bunch of curveballs at you! }

She was only twenty-one when they’d first met, old enough so that he didn’t feel bad taking a liking to her, but young enough that people would talk and make him feel bad about taking a liking to her. He’d met her at a party that Niall had thrown, and he hadn’t wanted to go, but he was a people-pleaser, and so that’s where he’d found himself that one Saturday night after he’d gotten off the plane from Japan. He’d arrived, and Niall had instantly whisked him away to the kitchen because he was just “dying fo’ yeh t’meet someone tha’ yeh’d like.”

Niall had nudged the kitchen door open, and to Harry’s surprise, she was standing over the sink, back facing toward him and Niall, chugging a bottle of Belvedere as if it were ice water at three in the morning on a Wednesday night after a really intense sleep. She finished it cleanly, not stopping even once as she demolished the bottle, and Harry grimaced, wondering how long it would be until the alcohol hit her like a freight train.

She was wearing a pair of CareBear pajama pants that flopped over her bare feat and a faded university sweatshirt that had an insane amount of holes littered across its expansion.

“I asked you to bring something stronger, not someone. I’ve gotta be absolutely blackout drunk if I’m gonna get through tonight, Niall.” She hadn’t turned around, and the sound of her voice acknowledging their presences startled Harry.

“Yeh not actually hung up on this bloke, are yeh? Yeh don’ need him!” Niall’s eyes widened and he lunged forward to seize her shoulders, spinning her to face him, to which she reacted with a bored shrug.

As he gazed at her side profile, Harry realized he knew this girl. She was relatively new on the music scene, but one big hit a year ago skyrocketed her to fame. Harry could admit he’d watched her in multiple interviews (and was also able to admit that she seemed intelligent, funny, and terribly captivating) and listened to a few of her songs (which were all crafted beautifully, and he even kept two of them on his shower playlist). He’d learned she was studying at a university when she’d released her song, and that her favorite juice was cranberry, and that she loved reptiles more than animals with fur, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember her name.

“I don’t know, Ni. It’s not like I want to be hung up on him, anyway, but the heart does weird shit. Anyways, what’s a girl gotta do to get some stronger liquor from her incredibly dashing Irish friend?” She put up her hands in a duo of finger guns, shaking them at Niall and grinning madly. Her smile was pretty, Harry decided.

“Hate t’be tha’ guy, but yeh not gettin’ anything from me. Yeh had enough to knock yeh into next week. Enough of tha’ now, this is my mate.” Niall gestured to Harry, raising his eyebrow to prompt him to introduce himself.

“M’Harry. S’nice to meet yeh.” He stepped out and outstretched his hand to shake hers, and nearly grunted in surprise as she grasped his and shook it tighter than he’d expected.

“Y/N.” She returned simply, but warmly with a large smile. Harry didn’t miss the way she was staring at his eyes with an intensely measured gaze. He was impressed and a bit put off by her unabashed confidence in doing so, having always been the person that did the speculating when meeting someone new, and it was both interesting and refreshing to meet someone that delivered the same energy.

“M’gonna go check on the other guests, but yeh better swear t’me tha’ yeh not gonna leave or do anythin’ stupid,” Niall scolded her with a stern eye, “an’ I mean really, Y/N. Seriously. Wanted Harry t’meet yeh ‘cause I remember yeh said yeh like him, an’ maybe it’d do yeh good t’make new friends.” He slipped out of the kitchen once more, leaving Harry alone with this new girl and her CareBear pajamas.

“I’d say yeh’ve got a nice grip, but s’a hell of a lot more than tha’, innit? Felt like Donald Trump himself was trying t’rip my arm off.” Harry grinned as he heard her erupt in loud giggles as she hopped up onto the counter alongside the bottle that had long been empty, swinging her feet gently against the cabinets beneath her. He decided her laugh was pretty, too, and it was one of the nicest laughs he’d ever heard in his life, and that he’d love to make her laugh all the time if that was his reward.

