#i actually don't know if this counts as bas relief
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With you part 7
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Summary: Jake just kissed you. Will he let things change between you?
Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, Steven Grant x reader, (Marc Spector x reader). Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.
Word Count: 2k
Warnings/notables: Angst, complicated relationship stuff, kissing, cursing, crying. Let me know if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd we die like arthur harrow in the back of jake's car
Dividers by saradika
PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...
"Stop telling me what to do," you fired back, refusing to shrink away. "You're driving me crazy. If you don't want to talk to me, or know me - if you want to sneak in and out of here every night and never see me again, then just say so."
Your chest heaved with emotion. "I won't like it and I won't ever stop worrying about you, or wanting to know you, but --"
You didn't get to finish because Jake roughly pulled you into his arms and crushed his mouth to yours.
You had expected something hard. Intense, possessive. Like Marc.
Or surprisingly, blisteringly seductive. Like Steven.
Jake was tender. And you fell apart in his arms.
Expecting a frantic shove up against the wall, you got, instead, arms cradling you like a treasure. He rocked you gently - gloved fingers winding behind your neck.
The searing heat of his tongue made your chest burn with longing. Realizing you had melted in his embrace, your own arms limp by your sides, you reached suddenly and desperately for his curls.
Knocking the cap off his head, you threaded your fingers through his hair, using the leverage to pull yourself upright, arching against his chest as he groaned into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.
Strong arms flexed against your back as he wrapped you up tighter, pulling his lips away for a moment and rubbing his nose against yours.
Unable to resist the heated temptation of your breath, he kissed you again, deeper this time - hungrier.
You were used to this body - accustomed to the response it ignited in you.
But, to Jake, you were all new. A wondrous discovery. He wanted to touch and feel you everywhere at once but the stupid bird was thundering in his head, sending a faint but definite breeze fluttering through the bedroom.
"Wait...mi vida," he panted against your parted lips, pushing you back by your shoulders. "I can't. I have to go"
Your entire world had changed in the span of a kiss - your heart, already so full of love for this system - dug down deeper to plant new roots for Jake to grow there. Forever was born anew in your soul, just like it had been when you met Steven...
...and he had to go?
"Jake," you gasped, undeterred by supernatural events around you, gripping his arms as if it might actually keep him with you. "Wait, please--"
"I know," he softly replied, touching his forehead to yours. "But people are in trouble. They need help."
Releasing you, he stepped back, reaching for his cap. "This is what I have to do. It's...the point of me."
"The point of you? Jake--"
"Yes," he answered firmly, pulling the flat cap over his curls before taking a few determined strides toward the door.
Pausing, he glanced back at you - breathtaking you, so adorable in your hoodie and joggers, peering at him so expectantly. "Imagine if no one was there to help you the other night, mi vida - what could have happened to you..."
You needed to accept this. The way you accepted Marc's sobriety journey or Steven applying to university. This was who Jake was and this was his choice. The stolen moments in his arms - the slight relief of the tension between you just now had granted you at least this clarity.
"I understand," you breathed, grateful that he at least tried to explain himself. "Just...be careful...okay?"
"Claro," he nodded, heading toward the front door.
"You don't use the window?" You teased, following after him, to sweetly see him off, rather than plead with him further.
Turning back, he jingled his keys in front of you with an amused smirk. "Marc gave me a key."
"Wow," you chuckled, impressed. "Be careful," you repeated. "I-I'll wait for you.
"No, mi amor." Jake shook his head, grasping your elbow the way he was prone to do. "Go to sleep. You have your shift tomorrow--"
"Okay," you conceded, feeling a secret thrill that he seemed to know your schedule. The warmth of possibility bloomed in your chest, making it easier for you to agree instead of firing back.
Seeming satisfied with your answer, he finally left.
You did wait.
You sat in Steven's favorite reading chair, which was conveniently located close to the front door.
You listened to the podcast again. Did a puzzle. Read for a bit. Drank another cup of coffee. Splashed your face with cold water. Five times.
But eventually, you fell asleep.
And that's where Jake found you a few hours later, when he entered through the front door (for a change).
Curled up in a ball, with your hands tucked cutely into the sleeves of Marc's hoodie, Jake just stared down at you for a moment. Tempted to leave you there to rest, he found he couldn't resist scooping you into his arms and carrying you to bed.
You barely roused as he lay you down gently and covered you with a blanket. Quickly changing out of his work clothes, he washed up before joining you.
After what happened between the two of you earlier, he was more tempted than ever to touch you somehow - to pull you close. But the body had already lost enough sleep tonight. Steven was going to be so tired for class in the morning.
He couldn't take anymore time away from them. Or you. That wasn't his purpose.
Feeling exhaustion pulling at the corners of his mind, he decided it was for the best - to give himself over to it, like always. You would have your fiancé in a few hours.
Then your alarm went off.
You woke up immediately, digging into the pocket of your hoodie to silence the intrusive noise. That's when you noticed your fiancé in bed with you.
"Sorry! I'm so sorry." Sitting up, your eyebrows gathered in confusion as you tried to figure out...
"What are you doing?" Jake sat up as well, his deep voice affirming that it was still him - that he had yet to fall asleep.
"I'm sorry," you repeated, rubbing your eyes. "I tried to stay awake, but - well, I set my alarm just in case."
"Just in case what? You have to be at the hospital in a few hours, mi vida."
"I know...and I'm not trying to bother you, I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Softly sighing, you set your phone on the bedside table. "And I didn't know when I would see you again."
Shaking his head, Jake eased back onto his pillow. "That's how it's supposed to be. You have work. Steven has class. The rest of the time is Marc's. I can't take anything else from him."
It took you a minute to process everything Jake said.
"What?" You responded, the implications of what he'd just voiced astounding you. "You want Steven and me to get some rest - I get that. But what exactly are you taking from Marc?"
Lying down, you turned on your side to face Jake, who was staring up at the ceiling.
"Everything. His life. Time. And now you too? I can't," he exhaled shakily. "We can't. It's better the way it was."
Oh, game on.
"Better for whom? For you? Jake...I told you that the reason I stayed up and waited for you earlier was for two things - " You sat back up determinedly and counted the reasons off on your fingers. "One - to ask how you were doing - which I still haven't had a chance to do, and two - to tell you that if you don't want to ever talk to me, or see me, or be in my life, then to please just tell me."
"It's not what I want, mi corazón - it's what has to be - what always has been," Jake said insistently, sitting up in bed beside you, gesturing with his hands. "You don't understand how it works with us - how things have to be.
"Everything I do is to protect us - all of us, because Marc can't live without Steven. And he definitely can't live without you. ¿Entiendes?"
Raking his hands through his hair, he sighed in frustration. "I already fucked up, that night, in the alley, and then he started drinking again, and you were fighting, and it's because of me. I'm only supposed to make things better, not worse.
"And now, tonight, I shouldn't have done what I did, before. You-you don't belong to me." His chest heaved as he shook his head.
"I don't belong to anyone, Jake." Your voice was softer now, the ache in your heart prompting you to reach for his shoulder. "I choose to be with Marc, every day. And Steven."
Inching closer, you traced over his neck to cup his cheek, feeling his jaw clench under your fingertips. "I chose to wait up for you. I want to wait up for you, and to know you."
He physically withdrew from you then, turning his head away from your touch. And that hurt. Still...you couldn't force him to want to know you, despite how confused that intense, delicious kiss had left you.
Reaching for Jake's hand, you gently traced your fingers over his knuckles - only briefly, before pulling away, giving him the space he clearly wanted.
"Jake...all this must be so hard for you to bear. I can't even imagine. But you don't have to do everything all by yourself." Your lip trembled as you quickly started to realize this conversation was ending. You were both exhausted, and Jake was used to sleeping, or another alter fronting, by this point.
In one last bold attempt, you darted over to kiss the soft fabric over his shoulder.
"Remember that you have a family. And in families, you don't just do jobs, you matter." Lying down on your pillow, you felt warm tears drip down your face, but you tried to keep your voice from shaking. This was about him, not you. "You matter to me, Jake. Even if you can't love me. It's okay - I just want you to know you're not taking anything away from anyone. You only add more."
Jake could hear the sweet sound of your voice and his skin burned from your touch, but a void of impossibility engulfed him. He was so tired. It was so much work to operate in a way that contradicted his entire existence. It was easier to slip away, and before he could even think that he should respond to you...
Steven breathed your name in the dark.
Quickly turning your back to him, tears flooded your eyes. Biting your lip hard to keep your cries to yourself, you attempted to pretend to be asleep. Jake was right that both you and Steven needed some rest.
Your plan worked. Sleepily rolling over, Steven's face found your neck and he latched onto you in typical Koala Steven style. Thankfully he was too exhausted to feel you shudder in his embrace.
Finding comfort in your fiancé's tender, strong arms, you began to calm down. But after everything tonight, your mind raced as you re-evaluated your approach to Jake. Apparently you had done every single thing wrong. He was abundantly clear on his role in the system and what he wanted - or, in this case - didn't want from you.
Why were you fighting him so hard?
After a few minutes of sweet torment, you climbed back out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Shutting the door quietly, you allowed your tears to flow a little more freely, easing down to the floor with your back against the door. Burying your face in your hands, you quietly sobbed, drenching the sleeves of Marc's hoodie.
It wasn't like you to cry very often, or to even operate at the whims of such a wild range of emotions. But as your soft gasps settled, and you leaned over on the bathroom floor, completely drained, you realized something.
If there was anything in this world you wanted, it was for Marc to feel accepted and loved - every single part of him. That, of course, meant Steven, but now it meant Jake too. If Jake didn't want your love, you would have to accept that, but the fact that he seemed to think he didn't even have the right to exist outside his protective role - to ever talk or interact with who he called family, including his alters - it killed you.
That was the last thing you remembered before you passed out asleep on the bathroom floor.
Coming up: Marc finds you on the bathroom floor and freaks right the hell out. Will you see Jake again anytime soon?
next ->
#moon knight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#mcu#marc spector x gn!reader#steven grant x gn!reader#jake lockley x gn!reader#marc spector x you#steven grant x you#jake lockley x you#moon knight fic#moon knight fanfic#moon knight fanfiction#with you fic#oscar isaac fic#moon boys#moon knight system
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Ooh, spooky atmosphere with no power. Ooh, murderous person around. Ooh... Joking, there's no violence in this chapter!
@owl-bones
First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.
Bad Sansuary: Killer - Jumpscare
Word Count: 1,959
It was just your luck that the power in your apartment was out when you got home from work. You tried asking some neighbors for information but they didn't really know what had happened or when it would be back on. So, you were left to be content for an unknown amount of time without electricity.
