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amistytown · 3 years

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The Brothers Comfort MC During a Panic Attack

This is my first attempt at writing down my headcanons for the brothers, so I apologize if anything is out of character. I meant it to be short and sweet, but it grew out of my control after a while. I’m a perfectionist and wanted to rewrite everything. I made minor edits and am posting it anyway or it’ll sit in my drafts forever; I admit I put the most effort into Lucifer’s, forgive me. Also sorry for the repetitiveness and any typos you may find. I decided to write how the brothers would comfort MC during a panic attack, especially as someone who suffers from anxiety and panic attacks themselves. Honestly, I wrote this as a way to comfort myself since I’ve been dealing with terrible anxiety lately. Of course, everyone experiences anxiety differently, so I can only speak from my own experiences. I didn’t go into detail when it comes to the symptoms themselves because it’s from the point of view of the brothers and only so many are visible to the eye. Trigger warning for depictions of anxiety and panic attacks. Thank you for reading!

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worst. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your wellbeing of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice low, soothing, he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, providing you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist in this moment, his gaze not leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers’ faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders. One he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the façade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. Furthermore, you lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stung. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best effort to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay, knowing he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core, blood running cold. Yeah, he should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him? He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffer through Hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side then know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin unnaturally warm, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you, okay—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How in the Devildom did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy lmao.

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely winded, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out a sorry. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced with worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means to stay by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end, when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan thankful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dares to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go without punishment either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has levelled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself. He loves his brothers. But loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices travelling up the stairs, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries down the hall and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed sorry, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what. Even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #my writing

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yandere-daydreams · 3 years

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TIL there are bug fuckers. I also just realized that the idea of a yandere spider is genuinely terrifying to me. Literally just a regular ol spider, following you around, watching you sleep, climbing into your bed... ive finally found yandere fiction that scares me

tw - stalking, mentions of animal death, isolation, threats of violence, implied abduction.

I am a simple monster-fucker. I see the words ‘spider’ and ‘yandere’ in the same paragraph, and my mind goes places. Feel free to shame me for the outcome.

I just think it’d be sweet, on the surface. Not so much a normal spider, but a drider, a half-human half-insect abomination that’s far too big and far too imposing to move so silently and you, a temporary hermit, someone who’s already wandered a little too far into the wilderness and lingered for a little too long, despite how little sunlight breaches the forest’s canopy. It doesn’t matter why you’re isolating yourself, if you’re keeping the rest of society at a distance for your own sake of everyone else’s, if you’re only dipping your toes into seclusion or devoting yourself to it entirely, not if you’re alone, not after you’ve caught the attention of your silent admirer. Not after you let yourself acknowledge that the eyes burning into the back of your neck, too intense and too many to be human, might be something a little more real than a symptom of an unoccupied imagination.

They’re watching you, constantly. Following you, nipping at your heels, barely bothering to hide when you think to glance over your shoulder and try to catch a glimpse of the presence constantly looming just behind you, just close enough to let you know that they’re there. It was easy enough to ignore, at first, to write off as lingering nerves and the new, familiar paranoia that came with moving to a place where your closest neighbor is half a day’s drive away, but that kind of melancholy optimism becomes more difficult when weeks pass and the gentle terror fails to fade, when you become too aware of the local flora and fauna to tell yourself the strange tracks circling your cabin are just a lost rabbit or a particularly distressed bird, when you finally admit it just isn’t possible that a deer did that much damage to your front door, however much you’d like to believe that you were only dealing with a few scared animals. They’re not scared. You haven’t decide if they’re an animal yet, if you’re willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and convince yourself they’re only acting out of instinct, but they’re not scared. They can’t be scared. They aren’t scared.

If they were scared, they wouldn’t act like that. If they were scared, they’d be deturbed when you lock your window, they’d learn to keep their distance when you replace your locks with deadbolts, they’d run back to whatever web or den or cavern they call home rather than just moving out of sight, rather than just buying their time until go back to pretending you're not being stalked by some hulking, unseen thing. They wouldn't leave you such macabre gifts, the bodies of mutilated creatures all-but drained dry, and they wouldn't feel so comfortable letting themself inside your home, inside your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed while they think you're asleep and simply watching, staring, never touching you aside from a few gentle, fleeting strokes to your cheek, small things, gestures of affection they've stolen away from what little of humanity they've seen. They wouldn't try to smile like that, to mirror the expressions you've long-since learned to keep from them. They wouldn't care so little for your fear, your terror, even if they've never done anything more follow in your tracks when you try to hide yourself away.

Even if they've never done anything more bring you back, when you try to run away.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere theory #general

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firstfullmoon · 4 years

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Do you have favorite quotes related about the importance of small details?

“The precious intimacy of little things.”

— Daphné du Maurier, I Will Never Be Young Again

“On my windowsill when I got home, there was a tumbler with pink jelly in it, and embedded in the jelly, sliced strawberries and bananas… [my neighbour] cooks at odd hours. She must have made the strawberry jelly this morning. When I buy baklava, which is not often because I eat too many, I leave a few for her on her windowsill, with a headscarf over them so the wasps don’t come. For these little gifts we don’t thank each other with words. They are commas of care.”

— John Berger, From A to X: A Story in Letters

“I suppose I could spend time theorizing how it is that people are not bad to each other, but that’s really not the point. The point is that in almost every instance of our lives, our social lives, we are, if we pay attention, in the midst of an almost constant, if subtle, caretaking. Holding open doors. Offering elbows at crosswalks. Letting someone else go first. Helping with the heavy bags. Reaching what’s too high, or what’s been dropped. Pulling someone back to their feet. Stopping at the car wreck, at the struck dog. The alternating merge, also known as the zipper. This caretaking is our default mode and it’s always a lie that convinces us to act or believe otherwise. Always.”

“One of the woman was gently arranging an older woman’s collar beneath her sweater, freeing it from the cardigan’s neck, using both of her hands to jostle it free but also seeming to spend a little more time than necessary, creasing the fold of the collar, the other hand kind of resting on her shoulder, the two of them chatting the whole time, sitting there holding each other, nodding, my head twisting toward them like a sunflower as I finished the stairs and walked by, so in love was I with this common flourish of love, this everyday human light.”

“but her need to share the photo with me [...] smiling and looking at it, smiling and looking at me looking at it, me smiling and looking at her looking at it, which is simply called sharing what we love, what we find beautiful, which is an ethics.”

— Ross Gay, The Book of Delights

“He’s got a fever. He’s all alone. So I’m gonna buy him something to eat.” “The congee downstairs is quite good.” “He doesn’t want congee.” “What does he want?” “Can’t taste anything so he wants sesame syrup.” [...] “What are you cooking?” “I had a sudden craving for sesame syrup.”

“Why did you call me at the office today?” “I had nothing to do. I wanted to hear your voice.”

— In the Mood for Love, dir. Wong Kar-Wai

— Danusha Laméris, “Small Kindnesses”

“It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.”

— Laura McBride, We Are Called to Rise

“I’ve never told you this,” she said. “But there’s something about taking the cart back instead of leaving it in the parking lot. I don’t know when this came to me; it was a few years ago. There’s a difference between leaving it where you empty it and taking it back to the front of the store. It’s significant.” “Because somebody has to take them in.” “Yes. And if you know that, and you do it for that one guy, you do something else. You join the world…You move out of your isolation and become universal.”

— Andre Dubus, “Out of the Snow”

“It’s true that, in Vietnamese, we rarely say I love you, and when we do, it is almost always in English. Care and love, for us, are pronounced clearest through service: plucking white hairs, pressing yourself on your son to absorb a plane’s turbulence and, therefore, his fear. Or now—as Lan called to me, “Little Dog, get over here and help me help your mother.” And we knelt on each side of you, rolling out the hardened cords in your upper arms, then down to your wrists, your fingers. For a moment almost too brief to matter, this made sense—that three people on the floor, connected to each other by touch, made something like the word family.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel

— Ada Limón, from “The Great Blue Heron of Dunbar Road”

“I’m doing a balancing act with a stack of fresh fruit in my basket. I love you. I want us both to eat well.”

— Christopher Citro, from “Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled WIth Shrieks”

“One of the primary ways we connect with each other is by eating together. Some of the connection happens simply by being in the same place at the same time and sharing the same food, but we also connect through specific actions, such as serving food to one another or making toasts: ‘May I offer you some potatoes?’ ‘Here’s to your health and happiness.’ Much of our fundamental well-being comes from the basic reassurance that there is a place for us at the table. We belong here. Here we are served and we serve others. Here we give and receive sustenance.”

— Edward Espe Brown, Tomato Blessings and Radish Teaching

“Attention is the beginning of devotion.”

“Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong, I know it, if I don’t keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis with the greatest respect.”

“it is a serious thing

just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”

— Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays / from “Invitation”

— Wendy Cope, “The Orange”

“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye, “Gate A4″

“Then there are the things, if you are particularly lucky, that this person has done for you while you’re away: how in the pantry, in the freezer, in the refrigerator will be all the food you like to eat, the scotch you like to drink. There will be the sweater you thought you lost the previous year at the theater, clean and folded and back on its shelf. There will be the shirt with its dangling buttons, but the buttons will be sewn back in place. There will be your mail stacked on one side of his desk; there will be a contract for an advertising campaign you’re going to do in Germany for an Austrian beer, with his notes in the margin to discuss with your lawyer. And there will be no mention of it, and you will know that it was done with genuine pleasure, and you will know that part of the reason—a small part, but a part—you love being in this apartment and in this relationship is because this other person is always making a home for you, and that when you tell him this, he won’t be offended but pleased, and you’ll be glad, because you meant it with gratitude.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

#this is a mim supremacy account #w #compilation #the precious intimacy of little things #john berger #hanya yanagihara #naomi shihab nye #wendy cope #mary oliver #ada limón #ocean vuong #danusha laméris #ross gay

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halpertstuna · 4 years

Text

someone to stay - jj maybank pt.2

summary: an abandoned child who felt unwanted since day one got adopted once again and was required to move to the outer banks to live with a lovely elderly woman, but just as she started to feel happy, something had to go wrong and as a result she took a job where she met none other than the blond busboy, jj maybank.

A/N: this is part the second part of my imagine “someone to stay”, if you haven’t read part one yet you can read it here

paring: jj x reader

word count: 2,171

warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of cancer, death, mentions of abandonment, almost a panic attack? probably typos

-> masterlist <-

{2/2}

(gif credit: @sebastianstahn )

The next morning you were woken up by the ringing of your phone.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice raspy. “Hi, am I speaking with Y/N Y/L/N?” a woman’s voice chimed on the other side of the line.

“You are” you replied still half asleep, trying to focus.

“I’m calling from the hospital, Dr. Brown has some news to give you about Noreen Lewis, but it’s not for the phone. Can you come here?”

As she spoke you felt your heart begin to pound out of your chest, is Noreen okay? What did she mean when she said it wasn’t for the phone?

“I- I’ll be right there” you blurted out hanging up.

You quickly brushed your teeth, showered without washing your hair, got changed and ran to the hospital.

When you got there you went up to the receptionist’s desk, asking for Dr. Brown.

You were told to go to Noreen’s room, Dr. Brown waited outside the door for you and ushered you to the chairs in front of the room. He signaled you to sit down and you hesitantly obeyed.

You tapped your foot rapidly whilst looking at him anxiously, waiting for him to talk as you played with the ring on your finger, the one Noreen gave you for your sixteenth birthday.

“there really isn’t an easy way to say this...” he started, “the chemotherapy... it wasn’t affecting the way it was supposed to-“ “what do you mean it wasn’t affecting?!” You interrupted cutting him off, your face and body radiating off infuriation and disappointment.

He continued “we did another MRI scan and found out the cancer had already progressed to stage 3B by the time we started treatment”.

You were overwhelmed, in absolute shock, you didn’t know what to say.

An exasperated look spreading across your features entangled with sorrow.

He gave you a sympathetic look, which only irritated you more.

Growing up as a child that was abandoned by their mother, meant always being pitied and looked at with sad eyes and as much as you hated it, you eventually got used to it.

But this time was different.

This time you felt absolutely useless, you despised it.

Him giving you that look only made it worse.

“Where is she? I want to see her.” You seethed through greeted teeth and furrowed your eyebrows once you noticed how much remorse his eyes held.

“Now.” Your voice firm and filled with rage as you got up.

You followed him into the room and rushed to her bed, she was asleep. “When she wakes up, it’ll probably be a good time to bid your goodbyes” Dr. Brown calmly noted exiting the room.

You sat next to her bed until it got dark, crying as you watched her sleep, lost in your thoughts.

It reminded you of that one stormy night when you were 12 and couldn’t fall asleep due to the noise of thunders, so you snuck into Noreen’s room.

You didn’t want to wake her up, but didn’t want to be alone either so as a result you just sat on the small mint coloured sofa chair near the bed, while you watched her sleep.

About half an hour later she woke up, looking at you.

“Hey” she rubbed her eyes “how long have you been sitting there?” You shrugged. “Were you watching me sleep? Cause it’s kinda creepy” she mentioned sarcastically and you snickered.

“Well, are you gonna keep sitting there or join me, muffin? I guarantee you the bed is more comfortable”.

She shifted making space for you and you quickly climbed into the bed, tucking yourself under the comforter.

You fell asleep right away, knowing you were safe.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a cough, her eyes slowly flattered open and you shifted in your seat the second you noticed she was awake.

“Hey...” you whispered with a faint smile.

She mirrored it and you felt your heart swell, even in times like these, her smile still managed to melt it.

“I’d ask how you’re feeling but that’s a stupid question” you tried laughing at your comment but instead a sob escaped your lips.

She lifted up her shaking hand and rested it on your cheek, wiping the fresh tears with her thumb

“d-don’t cry, I want my last view to be your beautiful smile” she mumbled and you giggled, nodding your head.

“Does it hurt?” You asked. “A bit” she replied nonchalantly, as if she had only fallen down slightly scraping her knee and wasn’t on the verge of death.

You reached out and held her hand in yours. You couldn’t help but shed another tear, knowing she was in pain.

“All I ever wanted since the moment I met you, was to make sure you knew how loved and cared about you are. How worthy you are of a beautiful life. I hope you know that.” You sniffed and nodded.

“I’ve lived a spectacular, full life. And I am thankful for every moment. I’ve had the privilege of knowing you, getting to watch as you turned from an inverted child who isolated her heart from all of humanity, into this incredible, caring, not to mention immensely funny and talented young woman. Who is honest, never afraid to say what’s on her mind and is completely selfless. And for that, I am thankful.”

The tears you desperately tried holding back were now streaming down your face.

“It’s ok, everything’s gonna be okay” she said in a calming tone squeezing your hand but you averted your gaze from her, unable to face her. “hey, look at me” her words soft, you turned to her with puffy red eyes, you didn’t want her to go.

“I’m going to be okay. And so are you. You’re going to achieve everything you want. Don’t be afraid to let people in my love, and from what you told me, I better be seeing you with that JJ living the happily ever after you deserve” you chuckled in tears.

She let out a series of loud coughs and you felt your heart sink.

She looked up at you with loving eyes “I’m going to join Jasper now, and I’ll tell him all about the daughter I was blessed with” you held her hand tighter as if it would keep her here, with you.

“We’ll be watching you, making sure you’re okay. I’m ready to let go now. I will always, always love you muffin” she confirmed and you nodded quickly “I love you too, thank you for everything, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you” you sobbed out.

She smiled at your words, then closed her eyes.

You felt the grip on your hand loosen, a few seconds later an audible, long beep came from the ECG.

You refused to believe the scenario in front of you, you had to get out of there.

You sprinted out of the hospital stepping into the cold, dark night.

You started running, you didn’t know where, you just knew you had to leave.

A series of heartbreaking sobs left your slightly parted quivering lips, rocking your body as you felt your heart crumble into a million pieces.

Your vision was blurry from tears and you couldn’t see a thing.

Out of breath you came to a halt, resting your hands on your knees as you tried stopping the tears.

Your chest heaving, your breathing only intensified as you felt rain drops fall on your skin.

You didn’t even notice you were stood outside your house until you looked up. The rain got stronger and the wind blew through your now wet clothes.

You were a sobbing wreck. You grasped the hem of your shirt in pain, balling your hand into a fist and felling to the ground, the other hand tangled in the roots of your hair, pulling slightly.

You felt helpless, cold and alone, that was until two arms wrap around your small frame, shielding you from the rain.

Your eyes darted up in fear, but once you recognised the scent of JJ’s cologne which you memorised from all the times he drove you home, you relaxed in his touch.

