#I do think that her knowing that he's so intent on being kind and merciful and then twisting the knife on how much he's hurting her- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unsolved-duvall · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 - 𝐞.𝐦.

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary your boyfriend was an asshole. eddie knew that. you knew that, too. but neither one of you had been brave enough to do anything about it. until now. (4.8k)

warnings reader's boyfriend is an asshole (obviously), implied that reader struggles with anxiety, reader technically cheats on her boyfriend (sucks to be him), kissing, fluff, that's all i think! let me know if i missed anything <3

Deep breaths. In and out.

The words would play on a loop in your head. Your own personal mantra you repeated in an attempt to calm your racing thoughts, and stop the words being sung around you from sinking into your mind and cementing themself there as truth.

This shouldn’t be how you feel around your friends, you knew that. But the truth was they were your boyfriend's friends first. When you two had started dating he had introduced you to them and promised you that they were nice. Kind. Thoughtful. Caring. These were all real words he used to describe his asshole friends. And of course, you believed him, because what kind of boyfriend put you in any situation where you felt uncomfortable? A situation where you were torn down for other people’s enjoyment?

Your boyfriend. Your boyfriend would do that.

Your boyfriend was an asshole.

Sometimes, on a good day, he would say nothing, choosing instead to sit in silence whilst your feelings got pulled apart and stamped on. Sometimes though, on a bad day, he would join in, laughing at whatever witty comment someone had conjured up about you. He had never once stood up for you.

Asshole.

Today was the same as every other, the morning had gone by in an instant and before you knew it the dreaded hour had crept up on you. You took your normal seat around the table, pushed into the corner of the canteen, and watched as your friends slowly flooded in and sat down, small talk and gossip filling the air.

Your eyes scanned the canteen and you saw your boyfriend making his way over to you, your stomach dropped as he made eye contact with you, his aggravation already clear as he smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

You forced yourself to hide the dread that was fighting to make itself obvious on your face, not that anyone was paying attention to you right now anyway. Your boyfriend sat down next to you and placed a hand on your leg, squeezing it once before pulling back and putting all his attention anywhere but on you.

Lunch played out as normal, laughter and chatter filling the table as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible, hoping beyond hope that everyone would forget you were there and grant you some mercy.

They didn’t. Because they never did.

Soon enough the nasty comments started flying.

You sat and desperately wanted today to be the day that your boyfriend would finally stand up for you; tell his friends they had gone too far or drag you away from them and tell you how sorry he was that you were being treated that way. But of course, he didn’t.

Anytime you would make eye contact with him he would look away quickly, his guilt obvious, but still not enough for him to stand up for you when you needed him.

Soon enough the insults all began to blend into one and you were able to drown them out. Your gaze shifted to look outside the canteen windows, watching the grey clouds shift overhead.

You weren’t sure how long you had been staring out of the windows, intent on daydreaming your way through lunch. But soon you felt a pair of eyes watching you, pulling your attention back inside the full canteen, you glanced around to find that you were in fact being looked at, but it wasn’t your boyfriend.

Eddie was staring at you from across the canteen.

Your eyes locked onto his and you felt heat rush to your face, a rose blush spreading over your cheeks.

He smiled, one that reached his eyes, but you could sense that he wasn’t happy. Something about the way his face dropped so quickly, annoyance painting his face as his eyes scanned the table you were sitting at.

You and Eddie had never spoken. But you knew of him, of course you did, it was all but impossible to live in Hawkins and not know who he was. His loud personality drawing the attention of anyone within a couple of metres of him, oftentimes your friends would stop their bullying just to watch as Eddie made himself the focal point of the canteen.

The mix of the drawl of the people around you and the intensity of Eddie’s gaze, no matter how sincere, all got to be too much for you, your breathing speeding up and your shaky hands grabbing at one another in search of comfort.

You jumped up suddenly and clumsily made your way past the other chairs that were haphazardly placed around the table. You heard a couple of protests and confusion at your quick exit, but you purposefully ignored each one and let your feet lead you out of the canteen.

What you didn’t notice was a second pair of feet following you.

Navigating your way through the sea of people around the school was difficult enough anyway, but doing it whilst your ears were ringing and you fought to hold back tears that were threatening to run down your cheeks, was even harder.

You managed to get out broken excuse me’s and sorry’s every time you accidentally pushed someone as you made your way to… anywhere but here.

Just as you started to panic you felt a hand on your back, it was barely even touching you, fingertips grazing your back just enough for you to register that someone was there, as soon as they had got your attention their hand dropped back to their side.

You stopped walking and turned to see who had walked up behind you.

Eddie.

His doe eyes scanned your face. He had followed you because he knew something was wrong. But as he took in your teary eyes and saw how fast you were breathing he felt his heartbreak.

“Okay, you’re okay. Do you wanna come with me, yeah?” Eddie asked you gently, careful not to upset you further. You nodded and Eddie sighed a breath of relief at your agreement. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he didn’t want to force you to do anything you didn’t want to do either.

Eddie knew you. You had two classes together and he always found himself drawn to you, which confused him, considering you two had never shared more than three words between yourselves.

But nevertheless, Eddie still noticed you. He noticed the way you twirled the rings on your finger when you were focused on something. He noticed how when you were really, truly happy your nose would scrunch up when you smiled. He noticed how your boyfriend treated you. How his friends treated you.

He had noticed it for a while now, he overheard the things said to you when he would walk past your table in the canteen. He saw how your smile got smaller over time, and how you slowly stopped talking. He had given your boyfriend the benefit of the doubt, at first. Had hoped that one day he would defend you, or tell his friends to fuck off. Anything. But he never did. And Eddie had wanted to walk over to you and drag you away from them countless times.

But you were an adult, and you could make your own decisions. So he told himself he would only do something when he couldn’t physically stand to watch you suffer through it anymore.

He was ready to say “fuck it” today and pull you away from the situation. But before he could do that you had all but ran out of the canteen. He didn’t even think twice about following you. No, that’s not true. He couldn’t decide between making sure you were okay and beating the shit out of your boyfriend for being an asshole. But Eddie knew you needed to know someone cared about you, and noticed you, more than you needed someone to beat up your boyfriend.

Also, Eddie wasn’t exactly a fighter, per se.

Eddie led you through the bustling hallway, his pinky intertwined with yours as you walked closely behind him. You had been the one to take a hold of his hand, he could tell your anxiety was bad if you were clinging to him. He didn’t mind it though, he’d do whatever you needed him to.

It quickly dawned on him that he hadn’t actually thought about what he would do when he caught up with you. He wasn’t exactly one to think ahead. He should probably start doing that.

In a moment of sheer panic, Eddie pulls you into a closet. Okay, so that wasn’t the best decision he ever made. But sue him, he was trying his best.

Before either of you can process what’s happening, you’re standing in a dark, dusty storage closet. Nothing but shelves and boxes fill the space. The door finally shuts behind you as you let go of Eddie’s hand. Your legs feel like they’re working overtime to keep you standing, that rush of panic still flooding your body, so you stumble over to the back wall, letting yourself sit down on the cold floor, finally feeling some sense of relief set in.

Your knees are pulled up to your chest, hands resting on the floor on either side of you. You close your eyes for a second to let yourself relax, trying to rid your mind of the snide remarks made by your friends who were still sitting in the canteen. None of them had bothered to follow you.

“Um- are you, are you okay?” Eddie’s voice was wary as he spoke to you. Almost like he was unsure if he should be speaking yet.

“I just wanna go home” was all you could say, your voice wavering. Because you really just did not want to be here anymore. You didn’t want to have to deal with the rest of the day, seeing them again.

Eddie’s face dropped as he realised just how exhausted you were. He hated that anyone could make you feel like that.

“I can take you,” He said, still unsure of himself, but gaining some confidence due to how calm you seemed around him, he wasn’t used to that. “I can drive you home if you want me to. I know sometimes I just wanna, you know, be by myself” He was leaning against the door, hands in front of him as he fiddled with his rings, a nervous habit you assumed.

“No.” You responded, too quickly to be casual. “I mean- no, I don’t really want to go home” You had hoped he would accept your answer, but he tilted his head to the side and said nothing, clearly waiting for you to elaborate.

“It’s too quiet.” You whispered. “At home.”

Eddie shifted on his feet, eyes dropping to look at the dusty floor.

“I think too much when it’s quiet. I don’t need to think anymore right now” You had barely said anything, but based on the look that spread across Eddie’s face you knew you had said too much anyway.

“Because of them?” Eddie’s voice came out in an unnerving calm, his face was unreadable.

Panic spread through you at how blunt he was being, you both knew who he was referring to. You felt the tears threaten to spill over again and at the first word you tried to speak your voice cracked, rather pathetically you thought.

Eddie didn’t think so. He thought it was good that you were finally letting your emotions out.

But still, his heart broke at how your lip quivered and your hands shook as you tried to wipe the tears away. He had kneeled in front of you before he realised he was moving.

“That’s just how they are,” you tried to justify it - you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince Eddie or yourself. “they don’t mean any of it.”

“And your boyfriend?” Eddie asked you, his voice thick with resentment.

“I don’t wanna talk about him.” You said, your fingers pulling at a loose thread on your jumper.

Eddie sighed and sat next to you, his legs pulled up to his chest, a mirror image of the way you were sitting.

The bell rang outside, the sound muffled by the closet door. When you didn’t make any effort to move, neither did Eddie.

“You can go, Eddie.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be alone.” Eddie gently nudged you with his shoulder, and you couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at your lips.

“You don’t want to spend your afternoon in a dark closet, at least I’m assuming- I don’t know what you do in your spare time.”

Eddie turned his head to look at you, your voice sounded much softer than it had earlier. You sounded slightly more like yourself. The voice he was used to hearing across the classroom when you were laughing and talking to your friends.

He never meant to eavesdrop. But your voice broke through the barrier he threw up around himself and he couldn’t pull himself away from letting your sweet voice wash over him.

Eddie realised it had been a while since he’d said anything, but he was still staring at you. Luckily you were still preoccupied with that loose thread on your jumper, pulling at it and wrapping it around your finger. He found even that endearing.

“Listen- you don’t have to but if you want to come with me, I am gonna go home anyway. You could come back to mine, or I can take you somewhere, whatever you want.” Eddie tensed as he said it. You didn’t know him, why would you want to go anywhere with him? You had no reason to even trust him.

“Yeah. yeah, okay. That sounds nice, if you don’t mind because I don’t want to intrude-”

“No! No, you’re not intruding, at all. I promise.”

You smiled and dropped the loose thread. Eddie pushed up off the floor and held a hand out for you to pull yourself up. When you took his hand he felt sparks fly and he had to take a steadying breath.

The halls were empty as you followed Eddie out of the school. Although, when a teacher called after you both, Eddie grabbed your hand and pulled you to his side, hurrying you out of the door and yelling something back at them. You were starting to piece together why he hadn’t graduated yet.

“This is me,” Eddie told you as you walked up to his van. You didn’t tell him you already knew that. You figured it would come across slightly stalkerish.

Which wasn’t the vibe you were going for.

You nodded as he opened the door for you, a protective arm going out around when you climbed in.

The drive to his was relatively quiet. The hum of the radio cut through any awkward silence, and you enjoyed watching the changing scenery fly past the windows. Just as your eyes started to feel heavy, and your head lolled against the headrest, you stopped moving. You sat up straight and looked over to see Eddie already smiling at you.

“Were you sleeping?” he asked, a gentle laugh lacing his words.

“No, I was just resting my eyes!” you threw back at him, he broke out into a full laugh then, one that had you laughing too.

Eddie opened the door and climbed out, you followed him. Throwing your bag over your shoulder and listening to the gravel crunch under your shoes as you walked from the van to the trailer. Eddie held the door open for you, and you stepped in, turning awkwardly and waiting for him to follow you. You took a second to look around and couldn’t help but smile at how homely it felt- so different to your own home, in the best way.

Eddie followed your eyes scanning the trailer and suddenly regretted bringing you here- but then the smile on your face met your eyes and you asked-

“How many mugs do you have?”

“Oh uh- huh, I don’t know actually. Ask my uncle he’d be able to tell you,” you leant against the counter behind you as he spoke, throwing his shoes and jacket off at the door.

“Or don’t ask him actually. I love him but he will talk your ear off about those, and the hats.” you tilted your head, urging him to keep talking.

“He collected them for a while, I don’t know why. He travelled around a lot for work and I guess it became a habit to buy one or the other, in all those places.”

“That’s cute!” you beamed at him.

“Yeah don’t tell him it’s cute. Or do, I’d pay to see his reaction to that.” Eddie walked over to you, reaching up to grab two glasses from a cupboard and then filling them with water.

He held one out for you and you took it, breathing out a thank you.

It seemed to hit both of you simultaneously that you were standing in Eddie’s home. Alone. Before this morning you hadn’t even spoken to one another.