By the time you'd gotten changed into comfortable clothes and gotten something to eat and drink that didn't have to be warmed up, it was pretty dark outside. As a result, it was dark inside your apartment too.
Normally, you liked to wind down after a long day of work with a book or by watching tv, both of which weren't possible without light or at the very least, electricity. You didn't have many other hobbies either and so you sat down on the couch with your snack while trying to think of something you could do.
You could go to bed early but you didn't want to. You could go for a walk but it was too dark now and you didn't want to have another run in with a creep. You could call someone... On second thought, you didn't have anyone you wanted to actually talk with and you didn't have the ability to call any of your skeleton friends.
There was a scuffling noise in the hallway.
"Hello?"
When there was no response, you stood up and went to check. "Axe, Dust, is that you?" You poked your head around the corner but found no one there.
Weird.
You went back to sit down again but discovered your food was missing. It hadn't fallen on the floor and you hadn't put it anywhere else. There was more than a few bites left too.
"This isn't very funny, Killer..." you called out while looking around the living room.
Again, there was no response from any of your friends...or anyone else for that matter.
A loud knock sounded on your front door, the sound of which echoed throughout your home.
Could it be the landlord or one of the neighbors with news?
With some trepidation, you went to see who dared to disturb your precious moment of silence.
You couldn't see anyone through the peephole, which was a little concerning. Taking a cautious peek outside, you cracked the door open but saw no one there.
Very weird.
You quickly shut the door again and double checked that it was locked. You were clearly overthinking things and it could have just been some teenagers trying to prank you.
You went to return to the living room but someone grabbed you from behind.
With a yelp, you struggled to get away, but their grip was surprisingly strong. You tried stomping on their feet and just, doing anything you could to elicit enough pain so they'd release you.
"woah angel...it's only me~"
You shuddered when Killer's low voice whispered in your ear. The sheer relief that washed over you when it was only him and not yet another hostile skeleton, was enough to nearly quell the anger from being scared so badly like that. Nearly...as you were quite annoyed now.
"Killer...you piece of-!" you started to shout as you roughly pulled away from him.
He laughed and feigned wiping a tear away from his eye socket. "sorry, sorry! but that little sound you made was absolutely adorable!"
"Ugh!" You let out a frustrated groan and smacked him hard on the shoulder. "Why do have to always be so mean to me?"
With an amused hum, he tapped his chin in a thoughtful manner before answering. "what can i say? i like messing with you because you're cute..."
You crossed your arms and shot an annoyed glare at him. "I don't believe you... I think you just want to watch me suffer." You pointed a finger at his chest accusingly.
"of course not!"
Despite denying it, you noticed he couldn't seem to be able to keep himself from smiling. You narrowed your eyes in response and continued giving him a skeptical look.
He sighed and rubbed the back of his skull. "sorry, i just like seeing your reactions to things i guess," he muttered. "i'm not trying to make you upset..."
You shook your head and glanced away. "No, I'm sorry. I probably got a bit too worked up."
He was silent for what felt like an eternity but was really only a few seconds. "can i ask why you're sitting in the dark all by yourself? it's...not exactly safe to do so..." His tone took on a more serious edge at the later sentence and you couldn't help the shiver that ran down your spine.
Trying to add a bit of levity to the situation, you forced a smile. "Killer, I know there's no boogeyman, a monster in my closet or under the bed, and I'm certainly not afraid of the dark anymore. So what could possibly be so dangerous about it?"
He ignored your attempt at a joke and walked over to a nearby light switch. He started flipping it on and off in an incessant way, as if that would help fix the power outage. The smile he'd been wearing earlier was now tight and he seemed oddly serious for once.
"Killer?" you inquired.
He seemed to give up and for a moment just stood there staring at the wall. "there's someone you should probably know about," he muttered.
The temperature of the room seemed to drop by several degrees as you realized he was probably referring to his boss. You walked over to him and gently put a hand on his back.
"Do you want to sit down so we can talk?"
He nodded and went into the living room. Sitting down on the couch, he waited until you'd settled next to him before saying anything.
"his name is nightmare and he's known as the god of negativity. axe, dust, and myself work for him to spread negative emotions across the multiverse. he is dangerous and feeds off of those negative emotions as well as fear."
He looked over at you and added, "it's strange that we've managed to get away with visiting you for so long though. there isn't much that escapes his attention..."
You could only stare at him in shock. You'd already kind of inferred that their boss wasn't very nice but you'd had no idea he was a literal deity. The casual way Killer had spoke about it too somehow made you even more unnerved.
He seemed to realize how anxious you were and he quickly reached over, putting one of his hands on yours. "hey! it's okay, it's okay! he has no idea about you and even if he does, there's no way he would have kept the fact that he knows from any of us."
"Do you think he'd be upset that I'm friends with the three of you?" you asked in a small voice.
He hesitated to answer and for a moment an unreadable expression flickered across his skull, before he masked it with a wide smile. "it's hard to say i suppose...but i don't think you have anything to fear. we don't come see you everyday, just on our freetime, which is ours to use as we see fit. if it was interfering with our work, that'd be another matter."
You wanted to believe him, you really did, but you couldn't shake the dread that had pooled in your stomach. You really cared about the boys and you knew they cared about you in return. The last thing you wanted was to get them in trouble but you didn't want to stop being friends with them either.
"hey..."
You glanced up when Killer cupped your cheek with his other hand.
"i can stay over if you want...to keep you safe of course." He winked and flashed you a bit of a mischievous smirk.
You felt your cheeks grow warm at the implications of what he'd said and you chuckled softly. "Okay, but only if your boss won't miss you."
He waved you off. "don't worry about a thing, cutie~" he purred.
You rolled your eyes slightly and got up to go fetch some extra blankets and a pillow for him. By the time you'd returned though, Killer had kicked his shoes off and flopped over the entire couch.
"Good job, buddy," you said in a sarcastic voice. "Now where do you suppose I'm going to sleep, huh?"
He raised a bonebrow but rather than respond, he scooted back against the cushions and opened up his arms. Making a grabbing motion with his hands, he flashed you a cheeky smile.
You flushed and glanced away from him. "Forget I asked..." you muttered.
"hey, you don't have to if you don't want to..." he responded softly.
You shook your head and walked over to the couch. "No, I don't mind if you're in the mood to cuddle."
You laid down on the couch and Killer wrapped his arms around your torso, so that your back was against his ribcage. He pulled a blanket over the both of you and gently nuzzled against the back of your head.
"i like you, you know that?"
"Yeah, you wouldn't have stuck around if you didn't, huh?"
"i dunno... i lose interest in things quickly so i might have left you alone eventually. i couldn't kill you without the others getting really mad anyways, not that i even wanted to after that first day..."
"What changed?"
Killer was silent for a minute before he slowly responded. "i saw what made you different. i was awful to you and you still never gave up trying to befriend me. i'm not used to having nice things..."
You didn't really have a response to that. You didn't think you were special compared to anyone else and you certainly weren't very talented either. Each of the boys had said very much the same thing, except in different words. So maybe they were onto something?
He lightly squeezed your body. "you're really nice to hold, angel~"
"You're surprisingly comfy to lean against..." you hummed in response.
"heh... i'd accuse you of lying but i don't wanna argue right now..."
"I don't lie over things like that."
"i know..."
Several minutes passed and you were just starting to drift off, when he spoke up again. "has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?"
"No...?"
"well, you are very pretty...and not just from the front either~"
You had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from screaming out of embarrassment. Something about the way he was basically whispering in your ear in that low tenor voice of his just did it for you.
"how do you not have men chasing you? surely you could settle for better than a couple of murderous skeletons..."
"Killer."
He seemed oblivious to your discomfort about this topic and kept rambling. "i'm not saying there's anything wrong with that though. most humans probably wouldn't appreciate you as much as they should..."
"Killer..."
"you could have done worse. i don't know if the others have told you...but they really care about you."
You opened and closed your mouth, although no words came out.
"and the thing is...i do too." He fell silent again and nuzzled up against your hair.
You didn't remember falling asleep but you did remember that he continued whispering little comments every few minutes. At some point, you probably told him to shut up so you could actually sleep and he did, although not without pressing a kiss to the back of your head.
You woke up the next morning, tucked into your own bed and without experiencing any bad dreams. Or at least, none that you could remember...
#badsansuary#raccoons drabbles#undertale#killertale#something new#killer sans#killer sans x reader#reader#female reader#have some empathy dear#oneshot
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Found an absolutely vile and twisted interpretation of the newest episode. How in God's name do these people actually believe this shit. www(.)reddit(.)com/r/RWBYcritics/comments/12nmww4/comment/jgfb0qb/
Okay, I know the subreddit is real circlejerky but it can't be that ba-
Being one of the critics who absolutely adored seeing Ruby get straight-up obliterated by Ironwood and Ozpin-
... Greeeeat.
"Well, what's the problem with enjoying seeing Ruby taken down? You enjoy it when Raven is taken down a notch!"
Yeah, but I don't carry a consistent vendetta against the show for portraying her as sympathetic. People who took Oz and James' sides like this often do hold a grudge against the show for it. So naturally, you're gonna be biased towards misrepresenting the show. Not helping is this later line-
RWBY's team doesn't care. They might as well be on vacation down here, with Weiss being the comic relief and Blake/Yang itching to hop in bed with each other. And it started to really amp up in Episode 8.
Yeah, why would I think you're at all trustworthy when you take Yang, who has been consistently worried about her sister, as just 'Blake arm candy' because a couple of tender moments and ONE scene? Let alone Weiss, who has cried TWICE at the fall of Atlas, being treated as just 'comic relief'?
No one cares about Ruby. Not a lot, anyway, and nowhere near the amount Ruby cares about them. And the way we can tell this is how they react when other people go through very similar situations. When Ruby is at her lowest, barely anyone notices or cares, to the point where Yang even kneels down next to her when it's impossible to ignore and might as well have told her to shut the fuck up.
"That's how Ironwood thought. You don't mean that." A total dismissal of everything Ruby is feeling.
Behold, the face of dismissal.
In fact, let's see what the conversation was about.
Weiss: We've risked their home to save the Relic... And we failed.
Blake: Getting everyone out has to count for something.
Ruby: (angrily) What good is saving anybody if Salem just destroys the world anyway...
Yang places her arms on her sister's shoulder and leans in.
Yang: That's how Ironwood thought... you don't mean that.
Hm...sounds more like Yang was reassuring Ruby about something she was feeling jaded about. But hey, I'm sure OP won't make this same mistake twice, right?
