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kindestegg · 3 years

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Deltarune Theory: Ralsei is a guide for the script

It feels crazy that Deltarune Chapter 2 has only been out for like, what, two weeks? As of the time I’m writing this, and yet, there has already been so much secret hunting and speculation over this. Not even the full game, and people already go crazy over it. Naturally, I am part of this craze. In fact I was one of the people that played it as soon as it dropped.

And, I thought it was only me, but, at least for a little while, Ralsei’s behavior struck me as… odd. Not outwardly malicious, but just… odd. Particularly the first bit of the game, it was just so… happy and convenient? And Ralsei was at the center of it all, orchestrating it, making sure everything happened accordingly.

Eventually, that initial feeling of distrust went away, but… not quite. And it seems a lot of people began to feel the same way, pointing out bits about Ralsei that are just… out of place. Things that didn’t seem to stand out in the first chapter, are now popping out about him.

Questions include:

How does he know about what’s outside the Dark World, about the school?

How does he know about the game mechanics and call them out by names?

Why is he so interested in keeping the balance between only Kris acting and him and Susie doing magic?

Why does he seem so eager to dismiss what happened with Spamton NEO?

Why doesn’t he turn into stone or even get weak at any point during the time he spends in Cyber World?

Are the parts of his name and design connecting to the Dreemurr’s intentional, and if so, what does that mean for his relation to Kris?

How and why does he take player control away to look at what Susie is doing? Why must he wait until Kris is willing to do it? What does he tell them when he succeeds in this?

Now, I don’t intend to pose here “a supreme theory to rule them all”, I’m just a guy having fun and I’ve seen people voice particularly similar ideas to this one I’ve had, so I want to at least try to answer these questions through a relatively simple idea that would, almost entirely, immediately answer ALMOST all the doubts.

First, let’s start with some steps to build up this idea. For one, we know for a fact that Ralsei holds knowledge over game mechanics and may even break the fourth wall at times.

But we also know that Ralsei’s design resembles a lot of characters from Undertale we know and were fond of. For one, he can be likened to Toriel in the sense that he is the one to give you the first tutorial of the game and his clothes resemble her original outfit as well. Another connection, much more common, that people have made is that he is like Asriel, no doubt due to his name being an anagram, but also due to the fact he is also a cute young goat.

I would like to do a complete turn around here though, and say I do not think any of this points to Ralsei being related to Kris in the familial sense, for more than one reason, but my main one being that I don’t think Toby would be as frankly disgusting as to imply such a thing when there is so so much teasing in the direction of Ralsei possibly having a crush on Kris. I mean… really, Toby?

You know, I’m not too sure this would be the smartest idea, Mr. Fox, but alright.

However, I do think all these hints in his design and name have a purpose. And it has to do with how us, the fandom, see these two characters. For one, they are very beloved characters, and Toriel is one that we associate with her tutorials and guidance, whereas Asriel is one that people have yearned to see more in action. They are back, in a sense, but not present in our adventures so far.

What I’m getting at is that Ralsei is specifically designed to be the darling of the fandom. He is made to be loved, to be trusted, to cause feelings in us that make us want to protect him and accept his advice. This, in a way, also affects the in-universe characters who see him, as Susie put it: “as a big portable teddy bear”, whose job is “giving hugs”.

And I don’t just mean this in a character design way, like “oh wow Toby was so smart to make a perfectly marketable boy!” No. I think Ralsei exists as a meta element, his form being a direct manifestation of what we want to see.

He looks like that because he wants us to see him and lower our guard and expect his guidance. Remember how his form was shadowy and vague throughout all of chapter 1 until the very end of it and how he poofs into nothing but a pile of clothes in both chapters so far, no matter what form he’s in? What if he’s a shapeshifter? What if Ralsei isn’t even his real name? That certainly would explain why he says he doesn’t know what being Ralsei-like is like.

Ralsei? Ralsei? Oh God he’s gone.

Now, do I think he’s lowering our guard in the sense of leaving us vulnerable for an attack? Not exactly. I think it's so we learn to accept him…

Accept that he is a GUIDE for the game’s script. His entire existence hinges on guiding the main characters, specially Kris, throughout the story, and making sure the whole story, all seven chapters, play out exactly as planned.

You see, Ralsei isn’t evil. His goal is pretty simple, actually: guide us, the player, throughout the game, making us feel as safe and happy and secure. In that sense, of course he pushes so hard towards the pacifist route. After all, that’s the one that’s closer to a completionist route, as the sparing + recruiting mechanic adds more characters to your town, and therefore more content. He wants you to see all this content and get the most enjoyment out of it. His code urges him to bring you the best experience possible.

This would also answer why he does that thing with taking our control away from Kris and to watch Susie’s shenanigans. Because it’s satisfying to us. Notice how stressed out and pushy he gets in the alternate route when Susie comes out of Noelle’s room without being able to let us see what happened. He knows he messed up, something went wrong. He was supposed to let us see, so that we wouldn’t be bored, because God forbid the players be bored.

Just imagine this going through his head.

He also seems to genuinely care about Kris and Susie, and with good reason, as he knows these are the protagonists, and he is supposed to care for their well being too and ensure they reach their goal. I do think, however, there is a good amount of being genuine in his care, as he has no reason to react so boldly sometimes to either of them, showing outrage or affection in pretty telling ways. He isn’t heartless despite carrying out this job.

However it is also worth noting, for all his care, he cannot do the one thing that Kris would desire the most: free them from our grasp. And that is his ultimate failure towards them, and may end up creating conflict later on in the game.

From, here, there are two possible pathways:

Ralsei does not know about the dilemma Kris is going through, and believes Kris is entirely oblivious and passive towards being in a video game. He may even end up being the final boss to fight, as he desperately tries to keep everything on rails while Kris very much does not care for any of that.

Ralsei is entirely aware of what’s going on with Kris, after all, everything in a game’s design is planned, even the cutscenes, therefore even Kris’ struggles. Ralsei knows of the fate that lies ahead, that Kris will eventually be free, how it all ends. But to get there… is still a road ahead.

I think Ralsei’s affection towards Kris will definitely be explored in the later chapters. Not just because of the teasing we’ve been getting, but, if Ralsei really is a guide of the game’s code and script, what would that mean for him to get so attached towards the character the player is controlling?

Ralsei will have to make a choice. He will either recognize Kris is suffering and cannot wait any longer, or be faced with possibly having to fight them himself. This is why those two pathways matter as well. If he doesn’t know, his choice will come later and it will be an unpleasant surprise for him to find out the game universe is breaking apart around him with the self awareness of certain characters. If he does know, however, his choice is NOW, and waiting for the inevitable will be torture.

Just how long until he breaks? Or will he keep the facade until the very last chapter?

Like I said, I don’t intend this theory to be the biggest, most revealing and coherent theory. But… It could add a very interesting layer to Ralsei’s character, as well as answer many questions posed beforehand. He knows the school layout and game controls because he is part of the code. He can get to the other Dark World’s easily and remain unharmed because the game demands him to be. He looks like this so that we love him. He wants to give us the most fulfilling Castle Town so that we will love the game. He doesn’t protest even when Kris does things like try to give him the thorn ring, because to him, everything will be okay anyway. Everything he is, is for us. He isn’t evil or malicious per se, he just opposes Kris’ biggest need.

But he may have gotten himself attached. And that may be a clue to sparing him if he does become a final boss.

But! Tell me what you thought of this theory! Do you think it’s way too weird and farfetched, or do you think it’s possible that it could happen? Or maybe you agree with some stuff but not with other stuff? Go ahead and tell me!

#deltarune #deltarune theory #ralsei deltarune #Commander's orders

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morgansunflower · 3 years

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Dancing Away With My Heart

Clark Kent/Superman X Batman! Sister Reader

Warnings: suggestive content

Words:1081

Gotham newspaper was the talk of the city. Y/N was offended they wrote Clark as a low social status man and was only after her money. Clark was offended they wrote Y/N as desiring a one night engagement. Bruce was offended that Clark dared to dance with his baby sister. Selina knew she was going to have to deal with her husband's disapproval to which she disagreed. Alfred was delighted to see his adopted daughter found solace even for just a dance

Arthur's notes - Thank you for reading! The story is based on the movie Gotham By Gaslight. Reader's middle name is Martha after her mother.

Inside the dining room of my home Wayne Manor. I sit among the chair wearing my f/c casual dress. Alfred, sits with me as we enjoy a cup of tea. I hear the entrance door open and slam shut. Bruce, is home and is likely beyond mad about me dancing with, Clark. I honestly wish he could be happy for me, the way I'm happy for him and Selina. He's so protective of me. I understand why but still it hurts how much he doesn't want me to be with Clark.

"Miss Y/N may I offer you a bit of advice"

"oh, dear you're not happy with me too" I sigh in defeat preparing for my sassy father figure try to point me in the right direction. Because he loves me.

"not a bit Ms. I wish only you ease your brother's mind by telling him that you care for Mr Kent" he said with a gentle smile

"oh dear how did you know?" I sigh as I regrettably feel my cheeks redden

"some thing's are clearer than others. I saw the genuineness in both your eyes. Try as you may to deny to yourself or anyone for that matter miss Y/N. You have been in love with him for quite some time and you have my blessing"

My heart melts, remembering the night perfectly. Alfred was right, again. Days past. My mind would only think of Clark. How strong he felt with his hand on mine and on my waist. I'd do anything to dance with him again. His smile that melted mine into a soft smile. I still regret not seeing what kissing him would feel like. Though I probably wouldn't have stopped. As well as my overprotective brother might actually would have killed him. The beautiful evening sun shun as I sit outside on the swing that was tied to the upper branch of the oak tree. My adopted nephew Grayson steps up. He holds the rope on the swing, leaning his head on the rope.

"evening Grayson"

"evening auntie Y/N... So have you written your boyfriend?" he smirked

"boyfriend" I chuckled gently shaking his chin "where'd you get a funny idea like that lad"

I lower my hand as he grinned

"honestly auntie I'm 13 years old. I know what love is.."

"you wouldn't happen to be referring to Miss Zatanna" I asked chuckling

His cheeks turn bright red causing me laugh. I kiss my nephew's head. Jason, carries Tim on his back as he steps to Grayson and I.

"greetings boy's" I smiled

"hey auntie" Jason casually said

"greetings auntie!" Tim delightfully said

I chuckled "how are you my boy's?"

"ol' Jay refused to allow me to focus on my important project until I promised to come play" Tim sighed

"it's the only way the little vampire will get some sun" Jason's joked

"I am not a vampire!" Tim defends appalled

I chuckled "he's just jealous because you have the strongest mind"

"hey!" Jason and Grayson offended

I smile to Jason "oh well Jay is the strongest willed" I then smile to Grayson "and Grayson has the strongest heart"

All three of my nephew's smiled as proudness was filled on my face. I then wonder if I should write Clark. I don't want him to think I had insincere intentions. He's so selfless and kind. He's good to my nephew's. It warms my heart in a unique unexplainable way.

Selina's P. O. V

The moonlight sky shun brightly providing light into our bedroom. Wearing my thin black lace nightgown as I lay sideways on our bed. I softly hummed watching my husband undress. He would not look me in the eye.

I sadly smile "you're still mad at me for not picking your side"

"no" he grunts "I know you care for my sister and are only looking out for her well being"

"but.." I sigh

He steps to the bed moving the covers. His arms stop moving.

"I promised to protect her" his voice heaving "I wish not to.." he stammered, his face dropping that causes my heart to ache for him.

"oh, Bruce" I tenderly grasp his hand "let me hold you my love"

I pull him into the bed and into my small arms. I kiss his forehead, and part from my husband. I hold his face with my small hands. He rest his face on my palm. My husband heavily breaths. I run my knuckles through his hair. He loves his sister so much that I sometimes think he forgets she's his sister and not his daughter. Sometimes we have conversations that sound like we're her parents. I'm grateful for that, because then I can have more faith in my life to look after those adorable boy's. I cup his face has his saddened face. His eyes swelling.

"your love for your sister is undeniable my love and she undoubtedly loves you too. Not me, not Clark nor anyone can change that. He will be good to her.." I then made a threatening look "and if he isn't then I will scratch his eyes out!"

He chuckled wrapped his arm's around me and then kisses my lips deeply.

"thank you" he genuinely said

"you may thank your beautiful wife in a other way darling" I give him a deep kiss as he lifts my nightgown upward....

Clark's P. O. V

In my home town, Smallville. The sun shines brightly. At my parents farm. I rest my head against the tree laying back. I impatiently open the letter I had received from Gotham.

~ Gotham, May. 18, 1990

My Dearest Friend,

I often dream of the night we had together. Dancing with our hearts touching. My smile never leaving my face. No matter what people will say or write I was truly happy to have your company. I ask of you, do not let the world nor my brother convince you otherwise. It has been quite some time since I have had the joy of having you in my life. Know I will forever cherish the beautiful dance we shared together and hope for you to step on my toes again

Yours truly

Y/N M. Wayne ~

I softly chuckle with a warm feeling within my core. I fold the letter. I place it within my pocket. I softly hummed relaxing as I breath in the spring air. I have to write her back! No I have to see her!

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hellsbellschime · 3 years

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I always love your takes on Dany because I think you explain her really well and was wondering what you think of this take by a Dany stan. It's got some uh... interesting ideas. Sorry too because it's quite long

The main difference in between Daenerys' political arc, and that of other "heroes" and their Houses is that Dany's is not currently a political arc relegated to fighting for Targaryen grievances and wins. Meanwhile, all other main House representatives in the narrative (Starks, Martells, Lannisters, Greyjoys, Tullys, Tyrells, Baratheons) are generally fighting precisely for nothing else but their own (and their Houses') grievances and wins.

That's where the double standards come in-

+ Daenerys is harshly and minutely judged for the quality of her every act, upon every single person in her narrative, bc her arc involves her aim to hold responsibility over the wellness of all these people.

+ Everyone else who are part of the Great Houses however are merely judged as per how they perform towards the wellness of their own Houses, because that's all they aim to perform for.

One girl dies in an act Dany is not directly involved in, particularly in intention, and the discussions are endless as per the repercussions and outrage of the occurrence. Because Daenerys took it upon herself to defend all these people, and this seems like a failure, particularlyin her POV: one girl with no other importance in the story and a few lines, among maybe millions. One girl. Hazea.

Robb Stark and his men, on the other hand, will kill, maim and rape thousands, or even tens of unnamed thousands, and there is no outrage; rarely discussed repercussions. Because Robb's political arc is not about protecting nameless people. Not about caring for the fate of one-liner non-noble characters. His arc is about the grievances of House Stark. About Ned. Readers judge him upon how close he gets to getting revenge on Tywin and Jofrrey, about how well/or bad he leads wars, not about what kind of leader he is to people, what kind of 'monster' he is to enemy commonfolk. The relevance of his eventual loss is not about the fate of his people, or enemy people, either. It's about his personal tragedy. It's about the tragedy of the remaining Starks.

There is outrage for Daenerys even killing her (leader) enemies. For everyone else, it's an undisputed aim.

Daenerys is even already judged for the possibility of a future where she will anything that concerns her actually being Daenerys of House Targaryen in Westeros. The possibility that any Westerosi people might die, while hundreds of thousands may have been dying so far at the hands of other Great Houses (directly and indirectly), and it's mostly irrelevant for them. But for Daenerys that judgement is everything. She is looked through the lense of "if she's a Queen she's meant to protect them, not kill them" tho she has not yet been granted that status, while those who have had the status of Kings, Queens and Lords of Westeros in the meantime have been responsible for the deaths of their own people all of this time.

No noble Northener really cares for a Jeyne Poole, least of all for a Hazea.

Daenerys alone is (harshly) judged as a leader of people, because that's her current actual arc. She is not Daenerys of House Targaryen currently, in a real sense, not really. Her family and House don't really matter where she is now, and to what she is doing.

Almost every other noble character (and I only say almost to partly exclude those not taking particular part in politics) is given the leniency of the tragic MC in a tragic family drama biopic. ALL THEY ARE IS X PERSON OF HOUSE Y. And in most cases nothing else matter. - end post

Well, obviously no hate to this person whoever they are and I don't necessarily think it's a bad take just because I disagree with it. I particularly DO agree on things like Jeyne Poole, and I think that is GRRM very intentionally trying to point out some huge hypocrisies with everyone in the story, even the "good guys", because it is incredibly unfair that no one will come to save Jeyne Poole while a fuckton of people will come to save "Arya Stark" just because they cared about Ned.

But where I don't agree is on that aspect in particular. Because it's not about winning or airing grievances for these great houses, a lot of their actions are largely driven by the fact that they simply care deeply about the other people who are involved in the war now or who have been hurt or killed in the past wars, and that is largely what is motivating many of them to do what they do. And in even more intense cases, they're going to war because they are in extremely immediate danger.

This is true for both villains and heroes, I mean Robb and Cat go to war against the Lannisters because there is an immediately mortal threat to their entire family, and even though Cersei and the rest of the Lannisters are clearly villains, their actions are also driven by an immediate mortal danger that their family is facing. And it's safe to say, a huge portion of what happened in the WOT5K would never have even occurred if a lot of these people weren't put in a position of "HOLY SHIT me or someone I love is about to die RIGHT NOW if I don't do something so I better fucking do something".

I feel like the story makes it clear that the wars that they are fighting are very pointless and brutal anyway. I mean FFS, GRRM does not accidentally traumatize the shit out of Arya by putting her in a commoner's position in a war that is supposedly being fought in her name. So I actually agree with the writer in the sense that there is a double standard when it comes to Dany vs. everyone else, but I feel like the double standard is valid because all of these characters for better or worse have a dog in this fight. Whatever they've done is incredibly personal and therefore pretty irrational for them.

And the fact that the men are rallying to save Arya Stark when they wouldn't rally to save a thousand Jeyne Pooles is very telling and demonstrates that they are extremely hypocritical, but it's also telling because they're not fighting for the "heir to House Stark". They repeatedly talk about how they're fighting for Ned's girl. It has very little to do with her nobility and power and a great deal to do with how these people feel about Ned not as a Stark, but just as a person that they knew and cared for who was horribly wronged.

So while I agree and recognize that a ton of the main characters have done the wrong things, often for the wrong reasons, it's personal, it's emotional, and it's irrational. And in a lot of cases it is driven by something as simple and pure as "I am about to die if I don't do something so I'm doing the first thing I fucking think of to get out of it". Even for the houses who initially got involved as a power play, it has become very much about the people that they care about and their own feelings rather than strategy and house advancement.

That doesn't magically make it moral, but it does make it hugely distinct from what Daenerys is doing. Because Daenerys doesn't have a dog in this fight at all. She has absolutely no personal ties to Westeros or anyone in it, and she is not in any danger from anyone in Westeros. Literally the only Westerosi person who has ever even really tried to kill her is a man she doesn't know and is already dead, and the only Targaryen she ever knew who even had a connection to Westeros was someone she hated who abused her horrifically and who is also already dead.

Ergo, Dany is a villain because she literally has no personal or political justification for the massive war that she's going to bring to Westeros. She is going to leave the place she's in that is a complete mess and desperately needs help even more than it did after her intervention, and she's going to invade a place that she doesn't care about beyond some imaginary concept she has about it in her head, has no connection to, has no need for her, and poses no threat to her.

She's not fighting for anything besides herself and her own sense of entitlement over Westeros. She's more harshly judged for her actions because they are completely driven by her own whims and desires and nothing more. She has the opportunity to think things through and plan and get advice and actually figure out the best way to do things, whereas every character in Westeros is reacting to something very immediate that they don't have a lot of time to consider and that is deeply emotional for them. But still, she doesn't even do that.

She's judged for all of the mistakes she makes because they're unnecessary and foreseeable mistakes. And, if she actually just waited and tried to figure out what to do instead of basically throwing herself into situations where she's suddenly overthrowing governments and ruling hundreds of thousands of people without a plan or any governing experience, then a lot of the bad things that have happened as a result of her campaign wouldn't have happened.

And obviously, I think this is a very intentional move on GRRM's part. I think he establishes that war is pointless and often outrageously hypocritical with the WOT5K, but there's a reason he gave Dany no one she loves and no one who needs her help and no one who poses a threat to her in Westeros. She's going to bring war to an already war-ravaged continent simply because she feels like it should belong to her.

That is drastically different than Robb going to war because his father has been falsely charged with treason or Cersei murdering Robert because he will try to murder her children if he finds out they're not his. And while all of the wars in ASOIAF are terrible and purposeless in the end, GRRM is going very far out of his way to demonstrate that Dany has literally zero justification or even explanation for why she acts the way she does beyond her belief in her own super-special entitlement.

#asoiaf #anti daenerys targaryen #anti daenerys targaryen meta #asoiaf meta

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my-tony-stark-drawings · 3 years

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Chap 14 -- HOW??

One step at a time you'll get there" thought Y/N as she walked along the beach and got closer and closer to the village.

She saw Tony sitting on a bench. And from the moment her eyes found him she could only see him. He was illuminated by the lights of the party and his hair was slightly tousled by the wind.

He was still wearing the shirt he had on when he left on the beach, he had a drink in his hand and was looking ahead.

He was so beautiful. She felt her heart beat so fast again. She had missed him so much.

A few seconds later she saw a woman approaching Tony, waving her hair around her finger.

Even from where Y/N was she was sure this woman was making eyes at him.

And the mermaid felt a feeling she had never experienced before. She just wanted that girl to go away.

Y/N continued to move forward and her wish was granted as the girl left and a few moments later it was a man in a suit who joined Tony and patted him on the back.

Who was this? One of the investors he had told her about? She hoped he wasn't bothering Tony.

She knew that he was stressed these days, always thinking of something important. She had seen him working during hours, always wanting to do better, sacrificing the little relaxation times he could have.

Finally she arrived only a few meters away from the man she had so much wanted to join.

She stopped behind him and waited for a few seconds as if petrified. What was she going to do now, what was she going to say? How was Tony going to react?

She listened to his conversation and understood that Tony wanted to leave to join her.

At this point she simply managed to say slightly

"Tony?..."

At the sound of this voice Tony instantly felt his heart speed up. He turned around in a second as if a force was pushing him to do so.

He saw Y/N standing there on the beach.

His beautiful eyes widened and they quickly moved down her human legs before moving up to her face.

She was dressed in a light dress floating in the wind the color of ocean foam.

Tony looked at her.

"I.. I don't have the words" was all he managed to say.

All his thoughts were racing through his head. He had missed her and was so happy to finally see her again. But.. omg she had legs??

He had so many questions.

How was this possible? And how could he protect her from the world now? So many new dangers! And she was so beautiful. And he could finally take her in his arms... But, was it forever? Why hadn't she told him about all this before?

And now... what to do?

He simply listened what his heart was telling him to do, and go to her and hold her tight.

She had the biggest smile and responded by holding him even tighter.

After a moment they parted and Tony took Y/N's face in his hands as she was still smiling at him.

"I missed you," she said.