It didn’t feel like it though. You felt safe with him, it felt like you had known each other for years.

You didn’t even feel like this with your boyfriend.

“Uh- we can sit if you want. Do you like… watching tv?” Eddie asked you, cringing as he heard how clumsily his words had come out, but he was already turning to walk over to the couch across from you.

“Yeah, I like watching tv. I think most people do, actually.” your voice was laced with sarcasm and Eddie threw himself down on one end of the couch before he said-

“Hey, I didn’t wanna assume anything. You might have had a personal vendetta against it and I didn’t wanna get in the way of that.”

Your eyes sparkled as you also sat down, on the other end of the couch, although it wasn’t massive, so you weren’t that far away from Eddie anyway.

“Nope, me and the tv are like that,” you crossed two fingers over the other and held them up, Eddie grinned and leant forward to grab the remote.

“Good to know, sweetheart. You don’t mind what I put on?”

Sweetheart?

A slip up, probably. Or he called every girl that. Most likely. Right? Yeah, because you had a boyfriend and that meant you shouldn’t care if Eddie called you sweetheart or not. And even if you-

“Or you can pick, that’s okay too”

Eddie’s voice cut through your thoughts and only then did you realise you hadn’t responded to his question.

“Oh, no that’s okay! Sorry I was just- uh, put on whatever you want, I don’t mind Eds”

Eddie nodded and let some old movie play on the screen. Neither of you said anything as you settled back into the couch and let the movie play.

After a while you noticed Eddie kept turning to look at you. At first you thought he was just watching your reaction to the movie, but then he kept doing it and you figured it was more than that.

“Everything okay?” you asked, turning your body slightly to be able to look at Eddie without twisting your neck.

“Yeah I just- are you okay? I know you might not want to talk about it and that’s fine but, I just wanted to make sure.” you knew what Eddie was referring to, and if it had been anyone else you probably, or definitely, would have told them to leave it alone. But something about the genuine look of concern that flooded Eddie’s face as he looked at you made you want to talk to him about it.

“They do it all the time. I guess I don’t say anything because I don’t wanna upset my boyfriend, they’re his friends, you know?”

Eddie also twisted, so his body was facing yours, and arm was thrown across the back of the couch.

“So that means they get to treat you like shit?”

“They’re just joking-“

“Pretty bad fucking jokes then,” Eddie said, cutting you off.

“Listen, sweetheart,” there it was again. Sweetheart.

“If I’m overstepping here, then feel free to tell me. But, you shouldn’t have to put up with that, okay? Why would people who claim to be your friend, want to spend all their time making fun of you? That’s not a friend, that’s someone who gets off on making others feel like shit, because they have no fucking confidence to be their own person, and you do. And that scares the shit out of them.”

You listened to Eddie talk and realised you could listen to him talk about anything, forever.

“And as for your boyfriend? Listen, if you love him, then that’s your business. But, and I mean this is the least nice way possible, he’s the biggest asshole I have ever had the displeasure of coming across”

You turned your head away, your eyes flicking back to the movie that was still playing on the tv. You knew he was right. It just hurts to hear someone say what you already knew.

“He should support you, love you. He’s not doing any of that. Fuck, if someone was saying that shit to you and I was your boyfriend? I would-“

“If you were my boyfriend?” You cut him off, eyes meeting him as your whole body tensed up.

“No I didn’t mean- I just meant, you know if someone I was dating was being treated that way. I didn’t mean you specifically- not that I wouldn’t do it for you! Uh, I meant-“

“It’s okay, Eddie. I was joking.”

“Oh- right. No, I knew that. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to say sorry.” you told him, your voice as quiet as it had been in that dusty closet.

You both relaxed back into watching the movie. You felt yourself get more comfortable as your whole body weight leant against the couch, and as you did you felt yourself move towards Eddie. You did it without realising, but your head was resting against his shoulder.

Eddie noticed it instantly. He didn’t say anything at first, but then he remembered you were vulnerable right now. You had had a rough day, emotionally you probably weren’t doing great.

“I can grab you a pillow- if you want something to rest on. I get tired too, after being at school.” Eddie told you, his voice small, not wanting to startle you with how close your head was to his.

“Oh- no that’s okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was… I’m not tired.” you told him, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“I don’t mind getting you one, honestly. You were leaning against me, I just thought that meant you were tired.” Eddie said genuinely.

“I just wanted to be closer to you. I’m sorry I should have asked if that was okay-“ the words came out of you far too fast to be casual.

Eddie froze for a minute, you could almost see the thoughts racing around in his mind, “No, you’re okay. come here,”

Eddie reached an arm out and you wasted no time setting into his side, your head resting in the crook of his neck and your arm coming round to rest over him.

You had no idea what had come over you. You were never like this. But it was like you needed to be with Eddie, it was like there was some invisible string that pulled you to him, and the second you felt yourself wrapped in his warmth everything else faded into non-existence. It was just him, and how he felt beneath you. His chest rising and falling as your body sunk further into comfort against him.

You spent the rest of the movie like that, neither of you speaking, except for the odd comment you would make about what was happening on screen, the other humming or nodding in agreement.

The movie ended and neither of you made any attempt to move.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie asked into the quiet air that surrounded you both.

“No, I’m okay” you breathed out.

You moved your head so you could look at Eddie, but you didn’t pull away from him, leaving your faces close together. Too close.

“You’re pretty”

Oh.

At first you froze because you didn’t realise you had said that out loud.

Then you froze because you didn’t know why you were even thinking that.

Of course, he was pretty but-

Fuck it.

You moved slightly, and Eddie picked up on what you were doing instantly, and a gentle hand came down on top of yours, the one that was resting against his chest.

“You have a boyfriend” Eddie breathed, his eyes scanning yours, and you swear stars flickered in them.

“No I don’t,” you told him, “not really.”

And that was all it took for you to let your lips intertwine with his.

It was a soft kiss. Delicate, like either of you was waiting for the other to pull away. To tell them this was a mistake.

But neither of you did.

You broke the kiss only for a second. Your lips still grazed his and both of your eyes still shut as you took a deep breath, and then you were kissing him.

Really, truly kissing him.

Your lips moved against each other and the world suddenly felt like it made sense for the first time ever.

His thumbs rubbed delicate circles into your cheeks and you placed a hand behind his neck, keeping him pressed flush against you.

You were the one to run your tongue over his bottom lip, begging to deepen the kiss.

You didn’t want anything more to happen, not today. Not yet.

But you wanted to feel closer to him. You needed to be as close to him as possible, for your own sanity.

Eddie would give you the whole world if you asked him to. So he kissed you.

He kissed you until you were breathless.

He kissed you until you couldn’t even remember what had happened earlier that day.

He kissed you until the whole world went quiet and all you could focus on was his tongue pressing against yours. The way his lips moved like silk against your own, and the little sounds you let out each time you pulled away reluctantly to breathe.

You could die happily, kissing Eddie.

Eddie kissed you until the front door opened and shut. Neither of you heard it.

Eddie kissed you until you heard a man cough and suddenly Eddie’s lips weren’t on yours anymore and his cheeks had flushed a deep crimson.

His hands dropped from your face, but he didn’t push you away, if anything his hold on you tightened, a comforting hand coming down to rest on your arm.

“Sorry for interrupting” a gruff voice came from the man you had never met, but you put two and two together fairly quickly.

“Fuck, Wayne- I’m sorry we- I thought you were out today,” Eddie spoke as you tried to figure out how quickly you could run home from here.

“I was, and now I’m back,” Wayne said, his eyes flicking to you, and then back to Eddie.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Eddie shot back, although there was no genuine annoyance in his voice, purely embarrassment, although he tried to hide that.

“I have to sleep on that couch you know, you have a bedroom for a reason-“

“No! No, we weren’t! It’s not- we were just… we weren’t doing that” Eddie finally dropped his hold on you as he said that as if every touch you two shared was being carefully monitored.

“Well I’m just saying- when I’m not here, and in your own room, that’s all I ask,” Wayne told you both.

“You got it,” Eddie said, cringing.

There was a pause for a moment and then-

“Are you gonna introduce us or are you gonna let the poor girl sit there looking like she wants to jump in front of a car.” Wayne asked as he made his way over, a soft smile on his face as he sat down in the only other chair in the living room.

Eddie introduced you, and you apologised for what he had walked into. He shrugged it off, telling you he had lived with Eddie for years, and that he’d seen a lot worse.

You laughed at that. Eddie did not.

“Hey, Wayne. She was asking about your mug collection, you wanna tell her about it?” Eddie’s smug voice rang out and you didn’t even need to look at his face to see the smile that graced it.

Wayne jumped up and you followed him with your eyes, interlinking your hand with Eddie’s as he spoke, “Oh, okay so- I have a lot, as you can see, so this might take a while! But we’ll start with this one-“

You heard Eddie stifle a laugh beside you, but you only leant further into him, and happily listened to Wayne speak for the next half an hour. While Eddie kept you safe against him.

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #edde munson imagine #joseph quinn #joe quinn #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie my beloved #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you

1K notes · View notes

honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 2 months

Note

Can I get more bg3 yandere, maybe what starts the obsession with the reader? Punishments?

A/N: Yes, more yandere coming up! (Wasn’t sure if you were referring to just the baddies list I posted or the companions, so I went with the main companions this time.)

And apologies for the wait… This was one hell of a week.

Yandere!BG3: What Triggers Their Obsession

Astarion:

Astarion is drawn to your innocence.

At first, he thinks it must be an act, for someone to be so kind and open around a vagrant group of misfits they just met.

But once he understands that’s just who you are, he feels he must protect that innocence by taking it all for himself.

After all, he deserves it, doesn’t he? After two hundred years of slavery, he finally gets to possess some kindness of his own.

Because that’s what you’d show him, isn’t it? You’d love him, understand him, and treat him the way he so longs to be treated. And all he has to do… is make you his to get it.

Ascended! Astarion:

Ascended Astarion is drawn to your inner fire, the way you don’t submit when he demands you ‘bow’.

Initially, he finds it rather amusing that such a helpless thing like you dare defy him. Then he becomes irritated before being overcome with righteous anger. How dare you continue to thwart his plans? You shall pay, indeed.

He wants you begging, pleading on your knees for his mercy. He wants to be the only one with the power to grant such benevolence to you.

You will know his name, you will know his power. Your insolence will not last long.

Gale:

Gale is drawn to your inquisitive nature, how you always seem so fascinated by any knowledge he has to share.

No one, not even his students, has ever looked up at him with those big doe eyes the way you do.

You appreciate him, in a way no one’s ever appreciated him before.

He’s always played second fiddle, to greater wizards, to his goddess, but not to you. Never to you.

He needs you to need him. He wants your awe but should push come to shove, he’ll settle for your fear.

Godhood! Gale:

Godhood Gale finds you so impressively driven. Your bold choices and lack of apprehension call him to you.

On one hand, he wants to empower you, to help you soar even further than your wildest dreams. On the other hand, he wants dominion over your confidence- he should be the one to grant it to you. You couldn’t possibly command your own destiny. He’s a God, after all, he should have reign of it.

Just let him take control, he swears it’s only for your good. Gale would never overstep your boundaries. He swears on Mystra’s honor.

Wyll:

Wyll wants to protect and cherish you like he believes he’s always been destined to do.

For him, he was always burdened with this great privilege of being a hero. And you, you are the thing that makes everything he’s ever endured or sacrificed all worth it.

You need him to save you. Sure, you’re capable, and yes, you could make it on your own, but why make it harder than necessary? Why not just let the man who would lay down his life for you, honor you and take care of you for the rest of your days?

You’re so sweet. You’re such a light in these dark, dangerous times. Wyll will ensure you’re safely hidden away from all the danger that lurks beyond.

If that means Wyll is all you know of the outside world, then so be it.

Karlach:

Karlach is drawn to your spunk, the conviction you must possess to keep on fighting.

You remind her so much of her younger self, always eager, always ready for the next challenge. But alas, that’s what she fears.

Her eagerness blindsided her to the truth about Gortash. She didn’t see what was coming until it was too late. She can’t let that happen to you. She won’t.

Don’t you understand? No one else out there in the cruel, cruel world would tell you the truth. They are all self-serving and undeserving of your intentions.

Karlach knows her conditions aren’t ideal, living in hell never is. But please, try to understand.

A lifetime spent in hell at Karlach’s side is much, much safer than a world spent alone on the surface.

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart is drawn to your inexperience, your childlike innocence in which you believe all that she tells you.

She was always being taught that obedience mattered over intelligence. She thought such a statement was wrong but then, you came waltzing into her life.

You exemplify compliance. Every word, every thought she has you take to heart like gospel.

For you, there shall be no gods, no goddesses, no Shar or Selune to worship.

There will only be you and her.

