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knickynoo · 3 years

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Gonna regret asking this as soon as you answer, but what do you think Marty would’ve done had doc actually died in the parking lot? Like immediately and beyond? And just to spread the pain around, what would doc have done had Marty died by buford’s hand?

This is another one of those asks that got backlogged. Sorry, anon. I've given some thought to these scenarios, though, and, well...I'm sorry. This is gonna be dark.

Had Doc not heeded Marty's warning and actually died (& assuming Marty re-loading the time machine with plutonium and trying to fix things isn't possible for some reason):

Marty would've continued to sit on the cold ground, sobbing for a long while. Einstein would join him, torn between trying to comfort his young friend and whimpering by Doc, trying to get the man to wake up.

Once the initial flood of tears eases, I could see Marty getting angry. Like, the angriest he's ever been. Screaming at Doc, at himself, and maybe finding things in Doc's truck to throw around and destroy. Then another wave of sadness would hit and he'd break down again.

Eventually, Marty would realize he needed to get moving. Someone was bound to see the fire caused by the Libyans' van and also the truck, DeLorean on the street in town, and the man lying dead in the mall parking lot. He'd know that the police would soon be called and that there would be a lot of questions that he'd rather not have to answer, but Marty would be very hesitant to go. He wouldn't want to leave his best friend. How could he? It would be a betrayal. He'd be a coward to run. Doc wouldn't leave him if the roles were reversed. So he'd stay, shivering in the cold night air, trying to figure out what he'll say. What they'll ask him.

After, he'd find a payphone and call the police himself. Upon their arrival, though, he'd lean into his own hysteria and act like he had no clue what happened. Maybe explain he was Doc's assistant and that he'd been asked to come to the mall but he'd shown up late and found the scene as it was already. When it came down to it, Marty would really be too much of a mess to talk to anyone, and the authorities on the scene would just see a distraught kid who needed to get home.

(There's a lot that could probably be said about how things would unfold once Marty got home, but in the interest of wanting to skip ahead, I'll just say that George and Lorraine would be horrified. Scared out of their minds and confused at what had happened. They'd likely do everything in their power to shield Marty from questions and prying eyes in the weeks that would follow)

Oh, right...on top of Doc being dead and Marty having witnessed it (twice!), he'd also have to deal with the whiplash at his suddenly new family. Which would really not be a good situation.

Things would rapidly fall apart for Marty once the dust settled and the reality of things set in. He'd be dealing with a family who all felt like strangers. He'd have no memories of ever having lived with those people. He wouldn't even be able to talk to Jennifer about anything for fear of sounding crazy and scaring her away. His best friend in the world, the only person who Marty felt truly understood him, was gone.

I think some pretty significant PTSD would be likely. Marty would have constant nightmares of Doc getting killed. Of trying and failing over and over to save him. And even with his loving, supportive parents doing all they can, it wouldn't be enough. Marty wouldn't feel a real connection to them or want their help. He wouldn't want Jennifer's help. He'd just want Doc back. He'd torture himself with thoughts of what he could have done differently that night he left 1955 or upon his arrival back to '85. He'd blame himself entirely for not trying hard enough. Not being smart enough or brave enough to have done something to save Doc.

Things would only be made worse as rumors swirled around town. Doc would be solidified as a villain in Hill Valley. A crazy, dangerous man who drew terrorists to their quiet little town and almost got a teenager killed. Marty would have to listen to whispers of people's theories as to what happened that night and hear them express their relief that Doc was no longer around to cause them any trouble. People would shoot Marty sideways glances, either looking down on him for having been acquainted with the deranged scientist or holding pity for him. Classmates would harass and taunt him, wanting to know what happened. Wanting to hear the "real story".

All the while, Marty is consumed by a grief he's unable to escape. He'd probably go one of two ways. Too depressed to function, he'd sort of withdraw entirely from life. Break up with Jennifer, shut his family out, abandon his music, etc. He'd see no real point in trying to make a good life for himself and be too anxious to ever move out of his comfort zone. On the other hand, he could give in to his anger and swing the other way, becoming self-destructive and sabotaging his future--drinking, dropping out of school, and using his fists to deal with any peers who dare to say a bad word about Doc. Either way, he'd be upset at himself because he'd know Doc would want better for him. Expect better of him. But he wouldn't be able to pull himself together because he'd be so stuck having convinced himself Doc's death was his fault.

Where would all of this leave our dear Marty as the years pass? I'm not sure. He'd either spiral totally beyond reach or eventually hit rock bottom and realize that he had to let go of all the sadness and anger and live up to all the potential Doc was always saying he had. At that point, though, he would have lost years to his grief, so getting his life together would be difficult. And...yeah.

That was lovely, wasn't it? Doc's turn!

Had Marty actually been killed by Buford (again assuming using time travel to fix things isn't an eventual option):

I feel like, initially, Doc would skip right past the devastated/crying phase and go immediately to a level of anger he'd never felt before. Do you remember how he acted when Buford was harassing Clara at the dance, especially when she was pushed down? Remember how it took 3 of Buford's guys to hold Doc back?? Yeah, well, take that and multiply it a couple of times.

I think it's quite possible that Doc would attempt to take Buford down right there, which likely wouldn't end well for him. But he wouldn't even care. He was heartbroken already over Clara and then his best friend in the world is killed in front of him. All rational parts of Doc would be gone. And seeing as Buford is, you know, dangerously unhinged and has his little posse with him, Doc might end up getting himself killed a minute or two later as well. In which case...well, that would be the end of this scenario. He and Marty would end up buried next to each other in the Old West.

If Doc somehow managed to survive an encounter with Buford, or if he didn't confront him at all because he was in such a state of shock, I think he'd resign himself to a quiet, lonely life in the 1880s. I'm not sure if he'd stay in town and work as a blacksmith. Maybe? If he wanted the distraction? But he also might move away to a little house and just live off the land.

Not sure how Clara would factor in, assuming she'd return to town to find Doc after getting off her train. I don't know if Doc would push her away, wanting to be totally alone in his misery or if he would cling to her.

Doc would be dealing with a lot of guilt. He'd decide that he was responsible for Marty's death. After all, he'd made the decision to stay in the saloon all night, and Marty had to then track him down. Then he'd taken that shot and passed out, costing them valuable time they could have otherwise used to be well on their way to the train. They could have avoided Buford altogether if it weren't for him, Doc would conclude, and in his mind, he'd essentially forced Marty to have to face the man.

Doc might eventually settle into a routine and go about living his life, but I don't know that he'd ever recover from the crushing guilt he'd feel. Losing Marty would shatter him. Marty was the first person to reach out to him, even with all the rumors and disdain other residents of the town threw his way. Marty liked and accepted him for who he was, something no one else had ever truly done. Marty brought so much good into his life, and in exchange, Doc had done all he could to be there for and protect his young friend--to help him see his own potential. But he couldn't protect Marty, and that failure would hurt more deeply than every other one combined.

Basically, I think that Doc would just lose part of himself after losing Marty. Even if he married Clara and had Jules and Verne and ended up with a nice life, he'd always feel the absence of his friend. He wouldn't ever fully be "Doc" again--more of a subdued, more serious version of himself.

I could see him holding it together for the most part, being a family man, all that stuff. But then he'd have moments where he'd find himself alone and just fall apart. And just to make things extra sad for anyone who's read this far, I imagine Doc taking very frequent trips to wherever Marty is buried, laying a few flowers down, and staying there for hours, crying, praying, talking to himself, or just sitting in silence.

Well. Anyway.

Thanks for the ask?

#back to the future #bttf #marty mcfly #doc brown #asks #anon you said you would regret your ask and I want to know if you do lol

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thebadgerclan · 3 years

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The Only Woman I’ll Ever Love

Pairing: Severus Snape x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Severus didn’t listen to her, you’re the only women he’ll ever love...

Y/F/N is your friend’s name

“Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” You looked over your shoulder to see the new Defense professor, Alexandra Derikson, sauntering towards you and Severus, an attempt at a seductive look on her face. “Alexandra,” Severus responded cordially, but otherwise ignoring her. But Alexandra continued towards him, only stopping when she was inches away from Severus. You stiffened, anger building in your chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as handsome as you are, Sevvy.”

Sevvy. No one, not even you, called him Sevvy. Severus hated most shortenings of his name, the only person he ever let call him anything other than “Severus” was you, and when you did, it was “Sev”, never Sevvy. But he said nothing; he didn’t tell her not to call him that, he didn’t tell her to piss off. He just said nothing. You felt your face grow hot, and you clenched your fists at your side to keep from screaming. “I wonder if you know how to brew an aphrodisiac, Sevvy. But, look at you, I don’t think anyone would need one with you.”

Rage was about to overcome you, and you turned and walked down the corridor, unnoticed by Severus. You slammed the door to your shared rooms shut, running your hands through your hair, letting out a strangled shout. You paced angrily for a few moments before kneeling before the fireplace and tossing a handful of floo powder in. After saying the address and thrusting your head into the emerald flames, your best friend’s living room came into sight.

“Y/N?” she asked, getting up from the couch and kneeling before her hearth. “What’s up?” “Can I come stay with you?” “Of course, what’s going on?” You sighed, ash clouding before your face. “Severus is being an asshole, and I just need some space.” “‘Severus’, must be bad if you’re not calling him ‘Sev’. Yeah, come on over.” “Thanks, Y/F/N.” “Of course, Y/N.” You pulled your head from the fire and got to your feet, going into the bedroom and throwing some clothes in a bag. You threw another handful of floo powder into the fireplace and went off to Y/F/N’s house.

Y/F/N was waiting for you on the couch, patting the seat next to her. At her request, you told her what was bothering you, and when you were done, she shook her head. “I know you love him, but fuck him.” “I know. Like, why didn’t he say anything?” “Beats me,” Y/F/N responded. Unbidden, tears formed and spilled over, and you let out a sob. Y/F/N pulled you into an embrace, rubbing your back comfortingly. “I know, Y/N, I know. Come on, let’s get you changed.”

You nodded, getting to your feet and picking up your bag and making your way to the bathroom. Another sob left your mouth when you realized that the pajama shirt you’d grabbed was Severus’. You pulled it on nonetheless, followed by your pajama pants before making your way back into the living room. You plopped down onto the couch, rubbing your eyes, next to Y/F/N. You sat in silence for a few moments, heart aching, before there was a knock at the door.

***

Severus looked around, confused. You were here just a moment ago, and now, you were nowhere to be found. “Where did Y/N go?” he asked Alexandra, the only words he’d said to her thus far. She shrugged and stepped closer, smiling while batting her eyelashes. “I don’t know,” she said, voice sickening. “But I do know that now that we’re alone, we can really talk.” Severus sighed, wanting nothing more than to get away from this woman to be in your arms. “So tell me, Sevvy, is it true that you’re....bigger than the average man?”

Alexandra placed her hand on Severus’ bicep, and he jumped back, freeing himself from her touch. “If you ever lay a hand on me again, or make such comments towards me again, you will deeply regret it.” “Oh Sevvy, it’s-” “Do not call me that,” he interrupted. “I will be reporting you to the headmaster for harassment. I am not, and will never be, interested in you.” With that, Severus turned on his heel and strode towards his rooms, needing to see you, to be near you.

But you weren’t in your rooms either, and Severus furrowed a brow. The only things out of place were that your bottom dresser drawer was open, your overnight bag missing, and the jar of floo powder open on the coffee table. Severus cursed, you’d obviously been upset, which he’d failed to notice, and left. He was upset that you left, but he was even more upset that he didn’t see your distress.

Severus racked his brain for where you could have gone, and then it hit him. Y/F/N’s house. He wouldn’t floo in, no, he’d give you the chance to slam the door in his face if you wanted. Severus went out onto the grounds and Apparated to Y/F/N’s house, hoping you weren’t too angry. He walked up the short sidewalk, breathing deeply before knocking three times on the door.

Seconds later, an angry looking Y/F/N opened the door. “What?” was all she said, and Severus took another deep breath. “Can I see Y/N?” he asked, his voice timid. Y/F/N pursed her lips before speaking. “I’ll ask her.” She stepped away, disappearing from the doorway, leaving Severus alone. A few moments later, she reappeared, still looking stern. “You can come in,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “Thank you,” Severus said, and Y/F/N scoffed. “It’s not me you need to thank.”

Severus entered the house, finding you sitting on Y/F/N’s couch, tear tracks on your face. His heart squeezed when he noticed you were wearing one of his shirts. “Y/N,” he said softly, sitting next to you. You said nothing, eyes fixed on the floor. “Darling, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I upset you.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he was apologizing, but he needed you to look at him, he needed to know you didn’t hate him. You looked at him, fresh tears in your eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, voice hoarse. “Why didn’t you tell her to stop, or that you were with me, or say anything, Sev?” Severus’ heart broke in two, hearing how upset you were, and he reached forward and took one of your hands. When you didn’t pull away, he spoke. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think I needed to. I didn’t even listen to what she was saying, because I don’t care about any other woman, I only care about you, and what you think and what you feel.”

You sniffled, inching closer to Severus, craving his touch and his comfort. “It hurt,” you explained. “Seeing you not saying anything to her. It felt like you didn’t want her to stop talking.” “Oh sweetheart, can I hold you?” You nodded, more tears spilling as you went into his open arms, resting your cheek against his chest, Severus’ arms wrapping around you. “My love, I’m so sorry you felt that way. I promise you, I never thought on her words for a second. You are the only woman I will ever love, Y/N, and I love you so much.”

“I know, Sev. I love you too.” Severus sighed in relief and held you closer, kissing your head. “Can I take you home, my sweet?” You nodded against Severus’ chest, whispering, “please.” Severus stood, keeping his arms around you. Y/F/N came into the living room, looking Severus dead in the eye. “Don’t make her come here again,” she said, a look of protectiveness in her eye. “I won’t. Thank you, Y/F/N.” She nodded, handing Severus your bag and holding the door open for the two of you.

Severus side-alonged you back to Hogwarts, leading you into the castle and into your shared rooms. He proceeded to the bedroom and turned the covers down, pulling you into his arms as the two of you laid down. Severus pulled the blankets over you as you nuzzled your face into his shoulder. “I love you so much, Y/N,” he said, gently tipping your face upwards to kiss you. He wiped the residual tears from your cheeks, kissing you again. “I love you more than anything. I’m so sorry.” “It’s alright, Sev, I love you too.” Severus kissed you again, happy to simply hold you in his arms and know that you are his.

#severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #snape x reader #snape x you #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter reader insert

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panharmonium · 3 years

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merlin in 1.11 (part 5/?): get it mended! (aka pan’s gif-illustrated reminder that 1.11 takes place days after 1.10, cont.)

Okay. This is, perhaps, as good an opportunity as any to talk about Arthur.

There are plenty of other times in this show where Arthur throws stuff at Merlin, or insults him, or otherwise harasses him, and I don’t get worked up about those times, because it’s clear that Merlin is in on the joke. He doesn’t mind it. It’s just part of how they play with each other. Merlin is happy to let Arthur be Arthur, and Arthur is happy to let Merlin to give as good as he gets, and their back and forth is a mutually agreed-upon, surprisingly affectionate language that might look like “mistreatment” to outsiders but is really a consensual game they play with each other.

The issue in 1.11 is that Merlin doesn’t want to play anymore. But Arthur doesn’t notice or care, which means that their interactions are no longer harmless fun, and Merlin is actually being hurt by things that at any other time might not have been quite so serious.

The gifs above are one example. Merlin’s had things thrown at him plenty of times before, and he normally ducks, dodges, laughs, and gets in a parting shot of his own before darting away. But this is different. There is not a single speck of enjoyment on Merlin’s face here. Arthur walks away without a second thought about what he’s done, but Merlin stares after him with a death glare.

Merlin is angry about this. He’s angry about a lot of the things Arthur says and does in this episode, starting with the slaughter of the unicorn and moving on down a list of small insults and belittlements. Arthur is acting the same as always, like nothing is the matter and nothing is ever his fault, while Merlin has spent the last few days feeling like he’s dying inside. Merlin does not want to play right now, and Arthur should know that - Arthur was there in Ealdor; he was intimately involved in what happened; he should know that Merlin is upset and won’t appreciate having dirty shoes thrown at his face - but instead Arthur decides to act like even more of a dick than usual. And the question we have to ask ourselves is - why??? Why is Arthur being such an ass? He should know better. It was days ago.

For all that I complain about Arthur’s behavior here, I do think there’s a lot to be said for why he acts this way. No excuses for the things he does, obviously, but still, I think it’s important to recognize that @once-and-future-gay is right on the money when she says #and maybe arthur IS wrestling with it. I don’t think Arthur approaches Merlin in this episode intending to be an ass, the same way I don’t think he intends to be an ass at Will’s funeral. I think the way Arthur ends up acting is a reaction to him being confronted with something that seriously shook him up, and now he’s scrambling to get as far away from that discomfort as he can.

Arthur has never wanted anybody to die for him. He would have felt incredibly guilty about that even if it were one of his knights, who are sworn to his service and required to fight for his cause. But Will didn’t owe Arthur anything. He wasn’t one of Arthur’s subjects. He didn’t owe Arthur loyalty, respect, or protection. He didn’t even like Arthur! And he still died saving Arthur’s life. That alone would be enough to make Arthur feel conflicted, but the additional revelation of Will having been a “sorcerer” threatens to tip Arthur over into a full-on philosophical crisis. The idea that a sorcerer used magic to save a besieged village and then sacrificed himself to save Arthur’s life challenges Arthur’s entire worldview. It makes him deeply uncomfortable. Arthur can’t reconcile that chain of events with what he’s always believed to be true, which is that sorcery is innately evil and those who wield it can never be trusted.