“That was a good one,” she hummed thoughtfully, “Sorry, though, if I actually hurt your hand. I was thinking really hard, like, should I gently shake your hand or what? ‘Cause you seem like a firm grip with a gentle twist kind of guy, and my brain couldn’t decide, so I just squeezed.”

“S’just a handshake, not a blood oath, love.” Harry smirked and she released another round of soft giggles before she quieted down completely. Before Harry could panic about an awkward lull in conversation and scramble for a topic of discussion, she reached out for his shoulder and grasped it.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but I’m about to be really fucking buzzed soon. I probably looked insane downing that entire bottle, so I’m apologizing now for the things I’ll inevitably do or say.” She shrugged at him sheepishly before pulling her hand away and returning her focus to her legs that were still swinging. She looked small, swaddled in her ratty sweatshirt and feet dangling so high off the ground from where she sat, and Harry was overcome and overwhelmed by a feeling of endearment as he stared at her.

“S’alright, ‘ve been there quite a few times. F’yeh want, we could talk about it.” He genuinely meant it. There was never a time where Harry didn’t want to not help, but he especially wanted to help her get her mind off things with conversation, which seemed to be a better alternative than consuming anymore alcohol. She was young, younger than him certainly, but not childish, and he was consumed by an odd wave of protectiveness as he watched her.

“Maybe later I’ll give you the whole run down.” She stopped, and a beat of silence passed before she continued, “I really like your music, by the way. I’ve been a fan since like... way before all this happened to me, and you helped me through a lot. I swear, I was like the biggest Directioner. I’ve still got your posters up in my room back home. Sorry if that’s weird to say, but I mean, it’s kinda cool to be sitting in front of you after staring at you on paper for so long. That sounds fuckin’ creepy, too. Christ, I’m sorry, I’m really not helping my case, am I?”

Harry laughed as she talked, listening to her switch inflections at the beginning of nearly every sentence, as if she were talking to someone new every time. He was gratified and extremely moved by the reverential tone she used as she thanked him, never experiencing someone so in awe and grateful in his life for things he hadn’t directly done.

“S’not creepy. I performed with Stevie Nicks, an’ I nearly pissed m’pants, so I get it. M’also a fan of yeh’re music, ‘ve even got two of yeh songs on m’shower playlist.” Harry watched as she blinked in surprise (very cutely, he might add) and bashfully smiled at her lap.

“Thank you, really, that means a lot to me. It was all so surreal... You know, I was going to be a journalist before all of this happened. I was double-majoring, but I’d always wanted to do music. In college, I was in such a bad place, and then, I released the song, got snatched up by a producer, and now here I am, talking to Harry Styles.” She scooted higher up onto the counter and dropped her head back against the wall, closing her eyes, as if reliving everything she’d just divulged.

“I know how tha’ feels, too. S’the craziest thing, waking up, an’ realizing yeh life will never be the same again.” Harry leaned against the side of the counter, finding himself sucked into a whirlwind of memories as he fondly remembered his rise to fame. It was silent, save for the obvious noises of the party floating through the rest of the house, but it was comfortable, as if they’d both understood they needed that moment.

“Harry,” she’d said suddenly, sitting up quickly and fumbling to grab his shoulder, eyes a bit hazy and unfocused. He’d grasped her hand where it lay on him, and squeezed it reassuringly, giving her a small smile.

“Want to hear about my troubles before I throw them up in this sink?” He laughed once more at her bluntness, and nodded encouragingly.

“G’on then, love. Let’s hear it.”

He’d barely finished his sentence before she was off and running, words slurred together and hand warm on his shoulder, telling the story of a “stupid boy with ratty hair, but damn it it was so nice to yank on”, who she’d had a fling with in her senior year of high school that moved away to “some random ass country, think it was fuckin’ Australia” and did a bunch of god-awful things that pulled her heartstrings all the wrong ways, and suddenly happened to swing back into her life, demanding that they pick up where they’d left off and talk about the semantics of their relationship, just as she’d finally “gotten my balls in order and wanted to move on, the asshole.” Tonight, he gave her the option of meeting him over dinner, or “’saying goodbye to us forever’, like, come on, who even says that?”. She’d declined, and this is where Harry had arrived to watch her resort to chugging Belvedere.

