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chimchiri · 8 months

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Poll Adventure: Rarijack Dinner

Index | [prev] - Part 03 - [next] Special thanks to @babydarkstar for putting out great writing

Previous Poll:

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“Rarity…”

Deep down, AJ knows she doesn’t want there to be any uncertainty about what this means to her. She doesn’t want to have to read Rarity for romantic feelings during dinner. It has to be a proper date or nothing at all. Though it might sting in the end, she’s going to have to rip the bandaid off. Inside her has lived a deep longing for this moment, long enough that she’s not sure what it’ll feel like once it’s gone. But at least she’ll never have to live with the guilt of a “what if,” and the pain of the unknown. She’ll be able to say she gave it a shot.

If it does end up badly, she knows at some point she’ll get over it. Hell, if the answer’s a no, maybe Rarity will just find the offer flattering and move on. Surely she’s used to turning plenty of suitors away.

“I’m callin’ because I wanted to ask you somethin’.”

She can feel the blood pumping in her veins.

“Anything, darling,” Rarity says, and the energy between them grows serious.

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask you for a while now,” she begins, taking a huge breath to make sure she’s still alive. Here goes nothing. “Would you…wanna have dinner with me? Just us, I mean.”

There’s a moment of silence. Then—

Rarity’s elegant laughter sparkles like bells in AJ’s ears—and she can’t decide if that’s good or bad.

“Is that what the fuss was about, dear? Of course I’d love to have dinner with you! Dining is much more pleasant with friends.”

…oof. Maybe she should have said it differently. Is it so unusual to Rarity that AJ would mean it romantically?

Though she can’t help but notice the slight tremor in Rarity’s voice, the brimming question of diffidence just beneath her perfectly curated tone. She has to know that AJ wouldn’t call so randomly and sound so nervous just to ask for bonding time between friends.

Well. AJ has to say it—loud and clear. She doesn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.

Her hands are shaking now; she feels like even a weak gust of wind could knock her over.

The voice that comes out of her own mouth—trembling, pitchy, almost timid—doesn’t even sound like her own.

“I meant”—AJ pauses; it feels like the room is spinning—“as a date.”

“Oh…!”

Adrenaline washes over her upon hearing that single reaction. Nothing matters right now except the voice on the line. Try as she might to stay focused, the pounding in her ears makes everything feel muffled. She feels like she does after finishing a rodeo.

Another sound on the phone, barely a murmur.

“Applejack, I—”

But Rarity doesn’t end AJ’s suffering.

Her grip on the counter tightens and she leans into it for support, the weight of her work-toned body causing the old wood to squeak.

The silence on the line is what kills her.

She feels like a lamb backed into a dark corner, timberwolf-shadows cast on the walls of her doubt-addled mind. This is certain death.

Seconds pass, each one growing longer and more painful than the last. She doesn’t know how to react; she doesn’t know what to say—or if she should say anything. All she knows is that with each passing second, fear and doubt cloud her mind until she’s blind with anxiety.

She shouldn’t have done this. This was a horrible idea. Why couldn’t she have just been happy as friends? Is friendship off the table now? What if Rarity thinks she’s a creep now, with all those times they went to the spa together?

Great, now she’s gonna be known as the stereotypical lesbian friend that hits on her straight friends—it’s a fucking myth anyways, but that won’t matter. Has Rarity ever even shown interest in a woman? Now that she thinks about it…

Hell.

AJ’s seconds away from telling her it’s a joke and just backing off. But before she can, she finally hears a response from her longtime crush, the heart-heavy ache that beats in her chest and haunts her dreams with a silver tongue and soft curls.

“Absolutely, I will,” comes the response, and AJ feels like she can breathe again, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

Rarity, however, sounds breathless, like a feather wisp floating on a breeze. The usual high-pitch, energetic frenzy of her cadence has been replaced with a certain poise and composure that’s hard to place. Maybe reverence is the word AJ’s looking for?

AJ blinks twice, trying to form some sort of a coherent sentence. Her brain feels fried. And. She’s kind of in shock? It takes her a few seconds to process that this is a yes, and not the blatant rejection she was expecting.

While it’s not quite the answer she usually fantasizes about in her daydreams, it still pricks the back of her neck with chills—and a wave of relief washes over her.

“I…Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

Okay. This is happening.

“That’s…that’s great news! Okay, well, uh, I’ll see you then and—”

She’s interrupted by a heartfelt giggle from Rarity.

“Slow down, darling,” she laughs, light amusement clear in her tone, “Where will we go? And when?”

Oh. Right.

AJ lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “Oh, yeah—sorry.”

“You must let me know what you have in mind. A lady needs to properly prepare herself…for a date.”

Rarity sounds a bit giddy now, and much more like her usual self again.

But. Shit. AJ hasn’t planned anything out yet. In her nervousness, she didn’t even consider what would happen after if Rarity said yes.

Hmm...

She could invite Rarity over. Cook something for her. Pinkie may do it more often, but cooking and baking are skills AJ takes pride in having. She knows she’s a good cook. Besides the obvious benefit of getting to show off, cooking for Rarity feels personal. It’s more work to do, but cooking can be very romantic. Plus, there are plenty of romantic spots on the farm. Though she doesn’t plan on dining on the floor of the barn, it’s still a farm (and a farmhouse) and she knows how Rarity can be. AJ would hate for one of her dresses to get dirty as a consequence. Even worse, get blamed for it.

There’s also the option of a more traditional romantic evening. A nice restaurant would mean less prep for AJ, and it shows Rarity that she knows what she likes. It would also give Rarity permission to go all out with her outfit, unlike the farm. (Though AJ has a feeling she’ll do that regardless.) She could put on a fancy getup herself and show Rarity she cares about the impression she makes when she’s not toiling in the fields. Oh, but the thought of leaving the fashionista unimpressed by her attempts at an outfit…it makes her itchy. She’d have to ask someone for help besides Miss Haute Couture herself. It’d feel a little taboo to have her pick it out for their date. While dining out means AJ gets to stare unashamedly at Rarity the whole night, it could also be…awkward to sit opposite to each other if it ends up being stiff. Hopefully it won’t be. It’s Rarity; she couldn’t be boring if she tried. And besides—they always find something to joke about, even if it’s themselves.

Then there’s the financial aspect of going out. AJ doesn’t splurge on anything. Ever. She would for Rarity, though. She’s got enough saved for that. Still, she gets annoyed at people trying to nickel and dime her on every little thing. If it comes to that, she hopes she can keep her annoyance to herself. For Rarity.

Ugh. What to say…

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Tag List: @mrrrpmeow @babydarkstar @butwerebothmares @chaosdraconequus @chrysaliswife

#Curious what people will choose #poll adventure: rarijack dinner #polls #rarijack #applejack #rarity #mlp #my art #accidentally making AJ lefthanded with that dicing art lmao #guess she's ambidextrous now

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kingmagnificoofrosas · 2 months

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They love you - they would do anything for you!

Words mean nothing if there's no action to prove them true!

The whole statement from the "evil book" - mind you- "bound for all eternity, nothing can break or bind the evil" is a capital B big fat lie!

A dear anon has already mentioned this before here on my blog through an ask. The gullibility of Amaya and the rest of the people of rosas almost hurts. Of course an evil book would tell you there is no way to get out of the dark!

Disney isn't the first and only one who has been spreading the message of "True love breaks evey curse and true love overcomes all. And darkness can never be greater than the light."

From the christian perspective, it's more than clear that everything said by the evil book isn't trustworthy as far as salvation goes! Evil isn't stronger than the good and never will be!

It's also intersting to note that the evil force (green evil magic) is potrayed as this shadow entity 👇🏼

Also, why trust the words of something that literally does nothing but evil and harm?

Even if we look at the whole Magnifico situation purely objectively, like my cousins daughter, not through the lense of faith and leaving the knowledge of trauma aside, the "He's a villain now and can't be saved" is utter nonsense!

The first half of the movie we are told and shown Magnifico's true intentions. His ambitions and desires. We saw him being genuine all the way. He's always been honest and kind. He never lied, played or manipultated anyone and even further explained multiple times how he feels and why he does what he does. And then we are shown "the book" the big bad thing that will defenitly do harm and take posession of Magnifico should he use it!

That's the information! If Magnifico uses the book, he will be "controlled" by the evil from this book! This is what even Amaya said! Plain and clear.

Also, geeky side fact to the orgins of the book : Magnifico didn't get the book himself, nor did he built the evil lair where he later on created his staff. From the art book we know that he found both the book and the evil lair during the renovations. [ He's built his castle on top of an already existing building ] That means, Magnifico didn't even go to pursue such a book. He found it and kept it. Cause we already know why - trauma rooted fear, anxiety, paranoia.

If someone is controlled/posessed by something, it's more than clear that the person isn't at fault for the actions done by the evil in them! Just look at the insane difference!

Oh yeah ... I know a posession by evil if I see one. And in this case, we had the facts served on a silver tray. It's not even a guessing game.

The only thing we can hold Magnifico accountable for is the fact he did reach for the book. But then again, we also need to consider WHY he did. Reason - his trauma! He was terrified!

If the book hadn't been there, believe me, this poor man would have had the worst mental breakdown and we would have probably found him huddled together on the ground suffering out his panic attack.

People don't understand the merry go round of thoughts a traumatized person has. And the emotions that come with it. In a situation as intense as Magnifico's we do have a domino effect. Or a wildfire-effect. One tiny spark on dry grass will eventually lead to a big fire. He was already triggered and highly stressed out, and severly traumatized people oftentimes aren't able to make the best decissions - or decissions at all.

If I think about it - if I had suffered a trauma as intense as Magnifico, already more than burdened with anxiety, fear and paranoia, and then something happens that triggers me immensely, I spend an entire night feverishly searching for an answer or solution, no sleep, no food, immense stress…. on top of that, no one in the entire kingdom that truly understands me ... Boy, I'd probably freak out and snap too.

The most support he's gotten during his spiral of misery was a pat to the shoulder. Not one single hug, no truly comforting words, a gentle stroke over his cheek, a kiss, truly loving words. That poor man got nothing!

Btw this is a quote from my cousins daughter. And she told it to my face randomly before I could even say anything! She said "You know, Magnifico isn't bad. The book is. He only wanted to protect everyone but the book made him evil. Bad book!"

And if that wasn't already enough, her younger brother watched the movie as well and then also randomly told me, "Bad book!" Furthermore - I wheezed and cried of laughter, because 1. I didn't expect this and 2. it was absolutely brilliant! - The daughter sat at the table and was drawing again, and then she told me, "The movie ... the magician and the bad book ..." The title she gave WISH! She made Magnifico the protagonist and the evil book the villain! Exactly right!

Anyway, then it happens, everyone KNOWS Magnifico is "controlled/posessed" and yet all of the sudden he himself is the evil? What??

In the past ten decades, disney had always done a fantastic job in displaying true evil and the - true love always wins - message. Even with quite recent movies such as Tangled, Frozen, Encanto etc. We've been introduced to the trauma topic and that "antagonists" can and should be saved.

I mean, I'm absolutely glad that we got Magnifico the way we got him, but I'm enraged about the toxic stance toward trauma.

If I'm looking at what disney did in the tangled series with Varian and Cassandra, who both had a short time period where they've been pushed down the "villain" road by trauma and by the hurt of not feeling valued, seen, heard or treated right and how this got resolved, I can only shake my head at what disney did in Wish.

Cassandra as much as Varian in fact- especially Cassandra- threatened the whole kingdom and also strived to hurt Rapunzel more than just once.

And she wasn't directly posessed by evil but heavily manipulated and blinded by it. All her "Evil actions" were completelty on her! And Rapunzel stressed that no matter what, she'll never give up on Cassandra. Why? Because she truly loved her! Because she knew that this evil wasn't who she truly is.

Rapunzel said "Even when I look at you now, after all that's happened, no matter what we've done to each other, I still see that look in your eyes. You're my best friend, Cassandra, and I will never give up on you!"

Can you imagine what could have been if Amaya and all the citizens of Rosas would have had that attitude towards Magnifico? Truly loving him for who he is and not only seeing him as a source for favours? They all simply didn't care! If they had, they wouldn't have given up on him as quick as the snap of a finger.

So we've seen antagonists and semi-villains getting redeemed before and we've seen the "True love conquers all" more than enough, and now, especially with Magnifico, disney and some ignorant haters want to tell us that this isn't what could have happened to Magnifico too?

It's ridiculous!

And the citizens of Corona forgave both Cassandra and Varian!

Now, once more, the "book" said - nothing can bind the evil magic! Yet this is exactly what happened after the people of Rosas unified and sang! The lights glowing in their chests is actually symbolic for their hearts unifying! It was immediately stronger than the hold of the evil magic, even though the book said, it's untouchable!

The evil magic was bound, "star" was set free and Magnifico pulled into the curse realm. You cannot tell me if they all had done the same thing with the goal in their hearts to free and save Magnifico, that they wouldn't have succeeded.

#king magnifico #disney wish #wish 2023 #team magnifico #magnifico defenders #king magnifico isn't a villain

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savoytrufflephd · 4 months

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The questions of Laurent’s being and behavior…

I have been informed, via @thickenmyblood’s asks (since mine were apparently not set to accept anonymous asks – which I have now changed) that my opinion about HIUH Laurent’s character is incorrect. I have been informed that he’s abusive.

My PhD isn’t in English (though it is in the humanities), but my wife was an English major and she has often told me that interpretations aren’t right or wrong, but they are stronger or weaker in the sense that they are supported by the text.

So, let’s go…

First things first. Let me be clear about the following:

The question of whether or not Laurent is abusive in this piece of fanfiction has no bearing whatsoever on whether any person you know in real life is abusive.

Similarly, any arguments that Laurent can change or that Laurent deserves a second chance have no bearing whatsoever on whether any person you know in real life can change or deserves a second chance.

Neither HIUH nor any fic should be taken as a life advice manual. Just because there are therapists in this fic does not mean that @thickenmyblood is a mental health professional or your therapist.

I am also not a therapist, nor am I trying to give you life advice when I speak of my enjoyment of HIUH.

But if I were to give you life advice, it would be this: If a piece of fanfiction makes you so angry that you feel the need to send abusive anonymous comments to the author and/or ask that author to pass on your comment “correcting” the opinion of a reader writing about that story, you should probably stop reading that fic. It is clearly not good for you. Metaphorically speaking, you are in an abusive relationship with that fic and you should end it. Write the story off and move on.

Okay, that said, the question of whether Laurent is abusive in HIUH is probably more of a series of questions:

Has HIUH Laurent engaged in abusive behaviors?

If so, do those abusive behaviors necessarily indicate that he is and will always be an abuser?

If not, what evidence do we have that HIUH Laurent can and will stop engaging in abusive behaviors?