The problem, then, is that instead of looking these events square on and acknowledging that his worldview might be wrong, Arthur chooses to reject what he’s seen and double down on what’s familiar. He retreats further into the only framework that can alleviate his guilty feelings, which is that sorcery = bad. If sorcery weren’t actually evil, then Arthur would have to acknowledge his complicity in an unjust system. He would have to recognize that no, actually, Will didn’t actually do anything wrong, and his death is a terrible tragedy. But if sorcery is innately dangerous and evil, then what happened isn’t quite so terrible. Arthur doesn’t have to feel quite so implicated. It’s a shame that this young man died, but that’s what happens when you play with fire. No matter how “good” you try to be, messing around with magic will catch up to you in the end. Will and Merlin should have known better.

Turning away from the truth is the only way Arthur can assuage his uncomfortable feelings about what happened. He has to put the entire incident out of his mind. He has to look away. Arthur tries to forget what happened in Ealdor the instant they all leave that village, and he never allows himself to think about it again. It’s never discussed. The topic is forbidden territory. It’s like it never happened. Allowing it to be mentioned just risks Arthur having another crisis of conscience.

And the person who suffers the most from this is, of course, Merlin. But it explains why Arthur comes across as so oblivious/hard-hearted/insensitive in this episode. He can’t allow himself to acknowledge that Merlin is in pain, because that would mean he’d have to acknowledge what just happened, and he’s already done his level best to purge recent events from his memory. He doesn’t want anyone to remind him. He ends up overcompensating by acting even more obnoxious than usual towards Merlin, both because Merlin is trying to force Arthur to trust a sorcerer and accept responsibility for wrongdoing (precisely what Arthur was already trying to avoid re: Will’s death) and because Arthur just doesn’t want to see Merlin’s grief. He doesn’t want to give it an opportunity to manifest itself. He doesn’t want to be reminded that it’s real. It would make the situation too complicated. It would make Arthur second-guess his convictions.

That is why Arthur says what he says at Will’s funeral, so cold and unfeeling. “You know how dangerous sorcery is. You should not have kept this from me.” That is why he says what he says in this episode, too, only days later. “You cannot trust a single word a sorcerer says. You’d do well to remember that.” Allowing himself to deviate from this uncompromising belief risks dismantling the familiar, safe viewpoint Arthur has trusted all his life. It makes him complicit in wrongdoing. It makes him uncomfortable.

So he looks away. He’s just not ready to confront this kind of challenge to his worldview yet.

#the once and future slowburn #1.11 #meta #no kings no masters #also #i think it's worth mentioning that this is a dramatic contrast from how arthur reacts to merlin at the end of freya's episode #arthur is perfectly capable of recognizing when something is wrong with merlin #and in that episode he goes so far as to ask 'did i do something wrong?'#but that was when the stakes weren't so high. arthur's entire philosophy wasn't at risk of imploding.#and the worst thing he could have been guilty of was dumping water over merlin's head #but this -#this is different #in this situation arthur absolutely refuses to recognize both his own guilt and merlin's grief #arthur has never been very good at confronting things that challenge his worldview or make him uncomfortable #and this is a textbook example of that

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hystericalfeminist · 3 years

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BUILD ME A CANON

Earlier this week, Delhi University's Oversight Committee removed works by writers Bama, Mahasweta Devi and Sukirtharani from the university's syllabus for undergraduate students of English. Bama and Sukirtharani are Tamil Dalit writers whose work looks at the experiences of the marginalised. Mahasweta Devi, a Bengali writer, was well-known for her Left-leaning politics and for being an advocate for tribal communities and their rights. She passed away in 2016.

I'd suggest one moment's silence for the Oversight Committee committing an oversight, except this is not an oversight. An oversight is an unintentional mistake, but this seems very intentional. As the DU clarified in a statement later, "the syllabus of the course has been passed through a democratic process with the involvement of all the relevant stakeholders and necessary deliberations at appropriate forums” (emphases mine). The university claims the English syllabus is suitably diverse and inclusive (suitably being the key word here) and it's interesting that as part of its defence of the Oversight Committee's decision, DU has pointed out the process of coming to that decision was "democratic". What it doesn't acknowledge is that if the committee is full of people who belong to dominant groups and doesn't have members who represent the minorities and the marginalised, then the committee's "democratic process" is critically flawed.

The DU statement came after the Academic Council submitted a dissent note, protesting the Oversight Committee's decision. The Academic Council described the Oversight Committee's functioning as vandalism and alleged it has been harassing liberal arts departments. "It is important to note that the Oversight Committee does not have any member from the Dalit or the Tribal community who can possibly bring in some sensitivity to the issue," said the Academic Council in its note.

There was some noise on social media about the decision to drop works by these three writers. Most of the discussion that I saw was about Mahasweta Devi's dropped short story, Draupadi. (Apparently the Oversight Committee chair complained the short story doesn't show the military in a good light. From what I remember, it's the police. They carry out wrongful arrests and brutally gangrape a tribal woman.) There's been far less discussion of Bama and Sukirtharani's works on English Twitter, who have mostly been referred to as the "two Dalit writers", like an addendum to Mahasweta, which is infuriating in itself. I know that this is probably because not enough people read translations. Particularly translations of literature from Indian languages.

There is also little talk about what has replaced the dropped works. One of the authors who has been included is apparently Pandita Ramabai, identified as an upper caste writer (Brahmin, if I'm not mistaken). I've no idea if her writing continues to feel relevant and/ or engaging, but it is all sorts of bizarre to "replace" a 20th century author with someone who died in 1922. Also, if she was included because she was Brahmin, I hope they have fun reading her book The High Caste Hindu Woman which is, I'm told, deeply critical of how sexist Hinduism. Whether or not Pandita Ramabai voiced any opinions of casteism in Hinduism, I don't know.

Even though translations don't get read as much, the fact is, the writings of Bama, Mahasweta Devi and Sukirtharani have been translated to English and other languages. They're part of different university's syllabi and for better or for worse, DU is not such an influential player in academia. If DU's decision to drop these writers convinces some Indian universities to do the same, we can only hope that other universities (in India and abroad) will start thinking about including them in their syllabi (if the writers aren't in them already). In a not-so-distant future, it's very likely that there will be universities abroad that will have a more diverse, inclusive and representative portrait of Indian culture in their syllabi while institutions like DU remain mired in a casteist, Hindutva bog. At that point, who should decide what will make the canon for Indian literature? The Indians or the foreigners?

It's the second time this week that we've heard conversations about erasure in the Indian cultural scene. Earlier this week, social media was on fire after the Indian edition of the Rolling Stone carried a cover story about the record label and music platform Majja, featuring two artists best known for their collaborations with Dalit rapper and lyricist Arivu. Rumour has it that the Rolling Stone cover was bought by Majja, presumably to promote upcoming albums by those two artists. However, since Dhee and Shan Vincent de Paul are currently riding a popularity wave because of their work with Arivu, many readers — beginning with director Pa Ranjith — expected the cover story would be as much about Arivu as Dhee and Shan Vincent de Paul. People also pointed out that Arivu had effectively been removed from a (disastrous) remix of "Enjoy Enjaami" (the original song is amazing).

Shan Vincent de Paul, one of the artists featured on the Rolling Stone cover, issued a statement on social media saying he had the utmost respect for Arivu and had no intention of erasing him. He clarified that the story was part of his efforts to promote his new album Made in Jaffna, which he's releasing with Majja. "I have no control over how the Press chooses their messaging or what narratives they push," de Paul wrote, which would be an excellent point if the cover wasn't bought. He may not have control over the narrative, but he's hardly an irrelevant cog in the wheel. Instead of attempting to exonerate himself, de Paul could have acknowledged that the story doesn't give as much space to Arivu as it should. I am, of course, presuming he's read the story.

If the rumour about the cover being bought is true then Rolling Stone and Majja are complicit in deciding a narrative that sidelines Arivu, either intentionally or carelessly. More than half of Rolling Stone's cover story is about "Enjoy Enjaami" and there is just one quote from Arivu. This sidelining may not be deliberate — the way DU's Oversight Committee's decision was — and it could be an example of the kind of unthinking oversight that the privileged commit all the time when it comes to acknowledging the contribution of the marginalised. Either way, the impression conveyed by the two organisations is that Arivu is not the person they want to promote. Countering the decision of the establishment — it doesn't get more establishment than Rolling Stone and Majja. One of Majja's founders is legendary music director AR Rahman — is the reaction on social media. The songs being freely available on multiple platforms and the (relatively) free access to the artwork and arguments by Dalit creators and critics on social media makes it difficult to invisibilise Arivu.

A translation of Mahasweta Devi's Draupadi is available online as are some of Sukirtharani's poems. DU has dropped Bama's novel Sangati. I'm not sure if there's an extract that's available online. It is not lost on me that it's easier to listen to a song than it is to read a novel, or a short story, or a poem. It is also not lost on me that the fact you can bob to an infectious beat makes it easier to not register the deep-rooted casteism referenced in the lyric, "Enna kora, enna kora, yein chella peraandikku enna kora? (In what way is my darling grandson any less?)" There are no such distractions when you read, for example, Sukirtharani's My Room Needs No Calendar: "As they write on me/ with their penises,/ I will my body to stop/ slithering away."

Sukirtharani and Bama minced no words when they were asked to respond to their works being dropped from the DU syllabus. "I was not surprised at all. Dalit voices such as myself and Bama’s are speaking for all oppressed women, not just Dalit women," said Sukirtharani. "I don’t see this necessary as an exclusion of just Dalit writers as we have seen how progressive writers whose works speak against caste, Hindutva, fundamentalism have also been removed in the recent past. These things will happen in our society, but we cannot be ignored." She said she wasn't going to ask for an explanation, but believed DU owed her an explanation. At the very least, they should have intimated her about the works being dropped. "When they want to project an image of India wherein there are no caste and religious inequalities, our works point out that caste and religious inequalities exist in our society. So, it is obvious that they want such works removed from the syllabus," she said.

Bama said, "For more than 2,000 years, we have been segregated, our histories have not been written. This government is trying to strangulate our voices, but we will shout. The youth of this nation have understood [what is happening]. Rather than being upset, we are angry. The anger will reflect in our works in future.”

I find myself wondering if the business of building a canon was always so complicated and rife with uncertainties. Will the books, music and art propped up by commerce and politics be the ones that make up our mainstream cultural identity? Could we build a better literary canon for Indian literature if more excerpts and poems were available online for free, if more works were translated? Would we care more if the literature was easier to access or would we still dismiss it because they're translations, because the works are by Dalit women? Can the conversations that we hold in the informal spaces of the internet be loud enough to make the canon more inclusive, to make the mainstream expand its narrow definitions? What is more likely to make it into an archive and survive into posterity — the Rolling Stone Cover image or the many "fixed it" versions that people created online? Is it possible that both can and will be preserved? Does dropping the works of writers like Bama and Sukirtharani and Mahasweta Devi make them invisible? Will the dissent make a few more people buy Bama's novel? Will it make some curious enough to look up Sukirtharani's poems?

The words, the tech, the platforms, the imagery — are all these still the master's tools? How long must one wield them before they can claim the tools to be theirs? Will they always be the master's tools and not "our" tools? Is the master the one who cares for the tools and uses them better? Is the master the one with the loudest voice and the deepest pockets, the one who can bribe the boys and hire the deadliest mercenaries? Who decides when the tools have been reclaimed?

#Building a canon #Indian academia #Life in a progressively undemocratic country #Arivu #Bama #Sukirtharani #Mahasweta Devi #Indian literature #Culture and identity #Rolling Stone #Music #Enjoy Enjaami

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coccinelle-et-chaton · 3 years

Text

*slips you a twenty*

Hey kid wanna read some lit fanfics?

I just updated my blog with a link to all my AO3 works

Also...... Chapter 8 of The Wall Between Us is up and it’d be cool if you read it or whatever, a bunch of us are gonna be there, we’re gonna cry and order pizza and suffer for the love square it’s gonna be cool

Read Chapter 8 on AO3 Start from the beginning here

Or on this post below the cut!

The Wall Between Us

Summary: Marinette is left to pick up the pieces after losing her chance with Adrien and having Master Fu give up his memories to protect the Miraculous Box. She struggles to find her ground as the new Guardian, and finds unexpected support in Luka Couffaine. Simultaneously, Adrien is learning how to navigate his emotions and slowly growing into his role as future co-guardian, and in the process realizes important truths about his feelings for Kagami, Marinette, and Ladybug. When Ladybug tells Chat Noir that as the Guardian, she is okay with not only revealing their identities but also entrusting her secret to close friends of hers, things become unequivocally complicated for the superhero duo. Will Marinette and Adrien be able to sort through their feelings and do what’s best for the Miraculous team?

Chapter 8

By the time Gabriel and Natalie had returned from their business trip to Seoul��and really, Adrien wasn’t even sure they had been gone at all due to the fact Akumas were aplenty during their absence– he had already extracted a good volume of information to make a case for his suspicions.

He hadn’t found the evidence he needed to prove that his father was indeed Hawkmoth, but instead he had found years of badly-filed fiscal reports, personnel that had been hired and fired under very mysterious conditions, some sort of project for the mansion that his father paid millions for which Adrien had never seen, and the one that irked him the most: audits from France’s Child Protection Services, fines, and ‘cease and desist’ letters warning Gabriel that he was putting Adrien under too many work hours.

That, he discovered, was the real reason why Adrien had been allowed to go to school in the first place. It wasn’t that Natalie had made him a favor: They enrolled him so that Child Protection Services would get off the brand’s neck for forcing Adrien on a part-time job when he wasn’t even sixteen yet.

All of Adrien’s findings were pretty incriminatory, not to mention infuriating, but none were exactly what he was looking for. And yet, it was one of those things that once you have considered, you cannot help but keep seeing.

“Adrien, would you like to explain to me why you have been missing your extracurricular activities for the past two weeks?” Natalie said with a stern voice one morning, as Adrien meticulously chewed on his oatmeal breakfast.

The fiery urgency to flip a table, which had taken a hold of him lately any time Natalie or his father addressed him, surged like a geyser.

“I just didn’t feel like attending,” he said politely, without looking up.

Natalie was taken aback by his answer. “Excuse me?”

Adrien looked up this time. “I didn’t feel like attending,” he repeated. “You weren’t here, and I just didn’t feel like going.”

“You know if you start doing poorly, your father will have you homeschooled again and–”

“And what? He’s gonna lock me up again? Is that it? Wouldn’t people start asking questions?” he demanded.

Natalie blinked, completely caught off guard by Adrien’s sudden rudeness. “This is no way to be talking to your–”

“My what? My dad’s assistant? You’re not my babysitter, not my teacher, and certainly not my mother. I can do whatever I want.”

Natalie composed herself and marched swiftly out of the dining room.

“Kid, what the hell?” Plagg hissed from inside his shirt. “That’s a dumb way to get caught.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered back. “I’m just… I’m so angry at them! I can’t stop thinking about all this stuff that I found, and just… the idea of them being–well, you know who. It’s making me see in red.”

He marched to the patio and went into his car, where, to his surprise, he found he’d be sharing a ride with his father.

He felt Plagg jabbing his little paws at him as if to say, “I told you so.”

“F-father. Good morning.”

“Drive, George,” Gabriel instructed. After a silence, he spoke again without looking at Adrien. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Disrespecting Natalie like that, blatantly disregarding your responsibilities, and giving the brand bad publicity.”

He threw a newspaper at Adrien’s lap. It was from a few days ago. Apparently his sudden outburst at the crowd of harassers in the skate park had made it into the news.

“I’m beginning to think it was a mistake to give you this much freedom.”

Adrien gulped, shuddering with sudden terror.

“Perhaps it will be better if you go back to being tutored at home. Or even better, I’ll send you to a boarding school where I don’t have to deal with your carelessness anymore.”

Adrien gasped. “Please… please don’t. Don’t send me away.”

“You’re not feeling so brave and boldened now, are you? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Adrien didn’t move. He didn’t dare speak, breathe, blink.

The car had stopped already, they were at the steps of the school. His friends were all hanging at the entrance and had spotted him.

“Your lack of words doesn’t surprise me. You’re just a naive, spoiled little boy who can’t begin to understand the sacrifices I make for this family… You’re dismissed.”

Adrien opened the door, not yet getting off the car.

“Are you going to take me off school?”

“No. Take it as a gesture of good will, and a warning. Stay. In. Line.”

“I-if you send me away, people will start wondering what happened,” he said with a small voice. “They’ll ask questions.”

“And what sort of questions would those be, son?”

At Adrien’s silence, Gabriel sighed. “Close the door. Have a good day.”

He got up and stood in front of the car, breathing deeply so as to not give into the urge to cry.

“I can’t wait to be eighteen to get away from you,” he said and smashed the door close as hard as he could, then sprinted into the school building, afraid that Gabriel might order George to stick him back in the car.

Regrettably, all his friends, Marinette included, saw the display unfold.

It was Nino the one who ran after him.

“Hey, dude, everything alright?” Nino said, as he caught up with him in the locker room.

“Hey Nino, good morning!” he chirped with sunny disposition.

The sudden contrast between what he had seen at the school entrance and then, gave Nino whiplash.

“Erm. Yes, good morning. Don’t ignore my question.”