Meanwhile, when Yang was throwing a fit in V5, Weiss marched on out there, sat down, and had one of the only honest heart-to-heart conversations between the four girls in the entire series. The other one was when Yang noticed Blake was stressing herself out entirely on her own(wisdom that would imply she'd be able to tell when her sister was sad.) Yang can tell when someone is sad. Weiss can tell when someone is sad. Jaune could tell when Ruby was down too in V4, even if it wasn't a full conversation. And yet, even in the OP, the rest of Ruby's team is skipping along while Ruby grows more and more morose with no one noticing or caring. The writers knew that, but it's not the reason you're supposed to feel bad for Ruby.
You know, because Badge and the Burden doesn't exist.
Also, Weiss noticed Yang was sad because she EXPLODED, Yang noticed Blake because she was self isolating and Jaune was literally TOLD by Ruby. Not like, say, a single comment in the middle of nowhere with obvious stress. Or that you completely fucked up in understanding Yang's fucking point.
They almost cared enough to notice that Ruby was feeling down before the Paper Pleaser village was destroyed... but they sure were quick to not only run to Jaune's side, but even ask Ruby for words of encouragement. Because they care about Jaune. Not Ruby.
Or that he was screaming his head off and being far more open about his pain. You know, context.
And when Ruby has her breakdown, while Yang practically growls at Ruby for daring to raise her voice and steps in between her and Blake(what Yang actually cares about), they're more than willing to listen to Jaune's whining. Nobody moves between Jaune and Ruby when he's shouting at her, though.
Ruby is her sister. Also mind showing that 'growling' because you've already demonstrated you didn't pay attention so it's far more logical to assume you misinterpreted the scene.
Also gotta love that Jaune going through THE EXACT SAME SHIT as Ruby is treated 'whining' but Ruby is portrayed sympathetically. Despite them both doing the same shit. Almost like you're trying to sell a narrative or something, hm.
Can you fucking imagine? Ruby's was ranting about positivity and getting snippy about being ignored. She was getting an attitude, and Yang moves to protect Blake. Jaune is actually aggressive in action and tone directed squarely at Ruby with the intent to hurt, Ruby is in tears, and what happens? Concerned, Weiss walks up and calls for JAUNE?. They look heartbroken to hear Jaune's sadness. They're only shocked when Ruby leaves.
She was lashing out at Blake for trying to cheer her up. And Ruby WAS being aggressive. Did you think her comments weren't specifically chosen to HURT everyone? That throwing Weiss' attempts to return back in her face? That attacking Blake for trying to stay positive isn't supposed to be AGGRESSIVE?
SOunds less like you're sympathizing with Ruby and more like you're using her to attack the show. Otherwise you WOULD understand that she is being just AS aggressive as Jaune.
Also-
Look how little they care. As if the shock isn't from how WRONG it is to hear Ruby of all people say this.
In fact, next episode, Yang is pissed that Ruby has left. She is so offended that Ruby would even have the nerve to do so, that without anyone else saying a word she can't help but shout it out and go so far as to say that Ruby could've talked to them when Yang was the one that told Ruby to her face that she doesn't even think what she says she thinks.
Not what that meant but keep providing proof that you're either blind or stupid.
Ruby is bruised and bloodied, and this should be the worst condition her team has ever seen her in(after all, it's the worst condition we've seen her in). And they just... watch.
Gee, what happened to that ability to recongize shock? You were just soooo capable of it before.
Same faces. Same body language. Yet two completely different takes.
Again, almost like you're selling a narrative and can't let pesky things like consistency and the truth get in your way, eh?
Now there's a lot of things wrong with this scene, but let me put it this way:
Hey everyone! The guy who has repeatedly made a fool of himself being incapable of seeing BASIC BODY LANGUAGE, to the point an AUTIST managed to exceed him.
Do you think, by chance, that when Ruby was making direct eye contact with the rest of her team and giving them all the time in the world to stop her, she remembered Blake's reaction when Yang fell into the abyss? Maybe remembered that when Blake was in the same position Ruby was now, wounded, beaten and with the culprit standing over her, that Yang was so quick to act that she lost an arm in the process? Do you think that, in some way, she recognized what it meant when they weren't even willing to lift a finger?
Nope.
Because I have BEEN in Ruby's shoes before and that is NOT what that look meant. That was Ruby saying goodbye, sorry she was going to hurt them but unable to see another way out.
Also-
But okay, sure, it's not the first time the main characters have gotten stunlocked and let something happen they in no way should have. Hell, even one of the examples had Ruby and Weiss stunlocked watching Yang go tumbling off a bridge that looked so bad that they later retconned it to have Ruby hyperventilating and freaking out as if the audience forgot.
I mean, look how well Ruby is taking it!
But also- doesn't this basically KILL your whole shitstorm? Since it's established pattern that the team tends to let shock overwhlem them? Where's Ruby's condemnation for not saying her sister eh?
Oh wait, that's not useful for you. Drat!
There's always the next episode. That'll show their real reactions, since it got cut off by Neo getting dominated by the Curious Cat. You know, as if Ruby's death was nothing more than a footnote, even to the plot at large. But who's judging.
The liar who pretends he cares while ignoring her actual feelings and character?
So basically no one worth considering, fair.
And also-
Just look at how little they react to Ruby. How heartless! Espcially that vindictive and cruel Yang. Look how much joy she takes in her sister's demise.
Jaune: (points Crocea Mors sword at the Cat) Take us to her…
Look how little Jaune cares! How heartless!
But not nearly as much as Yang. Look at how she selfishly tries to protect Blake while ignoring her sister!
... So did I say enough stupid bullshit to get my cock sucked by the subreddit yet?
So, funnily enough, seeing the team with the absence of Ruby is what really created this topic. It showed their 'true self'. And it showed that Team JWBY are just... the worst fucking people imaginable. Because what do they do? Cope. Excuse themselves. Get in a big ol' happy hug(that Ruby didn't get) and assure themselves that hey, it was just a little whoopsie, they're still good. Because that's what matters, right?
Because you were so observant before that my auto correct literally tried inserting 'oblivious' into this sentence.
Even my computer knows you're bullshit.
Being correct. Being "good." That's what really matters to them. We already know that about Yang("So what [that people are going to die because of us]? We give Ironwood what he wants?") but it's different to see the entire group acting that way when their leader has killed herself. Now, I'm very particular when I say that: I'm not pretending to follow RWBY's rules and terminology and call it "ascension" which is how JWBY rationalizes their actions, because it's not. It is ascension in the same way death is reincarnation. You still die. You, the ego, the person, the memories, die.
Even in their justifications about how Ruby can still be alright, it is still in the context of Ruby more than likely not coming back the same person because Ruby didn't want to come back as the same person because she did it to die. It, once again, feels a lot more like they're hardcore coping and trying to come up with reasons why this isn't their fault or shouldn't question themselves. Even though—and I know this sort of language is dangerous when dealing with this particular subject—in this case, it absolutely is their fault for not giving her even a fraction of the care they give each other.
Yang: So what, we should just give Ironwood what he wants? Abandon Mantle? You think Atlas is still gonna be able to float to safety now that she’s here?
You know, this is sadistically hilarious.
The 'so what' part of Yang's comment was dismissing the idea that James' idea was better, not the deaths of people. Made clear through her rhetorical question of 'abandon mantle?' which was a summation of James' plan.
You either cannot understand communication so much that it would logically make YOU incoherent...or you willfully ignored that and misrepresented Yang's point. And consider how you've focused on Yang, already showing that you were misrepresenting what she meant. Or how you focused on Bumbleby and Blake saving Yang. Or how you called Yang's outburst 'throwing a fit'.
Pattern of behavior- You are TRYING to make Yang look as bad as possible. Because once is an accident. Twice is questionable. Four times is confirmation.
And also-
Ruby: Neo’s here too.
Yang: Hey, are you alright?
Ruby doesn’t immediately answer.
Ruby: She attacked me when we were falling.
-
Blake: I've read so many stories. I never thought... (takes a seat on a nearby log)... I'd be the moral of one.
Ruby, still looking down at Penny's sword in her hands, takes a seat next to Blake. Her teammates look at her in concern.
Yang: Ruby?
-
The scene you REFERENCED.
How many times does Yang have to show concern for Ruby before you accept it as fact?
How many?
Let me guess. 'X+1' right?
And as a result, handwaving it as "her choice"? That smacks an awful lot like blaming Ruby for what happened to her(even if they act like it's a good thing), which under no circumstance is the truth, just so they don't have to think too hard. So they don't have to care too much.
Look how little she cares...
Also- how is it blaming her? There is no saying she's at fault or anything of the sort- just that only RUBY can help her.
Just like how Yang could only help herself before her father could help her. Almost like this is a recurring theme or something...
But Jaune needs that hug. He needs that care. He needs that gratification. Team RWBY's big sappy group hug... with a J instead of an R. Their personal pity party. They did good. They're good people. They care for each other soooo much.
You know, considering how you've acted up until now-
What would stop you from just claiming they don't care about Jaune if they had tried to reach out to Ruby? You already contradict yourself here. So what is stopping you?
But Jaune needs that hug. He needs that care. He needs that gratification. Team RWBY's big sappy group hug... with a J instead of an R. Their personal pity party. They did good. They're good people. They care for each other soooo much.
Ruby actively pushed away and ignored any concern shown to her.
If you actually sympathized with her, you would call her out on that. Because she was hurting herself in her pain.
Sprinkle in a little of Yang being perhaps the only person Neo's "turn into a loved one" trick(used by CC now) completely and utterly failed to work on when she used Ruby, alongside a heaping helping of the constantly conflicting tones of V9, and the dish is complete. Then you look back at, say, V3 with Ruby telling Yang that she loved her even after being thoroughly rejected in her attempts to help her feel better. Or how in V5, Ruby's first words to Yang were a tearful apology.
Or Volume 9, Episode 1. Where Yang was crying at the thought that her sister DIED.
Also-
Not only is that NOT Neo's trick since she would do it in response to Yang attacking her by transforming herself into the ACTUAL Ruby, but the Cat's actual trick (to dig into Yang's fear of losing her sister) WORKED, diverting Yang's attention to the obvious Fake Rubys and not her actual opponent.
It hits a very specific chord. The kind like seeing a child alone at a birthday party, or one who is clearly neglected yet still seeks their parent's affection. The puppy left in the rain. The man or woman drinking alone. The clear outsider in a group, who the others talk about behind their back. It's not what you can see, it's what you can't: the implication that someone genuinely cares about other people, but those people don't care about(or even like) them in turn.
Or like the person who says they sympathize with a person's pain while having laughed and delighted while they were in pain, only to pretend to hurt someone else.
No wait, that's significantly worse. You're lucky these are fictional characters.