By the time she’d finished, her voice was quiet and tinged with a bit of frustration. Harry was sure he’d felt these things before, and he dare he admit it, he probably inflicted these feelings before.

“I’m so tired of being sad. It’s exhausting. I just want to be able to be happy, by myself again, so that maybe I can share that happiness with someone else in the future.” Her voice was low, and her eyes were drooping with the weight of her dilemma, and the burden of the alcohol that was no doubt running through her veins at this point.

She looked exhausted, not in a bad way, but in a way that showed the internal battle she’d been fighting in her heart. Harry felt bad, even a bit sad, that someone like her should have to endure someone else’s faults. She was a beautiful girl, with wit that was more surprising than shocking, and an air around her that drew him in.

“S’not worth it, yeh know,” Harry rushed the words out before he could stop them, “an’ he didn’t deserve to have someone like yeh care about him. Niall’s right, an’ I know I jus’ met yeh, but I think yeh’re just lovely, an’ things will work out for yeh eventually. Swear on it.”

She’d looked at him with large eyes that held a mixture of inebriation and sadness, but above all, gratitude as she soaked in his words. Harry opened his arms a bit, as if tentatively asking if she’d like to be enveloped in them, and Y/N didn’t need any other invitation. She scooted to the end of the counter and burrowed into Harry’s chest, legs on either side of his hips and arms wrapped around him tightly. Harry’s throat constricted weirdly as if her touch had awoken something within him (but for now, he'd simply say that he felt pity and understanding).

“I’m just so tired of chasing love, you know?” Her voice was muffled from where her face was pressed against his chest.

“Suppose tha’ this has got t’be the cheesiest thing ever, but maybe one day, it’ll be worth all of the chasing, right?” Harry fought the urge to stroke her hair down and caress the sides of her face as he breathed her in. The air suddenly felt thin and his heart began to beat wildly, the close proximity working against him, but if she’d noticed, she didn’t show it.

“I hope you’re right.”

#chasing love #series #chaptered fic #harry styles story #harry styles writing #harry styles blog #harry styles imagine #harry styles #writing #fluff #harry styles fluff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction blog #fanfic writer #i hope you like this

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stonefreeak · 8 years ago

Note

Will Depa Billaba ever make an appearance? She and Obi-Wan would get along

I also had an ask about Depa from a logged-in user—they had a Depa icon, that’s why I remember—which is now gone. :I Both of these asks actually came just when I was starting to write this ficlet, but since it’s taken me like TWO MONTHS to finish, I can’t exactly say that “oh wow, these came at such a convenient time! :D” because the two months makes that sound a bit ridiculous, lmao!

Anyway, YES. Finally finished this ficlet. I have no idea why it took me so long, I even cut off the beginning of it so I could at least get something posted (which is why there’s a ficlet with nothing but Obi-Wan meditating. that was actually supposed to be a lead-in to this ficlet, hahaha).

Uni is a time and energy thief and pls help me. :’I

ANYWAY, enough ramblings from me, I hope y’all enjoy the update!

“Barefoot, Master Kenobi?”

The amused voice cuts through Obi-Wan’s meditation, and he surfaces quickly. He opens his eyes and finds himself face-to-face with Depa Billaba, a faint smile on her face.

“Master Billaba,” he says as a way of greeting, keeping his face placid. “Grass against bare feet is excellent for meditation, I’ll have you know. It helps ground me when I stretch my mind out… and it tickles quite comfortably.”

They look at each other for a long moment, both faces serene. It’s Depa who breaks out into a smile and lets out a chortle first, though Obi-Wan quickly follows.

“As you say,” she says, voice full of mirth, before she too removes boots and socks to sit down next to him.