La’zel:

La’zel, despite herself, is drawn to your kindness, your simplicity.

She thinks you are weak, and undeserving of her affections, yet she feels the need to seize you and shield you all the same.

Your flesh is soft, your heart is malleable, and your mind is guileless. Without her intervention, you would surely perish an otherwise avoidable fate.

No. She must keep you away from the others, away from their grasp.

It would be futile to try and navigate the world without her.

#yandere bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 imagine #baldurs gate imagine #bg3 #yandere #hc

200 notes · View notes

stoned-eren · 5 months

Note

can i request eren acting a little crazy? like telling you he loves you so much he won't *ever* let you leave him in a serious tone but you think he's just messing around, being cute (totally unaware of how crazy he can be)

your work is really nice btw, i reallllly like how you write eren <3

a/n: hi hi! thank you so much for your patience, i absolutely loved writing this <3 anything with obsessive/unhinged eren has me at my mercy... and thank you for your kind words aaa im so happy you enjoy my writing! seriously, it means alot! content: pre-established relationship, yandere themes? (more like obsessive), fluff, one teeny tiny mention of death word count: 1.1k - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

intense, possessive, enthralling.

that’s the best way to describe eren’s love. he loves fully, he loves completely. he loves until there’s nothing left in his essence, until his bones are withered away, his eyes are dull and tired, and his heart no longer beats.

and he loves you. undeniably so.

eren makes it known to you, every second you two are together. whether that’s a small squeeze of your shoulders, or pressing his lips against your forehead, little acts of affection are thrown your way, very often.

and although he’s undoubtedly sweet with you, he’s colder to others. a bit more hostile. with a piercing toxicity in his voice, and a deeply seeded fire in his gaze, eren does whatever he can to ward off any “threats”.

but in eren’s eyes, everyone’s a threat. no one can be trusted. you’re just too sweet. too sweet for eren to let you out of his sight. too sweet for eren to ever let you go.

you’re such a good person to him. he cherishes that endlessly.

you’re so good. in eren’s eyes, your affection and care for him was something that had to be protected. at any cost.

anyone who dared to disrupt that, even slightly, would pay dearly.

after a particularly nasty week, eren felt himself getting irritable. anxious, even. a few men actually had the nerve to approach you. there was even one bastard that tried to ask you out on a date. all week, there were people staring at you, people talking to you, people flirting with you. in fact, the one filthy rat who asked you out even decided to touch you. just a simple hand on your shoulder, but it was enough.

it was enough to send eren into a state of fuming panic. endlessly, he replayed the scenarios from this week in his mind. whenever he thought back on it, punching the guy who touched you didn’t seem like enough of a punishment.

…what exactly were you doing to him? can’t you see how much he loves you, cares about you, wants to protect you?

was this your intentions? to leave eren scared, threatened, and so violently angry?

the feeling of uncertainty weighed on him, it ate away at him. you needed to be his. undoubtedly. forever.

as the two of you spent time at eren’s place, both of you attempting to relax in his room, he felt his restlessness and anxiety skyrocket.

you sit at the small desk in eren’s room while you halfheartedly tear apart an outrageously expensive piece of bread. eren is sitting a little way away from you, resting himself on the edge of his bed.

“-you know, i’ll never understand why that lady sells her bread for so much more than everybody else,” you say. “it’s not even that good.”

“mmh,” eren simply grunts out, his mind evidently not focused on the casual conversation at hand.

“…you feeling alright, ren?” you hum at him, looking at him from the corner of your eye. “is my bread talk boring you?”

“it’s not that,” eren responds. “i just…”

he goes silent for a moment.

the utterly obsessive feelings eren had, combined with the events from this week, made him slip. just a little.

“…i’m never going to let you go. ever. you’re mine…“ eren trails off. “you’ll always be mine. i know we’re meant to be together.”

“…oh? is that so?” you smile at him, a little giggle falling from your lips. “where is this coming from, hm?”

“i just don’t want to lose you,” eren says, his eyes locked onto you. “you matter to me, more than anything.”

you give him a cute smile, tilting your body so that you’re facing eren.

“aw, that’s sweet of you…” you say, evidently delighted by his words. “you’re important to me too eren.”

“i hope so,” eren murmurs. “…fuck. i’d do anything for you.”

“anything, huh?” you chirp up.

“anything,” eren breathes. “…i’d burn the world for you, you know.”

“well, i hope you don’t do that… i live there,” you say with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“i really mean it…” eren replies.

a deep sigh leaves eren’s lips before he continues his sentence. “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you. honestly, i feel like i could kill someone for you.”

“oh- let’s not go that far…” you trail off.

“i mean- i just... i can’t stop thinking about you… i can’t stop looking at you… fuck- you just really mean a lot to me. i don’t want you to ever leave me…”

he stares at the ground, his eyes locked onto the wooden floor.

“…i’m not going to leave you, ren… ever,” you softly reply, setting your torn bread down.

hastily getting up from your chair, you make your way over to eren. as you take a seat on his plush bed, eren’s attention drifts from the paneled floor to your beautiful irises. once he catches himself looking at you, it’s hard for him to look away. it feels impossible to look away.

eren mumbles. “i wouldn’t be able to handle it. i don’t think i could see you with another person, ever. god… like that guy from earlier. he pisses me off.”

“eren…” you sigh softly.

“fuck- what a piece of shit. no one should be flirting with you,” he spits out, clearly working himself up at this point. “only me. it should only be me. i don’t want anyone even looking at you in that way. just the thought alone makes me want to-“

“ah- i get it, i get it,” you say, taking his hands in yours.

a reassuring smile flashes across your face, trying to deescalate eren’s creeping anger. gently, you give his palms a squeeze. “like i said eren, nothing is going to happen. you’re all i want, all i need. please, don’t worry.”

the tension that was previously evident in eren’s hands starts to ease. the look on his face is calmer, more relaxed.

“god- i’m sorry. i just really love you,” eren breathes to you. “you’re too good to me…i don’t know how i deserve you.”

“oh, don’t say that,” you say, comfort coaxing your voice. “…i love you too, though. just try your best to remember that, okay?”

a slow nod comes from eren. you lean into him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. letting go of his hands, you trail your fingers up his forearms, your digits caressing his skin as you wrap your arms around him. your hug is soft and gentle, almost hesitant. there’s a fluttering in eren’s chest, a vibrancy quite literally making him glow as you embrace him.

eren lets a small smile crack through his lips. vulnerability is still undeniably scrawled on his expression. it always is. ultimately, he just wants more of you, more experiences of you, more time with you.

but for now, just hearing your sweet, songlike voice tell eren that you love him, is enough. just feeling your supple skin shyly brush against him, is enough.

everything about you, was enough.

#ask #anon #writing.exe #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #eren jeager #eren #eren yeager #eren jager #eren x you #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x reader fluff #aot fluff #yandere eren #obsessive eren

327 notes · View notes

christinebloodwrittings · 2 months

Text

Till' death do us apart.

Pairing: Angel Y/n x Alastor Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Warning: Biblical nonsense. :}

Masterlist –– Next chapter

So this was caused by the absolute brain rot my love for the series has given me, 40% of the text I got it from the transcript of the first episode Overture, and Michael's text was brought by Hazbin Hotel: Journey to the Light, shoutout to the creator. It's a one time thing as to bring this sort of prologue.

As always, the characters mostly belong to Vivienne Medrano, and it is a fanfiction with no intention of offending anyone.

Prologue

At the beginning, Heaven rose from the light of creation, it´s golden glow soon was to be known though out existence. It was ruled by beings of pure light, Angels that worshiped good and shielded the world from all evil.

Samael was one of the first angels. He was a dreamer with delusional ideas for all of creation, for this, he was seen as a menace. The elders of Heaven were brought to the conclusion that his way of thinking was dangerous to the order of their world.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when its creation, the forbidden fruit was placed in the hands of a mortal woman, this made the high command make the decision to banish Samael from heaven, causing the creation of the demonic place known years later as Hell.

The word 'Hell' was derived from an Anglo-Saxon word hellia, that meant wicked or evil.

Samael’s wife, the first human woman ever created, Lilith, thrived with the decision. After being banished along with her husband, she empowered demon-kind with her voice and her songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power.

To say Heaven was threatened by that fact was an understatement, according to the paperwork Adam - the first human man and soul to enter heaven – left, I was able to discover that the overpopulation was being handled through an extermination, a massive genocide is a correct termination. What I found interesting, was that the procedure ruled out hell-born beings, no exceptions, and no precedents of any contract with Samael or any form of power known to rule in hell.

To think Adam’s heart was so big that he decided to condemn only human souls, sparing “innocent” hell-born beings, is moronic. But as soon as I started to leave my obligations unattended to uncover the mystery of the excess of blood in the hands of the high command, my actions were noticed by Michael, the archangel of light.

“Demons... It seems as if I can never catch them all and destroy them, and their numbers continue to expand, corrupting the minds of mortals” he scoffed, picking up his cup of tea, “That’s no reason to go down and take their lives, if you’re so concerned about them corrupting mortals, shut down their access to portals-“ he interrupted me hitting the table hard, breaking the saucer on which he placed the cup, his voice became distorted and his eyes widened around his head, trying to intimidate me.

“They are sinful beasts who rejected our light so we help remove them from it and keep them in the shadows of Hell. We allow them to live, an example of the angel's merciful will, but their population must be... controlled, until they cease being an annoying, persistent thorn in the side of our family” he hissed.

“Our family, was pushed down a hole and since then, no one, not even you, has tried to establish any contact, don’t you think it’s almost an insult that Adam saw Samael before us? Because I do”

“You seem to have a clouded judgement” he adjusted his glasses with a stern movement.

“It’s as clear as ever, I go to earth, I see the souls go either up or dragged down, you’re the one that is clouded because you haven’t witnessed any of their pain” my blood boiled causing my aura to manifest around me.

“Watch your words” he warned, his eyes flaring in a blue from of flame.

“I can't wait for him to find out, and what will be worse for you, is that everyone will know that you agreed to this from the beginning” I snickered, it was wrong to provoked him, but I felt as if I had the upper hand on him.

I wish someone had warned me of how wrong I was.

“You were the only “no” that day, you were the only one to try to defend his ideas” he thought out loud.

“So?” I asked confused, reaching for the door.

There was a shrill sound, the next thing I knew, I felt a horrible pain in my back, also heat, the air was humid and hot, a smell of blood between fresh and thousands of years old. I don't know how long I was face down in the dirt, I was only able to get up when the pain stopped enough and I was able to move to dry my tears. The dry, arid land under my hands and the sign in front of me confirmed my suspicions.

Son of a bitch had thrown me into Hell.

#alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel season 1

101 notes · View notes

elliespuns · 11 months

Text

So, apparently, there are many people who don't understand why Ellie went furiously after Abby, wanting revenge so badly, only to let Abby go at the end.

I think a lot of people don't realize that Ellie doing this was never really about revenge. It was about her nature and what kind of person she is underneath the thick layer of her tough attitude. It was always about her proving once again how good a person she really is.

As we know, Ellie and Joel weren't on good terms for a long time, and Ellie knew how much Joel hurt not being able to connect with her anymore. So when Abby took him away from her, she not only robbed Ellie of the person she loved but also robbed her of the opportunity to forgive him. Which gives us a much better understanding of Ellie's hatred towards Abby. Because just as the hope for a restored relationship with Joel came back into her life, Abby snuffed it out with one hit.

That kind of messes with you as a person, and that's why Ellie became so vengeful all of a sudden; because she thought this was the right way to 'make it up' to Joel somehow. She wasn't doing it for herself; she wasn't doing it because she would enjoy killing either. She was doing it because she felt she owed it to Joel.

If you remember, there were more than a few times when Ellie killed innocent people and immediately felt bad about it. She was in shock after beating Nora to death. She felt sick after realizing she had killed a pregnant Mel. And all of it was just so well portrayed that this only makes you realize how fragile Ellie actually is, regardless of all the hate that's been tying her up.

So, when Ellie arrives at the beach and finds both Abby and Lev tied to the wooden stakes, utterly exhausted and beaten up, she realizes that they have suffered immensely during the past few months. It becomes apparent that Abby has already endured way more suffering than Ellie could've ever hoped to inflict on her. And just as she frees Abby, you can see in Ellie's face that she's doubting her intentions of wanting to hurt Abby some more.

And then she follows Abby to the boats, and that's where we can see that Ellie has come to understand that killing a tormented person would be both needlessly cruel and pointless. So she's about to let Abby and Lev go, but after seeing a flashback of Joel's face covered in blood, the desire to avenge Joel strikes her once again and she tries to go for it, challenging Abby to fight her.

But even now at this very scene, you can see it's really not in Ellie's nature to want this. You have to understand that by this time, Ellie is already extremely conflicted about whether to kill Abby or not. And this decision does not come out of nowhere.