Ruby's Volume is a story about a girl with a lot of problems falling into a deep depression, calling out for attention only to be rebuked time and time again, and when she makes her final, explicit cry for help, is rejected, then screamed at by a friend her other friends clearly care so much more about. All culminating in that depressed teenage girl killing herself, and then us, the viewer, getting to watch as the only thing her 'friends' care about is how they can spin this to them still being good people and being ever so happy to hug one another.
Not what that was about by the way. It was about the catharsis of knowing their efforts meant something. Ruby wasn't mentioned.
But nice job shitting your pants in public.
It's just so... fucked up. I don't really care about the show that much anymore, despite what the, like, 2k words might say: I've long since written it off as garbage, and this recent episode has only reassured me that once again you can try to predict what happens next based off of what the worst option reasonably possible could be. Yet even then, I can't help but feel bad for Ruby if I think too hard about it. Not because she's sad over her screw-ups or because she doesn't want to be a hero or because she thinks she's failed at everything, but because it's readily apparent that her friends and family could care less about any of that. I feel bad for Ruby because she is completely isolated.
Oh hey, you went so stupid that you looped around to getting the fucking point.
Too bad the whole post basically showcases that this was by accident.
Also, your 2000+ post could have been boiled down to four words (Yang and Jaune bad) and it would have been better.
And I can only imagine what I might've thought, were I in a similar position and watching this Volume. What anyone in Ruby's position might think. The position of depression and subconsciously(even consciously) calling out for help, only to find that their friends and family they love so much are more interested in everyone but them. "What about you," indeed.
Been there, would have attacked you if you tried something like that.
It's easy to prop up a message about how "ooooh you're perfect the way you are, ignore the haters, any criticism is tantamount to telling you to kill yourself and makes them evil," but that can't work for everyone.
Which is why you posted this in the 'RWBY bad' subreddit and not say, the main one where you would have gotten criticism.
Practicing what you preach? What dat?
I'd certainly hate to be in a position to really identify with Ruby, because what RWBY the show would be telling me is... yep! You're right! Your friends wouldn't give a flying hoot if you died: they'll be happy and hugging and looking silly even minutes after your demise. They won't be mad at your killer, they won't be sad they could've stopped it either(not for long anyway), but they will be perfectly fine showing off how much they do care for people that matter, and hint: you're not one of them :)
"I'll also lie about them and reinforce your pain while I delight in your suffering! Look how empathetic I am!"
How disgusting.
Oh cool, you finally found a mirror.
Because this IS disgusting. Like, this is the same shit people pull with Shane and his letter. No one cares about him or his pain and grief- they only cared that they could use him as a bludgeon. The only credit that can be given to you is that Ruby is fictional.
Still repulsive.
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4 works by Limerick artist Tom Fitzgerald.
Cathleen Ní Houlihan sells Hill of Tara to fast food company, 2005, Slate disc, 29.5 x 27 cm.
Cathleen Ní Houlihan sells her soul for a home in Foxrock, 2005, Slate disc, 29.5 x 27 cm.
Cathleen Ní Houlihan is harassed by Old Irish Saint, 2006, Slate disc, 29.5 x 27 cm.
Cathleen Ní Houlihan commiserates with Roisín Dubh on the state of the nation, 2005, Slate disc, 29.5 x 27 cm.
#i saw this in an exhibition today and then went and found the artist's blogspot from 2009 lol#upload#art#sculpture#slate#carving#bas-relief#i actually don't know if this counts as bas relief#ireland#irish art#tom fitzgerald#limerick#hill of tara#cathleen ní houlihan#roisín dubh#2006#2005#contemporary art
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RE2 Reader Insert Chapter 7
Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader
Warnings: gore, zombies, typical RE stuff
Word count: 2,844
As quietly as possible, you made your way back to the jail, not wanting to accidentally catch the attention of a certain giant. You inspected the power panel and sighed in relief once you noticed it was still missing the parts.
'Leon hasn't come back yet.'
"I didn't miss him, good."
Walking over to the desk closest to the corner, you sat in the chair and moved the contents of off the tabletop and laid your head down to rest a moment.
The sounds of the undead snarling and banging their limbs on the metal bars echoed down the halls, making their way to your ears. The sound could be heard over the barking in the distance and the sound of your breathing.
But you didn't hear thunderous footsteps.
You don't know how long you sat there for, trying to fight off exhaustion. You may be relatively safe at the moment, but you weren't alone in this station and you couldn't allow yourself to sleep yet.
'How long has it been since I arrived to this city anyways?'
You tensed when the undead in the cells grew agitated, snarling louder than before.
'Relax...they're locked in those cells, they can't get you.'
"Y/N?"
Your head shot up as you turned to face the man who called your name. Bottom lip trembling as you ran and threw yourself into Leon's arms. He caught you effortlessly, holding you tightly as he rubbed circles into your back.
"I'm so glad you're okay." You whispered against his chest.
"That's my line."
You looked up at him and sighed, feeling the comfort that he rubbed into your skin.
"The giant chased after me, I couldn't get back to the room you went through."
"I saw it pass by the doorway, but by the time I realized it was after you, you were gone."
You nodded, "it chased after me for a while, but I finally got away from it and came back here."
He held you tighter to him, squeezing you until it was almost painful.
"You did so well, Y/N."
Ba-thump
"What about you? Did you make it to the bell tower?" You inquired.
You felt him nod. "Yeah, I managed to get that part for the panel and came straight here."
"Did you encounter that giant after we got separated?"
"No, I didn't even hear its footsteps."
"Good, then the plan worked."
He pulled away and gave you a questioning look. "What plan?"
"The plan I crafted where I would distract the Stomper long enough for you to get the part."
"Stomper?"
"That's my nickname for the giant."
"You actually planned that?"
You pouted, "no, but it would've been a cool plan..."
Leon reached down and patted your head. "Well, your not-plan was a good plan, partner."
You beamed. "Thanks, rookie."
"You know," you continued, "I wanted to look for you, I was worried."
"Stealing lines is a serious crime, Y/N."
"But," you rolled your eyes as you smacked his chest. "I knew you would have to come back here to fix the panel."
"Then let's get this damn thing fixed and get the hell outta here."
"Agreed."
You followed Leon over to the panel, watching as he inserted the parts and fiddled with the wires.
"This is not as easy as the movies make it seem." He muttered.
You snorted, "do you have hands-on experience with--"
"I definitely should've taped your mouth shut."
You laughed while patting his back.
"Come on, I haven't been able to torment you in so long..."
"Yeah...not long enough."
There was a beep as the cell to your left opened up, lights turning on in the hall.
"Damn, Leon. You are handy."
He sighed and shook his head. "What have I done?"
He walked over to Ben, crouching down to grab the keycard when he suddenly stopped.
“What?” He looked towards Ben’s coat, an inner pocket held a tape recorder. He reached in and pulled it out, pressing the play button as you strained to hear what was being played.
(A/N: Blue dialogue is Ben, Pink dialogue is Annette.)
"...But that doesn't explain the rumors about the orphanage.
I--I just find it way too coincidental Umbrella's one of the benefactors.
You told me this interview was about the new scholarship Umbrella set up.
Come on, Annette. Nobody cares about that.
They want to know about the G-Virus, and the--
Where did you hear about this?
--and that big fucking sinkhole in the city which, by the way, rumor has it goes straight to your underground lab."
"Lab?" Leon asked aloud.
"Now, are you going to talk to me or are you--
This interview is over.
Bitch."
The tape ended as Leon pocketed the recorder, reaching down to grab the keycard from Ben’s lanyard.
“What are they after?” He asked himself as he stood.
You turned to face him but something in the corner of the small cell caught your eye. Walking over to a desk that was pushed into the corner of the cell, you picked up the paper that caught your attention.
"Ben's Memo:
This station's swarming with monsters. Even here I can hear their cries. But it's not the zombies I'm afraid of.
Codename: Tyrant.
The ultimate bioweapon, developed by those bastards in the utmost secrecy. To think that that thing might be wandering around here...
Chances are they ordered that thing to wipe out witnesses."
"Is...is it that giant that's been chasing us?" You turned to Leon.
He had a grim look on his face.
"Sounds like it. I wonder how many people its killed..." He shook his head. "Come on. We have the keycard to get the hell out of here."
An alarm sounded as a flashing red light lit up the hall, you could hear the sound of the cell doors opening.
“That’s not good.” Leon pulled out his gun, checking the magazine.
You ran down the hall and looked around the corner. All the zombies who resided in the cells were now freely stumbling around, turning their attention on you.
Leon ran past you, pulling a lever to your left. The red light on the panel turned green and beeped as the barred door next to it opened.
“This way, Y/N!” He grabbed your arm and pulled you through the newly opened doorway, running down through a small room to another doorway before skidding to a stop.
“Gimme a break.” Leon grunted as he let go of your arm to aim his gun at the Tyrant that stomped your way.
The Tyrant punched at Leon, missing as he dodged its fists as he shot it in the head.
You backed away from the two, knowing you’d either get punched or shot if you stood too close. You froze as you heard snarling behind you, zombies sandwiched you and Leon between them and the Tyrant.
“Should’ve brought heavy artillery.” You muttered as you pulled out the knife. “If I’m dying here then you chomping bastards are dying here with me.”
One zombie charged at you as you easily maneuvered away from it, pushing its head down from the back and sinking the knife through its skull. As you went through a few more undead, you noticed the Tyrant staggering as Leon shot it.
‘Is it getting tired?’
After Leon’s eighth or ninth shot, the Tyrant went down to its knee.
“Y/N, let’s go!” He yelled.
You pulled your knife out of the undead and pushed it into the others, successfully knocking over several of them.
Turning on your heel, you ran after Leon until you ended up in the parking garage.
“I don’t think that thing will be done for long.” Leon looked over at you as he pulled out bullets to load into the magazine. “Let’s run while we can.” He shoved the magazine back into his gun, checking the barrel.
“We’ll finally get out of here.” You sighed.
You just ran past a pillar when the wall to your left crumbled, the Tyrant stepping through the rubble. It grabbed Leon and lifted him into the air by his neck, choking him.
“Let him go!” You yelled as you picked up the concrete debris from the crumbled wall, throwing it at the Tyrant.
It didn’t even look at you as it slapped you away as if you were a bug.
You felt yourself collide into something hard, bending whatever material you just crashed into before falling to the ground. Black dots clouded your vision as you tried to get up, a shooting pain running up your back.
‘I wish police stations had tanks. I wanna blast that thing to hell.’
Looking around for anything to through at the bastard, you tried to get up, but your legs wouldn’t cooperate with you.
“Dammit!” You growled, slamming your fist against the floor. You willed your legs to wake up so that you could help Leon.