If HIUH Laurent stops engaging in abusive behaviors, what reasons, if any, does HIUH Damen have to return to the relationship despite past abuse?

BONUS:

A. Is an HIUH Laurent who harms Damen through abusive behavior mischaracterized relative to the canon source material?

B. Is an HIUH Damen who chooses to be with Laurent despite past abuse mischaracterized relative to the canon source material?

1. Has Laurent engaged in abusive behaviors?

Yes. Although we are limited by a potentially unreliable narrator (Damen), who does not believe Laurent is abusive, we are clearly and intentionally both told and shown in the text that Laurent has engaged in abusive behavior. We are told when Neo explains as much to a skeptical Damen:

“Then you must know I’m only trying to get a feeling on how educated you are on the subject of abuse between romantic partners.” “But why ? I just told you Laurent and I never—” “Do you know what emotional abuse looks like, Damen?” “Yes.” “Give me a definition.” It’s hot in the room, all of the sudden. “It’s… making someone. Feel bad.” “It’s consistent and repeated humiliation,” Neo says. “Gaslighting. Manipulation. Verbal abuse can sometimes overlap with this. Have you ever experienced this while in your relationship with Laurent?” “We weren’t abusive.” “Did you insult each other?” “No,” Damen says. It was so long ago, it was a lifetime back. He can’t remember. “It’s—not like that. Humiliation? We never—” “You’ve said that sometimes Laurent made you feel as though the things you were feeling were inadequate.” You’re being a fucking idiot, Laurent had said about the pink sweatshirt. “What if he was right?” “It’s never right to invalidate your partner’s feelings.” “We weren’t abusive.” “Damen,” Neo says, the soft caress before a blow. “What if we think about it from—” “There’s nothing to think about. I’m telling you, it wasn’t like that. How the fuck did you get to that conclusion? Because I complained about us arguing?” Neo ruffles his notes. “Contempt. Shame. Hurt. That’s what abusers thrive on. There’s quite a lot of those things in here.” “Laurent’s not an abuser,” Damen snaps. “Maybe not, but he grew up with one, didn’t he? These are learned traits.” Damen folds forward as though to vomit. That’s—He’s made a mistake. They argued, they yelled, they said things they didn’t mean, but they never hit each other or threw cutlery at each other’s heads. They went to bed angry, and Damen slept on the couch, and there would be rolling eyes and huffs and annoyance in the following days, but that’s not—Laurent is not— You’re sweet, Damen had said, hand to Laurent’s cheek. A sweetheart. He remembers meaning it, remembers Laurent not liking it. He also remembers Laurent’s sweetness, scarcer in the end and cloying in the beginning. Breakfast in bed, letting Damen pick what show to watch, giving up half his trail mix bag because he knew Damen liked the dried fruit pieces most. You’ll do great, you always do great. A protein shake prepped and ready to go, peace and quiet the nights before important court days. But also bigger things, biggest things. There was—and sharing a bed, and curling up under Damen to read, and letting Damen carry Nicaise up the stairs, and holding his hand under the table as firm functions, and kissing just to kiss, just because, just— He’s explained Laurent wrong.

And we are shown in the moments when Damen and Laurent talk and Damen expects a belittling response from Laurent:

“There are,” Laurent starts, stops. Starts again, “I didn’t.” He has both elbows on the table, which he used to despise. Tables are for cutlery and food, not limbs. Something about the way he rubs at the skin under his eyes makes Damen’s stomach cower as if expecting a blow. “Agnes recommended it months before you—came back. It wasn’t my idea.”

“I met him?” For once, Laurent doesn’t mock him for his question. “It was at that school play I couldn’t go to. The one Nicaise got that huge part in.”

“I want to know when the twenty-four hours are up,” Damen says, loudly, too loudly, “so we can go to the police station and report him missing. For fuck’s sake, Laurent, will you stop ? He could be seriously hurt, and you’re sitting here, berating me about the way I phrased a question. Do you even give a shit about him? Do you even—” He cuts himself off when he sees Laurent’s expression. Like he did last time with Nicaise, Damen braces himself for what’s to come, goes over the list of things Laurent can hurl at him, tries to minimize the inevitable damage. The comment will be about Nikandros, about his soft childhood in Ios, about the time he tried to discipline Nicaise by himself and ended up covered in vomit. Nothing happens. There’s only Laurent, turning his face to the side so Damen can’t stare at it any longer. In the silence of the car, Laurent’s breathing shakes.

“Is his name really Dog?” Laurent says, sitting down next to Damen. Between them, the two cups of coffee and the small pile of croissants both steam. “I didn’t believe Nicaise when he told me.” “I,” Damen starts, lie ready on his tongue, and stops. It’s very meta. “I’m not good with names.” Laurent picks up his coffee instead of agreeing with Damen. Instead of mocking. The space between their bodies is comfortable enough—they’re not touching, not even their knees or thighs. They’re not looking at each other either, not with the entire park stretching green and busy in front of them.

2. If so, do those abusive behaviors necessarily indicate that he is and will always be an abuser?

I take this to be one of the major points of contention on the part of the angry readers. As you can probably guess, I don’t think the text suggests that Laurent in inherently abusive. Besides the stuff coming in my answer to question 3, we have several reasons to believe that Laurent’s abusive behavior is the product of particular circumstances rather than a generalized personality dysfunction.

We know, and Neo just reminded us above, that abusive behaviors are learned behaviors. We know Laurent was abused in multiple ways before he was able to leave his uncle’s house. We know that he is still very young and that it has not been that long since his uncle’s trial. We know he has not been comfortable talking to Damen about his abuse, which gives us reason to believe he still experiences a great deal of shame. That shame is hinted at here:

“He respects you,” Laurent says before Damen has made up his mind about the yelling. “He looks at you and sees a standard to meet. Normalcy. It’s hard to disappoint people you respect. Especially people like you.” “Like me.” “You do things your way. Everyone else does them wrong.” “That’s,” Damen starts. The absolute inaccuracy of the phrase leaves him hanging. “What the fuck?” Laurent ignores him. “He doesn’t respect me, and he also knows I have no room to judge. It’s different. We’re—it’s just different.”

We also know that Laurent is specifically and intentionally not abusive toward Nicaise. We have seen that he has been absorbing a ton of anger, vilification, derision, denigration from Nicaise almost entirely without complaint and without lashing out at Nicaise in return. In fact, after the breaking of the paperweight, when Laurent feels that he might not be able to avoid reacting in a way he will regret, he calls Damen to safely remove Nicaise from the situation. Having taken the lock off Nicaise’s door for reasons many parents would no doubt consider justified, he realizes it was a mistake:

Damen doesn’t look down at the twisted little bolts on the floor. “Actually, you should watch this part in case you ever want to dismantle it again.” “I won’t.” Damen rubs his sleeve over a weird spot on the knob. “You’re betting a lot on Nicaise’s hypothetical good behavior.” “It was dumb, taking the lock away as punishment. I…” Laurent’s thumb glides over the edge of the glass. It traces a full circle before stopping and going white, digging in. His jaw twitches like he’s munching on something. “Privacy shouldn’t be a reward.” “Wasn’t this about safety? He locked himself in, wouldn’t come out or reply when you called…” Laurent’s reply is slow to come. After a while, Damen stops expecting it to come at all. He goes back to testing the lock—twice, waiting for that click sound—opens the door, closes it, and rattles the knob a bit. Just to be sure. “My uncle made it about safety too,” Laurent says. “Locks on doors were for adults. Not children.” The lonely ice cube in his glass floats around aimlessly, not quite touching its confines. “The first to go were the bedroom locks. What if there’s a fire and you can’t get out? What if someone breaks in through the window and—well.” Laurent smiles, small and ugly. “That kind of thing. You know.”

He ensures that Nicaise sees a therapist, meets with that therapist regularly, and follows professional advice about putting Nicaise on medication.

Laurent also maintains a strong friendship with Ancel, whose judgment the text has taught us to trust, through Damen’s evolving relationship with him. Laurent is capable of non-abusive, non-superficial relationships.

3. If not, what evidence do we have that HIUH Laurent can and will stop engaging in abusive behaviors?

From the moment we see Laurent interact with Damen in the present of this story, he is trying to treat Damen better. Not because he thinks he can get back together with Damen, but because he realizes he needs to make a relationship with Damen possible for Nicaise. We have already seen above that most of the time when Damen expects Laurent’s ridicule in this story, he does not actually receive it. In very stressful conversations, when Laurent does lash out, he now tends to pull back or even to acknowledge and apologize:

Coffee. Damen takes two long sips, trying to rinse the bad taste out of his mouth. They’ve had arguments in public before, probably louder than this one. For some reason, the thought isn’t as comforting as Damen would have once found it. They broke up to be better than they were together, didn’t they? They should be better. Except this doesn’t feel better. Or different. Laurent says, “That was out of line.” Now, cooled off, Damen feels clammy. Wobbly. He knows Laurent is right, and yet the thought of sitting through a reprimand makes him want to melt away. “It was.” “I—apologize.” Damen looks up from his coffee to Laurent’s profile. He’s facing the wrong way, Damen thinks stupidly, because the window is to their left. “You apologize.” Half a question. “Go ahead,” Laurent says. “Rub it in.” Damen doesn’t want to. Nausea is curling around him, closing in. “I was out of line too, so.”

And we know now that Laurent has thought through some of his past behaviors toward Damen:

“I was angry at you,” Laurent says, “all the time. Sometimes it was justified, but when it wasn’t I just—I found ways to justify it. That wasn’t fair. Of me.” Damen’s palm is numb around the glass. “Why were you angry?” “Nicaise.” “Justified,” Damen says. “And the rest of it?” Laurent is facing him again. “Paschal says I have a tendency to expect the worst from everyone. Especially you. You’d make comments, and I’d think you were being cruel instead of…” “Instead of what? Ignorant?” Laurent doesn’t reply. “That makes no sense,” Damen says. “We never argued about me being fucking sadistic. We argued about you acting like some things were obvious and I was simply too much of an idiot to get them.” “I never thought you were an idiot.” “You said it often enough.” “I’m—sorry,” Laurent says. “It doesn’t change anything, but—even if you had been the biggest idiot in the world, you didn’t deserve…” A blinking spree follows. “I’m sorry.”

We know that Laurent is still in therapy, and we know that he has been talking about his relationship with Damen there because Paschal has suggested couples counseling for them. And Laurent has invited Damen to do that couples counseling, showing that he wants them to build a better foundation for their relationship going forward.

4. If HIUH Laurent stops engaging in abusive behaviors, what reasons, if any, does HIUH Damen have to return to the relationship despite past abuse?

Damen is deeply in love with Laurent. At the beginning of the story, he is in denial about this fact, but the uncontrollable flow of his thoughts still shows us how much he feels the loss of their relationship. Once he and Laurent are speaking again, seeing improvements in their communication, and experiencing moments of comfort and fun in their interactions – and once Laurent has broken up with Maxime – Damen admits to himself that he wants to be back together. Neo, as usual, prompts the self-recognition:

“I’m asking you to think about what life might look like in two years,” Neo says, “for you and Laurent. Time does not only pass for you, Damen.” A smile, crinkling the corners of Neo’s eyes. “That’d be ideal, wouldn’t it?” Two years. Damen sits with the question for a while, looking at it, prodding it. In two years, Nicaise will have gone away to college. Maybe Laurent will move, relocate, start over somewhere closer to Vask. He’ll post about his new life on Instagram, or details of it will make it to Damen as second-hand gossip. They could still be friends, over text or the phone or fucking letters, Damen thinks, yet there’s something bitter in the back of his throat, filling up his mouth like vomit. Maybe Laurent will date again. Probably. Most likely. And Damen— When he looks up from the armrest, Neo is looking straight back. Damen can’t say it. Earlier today, as he typed his last email of the day at the office, he kept drafting a plan for today’s session. He’d explain his argument with Laurent, then the party at Ancel’s, then the way he keeps looking at Laurent in all the wrong lights, in all the wrong ways, and still finds himself wanting to kiss him. Neo would make a disapproving face, maybe, but it would be easy to brush off; anyone that doesn’t know Laurent would find it hard to understand how easy it is to want to kiss him. Except that isn’t all Damen wants. What Damen wants isn’t a settling of the score, a cleaning of the slate. He doesn’t want to do it once for old times’ sake, or twice out of gluttony. He doesn’t want to make any long-distance phone calls, write any letters, see any pictures on Instagram of Laurent and someone that isn’t him. He doesn’t want things to stay like this, in this careful antiseptic stage. He doesn’t want them to be friends. “It’s not what I want,” Damen says, at last. Neo leans back into his chair. He rolls his wrist once. “You think it’s what I should want, right? Letting go and all.” “I wouldn’t say that,” Neo says. “Should and shouldn’t are very loaded words. It also doesn’t matter what I think you should or shouldn’t do, in general. What is it that you want, since we’ve already established what it is that you don’t?” Don’t make me say it out loud. “I want,” Damen starts, and stops. The words look so stupid, jumbled inside his head. I want him back, like Laurent is a toy someone took away and won’t return. Like Damen is a child, begging. Don’t make me say it. Seconds trickle by, piling into a minute. Then two. “Do you want to be in a relationship with Laurent again?” “I thought I already was,” Damen says. “A friendship is a kind of relationship. You said that.” Neo closes his eyes, keeps them like that for a while. “I did, yes. Let me rephrase that—do you want to be in a romantic relationship with Laurent? Again?” There is no loophole this time, no two-meaning word Damen can latch onto. The truth sits heavy in him, not on his chest but somewhere deeper, inside a little crevice between some (probably important) organs. Saying no would be lying, saying yes would be diminishing. “I want things to be good,” Damen says. “That’s all.”

And in chapter 19, Damen is brutally honest with himself about how, even after everything, he still wants Laurent:

“You meet new people,” Neo says. “You go on dates, make new friends, find new interests. Despite what you might think right now, Laurent isn’t your only option. Dare I say, Laurent might not even be your best option.” The room is dark, darker than it was when the phone call started, but Damen’s eyes hurt like he’s been staring at a ball of light for too long. Everything hurts in a strange, modest way. A throb here, faint. An ache there, heatless. “I don’t want other options,” Damen says. “Well.” “How fucked up is that?” “Pretty fucked up,” Neo says. It makes Damen stop blinking. “Luckily, you’re already doing therapy. It’s only bound to get less complicated from here on. Or more, depending on how you look at it.” “I don’t even wanna look at it, to be honest.” “Then don’t. Take time off, let things cool down, think about what’s been said… No one is asking you to choose right this second.” It’s not that anyone is asking. It’s that it feels like he’s already made his choice.