Because right before Ellie drowns Abby, she gets another flashback; this time it's Joel playing his guitar on his porch. This flashback is absolutely integral to understanding why Ellie decides not to drown Abby in the end.

The flashback is a representation of the last conversation between her and Joel. Joel admitted that he "would do it all over again." And so Ellie indicates that she would like to at least try to forgive him. If she can forgive Joel for what he did, then perhaps she can also forgive the woman who killed him... and she does. So in that sense, the flashback reminds her of the fact that she is capable of showing mercy. And by not killing Abby, she does not only forgive Abby - she also comes to terms with what happened between her and Joel, proving that she can indeed forgive other people who wronged her.

So Ellie redeems herself by letting Abby go. She knows she has killed so many innocents, and it has clearly taken its toll on her. Killing Abby would have shown that she not only lost friends and loved ones in her quest for revenge but also her humanity.

Ellie used revenge as a tool to distract herself from Joel's death to avoid having to deal with her loss in a mature way; because when the hatred is gone, everything that's left is grief and pain.

Deep down, Ellie knows that she hurt Joel more than anyone else by disconnecting from him, and she hates herself because of that.

So this ending actually redeems Joel. And despite this being the most heart-wrenching end of a story I've ever seen, it's absolutely understandable why Ellie did what she did.

I guess there has always been more humanity to her character than most people are able to see.

#the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie and joel #ellie and abby #abby anderson #the last of us game #tlou game #joel miller #the last of us part 2 #tlou part 2 #the last of us talk #elliespuns analyses

281 notes · View notes

shakespearean-snape · 9 months

Note

I’m rereading OOTP right now and I find that scene between Severus and Sirius in the kitchen to be highly relevant in the context of Severus as a feminine-coded character (and Sirius as a representation of toxic masculinity). Sirius is very outwardly aggressive in this scene in a conventionally masculine way, while Severus weaponizes his sarcasm and wit in a way that could be thought of as a more “feminine” form of defence. While Harry describes Sirius’s voice as getting progressively louder and angrier, he describes Severus’s voice as “soft” in contrast (as he usually does, which is also interesting in the context of Severus as a feminine man/GNC character). Sirius gets up and tries to intimidate Severus physically, and Severus grips his wand inside his pocket in a way that reminded me of a victim of domestic violence preparing to defend herself against her abuser.

I’m not sure how much of this was intentional considering how rigid JKR’s views on gender have unfortunately turned out to be, but I can’t help but read Severus as a feminine character, especially since he’s meant to act as a stand in for Lily in the same way as Sirius acts as a stand in for James. It’s very easy to read Sev as gender non conforming and/or LGBTQ, although given JKR’s own views it’s doubtful she meant for us to read him that way (but fuck her, she’s a massive transphobe, the characters are ours now, we can do what we like with them).

Note to self, start checking your inbox regularly. These changes to Tumblr are killing me because the notifications when I get messages or asks are hit-or-miss at best.

Anyways, this is such a great observation! I'm only just learning about coding and that that is even the term for it from reading about it from other Snape bloggers like @idealistic-realism00, @raptured-night, and @professormcguire since I only took the required English courses both my undergraduate years and beyond that my major was in sociology.

So, I'm not really any kind of expert but I do have a lot of personal experience from being biracial and queer myself just with learning to read between the lines and find representation for myself where I can and I think that is the case for a lot of people from less represented, marginalized backgrounds. We have a certain instinct for these things so even without any kind of formal study we sort of know the "codes" (for better or worse depending on what the author's intent is and if it's a negative dog-whistle or something more positive to get around censorships of the time) if that makes any kind of sense.

For me, I always saw Sirius and Snape as two sides of a coin. There were some very obvious parallels and contrasts between them and this really goes to that in a lot of ways for me. Both Sirius and Snape are two men who made pivotal choices in their youths that very much define them and have led to a great deal of internalized guilt and impacted their behaviors as adults. Both Sirius and Snape find themselves confined to their childhood homes at different points, Sirius at Grimmauld Place with Kreacher and Snape at Spinner's End with Peter Pettigrew (both Kreacher and Peter are characters that also are known for betraying Harry and costing him someone he loves at different points and making a turn around in regards to Harry because of kindness or mercy he showed to them).

Where Sirius made the choice to make Peter the Secret Keeper with only James, Lily, and Peter knowing and it ultimately led to the death of the Potters and him being sentenced to twelve years in Azkaban, Snape also unwittingly delivered part of the fated prophecy that led to Voldemort targeting the Potters. Most interesting for me is that Snape's friendship with Lily and Sirius's friendship with James could be read as either platonic or a case of unrequited romantic feelings. There is the observation in SWM made by Harry that while Sirius was clearly a looker who attracted the attention of girls, his attention was fully on James and not on those admiring glances. So, when looking at Sirius's relationship with James through a comparative lens to Snape's with Lily they could be platonic friends or both Sirius and Snape could have had romantic feelings for their best friends while, ironically enough, Sirius had to watch James fall for and succeed in winning over Lily just as Snape had to do the same.

In the case of Snape and Sirius there is also a degree of regression and arrested development stemming from trauma (and both men at different points make the clear mistake of seeing Harry as a stand-in for James as a result of said trauma). Where Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban able to hold onto his sanity against the Dementors in part because he knew he was innocent and the truth of what happened was a deeply unhappy thing for him, Snape spent decades in Dumbledore's service at Hogwarts (a place with its own unhappy associations for him having found it was not a refuge from life at Spinner's End with Tobias as he had hoped but another place where he would be bullied relentlessly, overlooked by his Head of House and housemates for being a poor half-blood with no status, subject to institutional failures resulting from yet more adult authority figures in his life not protecting him, groomed by Voldemort's followers and responsible for alienating his closest friend as a result) teaching children when clearly he does not have the temperament and, courtesy of his role as a spy, concealing his own truths and intentionally not allowing people to know the best of him. In a sense, both men had a negative public image that ran counter to the full truth about them and both of them died without being able to see those misconceptions vindicated (Sirius died still presumed by the Ministry and general public to have been the traitor who turned his friends over to Voldemort and murdered innocent people and Snape died knowing he had delivered information to Harry that would lead to his death and unsure of the outcome of the war with everyone thinking him a coward and murderer).

There's just, a LOT of parallels there between the two when you start to unpack them as characters. Even the fact that they both came from domestic dysfunction and unhappy home lives. It makes their mutual antagonism all the more of a tragedy because if not for Sirius's prejudice (which is arguably more understandable given his family and their long tradition of being sorted into Slytherin) against Slytherins and antagonism of young Snape on the train and the years of bullying and bad blood that followed, these two men had the most potential to understand each other. Alas, they do not, but it is their likenesses that makes their differences in how they clash all the more interesting because, as you noted, there are stark differences there. Sirius is all overt masculine energy; hot-headed and physically imposing while Snape is more strained, the ice to his fire.

Most striking to me was always the difference in how little respect Sirius showed to Snape's body while he was unconscious (further demonstrating how little Sirius has changed from the teenage boy who once stood with James and exposed Snape to laughing schoolmates) versus how Snape conjured a stretcher while still under the impression he was the one responsible for betraying the Potters (and the death of Lily). In that way, we get to see how Snape has developed as a person away from his past choices and learned from them. He may still regress, as he does quite plainly when forced to return to the Shrieking Shack and is confronted by Sirius and Remus there, but he isn't quite in the full state of arrested development as Sirius (but given his circumstances in Azkaban that isn't entirely surprising either; there is a tragedy to Sirius's character for all that there is as much of a darkness as there was in Snape during his time as a Death Eater and the fact so many Marauder apologists who double as "Snaters" refuse to acknowledge that outside of romanticizing the angst of it all while vilifying Snape is quite possibly an even greater tragedy, imo) which is why Sirius's death came in part due to his inability to move beyond his past and find it within himself to treat Kreacher with a modicum of understanding or empathy (in addition to his desire to be part of the action again and recapture his lost youth when it was him and James in the Order together) while Snape's death came only after he had to reconcile with the fact his original raison d'être for becoming a spy (to protect Harry for Lily as penance) ran counter to what was needed to defeat Voldemort for good and he still chose to stay the course instead of pursue his own agenda and act on his own self-interests.

In short, Sirius's death was partly due to the fact he couldn't move beyond the past. While Snape's death came as a result of the fact he had grown enough as a character to set aside his past motivations and see things through because he had become someone who conjured stretchers even for hated enemies and risked his life to save all those who he could save (including Sirius and Remus).

Thanks for the ask and I'm so sorry it took so long to respond but it gave me even more to think about. The masculine vs. feminine coding just adds an extra element to Snape and Sirius's dynamic when it was already interesting to me and I've always had a lot of thoughts about how those two were written with so many parallels and points of contrast. Love this ask!

#severus snape #snape meta #pro snape #snape community #snape fandom #snapedom

140 notes · View notes

lopposting · 1 month

Note

I absolutely love your lore theories for LoP! Very new to the fandom :). Stayed up all night reading your posts abt it whahaha please keep making them!

Just wanted to ask what you think, if Camille was the recorded first puppet with an awakened ego and was Carlo's mom... does that mean Geppetto let his wife be experimented on by the alchemists upon her death or???

Another thought, do you think Sophia knew Geppetto's plans? Given that she reached out to P at the very beginning and called him by name ((geppettos puppet)) She knew Simon's plans yeah. But what abt Geppettos?

Thank you so much for your kind ask!!!

I panicked briefly because I thought I lost this ask somewhere. I have a LOT of thoughts surrounding Camille and parts of the game that I struggle to put together really cohesively, so on certain topics, i'm just going to ramble.

So, there is this image from the opening cutscene.

Maybe it isn't literally Camille and Carlo, but it may be alluding to them. [And what are they shown playing here? dundundun]

There is a particular affinity and focus the game has on the Piano as well.

Music is so linked to humanity in this game, i think it's very sweet.

There was also this really interesting post about the blue fairy (in the og collodi novel) that I don't think I can dig up anymore, but I remember it was something like this. It was pointing out that, realistically, the blue fairy really isn't a good parent. She lets a seven year old child be hanged on a tree, she watches by as he is enslaved; she makes him "work" for the right to be a real boy instead of reasonably granting him it, etc. The blue fairy also appears omniscient or goddess-like, appearing as a child, a young woman, a goat, and a mother (in perhaps her most adapted incarnation).

if Sophia's knowledge is endless, couldn't she have warned us about geppetto? wouldn't she know about carlo (someone she knew as a child) being tortured in a box? was it her discretion to let us suffer, because he needs to be able to suffer to be strong? Does that make her a moral or ethical person? Can any personhood with omniscience, who, in a sense, allows evil to happen, be moral or just? Perhaps, herein lies the philosophical, inherent flaw, in any relationship with an omniscient being, but I digress.

However, I think Sophia's endless knowledge that Arlecchino [sadly I write his name wrong every time] refers to is spiritual, or emotional, in a sense: that because she could manipulate time, all of it was at her disposal. When we wake up in the train car, her words are: "There you are, I've been looking all over for you!" She could not have known where we were, if she was searching for us (possibly through the blue butterfly figure we see). Also, I think she could've warned us about Geppetto.. but maybe then we wouldn't have gone to save her, and her goals are to get us to save her from Simon, which I believe she either says or suggests are "selfish" intentions (although I think she is very well within her right to have tbh). I don't think she is all-knowing in the way that Simon's world of truth would be. Maybe it's just a plot hole, perhaps it's just a "flaw" innate in writing any story with an omniscient character, but I don't think she was omniscient in that fashion.

And then coming back to Camille: One of my absolute favourite things about the game is the Saintess of Mercy Statue/Pieta Motif that we see in the Grand Exhibition. And Camille, who is inferred to have been the mother of Carlo, is said to have engineered the statue. She is directly connected to the game's central visual motif of death and rebirth. And then the statue also being diegetically[not a word apparently?] associated with rebirth and renewal ("Bring new life to puppets") in that you are "re-setting" and re-spec your character's stats there??? Equal parts beautiful and spectacular and touching.

[I feel SO sad that apparently, not every gamer got to see the statue. Opening those doors after the phone call riddle and then the camera panning up to the statue is such an amazing and special moment to me, and then the fact that it's also raining (another symbol of birth) too]

I don't know if the Camille puppet was literally the same Camille (who may have been the wife of Giuseppe), though. We know that she seems to have saved a baby from falling, on which afterwards she says "bring me back to my child". Not only is the Camille puppet a devoted mother character, she's also the first puppet to awaken (in other words, being associated with the idea of birth). "Camille" is so tied to the idea of motherhood and birth, that I think the Camille puppet is another connection here, and may not literally be the same Camille who was a technician. Although, I don't put it past Geppetto to be doing nefarious experiments with puppets, even if it were his wife. It might be a little ominous in regards to his attitude to P, that he doesn't see puppets as "people", but he does see people as puppets.