An engine starting echoed in the garage as headlights lit up the Tyrant and Leon. You looked over and watched a S.W.A.T. van drive into the Tyrant, never slowing down until it crushed the Tyrant into the wall.
“Leon…” You whispered, eyes wide.
It was quiet for a moment before you heard Leon coughing as he sucked in air.
‘He’s alive, thank God.’ You sighed, putting your head down.
“Ada?!” Leon exclaimed.
‘Ada?’
“This is getting old…Saving your ass—that’s twice.”
“I didn’t realize you were keeping score.”
“This isn’t a game!”
You looked back up as the van started to move backwards, slowly being pushed away from the wall.
“You gotta be kidding me.” Leon grumbled.
“Nothing dies down here.”
You saw Ada raise her hand, holding a remote of some kind. She pressed the button, making the van explode. You could feel the heat from your close proximity to the burning van.
‘Don’t roast me alive with the Stomper, please.’
“I take it you have the key card?”
“Yeah, and this…” Leon threw the tape recorder at Ada. “I was hoping you could explain what’s on it.”
“Maybe…After I hear it. Let’s get out of here.”
She turned and walked over to the shutter that stood between the outside and the parking garage.
‘Alright, legs, vacation time is over.’
You pushed yourself to stand, cringing as your spine popped.
“I guess I can cross out getting bitch slapped by a giant off my bucket list…” You muttered.
“What kind of kinky bucket list do you have?” Leon walked over to you, eyeing you head to toe.
“Are you sure you want to know?” You crossed your arms over your chest, raising a brow.
“On second thought…never mind.”
“Smart man.”
He chuckled, “Are you okay? That was a hard hit you took.”
“Not like that, either.”
You snorted. “I’m all good.” You waved your arms around and wiggled your legs. “Everything still works.”
“Good, then let’s go.”
As you walked towards the shutter, you turned to see what you got slapped into.
‘I won’t have to pay for denting a police car, will I?’
As you and Leon approached Ada, she turned to look at Leon. “We might want to open the shutter.”
You rolled your eyes. ‘Definitely don’t like the attitude.’
Leon inserted the key card into the panel. There was a beep as the shuttered groaned and lifted up, allowing you to finally leave the station.
Ada ducked underneath the shutter as you and Leon waited until it was over your heads before following after her. She held the tape recorder to her ear and listened to its contents. After it stopped, she shoved it back into her pocket.
“Is that the intel you needed?” Leon jogged to walk next to her.
“Unfortunately, no. Ben didn’t come through.” Ada held her hand over her eyes—sunglasses—to shield them from the rain.
“Well, what exactly are you looking for?”
Looking over at an abandoned ambulance, your eyes spotted the empty gurney that stood right next to the open back doors, never reaching whoever it was intended for.
‘I wonder…how many people died in this outbreak…’
“More info on the people responsible for this mess.” Ada stopped and turned to Leon. “What about you? Trying to save the world?”
“I told Lieutenant Branagh I’d bring help.”
Ada continued walking, “good luck getting that…”
‘If the FBI is here, shouldn’t they help?’ You squinted your eyes at the woman. ‘Who is she…really?’
Your eyes widened as you ran to peer at the giant hole in the middle of the city.
“Uh…what the fuck?” You asked to no one in particular.
You looked over at Leon, he shrugged, unsure of what happened.
“…Road’s out.” Ada said, stopping at the edge of the hole. “Going through that gun shop looks like the only way.”
You shook your head and follow after Ada. The gun shop’s sign read “Gun Shop Kendo” in large, bright red neon lights. They almost hurt your eyes to look at for too long.
The doors to the gun shop opened as you looked down to see Ada standing up from picking the lock. If the city wasn’t completely in chaos, you would’ve laughed at the irony of the woman breaking the law right in front of a police officer.
“What a mess…” Ada muttered, looking at the shelves.
You searched the shelves, not finding anything useful. Walking over to Leon, you tried to joke around with him. “Did you find anything handy?”
“Not right now, Y/N.” He shook his head before walking away from you.
You pouted, looking down at your shoes. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
You were going to go stand in the corner of the room and wait until they were done sweeping the store for supplies when you saw a gun pointed at your head.
“Don’t move.”
A man in a yellow flannel spoke, making you raise your hands in surrender as Leon walked up next to you.
“We’re not going to hurt you—”
“I said don’t move!”
“We’re just passing through. I’m going to ask you to lower that weapon.” Leon spoke calmly.
“Like hell you are.” The man pointed the gun at Leon. “You’re going to turn around and go right back the way you came in.”
A little girl walked out of the small room behind the man, catching Leon’s attention.
“I think your daughter needs help, sir.”
The man cocked his gun, pushing it closer to Leon’s head.
“Don’t tell me how to deal with my daughter.”
Ada came around the corner as she pointed her gun at the man. “Drop it.”
The man backed up a few steps before noticing Ada wasn’t pointing the gun at him anymore, she was pointing it at his daughter.
“No! Wait!” He pleaded, stepping in front of his daughter.
“Move aside. We need to terminate her before she turns.”
You looked at her in shock. ‘She said it like…like the little girl wasn't a person...like her death wouldn't impact her father...'
“’Terminate’? That’s my fucking daughter.”
“Ada…” Leon turned to her. “Just let them be.”
She waited a moment before lowering her gun.
“Emma, sweetheart, I told you to stay put…” The man backed away and crouched in front of his daughter.
“Daddy…?” The girl—Emma—quietly asked.
You could see her better now that she stepped into the light. Her right eye was the same milky white as the zombies, her other eye was still a dark brown.
‘That poor girl…’ Tears blurred your vision.
“Yeah, Emma. Daddy’s here. I’m here, okay?” The man gently grabbed her arms and hugged her.
“Those fucking things outside…Look what they did to us.” Leon took a couple steps forward as the man looked over at him. “You’re a cop. You’re supposed to know something—how did this happen?! Huh?!”
Leon glanced back at Ada.
‘What does she know about this?’
“She was our sweet little angel…”
“Mommy…?”
“Mommy’s sleeping, honey. Okay?” The man turned Emma to face him. “And I’m gonna put you to bed too, okay?”
You covered your mouth with your hand, tears falling freely now.
The man picked his daughter up, going back into the small room they were in before. “Just go…” He turned and looked back. “Just give us some privacy.”
Then he slammed the door closed.
You backed away for a moment, turning your back to Leon and Ada.
“You know, it’s one thing to keep the truth from me. But why him?” Leon asked.
A single gunshot sounded out from the other side of the door.
Your lips trembled as you cried harder.
“I want to find out what’s going on here. And stop whoever’s behind it. Helping people like them…that’s why I joined the force.”
You wiped your tears away and turned back to face the others.
“My mission is to take down Umbrella’s entire operation. We may not make it out.” Ada explained.
“Whatever it takes to save this city…count me in.”
“Me too.” You stepped closer to the two. You didn’t want anyone else to have to go through this. Whatever it took to fix this mess, you were willing to do it.
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy#leon s kennedy x reader#resident evil#leon scott kennedy#leon scott kennedy x reader#re2#re2 leon#reader insert
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chapter 04. deeds of the desperate
☾—parings: levi x fem!reader · genre: modern!AU, mystery, action · word count: 4.7k
☾—chapter summary: You and Levi come to a mutual understanding and pay a visit to Kuchel Ackerman.
☾—warnings: guns, threatening, ideation of violence & murder, long-term illness of a parent, kidnapping mentions
☾—notice: 18+ ONLY. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS = BLOCKED.
☾—taglist: @cherrykamado, @lacheri, @atinyarmyx1, @midaribaby, @ackeruser, @araveticazx
☾—a/n: I hope you enjoy this instalment! please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist (or if you're interested in a playlist for this series)!
series masterlist ☾ writing masterlist ☾ prev. chapter ☾ next chapter
Levi sits at the kitchen table, eyes staring blankly forward, his brain frantically trying to catch up with the events of the morning.
He thinks that you're talking. About something. Maybe it's the oatmeal that you're stirring on the stove—that's it—he manages to actually tune into your words for a moment. You're asking him if he wants raisins in the oatmeal. Actually, you're asking if he even likes raisins at all.
He says something noncommittal back. Most people probably have opinions on that kinda thing: raisins in their oatmeal, what side of the bed they sleep on, if they like rainy days or sunny ones.
Then again, most people probably hadn't woken up with a gun pointed at their head.
It's next to you on the kitchen counter, just within arm's reach. You haven't pointed it at him again. He knows that if he says something stupid then you will. Without remorse or hesitation. Like it's an everyday experience for you. Like you're used to it.
Levi isn't. It's the very first time. Knives, sure, hell, he's seen guns pointed at other people before. But not that look though—like putting a bullet between his eyes was just another nuisance in your daily life.
Empty eyes. Steady hands.
Hands that are stirring a pot of oatmeal for him now.
It smells good. You put some spices in it, cinnamon, he thinks.
It's not the sort of thing that his mother would have made him, which comes as a relief.
You don't pester him aside from telling him to take more cold medicine. In fact, you barely say anything at all, aside from asking where things are in the kitchen.
He wonders if it's just to give the illusion that you didn't dig through his apartment the night before while he slept.
The light on the far side of the room is distracting—grey and slanting through the blinds you'd pulled shut this morning. The blinds were shut in your apartment too.
He wonders if that'd be a hard habit to break for you.
Somehow he thinks that shooting people to solve your problems is probably harder, but who's he to say.
"Here. Eat." You set a bowl down in front of him.
A small part of him wants to refuse it on principle, but his stomach is empty and grumbling. When did he last eat? It has to be yesterday but he doesn't remember.
He swallows, throat dry. "Thank you."
You sit down at the cramped kitchen table, across from him. You have a bowl of oatmeal in front of you as well. Along with the pistol, sitting next to your spoon like it's just another utensil.
He takes a bite. It's good. Better than he wants to admit. He's too tired to fight the urge to dig in.
At the least, when you're both eating there's no way for you to speak.
The table is too small to avoid one another completely, knees knocking together beneath.
It's strange to sit here with someone else. He tries to recall the last time there was another person in his house. Nothing comes to mind.
No doubt it was his mother who'd sat there last.
He shivers, suddenly glad that she's far away in Rose City.
"We need to talk," You say, spoon clinking as you set it down in your bowl.
"Yeah, you could say that." He eyes the gun beside you. "Are you going to shoot me if I ask you something stupid?"
"Are you going to ask a bunch of stupid questions then?" You snort. Your smile still looks the same. Just like when he'd offered you a ride back then.
It's the eyes that are different. Like whatever was in them before is just...drained out.
"Well, I'd like to know how the hell you know Mikasa. Or any of this really."