"I missed you too"

The mermaid didn't have time to say more because the man who was with Tony had now arrived at the couple's level and they could no longer risk being heard

"Who is this?" Asked the man

"Uh My assistant." Tony replied.

He held her close and Y/N smiled politely and waved at the man.

The man held out his hand and Y/N took it, bragging in her mind that she was doing so well at playing the human and hiding her stress. No doubt it was her love for Tony and her desire to please him that gave her more courage than she thought she had.

She then looked up at Tony who smiled at her and added "And Y/N is also my date for tonight"

This time Y/N felt herself blushing and wished she had as much self-control as a few seconds ago, but she didn't.

"We have made our decision, so why don't you both come over to our table and talk about it" the man invited.

"All right, let me settle some details with my assistant and I'll join you".

"Oh sure" said the man before walking away

"How??" Tony whispered to the woman

"I don't know. I just.. wished for it so hard." Y/N said, mimicking with her arms sticking to her chest "And then it happened! Just like in the stories of my childhood!".

"And you walked all the way here?"

"I'm not going to hide from you that I fell once. Or twice. Maybe six times..."

Tony laughs "You're amazing"

"Says the man who manages to be handsome, funny, kind, brave and smart all at the same time, and who is going to wow the world again tonight with his successful project?"

Tony chuckle not knowing what to say to so many compliments "I'm glad you're here" he says in her ear.

"So what did I miss?" asked the mermaid.

"Previously on -Tony is trying to get people who might be able to help to know about his latest invention-"

The mermaid laughed

"I checked out who they were. Their intentions. I gave them my speech, and now I'm waiting for their answer" he said looking at the men in the distance who were waiting for them.

Then he turned to Y/N and extended his arm like a gentleman. "Dearest let me lead you."

She took it and he led her gently and carefully to the table, taking care with every step she took that she didn't hurt herself.

"You've already made so many improvements?" Amazed the mans as they saw how Tony's project had improved between his party and this one. "In two days??"

"What do you think I do at night?" Tony said, which made everyone around the table laugh. All (except Y/N) were unaware of how real Tony's answer was behind the joke.

Tony smiled and laughed but he also held his hands on the table and moved his fingers slightly. Y/N could only admire the way he managed and overcame his stress and she just wanted to help him. She put her little hand on Tony's which made him jump slightly at the sign of affection but then they looked at each other and understood each other in a glance. She was there for him as he was always there for her.

"Tony is a great worker. He would do anything to protect the world and everyone. I'm a witness to that. He has amazing ideas and it would be a shame for you to miss this opportunity to be part of it." the mermaid added in a tone that sounded like she had been doing this all her life

She wouldn't normally be so sure of herself in this new world, but if it was to defend Tony she would go to the ends of the earth. She saw and knows who he is. How this man always puts all his heart in anything he does. How is soul was pure. She felt it the moment her eyes fell on him.

Tony looked at Y/N and felt so proud of his little mermaid. He had met so recently and yet felt as if he had always known her. He never thought he would feel this way one day.

Since he was little he was given an idea of what his life would be like, take over his father's business, listen to people's advice and everything would be fine. Then everything changed when he became Iron Man, his way of seeing things, his way of trusting people. He thought that his only goal was to protect the population at all costs and save as many people as possible. Without ever for a second thinking about himself.

But now everything had changed again. Looking at her he saw, or at least dared to dream of a completely different future. She was smiling at him and he saw a world where he could get peace and happiness too.

"Well Mr. Stark. I think your project has made a good impression on us as well as on our colleagues here. We would be more than happy to do business with you" said finally the man as he held out his hand to Tony, which he shook with pleasure.

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Masterlist

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#BringBackTonyStarktolife

#tony stark #iron man #bringbacktonystarktolife #tonystark #marvel #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fanfic #fluff #mermaid reader #mermaid #fantasy #cute #tony stark imagine #mcu

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gffa · 4 years

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SO WHAT THE HELL IS THE MORTIS ARC? After about the second time I watched this arc, my thoughts ran towards the idea this was Star Wars in a microcosm, the story of Anakin Skywalker’s fall in miniature form, as so many things in Star Wars basically come down to being about Anakin, whether literally about him or an echo and rhyme of the story that he is the very center of. Which I think still has a good amount of merit to it, but in the rewatching of this arc yet again, there’s a bigger arc that jumped out at me so much more clearly, now that I’ve spent more time with the structure and lore of Star Wars. That this arc is entirely a metaphorical extension of Anakin’s internal struggle between the light and the dark. It’s a manifestation of the Chosen One struggling to choose between good and evil. Now, to be clear, the Father and the Son and the Daughter are all real beings that really existed, Dave Filoni has said that pretty clearly on podcast interviews, as well as said more than once that he and Christian Taylor specifically decided not to answer What The Fuck Was That!? about this arc, because they felt it would rob the viewers of speculation about it, as well as the questions that you’re meant to ask after watching it. There are so many, many moments in this arc that are call-backs to important moments in Anakin’s life, major events and choices he makes along his path in life, as well as commentary from the Father and the Son and the Daughter about who and what they are, what influences them. In “Overlords”, Obi-Wan and Anakin and Ahsoka find themselves stranded on a mysterious planet, immediately approached by the Daughter and asked if he is indeed the Chosen One. All three of the Mortis lords are intensely interested in Anakin, each of them try to protect him, seduce him, or just try to understand if he really is the Chosen One. While he’s staying in the Father’s sanctuary, Anakin has a vision of his mother, which he’s deeply affected by, but realizes it’s not really her. He storms out of the room and goes to confront the Father, thinking that these are Sith Lords. But the Father says, no, we’re not Sith or Jedi, we’re bigger than that, like you are. His explanation is: “We can take many forms. The shapes we embody are merely a reflection of the life force around us.” In other words, they take the shape that Anakin’s presence imbues them with. They’re real on their own, but their forms here are shaped by the Chosen One.

But the Chosen One is a myth, right? Well, the Father would very much like to know. So, the entire rest of the episode is about hurtling the characters--hurtling Anakin, as the Chosen One--towards a test. A test that isn’t just about “hey, are you the Chosen One or not?”, but almost every single time the Father says what he has to do--face your guilt and know the truth, you have to release the guilt and choose, only you can do this. It’s about trying to make Anakin look within himself, look at his guilt and fear and pain, and acknowledge them, face them, and choose whether he will embrace them or let go of them. Which is E X A C T L Y how the Force works, how the Jedi have always said the Force works. It’s Luke having to face his fears in the cave on Dagobah, it’s the Jedi younglings having to face their fears on Ilum, it’s Ezra having to face his fears in the Lothal Jedi Temple, it’s Rey having to face her fears in the cave on Ahch-To. [x][x] FACE YOUR FEARS, YOUR GUILT, YOUR ANGER. FACE YOUR DARK SIDE.

The planet is the Force and that’s how the Force works. Anakin uses the Force to make the Daughter and Son let them go, but refuses to stay on Mortis (and, honestly, doesn’t really do any self-examination or releasing of his guilt, he hasn’t changed internally at all), so they try to leave, but they’re still trapped there. Which is where “Altar of Mortis” picks up. Because Anakin is still giving shape to the manifestations of the Father, the Daughter, and the Son.

“You’ve chosen the dark side and allowed it to feed your anger and desire for power,” the Father says. “By bringing the Chosen One here, you’ve shown me my potential,” the Son answers. And then moments later, he kicks the Father down the stairs (because he’s HOLDING HIM BACK! by not dying fast enough) and screams:

Even aside from time not being linear in Star Wars, we’ll see later that this trilogy of episodes is very aware of Revenge of the Sith and other important moments in Anakin’s life. This moment, screaming in rage, “I hate you!” cannot possibly not remind us of Anakin screaming the same thing at Obi-Wan in ROTS. Which is yet another moment that’s about Anakin, just as so many other moments are about him, cool little moments of echoes and rhymes, that Star Wars likes to make references and homages to itself, but there are enough of them done with such clear purpose here that I don’t think it’s just Rule of Cool, but instead an intentional narrative purpose behind them.

There are more, but those ones are the ones that really jumped out at me, important moments in Anakin’s story, ones that reflect his fall into the darkness. The moment he caught the saber and attacked Dooku as a choice he couldn’t take back (and was itself an important moment because it was a mirror to Luke’s choice to not kill Vader in ROTJ, even after cutting off his arm in a rage, as Anakin did to Dooku as well) and the moment he very much intended to kill Obi-Wan on the Death Star, these are classic moments that evoke our knowledge of Anakin’s path. And what does all this do? It further feeds what’s going on with the Mortis lords.

Everything pretty much goes pear-shaped at this point, Ahsoka dies, the Son accidentally stabs the Daughter instead of the Father-- Which, in and of itself is an interesting parallel to Anakin, his sister the only one he professes to truly love, he’s the one that winds up killing her, despite his intentions, but then we see he also very much loves the Father, he doesn’t want him to die, he’s distraught when it happens, even though he was the one who engineered it, just like Anakin being the thing that really breaks Padme’s heart/causes her death even without his intentions to do so, just like Anakin in “There is Another” in From a Certain Point of View where his heart explodes with loneliness after Obi-Wan dies, so powerfully that Yoda feels it from literally all the way on the other side of the galaxy. --but Ahsoka is saved through Anakin being the one to channel the last of the Daughter’s energy into Ahsoka, while the Father guides him, the Son fucks off to who knows where, and “What the fuck do we do now?” knowing that the Son wants their ship to leave with. This is where “Ghosts of Mortis” starts up, and the announcement furthers our themes:

“A great weight has been placed on Anakin’s shoulders, for it is now that he must face who he really is.” Not just that he has a choice to make, about what to do about the Son or Mortis, but that this still has to be about discovering who he himself really is. Because Anakin has never yet really looked inside himself or faced his guilt and pain. Which is when he runs into Qui-Gon’s ghost, as he’s trying to find the Son, and wham does it deliver on all of this:

Qui-Gon’s words aren’t just “bring balance to the Force”, but specifically this is indicated to be done through facing his demons will he save the universe. Anakin, sliding right by that point, asks if he should just kill the Son or just leave? And Qui-Gon’s answer is that Anakin’s not looking at this in the right way, that there’s another way to deal with this and it’s exactly the one that the Jedi have been teaching for as long as we’ve known them, that the Force has constantly been throwing into the paths of the Jedi, because it’s so necessary to becoming a Jedi: Face the dark parts of you and work past them. This is why Qui-Gon’s words are so important--it’s not just that this is an echo of Empire Strikes Back where Luke has to face the inner demon of the specter of Darth Vader (it wasn’t an external threat in that cave on Dagobah, that was all about “what you bring with you”, as Yoda says, that was all about Luke’s fears surrounding him), that it’s not just that Qui-Gon says Anakin has to go to a place strong in the dark side but he has to remember his training. Qui-Gon’s ghost visited Obi-Wan earlier, asking, “Have you trained the boy as I asked?” And now he says, “Remember your training.” because this is what Jedi do, this is what they train themselves for, and why Qui-Gon says it to Anakin here. This is what you’ve been taught to do--go to the dark place and face your demon. That’s the Force, that’s how it works. And further to that, how the Force works, how Star Wars works, is that it’s about choice in those moments. When you’re at the crossroads, it has to be your own choice. You can ask others for advice and guidance, those things can be incredibly important, but at the end of the day, Star Wars is about “only Anakin can choose”.

So, Anakin does indeed go to face the Son in the place strong in the dark and the Son forces him to look within himself. To know himself.

He sees his future self and actions, he’s so distraught by them, that instead of being able to face them and pass through those fears, he’s consumed by them, he agrees to help the Son, falling to the dark side--poison yellow eyes of the fully embraced dark side and all--to try to avoid what’s coming. The thing is, Anakin never really confronts his fears, demons, or guilt. He’s consumed by them instead. It happens because he’s trying to avoid it, but he still falls to the dark side all the same, because he listens to the Son dripping poison in his ear, because he sees an easier way out than the hard work of disciplining himself against the dark side (which George Lucas says is how you resist it, the only way to resist it), because the other way seems too impossible and too scary. Anakin’s story has always been about how he can’t bear to look at himself and his choices and then make the choice--and stick to that choice--to do and be better. His story has always been about his fears ran rampant inside him because he didn’t want to let go of the feelings that made him “special”, he didn’t want to listen to the Jedi when they told him to get a grip, he wanted to listen to Palpatine who told him his feelings should be held onto instead of let go, that they made him special, made him better than those other Jedi, that his hate and rage and fear were justified in being held onto. And that’s exactly what the Mortis arc is--a reflection and shape of Anakin’s story, that each of them were about the internal struggle he faced. That Anakin didn’t make these choices in one bad day. He made this choice over and over again. When he chose to dig his fingers into his feelings and hold onto them, listening to Palpatine’s poisonous words. When he chose to do a monstrous thing on Tatooine to the Tuskens and their children, but ignored what that said about him. When he killed Dooku, unarmed and for the sake of revenge and his rage. When he chose to maim Mace Windu and lead to his death, choosing Palpatine and the Empire instead of the Jedi and the Republic. When he chose to attack the Jedi Temple and kill the younglings, leading him to feel unable to ever go back, that his actions had to be justified or else he murdered innocents for nothing. When he chose to Force choke Padme, which lead to broken heart and her inability to live, after the terrible things he’d done. When he chose to attack Obi-Wan again and again, despite being warned, leading him to the Darth Vader suit. When he chose to refuse to accept the vision the Force put in his head in Dark Lord of the Sith, that Obi-Wan still would have forgiven him and helped him, when he rejected that and said, “No. [The dark side] is all there is.” When he, again and again, chose to reject acknowledging that all these Jedi took different paths that he himself could have done (Jocasta Nu, Ferren Barr, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Eeth Koth, they were all paths he could have walked instead, even then). When he chose to kill Obi-Wan, despite that Obi-Wan had stepped back and refused to fight anymore. Anakin Skywalker desperately wanted to be good, there wouldn’t be a struggle or a story there worth telling if he weren’t. The ending of Return of the Jedi wouldn’t have the power and impact it did, if Anakin hadn’t had embers of goodness in him that couldn’t be snuffed out, no matter how hard he tried. But I think Mortis is an arc that’s about manifesting the internal struggle, that these Force Lords took the shapes they did because they were feeding off him, as the Chosen One, the center of this massive web of destiny. And that’s why Anakin’s choices on Mortis, his struggles and the warnings he receives, are the same ones that are part of the bigger themes of Star Wars’ Skywalker Saga, and just what the hell was going on. It was Anakin Skywalker’s struggle with the dark and the light--including that the dark won, with small pinpricks of hope and light left alive--literally made manifest and acted out with these players.

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #qui gon jinn #mortis #mortis arc #the father #the son #the daughter #meta #long post #really long post

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

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Good tidings to you! I'd like to request a fluff alphabet for Zoro, if you please!

Of course, hun! Thank you so much for your Ko-Fi donation; it was mighty kind of you! I hope you enjoy this fluff alphabet~!

Fluff Alphabet: Zoro

A- Activities: How do they spend their time with their s/o?

We all know how much Zoro loves to snooze, so you can bet that he loves taking naps with his s/o! There’s nothing better to him than finding a nice spot on the deck or within the ship to snuggle up with his beloved and catch some good Z’s. A lot of times he will actually try to stay awake instead of falling asleep right away, though, because he wants to enjoy his cuddle time! Plus, he thinks his partner is so cute when they’re dozing. When they are awake, Zoro also loves to train with his partner! It doesn’t matter how intense his partner is athletically; even if they are just in the same space honing their respective crafts, it really makes him happy. And getting to see his s/o all sweaty and breathless after a workout? That’s hot to him, LOL.

B- Body: What does this character appreciate about their s/o? What part of their body are they most proud of, and in reverse, what body part are they ashamed of and how do they respond to their s/o gushing over it?

Zoro is an ass man; sorry, I don’t make the rules. He is gonna grab his s/o’s booty at every available opportunity. He just can’t help himself; I mean, it’s right there, just ripe for the taking, and the man has got to cop a feel! He’s also fond of his partner’s tummy, though; he loves to lay his head there when he’s dozing-- bonus points if his s/o gives him head scritches. That is a one-way ticket to a happy Zoro.

As for himself, Zoro is very proud of his scars, ironically. They’re proof that he’s survived and overcome obstacles as a swordsman. He loves when his s/o traces his scars, or, when things are getting a little steamy, kisses along the patterns criss-crossing his body. He’s proud of his muscles, too, and loves when his s/o compliments them. He definitely flexes for his partner; he loves to get them all hot and bothered, LOL.

C- Cuddles: Is this character a cuddler? What is their favorite way to cuddle?

Zoro loves to cuddle, mostly because he loves to nap. There is no better sleep to him than when his s/o is snuggled up against him. He likes to spoon his partner (this man is not the little spoon, no way, no how), but he also likes to sleep on his partner’s lap or tummy while they play with his hair and massage/scratch his head.

D- Dreams: How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Zoro pretty much doesn’t think about much besides becoming the world’s greatest swordsman and helping Luffy achieve the title of Pirate King before his s/o comes along. After that, however, he begins to consider what happens next. After sailing for a while, he’ll entertain the idea of settling down and starting a dojo like his master, or maybe even returning to the old man and asking to take over one day. It’s not something he thinks about a whole lot, but he does, on occasion. Really, he just wants his partner to be happy, and will go along with their plans for their future.

E- Equivalence: Is this character the dominant force in the relationship, are they passive, or is the relationship more or less even?

Zoro’s a pretty stubborn guy, but in a relationship, he’s actually kind of chill. He doesn’t mind not making decisions and will go along with his s/o’s flow. He just doesn’t see the point in trying to control of dominate aspects of his s/o’s life; they’re a person with their own free will, after all. As long as he can get his cuddles, he’s honestly good!

F- Fights: How does this character respond to arguments with their s/o? What would they fight about, and who would cave and apologize first?

We all know most of the Straw Hat Crew share a single brain cell and most of the time, bless his heart, Zoro does not have it. He will get so confused when his partner is mad at him. He will have no idea what set them off, and that will frustrate him, so he’ll lash out in retaliation. Before the fight can escalate too much, he’ll stomp off to go nurse his feelings with some sake. It bothers him, though, knowing that his s/o’s feelings are hurt and probably because he did something stupid... so he’ll go to Nami or Robin for advice. Once they finally get his brain to click, he’ll go back to his s/o to apologize and talk things out. So, even though fights may occur often, normally they work out well when he finally puts two and two together.

G- Gratitude: How does this character show their s/o that they are grateful?

Zoro is pretty low-key with his affection. To show his gratitude, he normally snuggles up to his partner and lavishes them in physical affection. It’s his main way to express his feelings, and he isn’t smart when it comes to gift-giving, nor is he eloquent with his words. His partner will have to recognize that this is how he is trying to express how he feels!

H- Honeymoon: If this character had a honeymoon with their s/o, where would they go?

Again, Zoro has no real preference with these things. In fact, he probably doesn’t even know what a honeymoon is. After his s/o explains it, however, and he realizes how important it is to them, Zoro is on board. He will probably let his partner choose the destination and activities; he righteously doesn’t care where they go. He just wants to spend time with them and make sure that they are having a good time.

I- Insecurity: What is this character insecure about? How do they deal with their insecurities with their s/o?

Zoro is very much still haunted by Kuina’s death. It frustrates him that he was never able to best her, and he still carries a sense of guilt for her death, though it was a tragic accident. It’s not something he’ll bring up to his s/o very easily, because it’s not something he wants to talk about, but eventually after his s/o catches him brooding on it enough times, he’ll divulge the full story. He’ll probably tear up a bit, so his s/o will need to comfort him.

J- Jealousy: Is this character the jealous type? How do they deal with being jealous?

Zoro is 100% confident in himself as a man and so he does not get jealous, lmao. Again, he doesn’t really have much desire to have his s/o on a leash. In fact, watching his s/o flirt and play coy with others is amusing to him, because it makes him oh so satisfied knowing that they are still going home with him that night. If he realizes his s/o is actively trying to get him jealous to have some fun, he’ll play along, but never for a moment does he actually doubt his s/o or their intentions. It’s honestly sweet, how much trust he has in them.

K- Kiss: What does the character want their first kiss to be like with their s/o? How does it end up happening?

Again, this man? No brain cells. He’s just cruising, having a good time, and doesn’t even think about a kiss. His s/o will actually have to be the one to plant one on him the first time, because this poor guy is just like, “This is going well. Nice. Look at me go. I bet the Ero-Cook is so jealous.” Bless his heart, the poor, stupid thing. After the first time, though, he picks up on it and will take care to initiate PDA so his s/o doesn’t feel unwanted or undesirable.

L- Love Confession: How does this character first profess their love to their s/o?

Once again, this man is as dense as a brick wall. He will not even realize that he caught feelings for someone; he just vibes, thinking that it’s just an aspect of their friendship. His s/o is going to have to be the one to confess, and then it will finally click in his head that the things he feels go beyond friendship, and then he will be like, “Oh. Yeah, I like you too, let’s go out.” It’s almost infuriating, because it can lead to a drawn-out mutual pining situation except Zoro doesn’t realize that he’s pining. Nami, please, give him the brain cell.

M- Marriage: How does this character view marriage? What is their ideal wedding like?

Zoro doesn’t think much about marriage, just like his thoughts on his future with his s/o-- but when they bring it up, he isn’t opposed. Rather than a fancy proposal, it will probably be a mutual decision between himself and his partner. They will go with him to pick out the ring and there won’t be a big affair, just “Hey! We’re gonna get married!” If his s/o really wants the whole shabang, though, he’ll have Nami and Usopp help him put something together. Again, he doesn’t care, but if his s/o does, he want’s them to be happy.

As for the wedding, again, he leaves all of that up to his s/o. The furthest his mind goes is imagining them in their wedding attire, and that makes him a little excited, the idea that they’ll be joined forever in love.

N- Nicknames: What does this character like to call their s/o?

Zoro’s not really that into pet names. One might hear an occasional “babe” or a demeaning “sweetheart” or “sweetcheeks,” but he thinks it’s more intimate to call his s/o by their name.

O- On Cloud Nine: What is this character like when they’re in love? Is it obvious to others, or are they good at hiding it?

Like I said, this fool is oblivious himself that he’s in love. Others might notice if they are astute because he spends a lot of time with the object of his affections, does things for them without complaining, and is protective over them. Other than that, it really isn’t that obvious.

P- PDA: Does this character like PDA? If so, what kinds of things do they do in public to show off their s/o?

Zoro does like PDA, especially if his partner is easily flusterable, because he thinks it’s cute. Throwing his arm around their shoulders or waist or sitting them on his lap are his personal favorites (and the aforementioned ass grabs). But if his s/o is also a fan of PDA, he’ll return any kisses, hugs, or hand-holds they initiate too, because he ain’t gonna say no to an excuse to touch his s./o!

Q- Quirks: What random traits or quirks does this character have that positively affect the relationship?