#lies of p #lop #liesofp #lies of p spoilers #spoiler #pinocchio #ask #chikirya #camille #speculation #blue fairy #sorry i take very long to respond to any engagement thank you again everyone.#spoilers #tw hanging

39 notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months

Note

I'm just over here muttering to myself "I will not fall in love with König, I will not fall in love with König..." lol send help!!

But I'm super curious about something - do you think if König fully decided on an Engel being the only one for him, but then found out she was happy in a committed relationship (like there is no ~lover sneaking into her room, there's a straight-up other dude living in the house) does he try and get her to cheat? And when that doesn't work is it just straight to 'oh no, your husband's missing?? well he seemed pretty awful anyway, here let me cheer you up with some superior dick!'

Ohh I think there’s only one way this would go… (I’m so sorry everyone i should be caged)

Now. König gets absolutely torn apart inside because marriage is sacred and this woman is not his possession… And the only way to make her his is to get rid of the one who “owns” her. But how could he ever live with himself after that? It would be hell.

So at first, he does nothing. He even tries to leave her alone, leave them alone.

König bites his nails in the shadows and suffers in silence, heart aching and dick hard, raging on missions like an angered bear, trying to get over the one woman who he has in his delusional mind deemed to be the One and Only for him. In his heart he knows they belong together.

And any blind man can see that she's not truly happy with this man. So wouldn't it be a kindness and a grace to set her free...?

Engel is of course devastated, perhaps the marriage wasn’t exactly everything she has ever hoped for and the man was far too normal and lukewarm for her taste, but she was happy in her own way. His death ignites an even stronger love, now born of sorrow: every injustice in the world makes her heart big and heavy from bittersweet compassion, and she mourns his dead husband, gone far too soon, visits the fresh grave every day and cries without knowing that there is a man in the woods, watching her intently.

In the end, the selfish greed and what König calls love (c’mon man you haven’t even talked to this girl yet...) wins the battle of good and evil in his heart, and he does indeed get rid of the husband, as cleanly as possible. It’s his most merciful kill: no pain at all, just a few seconds before it’s over. He treats the corpse with the utmost respect and knows that from this day forward, he’s not only a monster; he’s pure evil.

Then he starts the hunt for his beloved… because if he can’t have her, then it has all been for nothing.

König sees what a devoted, sweet little widow Engel is, mourning her late husband as a good wife should. Her value only soars to the highest heights in his eyes, and when he finally approaches her in the graveyard, saying he likes long walks and sometimes wanders to this graveyard because it’s a pretty, quiet little place, his heart is already full of painful love for her.

One day she breaks into tears in front of him, and that’s his chance: he takes a step and closes her in a sturdy hug. Her big, wet eyes and helpless looks have already made his savior instinct go haywire, but as she quivers and cries there in his embrace, trying to hold on to him like she’s drowning in a sea of sorrow, it’s insanely challenging not to get a demanding erection that leaves him bloodless and faint in the head.

All he wants to do in this life is console her...

“My place is not far,” he offers her while stroking her hair gently, and she goes tense in his arms – a woman turned prey, sensing she’s in grave danger.

No no no, she’s getting away…

“It’s not good for you to be alone,” he adds, knowing he has blown it already with his enthusiasm.

“I… I don’t know…” the widow in his arms mutters through sniffles and tears. Then she tries to withdraw. “Is that… Do you have a knife in your pocket…?”

Fuck…

Think of something. Anything.

“Ja… I always carry a knife. It’s a, uh, big Austrian one. Would you like to see it?”

Scheisse… Women don’t want to see knives, you idiot—

“Um, yes... Yes I would. This may sound odd but... I love knives,” she withdraws, but only to look up at him with yearning and curiosity. Her soft little hands are still around him, and her eyes are sparkling… and this time not from tears.

#answered #yandere könig #lol oops

109 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 6 months

Note

At this point my asks are just Hozier based and ammo for you.... 0 regrets. They just make me happy melt. 🫠

That being said. Any other pairings you want to analyze with songs?

- Hozier Raccoon 🦝

This is all I'm thinking about tbh, I'm just listening to hozier and thinking about pairings for each song. Some are easier to pin than others and I wanted to do Soap and Moon but I think I'm gonna talk about "it will come back" which means Ghost and Love.

You know better babe...

This is another I can do line by line, just tearing it apart and showing you the musculature of the beast.

You know better babe, you know better babe.

The refrain, the ever present refrain in Love's life. She knows better than to welcome the fae. She knows better than to look at Ghost, than to talk to him, than to love him like she does. But she also doesn't. She doesn't know what she invites in, what darkens her doorstep. Love isn't a believer in the fae before Ghost, but she knows the superstitions.

Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul Honey, make this easy Leave it to the land, this is what it knows Honey, that's how it sleeps Don't let it in with no intention to keep it Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it Honey, don't feed it, it will come back

Ghost is an animal, he's a predator, a hunter. Don't offer him a soul when he's just shaken his off. Make it easy on him to kill you, leave him in the grave, leave him to sleep and hunt as he had been. He hasn't known kindness, he hasn't been kept, he is an animal stealing food left out for the neighborhood strays, and just like them he'll return to where he found his feast.

So it would be cruel to offer kindness, to offer food, when you aren't intent on providing it long term. It's better not to offer it, and you know better babe. Love knows better, but she's subject to pity and human compassion for a man that has never known kindness.

You know better, babe, you know better, babe Than to smile at me, smile at me like that You know better, babe, you know better, babe Than to hold me just, hold me just like that I know who I am when I'm alone I'm something else when I see you You don't understand, you should never know How easy you are to need

Ooooh you know BETTER. After she's released, after Ghost lets her go, she knows better. Love has escaped the maw of the beast and yet she still smiles at him, she still opens her arms to him. She knows better, in the back of her mind the sirens go off quieted by Ghost's taps. He knows better too. He knows better than to be held, than to he smiled at, than to love her and keep her.

Ghost knows who he is, he's rebuilt himself after escaping the grave. He knows his place, he knows what he is. Except when Love calls his name, "Simon", and he's lost again. He's someone else with her, someone he doesn't know. Someone he can't control, doesn't have a leash for.

So he warns her, "you don't understand, you should never know" because she doesn't! Love doesn't know that he's a monster, doesn't know about the fae and how to keep herself safe from them. And she never should have known about them! In a perfect world she would have gone her whole life ignorant to the dangers of the world. He took that innocence from her and if she was smart she'd never forgive him for it.

But "how easy you are to need" God he needs her like air. He's been fed, been loved, he can't go back. He can never go back.

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey, don't feed me, I will come back It can't be unlearned I've known the warmth of your doorways Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you Oh, please, give me mercy no more That's a kindness you can't afford I warn you, baby, each night, as sure as you're born You'll hear me howling outside your door

"Jesus christ don't be kind to me"??? God take me out back and shoot me, it would be kinder. Ghost literally begging, he can't go back, he can't unlearn her love, her warmth, when he's felt it. He's known the warmth of her doorway, her bedroom, she's given him more than he ever could have asked for. And through it all he knows if she dumps him back in winter he'll find his way back to her. He'd track her through the darkest, coldest, winter.

"Give me mercy no more" he's BEGGING, PLEADING with her. Please, he begs, don't show me the kindness that you have, I can't stomach the ache of losing it. It's a kindness she "can't afford" one that holds a price she never knew existed, it's a price that wraps her in tethers and stares hungry at her beating heart. Kindness doesn't come without strings in this universe, and sometimes it's a price that you can't pay. It's a price Love can't pay, will never be able to pay.

"I warn you, baby, each night, sure as you're born, you'll hear me howling outside your door." He will never leave her alone. He'll always come back. She'll hear him scratching at his door, howling at her door. If he can't have her, no one can. Ghost will follow her, he's been spoiled by her kindest, the food she's left out, the warmth of her doorway. How could he ever go back?

Don't you hear me howling, babe?

Don't you hear him howling? Can't you hear him? Feel him? When he holds you close, when he cashes in the life that you owe him, can't you hear him howling? Won't you let him in? Won't you keep him? Let him keep you? You've brought this upon yourself.

Love can hear him howling, and she's opened the door. She's set out food and a box of blankets, and Ghost has decided to cash in her kindness. He loves her, he wants her to keep him, and more than anything she wants to keep him too. She's picked up a stray, and she's never letting him outside again.

#ghoul speaks #cod x oc #x oc #oc: love #simon ghost riley #1fae1 #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #fae!ghost #ghoul's pretentious hozier bullshit

29 notes · View notes

trulycertain · 5 months

Text

Tedium

A study of early game Lora and Astarion, and the absolute mess that was. Developing mostly-good bard Tav/Astarion, with so much arguing. 1.6k.

Lora has always found small, petty bastards boring - the kinds who tried to make her and so many others' lives a misery in the city. They've just got so little imagination. Their excuses are all the same, it's just a matter of scale. Even if they pretend to be misguidedly noble, the self-interest slips through eventually. Evil in stories is grand, elegant, tragic. It has really good tailoring. Evil in real life? It's banal, grey or mud-soaked, and seems to take place in offices half the time, for some reason. Good, that cheap, trite thing in too many stories? In reality, it's a sudden sparkling surprise every time it happens; Baldur's Gate is not a place known for being gentle. People are more beautiful when they do a good thing. The sky is brighter, the grass just a little bit greener.

Astarion is small, in the sense of both generosity of spirit and actual stature - it's not her fault that she's six foot two and that he gets so irritated when she sees something over the top of his head. She's not doing it on purpose. Mostly.

He's incredibly petty. (“Oh, I'm sure she's just a delight at parties,” he says of the druid guard who's stopped them at least twice, thinking they might be refugees. “Refugee? Me? Have they seen this thread? Have I a pair of horns and an air of pathetic desperation? Just because I didn't know that dirt-encrusted branches were apparently ‘in’ this week...” Finger-quotes and everything. Lora might have snorted at that. He catches her; he raises an eyebrow in response, but with the tiniest pleased tilt to his mouth.)

And he's definitely a bastard. He's happy to leave the tieflings to die - happy to leave anyone to, it seems. She has to take a deep breath at that, but there are the pressing time constraints of soon turning into a mindflayer; no wonder he wants to get straight to healers and the creche. Good intentions won't mean much if you turn into a squid mid-fight and end up killing or kidnapping all the refugees anyway. She tries hard to bear that in mind while he sighs melodramatically, as if helping people is an inconvenience that might lead to his breaking a nail, and she glares at him. He delights in a holy relic being stolen - but with something like genuine approval of the tiefling child's bravery, somewhere under all that. And he's not wrong that all this self-righteousness about not interfering in nature is a bit rich when you're very intentionally turning people out to the mercy of raiders. But that's all he's right about.

A small, petty bastard. All that's true, and real. So why does she keep talking to him? Why isn't she bored? Angry, most of the time, and amused, sometimes, but not bored.

If Lora knows one thing, it's a narrative. Retellings wear grooves in the dirt for a reason; it feels like there's a way some stories have to wrap up. She knows exactly how it would have ended if she'd met Astarion before the tadpole. A cruel vampire too well-oiled by half, who seemed to delight in death and blood? One of them would have ended up dead, the other with a twist of satisfaction - his at having survived another day and, as a bonus, shut up a pompous hero type; hers at having taken someone that dangerous out of the world, even if she'd have completely missed the master pulling the strings.

Later, when she realises she's been imagining completely the wrong backstory for him, she thinks of the Grove again. Of being free for the first time in two hundred years, finally able to walk in the sun, and losing it in minutes because your leader ran headfirst into a battle.

Hells, she hates when he almost makes sense. It makes her dust off her moral compass for a quick check.

Still, he meanders up to her - to poke her, to tease and taunt, but sometimes just… to ask questions. Feeling for her weak spots, probably, but there's a cheerful curiosity in his eyes that seems genuine when he asks her how she learned to play the lyre, what her other instruments are. It's a rare moment of peace in between their mutual arguments. He plays it off soon enough with some comment about her being good with her hands and an eyebrow-waggle, but the questions were real. He prods her to see what falls out and she… lets him. If anything, she does the same. And she still isn't bored.

He delights in bloodshed and mayhem; he drinks deeply of death just the way he does of life. She’s caught him laughing under his breath when someone falls to the floor, caught him licking the blood off his daggers when he thought she wasn’t looking - that just got her a red-stained grin and an obscene widening of his arms like he was inviting her to look. He makes jokes about killing gnomes. He makes jokes about killing her, though those are actually funny, and he's right about having to face what will happen if they change; it's best to do it with a laugh. It's also oddly forthright, oddly brave, for a man who's never been forthright in his life. He beams at her when she plays along, like she’s just given him a gift, morbidly pleased at speaking of his own beheading. Death and bloodshed and mayhem, yes.