“it’s okay, it’s just me” he cooed rubbing circles on the small of your back. you cried into his chest in which you found comfort.

“It’s not fare” you whimper, gasping for air.

You couldn’t breath, you felt your chest heat up.

You started choking, coughing as the air just didn’t seem to find it’s way to your lungs.

“Hey hey hey, look at me” he demanded in a hush tone, holding your shoulders in arm length, “everything’s going to be okay, you just have to breath” you looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language.

He pulled you back to him, placing your head on his chest which rose and fell in a steady pace “breath with me” he stroked your hair gently.

It was hard but after a few minutes you managed to steady your breathing back to normal.

He helped you up and into the house, then let you shower and change into dry clothes, whilst he sat on the other side of the door.

He was too scared to leave you alone, but still respected your privacy.

When you finished, JJ took the liberty to make you hot chocolate and you wrapped yourself in a blanket plopping down on the couch with him beside you.

“Thank you” you broke the silence, “anytime” he gave you a closed mouth smiled.

“what were you doing here anyway?” you questioned.

“I was really worried after last night and when you didn’t show up for work today I knew something was wrong, so I finished my shift and came straight here to check up on you” you looked at him with a surprised expression as he confirmed he genuinely cared.

‘Don’t be afraid to let people in’ the words echoed through your mind.

You scooted closer to him on the couch and hugged his side. He didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you and hold you close.

“My best friend died tonight. She was all I had. She saved me but I couldn’t save her. When I was ten she adopted me and a few weeks ago she got sick. I took this job to pay for treatment but unfortunately, it didn’t help. She didn’t deserve this. And now I’m alone again. This is why I don’t let people in... they always leave.” You spoke through unshed tears.

He only held you tighter, clueless of how to respond. He knew how it felt; being unwanted, distancing yourself from others to avoid the ache you feel when they leave.

“I know how it feels, you’re lost and hurting right now, it’s okay” He showed you empathy, “and I promise, i will never leave you”.

And for the first time in a while, you felt relieved, not alone. His words gave you hope and that was a promise he intended to keep.

“Do you want to tell me about her?” He asked squeezing your shoulder gently, you didn’t even know where to start.

You went on a rant, telling so many stories and memories.

“She sounds amazing” he noted “she was” you remarked.

“Too bad I didn’t get to meet her” he regretted his words the second they left his mouth, afraid he said the wrong thing.

“She said the same thing about you!” Your voice slightly louder than you intended.

“Oh so you talked to her about me? What else did you say?” A self-satisfied smirk played across his face as he tried to lighten the mood, succeeding.

“Don’t let it go to your head Maybank” you warned nudging him lightly, an amused laugh escaped his throat.

The two of you talked for hours, it was nearly 3am and you started feeling drowsy.

“Will you stay?” You pleaded “I’m tired of being alone”.

“Of course” he swiftly responded “I’d never leave you” he promised.

You didn’t bother going to your room. He laid down on the couch and you placed your head on his chest.

His hands found your waist and you found home in each others embrace.

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a bit longer than he should, and you dozed off in his arms to the sound of his heartbeat.

The sight of your smaller figure wrapped around his looked so natural to him. He couldn’t comprehend how someone could leave you.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed it was morning.

Your eyes flattered open and you greeted him with a croaky “hey”.

A smile spread across his face as he greeted you back.

“Were you watching me sleep? Cause it’s kinda creepy” you sarcastically marked and he chuckled.

The two of you gazed silently into each other’s eyes for a few minutes before both falling asleep.

He helped you through your highs and lows after Noreens death, always by your side. He was there for you when you needed someone the most, someone to stay.

And he did.

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drxwsyni · 4 years

Text

Yandere Mirio Togata x quirkless!f!Reader x Tamaki Amajiki

Anonymous asked: “I recently read your headcannons for poly yandere Tamaki and Miro. They were so good!! I was wondering if you could do a one shot about their darling escaping for over a week and is finally letting her guard down. Maybe while at the store the two yanderes finally find her. (Maybe the punishment that ensues afterward). Female quirkless reader if you will. Keep up the amazing work!”

a/n: im sorry this took so long! i have a lot of requests that are really time consuming along with my other fics right now but i swear everything that’s sent in so far will be completed. And thank you anon! I actually really like this pairing so i’m glad people are asking more of it :)

_____

Isolation (2.3k words)

_____

One week.

Seven whole days without the smothering presence of the two so called ‘heroes’ who’d delusionally kept you under lock and key without rest.

The smiles and reassuring sentiments they offered did little to calm the fear you had for the men. No matter how much they declared their devotion to your safety and general well being, nothing could hide the undenying brutality they were capable of should you ever slip up.

You’d seen them in action before. On the news or in a social media coverage―during the time prior to meeting them―demonstrating the extent of their quirks. Their personalities were so gentle, almost as if to distract from the severeness of their abilities. And for the general public, it did the trick.

It did it for you too.

The warmth to their compassion was irresistible. The worst part about it was how genuine it was―and still is. You would be gladly basking in their affection even in the present if it weren’t for the predicament they’d placed you in after you ever so foolishly opened up to them.

The realization on their end should’ve been nothing to think twice about. It came in an idle conversation one day―the fact that you were quirkless.

They’d already grown fairly protective of you since that fateful day in which they worked together to rescue you and your coworkers from a hostage situation. But after getting to know you more, and subsequently coming across this detail, the change was like day and night.

You didn’t even see it coming. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, wrists cuffed together with a long metal chain attached, padlocked to the headboard of a king sized bed. When you found out who the guilty party of this transgression was, you knew better than to fight tooth and nail despite everything in your being wanting to.

No, it was about outsmarting them. They were stronger―so much stronger. You wouldn’t stand a chance against one, let alone both Mirio and Tamaki. It came down to biding your time.

Fighting the bile in the back of your throat, you let them have their way. The two of them were smothering.

Mirio was a little more lenient. He spent a lot of time around you, but somewhere in his dysfunctional mind was the notion that you needed your space...sometimes. His downsides came in the form of a tight grip around your frame that threatened to squeeze the air from your chest and keep it out. More than once had it left you pitifully begging him to loosen his hold even in the slightest.

As for Tamaki, he was much gentler with his affection. You were allowed the space to breath, but it didn’t mean much when you could almost never pry the man off of you when he was around. Clingy was an understatement―he treated you more like a pampered pet than an actual human.

Together, they were suffocating. You’d never seen such a display of diligence until being forced into the confines of their home. There left absolutely no room for error on their part―something you became keenly aware of.

So, rather than brute forcing your way to freedom, you resolved to lure them into trust the way they’d done with you.

The ordeal took ages, and your will to go through with your plans was ashamedly growing weaker each day. But finally you’d caught them slipping up under the pretence that you weren’t watching their every move like a hawk.

First it was the passcode to the computer in the living room―to disarm the house’s security system, the cameras along with it. After that it was a matter of getting your hands on the spare keys to the locks, both those around your wrists and the digital ones keeping the front door shut. This feat proved to be significantly harder, but one of them was bound to falter eventually.

You’d never felt so grateful to Mirio as he carelessly left his keys on the side table in the entrance in favour of scooping you up in his arms and settling on the couch with you instead. And he left them there as he quickly went to change out of his work attire in his bedroom―just enough time for you to pry the spares off the metal keyring and pocket them for yourself.

They hated leaving you alone and without supervision, a worry that Tamaki held more than Mirio, so it left the window for escape impossibly small. But you jumped on the opportunity the second it came.

For some ungodly reason neither of them picked up on the missing keys.

Your luck must have been coming to existence all at once, as not soon after they were forced to be apart from you at the same time for particularly demanding hero work―not that you cared.

You’d gone over the plan in your head just about a million times, so when the moment finally came your body acted without pause.

The cuffs fell from your wrists. The computer was unlocked and the failsafes were shut down. A backpack was shoved with supplies―clothing, money, food―and then the front door was opened. You stepped outside for the first time in months, you’d lost track of how many.

From then on it was just about running, putting as much distance in between you and that dreaded house as possible. When you finally reached the city, you didn’t even bother going to the police. They wouldn’t believe you, not when it came to two of the most upstanding young heroes out there.

Instead you went to the nearest train station, purchasing a ticket for whichever one was next for departure.

You did that a few more times in whichever town you were dropped off at until you reached the limit for how much money you were willing to spend on traveling. Now it was about holing up in some cheap motel until you could scrounge up the cash elsewhere to keep distancing yourself.

By the end of your first week you were still left with the same sum of money as you were when you got there. The weight of your fear was enough to keep you inside. But you couldn’t live off of overpriced room service and the remaining energy bars from that glorified prison forever.

As much as the prospect of leaving the safety of your room terrified you, the thought of starving to death wasn’t any more appealing. You weren’t hungry yet, but the food would only last for another day―maybe less. It was regrettably the most rational option, should you not want to run out of the little money you had.

It was supposed to be quick. There was a convenience store just ten minutes from the motel. You would grab the cheapest options there and make a beeline back to the dingy building you were stationed in.

You felt their presence before you saw them.

A large, strong arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back into a broad chest. Mirio.

And then came the visual confirmation in the form of Tamaki walking out to stand in front of you―too closely for your comfort.

“What’s our little angel doing all the way out here?” Mirio’s voice was lighthearted, but you could hear the distinct lowness, threatening.

You couldn’t move, frozen in place by gut wrenching fear.

Tamaki took both your hands in his own, a grip that could crush bones if he applied even a little more pressure. “Do you know how long it took us to find you? I-I thought―”

“But she’s here now, right? And because she knows what’s best for her she’ll be good and come home with us.” His voice was near centimeters from your ear, sending a shiver up and down your spine.

You didn’t wait this long to be free from them to just give up so easily.

“I’m not going back.”

Mirio gave your hip a small squeeze, a nonverbal warning followed by the real thing. “You know we’d never hurt you baby. Not unless you forced us.”

“B-but we’re not against hurting the people in this store. They’d never find out it was us and you know that.”

Of course, they were too smart to leave a trail back to them, or back to you. And in an instant that strong defiance you once held vanished into thin air, replaced with pure dread.

“P-please don’t do this. You don’t need to do that, just―”

“That’s right, sunshine. We don’t need to hurt anyone. We just need you to come home, you can do that for us, right?”

Like you had a choice.

The blond was already pulling you towards to exit before you could respond. Tamaki hadn’t let go of his death grip either, and you weren’t about to fight him.

Instead you kept your eyes trained on the ground, head hung as if even looking at another person might have them thinking you were about to ask for help. Tears were silently falling from your eyes as they led you back to their car parked outside the convenience store.

“We’re so glad you’re okay sweetheart. You know how dangerous it can be without us to protect you.”

Tamaki was silent as he opened the back door for you, his partner doing all the talking.

The town you were in felt abandoned, especially now that you were off to the side parking lot of the rundown store. So there was nobody to witness the two men carting you off to that wretched place they called your home.

Nobody to witness when the blonde behind you covered your face in a white rag that was alarmingly sweet-smelling.

The ride home would be long, he said. No need to put you through any more stress today.

Before you knew it your limbs grew heavy, brain muddled with inescapable exhaustion. They didn’t even give you the chance to argue over the matter, but then again, it’s nothing they hadn’t done before.

_____

It was cold―so undeniably cold.

The concrete left your body aching when you came to. Your clothing had been replaced with shorts and a tank top―showing that they were still generous enough not to leave you completely defenceless.

You were in a room you didn’t recognize, questioning whether or not the two even brought you back. It was barren: grey walls, a bucket in the corner, illuminated by a single ceiling light that you couldn’t locate the switch to. Lastly, there was the heavy metal door that served as the only exit to the suffocatingly small enclosure.

And there was no handle, or observable locks.

The only sound was that of your own heartbeat as the thudding grew more intense with each passing second.

It stayed like that for ages. Left with the company of your own mind, the isolation began eating away at you quicker than you could’ve ever anticipated.

At this point you assumed this was how they were choosing to deal with your behaviour, but the absence of that clarification was worse than the initial shock by far. It made you paranoid.

Not even the hunger eating away at your stomach was enough to distract you.

Or the extreme drought in your mouth from dehydration.

Or the sharp pain in your tailbone from having remained unmoving from your spot in the corner.

When the sound of footsteps finally could be heard leading up to the doorway, you almost thought that you were hearing things.

The lock shifted in the metal compartments, echoing off the walls.

You would’ve stood up to greet whoever was behind the doors, but the pain that was spreading down your back, coupled with the sensation of your lower limbs falling asleep long ago prevented this.

The door creaked open, and you hated that you felt an ounce of gratitude to see that it was in fact Mirio and Takami who’d put you in this god forsaken room.

The blond started forward ever so slightly while his counterpart remained at the frame of the doorway.

You still feared the men, even though they’d done nothing to physically hurt you―at least until now. So you remained huddled in the corner, arms wrapped defensively around your legs as Mirio stalked over to your form, crouching down at your side.

“You know why you're down here, right?” A rhetorical question, all three of you knew the situation well.

“We don’t want to do this, but you need to learn you can’t just run off like that.” Tamaki’s voice was quiet, like he hated locking you up more than you hated being locked up.

Out of habit you kept your mouth shut. You’d held out for this long while still retaining your sanity, what was a little longer?

“This isn’t a punishment, sunshine. It’s more like...a lesson. You’ll stay here for a bit so you can learn that what you did was wrong, okay?” He reached out and patted your head, as if that would make you feel any better.

It baffled you how he could keep a smile even when subjecting you to such inhumane conditions. But you chalked it up to insanity as clearly neither he nor Tamaki had an ounce of an idea of how wrong this was.

There was a long moment of silence, the two likely waiting for a response which you had none to give. You couldn’t fight them, or talk them out of their plans.

You should’ve ran farther.

The blond stood up from his crouched position, walking back over to his partner.

“We’ll be back in a few hours so you can eat, don’t miss us too much!” Joyful as ever, Mirio led his partner out of room, motioning to close the door before pausing.

“Just know that we love you, okay? We’re doing this for you.”

You could just barely hear Tamaki’s voice before the door slowly closed shut. There was the sound of the locks once again, falling into place.

And then the lights went out.

But you told yourself that you would get through this. You had to.

Because you were scared of what would become of you if you started to enjoy their affection.

#yandere bnha #yandere mirio #yandere tamaki #yandere mirio togata #yandere tamaki amajiki #yandere my hero academia #yandere lemillion #yandere suneater

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my-own-oracle · 4 years

Text

Touched Starved

@rossomirage requested prompt 50 with Rung! Thank you so much for the ask, Sweetspark. I was so excited to write this. I don't have an ask limit per person. But thank you for asking. I hope you enjoy this monster of a drabble.

Your arm throbbed and a feeling over overwhelming sadness consumed you. Until today you had never understood what it had meant to be touched starved. Now after a month of every bot on the Lost Light refusing to touch you that was the only way you could describe how you felt.

You knew none of it was because they didn't care. It was because they all cared about you that they had isolated you. The crew had been hit with the reality that you were, in fact, still human. A breakable and small human. About a month ago Rodimus, in an excited state, had hurriedly lifted you off the ground. In the process, he had broken the radius in your dominant arm.

Ratchet had scolded the co-captain like a sparkling, yelling so loud you could hear him from the back of the infirmary. Ultra Magnus had issued a report within minutes instructing all bots to treat you with the utmost care until you had fully healed.

While you appreciate the thought, that line of action had led to the current situation. Nearly every Cybertronian had decided to give you a ten-foot radius at all times, and even your closest friends refused to touch you. Everyone feared they would bring more injury to your organic frame. You went from being a comrade to a glass doll.

Back on Earth humans touched all the time; even little accidental brushes helped fight off the feelings of loneliness and depression. The prolonged period with nearly no contact from another living being had begun to take effect on your mental state slowly. You felt alone, despite the constant pings and conversations.

You adjusted the quilt around your shoulders, trying to mimic the feeling of someone hugging you. It was a pathetic attempt, but all you could manage. You stared at a wall, mind filling with thoughts of your old home. Your mother would have hugged you, telling you how she felt awful knowing her baby was hurting, your father would have clasped your shoulder with his large hand and told you to muscle through the pain.

Your brain registered voices speaking behind you, but you couldn't focus on what they were saying. You knew one of the voices belonged to Ratchet; the head medic had been checking in on you for the past few days.

“This is all she does, stare at walls and cling to herself.” you wished you hadn't started paying attention. Like you needed a reminder that you looked as pathetic as you felt. “I can confirm she's eating, and she's getting proper rest. (Y/N) healing physically, but mentally I believe something else is wrong.”