“Nothing happened,” he said shrugging. “Come on, we’ll be late for—”

Nino yanked the strip from his messenger bag and forced him to stop. “Cut the crap, Adrien. I saw. Is everything alright?”

Adrien’s mask of optimism wavered, but he fought hard to keep it in place. “Yes, Nino. Everything’s alright. I promise.”

Nino sighed, not impressed. “Okay, if you say so.”

As they went into the classroom, Adrien saw from the corner of his eye how Nino shook his head discreetly at the girls. He had been right not to tell him. He knew those two would also want to know what happened. He didn’t want to cause hysteria. However, a more pressing thought occupied his mind for the rest of the day.

Given his regrettable display of temper, and though his father said he wouldn’t pull him out of school, Adrien knew not to trust it. One could never anticipate what his father would do just to stay in control. It worried him that he may have crossed a line that would be difficult to come back from. His father might increase his security, might actually pull him out of school. Not ideal, if his hunch was actually right.

He had to tell Ladybug what he knew as fast as possible.

On the lunch break, he excused himself to the bathroom, taking the burner phone with him to send Ladybug a message:

I DECIDED I’M READY TO REVEAL MY IDENTITY. SOMETHING CAME UP. DON’T WORRY, I’M NOT IN DANGER. BUT WOULD IT BE OKAY IF WE MEET AT THE HANG OUT TODAY? PLEASE WRITE ME BACK AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS.

He kept inconspicuously checking the burner phone for the rest of the day, getting no answer from Ladybug whatsoever. It made him restless. What if she was in danger?

No, she couldn’t be. There would have been an Akuma attack or something.

Still, he was worried, and he knew he couldn’t afford to go back home that day without having told Ladybug about his suspicions, so he resolved to drop by the hang-out anyway later that day. Natalie and George would pick him up after fencing, which gave him enough time to swing there and come back.

It only occurred to him that this might not be the greatest idea once he found himself sans transformation, standing at the door of the hide-out.

What if she wasn’t there today? What if she’s shocked by learning who he is?

He shook his head. No. This was an emergency. He had to do it now, so he ringed the bell.

He texted: LB DID YOU GET MY MESSAGE?

Almost immediately, he got a text back: YES :) I AM HERE. WAIT A SEC. WILL OPEN THE DOOR SOON.

His heartbeat so fast he could hear his pulse. He was short of breath and felt as if his knees would buckle under him at any second.

He heard some voices, then someone approaching to open the door.

Adrien felt temped to open it himself just get over the painful anticipation. The seconds extended for an eternity.

And then, all of a sudden, he was greeted with a most confused Alya Cesaire.

“Alya?”

She crumpled her face, perplexed. “Adrien? What are you doing–”

From inside the house, Adrien distinctly heard the voice of none other than Marinette. “Alya? Is that him?”

It took him a fraction of a second to figure out something that had taken him two–almost three now– years to realize. It felt as if time had stopped and then abruptly resumed, pushing him into a turbulent shore of angry waves.

All of a sudden, it was hard to breathe, impossible to buoy to the surface for a gasp of air. His voice caught up in his throat.

He figured it out.

“Alya?” Marinette repeated from inside the house as Alya stood petrified in front of Adrien, realizing exactly who he was.

“Don’t–” he said gasping. “Don’t tell her,” he pleaded and then darted away as fast as he could possibly run, only stopping when the tears completely blurred his vision.

Back at the house, Marinette was trembling from the utter anticipation. She had requested that Alya come with her to meet Chat. She wasn’t sure she could take it by herself and she needed someone for moral support.

The seconds of wait stringed into whole minutes of silence and Marinette forced herself to march to the front of the house, where Alya was still clinging to the frame.

She was… were those tears? Was she crying?

“Alya?” she asked with trepidation. “What happened?”

“Chat— Oh, Marinette!” She gasped. “Chat was here. He was–he wasn’t transformed.”

Dread came over Marinette’s expression. “Where is he?” she insisted urgently, “What happened?”

“He– he’s gone. Mari, you need to talk to him. You–we… we know him.”

She blinked, too shocked to let fear take ahold of her. “What? Who is he?”

Alya shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why?” Marinette demanded.

“Marinette, I can’t tell you. You’ll never forgive me if I do… Just… You have to go talk to him, Mari.”

Marinette sprinted outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of ‘someone she knew’, but it was the beginning of rush hour and the streets flooded with commuters, anonymizing everyone. She called and called and called him. Left him voice mail after voice mail, message after message:

CHAT NOIR PLEASE PICK UP! I’M WORRIED, PLEASE!

CHAT.

CHAT PLEASE.

ALYA SAYS YOU KNOW HER, SO MAYBE YOU ALSO KNOW ME... I’M SORRY IF YOU’RE DISAPPOINTED IT’S ME. CAN WE PLEASE JUST TALK?

MINOU. PLEASE. TALK TO ME.

CHAT NOIR, I KNOW YOU’RE MAD. PLEASE, JUST… PLEASE PICK UP.

Chat Noir did not pick up the phone and Marinette, well, Marinette had not been this brokenhearted since Adrien had started dating Kagami, and that was saying something.

Adrien didn’t sleep that night. He hadn’t cried this much since he lost his mother, hadn’t felt this much either.

He never was one to give into negative emotions, but when they got the best of him, they pulled him deep into an abyss that was hard to crawl out of. If any butterflies came flying his way, he wouldn’t have known. Plagg kept guard the entire night.

“I can’t do this anymore, Plagg,” he confessed. “I can’t–I can’t be Chat Noir anymore. It hurts too much.”

“Kid don’t say things like that,” said Plagg as Adrien sobbed. “I’m sure there’s a way to fix this.”

“She loves someone else,” he cried. “I can’t… She’ll never love me, Plagg. It doesn’t matter if I wear the mask or not.”

“That’s not true,” Plagg said, fetching the burner phone. “Look at how worried that poor thing is for you.”

Adrien kept crying. “She doesn’t love me the way I love her. I won’t stand in her way.”

The next morning, Adrien had to put on very little effort to act indisposed for school. He hadn’t come down with anything, but he felt sick. At one point during the night, he had been so caught up in his crisis that he ended up emptying his stomach. In the morning he had woken up from the few hours of sleep he managed to clock in with an insulting headache and even worse nausea than before.

He called in sick and remitted to his room for the next couple days.

It was funny. He never remembered feeling safe or at home in his room. It was too big, too cold for him and somehow at the same time, too small, too stuffy. It was as if his dad had tried to fit in the entire world inside it in the hopes that he’d never want to see the real thing himself.

It wasn’t comfort what made him feel like he belonged there. It was the fact that for once, his surroundings completely matched his state of mind. This is how he felt: as empty and grey as the mansion had been since his mother disappeared, as much of a prisoner as his father intended for him to be.

He groaned at the sound of his civilian phone chiming non-stop with messages from Nino asking if his father had done something to him, Marinette offering him any help if he needed it–these were the ones that hurt him the most to read–, and finally, Alya, who was not sending messages so much as entire monologues begging him to answer at least Ladybug.

He turned off both his civilian phone and the one for Ladybug, hoping there would be no Akumas while he was in this state.

With Chat gone, Marinette regressed into the sort of grief that shut her down when she became the Guardian. She didn’t stop showing up to school, mainly at Alya’s pressing insistence, but it was evident to the class that something was going on with her again.

A few of her more curious friends and acquaintances ask her if everything’s alright with Luka, which only added to her mortification. She hadn’t been herself these past days and she wasn’t exactly sure she’d be able to explain to Luka why she was so brokenhearted without giving her identity away; why Chat’s sudden rejection was way more painful than anything she ever had to go through. So, against her better judgement, she decided to ignore him for a couple days, at least until she was able to sort her head through the situation.

The truth is Chat’s disappearance–not only this one but every time he’s been convinced he’s not cut out to be her partner–hurled her into a spiral of helplessness not just because she couldn’t fathom doing this without him. There was another reason, one she always purposefully ignored.

It’s like she had told Alya: She had feelings for Chat Noir. It had become easier to ignore them with time, and especially when she could just invest all of her romantic attention on Adrien before Luka came around. But the thing with being in love with Adrien is that she was in love with the idea of him. The idea of being together if she could only one day bring herself to tell him. He was an outlet of sorts–more often than Marinette liked to admit out loud– to feelings she could never show, as they were forbidden.

The second reason why Marinette always fell into despair when Chat Noir surrendered or try to surrender his ring, was because she actually loved him. If she was honest, completely, absolutely honest, she loved him. But she could never tell him, it was Master Fu’s orders not to get involved with him, not to reveal their identities. She maneuvered through those restrictions by effectively fooling herself into believing that one day, in the far future when Hawkmoth was defeated and the stakes wouldn’t be so high, she’d tell him and then everything would be okay. She’d tell him the way you admit to a school crush on one of those high school reunions or unlikely encounters as adults.

Chat surrendering his ring always cut that fantasy short.

What is worse, Marinette realized, was that this time she wasn’t using the idea of someone to distract herself from the way she felt. She was using Luka. Luka, who has been nothing but supportive and absolutely selfless. Luka, who loved her, who didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

Marinette cried in part because this was Chat being typical Chat. But also, because she realized she would eventually need to let go of Luka, and she didn’t want to do that, no matter how wrong it was to keep him to herself. Maybe she just needed to try harder, maybe she just needed to shut down the idea of Chat as she had done before.

The problem was that ignoring him was impossible in this circumstance. Ladybug was about to lose her Cat for good.

“Mari,” Alya said softly as she rubbed her friend’s back as Marinette sprawled over her lap. They were in Marinette’s room. “I think he was just shocked. He’ll come around.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” she asked desperately. “I can’t do this without him, Alya. You-you wouldn’t understand. I can’t explain it… I just can’t do it if he’s not there.”

Alya gave her a pained smile.

Oh, this was all so rotten, Alya thought. And Marinette didn’t even know the beginning of it. Alya found herself wondering what would have happened if they had actually revealed their identities before things got complicated off and on the hero costume. It probably would have saved everyone a whole lot deal of pain.

“He will,” she reassured him. “Trust me, he will.”

Alya gave it a few days. But when the end of a week arrived and there was still no sign of Adrien, she decided she probably overestimated him. Nino was mad at him for virtually disappearing, Marinette was growing worried that something had happened to him, not to mention that his disappearance as Chat Noir was truly causing a number on her.

So, she did what she did best: take action.

She asked her teachers for Adrien’s homework worksheets and on she went Friday after school to confront what would be very possibly a mess even bigger than Marinette’s.

She sighed, rang at the gate of the Agrestes’ mansion and waited for the camera to activate.

“Yes?”

“Hello, Miss Sancoeur. I’m Alya, I’m in Adrien’s class. I’m here to give him his work for the week he missed.”

“Deposit it on the bin, please,” Natalie said, as an automated door slid open. to receive the packet of books.

“Actually, I was hoping I could see him? There’s a few things that our Social Studies teacher asked me to explain to him about a specific assignment,” she said, beaming.

“Adrien has come down with a bad case of the flu, I am sure it wouldn’t be safe for you.”

“Don’t worry ma’am. I got all my shots up to date.”

Natalie sighed and after a few minutes of deliberation, the gates opened. She met Alya at the front door and directed her to the floor where Adrien’s room was. “Down the hall, first door to the right,” she instructed. “I have to warn you. Adrien has specifically requested not to receive visitors.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll make an exception,” she said with determination in her eyes. “Thanks!” Alya flashed her a smile and once Natalie had returned to her office, proceeded to barge into Adrien’s room.

The blinds were all drawn, only letting in slivers of light. The air was stuffy, like no one had opened the windows in a good while. It also smelled disgustingly of spoiled cheese.

There were clothes and dishes and all kinds of things lying everywhere. Alya did not remember Adrien ever being this messy.

Both the three displays of his computer and the television were on with different shows each, mixing the occasional strands of yellow light from the windows with the morbid blue of the screens.

A lump, which she supposed was the culprit himself, lay buried in a mountain of blankets and pillows. It seemed he hadn’t noticed her–or in the very least, he didn’t care someone had entered the room.

“That’s it!” Alya announced, dropping her school bag unceremoniously as she huffed and puffed making way through the catastrophe of a room he had, to draw the curtains back and open the windows letting in fresh air and the sounds of the city. She then proceeded to turn off every screen and to yank, almost with unnecessary force, the blankets off of Adrien.

“What?” Adrien groaned.

“That’s it!” Alya said. “Get up. Get up this instant or so help me god, I’m going to toss you directly into your bathtub, clothes still on.”

“Alya?” He seemed confused. “What are you doing here?”

She proceeded to make piles of the different kinds of trash to make it easier to bag them later, and discarded plates and cups as she gagged at the smell.

“Seriously, what is that stench?”

“Camembert,” he explained, not finding it in himself to feel ashamed. “For my Kwami. He doesn’t eat anything else.”

Alya eyed him with disbelief and shook her head. “What are you doing there, just looking? Go take a shower!”

“But–”

“Go. Take. A. Shower. Adrien Agreste.”

A little afraid to continue questioning her, Adrien made his way to the bathroom and emerged a good twenty minutes later still in pajamas. Fresh ones at that, but still.

“You live like a pig,” Alya berated him as she took a seat in the couch in front of the television.

“I’m not– why are you here? Did you just come in to criticize me?” Adrien complained, joining her.

“First of all, no. I came in to make sure you were still alive, seeing as you decided to literally disappear off the face of this earth telling absolutely nobody. Nino is livid, by the way. Will love to see how you explain yourself out of that one. Oh, and there’s been Akumas, not that you’d even get the memo in this bunker, so I had to pitch in as Rena. You’re welcome.”

Adrien looked down.

“Second. I knew. I knew you were going to do this; lock yourself up here and wallow in your self-pity. And I knew somebody needed to come here to make you snap out of it,” she said, giving him a gentle slap on his head.

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?” Alya demanded. Being met with silence, she nodded. “My point exactly.”

“Third,” she continued. “You think you have it bad? Try being Marinette for a little bit and have your oh-so-trusted partner of years now, suddenly bail on you with no explanation after realizing who she is. How could that possibly look to her, huh?”

“Marinette?” he said softly. “Is… is she alright? I didn’t mean to–”

“Shush. Don’t interrupt, I'll see that you get your chance to apologize to her, don't you worry your pretty face. Fourth. You sir,” she said poking her index finger at his chest. “Need to put on your big-boy pants and deal with your shit like the superhero you are.”

“And fifth,” she said, the fire in her eyes lightly subduing. “There’s homework,” she said pointing at her bag. “I brought it for you.”

Adrien became small in his seat as he took in Alya’s numbered series of complaints. Meanwhile, Plagg came out of hiding, knowing Alya already knew of his and Ladybug's identity.

“I like the way this one talks,” he said, munching a piece of cheese. “Finally, someone with some goddamn common sense!”

“You’re… Plagg?” Alya said.

“Have we met?” Plagg retorted. “Ah yes, Marinette’s friend on the door the other day. Of course. Either way, you have to know. I would’ve kicked him off the bed myself but well, I’m the size of a tennis ball.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Adrien said quietly, gaining the attention of the pair. “I know… I know I keep messing things up. Which is precisely why I’m not going to be Chat Noir anymore.”

“What?” Alya said, widening her eyes.

Adrien brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on top of them. “I just make everything worse,” he explained. “I keep messing up. And I… I know she used to have a crush on me, as Adrien. I don’t want to get in the way of her and Luka…”

“Adrien,” Alya said softly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but for such a smart guy, you’re pretty darn stupid sometimes.”

Adrien couldn’t help the sudden chuckle that escaped his lips.

“Why on earth do you think that would be a good idea? Have we not met the same Marinette, or, Ladybug in this case? For a reason that’s entirely beyond me, the girl crumbles if you’re not the one to help her up. It’s like… like she wouldn’t believe anything unless it comes from you. You should have seen the certified dumpster fire the last Akuma was. We were all over the place without you.”

Tears fell down his cheeks, and in that moment, Alya knew to knock down her tough-love strategy down a notch. Yes, this was Chat Noir. But it was also Adrien, and while Chat may react to confrontation, Adrien would do anything but.

She clicked her teeth. “Oh, Sunshine. Don’t cry,” she said as she pulled Adrien into a hug.

“I don’t think I can do it, Alya… I’ll make everything worse.”

“You keep saying that, Adrien. But why?”

“I–I think I know who Hawkmoth is,” he admitted in the quietest possible murmur, followed by a sob.

“What…? Adrien, look at me. What do you mean you know who Hawkmoth is?” she said, eyes wide with concentration.

“I figured it out,” he said, hiccupping as he tried to stop crying. “That’s why I went to the hide-out that day. I wasn’t ready to reveal my identity, but I had been stupid with my dad and I thought he might pull me out of school so I knew I had to tell her what I knew before my dad could lock me up or send me away. The first time she took me to the hide-out, I was browsing through some of the documents… Then I found this, this scanned page about the Peacock Miraculous from one of the grimoires and I knew I recognized it from somewhere.” He looked up with an ominous look. “My dad,” he explained. “He has this safe that I once broke into out of curiosity. And he had the missing grimoire in the set and also the brooch. I snuck in his office to investigate and they weren’t in the safe anymore. Then, I found all these documents… he’s been spending money in weird ways, making orders to companies that don’t exist… If he’s Hawkmoth and Natalie is Mayura… that’s–that’s why I had to tell Ladybug. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if she found out who I was and thought that I was part of it all. Alya I’m so scared… I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, Adrien,” she said softly. “And why didn’t you stick around to tell her that?”