Except.

Except when she’s watching a young tiefling girl about to be bitten by a snake, or pretending to offer the goblins’ general the tiefling camp on a platter. His eyes harden, in that moment, even while his mouth twitches and he makes amused, contemptuous quips: like he’s waiting for her to make the obvious choice. And even as he makes approving noises at the thought of the goblins’ victory, even as he castigates her for her soppy kindness…

Cruelty would be the obvious, the easy choice. It would be exactly what he expects. It would also be, she’s certain more and more when she feels those red eyes on her, the boring choice. To him, too. Even if he doesn't want to admit it.

She's always had a good instinct for people, so her mentor used to say. It got taught to her early, taught her when a glassing was coming or she was about to get stiffed on payment at a tavern or just how to work a crowd.

Stories in well-worn grooves. Two hundred years of death and desperate self-service and making sure everyone's expendable but you, over and over again. The same narrative shoved down your throat for two hundred years.

The shape of it is there in her mind, sketched out but not detailed yet: he knows cruelty like the back of his hand, partaking and receiving. He can sleepwalk his way through it. There’s a delight when he speaks of it, an amusement in his eyes, but it’s the same as when he spoke of being a magistrate back in the city, it’s all very tedious, lording his power over her, pointed and urbane and far, far too well-rehearsed. The same way she looks over her shoulder and catches him flirting with their companions, incorrigible, a lazy, leering lean closer in his tone even as he keeps walking beside them. There’s real amusement there at getting to play with words, at making them uncomfortable, and yet... I saw you mouthing that one to yourself in the mirror earlier, Shadowheart points out, when he tries a particularly trite line on her. And Lora thinks, Exactly.

He bristles and shouts at her and makes drawled comments about how much of a drip she is. She agrees to find an elderly woman’s missing daughter; behind her, she hears him sigh and not even bother to hide it, the rolling of his eyes entirely audible. They get back to camp and he asks her, “This will take us closer to understanding the tadpole how, exactly?” He hates every minute of it, hates her - but there’s a wildfire in him, searing bright and unrehearsed and fascinatingly real, when he snarls at her and melodramatically turns his back to her and calls her tedious.

She bought it at first, the way he called her that. She was boring, certainly, and he was a self-serving shallow ass - that part was true, even if he was lying through his teeth about so many things. He got to stay because they dearly needed a lockpicker and archer as good as him, and because she was too reluctantly herself to let him turn into a mindflayer alone, even if she should have. As he said that second night: you need someone to put you out of your misery.

And then she realised precisely what it was, behind all the bared teeth and callous suggestions: he’s waiting.

He waits for her to slip and kill someone because it’s easier, or say that he deserved his master’s treatment. She laughs sometimes at his sense of humour - less dark, more Underdark - and takes precisely none of his suggestions. He waits for her to be a humourless paladin type who crushes him underfoot or turns out to be a stiff fraud wearing mail, and she cackles at his muttered observations, happily humiliates the little tyrants they see on the road along with him. The moments their eyes meet and she sees the silent vicious glee in his, too, the both of them knowing pride comes before a very long fall, they almost understand each other. She lies and cheats the false servants of Tyr before killing them anyway, because they were going to drag an innocent tiefling back to the Hells, and sees his reluctantly impressed eyebrows out of the corner of her eye - and then she gives the money to refugees while he sighs. He snarls, I was a slave and waits for her to order him about or step over him; the best she can tell, she treats him just the same. As they keep to the road and he realises that the mask he’s been trying to pry away is just her face, the easy, dulled cynicism in his eyes is starting to be replaced by something else: a confused, furious surprise. Maybe the first surprise he’s had in two centuries.

She’s learned to read him a little better, over these weeks on the road. She’s driving him mad. He’s incandescently angry with and baffled by her in turns. But she doesn’t believe him when he says he finds her tedious.

#astarion x tav #Astarion #astarion ancunin #lora mctavish #Baldur's Gate 3 #Oh god they're a disaster

27 notes · View notes

buckybarnesss · 6 months

Note

I wonder how much of "the bite is a gift, we're brothers" is a manipulation (Derek needing a pack in order to take down the alpha) and something Derek genuinely believes.

We all talk about Derek's big gay love for Stiles, but he also cares for Scott. He sacrificed keeping the kanima trapped to save Scott, he genuinely tries to teach him how to be a werewolf, he keeps Scott safe from hunters repeatedly.

The "we're brothers" kind of strikes me as Derek wanting a connection (Cora says pack bonds breaking is horrible) and also his way of telling Scott that they can look after each other.

Derek is so complex.

it's a little bit of both but i do not think he came at it necessarily with nefarious intentions.

derek does genuinely believe the bite is a gift. he wouldn't bite someone without their consent or at minimum without having discussed it first. he definitely believes that the bond between packs and between an alpha and their beta is meant to be something special, comforting and importantly consentual. his ideas of what pack should be and how pack should be treated comes from people like his mother and satomi. they genuinely cared about their packs. for derek pack and family are the same thing.

but this was the wrong approach to take with scott who received his bite traumatically and without his consent or knowledge of what was happening to him. saying it was a gift further traumatizes scott because being violated the way he was is not a gift.

he wants to protect scott from both the alpha and the hunters but at the same time he knows that they need strength in numbers to deal with the alpha.

and derek just lost laura. he buried her body probably mere hours before he had to go make sure scott didn't kill someone. he was probably keenly feeling the loss of his family but probably even more so the loss of his siblings. at this point he believes cora is dead too. he's a middle child cast adrift. he's a brother without someone to be a brother to.

derek took one look at scott and somewhere inside him he went

also in season 1 derek's all twisted in knots and grieving and being traumatized and being retraumatized. he's going through it which causes him to have a hard time seeing scott as scott because he's seeing himself.

i wouldn't even be surprised if he believed allison was either being used as a lure by her family or an active participant giving his own history.

no one protected derek. not when it counted. not when it mattered. no one saved him from kate and no one saved him from having to mercy kill paige. so he tries. he tries to protect scott from becoming him, from becoming yet another victim of the argents. it's why he drags scott to see peter. it's a very much this is the consequences type moment he's trying to impart of scott.

it's just that neither of them are in a place to be receptive to one another so instead they butt heads. they're too similar and the narrative points this out over and over and over.

derek does care about people. we see so many times. he saves scott multiple times but he also tries to protect scott too. he kept him away from the whole alpha pack situation as long as he could wanting scott to just be a normal teenager. when he was dying in smoke and mirrors his last words are to encourage stiles to go save scott ffs over getting comfort for himself.

he wanted to help erica, boyd and isaac.

he repeatedly protects stiles and is deeply worried about him during the whole nogitsune ordeal. like staggeringly worried.

he's concerned about lydia multiple times and he turned around at the end of season 3 because he heard her scream.

he even points out to scott several times that allison deserved the truth about her mother. not because derek is cruel but because he knew the lies only hurt allison in the end and led to her become yet another victim of gerard's.

derek and scott are similiar but derek has more damage. his caring hurt him and so he hid it, buried it and tried to pretend he didn't.

but he does.

he does so fucking much.

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #teen wolf #deek hale

26 notes · View notes

cinamun · 28 days

Note

Hi Cin!! I hope your day is going well so far!!

This is going to be long so I’m sorry in advance…

Okay so, I’m gonna start with saying I don’t like Bishop. I like him as a character in the sense that I like knowing how people think and why they do the things they do. Motives, ya know? So naturally his character intrigues me. BUT, I can’t stand the role he plays in this story and the way he treats others around him, especially Mercy. He is vile and abhorrent. That being said, what is he currently doing wrong? He could be trying to cover his ass while also weirdly caring about her, not in the sense of getting soft and mushy but in a way where what happens to her affects him because clearly he benefits from having her around even if that’s just so he can continue to manipulate her. Maybe he is just helping her so she doesn’t die. He doesn’t have to care about her extremely deeply to want to make sure she doesn’t die. Regardless of his intentions…she’s still breathing, he’s getting on her every single time she gets up, he’s making her eat, he told her to call her son, he said d she’s free to go as soon as she’s able to stand on her own but she can’t. She’d get back to her apartment and end up right back on that floor. Who else was showing up to check on her? She would’ve probably died on that floor. No one was coming any time soon. Except him. Could’ve just been right place, right time but still. It could be as simple as I’m around this person very frequently, they’re hurt, I’m going to fix it. Doesn’t mean he’s had a change of heart. He could just be simply taking care of her bc she’s severely injured and no one else is there and she’s being stubborn about it. Like Cin said, there’s no telling what kinds of nasty injuries him or his cell mates may have sustained while incarcerated. I’m sure he knows a thing or two about concussions. OR it could just be to cover his ass and not be a suspect or manipulate her into trusting him again. Either way…she’s alive, right? Because of him, right? And I’m only defending him bc SHE ATTEMPTED TO STAB HIM WITH A KITCHEN KNIFE WHILE HE WAS SLEEPING THUS GETTING FLUNG ACROSS THE ROOM TO PRESERVE HIS OWN LIFE. Prison instincts are a very real thing. In that particular situation this one time, he had a valid reason but used way too much strength and now she has a head serious head injury. It could have genuinely been an accident. You don’t have to care about someone to acknowledge that you severely injured them without meaning to and you feel obligated to take responsibility bc not only was it your fault but they’re not taking care of themselves and neither is anyone else. I will keep saying it….if he wanted her to die or didn’t care to some degree about her life, she would’ve been gone by now.

Now…I am fully aware that I could be loud and wrong and I will admit it if I am. We all know Bishop and we all know nothing is ever what it seems. I’m just going based off what we currently are seeing and how we got to this particular situation.

#y'all go in #and I love it sm #but um....#your honor I still have no further comment at this time #story stuff #long post #dkflfkkdkjda

10 notes · View notes

sepublic · 1 year

Text

Thinking more on it, I could see King and Odalia initially venting to each other about the Collector’s insane demands, albeit with King being a bit less vitriolic and dehumanizing in his description of the kid (because he himself is a kid and not a child abuser like Odalia, and likewise has a better understanding of the Collector). But as time goes on and King becomes closer to the Collector and more sympathetic, and is himself more valued by his new friend, Odalia sees an opportunity, like a shark sniffing blood in the water.

Obviously the Collector values King and his advice to a degree, so they’ve been listening and slowly adjusting their behavior according to King’s advice. And along the way, Odalia picks up on how to step around the Collector, figuring out their boundaries with King basically being her frontline guinea pig. And naturally, she approaches King one day with the suggestion that, hey, why don’t they team up to manipulate the Collector to do their own bidding? Odalia’s got the vision, King’s got the emotional closeness to them!

If this was S1 King, this could’ve totally happened; But King has matured a lot more since then, and he immediately shoots down the idea. He doesn’t want the Collector becoming even more of a threat and tyrant, whereas Odalia is just fine with that, so long as she can reap rewards from it (she’s just like Kikimora forreal, did she recognize a kindred soul hence the Abomatron gift?), so she insists. King refuses because he’s actually getting somewhere with the Collector and has no intention of being another Belos to them, plus he still knows what kind of person Odalia is like, he’s seen it firsthand and heard from Alador.

So very quickly, what little kinship these two could’ve had as conscious beings under the Collector’s thumb wanes, as they have very different ideas on how to handle their relation to the kid and especially on the kid himself. King rebukes Odalia, but he doesn’t immediately tell the Collector to turn her into a puppet, because he’s matured and is a lot more merciful now. Even with Eda and Lilith to ‘replace’ Odalia as company, King is learning to respect people and their autonomy in general.

Maybe he does warn the Collector of Odalia’s ambition, but also adds that they shouldn’t strip Odalia of free will either, just… tolerate, and apply authority lightly. The Collector is so endeared to King they agree. King does seem pitying towards Odalia when she’s saddled with a bunch of puppets to look after, thought that could just be him being perturbed at seeing people turned into props, rather than any concern for Odalia herself;

Furthermore, this is Odalia we’re talking about, so despite being a former child she probably views kids themselves as like a wholly different species for her to navigate around and manipulate, rather than as people. She likely never even considered confiding in King’s presence as a mutual person they could be themselves around, and couldn’t appreciate him as anything more than an annoying brat. There would’ve only been resentful apathy or the opportunity to manipulate King, so as to manipulate the Collector indirectly through him. But as I said, King’s heard plenty from Alador and no doubt Luz as well. Possibly even Eda, since Eda knew Odalia in high school, though Odalia might not have been as horrid back then.

For all we know, King threw out the empty threat of having the Collector turn Odalia into a puppet, and she backed down; But after observing King from the side, she could tell that the Collector was becoming a lot softer, and that King didn’t REALLY mean it. King’s too nice for that, and by now has started to regard Odalia as more of a nuisance than an actual threat, hence Odalia openly suggesting conquest to the Collector right in front of him. She’s figured out she can get away with a lot more, even if fundamentally King and the Collector aren’t going to budge, and the Collector especially will still put their foot down and shouldn’t be pushed past that point.