“You didn’t tell me,” Damen says before he can think not to. “Tell you what?” “How bad it was.” Laurent’s thumb traces the t in team. It’s a bit crooked, even from Damen’s perspective. “It was pretty bad,” he says, slowly, “before you came back. Things were better once he started seeing you again.” “You call that better?” “Yes,” Laurent says. I would have come back, Damen thinks, if you’d told me. Except it’s not true; he would have come back for much less. He’s here now, sitting across from Laurent in this mediocre coffee shop, talking things out, making an effort, thinking of reaching out to finally, finally, hold Laurent’s hand. It’s strange, looking at Laurent and knowing he’s the only other person on earth that feels the same way he does. Where else would Damen go? Who else would he talk to? No one will ever get it, not the way Laurent does. And Laurent knows it. He must, or else he would not be sitting here either. There is only this, Damen thinks. At least for him, there will only ever be this.

So there is that. Damen is hopelessly devoted to Laurent. But that doesn’t make getting back together with him a good decision. Love would not be a good reason to return to an abusive relationship.

Another NOT good reason would be Damen believing the fact that he made mistakes cancels out Laurent’s harmful behavior. The text makes that explicitly clear through Neo:

Neo’s pen hops; a period appears at the end of a sentence. “Apologies can be hard to navigate. It’s sort of like… You’ve wronged me, and you know that you’ve wronged me, and now you’re apologizing for it while expecting me to forgive you. It’s quite a lot to put on a person.” “There are degrees to wrong,” Damen says. His chair feels smaller, like it’s locking him in instead of holding him up. The armrests keep getting in the way of his elbows. “And it’s not like I didn’t have stuff I had to apologize for too. I don’t get why you’re trying to make this seem like a bad thing.” “I’m not.” “Then why—” “Do you think you deserved an apology from Laurent?” Damen leans back and back and back, until his shoulder blades find something solid. Did he deserve…? He’d wanted one, once. In Nikandros’s guest room, with only beige and white and terracotta everything around him, he’d had staring matches with his own phone. He’d thought Laurent might call, at the very beginning. Apologizing. Begging. But Laurent never did. “Yeah,” Damen says. Neo’s head begins to tilt. “You don’t sound too sure about that.” “I am sure.” “All right,” Neo says. “Why do you deserve an apology?” “I told you already. He treated me like I was an idiot.” “How?” “How—what?” “How exactly did he treat you like you were an idiot? What were his actions towards you?” “I,” Damen starts, but something in Neo’s face makes him pause. “He’d say things when we argued.” “Such as?” “That I was an asshole.” Neo nods. “And how did you feel when you heard him say that? Did you feel like it was fair?” “I felt like he was an asshole,” Damen says. “Sometimes.” “Whereas now you feel like he was right?” He was right about Nicaise. And maybe about Ancel, too. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” “I don’t want you to say anything,” Neo says. “I’m just trying to get you to think about things from a different perspective. Laurent apologized, which is an important—not to say crucial—step in rebuilding any kind of relationship. But it seems to me that you’re holding onto this newly found belief that because you acted a certain way, because you made mistakes, you somehow deserved the way he treated you throughout the last stages of your relationship.” “That’s not what I think,” Damen says. “All right. Then you think you deserved the apology because the way he treated you was wrong.” “Yes. But…” “But…?” Damen’s face feels hot, the heat lodged right over his molars. “Doesn’t it kind of cancel out? Like, we both fucked up.” “Those are two different issues,” Neo says. “So no, they don’t cancel out. What he did to you and what you did to him are obviously connected, but someone doing something wrong or bad is not an excuse to do the wrong or bad thing back to them.” Neo gives his pen a tap. “Or it does, I suppose. It depends on your belief system. But you don’t strike me as an ‘eye for an eye’ fan.” I don’t want any eyes, Damen thinks.

I interpret the failed second try (or second strike) of Damen and Laurent’s relationship to have been somewhat based on the “cancel out” reasoning from above. The “cancel out” and move past approach did not work because they failed to address the many insecurities, communication failures, and problematic patterns that plagued the first time around. A discussion with Neo (again) makes this clear. Damen hasn’t yet learned to listen to what Laurent is saying without letting his insecurities and anger get in the way:

But Damen isn’t in Laurent’s position. You’ll never get it, Laurent had said about Nicaise. Maybe it’s true. “I get why he did it. I’ve been thinking, and it’s not—I get it. Nicaise being embarrassed, wanting Laurent in the room because he was the least angry of—” “I don’t think that’s why,” Neo says. “Or at least, that’s not what you’ve just told me Laurent said about the whole thing.” “What?” “Laurent talked extensively about roles. Did you notice that?” “No.” “He presents himself as the scapegoat for Nicaise’s anger, while you’re the one Nicaise admires and wants to impress.” Tap, tap, tap. Damen imagines Neo’s fingers flying across the keyboard. “It seems to me Nicaise wasn’t concerned about the different intensity levels of your—as in, yours and Laurent’s—anger. He knew you were both angry.” “Laurent was better at handling it.” “Was he?” “I couldn’t stop thinking about the guy,” Damen says. Guys, his brain supplies, helpful as ever. “I still can’t. Even now, I know it’s not—that’s not important. I was yelling at Nicaise. I wasn’t listening.” “And that’s why Nicaise didn’t want you to go with him to the clinic?” Damen closes his eyes. He needs to repaint his ceiling, do something about the lack of texture there. “Laurent said something about abandonment,” Neo tries. A nudge. “You’ve mentioned Nicaise doesn’t do well with change, that he’s got a tendency to latch onto routines and people. Do you think it might be possible that he was trying to preserve the relationship he has with you?” “By keeping me out of a medical examination room.” “Yes.” “That’s what Laurent said.” “Well,” Neo says. “It sounds plausible.”

Damen wanted magically for them to be over their past:

“Right,” Damen says. “You don’t do should and shouldn’t. I forgot.” “Are you upset?” Are you angry with me? “I don’t know,” Damen says. “We were supposed to be past this, and now it’s out there and I can’t—we can’t—” “How were you supposed to be past this, if this had never been discussed before today?” “You said it’s impossible to discuss everything.”

So, I don’t think it’s a strong interpretation of the text to say that @thickenmyblood is trying to present Damen in an unfairly negative light in order to excuse Laurent’s much worse behavior and thereby make it okay for them to get back together. Cancelling out isn’t what the HEA of the story is set up to be about.

That said – and given the fact that Damen is still in love with Laurent – what GOOD reasons might Damen have to try the relationship again?

For one, he is beginning to understand better what the fights with Laurent about Nicaise were about. Moreover, they have now explicitly acknowledged that they are co-parenting Nicaise and Laurent has expressed a clear commitment to them parenting Nicaise as a team.

For another, Damen has a much improved understanding of the role of therapy and the complexities of mental health. He has a long ways to go on this front, but I don’t think we’ll see him dismissing or belittling Laurent’s mental health needs. Moreover, Damen has ways of addressing his own mental health needs and talking things through with a person who doesn’t share his triggers and emotional investments around Laurent.

For a third, he has made a commitment to working through their issues in therapy and has concluded that he trusts Laurent to try just as hard as he will to repair and strengthen their relationship.

Crucially, Damen has also learned to stand up for himself when he feels Laurent is implying that he is incapable of understanding things. This means he can point it out and Laurent can recognize when he is retreating into a defensive, harmful pattern. This also allows Damen to indicate that something isn’t obvious to him and to ask Laurent to explain it kindly and clearly. I think that is the only way they can reconcile their very different life histories and relationships to social normativity.

ONCE AGAIN, believing this about HIUH Damen relative to HIUH Laurent does not mean that I believe this is something all (or even very many) real life people who were previously in unhealthy relationships should aim for or could achieve.

Which brings us to our bonus questions:

A. Is an HIUH Laurent who harms Damen through abusive behavior mischaracterized relative to the canon source material?

No, in fact, this is not a mischaracterization. Laurent abused Damen in canon. He took him as a slave. He sought Damen’s public humiliation. He had Damen whipped to an extent that would have killed most other people. He placed Damen in a situation that (for almost any other person) would have resulted in a violent public rape. He also forced Damen to engage in public and non-consensual oral sex. Later, when he understood Damen more emotionally and was feeling insecure or threatened, he lied about his feelings and motivations out of shame and self-hatred and with the aim of hurting Damen enough to drive him away.

B. Is an HIUH Damen who chooses to be with Laurent despite past abuse mischaracterized relative to the canon source material?

Damen fell in love with Laurent after all that abuse because he came to understand its source and because he saw other sides of Laurent that were caring and honorable and expressed a commitment to achieving justice, even if not by fully honest means. He came to understand Laurent as a survivor, even before he became aware of what exactly Laurent had survived. He stuck with Laurent through all of Laurent’s attempts to push him away and fought for what should have been an impossible relationship. And throughout this process, he learned about his own naivete and to question key elements of his upbringing, like the quest for war glory and the belief that “perfect treatment” justified slavery.

Captive Prince is a seductive and enthralling trilogy. And we willingly suspend any disbelief about whether Laurent’s trauma can truly be overcome simply by Damen’s noble nature and magical healing cock.

Why not do the same for HIUH? (Or, you know, just stop reading it.)

Although I do think Maca may owe us some healing cock. Just sayin’.

#captive prince #captive prince fanfic #hiuh #damen x laurent #thickenmyblood #hand in unlovable hand #neither my wife nor child reads this fic and i suck at fandom these days but i need to talk about this masterwork #clearly when you are just about to finish your academic book you experience a sudden need to analyze the fuck out of other things

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differenteagletragedy · 4 months

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Our Life Swap AU continues to haunt me. This one begins sometime between Step 2 and 3. Baxter and MC befriend a stray cat and they pay attention to that instead of to their feelings.

The first time the cat came around, Baxter was having a bad day.

You weren't sure exactly why, but you could tell by his demeanor that it wasn't the time to pry. He'd tell you eventually whatever it was that had happened, he always did, but sometimes it was better for him to push the bad things away at first and to let a little light back in before he could face them. You were, he'd often told you, that light for him.

He'd come over that afternoon, and the two of you were sitting outside your house, just talking about nothing in particular, when the cat showed up. It was a stray, you could tell that much, and had a black coat with some white markings that made it look like it was wearing a tuxedo.

Baxter had brightened up when he saw you, but at the sight of the cat, he began beaming.

Your best friend always loved being fancy, he had since he was small, but he was no snob, so it wasn't a surprise when he knelt down right on the street and held his hand out, trying to coax the cat over.

"Here, kitty kitty," he began saying in such a soft, earnest voice that you couldn't help but smile.

"Careful," you told him, but the warning was unnecessary. Almost as if it sensed that Baxter could use the extra support, the cat cautiously made its way over to his outstretched hand and lightly touched it with its nose.

"I think it likes you," you said.

Judging by the massive grin he shot back at you, dimples shown prominently in his smooth cheeks, the feeling was mutual.

The rest of the afternoon was spent focused solely on the cat. You theorized where it came from, how old was, if it was a boy cat or a girl cat. Baxter in particular wondered about its family, and he came up with an elaborate backstory spanning generations before you thought to ask a more basic question.

"What do you think we should name it?"

He took a moment, looking the cat over, then said "Busby."

Smiles came awfully easy that day, and you gave another then. Before you met your friend, you'd never heard the name, but it was one that belonged to his favorite film director. Memories of watching Busby Berkeley movies, black and white classics with big dance numbers that he thought were absolutely magical, came to mind. Considering the cat's built-in formalwear, it was a fitting name.

"Busby it is," you told him.

You both knew you couldn't keep the cat. Your parents wouldn't allow pets, and neither would Baxter's. You decided to spend the day with it until you had to go back inside for the night and then bid it farewell, but Busby had other plans.

Day after day, week after week, the cat came back to your neighborhood. Eventually months went by, then a year, then a couple more, and your furry friend still made a point to stop by for food and pets nearly every day.

The week before Baxter left for college, the two of you sat outside your house like you'd done countless times, taking turns petting Busby and imagining all the adventures he'd been going on when he wasn't with you. At one point, the cat climbed on Baxter's lap and started kneading his stomach with its little paws. You both heard a loud purr, then it nuzzled its head firmly against his chin.

"I'm going to miss this more than words could possibly express," he said softly. You caught him glance at you, but before you could properly meet his eyes they turned back to the cat.

"Me too."

He was moving to Virginia for school, across the entire country. You'd been thinking about it constantly since he'd dropped the news, but it wasn't something you'd be able to fully grasp until he was gone. The idea that Baxter wouldn't be nearly within arm's reach every day was unfathomable. You knew it was something he felt like he had to do -- he was desperate to put as much distance as possible between him and his parents, and he wanted so badly to prove that he was capable of making it on his own. But still, life wouldn't be the same without him so close.

"Moms are going to keep taking care of our little friend?" he asked, giving Busby a gentle scratch behind the ears.

You nodded, reaching over to stroke the cat's back. In doing so, you scooted closer to Baxter, enough that your legs were touching and you could feel the heat coming off of him.

"And you're going to keep taking care of yourself?"

You looked up at him at that, and he looked back this time, his expression full of meaning. You saw ten years worth of caring in his eyes, what felt like almost a lifetime worth of love.

"Of course," you told him. "And you'll do the same?"

Instead of answering, he brought one hand away from your best furry friend and used it to slide around your shoulders. You felt him give you a squeeze before he pulled you against him, and he placed a firm kiss on your temple. You let out a shaky sign and leaned into it -- it lasted long enough for that -- and hoped that your own expression showed the same kind of friendly love and affection, that it didn't give away the years of longing that you'd felt for him.

"I'll take care of you too," he said, landing a series of smaller kisses along your cheek and forehead. It felt impossibly intimate between just-friends, but you didn't dare stop him from doing it.

"Always," he continued. "We may not be living on the same street or in the same state, but I hope you do know that you have a home in my heart. Anything you need, anything at all, for as long as you live, that will be my priority."

It was a heavy promise, but you didn't doubt he was sincere. He shifted slightly, pulling you a little harder against him. Another one of his kisses went further in your cheek, almost to the corner of your mouth. He stopped, taking a moment to look at you. There was a question in his eyes, and a sort of darkness you didn't recognize.

You'd wanted Baxter for a very, very long time. You'd thought about him looking at you like this, feeling his lips on your skin, more and more as time went on. Every time, you convinced yourself that your feelings were one-sided -- how could someone as beautiful and sweet and funny and perfect as him possibly want you?

But now, it felt a little different. His eyes trailed down to your lips, and he leaned a fraction closer.

"What if I need ear scratches?" you whispered, looking back down to the cat, deflecting because that was safer than whatever this was.

A moment passed, then Baxter's hand, which had made its way down to your hip at some point during his declaration, came up to your head. You felt gentle scratches against your scalp, and one more kiss on your cheek.