They don’t say anything for a few moments, instead basking in the peace of the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

It’s Depa who breaks the silence. “You’ve been busy, or so I’ve heard, Chancellor Kenobi. How many committees to investigate and possibly repeal laws have you instigated now?”

Obi-Wan looks at her and winces at her choice of title. He far prefers it when his fellow Jedi call him by his name or his Jedi titles. She just gives him a wry smile and raises an eyebrow.

“… Twenty-three,” he admits with a sigh. It’s been quite a few already, and most likely more to come. It feels like every day he finds more and more worrisome legislation.

“Out of those twenty-three, in how many cases have you failed to convince the committee to bring it up for a repeal vote?”

“… None.” Obi-Wan looks away. The Negotiator indeed.

“And on that note, how many have failed the vote to repeal the law?”

“One.”

Depa looks genuinely surprised. “Oh really? What was that one about?”

“It was an utterly ridiculous law that allows members of the Republic Senate to break any traffic law on any Republic world without consequence.” Obi-Wan sighs again and runs a hand through his hair. “Why would you ever legislate such a thing?” Legislations that allow Senators to circumvent Republic laws… No, he doesn’t like it at all.

“That’s ridiculous.” Depa pushes some hair out of her face, eyebrows knitting together and mouth turning down. “Though I’ll admit I’m not surprised they didn’t repeal it.”

“Neither am I. Disappointed? Absolutely. Surprised? Not at all.” Obi-Wan shakes his head. There is no doubt that there is corruption in the Senate. It is so very clear that it no longer serves the people of the Republic, but rather the Senators themselves.

Change will be slow in the coming, but he will work for it. Things must change if there’s to be any hope for peace in the galaxy and a functional Republic. Obi-Wan knows his duty.

“So, what does your schedule look like for the next week, Chancellor,” Depa says, breaking Obi-Wan’s train of thought, with a small smirk on her lips.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes at her, but cannot stop the way his mouth twitches towards a smile.

“Tomorrow I have almost nothing scheduled except for paperwork, paperwork and some more paperwork. I’ll spend the day at the Chancellor’s office, unless an emergency comes in.” He falls silent for a brief moment, then looks at Depa slyly. “Considering Anakin is only shipping out tomorrow, that looks unlikely.”

Depa throws her head back and laughs, hand coming up to cover her mouth. She gently shoves him in jest as they laugh.

“To return to your question” he continues, the smile refusing to leave his lips, “I also have a meeting with the committee looking over Republic Legislation 34-X5-32DL—it’s about fuel standards in public freight ships—because they had some questions for me regarding the report I wrote on it. Then on Centaxday it’s more paperwork and negotiations with the forty-five planets who wish to return to the republic.”

“Wait,” Depa stops him, “you mean another forty-five beyond the first ten?”

Obi-Wan nods. “Yes, exactly. Since the negotiations with the first ten were ultimately successful, another forty-five have shown interest in returning.”

“Your work, I suppose?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Now, I wouldn’t say that—”

“So it was.” She nods resolutely. “Good to know. Do go on, Obi-Wan.”

He huffs a small laugh and shakes his head at her. If she wants to think so… well, he can’t stop her. He doesn’t think it’s really thanks to him, though he might have held the Senate’s more… disagreeable Senators in check.

“Taungsday is dedicated to the war effort, and in trying to end the war in general. Which means trying to organise the fleets and getting an update from Anakin and Ahsoka, as well as from Cody and Admiral Yularen… And I’ll be reaching out to the Separatist Senate again in hopes of starting a peace process.�� He pauses and considers that for a second. “You know, Depa? I rather think someone is trying to deliberately stop that from happening.”

She looks at him gravely. “Likely someone who benefits from the war, then.”

“Likely,” he agrees with a nod.

They sit in silence for a while before Obi-Wan gently shakes his head.

“On Zhellday I have a meeting with a group of Senators who wish to discuss some of their ’worries’ about my work ethic, apparently” he continues. “After that it’s the last day of the week, so more Council work, unless they cancel it again,” he says with a smile and a small shrug.