Zoro has a habit of picking up random things he thinks his s/o will like. “Hey, I saw this flower and thought you might like it, here you go.” He totally doesn’t think anything of it, he just acted on a whim, but he does enjoy how happy his s/o gets about it-- so sometimes he goes out looking for stuff on purpose. He usually gets lost, of course, and someone has to go find him.

R- Romance: Is this character a hopeless romantic, or a bit on the low-key side? Are they cliché when it comes to romantic gestures, or can they get a little bit creative?

As I’ve alluded, Zoro’s pretty lowkey in relationships. He’s not really prone to grand gestures, and just acts on whims rather than putting a lot of thought into his gestures. Occasionally, he will seek Nami and Robin out for advice to make sure he isn’t getting too boring or repetitive for his s/o, but mostly, he just does whatever comes to his mind.

S- Secrets: Are there any secrets they hide from their s/o? If so, how do they deal with it when those secrets finally come out?

Besides his past with Kuina, Zoro doesn’t really have anything to hide from his s/o. He believes in honesty in relationships and just in general, so he won’t have any secrets.

T- Thrill: Does this character prefer routine in their relationship, or do they like to shake things up every once in a while?

Zoro doesn’t even really think about it! Again, he just does whatever comes to mind. Sometimes there are spells of doing basically the same things every day, and then all of a sudden he’ll up and surprise his s/o with a random compliment or gift to keep it a little exciting.

U- Understanding: Is this character level-headed and empathetic toward their partner, or do they sometimes have trouble figuring them out, which leads to some butting heads?

Zoro, bless his heart, will take a long time to learn how his partner really ticks. It’s just a little hard for him to learn how they think, so they will butt heads sometimes and have disagreements. He does try to be empathetic, it just doesn’t work out like he wants it to sometimes.

V- Value: How does this character value their relationship with their s/o? How does it hold in comparison to their goals, ambitions, etc.?

Zoro does hold his relationship in pretty high regard, but his ultimate goals are making Luffy Pirate King and becoming a master swordsman. If his s/o does not support those goals, or if he has to choose between them, he’ll probably choose his goals. That isn’t to say he won’t make an effort to have both, though.

W- Wild Card: Any random fluff headcanon that does not fall within the other categories!

Zoro talks in his sleep and it’s adorable. Sometimes his true feelings come out in his sleep, so he’ll babble on and on about how much he adores his s/o. It’s so cute, but he will deny it until he’s blue in the face despite the fact that everybody has heard him do it.

X- XOXO: How does this character show affection?

As I’ve mentioned, Zoro’s primary love language is “physical affection.” He’s not great with words or gifts, so he primarily speaks through his actions. “Acts of service” is also in his repertoire, though; he doesn’t mind doing things for his s/o, and will often initiate without them even asking.

Y- Yearning: How does this character deal with time apart with their s/o?

Oh, boy. He gets so pouty and grumpy. He doesn’t sleep as well when his s/o isn’t there, so he gets tired and oh-so-irritated. He is absolutely miserable to be around, and he and Sanji get into so many fights because he’s being a dick. He drinks a lot more, too, and is mad about the fact his alcohol tolerance is too high to drink himself into a stupor. As soon as his s/o returns, he is dragging them off for a much-needed nap.

Z- Zeal: Is this character willing to great lengths for their relationship? If so, how far, and how long does it take to get to this point?

Although I said Zoro is more likely to choose his goals over his s/o, he still will go to great lengths for his s/o. He has faith in their capabilities, but if he gets even an inkling that they may need help, he goes charging off. It doesn’t really take Zoro that long to reach this point, either, as he becomes somewhat dependent on their presence quite soon.

#roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #one piece #op zoro #one piece zoro #fluff alphabet

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tailorvizsla · 4 years

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HCs - Jealousy and First Fight

Hi everyone! I got several requests for 🎭 (Jealousy): Din Djarin, Armorer, and Paz Vizsla. Paz also got a request for 💥(First Fight). So, without further ado, here we go!

📚 My Master List 📚

1. Jealousy – Din Djarin Word Count: 700 Rating: PG13

● Din Djarin is a quiet, unassuming man with little desire for anything but to protect his little family. Din does not talk much, which means it took you a very long time to learn how to decipher his body language. He tends to keep things bottled up inside himself, so even if he is feeling something strongly, he never shows it to you. At best, you will recognize that his tone is slightly off. After that, it takes a few minutes of cajoling before he speaks.

● That is why it takes months for you to realize that he actually likes you and anticipates your company whenever the two of you can spare the time to hang out together. And for the past month? You have been starting to suspect he has romantic intentions toward you.

● One day, he offers to take you to town to pick up some supplies you need, and you eagerly agree. You look forward to a bit of fresh air, too. You know he isn’t good with small talk, so you keep it to things you know he likes – his sweet, tiny goblin of a child and blasters.

● The supply run goes by faster than either of you anticipated, which means that you can linger in the market for a bit. There, you find a toolkit that you know one of the mechanics needs. It, however, is way out of the price range that you find acceptable, so you start trying to haggle the price down to something you can afford.

● The shopkeeper does not seem to care that you are Mandalorian. He does not seem to care about the fact that you are Mandalorian. In fact, he seems to be gazing up at you in fascination, a blush on his cheeks and a grin stretching across his lips. Sighing to yourself, you flirt back, directing his attention back to the toolkit. He finally knocks it down to what it’s actually worth and you accept his offer. As you start counting out credits, the man cheekily asks if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink later tonight.

● Before you can answer, you feel Din come up behind you and wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you toward him. With the way you are pressed up against him, you can feel tension radiating from every square inch of his body.

● “That won’t be possible,” Din says in the rudest tone you’ve ever heard him use with someone, “She’s having drinks with me.” The shopkeeper blinks and nods rapidly.

● “I wasn’t aware that you were with someone!” he says to you.

● “Can we get that receipt?” Din asks tightly, unaware that your mouth is flapping uselessly behind your visor, “My girl and I have plans.”

● You look up at Din, then at the shopkeeper, then back up at Din, your brain fizzling into a state of utter incomprehension. Once the receipt has been handed over, and you have the toolkit in your bag, Din leads you away, his hand possessively low on your hip.

● When you’re back on the Razor Crest, he tries to make a break for the cockpit, but you’re faster than he is, and you cut him off. You fold your arms under your breast plate and stare up at him.

● “Din,” you say quietly. “What was that about?”

● He stays quiet for a few moments. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he finally admits.

● “Were you jealous?” you ask.

● “Yeah,” he admits grumpily. He tries to retreat, but you stop him with one hand on his wrist.

● “You don’t need to be jealous,” you say softly to him. “I…I’m yours, Din. If you want.”

● Din freezes in place. Then he gently leans in and presses his forehead to yours in a brief keldabe kiss.

● “There’s no need to be jealous,” you say. Then mischievously, “Though, I wouldn’t mind you wrapping your arm around me like that again.”

● He stammers something out in response, ducking his head in mortification. It’s true – you do like the idea of him claiming you publicly.

2. Jealousy – Armorer Word Count: 752 Rating: PG13

· Armorer is a woman who has spent many years looking after others before herself. She has lost many loved ones over the years, so she is quite possessive of those who still remain. When she meets you, and finds that she wants you as her own, she makes it known that You. Are. Taken. The Tribe hunters keep a respectful distance from you, knowing that their Alor has claimed you as her own.

· Initially, you are quite shy, but as soon as you get settled into the Tribe, your personality begins to shine. The hunters often call you the runt of the strill litter – you’re the smallest one there, yet you’re the most aggressive.

· (Before leaving you here, Din had taken you aside to give you some advice. “If you want something done, you must not hesitate to assert yourself. Hunters are used to getting their way with outsiders. You make the mistake of giving them an inch, they’ll try to take the entire fucking parsec. Put your foot down and let them know that you are not rolling over for them. I know your society tells you to be nice, but here, be the assertive warrior I know you have locked up in here.” He very gently poked one index finger into your sternum. It was an awkward pep talk, but…it worked.)

· The first attempt to overstep you had happened in the Foundry. Some idiot hunter just shoved his cloak into your arms and told you to go repair it. You had faltered for a half second before getting up and sweetly saying to him, “Of course, I’ll take care of it right now. It won’t take long to fix the problem.”

· Armorer watched you apprehensively as you marched to the Forge. When she realized what you were about to do, she almost stopped you, but she didn’t. (Secretly, she wanted to watch the ensuing meltdown.) You wadded up the smelly, ratty cloak and pitched it straight into the bright blue flames. As the cloak burned away into dust, the hunter spluttered indignantly before making a threat toward your continued existence.

· She stepped in then, warding him off with one hand, “You said you wanted the problem fixed. There is no longer a hole in your cloak.” He had stomped off like a spoilt child then, muttering something foul under his breath about your ancestors. Then she turned to you, “In the future, do not toss a hunter’s property into my Forge. It is not a waste receptacle.” (You turned bright red and stammered out the sweetest, sincerest apology she’d heard in her life. From then on, you insisted on helping clean to make up for what essentially amounted to sacrilege.)

· That ballsy show of a backbone had certainly endeared you to her. You wanted nothing more than to help the Tribe succeed, to learn more about the Mandalorian way. She liked seeing the way your eyes lit up on seeing the children playing (and often, you’d go join them). When you shyly brought her a bottle of cold water at the end of a long, hot day spent at the Forge, Armorer realized that she had fallen hard.

· Other people would have taken time to think about it. She, however, knew how unpredictable life as Mandalorian could be. So she started courting you on the spot, making her interest in you known to you and to the Tribe. No one overstepped…until that one idiotic hunter tried to woo you. She had been jealous for seconds before realizing how stupid it was to be jealous.

· As he tried and tried to convince you to join him for ‘private sparring lessons’, you refused, just smiling, waiting for Armorer to come say something. Armorer finally grew fed up and came to you, wrapping her arm around your waist and pulling you tight against her breast plate, relishing in the tiny sigh you let out.

· That was all it took for him to realize the mistake he was making. When Armorer let her fingers drift down to her side, he backed off. (If it’s one thing Mandalorians learn early in life, it’s that the armorer of their tribe is the last person they want to cross.)

· You turn to Armorer, burying your face into the fuzzy capelet she wears, inhaling the scent of smoke and fire. Her hand drops to your ass and squeezes, making it clear without a doubt that you are most certainly taken. Then she gently presses her forehead against yours.

3a. Jealousy – Paz Vizsla Word Count: 1210 Rating: PG-13

● As an older man in his forties, Paz Vizsla has had many years to learn how to temper that passionate part of himself. When he grows angry or jealous, Paz instinctively forces himself to stop and think, which is a lesson that many hunters learn far too late in life. Anger blinds people, which leads to mistakes, and can cause devastation. Anger can drive people to do or say things they normally never would. The last thing Paz ever wants to do is to hurt someone he loves.

● He is a walking bucket of contradictions: he is passionate, emotional, and prone to violence; he is logical, rational, and will never hurt the person he loves.

● As Alor’ad when it comes to the military aspet of their Tribe, he is personally responsible for ensuring that everyone is well-trained in a variety of combat techniques, including hand-to-hand, shooting, aerial maneuvering, and survival skills. This is a job he takes Seriously. When he feels someone needs improvement, he will dedicate himself to improving their skill, even if that other person feels like they are being smothered to death by him. (No one will ever complain about this, though, because Paz’s tutelage has saved more than one hunter from a mistake of their own making.)

● One day, while hosting a group of homeward-bound hunters, he sees you talking to one of them. Paz can’t remember his name. All he knows is that the kid is young and cocky, and halfway decent with his rifle. To his dismay, you and the kid get on like a house on fire, as if the two of you have known each other for your entire lives.

● For the first time in many years, Paz finds himself burning with jealousy, and even though he tries his best to hide it, everyone picks up on his body language, his terse speech, and the murderous stares he throws in the kid’s direction.

● Paz would never dream of asking you to end a friendship to make himself feel better. He also knows he needs to make his feelings known to you, but you’re having so much fun he doesn’t want to keep you from shooting with a friend. Or sparring with a friend. Or reading with a friend. Or… Paz shakes the thoughts from his head.

● There is nothing sexual there, he tells himself firmly. (That doesn’t stop him from watching the kid from afar, waiting for him to fuck up just once so he can put him in his place.)

● It takes nearly a week, but the kid finally steps over the imaginary line Paz had put up as his own personal boundary. The kid wraps his arm around your neck, pulls you down, and gives you a good whack on the noggin. Paz sees red at the assault on your person. Rather than blow up at him, you elbow him in the side and laugh at him.

● Paz can handle the banter, the playfulness, and the sparring. But physically putting his hands on you? That is where Paz draws the line, especially since you’ve stabbed other hunters for doing the exact same kriffing thing in the past. He gets up and approaches, keeping his posture calm and relaxed to avoid alerting the little shit of his intentions.

● “Hey, Paz!” you say to him. “Come sit with us!” He wants desperately to sit with you, to feel your warmth against his own, but he has other business to take care of first. He declines with a gentle shake of the head and a brush of his fingers against your shoulder.

● “I actually came over to talk to you,” Paz says, turning to the young man. “Let’s talk about this morning.” The kid cocks his head, relaying his confusion.

● “This morning?” he asks, and Paz nods in response. “This morning,” Paz says. “Let’s go.” He puts one hand on the kid’s shoulder and squeezes just hard enough to let him know that he means business.

● Out in the hallway, out of your sight, Paz turns to the kid and stares him down. Then he leans in, making the kid back into the wall in surprise. Paz takes a deep, dark pleasure in watching his rival back down without a fight.

● “Let me make one thing clear to you,” Paz growls. “She’s mine. You put your hands on her again and I will break every single bone in your body.”

● Paz expects the kid to respond with “Yes, sir, I understand” or maybe “Oh, shoot, I didn’t know you two were together” or something like that. What he doesn’t expect is to hear the kid laugh. Stunned, incandescent rage fills him as the kid continues to laugh, unintelligible gibberish escaping his modulator as he tries to speak.

● “What the hell are you two doing out here?” you ask from the doorway.

● “Nothing, cyare,” Paz says. “Just having a talk.”

● “This – this di’kut,” the kid gasps out, “He-he thinks I’m hi-hitting on you!”

● “What?” you ask incredulously. “Paz, what the hell?”

● He almost snarls at the kid as he turns back. While he laughs, the kid shrinks back against the wall, a shriek of laughter escaping him.

● “Paz!” you say, putting your hand on his bracer. “Paz, you idiot, he’s my brother!”

● Like a popped balloon, the rage leaves him, and crippling mortification seeps in to fill the void. It all makes sense now. Paz bemoans his temper. He should have known from the kriffing start. He and Din treat each other the exact same way – the playful wrestling, the banter, and the constant pestering. He takes a half-step back and exhales.

● “Sorry,” he says grumpily. “I didn’t know you were siblings.”

● You shake your head at him, “Paz, I told you my brother was coming to visit. Were you not paying attention to me?”

● “When did you tell me?” he asks in confusion. You press your bucket against your hands in a clear show of your exasperation. The kid just starts to giggle again.

● “I told you right after our last shooting lesson,” you say to him. Paz thinks back on that moment and feels an uncharacteristic blush crawling up his cheeks. He turns back to the kid and slams his hands over the kid’s audial receptors.

● “They’re off, they’re off!” the kid says, and Paz withdraws his hands.

● “Cyare, as I recall, you were quite undressed at that time,” Paz says. “Surely you cannot expect me to actually be able to focus on anything but those little lace panties?”

● You gasp in mortification at his lewd words. Indignantly, you turn on your heel and march away without another word. Paz turns his head back down at the kid and waves his hands to get his attention.

● “Are they on again?” Paz asks.

● “Yeah,” the kid says.

● “Let me get you a drink to make up for my shitty behavior,” Paz responds.

● “You in the strill house now?” he asks.

● “Yup,” Paz responds. “By the way, you’re good with your rifle. I can give you a few tips, if you’d like.”

● After buying your brother a drink, giving him a proper apology, and some shooting lessons, Paz feels like he’s made up for his behavior. Now, he needs to get back on your good side…

3b. First Fight with Paz Vizsla Wordcount: 663 Rating: PG13

● Despite what everyone says about hunters, Paz is quite intelligent. He is acutely aware of your emotional state and your needs. It is exceptionally rare that he slips up and upsets you. The two of you have your disagreements, like any other married couple, but it has never gotten to the point where the two of you actually fight. Despite your best efforts, it is inevitable that you and Paz have your first true fight.

● The day starts off like any other – you wake up with Paz’s arm around your waist and his face buried into your hair. After getting ready for the day, the two of you head to your respective workstations. The first disagreement is over something ridiculously stupid. You’re already tense, and Paz accidentally brings you the wrong ration. You thank him – a hint of sarcasm in your voice – and he responds in kind. Normally, you and Paz have no problems communicating, but today has been extremely stressful for the two of you.

● Staggering in through the bedroom door, you immediately trip over Paz’s boots and fall flat on your face. Rather than scold him, you blow up at him. He tells you to watch where you are going, rather than apologize for leaving his shit in the way. From there, it escalates, turning into a fight about everything that each of you has done to wrong the other.

● He shuts down when he’s angry, so he stalks off to go hide in the bedroom, locking the door behind himself to keep you away from him. (Honestly, hearing the door shut behind him hurts worse than the fact that you two are even fighting.)

● For the first time since the start of your marriage, you two go to bed angry at one another. You take the couch while he keeps the bed. (He really is too big to fit on the couch, and even though you want to wring his kriffing neck right now, you don’t want him to aggravate his back injury.)

● Later, you curl up on your side and pull your pillow over your head. You can’t help but to cry – you have never been this angry with him or yourself before. You’re frustrated, sad, and alone. Paz didn’t do anything to deserve your anger or your attitude. You don’t want to fault him for responding in kind – he’s a patient man, but he isn’t going to sit there and take someone’s attitude endlessly.

● You sit up and wipe the tears off your face. As you’re wrapping the blanket around yourself, Paz comes out into the living room. He sits down next to you and wraps his arm around you. You don’t hesitate to bury your face against his shoulder.

● “Cyare,” you say softly, “Why are we fighting?”

● “I don’t know,” he says. “I truly don’t.”

● From there, you apologize for snapping at him, your poor attitude, and the things you had spat at him in anger. He apologizes as well for the same things, pulling you into his lap and holding you close. He exhales and kisses you on the forehead, making you blush lightly.

● “I don’t like fighting with you,” Paz says quietly. You nod in agreement, “We are a team, cyare. No one – nothing – should come between us, especially our anger.”

● Over the next hour, the two of you work things out, figuring out where all the anger had manifested, where those hurtful things came from. Once everything is settled, Paz carries you into the bedroom and tosses you down onto the bed. Then he curls up behind you, resting a heavy arm around you, grunting as he buries his face into your hair.

● “Much better,” he says. “Couldn’t sleep without your hair in my mouth.”

● Quietly, you giggle at his words. The two of you will overcome these differences together, just like any other problem that arises.

All in all, this has been a very informative exercise, and I think this shows me where I need to improve as a writer. I definitely need to work on getting a personality hammered out for Armorer. (That pun was not intended, but I’m leaving it in.) Thank you so much to everyone who sent in a request! I really appreciate it! :D

#asks #first fights #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla x reader #din djarin x reader #armorer x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #jealousy #anon #hdlynn #princessbatears #ben-is-a-hoe #thank you all so much #paz vizsla x f!reader #din djarin x f!reader

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justalittletomato · 3 years

Text

Flowers (Savage x Reader) p 3

Summary: Gosh darn these two are fun....so in love but will one of them please say something???

Part 1

Part 2

You fidget with your sleeves made of a silky material and with buttons that were too dainty for you to use effectively. How do people use such clothing?

“There you are.” the familiar Starlight takes hold of your arm, “Ready for your first day with a clean bill of health?”

First day outside of the little world of just you and Savage? No. Ready for this to the start of being with Savage outside the little room? Yes.

“I suppose” you answer to your companion. She sighs, “He meant to be here to walk you to the council room, but a meeting came up. “

You feel heart your flutter at that, it would have been nice to walk down together. He’d likely take your arm in case you felt a bit uneasy. He was always taking care of you and making sure you were alright. It calmed you to be around him, he was first person in this new life of yours.

It would have been wonderful to walk down the hall together arm and arm and imagine what your new life would be like. Maybe you would have asked Savage to wait just a bit before you two went into the meeting, you’d ask him to come a bit lower so he can hear you. You would have mentioned that you wanted to tell him something, something that ached in your heart…

“Don’t worry I made sure for the rest of the day you two are seated next to each other.” You look away in shyness as Starlight smiles. The Consort knew too much already, she could see it in your face and likely in the way you would have a little smile when she brought up Savage. Savage had tried to keep Starlight away convinced his brother’s Consort was pestering you.

“Now no need to thank me…but” she looks you over, you sigh you already know what’s going to happen. “I have a better idea for your outfit, there will be a few prominent figures I’m afraid.” you are tugged back into the room.

Somehow you end up in a golden dress on level with Starlight’s, much too grand, pleasing to the eye and for some reason a wrap about your shoulders, she kept insisting upon. “Well it is chilly,” you look at yourself. It was nothing you would have picked but you couldn't help but be in a bit of awe at the sight.

You don’t see her grin. No not a hint of it as she walks behind you, the wrap with a design wings on your back.

You had forgotten that you were now in a palace, each hall filled with artistry and windows to show the outside capital, you have to remind yourself to listen to Starlight before getting lost in the scenery. Oh you would have loved to seen this with Savage as the sun came over the horizon.

“A small bit of advice, address the two as lords and I as consort, and don’t worry about Maul. He said he be nice today, and he should be after I was done with him last night.”

Your face burns as she traces over a few marks about her neck and a few she shows you that go quite low and she whispers to you where a few others are and you likely wont be able to look at Starlight or Maul in the face after.

“He must really like your kisses.” you mumble.

“Oh it was more than kisses…” she sighs dreamily, “ I might have tuckered him out a bit, but that just makes things a little easier.”

You knew what she was implying and your face burns more and more. Tuckered him out?

Now you have only met Maul on an occasion or two and even then it was not a direct interaction. Crimson skin and eyes that glowed, his mouth set into a constant scowl and from the looks of it reflected his mood. The tattoos on his face sharper and more jagged, he had an air about him that you would never dream of crossing. You had seen him angry and that was enough to know never to be in his path in such a mood.

Savage spoke fondly of his brother and by that he also made sure to add how frustrated he often was with him, always quick to anger and competitive. But yet, Savage loved him, he was his only brother after all and it had been sometime since he was close to anyone. In this new life they can choose what they do, of course his brother is set on getting revenge on what has happened to him..but for Savage…he gets a new life and gets to choose.

You step behind Starlight as she opens the door, and in the two of you go. Everyone rises from the table, and you stand frozen as Starlight introduces you. All eyes set on you and you fumble in your curtsy, were you supposed to curtsy? No matter, your eyes look around and stop on the golden Zabrak who stares at you.

Oh you you were truly an Angel in that gown, soft and with a grace about you. Starlight had done your hair and made sure you were ever bit more radiant, if that were possible.

Savage can’t keep his eyes away.