"I'll give you whatever you want," he told you.

#our life beginnings and always #our life #olba #our life baxter #baxter ward #baxter x mc #baxter x reader #baxter x you #baxter ward x you #baxter ward x reader #baxter ward x mc #our life swap au #this mc is gonna be the death of me i swear #open your eyes baby doll he is right there for the taking

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reds-fluff-extravaganza · 2 months

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Olrox x reader

Requested over on ao3! Sorry if he seems ooc or anything, this is a first that I’m writing for him. Also reader works at the inn he was staying in, which I don’t believe was ever named, but I gave it one.

Working at the Voltaire Inn, you tend to see many different types of folks come in and out, some more interesting than the rest… including the vampire that you were currently consoling. Well, more like talking to and letting his frustrations out rather than consoling, as he wasn’t upset and in tears or anything of the sort, but was rather unhappy and frustrated.

He had shown up a few days ago and the moment you saw him, you were rather fascinated by him, but unfortunately you couldn’t bring yourself to even get close to him, which may have been good for you at first. However, over the few days he had been staying at the inn, he had brought someone along with him, a man from the abbey, who you had seen before but never caught his name. Though you noticed that he would return by himself lately, and it caught you a bit off guard, but it wasn’t any of your business.

That is until you were getting ready to leave one evening and he had approached you, since you were the only one around. You had no idea why he would approach you of all people, but shrugged it off and listened to what he had to say, him telling you about what happened with Mizrak, the man he had been with. You felt a bit bad for him, really, so you just sat by and let him rant.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, I’ll be here for you, Olrox.” You gave him a faint smile as you assured him, getting up to leave.

“Of course, and if anyone ever bothers you, you only need to call for me.”

That was nearly a year ago, and since then, you two have grown closer. After you got out of work, he would be waiting for you to bring you home, which you’ve told him that wasn’t necessary, but he just wanted to be sure you would be safe. He won’t admit this, but he does actually care about you. You do appreciate him doing this for you, though. He has been there to protect you from other vampires and humans, and you’ve been there for emotional support and whatever else he may need.

You were locking up the inn for the evening and once you turned around, you saw Olrox standing nearby, leaning against a wall, as he waited for you.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me, Olrox. I would think others would know not to bother me by now.” You chuckled a bit as you walked over to the vampire, who just chuckled in response, shaking his head,

“Ah, that may be so, but I don’t have much else to do, Y/n.”

“Well, let’s get going then.” You two started making your way back to your place, telling him about your day, about the people who had rented rooms from the inn that day. You were telling him about a particularly… not so pleasant individual that you had encountered today.

“Yeah, the bastard was just grumpy because we didn’t have any rooms available to him at the time he arrived, and he just didn’t want to wait for one to become available, despite the fact that there was one about to open in a few hours due to the renter of the room was going to be leaving today.”

“Well he sure sounds pleasant.”

“Yeah… I’m just glad he didn’t threaten me with anything.”

“What.. do you mean by that, Y/n?”

“Oh, nothing like what you may be thinking. Fortunately I’ve never been threatened with my life or anything like that,”

“If he did dare to harm you, he would hope I never found out.”

“Please don’t kill anyone because of me, Olrox.”

“I just want to keep you safe is all, Y/n!”

“I know you do,” thinking back on it… you remembered something he had said some time ago about his first partner. Was he… afraid of losing you? No, that can’t be. You two were just friends!… right?

It was silent for a moment as you two walked, until the silence was broken by Olrox,

“I… believe there’s something you should, Y/n.”

“Hmm?” You looked back at him, curious to what he had to say.

“The reason… I want to keep you safe from everything.”

“Go on…”

“We got so close within such a short time, and I’m honestly surprised you haven’t run from me by now.”

“I know you’re a vampire and everyone tells me to stay away, but I just… can’t. You have yet to do anything to actually harm me, and you walk me home just about every night.”

“That night, when you let me rant to you about Mizrak..” ah, you haven’t heard that name in a long while now.

“Of course. I know not many would do that for someone they just met, but I was a bit curious about you when you first arrived to the Voltaire inn.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course!”

“I see… but back to the original topic at hand. The reason I always keep you safe.” He then stopped walking, which caused you to stop walking as well.

“I… never thought this would happen again, considering… well, you already know, but,” he took a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts, “I… have feelings for you, Y/n.”

“You.. you do?” You were rather shocked. You didn’t think he would ever fall for anyone again, let alone for you. Yet hearing him say those words, made you smile softly in response. Thinking back on it, you felt the same way, but you just never thought to tell him as you were afraid he wouldn’t ever feel the same way.

“I feel the same way, Olrox.” He looked a bit surprised, yet he took your hand into his own.

“I’m happy to hear that, my dear. Now come, let’s get you home.”

“I would like that, it’s starting to get cold out.” You held his hand in return, and the two of you made your back home, hand-in-hand, and he stayed the rest of the night at your place, as he didn’t want to leave your side.

#castlevania #castlevania nocturne #sfw #olrox #castlevania olrox #olrox/reader #olrox x reader #x reader #reader insert #fluff #fluff oneshot #x reader oneshot #oneshot #castlevania x reader

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thebottomfromhell · 9 months

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So can I ask about demon male reader die in the upper-moon arm like the reader saying how much they love them and a lot of things that he want to say and they actually cry or something like that I just you know feel kind of I don't know I just well yeah that's all I need to go to sleep now I should

Sorry it took me this long, you order angst, we have angst!

Male Demon Reader Dying in Uppermoon's arms.

Warnings: Angst, Reader's death, mentioned PTSD, Implied possible suicide, Gyokko and Douma are their own warnings.

Gyutaro:

You can still feel your body, but all of your attention is in your head, or mostly, in the arms that hold it against the thin body. Also in your ears, since you have never heard Gyutaro scream like that. It's so loud, so painful, so miserable, the agony.... the grief, you can only hear it "I WILL KILL EVERYONE! GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK RIGHT NOW!!" You try to catch his attention, it seems you can talk even without vocal cords and lungs, but there is no time to find some logic behind it. "Gyutaro...."

What are you even supposed to say? Comfort him? How? You are dying. Things won't be ok. You try to change the topic, for him to not cry his lungs out, or at least not having to face that during your last seconds. "Where is Daki?" Daki, the light of his life, his little sister, he seems to cry even harder after that, embracing what is left about you. "She was burned... THEY BURNED HER UP ALIVE!" Burn, but this slayer didn't do flame breathing, you would have felt it, but even more concerning, is that you don't understand why some fire would be so bad. "Gyutaro, she's ok. She can heal."

He breathes, blinks a bit as he keeps hugging your head, or what it's left from it. You are basically just a face right now. But you can feel the rest of your body, also becoming... nothing. It's scary, you will be gone. But you want to leave Gyutaro... in a better state than this. "But you won't... ne... you won't heal from this..." You already knew that, but him saying it outloud makes you start crying. "I love you... I'll miss you Gyutaro."

Your ears ar already gone after that, there is so much more you would like to say, but there is no time. But you can read his lips, he has said those words several times. There is no misunderstanding. "I love you Y/N." And the last thing you feel are his hands and tears on your face, you really wish you could have done more.

Gyokko:

Gyukko just watches you desintegrate in his hands, he is in his final form, and you are dying. Even now, they are not exactly comforting, as he seems fixated with the fact that you are dying. To be honest, you never expected anything else, he loves pain and death, those are part of his art. And you have always supported his art, so you don't cry and show no fear, since you are not a piece of art of his. You are supposed to be his equal, even now.

"Oi, Gyokko...." he looks at you, making eye contact, if he knows you are upset he hasn't shown signs of it. He hasn't even shown signs of being upset. You hold your breath, then inhale deeply to calm your nerves... how are you even breathing? You have no lungs, your respiratory system has been literally cut in two. It's so confusing, everything is so confusing, and that is scary. "Will you miss me?" You ask, controlling your voice. It doesn't break, it doesn't show anything but the same interest Gyokko is showing.

He doesn't answer inmediately, that does upsets you as you fear he might not answer. That would be worse than saying "no", and time is running out. Bet he does answer after thinking about it. "I will miss you a lot, you dumb bastard. Why did you have to die so easily?" He complains, and you just have to laugh, eyes watering. Typical Gyokko. "I love you, Gyokko. Never change."

You smile as he goes silent again, thinking, as his eyes nover stop concentrating in you. "I love you too. You were great, and I will always remember you." That is all you can ask for, you think as you spend you last moments looking at each other.

Hantengu:

Hantegu crushes you head against his stomach and legs as he cries, hiding and curled up on the floor. He doesn't even know from what, the slayers are already dead. "It wasn't me! It wasn't me!" He babbles, whining and crying, in his eternal PTSD, and to be honest this is not how you want to go. Him denying accusations nobody is making, it's both sad and annoying, but you're not in the situation to comfort him.

How can you calm him down when you are just as scared as he is for the first time? You have always been the brave one between the two but... you're dying. You're dying and you don't know what will happen once you are dead. "Hantengu... please. I know it wasn't you. You are innocent." Innocent from what? You have to admit you are pissed you will never find out, but Hantengu seems to collect himself after that.

"I will miss you. I will miss you a lot. Why do you have to die? Why do I have to be miserable and watch you die?" You chuckle as he pities himself, instead of piying you. But again, Hantengu has never once felt pity for you, you always liked that. Likes to be the strong one even if he was Uppermoon 4. "The world is a cruel place, maybe it's better for me that I'm leaving it!" You manage to joke about him, making him cry. But now you feel good enough to smile."Don't worry Hantengu, I'm sure you'll be fine. You still have the clones, don't you? The can take the role of the protector men I have been taking."

You laugh a bit. "I love you." He says before going silent, that surprises you. He isn't even crying, just trying to smile like you. You only have your face left right now, so if you got something to say... "I love you too." Say it.

Sekido:

Sekido is still killing the slayer that decapitated you... or well, he would be if you could kill someone that is already deader than a 100 year old corpse. Still, he is angry and taking his anger ojt in someone that deserves it instead of the rest of the clones or you. You are angry as well, you are going to die and there is nothing anybody can do about it. No matter how much Sekido stabs the dead body with his staff, you won't stop dying.

"Sekido..." You don't know if it's safe to call his attention upon you right now, but... you don't want to go with your face only feeling the cold and dirty ground. Thankfully, he seems to calm down when he sees you. Or at least he isn't raging anymore... he actually looks worried and scared. He runs to where you are and hugs you head tight against his chest, breathing unsteady as your face is pressed against his kimono. "I HATE YOU! Y/N, YOU BASTARD, I HATE YOU! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, WEAKLING, PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A DEMON!"

You are not surprised, but you can't help but to roll your eyes, annoyed. Your last second will really be you hearing your partner cursing you for being killed? Well, at least his chest is more comfortable than the ground, even if the way he has you prevents you from speaking. Maybe it's better this way, it won't become an argument. By the time you realize, the screming turned into crying, you can feel the tears falling on top of you. "I love you... don't leave."

He always had a hard time saying it, so to hear it now... it's nice. You try to wiggle against his grip and you say several times, hoping that even with his clothes muffling you, he can hear you."SEKIDO, I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU TOO, SEKIDO! I LOV-" Your mouth is gone, hopefully, the way he holds you tighter means he heard you. Now... it's over.

Karaku:

Karaku is just sitting with your head in his lap, holding you with his hands. He is youching your face, petting your head and carresing your cheeks with his thumbs. He is giving you a brave smile as his eyes are watering and holding a lot of warmth. "I love you a lot, you know? Like... really love you, not like the others I have loved...." he speaks softly to you as he keeps comforting you.

"Kara-" he interrupts you putting one finger over your lips, shaking his head and laughing softly. "Don't speak... just... let us have this last seconds together. This will be the last time I see you... I want to cherish you one last time." He says it, and you let it be. You honestly don't know what else to do, and the idea of being able to ignore the pain, ignore the fear, ignore the sorrow, ignore the rage for tha sake of having pleasure, even if it will be for the last time... sounds nice.

"You are very strong, you know. You did everything you could and I'm so proud to call you mine, handsome. You also have always treated me so well and I'm so fucking grateful... damn, I just love you so much." He sniffles as his voice breaks, wanting to talk. Wanting to make this about you since there will be no more a "you" later, and that hurts him. "I love you so much, you are everything I want, sweet boy." Tears start to fall of his eyes and his lips trembles, but he is still smilig towards you.

"I love you too, Karaku." It feels a bit pathetic that you can only come up with that after everything he said, but from the look in his face, it makes his smile easier as he rubs the tears off his face. "I know." Is the last thing you hear.

Urogi:

Urogi is flying with your head in his arms, you feel the cold air, but you are mostly shielded by his body as he presses you in his chest. You don't even know where you are going and you are sure Urogi also doesn't know. He probably just panicked and grabbed you and is searching a way to save you, when... there is none. You don't want to be the one to say it outloud, but... "Urogi.... UROGI. THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!"

You have to scream since the preasure of the air muffles all the sounds except the wings and the heartbeat of the clone, but that second could be only because you are pressed against his chest. "SHUT UP! YOU CAN'T DIE! YOU HEAR ME? YOU CAN'T DIE! I WON'T LET YOU!" You can hear his voice break, he is definetely crying from the nasal way it sounds. What to do now? You don't want to be the one to break it up to him but you also want to be able to say goodbye without Urogi being in denial.

You were beheaded by a slayer, there is no winning in this one, and it breaks Urogi. You actually feel guilty for dying, and so many other feelings. You don't want to die, you were killed, and you don't want to fight Urogi into facing the facts. Not when you only have some seconds left. "I LOVE YOU, UROGI! MY PREACIOUS BIRD, YOU ARE THE MOST LOVABLE DEMON THERE IS!" You scream again, and Urogi presses you face agains his chest even harder.

"I LOVE YOU TOO! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! PLEASE DON'T DIE! DON'T!" As you really can't comfort him right now, you only cry with him in this last seconds.

Aizetsu:

Aizetsu doesn't cry, he barely does more than show a sorrowful face, no matter how sad he is or how much he pities everything around him. Right now he pities you, but he also pities himself, that he has to watch the one he loves die. He holds your head in his hands, sitting with his gaze lost in the forest as he foces you to watch the same way he is. It's a beautiful night, there is a river in front of you that sounds so peacful, the moon is bright, the aire is fresh and it's just a bit chilly (nothing for a demon).

"The moon is beautiful tonight, don't you think?" He moves your head slightly so you can see the moon and the stars surrou ding it better, it's hard to say if he is just ignoring the issue of if he is confessing his love one last time. "I like to be able to experience times like this with you. Everything is nicer when you are around, even the others..." his voice doesn't even crack more than it usually does. But again, he is sorrow, if anyone knows how to handle said feeling, it should be him.