“The following week is much of the same. Many meetings, Council work combined and work as a General in between the large piles of paperwork I must get through…” He strokes his beard in contemplation. “I do have a meeting with Senators Biwa, Himesh, Ha’han-ash and Chuchi before lunch and a meeting with Senator Organa during the afternoon of the following Zhellday. Occasionally I have meetings booked in without actually knowing what they’re about. They get booked in long in advance since the meeting spots are limited, and I assume the Senators hope they’ll think of something before the meeting.” He rolls his eyes. Either the Senators are trying to catch him out, which doesn’t sound like Chuchi, Ha’han-ash or Bail, or they don’t know what they want to speak with him about… though that doesn’t sound like them either.

It is possible that it’s something important and possibly in need of secrecy, of course.

“Sounds like you have quite the busy schedule.” Depa’s voice brings him out of his thoughts.

Obi-Wan doesn’t look at her, but he’s rather sure she’s wearing the same expression he’s caught on Mace and Yoda’s faces a few times: worry.

“Well, let’s just say I wasn’t wholly surprised that the Council decided to do this little coup of getting me a day off for nothing but meditation, saberwork and relaxing.”

They share another smile, before a comfortable silence descends.

Obi-Wan returns to his meditation, clears his head and reaches for the Force. It wraps around him like a blanket. It’s not as warm or as easy as he remembers from his childhood—the Force has grown darker and harder to connect to as deeply as he used to over the years—especially since the war started.

~~~~

When Obi-Wan surfaces from meditation, he finds that Depa is no longer meditating either. She looks troubled, and her shoulders slump.

“How are you, Depa?” He doesn’t want to pry; if she doesn’t want to talk, he won’t push her. But perhaps it would do her good to talk to someone besides the mind healers.

“I’m… better.” She sighs and bites her lip momentarily before she lets her face smooth out again. “I’m having trouble accepting what happened. Or… no, not accepting. I have trouble forgiving myself for it.”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but gently places a hand on her shoulder, lightly enough that she could easily shake it off. She leans into him instead, and he wraps his arm around her shoulders.

“We speak of Falling as if it’s so easy. An accident, almost. But I know… I know it’s a choice.”

Obi-Wan can feel tension practically radiating off her.

“I was losing my men at such a rapid rate, and I felt powerless to stop it. I thought… I thought if I was just stronger, if I just had more power, I could stop Grievous, and save them. So I made my choice: I stepped into the Dark, channeled the Force through my fear and my wish to protect my men, and I Fell.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I chose to Fall, I chose to turn my back on the Light completely. That power, Obi-Wan, it was overwhelming. It was like stepping right into the middle of the rushing river.” She takes another deep breath and releases it slowly. “I understand why the Jedi have chosen to not channel the Force through emotions, even though we could channel the Light through joy, love, or other positive ones. If you start channeling through one emotion, it is so easy to slide into channeling through another. Like Master Yoda says, fear leads to anger…”

She opens her eyes again and her face hardens for a brief moment. “I lost myself in a feedback loop. The more powerful I became, the stronger my anger became, and the stronger my anger was… You understand.”

“I do,” he whispers.

“I lost my sister on Geonosis, right when the war started.” Depa stares at the water. “She was the last of my blood family. But Mace has long been like a father to me, and I love him…” She pauses for a moment, collecting herself. “But there on Harun Kal, on his home planet… It didn’t matter. I lost myself to my anger and fear, not to mention that seeing him made me feel ashamed. So I… I tried to prove myself. Prove how strong the Darkside made me.”

She laughs, watery and bitter. Obi-Wan gently squeezes her shoulder, and she leans further into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

“There is no denying that he’s a more skilled duellist than I am. I was overpowering him only because of the strength the Dark gave me, and because he was on the defensive. He was trying not to hurt me, you know… But I was trying to hurt him.”

“Depa…” Obi-Wan isn’t sure what to say. It’s too sincere, too raw.