“Thank you for calling me.” Rung’s voice sent an ache through your heart. The heavy falls of pedes signaled Ratchets departure. The door hydraulics sounded, letting you know you and Rung where now alone. Clinging to the quilt, you shrank in on yourself.

“Rung, I'm fine. It's just a human thing.” you sounded more confident then you felt. Slowly you stood and turned around. “Once everything is back to normal I’ll be fine.” you tried to smile, but you could tell it didn't reach your eyes.

“(Y/N), if this is a genuine ‘human thing’ as your friend I would like to understand it better.” Rung slowly stepped forward, only a pace or two before stopping, still living a large gap between you and himself. “Sadly my dear, I'm not a mind reader. I need you to tell me what's happening in that processor of yours.”

You shifted, Rung was trying so hard, and you knew he would never want you to be hurting. But after all the warnings, you doubted he'd be willing to help. “Humans need physical touch, I don't remember the science behind it, but we need it.” Rungs optics softened, and his frame seemed to relax.

“How can I help you then?” Slowly Rung came forward. Squatting down to be eye level with the counter you stood on. Those beautiful optics so full of love, pleading for you to be honest with him.

“Can you just hold me?”

A servo came to cradle you from behind. As Rung nudged you forward, His other servo gently scooped you up and brought you to his chassis. You felt the warmth of his spark radiating through the cold metal. An odd sensation but it was just the thing you needed.

“Humans...require physical contact?” You could tell the mech was genuine in his curiosity. His voice vibrated through his frame, in turn vibrating through yours.

“Yeah, if we don't have it, we can get really screwed up.” Your stomach dropped a little as Rung abruptly moved his servos, gently placing you on his shoulder before being to walk towards the door.

“Ah, Rung. Where are we going?” You used your uninjured arm to hold yourself against his shoulder.

“We're going to my hab-unit. I believe my holoform will be more useful in this situation.” Rung gently nuzzled you with the side of his helm. “Once I am your size it will be easier to hold you,”

You hugged Rung the best you could despite your position. “Thank you, ”

“Think nothing of it, my dear, after all, I would be honored to cuddle with my favorite human.”

#mtmte rung #transformers #transformers mtmte #rung x reader #more then meets the eye #old request #re-upload

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bluecoloreddreams · 4 years

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(Disclaimer: this contains spoilers for the Fruits Basket and Fruits Basket: Another manga, as well as taking into consideration tidbits from Takaya’s twitter.)

So, okay, first of all we have to address the YMMV aspect: Some people don’t like this ship. As long as they’re respectful, I have no beef with that. I’m well aware that some people cannot/choose not to make the distinction between “real life” and “fiction”— I have the luxury of this choice, so some of the “problematic” ships/character aspects within Furuba don’t bother me (for the most part). It’s fiction, and I’m aware of this.

Again, some people cannot/do not make this distinction, and that’s none of my business because that’s their personal life. I’m aware that people dislike aspects of Akigure, and that’s fine.

Personally? I’ve been reading Furuba since like, basically the dawn of time. I was reading scans on, like, MSN groups. I remember a friend at church (of all places) telling me about the Akito reveal because I was behind on updates. It’s literally engrained upon my shipping heart at this point.

(Headcanons ahoy! Like literally, this is all headcanon/my perspective on the series as a whole. YMMV/YKINMK/Dead Dove, the whole works, if you know you know

YES I wrote it like it’s an actual research paper because I have No Chill At All, please forgive me. It’s long and pretty rambling.)

Addressing the first elephant in the room: Given my limited interactions with the fandom, my impression of Akigure from a generalized fan POV is that it’s pretty divisive. Every episode she comes up there are “I hate this kid” comments and I cry

Akito is a favorite of mine, and it’s impossible for anime-only’s to make a deep, informed call on her character. On the other hand, a lot of manga-readers dislike her too.

So, why am I talking about whether or not people like Akito as a character?

I’m of the opinion that it impacts people’s ability to view her character arc as one that deserves a happy ending. That she doesn’t deserve to have love, happiness, or forgiveness, all of which are given to her when she and Shigure finally end up together on equal footing. (Do I think the way it’s rushed in the original Furuba ending? Yeah, but hey. Sensei had like a huge ensemble cast to wrap ends on. Now there’s Furubana to look to and it’s just chef’s kiss.)

There’s a mental aspect in this, involving the dichotomy between “reality” and “fiction”.

There is absolutely zero argument that are a lot of things that Akito does that uh, listen, if it was IRL she’d be in jail! Jail for terror baby! Jail for life!

Fortunately, Fruits Basket is a work of fiction. These characters aren’t real, they’re idealized brushstrokes of human nature created to move a plot and a message along.

That’s why Akito and Shigure work as a couple and as characters:

They’re both incredibly deep characters that get passed off as one-dimensional by a lot of people (and the original anime, woof). Some of it is again, because anime-only fans just don’t have the whole story, since Akito’s arc is one that builds gradually until it hits a point where all hell breaks loose, which we are a ways away from.

So what’s the message that their relationship and characters are supposed to pass on?

Well, it breaks down into two categories: world building and thematic arcs. The latter is more important and what I’ll be focusing on, while the former is just a little spice that I, personally enjoy, and won’t really talk about in depth. (It’s that the magical realism in Furuba sets up the idea of soulmates, it’s just…. Something I enjoy and it’s really heacanony, so I can’t really justify spending more words on it!)

When discussing Fruits Baskets in any capacity, I feel like we must first keep in mind the thematic “lessons” of the series:

There is an inherent loneliness in living as a human being, since loss, grief, and hurt are indelible parts of the human experience, and learning to cope with these feelings in a compassionate manner is a life-long lesson

People react differently to the loneliness of existence, and their reactions are based upon their personalities, their upbringings, and their own choices

Everyone is capable of change and learning, if they choose to do so, however:

Personal agency is taught, but in the vacuum of positive reinforcement, the ability of a person to choose to be compassionate is stifled or outright inaccessible

Therefore, if you are not taught to deal with your grief and existence outside of others, your ability to connect may become warped, manipulative, or abusive, and this is not the fault of the child but instead the parental figure

Eventually, you will be aware of your actions, and then it is your burden to choose—some people do not take this choice (the head maid, Ren, Kyo’s bio dad, Rin’s parents, Sawa’s mother in Furubana)

Abuse has long lasting effects on the psyche and can be physical, emotional, and/or mental in nature and must be dealt with in order to grow as a person

“Dealt with” does not mean that it goes away, but that it is acknowledged and given a positive outlet (Yuki’s garden, Aaya’s shop, Rin’s art, Momiji’s violin playing)

Forgiveness is not linear

Forgiving yourself is a long and arduous process, and happens independent of other people’s forgiveness

This is really brought to the forefront in Fruits Basket: Another, when Shiki talks about how his mother interacts with the rest of the Sohma family. It’s shown she’s done what she can to make amends, but recognizes that while she can individually hold relationships with certain family members, as a whole, it's best if she allows them to be away from her.

This is a whole tangent on its own, but there’s a certain blanket of casual forgiveness given to Akito by the entirety of the shown Zodiac in Furubana, in that they trust that she’s raised a kind and thoughtful son and allow him the grace of his own family.

Again, in Takaya’s tweets post-series that acknowledges that Akito’s friends with Uo-chan, despite her relationship with Kureno (and it shows a depth of awareness on Kureno’s part that he stays away

People flourish in environments where love and positive reinforcement is given freely, even when people are in the wrong

This doesn’t mean that no one is ever scolded: see Komaki and Kakeru, Kisa and Hiro, Hatori chews out Shigure all the time, but never ceases being his confidant

So okay, that’s A Lot. But every single character in Furuba follows these themes in their own manner, because the series is about healing and learning how to heal from abuse, neglect, and isolation. Someone’s gonna have to be doing it. Point blank, the end, to tell a story there must be conflict, and boy howdy, there’s a lot of conflict in Furuba. Every personal thematic arc in the series ends up tying into a romantic one, because Furuba is a romcom drama.

There’s a loop that goes “personal betterment”->”crush”/”friendship”->”conflict”->”personal growth”/”relationship growth” in the series for every character. That’s the bread and butter of Furuba.

But anyway. To the question:

I love them because they work, they’re both their own people with their own narrative focuses, motivations, conflicts, and flaws. Both Shigure and Akito are believable in their own right in the context of Furuba, and I think Takaya did wonderfully in crafting a story where their personalities mesh well and give each other reasons to better themselves.

To talk about them together, you have to talk about them separately.

I’m gonna start with Shigure because, truthfully?

I just want to lament about how often he’s simply passed off as either comic relief or absolute trash. He’s so underestimated!

“He’s a joke of a grown man… He is reliable and I trust him.” (Another, v. 3)

He’s incredibly intelligent when it comes to interpersonal relationships, which is why he’s able to do what he does. He’s also incredibly kind—no one made him take in Yuki or Kyo or Tohru. He could have just went “ah, I’d prefer not to” and moved on. But he didn’t, made up some bullshit so Haru would feel like taking in Yuki was a transaction, and let me just tell you, I am the same age as Shigure and if you gave ME three teenagers to be the guardian of?! It would be a full on disaster.

He’s actually incredibly trustworthy (if he wants to be), insightful, and a genuinely good guardian despite his jokes and wisecracking.

He forced Kyo to go back to school, knowing full well it would be good for him. He lets a whole host of children run rampant through his home. Kids who actually enjoy his presence. He’s shown as having a good familial relationship with Rin (who tries to warp that for her own means), Kisa, Haru, and Momiji. His advice to Tohru is genuine, insightful, and ridiculously helpful.

Shigure is good with people. He gets up at the crack of dawn to drive Shiki to see Sawa in Furubana. He’s who Mutsuki and Hajime immediately go “holy shit you need to do something about this” to when they find out Shiki’s getting nasty notes about Akito. He’s who Shiki goes to when Sawa fell down the stairs as a child. As much as Shiki and the others make fun of Shigure, he’s obviously someone who’s trustworthy. And that’s not some new development, he’s always been trustworthy in regards to those he loves. No one asked him to show up to Tohru’s teacher conference, he volunteered. Like this dude loves people, he’s the dog spirit after all, and rightly so.

Does he have his own motivations? Of course! But so does everyone else in Furuba. He’s a complex character, man!

He laughs and jokes a lot because he’s projecting this image of a laid back, doofus. When you think about who he’s friends with, the whole middling goofball act makes a lot of sense. Just like some of Ayame’s over the top behavior is a defense mechanism, I believe that Shigure casts himself as a generally unappealing man to keep himself safe from advances when he was in school, but also to temper the wildly unequal personalities of his other two friends. He’s the sort of person who would just go “eh, whatever makes it easy”, and that’s just how he is.

He doesn’t mean the creepy school girl thing, it’s a bit and I think the only people who don’t realize he’s running a bit are Yuki, Kyo, and Tohru who are absolutely too stupid to realize he’s playing them for reactions. He thinks it’s funny.

Anyway:

When the older Zodiac had the dream of Shigure, Shigure is the only one who made the active choice to seek out that feeling. His soul was touched, and he decided that he wanted that and only that. This doesn’t necessarily mean he went full Jacob from Breaking Dawn, but it does mean he acknowledged there was a bond, and he wanted it.

When you get into the technicalities of the curse, it’s mentioned that their Zodiac spirits influence how they interact with Akito, and that going against her can cause physical and emotional pain. Yuki cries when meeting her, and it’s mentioned that that’s just the normal reaction for the Zodiacs.

It’s hard to say how much of their early interactions are influenced by the curse, but it’s obvious that Shigure has genuine fondness for her. She wasn’t always absolutely broken, as shown in Yuki’s backstory, and was a precocious child, one who sought affection openly.

Shigure has an indulgent personality, and is shown to love being adored. Guess who loves him! Akito! Guess who wants lots and lots of affection! Akito!

Their personalities are very well matched as they get older: They’re both intelligent and coy. They both have fairly sharp tongues when needed, and have no qualms about doing whatever it takes to get what they want.

Shigure wants Akito to be independent from the curse. He’s made it clear to her he doesn’t want to be her father, he doesn’t want to be her friend, he wants to be her lover. Those are boundaries that Akito’s never been given before, and his frankness with her and his jealousy with Kureno is something she agonizes over, simply because she’s never been given any sort of serious interpersonal boundaries, or repercussions for her actions. He’s always kept himself separate from her, because of those boundaries, even when they were children.

That’s important. It opens the door to the idea that her actions have consequences, and is a persistent nagging in the back of her mind.

“Even though you hadn’t realized it, I was waiting for that day.” (ch 101)

For the bulk of the series, the only person who sees Akito as a person separate from the curse, and sees a future where she can grow is Akito. He has an extraordinary amount of patience for her, and forgives her for a lot.

There are only two incidents that Shigure cannot forgive: Her sleeping with Kureno, and at the very end of the series, I’m of the full opinion that if Akito had pushed Tohru off the cliff, Shigure would have been done with her. Look at that expression, that is the look of someone who is toeing the line of throwing away all his hopes and dreams. If she really had pushed Tohru, I just...... The series would have taken a much darker tone.

OKAY that’s enough about our favorite terrible author! (Okay, an aside, Shigure, please share your work ethic, you goof off so much but you’ve published so many things…how…)

ONTO AKITO!

“I’ve finally realized… she hated her own shallowness all this time, from the very start.” // “It’s frightening because you have no choices.” (ch 121)

A lot of people dislike Akito because she, for the bulk of the manga, is violent, manipulative and just downright unpleasant. And that’s fine, but it’s not the point of her arc or the themes of the manga. (It is, however, the point of Rin’s: you don’t have to forgive everyone.)

She’s not the only violent person in the series. If we as readers can forgive Uo-chan and Kyoko, or even Hana-chan for her moment of violence, why can we not extend the same grace to Akito?

Violence is often shown as a knee-jerk reaction to fear and sadness: Kyoko, Uo, Hana, Kyo, Rin, and Akito all react violently to negative situations and feelings. Even Kisa reacts violently when she’s at her worst, biting both Haru and Tohru when she’s in her tiger form, which is shown to actually cause pain like a real tiger would. (It’s played for laughs, but has anyone been bitten for realsies by a house cat? That hurts! How much more would a house-cat sized tiger hurt!!!)

Out of all of them, Hanajima and Kisa are the only characters to show immediate remorse, because they have what the others don’t: A positive support system. Once positive role models and support systems are in place, all of the others begin to learn how to react differently and ease out of the knee-jerk reactions that were ingrained in them.

It’s made explicit in the manga that you have to be taught how to react positively, you have to learn and choose to be good, to be friendly, to love yourself outside of others’ perceptions of yourself. Look at Yuki’s arc. Look at Uo-chan’s. Kyoko’s.

Yuki sums it up nicely in the last chapter of the manga, where he tells Tohru that she taught the Zodiac how to become human. She allows them to grow into people who can make the choice to be loving, compassionate individuals.

Just because Akito doesn’t interact positively with Tohru for the bulk of the manga, it doesn’t make it any less true:

Akito is kept in a juvenile state of being: No one teaches her to suck it up, that the world exists outside of herself, that other people are people and not things. In fact, she’s actively encouraged to act the way she does. She’s incredibly broken, between the maids of the Sohma estate just… allowing her to do whatever the fuck she wants and her absolutely jacked up relationship with Ren and Akira. She has no moral compass at all. No one bothers to teach her that her actions have serious consequences.

She knows, in a roundabout way that hey, these people don’t like me. There’s a serious mental dissonance between what she latently knows—these are all people with no connection to her other than the bond of the curse. This is why Tohru is able to break through to her at the climax of the manga:

She knows she’s wrong, but no one has ever told her she’s wrong but understood why she’s doing it. Akito just didn’t have the words to explain herself. What do children do when they cannot communicate? They lash out. Kids will bite, scratch, yell, kick, fall to the floor and have screaming tantrums out of frustration. Eventually, most kids learn that there are other ways to express frustration, and move along. (Not all, though, but most.)

Akito was taught that this is acceptable, allowable, and is her right as god. She is actively broken and kept that way through the neglect of the Sohma family maids, Ren’s abuse, and how Akira framed her role in the Zodiac.

I can go on and on and on and on why the way Akito was treated for her role in the Zodiac by her parents and the rest of the Sohma estate was just awful. I hate it, it’s terrible, she never had a chance to learn and grow and be the genuinely thoughtful woman we know she grows into.

She doesn’t force her path of forgiveness onto others and is fully cognizant of what she did, the repercussions of her actions, and lives her entire life after the curse breaks trying to right what she did wrong.