"I told you as much as I can for now."
He huffs. "Really? You were Mikasa's guard. That's all you've given me. That and the fact that you're certain that she was kidnapped. How am I supposed to trust you—what if you kidnapped her?"
You give him a skeptical look. "I was like eleven years old back then."
"Fair enough," he grumbles. "Still, you have to give me something."
You let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I really don't have to. I'm already giving you more than I should."
"Yeah? Like what? A fucking heart-attack and some oatmeal?"
Your lip twitches. "A way for both of us to get what we want."
"And what is that?"
"You want your family back," you reply, crossing your arms. "Enough money to make your mother healthy again. You want your little cousin returned, safe and sound. No more working at the Legion and digging food out of the dumpster. A house with a white fucking picket fence and all that. Sound about right?"
It does—it's exactly what he wants. That's the worst part.
Like you reached into his mind and pulled out the kind of dreams he barely allows himself to indulge in lest he be consumed by longing for an impossible other life.
But when you say it, it doesn't sound like the cloudy, ephemeral thing it is in his head.
There's certainty in your voice.
Like you're going to take it for him, buy it with green money and blood.
"What is it you want then?" He asks. "You seem to have me all figured out, but what about what you want?"
"Trust me. What I want is pretty simple. And you can help me get it. In fact, it'll be so much easier with you."
"That's not an answer."
"I want to be free. Just like you."
Free, huh? It's a funny way of putting it.
Your expression is tight, locked like a safe as you stare at his face.
"The thing is—neither of us is going to get what we want without one another's help," you say. "We need one another."
"So what are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting that we work together to create a mutually beneficial partnership. So we can both get what we want. Then we go our separate ways."
"Do I get shot if I don't agree?"
You roll your eyes. "You're really fixated on this whole 'what gets you shot and what doesn't' thing aren't you?"
"Sorry, I'm just not used to waking up with a gun to my head," he snaps, irritation overriding caution. "But I guess that might change if I keep hanging around you."
You look at him incredulously. "Are you trying to get me to kill you?"
"No I'm just fucking stressed and don't know how to cope with it!"
"Fine." You flatten your hands on the table. "Unless you do something that poses a direct physical threat to my person by you or someone else—I swear I will not shoot you. Good enough?"
"That's it?"
"Do you want to make a pinky-promise or something?"
He stares at you for a long moment before raising his hand. "Fuck it, yes. Pinky-promise."
You sigh, but hook your fingers together all the same. "Happy?"
"Not particularly," he remarks. "But I feel a little better. It would be kinda strange for you to murder me after making me breakfast anyhow."
You snort. "You have no idea."
He ignores the quip, pressing onward instead: "So, in theory, if we were to work together: where would we start?"
"It'd start by asking you if you were absolutely certain this is something you're willing to potentially throw away your entire life for?"
His entire life. There's really not that much compromised by it anyhow. His mother. That's the only person he'd be leaving behind. What else is there to lose? His shitty job? His empty bank account? None of it sounds hard to leave behind.
"As long as my mother would be taken care of...then yes."
"Of course. I've already worked out that part."
He blinks. "Really?"
You nod slowly. "It took me a while, but really, it's not that complicated when it comes down to it. Though if you're serious about this, I'll need to speak with her."
"Why would that be necessary?"
"Because I've got a hunch. That maybe your mother might have some information that could be of use to us. And if that's correct, then it's information that other people might want as well. People who would get it from her in...cruel ways." You say flatly. "I'm a bad person, but I'm not that kind of bad person. Understand?"
Levi's stomach sinks to the floor. "I understand. And after that?"
"After that is the part where you trust me," you answer. "There's only so much of the plan that I'm telling you before I know if you're in or out."
"Why, it's not like you'll go through with it without me?"
"Yeah but this is one of those things where if I tell you and you tell someone else, then it could circle right back around to me. And I just can't have that happening." Your smile is sharp, like a papercut. "So I have to know before we move forward. In or out, Levi?"
In or out?
Three little words forming a fork in the road.
"In. I’m in."
As if he has any other choice. If there's the chance that Mikasa's alive, he can't just leave her. He won't be able to live with himself. Wouldn't be able to meet his own eyes in the bathroom mirror, much less his mother's.
"Now tell me the plan. Or however much you can. It seems like keeping me in the dark might be useful if you're worried about our strategy getting found out."
You snap your fingers. "Bingo. Now you're catching on."
"So, where do we begin?"
"We begin with you getting showered and then going back to bed." You run your eyes over his disheveled form and frown. "You look like shit and you're in no state to visit a hospital."
That makes sense. The last thing that his mother needs is a cold on top of her condition. If he focuses on resting up, he should be able to be okay to visit by the following Tuesday.
"Tuesday then?" He suggests.
You nod. "Sounds good. I'll take the day off."
"Kitz is going to love that."
"Kitz can get fucked."
His own laugh startles him.
"I’ll pick you up at noon at the Legion? Or from your house?"
"The Legion," You say, standing. "The less we hang around my place the better."
"Do you think that, whoever it is, already knows you're here?"
You shake your head, picking up your gun. "No. But they know you are. And that's enough to make me worried. Also, I won't be needing rides home from work any longer."
"Really?"
"Yeah, the less we're together from here on out the better. At least until we're out of Trost."
The sentence sends a shiver down his spine. Leaving Trost. It's not that he likes the place—the opposite. But leaving properly has never been something he's given much thought.
It's been just another impossibility, like everything else.
Until now.
"Got it. Noon at the Legion."
"Good." You stretch your arms above your head. "I'm going to head back into town now, so I can catch the early bus for my shift."
You pick your gun up and put the safety back on, before tucking it into your purse that had hung on the back of your chair.
It feels too simple. "That's it?"
"Yep." You pause at the door, looking back over your shoulder. "I'll see ya Tuesday. Don't be late."
Then you're gone, slipped through the door with a click and Levi's alone.
He slumps forward, resting his forehead against the table beside his cooling-oatmeal. "Fucking hell."
It's only now that he realizes how hard his heart had been beating, the frantic pace through your entire conversation.
A single promise between him and a bullet. A shot at getting his family back.
It seems like a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.
The next week, everything happens just as you said. At the Legion, you're back to being strangers. More than strangers perhaps. You sweep past him day and night without so much as a sideways glance to see how he's doing. No nod of the head or sly smile.
It's like he's gone.
It makes it easier, somehow. Leaves him plenty of time to wrack his brain about why the fuck he would agree to do anything with you—especially something as seemingly illegal and dangerous as...whatever it is you were alluding to.
He hasn't found an answer by Tuesday.
True to your word, though, you're waiting for him in the Legion parking lot. You look a little different than usual, in a worn out floral sundress and lipgloss. You’ve got your little scratched leather purse at your side and he wonders if the gun is hidden there again.
It’s a stupid thing to even question: of course it is.
He pulls the bike to a stop, not bothering to switch off the engine or park.
"You look...nice," he says, watching as you pull your helmet over your head.
"Don't bother." You swing your leg over the bike. "Well, let's go."
He doesn't need more convincing than that.
The drive to Rose City is long. Long enough that he begins to really think about what he's doing: bringing someone like you to the person he loves most in the world.
But from the sounds of it, he doesn't have a choice in the matter.
He gets the feeling that with what you've learned about them, you'd be paying his mother a visit, whether he joined you or not.
You don't speak on the drive there—not that you could with the whipping wind. Your arms around him are still warm.
It takes an hour to get there. The ride slows down as you enter the city, the rest of civilization as it were.
Rose isn't much better than Trost really. Anyone who got out of that town, rarely making it farther than this. Whereas Trost was abandoned like a movie set without actors, Rose is buzzing with tragedy on every corner.
He stops at a stoplight and considers asking you if you've been to the city before. He doesn't know why he wants to break the silence between you. To test the waters.
Glancing over his shoulder, he sees that your eyes are fixed somewhere past him. Following your line of sight he sees what has your attention: a woman on the corner, wrapped in worn blankets. She looks exhausted, slumped against the building behind her, a cardboard sign asking for help nearly falling from her fingers.
His eyes drag back to your face. You look...angry.
Even when you were threatening his life, you never looked like that. Like you wanted to burn the city to the ground around the two of you.
Then the expression is gone in a moment, your eyes meeting his flatly once more.
"The light's green." Your voice startles him, quickly followed by a honk from the car behind you.
The silence feels even heavier for the rest of the ride, stretching the last ten minutes that it takes to get to the hospital into what feels like an eternity.
The hulking grey building greets the two of you the same way it always does. Levi tries to ignore the shiver that runs down his spine at the sight of the lined up ambulances and medical personnel.
Really its a completely irrational dislike. They're the people who are keeping his mother safe—alive. He shouldn't shudder like they're boogie men. Or wardens for a prison of the ill.
Still, he can't shake the feeling that when he enters the building, it's bracing to swallow him up. To keep him and his mother there and never let them leave.
He's scared. He's not too proud to admit that to himself. Scared every time that this will be the last time he returns to see her. That it will stop working. That they'll never walk out of here side by side like he's promised his mother they would.
"Well, are we going in?" You prompt him, looking over your shoulder as you walk toward the building.
There's no fear in your face. Nothing there aside from a grim line and a straight back.
He wants to know what you're thinking. How does this place make you feel? In the mysterious past he's banned from asking you about, are there fears and moments like this for you? Is there anyone in this entire world that would make you afraid to see their face, despite your love for them?
Somehow, he does want to know the answer. He can't decide which is more unsettling: the idea of you loving someone, or the reality of you being someone who has absolutely no one in the world.
Really, maybe he knows the answer already. He's certain that there's no one waiting for you back home. No warm and smiling face. No concerned thoughts that cling to you like prayers for your safe return.
You are completely alone.
And that's what frightens him: that the reality he's careening towards might look a lot like yours.
He won't know what to do if it should arrive.
Your face softens infinitesimally. "Are you alright, Levi?"
“I’m fine,” he replies, gruffly, stuffing his keys into this jacket pocket. “Let’s go.”
Sterile-smelling air greets you. It doesn’t take long to check in with the attendant. You wait as he speaks to them. The entire time, he can feel your eyes on the back of his neck, watching his every movement.
Just what the hell do you think you’re going to find out by burning a hole in the back of his skull?
He turns back to you. You don’t bother to avert your eyes or pretend you weren’t staring. “She’s on the third floor.”
“Let’s take the stairs.”
He raises a brow, but walks down the left hallway toward the stairwell. “Don’t like elevators?”
"No, I don’t." The frankness of your answer is surprising.
The hospital hallway is the same as he remembers. Cavernous, with white and peach tiles. As you walk, you pass by small paintings of trite flower vases and fields. Like they're supposed to remind you that the outside world still exists beyond the unending stillness and stale air.