#the owl house #king clawthorne #odalia blight #the owl house collector

77 notes · View notes

sirowsky-stories · 8 months

Text

Collision

Part 5

Description: Pero knows what he needs to do, but knowing it doesn't help when he can't convince himself to leave while he's so confused about his own feelings.

Warnings: Pero Tovar x OFC, no reader insert, Pero's pov, conspiracy, cursing, angst, use of the word hackers, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, secret identity, AU fic. Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ONLY Word Count: 5700 Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is conversation heavy. And the next one will feature a small timegap to move things along a little.

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

It takes two hours to set up the computer system and connect it to the safehouse’s secure network, but once it’s done, Will goes straight to work. True to his word, he’s not here for a vacation. Rather, he seems intent on unraveling this mystery completely, starkly offended that the people behind it have managed to sneak past his defenses. Pero helps him get everything ready, but he can’t help with the search, so once the other man goes to work, he returns downstairs. Where Gillian’s waiting.

She’s leaning against the wall of the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, but when he comes down the stairs, she pushes off the exposed wood and crosses her arms over her waist.

“Who are you really?” she demands, clearly jarred by Will’s earlier comment.

He’s been waiting for this. Her natural inclination to help and care for others have kept her from prodding, and she’s seen how protective and tender he’s been towards Niki from the beginning of this mess, which has probably left her feeling largely at ease with him. But now, when there’s another source of information, when she’s no longer alone with him and technically at his mercy, she’s seemingly decided that the answers which didn’t feel important enough to ask for before, have since become necessary.

“Why don’t we take a seat. I’m gonna need some coffee for this,” he suggests, and then moves into the kitchen to start making the brew.

He can hear that she follows and sits down by the breakfast table section of the kitchen island behind him, so he starts talking while he works.

“In my late teens, I discovered that going through school being bullied or avoided by every kid I’d ever been around, had resulted in an exceptional ability to read people. I could tell from observing someone for just brief moments at a time, not just what type of character they were, but whether they had secrets, what kinds of fears plagued them, what their favorite things were, and so on. And I was bitter and angry enough, even back then, that I saw no reason to use that skill for anything helpful. So, I started my own little criminal empire instead.”

He turns around and leans against the counter once the coffee machine has started working, and when he meets her eyes, she looks only curious. Through her work, she’s had to learn to listen to people and decipher the truthfulness of what she hears, while remaining as neutral as possible herself. He knows that she’s not gonna interrupt him, and that she’ll likely only asks questions if there’s something in his story that she doesn’t understand.

“Like with most enterprises, criminal or otherwise, I started small,” he continues. “I tricked or blackmailed people out of things that were precious to them for one reason or another. Mostly money, because it was useful to me, but also because in this country that seems to be what everyone holds most dear, even those who don’t seem like they do. And in the beginning, each successful scam was such a victory that I soon started thinking about bigger things. But I also understood from the start that if I was ever gonna have a chance to stay alive in the criminal world, I’d need an alias. So, I waited until I’d managed to create a completely separate person who could take the blame for all the stealing, before I went after my first big target.”

“What do you mean by a separate person?” she asks, when he pauses to move one of the stools to the other side of the island, so that he can sit opposite her.

“Another identity, but a ghost. Someone known only by name and voice, never seen, and entirely untraceable, both in person and online. He had no history and no future, he was just a voice on the phone, making demands. I called that ghost Mr. Hood, because I only ever stole money from those who could afford it, and I never took more than a small percentage of what they really had. And if it was an item I took, it was never expensive paintings or jewelry. Instead, I would trick people out of their comfort items. Things with sentimental value, as a way of punishing them for their cruelty.”

“Their cruelty?”

“Yes. I specifically targeted people who were secretly abusive or criminal, or just mean motherfuckers who trampled all over everyone around them just because they could. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that what I did was good, but I would never have taken from someone who was just going through life doing the best they could with as much humility and compassion as they could spare, no matter how much money they had. I wanted the crooks. I wanted to punish people for their indifference and lack of appreciation for their own fortunes, not to mention the people they crushed along the way.”

He stops himself there, because he’s getting riled up thinking about this. There are so many faces in his head. People who could’ve helped so many with their riches or their influence, but instead always did the opposite. The faces of his worst bullies from childhood flood his mind, and he closes his eyes against the painful memories. The beatings and the degradation. The constant public humiliation. If just one person had told them to stop-…

“So, basically an evil Robin Hood,” Gillian suggests, interrupting his downward spiral and drawing him back to the present.

He takes a calming breath, allowing her steady voice to chase away the sounds of his own bones breaking, etched into his memory bank forever.

“Maybe not evil,” he quietly counters, not at all sure if that’s true. “But definitely dark.”

“Hm. Well, given this place, I guess you were successful?” she ponders, and he nods.

“Very. There are way too many needlessly cruel people in the world.”

“You ever kill anyone?” she wonders, but the question isn’t accusatory.

“Yes. When you take on people associated with drug cartels and mafia’s, you kinda have to be ready to spill blood to protect yourself.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… You stole money from drug cartels?” she asks with a touch of disbelief, and when he nods again, her eyebrows hit the roof. “That’s ballsy…”

“Not really. Those were the easiest paydays, because my victims had nowhere to turn. With the average rich scumbag there was always the risk that they’d involve law enforcement, which I could handle since my alias was airtight and my own identity was never at risk, but it would also mean having to abandon the mark. Whereas with cartel members, if I could find a good enough fear or damaging enough secret, I could pin a person to a wall from which they had no escape in any direction. And best of all, who’s gonna believe that person when they try to explain to their boss that they were blackmailed into stealing the money, rather than pocketing it themselves?”

“Shit. You really did have your own little empire,” she concludes, leaning back in her seat with a mildly impressed look in her eyes.

“I’m not proud of it,” he admits, before getting up and turning his back to her while he pours himself a generous cup of the now finished beverage.

“Why?” she challenges. “What happened that made you change tracks and decide to become a factory worker?”

He doesn’t remember exactly when it had happened. When he’d decided that he was done with it, but he knows the reasoning behind it. It hadn’t been obvious to him even as he’d walked away from Mr. Hood and everything he’d built. Not until years later had the reasoning finally become clear to him. But neither then nor now does he know when that seed had first been planted in his mind.

“My own reflection,” he answers, staring down into the dark liquid, looking for a strength that it can’t give him. “Over time… seeing myself in the mirror got increasingly unpleasant. And it took me a long time to understand why, but I know now that it was because of how cold and dead my eyes had become. I looked at myself and I saw someone worse than the people who had hurt me, and even though I didn’t realize it right away, it scared me so much that I couldn’t keep going.”

It’s never made him feel stupid or less of a man to admit to himself that he went too far. But it does still make him feel guilty, which is why he won’t meet her eyes to find out what she’s thinking about him right now. Part of him has always wanted to tell Niki, but then, that would’ve meant changing the dynamic of their relationship, and he’s been too scared of losing the comforting simplicity between them, to dare take that step.

“And how does William fit into all this?” Gillian finally asks, and her lack of comments or further questions about his decision to walk away, gives Pero the confidence to look up at her again.

She still just looks curious. But this is a question that he can’t answer.

“You’ll have to ask him about that. It’s not my story to tell.”

With that, he decides that their conversation is over. For now, anyway. Niki’s been alone for at least half an hour already, and while she should be out of danger, he doesn’t feel good about leaving her without supervision for very long. There’s still a risk of delayed complications or other problems emerging. He takes his coffee and heads back to the bedroom, hearing no objections from the nurse, so he assumes that she’s satisfied with his answers for the time being.

To his surprise, Niki’s awake again when he steps in, so he closes the door behind him to give them some privacy. The room is so softly lit by how the daylight is filtered through the thick and richly green vegetation outside the windows, that she looks almost as though some masterful artist had painted her into existence.

“Hey. How are you?” he asks while approaching the bed.

“Still thirsty,” she replies, so he reaches for the glass of water with the straw, still standing on a tray on top of one of the monitors beside the bed.

He raises the backrest once again, and she drinks in slow but long gulps this time, until the glass is completely empty.

“More?” he asks, but she shakes her head.

“I’m good for now. Thank you.”

He sets the glass down and then takes a seat in the chair, leaving her sitting upright for a while to let the water settle into her stomach.

“What’s happened?” she asks after a minute, and he realizes that he’s taken her hand and that he’s fighting strong emotions that are trying to claw through his chest.

It’s a simple question, but he struggles to find an answer. Too much has happened, but not really around them, just inside of him. And how is he supposed to explain that when he doesn’t even understand it himself? He runs a hand over his face in frustration. He wishes that he could hug her. That he could crawl into that bed with her and beg her to hold him, cradle him until he falls asleep, because he’s so tired.

It’s only been two days, but he’s already exhausted in mind, spirit and body. How is he supposed to protect her when he can’t even stomach two fucking days of stress without crumbling into a nervous pile of uselessness?

“Pero? Talk to me.”

Her voice is soft, but there’s fear in it, and he hates hearing that.

“Someone I know showed up here this morning,” he says, bottling up his emotions and forcing himself to stay on track. To be useful. “His name’s William and he’s the one who helped me find out who’s after you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she counters, squeezing his hand to urge him to look at her, clearly seeing right through his attempt to be stoic.

He notices that her grip is getting strong again. She’s a mechanic, her hands have been calloused and sure for as long as he’s known her. Accustomed and comfortable working with metal tools and tightly wound nuts and bolts. And when he meets her eyes, he finds them every bit as piercing but gentle as they’ve always been when directed at him.

“I don’t know what to do…” he confesses, and all at once, the emotions he just buried are overpowering him again, even worse this time.

He pulls free of her hand, even though all he wants is to hold it tighter, and drops forwards in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head fall into his open hands while he fights against desperate sobs, only just managing to hold them back.

“I’m such a fucked up person, I don’t even have friends to ask for help! We’ve got an entire government and whole other country hunting us and the best I can do is run and hide because all I’ve got is myself,” he rambles, shaking his head between the fingers he’s digging into his scalp.

“Pero-…” she tries, but he cuts her off.

“Don’t get attached, don’t start caring, don’t let people manipulate you,” he rants, reciting the rules he’s lived by as if they’re some magical shield that’ll protect him against the pain which courses through him with each breath. “I’ve spent my whole life watching people say how much they love their friends and partners, only to use and manipulate and lie to them all the time! All the fucking time! Love isn’t real, that’s what I always believed. Because how could it be when no one… no one I ever met or observed, actually seemed to care that much about their supposed loved ones? So, why make friends when I know that they’ll only hurt me down the line? Why give a shit when no one else does?”

He pauses to wipe the tears from his eyes before they can fall. He’s not even sure why he’s crying, except for the pain. Which he also doesn’t know the real source of.

“I don’t know how people do it… how they can live so falsely and act so happy. I mean, I can’t say if I’ve ever been happy. I don’t think so. But at least I’ve never strung anyone along with promises of a great future together, only to turn around and shit on them. If that’s happiness then I don’t want it.”

He falls silent then, with a final big sigh, and leans back in his chair with his head still hanging low against his chest. Feeling defeated by the entire world, somehow.

“What do you want?” Niki asks then, and she sounds so careful.

As if the question alone has the power to break him. And given that he’s been thinking about this very thing all morning, without coming up with any answers, it doesn’t seem impossible that it might. Once again he tries to consider it. To put his life into perspective and search for the things that matter to him, along with the things that don’t. It shouldn’t be this hard to figure out, but it damned well is.

“I’ve been trying to work that out, but honestly… I still don’t know,” he admits, but it’s not good enough.

She deserves more effort than that, so he keeps talking, hoping that if he just spews out enough words, eventually the right ones will just fall out and make everything okay.

“I want you to live and be free, and I want the baby to live. I know that much. I’m just not sure why. What it means to me, you, or the baby. I don’t know if it means what you might want it to. Or if you even want me like that. We never talked about it, because it wasn’t supposed to happen, we weren’t supposed to be that to each other, but now everything’s upside down and because we never talked, we don’t know this shit, or anything about each other, and it’s all such a god damned mess.”

The words run out, so he just sits there, staring at his own hands, too cowardly to meet her gaze and find out what she thinks about what he’s saying. Not because he worries that she might not like what she hears, but because he worries that she’ll look indifferent. That he doesn’t matter to her at all. He’s never been concerned about her opinion of him before, since their relationship has never required her to like him, only trust him. Which she has.

But everything really is different now. And maybe he is too.

“Yo-…” she starts, but her voice seems to break under heavy emotions, and he can’t stop himself from looking up at her.

She looks almost heartbroken, and it sends daggers through him.

“You want the baby to live?” she continues, and she sounds so incredulous.