Still, you feel the drops, his tears, shed on the top of your head. He doesn't make any sound as he cries, just letting them out. "I'm really going to miss you a lot. It will be sadder to not have you around... thank uou for all the time you have given me. It left me content." He keeps monologing, wanting to get everything put or his chest or just wanting to make this the least painful possible for you, it's impossible for you to know. But you don't feel scared or angry...

"I will miss you too. I love you." You feel sad, sad that it's all over. The last thing you feel is that Aizetsu moves you head, pt right now just a face, again to be able to kiss it goodbye, making eye contact with you. His lips move, but you can't hesr him. "I love you more."

Nakime:

Nakime is shocked, she doesn't even know what to do besides having you in her lap, taking the place it's usually for her biwa. Now you are nothing but a head that fell from the sky as she summoned you, you managed to communicate with her after a slayer decapitated you and you are at least glas you will be able to spend this last seconds with her. You were so scared for a secondz that you wouldn't make it, that you would be gone and she wouldn't even know it, that she would wait for you still.

You spend the last moments in quiet, you don't want to force her to speak. You would suggest that she could play for you as you finish to desintegrate, but you are very comfortable in her lap. You don't want to move or to be moved. She isn't even crying, and she is barely touching you, just enough for you to not roll over. That would be uncomfortable.

Many thoughts and feelings run through your head. Where is your body? What is going to happen now? Is Nakime going to miss you? That slayer better die painfully! You really love Nakime. What should you say right now? That sword really hurt! - Everything is so spontaneous. But again, you are dying, you have the priviledge of not being coherent.

"I love you, Nakime." You tell her honestly, those are good last words, right? It's not original, impressive or anything, really. But it's honest, and it feels right to tell her. Nakime doesn't cry, her voice doesn't break. She just answers "I love you too, Y/N." And yoj both spend your lasts moments together in silent.

Akaza:

Akaza is crying a lot, your face has more tears of his than yours, as he holds yuou with his forehead almost meeting his. He screams, sniffles, hiccups, begs, everything. "I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY! I COULDN'T PROTECT YOU! I WANTED TO PROTECT YOU! I DIDN'T WANT TO BREAK MY PROMISE! I'M SORRY! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! WE WERE MEANT TO HAVE A LIFE TOGETHER!" The misery in his voice makes you want to cry, too. But you also want to comfort Akaza, who seems near having an attack.

"Akaza, my love, my komainu... don't worry. I'm not angry, you did the best you could. It's not your fault." You speak softly, he always loved it when you were soft to him and you hope being gentle can calm him down. "I WILL KILL THOSE SWORDSMEN! I WILL! THEY ARE ALL COWARDS! WEAKLINGS! THEY DESERVE TO DIE!" He isn't listening, he probably can't. He is again rambling about weaklings, you always thought it was strange the way Akaza seemed to remember and not his human life.

You like to think forgetting is some sort of mercy, it makes easier to handle the demon life and diet if you don't have a mamory of anything pevious holding you back, like you feel it does to Akaza somehow. Part of you wishes he could also forget you, it would make it easier for him. "Akaza... listen to me." You try again, and again, and again... time is running out.

He can't hear anything you say, and you only hope he doesn't just follow after you. Not when he has still a lot to do. "I love you so much." You may not knoe about Akaza's past, but you know he will let no sword user live after this.

Douma:

You are almost praying that Douma doesn't just start playing with your head as if it was a ball. He is holding you with just one hand so you can be in front of his face, crying thick tears through his eyes. You can't even bring hourself to be scared or sad, just annoyed with the fact that even know Douma is not being honest. You are about to die, the least he could do is show you the real Douma for one last time. "It's such a tragic event."

Yeah, very tragic, to cry for. That you already know, Douma would not be crying if he didn't knew normal people cry in situations like this. "Douma, please stop crying. We both know you are having fun with thag and I would appreciate if you stopped acting for some seconds." You tell him honestly. You are usually more aware with his condition and let him express his fake emotions. Right now? What do you have to lose if he doesn't like your attitude? Kill you more? Leace you be? Throw you out? Hurt you? What does it matter now? You want to see Douma, so if you can't you might just not be around his mask.

By your surprise, he actually thinks about it. "You are right, this will be rhe last time we see each other. I might as well just be myself for the sake of how special this moment is. Like a farewell." He says as he droos the fake expressions and looks at you, eyes mostly empry, just showing interest. The rest of the face is blank, relaxed completely, as if it wasn't alive. You feel less alone like that, it gives some dort of relief. "You are so pretty, Douma. And a lot more than just some silver hair, an ear the it's supposed to be for deities and rainbow eyes. A healthy advice? Look for someone that realizes that." You smile at him.

He doesn't asnwer for a while, thinking about it before nodding. None of you wsnt to say anything else, just look at each other. If you tell him you love him he will just say it back, and you don't want that. You love Douma, and you are just happy to be with the real one in your last seconds. "Goodbye Douma." He looks at you with all his attention, face finally moving. "Goodbye Y/N. It was a pleasure to know you."

Kokushibou:

Kokushibou is just holding you, watching you die. Though, he is probably still procesing it, so you don't know what to say. He has your head in his lap as he is sitting, just watching you with intensity. It's a bit akward. "Kokushibou, can you ple-" he interrupts you. "Don't speak." He tells you coldly, and you can only sigh at that. You are not even surprised.

"You are dying." He continues after a few seconds, and NOOOO, REALLY?! You didn't notice! At all! Like, it's not like you felt a freaking katana pierce throigh your neck and now your body is desintegrating slowly. It's not like you can move your body but you can't feel you back and legs at all, and for fuck's sake, you are dying. After going through all that, you are scared. What now?

You can see Kokushibou thinking, he probably wants to comfort you and doesn't know how, not realizing he caused you distress in the first place. "You will not be bothered by worldly matters. You will be..." and he can't continue, because how can he comfort you when dying? You know Kokushibou is terrified by death, and now he wants to try to convince you that it's "not so bad"? What a joke! But you appreciate the gesture. You know it will be your last time with him and you don't want it to be such a waste with things with comfort or regret.

"I love you, Kokushibou. You are an idiot, but I love you." He frowns when you insult him, but doesn't complain. He evades your eyes for a while before sighing. "I also love you, Y/N. Goodbye." As cold as ever, but what did you expect? "Goodbye..." you spend the rest of uour seconds in silent, not really satisfied but not wanting to ask more from Kokushibou. It's over.

#demon slayer #kny #upper moons #kny x reader #karaku #urogi #aizetsu #douma #gyutaro #sekido #hantengu #nakime #akaza #kokushibou #gyokko #kny headcanons

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colourstreakgryffin · 11 months

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Whilst I work on my other better Hashira things. Take this other thing I also had buried away on my phone for ages

Best Friend/Platonic! KNY Iguro Obanai

Mainly platonic but a bit of sprinkled conflicted romantic

A very tough one to befriend due to his intense fear of women and withdrawn nature but you did it! And Obanai adores you as a whole for you sticking by his side

Obanai constantly follows you around(unless Mitsuri is nearby). You’re his safe spot and he lives off that gorgeous aura of yours. Your very kind spirit makes him feel welcome

Even if Obanai is slightly older, he clings onto you like a child and whines for your attention. Somebody wants to steal his best friend? God no, not happening ever!

Obanai is quite the silent man but with you, he opens up a lot more than one would expect, both in and out of public. He hasn’t shown you what’s under his mask nor told you his past but only because he’s afraid you’ll run away

Obanai writes letters to you like he does to Mitsuri. His are mainly detailing his missions or about his hangouts with Mitsuri but some are a bit more personal when you wish

He compliments you. Obanai is a complimenter so when he feels like he should, he’ll boost your confidence and your self-image. He will never let you think you’re ugly or gross, he’ll make you feel as if you’re on-top of the world

“You, hideous? That’s a bad joke, Dokusha. You’re beautiful— No, I mean it, your beautiful, your fun, your sweet, your skilled. I don’t know what that asshole was thinking but nothing he said is true. Yeah, your skin is flawless, you have the silkiest hair, the most gorgeous eyes, your smile’s so precious. Forget him, okay, I’m here now and not going anywhere”

“I’m too kind? Isn’t speaking the truth and lightening up your day what best friends do?”

He also sends you random gifts when he sees fit. He has no reason to, he just thought you’d like whatever he found and figured he’d bring it to your attention. Other-times though, he does it cause he believes he must spoil you

Obanai rants about Mitsuri but not too much as he knows that you’re well aware of his deep feelings for her. He just needs to vent out his passion and you always listen. Yet, he apologises everytime for “wasting your time”

You could bust into Serpent Estate and voice act being a demon hunting him down, and Obanai would still be happy to see you. He knows you’re just playing with him and he’s getting better at easing his seriousness down for your outgoing nature

Obanai has a very dark sense of humour and you’re known as the innocent jokester of the Hashira so he has been improving himself and getting a hold of a safer humour so he can impress you. He wants you to think he’s wholesomely-funny so he tries to be that

Talking about those Estate visits, it’s regular than somebody like Obanai would tolerate. He needs his beloved emotional support when he needs her and sends you a gloomy letter asking for your presence

Obanai isn’t a really touchy nor affectionate best friend but he does like giving hugs whenever he wants. It’s mainly after meeting up with Mitsuri, he gives you a soft hug with praise falling out of his lips for the help.

Obanai is extra sweet when you’re openly upset or in your feels, he’ll let you lay your head on his lap and/or hug his side and cry. Anything to make you feel better as he plots the death of the person who hurt his beloved BFF

“Listen to this one, Dokusha. I made it up. What kind of tea is hard to swallow? Reali-tea” Cut to a concerned Obanai hovering around you as you choke on your laughter. He’s trying for you and you’re so proud of him for it

You’re his wingwoman when it comes to Mitsuri. You helped with the idea of gifting Mitsuri those socks and you help build up all that confidence to attend the restaurant get-togethers with Mitsuri. You’re truthfully like the only pillar keeping Obanai from crumbling apart when he‘s spending time with Mitsuri and he is so grateful for you helping

Obanai is the type of best friend to submit to your requests, even if they’re very minor. You want him to tell you more about his feelings, about his issues. He’ll send you letter telling you everything you wanted and maybe more since he trusts you

Trust is a massive piece of your bestie-ship with Iguro Obanai. Even though it took quite some time for him to develop it, his trust in you can’t be broken now, it’s too strong. Like his love for you, he believes you aren’t capable of doing wrong but there’s just some pieces of information he refuses to tell you out of fear

To make it fair, Obanai needs you to confide in him too. Don’t hide what’s going wrong, he’s here for you! Just tell him that you’re upset over your crush rejecting you and he’ll hightail it to your Estate with your favourite treats. He cares intently for your feelings and won’t tolerate anybody that breaks your heart

“Oi, fucktard. Don’t you dare ignore Dokusha! She’s the Ice Hashira, give her the respect she deserves. What will I do? Make you regret every decision you’ve ever made in your worthless life”

Obanai is the overprotective best friend type. In a fight against a demon or at the fleet market with a mean shopkeeper, Obanai will fiercely defend you like his life depends on it

You(and Mitsuri) are the only two people person in the entirety of Japan that are allowed to nickname Obanai! You mainly nickname him “Obi” and he is so use to it that it’s weird to him, when you call him anything else

Iguro? Obanai? Who in the actual f**k is that? He’s Obi, Obi-sash, Obi-Nobi, he’s never heard of that other guy before in his life!

Would Obanai develop any sort of non-platonic feelings for you? I believe at one point; he would consider it and be quite conflicted over it for ages. He knows he does feel some romantic love for you but he knows he just can’t! He doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t want to ruin his insanely close connection with you and he‘s still in love with Mitsuri! Against a half of his heart, he makes it official that that you must remain in the friend-zone

Obanai likes to hold your hand as much as he can and the soft squeezes reassure him that you’re not going anywhere

Regularly takes you to nice restaurants for lunch catch-ups/hangouts. He believes the best place to wind down and relax is at a table with food and you by his side chatting about random stuff as he remembers each important point and writes them all down in a mental note

Like mentioned, Obanai remembers everything about you. Well… actually, everything he prescribes as the most important. Mention a birthday date once and Obanai will never forget it. Yeah, his devotion for you may not be like the one he has for Mitsuri but he still values you intently and keeping track of the special things to make you happy

Loves going on missions with you. He feels more at peace, less stressed and being able to have you so close by gets rid of the constant worry he has; will you ever come back alive? If you’re right there, Obanai doesn’t have to work with that horrible sting in his chest

Will always catch you if you fall, will always support you if you’re down, will always pick you up when you can’t stand anymore, will always protect you and help you when you’re in pain. Obanai will always be around and doesn’t consider you a afterthought(well… unless he is with Mitsuri), you’re a priority of all things

He loves you so much that it hurts. He didn’t think he could meet another woman that’d win him over but lord behold, the world proves him wrong once again and he values you, a woman, highly enough for him to proudly call you his one and only best friend

“We got a mission together, I hear. Would you like to go to that new restaurant afterwards? There’s a dessert I know you’d love. Yeah? Great, follow me… and hold my hand”

(If it’s not obvious, I’m a Obanai whore that wants to frik him)

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elina-sakura · 1 year

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So after watching a YouTube video yesterday, I finally realized why I have such an issue with Derision, or more specifically the backstory it provided: it just doesn’t fit.

Let’s say that the Miraculous narrative is a set of puzzles, and we’re getting the full picture of the backstory before the series, or more specifically, the characters like Marinette and Chloé. We’ve already been established that the two girls have a history with each for at least three-four years, that Chloé has been a bully towards Marinette, and that in results worsens her anxiety. Yet it has never been shown anything more than Chloé being petty against Marinette, and eventually becoming a rival that clash because of their beliefs and personalities.

Then Derision comes along, and reveals that Chloé has actually been more an abuser who did harmful pranks, isolated her from her peers, ruined her reputation to be made out as a bad kid, and masterminded a prank that could have literally killed Marinette and caused everlasting trauma for her. Now let me be clear, what happened was terrible and Chloé is a terrible person for it. If this is the narrative they have been trying to paint, that is the truth we unfortunately accept.

But it is hard to accept it, because this goes against the narrative we’ve seen for the past years, and contradicts a lot of stuff in both backstory and character interactions, again focusing on Chloé and Marinette. If Chloé has been so terrible this whole time as shown in Derision, why is Marinette just more annoyed with Chloé and able to take her on so easily?You could say it may have been the words of encouragement from Socqueline, but Marinette should still be anxious and scared of Chloé still. Chloé has tormented Marinette for years, Marinette has no support to help back her up, and now that she doesn’t have Socqueline by her side to defend her, she’s on her own (at least that should be her thought process the whole time before meeting Alya).