“Even if she gets hurt, she says she deserves it. She tells me not to let it bother me, but… I’ve always, always loved her so much.” (Another, ch. 13)

Tohru opens the door for Akito. She extends her hand, offers her friendship despite having seen the absolute worst of Akito. She tells Akito that everyone is lonely, everyone wants bonds, and acknowledges Akito’s worst fears, that Akito herself is selfish and dirty for wanting something assured and unending because she, Tohru, herself is dirty and selfish. Tohru knows what Akito has done, knows she’s injured some of her beloved friends, had plans to lock up Kyo, hurt Hatori.

Tohru still forgives her. One of Tohru’s striking traits in the manga is that she is suffering, every day, she struggles with the grief of losing her mother and the fear of being alone in the world. Through nothing but her own empathy and realization that loneliness is universal, she’s able to forgive people. She forgives Akito and cares for her, and through Tohru, Akito is introduced to the realization that she’s been wrong and that maybe, she shouldn’t be forgiven.

Shigure also forgives her, and this is the crux of their ship.

To me, that itself is wildly important.

They’ve always circled around each other, and Shigure has always been waiting for Akito to be able to come to him again, in full control of her life and choices. He wants Akito the woman, not Akito the god.

He’s been waiting for the day Akito can meet him as an equal. Akito wants it too, and has wanted him to turn and see her for a very very long time. But she’s been terrified, the entire time, that when he does see her as herself, Shigure won’t like what he sees, and will leave. She’s aware of what she’s done post-curse, she’s aware of the impacts it will have on the former Zodiac members, and she’s aware that once the “bonds” of god and the animals is gone, there may not be anyone left for her.

Neither of them are under any illusions at the end of the series: Akito knows she has to atone for what she did, Shigure knows she has to learn to grow into a person who can function alone. They both know that there are people who are against them changing the oppressive structure of the Sohma family.

Neither of them care. There are things that they want, together, and it’s enough. There’s a whole new world for them to explore and learn about. And in Furubana, this is shown to be a lifelong effort on their parts:

“She said after meeting me, she learned so many things for the first time. She smiled happily as she said it.” (Another, #13)

To close, I’d like to take a moment to talk about the curse and Shigure, and how he set things in motion.

Without Shigure, the curse would have devolved on its own, yes, but the circumstances would not have allowed for the freedom the Zodiac had at the end of the manga. It would not have ended with Akito being able to learn and live freely. Allowing Tohru into the Sohma family cracked open a door to compassion and kindness none of them had ever experienced before, because the Sohma family seems to exist in a vacuum of stability and love.

It wasn’t that Shigure knew instantly that Tohru was kind and loving and thoughtful, if anything, his read on her was “completely normal, albeit strange, teenage girl who obviously has a rough life”. But she was normal, she was from outside the Sohmas, and he knew that was enough. No one in the family was stepping up to change the status quo and how stifling and abusive it was, so he did it himself.

He did it because he loved Akito.

Not because he felt bad for himself, or Hatori, or any of the others, but merely because he loved her to the point of manipulation. It backfired in his face, because he got a big ol’ dose of “loving and respecting” juice from Tohru, but he still got the end he wanted.

What I mean to say is best summarized in chapter 123:

“It would be nice to live in a kind world, without any troubles, without any fear, without hurting anybody, without ever being hurt, only doing the right thing. I wish I could reach this kind world by the shortest path possible. … “That’s wrong”, or “that’s stupid”: If it’s someone else’s life it’s so easy to make such irresponsible comments. ...It would be great, but it doesn’t exist. … Little by little, walking one step at a time, is all you can do.”

We get to experience the roughest part of the path with Akito and Shigure, we got to watch them be terrible people who were lonely and in want of love struggle and learn how to get up and move on.

They tease each other, Shigure is thoughtful of the distinction between “the person Akito was raised to be” and “the person who Akito is”. He’s seen her at her messiest, and she’s seen him at his most jealous. They still chose each other, despite the hurt they caused each other, and others. They make up for it, reflect, and live a life that demonstrates that they have learned. They have friends who are thoughtful and loving and would not hesitate to drop everything and help them, lend an ear when they’re frustrated, help them not to make the same mistakes.

And then we get to see them be wonderful, kind, thoughtful, loving parents in Furubana.

We got to see their adorable, kind, compassionate child be friends with the children of the people Akito hurt, because everyone in the former Zodiac’s family collectively decided “never again, no”.

Their child adores them. Shiki in Furubana #13 radiates love for Akito and Shigure the same way Mutsuki and Hajime do.

They are genuinely good parents, even when they tease Shiki, and I think that is testament for how good they are for each other and how much they’ve changed as adults.

I think that’s enough of a reason to ship them, don’t you?

#Mitkun writes stuff #fruits basket manga spoilers #fruits basket another #fruits basket spoilers #akigure #fruits basket akito #fruits basket shigure

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Forty Two

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

September 30th, 1986

Emile crossed his arms and stared up at his dad, trying his hardest to not pout at what he was hearing. “Why do I have to forgive him?!” Emile asked.

His did sighed. “Emile, you don’t have to forgive him, but you can’t just keep ignoring him or running away when he tries to talk to you. That’s not good for you or him.”

“But if I talk to him again he’s gonna act like everything is normal again! And it’s not! He broke my Scooby-Doo lunchbox!” Emile said, and he was definitely pouting at this point.

“And he apologized. You don’t have to forgive him, but you can’t ignore him for the rest of your life, Emile,” his dad said. “Especially since you’re in the same class. You’ll run into each other a lot.”

September 3rd, 2001

Of course it had to happen this way, Emile thought sullenly. It was the first few days of his sophomore year of college, and Remy had been in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes. At this rate, Emile was going to be late for his classes. He knocked on the door. “Remy, come on, I need to use the bathroom too, you know!”

He didn’t get a response. Emile frowned, knocking again. The door and walls were thick, but not that thick. “Remy, let me in!”

Again, nothing. Emile listened closely and when he did, he heard the faint but unmistakable sound of heavy breathing. Right before there was a groan, and then easily-recognizable retching. Emile cringed. He was definitely not looking forward to using the bathroom right after Remy got sick.

There was faint flushing and then the sound of the water running at the sink, and Remy unlocked and opened the door. “Just be fast, please, I dunno when I’m gonna puke again.”

Emile silently moved Remy out of the way and closed the door, doing his business, brushing his teeth, and then he was out, at which point Remy rushed back in and threw up again. Emile hesitated at the door, looking at Remy for a few seconds longer than his usual glances. Remy looked more miserable than usual. Part of him wanted to stay here and make sure he was okay. But the rest of him was painfully reminded of Remy’s casual dismissal of Emile’s problems, even before their argument, and he knew it was better if he stayed away, so he left for school.

Emile was slightly irked that the only thing he could think about in his free time was Remy’s sick, miserable face that morning. He had to awkwardly explain to his friends the fight that had ensued between himself and Remy, and why they weren’t talking, let alone dating, right now. When he had to answer the question of “How’s Remy doing?” for the tenth time that day, his patience snapped. “Why don’t you just ask him yourself the next time you see him?!”

The others looked surprised. Theo had paused with a Coke halfway to his lips. Clara was staring at him with her eyebrows furrowed. Xavier just stared at him in silent shock. Theo broke the silence first, “Well, he doesn’t really hang around the college a whole lot, you see him more than we do.”

“I’ll tell him to come over more often, then,” Emile said sullenly. “Because I’m not his messenger, or his errand boy!”

“Emile...what happened?” Xavier asked.

“I’m really tired of answering that question. You guys are friends with each other, and with other people who I’ve already answered that question to! Is everyone just...just dead-set on asking me that question until it’s beaten to death?!” Emile growled.

His friends looked at each other, then at him. “Clearly, something happened over the summer,” Theo said slowly. “And none of us want to pry, Emile, but if you need us...we’re here for you.”

Emile sighed. “I know, I know. I’m...it’s just not been easy for the past month or so...Remy and I got in a bad fight, and I’m not quite ready to forgive him. So having people constantly ask is a little much.”

“What happened?” Clara asked.

“He dismissed my mental health because I wasn’t traumatized as a child,” Emile stated without any preamble. “He said that nothing in my life could go wrong. He invalidated my experiences. When I had to go to therapy and thought about self-harm virtually every day, when my friends tried to kill themselves and some of them actually succeeded...that’s not...that’s not right. He’s not right. And I can’t bring myself to forgive him.”

A thick silence hung over them. “And you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder for a month?” Theo asked.

Emile crossed his arms. “Is there a problem?”

“Look, I’m not saying that Remy was right. Whatsoever. But living with someone and denying them all but basic human interaction for a whole month does things to people. I know Remy would volunteer with you, but has he left the apartment for anything other than appointments and work for that month? Has he gone to see any friends that are here over the summer? Has he been isolating himself? Not leaving his room for anything but food and the bathroom? Do you know if he feels trapped in his own home?” Theo pressed.

“I...” Emile was slightly ashamed of his answer. “I...don’t...know.”

“Man, if he feels like he’s trapped in his own place there’s something wrong. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did if you’re not ready. But you can’t trap him and contribute to his misery,” Theo said.

Emile scratched the back of his neck. “He hasn’t been talking to me lately, and I’ve been...relieved. But if he’s not talking to me, then the only person he would have to talk to consistently is Kim, and Kim’s moving by the end of the month.” He paled. “Shit. I’m hurting him in way worse ways than he hurt me. Shit!”

“Hey, Emile, deep breaths,” Clara said. “You can fix this. Make sure he’s all right, tell him what you told us. You’re not ready to forgive him, but you’re not going to ignore him any more.”

“What if he doesn’t forgive me?” Emile asked. “I did ignore him for a solid month, after all, he has every right to snap at me and tell me to get lost.”

“Okay, but all of us know Remy too,” Xavier said. “And I believe he wouldn’t take a second chance lightly, for one, and he wouldn’t tell you to get lost if he’s in desperate need for help for another. If he tells you to get lost, you can listen to him, and know that he’s just licking his wounds or asserting boundaries. It’s if he accepts your help without a second of hesitation that you need to worry.”

Emile swallowed. “I should...I should go. My classes are over, I should check on him.”

His friends let him go and he dashed to his car and hurried back to the apartment. He took the steps two at a time and dropped his stuff at the door. “Remy?!” he called. “You here?!”

There was a whimper in the bathroom, and Emile rushed over. Remy flinched away from him, curling around the toilet. “Remy, I owe you an apology. But first, are you okay?”

Remy’s arms shook as he hugged the toilet and blinked at Emile. “An...apology...?” he asked, his words moving through molasses.

“Yeah, Rem, an apology,” Emile said, biting his lip. “I shouldn’t have given you the cold shoulder for a whole month. I should have just told you I wasn’t ready to forgive you and been civil otherwise. Ignoring you for that long was cruel.”

Remy’s eyes filled with tears and he muttered, “This is a dream. This is a fever dream. I’m hallucinating.”

Emile’s heart broke. Had he really hurt Remy to that extent? He needed to fix this. He needed Remy to feel safe again. And he needed his best friend back. “No, this is real, Rem. I’m genuinely sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

Remy just shook his head before turning green and coughing bile into the toilet. “Emile, I don’t feel good,” he mumbled.

“You don’t look so good either,” Emile said. “Is it okay if I take you to your room? I’ll bring a trash can just in case.”

“Mm. Mhm,” Remy hummed.

Emile gently picked Remy up bridal style and carried him back to Remy’s room, hurrying to the bathroom and bringing back a trash can. Emile was about to leave the room, but Remy made a desperate noise and reached out a shaky hand. “Stay?” he pleaded. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I want company. Even if it is a hallucination.”

His hesitation must have been clear on his face, because Remy blinked blearily and let his hand drop. “Or not,” he mumbled.

“Hey, no, Rem, I can stay,” Emile murmured. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d really want me here. If I was welcome. I hurt you.”

“And I hurt you. We’re even,” Remy said, closing his eyes. “Just. Sit.”

Emile sat at the foot of Remy’s bed. For a minute, it looked like Remy was falling asleep, but then he opened his eyes, looked at the foot of the bed, and frowned. “Emile?”

“Yeah, hey. You with me, Remy?” Emile asked.

“Why are you here?” Remy asked.

Emile sighed. “I came home to apologize, and you were in pretty bad shape. Convinced I was a hallucination.”

“Why...why would you apologize?” Remy asked.

“Remy, I ignored you for a whole month and snapped at you when I couldn’t ignore you. I made your safe place incredibly unsafe. I hurt you,” Emile said.

“It’s nothing my parents wouldn’t do,” Remy said.

“Yeah, but I’m not your parents,” Emile said. “And I don’t want to be like them.”

Remy sighed. “I don’t like thinking about them. I don’t like thinking about you, either, because it just makes me sad. I screwed up the best thing to ever happen to me and I don’t understand why you’re apologizing to me when I’m the one who dismissed your mental health.”

“Okay, yeah, that was a dick move,” Emile allowed. “But I shouldn’t have given you the cold shoulder for a month. Because that’s also a dick move. That’s why I’m apologizing.”

Remy groaned, turning on his side and dry-heaving in the general direction of the trashcan. “Have you been able to hold down liquids?” Emile asked.

“I haven’t left the bathroom long enough to find out,” Remy moaned.

“I’ll be right back, then, with a glass of water,” Emile said.

He left the room and came back as soon as he could, helping Remy sit up just enough to take a sip of water. Remy groaned, eyes closing. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” he mumbled.

Emile winced. “If you are, Rem, then I might have to take you to the emergency room. If you can’t hold down liquids, that’s a problem.”

Remy took a deep breath, and he looked a little less green around the gills, but not by much. “No, I think it’s gonna stay...my stomach just doesn’t want anything right now. So it’s trying to get me to not add anything more.”

They sat in silence for a minute, before Remy mumbled, “Thank you. For apologizing, I mean. I’m really sorry about what I said.”

“I know you are,” Emile said, glancing at Remy and offering him a weak smile. “I shouldn’t have held that grudge for this long, or at least not let it affect me this much. I want to make sure you’re all right at the end of the day. You are my friend, Rem. It just...took me a while to understand that was still the case.”

Remy offered Emile a smile. “Aw, Emile...you like me!”

“Shut up!” Emile laughed. “I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Remy said. “But I don’t handle serious conversations well without a little levity.”

Emile shook his head. “You’re not wrong, though. About me liking you.”

“...Yeah?” Remy asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Emile said. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to try a relationship again, not yet. Just because I’m still hurting, and I wasn’t even sure if I would be willing to forgive you until I walked in here this afternoon. But whenever I’m ready...I’ll let you know. And if you would have me, I’d love giving being boyfriends another shot. And not just because it means that you and I both get to say we’re taken to strangers hitting on us.”

Remy laughed, hard, before turning and coughing up more bile into the trash can. “Don’t make me laugh, Emile, it hurts.”

“Sorry,” Emile said with a wince.

“It’s all good,” Remy said with a wave of his hand. “I’m probably gonna sleep now, and I might be convinced this was a dream for a bit when I wake up again, fair warning. Just to let you know, I believe you, and definitely want you back whenever you’re ready. But I might be skeptical of this actually happening when I’m running a fever and you legitimately ignored me for a whole month.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. Rest up,” Emile advised. “I’ll be here to help when you’re awake again.”

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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overheardatthecontinental · 3 years

Text

Talk Chapter 11

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Marcus had faced armies. Had gone head-to-head with mob bosses and mafiaso assholes. He’d been shot, stabbed, tortured and looked death straight in the eyes on more than one occasion. Every encounter had only made him wiser. Each scar had only made him stronger.

And despite all his prowess, his strength, his wisdom, Marcus was fairly certain he wasn’t going to survive Helen Kingston.

John had warned him.

Hell, Helen had warned him.

He’d taken it as a joke. Just because John had fallen victim to sharing his feelings certainly didn’t mean that Marcus would.

After John had left, they made small talk. They watched a movie, and then another. Helen would read until her eyes hurt and then they’d watch another movie.

It started with a simple question, asked over chopping vegetables to have with dinner.

“How’d you get involved in the Underworld?”

“I saved a man’s life in Vietnam. The son of a prominent member of the mob. When we came back to the States, he recruited me."

And Helen had seemed genuinely interested. She asked questions so casually, he hadn’t even realized that they were delving into his past. Not until their plates were in the sink and Helen was curled up on the couch, facing him in his chair and nodding along to a story from his early days as a New York City mobster.

Before he knew it, he was lost in his own past, searching to understand things he thought he had left behind.