The stairwell is a little better. At the very least there's no attempt at false homeyness here, just concrete and metal.
"You don't like hospitals." It's not a question.
He snorts. "Does anyone?"
"Someone must." You look back at him over your shoulder. "They bother you though."
"Yeah, and you hate elevators, what's it to you?"
"Not everything means something," you reply.
Levi ignores that in favor of looking at the scuffed backs of your boots. They're different from the sneakers you wear to work. Just as worn, but these are in better condition: cared for. The leather's been oiled and despite the clear wear, they appear entirely clean, rather than caked with Trost's endless dust.
"You take care of your shoes."
Your step falters for a moment, just long enough to show that you're surprised that he's observed something about you.
"Yes. Don't you?"
"Yeah, but that's not the point."
Your steps halt fully now, skirt swishing around your leg as you turn and face him with crossed arms.
"Is every conversation going to be like this from now on? Why the fuck do you keep trying to make something out of nothing?”
A door above your heads bangs open filling the space with laughter and conversation—something about vacation plans.
You scowl and shake your head. “Forget it.”
You climb the rest of the way in silence before stepping out onto the third floor.
He doesn’t detest this floor as much as the welcome area. The floor tiles here are still white, with light sea-foam walls. The windows are larger too, letting in the cool grey light of the afternoon. It’s not as eerily silent, instead filled with chatter between the residents of the long-term care area. A few of them wave to him as he passes by their rooms, people his mother has no doubt talked to about him.
When they reach his mother’s room, he pauses a few paces back. “I’ll go in and see how she’s doing...if she’s having a rough day then we can reschedule.”
Thankfully, you don’t push, instead nodding. “This is a serious matter of discussion. It’ll be better to do it when she’s feeling strong.”
He nods, stepping into the room. “Mom?”
“Levi!” She greets him brightly across the room. Her roommates aren’t in their beds—they rarely are, often taking lunch in the cafeteria.
She looks...good. Or as good as she ever does. She’s thinner than he likes to see her, but her back is straight as she sits up in bed, eyes bright. It’s a good day today. He heaves a sigh of relief internally.
“How have you been, darling? You’re looking a little worn out.” She asks, setting aside her book and tucking her hair back behind her ear where it’s come loose from her braid.
He presses a kiss against her cheek, sitting on the edge of her bed. “I’ve been alright, Mom. Had a cold, but I’m better now. How are you doing? You look good.”
She nods. “I’ve been well. They did more blood work yesterday— my numbers are looking good. Better than this time last month.”
He looks at her for a long moment. On the way the light slanting through the window lights up on the side of her face.
If what you're promising is real then there's a chance for her to get out of here. Because really, the things that would change his life are simple: Mikasa and money. Two things to pull his world back together and set all of them free.
Her hand touches his cheek, warm and gentle. "Is something on your mind? You look like you're thinking awfully hard."
He gives her a smile that no doubt looks as unconvincing as it feels. "A bit. One of my friends came with me today–she's got business in Rose City too so we carpooled."
It's not a lie, aside from the 'friend' part. There's no good for what you are to him.
Her brows rise, a smile creasing her face that's far more genuine than his own. "Well isn't this a first? Is she here? Can I meet her?"
"Yeah, she's outside. We weren't sure if you'd be up to multiple visitors."
She waves her hand in a brushing off motion. "You worry about me too much, I'm made of tougher stuff than you think. Bring her in, I'm getting sick of just seeing your face every week." The last bit manages to bring up a genuine smile from him in the way only his mother can.
He can tell that she’s already itching to ask about his ‘friend’ and no doubt pry into any nonexistent romantic connection between the two of you.
He stands and crosses the room to the door, opening it and poking his head out.
You're leaning against the wall, arms forward as you stare at the painting across from you. It's a beach, spreading out into an endless teal sea. He can't tell if you're looking at the picture or though it—mind lost on some other horizon.
"Hey, she's doing good. You can come in."
"Wonderful."
He reaches out, catching your arm. Instantly, your fingers flex into a fist before forcibly relaxing again—like you're resisting the urge to slap away his hand.
"Do not fuck around with my mother." He tells you, voice low. "I don't really give a shit what kind of games you wanna play with me, but leave her alone. She's off limits so keep her out of it."
"Do you think I'd be here if she wasn't already involved?" You yank your arm out of his grasp. "But I understand what you're saying. Don't worry, I'm not trying to cause trouble for her. Trust me." You say the last two words with a hint of an ironic smile.
You're wearing perfume, he realizes as you brush past him. Interesting. Honestly, seeing you...dressed up is unsettling. Like your some kind of small-town sweetheart here to visit his ailing family, all apple-pie-smiles and kind eyes.
It’s just another lie, he reminds himself. Like everything else.
He shuts the door with a click behind the two of you, listening to you introduce yourself.
"It's lovely to meet you, I'm Kuchel Ackerman, Levi's Mother."
You sit down in the metal folding chair where he usually sits, folding your legs and pulling your purse onto your lap. Levi returns to sitting on the side of her bed, resisting the urge to put himself between you and her.
“How did you two meet?”
“Work,” he replies before you can. “She works at the Legion too.”
His mother lets out a snort. “I’m sorry to hear that. Levi told me all about the awful management.”
You shrug. “It could be worse. Work is work, or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.”
“I understand the feeling.” His mother pats his leg gently. “I’m happy to hear that he’s making friends at work though, since it seems like he spends all his time there.”
Levi rolls his eyes. “You make it sound like I’m going to kindergarten.”
“Of course,” she agrees, smile widening. “That’s because to me it’s like you're still six years old—all grumpy and awkward with the other kids.”
She laughs, reaching up to cover her grin the same way she always does. Levi wants to shut his eyes and sink into the sound and just...live there forever.
“Actually, darling, since you’ve brought a friend, do you think you could do me a favor?” His mother asks hopefully.
He nods. “Of course, what do you need?”
She gives him a sly smile. “There’s a new vending machine on the second floor, near the cafeteria—it makes hot drinks!”
He can already see where this is going. “I see. And how did you come to know about this?”
“I was going for a walk with Emily from 307. They’ve got this white hot chocolate that looks amazing.” She pulls out her best puppy-dog eyes for the clincher. “Would you mind getting me one? The food here is pretty good, but it’s not like they’re giving me hot cocoa.”
He lets out a long breath, glancing between the two of you. You’d said that you weren’t trying to hurt her...but still, the idea of leaving you alone with the most precious person in his life feels inherently wrong.
“Besides, I’ll have your lady-friend here to keep me company!” His mom winks at him while saying that last bit.
“Don’t worry about us.” You hold out your purse for him to take. “Here. I’ll get the drink. Think of it as a gift.”
“Oh that isn’t necessary,” his mother says, waving her hand.
“Levi drove me to the city and he never asks for gas money when offering me a ride,” you tell her, voice surprisingly gentle. “Really, it’s the least I can do.”
It’s the closest thing you’ve offered him to an olive branch. Your way of symbolically telling him that you aren’t going to make a move while he’s gone.
He takes the purse and stands. It’s too heavy to hold just a wallet. “Fair enough. I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t let her get too rowdy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply dryly.
He crosses the room, resisting the urge to look back at you. To double check that you both haven’t vanished somehow. It’s something he has to do though–to put this much trust in you. Who knows what will be asked of him in the future? At the very least you’ve given him your purse as a promise, collateral.
The door shuts behind him with a soft click. He’s about to walk away, when he catches the sound of his mother’s voice with an edge that sends a chill down his spine:
“What the hell is someone like you doing here?”
#levi ackerman x reader#levi x reader#levi ackerman x fem!reader#levi x y/n#levi ackerman series#aot x reader#aot x y/n#snk x y/n#snk x reader#levi ackerman headcanons#levi ackerman fanfiction#tw.flashing#my writing#series: no saints
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for zutaraang week day 4. a metaphorical take on the prompt ‘scars’. read it on ao3. 🍂
"I shouldn't feel like this."
The words make Aang stop in his tracks. He's halfway across the garden, hands outstretched for Zuko, standing there at the edge of the pond. Aang's mind reels with a thousand emotions, above all, sympathy. The ragged confusion bleeding from Zuko's voice is something he hasn't heard in a long time, maybe not even since before the war, before the comet. Back when they didn't even know each other. Back when they were sworn to be enemies, and Zuko's mind was poisoned daily by the same monstrous presence that has him frozen in grief now.
"Zuko," Aang begins. He doesn't know what to say. The stiff hunch of Zuko's shoulders in front of him betrays something worse than his voice does: that he doesn't want Aang to see him. He doesn't want anyone to see him. And that's painful, coming from a guy that's always worn his feelings on his sleeve.
To Aang's utter relief, there isn't going to be a public funeral for Ozai, which is what the council had decided in the morning, despite the rioting from a persistent dissident group. He isn't sure if weeks of meditation could do anything for the nightmares that might resurface from an event like that. But this is not about him.
He had sat at the Fire Lord's right hand in the meeting room, Zuko's nails digging marks into his palm under the table while the ministers around them discussed the decorum surrounding the announcement of the death in captivity of the previous Fire Lord. A surprising number of officials actually wanted some sort of ceremony. It was decided in the end that there would be a burial in the catacombs and an accompanying official notice from the palace. Zuko had spoken as little as possible during the meeting (Aang was counting). His only real input that he wanted to notify his mother in person beforehand, so the announcement was to be delayed.
Iroh is on his way from Ba Sing Se. Azula, to his surprise, didn't want anything to do with it.
And already here, is Zuko, alone in anguish. Watching him now, Aang allows himself to feel something other than pity for Ozai, for the first time in years: anger.
Zuko turns his head up in a sharp movement at the sound of his name. His voice is thick with feeling, enough to make Aang dizzy. "Why do I feel like this?"
The turtleducks continue to swim, unheeding of what's happening in the palace around them.
Aang takes long breaths, like firebending practice, in an attempt to steady himself. He has to be the one keeping a level head here. "You can't choose how you feel, Zuko."
Zuko makes a sound of frustration. "I've spent my whole life making sure I do everything different than he did, the bastard. Everything I've done in the Fire Nation is so– And if he just–" he cuts himself off.
Aang swallows and makes his voice as gentle as possible, though the more Zuko talks, the more sick he feels. "Don't be ridiculous."
"What?"
"You can't tell me that he was your only motivation."
Zuko wipes an arm across his eyes. "There's still so much I have to do."
It takes all of Aang's power to just walk up to Zuko's side – and not any further – because he knows what Zuko needs right now is clarity. Words.
"And what? You needed him to witness it?" Aang says evenly as he can, though he can't help the incredulity that seeps into his tone.