“Because I’ve been in love with her since I met her, okay? I panicked,” he said, now a bit more exasperated. “You– I don’t think you and Nino know what it’s like, it all came so easy to you. But for me… It was so hard to get over her as Ladybug, then realizing that I was really in love with Marinette, and now–”

“Wait, you’re in love with Marinette?” Alya interrupted, jaw on the floor.

“Did Nino not tell you?”

“No! We don’t gossip about what you guys tell us!… I mean, unless it's really important, but that's besides the point! Holy shit, this is so complicated,” she said with a long sigh, plopping her back against the couch. She groaned as she processed the information. “Why are you two like this?” she exclaimed, rubbing her face in frustration. “Okay, but about your whole theory,” she said, once she recovered. “I think that doesn’t prove much, Adrien. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

Adrien shook his head. “I know what I saw, Alya. He had the Peacock Miraculous.”

“But that could mean anything. It could be a replica; I’ve read a lot of studies tracking the history of each jewel. People have tried replicating them to scam others.”

“It’s Natalie, Alya,” Adrien said with less patience. “Natalie is Mayura,” he said. “I just know it…” He sighed. “I don’t know how to tell Marinette. I don’t want to make things complicated for her.”

Alya thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “I got it. What you have right now is a lead, at best. We need to come up with a plan to prove your theories. And Marinette doesn’t need to know how you found it. I didn��t tell her that it was you at the door that day, so really, you could just tell her there’s reason to believe that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth. You tell her your sources is someone close to the Agrestes.”

“What if she asks who the specific source is?”

“We’ll get to that bridge when we cross it.”

“Half-baked plans don’t work on Ladybug,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Perhaps. But she won’t press if she knows your identity is at stake. And for what it’s worth, Adrien, I really do think you should just come clean. About your identity, I mean. It would make everything easier for both of you. I know it must be super scary but... At least promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

-- “Well, you look like shit,” Juleka commented a bit amused as Luka joined for breakfast before school. He hadn’t been sleeping well and it showed. He simply gave Juleka a ‘I’m not in the mood to fuck around’ smile and begrudgingly served himself a bowl of cereal.

“What is it?” Juleka insisted.

“I really don’t wanna talk about it, Jules.”

“It’s Marinette, isn’t it?” she asked, sounding more like she already had an answer.

Luka sighed and said nothing.

“She’s still not answering your messages?”

Luka shook his head. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Nothing, probably.”

Luka looked up at his sister, who shrugged at him. “Alya says there’s something going on with her family or something, and she’s really having a hard time with it. It’s probably only that.”

Luka appreciated the fact Juleka tried to cheer him up, but he already knew Marinette wasn’t answering because of family trouble. It had been no secret that Chat Noir had been absent in the last few Akumas. Coincidentally, Juleka had mentioned Adrien had been missing school the last few days, so he knew something must have happened between them. Maybe a fight, it was anyone’s guess. The only thing he knew is that he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand that he couldn’t do anything about it, that Marinette wouldn’t actually tell him why she was hiding–to be honest, he also was unsure he even wanted to know. The prospect of her crying to him for a guy who has broken her heart not once, but twice now, did not appeal to him in the slightest bit.

Adrien Agreste was so stupid! He was an idiot! And yet, Luka couldn’t help but wonder if Marinette would ever cry for him like that, even if the last thing he’d ever want to do was to hurt Marinette the same way Adrien had. If she’d ever trust him as blindly as she trusted Chat Noir or love him just the same.

He sighed, trying to push the thought away. Lately, he had run out of strategies to keep his jealousy at bay and so, defeated, he simply tried to ignore his feelings as best as he could, not knowing what else to do. Giving into the feeling made him think horrible things about Adrien, which he was sure weren’t true. Confronting them brought up a proposition that made him break a cold sweat, which although extremely painful, had begun to make a case for itself. It was something he didn’t want to do, but that he suspected would be the best for both of them in the end:

Break up with Marinette.

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pamgkrthwrites · 4 years

Text

Flame of Healing | EraserMic x Reader | Chapter 5 - Back Off

Masterlist | AO3

Warnings: Angst, crying, reveal, shouting, soulmate au

Word Count: 2064

Taglist: @stargazingaloneatnight

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. The image below is of one of the character mentioned in today’s chapter. Be warned, Shouta yells at reader in this chapter.

Cover by @pamgkrthart

The week had passed slowly. Tuesday, Shouta came in to get paperwork from you so his agency could report it correctly, Wednesday came and many people were celebrating Hizashi’s birthday and on Thursday, Ms Joke saw you in the morning and was teasing you about your chose to avoid your Soulmates.

But today,

Today was Friday.

Which meant the Anti-Soulmate group meetings.

The group was named Heart’s Desire for Wronged Souls. Its leader was a man who divorced his soulmate who he was three kids with for an older woman who rejected her soulmate. The group is a mix of many things, counselling for soulless, counselling for rejecting soulmates, parties, get to gathers, and the main event, dating centre for “wanting souls”.

They started to label people who rejected their soulmates as “rejects”, and started to be rejected by people around them.

You were more than glad Ms Joke didn’t go around confessing what she found out about you, and that all she did was simple teasing.

But you were happy the day was done and sighed in relief as you closed your apartment door, dropping your bags to the floor. You crash onto your couch and let out all the stress in your back with your quirk.

“Time for some stress release.” You sighed as you got yourself ready for that afternoon of fun activities.

---

Shouta and Hizashi eyed the building from one across the road, watching and counting everyone who entered. Shouta tried to make himself fancy looking and Hizahi tried his best to not look like himself.

“I like it when your hair is tied back, Shou.” Hizashi flirt as he watched his partner.

“Get back to work, ‘Zashi.” Shouta shushed him as he continued to watch the people down below.

Hizashi puffed as he leaned onto the wall and watched. “Why did we get assigned to do this mission? Don’t they know I am the last hero who would want to do it.”

“Which is probably why they chose you. You had your 21st the other day so the doubt that I’m not your soulmate might be there. It could also be you don’t like me and have doubts about the relationship but as a Pro Hero you have to keep up the idea you are happy with me-”

“Shou stop please you’re concerning me.”

“What if that’s why we haven’t met her yet, Hizashi?” Shouta turned to Hozashi. “She must have seen you at the very least name us as soulmates and figured it out, yet she hasn’t come looking? What could possibly be the reason-”

“Shouta shut up.”

“Hizashi I-”

“No look!” Hizashi grabbed Shouta’s face and made him turn to look at a girl walking towards the building.

“What on earth is she doing here?” Shouta asked he stared down at the girl walking into the building.

“Why is M/N L/N here?”

---

“Chase Saito!” You greeted the young man.

Chase Saito was the son of the founding member. Even tho he was 24 he already had built a massage medical Company that sold to Japan, China, Korea and Australia.

Chase and you had on and off flirty relationship. He seemed to always start them and you would end them if he got too creepy. He was respectful when he crossed the line and would back off until you were okay with him again.

You two may not have clicked all the time but the small relationship you two had would work out with effect.

“L/N!” He smiled as he walked over to you in a fancy suit. “I saw you on the news healing that hero! I didn’t know your quirk could do that.”

His voice was like honey to the ears, sweet and smooth that attracted bees and butterflies, yet also wasps and flies.

The reason for that effect on people was his Quirk, Ease. He can ease people around him, making them calm. He was easy to be around, and only after you walked away did you realise how sticky and annoying he can be, just like honey.

Annoying people aren’t bad to be around, they just had moments, moment about them they didn’t know about or couldn’t change about themselves. Sometimes they were too much and you can stay away and they are usually respectful about it, sadly because it has happened to them so much.

Chase may have been annoying sometimes, but he was a good person, and he goes towards those people as well. He always called people by their last name in public, that’s what he had to do as a public figure. He didn’t mind people calling him by his first name. He spent half his life in England so he used to it.

“If I had known you had a healing quirk I would have used my quirk to convince you to join me!” He smiled brightly as he made his way over to you and a respectful distance away.

“Ha, yeah. I don’t like advertising my quirk.” You blushed in embarrassment. “People used me during my childhood for having a regeneration quirk.”

He looked shocked at your response. You didn’t really talk about your childhood to him or anyone there.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that.” He said with full honesty. “Your quirk is designed to be used by others but that doesn’t mean people have the right to use you as an object.”

You felt small at that moment.

You don’t know what you feel.

Happiness or grief.

Oboro said something similar when he first started to get to know you too.

This wasn’t Oboro in front of you though, this was someone else.

Someone who even fully understood staying away from one’s soulmate.

His short honey-orange hair shaping his face defining his features. You look Chase deeply into his dark green eyes. They reminded you of Hizashi-

Your blood turns cold once that names crosses you.

Even In a place like this, you can’t avoid the bitter truth.

Chase noticed the changes in your face and wore a worried face.

“Hey, are you-?”

Hands grip you by both shoulders and pull you away from Chase.

“Are you harassing her, reject?!”

Everyone goes dead silent and you feel anger rise within you.

“What the fuck you say?” You snap your head to the tall man.

To say you were shocked to see Shouta glaring down at Chase would be an understatement.

Where his hands where on you burnt your skin. You wanted to fall into his body and wrap your arms around him. Looking up at him trying to protect you gave you butterflies and pushed a blush onto your checks.

So forcefully pushing him off of you with harshness not just hurt him, but hurt you, and the way he looked down at you with shock also hurt.

“Chase isn’t harassing me, Asshole!” You yelled at him. “You’re just being a dickhead who wants to shame us for not choosing our soulmates!”

The shock and hurt on his face hurt you. It hurt knowing you were hurting him.

Why was he wearing a fancy suit.

You felt your eyes burn as you held your ground, seeing him hurt.

You wanted to cry.

You needed to leave.

You rushed passed Shouta and headed towards the exit fast.

“M/N! Please wait!” Shouta spoke and went to move to go after you.

“M/N?” Chase said softly. “But her name is Y/N…”

Chase may have spoken softly, but Shouta still heard him and froze.

Shouta snapped his head around. “What did you just say?!”

Chase was too scared to respond to from the harsh tone, but Shouta didn’t really need him to respond. His reaction was enough.

Shouta moved back around to chase after you.

M/N L/N was Y/N L/N this entire time, she was just hiding from them.

---

This was supposed to be your off day, your relaxed day.

Not your hot soulmate insulting your friends-

What did you just say?

You puffed as you walked down the street to the train station, only to hear running footsteps coming for you.

You quickly grabbed pepper spray from within one of your pockets only to hear Shouta.

“You lied to our faces!”

You stopped and turned around.

“What are you talking about?” You asked as you made it clear you were putting away your weapon.

“You knew who we were, didn’t you?!” He huffed and puffed. “Oboro told you and pushed you yet you still gave us a fake name! You even hid our names on your wrists, don’t you!”

You were shocked that he figured it out. Chase must have corrected him on your name and it clicked in for Shouta.

You stared at the angry hurt Shouta, tears threatening to leave his eyes.

You did this to him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?!” He yelled at you as he walked close to where you stood. “What is so wrong with us you had to hide from us? Why don’t you love us?!”

“Love you?!” You glared at him as tears threaten to leave your own eyes. “I do love you! I love both you! I watch everything you two do! Sometimes I regret hiding I’m not going to lie, but you two were happy and have been happy without me this entire-”

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT!” He yelled in your face as tears ran down your face. “We ask ourselves all the time why we haven’t found you! We are a public figure and Hizashi is very public about having two soulmates so we knew you were hiding, but we didn’t know it was for this long! All we ever do is wonder what type of person you are! What your life was like! But no, you found out through Oboro and fucking hide from us since!”

You two both glared at each other. Your names were burning at the skin. Your high emotions were hurting both of you and your soulmate marks.

You were both crying at this point as you glared at each other. Were faces were so close yet all you could both feel were each other’s names on your wrists.

Shouta held your face in his large hands and rested his forehead onto yours. You both sobbed.

“Please… Just give us a chance…” He asked in a soft voice filled with sobs.

You cried into his hands as you pulled up your arms to wrap around him. He pushed your head into the crook of his neck and rubbed your back as you sobbed onto his shoulders.

You never felt so warm in your life.

“The last time I saw you cry your hair turned into fire.” Shouta admitted.

You remember that day, the day he told you Oboro died. You sniffed and rubbed your eyes onto his fancy jacked.

“I’m sorry.”

“Your just as emotional as Hizashi.”

You two stood there for a couple of minutes before you heard footsteps approaching.

You felt Shouta tense up and you gripped his tighter as you hid your face.

“Shou, where are you-?” You heard Hizashi’s voice and you tensed up.

You could feel Shouta’s arm move as he silently talks to your third half. Even if you are trying to not pay attention you hear a small gasp from Hizashi at one point and Shouta’s arm made a motion with his arm that got Hizashi to stop.

Silence falls and Shouta breaks apart from you.

“We are going to drop you home, but we will be having a discussion in the morning.” He says with a stern voice.

You hesitantly nod your head. Shouta puts his hand on your back and leads you to their car.

Hizashi and Shouta continue to have a silent conversation with you right there only for it to end once you enter into their black car.

“Address.” Shouta says with a stern voice, you answering softly.

The car ride to your apartment was awkward, but you couldn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach from the hug earlier.

Shouta leaves Hizashi in the car as he walks you up to your door and leans on the door frame once you enter.

“I will tell Hizashi what happened and in the morning we will be discussing how we will proceed.” He says as he looks down at you. “Don’t run off, Y/N.”

#shouta aizawa #eraserhead #hizashi yamada #present mic #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #present mic x reader #erasermic x reader #reader is female #fem!reader #polyamorous #poly relasionship #soulmate au

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spock-smokes-weed · 3 years

Text

I try not to think about the Depp/Heard thing too much because it’s really bad for mental health if I do, but seriously I’m sick to my stomach thinking about how much she had to go through.

Like I’ve done my research, I’ve sifted through a lot of articles, I’ve followed this case for a long time, and as someone who has experience with abuse it’s so clear to me what’s happening and I just feel so bad for her.

I don’t want to say anything about it because again it’s so bad for my mental health, but fuck it really gets to me how much vitriol is being thrown at her and I just feel kinda powerless. Like I get why so many well meaning people who just want justice to go to the proper people fell for Depp’s lie, it was a very successful smear campaign, but I just wanna shake those people and just yell at them to snap out of it.

Like please learn how abusive power structures work!!! He’s 23 years older than her, is significantly more famous and more wealthy, and has a repeated history of substance abuse and violence. He was also found guilty!!! Like I feel like this doesn’t get brought up enough, but in a system that already has the deck stacked against people coming forward, she was able to win because of the mountains of evidence against him!!! There is photo and video evidence of his abuse, witness testimony, and a lot of well documented texts and emails about it.

Let’s also not forget about how he joked about drowning her, setting her on fire, and r*ping her corpse. He talks about her in deeply misogynistic language, and with his history of dating women much younger than him, it’s so hard for me to think he’s the real victim here.

And I know people I gonna bring up the thing about her admitting to hitting him, but personally for me, two out of context clips don’t properly convince me that she was abusive. Reactionary violence isn’t the same as abuse. Hitting someone isn’t the same as abuse. Heard isn’t the perfect victim and it’s so easy for people to use that to discredit her experiences. If you really lay out the evidence both party has, Depp’s falls apart when you really start to pull back the layers.

ALSO!!! It’s very important to mention he’s not suing her for battery, he’s not pressing charges, he’s suing her for defamation! He’s suing her for liable!!! He’s using the whole “she was the real abuser” as a way to recover his career. It’s also worth mentioning that literally every famous man pulls the whole “she’s trying to ruin me!!!” every time they get caught as an abuser. His case has no legs to stand on, so that’s why all of his case are getting thrown out.

This bares repeating, and I hate this always has to be asked, but what did she have to gain from lying? Literally fucking nothing. She’s much less famous than he is, she was putting her career in jeopardy, and she donated all the money she won in that case. Just look at how she was talked about then and the way she’s talked about now. It’s vile. She’s also spent all of her time since the divorce advocating for domestic violence victims, why would someone who’s lying dedicate so much of her time to the cause??? Seriously why???

I’m not saying that Amber Heard is a saint, I don’t know the lady, but she doesn’t deserve to be called a lair and to be repeatedly harassed on the Internet. Speaking of the Internet, no one outside of the Internet thinks that Depp is innocent!!! If you read articles about this case, journalists clearly don’t believe a word he’s spewing.

That was a really long rant but this is something that genuinely haunts me. It keeps me awake at night and I thought about it all day while I was biking today because of anon I got. I know people want to believe victims, but believe this one, please stop taking men and their word and learn how powerful men bend and twist narratives to their advantage. Johnny Depp was angry that his ex-wife got away from him, rightfully outed him as a wife beater, and now he’s trying to get revenge, and y’all are just letting him get what he wants.