Also, we have seen multiple times Marinette and Kim interacting with each other, and it’s always been at least friendly with each other. Marinette has never been shown to be uncomfortable around him, especially in Dark Cupid where they most interacted. If they had a bad history this whole time with each other, then why are they acting like nothing happened. I know people are going to say “maybe she subconsciously repressed the memories,” and that might be the case, especially with Kim. It seemed to imply she tried to forget it. But I’m not sure if that is the case in real life, so please take what I said with a grain of salt and I’m sorry if it was offensive.

However, it still doesn’t explain the very different dynamic relationship with Marinette and Chloé. Chloé has done much more things besides the prank/near-death experience she masterminded in, and that should have Marinette more apprehensive and scared of Chloé. Heck, it would make her willing to give Chloé a second chance all the more weirder because why would she ever give back the Bee Miraculous to Chloé, and always keep opening her mind to thinking “maybe she’ll change.”

In conclusion, Derision is like a puzzle piece that the writers are trying to fit into Marinette’s and Chloé’s backstory. However, it does not fit as it contradicts with the narrative they already set up. But instead of trying to move this backstory idea somewhere else like for another story, they forced it in, not caring that it’ll upset the picture they were putting together.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous season 5 #ml spoilers #ml derision #derision salt #derision spoilers #miraculous derision #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #chloe deserves better #better writing I mean

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niqhtlord01 · 9 months

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Humans are weird: Space Vampires

(A continuation from Humans are weird: Space Werewolf) ( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The drop ship slowly crested its way down through the cloud banks and shook as it hit yet another pocket of turbulence.

“Would you like me to pilot?” Markus joked as he tightened his crash harness again. “I might not be as experienced as you, but I think I can avoid at least one batch of bad weather during our trip.”

Flint chuckled beside himself before quickly stifling it as Hooper grunted from the cockpit.

The craft was an older class V model of shuttle. Enough room for the cockpit and a small storage area in the back where Markus and Flint sat in modified seats. Much of the craft had been modified beyond what the original designers had envisioned, but in their line of work it was a hunter’s job to adapt to any situation with whatever they had on hand.

“You? Pilot?” Hooper laughed as he flipped a series of switches in rapid succession. “You’d be more likely to crash us into a bloody mountain and call it a detour.”

The shuttle shook again suddenly and it felt like it dropped ten feet before stabilizing out. Markus was opening his mouth to make another remark of Hooper’s piloting skills when the now unamused Hooper held up a finger for silence.

Several more shudders pierced swarmed the craft before finally the shuttle cleared the cloud banks and saw the world below. A desolate world of stone and sand with a sky constantly drowned in the depths of clouds so dense that barely any light at all ever reached the surface of the blighted world.

A perfect world indeed for their contact to meet them on.

“Are we sure we should be doing this?”

Hooper took pause from scanning the horizon for their landing to tilt his head back and see Flint looking between the pair. The signs of doubt already beginning to creep over his features as his right foot slowly tapped a rhythm to some new age song. It was a trick Hooper had taught the young hunter to calm his mind when the darkness began to creep ever closer.

“We’ve not got a choice I’m afraid.” Markus spoke before Hooper could. “We’re in uncharted waters and they’ve more a grasp than any of us.”

“But what if they double cross us?” Flint pressed. “When have we ever known them to honor a parlay of truce, let alone not lie to our faces?”

“I understand your reluctance,” Hooper began as he flicked on autopilot and turned the pilot’s chair around to face Flint, “and if times were different I’d be the first one in line to kill these bastard.”

“But Markus is right,” Hooper admitted with a heavy heart, “right now we need to put aside our old grudges and work together.”

“If it makes you feel better, at the first sign of a double cross we can kill them all!” Markus announced boldly and slapped his knee. Flint said nothing at this but smiled; though he could not help still tapping his feet a little softer. Hooper watched this quietly and kept his own council confined within the depths of his thoughts.

He had been hesitant to bring Flint along for this task. Normally a novice hunter would not be exposed to these sorts of dealings until they had become folly ordained within the order; but Markus had lobbied hard for the lad and their previous dealings with the werewolf pack on Sectus II had shown he could hold his own. Markus was also right that there was little time to follow traditional procedures and they needed every hunter in the field they had.

“Is that it?” Flint asked sheepishly as Hooper was dragged from the council of his mind and turned back to look out the cockpit window.

Just nestled in the valley between two long and tall mountain ranges was a red light glowing so bright it was even registering on the shuttles scanners.

“Strap in you two,” Hooper said as he flipped off autopilot and began the descent, “we’re about to find out.”

With that said the shuttle began a rapid descent towards the surface of the planet until coming to a stop just beside the strange red glow. The area around the light was completely deserted save for a lone figure. Their features were hidden beneath their cloak but they seemed untroubled by the storm of dust and flying stones as the shuttle came down next to the flame.

“Gear up.” Hooper said as soon as the shuttle finally came to a rest and the engines started spinning down. He watched the figure for a moment to see if they would move to greet them at the boarding ramp, but they just stood stoic by the light.

“I thought you said we should trust them?” Flint spoke as he untangled himself from the webbing. Hooper shook his head as he unbuckled himself from the flight chair and picked up his plasma caster that was nestled beside him. He popped in a fresh power pack and the weapon began to hum to life as the lethal energies coursed through its elegant frame.

“I said we need them, not that we should trust them.”

The trip of hunters loaded themselves with the weapons and tools of their trade before Markus hammered the boarding ramp switch and the back of the shuttle popped open with a grinding screech. It took a minute to fully open before the hunters set foot on the desolate world and walked around the shuttle to meet with the figure.

None of them spoke as they approached the stranger as they finally moved; walking towards the flame and casually extinguishing it with a casual kick of dirt. Hooper switched between keeping his eyes on the figure and scanning the horizon, but for the most part the figure was the only one out in the open for miles around.

“I thought we had agreed to meet alone.” The figure spoke as the trio of hunters stopped several paces between the two parties.

Hooper smirked. “That we did,” he said as he swept his plasma caster around the surrounding area, “so would you care to tell your friends to leave and I’ll do the same.”

The figure cocked his head in confusion, but Hooper just pointed his weapon at the ground he now stood over.

“You think we didn’t see your friend buried in the stones?” Hooper asked mockingly. “Tell them to get out here now or this one below me is about to find out what a face full of holy plasma feels like; and trust me when I say it makes holy water feel like a pin prick.”

Standing silent, the figure made no move to acknowledge Hooper’s claim. It wasn’t until the whine of the plasma caster finally reached its highest pitch indicating that it was ready to fire that they finally gave up and made a gesture with their right hand.

All around them more figures suddenly began bursting from the ground in showers of rock and stone, causing Flint to reach for his weapon before a calming hand from Markus forestalled him. These new figures wore elaborate sets of armor, now decorated with a thin layer of dust from their hiding places. Each held a sharpened blade in their hands while burning red eyes tracked the hunters every movements. The one beneath Hooper’s feet making an awkward assention as he crawled up from the stone beneath his legs.

“It is good to see your order has not lost its touch.” The figure said as they removed their hood to show a youthful looking face. “Existence can become so dull without a good sparring partner.”

“Morgan.” Hooper said with a tilt of his head. He powered down his plasma caster as the other figures shuffled over and stood behind their master.

Morgan, voice of the conclave of vampires, nodded in return and looked passed Hooper to Markus and Flint.

“And you’re friends are?” Morgan asked, but Hooper shook his head.

“Cut the formalities and let’s get this done.” He said.

The right eyebrow of Morgan twitched for the briefest of moments in anger but otherwise he retained his composure. The vampiric assassins jittered around him as if sensing their master’s anger but knew well enough to remain silent.

Holding out his hand towards one of the assassins, the vampire stepped forward to Hooper and presented him with a datapad before returning to his position behind his master. Hooper powered on the pad and began reading the information as it scrolled by.

“The names and last known whereabouts of the vampires responsible for the most recent…..” the voice paused for a moment to consider his words, “breaches; as you requested.”

“Breaches!?”

Morgan looked towards the speaker to find that it was young Flint who now spoke brazenly; his outrage at the dismissiveness of the vampire beyond constraint.

“Your kind slaughtered three colony worlds and left a damn near hundred young bloods to ravage the rest of the planet it a blood fueled ram-

“FLINT!!!”

Flint stopped himself as Hooper shouted at him and fixed him with the hardest stare he had.

“Shut. Up. Now.” he spoke through gritted teeth.

Not expecting this from his mentor, Flint looked confused and upset before relenting and resuming his silence. Hooper turned back to Morgan who had remained silent during the outburst.

“My…..apologies, for my protégés outburst;” Hooper said much to the surprise of Markus and Flint, “he still needs to learn how these matters are conducted.”

Morgan grinned, an expression that made Flint’s hand twitch towards his own gun, and waved away Hooper’s apology.

“Think nothing of it.” He replied to Hooper, before tilting and looking directly at Flint. “And I would go so far as to state that I agree with their assessment entirely.”

Whatever the trio had been expecting the vampire to say during these dealings, a formal apology was not amongst them. It was rare for a vampire to admit they were wrong, let alone agree with a mere mortal.

“Since the discovery of space travel the vampire conclave has found it increasingly difficult to keep its members in line.” Morgan began as he paced around the meeting area. He would stop every now and then to look at the ground before bending down to pick up a stone of unremarkable appearance before casually tossing it aside.

“On Earth such acts of carnage were contained and swiftly dealt with to maintain the balance, but now; as the universe opens up around us some of our kind see worlds as their own private feasting grounds.”

“Can’t keep your house in order?” Hooper mocked.

In a blink of an eye Morgan vanished from his position opposite Hooper and appeared with his hand inches from the hunter’s throat. The hunter could smell the sulfur radiating off the vampire and knew he had struck a nerve. He could see the crimson color of Morgan’s eyes and felt the vampire was using every ounce of his strength to resist feeding on Hooper.

Markus, Flint, and the vampire assassins all readied themselves as if battle would ensue but Hooper held up a hand to stall his companions.

“You would be wise to remember your place.” Morgan spoke through gritted teeth. His sharpened fangs protruding from his mouth with each syllable ready to dig deep into Hooper’s neck and drink of his blood. A notion Hooper was well aware of and had his right hand firmly priming a garlic grenade in his pocket to dissuade the vampire should he press further.

“The vampire conclave is handling the dealings of our kind on a hundred worlds across a dozen star systems. Your continued existence is merely a byproduct of our generosity for allowing you to live long enough to spread humans to more worlds to feast on.”

“There’s plenty of alien’s out there too,” Hooper said calmly, “why the special interest in us “lowly” humans?”

“They are..” Morgan spoke as he slowly pulled away from Hooper and the hunter eased off the garlic grenade, “incompatible.”

“That didn’t seem to bother the werewolves.” Hooper pointed out. “Nor zombies for that matter; those buggers will eat just about anything.”

Morgan sighed deeply and run his hands over his face as if he was about to speak slowly to a small child.

“I do not have the time nor patience to explain why human blood is the desired choice for my kind; just know that it is the will of the conclave to see your species continued existence to serve us in the coming millennia.”

He tapped the datapad Hooper still held in his other hand with a long finger ending with a sharpened fingernail that looked like it could cut steel as if it was cardboard.

“A decree that some of my kind are now putting at risk by their rampant blood feasts. If we do not pool our resources now they will exterminate the entirety of the human population leaving us without a crucial food source.”

“And here I thought you just enjoyed our company.” Hooper said begrudgingly. “So your only wish to keep using humans is for vampire food?”

Morgan paused to collect his thoughts, debating internally if he should share the new information with his hunter adversaries.

“There is another reason,” Morgan spoke slowly having made up his mind, “and it is with regards to alien blood.”

This peeked Hooper’s interest and he motioned for the vampire to continue.

“During your encounter with the werewolves from your previous…adventures, did you not see aliens infected by their mark?”

“We did.” Hooper replied, unsure were Morgan was going with this.

“We have discovered similarly, that when the blood curse is applied to nonhuman species the results can be……detrimental.”

“Meaning?” Hooper asked impatiently.

“The curse changes aliens in ways we have not seen before, and at times these new abominations have abilities far beyond even our elder’s capabilities to contain.”

This was grave news that Hooper could hardly believe. A vampire elder, or leader of the conclave, was easily thousands of years old and possessed enough strength and skill that centuries ago it had taken the entire order of hunters to destroy just one of their number. To hear that these beings of unimaginable destruction were being hard pressed by newly turned alien vampires was something that filled Hooper with a sense of dread he had not known in decades.

“You see our problem now.” Morgan spoke, seeing that the hunter finally realized what is at stake. “If we do not correct these divergences now, we may see a galactic scale level of devastation.”

“And to show you we are not joking,” Morgan continued as one by one the vampire assassins began vanishing into smoke leaving the area until only Morgan remained, “we brought you one to see firsthand.”

A loud roar thundered through the valley and the trio of hunters all reached for their weapons. In the distance they could see an ever growing mound of flesh thrashing towards them. Rows of teeth catching the light as it stampeded towards the gathering and Hooper caught sight of a pair of bright crimson eyes that he had seen just now in Morgan’s visage.

“Au revoir, Mr. Hooper.”

Hooper turned back to see Morgan vanishing into smoke, laughing as the tyrant alien vampire continued thundering towards the hunters.

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #scifi #story #writing #original writing #vampires #hunters #mythology #niqhtlord01 #ai image #ai generated art #space vampires

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qqueenofhades · 1 year

Note

hi, your last (political) ask just gave me the most severe anxiety at work, is there Literally Anything at this point that may point to good news in the future or

Yes, and this is important:

We are not doomed.

Yes, things are bad and scary now. Yes, things have been bad and scary for a while. But as I always say, nothing is inevitable, and nothing is just destined to mindlessly roll over us without any choice, agency, or ability to -- even if the worst does happen -- fix it. In regard to the current political clusterfuck, as I have also said:

Republicans are fucking shit-scared TERRIFIED.

That's why this insane, ludicrous, almost-funny-if-it-wasn't-so-terrible right-wing backlash is happening: because the future is NOT going to be kind to the exact brand of systems and institutions that their power is built on, they see the demographics of the youth vote deserting them en masse, and that's why they're trying so hard to entrench fascism now, before all their remaining voters die and they don't get another chance. The major historical injustices that created both America and the world -- slavery, white supremacy, systemic racism, Native genocide, robber-baron capitalism, economic exploitation, etc etc -- have never been as visible and as embedded in the public consciousness as they are right now. We are in the middle of an absolutely seismic reckoning with these things that has never taken place, not to this scale, in American history (or indeed world history) before. Obviously, that is going to produce a wild backlash from the power systems that have been entrenched for over 400 years, since the beginning of what we now define as the "modern" world. They can see that they're no longer going to be able to automatically skate into the next generation on the back of "that's just the way things have always been done," and again. That TERRIFIES them. And it should.