“It’s alright. I’m still talking to the mind healers. I’m… getting better. And they always remind me that I stopped, that I chose to come back.” She snorts. “That’s what caused the coma, you know? Mace was getting desperate, I was pressing the advantage and he knew the longer the fight wore on, the greater the risk either one of us would get killed. So he… He Force pushed me. He was just planning to get some distance between us.”

“So what went wrong?” Obi-Wan glances down at her.

“I stopped. Mid-attack. I stopped because I chose differently. I reigned myself in, and stopped, just as the Force push came. So I went flying into a cliffside.” She closes her eyes. “You know the rest.”

As a Councillor, Obi-Wan does know what happened. Mace brought Depa back to Coruscant, hurt and unconscious. The knowledge that she Fell is private, known only by the Council and the mind healers she started seeing after she woke up from her coma.

“He feels guilty, you know. That he pushed you, I mean,” Obi-Wan murmurs.

“I know. He shouldn’t. What choice did he have? What choice did I give him?”

“You didn’t give him a choice. But he still faced one very similar to the one you faced on Harun Kal: he could keep faith in that he would hold out long enough for you to come back to him, or he could try to change the situation to his advantage.”

“Oh…” Depa says softly. “I did know help was coming, but I… lost faith that it would reach us quickly enough. So I acted—to defend my men.”

“Yes, you did.” Obi-Wan squeezes her shoulder gently and rests his cheek against her hair. “The one most hurt by your actions was Mace. He’s already forgiven you, and carries his own guilt. Perhaps… Perhaps you’ll find it in you to forgive yourself, if you can make him do the same?”

Silence descends. Obi-Wan wonders if he crossed a line, said something he should not have. He’s no mind healer, this is not his area of expertise.

“Perhaps you’re right. Thank you, Obi-Wan,” Depa finally says.

“You’re welcome, Depa.”

A comfortable silence takes over for a brief moment, before Depa lets out a watery chuckle and straightens. Obi-Wan lets his arm fall from her shoulder and places both his hands in his lap instead.

“You’ve grown so wise. What ever did happen to that fiery little Padawan who rushed into things before he thought them through, hmm?” Mirth has returned to Depa’s voice.

Obi-Wan huffs out a laugh. “He grew up, as all children do—sooner or later.”

“I believe Qui-Gon would be very proud of you, you know…” She pauses and turns to him with a smile on her lips. “Even if you are on the High Council.”

They share a laugh at the thought. Oh yes, Qui-Gon would most likely have a thing or two to say about that.

“Thank you, Depa…”

They share a smile, and peace and calm reign in the Room of a Thousand Fountains once more.

—

(Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi masterpost)

#Supreme Chancellor Obi Wan Kenobi #my writing #Obi Wan Kenobi #Depa Billaba #star wars #this is where I really start doing my own lovely mix of legends and canon #also fuck the canon timeline #no one thought very much about that anyway #so #I'm gonna use one that makes more sense #lol #I got an ask!#Anonymous

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lisabelkin-yahoonews · 8 years ago

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'Our world changes today': a journey to the Women's March on Washington

yahoo

When the group of a dozen women arrive at the staging spot for the Women’s March on Washington on Saturday morning – just after dawn, if all goes as planned, to grab spots up front – it will have been 24 hours since they left home.

On Friday morning they headed out of town in their white rental van, a loose knit group of friends of friends of friends. They ranged in age from 17 to 70. Some were gay, some straight, one transgender. All shades of skin, in skin tone from dark to light. They were teachers, nurses, students, restaurant workers, animal rights advocates and retirees.

All felt called to join what for most was the first organized protest of their lives. Fueled by junk food, a passionate playlist, and a belief that they needed to stand up and be counted, they spent 12 hours in a van from Louisville, KY, and a night on floors, couches and inflatable mattresses in and around Washington DC, to become a dozen individuals in a sea of what is expected to be several hundreds of thousands of others.

_____

Friday, 8 AM