If there is actual substantial evidence that I’m wrong, I’ll admit to being wrong, but as it stands now I can’t believe as single word he says. Justice For Amber Heard

#petty tag #I really try not to let this shit bother me #but fuck man #it makes me sick to my core thinking about this #it just really shows to me that no one gives a damn about what women go through #I’ve cried over this case because of just how successful this fucker is in painting this poor woman as ‘the real abuser’#I hope once the dust settles Amber will get a chance to clear her name #but fuck I’m shaking rn #I just don’t want to think about this anymore but seriously it just consumes me sometime

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palukoo · 3 years

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amy, cj, donna, and andy!!!

them!!! they!!! the girls!!!

okay. so. this is gonna be another one where i do some sets of 2 first, and because of that it's going under a cut haha

amy & cj!! okay, i know we've talked about them, but... god they're everything. i touched on them in this post basically to say that like. in canon they are set up as friends (and, in fact, close friends) without really giving us much of that. i see them basically as having met at some women in politics function with cj at emily's list and amy at now, and making jokes and hitting it off easily and eventually through running into each other again and again actually talking. the other thing is that... amy and cj are really similar, actually. funny and smart as hell and confident on the surface, kind of a mess beneath that. it's the humor as a defense that josh calls cj out on, the confidence masking insecurities (specifically the fear of letting people down), down to one of my favorite parallels between them of "he thinks of you like a daughter, cj" "that's not a good enough reason to keep me around" vs anything when amy thinks abbeys gonna fire her or when jed kind of does. the difference with them is... cj's focused on public image and conforming to that, on loyalty, etc, and amy's really, really not, and is terrible at working for people.

donna & andy, oh how i wish we'd seen them more! in canon they've got a few lines in gaza, and they seem familiar, plus earlier on during sam's campaign in california there's scenes with the two of them even if they don't actually talk to each other. i... don't think they really know each other well, but i think they could find some common ground, especially after gaza and i really want to write about them dealing with their trauma from it together some, because i think they'd both have a certain level of survivor's guilt, and to an extent i also think that andy would feel really bad talking about it with donna because she wasn't in the car and didn't get hurt and donna did. i also think... i'm not at all an expert, but i assume donna would be knocked unconscious pretty immediately, and so i kind of headcanon that they have a really... careful? conversation where donna's sort of just asking andy what happened, if she's comfortable talking about it?

cj & donna are everything! they (and occasionally others? but mostly them) are like. the emotional, compassionate, optimistic centers of the show, really, which is... something i could talk about more considering they're the only two consistently present female characters really but yk... but it means that you get this thing of kind of reminding everyone else to be like. human, and i like this for them a lot as characters (even if from a gender perspective i don't necessarily). they also both do the quiet loyalty thing without such a complex about it oh my god. and one of the things i really do like about later seasons donna doing press is that she does it in a very cj way at times and that's kind of beautiful. and then... at some point i will put down coherent thoughts about no exit but i love how much they care about each other and calmly call each other out but get really defensive because the other thing about them is that they're both insanely perceptive and sort of evasive, and they're fighting but it's kind of each of them being like "let yourself be happy!!!" anyways. this post. yeah.

amy & andy!! so. amy & andy are really really similar. are y'all noticing a pattern yet? anyways, i mean, it's by nature of being love interest to a main man, and she's angry and funny and yells at him and makes fun of him and he's a little hapless and... yeah. but... any of these characters i can say "oh theyre smart and funny" thats any west wing character. amy and andy also just really want to fight, and don't want to give up or in ever. i don't think of them as super close, but i can't imagine a world in which amy hasn't fundraised for andy's campaigns, or where they haven't worked together trying to get some legislation to pass. in the same way that cj and donna (and abbey and helen) have the quiet loyalty to contrast, say, toby and josh's (and leo's) very blatant, always talked about loyalty, they... just don't have that. i'm not saying they aren't loyal, they just aren't insanely committed to it. they prioritize themselves and their agendas rather than others, which i don't think we're really supposed to like them for? but i find it refreshing. also. the energies they have in process stories? unparalleled. i love thinking about them working together.

oh does this mean it's time for amy & donna? okay. well. i think the thing about them is that people assume they don't like each other when they really actually do. i mean, like, yeah, we rarely see them together, but i also talk about them in the post i linked for cj & amy, and here. I think they make fun of josh together a lot. i think that donna is bothered by amy being antagonistic and frankly hypocritical towards josh but also recognized that it's a two way street, and it makes her frustrated with both of them. i think amy is (knowingly a little irrationally) hurt by josh's loyalty and care for donna over her (i... actually mean this platonically), and donna's seemingly blind loyalty to josh. but i think... amy validates donna's political abilities multiple times, and donna seems to admire amy. i think they become friends and trust each other a lot and make each other better. i can't write this answer and pretend i haven't written a 176k wip about them falling and being in love with each other.

and cj and andy!! i also can't pretend i don't have an outline + some snippets of a fic for them! we don't see much of them in canon, either, but like. there's that scene where they're both kind of yelling at toby that's pretty iconic. when that couple is harassing andy in that hotel bar in the california 47th, cj technically steps in before toby (very differently and i could write a whole thing on that too). andy at one point points out how cj is feeling to toby which is a lot. (that whole scene is a lot), and then in s7 the scene where andy is trying to get cj to get the president to pardon toby makes me crazy. i don't know that i can explain why i ship them, but i really really do, and i think that there's a lot of history in their relationship because of their jobs and because of toby. this is also a thing with amy and andy, but there's this interesting contrast because while i'm sure andy has insecurities, she also seems genuinely self assured. oh also there's... andy is kind of abrasive and accidentally hurtful on top of charismatic, and cj is very quiet with her (negative) emotions, and doesn't often lash out and instead internalizes a lot of stuff? it's an interesting thing about guilt and anger with them.

so... the four of them is fun! like, amy and andy just getting set off about something political, and cj and donna just like quietly agreeing/being amused and bringing up their own points maybe but the two of them are just going on. amy and/or andy being frustrated over something that josh and/or toby did, and bonding over it, and donna and cj being incredibly uncomfortable. i mean, i also just see this really clearly because i parallel their relationships a lot so like, cj and donna talking about... being sort of awkward/guilty/reluctant about being in a relationship with andy and amy respectively bc they don't want to hurt toby and josh, and andy and amy bonding over being really frustrated by this outwardly bc they're there own damn people, but deep down kind of understanding and relating to that guilt... i mean like, i think actually putting the four of them in a room together would be just deeply funny if a little stilted depending on the context, but none of them are the most "let's talk about my feelings" so i don't think a lot would come out between them in casual conversation. you get them in a situation where either donna or cj is doing the thing their very good at about calmly calling people out, or where either andy or amy is angry enough to not be thinking about if they're being hurtful? that's interesting, and because you can see the different ways that all of the sets of two have different ways they can relate or are the same, or even groups of three, and so depending on the specifics you'd get really different dynamics of who is agreeing with/supporting who and how.

#tww #asks #answered #claudiasjeancregg #thank you for this really i love the four of them so much and theres so much to say hence the two fics #sorkins thing with gender and loyalty and like. the two women he will write and make variations on... its not a good look but like i #really do end up loving the women and the archetypes so... clown makeup

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yukimoji · 4 years

Text

My World: Part 3 ( Tanjiro Kamado x Reader )

( a/n: hello! welcome to part 3 and the final part of the “my world” series! this became longer than i had initially expected, i apologize deeply for that. also, i'm sorry if it seemed like i shitted on kanao too much, im so sorry bby i still love u. take note there will be grammar errors and typos, bec im blind and i always seem to miss those errors rip. thank you all for following “my world”, and i hope you all enjoy! )

(also, how do u even write angst?? i tried my best and i hope ya’ll dont get too disappointed with my poor excuse of angst lololol)

Part 1 I 2 I 3

Total words: 6600+ words

Genre: Angst and Fluff

!!MAJOR, MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Warnings: Mentions of blood

With each passing day, it felt like you were getting closer towards the edge of the line.

In a dark tunnel, you stood there, wandering aimlessly towards the light that could not be even seen for miles and miles. An endless loop of nothingness, as the feeling of dread, terror, and fear consumes you from the hidden depths of your mind.

You hoped and wished that one day you could see even a tiny glimpse of what lies ahead of you. Wondering if there's more to it than the endless bloodshed and horrors you've seen hundreds of times now.

But then, suddenly, a warm entity started to walk alongside you. A feeling as warm as the bright rays of the morning sun, and an inexplicable feeling of something accompanying you on your endless journey.

Even when immersed in darkness, the underlying warmth seemed to radiate from that figure. There was a tinge of happiness in your harsh world that made the road to the unseen light seem less lonely than before.

However, with every step, the distant light gets dimmer and darker.

And the warm feeling beside you blazes into a raging, roaring, sea of fire.

The morning after you received the heartfelt letter from Tanjiro, word broke out that Tanjiro, Inosuke, and Zenitsu had defeated Lower Moon One.

You were rejoiced to hear that your comrades had defeated another member of the Twelve Demon Moons. When you heard the news for the first time, you promptly darted to find the nearest pen and paper to congratulate the trio. However, you stopped dead in your tracks when your Kasugai Crow screeched out the status of the Hashira that the trio had accompanied.

Rengoku Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira, has died after an encounter with Upper Moon Three.

Your eyes were as big as saucers, as you stood there in shock. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Upper Moon 3? Hashira? Dead?

You've never really had a proper conversation with the Flame Hashira, but you've had high respects for him. The way he would hold his sword with pride and his never-ending sense of justice would always bring hope to you and your fellow slayers. You could still remember the words of encouragement he would say every time he would have encountered the lower ranks like you.

"Always set your heart ablaze!"

Hearing about the death of such an important figure in the Demon Slayer Corps made you tighten your jaw. Your hand clenches at the thought of someone so kind and strong had died of such a painful death. You inhaled tiny and long breaths as you try to calm yourself down from the frustration rising in your veins.

He would've wanted his death to inspire the Demon Slayers to fight harder, and you will. His fate will not be in vain as long as the Demon Slayer Corps will continue fighting on.

If you feel angry, you could only imagine as to how Tanjiro felt. Knowing the boy, he would've befriended and had grown attached to the fallen Hashira. Your face contorted into one of sadness. He would be distraught, seeing the Flame Hashira die in front of his very eyes.

You glanced at the paper and the pen at the corner of your vision, and decided to write to the Hanafuda-clad slayer. You went to grab the items and sat down to start writing your letter.

You couldn't be there to physically comfort him, you were too far away. You prayed that this letter would suffice, as you could not do anything more to console the Burgundy-haired boy.

Tanjiro made his way back towards the Butterfly Estate, after visiting the Rengoku Estate to deliver Kyojuro-san's final wishes. He gazed at the katana guard that was given to him by Senjoru, Kyojuro-san's little brother. He sighs sadly at the thought of the Flame Hashira, his words echoing in his mind.

"Live on and set your heart ablaze!"

Breathing out softly, his Crimson-hues looks upwards to the sky, staring at the moving clouds high above.

"CAW! A MESSAGE! A MESSAGE FOR KAMADO TANJIRO!"

"Yaah!" Tanjiro yells out in surprise at his crow's loud screeching, but his expression brightened at the sight of a letter attached to it's legs. He then puts his arm out to let the crow land on it.

"Thank you!" He affectionately pats the head of the crow, and proceeds to take the letter placed delicately on it's legs. The crow screeches once more, and takes off.

Tanjiro looks at the crow flying away, and returns his gaze towards the letter in his hands. He reads the message written in it, and can't help a smile forming from his lips.

"What can be done, is for us to not let it define our days to come. We can choose to heal, whilst bearing the scars, whether alone or with someone precious.

For as long as you want me to, I will be here for you."

I read that somewhere, but I couldn't remember where, hehe.

I'm sorry for what happened. I can't imagine what you're feeling, but I will always be here for you. Rengoku-san will not be forgotten, and he will always live in our hearts and memories.

Be kind to yourself, Tanjiro. You mean the whole world to me.

- [ L / N ] [ Y / N ]

Tanjiro chuckles softly at the letter, and holds it close to his chest. He sniffles as he flutters his eyes close, the corners of his mouth turning up into a thankful grin.

"Thank you, [ Y / N.]"

Months pass, another mission comes by after the completion of another mission. As the weeks gone by, you could find yourself growing stronger each passing day.

During your time apart, you and Tanjiro would often exchange letters. Usually, it was him describing his missions in full detail and how Zenitsu and Inosuke were doing as they worked alongside with each other. Every now and then, little scratches and odd pen marks will decorate the surface of the paper, which you could only assume is Nezuko's doing.

You, on the other hand, would also write about your missions. Occasionally, you would tell him about random stuff, little things on your mind as you go about your day.

One thing remains constant, though. The two of you would always end a letter with a heartfelt sentence that became your little way of saying "I love you" for each other.

"You mean the whole world to me."

Today, me, Inosuke, and Zenitsu went to Yoshiwara with Uzui-san. He basically forced us to come with him, because he wouldn't stop harassing the poor girls back at the Butterfly Estate if we didn't go. He said he was looking for his three wives, as they stopped contacting him after going undercover to find a demon in the district. Can you believe it? Three wives?!

When we arrived, Uzui-san immediately dressed us up as girls and we were sent off to brothels where we could hopefully find the demon causing havoc in the area. Honestly, I'm kind of glad that you weren't here to see me. Not because I don't want you to be with me, no no no! I actually miss you so much and I just want see you again and I just-

It's because I looked absolutely ridiculous! Seriously, it was a miracle that I was able to pass up as a girl!

Anyway, it's my first night here, and so far, there's no sign of a demon. There's been rumors going around about young women suddenly committing suicide without explanation. There's something fishy going on around here, that's for sure.

I'm going to end my letter here. Tomorrow's another day, and we will do our best to make this mission a success.

Stay safe, [ Y / N ].

You mean the whole world to me.

- Kamado Tanjiro

Of course, there were moments where you were worried sick for the boy. When news broke out that the Sound Pillar and the trio defeated Upper Moon 6 in the Red Light District, you were absolutely ecstatic. Another Upper Moon had been slain, and you couldn't be more proud for the trio.

That is, until Tanjiro abruptly stopped sending letters.

During those moments, you could only send letters to the Butterfly Estate, asking about Tanjiro's health and condition. You tried not to get your emotions get the best you, but you couldn't help it. Not when Tanjiro was laying in a bed, unconscious, and out of your reach.

You found comfort of the letters that replied to you. Kanao, the Butterfly Pillar's Tsuguko, started writing back to you, and kept you up-to-date of Tanjiro's well-being that would soothe your anxious nerves. You were thankful for her, as she would always write back to you every night without fail.

Gradually, you began to get to know her, and eventually thought of her as a friend. Since she was a little shy, you gladly told her about your days and endless missions, and maybe a little bit of jokes and puns to lighten up her day.

It wasn't long too until she started talking about the things she liked, like how she enjoys blowing soap bubbles and considers it a hobby. She would also talk about how she likes sweets and accessories, squishing cat paws and helping with the cooking at the Butterfly Estate.

Who knew, that the girl who wrecked you mercilessly during your Rehabilitation training was actually such a lovely and adorable girl who enjoyed the little things in life?

When Tanjiro finally recovered, you never stopped sending letters to Kanao. She was a fun pen pal and a friend to have, because she would listen to each time you would either rant about your day or just say some dumb puns when you're too bored to function.

One day, Tanjiro told you that he was going to the Swordsmith Village to ask for a replacement for his sword. That night, he spoke of how the Love Pillar and the Mist Pillar were present in the village, and how he had the chance of speaking to Genya Shinazugawa, the Wind Pillar's younger brother.

For days on end, the Crimson-eyed slayer would tell you about a training doll that mimicked the strongest Demon Slayer who ever lived. He would rant endlessly, telling you about a swordsmith who trained him to the bone without food and water. He told you, one day, he accidentally smashed the doll into pieces, revealing a worn and old sword hidden inside of it.

You snickered, and you could already hear Tanjiro's voice, which was loaded with panic and anxiety, just by reading the contents of his letters.

You were pleasantly shocked the next day, when your Crow announced the news of the deaths of Upper Moon Five and Upper Moon Four.

Tanjiro was like a magnet for the Upper Moons, and you can't help but feel a heavy sensation in the depths of your stomach.

It felt like the calm before the storm, as after Tanjiro's experience in the Swordsmith Village, there was a rapid decline in Demon activity all across the country.

However, it seemed like the crow didn't exactly tell you everything regarding the Village's aftermath.

After what seemed like forever, you made your way back to the Butterfly Estate. Since demons have not been running all over the place, there weren't as much many missions as there was before. Your crow yelled at you to go back to the estate, but hey, you weren't complaining about that.

You couldn't contain the excitement, a giddy expression ever present on your face. Each step brought you closer to your destination, and as the Estate finally presented itself to your vision, you practically skipped your way in order to reach the area faster.

You heard shouting in the distance. There were cries of panic, seemingly asking someone to come back. You didn't stop your hurried pace, but your eyes widened in both joy and shock when you saw the familiar raven locks of your demon friend, who was now running towards you at full speed.

In broad daylight.

"[ Y/N ]! [ Y/N ]! [ Y/N ]!" Nezuko cries out in joy, jumping at you with all of her strength. You couldn't react on time as she lands on you, and the both of you tumbled to the ground. She was hugging you, a hand affixed on top of your head, patting it relentlessly.

"Oof! Hi, Nezuko!" You laughed at her antics, and hugged her back without hesitation.

You were confused, that's for sure. Even though you were absolutely overjoyed to see your friend, your mind was screaming confused thoughts on how on earth she was able to hug you underneath the blazing sun. Not only that, she was not wearing her usual bamboo muzzle and she spoke your name! She actually spoke! Her voice was absolutely adorable!

"Welcome back!" She cheered happily, and you already feel yourself melt into a puddle at how cute she was acting. She continued to nuzzle onto you, and you felt a sense of pride knowing that an incredibly cute and sweet girl was aggressively showering you with love and affection.

"EH?! [ Y / N ]'S BACK! SHE'S BACK!" You snapped your head to the source, and beamed at the sight of Zenitsu calling out to the residents of the estate, signalling your arrival.