Zuko takes a sharp breath in. He's listening now. When he had defied all his advisors by sparing his father the death sentence in the post-war tribunals, Aang had stood by him with pride. He didn't think there could be a truly bad consequence of that decision. But the bewilderment in Zuko's eyes now reveals something more sinister than Aang has seen in a long time, a shackle to his heritage heavier than the ones Ozai wore for the final part of his life.
It shakes Aang to his core. "You–You've built a new country from the ashes of your father's crimes– and your grandfather's. That's what matters. The present. The future."
Zuko turns to face Aang. "But how could he–" His fists are clenched at his sides, mouth turned in a hard frown intended to prevent something worse. Aang hates the expression, if he can hate anything about Zuko's face. "How could he– just– it's just one harsh winter– all those people— He doesn't get to die like this."
Recognition grips Aang like a vice. This feeling he does understand. This is the very thing that's kept in him a dream-like state since the news reached him late last night, and he had left Republic City immediately, the Avatar's presence at the emergency council in his schedule and Zuko in his mind.
Aang grasps Zuko's arm tight, turning to face him directly. "I get it," he whispers. "I understand." Zuko's eyes are full of uncertainty, and Aang finds his own hollow mood reflected in them.
He's twelve again. The Fire Lord looms larger than life, a force of pure hatred, hellbent on destroying any peace in this world. A trail of pointless destruction; people, families, whole villages, left in his wake.
The same man is dead in his cell, from the complications of a common cold. Accepting that is like being knocked out of the air.
Zuko doesn't make any real attempt at holding his gaze, his eyes tired and watery. But he lets Aang press their foreheads together, which means they're on the same page at least. Aang cups the back of Zuko's neck and presses him close. If he could somehow project the depth of his care with that action, he would.
"You don't have to feel happy about this, Zuko. And you definitely don't have to feel nothing."
Zuko makes a noise that might have been an attempt at interruption but he stops himself with a heavy breath and a nod. Aang blinks hard and continues, "You can be sad that you didn't get closure. You can be sad because you deserved better. You really, really did." Unthinkingly, he lets his thumb trace over the ridge of Zuko's scar, but Zuko doesn't flinch. "But you can't define who you are and what you do by Ozai."
Aang almost jerks back at the feeling of wet tears dripping against his hands. He's never seen Zuko cry, but he does his best not to let the surprise show on his face, even as his stomach feels like it's careening at the sight. Zuko pulls away from him to wrap him in a proper hug.
After what feels like an eternity, Zuko speaks. Aang can feel the sadness of the smile against his neck. "Thank you. You're pretty wise, you know."
"It's in the job description." That gets a laugh out of Zuko, and Aang's heart glows for that tiniest of reactions.
"Uncle said he would be here in a couple of days."
Aang nods into Zuko's shoulder, "I know." He's still not willing to let go, rubbing circles into Zuko's back as he speaks. "Go be with him, after the announcement. I'll deal with everything else."
Zuko squeezes him in acknowledgement. He whispers his next words like they might disappear if spoken too loudly, "Katara?"
"She's coming as soon as she can," Aang says, longing for the respite of her embrace — longing so much at the mention of her name that he surprises himself. For someone far removed from the Fire Nation and its cruel history, someone that is the antithesis of all this pain. He can't imagine how much worse it is for Zuko. "She'll be here, when I have to go back. We're not leaving you."
The thought of Zuko going to bed alone this week is too much to bear, and he won't have to bear it, even if Avatar duties are dragging him to a different continent in a few hours. For the first time, he's deeply grateful for their arrangement in a way that has nothing at all to do with his own fancies.
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text || Brobastian (Week 2)
Bas: Well, maybe it should be in a room full of mirrors, then. That way I get to see myself /and/ the other guy. Although I feel like just fucking me would actually take less effort than the teasing would. I mean, there's only so much of someone rutting against me that I can take - especially if they're murmuring in my ear about all of the different ways they plan on having me. That shit gets /exhausting/, Brodes - there comes a time where you just want someone to fill you up, or - fuck, I feel like riding them would be easier than just the /tease/. I mean not that the tease isn't all manner of hot, but, you know - there /are/ limits, and pushing them with me in this state would just be cruel, you know? Best just to give me the relief I need.
Bas: When your material revolves around crappy jokes at my expense, then that's just sad. Really - you have /one/ subject. I know you're obsessed with me, Brodes, but come on. Hey, I'm not the one trying to be a comedian, here. That's on you.
Bas: Can't say I've counted. What - you think I don't own any R&H? You underestimate me, as usual. While I appreciate ballet as an art form, yeah - no. Besides all of the dizziness, it really is just gonna send me to sleep again. I've slept enough. Why do you equate my ability to find people to sleep with to a lack of standards? While I might have had some questionable hook-ups in the past (all hot, just some... questionable people), I do like quality. Newbie Brody sounds adorable - man, I'd have loved to corrupt him - but I digress. Just because you're fine going home alone, doesn't mean we all need to do so. Don't get me wrong, there's been a night or two where I haven't hooked up, but it's really not very often. Why skip out on the chance for some good sex? Fine, fine - he can do the groundwork, but I'm making my intentions clear.
Bas: Man, you can be so dramatic sometimes, you know that? Tell you what - if I die from sex, you can rest assured that you were right, and I'll have gone out in probably the best way that I possibly could. I'm not /that/ sick - I'll be fine in a few days. I already told you - nobody said /anything/ about being ass-raped to death apart from you. Seriously, I worry about you sometimes.
Bas: He's been hovering, yeah. You don't really /need/ to angle Blaine - his ass is a good view no matter where he's standing in the room, so long as he's not directly facing you. Although the rest of him is perfectly pleasing to look at, too.
Bas: You mean there's no one to obsess over. Don't worry, Brodes - me and my ass will be back in no time. Oh, but if he's as bad as you claim he is, you're fine mocking over texts? So cruel. I don't deserve this shit. I didn't say anything about not liking it. If nothing else, she'll give me something to do during lunch hour. And by /do/, well.... I'm sure you know what I mean. Yeah, but what happens when she puts on Legally Blonde and they start thinking that they can get a law degree and win trials based on their perm maintenance knowledge? And I bet she wouldn't even show the Broadway version.
Brody: Doesn't a room full of mirrors mess with the reflection though? Like kind of skew the coloration or something, because it's just reflection on reflection on reflection, etc? But yeah-- I mean, you could definitely play with more than one, get all the angles. You're missing the point, Bas. The point isn't what would take the least effort: it's what has the biggest payoff. And since you can't really handle that level of exertion for at least another week, the tease has to last until you can properly enjoy it. So until then, they can really only get by themselves by talking about how intense it's going to get-- how they're going to spread you out, stretch you open one finger at a time, three fingers deep, before lapping up your ass like a cream to a cat. Fucking bringing you to a breaking point if you don't have their full, thick, throbbing cock inside of you, punching up against your sweet spot hard while their hands are //finally// reaching around, slicked up so they're wet and hot and completely covering you and just pumping like you guys haven't fucked in weeks-- which, you know, you haven't. Because you've been on bedrest and he's not going to fuck you until you're off. It's a medical thing, Bas-- I mean, it's that or nothing, you know? And I figured since //nothing// was basically killing you here, it'd make more sense this way, right?
Brody: I hardly see that as sad-- who deserves jokes at their expense more than the proud peacock? I mean really? And it makes everybody laugh. I cater to my audience, what can I say. And you're worse than they are, Bas-- I know you; you'd rather hear anything about yourself than the funniest jokes about anyone else. Tcha-- everyone's a critic until the light's on them.
Brody: Well, let me know when you think of a ballpark figure. //You// watch Rogers and Hammerstein? Like more than just in passing? You do know people usually fall in //love// in those shows, right? Without sex? Or are you sleeping through those parts? You realize sleep isn't the enemy, right? I mean, I'm not encouraging you to sleep through culture in its purest form, but if your body's trying to drag you under, that's usually a sign. It might have something to do with the fact that there's a limited number of bodies in Ohio and you've likely slept with the majority of them-- and they definitely could not have been all 10s, Bas. I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't give some of them a 7 after you took off your beer goggles. Yeah, I'm familiar with the questionable aspect-- I've seen that scar on your back XD Hey-- Newbie Brody was still plenty experienced, just...a little gun shy. Let's just say I didn't leave Sparks without a little bit of crazy chasing me out. And if 22-year old Bas was when whips were involved in your sex life, I wouldn't really want to be corrupted, thanks. Well, I guess I just don't mind the break to focus on other things then. Sex isn't air for me. Bas, I've heard you guys talking-- I'm pretty sure your intentions are perfectly clear by now. Like bird flying into a window transparent.
Brody: //I// can be dramatic? That's a laugh, considering some of the shit I've seen you pull over the years. So I can write on your grave: Brody Told You So You Assless Peacock ? I mean, since if you die by //my// dick, I'm going to be in the next grave over, it seems only fair. Okay, okay-- you're just unnecessarily stuck on bedrest while coughing like hell. You're not sick. I'm still not sexing you up while you look like that. You know, when you say crap like that, it makes me believe you never even watched the show, much less read the books, and that hurts my feelings. I mean, did you think they'd be asking about the actor(s-- since the guy was recast three different times at least) or what? Because I'm pretty sure they would have clarified that point if that had been the case. Hey-- I didn't choose the dead guy. I chose the manipulative girl with experience.
Brody: well, so long as we're in agreement that his ass is way better than yours, I'll totally agree with that. I mean, personally, he's not really my type, but I don't blame you for pining over the innocent soul you failed to fully corrupt. Everyone has the one that got away, Bas.
Brody: I'm sorry, are you implying that I couldn't easily find someone else to talk to or about? Because I'm pretty sure that the conversation is significantly more diverse around the people that are actually //allowed// out of the house. Well, a) I can't see you, and 2) didn't you just say you were fine? XD Can't have it both ways, peacock. Speaking of obsession...you know you could always just stop answering, right?
Brody: [unsent] holy fuck please do not actually seriously consider that as an option-- why the fuck did I say that god fucking dammit I'm pathetic
Brody: I guess-- just make sure you wipe off the desk before and after-- and rinse out her mouth. God mayonnaise just bugs the crap out of me. I mean, obviously it's not hurting her, because she looks great, but why do people need their sandwiches to look like someone dumped a vat of glue on it? Yech. I admit, if your kids are watching Reese Witherspoon the Lawyer-based movies and not coming out of it with any worthwhile lyrics in their head, I'll be a little disappointed. But I'm sure she'd give them all time to perfect the bend-and-snap, since you won't be there to demonstrate whenever you need something from the principal XD
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