The plan was to drive on Friday in order to ignore the inauguration. “Counter-programming,” joked Bridget Pitcock, chief of staff at a managed care company in Louisville. This trip was her idea. Reading about early plans for the march soon after Election Day, she called her wife of three years, Meg Hancock, and announced they would need to rent a van and fill it with others who were “outraged and in despair.”

Now they had, and once the van was filled to bursting with people, luggage and hand-drawn signs, Hancock, an assistant professor of sports administration at the University of Louisville, paused before taking the driver’s seat to offer a prayer she’d written a few days before.

“Let’s take a moment of silence for the world we knew,” she said. “If you march to say ‘fuck you’ to Trump, I get that. But if you march to say ‘fuck yeah’ for women, for people of color, for the disenfranchised, I’ll be the first to hand you a megaphone. The fact is, today we know our world changes, but it’s not because Donald Trump says it does. It’s because WE say it does. And we say how it does.”

“Because today,” Hancock continued, “is a demonstration of our commitment to each other, to our LGBT brothers and sisters. To our our black and brown brothers and sisters. To our Muslim brothers, but especially our sisters. To our Syrian refugees, to our immigrants. To our homeless, our poor, our hungry. We commit to listen, to seek to understand, to stand up, to rise up, to educate, to advocate. Our world changes today not because of Donald Trump. Our world changes today because of us. And it is an honor to be a part of that change with you.”

_____

9 AM

There was a lot of talk in the van about backpacks. And fanny packs. And charging spots. And bathroom locations. For weeks memos had been filling the official March website, and among the instructions was a restriction of the size of carry-alls, to 8x6x4. Clear plastic backpacks could be slightly bigger though, 8x8x6. There was also advice to buy Metro cards in advance by mail, followed by articles in the Washington Post saying the surge in demand for Metro cards meant many who had ordered weeks in advance would not have them in time for the march — including the dozen women in the van.

Ah, the logistics of a protest.

The conversation turned to the list of speakers that had only recently been released. “My nana fangirled over Gloria Steinem and Angela Davis,” said Blair Wilson, a 19-year-old college student who was traveling to the march with her grandmother, Linda Wilhelms. A veteran of marches – her first protest, in 1969, was against the Vietnam War – Wilhelms was excited to introduce her only granddaughter to this world. “Having her there, experiencing the emotions and energy of the event, was my motivation to attend,” Wilhelms said. “She is an amazingly strong-willed, opinionated young woman. I have worked hard to help her develop a sense of right and wrong, and she is all I ever hoped she would be. She is my hero!”

_____

10 AM

Each was marching for reasons that were the same, but slightly different.

Courtney Hardesty, a service manager at a Louisville restaurant, was marching “because of the repugnant rhetoric used in the last election” and “because there is so much to be done on the front of social justice.”

Kelsey Westbrook, the co-director of a nonprofit animal welfare agency, was marching “because each and every day since November 9, I’ve woken up with a disturbingly sullen, deep-rooted sadness that Trump will soon take over the highest office in the land. I’m going because I feel as though I’ve got to do something that particular day to stand with other women and allies in solidarity. I’m going because there are so many women who aren’t able or willing to go. I’m going because I won’t let his inauguration halt my motivation for progress and equality in our country and in my community.”

Jocelyn Duke, an artist with a background in social work and as a basketball coach, is marching because “it troubles me that we have placed a man in the White House who has openly disrespected and degraded so many people who are different from himself. I march for myself, my twin, my mother, every young woman that I’ve coached, the young women and girls I don’t know. But most of all, I march for my beautiful nieces who will grow up knowing that they are valuable and powerful because of their amazing minds and loving spirits. I pray that we get to a place where we truly love and respect one another so that our children and future generations have a better and safe world to live in.”