"It's nice to see you again, Zenitsu!" You called out and waved at him, a bright smile present on your face. You couldn't really move, not when Nezuko wasn't done hugging you and spoiling you rotten with her affection.

Zenitsu's eyes widened for a second, until he began jumping around and screaming out a series of chants like the madman he is.

"REALLY? IT'S REALLY NICE TO SEE ME AGAIN?! AW! DON'T FLATTER ME, [ Y / N ]! YOU SHOULD'VE TOLD ME BEFORE THAT YOU HELD ME IN SUCH A HIGH REGARD! YOU KNOW, IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO ASK FOR MY HAND IN MARRIAGE!"

Your smile began to fade, and you could look at him with utter dismay as he proceeded to yell out nonsense.

But then, a familiar voice calls out. The voice that you've yearned to hear for months, as it makes your heart skip a beat as it gets louder and closer.

Tanjiro comes out from the estate, looking around frantically, a desperate expression evident in his gentle features. He looks at your direction and he goes stiff as a statue the moment he locks eyes with you. His eyes began to water, his lower lip quivering from the sight of you.

He races up to you, rivaling with the pace Nezuko had when she assaulted you. Instantaneously, he engulfs you in his loving embrace, and you couldn't hold back your giggles and laughter as he proceeded to wreak havoc on your face with little kisses.

Nezuko lets out a sound of pleasure and releases her hold on you. She watched her brother as he coddled you with so much attention, and she clapped happily at the sight.

After what seemed like ages, Tanjiro stopped attacking your face with kisses and raised a hand to softly caress your cheek. His crimson-hues looked at you with so much passion and adoration, and you gazed at him lovingly in reciprocation.

Slowly he leans in to you, his forehead brushing yours. The corners of his mouth are pulled up, a ridiculously goofy expression adoring his features. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks because of the close proximity to his face, but still, you gave him the biggest grin you could muster up.

He chuckles and closes his eyes, nuzzling on you as he holds you in his arms protectively.

"I missed you. So, so much." He breathes out, and you giggle as his warm breath fans your flushed face.

"I missed you too, you big baby." You fluttered your [ E / C ] close, holding him tight and not wanting to let go.

After months of hardship, stress, and pain, you find yourself once again welcomed by your home and your world.

You spent the next few days roaming around the estate, with Tanjiro beside you, holding your hand at every moment. Not just that, you've got to spend time in the garden with Nezuko again! Only this time, you were accompanied by the presence of Zenitsu, Inosuke, and even Kanao!

Each day was filled with laughter and joy. Even when the Hashiras decided to train every slayer in harsh training routines, your happiness never faded. Given the sweat and soreness of your muscles as you shift from one Hashira to another, you would always be rewarded with the sight of the bright stars shining brightly over all of you.

But one day, that happiness seemed to fade away. The devastation and cruelty that you had faced before came back from the ashes of the past, as each second escalated into the catastrophic hell that you were now forced to face.

One night, every Hashira unexpectedly went on a high alert. You couldn't understand what was going on, and you were even more perplexed when Tanjiro suddenly asked you to stay alert and left in a haste. You stood beside the campfire, confused, and you couldn't control the familiar feeling of dread swallowing you up again.

Your instinct was telling you that something terrible and unprecedented was about to happen. Your heart was thumping uncontrollably on your chest, as you started to sweat and tremble from the overwhelming feeling of uncertainty that made shivers run up to your spine.

Unfortunately, your fears were confirmed when a loud explosion was heard in the distance.

You gasped, as you felt the ground suddenly disappear. You couldn't respond quickly, your mind spinning out of control as you fell down to a fortress filled with demons that seemed to stretch out forever.

You breath hitched as you came back to your senses. You looked around, trying to find something or somewhere that could end your endless free fall. You felt a sense of hope as an area where you could land safely came into view. Your eyebrows were knit together, mouth clenching as you performed a breathing technique and landed swiftly at the edge of the structure.

The moment you landed, demons started to flock towards you. Your blood began to boil, rage rapidly overcoming you. You unsheathed out your sword, tightened your grip on the handle, and immediately slashed your way through the hordes of demons. It was then you realized, that it was the beginning of the end, and that it was going to be a long night.

In a blink of an eye, smiles turned into anger, laughter turned into screams, as what was once happiness was now destroyed and replaced by rage and anguish.

And whenever happiness is destroyed,

There's always the smell of blood.

Hours of endless bloodshed. Thousands upon thousands of casualties had rained upon the ranks of the Demon Slayer Corps. You had seen the brutal fighting with your very own eyes, and the rage only intensified with each life taken by the hands of those ruthless demons.

The Twelve Demon Moons had perished. But at the cost of their heads, were the lives of your mentors, comrades, and friends.

However, it finally seemed like their sacrifices were not in vain.

The sun had risen, and Muzan Kibutsuji howled out in pain as the sun's fiery rays started to burn him. He had taken the form of a large, hideous baby, as he desperately tries to hide away from the sun's burning gaze.

Almost everybody was severely injured; there were severed limbs, large gashes, and heavily bleeding wounds.

Despite the overwhelming pain, the remaining slayers continued to fight on, too high on adrenaline and determination in order to bring Muzan to his demise. Everybody held on, performing everything they could do to make the Demon King roast under the sunlight and suffer for his crimes.

Right now, you were driving a bus, speeding towards the crawling abomination. You slammed on the pedals, accelerating at full speed as you rammed into the enormous, yet horrific excuse of a baby.

"Stay down, you bastard!" You yelled out, a dangerous glint twinkling in your eyes as you couldn't help the sides lips tugging up into smug smirk.

You jumped out of the vehicle right before a big hand smashed the front portion, as a voice commands you and nearby Kakushi to push the back portion to block Muzan from moving further. You all gathered together and pushed with all your remaining strength, yells of determination echoing out to stop Muzan from going further.

Your eyes widen as a large hand rises, but before he could smash you all into pieces, the Wind Pillar successfully cut off it's hand on time. You all continued to push, but Muzan was starting to overpower you all and was slowly going over the vehicle.

Then, you heard the loud clank of chains, and saw the monster stumble back as a large chain had wrapped itself on the demon's neck, forcing him to stay in place. You all moved out, and went to the Stone Pillar, aiding him by holding him in place as he uses all his power to grip unto the chains in order to pin the beast down. Muzan hollered out, as he continued to burn under the sun.

Determined to find shade and escape death, the huge monstrosity resorted to dig himself into the earth. The Hashiras then took turns attacking the abomination, attempting to wear off its stamina. All hope seemed lost, as the chains, and all of your energy rapidly depleted as Muzan continued his struggle.

Then, against all odds, the demon throws his head back in a final, ear piercing scream. Gigantic tears fell down from it's hideous face, and after what seemed like eternity, it's body finally crumbled into nothingness.

There was a pause. You all held your breath, the heavy tension in the air suffocating you all. Disbelief was evident on your faces, as you could not properly process what had just gone down.

Then, you all erupted into loud yells of victory.

Muzan is dead. The Demon Slayers had won.

You all cried out in happiness. Centuries of battle, bloodshed, and death finally bearing its fruit. Everyone embraced each other, beaming smiles present in every slayer's face as the shouts of triumph echoed across the battlefield.

"It's not over yet!" A Kakushi yells out, "Stand up! Treat the wounded! Don't cry, you fools, stay focused! We can save them!" You all looked around, and saw the bodies of several Hashira and Demon Slayers slumped up all around. The celebration ceased as everybody started to scatter; newly found strength flooding them as they sought out to save the heavily injured.

In your peripheral vision, you saw Kanao hunched up and unconscious, and she was being tended by several Kakushi. You ran up to her, and your jaw clenched as you observed the injuries and blows she had taken. You kneeled down, and asked for one of them for bandages so you could help patch up your friend.

As you started to wrap up some of Kanao's injuries, lilac hues started to flutter open. She takes a moment to look at her surroundings, and when she sees you and a few Kakushi patching her up, her lips formed a small yet grateful smile.

"...Thank you."

Your eyes darted to look up to the voice, you gasped in relief and your expression brightened as Kanao weakly gives you a wry smile.

You stared at her, the corners of your mouth tugging up and your eyes flickering with gratitude. After wrapping her wounds, you gently took her hand and encased it with your own.

"We won, Kanao." You whispered. Shutting your eyes close, you recalled the memories of how hard she fought against Muzan, along with Zenitsu, Inosuke, and the Hashiras. The ravenette just paused, and her mouth falling open as she was reflecting on what you had just told to her. Then, she breathes out in delight, and slowly raised her other hand to caress your own. Kanao's whole face lit up, and she beams at you, nodding her head in appreciation.

But then, suddenly, in the corner of her vision, something captures Kanao's attention. She stiffened, and her hand started to tremble under your gentle hold. Her forehead furrowed and she struggled to find her voice.

" [ Y - Y / N ]-chan..!"

You opened your [ E / C ] eyes, and glanced at your friend's facial features. You grew concerned, trying to make sense as to why she was shaking and sweating so much. Then, loud shouts began to echo and you felt a heavy sensation start to enclose your chest. You started to tremble, the loud yells becoming more frantic by each second. The feeling of dread returned, seemingly to taunt you as goosebumps rapidly washed over you. The girl returned her attention to your bewildered expression, her lilac orbs filled with worry and regret.

You hesitantly turned around and looked to where Kanao had her gaze on to figure out the source of her behavior. Instantaneously, your eyebrows elevated, a hand immediately clasping your mouth. Your eyes welled up in tears and the cries of distress escaped away as you stomached in the scene before you.

You stared ahead to meet the figure of your beloved Tanjiro.

But he didn't look like your Tanjiro.

A beast roared out, screaming and assaulting any being that was attempting to get close to him. You saw a glimpse of Zenitsu and Inosuke trying to hold back your transformed lover, the Water Pillar frantically yelling orders not get close to the boy, but to no avail.

It felt like the whole world had shattered right before your very eyes. You struggled to swallow back the bile rising to your throat, your breathes becoming more erratic as the hot tears endlessly fall from your eyes. You become absolutely racked with sobs, the heavy feeling on your chest intensifying to the point of suffocating you.

"Stop crying!" You mentally scold yourself. "Now is not the time to cry! You have to help! You have to save him!"

But you couldn't move. You couldn't speak. You couldn't do anything but wail out in absolute heartbreak as Tanjiro further succumbed into hysteria.

No matter how hard you tried, your feet were glued to the ground. Your mind hurled insults, screaming at you to step forward, to run, and try to save your beloved. You could only look up to the heavens, reciting a silent prayer pleading to every Deity who was listening to stop this madness.

In the midst of your emotional turmoil, you have flashes of what once was. You recall how Tanjiro would hold you in moments of peace, how his eyes would fill up with tenderness and love whenever you locked eyes with him, and how his beaming smile seemed to brighten up even your darkest days.

Your heart continues to pound painfully in your chest as you gasp out endless incoherent breathes. You could hear his loving voice resonate in your head, your cries becoming more erratic at the thought that you could never hear his warmth-filled sound again.

"You mean the whole world to me, [ Y / N ]."

You could only look helplessly as the now human Nezuko began to cry out to her corrupted brother, holding him in place so that he could no longer hurt more people. Tanjiro continued to screech and thrash in the sister's grasp, his screams releasing powerful waves of energy that would blowed away anyone who had even dared to come near him.

Zenitsu and Inosuke were swept away by the strong shockwaves, but Nezuko never weakened her grasp, as she continues to hold on to her brother desperately. Tanjiro dropped down, the sound of the tearing cloth ringing around as massive and sharp tentacles exploded out of his back. Zenitsu cries out, terror overtaking his face as he desperately reaches out to save Nezuko.

But something still puzzles you. Your stomach still twisted at the sight of Nezuko bleeding, but what was perplexing was that Tanjiro declined to bite his sister. Even though he had a taste of his sister's blood, he resisted and refused to attack her.

Maybe, just maybe, your Tanjiro was still there, fighting to break free from his eternal prison.

"[ Y / N ]-chan." Kanao calls out. You snap out of you emotional daze and faced the girl. She looked at you with a hopeful expression, and she takes out a small box from her belt.

"We can still save him..." She starts, opening the box to reveal an injection. "My master gave this to me, and she said that this is medicine made out of Wisteria flowers that could turn demons back into humans."

Kanao coughs up blood, her face scrunching up as she groans out in discomfort. She stumbles forward because of the pain, and you instantly hold her to prevent her from falling to the ground. She looks up to you, and gives you a sad smile.

"Tanjiro turned into a demon just now. Even if I could evade his attacks with one eye, my injuries could get the best of me." She coughs again, placing a hand to her re-opened wound on her waist. She takes your hand and places the injection on it.

"There's still time, [ Y / N ]. Tanjiro loves you too much to even raise a hand at you."

You looked down at the injection, your eyes filled with renewed determination. You nodded in agreement, then took long breaths to calm yourself down. You knew what you needed to do, and now, you could save him.

You wiped the trails of dried tears on your face, eyebrows drewn together as your expression hardened. Tightening your grip on the object, you stood up and turned around to confront Tanjiro.

"Thank you." You breathed out, forever grateful to Kanao for giving you this oppurtunity.

You inhaled deeply, oxygen rapidly flooding your veins. You could feel your muscles become stronger each second, as adrenaline fills you once more. Bursts of energy traveled all across your body, giving you the courage and power you needed to pull this off. You focused your strength on your legs, and in a flash, you dashed towards your lover.

"Tanjiro.."

The demon takes notice of a presence rapidly approaching him. He growls and turns his attention towards you. Scowling, he screeches loudly, tentacles aggressively whipping around at all angles to attack you.

"When this is all over, let's make our own world,"

You looked up to meet his eyes, and you were with scarlet ones, which were filled with hatred and rage. Your breathe hitches momentarily as a shiver ran up to your spine.

"A world where no one could tears us apart."

Tanjiro had never looked at you with such hostility before. However, you didn't let that faze you as you continuously dodged his never ending assaults against you.

"Enough is enough, Tanjiro."

You jumped and evaded the whips his tentacles threw at you. Then, an opening presents itself, your eyes dilating and you bolted even closer until you came face to face with the demon.

"You musn't make Nezuko cry."

Tanjiro howls out loudly, and he raises a hand with the intent to smash you. You quickly caught the glimpse of his clenched fist, and you leapt, avoiding his arm as it plunged downwards with such speed and strength.

"Come back to us, and you won't be ever lost again,"

You swore everything looked like it was in slow motion. In that moment, a bright light engulfed your surroundings. Your body flew above the demon, and when his back came into full view, you immediately pushed the cure into him. Tears shone in your [ E / C ] orbs, as a love-filled smile appeared on your features.

You didn't even feel the pain when a rouge tentacle managed to successfully pierce itself into you. Your tender gaze never left the boy, and you finally breathed out in relief. You fluttered your eyes close, and you tumbled helplessly against the surface.

"You are the whole world to me."

"[ Y / N]!" Nezuko calls out to you, her face contorted into one of pure horror as she watches your body make harsh contact with the ground.

Suddenly, Tanjiro stops moving. His tentacles ceased it's assaults, and slowly, but surely, it retreats back into his body. The boy to started to shake uncontrollably, exhaling out heavy breathes as his eyes trembled wildly as he stares at the sight of your injured body.

With all the remaining strength you could muster up, you looked up to the demon. Instead of the hatred and rage you had saw moments ago, Tanjiro's Scarlet-hues were filled with regret. Tears ran down his cheeks, sadness clouding over his demonic features.

You inhaled softly, and with each passing moment, you saw his eyes slowly turn back into the Crimson colored orbs that you loved so much. As seconds pass by, your vision began to darken. Exhaling out in exhaustion, you felt thankful that you get to see a glimpse of your Tanjiro once more. You heard loud shouts resound through the field, feeling something tending to your wounds before your sight was further consumed by darkness as you fell into unconsciousness.

" -Ma..?"

" -Ma!"

"Mama!"

You jolt up in surprise, trying to catch your breath as cold sweat falls down from the side of your face.

You take a moment to observe your surroundings, and you could find yourself sitting in a bench that was located at an open lake. Sakura trees were abundant, and their beauty was obviously not overlooked as pink blossoms flew around with the cool spring breeze. Flora was flourishing all over, and the sounds of the little animals living in the lake was prominent.

A nightmare? You thought. Sighing deeply, you let yourself fall back in the bench where you were sitting on. A small hand shakes on your own frantically, as you turned your head and smiled softly as a gigantic pair of eyes, clearly filled with worry, gazed into your own.

"I'm sorry, Takeo. Did Mama scare you?" You chuckled, as the child in front of you pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Stop dozing off like that! I was really worried when you started to cry in your sleep again!" Takeo exclaims out, puffing out his cheeks as he stomped on his foot in annoyance.

You laughed at his antics, your melodic voice echoing across the peaceful lake. You leaned forward and raised a hand to gently pat your son's head. The boy looked almost the same as you, seeing as he inherited your complexion, your facial features, and even your [H / C] hair.

There was one thing, though, that distinguished him from looking like a complete carbon copy of you.

He had Crimson colored eyes that he inherited from his father.

Takeo continues to huff out in annoyance, but he couldn't fight the flush rising up to his face from your act of affection towards him. Whether he was going to deny it or not, it was an irrefutable fact that he loved getting his head pats. As you observed Takeo's features, you felt warmth and tenderness embracing your chest. You pulled your hand away from his head and just chuckled at his failed attempts of trying to look angry at you.