Basically: these are not the actions of people who feel confident that the public actually supports them or that they can get away with what they're doing if they don't cheat to the umpteenth degree. The 2022 elections were important in that regard, and in others, because they actually showed the American people recoiling from Republican extremism in an election cycle where the GOP should have walked it. Yes, far too many white people are far too comfortable voting for fascism, and that's going to remain a problem for a while. But another reason that the Republicans are trying so desperately to shut down affirmative action, thwart student-debt relief, etc., is that younger and college-educated white people vote more like their POC peers. The Republicans don't WANT these white voters, who they see as their next generation of white-supremacist foot soldiers, getting deprogrammed and (gasp) thinking for themselves. But this movement is already underway, and it ain't stopping.

So yes, again: we are in the middle of a historical reckoning of epic proportions, and like all historical reckonings of epic proportions, it absolutely fucking SUCKS to have to live through. But the momentum is with us, the future is with us, the truth is with us, basic fucking human compassion and decency is with us, the last few election cycles have shown America overall measurably and consistently pulling back from the fascist brink, and again. Even if something else terrible happens, as it most likely will, we have survived all the terrible things to date, and we can probably survive that too. We can also push back on it, we can change it, and we can fix it. It is possible and we've already done it. We will definitely do it again.

Hugs.

#anonymous #ask #history #politics for ts

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imarvelatthestars · 5 months

Text

I - Labyrinth

masterlist

Pairings: f!reader x Tai, Commander Appo, Captain Vaughn, Sergeant Fox, & Sterling [no cl*necest!]

Content: some world building; reader & friends go to a bar and reader gets intoxicated; jealousy, flirting

labyrinth [n., lab·y·rinth] - a complicated irregular network of passages or paths in which it is difficult to find one's way; a maze

It’s been a good two years – arguably the best two years of your life. You no longer live paycheck to paycheck, wondering where your next meal might come from, you don’t lurk in your flat late into the night, lonely and bored to tears and wishing for a friend to share your thoughts with. Now you have five friends, although the word feels too simplistic for what they do for you. The clones that have made your home theirs are more than just friends, more than roommates or even mere acquaintances.

You muse on it now as you watch one of them. Tai leans a bit on his cane as he stands to receive the credits from your latest shopper. He nods pleasantly at the Duros woman, and grunts when he plops himself back into his chair and passes the credits off to you for safekeeping. He’s still so young, yet he carries himself like an old man, grunting and huffing when he moves, his mouth often drawn into a serious line that’s almost impossible to read. But you’re certain you’ve learned to decipher all his tells.

The blink-and-you’ll-miss-it quirk of one side of his mouth, usually his right, means he’s amused. The slow and steady nod paired with weary eyes is usually his way of saying thank you when he doesn’t have the words to express it. The flaring of his nostrils and tightening of his jaw is anger plain and simple, simmering under his skin and threatening to break loose all hell on whoever has caught his ire. This look, though, the empty expression paired with imperceptibly rounded shoulders and the bouncing of his left knee while the other leg is stretched out is the one that makes your heart hurt the most.

“You want some bacta?” you ask as you sort the credits into your makeshift register. “I think there’s a few stims left in my bag.”

Tai has a terrible habit of undermining his own pain. You’ve theorized that he doesn’t want to come off as weak, but you can’t be sure. He’s never really told you. Maybe it’s just pride, or shame. Either way, he often turns down any offers of help from either you or his brothers. This time, though, he doesn’t, and you think the nerve pain must be worse than usual for him to accept the offer on the first try.

You gesture with a nod of your chin in the direction of your bag, propped up against his chair. “G’head. They’re somewhere in there.”

He hesitates to rummage through your things, you can see it in his eyes, in the way his hands stutter, but he finally relents when you raise an eyebrow at him.

He’s always been respectful of your space, like the rest of his brothers. They outnumber you, they’re stronger than you, and they could easily do whatever they liked with your flat, with your most prized possessions, with you, but they have always shown you nothing but respect and kindness. They’ve never encroached on your space even a single time, never made you feel uncomfortable for being the only woman in a flat full of men.

Family. There’s no other word for it. They’re the people you trust most in the galaxy, the ones you run to for support, the ones who make you laugh, the ones who make your life brighter. You love them. They know you do, you’ve said it often enough, yet you still feel as though something’s missing.

They’re your family, but you love them in a way that is distinctly un-familial.

It’s embarrassing. It’s shameful.

But after two years of living with them through good times and bad, you know it’s the truth. You notice them in the way friends should never notice each other – Appo’s sure and steady leadership and that rumbly voice of his that sends shivers down your spine, Vaughn’s loyal and attentive energy that ensures you never feel anxious or alone, Fox’s too-charming smile and the bulky musculature resting beneath tattooed forearms, Sterling’s kindness and respect and that ridiculously attractive way that he combs his hair back, Tai’s gentle yet hidden affection and the stolen smiles that make your heart beat ever faster.

They’re brothers, you remind yourself as you have for a solid year now, ever since these feelings first became manifest. That’s weird. They’d think you’re disgusting. Not for loving them all at once, but for wondering what it would be like to be shared amongst them. For desiring such a thing.

Funny how the simple act of offering help and Tai accepting it is what encourages your mind to leap to such places. This certainly isn’t the first time, either. Sharing a flat with 5 charming, handsome, funny, strong, brave men will do that to you. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve seen Fox roll up the sleeves of his flannel until they stop just above his tattoos, of how many times Vaughn or Sterling will come home after a long day and immediately rip off their filthy shirts as if they’re still living in the barracks, of the glimpses you’ve caught of Appo when he shaves early in the morning (wearing nothing but his boxers and sleepshirt, no less). Even merely watching Tai at work, watching his hands smooth over the wood or stone or seashells that he carves each day, is enough to send you into a tizzy sometimes.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s enough to bring you back to the present, away from lingering thoughts of bare skin and strong, broad hands.

You smile as he replaces your bag in its original spot. “Course. At least the day’s almost over, right?”

Tai nods, but doesn’t respond beyond a single grunt. Must be pretty bad. You decide then and there to do something nice for him tonight, tomorrow at the very latest. If not to show how much you care (too much), then to take his mind off the pain.

The opportunity comes in the form of a good dinner for him and his brothers. Food duty is a responsibility shared by all and passed around in a consistent schedule, although there are days when one person is too drained to manage it and someone else takes over. It takes a bit of good-natured arguing and the fluttering of your eyelashes to convince him, but you eventually manage to snag the duty from Tai tonight. He hardly pretends to be relieved.

Sterling had told you once that the food they’d received growing up on Kamino could hardly be classified as such. It was either tasteless slop or ration bars, both packed full of the appropriate nutrients but there was no joy to be found in the eating of it. You’ve made a point since then to note what each brother enjoys best and to accommodate them when you can. Vaughn and Appo seem to like dishes with a bit of kick to them, and it’s helped to expand your own tastes in the process. Fox likes anything sweet, anything that will dribble down his chin and make a mess. You try not to let your mind wander at the thought. Tai’s preference tends to be milder than the others, but he’s been known to be adventurous with his palette every now and then. Sterling, on the other hand, seems keen on anything and everything. He’ll eat just about anything you give him.

It would take far too much time to accommodate each of them tonight, though you’ve done so before. But tonight was meant to be Tai’s night and he’s the one you’re most worried about, so you choose to focus on him this time. A nice plate of roasted fish and vegetables is mellow enough for him while also being filling enough for the other men, and it leaves the whole house smelling delicious.

Fox tells you as much when he comes home. He throws an arm around your shoulders as you eye the timer atop the oven, and you do an amazing job at pretending not to notice how fucking amazing he smells. Even after a long day of manual labor, he still smells a bit like spiced cologne as it mixes with his sweat and natural musk. “Hope you didn’t do all this on my account,” he laughs, all the while wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think too highly of yourself, Fox,” you say, dryly, but there’s a bit of humor in the quirk of your smile.

He makes a big show of being offended, from dramatic exhalations and a hung head, to the resting of his hand over his heart. “I’m hurt, mesh’la.”

You bump his hip with your own, a friendly gesture to get out of the kitchen while you’re still working. “Yeah, yeah, go be hurt somewhere else. And take a shower, you’re all gross.”

The mock salute he offers in response only serves to make your chest literally ache. He’s so kriffing endearing, it kills you.

Sterling and Vaughn come home soon after, each of them looking tired and sweaty after a long day. None of the boys work nearly as hard as Fox does, not physically at least, but their jobs take a lot out of them, and you see it every day. They work long hours, hardly complaining beyond the brotherly banter they spew over beers and shitty holos, and more often than not, their shoulders are slumped, and their shirts stained with sweat and grime. A warm, home-cooked meal is the least you can do. Still, you make a point of serving Tai first.

“I can get it, you know.” His voice is imperceptibly low, and you have to strain yourself to understand him, but you needn’t ask for clarification. You know what he means.

“I know. But you don’t have to.” Tai starts to protest again, even as he starts poking at his food, but you stop him with a shake of your head and a firm expression. “I’m happy to help.”

Even after two years, he still tries to fight you. But this is one battle he’s almost always going to lose, and you hope that one day Tai will come to the understanding that you don’t help him because he’s not capable, but because he deserves some grace. Tonight is just another step toward that finish line.

By the time Appo comes in from his shift, the others are mostly finished eating. They’ve stationed themselves across the living room as they always do, sprawled across the sofa and chairs with their individual serving tables, or just a plate in hand in Fox’s case, balanced before them.

“Go get cleaned up. I kept yours warm.”

He simply nods before heading into the back room and shutting the door behind him. It’s a few minutes later when he comes out, freshly changed, and takes his plate from you mid-serving.

“Sit.”

You shake your head. “No, I got it, just lemme-“

“Sit.”

It’s not said unkindly, although with Appo it’s sometimes hard to tell. The serious lines of his face and the dark pitch of his voice lend themselves to a rather stern and imposing presence. You know him well enough by now, though, and you’ve had the conversation about it before – as much as it may be in your nature, doting on him only makes him feel awkward, and he’d rather you took care of yourself before him or any of his brothers. You still do it sometimes. He makes up for it in his own casual, silent way, and tonight he does it by bringing you a glass of your usual beverage. No shared words, hardly a look spared your way, but a silent understanding that settles between you.

“Anyone else need a karkin’ beer?”

Several sets of eyes slip towards Fox, a few amused, some playfully irritated.

“You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you’re bored,” Vaughn remarks.

Fox makes an exasperated sound in the back of his throat before throwing himself into the sofa, his empty plate now haphazardly balanced on the cushioned arm. You bite back a comment warning him to be careful for fear of sounding more like his mother than his friend. “No, I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I haven’t had a drink in ages.”

“Careful, vod.” Sterling’s eyes are sparkling mischievously. “You remember what happened last time.”

Ah, yes. Last time. He’d had too much booze and too little food, and ended up doing karaoke at the bar until he got booed off stage. And the only thing that could cheer him up was a bit of friendly flirting and reassurance. From you, of course. Friendly, of course. Not that you still found yourself thinking about that night, or how close he’d been when he asked you if you thought he was pretty. Because you didn’t.

But rather than simmer in his embarrassment, Fox shrugs it off with something of a cocky smile. “That was last time. This time, my belly’s already full. All thanks to our mesh’la.” And he raises his glass of water in a toast to you.

“Mesh’la, smesh’la, I’m not encouraging you.” Rather than sit and be the center of his and his brother’s attention, you push yourself out of your seat and start collecting dishes. “If you wanna go make a fool out of yourself, you’re not roping me into it.” And you truly, deeply hope that none of them can tell you’re lying through your teeth. Because the mere thought of Fox being so close to you again, of whispering all his cheesy one-liners and sweet nothings into your ear, it makes your legs go completely boneless.

The only problem with this is that Fox is, well, Fox. The man could charm the pants off a Gungan if he tried, and you’re honestly not convinced that he hasn’t. So when you approach him and wordlessly reach for his plate, rather than give it to you, he takes your hand in his and he smiles that devilish smile that’s made every life form on the planet melt these past two years. “C’mon,” he whispers. He’s pulled his brows into a pleasant, pleading sort of shape, letting them turn up at the inner corners as he watches you. “It’ll be fun.”

Your throat is suddenly very dry. “You think everything’s fun.”

“’cause it is.”

He’s impossible. He’s an idiot. He’s going to make a fool out of himself again, you’re sure of it. And he’s doing his best to charm you, and it is, unfortunately, working, against your better judgement. “Fox.”

He grins. “Yes?”

“You’re kriffing annoying, you know that?”

His thumb runs semi-circles across the back of your hand, and you swear your brain short circuits. Damn him. “It’s a gift.”

Tai and Sterling elect to stay in for the night. Tai’s nerve pain seems to be flaring up again and Sterling’s hardly a bar-goer, so sticking around for his brother’s sake is much more appealing than a night out with Fox. You’re surprised that Appo decides to come along, though.

“Someone has to keep an eye on that di’kut,” he explains once you ask. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself in trouble.”

Even now that the war is over and their lives as soldiers are far behind them, he refuses to leave his role as commander behind. Not for the first time, you find yourself ruminating on this and the way the realization makes your stomach feel fluttery and your heart feel warm. He’s a good leader, he’s a good brother, and it’s another footnote in your expansive list of why you’ve found yourself falling fast and hard for the brothers of the 501st.

But those are thoughts best left behind on a night like this. You can’t let yourself dwell on it if there’s going to be alcohol, so you push it all as far from your consciousness as possible and choose instead to focus on having fun with your friends, on the pretty lights and mostly good music and the too-sweet flavor of your berry-infused shot.

“-and I was like, ‘no way, the first season is way better than the second!’”

From what you remember, Vaughn’s been caught up in some holo-soap. It’s been taking up a lot of his attention when he’s not working or out painting his murals, but it’s honestly not your thing and you only barely understand what he’s talking about. His brothers, however, don’t seem nearly as lost as you feel.

Fox takes a long swig of his beer and arches his eyebrow incredulously. “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you think the actress is hot.”

Vaughn’s attention flickers to you for a moment. He stammers wordlessly for a couple of seconds and you’re sure that if you could see it, he’d be entirely flushed. “Pfft, no. It’s all about the story. Substance, vod. Hotness is secondary.”

Even Appo looks doubtful at that. “Since when?”

He frowns. “Shut up. Neither of you’d know substance if it bit you in the shebs.” To you, he leans in a bit and pretends to lower his voice as if he’s relaying a secret. “Imagine being the only one of your batch with decent taste.”

Despite your earlier dinner, the alcohol has already started to make its way through your blood stream. You’re only buzzed at the moment, but it’s enough to make this otherwise ordinary remark seem outrageously funny, and you end up having to smother your laughter in the crook of your arm.