Nor do others.

“If we are done with introductions can we continue?” the crimson Zabrak at the end of the table announces, he is watching Savage and you carefully, his eyes also cast to the rest of the table. Thoughts passed, he furrows his brow, that will not be allowed to play out.

“Where did they hide them?”

“Poor dear must be so frightened.”

“Oh my he’d crush them.”

“I would love to take that one with me…”

You take your seat next to Savage and offer a quiet hello, “I missed you this morning,” already your heart flutters being this close and seeing that he can’t keep his eyes off you.

Well maybe he is just worried, he had been caring for you for quite some time. You two were… friends.

“So did I.” he keeps staring. Entranced by the sight of you next to him. He had longed for this, but he isn’t blind either. He saw the others look as well and he could hear the thoughts around him.

He would never harm you, he wanted nothing more than to protect you. Oh and you were never once frightened of him, no you never were. From the first moment you had reached for him and had been at his side since, he was your protector if you so wished. And that last thought, who had thought that? He grows a bit angered at the thought, he had not told you, he had to tell you before you were stolen away from his side….wait how can you be stolen if you were never his… You could have your choice of partner and while it would break his hearts he’d let you go. For now, he would treasure this moment at your side.

“ I apologize I had the intention to walk you over here.” he finally says, but this sitting so close to another would do just as well. His…not his….Angel walking in with a friend at their side and eager to sit with him. He would cherish this memory when you finally chose to leave.

You take his hand, your small hand on his. “You can after the meeting, I haven’t seen much of the palace.”

We can see it together.

He can’t wait, the time together did not have to end, he gets to have another chance, here is another chance for the two of you to speak and be around the other.

“Savage…will you please turn your attention to the meeting.” Maul remarks. “we are glad that your guest is well enough to join, but we need to continue…”

Starlight glares at Maul, he was supposed to be nice.

———-

The meeting is long but that doesn’t phase you, you like being near Savage and it helps that you even offer a few suggestions about certain commodities that are being exported.

“Y/N’s homeworld is known for its agriculture. They have been a wonderful help in today’s settlements,”

There’s a small round of mutters, all good you hope.

There is a small intersession in between and a tap on your shoulder. You swear you hear a rumbling sound, like thunder before a storm as one of the councilors asks to speak with you.

There is that rumble again as you step away from the table.

“ I cannot not help but commend your proposal in the matters at hand, were you formally educated in business affairs?”

You shake your head, “I helped to run my families apothecary it came with the experience.”

“Beautiful and clever…” your friendly smile fades just a bit, “if you should desire I can offer you a position that is with more favorable company.”

You don’t want this conversation to continue. You don’t like the way it was said or the suggestion that your current companions were not favored.

“Y/N is a valuable member of my council.” Maul has appeared at your side and is glaring at the councilor, “ They will remain here as long as they wish, in the company they want. I suggest you turn away now.”

The councilor moves quickly away and announces they will be leaving shortly after. You look to Maul, he looks to you, “ Be a bit wary they are not the only one who will make such an offer.” he offers his hand and you take it.

“Are you planning to stay?” he asks as he walks you back to the table. Savage and Starlight are talking, her hand on his arm and a stern look on her face.

There is no where else to be. You just want to stay here. You don’t want to go, if you do you would leave Savage. You don’t want that, you want to be here even if its just as friends.

“Yes,” is all you can say.

Maul nods, “Good.”

He brings you back to Savage whose glaring at the councilor who just left and when he sees you, there’s a small smile and the gentle purr you sometimes can hear. You had come back to his side!

“I actually need you two to get something for me.” Maul announces

——-

The cellar is small and cramped, well at least this one was. You grumble and fidget for the light,

“Are you sure there’s no other way?”

Savage hits the door once again, “No…we’ll have to wait.” the two of you sigh and remain in the cellar with the artifacts Maul wanted.

Now you two were trapped in and had to wait to get out of. You sigh just bit, its warm in here.

Savage is standing up an moving towards you, “ You aren’t running a fever are you?” there’s a hand on your forehead and you hold your breath at how gently he touches you.

“No. No I’m not.” Your face burns as he keeps trying to ensure this.

“Damn my hands are too cold for this.” you almost faint as you feel his lips press to your forehead, “ hmmm” you're skin is ablaze now. his lips move to your cheek.

“Y/N are you sure?”

you barely squeak out a yes. He sighs, “Oh good…I don’t want you getting sick. I liked seeing you today, you look nice,”

Radiant, beautiful, an Angel, enchanting, how he wanted to say these instead but once again he couldn't. He doesn’t get to say those things.

“Starlight made me wear it…it is at least very soft.” you whisper in the dark. He can see you perfectly, your fingers rub at the material.

“May I?” he asks. you mutter a yes and your hearts race when a hand presses over your waist. Why is he being so bold? Was it what the councilor had said? He can’t lose you like that…so quickly and gone out of sight. He has to tell you…he must.

After his lips touched your forehead and you swore your hearts beat ever so faster.

He runs his hand down your waist, he loves the soft and silky material and the feel of your waist under his hand. You lean into the touch ever so slightly. “It is nice…” your face grows hot again.

“Y/N..you're getting warm again.” he is mentally sabotaging himself from confessing, covering it all with concern over his…not his…Angel.

Its is not a fever…he leans in a bit close to check, lips to your forehead once more. You shiver and so does Savage.

“It’s not a fever.” you whisper, “Its not that…”

He leans in closer, “What is it then?”

He needs to know, then he will tell you. Tell me Angel…

“Why is your heart beating so fast and why are your cheeks are burning?” There’s only a small gap between you two now, your lips are so close.

“Savage…” you whisper and lift your head a bit higher you want to close the gap, tell him by showing.

“Y/N..” your lips are only a centimeter away from him. “Tell me what it is…”

The top of your lip brushes his, “Savage..I..” just a little more, your lips brush just a bit. It burns..just the smallest touch burns.

“I..”

The door swings open and Savage growls while you mentally cry out, no no no….you had been so close!!!

A little foundling huffs, “This is my hiding place, you two need to go.”

@savagesbonergarage @dvthomir @literatureandqueen @hannagoldworthy @theknightsofwren @zabrak-show @phantomofthenormandy @tupdidtherightthing @brilliantbutbatty @mother-0f-monsters @apocalypticwafflekitten @always-on-tatooine @imgonnabuildatardis

If anyone ever wants a tag let me know!!!

#savage x reader #savage opress #savage #savage x you #star wars x you #star wars #star wars self insert #these two play off a disney movie and I love it

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amphtaminedreams · 3 years

Text

COVID-19, Negligent Manslaughter, and a Timeline of Tory Indifference

“I feel sorry for Boris Johnson. He is doing the best he can in the situation and I don’t think anybody else could have done a better job.”

[exhibit A: a gem somebody that I’m Facebook friends with reposted earlier]

It’s a sentiment that I cannot quite wrap my head around. I sit here hopeless and furious and trying to hold back tears because it’s been almost a year since England first went into lockdown and yet here we are, almost 100,000 dead, in an even worse position than we were before whilst other countries begin to slowly return to normality. It is clear to me who is to blame for this, however there are a large proportion of people who don’t want to “politicise” the actions of the PRIME MINISTER with regards to his approach towards handling a virus sweeping the country he GOVERNS.

Typically, these kind of posts making the rounds on social media will be accompanied by some kind of photo of Boris Johnson looking somber as if to suggest that the way things have played out were beyond his control and that he is some kind of broken man beleaguered by the suffering he has, despite good intentions, inadvertently caused.

This one in particular of Johnson with his head in his hands is a staple. In reality, this is a photo taken back in 2018 whilst he was receiving flack from party members for comparing Theresa May to a suicide bomber (for her handling of Brexit, ironically) as well as from the papers due to his rumoured (now also proven, in a completely non-surprising turn of events, to be true) affair with his former aide, Carrie Symonds.

So let’s shut this narrative-where we should feel for Boris because he’s doing his best, and apparently a better job than anybody else could’ve done in his situation- down right here. In a supposedly developed country with one of the world’s largest economies, if we’re talking by proportion, our COVID-19 death toll is up there with the worst of them. It seems that every other state figurehead (bar a small handful), and I mean almost every single one of them, is doing a better job. People love to throw figures out there about how densely populated we are to combat damning statistics as if we haven’t got just as many factors playing to our advantage, as if it’s unfair to compare our response to Germany’s or Japan’s or Singapore’s (both of which are far more densely populated) or New Zealand’s or Vietnam’s, but we are an ISLAND with world-leading technology and infrastructure and healthcare equipment and professionals and a relatively high standard of living. In what world is almost 70,000 dead in a country with abundant time and means to prepare a response reflective of said country’s leaders doing a good job?

Apparently we’re supposed to believe that Johnson feels some sense of moral responsibility for this astronomical failure. A man who refuses to acknowledge the multiple children he has fathered outside of his marriages and who has had repeatedly engaged in affairs and one-night stands throughout said marriages. A man who continued to cheat whilst his most recent wife was receiving treatment for cervical cancer, for fuck’s sake. Yep, a real stand-up guy.

So where does this idea that Johnson must feel remorseful for this catastrophe come from? We haven’t seen a second of remorse or a hint of accountability for the lives lost from him nor any members of his cabinet. That much is really no surprise; I have this hypothesis, and it’s not a stretch, that these people do not have an ounce of empathy in their bodies. These ridiculously privileged, privately-educated individuals who have had everything handed to them their entire lives simply cannot put themselves in the shoes of the average working person and that is the problem. Unable to recognise that what distinguishes them from most others is little more than the luck of being born into wealth and the abundance of recourses and connections that has entailed throughout their lives, they see us as beneath them-as less intelligent, less driven, and thus less deserving of the status and respect they enjoy. They see us as a bunch of whining, unmotivated idiots who do not recognise the chokehold they have over our media nor the fact that everything they do is a desperate grab to keep money and power within the hands of a select group of people, an exclusive members club from which most of us are barred (just take a simple Google search and watch Jacob Rees-Mogg’s opinion of the Grenfell victims or the buried Johnson speech where he talks about how inequality is essential). They know that we will squabble amongst ourselves about who is to blame rather than wising up to the truth which is that every decision they make is fuelled by cronyism and the inability to make and follow through with difficult choices, the pandemic being no exception. The supposedly self-made elite see the life of the average working class person as having far less value than their own, and their parties actions over the last 10 years have made that very clear.

It was in December 2019 that the first case of COVID-19 was declared to the World Health Organisation and on March the 11th that they announced they considered it as a pandemic. In Wuhan, people were dying of pneumonia in their clusters. And what was Boris Johnson doing in this time? Well for starters, here in the UK we didn’t even have a pandemic committee-Johnson had scrapped it six months before. If years of benefits cuts and defunding of the NHS in favour of funding nuclear weapon programs, keeping British troops on other people’s lands, and tax breaks for the mega corporations that donate to their party didn’t convince you that the Conservatives have little regard for human life, them getting rid of this committee-whilst a pandemic has been declared year after year as the greatest threat to mankind-should have been the first sign of trouble. As if that wasn’t enough, he also skipped five of the COBRA (meetings are made up of a cross-departmental committee put together to respond to national emergencies and PMs routinely attend those pertaining to crises on the scale of COVID-19) meetings addressing the situation. Whilst other countries were closing their borders and stocking up on PPE, Johnson and his ministers were selling PPE abroad and simply telling people to wash their hands to the length of the tune of happy birthday. Their only policy was one of “herd immunity”, which was in fact not a policy but just an abandonment of their party’s public duty disguised as one, intentionally obfuscated with pseudoscientific jargon.

Even thinking the absolute worst of politicians you would hope that when it came to the point where the UK’s non-response to COVID-19 was becoming an international disgrace, Johnson and his ministers would take proper protective measures if only to save face. But when they eventually seemed to do so, it became clear that the priority was not the safety of the ordinary people affected by the virus. Outsourcing their test and traces system to companies such as Serco, Sitel, Deloitte and G4S rather than public health services, Conservative ministers could not resist attempting to line the pockets of their friends and benefactors in the process. According to the Guardian, instead of reaching out to the experts or using publicly funded services to handle COVID containment measures, the Conservative party has awarded a disgusting £1.5 BILLION WORTH of contracts to businesses with explicit connections to its MPs and donors, the majority of which lack any relative experience of the tasks they’ve been trusted to carry out. Unsurprisingly, the National Audit office found that when awarding contracts relating to the production of COVID-19 protection measures and treatment needs, there was a “high-priority lane” for suppliers referred by senior politicians and officials; companies with a political referral were 10 times more likely to end up winning a government contract than those without. On top of this, it is not hard to draw a link between the late initiation of lockdown measures and preemptive openings of pubs and restaurants against scientific advice to the interests of frequent donors such as Wetherspoons owner Tim Martin. Even if one chooses to ignore the blatantly obvious correlation between the owners of the businesses whose profits were prioritised over safety concerns and the number of those owners who donate to the Conservatives, party officials at the very least were reluctant to follow the lead of many other countries in financing furlough schemes themselves and instead avoided this responsibility by using loose lockdown measures to leave it down to the discretion of small business owners, who couldn’t themselves afford to furlough staff, whether or not to stay open.

Time and time again, as the government flounder and fuck about, favouring personal desires to keep their powerful, high-paying jobs and to satisfy the corporate allies who make this possible, blame has been shifted from the public to care homes to NHS workers and back again whilst we, the public, make the biggest sacrifices of all under the illusion that we were being guided out of this pandemic rather than lied to and thrown under the bus. Whilst the elite continue to pick and choose what rules apply to them, it’s students and the elderly and the vulnerable paying the fines and scrabbling to afford basic living costs and hoping that they don’t lose someone dear to them.

Don’t get me wrong, a large proportion of the public have contributed to the spread too with their selfishness and entitlement and the arrogance it takes to develop a sudden refusal to acknowledge basic science from experts who have studied in the field their whole lives so that they can justify their need to go to the pub (speaking of, it’s absolutely HILARIOUS how many “mental health advocates” are suddenly coming out of the woodworks on football avi Twitter after they’ve spent years calling people on mental health Twitter attention seekers). And don't get me wrong, there were inevitably going to be casualties of this pandemic. But it didn't have to spread to this many people, and there didn’t have to be so many deaths due to a lack of preparation, and this wouldn’t have been the case if it weren’t for the inherent apathy of the Conservative party towards the lives of people of lesser status than them, the reluctance to put those lives before party interests. I wish I felt like there was an end in sight, I wish there was some positive takeaway from all of this, but even now, we continue to see corners being cut with the vaccine lauded as our saving grace and anti-maskers gathering outside hospitals to chant about how “oppressive” it is to be urged to wear a bit of cloth over their faces for the short periods of time in which they leave their houses and all I can think of is the selfishness that runs like poison through our country. It makes me sick and leaves me to question desperately where we go from here. I don’t like unanswered questions, I don’t like feeling politically directionless, and I don’t like the growing fear I have about the state of the world which seems to intensify every single day. In the UK at least, it’s starting to feel like nothing will ever change-we’re told we live in a democracy and yet mainstream media is owned by the people whose interest is to keep their Conservative friends in power. The stronghold they have over print media in particular allows them to continually get away with smearing and defaming every person who comes along and seems to want to actually help ordinary people, without being challenged, to the point where the only kind of “opposition” we’re left with promises nothing but a big boss approved tactical reshuffling of the status quo (which they call “electability”); it doesn’t feel like democracy when the majority of the country are being fed misleading information and convinced against voting in their best interests.

This is the result of that. The state we find ourselves in is the inevitable result of being manipulated into helping the elite build their protective wall whilst the rest of us scrabble to get in and step on each others heads along the way, the people inside shouting over that it’s those even more vulnerable than ourselves that are taking our places. Outside the wall, the earth is falling from beneath our feet, and instead of throwing over the ropes to help us out, the people inside are stockpiling them so they can secure their firm place above ground and then later flog the rest. How many more people have to die before we reach some kind of widespread realisation of that? Where do we go from here and what do we do? Well for one, we can stop spreading those god-fucking-awful textposts on Facebook and get our heads out of our arses. Wear our masks over and wear them over our fucking noses. Have some fucking consideration for others. Don’t wait til an issue affects you personally to give a fuck about it. AND START HOLDING THE FUCKING PRIME MINISTER AND HIS MINISTERS AND HIS ENTIRE PARTY AS WELL AS THE OPPOSITION MPS THAT HAVE SAT BY THE SIDELINES AND ALLOWED THIS TO GO ON WITHOUT PROTEST ACCOUNTABLE. That would be a good start.

I’m so tired. Things didn’t need to be this way, and yet because of the selfishness of the few, thousands upon thousands are dead. It’s not about “throwing around blame”, it’s not about “throwing around” anything, it’s about expecting a leader to do his best to protect lives. If that is “throwing blame”, let’s get things clear, I have no issue with hurtling it torpedo style at those who handed out a death sentence to so many in this country rather than do anything that might compromise their own privilege. Honestly, pass me the shovel after and I’ll happily bury the wreckage in the ground. Who wants to join?:-)

#rant #politics #anti capitalism #anticapitalist #covid-19 #covid #england #labour #socialism #fuck the tories #fuck the torys #fuck boris #rant post

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

Soul Shards part 3

Good news, this isn’t as angsty as I thought I’d make it!! Granted, we still have one more part to go through, but I maneged to write this one without making anyone cry. I want a cookie!

This feels kinda like a filler thing? Next part will be heavier on the DamiTim as Damian grows older and closer to his objective, but for now, enjoy the slooooow burn and developing.

There’s little to no edition here, so... be warned.

~.~.~.~

-Well, this is awkward -spoke Timothy after a full minute went by without anyone speaking. Father’s face was unreadable, as it tended to be whenever a matter involved his heart, but Grayson looked like someone that knows they are having some kind of hallucination but desires desperately it were true.

-Timmy -called Grayson, heart at his sleeve. The exhaustion that had been building on the slope of his shoulders seemed to vanish at the sight of his long lost brother, a relieved sigh escaping his dry lips as he fully turned to face the monitor. Damian couldn’t relate; this was far from relaxing to his poor, excited heart. The tiny soul seemed to say ‘same’.

~.~.~.~

14 - 19

The first time Damian lays eyes on Timothy, not a recording or photographs but his actual flesh being, he's in such a rush his brain needs a couple seconds to understand.

What in Hells is he doing at Grandfather's main Australian base?

Damian's feet skip a little when he abruptly stops his dash across the halls, standing open mouthed at the arch leading to the training grounds. There, an oblivious Drake was slowly but steadily working his way across the obstacle course the Australian branch used to hone their skills.

He couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, until the souls at his hip pouch made their feelings on the matter known. His own was scalding hot from all the yearning Damian had been feeling, emotions coming forth at the sight of the one he wished for.

Drake's soul was, as usual, the complicated one. A mixture of want, anger, sadness, fear, adrenaline… Abruptly, a thought crossed his mind, an instant knowledge that left him weak at the knees: The little blue orb wanted to be back with it's rightful owner, wanted to be with Timothy again.

Damian could relate, honestly.

Unaware of the eyes at his back (or perhaps too used to it to notice, if Drake visiting grandfather was a common occurrence), the young man continued his training, strict and unwavering but with a relaxed sort of air around him, like he was in no rush to finish it and keep going to the next move. It was at odds with what Damian had learned from watching years worth of footage of the man, or what Drake's soul itself had taught him by sharing it's emotions on an almost constant basis: he was a creature who thrived on always having a plan following the one currently being executed, always a next step, one more to do list. This unhurried, calm, well rested man, muscles loose on the familiar movements of the training course and intelligent eyes lazily jumping from one point to the other, wasn't quite what Damian expected.

Though, to be fair, Damian only knew about a Timothy with soul. There was nothing, no information, nowhere to learn from about this soulless version of him.

A figure slowly approaching from the corner of his eye kicked Damian's instincts in motion, jumping back from the open arch to a place where Drake wouldn't spot him if he happened to turn around. Tense, he straightened, facing this newcomer head on.

Being find out by his grandfather wasn't surprising, but Damian internally flinched all the same. Without his com, tracker offline for the time being and cellphone left behind at the Manor, there was no way for him to call in reinforcements or inform about his findings. He wouldn't, of course, this was a secret, self appointed mission, and would father find out he'd be in so much trouble, but since Drake's presence and possible recuperation was worth the scolding, he couldn't help but curse himself.

-Grandson -greeted Ra's, calm as always, a knowing light in his eyes. His hands were clasped behind his back, and although he was wearing comfortable clothes (white shirt, loose training pants, his usual footwear and favorite sword at the belt, no signs of the cape, and soul pouch hanging from his neck by a thick golden chain), Damian wasn't fooled by this facade of calmness. The Demon's head was no foe to be taken lightly, and Damian was underprepared to face him head on, most of his weapons sacrificed for the stealth this mission required, and no allies at his back-, come, walk with me. Let's leave our beloved Detective to his activities, shall we? It's rude to stare, after all, or so I was told.

There was a lot to unpack there, but Damian simply didn't have the time to dwell on it. He entertained the brief idea calling out to Drake, of asking for help, and though the idea of fighting side by side sent a wave of elation through him, he refrained. The little icy blue orb by his hip gave a warning poke, and Damian heed to it's advice: even years before, after all that had came to happen between them thanks to Damian's misplaced jealousy and pride, he wasn't sure the other young would run to his aid, and that was while he still had his soul to guide his heart.

Stiffly, Damian followed his grandfather down the hall, until they reached some sort of tea room, it's aesthetic more at place at a Japanese mansion, with it's low table and cushions to kneel on, bamboo decorations and Sakura tree painting taking the entirety of one wall. To the untrained eye, it seemed they were alone, but Damian was raised among shadows and was quick to recognize when one entered or left his field vision.

-You see, grandson -started nonchalantly the Demon's head, taking the steaming tea cup from a servant after comfortably sitting on the golden lined pillow-, your timing is either a marvel or a curse. You seemed to have come here in search of something, and found an entirely different treasure.

Of course he knew. Under the protection of the table, Damian clenched his fists. Drake's soul gave a comforting wave, telling him to keep his calm. Damian's own orb answered it's thanks with a warm stroke. The exchange, that used to leave him dizzy with how confusing it was to feel two souls interacting, was now a welcome distraction from his nervousness. It was how he imagined having Timothy by his side, fully soul-ed again would feel like.

How holding his hand would feel like.

-What is Drake doing here? -careful, don't demand an answer, but don't let him lead the conversation either, was what he imagined his predecessor would tell him, as if anyone else would have it that easy to interact with Ra's- Mother told me the League had no leads on his location.

-Your Mother certainly has a good web of spies and informants, but not even she has access to everything that is my domain. The League follows me, not her. Their loyalty to her and, consequently, you, stops long before it breaches the one they have to me, and thus my most treasured secrets are kept safe by my people. Tea?

Don't, Drake's soul says.

I don't have much of a choice, his own answers.

Don't, it repeats, and Damian is weak.

-I'm not staying long, but thank you.