“It just seemed like the right course to take. My father did it, his father did it. I think a part of me thought if I followed in their footsteps and joined the army, things would start to make sense. Like I would understand how my father viewed the world.”

“How he viewed the world or how he viewed you?”

The question stabs at him and Marcus looks away, “My mother used to defend him all the time. He never loved us the way he was supposed to. She said that the war had damaged him—that when they were younger, he was caring and loving. But when he came back, he had a hard time adjusting.

“I wanted to understand why he couldn’t get over it. Why he couldn’t leave the war behind. Why—” He stops himself.

“Why you couldn’t be enough.” Her voice is soft, almost hypnotic, lulling him in further.

He nods, despite himself. “He had a great job, a good house, a family… and it was never enough.”

Helen nods along, “You know, every generation has its experiences, it’s rights of passages, it’s issues, it’s stories. Your generation was built in that post-war haze that focused on going back to what had been normal before the war. Except there is no going back from that sort of cultural upheaval. Time changes, and values with it.

“And in that day and age, we didn’t really understand the consequences of war on individuals. So, your father came back, as your grandfather had a generation before, and tried to make sense of peace after having lived in a warzone.”

Marcus nods, “And I get that it must have been tough for him. I do. But then why get married? Why bring another person into your fucked-up life? Why bring children into the picture?”

“I can’t answer to your father’s motives.” Helen says softly, “At best, I can guess that he probably felt like it was his duty to rebuild America. To have a family and try to put the past behind him. But the past always has a way of catch up with us. And it wasn’t fair to the rest of your family and your father’s trauma is not an excuse for the pain that he put you through.

“In therapy, we use a term called ‘intergenerational trauma’ to explain this. It’s the idea that severe trauma, severe distress can follow each generation. Your grandfather probably brought his experiences from the Great War into your father’s life. And your father brought those experiences, combined with his own from the second World War into yours.”

“Didn’t know there was a term for it. But it’s why I don’t ever want children.” Marcus admits, jarring himself with the fact that he admitted out loud how much his father had affected him. “I couldn’t bare to pass that down again.”

“Which is entirely within your right.” Helen’s calming voice eases his anxiety. “A lot of people, particularly from the baby boomer generation and before, believe that we have some sort of duty to procreate. The remnants of generations’ past, I suppose. But the reality of the matter is we don’t owe anybody.”

He shivers at her words and wonders if she notices.

He’d laughed at John for being tricked into revealing his life to a pretty face, but it was so good to say the things out loud that haunted him at two in the morning when he was unable to sleep.

“I always thought I had moved on from all this.” Marcus shakes his head, “That I left my father back in Idaho. Thoughts creep in every now and then but when I work, I can forget about it.”

Helen nods, “We forget how broken we are when we start to fixate on something else. But, eventually, we’re forced to look back at ourselves and face the truth: distracted is not the same as healed.”

And that cuts deep, but not as deep as the thoughts simmering beneath the surface. The knowledge that he had spent decades hiding behind jobs and contracts to ignore the rejection and isolation that seemed to follow him.

“So, there is no moving on, no healing.”

Helen offers him a small, empathetic smile, “I had this conversation with John just yesterday. We tend to think of healing as linear. Something happens to us, we give it time, and it heals. But that’s not always the case. You should know as well as anybody—not every scar heals. Sometimes a bone doesn’t set right.”

She lets out a soft sigh as she tries to find a way to explain, “Try to think of it in terms of a broken leg. If your broken bone is tended to right away, if it’s splinted properly, if you’re cared for during your recovery, it will heal. Sometimes even stronger than it was before.

“On the other hand, maybe you’re alone. You splint your own bone the best you can, but there is no one with you to share the burden. No one to help you heal. The bone may mend but, oftentimes, it won’t heal correctly. Maybe you walk with a limp. Or maybe you walk fine, except on days when it rains. The trauma comes back, haunting you.

“Then, of course, your bone breaks and you ignore it. You try to stand but your leg can’t support you anymore. You pretend that nothing has happened, but all you do is injure yourself the more. So, what happens, then?”

“If you can’t heal, you’re dead.”

“In the animal kingdom, you would be.” Helen says, “But we are human. We are resilient and we can adapt and, even when we feel like we are, we are not alone. So, what happens if your bone doesn’t heal correctly?”

Marcus feels a shiver travel through his body, “We re-break the bone.”

“Very good.” Helen rewards him with a real smile this time, “We re-break the bone and we try again. And, most of the time, trauma isn’t quite so severe. Most of the time, we’re stuck somewhere in the middle. Our wounds heal, but they still come back, aching on days when it rains.”

He sighs, “But what does that mean? That even if I make peace with my father’s memory, I’ll still feel him haunting me now and again?”

“There are no guarantees, but it’s likely. We all experience trauma differently but it seldom disappears all together.”

Idly, Marcus hears the sound of a car on gravel but he shakes his head, still lost in his own thoughts, “And what, there’s no way to make it disappear?”

“Not permanently. There are skills you can learn to help cope with the memories or to restructure your experiences. But trauma engrains itself within us.”

“It’s stupid.” Marcus spits out, “I came out of ‘Nam without feeling a thing. I’ve killed more people than I can count, and I don’t think about it. But the thought of my father’s voice makes me want to scream.”

“The events that happen in our formative years leave far deeper scars than what comes later. You spent your childhood seeking the approval of a man who probably lost sight of who he was long before you were born.”

The door opens and Marcus catches sight of John, carrying a couple grocery bags and a suitcase.

“And you can’t hold yourself responsible for that.” Helen adds softly, checking over her shoulder. Her eyes scan John, assessing for injury before she asks, “Is that your blood?”

“No.”

Marcus swallows, forcing the heaviness weight on him back down his throat and motioning to the bags John is carrying. Still, his voice is gruff as he asks, “You go shopping?”

“Just picked up a few things. Soap, a toothbrush. Better coffee.” John reaches in the bag and pulls out a pint of ice cream, reveling in the way her eyes light up as he hands it to her.

“Oh, fuck yes.” She takes it and undoes the plastic wrap locking the lid on, looking at Marcus as she does, “Do you need some. too?”

“Marcus won’t eat that much sugar.”

“What I need is Cognac.” Marcus mutters.

Helen hums, “Was Cognac also your father’s drink?”

Marcus looks up sharply, “Pass me the damn ice cream.”

Helen tosses the pint to him and John sighs, “Hels, I thought I said not to break him.”

“I didn’t! We were just having a discussion.”

“Uh huh.” John watches as Marcus slips into the kitchen for a spoon, “I’ve never seen Marcus eat refined sugars. Ever.”

“Physical health is only one facet of being. Ice cream tends to the mind and the soul.” She says knowingly.

Marcus plops down on the couch next to Helen and hands her a spoon.

John raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Fuck off.” Marcus says, digging the spoon into the ice cream, “I have unprocessed trauma.”

He looks from Marcus to Helen, the latter of whom just shrugs.

“Couldn’t last one day without breaking somebody’s psyche?” John teases.

Helen swallows a mouthful of ice cream, “I can’t turn it off any more than you can stop counting exits, looking for weapons.”

Marcus nods, “I say next time we have a tough case, we just send her in.”

Not a chance in hell, John thinks even knowing that Marcus is largely joking. Still, he couldn’t deny that it would be hilarious to drop Helen in the middle of the Continental and just watch.

She leans to the side on the couch, looking up at him with her warm brown eyes. “Did you have dinner?” He shakes his head and Helen sighs, “We saved you a plate, just in case. Go shower, I’ll heat it up.”

“It’s okay—”

“Go shower.” She says again, leaving no room for argument as she stands, “And change in the bathroom! I don’t want you getting blood on our bed.”

Our bed. He tries not to read to much into that but holy fuck the way that sounded… The casual way that she said it felt so fucking right even if he knew he was reading far too much into the innocent statement. He pushes it out of his head as he acquiesces with a soft, “Yes, ma’am.”

She swats at his side the best she can from her seat on the couch to prompt him forward. John sets the grocery bags with actual food on the counter and heads to the back. He tosses the suitcase on the bed and finds his own sleepwear from the night before.

Grabbing the bag with the hygiene products, he disappears into the bathroom.

He showers quickly, watching the tub stain red then wash clear as he cleans the blood from his body. It had been a long day, as he had known it would be. And while John had hoped that DeLuca would change his demands, he had been correct in assuming that he wouldn’t.

Already, a clock was moving against him.

Three days until Senor D’Antonio and Gianna returned to Rome. Three days in which to kill him and his heirs.

Marcus had said they would find a way out of it, but John wasn’t so sure.

He’s run every scenario he can think of in his head on the drive home. For four hours, he contemplated possible courses of actions that he could take. They all resulted in either Helen’s death, which was unacceptable, or his own, which was unfortunate.

He cut the shower short, anxious to see Helen after spending a day dealing with people who wanted to do her harm. See for himself that she was safe and uninjured. Let himself feel a glimmer of joy at the sound of her voice, the energy of her presence.

Cloak himself in her scent and sound and sight. Memorize it all just in case he was unable to make it through this week with his life.

He changes into his sleepwear and quickly towels his hair.

There’s food sitting in front of the armchair when he returns to the living room. A plate with vegetables, potatoes, and chicken. Helen and Marcus share the couch and are passing the ice cream back and forth to one another.

John idly wishes he could use his phone to snap a quick picture for Sofia. Marcus with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in his hand, a spoonful of chocolate ice cream aimed for his mouth…

Sof would have a field day with that.

Helen’s eyes meet his and he wonders, for the millionth time, what it would be like to kiss her.

He’s probably going to die anyway, already set for Hell. Would it be so wrong to steal a kiss before going to his death?

“Did you meet with DeLuca?” Marcus asks, snapping John out of his thoughts as he sits down with them.

He nods once, his eyes flitting to Helen. Not wanting to discuss it in front of her, John adds, “We’ll chat later.”

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say he realizes as her eyes flash.

“Oh, no. We’re not doing this.” She bemoans, “You don’t get to shut me out of this.”

John shakes his head, “Helen...”

“I have every right to know what’s going on.”

“You don’t need to be worrying about this!” He insists and watches as her entire body tenses.

“Marcus,” She says, and her voice is just a little too sweet for John, “Would you mind stepping out for a moment?”

Marcus, ice cream in hand, looks between them, “I mean, I’d rather stay and watch you demolish him but—”

“Marcus!” Helen and John say together and the older assassin laughs, sliding to his feet.

“Guess I’ll just go downstairs and see if anything new has magically appeared since yesterday.” He pats John on the shoulder on the way to the basement, “Good luck.”

Helen waits for the door to close before she speaks, “We are not doing this, John.”

“Doing what?” He asks, resigned.

“You’re not leaving me out of the loop! I know that you think you’re protecting me by keeping me in the dark from what is happening, but I can handle this.”

Again, he shakes his head, “It’s not about what you can handle, I know you can handle this, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to be worrying—”

“You don’t get to decide what I’m allowed to worry about.” She snaps, not unkindly. Helen pauses, sighing to herself. She moves down the couch so that she’s closer to where he sits and, gently, tries again, “John, I am doing what you ask. I’ve cut off contact from the world, I’m staying hidden. Meet me halfway here.”

His leg is shaking, she notes. His face is tense.

She reaches out across the space to where his hand sits on the armrest and lays her own atop. “I know things are going to get worse before they get better. But you trying to deal with this all on your own, without support, isn’t helping.”

He hesitates again, gathering his thoughts together before he admits, “I don’t want to let you know how bad it’s gotten. And not because I don’t think you can handle it,” He adds before she can say anything, “But because I don’t want to expose you to that. You might not like some of the things I might have to do.”

“We got to this point together.” Helen argues, “Hell, I’m more accountable than you are for this fiasco.”

John snorts, “No, you’re not.”

“I’m a licensed professional. I was the one in the position of power. I had a moral obligation to ensure the boundaries between us stayed clear. I knowingly violated that, okay? I got us to this point, too. So, please, let me help fix it.”

John lets out a breath, his shoulders settling. “I don’t like it. I don’t like involving you in this world more than you already are.”

“You don’t have to like it.” She reminds him, “But you’re going to deal with it, because I’m not going to let you carry the weight by yourself.”

There’s such force behind her words. And Christ, she would be pissed if he laid it all out. She would demand that he ignore DeLuca, even at the cost of her own life. And they would argue and fight about it, but ultimately, he would do whatever it takes.

But she’s not backing down and, while John has never been good at compromising, he is more than capable of recognizing when an opponent is going to fight until their last breath. She has that same look in her eye now.

“Okay.” He agrees. “Okay. But tomorrow? I… I don’t think I can handle that tonight.”

She nods and her hand tightens on his, squeezing momentarily, “Thank you.”

For a moment, she stays in place, looking at him. A small smile of thanks graces her face. He forces himself to look away from her lips.

“Marcus!” She calls, letting go of his hand and sitting back in her corner of the couch, “You can come back in.”

Marcus comes back up and makes a show of checking his watch, “Not even five minutes? Come on, John. That’s just sad.”

John smirks at his friend, “You think you can win an argument against her? Be my guest.”

Marcus winks at Helen and holds up the ice cream, “You want more?”

“Not now, thanks.” She replies and he puts the ice cream back into the freezer.

John takes a bite of his leftover, noting that this might be the first time anybody had ever thought to save dinner for him. It’s a little bit better knowing that Helen had thought of him when putting it away, certain it was not Marcus’s doing. Not that Marcus didn’t care, but he was more from the school of everybody fend for themselves.

Marcus settles on the couch and looks to Helen, “What did I miss?”

John finds himself smirking despite himself, “What, is she in charge now?”

“Have been since the beginning, but glad you’re catching on.” She says with a heart-stopping smile before looking back at Marcus, “Discussion is tabled until tomorrow.”

Marcus nods, “Fine by me. My head still fucking hurts.”

John smirks as he raises his fork, “Welcome to the club.”

Marcus shakes his head, “And you do this with her every week? Willingly?”

“It gets easier once you know what to expect.”

The older assassin looks to Helen, “We’re not making a habit of those discussions.”

“We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

John recognizes the look in her eyes. She’s an expert at subtle manipulation—letting you think you’re in control right up until the moment she snatches the rug out from under you. And by then, you’re too addicted to her kind words and soft stares to leave.

She’s magnificent.

Marcus sighs and glances at John, “How screwed am I?”

“Very.” Helen shoots him an amused glance and he feels his own gaze soften as he looks at her, “You know I wouldn’t change a thing.”

At least, about her.

Their circumstances on the other hand…

Her lips twitch slightly and yeah, John thinks, he’s going to do it. Not now. But before he goes off to face death, he’s going to kiss those soft, pink lips. He’s going to carry the taste of her with him to the next world.

Let that be how she remembers him—not as a broken man or as a murderer. But as someone who loved her completely.

That wouldn’t be so bad.

“Me, either.” She says and it takes everything inside of him not to fly across the room to her now.

“Yup!” Marcus says, very loudly, interrupting the moment that passes between them, “Therapy is not for me.”

Helen looks away, her cheeks tinged with pink. He watches her swallow before looking up at Marcus, “It’s not for everyone.” She admits, then teases, “Some people just can’t handle the weight and strength needed to address their inner battles.”

“Listen, Kingston…” Marcus says but there is humor in his voice, “If assassins actually started addressing the issues we all have with our parents, we wouldn't have the time kill anybody.”

She laughs at that, “God forbid.”

Marcus looks over her head, “Don’t you just want to set her on Winston? I want to know what’s going on in his head.”

“That’s the guy who operates New York, right?” Helen asks and John nods.

“That’s him. And, frankly, Marcus. I’d rather not know what’s going on in Winston’s head. Or anybody’s.” Looking back to Helen he adds, “I don’t know how you deal with knowing so many people’s thoughts.”

She shrugs a shoulder, “We all have our stories, but the same themes come up again and again.”

“Jung?” John asks.

“Very good.” Helen says, “Did you ever end up reading The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious?”

John nods, “I did.”

“Nerd alert!” Marcus coughs into his hand.

Helen and John both glare at him before she looks back to John, “I mean, you know my feelings on listening to anyone labeled an ‘expert’ but, at the very least, I agree that if you look close enough at peoples stories, you’ll find the same themes prevailing over nearly all of it.”

“And what are your thoughts on listening to experts?” Marcus asks.

John smirks, already knowing the answer, “Helen believes very strongly in subjective truth. Nothing can be taken at face value.”

Helen nods, “And people in the psych community tend to stick to their niches. The psychoanalytics stick to Freud, the REBT people stick to Ellis, Cognitive Behavioralists stick to Skinner. The reality is, they all work in their own ways. But to put all your stock in one school of thought, you’re going to miss out on a lot of relevant shit.”