It’s then that something calls out over the din of the bar.

In all the time you’ve known him, Appo has never been one for grand expressions. He conveys what he needs to in the movement of his eyebrows, the subtlety of his eyes, the tilting of his head, the lilt of his voice. So the moment that he responds to the calling of his name with a wide-eyed, panicked expression and the sudden ramrod straightness of his back, you know that something’s not right.

A yellow-green Nautolan passing by the table, the one that had called his name, claps a hand on his shoulder just as Appo shifts to turn toward him. “That is you!” he exclaims in a smooth, smoky voice. He laughs quite happily, enough that his head tentacles jostle. “It’s been, what, months now?”

“Something like that.”

You’ve never seen him like this before, so unyieldingly stiff and uncomfortable, yet it’s clear he knows this man. Even the others seem unsure what to make of this interaction, though there’s something more than mere uncertainty in the looks Vaughn and Fox are passing each other. They look worried? Anxious?

The Nautolan takes this lull in the conversation to acknowledge the rest of the table. “Sorry to interrupt, fellas, ma’am. Appo ‘n’ me go back a bit, haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” you offer in place of everyone else’s silence.

He extends his hand, and you take it. “Benshar. I hope you haven’t been keeping him from me!”

Appo outwardly cringes, more than you’ve ever seen him do before, not even the last time Fox got plastered. What in the galaxy…?

You absently wonder if there’s some sort of love triangle going on that you’re unaware of, but quickly abandon the thought the moment it comes to you. Sterling and Appo might be of the persuasion of all genders, but Sterling isn’t here and even so, neither of them seem the type to be interested in the same person, let alone allowing themselves to get caught up in that kind of drama. No, something else must be going on.

You smile. “No, no, of course not. But if you two need some time to catch up, we could always-“

“That won’t be necessary.” Appo clears his throat as the attention suddenly falls solely on him. His hand hooks around Benshar’s elbow as he suddenly backs away from the table. “C’mon.” And just like that, he’s gone.

“Okay,” you begin the moment they’re out of earshot, “what the hell was that?”

Vaughn downs the rest of his drink. Fox takes a ridiculously long swig. Neither of them audibly speaks, but they’re very clearly communicating to each other in a way only clones seem to understand. You doubt you’ll ever be able to master the subtle cues they’ve spent a solid decade practicing, but it does leave you out of the loop this time, the one time it really matters.

“Guys, I’m not stupid. Clearly that was something. What is it?”

A few seconds pass before Vaughn shifts uncomfortably. “Old flame.” He refuses to look you in the eye.

It takes a minute, but it hits you like a ton of duracrete. Of course. Of course. You’d thought about it before, wondered how a group of five handsome and very capable young men could go two whole years without any kind of sex life. There have been isolated incidents in the past where you’d wake up in the middle of the night because you thought you’d heard something in the adjoining room, or a muffled grunt or two coming from the shower early in the morning, but not once have they ever asked to bring somebody home. Not once have you ever seen them kiss another being. You know they feel attraction because they joke about it enough, because Appo and Sterling have both referenced previous encounters. And you know Fox has gotten laid several times since coming to Aurea – how could he not? he’d flirt with a tree if it would flirt back with him – but he’s never bragged about it in your presence, never rubbed it in like salt in his brothers’ wounds. But somehow, you’d thought, you’d hoped that it was because maybe… maybe that unspoken feeling that sits deep in your heart isn’t as one-sided as you’ve always known it to be.

It’s a foolish hope. It’s stupid to think a single one of these men could ever want you in the way that you want them. Surely they’d have made a move by now if they did. But Maker, it hurts. It hurts to know that someone else on this planet has known the taste of Appo’s lips, has heard him sigh and moan, has probably taken him out on dates and showered him in affection, and it hurts that that someone isn’t you. You watch Fox for a bit, trail your eyes along his tattoos, then to Vaughn and the puckered scar in his cheek, and it’s like a vibroblade to your heart. Someone who isn’t you has known them as well, has felt the touch of their skin, their lips, has felt their love.

“So he was flirting. That guy.” It comes out unbidden and a touch more bitter than you mean it to.

Vaughn snorts. “Not very well.”

And you know you shouldn’t say it, really, you do. You know it reveals too much, you know it should embarrass you, but you know if you don’t, you’ll burst. You eyeball your empty shot glass, tongue tucked into your cheek, and shake your head with a humorless laugh. “I need another drink.”

The whole walk to the bar, the whole conversation with the server, the entire wait, and the whole walk back, it’s all you think about – people have known these men, your men, and those people weren’t you. There could be any number of reasons why, they might respect you too much, they might not want to lose out on a good flat if things went south with you, they might want things they feel you can’t give them, and every reason is understandable, but all you can feel is that they went searching for love and pleasure and it never occurred to them to come find you. It’s stupid, really, because it’s not like they owe it to you. It’s not like you’ve ever made your feelings clear beyond a few isolated, innocent comments made in a clearly friendly setting, something meant to be seen as either a compliment or a joke and nothing more.

You’re intoxicated, you finally decide, and that’s the reason it hurts so much. Best thing to do is just drown it out and hope it goes away. You know it won’t, but it’s better than wallowing in your misery. Probably.

You down one shot when you return to the table, but there’s still the massive stein of liquor, one of the brands on the stronger end of the spectrum of what you can handle. Both men eye you warily when you start drinking and you know they have every right to because it’s obvious that you’re not yourself right now.

“What?” They don’t say anything, but the judgement is clear. “Oh please, it’s not like I’m gonna pull a Fox. ‘sides, I’m gonna need something stronger if we’re gonna start talking about our love lives.”

“You okay?” Vaughn asks. He tacks your name onto the end when you shrug him off. “I’m serious. You good?”

“Course I am!” And it’s a bit too cheery, too fake, too not-you. It has to be to keep the tears at bay.

They share another look, and it just adds insult to injury to know that they don’t trust you. Or maybe those shots are running through you quicker than you thought they would.

“Okay. Who else is seeing someone and didn’t tell me? Fox?”

He splutters disbelievingly at the accusation. “Why’re you lookin’ at me?”

“’cause you’re a flirt, Fox. But that’s okay, it’s part of your charm. I’m just surprised I haven’t walked in on you and some pretty Twi’lek in our shower, to be honest.”

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, just stop! Talking! That’s the logical part of your brain, the sober part that’s going down kicking and screaming. The liquor is loosening your tongue, and the angst is coloring it all a distinct shade of envy. It doesn’t occur to you that Fox might take offense, or that you’re the one making a fool of yourself this time, not him, not when all you can feel is the incredible pain of longing for something that was never even yours.

Vaughn’s hand comes into view then, his fingers wrapping around the circumference of your stein to gently tug it back onto the table. “Hey.” He’s gentle, strong. “Why don’t you drink some water first?”

“I’m fine.” You’re not so far gone that you don’t understand what he’s suggesting. “I’m not drunk.” But you’re getting there. “What about you? You been seeing anyone and keeping it a secret?”

His brows are deeply furrowed as he considers you. “Why?”

“Well, ‘cause clearly everyone in the flat can get some except for me!”

Funny how that’s not what you’d meant to say. Funny how it’s still so true. You think about that pretty Nautolan and how excited he was to see Appo, despite Appo’s obvious discomfort, and you feel your entire body shrink in on itself.

“Doesn’t matter,” you finally say. “I’m happy you guys can find that if you need it.” You’re happy because you want them to be happy. Doesn’t mean it’s not killing you inside. “Just wish I could find it, too.”

The bar suddenly feels too loud and too warm, overcrowded and greasy and uncomfortable even though nothing has changed from this moment and the last. Maybe it’s the weight of Fox and Vaughn’s attention, maybe it’s the weight of feeling so startlingly alone when mere minutes ago you felt as though you had the best family in the galaxy.

“Is that what this is about?” You look up from the intricate wood grain of the table and into Fox’s eyes. Maker, those big, brown eyes. They all have the same ones. So beautiful, so dark and endless. “You lonely, mesh’la?”

“No,” but your face is clearly saying yes.

“Nothing wrong with being lonely. We’ve all been there. Tell you what,” and he shifts closer to you so that your shoulders are pressing together and some of his heat comes over you. If this is the most you’ll ever get, then you’ll take it and run with it. “We’ll help you snag someone, yeah? How about him, over there?”

Following the line of his arm to one of the other tables, you see a handsome young man with a gorgeous head of curly hair, dark skin, and a nose ring. He has a nice laugh and a tall, lithe build.

“Bet he’d treat you good.”

“Vod.” You don’t dare to read into the irritation in Vaughn’s voice, but you let yourself imagine for a moment what it would be like if he were jealous.

His brother ignores him. “Or him.” Another person is pointed out to you, a Pantoran with broad shoulders and a bit of stubble. He’s handsome enough, but his build instantly reminds you of Fox, so you shake your head. “Alright, you pick someone and we’ll make it happen.”

“’We’?” Vaughn scoffs. “Don’t bring me into this one, mate.”

Pick someone. He doesn’t even realize how dangerous that offer is. Three of your first five picks are already in the building.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” you tell him after mulling the idea over. Another swig of alcohol pools in your belly. “You might not like who I pick out.”

“Your taste is that bad, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Tall, dark, and handsome. It’s a fucking curse.”

Fox’s eyes darken for a moment, as if something’s occurred to him that he knows he ought not repeat. But then comes that smirk, the one that curls up in the corner of his mouth and makes your head feel light, the one he only ever gets when he’s acting like an absolute menace. “Tall, dark, and handsome. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were talkin’ about me.”

Vaughn damn near jumps across the table. “Fox!”

With his eyes still caught on you, Fox huffs. “Kriff off, Vaughn.”

You take a quick sip of your drink, careful and slow so as not to spill, before giving your answer. “I was.” It comes with its own smirk.

You’ve heard that time travel isn’t really plausible. It happens in small amounts when travelling great distances, when going off-world, but such events are so common nowadays that no one really thinks about it too hard. The computers do most of the thinking for you, anyways. But here in this shitty little bar on this mediocre little trade planet, lightyears away from anything truly important in the galaxy, you feel as though time has slowed itself just for you.

You swore you’d never say anything. You promised yourself you’d never let yourself go down this road. You and Fox have something of a platonically flirty friendship, but there are boundaries neither of you have ever crossed. This moment right here, the subtle glimmer of desire in his eyes, the way you’re gazing up through your lashes at him, the outright admittance that yes, he is handsome and yes, you’ve always known it, none of it is friendly and you both know it.

“Your taste can’t be that bad if I’m on the list.”

You shrug nonchalantly, as if your heart isn’t about to beat right out of your chest. “It’s not a long list.”

“Oh? Care to share?”

You could lay it all on the table now. He’s egging you on, he clearly wants to know, and Maker knows you want to tell him. You want every single one of them to know that you harbor feelings for them and that those feelings run deep. You want them to know because maybe, just maybe, if you bat your eyes and tilt your head just right and they consider even looking your way, they’ll see what they’ve been missing out on, what’s been missing them for all this time. That maybe one of them will have an ‘aha!’ moment and realize that you’re everything he ever needed. It’s desperate. It’s embarrassing. But in this moment, that’s all you really are. A lonely girl with her lonely heart, desperate for one of the men she’s fallen for to see her as she is.

One of your hands drifts in Fox’s direction then, almost of its own accord. You play with the idea of touching the rolled-up hem of his sleeve, but ultimately settled for hovering your hand over it instead. “I don’t know. You got any old flames that haunt this bar? I’d hate to put my heart on my sleeve just for some pretty thing to come along and squash it.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting him to do in response, but leaning further into your space, letting his forearm fill the curve of your palm and his cologne wash over you? Ducking his head down to smile at you as if you’re the only person in the galaxy he has eyes for? It’s almost too much to hope for.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks. “Don’t be a tease, baby. You got somethin’ to say? Let’s hear it.”

This can’t be real. You’re imagining it? You’re so drunk that you’re making shit up. For surely it’s not Fox who’s flirting with you and meaning every word, who’s crowding you up against the edge of the table and making you feel so small in the best possible way. But then he sighs, and his breath hits your face, and your eyes flutter shut. Somewhere in the background, you can hear Vaughn talking, but none of the words are getting through to you. It’s all just white noise.

“Your list, mesh’la. I wanna hear it.”

“Short list,” you whisper, even though you’ve already said it. “Only five names.”

His burning eyes dip below your nose and you swear you see into another dimension at the implication.

“What the hell is going on here?”

It doesn’t fully register to you that the voice isn’t Fox’s, not at first. They are, after all, clones. The whole point is that they’re identical to each other. It takes Fox moving away and the awkward silence and coolness that he leaves in his wake for you to catch up. He never moved his mouth, did he? That’s when you see Appo.

The mock salute you give him only worsens the lines of his frown. “Commander. Have fun with your boyfriend?”

He studies you in the time it takes you to remember how to breathe and then take another drink. He scowls. “You’re drunk.”

“Not fully, but getting there.” The accompanying finger guns don’t sell him on the idea like you thought they would. “We missed you.”

The scowl morphs into a sneer, and it’s practically murderous. “Didn’t look it to me.” To Fox, he starts, “Take her home. Before I decide to kick your shebs.”

And doesn’t that just burn? He’s so angered at the thought of you being close to his brother, so irritated at the thought of you finding a bit of joy, that he wants you gone? If you were anywhere near any form of logical thinking, you might be able to see this for what it is. But instead of fact, your spotchka-addled brain weaves a brand of fiction so bizarre that it only makes sense to you.

“Want me out of the way so you can canoodle with your boyfriend, Appo?”

His face snaps towards yours, his eyes so wide that you’re almost worried they’ll pop out of his head, but it seems the comment has left him speechless. Good, more room for you to dig your grave.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.” Liar. This whole evening is proof of exactly the opposite.

His hand flexes at his side. Maker, he looks angry. It shouldn’t tickle you the way it does, yet you can’t help reveling in it. He broke your heart just now. Drunken logic dictates that he should feel just as horrible as you.

Rather than deign you with any kind of response, though, Appo chooses to leave. Sober you will thank the stars for this, but in this moment all you feel is the cleaving of a blade through your heart, another confirmation that Appo is lost to you, that all of them are lost to you. There’s no more fight left after that.

Fox takes care of the bill and the table while Vaughn escorts you outside. They both help you into the land speeder – Appo’s speeder – and they take you home.

“You’re on the list, you know. All of you.” And as you stare up at Vaughn from beneath your lashes, hoping against hope, burning every last bridge of friendship you’ve built, you think that he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever met. You press your palm into the swell of his chest, where he’s warm and muscled under the flap of his leather jacket, and you cry. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.”

You don’t remember anything after that.

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