He waits until his grandfather waves away the servants and has drank twice from his cup before speaking again.

-You never said what is Drake's purpose in being here -he's careful on his reminder. The blue soul seems to approve.

His grandfather looks down at the table, like he could see his pouch through it, and his smile is amused.

-It's amazing, isn't it -he says instead, and he looks so fond, he can't help but shiver- though I never held it, it must be a thing of utter power, feelings so strong even one as willful as the young Detective had no choice but to leave it behind. And it holds all his secrets, his impulses, his instincts. How marvelous.

Damian tenses, readying himself. He'd die fighting before allowing his grandfather to touch Drake's soul. He had left it with him, and even if his intention wasn't for it to be safe or cherished, it was exactly what Damian had been doing, what he intends to keep doing until his last breath, or until Drake asks for it back.

It must show on his face, because his grandfather merely waves a hand.

-Don't look so stern, grandson. Even if I wrenched it out of your cold, dead hands, it'd do me no good. For a soul to give off the feelings of it's owner, it must be freely given. A stolen soul is no more useful than a piece of jewellery -the venom green of Ra's eyes had a wistful light-, though this one is of a particularly beautiful kind, isn't it?

Silence overtook them for a few seconds. Despite the reassurance, Damian didn't relax his stance.

-Will you tell me about Drake's intentions, grandfather? -he forced his voice to remain calm, steady, as if it didn't matter either way.

-I don't think the young Detective himself knows that, Damian. But if you ask why he's here, I can only tell you what motivations I know, and those are financial in nature.

-...financial?

-World trotting without leaving a trace and crime fighting are both expensive activities. Timothy needs, crudely speaking, an income source, and I'm happy to provide as long as he doesn't turn the focus of his attention towards my activities. His company is also a luxurious pleasure I'll gladly buy while he's willing to sell it.

A pause while grandfather drank some more, though it was doubtlessly a psychological attack, intended to give him time to think about what was implied.

Timothy's loyalty was a fickle thing, now that he had no soul to weight him down. He was still fighting the good fight, but his encounter with Todd had taught them he was willing and ready to fight mercilessly to get his way. And grandfather, as his biggest endorser, was more likely to be able to buy his help than the bats to ask for it.

Wordless threat made, the older man kept talking- As of right now, he needed someplace to recuperate from his fight with the Red Hood two weeks ago, and I offered this place. He has my resources at his disposal, and I don't doubt he'll leave soon with full pockets. In the meantime, I know his exact geographical location, something I'm sure you're aware how difficult it is to do, and have the indulging company of someone whose conversation doesn't make me wish I was brain dead, which is even harder to achieve.

Damian's fingers ached for the little soul he was so used to fiddle with, but he forced them to still. Even after what he said, Damian wouldn't trust his grandfather to no snatch it out of his hand if he caught sight of it.

The conversation seemed to be getting closer to its end, but a thought occurred him that his grandfather, with all his years, probably had a better understanding of souls and their workings than anyone else. He needed to try.

-Why did Drake's soul react that way when I saw him? Until now, it only gave me the feelings I believe he would have in a given situation, or reacted to my own feelings. This time it was… different.

Ra's seemed amused by his attempt, enough to answer at least.

-It's the proximity. A soul's core isn't meant to completely leave it's owner. Even though some historical lovers were known to interchange them, as they lived together, the souls still reached out to their original holders and the connection was never severed. There's also the fact that these lovers had the other's soul to compensate, as to speak. It guided them where their own soul failed to.

Again, Damian read between the lines. This wasn't Drake's case, he didn't have anything to fill his soul’s place.

He felt it surge with something akin to desperation and defiance, and Damian's own rose to the feeling. They'd find a way, even if Drake choose to reject his own soul back. He was right there, in the same building as him for the first time in years, he could/

-And now, grandson, I ask you to leave. The detective surely doesn't want to meet you here, and if he thinks I betrayed our pact by inviting you, future exchanges between us would be harder to accomplish -calmly, Ra's motioned to a servant, who brought forth a wooden box- I believe this is payment enough for your compliance.

Suddenly, painfully, Damian was reminded of his reason to be on the Australian base on the first place. He felt his insides go cold.

Damn it all to hell.

Jon.

He was here for Jon.

Ra’s hand softly stroke the box’s lid, before opening it to reveal a shiny orange rock, unassuming to anyone unaware of its power.

-This was what you were looking for, wasn’t it? The mineral needed to save your dying friend’s life, that very few people on Earth posses, would certainly be enough to drive you to try and steal from one as dangerous as myself. Of course, if you’d prefer to take your chances talking to Timothy and refusing my benevolent offer, feel free to search for one of those others owners of it, though I’m sure your dear superboy would be long dead by the time you found it and brought it to him.

Both souls in Damian’s possession ached while he walked out of the hidden castle, towards where he had left his stolen plane. Yearning and desperation, his and Timothy’s let hot dents of pain on his chest, like a very deep scratch by Catwoman when at her most scorned with Batman.

It was so difficult to leave, but it would have been impossible to stay. He was childish in his desire to see Timothy again, to speak to him, to try and win him back to their side, but a developing romantic emotion wasn’t more important than his best friend’s life.

Though Jon owed him a big one, this time.

----.-----

14, soon 15 - 20

-Happy birthday, Timothy -he mutters to himself, shiny blue soul dancing between his fingers with the ease of practice. It goes unheard by the rest of his clan, every bat in the room hyperfocused on the screens displaying different catastrophes around the world- I hope it won’t be your last.

Drake was probably fine. Even if thousands had died in the last few days of this surprise armageddon, he was too smart, too skilled, too good to simply let that take his life. If Damian’s and Todd’s best efforts weren’t enough to bring him down, he doubts that whatever fuckery this was would be.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t worried, though.

-Batman -panted Superman through his communicator. On the screen displaying Luisiana, a red and blue blur worked on getting hundreds of civilians out of a mall currently on fire- we have a situation here.

-There and everywhere else, Kal -growled father, the lack of sleep adding to the drop of his voice. No one had gotten much rest lately, not while the reason for this apparent end of the world remained a mystery- Diana, how are things on your end?

On another screen, Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl were fighting side by side what appeared to be zombies. Damian had long given up on understanding the situation.

The Amazonian’s war cry was enough answer.

-Contact me after you’re done there, I’ll direct you to your next objective -a wave of his hand and his conversation with the Princess was muted. Another movement and Green Lantern’s channel was open-. Give me good news about the Lantern Corps. Are they coming to our aid?

By Father’s right, Nightwing had his own set of heroes to coordinate, every Titan past or present under his command. Red Hood, Batwoman, Bat Girl, Black Bat, The Signal and the Birds of Prey were currently on the field, under Oracle’s guidance. Damian himself had just gotten back from where he was taking care of his city, overworked since Gotham’s other vigilantes were dealing with this end of mankind situation and thus giving their criminals wide breath. Robin’s job in this mess was to keep their streets as clean as possible, taking advantage of school being cancelled until the world either ended or was saved to spend even more time patrolling.

It was a mess. An utter, complete mess. Something needed to change. Dealing with this catastrophes as they came was well and good short term, but it was non stop, and the heroes, even united and coordinated by the Bats, were starting to show some strain.

Damian made a fist around the shiny little orb, searching for it’s warmth to chase away the cold dread at the bottom of his stomach. The soul gave something akin to encouragement, but it was-- distracted, if a soul could ever be that. Expectant. It had been like that since this whole disaster started, and if he weren’t so distracted by literally everything, he’d be going crazy from curiosity.

Finishing the lukewarm tea Alfred had brought down to help ease the transition from Robin to Damian, he let his mind wander again, listening with one ear to both heroes in front of him, taking in the tired slouch of their shoulders. Besides coordinating everyone, Father had been trying to find some answer or solution, and the repetitive failure was taking its own troll on him. Nightwing, ever the Bat first Man and biggest emotional supporter, was likely sharing on it’s burden. He hadn’t seen Brown nor his sister in two days now, and the others in even longer, but he knew their voices and mannerisms enough to read between the lines during their nightly reports via comm; they were all on the end of their rope.

Something called his attention from the corner of his eye, dragging him back to full alertness. A little message warning on one of the least used monitors, a little behind where Father stood and thus not easily seen to him.

He blinked. It was a video call request. Who on their right mind would try and contact them with the world literally falling apart?

The soul almost fell from his fingers in it’s excitement and his throat closed. He knew that feeling.

-Computer, accept call -he commanded, feeling breathless. It gained him the attention of both his mentors, who stopped mid sentence to look over their shoulders to him, just in time to catch the exact moment Timothy appeared on screen.

He looked… healthy. His skin wasn’t as pale as he remembers from years back, no signs of insomnia under his eyes, hair combed and falling softly against his checks. He was leaning back against a couch, one arm wrapped around the back of it in a laid back manner, the position making the fabric of his blue button down cling to his well toned arms. There was something irreverent in the way he sat, a challenge in the tilt of his chin, an impossibly cooky calmness.

Damian would’ve been blown away by such beauty, if not for the empty eyes. He has seen Timothy in pictures of his younger years, happy and thriving, with his icy blue eyes shining and alive. This version of him couldn’t compare to the real deal, stunning as it was.

Still, from a purely objective standpoint… Damn. This was a very inappropriate moment for him to notice it, but damn.

Was this what Todd called a sexual awakening? It might have been, despite how strongly he hoped it wasn’t; it’d be really ill timed, but that was the bats’ luck.

His oldest’ voice was what Father’s brain apparently needed to reboot. He raised a hand, silencing all monitors around them, except the one that mattered now. In the midst of such a world wide destruction, and with the air as emotionally charged as it was, Timothy’s calmness was baffling.

-Is that Titan’s tower? -asked abruptly father, which drew the rest of Timothy’s background to his attention and… huh. It was. What the hell?

Timothy raised an eyebrow.

-Nice to see you too, B. Is that a new cowl? It really brings out your natural brooder, congratulations.

-Timmy/

The utter heartbreak in Grayson’s voice made the soul still between Damian’s fingers to twitch painfully, but the man on the screen barely spared his former mentor and friend a look.

-Yes, this is the Tower. No, most titans don’t know I’m here, just Conner as he gave me access on the first place. Yes, we kept in touch after I went away, because the fucker is unfair and can track my heartbeat. No, he won’t ever tell you my location, we have a deal; he doesn’t rat me out, I don’t put him into a coma to keep him and the other two from following me around. Yes, like I would have done with Jason if I weren’t in such a time crunch. No, I’m no criminal. No, I haven't killed anyone this past years, but as you could have guessed, my morals are as good as gone now so I’m not against a little brutality when dealing with an issue. Does that answer all your questions? Can we move on on the important, end of the world thing? This isn’t a social call.

Both Father and Grayson seemed blindsided by such a direct approach, but Damian had expected it, and the icy orb was demanding him to try and gather more information.

-I hacked the Titans, I would have known if they were aware of you.

He didn’t think this through. Directly addressing Drake made him focus his attention on him, and Damian wasn’t exactly ready for it.

-They come to me in person. Nothing for you to track. I allow them to follow me around for some days, they like to act as my moral compasses, they hug me for hours and then it’s goodbye for a few weeks. Rinse, repeat. It’s a nice system and they aren’t as annoying as they could be, so I don’t stop it. Apocalypse situation, anyone? Can we maybe focus on that? If you guys need a moment, I can hang up and go deal with it myself/

-No! -echoed both Batman and Nightwing. Damian’s souls (both of them) silently agreed with the sentiment. Who knows how long it’d be until they got a hold of him again.

Drake seemed amused, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned forward to reach the holographic keyboard in front of him and set to work, bringing up different blueprints, records and strategies.

-Now, as you probably already guessed, we are dealing with aliens here. A very powerful, but vulnerable kind. Here's what I’ve got…

No more than five hours later, the week long hell they’ve gone through was done with. All thanks to a barely legal man that after a few days of disasters decided to bite the bullet and call them, but who hang up the moment his plans were set in motion.

The second they were clear, Father and Grayson jumped into the Jet. Damian declined, not because he didn’t want to see Drake, but because he was sure he’d be long gone from the Tower by their arrival. Especially if, as they learned today, he still had his three metas at his beck and call. And, he recalled, Grandfather.

On his way to his bedroom he caught sight of Brown and Cain, huddled together on a couch.

Stephanie’s locket was almost completely black, only small specs of blue shining through. In comparison, Cassandra’s compass looked like the sky, clear and beautiful, with only the barest hints of darkness seeping slowly into it as the night fell.

The rest of the way to his bed, he clenched the icy blue soul as tightly as he could without breaking his own hand.

While it retained its color, there would still be time.

-------.-------

15 - 20

The last couple of months had been easier for Damian’s mission, and harder for his soul. Knowing that the key to track Drake laid with his friends, and with more free time than his other family members, he enjoyed an unique position of having the occasion and the resources to follow the metas to Timothy’s location, whenever they went to him. Jon was a loyal and useful friend, and had no issues on flying Damian someplace at the drop of a hat, on top of covering for him with his family. Grayson seemed elated at the concept of Damian spending so much time with his friend, so he made it his mission to keep Father off his back, which worked just fine for him and his mission.

His damn feelings, on the other hand, were a mess.

This was the sixth time Damian had followed one of the former Young Justice (Kon El, today) to Drake’s hiding place. This seemed to be a short-ish visit, a few hours of the super complaining about college while Drake steadily worked his way through a underground drug trafficking ring. The young vigilante himself had merely answered with ‘hmm’s and ‘aahh’s, according to Jon, but it didn’t seem to deter the meta.

Damian was just sitting on a close by rooftop ledge, waiting until Drake left the building to get a last glimpse of him before leaving for Gotham, when Jon stopped mid sentence and tilted his head the way he did when he was focusing on hearing something. Then, without explanation, he left.

He didn’t even had the time to wonder about his sudden departure, when a soft touch to his shoulder had him drawing his sword and jumping into defensive position.

It was Timothy.

Damian didn’t lower his guard.

Timothy smiled, approvingly. The little soul at his pouch seemed to echo on the feeling.

-Jason didn’t view me as much of a threat -he said conversationally, walking around Damian to join him at his sitting perch, long, slim legs moving back and forth over the edge, weight resting on his hands behind his back- that’s what gave me such a clear shot at kicking his ass, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t offensive. You can relax though, I don’t have a reason to hurt you.

It wasn’t a ‘I don’t want to’ nor a ‘I won’t’, and that’s why Damian believed it; if given a reason, Drake wouldn’t be against fighting him. It was just that he didn’t have one right then and there.

-Why approach me? -he asked, shoulders slowly losing their tension. He didn’t put his sword away, though.

-This is the sixth time you’ve tracked me down -explained the man, and he felt his heart do a jump on his chest; he wasn’t aware Drake knew-, and after the third, I realized it wasn’t for Daddy or Daddy two-point-oh. You never called anyone, never gave my location away, didn't even try to talk to me. So, I...grew curious. Asked Kon to call your little friend away so we might have a chat. Besides -Timothy looked sideways to Damian and a little smirk curved his rosy lips- it’s your birthday. Figured it was as good a occasion as any to indulge you. So I’m here, baby bat. What do you want with me?

Damian’s traitious brain had some suggestions, but he sternly pushed them all out of his mind, to the back of his subconscious for future Damian to deal with. This wasn’t the man he wanted, anyway; not with those empty eyes.

-Your soul/ -he started.

Timothy’s entire body coiled up, as if ready for a fight, and Damian felt himself tensing in response.

-Don’t even say it. I don’t want it back, won’t accept it. If you don’t want to carry it around any longer, throw it into Atlantis for all I care. Just… don’t bother me with that shit, or your new pastime of stalking me will be cut short.

-I wasn’t/!

-Dress it as whatever you want baby bat, but I know the score, one stalker to another.

Desperate for a change in the conversation, he went back to his mental list of questions for Drake.

-If… If you don’t want it back.

-I don´t.

-Then, what is your goal? What… what are you doing? You keep fighting Father’s fight, seeing to his Mission…

-Woah, hey. Just because your Father likes to call it his, doesn’t mean that the Mission belongs to him. I wanted to help people long before I was pseudo adopted into your little cult. Actually, the whole reason I got into it, was because your Dad needed a therapist and coping mechanism and moral compass all rolled into one, but as the picky lil brat he was, he wouldn’t take one unless it was twelve years old, with blue eyes and black hair and no parental figures whatsoever. Little me was like catnip for him, and I was just a kid that wanted to help.

Damian… didn’t really had an answer for that.

-That being said, that was true for past-me. As I am now, I couldn’t care less about the ‘good fight’. Any fight would do for me. If I’m still saving people, it’s merely because past-me trained this body beyond what’s healthy to make it virtually impossible for me to ignore evil doers. It’s basically muscle memory, or a vice.

-Muscle… memory? How so?

Timothy hummed, eyes going up as he searched for the right words.

-If I don’t fight crime, I start getting twitchy, and feeling odd, and it’s just uncomfortable. Without soul, I lack motivation and function because of needs. I’m thirsty, I drink. I’m hungry, I eat. I’m tired, I sleep. Like a baby, impulses are all that matter to me. Except for coffee, because my body goes through literal withdrawal when it goes long without it, and crime fighting. Also the reason why I find it hard to fight against those three metas that keep following me around; my body is just used to go into ‘protect and care for’ mode when catching sight of them, it’s night to impossible to be aggressive. Or why I had no problem kicking Jason’s ass to kingdom come; I have a flight or fight reaction to him ingrained into me, and now, I chose to fight.

The small, hidden part of him that had hoped Drake retained some part of his soul (maybe a secret, maybe hurting?) was ruthlessly squished by the man's words.

-Why did you help us, then, against the aliens? They weren't in your way, and you didn't get a fight out of it, merely gave us plans -tries, someway childishly.

He received a look that made him feel dumb. He wasn't used to it.

-I live on this planet too, you know. If it goes to shit, so do all of us. It was a matter of self preservation.

There was no denying any of that. Timothy’s eyes remainded empty, light amusement the only emotion flickering through his expression.

The tiny soul by his soul pouch gave the equivalent of an indignant cry to Damian.

‘Get me back on my body. Give my emotions back to him. Fix this’, it demanded.

‘I don’t know how’, he wanted to reply.

‘Figure it out’ was the uncompromising answer.

It was scared. Timothy’s soul was scared of what he had become, of what he’d continue to be without it, and it was begging Damian for help. This wasn’t about proving himself to father, or to Timothy, any longer. This was to help him; save him. Bring him back to what he was before.

He needed a plan, and time to develop it.

Throat swallowing hard, he weighed his options. Contact with Timothy was needed, if a chance to return his soul was to be taken the moment it appeared.

Thinking back on all that was said, he felt an idea start to form.

-Would you mind if I sought you out sometimes? It’s… quiet here, and you aren’t as annoying a company as the rest of our family members can be.

-Your family, you mean.

-Be that as it might. You could help me with cases, and won’t care if a particular one is specially hard or dangerous. That kind of cold insight might be useful, and it’ll help calm your need of doing good, won’t it?

He expected a denial, or negotiation. But of course Timothy merely shrugged.

-I told you before, I don’t care. About anything, really. Stay, go, do whatever, as long as you don’t get in my way or try to give me that shit back. If you can follow those two simple rules, we won’t have a problem.

Damian ignored the dryness of his voice, the hollowness of his eyes. Instead, his focus was poured into the feelings he got from the soul at his pouch.

Pride and anticipation. He was on the right track.

Fear. This path wouldn't be easy.

Gratitude. He was doing all of this for Timothy’s sake, nothing he’d gain from it.

And… a special kind of fondness. It wasn’t yet on par with the one he had felt for months every time the icy blue soul was in close proximity with Todd, but… it was getting there.

A hot flush of excitement went through him.

He was going to do this, and do it right, and maybe… maybe Drake wouldn’t hate him by the end of it all.

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another-snape-story · 4 years

Text

Potions Classroom

Chapter VII

“I guess, now I owe you another favor,” you stated guiltily, once the Great Hall stayed behind.

“You’re welcome,” the man’s voice sounded impassive, as it did most of the time.

“Since you’ve mentioned it… Do you really need something for your storages?”

“Professor Sprout has a list of ingredients I usually use in my classes, those which run out fast.”

“Means a ‘no’ then?” this news seemed to slightly upset you.

“I don’t care who of you would do this, I just need the necessary amount of certain items on certain days,” Professor Snape declared indifferently. “Staff room to the right.”

You turned your head in the indicated direction to make sure you would remember its location – oh, it was impossible to confuse this place with any other! Two stone Gargoyles, who guarded the entrance, had a lively conversation and fell silent once they caught your astonished glance, displeased they were interrupted.

“Fine. Keeping your storages in mind is something I could live without,” you grunted, returning your attention to the man beside you, and he smirked.

“It surely is,” he agreed softly. “I wouldn’t bother you with such trifles. You don’t look like someone who’d dream of growing Stinging Nettle or Pungous Onion.”

“And who do I look like?” you frowned suspiciously.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted calmly. “But I’m sure Thaumatagoria sounds way more exciting for you, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a myth…” you seemed to be no longer certain about this statement. You couldn’t explain how this man always managed to make you question facts you’ve been confident about just a moment before.

His lips stretched in a faint smile. “Is it?”

You regretted you’ve just snapped at him – but he behaved so strangely! There he was – cold, detached, even rude in a way, and suddenly – nice… soft… smiling... as if – the thought struck you – he struggled with desire to let you closer? But why would he need to push you away?

You walked side by side so slowly, seemingly delaying the moment your ways were going to part.

“You know what?” your quiet voice broke the silence, which comfortably settled between the two of you. “Neither do you look like someone who’d dream of making Cure for Boils or Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher on a daily basis.”

“Would be pathetic, if I did,” he snickered. “Same question then. Who do I look like?”

“Same answer for now,” you laughed. “But I’m flattered you considered me able to unravel your true nature after a few short conversations.”

You weren’t moving any further and stood mere inches opposite each other, his eyes locked on yours.

“I wouldn’t even try,” he declared. “Waste of time.”

“Are you challenging me?” you smirked slyly.

“No.”

You liked the man more and more. Studying his face, you wondered whom he was hiding behind that formidable facade.

“So are you interested in Thaumatagoria or not?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “You must be kidding!”

Without saying a word, he guided you down the narrow spiral staircase again. You passed by the corridor leading to your chambers, and a few more you still had to explore. Your head threatened to twist off your neck, as your glance tried to register everything it caught in poor attempts to examine the surroundings, while Professor Snape confidently made his way through the castle somewhere deep in the dungeons. When he finally stopped, you got a chance to see quite a large inscription on the wooden door, which said ‘Potions’. You still had no idea where your own classroom located, but now you knew where was his.

The man remained standing outside, once the door cracked open, letting you go first. He followed you, when you stepped in and closed it shut. Although he would hardly have any visitors this day, you couldn’t blame him for being protective of his privacy.

You realized it wasn’t that cold in the dungeons, as you used to think till this moment. Potions classroom gave you a true understanding of what ‘cold’ actually meant. But uncomfortable temperature didn’t bother you in a slightest, as long as you could see an uncountable lot of glass jars with pickled animals lined up on numerous shelves along the walls.