Marcus smirks, “You talk with that mouth in your office?”

Helen inclines her head, “Only with John. But he’s got a thick skull. Sometimes you need to do things to catch his attention.”

“That thick skull is necessary to protect the small brain inside.”

John flips him off.

“He’s had a lot of undiagnosed concussions.” Marcus adds, ignoring the gesture.

“I’d smack you,” John comments, humor in his voice, “But I wouldn’t want to damage your hearing aids.”

Marcus smirks in response, glancing to Helen, “You don’t get to be my age in the Underworld without some wear and tear. You spend enough time around munitions and guns, your hearing is the first thing to go.” He looks over at John, “This one laughs now, but he’ll be exactly where I am in fifteen years. If he lives that long.”

Helen rolls her eyes, “Well, on that note, I’m going to get ready for bed.” Helen stands up, her hand brushing along John’s arm as she walks by. “Come to bed soon, okay?”

He nods, forcing himself to remember to breathe when she talks to him like that, “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Good. Night, Marcus.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

She disappears down the hall, watching her long after she disappears. There’s the sound of a door closing and a sink running. He can still feel where her fingers grazed his arm.

“Henry.”

John looks up at Marcus, blinking in confusion.

“Henry.” Marcus repeats, “It’s my middle name. Good strong name, you know, if you’re starting think of what you’ll name your children.”

“Fuck off.”

Marcus laughs, “Jesus, John, you’re fucking gone.”

John glares slightly, “Really? Calling her sweetheart?”

The older assassin rolls his eyes, “Calm down, Romeo. I prefer my women not have the ability to psychoanalyze me. I meant exactly what I said—she’s a sweetheart.”

He nods, relaxing slightly. He’s well aware of Helen’s allure, even platonically he understands the way she manages to pull people in. A kind word from her is enough to hook anyone and, before you can remember to think, you’ve bared your soul. A search for absolution that can only be found in the quiet of her eyes.

“She is.” John agrees.

Marcus nods, “I, uh, wanted to talk to you about the marker.”

John raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t need it. Not for doing this.”

“You’re doing me the favor of a lifetime.” John states the obvious. This was no small thing that Marcus was doing for him.

Marcus nods, “I was. But, truth is, I’m happy just to do this for her.”

John huffs a small laugh, “I get it. She pulls you in, doesn’t she? So fast you don’t even know you’re sinking.”

“She does that.” Marcus pauses, thoughtfully. He looks to John and asks, “How long the two of you going to keep playing this game?”

He looks away, “Marcus…”

“You are both way too smart to be playing stupid to the looks, the touches. If I didn’t know the two of you and we just met, I’d assume you were married with the way you act around each other.”

Shaking his head, John looks to his friend, “Let it go.”

“John—”

“Let it go.” John says again, “I promised her we wouldn’t talk about it without her but… things aren’t looking good. And, if by some miracle, I’m still alive at the end of all this, what can I offer her?”

“She knows exactly what you are and she doesn’t care. She still adores you.”

John can’t even begin to address that so he ignores it, “She’ll never be safe so long as her name is associated with mine.”

Marcus stares at him incredulously, “I think that particular ship already sailed.”

John pushes his hair back, frustrated, because Marcus is right on that note. Everything was already fucked. But there was still something looming over John that forced him to add, “She deserves better.”

“Definitely. But she still wants you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“My ears may be shot to hell, but I’m not blind.”

John takes his plate, shaking his head as he stands up, “Goodnight, Marcus.”

“Night, dumbass.”

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

wicked little town

for day 6 of @malexweek : music! song in question is wicked little town from hedwig (special thank you to @celiabowne for the song suggestion!) this takes place in my Touch Me universe

ao3

“Oh my God, you’re so negative.”

There were few things that said “soulmate” quite like having gifts practically made for each other and Michael loved it.

That being said, it somehow made Alex extremely insecure. Michael could have anyone, Alex could only have him. It made him scared that he would be left and lonely. What he didn’t seem to see, though, was that there was something so goddamn incredible about him and being with him. Every simple touch made his heart race‒literally. And that was just the physical part of it. Alex was smart and sweet and they genuinely meshed well together.

That wasn’t the only thing that messed with Alex’s head, though, and Michael knew it. He knew his existence didn’t magically cure years of being ostracized. It didn’t fix parents creating petitions to get him thrown out of school or his name being added to a national list of people who are deadly with his address publicized so that people could avoid him like a plague. He was treated like he wasn’t human. That meant Michael did his damnedest to remind him that he was.

“I’m not negative,” Alex insisted, pouting like he always did, “I just don’t think we should go to a drive-in.”

“Alex, baby, darling, sweetheart, my love,” Michael said, ignoring the way he rolled his eyes. Michael placed himself firmly in Alex’s lap, squeezing his cheeks between his hands. Alex smiled like he always did when Michael touched him. “Let’s go, it’ll be fun! And harmless. You need to get out of here and do something.”

“I don’t like going out,” Alex said, peeling his hands off and trying to not smile anymore. Michael shook his head and rested his forehead against his.

“This town has so fucked you over,” Michael told him, pressing their noses together. Each time he touched him in a place where he could also feel his breath was unreal. Alex’s body was designed to kill, and it kept trying to kill him, but then Alex would breathe life right back into him. Sure, that’s not what was actually happening, but it made Michael smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alex sighed. Michael moved his hands to his shoulders and pulled him forward as he leaned back. His back hit the mattress and Alex was above him. He flashed a smile to soften the blow of what he was about to say.

“I mean,” he said, pulling Alex in for a soft kiss, “They’re hateful as fuck. They’ve spent your whole life telling you that you deserve to be hated until you believed it.”

Alex sighed, pulling up and out of Michael’s grip. He seemed to not quite understand that it was the town that made him so isolated. Sure, other people in other places would be just as horrible, but Michael had been a lot of places. If you’re smart about it, no one cares.

“Wouldn’t it be cool to show off that you’re not just put on this Earth to be scary?” Michael asked, sitting up again. Alex looked away. “You’re not dangerous, Alex.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Okay, so what, maybe you are. So am I. Do you know how many banks I could get away with robbing because I can’t be killed? I could do so many bad things, but I don’t. And neither do you. You aren’t bad, Alex,” Michael insisted, “This fucking town has made you think you’re bad.”

“I kill people on accident, Michael. I am bad,” Alex told him, voice weak.

Michael slumped forward until his face was pressed into the crook of his neck where it belonged. He knew a few little words about how great Michael thought he was wouldn’t cure his thought process. Honestly, he didn’t know what would.

“I bet, one day, there’s gonna be something to make you less deadly,” Michael whispered against his skin, “A pill or a special kind of fabric or something. I know it’s gonna happen. But for right now, you can’t let yourself be miserable. There are ways you can enjoy yourself without endangering other people.”

“Like how?” Alex sniffled. Michael wrapped his arms around him and rolled them both over. He tucked Alex’s hair behind his ear and dragged his thumb over his cheekbone.

“Like going to the drive-in,” Michael suggested. Alex let out a disbelieving laugh and rolled onto his back. Michael was really having a problem with him continuously moving away, so he stayed put this time. “I’ll drive, I’ll buy the tickets. You don’t have to interact with anyone, but you still get to do something. I swear, all you’ll have to do is look pretty and we can feel each other up instead of watching the movie.”

Alex squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over his face to hide the fact that he’d gotten a smile out of him.

“Come on, Alex,” Michael said, “Stop letting stupid fucking people dictate if you can leave your house or not.”

Alex’s chest rose and fell with each breath and his shirt had ridden up a little bit to reveal a strip of skin above his sweats. He had fluffy socks with bees on them and watched romcoms and sang ABBA to himself regularly and Michael didn’t understand how everyone only saw him as a threat. He was so much better than that. He was human and he was lovable and he was more than his gift, just like everyone else.

“Fine,” Alex caved, letting his hands drop off his face, “We can go. By if something bad happens…”

“You gotta live your life without fear that something bad is going to happen. You’re going to be in my truck. The only person who will be within touching distance will be me and I, personally, plan to touch you on purpose,” Michael told him. He didn’t have to see it to know that Alex rolled his eyes. “It’s going to be fun.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am,” Michael insisted, pushing himself up to rest his head in his hand. Alex’s eyes went to his face and it was clear he was scared to go outside for things that weren’t school.

The town was small. Touching people on accident was such an unlikely thing to happen, especially when everyone knew who he was. There was nothing to be scared of. But, of course, there was no way to say that without sounding like a dick if it actually did happen.

Instead, he placed his hand on his face and leaned in close. Alex tilted his head up and their lips stayed merely a centimeter apart, an unbridled sense of patience that only Alex Manes was capable of.

“One day, I’m going to get you out of here and take you someplace worth it,” Michael whispered into his mouth, “Someplace where everyone is treated like you by their own stupid environments. I’m gonna find you a safe place no matter what. You trust me?”

Alex took a shaky breath and nodded, reaching up to pull him down for a kiss. His back arched to press in closer and his fingers slipped into his hair, tugging gently as he held him close. Michael melted into him.

They missed the drive-in that night.

#malex20 #malexweek20 #malex fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #this is shorter than i wanted but oh well #verse: touch me

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ganymedesclock · 4 years

Text

Okay so now that I am properly awake, I’m following this up with my actual understandings about these characters, summarized pithily. Probably gonna make this two different posts because when I go into character details it tends to not stay short.

With regards to PK- I have heard people say that they really like my PK characterization in fics, so, I can just kind of peel back the curtain and say that I write PK with several factors.

My reading and thus my recreation of PK boils down to an autistic individual who is extremely observant and detail-oriented, but also fails to acknowledge other people. He has abysmal self-esteem and is very okay with the idea of being hurt, if not actively inclined to self-harm. To PK, the most important thing is suppressing his emotional reactions, if he catches them. He wants to appear unfeeling all the time, and if he argues with others, he wants to deny them that he is emotionally affected.

PK also seems to be a very isolated character. He does not think that there is any world outside of the kingdom that he made, so he is obsessed with the idea it has to live forever. This all around implies someone who is very uncomfortable breaking patterns, despite being a brilliant innovative mind at his best, so this is an aspect of his character in conflict, or at least that tends to move at cross-purposes.

In many ways, PK is lonely and sad. He doesn’t like himself. But this, and his low self-esteem are contrasted with that PK also started as, and to a level continues to perceive himself as this huge creature interacting with things “far beneath him”. Imagine if you lived in an anthill, hanging out with sapient ants. Even if you put up a finger puppet and interacted with them, it would be pretty hard not to get weirdly smug or look down on them- because well, you’ll outlive them, you’re so much hardier than they are.

Now imagine if you were living in an anthill and using your hyper-sophisticated ant-puppet because every other human being was dead. Also imagine you didn’t really like your humanity, so, once you had your ant puppet, you chucked your human corpse onto the landscape and left it to rot.

Sure, you think, humans are real people. They’re better than ants. Would the ants be this smart unless you, a smarter being, was helping them? They’re worshiping you. They are in awe of the powerful things you can do.

But also, you’re lonely. Especially if you never even really got the chance to interact with other humans. Humans are better than ants, right? But the ants made it. The ants are doing great. The ants have families and interpersonal relationships, that they won’t sully you with, because you’re a grand powerful being. What do you want that ants have?

A lot, actually, as the dead body at the edge of the kingdom betrays.

So PK thinks he’s objectively a superior being. He thinks that this explains that he’s alone. That he has to be alone. He should be able to do things himself and muster whatever burden needs to be mustered, or build something that will.

The thing is, the Hollow Knight narrative calls him wrong in this way. We see, time and time again, that “unchosen” ordinary people can match pace with “higher beings”. These giant, powerful creatures have certain advantages, but so do mortals. The gods of Hallownest do not genuinely operate this untouchable higher atmosphere. They are large, they are powerful, they are not inherently more worthy.

PK succumbed ultimately to grief and regret, things that could trouble anyone. PK was obsessed with this idea of an existence without suffering because he was suffering most of the time; this is also why he was blind to the true nature of the vessels in a way. Because of course PK would believe Hollow, who has emotions, could choose not to feel them. Isn’t that what being unemotional is? You aren’t just like that naturally. You choose it because it’s your job. You build beautiful cold boxes and compress yourself into them until there’s nothing left.

Hollow would suppress themselves, and it was not cruel to ask them to do this, PK was certain, because this has been his own pain for years. PK turned out fine, didn’t he?

Except, on a level, he really didn’t. And he knew that.

Which was why ultimately the only thing he could convince himself of was sunk cost fallacy- he already paid the price, he can’t go back, he can’t tear the black egg open. He can’t try and find another way.

So like, bringing it in and summarizing it: My firm read of PK remains that this guy is a really intensely pressurized combination of hypercompetent and dysfunctional. Someone who can build terrifying supernatural soldiers like the kingsmoulds, and whose dreamscape yields mysterious, shining tools the likes of which are advanced anachronisms to the rest of the setting. Ogrim probably isn’t just blinded by nostalgia when he calls the pale court “a place of wonders”, and this quite well could have lent further to PK’s isolation and worship, how he seemed immaculate and hypercompetent.

At the same time, though, there is a terribly ordinary way that PK just did not get other people. Did not understand himself. Places his emotions slipped out because he thought he was making an unbiased factual statement with total certainty, that he is an unemotional being and it is just a fact that there is no world beyond the kingdom, even though wanderers came from those lands beyond all the time.

TL;DR PK has a case of gifted kid horse brain that ran horrifically rampant when exposed to his perception that he’s both more important than other people and also sucks and needs to just get over his shit and hurry up and be a perfect being already, and this all strategically set him up to hand all of his terrible coping mechanisms directly to his favorite kid and then have a crisis after this destroyed them.

#Hollow Knight #Pale King #readmore

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misstrashchan · 4 years

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The Man With Two Souls, Pt. 2

Okay, so this ended up being a fucking long part 2 to my previous meta post. There was a lot I wanted to get down, and if it doesn't make sense or you don't agree with it, that's fine, I'd just be happy if you read it. Now I can rest until the finale comes and beats me up.

So, there's a few more Salem and Adam parallels to start off with like

(8) Having the same reaction to hearing someone mention Blake and Oz and the possibility of them getting the upper hand against them

(9) Chronologically after this happens (we see Adam destroy the throne room in Volume 6 episode 2, but we see him lose his mask at the end of the Adam trailer) deciding to go after Blake on his own while Salem creates the winged Beringel grimm and plans to go to Atlas herself, presumably to go after Oscar/Ozpin so he doesn't get in the way of her plans (as well as Ruby since she clearly needs her as well)

"If you want something done right, you do it yourself" - Volume 6 Chapter 13

(10) Adam and Salem telling Blake and Oz about how they're going to destroy them and those around them

"The ability to derive strength from hope is undoubtedly mankind's greatest attribute. Which is why I will focus all of my effort to snuff it out. How does it feel? Knowing that all your time and effort has been for nothing. That your guardians have failed you. That everything you've built will be torn down before your very eyes."

"So you send your guardians, your huntsman and huntresses. And when they fail and you turn to your smaller soul, know that you send her to the same pitiful demise. This is the beginning of the end, Ozpin. And I can't wait to watch you burn." - Salem, Volume 3 Chapter 12

"What you want is impossible! But I understand. Because all I want is you, Blake. And as I set out and deliver the justice mankind so greatly deserves, I will make it my mission to destroy everything you love. Starting with her." - Adam, Volume 3 Chapter 11

(11) Salem and Adam's perception of Oz and Blake affecting their perspective of themselves... and the audience.

Okay, this one's honestly kind of weird. For so, so long there were a lot of people who bought into the idea that Ozpin was secretly evil or somehow worse than Salem, or that he'd done something terrible and unforgivable to Salem. I fully admit, I was one of those people. I mean, I didn't think he was evil, but the way Salem talked to him at the end of volume 3, listening to the song Divide, I thought, he must have done something bad to Salem, right? How could she hate him so much otherwise?

And the worst thing he did... was leave her. When he couldn't go along with being a genocidal dictator of the whole world alongside Salem, and didn't want their children to be a part of that either.

And as for Adam, he tells Blake that she hurt him more than anybody because she left him.

"All sorts of people hurt me in all sorts of different ways. But no one hurt me quite like you, Blake. You didn't leave scars. You just left me alone." - Adam, Volume 6 Chapter 12

And Salem would also have been hurt from Ozma trying to leave her. Especially when you think about her backstory, how she was kept isolated in a tower, and instead of finding freedom in the outside world, found it in Ozma. And then he died, and she was alone again. And then the Gods destroyed humanity, and Salem is left alone one again for god knows how long.