"Papa asked me to fetch you, ya know.." Takeo mumbles, his Crimson-orbs looking away from you in embarrassment. "He says that Aunt Nezuko and Uncle Zenitsu are coming over today, along with Uncle Inosuke and Aunt Kanao. He figured that you would be glad to see them again."

"I see." You whispered. Your mouth slowly into a grin, and you nodded gratefully. You felt excitement and joy bubble up in you, as you beamed brightly to your son. "Thank you, Takeo. I'm absolutely delighted to hear that they're coming to visit today."

Slowly, you stood up from the bench, one hand holding on your son's arm for support and the other caressing your swollen belly. You looked up to the heavens, eyes sparkling with gratitude as a thankful sigh escaped from your lips. You shifted your attention away from the blue sky, and softly held your son's hand as you began your way back home.

"Let's go home, shall we?"

Once upon a dream, you never thought the possibility of true love coming to you all your life.

Growing up in a demon infested world, life seemed to be fond of throwing you into hardships and struggle. Despite the horrors of the world, you always persevered. For every challenge that has been hurled towards you, the tribulations have only made you grow stronger and better.

Your life may had started out roughly, but that doesn't mean that it did not change for the better. The endless bloodshed had become relics of the past, moments of time that helped shape the world as it is now.

Recalling those moments of uncertainty, the rays of sunlight peeking through what was once the dark and gloomy clouds had now completely engulfed your life with warmth and tenderness. What you once wanted to experience all those years ago, has now become your reality. The little bits of happiness that you yearned for, now held onto you, never wanting to leave any time soon.

As you get closer to your home, you could hear the voices of children laughing and playing. Soon, you saw a glimpse of your humble abode, and little kids that looked similarly to you and your husband came into view. Takeo releases his hold on you, and he excitedly makes his way towards his siblings. Your expression brightened, a permanent smile present on your face as you took in the sight of your children frolicking around with happiness evident in their faces.

Then, a warm hand snakes over your waist, pulling you towards a broad chest that belonged to your lover. You couldn't contain your giggles as your face was immediately assaulted by small pecks and kisses. His hanafuda earrings seemed to ring each time he moved his head, his long ponytail swaying alongside with the cool breeze. His crimson-eyes gleamed in adoration as he gazes into your own, an adorable grin affixed in his lips as he continued to lock you in his protective embrace.

Sakura petals flew all around, encasing your surroundings with a sense of peace and serenity. After years of struggle, you can finally wake up in the morning without the likelihood of a horrible and painful death looming over you, as your cruel and dark world was now behind you.

Those dark days were long over. Now that you had finally avenged your family and the numerous deaths Muzan Kibutsuji has inflicted upon humanity, you could finally spend the rest of your life in peace.

Now, you had finally found a place to call your home. With him, you had created a whole new world. A world that was overflowing with love and happiness. Now that he would always stay by your side, you won't have to be lost anymore.

Tanjiro lifts up a hand to softly caress your cheek, gazing at you with so much love and adoration. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he fluttered his eyes close and slowly leaned forward. Your expression softened, and you chuckled softly as you put your arms around his shoulders. Your eyelids close shut as you felt your chest swell up with so much emotion, as his lips finally captured yours into a love-filled kiss.

"You are the whole world to me, [ Y / N]."

( a/n: thank you, thank you, thank you so much for following “my world”! it means so much to me that some of you had taken a liking on this series :’D im sorry if there were mistakes and ooc-ness along the way;;;

thank you for reading, and stay safe! you all mean the whole world to me <3)

#tanjiro x reader #tanjirou x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjirou kamado x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #tanjiro kamado #tanjirou kamado #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #kny #kimetsu no yaiba tanjirou #reader insert #kimetsu no yaiba imagines

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ominousunflower · 4 years

Text

Crazy Composed: Chapter 1

Written for Day 1 (Eye Contact) of @luxyweek

Fic summary: Luka Couffaine is known for his saint-like composure, but five seconds with Xavier-Yves Roth is enough to make him completely lose his cool. And yet, after the two meet again at Le Grand Paris, they somehow find themselves spending more time together—which either means that something is going on between them, or Luka Couffaine has officially gone crazy. (According to his friends, it’s a bit of both.)

Rating: T Word count: 4545

___________________________________

“Thanks for staying to help,” Marinette murmurs to Luka, as she picks up a macaron with a pair of tongs and sets it on a businessman's plate. “I know you only came to the hotel to make a delivery.”

“It’s fine,” Luka says. Pouring another glass of punch, he smiles awkwardly at the businessman, then sets the glass alongside a dozen others. “You needed help, so I’m happy to be here.”

Normally, Luka would stay as far away from a catering event as possible. These sorts of things are always crowded and cramped, loud with chattering, and he tends to prefer quieter, emptier spaces. But the moment he’d walked into the hotel and seen Marinette off to the side wearing a half-smile-half-grimace, he’d resolved to stay and make her job easier.

So far, nothing too bad has happened. From what Marinette has told him, it’s some sort of business conference, which would explain why everyone is wearing suits and ties. Luka feels woefully underdressed in his hoodie and sneakers, but Marinette has assured him that no one will notice what he’s wearing underneath the apron.

The calm shatters when a familiar magenta-haired woman rushes up to the table, slipping between two people in line.

“Oh, Marinette,” Penny says. “Thank goodness. I thought I saw you down here earlier.”

“Penny!” Marinette says, eyes wide. “Um, what is it? Does Jagged need something?”

“There was a meeting earlier with some music folks. Somehow, Jagged and XY ended up in the same room, and…” Penny sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Well, Bob Roth is in another meeting, and neither one of them are listening to me. I assume since you’ve dealt with both of them before…?”

Marinette offers Penny a strained smile. “Say no more! I’ll see what I can do.” She glances at Luka. “Do you want to come? I know you’re a fan of Jagged, but…”

But you got akumatized the last time you spoke to Xavier-Yves Roth and his father. That’s probably what Marinette is too nice to say out loud.

Luka clenches his jaw. “I’ll come with you. Maybe the sight of my face will remind XY to watch himself.” Belatedly, he remembers that Penny is still standing there. He clears his throat. “I’m not going to cause any trouble, I promise.”

Penny just smiles. “I’m sure you two can handle them. Oh, and here—give me that apron, Marinette. I’ll take over while you deal with the problem upstairs.”

Marinette slips off the apron and passes it over to Penny. “What floor?”

“Fourth,” Penny says. “Room 412.”

“Got it.”

Marinette takes off at a sprint toward the elevators, leaving Luka to throw his apron on the table and follow her. They stick to the perimeter of the room, avoiding the crowds of people milling around the center.

“You don’t have to help, you know,” Marinette says, as they wait for the elevator. “I know you and XY aren’t on great terms.”

Luka folds his arms across his chest. He’s used to people thinking that he’s calm and collected, so he doesn’t appreciate the implication that he can’t handle a confrontation with someone who has two letters for a name.

Well, technically it’s just a stage name, but still. How does no one else see how stupid it is?

“I’m fine,” Luka assures her. “I know I didn’t handle things well last time. But I’ve learned from that mistake—I won’t let the Roths get under my skin.”

The elevator dings, and he and Marinette step inside.

Silence falls between them. Now, of all times, Luka is reminded of the fact that Marinette never really responded to his confession. He hasn’t exactly retracted it, and she hasn’t explicitly rejected it, so where do they stand, exactly?

While he’s sure that he still has a crush on her, anyone with half a brain can see that she and Adrien are a perfect match. (Of course, anyone with half a brain could also see that the two of them are probably Ladybug and Chat Noir, so maybe the people of Paris just aren’t that smart.) Luka has a feeling that any romance he starts with Marinette will ultimately lead to her realizing that Adrien is the one for her, and he’s not too interested in being a relationship catalyst.

But Luka is also someone who says what he means, so he’s not going to take back a confession that’s still technically true. Unfortunately, that has resulted in the current awkward silence, where Luka can feel the anxiety rolling off Marinette in waves. No doubt she’s worried that he’ll try to make a move.

Should he say something? No, because what if she’s not thinking that? Then he’ll just seem weird and anxious.

Luka sighs to himself. He wishes that people were easier to understand. Do they really think that his musical talent makes up for the fact that other human beings are a mystery to him? It’s a good cover, he supposes: being able to play a few bars based on a person’s aura, in a smooth way that makes them think he understands them. Why, yes, fellow human, I completely understand you! Listen to this G-major chord! I heard it in your heart.

It’s not a lie, though—Luka does understand emotions. He just doesn’t understand the thoughts that come with them.

Fortunately, Luka’s musings fill up the time it takes to get to Room 412, sparing him from any awkward exchanges with Marinette.

“Yeah, Fang!” an accented voice—unmistakably Jagged Stone’s—yells. “You want this cell phone? Been a while since you had some crunchy technology, huh?”

“Give it back!” another voice whines. Luka rolls his eyes. There’s no question that’s Xavier-Yves Roth.

Marinette glances at Luka, then knocks on the door.

“Why should I give it back?” Jagged snaps. “You were going to post a picture of me with the caption Ragged Stone. I’m not a has-been! I’m rock-‘n-roll!”

Luka sighs. “Is he always like this?”

“Pretty much,” Marinette says. Her foot taps rapidly against the carpeted floor, and she knocks again. “Uh, Jagged! It’s Marinette Dupain—”

The door flies open, and Luka’s sort-of-idol Jagged Stone is standing on the other side, signature guitar slung over his shoulder. “Marinette!” he says, his accent butchering the r in her name. He grabs her shoulder and shoots her a finger gun. “Great! I’m so glad you’re here. Deux-letters here is trying to harass me with his Instagram or whatever. Do me a favor and keep an eye on him? I’m all fired up now, so I need to get a drink or something.”

“Um.” Marinette leans around Jagged and peers inside. “You didn’t actually feed XY’s cell phone to Fang, did you?”

“Nah. I’ve got it right here. I only destroy my property, you know? I’m not a vandal.” Jagged pulls the phone from his pocket and drops it into Marinette’s hand. Then his eyes fall on Luka. “Oh, hey! You’re Marinette’s guitar friend. Luka, right? Sorry for arguing with your mom that one time. You’ve got talent. We should work together sometime! Any friend of Marinette’s is a friend of mine.”

He pats Luka on the shoulder, then squeezes between him and Marinette. Grabbing his guitar, he starts playing it as he walks toward the elevator, filling the hallway with the sound of rock ‘n roll.

Luka stares after him, slightly dazed. “Did he just say he wanted to work with me sometime?”

“He did!” Marinette says. “And he’ll keep his promise, too. Jagged is a good guy.” She purses her lips and puffs out a breath. “But we’ve got a bigger problem.”

“Right,” Luka says, sighing. “Babysitting XY?”

“And Fang,” Marinette says. “Jagged left him here, and I doubt he and XY get along.”

Grimacing, Luka looks through the doorway at Jagged’s pet crocodile. Fang is lounging on a sofa, yellow eyes fixed on XY, who’s draped across an armchair on the other side of the coffee table. XY looks every bit as infuriating as Luka remembers; his lazy pose makes Luka’s fists clench involuntarily.

“Stupid crocodile,” XY says, pouting. He grabs a pillow from behind his back and chucks it at Fang.

Fang growls and catches the pillow in his mouth, his large teeth instantly ripping it to shreds. Soon, all that’s left is a few shreds of fabric and stuffing that have fluttered to the ground.

Luka glares at XY. “Why would you throw something at a crocodile?”

XY shrugs. “It’s just a dumb lizard. Hey, are you room service? I want something to eat.”

Luka deeply inhales through his nose, calling on years of meditation to keep himself calm. “No, I…” He trails off as Fang crawls off the couch and starts plodding toward XY. “Uh.”

Marinette presses XY’s phone into Luka’s hand and rushes forward. “Fang!” she says, in the high-pitched way a person might talk to a puppy. “Hey, there! Who’s a good crocodile?”

Bizarrely, Fang stops and almost seems to smile at her. The song “Never Smile at a Crocodile” plays in Luka’s head, and even though he trusts Marinette to handle things, he can’t help but be slightly concerned.

Marinette pats her thighs and beckons Fang toward her, then starts backing toward a door off to the side. “Fang, do you want a bath? Some nice water? I bet that would feel nice. Why don’t we get you in the bath while we wait for Jagged?”

Apparently bath and Jagged are two of the words Fang knows, because he changes course and walks after Marinette to the bathroom.

“That was unbelievably stupid,” Luka tells XY.

“What do you mean?” XY says, waving a hand as he stares at the carpet. He doesn’t even have the decency to make eye contact with Luka when they’re talking. “Your girlfriend’s got it handled. I figured she would.”

“She’s not my—never mind. I’m not talking to you. It will just make me angry.”

Luka folds his arms across his chest and scans the room, waiting for Marinette to finish drawing Fang’s bath. He can hear the sound of running water echoing from the bathroom, though the noise isn’t as soothing as it could be when he knows it’s for a crocodile bath.

“How am I making you angry?” XY asks. “I’m just sitting here.”

It’s the WAY you’re sitting, Luka almost says, before he realizes how dumb that sounds. Instead, he just shrugs and stares at what little he can see of the bathroom through the open door. All he can make out is Marinette’s shoe and a giant crocodile tail, but it’s better than looking at XY’s face.

“Hey, can I have my phone?” XY asks.

“Why are you asking me?” Luka snaps.

“Because you’re holding it?”

Luka glances down at his hand, where sure enough, he is holding the phone Marinette gave him. The case is covered in some sort of obnoxious bling that makes Luka’s eyes burn. “Oh. Sorry.” Luka crosses over to XY’s chair and holds out the phone. “Here.”

XY grabs it from his hand without looking at him. “Thanks.”

Immediately, XY’s phone starts beeping, and a second later, an alarm tone goes off on Luka’s own cell phone. He digs it out of his pocket and sighs.

“What was that?” Marinette asks, running out of the bathroom with water dripping from her hands.

“Akuma alert,” Luka says flatly.

If his suspicions are correct, he knows exactly how this is about to go.

Marinette squeaks. “I, um—have to—macarons! Penny has no idea how to hold the macarons, and I…need to…go teach her.” She sprints across the room and pauses in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other. “I’m really sorry, Luka. I hate to leave you two—”

“Go ahead,” Luka says, trying not to sound too resigned. “I know the…uh, macarons are important.”

With a nod, Marinette runs into the hallway and pulls the door shut behind her.

Luka wanders across the room to glance out the ornate hotel window. From this spot on the fourth floor, he can see part of the Place des Vosgues, along with some familiar houses and stores.

As he looks outside, though, he can feel eyes on him. It’s hard to describe—similar to when he senses a person’s mood—but someone is definitely staring at him.

Praying that it is not a hungry crocodile, he slowly turns around.

XY’s blue eyes are fixed on him, staring out from beneath his ridiculous blond hair. His brow is creased ever so slightly, almost with an expression of trepidation. But, well, why would XY be afraid of Luka? Luka’s the one whose career could be ended in an instant by XY’s capricious father. Luka doesn’t have the power to do anything to XY.

Luka stares back, hoping that XY gets the message. Don’t mess with me or my friends.

XY nods slowly and goes back to fiddling with his phone.

Luka’s fingers itch for his guitar, but of course, he didn’t bring it with him, since he thought this would be a quick delivery stop. Mirroring XY, he pulls out his own phone and pulls up his contacts. Surely there’s someone he can text to pass the time…

Adrien Agreste’s name stares back at him from the top of the list. Luka considers it—Adrien is pretty fun to talk to, and would definitely sympathize with Luka’s current plight—but then he realizes that if Adrien is Chat Noir, he’s probably busy fighting the akuma right now.

XY clears his throat. “Uh, you play bass?”

Luka scrolls further through his contacts, because surely XY isn’t talking to him. But when he glances up, XY’s eyes are fixed on him again.

“Me?” Luka says. “I play guitar.”

“Right,” XY says. “That’s the one with six strings.”

Luka barely resists rolling his eyes. “Yeah.”

XY doesn’t respond, so Luka goes back to his phone. He pulls up the Ladyblog and skims it for updates: apparently the akuma is some sort of food-themed monster stomping throughout the city, and Ladybug has yet to summon her Lucky Charm. Based on past data, Alya has projected the battle to last twenty minutes, and advises civilians to stay inside to avoid being trampled.

Really, though, wouldn’t it be better outside? XY isn’t outside. Luka will gladly risk getting crushed by an angry hamburger man if it means escaping this awkwardness.

“And you, uh,” XY says. “You’re in that cat band?”

Luka sighs, keeping his eyes on his phone. “Kitty Section, yeah.”

He braces himself for some taunt about the name—which Luka will fiercely defend, because cats are excellent, thank you very much—but instead XY just says, “Oh, that rings a bell.”

“It should,” Luka says, gritting his teeth, “since we’re the band you and your father stole from.”

“Stole is kind of harsh,” XY says. “I prefer inspired by.”

Luka glares at him. “Is that a joke?”

XY shrugs.

“Have you ever had an original musical thought?” Luka asks, before he can stop himself.

To his frustration, XY gives another shrug. “Eh. Everything’s unoriginal, you know?”

Technically, that’s true, and Luka would agree if the phrase was coming from an actual artist. But it’s coming from XY. Scowling, Luka says, “There’s a difference between unoriginal and plagiarized, you know.”

In Luka’s head and in front of his bathroom mirror, he’s played out this scenario dozens of times, and in those imaginary conversations, he has said much more insulting things to XY. Of course, Luka would never actually say any of those cruel things…but XY is testing his patience.