“Merlin…” you gasped looking around, “it’s a real treasure house…”

Delighted glint of your eyes caused a proud smirk on Snape’s face.

“You’re not disgusted?”

“Why would I?” you approached one of the shelves, looking closely at the jars content. “Unbelievable, where did you get all of these?” the question didn’t require any answer, it just slipped off your tongue mainly out of astonishment.

“Are you going to stare at Murtlap’s insides the whole day?” the man’s voice pulled you out of your spellbound contemplation.

“I would, if you let me…” you mumbled under your breath, unable to take your eyes off this great variety of fantastic specimens. “Oh… excuse me…” you chuckled and straightened up, shifting your attention to the owner of all these precious things. “A question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Did you do it all by yourself?”

“Obviously.”

“Why would the school need me then, since it has you? I mean… These are so perfectly dissected!”

“I can’t teach two subjects at once,” he explained monotonously and waved his wand above a piece of blueish ice you missed the moment it appeared on his desk. He might’ve taken it out, while you were busy with marveling the filling of his shelves.

Ice melted, revealing a branch of fragile cobalt-blue flowers.

“Merlin,” you whispered, “where did you… how…” you lacked on words. You’ve never seen anything like this before.

Professor Snape made another movement with his hand holding the wand. A tiny seed of the magical plant hung in the air and landed on the flat of your palm, once you stretched it out, hesitating whether to take it or not.

“I thought you’d need something to keep yourself preoccupied,” he explained his intention, building back an icy protection around the flowers. “As this place doesn’t offer much entertainment, you might bore yourself to death in a week or so.”

Ice covered the plant with a crackling sound, hiding its treasure from the world, leaving you dumbfounded. A true professional, you felt like a child who just saw some simple magic for the first time.

Your unfeigned astonishment captivated Snape. These rare moments, when something held your attention to the exclusion of all else, let him see who you actually were. His cautiousness towards you – as towards anyone he met – was gradually dying away, bringing to life another feeling, which he couldn’t define yet, but it surely was a good one.

“Why… why are you doing this?” you sagged on an armchair standing opposite to his desk, doubting you’d ever be able to thank him enough.

“What?” he questioned impassively, rearranging some jars on one of his shelves, and your heart grew a size, seeing him pretending what just happened was in the order of things.

With a grateful smile you rose to your feet and approached him, trying really hard not to pull him in a tightest hug.

“Stop looking at me as if I gave you a seed of the rarest plant in the world, which is believed to not even exist, but – by those who assume it might be real – considered priceless due to its ability to make some of the most unusual and powerful potions,” he voiced the fact (!) monotonously, once his eyes met yours again.

“I won’t,” you tried to regain a serious look, but your lips stretched now even broader.

“You’re still doing it,” his eyebrow twitched slightly, as his face remained still.

“I can’t help,” you left all attempts to pull yourself together, admiring this man and his phenomenal skill to stay collected whatever came to pass. Little did you know how much effort it took him to resist pure genuineness he saw in the depth of your eyes.

“You’re cold,” Snape noticed you were trembling slightly; perhaps, it really was due to remarkably low temperature down here, but might it be excitement as well, which added extreme strain to your nerves? “Professor Sprout must be waiting for you already,” he added calmly. “Her contribution in further instructing you should be of more efficiency as long as everything concerning your subject is the sphere of her competence.”

“Do not diminish your abilities,” you smirked slyly. “I got to see you’re competent enough…” with these words you waved your hand around his office, pointing at all of those shelves, “…to even surpass me.”

You wished you could stay with him a little longer. This man evoked your interest – he definitely was more than he showed – and it intrigued you pretty much. But by no manner of means you were going to abuse his hospitality; there was no need to be a rocket scientist to understand the hint – Professor Snape made himself rather clear, so, squeezing a precious seed in your palm, you hurried for the exit to leave him alone and give the man some space.

It was the last time you saw him this day. He didn’t attend lunch; neither did he show up for dinner. Ridiculous, but his absence made you feel uncomfortable – what in Merlin’s name could that mean!? Although your colleagues didn’t let you feel lonely, accompanying you everywhere, asking numerous questions and sharing their own stories – not without some advice on your common profession, which – you had to admit – turned out really helpful – you still missed the dark gloomy shadow you already got used to have somewhere beside.

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Tag: @diaryofafan17 @yul-is-sparkling @fullmoonshadowwrites @forthehonourof

#snape #severus snape #snape x reader #severus snape x reader #snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfiction

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alexannah · 4 years

Text

Just Keep Digging PART THREE

Chapter One | Chapter Two | FFnet | AO3

Summary: Lila makes a big mistake when showing off one day to the class. But her mistake may turn out to be not such a bad thing for Marinette and Adrien. From a prompt by @countingdowndays

Author Notes: Okay since this is no longer a one-shot, I discovered (thanks, Keyseeker) that I need to clarify where this fic stands canonically. Most of my fics I actually ignore season three, but obviously I can’t do that entirely here since we’re post-Chameleon.

So … This fic takes place shortly after Chameleon, and obviously we’re now AU because of the reveal, but it takes into account season three up until and including Startrain. (Whether I’ll get as far as events in those episodes actually occurring, I have no idea.) However Kwami Buster onwards is NOT taken into account. So no worries about our heroes having to give up their Miraculouses, or future Hawk Moth, or any Cat Blanc stuff. None of that exists here!

And for the record, I’m a fan of Gabriel and Nathalie and a supporter of the redemption arc. Whether this fic will go there or not, I don’t know. Still improvising here!

Just Keep Digging

By Alexannah

Chapter Three: Just Keep Intimidating

“Do you have any idea how lonely Adrien gets, Mr Agreste?” Marinette blurted out.

Gabriel Agreste blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “I’m sorry?”

“You’d better be. He spends most of his time shut up in this house, not allowed to leave except for school and classes. I get that you want to protect him, but all too often you cross the line between keeping him safe and keeping him a prisoner. He hardly ever complains because he’s used to it, it’s his norm; but that doesn’t mean it’s right or best for him. People need social interaction, sir. He hates being so isolated; you may not mean to, but you hurt him so much by doing that to him.”

“He told you this?”

“He doesn’t have to. We can all see it a mile off. Which makes me wonder why you can’t.” Marinette paused. “No, actually I know why you can’t. Because while you keep him physically close, you keep him emotionally distant. You don’t give him any quality time, or make him feel like he can approach you. I understand that you’re a busy man, but surely you can spare some time to spend with him, instead of always palming him off on your staff. It would make him feel so much better to at least know you’re trying. Instead there’s this massive wall between you and it’s growing bigger every day. And wrapping him in cotton wool isn’t the answer. You know what happens to people when they’re wrapped in too much cotton wool, Mr Agreste? They suffocate.”

There was a long, long silence once she finally stopped talking, wondering if she had completely blown it. Mr Agreste was still staring at her, no recognisable reaction on his face except extreme surprise.

Finally he broke eye contact, removing his glasses and polishing them. “I see you care deeply for my son,” he finally said, quite quietly.

“Yes, I do.”

“Hmm. Most of his fans desire him because he’s handsome and famous.” He replaced his glasses and looked back at Marinette. “But not you.”

“I’d love him just as much if no-one had heard of him and he had a face like a gorilla’s butt.”

Mr Agreste’s mouth twitched. “So I assume your intentions towards him are of the … more long-term variety.”

“The forever kind of long-term,” she agreed. “The ‘till death do us part’ kind of long-term.” For a moment she thought something weird flickered in Mr Agreste’s eyes at the ‘death do us part’ bit, but a second later she was sure she had imagined it. “The ‘married with three kids and a hamster’ kind of long term.”

“I see. And what do you imagine Adrien would be doing, other than helping you look after three kids and a hamster?”

“Whatever makes him happy. Whether that’s modelling, or his music, or tap dancing in the street.” Marinette tried not to giggle as she remembered him actually doing that as Cat Noir. “I’m sure you have your own grand ideas about what Adrien should do with his life, sir, but he’s his own person who deserves to make his own decisions. Even if you think they’re the wrong ones. Maybe I don’t meet your high standards; maybe none of his friends do. But we all love Adrien and want what’s best for him.”

Silence fell for a long moment as he gazed at her thoughtfully. “Tell me, does Adrien share your very specific vision of your future?”

“Well, I don’t know if he wants the same number of kids and a hamster, but I know he wants to spent the future with me. We should probably work out the details after we’ve been a couple for more than a few hours.”

Again, Mr Agreste’s mouth twitched, and Marinette dared wonder if he was actually amused by her words. Whether or not that was a good thing, however, remained to be seen.

“I will allow your relationship with Adrien,” he said finally. “But I have conditions.”

“So do I,” Marinette said before she knew what she was saying.

His eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“I already told you, Mr Agreste, that there are areas of your relationship with Adrien—well, the whole thing, really—that you need to work on.” Marinette folded her arms decisively. “So if you really want him to be happy, then I expect you to be willing to do so.”

She received a speechless gape in return.

“I expect you to choose presents for Adrien yourself and put thought and care into them. I expect you to make it up to him whenever your work gets in the way of spending time with him. I expect you to find time to actually tell him you love him, because to my knowledge he’s never heard that from you. I expect you to consider Adrien’s feelings and consult with him when making decisions for his protection or whatever, and if necessary reach a compromise you’re both happy with. I expect you to be more open to suggestions from other people who care about him on what’s best for him and what he needs to be emotionally healthy. I expect you to try, Mr Agreste. I expect you to want to be a better parent and be willing to learn.”

It was impossible to work out what he was thinking, but for some reason she couldn’t explain, she thought her words might actually be getting through to him.

“And this isn’t just about Adrien,” Marinette continued boldly. “Assuming that our future progresses as we both hope it does, then one day I guess I’ll be your daughter-in-law.” The expression on his face was suddenly beyond laughable. “And I may as well make this clear now so there are no surprises in the future, so you can’t possibly have any reason to withdraw your approval of us later on.”

“I’m listening.”

“I expect you to learn not to be such a control freak, so that when he’s an adult, you don’t make him feel like he has to do everything you want him to rather than what he wants, in order to keep you happy; because that’s not healthy—it’s not healthy now—and you can’t regulate his life decisions forever. I expect by the time he and I are married for you to have let go and let him have his own life. Assuming you take on board everything I’ve said, I’m hopeful the two of you will have a much better relationship by then than you have now; and if, as I think, you really do love him, then I can’t see any reason why you wouldn’t want that.”

“I do love him,” Mr Agreste said quietly.

“Good. So we’re in agreement.”

He still looked a bit stunned, but didn’t disagree.

“I haven’t finished,” Marinette continued. “Our future children.” He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t expect you to be perfect, but I expect you to make an effort. I expect you to actually have a relationship with them, not be this distant figure they hardly ever see and barely know. You will respect that Adrien and I are their parents, and therefore our decisions are the ones that go; and while we’ll be open to advice, at the end of the day we’ll be the ones making the decisions we feel are best for them. You will do your very best to be present at every single special occasion; and I won’t accept any excuses, only the most valid, out-of-your-control reasons. Every Christmas and birthday, every school play and concert, every fencing meet or whatever interests they end up pursuing, regardless of whether they meet your approval or not. You have been absent from the important things in Adrien’s life for way too long and I won’t stand for you treating your grandchildren the same way. I want them to have a grandfather they can actually have a good relationship with, someone they will love and look forward to spending time with. And I know Adrien would want that too.”

Once again, the room was dead silent once she had finished.

“So what were your conditions, Mr Agreste?” Marinette asked, almost sweetly.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Er …”

~*~

In the next room, Adrien was trying desperately to resist the temptation to listen at the door. His father and Marinette’s voices were muffled, so he couldn’t work out what they were saying, but they sounded quite heated.

If he were alone, he probably would have listened, but Nathalie was there. While he wasn’t entirely sure she would stop him, he didn’t want her to mention to Gabriel later that he had overheard whatever was going on in there.

“Thanks for letting me tell him myself,” he said finally to break the awkward silence.

Nathalie nodded. “Do you love her, Adrien?”

“Completely and utterly,” he said with no hesitation. He thought about adding “I’d die for her,” but stopped himself just in time, thinking that might not have the right effect.

Her expression softened. “I very much hope she can win your father over.”

“So do I. She’s so wonderful; and if anyone can, she can; but … Father’s so stubborn.”

“He is,” Nathalie agreed. “And overprotective. But he does have a heart, Adrien.”

“He has a funny way of showing it sometimes,” Adrien muttered.

Nathalie sighed. “I know.”

There was an awkward pause.

“So … how did the two of you …?”

Adrien hesitated, quickly sorting through the memories and censoring the superhero identity stuff in favour of a simpler version of the story. Marinette coming to comfort him after what Lila had said, and him realising she felt the same way about him than he did her … yes, that would do.

“Well, it started with us all talking about our favourite movies …”

~*~

Marinette opened the door, and saw Adrien sitting talking with Nathalie, who looked quite angry for some reason. She quickly schooled her expression to be more neutral as she saw her, and stood up. “How did it go?”

“Er … well, he’s happy for us to date.”

Adrien beamed. “He is? Yes! I knew you could win him over, Marinette!”

“You sound quite relieved nevertheless,” she teased, drawing up to him.

“Well … maybe I was a bit worried,” Adrien admitted. “That’s not a reflection on you at all, though.”

“I know. Anyway, it’s all okay. Though he has set some conditions.”

Adrien frowned. “Conditions?”

“Nothing bad. Just, you know, sticking to curfew, bodyguard, stuff like that.”

“That was an awfully long conversation for just going over ground rules,” Nathalie said, in a tone which made Marinette sure she suspected a lot more had been discussed.

“Other subjects may have come up,” she said vaguely.

“Oh? Like what?” Adrien asked.

“Well … er … your dad’s lousy parenting …”

“What?” he gasped, and Nathalie choked.

“You’re the one who told me to be honest!” Marinette said to her.

“Sheesh, Marinette, what did you say to him?”

“Basically, everything I and the rest of your friends have wanted to say to him for the last few months.”

Adrien groaned. “I can hardly believe you’re still breathing! Let alone that he actually approved us dating?”

“Apparently I proved to him that I’m not after you because you’re a famous model.” She kissed his cheek, and he blushed. Aw, she would never get used to that. “And on a completely unrelated note, he’s made a resolution to have dinner with you at least four times a week, let you attend at least one social thing a week (three in the holidays), and he’s coming to see you in the school talent show next Friday.”

And when you turn fifteen, you’re getting a surprise birthday party, she silently added.

Nathalie raised her eyebrows. “Goodness,” she said, sounding very impressed.

“Wow,” Adrien said, sounding just as much so. “Marinette, you do realise that apart from my mom, you and Nathalie are the only two people who have ever been able to get my father to change his mind about something like that?”

“Um … no, I didn’t.” Marinette looked at Nathalie. “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, Adrien, here’s your phone back.” She handed him his phone, then looked between them. “Is Marinette staying for a while, or do you two have other plans?”

“Er, I think it might be a good idea to give Mr Agreste some space from me for the rest of the day.”

“And we do have other plans,” Adrien agreed, taking her hand. “I promised her ice cream at Andre’s.”

“Ice cream?” Nathalie glanced out of the window. “Are you sure? It looks like it’s going to start storming again soon.”

“Oh,” Adrien said, sounding disappointed.

“We could go to my house instead,” Marinette suggested. “Only fair you get to meet my parents now.”

“They’re not going to interrogate me, are they?”

“Not like that. My dad is a very different kind of intimidating.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows. “Er, what kind of intimidating?”

“You’ll see.”

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway, and they all looked over to see Mr Agreste had appeared. “Nathalie, could I have a word?”

Marinette gulped, wondering if this was about Adrien’s birthday present.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Adrien said, frowning slightly after Nathalie had followed her boss from the room.

“Er …” She cast her mind around quickly for a change of subject. “Yeah, um … there’s someone else we need to talk to. Master Fu,” she said in a low voice.

Adrien paused. “Oh. Right. We know our secret identities now … Do you think he’ll be upset?”

“I don’t know, but whatever his reaction, we shouldn’t put it off.” Marinette took out her phone and selected the turtle icon in her contacts.

~*~

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Nathalie said after closing the door behind her.

“They’re dating, not engaged,” Gabriel said quickly, though he couldn’t help silently adding yet. He shook himself and remembered what he had actually intended to talk to her about.

“I think you made the right decision, sir. Marinette seems a sweet girl. And Adrien is clearly absolutely smitten with her.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it goes both ways. She was very …” Gabriel paused, searching for the right word. “… specific about her feelings for him.”

“Really?”

He knew from her tone that it was not actually a surprise, and wondered what she had said to Marinette before the meeting. “Yes. Very bluntly honest.”

That was putting it mildly. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had let him have it with both barrels. Gabriel thought the last time he had been that intimidated by a teenager, he had been the same age himself. Fortunately he didn’t think he had let it show.

“I see. Good for her.”

“Yes.” He paused. “The thing is, she did bring up something which I should ask you about.”

“Oh?”

“I understand that the present she intended to give to Adrien for his birthday, was somehow mistaken for being from me.” He arched an eyebrow at Nathalie, whose eyes widened.

“Oh. Er … d-did she tell Adrien?”

“No. And she stated she has no plans to do so. Apparently he was delighted to think it was from me, and she doesn’t want to disappoint him.” Gabriel fixed his assistant with a sharp frown. “I don’t suppose you could shed any light on how this misunderstanding occurred, Nathalie?”

She sighed. “On Adrien’s birthday, Marinette dropped off a gift for him, shortly before you … asked if I had got him a present from you. I … didn’t remember you having asked me to before, and … I panicked.”

“You told Adrien that Marinette’s scarf was from me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you not simply go out and get him something?”

Nathalie fixed Gabriel with a surprisingly hard look. “Because that would have required leaving Adrien to eat lunch alone on his birthday, Mr Agreste. Which I didn’t want to do. Nor did I want to have to tell him that his father had either not got him a present, or asked me to and that I had forgotten. I knew any of the above would hurt him.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And as it happened, because of the Bubbler, he had lunch alone on his birthday anyway.”

The accusation was impossible to miss, and a long, very tense silence fell between them.

“I … will not akumatize anyone on Adrien’s birthday again,” Gabriel finally relented.

“Especially not friends of his who only wanted to do something kind for him,” Nathalie added.

“Er … yes. I mean … no, I won’t.”

Her expression softened slightly. “Marinette really got through to you, didn’t she?”

“You put her up to that, didn’t you?”

“All I did was advise her to be honest. The rest was all her.”

“Well, it worked,” Gabriel admitted. “There are some … changes I need to make.”

Nathalie nodded slowly, frowning again. “Talking of honesty … did you by any chance sense any negative emotions from Lila Rossi earlier today?”

Gabriel blinked, completely taken aback. “Yes, actually. She’s been very emotional for most of the day, but you know I’ve been tied up with work I couldn’t delegate. It’s been quite frustrating having to wait; I was planning to seize the opportunity once Marinette had left. How did you know?”

“Adrien told me about something that happened this morning between the two of them. And … well, you’re not going to like it …”

~*~

Lila checked her text again.

We need to talk.

She didn’t know why she had come to the meeting place Adrien had specified. What more did he want to say? Adrien was the forgiving type, but she was certain this was beyond even him.

One little miscalculation, and everything had been ruined. Usually Lila planned her stories with care, but from time to time had simply grabbed an opportunity. And now she’d had the horrible misfortune of picking the wrong person to lie about.

How the hell was I supposed to know she was his mom???

If she transferred to a new school (Lila was already formulating an argument to present to her mother why it was necessary), then she would be more careful. At the very least do an internet search before opening her mouth.

She turned as she heard the car pull up behind her. The back window rolled down, and her eyes widened in surprise as it revealed not Adrien, but his father.

“Get in, Miss Rossi,” Gabriel Agreste said shortly.

She did, hesitating as she realised he was alone in the back. “Where’s Adrien?”

“He did not send you that text. You are not the only one with the ability to deceive.”

A cold chill went down her spine as the car pulled off, and Lila was suddenly very aware of the fact that no-one knew where she was.

“S-sir? What do you want?”

He didn’t look at her, face set in grim determination as he stared straight ahead. “Adrien told Nathalie what you said about his mother.”

Lila had guessed he’d found out, but still felt the blood drain from her face. “Sir, I swear, I never meant—I had no idea he was talking about his mom!”

“That is not the point. Your story could have severely hurt him, and the only reason it didn’t was because he believes something tragic happened to her.” He suddenly fixed Lila with a glare so fierce, she wished he was still looking straight ahead. “I wanted to tell you personally that if you ever do or say anything that could hurt Adrien again, regardless of whether or not you meant it to, you will severely regret it.”

Lila waited for the car to stop, but it didn’t. She glanced at the driver. It wasn’t Adrien’s bodyguard as usual; it was the aforementioned secretary. For some reason this felt foreboding.

“Um … wh-where are we going?”

He did not answer her question. “Miss Rossi, your relationship, in any sense, with my son is over. You are not to go near him again. You are not to talk about him or to him, and the same goes for his friends, because when they are hurt so is he. You are toxic and I will not have your poison harming my family.”

“I understand, Mr Agreste.”

“I’m not sure you do. You have been akumatized … how many times?”

“Er …” Lila said, taken aback at the question.

“Four, as I understand it. And you have a deep hatred of Ladybug which has made you valuable to Hawk Moth.”

“I’m not sure I understand—Wait, how do you know?”

“I am very well informed, Miss Rossi. Especially about the people around my son. I want to make one thing absolutely clear. Should you be akumatized again, no matter what Hawk Moth wants of you, Adrien and his friends are off limits. You cannot use that as an excuse with me.” His eyes sent icy daggers of fear through her. “You will find I can be a much more dangerous enemy than Hawk Moth.”

Before she could register the movement, his hand had crept around her throat and started to squeeze.

Lila choked, struggling to draw breath, and grasped weakly at his strong fingers, trying to pull them off. They were immovable. He wasn’t blocking her airways, but it hurt. She saw Nathalie glance in the mirror but merely look away, showing no sign of mercy.

Mr Agreste finally let go. “Is that absolutely clear?”

“Y-yes, s-sir,” Lila gasped, massaging her throat.

“Now you are going to get out, and you are going to tell your parents about every single lie you have told. If I find you have missed any out, I will tell them myself.”

They stopped, and Lila saw they were outside her home. She had never been so relieved to be able to get out of a car. She would take being grounded for the rest of her life over spending one more second in that man’s company.

“This is your only warning,” Gabriel Agreste said darkly, before closing the door again. The car pulled away.

Lila braced herself, and approached her front door.

~*~

“Don’t dawdle on the way home,” Gabriel said to Nathalie, settling back in his seat, satisfied and in anticipation. “I will not miss this opportunity.”

“Of course, Mr Agreste.”

He could already feel Lila’s anger and frustration, but once her parents found out everything, it was bound to increase. Her next akumatization would be her most powerful form yet.