"Once again, Salem was alone." - Volume 6 Chapter 3

And weirdly, similar to Ozpin there were people who bought into Adam's false perception of Blake too. That Blake is somehow the one who hurt Adam more than he hurt her (which is, completely insane).

And Salem and Adam want Oz and Blake to feel that way. To be paralyzed with self hatred and doubt, to be stuck in the past, and feel as if everything is their fault. That Salem and Adam are their responsibility, at first to save them, and then to stop them.

You see it with Adam's gaslighting, trying to paint her as an unfaithful coward. And I mean, just listen to the song Divide. The whole song is Salem trying to make out Ozpin to be the villain, that she's killing people but the real murderer is him for trying to give people hope, even if it was hope based on a desperate lie.

"It was you who ended their lives! Made them to dig their own graves! With your dark, sick, cruel design, convinced them their world could be saved." - Divide

And there were a lot of people convinced by Salem's song Divide that Ozpin was far worse than he really was, to the point it was surprising that he hadn't wronged Salem in some way like most people were expecting.

And Adam tries to make Blake believe that she's a coward, that she's selfish and weak, that running away from her problems is all she knows how to do.

And for a long while, Blake believed he was right. That she was toxic to the people around her, that she made things worse for them. And there were some people in the fandom who thought that she really was this toxic person.

It's actually kind of scary, but Salem and Adam managed to manipulate not only Blake and Oz's perception of themselves, but also the audience as well in how they saw them.

I don't doubt for a moment this is going to extend to Oscar as well if she meets him, that she'll likely try to convince him that he's just Ozpin and that he, Oscar, doesn't matter, and he'll fail and make the same mistakes as their past lives. Which undoubtedly parts of the fandom are going to take Salem's false perception of Oscar to heart as well and believe her.

Which brings me to move on from Blake's parallels with her first "soul" and Ozpin, to her second "soul" and Oscar.

Now Blake alluding to the Man with Two Souls is metaphorical, while in Oscar's case it's very literal, and it's no coincidence she's the one who first introduces us to the concept to us with the book she's reading during the Shining Beacon.

"...It's about a man with two souls. Each fighting for control over his body"

(It's important to note that the conflict between the two souls is not one of Good vs Evil)

Blake's conflict of her two metaphorical souls fighting for control, is the false perception Adam had of Blake and who she used to be with him, her past that she can't escape, and the struggle for her smaller, more honest soul, trying to define herself and decide who she wants to be. And for Oscar, he's struggling to define himself and decide who he wants to be, because of the merge with Ozpin, and that his past will become Oscar's too.

Both of them want to do the right thing and rise to their challenges, but it seems like such an impossible task to them that they're afraid to meet it.

"I'm... scared. I'm more scared than I've ever been. Than I ever thought was possible. I always knew I wanted to be more than a farmhand. But this? Who would ask for this?" - Oscar, Volume 5 Chapter 5

"I joined the Academy because I knew that Huntsman and Huntresses were regarded as the most noble warriors in the world. Always fighting for good. But I never really thought past that. When I leave the Academy what will I... How can I undo so many years of hate?" - Blake, Volume 2, Chapter 10

But the person who sees Blake's "other soul" the person she's truly capable of being, who she really is, even when she can't herself, is Yang.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out. You're not one to back down from a challenge Blake." - Yang, Volume 2 Chapter 10

And the one who sees Oscar and who he's capable of being even when he can't himself, is Ruby.

"Hey Oscar? I know this isn't going to be easy. But the fact that you're trying says a lot about you. You're braver than you think." - Ruby, Volume 5 Chapter 5

Blake and Oscar are also the first people we see Yang and Ruby open up to about their past trauma. The difference between the two being that in the Burning the Candle scene Yang is more willing to be vulnerable around Blake, to let her guard down and open up to her about her abandonment issues and how they've affected her.

Because as a more emotionally mature character she understands she needs to do that in order to properly relate to Blake so she can offer her support. She gets frustrated however when Blake still refuses her support, and so she has to give her a push to accept it.

Ruby, however, isn't as emotionally mature as Yang, and doesn't find it easy to let down her guard and talk about her emotions. Her mentality being described as "I don't have time for my emotions, I've got to make sure everybody else is okay" - RWBY Rewind: Ruby Rose Rewinds With Us

She feels like she constantly needs to be a pillar of strength and support for everyone around her as a leader. She has a hard time opening up about her own feelings and being vulnerable around others. For her, it seems much more natural to internalize those feelings rather than face them head on. As a leader, she feels she isn't supposed to show fear or doubt. If she admits how she's hurting or how scared she is, she'd be afraid of those around her losing faith.

Ironically, it's Ozpin's words of advice to her that enforce this mentality

"But if you aren't constantly performing at your best, what reason do you give others to follow you?"

So even though only a minute ago Oscar saw that Ruby was clearly upset over something (being reminded of Penny's death)

Ruby then goes on to act like nothing's wrong when she then attempts to reassure Oscar. And it feels like a performance, and though Ruby genuinely does want to reassure him, it comes across as insincere to him. He's frustrated because Ruby isn't being honest about how she's feeling, and is only concerned with his feelings.

So in the Dojo scene we have Oscar start to push Ruby past that flawed mentality that Ozpin enforced, to be more honest about how she's feeling, to talk about how the Fall of Beacon and the loss of Phyrra and Penny affected her, how she's afraid of Salem killing people she cares about, and that she'd kill anyone regardless.

And with both Ruby and Yang opening up about their past experiences they can relate to Blake and Oscar's own fears, doubts and insecurities. Blake's need for answers and Oscar's fear of the fight with Salem, and Yang's need for answers and Ruby's fear of the fight with Salem.

"I told you! I'm not telling you to stop! I haven't. To this day I still want to know what happened to my mother and why she left me. But I will never let that search control me. We're going to find the answers we're looking for Blake. But if we destroy ourselves in the process what good are we?" - Yang, Volume 2 Chapter 6

"I am scared! But not just for me. What happened at Beacon shows that Salem doesn't care if you're standing against her or not. She'll kill anybody. And that, scares me most of all. Phyrra... Penny... I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt. That I didn't think about them every day since I lost them. That I didn't wish I had spent more time with them. If it had been me instead, I know they would have kept fighting too. No matter how dangerous it was. So that's what I choose to do. To keep moving forward." - Ruby, Volume 5 Chapter 5

And by demonstrating their own resolve, as well as their belief in the kind of people Blake and Oscar are capable of being that inspires them to be that person.

"I'm. Not. Running."

"You. Will." - Blake and Adam, Volume 3 Chapter 11

"She made a choice. To put others before herself. And so do I."

"Then you've chosen death." - Oscar and Hazel, Volume 5 Chapter 12

There's also Blake expressing her doubt in Yang during volume 3 after she attacked Mecury, causing Yang to question her own judgement.

She compares it to how Adam used to attack people, and of course she knows Yang wouldn't do something like that without good reason, but she can't but feel like the situation is very familiar. And Blake knows Yang isn't Adam, and makes it clear that she's decided to trust Yang.

"I want to trust you. I will trust you." - Volume 3 Chapter 8

But despite that, Blake's words do still weigh on her mind even when she's alone, where Qrow comes to talk to her about what happened and reassure her, and then they end up talking about her mum.

And then with Ruby in volume 7, Oscar expresses his doubt in Ruby in her decision to lie and hide the truth from Ironwood, comparing it to how Ozpin did the same to them, which, similar to Yang, causes Ruby to question her own judgement. And obviously he knows Ruby isn't Ozpin, that she probably had a good reason for lying. But again, the situation just feels so familiar.

But ultimately he decides to put his trust in Ruby, even before Ironwood.

"I do believe in you. But not only you." - Volume 7 Chapter 7

And by episode 9 they're both on the same page in deciding to choose the truth over fear. (if only James could have stayed on that page too)

Similarly to Yang, we see Ruby alone in episode 4 of volume 7, and you can tell Oscar's words are still weighing on her mind, as Qrow comes over to talk to her and she asks him if she is like Ozpin, and he reassures her that she's not, and then they end up talking about her mother.

Okay, so I'm going to go out on a limb here, and you can call me out on my bullshit if you like, but I'm making a prediction (like, 12 hours from the finale, but hey, it might happen later in the series for all I know)

If we're going full in on the parallels here, remember how Yang lost an arm trying to protect Blake from Adam, and afterwards Blake ends up leaving Yang like Raven, believing she'd be better off without her?

And how Salem is on her way to Atlas after hearing Ozpin had reincarnated, the foreshadowing for Ruby losing an eye and them bringing up her trauma around Summer in Chapter 11?

On top of her wanting Ruby alive?

I'm gonna guess Ruby loses an eye trying to protect Oscar, and then afterwards either Oscar or Ruby tries to sacrifice and give themselves up to Salem, except it ends up being a hollow sacrifice like Summer's

"I didn't have a choice I did what I had to do I made a sacrifice but forced a bigger sacrifice on you!" - Red like Roses Part 2

Because Salem would end up taking both of them either way. I actually can't imagine a scenario where she doesn't, because she needs both of them. But one of them has a worse fate, a "bigger sacrifice" in store for them when they reach Evernight (which I'm still thinking is Ruby)

#rwby #ozpin #oscar pine #yang xiao long #ruby rose #salem #blake belladona #adam taurus #trash meta #thank FUCK I can finally sleep #thanks to anyone who read this to the end #I don't think I'm any good at this but it feels good to just waffle sometimes

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gxymlky · 4 years

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Amiya in Bedivere’s interlude

I recently played his interlude again and again because it’s so sweet, this boy deserves the world. Also, in his interlude, he self-depreciate himself so I wanna insert myself that he isn’t like this.

(yeah, i tried but you get the idea) and the B-team is mentioned but not really the spotlight

Interlude began when Amiya was in her room busy with some paper works and was watching videos on her laptop when Bedivere entered greeting her, “Good morning, Amiya. What do you have planned today?” Amiya looked at him, kinda perplexed, “I was busy, but I might need a break” she replied, “then I shall accompany you, no matter your destination”

“Hmm. Maybe some place where I can breath a fresh air”

“Rayshifting? Perhaps training in the simulator?”

“I have done that with Rhion and Chiyo the other day, thank you Bedivere” Amiya acknowledged, her eyes still on the computer, listening to a video commentary of some memes, which she does while doing her paperwork whilst knowing she will add words from the video if she wasn’t paying extreme attention.

“Well, I am here on behalf of Miss Mash today---”

“Oh, it’s fine, I appreciate her looking after not only me but also everyone else.” she understood as she shifted a bit and faced him, “so..”

“I will try my very best to aid you then” Amiya smiled and muttered a thank you before shifting her position to stand up and stretch herself after hours of sitting down and crouching, facing the screen and the notes.

“Now that you mention it---” she forgot her medical check, Amiya remembered how her welfare is tied with her thaumaturgy, the more she draws from it, the more she feels sluggish or even collapse from a single blast from her staff she delivered, even Rhion mentioned she has to be careful or equip herself with a Mystic Code to not fall back.

Bedivere explains she was having her medical check and has to remain in the exam room all day.

“Medical checks are important, Amiya, you’re aware that Chaldea is isolated from the rest of the world,” he continued, “and is located in an extreme environment”

“I know, I know...” her words trailed as she let out a long sigh, arching her neck up.

“Our bodies and minds are under incredible pressure, we must always be aware of this, understand, Amiya”

“Yeah... you sound like my mother” she chuckled but he continued on despite her comment.

“and because you have exceptional talent, I don’t want you to crack under pressure especially if you have a frail body”.

“So please take care of yourself as the flames we are facing and the cold, uncaring environment surrounding Chaldea are quite different in nature and said to be exceptionally difficult.”

“That’s the challenge we are facing right now, Me, you, the staff here” she shrugged, “as someone who intended to be an intern now is tangled with these threads, I have slight mixed feelings” Amiya stated.

“And as such, frequent checkups are of critical importance here Amiya”

“I-is this the reason why you’re here to pick me up? I am going later. But okay, thanks”

She was thankful it was Bedivere who came to check up on her, she doesn’t have anything against when Mashu or Chiyo does, as long as it wasn’t Wilhelmina since she drags her out of her room when she doesn’t respond the third time, that happens so bad, even Bedivere saw it.

“Permit me to remind you once more: I am a substitute for Miss Mash today, as such, please ask me for anything, I am your attendant, your butler, I am your servant in every possible sense of the word”

“Ah, um, okay, by the way, where’s Chiyo?” Amiya interrupted as he shortly finishes.

“I believe she was with Lady Marie and D’Eon, they must be having a tea, would you like to join them?”

“Hmmm, maybe some other time, she might be replenishing herself today and deserves to take a breather.”

“I see, since you trained in the simulator the day before, maybe observing and monitoring the remnants from the Singularities would be appropriate as well.”

“Maybe, but I am off duty with that, besides, Wilhelmina and Rene are doing that as of right now”

“Hmm...”

“Battling to gain something is what will lead to further growth for you, Master”

“Huh...I don’t know much about that”

“Battles for the sake of the Grand Order”

“...”

“Or rather...” he continued on, eventually these battles will wear her, or anyone in the team down. Psyche, Soul, in modern times, Nerves.

“Heh, modern, it’s medical but whatever” she retorted

Bedivere paused for a bit

“There is something that crossed my mind, Amiya”

“What is it?”

“Normally, I wouldn’t dare mention something like this to other, but in your particular case...”

“I’m sure HE would be happy about it, without a doubt since he is that kind of knight.”

“Hmmm. He...”

“I think you must be referring to Bird boy.. Tristan?”

“Yes, my comrade, the man who is the epitome of freedom. And also the comment, Bird boy...?”

“What of it?”

“When you say he is the epitome of freedom, the first thing that comes to my mind is birds, they fly freely...”

“You have good analogy, I’m impressed by that. Anyways, I occasionally would accompany him and believe it is a wonderful place to relax. But please, keep that to yourself.”

Relax huh, never heard that word in a million years but I am overreacting Amiya thought as she spaces a bit.

“The Rec room is what you’re referring to”

He laughs and asked her if it is where she think it is, Amiya nodded and shrugged, “Chiyo, Rhion and I hang out there, usually we pick meadow alps like the swiss alps where we sing and copy scenes from the Sound of Music”

“Ah I see, so you seem to know it as well, let’s head over there right away, I will leave a note for Sir Tristan and perhaps, Sir Rhion?”

“Rhion is likely asleep right now, so it’s just us”

“Alright, let’s go”

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

The two arrived in the simulator, instead of a the Swiss alps she was so familiar with. It was completely different.

“The sea...”

“You’re less enthused than I expected, my apologies. I must reflect on my presentation”

Amiya shook her head, “n-no, no it’s fine. It’s alright. It’s good to take a breather somewhere else” her tone has a small bit of upset as if she was expecting something the long time only it didn’t leave up to her expectations.

“Ah, I’m glad you like it, but still it doesn’t make it any less better on my part. I will further reflect on my actions regardless.”

A simulator, a virtual creation of an environment of the outside world. They aren’t outside Chaldea and it would be a bit troubling if they went out since the endless winter is absolutely unforgiving Heroic Spirits or humans alike.

“The sea gives me a sense of peace. I hope it goes the same way for you, Master”

“Mm”

“Actually, I was initially skeptical about whether or not this would work. I accompanied Sir Tristan to watch him go fishing and listening to him ranting that was nothing but difficult to understand..”

“Haha, I see you take yourself as Tristan’s punching bag with his rants huh” Amiya mused.

“There was sincerely nothing to do except spending time just watching the sky and the sea. But surprisingly, doing so felt peaceful, or rather, calming to me”

“Ah, I see. So we are complete opposites but not really”

“Complete opposites?”

“Mhm, when you say the watching the sky and the sea is calming for you. I’d felt the same way except, I would watch the sky while lying down in the flowery meadow. Both is relaxing to us”

Bedivere chuckled and Amiya leaned closer to him, “maybe sometime, I’d bring you there someday where we’ll experience it together”.

The two looked to the sea until he breaks the silence.

“Amiya”

“Hm?”

“...Have I..overstepped my boundaries?” his tone. It was as if someone was confessing their crimes but at the same time, there was a tone of remorse and genuine solemnity. “No, it’s fine. It’s nice to relax sometime and take a break away from all these..thank you, Bedivere”

“I should be the one thanking you, Master.”

“Please call me Amiya, I think I find the term Master a bit... uncomfortable”

“Alright, Amiya”

Amiya smiled and just stretched herself once again, trying to feel herself and the environment and slightly sides to his shoulder.