When he thinks about it, though, XY hasn’t done anything wildly offensive today, except make very unwanted small talk. And that’s infuriating in its own way. Luka wishes he would do something bad, so that his irritation felt more justified.

“Yeah, sorry,” XY says. “I didn’t realize that was illegal.”

“It’s not the illegal part that bothers me,” Luka says. He wonders if he should even bother trying to explain what’s actually wrong. “It’s that my friends and I worked hard on that song, and Marinette worked hard on those costumes, and your father threatened us and undermined our work. But it makes sense that legality is all you two are concerned about. After all, you can’t make as much money if your father is in jail.”

He bites down on his tongue the moment the words are out. Does XY just bring out the worst in Luka? Or does Luka have less self-control than he thought?

“I mean, yeah, we wouldn’t want to get sued,” XY says. He’s now tossing a TV remote up and down, catching it with one hand. He won’t meet Luka’s eyes, which might be for the better; if he did, he’d see Luka’s brief moment of guilt over snapping at him. “Besides, coming up with stuff is hard.”

“So you understand why we were upset,” Luka says slowly.

What, exactly, did he do to deserve this conversation? Is it the fact that he’s flirted with both Marinette and Adrien? Is the universe somehow blaming him for keeping those two apart? Because, if so, that’s wildly unfair. Marinette and Adrien could be the last two people on earth, and they’d still find a way to be oblivious about their feelings for each other.

“You could have been flattered,” XY says. “We thought your stuff was good enough to steal—um, borrow. Or…yeah.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Luka asks in disbelief.

Maybe XY is wearing noise-cancelling earbuds that Luka can’t see. Maybe that’s how he manages to be so utterly tone-deaf.

“Yeah,” XY says. “Why? Am I talking too loud?”

Luka sighs. “You’re surrounded by music. You perform all the time. You must be able to come up with something on your own.”

Distantly, he thinks maybe he should give up on this conversation. He’s wasting his energy on XY. There are some people who just don’t get it, and this wouldn’t be the first time Luka has exhausted himself for a lost cause. (For instance: trying to convince his mother that maybe some laws are worth following for the public good, and that it might be a bad idea to install actual cannons on the Liberty.)

“Maybe,” XY says with another shrug. Luka thinks his shoulders must be pretty toned from all the shrugging he does. “But why bother, you know? The computers write lyrics and tunes that people like. Guaranteed success. Seems stupid to write my own stuff.”

If success was all that mattered when it came to music, maybe—and for XY and his father, that’s probably the case.

Luka’s curiosity gets the best of him, and he asks, “Have you ever tried to write your own songs?”

“Yeah, once.”

Luka frowns. Is this the set-up for a joke? Is there a punchline? XY doesn’t seem clever enough to set up a joke, given that Ragged Stone was the best insult he could come up with.

XY stops tossing the remote and holds it in his hand, fiddling with the buttons. “When I was eleven, I wrote a few songs and showed them to my dad.” Luka almost asks, Then why didn’t you keep doing that? but XY answers him in the next breath. “He said they were garbage. And I mean, he’d know, right? He’s, like, a music genius.”

Luka has doubts about how much of a music genius Bob Roth is, but he supposes it makes sense that eleven year-old XY would think that. Even now, XY probably conflates success and money with ingenuity.

But Luka’s mind is hung up on one word, blaring in his ears on repeat: GARBAGE.

Luka doesn’t want to have sympathy for XY. Sometimes, people are just rude and nasty, and they don’t deserve Luka’s pity. Unbidden, though, his brain is conjuring up a scene: a little blond kid with less-ridiculous hair, wide-eyed and hopeful, showing his father his songs—only to be told that they’re horrible.

Maybe that’s not how it went down. Maybe XY didn’t care about the rejection. But Luka has a feeling that, deep under XY’s blaisé exterior, he still remembers the pain of being told that his creations were worthless.

Damn it. Now Luka has sympathy for XY.

“That’s ridiculous,” Luka says. He tells himself that he’s just angry on behalf of a fellow musician—because technically, XY is a fellow musician. “I can only imagine if my mom told me that my songs were garbage when I was eleven. I mean, they probably weren’t that good, but—”

“Your songs?” XY interrupts. Luka’s sympathy ebbs, replaced by the irritation he feels every time XY opens his mouth. Luka shouldn’t have mentioned his own music; now XY is going to criticize it, and of course his opinion doesn’t mean anything, but Luka will still be annoyed. “Nah, I don’t believe that. Your music’s good.”

It’s certainly not the most glowing compliment Luka has ever received, and it’s delivered with a shrug—and yet, Luka finds his cheeks warming slightly at the comment. Maybe because he never expected XY to actually compliment someone besides himself.

“Have you…heard my music?” Luka asks.

“Just the one song you played on that broadcast. The one we tried to…” XY trails off, and Luka stares at the side of his head, silently demanding him to finish the sentence. “You know.” Frowning, XY tosses the TV remote onto the sofa where Fang was previously sitting. “At least my dad thought your music was good enough to use.”

Luka winces. “I’m sorry.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, he can’t believe he said them. Did he just tell XY that he feels sorry for him?

“Don’t be sorry that you’re good,” XY says. “He knows talent when he sees it, right?”

“But that’s—that’s stupid,” Luka says, taking a step toward the couch. XY doesn’t look up at him. “Your father should have encouraged your music, or helped you to make it better. He shouldn’t have just—” He growls. “I’m not a big fan of him, so of course I’m not surprised, but that’s still unfair.”

XY tilts his head toward Luka, though he still doesn’t quite make eye contact. “So you’re a fan of me, then?”

“No,” Luka says flatly.

XY nods, seeming unbothered. “Anyway, that’s cool. No one’s ever gotten mad for me. Well, my dad yells at people to make them do things for me, I guess. Does that count?”

Luka resists the urge to facepalm. The way XY says such spoiled things so casually—is this how Adrien feels, dealing with Chloé all the time? Then again, Adrien and Chloé are friends, and Luka and XY certainly aren’t.

Although, if Adrien can be friends with Chloé, does that mean Luka could befriend someone like…?

No. Luka refuses to consider it. He’s not getting involved with someone this rude and high-maintenance. People might think Luka has the patience of a saint, but in fact, he does not. And why would he take XY under his wing, after he and his father tried to screw over Kitty Section? XY’s personal issues aren’t Luka’s problem, and it’s certainly not his responsibility to nurture XY’s creative side.

Xavier-Yves Roth is young, Luka’s conscience says. Of course he makes mistakes. His brain isn’t fully developed yet.

Neither is mine, Luka thinks back. Which is probably why I’m even considering something this stupid.

“You know,” Luka says slowly. “If you…did write another song, and wanted to run it by someone…”

XY is silent for a moment, and then he finally looks up at Luka with a quizzical expression. “You? You’ve never sold albums or topped a chart. You wouldn’t have any useful feedback.”

Ah. Yes. This is why Luka wasn’t going to get involved with XY. Luka sympathized with XY for having his father tell him his offerings were worthless—and then XY turned around and said the same insensitive thing to Luka.

So what if Luka hasn’t topped the charts with an album full of banal, soulless songs? At least he makes music he’s passionate about.

It occurs to Luka that XY isn’t looking at him with scorn in his eyes. He just looks confused, which means he doesn’t even realize that what he just said was insulting.

Since Luka is feeling charitable—and XY’s words are meaningless—he decides to shrug off the comment. “I’m not interested in songs that sell,” Luka says. “I was just offering a second set of ears.”

“Oh.” XY blinks. “I don’t really see what’s in it for me…but, yeah, I guess it could be good practice for you. You know, learning how to work with someone in the industry.”

This is not worth it, Luka thinks. You will gain nothing from helping him.

Be a charitable person, his conscience insists. Do something good without expecting anything in return.

Luka snorts to himself. He’s already helped Ladybug and Chat Noir save Paris several times as Viperion. Isn’t that enough charity for the year?

“What’s so funny?” XY asks.

“Nothing,” Luka says. “I was thinking of something else. I’ll…keep your offer in mind.”

“Sure,” XY says, going back to his phone. “I’m not usually this generous, so, you know—it’s a special offer. I bet a lot of people would be jealous.”

Luka sighs. XY might not know much about music, but he’s certainly talented at infuriating people.

Before Luka manages to think of a response that doesn’t involve scathing sarcasm, there’s a loud knock on the door.

“Luka? XY? It’s Marinette!”

Luka rushes over to the door, checking his phone as he does. According to the Ladyblog, the akuma was defeated about a minute ago.

He opens the door and Marinette runs inside, panting. “Sorry, the, uh—the…”

“Macarons,” Luka supplies.

“Right! Yes,” Marinette says. “But then I got distracted, and, uh—there was an akuma, did you hear? Crazy! I mean, not crazy, because Paris has had a lot of akumas, but, you know…”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Luka says.

Marinette nods, then leans forward and whispers, “How was XY?”

Luka shrugs. “About what you’d expect.”

That feels a bit disingenuous, though. Because XY isn’t quite what Luka expected. Yes, his attitude is infuriating, and he oozes upper-class shallowness—but Luka’s starting to realize that there might be a reason that XY acts the way he does.

Not that Luka intends to stick around long enough to find out.

XY groans and stands. “I guess that lame rock star isn’t coming back for his dumb lizard. You two can watch him. I’m going downstairs to get food or something.”

He crosses the room and brushes past Luka and Marinette without a word. His eyes meet Luka’s as he leaves—and there it is, again, that look of almost wariness.

Then he shrugs and leaves, and Luka and Marinette are alone with a crocodile in a bathtub.

“Thanks for not feeding him to the crocodile,” Marinette says.

“Yeah, well.” Luka shrugs. “I didn’t want to give my favorite rock star’s pet indigestion.”

A second later, they hear a grunt and a crack, followed by a tidal-wave splash; and for the moment, at least, Luka’s thoughts of Xavier-Yves Roth are forgotten.

#luxy #luxyweek2k20 #ml fic #ml fanfiction #luka couffaine #xy roth #xavier-yves roth #miraculous ladybug #my fic

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natasha-cole · 4 years

Text

#1 Crush: Part 23

Chapter Summary: With their relationship back on track, Reader and Rob are keeping things quiet for now. Their moments of domestic bliss start to give her a sense of security again, but someone comes along to remind her that she shouldn’t get too comfortable.

Word Count: 1768

Warnings: angst, creepy fan, swearing probably

Notes: Super short chapter as I try to get back into the groove of writing.

Series Masterlist

Being with Rob again was easily the best decision you had made. It had been the stupidest decision to leave him in the first place, but at the time, you thought it had been the right choice.

The two of you fell back into your life together rather seamlessly, and it was as if you had never dumped him in the first place. He didn’t hold it against you, and neither of you brought it up again once you had apologized profusely the night you got back together. All that mattered now was that you were together again.

Still, it was always in the back of your mind that you never wanted him to be caught up in all of this. The harassment from your obsessed fan had been going on for so long that it almost became normal to you, but you knew it still got to him. He had gotten better about holding back when he thought you should be more careful or perhaps step away from work when things got too intense, and it was nice to coexist with him without having him upset with you.

Things had been kept mainly to social media; accounts still popping up to tag you in weird and creepy posts, and the occasional phone random phone call that you never answered and couldn’t even bring yourself to tell Rob about. For the time being, that was it. There hadn’t been awful threats lately, that you had seen anyway, and your friends hadn’t pulled you aside to warn you about something they came across on line in weeks. It wasn’t over, but it had quieted down at least a little bit.

You and Rob decided to keep it quiet that you were back together, since that seemed to trigger your stalker more than anything. Besides, it also kept Rob safer if no one knew. For the time being, your close friends knew the truth and the fandom had accepted the premise that you and Rob were just friends now and nothing more. Eventually, you’d come out about your relationship again, because you loved each other and you didn’t want to keep it a secret, but it made the most sense right now to be discreet about it.

By the time the holidays rolled around, you were on break from set and conventions had stopped for a while, which meant that you got to be out of the public eye for a few weeks. It was a relief to take a break from it all, and you relished in the moments that you got to spend with Rob in L.A.

Today, you decided to get some things done as Rob was out of the house for a bit recording for his podcast. As usual, he was hesitant to leave you, but you insisted that he go. Truthfully, it was nice to have some time to yourself since it had become a rare thing for there not to be someone with you at all times.

Left to your own devices, you did some work around Rob’s place; tidying up and making a shopping list before you headed out on your own.

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

The grocery shopping had been completed, and you were proud of the fact that you got through it without having a panic attack. Normally, you were looking over your shoulder, afraid of the possibility that your stalker could be following you at all times. But, today, you put all of that out of your mind since things had calmed down a bit.

Before heading back to Rob’s place, you decided to stop by your favorite cafe for a drink.

After you had ordered your usual, you waited patiently for your order, only to be startled as you heard someone call out to you.

“Y/N?”

The voice was familiar and you hesitantly turned to face whoever it was. When it registered who was standing in front of you now, your breath caught and you felt that familiar sickness in your gut that you felt that night when things went too far with him.

“Liam,” you said flatly.

“What a coincidence,” he smiled. “Of all the places in Los Angeles…”

“What are you even doing here?” You asked, trying not to sound too terrified at the man standing here.

“Hey, they make a great cup of coffee,” he chuckled. “And I like the blueberry muffins.”

You had been coming to this place religiously since you moved to L.A. When you and Rob had started dating, you had even dragged him here multiple times. You were a usual. The baristas knew you by name and knew your usual order. Not once of all the times you had stepped foot in here had you ever seen Liam here.

You knew that you were probably being paranoid. Yes, things had gotten weird with Liam and he had absolutely freaked you out that night. You had even briefly considered the possibility of him being the one who was secretly making your life hell, but it seemed like a stretch. It didn’t really make sense as he had been the one who had protected you from your stalker while all of it was happening.

Just seeing him again creeped you out though. You thought back to how angry he had gotten when you rejected his advances. He had blamed you for flirting with him and leading him on, even though you were confused at how he could even think that.

Right now, you wondered if he was following you. Even when he had been around, he didn’t know that this was your favorite place. He didn’t really work for you while you were home, aside from the day that someone broke into your place.

You didn’t know how to respond as he stared at you. Mostly, you were too afraid to say anything and you definitely wanted to avoid causing a scene here.

You saw his eyes dart to your neck and you reached up to touch the necklace that Rob had given you. It was a strange action for him to look at it and it made you uneasy.

“I am really sorry about what happened between us,” he said, breaking the awkward silence between you. “You never gave me the chance to apologize.”

“Nothing happened between us,” you replied quickly.

“Yeah,” he argued. “I came on too strong and my ego has hurt a little bit so I got defensive. I’m not angry about you firing me. I’m angry at myself for messing up my chance with you.”

“You had no chance with me,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him as you were confused by his words. You felt your face grow hot, angry that he could even think that after everything.

“Well, not after I was so aggressive.”

“No,” you said firmly. “You had no chance because I was never interested. You crossed a line, and you scared me.”

“I- I didn’t mean to scare you…” he said, looking confused.

You opened your mouth to speak again, but the barista interrupted.

“Y/N!” She shouted, letting you know that your order was ready.

“If you’ll excuse me, I was just getting coffee,” you said as you pushed past Liam, grateful that you could now just get your drink and leave. “Rob’s waiting for me,” you lied.

“Rob?” He asked, looking almost shocked.

“Yeah, my boyfriend, Rob.”

“So that’s a thing again?” He chuckled.

“It’s none of your business.”

“No, I guess not,” he smirked. “Even though you told me all about your break up and how shitty he was to you.”

“I never said it like that,” you said angrily.

“My mistake,” he replied.

You grabbed your coffee and walked past him toward the door, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible now.

“Hey, Y/N,” he called after you.

He paused, giving you a chance to turn and face him again. He was smiling at you. A strange grin plastered on his face as he finished his thought.

“I’ll see you around.”

You didn’t respond. You turned quickly away from him again and darted out the door, heart racing as you tried to tell yourself that his last words weren’t meant to be threatening.

When you arrived back at Rob’s place, you locked the door behind you and tried to distract yourself by putting the groceries away. You didn’t want to read too much into anything. Sure, Liam was a creep and kinda scared you now, but it didn’t make sense to think that he could be the one who was stalking you. He had been too close to you. Even the police told you that this was most likely some fan that you didn’t know.

Still, you were now on edge. You couldn’t get the incident out of your mind and you couldn’t help but think about how weird he had been. You really couldn’t stop thinking about the way he said he’d see you around. Was that meant to be threatening? Should you be afraid?

You sat on the couch, staring mindlessly at the wall. It had been some time since you had felt this anxiety and all you really wanted to do was ignore it. But, it was a feeling that stayed with you.

Before you could dwell too much on anything, you were broken from your thoughts when you heard someone at the front door. Your eyes darted to the door, your chest tightening as you felt fearful again for just a moment.

Rob opened that door and entered the house before you could freak out though. Of course it was him. Who else would it be?

“Hey,” he smiled as he saw you sitting there watching him.

He closed the door behind him and took off his jacket and made his way toward you, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

“How was your afternoon?” He asked after he pulled away and sat next to you.

He rested his head on your shoulder, reaching over to take your hand in his. “Anything exciting happen?”

Your breath caught and you hesitated for a moment.

“I just bought groceries,” you answered. “And got coffee.”

“That’s all?” He asked.

You decided against telling Rob about the run in with Liam. There was no point. The only thing that would come of it would be an upset Rob and you really didn’t want that, especially not when things had been so good between you.

“Yep,” you said as you forced a smile, knowing deep down that you shouldn’t lie about something like this. “Just another uneventful day.”

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