“Do you think she’s afraid enough to leave Adrien alone?” Nathalie asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “She might have thought you were bluffing.”

“She didn’t. I can tell.” Gabriel looked back at his assistant. “Do you think it was too big a risk?”

“As long as you left no visible mark on her—”

“I didn’t.” He had been very careful not to.

“—and she’s convinced that you really would hurt her if she hurt Adrien again—”

“Which I will. And she is.”

“—then no. Even if she tries to tell someone you attacked her, no-one is going to believe her now.”

Gabriel nodded. That had been the plan. His Miraculous glowed as Lila’s emotions suddenly spiked. “Faster, Nathalie. I mean … Catalyst.”

To Be Continued …

Author’s Note: Thanks to phantombullets240 for your idea; it’s what turned this into a multi-chapter fic.

I initially drafted the penultimate scene with Gabriel ending his deal with Lila, then remembered it hadn’t happened yet in canon. Which is a shame because it would have been so much more tense. But I’m happy with the rewrite.

Part of the scene between Marinette and Gabriel was inspired by a conversation from Monster In Law, but it’s been years since I’ve seen the film so I’m not sure how close it is to the original.

I have a plan for the next chapter, but action isn’t my strong point, so it might take a little longer than the others to write!

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musicprincess655 · 4 years

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Ryuu wakes up a week after his twenty-fifth birthday with a fully formed frontal lobe, the remnants of dream that didn’t even have the decency to be wet, and an unfortunate realization.

“Gin.”

She’s already up, of course, sipping at a coffee, but then, she’s always been the more functional one. Ryuu would argue that it’s because she’s younger and therefore spent less time in the slums before their lives found some stability in the Port Mafia. Gin would argue that it’s because Chuuya raised her instead of Dazai.

“I believe I may have…feelings…for Jinko.”

She doesn’t look suitably impressed by the earth-shattering news.

“Do you want a regular cake or a cupcake tower at the wedding?”

Ryuu is so shocked by her lack of shock that he actually answers.

“Cupcake tower.” He shakes his head. “Did you hear me? I have feelings for Jinko.”

“It’s kind of too late to go back to calling him Jinko when you’ve been calling him by his real name for over a year.”

“I have feelings for-!”

“I heard you the first two times!”

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to do!”

“I don’t know!” she snaps, although she sounds more exasperated than mad. “Woo him? Marry him? Bear his weird tiger babies?”

“That’s physically impossible. Also, no?”

“I don’t know what you want here,” she says. “General dating advice wouldn’t work on you two.”

“Dating?!”

“Fucking hell.” She sounds so frustrated that Ryuu is sure she’s about to throw a knife at him just to get him to shut up. “Try talking to him.”

“No.”

“Then eat shit and die!”

Ryuu isn’t quite sure who else to ask for help. He almost goes to Chuuya, but considering Chuuya’s – arrangement? Relationship? – with Dazai, Ryuu thinks that might actually make everything worse. Whatever those two are doing, he doesn’t think it’ll work for anyone else.

So he takes the second option presented to him: he shoves those feelings right back where they belong and forgets they ever existed. Or tries to.

See, Ryuu is good at anger. He recognizes it in himself, knows now how to ramp it down or let it take him as necessary, knows how to use it, TED talk to follow. What is he supposed to do with something so much softer?

It should be easy to ignore. But like an amorphous block, the soft edges of the feelings squeeze out no matter where he tries to shove them down.

Ryuu doesn’t think Atsushi has noticed anything is off. He’s sure Atsushi would have said something by now otherwise. As an adult, Atsushi has all the observation skills of a detective and none of the reticence for sharing his observations that he used to. The new confidence is annoying, and has led to annoying things like Ryuu being forced to buy Atsushi food all the time, and in general, Atsushi is somehow more annoying than when he went running scared from Ryuu’s every glare.

And Ryuu has feelings for him anyway. His taste leaves much to be desired, and he needs to come up with some synonyms for annoying.

This systematic denial works for all of two weeks, and Ryuu is ready to celebrate the success of creating a new normal so seamlessly that Atsushi hasn’t even noticed they have a new normal, when it all goes to shit.

They don’t have quite as many people to beat into the ground to protect Yokohama as they did when they started their partnership, but every so often, a new group thinks it’s a good idea to disturb the peace. Ryuu and Atsushi, for their efficiency alone, are the best choice for dealing with it.

Some syndicate from Europe seems to think they have the right to expand into the Asian market, and they’ve set their eyes on the port of Yokohama for their first step in. They don’t have nearly the same aversion to city-wide destruction that the Port Mafia do, which makes this the Armed Detective Agency’s problem too, and, consequently, Ryuu and Atsushi’s problem. They’re in charge of stopping and containing a Gifted vanguard while the combined strategic might of Dazai and Mori deal with the rest of the syndicate.

It’s a tough fight, but Ryuu gets to let loose and use his Ability to the fullest. His deal with Atsushi to not kill is long since over, but he developed habits during those six months that he hasn’t bothered to shake, and the fight isn’t the bloodbath it could be. Still, when the last person raises their hands in surrender, Ryuu is almost gasping for breath. He may have learned to work smarter instead of harder, but working smarter is hard on him in its own way.

“Good work today,” Atsushi says, wiping blood from an already-healed cut off his mouth. Even after all this time, the praise still sends a thrill down Ryuu’s spine.

Then Atsushi lifts his head, and his eye are so wide, and he looks so happy, smiling without reservation at Ryuu, and Ryuu doesn’t know what his face does, but it must be pretty spectacular because Atsushi’s smile fades.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” Ryuu says, turning on his heel to get away from Atsushi and the emotions he wears so openly. He needs to find a bar, one Atsushi won’t follow him to, and he doesn’t stop to consider the implications of skipping their post-mission dinner arrangement for the first time in years.

When Chuuya finds him, he’s getting systematically drunk.

Which, granted, doesn’t take much, He’s always been a bit of a lightweight, probably due to how severely underweight he’s been for most of his life. That’s not quite the problem it used to be, and one shot isn’t enough to take him out at the knees anymore, but he doesn’t even have to use his fancy mafia paycheck to get well and truly plastered.

“So I know I’m about to sound like a hypocrite, but it’s barely five,” Chuuya says, and while his words are chiding, his tone isn’t. Ryuu is still working on reading people’s intentions, but Chuuya has never been hard. He’s worried. “Wanna talk?”

“Stupid fucking Jinko and his stupid fucking doe eyes,” Ryuu mutters before he can stop himself. He’s had six shots. He wishes he had a better excuse.

“Oh, so it’s that kind of drinking,” Chuuya sighs. He raises his hand to catch the bartender’s attention, elegant and confident in one motion. “Whiskey for me. Water for him.”

“I’m fine.”

“Akutagawa.”

Chuuya rests his hand on Ryuu’s head, and Ryuu is almost ashamed of the way he leans into the touch immediately. Despite all the jokes even he himself makes, he’s not a dog. Still, to have someone touch him without even the intention of hurting him…it’s nice. It’s uncommon. It’s, perhaps, something that shouldn’t be so uncommon from a superior.

He’s so drunk.

“Do you want my advice?” Chuuya asks after the bartender sets both of their drinks down and Ryuu throws back half the tall glass of water.

Ryuu is silent for just a beat too long.

“Kid,” Chuuya sighs again, not angry or even exasperated, as is more common with him and Ryuu recently. He sounds faintly amused. “I know we’ve talked about this. You’re allowed to say no to me.”

“It’s not…” Ryuu tries. “I just…” He has to parse it into words, the fact that after Gin, Chuuya was the first he thought to turn to, and why he didn’t in the end. “I don’t know if I, necessarily, want the answer I think you’ll give me.”

“What answer do you think I’ll give you?” Chuuya asks. His hand is still on Ryuu’s head, pulling until Ryuu is very nearly tucked into his shoulder.

“Two options,” Ryuu says. “Something I can’t use, or something I won’t want to.”

“Ah.” Chuuya takes a sip of his whiskey. “You know I’ve had relationships with people other than Dazai, right?”

“That’s where the something I can’t use comes from.”

“So my relationship with Dazai is too fucked up, but all my other relationships are too normal?” Chuuya asks, summing it up entirely too well.

“I don’t think I can do normal,” Ryuu says. “I’m pretty sure he can’t either.”

“I can’t tell you how to fix that,” Chuuya admits. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be where I am. Which isn’t a complaint, by the way. I’m happy. But I’ll admit parts of my life are less than functional, and that’s down to choices I’ve made. That being said…” he gives Ryuu’s hair a little tug until Ryuu is truly resting on his shoulder, head momentarily stopped from spinning, “…I doubt Nakajima would kick you out of his life for anything at this point.”

“You think I should talk to him too,” Ryuu says.

“Gin’s smarter than you give her credit for.”

“She told you about this?”

“I just know she’s the only other person you’d tell about this,” Chuuya says. “You’re not actually that complicated.”

“I talk to Higuchi about stuff,” Ryuu pouts. He won’t admit he’s pouting.

“You’re not cruel to her anymore,” Chuuya says. “So no, I don’t think you would’ve told her about this.”

“I want another shot.”

“You should probably be done for the night,” Chuuya advises. “Listen. I don’t know how this is gonna shake out. I don’t know Nakajima well enough to guess what he’ll do. But I do know you, and I can tell you that you’re gonna be okay.”

“You think?”

“I think it would take another city-destroying disaster for you to not be okay,” Chuuya says. “And that wasn’t an invitation. I’m enjoying the peace. It’s good for business.” His phone chimes. “Your ride is here, and you’re cut off.”

“You called a car?”

“Like I said,” Chuuya says, getting to his feet, “I know you.”

Having a superior care so openly about him is still a bit of a new experience, and rather than try to examine anything Chuuya said, Ryuu just collapses into bed when the driver drops him off, hoping he’ll just forget everything by the morning. He doesn’t, of course, because that would be too easy.

Things were fine between him and Atsushi before, but suddenly, there’s a new tension. Ryuu panics, convinced Atsushi knows, but after a day of careful observation, he’s almost positive that Atsushi actually doesn’t. Atsushi isn’t shying away from the parts of their alliance that Ryuu, a few years ago, had reluctantly labelled as friendship. He doesn’t have a problem with their casual conversation, and their shared food arrangements have picked up again without so much as a mention of one missed.

In fact, the only thing that has changed is actually something Ryuu’s seen before, just not in years.

They’re friends now. Beyond just tolerating his presence, Ryuu does like having Atsushi around. He even has these new mushy feelings that make him a little sick to his stomach if he thinks about them too hard. But none of that changes the fact that sometimes, Atsushi annoys the ever-loving fuck out of him.

Snapping at Atsushi usually only gets Ryuu an eye roll now, or sometimes a shut up if he says something particularly spiteful, but ever since Ryuu bailed on dinner, every time he snaps at Atsushi, instead of the customary dismissal, Ryuu gets a flinch like he used to when they first started working together.

And seriously, what the fuck? He knows Atsushi isn’t scared of him anymore. For one thing, they’ve proven a few times that Atsushi can beat him into the ground if he wants. For another, Ryuu has calmed down a bit and Atsushi has stuck around enough to figure out how to exist in the same space without killing each other. They haven’t had a serious fight in years.

Ryuu can’t figure out what Atsushi’s sudden problem is, and doubly can’t figure out why it would’ve started after he skipped buying Atsushi food once. It’s almost enough to push the mush feelings that started this whole mess to a backburner, only surfacing when Ryuu’s eyes linger too long on the clean, lithe lines of Atsushi’s body, and he knows he’s not the only one who stares, anyway.

And then a new group surfaces. A remnant faction of the Guild that has apparently spent the better part of five years biding their time and preparing to take revenge on both the Port Mafia and the ADA. Since Ryuu and Atsushi were the ones to take down Fitzgerald, the faction prepared the most for them. From the beginning of an attack they only had the slightest warning for, Ryuu and Atsushi are methodically separated from everyone else.

They’re losing. Badly. Ryuu doesn’t know where any allies are except for Atsushi, and then only because Rashomon still has a tendril on him. Blood pours down his leg from a shot above his knee, and Ryuu resists the urge to favor the leg in case he has to run again. He ducks into an alley and slides down the wall, trying to catch his breath, get his bearings. He hasn’t had to legitimately fight for survival in a long time, and though his life has made him no stranger to pain, he’s not as young as he used to be, and his body protests when Ryuu tries to demand movement from it.

“Aku.”

It seems Atsushi has found him. Ryuu doesn’t even bother to snap at him for the nickname. Atsushi picked up the habit a few years back, saying Ryuu’s name was too long for him to yell, and Ryuu has begrudgingly gotten used to it, only putting up token protests now. He hurts too much for those, though.

“We have to get clear,” Ryuu tells him.

He heard some distant explosions he’d bet his coat are Chuuya, and where they find Chuuya, they’ll find the Black Lizard – they’ll find Gin – and they’ll find Dazai, or at least Dazai’s mind, talking through an earpiece and entirely out of the fight, safe where he’s most effective. Those allies would be enough to turn the tide, if only Ryuu had any damn clue how they could get clear.

“I have an idea,” Atsushi says.

“That is not your area,” Ryuu counters. He can’t help himself. Everything hurts.

“I know you’re mad at me, but trust me on this,” Atsushi pleads.

“I’m not…” Ryuu is so taken aback he needs a second to organize a response. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Generally speaking, he’s almost never mad at Atsushi anymore. If he is’ it’s a fleeting anger, gone as soon as he recognizes it. He has no clue why Atsushi might think he’s angry enough to revert their relationship back five years.

“Because you skipped dinner, and you made this face…” Atsushi trails off, and Ryuu…

His taste leaves so much to be desired. Atsushi is an idiot, all personal growth aside, and Ryuu realizes, with a degree of horror, that he feels something very close to fond.

“That’s not why,” he says, voice gruff, and he’s once again lost control of his face. Atsushi searches his eyes, and Ryuu sees the moment the truth dawns on him.

“Are you…?”

“You said you had an idea?” Ryuu interrupts. He keeps his eyes off Atsushi’s face.

“I do,” Atsushi says. “I need all of Rashomon.”

Ryuu instinctively holds his Ability closer. He’d given all of her to Atsushi earlier, a standard play when they’re in an all-out fight, but it only works when Atsushi takes all the hits. After he got shot in the leg, he pulled part of her back.

“Do you think you can hold onto me?” Atsushi asks.

“Why?”

“I won’t be able to hold onto you.”

“You’re going to get us both killed,” Ryuu accuses without heat. He can already feel himself relenting.

“Trust me,” Atsushi begs.

Ryuu does.

“I guess another trip with the world’s worst Uber driver isn’t the worst way to go,” Ryuu sighs.

Atsushi crouches in front of him, hands careful on Ryuu’s leg as he clambers onto Atsushi’s back. It aches, but Ryuu holds with both his arms and hopes for the best.

“Use Rashomon to amplify the jump,” Atsushi tells him. “And leave me plenty of slack.”

“Slack…why?” Ryuu asks, but Atsushi is already gone under his hands, replaced with a tiger. “Oh.”

Atsushi’s muscles bunch, and that’s all the warning Ryuu gets before they take off into the sky.

The tiger can’t fly, but the jump is so powerful, especially with the added strength of Rashomon, that it feels like a near thing. They soar above the building they’d been sheltered behind, over the heads of their enemies, and by the time anyone thinks to attack, it’s already too late.

“East,” Ryuu shouts above the wind. With the new vantage point he can get a better idea of where Chuuya is. Atsushi can’t answer him, of course, but he obeys anyway, touching down and running towards the explosions. They’re almost to relative safety when a strike from the side sends them both sprawling.

An Ability user approaches them, hands crackling with something obviously dangerous. Ryuu doesn’t stop to think. He just attacks, Rashomon rushing the man in furious tendrils. He pulls back at the last minute, and when the dust clears, the man is unconscious and full of holes, but still breathing.

Ryuu is just turning to see if he needs to pull emergency first aid skills out of his ass when he gets an armful of re-humanized Atsushi and a pair of lips hitting his own like a punch. He doesn’t even have time to respond to the kiss before Atsushi shoves him back by the shoulders.

“Wait, shit!”

Atsushi regrets the kiss. Atsushi regrets him.

Ryuu’s hand twitches towards the phone in his pocket. He can leave this all behind and start a new life. In Iceland. He can use the Duolingo app Chuuya made him download to learn the language. He’ll herd sheep. He’ll change his name to Sven.

“I was supposed to ask for consent first!”

“What?” Ryuu – Sven – asks.

“I’m supposed to ask for consent before I kiss you!”

This doesn’t…feel like rejection. Sven – Ryuu – takes his thumb off the Duolingo app.

“You’ve been thinking about kissing me?” he asks.

“I was…I mean…” Atsushi flushes red. “For a while now? I never thought you’d want me to, but then you did, and…”

Leave it to Atsushi to charge right through all the hesitancy Ryuu’s been feeling. He always has been the kind to leap before he looks.

In a better world, they’d have time to let this play out like a shoujo manga, time for them to gaze into each other’s eyes, time to work up to a kiss much softer and slower, something a first kiss deserves to be.

But it’s not a better world, and they’re still not safe, but they’re close enough to allies that they can make a run for it.

“We have to get out of here,” Ryuu says. He can already hear enemies approaching. Atsushi lets go of his shoulders, and they both start running, Ryuu limping on his bad leg. “And Atsushi?”

“Hm?”

“Buy me dinner first.”

Ryuu doesn’t watch Atsushi take that for the consent it is, but he knows the message is received when Atsushi reaches out to squeeze his hand as they run, letting it drop so they can move faster. They’ll probably have to talk this out when they’re safe, because Gin is right; they need to talk. But now they both know it’s not one-sided, and it’s as good a starting place as any.

In spite of the pain in his leg and his lungs, in spite of the danger they’re still in, Ryuu can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as he runs, Atsushi by his side.

#shin soukoku #sskk #akuatsu #atsuaku #bungou stray dogs #bsd #my writing #bsd!oneshot

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skeletorific · 4 years

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DUUUUUUUDE I'd love to see your classpects for the boys, n compare them to my own personal hc!! I love godtier stuff, and imagining them in bright silly outfits is just👌

This was so fucking PEACEFUL to work on it was a delight to do so let’s do this. I’m doing extended zodiac signs too because i CAN. Also, putting this under a cut cause it got LONG

CLASSPECTING THE SKELEBROS

UT!Sans: True sign is Scormino, Sign of the Fatalist

So, a point by point breakdown

-Cerulean: something that immediately woke me up to Sans as a Cerulean was the idea of a “mask for every occasion”. Sans is not one thing to all people. He flips between personas, adjusting it a little for each encounter. This isn’t because he’s manipulative per se, but because he genuinely thinks it’ll just make things easier for everyone

-Prospit: Prospit repression yo. Not to mention he’s more go with the flow than he is “fuck the system”.

-Doom: Rather than explain this connection, I’m just gonna paste the description for Doombound, since its practically a textbook description of Sans himself

Those bound to the aspect of Doom are fate’s chosen sufferers. It may not sound like an overly pleasant aspect to be aligned with, but it does come along with great wisdom and empathy. The Doom-bound understand that misery loves company, and they are ready and willing to provide said company. The Doom-bound won’t fix you; they aren’t healers. They are commiserators, aware that sometimes the only thing you can do for a person is let them know that they are not alone in their suffering. They are not the advice friend-they’re the friend you go to when you need to vent about a rough day at work. They are not necessarily noble martyrs, either-the Doom-bound can become quite irate about their lot. At their best they are wise, kind, and non-judgemental. At their worst, bitter, resentful, and fatalistic.

This is a summary of Genocide route Sans so succinct it could’ve been written about him intentionally. I did consider time for him, but ultimately Time is an aspect defined by a struggle. Sans does not struggle against the oncoming fate. He buys it a drink and hopes it leaves as little damage as possible in its wake.

As far as class goes, I classpect him as a Mage of Doom. One who understands or understands through their aspect, and no one understands the coming storm quite like Sans does. Mages are also traditionally understood as suffering as a result of their knowledge of their aspect whether too much or too little. In a sense, Sans’ relationship with the Anomaly encompasses both.

UT!Papyrus: True sign is Aquius, sign of the Whimsical

-Violet: Violet signs are noted for their eccentricity and individuality. I have a harder time coming up with two adjectives more fitting than that for Papyrus. Additionally, they have a reputation for craving social interaction to the point of being clingy, which is also extremely fitting

-Prospit. Not much to add to this one beyond going with the flow and an aversion to going off the beaten path.

-Breath:The aspect of freedom, confidence, imagination, and fun. Something notable about Breath players is that they’re at their best when they let loose and be themselves. Papyrus can’t really be who he wants to be when he’s trying to play a role, of guard captain or human hunter. When he’s being authentic Papyrus though, he’s capable of inspiring hearts and minds.

I classpect Papyrus as a Sylph of Breath. Papyrus does both literal and metaphorical healing. If you get knocked out during your fight with him, he carries you back to his shed and nurses you back to health. Additionally, Papyrus reminds people that they are free to chase their dreams and their own potential. He tries to make the Player recall their better intentions. He pumps up Alphys, restoring her confidence that she’s lost over the years. He heals the relationship between the player and Undyne in order to liberate Undyne to be her more authentic self: a woman who just wants to help her people. Additionally, he is a key facet in liberating the Underground, restoring the sky to people who have been denied it for so long.

UF!Sans: True sign is Tauriborn, sign of the Covetous

-Bronze: Bronze just has that earthy quality I eat with a SPOON for Red. Additionally, they navigate that space between a genuine desire for stability and a tendency to stubbornly commit even when it hurts you. Additionally, there’s a hedonism associated with Bronze signs that feels very fitting.

-Derse: restless skepticism, a tendency to mistrust, and rebellion in the blood? Sounds like a skeleton who’s been living rent free in my head for long enough.

-Rage: There’s of course a very literal level to this. Red’s one of the angrier of the skelebros. Additionally, though, there’s a resentment of lies and false civilities. Red hates liars, hates convenient likes. He tends to play his own cards close to the chest, but resents it in other people. Additionally, there’s a burn it all down impulse that’s very present in him that resonates with this aspect.

I classpect Red as an Heir of Rage. I tend to understand Heir as one who is surrounded by their aspect, or surrounds other with their aspect. Red surrounds himself in a field of rage, and those who are the target of his wrath are too. Additionally, though, he inherits the positive aspects of wrath, the bullshit detector and the impulse towards seeking out the truth. Additionally heirs tend not to take a very intellectual approach to their aspect, because they don’t have to. They embody it unconsciously.

UF!Papyrus: I kind of went over this but for the sake of coherency: True sign is Saginius

-Indigos: in addition to having a rep for being the bastions of order, indigos tend to devote themselves entirely to their interest. They can be sociable, but have a tendency to not really consider other people’s emotions, leading to a lot of unintentional hurts. Edge has a cold abrasive personality at many points, but it’s rare that he intends to hurt the people closest to him. It just sort of happens to him.