Kaitlin U’sellis, an analyst at a healthcare company, was marching for women’s health. In June she miscarried twins. The fetuses had to be removed with medical intervention. “I have always been pro-choice,” she said. “But since then I’m more aware of the need for women’s access to healthcare. I am marching to keep government out of my uterus and my bedroom.”

The twins’ due date was January 20. Instead she spent the day in the van.

_____

These dozen women, friends of friends of friends, drove through Inauguration Day from Louisville, KY to be in Washington for today’s Women’s March. (Photo: Lisa Belkin/Yahoo News)

11 AM

They tried to shut the world out of the white rental van with the tinted windows. No one even thought of tuning to live coverage of the swearing in. But it was impossible to keep the outside from leaking in. They read jokes aloud that they found on Twitter: “The Bible just backed out of the inauguration.” They shared a a meme, a campaign poster of Obama/Warren 2020 – Michelle, that is.

The change of administration registered to them in a bizarre time delay. They watched the video of the awkward welcome of the Trumps to the White House by the Obamas, complete with that Tiffany box no one knew what to do with. But they didn’t see it until a half an hour after it happened.

“Hillary Clinton wears suffragette white to Trump inauguration,” someone read, out of actual order.

“There’s a tweet about a plane of all women headed to the march,” said someone else.

“Did you hear Southwest Airlines has pink lighting inside all its cabins today?”

They discussed any topic but the one that loomed largest.

The closer it got to noon, the quieter the voices became, and the louder the music. Maddie Dalton, the 17-year-old transgender girl who forced the bathroom question in Louisville’s public schools and won, hooked her iPhone to the sound system and blared the Hamilton Mixtape.

“Immigrants, we get the job done,” the group sang in unison.

As Mike Pence was being sworn in as vice-president, Hancock switched the music to Beyonce’s Lemonade.

And at about the moment they knew Donald Trump was holding the Bible, Pitcock turned on the song she has specially selected for the moment, Lily Allen’s “Fuck You.” The van vibrated with sound.

“So you say, It’s not okay to be gay/Well, I think you’re just evil/You’re just some racist who can’t tie my laces/Fuck you.”

They followed that with Common’s “The Day Women Took Over.”

_____

12:30 PM

Having welcomed this Yahoo News reporter along for their ride, it was time to Skype with the team covering the Inauguration in Yahoo’s New York studio. They watched, waiting their turn, as Katie Couric talked to Matt Bai about the protests, the bottles and bricks thrown at police, the militarized response with tear gas and arrests.

The video on the Skype screen was the first they had seen. Are they worried, Couric asked. Do they condone the violence?

_____

Meg Hancock tries on a bandanna after the group, worried about tear gas, buys out the Dollar Store. (Photo: Lisa Belkin/Yahoo News)

1:30 PM

Over lunch at a quaint spot next to a gas station, not far off the highway, the women discussed whether in fact they were worried. They turned to Wilhelms, the veteran of marches, who stressed that the cause of this gathering was not violent.

But, she added, it is always helpful to have a scarf to tie around your nose and mouth in the event of tear gas. And soaking that scarf in water is even more effective.

_____

2 PM

Dalton scouted out a nearby Dollar Store for bandannas and Hancock bought a dozen for the group. They debated whether the blue and red ones made some sort of political statement.

Hancock suggested that each woman choose a “buddy” to keep track of her whereabouts should chaos break out.

_____

5 PM

As Washington neared, the traffic increased. So did the fog. The bags of pretzels, trail mix and Little Debbie Oatmeal Crème pies became less appetizing.

The Trump administration version of the new White House website contained no LGBT Rights page, a headline read. The public petition page was gone, too. And the section of the site that had been about Civil Rights was now about standing up for law enforcement.

_____

6 PM

Other cars inched along in nearby lanes, clearly headed for the march. The women spotted a license plate from Nevada with “Love Trumps Hate” written on the back window. A charter bus from St. Louis, whose passengers could be seen in the windows reading other headlines on other screens.

_____

8 PM

The group scatters to various couches and sleeping bags. They will reconvene at 7 AM, on a street corner a short walk from the start of the March, to continue their journey. _____