As though she can’t imagine that he would actually want that. Which would mean that her heartbreak is rooted in hope rather than fear. That she wants to believe that he could love their child at least, if not her.

“Yes, but…” he tries, and sees her breath hitch when he doesn’t continue.

“But, what?” she prompts, and her voice is shaking now.

“But…” he tries again, knowing what he needs to say, but afraid of what she’ll think. “Fuck. Look, I’m not a good person, I think a part of you knows that. And even though I’d like to think that I could be a worthwhile dad, I really don’t think I can.”

Never before has he worried or even cared about being judged by others. The opinions of liars and betrayers and abusers have never mattered to him, and that’s what everyone around him has always looked like to his eyes. Nikita is an exception, but only because he’s chosen not to look too closely at her. He’s never observed her. Never tried to know her, because if he’d found her to be like the rest, that would’ve ruined his ability to look at her as someone desirable.

He knows now that she has lied for large portions of her life, although as far as he’s aware, only out of patriotism and necessity, which he can accept. But he still doesn’t know what else she is or has done. If she’s like the rest overall. And he isn’t sure that he wants to know. But more than that, what plagues him is the knowledge that he’s no better than anyone of them. Equally unworthy of love since he’s never once offered his to anyone.

“So, in other words, you want me to have the baby. Alone?” she counters, and she sounds upset now, so he thinks carefully before he answers.

“I just want you to have the option. To not be forced in any direction, by anyone or for any reason, but least of all by me, because I’m not… I can’t be trusted with something like this.”

“And what if you’re the only reason that I want to make that choice at all?” she ponders, still sounding upset, but also sad.

Her words truly stun him, though. He sits frozen for a while, just staring dumbly at her, before he finds his voice.

“But… I’m an asshole.”

“Maybe, but not to me. I might not know anything about you, but I know that you’ve never treated me like a piece of meat. I know that I’ve never had to fear that you’d be offensive for no reason or pick a fight because you’ve had a bad day. You’ve always been kind to me. Even now, when that means putting your life on the line. Why would I not want to share this with you? You’re the best guy I’ve ever known.”

If that’s true, then she must’ve known only the worst of mankind, which he doesn’t quite believe. But he also wonders if her current circumstances could be tainting her perspective of him, subconsciously putting him in the place of a knight in shining armor, when he’s really as far from that as anyone could be.

“If I hadn’t thrown you out that evening, is that what you would’ve told me?” he challenges, and her expression shifts, from sadness to retrospection.

“That’s impossible to answer since it would depend entirely on what you would’ve said. If all this hadn’t happened, would you even have let me talk to you again after that evening?”

Crap. He hangs his head again, because she’s right. He probably wouldn’t have given her the light of day. More likely, he would’ve avoided her at all costs, hoping to not have to deal with the baby at all. And if that was true then, then it still is now. Just hidden behind the fear of Niki dying for no fucking reason. Except…

“…that’s not right either…” he mumbles, finishing the thought out loud.

“What’s not right?” she asks, understandably confused since she hasn’t heard his internal reasoning.

He looks up at her once more, somehow feeling like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again. Christ, she really is beautiful.

“I’m terrified of losing you,” he confesses, and sees her features instantly soften. “Not because of any need to right my wrongs against you or because I just don’t wanna lose the closest thing I have to a friend. I’m terrified because I need you. Because the thought of having to bury yo-…”

Even finishing that sentence is too painful. The words are strangled in the depths of his throat while the unwanted image of a headstone and freshly closed grave flashes before his eyes. Disturbed by the sight, he jolts to his feet and begins pacing, alternating between crossing his arms and restlessly fiddling with his shirt, or scratching his neck or running a hand through his hair, all while rambling uncontrollably.

“I never let myself go there, because no one ever means it, it’s always just empty words, so why would I be any different? Me, the guy who’s actively avoided all attachments all my life, becoming a criminal and a thief and a god damned vigilante because I just can’t trust people. So, why didn’t I see it from the start? Why the fuck didn’t I see it?! I trusted you. From day one, I trusted you. How could I not see that it was because I wanted it to mean something? Because I wanted you to be the exception… the one that might say it and mean it. Even to me.”

He stops moving. He’s right at the foot of her bed. Nikita Morse. The woman he doesn’t want to live without. The woman he dares to care about, even though he doesn’t know her. The only person in the world… that he loves. Turning slowly, he meets her gaze, and there are tears running her cheeks. Just like there had been that night, when she’d fled the anger that she had never deserved, but which she’d shouldered so gracefully all the same.

“I will,” she whispers. “When this is over, I’ll say it… and if you believe me, you say it back. Deal?”

Stepping around the foot of the bed, he goes to her side and leans over to kiss her instead of making some bland verbal promise. He’s never just kissed her before. Only while having sex, only as a gesture of passion, never to express care or affection. This feels different. Like a spark moving from his lips into his blood, where it can course through him endlessly. It feels wonderful. Until he remembers that this might not be over for a very long time, and that it might very well end with their deaths.

“You hungry?” he asks, trying to distract himself and noticing that it’s getting close to lunchtime.

His voice is thick with emotions much deeper than anything he’s ever felt, but it’s strangely not as crippling as fear or as paralyzing as lost hope. Instead, it feels empowering. Suddenly the idea that an entire government is on their tails seems less like an insurmountable obstacle and more like a climbing challenge. How the fuck does that happen?

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I’ll be constantly hungry for weeks to come yet,” she tries to joke to get the weight of the world off her chest, while wiping her tears away.

“Okay, I’ll go see what I can make for you,” he says, gently squeezing her lower arm before he leaves, hoping she’ll take it as a comforting gesture.

Returning to the kitchen, he finds Gillian in the process of finishing a chicken soup.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he offers when she looks up from stirring the pot.

“I know, but between you protecting us and keeping an eye on Nikita, and William doing his part researching the bad guys, I kinda ran out of ways to be useful.”

“Well, don’t worry, pretty soon you’re gonna be wishing you had less to do,” Pero cautions, and she stops stirring.

“What do you mean?”

She’s been around him long enough now to know that when he warns her about something, it’s generally life and death level serious.

“We can’t just sit here and wait for someone to find us. Eventually we’ll run out of food, but I suspect we’ll go crazy before that.”

“You’re leaving?” she asks, and she doesn’t sound happy about the prospect.

“We need allies. Eyes and ears outside of this place, people that can warn us if our enemy is approaching. And we can’t find any by sitting around out here,” he explains.

He can see that she realizes the truth of what he’s saying, but she seems worried about the prospect of not having him around. She takes the pot off the plate and turns off the stove before turning to face him, and by then there are tears in her eyes, which surprises him.

“You’re the only here that won’t crack under the threat of death. You can’t leave,” she pleads, but her words confuse him.

“Gillian… you’re every bit as tough as I am.”

“No,” she shakes her head firmly. “I’m not even close. I’ve been fraying at the seams ever since the hospital, I just never stopped long enough to let myself think about it. Yeah, I’m a trauma nurse and I’ve seen some bad shit in the few years I’ve been doing it, but putting myself in between patients and bullets… actually preparing to gas people to death… No. I’m not cut out for any of this.”

She’s about ready to curl into a ball and give up. He can see that in her eyes and the sudden tremors in her hands, and he doesn’t blame her one bit. Niki’s doing good, so technically there’s no need for her to stay, and he was never going to force her to, no matter what.

“Then take the truck and go back to town,” he repeats himself from the first night.

She had rejected the idea then, but he can see that it hits her differently now. That she wants to go. But she also knows herself. The tears have begun to fall, and she swipes at them with frustration as she starts rummaging through cupboards in search of a good bowl to serve the soup in. It isn’t pride or even duty that keeps her from taking him up on it. Just humanity. Just a stark unwillingness to leave them all and save herself, because that guilt would be worse than anything to her.

But the fear is still there regardless, eating away at her, leaving her nervous and angry, stealing her joy and positivity, forcing her mind into dark places that only serve to increase her anxiousness. He might not have ever wanted or sought friendship, but he knows what it looks like. And for the most part, it doesn’t seem to matter whether someone’s intentions are genuine or not, the gestures of comfort usually appear to be enough.

So, since he feels responsible for Gillian’s situation, he steps closer to her and stops her nearly frantic search, by pulling her into a hug. She’s not even shocked by it. Too desperate for the comfort it brings, she instantly abandons her efforts and lets him hold her while she allows herself to fall apart for a few moments.

He’s struck by how small she feels when she curls in on herself between his arms, trembling and sniveling. She’s such an impressive person. By his standards, at least. It seems contradictory that she should be so small when she carries such enormous things within her. But true to her character, she only allows herself a brief respite. Pulling away and resuming her task after no more than a minute.

He reaches into the correct cupboard and takes out a perfect sized bowl for a portion of soup, which he hands to her without a word. She’s looked through that cupboard in her search, but was too overwhelmed to absorb anything she saw, which is why she now feels foolish. He doesn’t tell her not to, because that won’t help. Instead, he turns to leave, giving her space to feel whatever she needs to.

“Thank you,” she says before he steps out of her view, and he stops and turns halfway to look at her.

“I owe you everything, Gillian. Don’t ever forget that I’m just a weapon. It’s you who are the hero of this story,” he says, and then turns away and heads upstairs.

The computer system takes up the entire desk, and huddled in between the screens, cables and fan-assisted operating systems and hard drives, is a deeply concentrating William. Pero has seen him work before, so the image isn’t unfamiliar to him, but the worried crease in the veteran’s forehead is something new. Which says something about how much of a mess they’re really in.

“Any updates?”

Unlike many other computer experts, Will’s time in the military has left him incapable of getting so immersed in the digital world that he loses touch with the reality around him, so it’s actually really hard to sneak up on him. He doesn’t flinch or react to Pero’s voice at all, because he’s already heard him coming up the stairs.

“Yeah, we’re definitely dealing with China. But not government. It looks more like some private radical with enough funds to finance a small war.”

“Great,” Tovar sighs and sinks into a reading chair. “That makes this so much easier.”

The sarcasm is partially lost in the fatigue, and he runs a hand over his face while he tries to think through how this information might change his course of action going forwards.

“At least it’s not another fucking country on our tails,” Garin points out, and he’s right, that would’ve been worse.

“True. But if it had been, we would’ve been able to work out the players, whereas with a private force, there’s no telling who or how many people stand between us and freedom.”

“Now you’re being offensive,” Will tuts. “I’ll have that information by the end of the day.”

“Seriously? These jackasses are dumb enough to leave a digital trail?”

“Not an obvious one, no. But they’re using a cleverly concealed chatroom, masquerading as a social media DM thread, to communicate, and once I break the encryption, we’ll know everything they’re doing. I should even be able to backtrace their locations and set up a real-time tracking system. It’s our homegrown jackasses that are proving to be a bigger issue.”

“How come?”

“Well… I suspect it’s the abundance of resources. Satellites and drone surveillance, probably an entire farm of hackers all focusing their efforts on us, not to mention thousands of boots on the ground to run down all leads and eliminate false trails.”

“Right,” Pero grumbles, already feeling defeated.

“Hey,” William calls his attention, looking up from the screens and meeting his eyes as he continues. “Don’t give up yet. We might not have an army, but that doesn’t mean we’re not dangerous. They’re already scared of us, and we can use that.”

“Yeah, I know. I just also know that this isn’t gonna end without bloodshed, one way or another.”

“Probably not. So, what’s your plan? Cause I know you’re cooking up something, your head’s far too big to not have turned and looked all this over a dozen times already.”

“More like a hundred,” Pero corrects. “But I keep coming back to one inescapable fact: we need better numbers. Allies.”

“Okay, so how are you gonna find some?”

“Doing what I always do. I’m gonna make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

Will doesn’t look particularly happy about that, but then, he’s been at the receiving end of that offer, and it didn’t work out so well for him.

“Don’t you mean threaten them?” he says quietly, and while there’s a hint of defiance in his eyes, he looks mostly scared. “Cause I can promise you, that’s how it feels.”

But Tovar isn’t offended or rattled by that statement. The veteran is probably correct, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’d gotten himself into the shit that had followed, after Pero’s threat.

“Yeah, that’s the point. If you hadn’t been a selfish bastard who cared more about the one percent of your money that I took, your fiancé would’ve been alive today,” he coldly replies, because he’s tired of Will’s endless attempts to make him feel guilty about their past. “And the really sad part about all this is that I already know I’m not gonna have any trouble finding skeletons I can use under the rocks that our intended assassins are sitting on, because that’s the fucking norm. But hey, why don’t I ask them nicely? Maybe they’ll agree not to kill us out of the goodness of their hearts.”

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

Part 6

Thank you for reading, and remember: I have no taglist anymore. Follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications for updates on my writing :)

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x original female character #pero tovar x ofc #modern!pero #modern!au #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories #pedrostories

25 notes · View notes