-Prospit: Again, Edge doesn’t rebel. He works with the society cards he’s been dealt. His prospit associations are where he’s closest to his Tale self.

-Hope: Hope is the aspect, not just of optimism, but of order. Hope players have a very black and white approach to the world, and dedication to ideals that they see as higher than themselves. Both of these are to me very Edge qualities, even if he’s not the most sunshiney person. He has things he believes in strongly, and he doesn’t wave.

I classpect Edge as a Knight of Hope. He defends his aspect, defending his ideals and the things he chooses to dedicate himself, and defends with his aspect, using his internal compass as a bastion against doubt and misgivings. Additionally, Edge has an inherent lean towards protecting and working for others, even if at his most unhealthy point his ego can make him bossy.

US!Sans: Blue’s true sign is Arcer, sign of the Officer

-Burgundy: Rust signs tend to be characterized by an unbending determination. Its not that they’re immune to the bad things in the world, its simply that they tend to roll with the punches and try to make things work regardless. Blue is quick to trust and overly excitable, but a loyal friend and an imaginative companion. All of these are Rust characteristics.

-Prospit: Again, unwavering optimism and a loyal temperament.

-Blood: Blood is the aspect of relationships and mutual support. Blue is an extremely social creature, prone to doing his best work via inspiration. He invests strongly in the people around him, and has a hard time giving up on others. Blood can also be the aspect of sinking ships. They tend to latch on to things and people other’s might consider to be “lost causes” and stubbornly refuse to leave them behind. I tend to characterize Blue with a low level of anxiety, constantly afraid that the people around him are going to leave him behind if he’s not good enough. Peak Blood player.

I classpect Blue as a Page of Blood. Like I said, Blue’s “Sans” tendencies come out in his interactions with others. Like most pages, he has a very shakey grasp of his aspect. He genuinely has the ability to make people feel cared for and comfortable. He even has great potential to inspire others to do better. However, he’s still in the process of learning how to command his aspect effectively, sometimes vacillating between overloading people with interaction and at other times barely confiding his emotions in even the people he should be close with. As this potential unlocks, though, there’s no ceiling to all he might achieve.

US!Papyrus: Stretch’s true sign is Gemza, sign of the Shrewd

-Gold: Gold signs command intellectual prowess, quick wit, and reserved tendencies in a way Stretch has done his entire life. Something notable about goldbloods is they have a tendency to refuse to live up to their full potential. They find their niche and carve out their mark within it while letting the rest of their life functionally fade to the background as “unimportant”. Stretch is adept and knowledgeable in his areas of interest and finds it hard to give a shit about the rest. Despite this, he still hangs on to the goldblood’s usually innate likeability, albeit without much emotional vulnerability.

-Derse: While Stretch isn’t exactly a rebel, Derse has an association with skepticism and a desire for rationality that inherently resonates with him. One thing that also stood out to me is a tendency to develop a very self-effacing sense of humor as a cover, which is a VERY Stretch quality. He doesn’t quite have the repression for Prospit, nor will he let himself be put into boxes that don’t suit him.

-Mind: Mind players (and Stretch) are defined by a certain sense of fluidity. They don’t really feel compelled to develop a strong sense of self, preferring instead to react organically to how they think is best and most logical to the moment. Stretch is a creative and quick thinker, which combines with a very nasty FOMO and an aversion to simplicity. Absolute Mind Player Core.

His classpect is tricky, but I feel Witch of Mind is the most fitting for him. Witches are often characterized by having a more lackadaisical relationship with their aspect. They understand it intimately enough to know how to break it when it suits them. In addition to reason and choice, Mind is also the aspect of systems and rules (think Terezi’s justice core). Stretch is a quick study about systems, but doesn’t necessarily adhere himself to them. Whether its a game he’s playing, a puzzle he’s solving, or a person he’s interacting with, sometimes the best thing in the world is to dig in and study until you find the point that breaks the whole thing open.

SF!Sans: Black’s true sign is Cancen, sign of the Translucent

-Lime: Lime signs tends to be characterized by forceful and intense personalities, with intense emotions and a tendency to fixate on improvement. They can often be effective at inspiring people to follow their lead, but have difficult personalities to work with. All of this is extremely Black, with the proviso that I tend to characterize him as often needing to repress those intense emotions. He leans hard into his own anger, but often covers up his other extremes for the sake of their own safety.

-Derse: while Black has learned to cooperate with the world around him, he’s never not going to be looking for ways to get around it. He’s often sardonic, and is usually extremely slow to trust those around him. He may put on a front of being the Queen’s man through and through, but there’s a lot of Irons in the fire that he doesn’t feel the need to make public.

-Heart: As I said, I tend to characterize Black as struggling against strong emotions that even he barely understands. He has a very distinct and strong personality, as well as intensive emotions. In moments of stress, he’s prone to intense self-reflection. Where did he go wrong, where can he improve. Additionally Heart players have an association with identity constructing, frequently diffusing their personality into a variety of splinter selves in a form of elaborate “roleplaying”, which to me clicks nicely with Black’s bossy and aggro Royal Guard posturing.

Its because of this struggle against his own aspect that I classpect Black as a Rogue of Heart. Rogues often struggle to cope with their aspect, and may even begin to crave the opposite. Black at his core craves the rational thought and pure justice of the Mind aspect. However, the more they embrace their aspect, especially in service to others (being a passive class), the healthier they often end up being. If you’ve read my “Tyrant” fic, Black steals his and Rus’s performance of self to allow them the freedom to act and pass unnoticed by the guard. He represses his own emotions to give space to other people’s, and at his best can redistribute his own assurance with his purposes to the people around him, making him potentially an inspiring presence.

SF!Papyrus: Rus’ true sign is Capries, sign of the Bold

-Purple: purples have a tendency to dedicate themselves to causes or people they care about and work until they are either stopped or made incapable or working more, much as Rus works for his brother’s well-being. Additional points of resonance were a macabre sense of humor, a tendency to withdraw when upset, a sense of fatalism, and a tendency to dig in his heels even if its against his own best interest. Plus….Clown Rus sexy what can I say.

-Derse: like his brother, Rus is inherently skeptical of easy outs. Like many Derse dreamers, he’s a problem solver, even if it comes at great personal cost. Rus’s Derseness is also exemplified in his tendency to develop strong bonds of loyalty to other people….without ever really allowing himself to be vulnerable with those people. He has the perspective that his emotions don’t truly matter.

-Time: Honestly kind of surprised it took me this long to make one of the Lazybones a time player, but I think making Rus it was the right choice. Time players are often defined by a sense of struggle. Time players are seemingly incapable of taking things lying down. Even if they won’t fight for themselves (and Rus rarely ever will) they often have an internal moral code that makes them unable to be a bystander. Rus is lazy, he’s a fatalist, he has a hard time taking care of himself. But he’s unable to stop himself from acting, especially when it involves someone he cares about. Additionally, Rus has associations with death in his judge role, which he takes extremely seriously.

I debated making Rus another knight, but ultimately I feel Seer of Time fits him better. All the Sans derivatives are prone to a sort of restless curiosity about the world around them, and in Homestuck terms I see that as a desire to in some way sync up with their aspects. A Seer is one who invites understanding. Rus seeks to reckon with both the cycle of life and death and the wide variety of timestreams that are causing havoc in his world. Unlike the mage, he has a hard time accepting what he understands: Seers are in many cases notorious for resenting the idea of someone else controlling them. Still, he’s practically unable to stop himself from exploring further, continuing to pick and pick at the scab of his reality no matter how much it hurts.

#yes-virtualcollectorofpeace #undertale #underfell #underswap #swapfell #sans #papyrus #uf!sans #uf!papyrus #us!sans #us!papyrus #sf!sans #sf!papyrus #classpecting #extended zodiac #headcanon #long post

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screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years

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I Can’t Eat Love Side Part 3 - Hallers

Hey everyone! I changed the order a bit. So Hallers first, then Edith, then finally the Queen. Hallers is one of my favorite characters of all time, so I hope you all enjoy this side part from his perspective.

Master post linked here.

Enjoy!

____________________________

In a previous life…

I was a professional. One of the best.

I’ve always seen this as a good thing. I came from a family that had served the Duchy of Armeny for generations, I was born to run a household. It required knowledge, determination, and above all… professionalism.

“You’re too cold.” The young woman I courted told me, before leaving me for another man. “No one wants to be with a man who is just an empty shell.”

I wished her well, confused, and continued on in my life.

“Tommy!” Jim, my brother, patted me on the back one day. “You have to loosen up! You can’t just live for your work.”

“Some of us care about our work.” I frowned at his frivolous words. “Why should I change if I’m doing it well?”

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, groaning. “Just… find something… someone… anything to care about. I promise, it will make you more human.”

I ignored him, returning back to the duchy from my weekly home visit. Jim worked for the Royal Treasury, but his manners and demeanor left much to be desired. I saw little reason to take advice from him.

Someone to care about? It would just interfere with doing my job perfectly.

I thought this over as I entered the estate, when something ran into my legs, nearly knocking me over.

“What the…” I halted my words, looking at the wide-eyed child standing before me.

A young girl, with light hair and delicate features. She wore a dress incompatible with her age, decorated in frills, which was already covered in grass stains and dirt. In one hand was clutched a single red flower. Her eyes drew my attention; they were bright, intelligent, studying me closely.

I made a formal bow. “Young Miss, is there something I could help you with?”

This was of course the daughter of the Duke, Lady Lenora. She listened to my words, seeming to consider them carefully, before holding up the flower in her hand, offering it to me.

“For me?” At her nod, I took a slight step back. “I’m sorry miss, but I can’t accept, it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

Her eyes dimmed, the flower in her hand shaking. Feeling an inexplicable panic, I offered a solution. “Why don’t you give it the Duke or Duchess?”

“…” She stared at me silently for a few moments. “I tried.”

The words were whispered, but the pain behind them struck me like a blow.

“You…” I couldn’t say anything. I knew. The Duke treated her coldly, ignoring her existence except to buy her clothes and jewelry. The Duchess, on the other hand…

The flower in Lenora’s hand was crushed slightly, missing multiple petals… had it been stepped on?

My heart aching, I reached out to take the flower from her, giving her a professional smile. “I will happily accept this gift, Miss.”

Lenora didn’t say a word, but a bright smile spread slowly, brightening up her face. I couldn’t help but widen my own smile in response. As I felt my professional mask crack, I stepped away, confused.

What am I doing?

I gathered my self-composure, shaking my head slowly. I needed to be more careful.

____________________________

The Duchy was not doing well. The Duke spent all his time on his own interests, leaving all of the work to his subordinates. Rumors of theft and corruption abounded, many people lacked work and starved to death on the streets. The Duchess was frequently gone, spending extravagant amounts of money wherever she went. When she returned it was even more intolerable. She would abuse the maids, scream at the Duke, and the things she would say to her daughter… It was enough to make even my heart break.

Lenora grew up a sweet girl despite this. She was quiet, often overshadowed by her friend Lady Edith who spent her days by the girl’s side. It was concerning. I saw the girl treating Lenora poorly on more than one occasion. She would mock the things the young Miss enjoyed, until she was afraid to even speak up. She pushed her to wear off-putting poorly fitted gowns, convincing her they were the height of fashion. Once I saw Lenora crying, holding the torn remains of a small doll she treasured. I recognized it as a gift from the Queen, neither of her parents would have thought to give her such a simple toy. Edith stood nearby, berating her.

“If you had just given me the stupid doll I wouldn’t have had to do that! Now it’s ruined and it’s all your fault!” Her rude and vicious tone made me angry, but I kept a disinterested smile in place.

After all, I was a professional.

I made a formal complaint to the Duke, but at the mention of my concerns, he simply stared at me with a haunted expression.

“Lenora will be fine. She has a title, and anything she could ask for.”

“But Lady Edith…” My words were cut off by his raised hands.

“Let her do as she wishes.” His tone was sad. “I have no right to step in.”

Honestly, it felt wrong. Isn’t Lenora your daughter? I wanted to shake some sense into him, but kept my hands at my sides. I bowed coldly, and walked away. I knew better than to ask the Duchess. If anything, she was worse than Lady Edith.

At least she has the Queen. I comforted myself with this thought. One day, the young miss would marry the Prince Ronan and would leave this place. Not that she took her position as the prince’s fiancé for granted. I knew better than anyone how hard she trained for her future work as Queen. More nights than not she was up late at night, practicing dances, learning ceremonies, memorizing history. How many times had I helped a maid pick up Lenora from her desk or the floor where she had fallen asleep in the middle of working, tucking her into bed?

She worked so hard to please others, but no one ever noticed.

I was hopeful her life would be better once she left this place, even if I felt sad at the thought. Any man should be grateful to marry such a gentle, beautiful girl. One day, for certain, her life would be better.

I was proven wrong.

____________________________

The prince broke his engagement, declaring his intention to marry Lady Edith instead. Overnight the Duchy seemed drowned in shadows. The Duke drank steadily, the Duchess broke every fragile thing she could lay her hands on, and Lenora… she stayed locked in her room. I felt a desire to comfort her, but halted each time I walked in that direction. What would I say? It would be overstepping bounds.

I watched as the household slowly tore itself apart.

The debts were called in, without the engagement to protect the Duchy. Everything was sold, the land split up between the neighboring families. The place I had called home for so long was gone.

Jim arranged for me a job in the palace, working for the Queen. It was an enormous honor, one I never thought to have. But for some reason I hesitated.

“The young miss…” She was grown now, but I could still see the small child holding out a flower towards me. “What about her?”

Jim shrugged. “What about her? She and her parents will have to learn to survive like the rest of us do. I mean, it may sound heartless but they brought this on themselves.”

“Don’t blame her… she’s not…” The idea of Lenora undergoing hardship made my heart ache, but what could I do? I was simply her family’s head butler. I wasn’t her family. I could only hope she would be happy.

She deserves to be happy. She will be… right?

____________________________

“Lenora’s dead?”

The Queen’s face was so pale, I thought she might pass out. I instructed some maids to support her, all the while my professional mask hiding my true thoughts.

It can’t be true!

The young woman who was always smiling and polite, no matter how harshly her family and friends treated her. Who brought me lemon tea the day I had a cold and couldn’t get out of bed.

It has to be a lie.

She worked diligently into the night but was never recognized for it. She cried each time her mother came home, but refused to speak poorly of the woman. She loved her parents dearly, even when they refused to love her back.

How could she be gone?

I thought again of the flower she held out to me that day. The smile she gave me that was so bright just because someone cared enough to accept a gift from her. She should have been happy. She should have been cherished and loved.

But she was dead.

I heard the Queen, she was screaming in pain, her sobs loud enough to echo in the hallway. Unsure of what to do, I stumbled back to my room, abandoning my post for the first time in my life.

Lenora.

I fell to my knees at my bedside, tears soaking the blanket as I buried my head in my arms.

Why didn’t I stay with her? I knew she had no one. I knew she’d be alone.

Lenora.

I’m sorry.

If we meet again in the next life, please let me serve you once more. I’ll do my best. So please… please be happy, please smile once more.

____________________________

In another life…

I was a professional. One of the best.

Or so I had thought...

The young miss of our household was a special child. She had been quiet, often bullied by her friend Edith and her parents, to a point where I was often worried for her. But one day, she changed completely.

I saw her pacing outside her father’s study one morning, and stepped forward behind her.

“Shall I announce you, Miss?”

She had obviously not heard me approach and let out a surprised yell before turning to look at me. At the sight I felt shocked. Her outer appearance was unchanged, her facial features the same as they had been yesterday… but her eyes…

Her eyes were completely different.

They had always been bright, hopeful, if a little sad. They were always looking at others for approval. But now…

Her gaze was cold. As if a wall had been erected around her heart, keeping everyone else out.

She looked me up and down, her expression thoughtful. I had a strange feeling that she was evaluating my worth, and that I had been judged “useful.”

After a moment’s pause she nodded to my question. “Please do. Also I would appreciate if you would stick around, it may be useful to have your input.”

With that Lenora entered her father’s office and with a smile took all financial documents in the room. Just a short conversation, and the reins of the duchy had completely switched hands, without the Duke realizing it. I was impressed, but deep down I felt uneasy. How had she changed so much so quickly?

____________________________

Things were busy after that. Lenora swiftly took control of the duchy, punishing the corrupt officials, promoting the few honest ones. She gathered talented people, started a business, and slowly turned the duchy into a power to be reckoned with.

But still, she worked late into the night, never resting, never asking for approval. I still had to help carry her sleeping form back to bed, tucking her in. Even if she seemed colder, harsher, deep down the young miss hadn’t changed. She cared deeply for the suffering people of the duchy, crying alone when she thought no one was looking. I was proud of her, so proud I could burst, but I worried deeply that she was pushing too hard, working too much. She took on all the weight, not sharing her burdens with anyone.

I wanted to support this girl.

I did my best to help her life run smoothly, working to the best of my abilities. But even then, there were events outside of my expectations.

The prince canceled his engagement to our lady.

On one hand, I was relieved. Such an idiot obviously didn’t deserve her. But how dare he not appreciate the honor he had as her fiancé? I kept my professional mask on at work, but went to Jim’s house and cleaned it from top to bottom in my frustration.

____________________________

“Please, Tommy! You’re polishing my floors into dust!” My brother sighed, patting me on the back. “Just get revenge on the man himself, and stop taking it out on my poor house.”

“Revenge? But he’s a prince…” It would be difficult to get close enough to beat him up, unfortunately.

Jim grinned. “There’s more than one way to get revenge. You just need to be… creative.”

Creative? I thought it over that night, before coming to an answer. Our mother had been a talented musician, passing on her knowledge to me so that I would know some of selecting appropriate performers for balls and other parties. I used all that I knew, with the frustration in my heart and wrote a pleasant song.

“Ronan the Ridiculous?” Jim laughed when he heard it. “You’re even meaner than I am when you put your mind to it!”

I nodded silently, putting the finishing touches on the last few copies so that I could have Rig distribute them throughout the Capital. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up to see my brother’s serious expression.

“It’s nice to see you’re human too.”

I turned away, embarrassed. “I’m just doing my duty to the young lady. She’s the duchy’s only hope, after all.”

“Sure, just keep telling yourself that.”

I felt uneasy, as if I had stepped over some invisible line, unable to return to my former state. But when I saw Lenora smile the day she first heard someone singing the song… I felt it was worth it.

She was worth it.

____________________________

Lenora escaped the terrible Lady Edith’s schemes, faced down the King, forcing him to give up and returned to Tilendria.. The young Prince Nate started courting her in earnest, and I felt a sense of relief. She no longer worked late into the night alone, unnoticed. There was someone by her side, helping her. Nate and I often worked together to convince her to take breaks, and watching her trust others, slowly share her burdens, made it difficult to hold back a smile.

The wall I saw in her gaze, that kept everyone else at arms length, was slowly breaking apart. In those moments I caught glimpses of the little girl she once had been. The one who trusted others. Whose smile lit up the room.

She was happy. And so was I.

____________________________

“Grandpa Hallers!” A quiet voice called out, startling me from my thoughts. I looked up to see a young girl running towards me, a wide grin on her face. Despite myself I smiled back, reaching down to pick her up.

“Aimee, what brings you here?” I studied the smiling girl. Her hair was dark like her father’s curling around her delicate face, but her eyes… her smile… they were just like her mother’s.

“That boy was bothering me.” Aimee pointed down the hall where a grim faced boy had stopped, glaring at her. He was dressed well, obviously the son of a noble, which was confirmed by the servants trailing behind him.

“How dare you run away?!” The boy yelled, stepping closer. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m the future Duke of Verallan!”

Aimee ignored him, looking up at me with tears in her eyes. “He pulled my hair.”

“Hahaha.” A cold laugh escaped me. I couldn’t help but feel that my professional mask had disappeared, but what expression I had instead, I was unsure. It must not have been very pleasant, as the boy and his servants all turned pale, taking a few steps back. “You wish to bother the little princess, do you?”

My smile widened. “Let me tell you the story of a young man very similar to you, who had a very embarrassing end. There’s even a song about it.”

____________________________

Once I had finished lecturing them and they had run away, Aimee hugged my neck tightly. “Thank you, Grandpa Hallers!”

“Of course, dear.” I patted her head, noticing she was holding something in her hands. “What do you have there?”

“A present!” Smiling brightly, she held out the object, a small red flower.

The young girl stood before me, her eyes hopeful, the red flower trembling in the air as her hand shook from nervousness.

I took the flower from her, blinking back tears. “Let’s go find your mother.”

We walked down towards the royal suites, and before we could enter, a lively discussion should be heard.

“They must be joking with these trade agreements! Do they think we’re pushovers?! I’m rewriting them!”

Aimee and I peeked around the corner to see the Queen, Lenora, waving a stack of papers in the air with a severe expression. King Nathaniel stood next to her, a helpless smile on his face.

“Let me help you with that, you promised you were going to take a break…”

Lenora shook her head. “No, you’re too nice. We agreed that I would handle all trade agreements. I’m fine, I’m just pregnant, it’s not like I’m an invalid.” Her hand draped across her bulging stomach as she rolled her eyes.

“Okay, okay, you can rewrite the agreement, but after this you rest, alright?” Nate knelt down, his larger hands overlapping her smaller ones. “I just want both of you to be safe and healthy.”

“Thanks!” Lenora leaned over, kissing the king’s cheek, who smiled in response.

“…” I considered stepping in to the room now, but Nate’s next question froze Aimme and I in our tracks.

“Do you regret it?” His tone was gentle, but there was a slightly worried look in his eyes.

“Regret what?”

“Marrying me?” He leaned closer, putting his forehead against hers. “Becoming Queen? I worry that you could have been happier, avoided all this stress if you hadn’t…”

Lenora put a hand around his neck, kissing him deeply. After a few long moments, during which I shielded Aimee’s eyes, she leaned back, a smile on her face. “I chose this ending for myself, Nate. I love you. I love the work I’m doing, that I get to use my skills to help others. I have a family here. Rig, Hallers… Mother… with everyone here, how could I regret anything?”

Nate’s eyes filled with tears. He reached over, placing a gentle hand against her cheek. “I love you too.”

“MOMMY!” Aimee broke from my grasp, running towards the couple with a smiling expression. “I love you too!”

Lenora laughed, a pure, happy sound. Looking up, she saw me, and I stopped in my tracks, my breath frozen in my chest.

Her eyes, the ones that had always held sadness, nervousness, loneliness, even when she was a small girl… they were clear. She smiled at me, the bright smile that always made me break my mask of professionalism, smiling back at her.

“Hallers, she hasn’t been giving you any trouble, has she?”

I laughed, quickly using my hand to wipe tears of happiness and relief from my eyes. “How could she, Miss? She’s family.”

____________________________

I was a professional. One of the best. But there was an exception:

The young girl who first reached out to me, who grew up into an amazing woman. One who I loved as my own family. Whose happiness I would protect for the rest of my life. When it came to her, everything else meant little, even my precious professionalism.

My beloved daughter, Lenora.

#writing #i can't eat love #side part #hallers #i love him #and lenora

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