“Would you like to try night fishing?”

“Night fishing?”

“Yes, did you know Amiya, Sir Tristan uses his Failnaught so skillfully to catch a many great fish..”

“Oh, but how do we get fishing gear then? Shouldn’t we entered the data before entering? I didn’t expect this to happen, I’m so sorry..”

“Ah, don’t apologize, Amiya. I requested Miss Da Vinci’s help on that front.” He then entered a few buttons on the multipurpose window whilst she waited.

“...Now I equip the extra item and we’re all set” he said. “Well, I’m sure there are other ways to do so but I don’t have much experience with the simulator”

“I think it’s enough, there are two of them and just teach me how to fish, if it’s alright with you, it’s been a while since I’ve fished and I completely forgot the basics”

After a few exchange with eachother, Bedivere guided the milk-haired girl, “the bait is already on the hook, so please cast it to the sea with all your strength, Amiya.”

“Eeyyy!” Amiya stood up, arching her back to further cast it away and hearing a small sound on the water surface. “Ah, I think it landed”

“Such bold and brazen movement, amazing!”

“Ahaha, it’s not that special Bedi” she appealed and looked at the sea again to detect any movement from the bait.

“But it’s really wonderful, did you any by chance tried fishing before?”

“As a child yeah, but it ended up so badly that I accidentally threw my teddy bear instead of the fishing line.” Recalling that said memory really takes her back where she was in a small lake with a family gathering, at such a young age of seven, she accidentally threw her bear and her having a total meltdown, thankfully it was recovered but the dress the bear was wearing was ruined. Looking back at it, it was so embarrassing.

“Ah, is that why you take all your energy in casting the fishing line since you’re not holding anything besides that right?”

“You read me like a book, Bedivere” she then looked back at the sea, smelling the salty, calming atmosphere whilst holding the fishing pole. Bedivere said he will look out at the front so there’ll be nothing to worry about.

Amiya laid back again and let out a sigh before putting her hand on her nape, rubbing it to release the tension.

“...This is something that I’ve never said before...”

“..?”

“Nor did Tristan say this...but at times, I find myself thinking this:

Tristan was torn between the two Iseults. And his fate led him to lose his life by the water. Or rather, his soul”

“Ah..” she remembered, she knew the story, it was how Tristan was poisoned and his last request was to see the Iseult he loved, but the other Iseult who was his wife lied to him about the sails being black instead of white.

Poor thing..

“Perhaps that is why he cannot be apart from the water. Even now, he could be waiting for that ship with the shining, pale white sail...” Amiya didn’t say anything but was about to open her mouth to say something when she suddenly jolted

“ha!”

“Something’s biting! It’s splashing. It must be a very big one..! It;s like Sir Kay swimming amongst the fishes!” the last part almost made Amiya chuckle but she is reeling back with her might, almost panicking.

“Almost there! The tug tho!”

“It could be a red snapper, mackerel, or even a tuna!”

“It could be all three!”

“Alright, let’s reel it in, Amiya! And just like humans take pictures of the fish to record their greatest catches, we both can capture its data and show it to Miss Mash and Sir Tristan!”

“Add Chiyo and Rhion to the list!” she beamed

“It;s sure to make them smile!”

“Now reeeeeeel!” Amiya reeled with all her might with the help of Bedivere, her back was against his chest, close too close! She isn’t into those, yet and it’s making her cheeks burn

“Haa, it’s so big! The fish just leaped out of the sea” never in her life had she seen a fish so heavy and big.

Amiya walked closer to examine it until Bedivere held her back

“Wait..” the creature landed with a heavy crash, apparently it is a weird looking....fish?

“The fish we caught is...actually, not a fish.....”

The creature roared an eerily screech as it further lunged into the two. “Ahhh! T-that’s an enemy!”

“Oh, I’m so embarrassed...I must have made some kind of mistake when I am setting the system up, Doing something one is accustomed to can cause such trouble.. I pulled an all-nighter studying the manual...but I am no good at learning new things...”

“Stop the lamentation first Bedivere, for now, we need to get rid of this thing!” Amiya wasn’t able to bring her staff with her but she could put up small barriers to keep the enemy in place.

“Yes, Amiya, your commands! I am prepared to make amends for my misconduct, Or, I am prepared to accept whatever punishment you deemed fitting, but first we have an enemy to fight!”

His demeanor changed as he prepares to fight the enemy lunging forward

“I swear by my Airgetlam that I will dispose of this monster immediately!”

“Let’s go, Bedivere!”

SWITCH ON - AIRGETLAM

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DEAD END - AIRGETLAM

Bedivere slashed off the enemy to two before dying. Returning to normal, Amiya let out a deep breath, that was hell of a fight but it’s done.

“...Please allow me to apologize once more. Even though it was only in the simulator, my most important job is to keep you safe, you being in danger clearly meant I failed my duty as a Knight. My efforts were fruitless once again, I apologize Amiya”

“It is alright, Bedivere, as long as you’re fine, it doesn’t matter. I am not mad to begin with” she earnestly acknowledge and patted his head.

He blushed as she patted his head, “Ah, Thank you so much, I am undeserving of such kindness.

Amiya and Bedivere looked at the now dead creature before them.

“Now...it would be a waste to leave this, so let’s eat it”

“?!” did she process this correctly? Eldritch things are not her cup of tea so she was clearly caught off guard but then she lacks self-awareness, any point he would coerce her to eat this and it scared her.

“I have memories from my previous life. For instance, from Round Table analects, King Arthur, number eight: Food is all the same. Nutrition is nutrition, even monster meat!”

“Haa.....”

“Now, Amiya...repeat!”

“Ahhh” Amiya walked back, clearly freaked out. If anything, she’d rather starve than eat those kinds of things, she had seen people on videos eating live octopus, geoducks, raw meat, hell even a roasted alligator. Roasted. Alligator, one girl from China even had her face scarred by an octopus in her attempt to eat it alive. But luckily, this one is dead so the chance of it scarring their faces is zero.

Amiya backed away even more

“T-those videos, haaa” flashbacks of people grossly eating really stood out as she backs out further.

“What are you talking about, Amiya? Why are you backing away? Amiya? Amiya?”

(just imagine her face during the whole event after the battle)

youtube

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- After running for quite sometime (not even long, just 10 minutes) and him after her.

“...Once again, my apologies. But now I’ve learned more about your food preferences”

“..sea grapes are something I actually like” she revealed. They aren’t as bad, but at least she could live with it than those Eldritch-type things, he is into.

“Ah, I’ll keep that in mind, in order for you to enjoy my dishes more in the future, I will continue to hone my skills” Amiya just nodded, tears and sweat are so visible and her expression seems like she’s simultaneously crying and laughing

“By the way...” she looked back as she wiped out her sweat with her handkerchief, “where are we?”

“The seaside we visited is Sir Tristan’s place of relaxation. Now we are at mine..” His expression softened as he walked past her. “It’s quite similar to a certain place in Britain”

“....A place of peace...well, admittedly this tranquil place is where I allow my mind to race. It is a place that helps me renew my resolve and reinvigorate my soul. So it may be a stretch to call this place a place of peace.”

“Oh. So like mine but in a different environment huh”

“Yes, as you mentioned, your place of relaxation along with miss Chiyo and Sir Rhion is the swiss alps.”

Huh, so he remembered, the smallest detail, something that you genuinely appreciated so much, everytime someone knew the teeny bit, their heart leaps with joy.

“Bedivere?”

“...” Amiya looked at him with concern, perhaps, her actions upset him earlier, “I’ll make it up to you what happened earlier. I’m sorry, I wasn’t educated in those types. I’ll promise to learn about them for sure.”

“No. It’s not about that, I was thinking of the past.”

“Huh?”

“Our Britain was a nation under constant threat of attack, never peaceful or stable...” He then explained that many fell victim to the chaos and he wasn’t able to save them. Then he told her about the Giant of Mont Saint-Michel. “A fearsome giant was wreaking havoc on the Mont Saint-Michel of Brittany”

Amiya carefully listened to him, her expression filled with soft curiosity like a child who wanted to see what her grandmother was knitting. “...and kidnapped Princess Helena, the niece of the King of Brittany”. Helena. First thing that popped in her head when she heard the name was Caster Helena Blavatsky, though she didn’t want to sound disrespectful and just swallowed the thought. The atmosphere isn’t even a time for cracking jokes or a quip.

“Our King Arthur took Sir Kay and myself to hunt the giant down and rescue her..” His eyes lowered a bit but soon looked at her, “and on that quest...to be frank...I was of no help to the two of them. King Arthur and Sir Kay defeated the giant in a gruesome battle and brought some peace to Brittany.” Amiya’s expression slightly lit up, “and bam! It’s a finally happy ending right! At least you and your comrades brought peace” she chattered. But even her cheer isn’t helping.

“On the other hand, I...I could not save the princess.”

“Ah, so she...”

“Yes, by the time we arrived she has already been gone. I was too late, powerless as I am. All too little, too late. Princess Helena, known for her grace had her young and promising life plucked away, and we found only her pitiful corpse”

“Oh,” Amiya couldn’t believe what happened, she couldn’t imagine what guilt and pain he must’ve felt when he saw the once and beautiful, lovely princess, once filled with life and possibly cheeriness now snuffed out of her. It is something that reopened a painful memory in her past.

“I couldn’t save the people dear to me. First, Princess Helena. Then, the Battle of Camlann, my king...Arthur. I failed not once, but twice”

“...Bedivere”

“...This place..it reminds me of where Princess Helena drew her last breath. Every time I stand here, it reminds me...that I am a powerless knight...I am but a man who lost the two people he swore to protect”. Amiya grabbed both of his cheeks slapping it together causing him to snap out.

“That’s wrong Bedivere!” she asserted.

“Amiya?”

“Just because you can’t save people dear to you doesn’t make you a complete failure! Do you think Helena would be happy if you continue to depreciate yourself further? Do you think your King or your comrades would like it if you degrade yourself further?! Not only I find it absolutely repetitive and annoying but I couldn’t stand seeing you this way as your Master.” Amiya then lets go, “I’m sorry, I kinda went off”

She looked away, “you see when you mentioned Princess Helena and about her, there’s also a memory that I repressed for so long, I don’t even share it with close people like Mashu and Chiyo”.

Amiya then placed her index finger on her lips. “Please keep this a secret between us, Sir Bedivere”

“You have my word, Master..”

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

It started back in Junior year of high school, when a girl her age was introduced in her class, her name is Rika, but she was bound to a wheelchair and the desk beside her was empty, since she was beside it, the teacher assigned Amiya to aid the new student to the assigned desk. She didn’t think anything of it until she saw her one day on the garden alone, drawing. Without a doubt, Amiya approached Rika and asked what she was doing, drawing flowers, Rika stated that the flower’s beauty lasts temporarily and if she were to pluck it, then it will hasten its beauty and dies much faster, the least she can do is draw and keep an original image even if it is not as accurate. Amiya was interested and seeing how talented Rika was, she was curious what technique she used and even taught her how to mix colors, soon their friendship blossomed, Amiya who was a recluse became more open and willing to help, she never had any real friends even if she has, she does not consider them close. The two shared same interest with one another when it comes to history and their love for retro things. Their bond grew stronger as time passes, it came to a point where Rika needed to be hospitalized due to an illness slowly eating her life away, she was due in operation and wanted to spend her time with Amiya before her operation. In reality, Rika had no friends and her grandparents homeschooled her before going out to a real one, Rika’s first and only friend. Touched by this, Amiya encourages her that she will make it regardless and gave her a charm to remember her by once she enters the operating room. Amiya went home in hopes the surgery would be a success. Only for her to learn from her mother days later that Rika had died during the operation, but prior to that, she left a small gift and a letter to Amiya indicating how much she appreciated her and the fact she was very patient whenever Rika would ask her questions and never get mad or irritated nor does she feel pity just because she was bound and with that, she is also able to make friends through her while Amiya opens up to people at the same time.

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

If it wasn’t for Rika, I would’ve not made friends along the way...

“I just had to share that, after your telling about Princess Helena, I learned that we both share the same parallels,” Amiya said as she clasped both her hands on her chest. “It’s because I don’t want you to feel the burden alone...her last wish to me was I hope I’ll be able to live my without fear, and every time I recoil or hesitate, I think of her resiliency and how she is able to withstand any obstacles in her way...”

I was scared, I didn’t know where I was going nor what I am going to do until I met her... and when she was cruelly taken away from her grandparents, from me, from my newly-made friends.

I know she will not always be around to help me...

The least I can learn from her was to move forward despite everything...

“Bedivere, you are not powerless, you stayed loyal to your King until the very end. Even undergoing those trials just to return Excalibur to your King and you call yourself powerless? Those were the most daring and valiant task you did!”

He blushed, but she still continue

“In the end, we will face adversaries together, that is a way to keep moving forward. So please, for your King’s sake...don’t belittle yourself anymore..”

This warmth, her hands touched his cheeks, cupping them together. “Thank you Bedi...”

“Master, no, Amiya...those words...” So assuring, so gentle yet firm, it was as if she was sharing her pain with him which was the case. He wonders why she would give those words to someone like him, someone who doesn’t even deserved to be numbered among the Knights of the Round Table but now...

Bedivere knelt down in front of Amiya, “w-wait----”

“Master, even if I am a powerless man who does not deserve to be included among the Knights of the Round Table and the words you have expressed to me, and yet, because of that----nay, I shall offer you this vow, knowing that my manifestation here with you was truly a miracle...

I shall protect you, Amiya, who fights these brutal battles to defend humanity’s future.

No matter how powerful the enemies coming to our way, no, no matter how cruel the fate we face may be....

Your life...your soul...your heart...every single part of you.

I shall protect you till the very end..”

Amiya dove down in his kneeling height and wrapped her arms around him, her eyes are swelling now, tears are falling, tears of warmth, assurance, happiness or whatever it is, someone willing to protect her and, the feeling is mutual too, she also wanted to protect her brother, Chiyo, Mashu or anyone dear to her

“Thank you, sir Bedivere” she sobbed through gross crying. She had never cried this far aside from her friend’s death who turned her to be a caring, open individual she is today.

“....Yes, Amiya

I swear I will live up to your expectations..”

and with that, Amiya kissed him on the cheek causing him to blush deeply.

#gudasona #mastersona #bedivere fgo #self insert #havent written a fanfic this long aaahh!#i forgot how to fancy word #amiya plume

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mitsue-chan · 4 years

Text

Path to Isolation: A new beginning

EPISODE 01

⬖ __________ ⬗

"𝐀 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧? 𝐍𝐨, 𝐧𝐨. 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭."

⬖ __________ ⬗

[Your name] [Last name]

You saw your childhood life flash by as a blur as you stared at your mother's peaceful face, resting eternally inside the glass coffin. You wore an all black dress that landed up to your knees, and you could only frown in distaste.

The guests that lingered around the funeral were quite surprised that you.. Your mother's only daughter, did not shed a single tear about her apparent death.

Your father stared ahead, though you could see the grief and guilt apparent in his eyes. It's been two months after that and you were only a young child when your father left you with a man named Dire Crowley. You were pretty sure he finally snapped.

It was a complicated time, and you could only watch with a blank look as your father pleaded, no- begged for his dear friend, his colleague to take care of you in his place. To your surprise, the man with the crow like mask agreed to nurture you. So you watched as your father handle your belongings, give it to Crowley and left without ever looking back as he got inside the warp pad.

It was one of those moments when you had understood a person like no other. Humans and fairies alike were so, so fragile.

Your father was a fae, a cowardly fae. Yet your mother was human, a human so deeply in love with your father to the point that she had married him and had you. They were so deeply in love, but your mother had passed away, dying feverishly during labor when she was to give birth to your dear little sister.

Neither one of them had survived.

And so, you were left with your father for a few months, watching him cry time to time, watching him sulk and beg for his wife to come back. But you knew that he knew that sooner or later she was going to die either way. A fae had to endure a burden if he was to marry a human. Loneliness. Once he had married your mother, he knew the consequences in which he was to take.

Humans don't live as long as faes.

Taking part of being half fae, you were granted temporary immortality. You were to live longer than a human, but not as long as a fairy. You were beautiful, and elegant like no human babes, who stumbled and babbled like a newborn child.

As your father was a raven fae, you had managed to earn yourself a pair of ravenous black wings, strong and limber. Yet you didn't know how to soar yet. You didn't even know what to do with them. You saw them as something that could get in the way.

You were quiet. You were never one to talk. You remembered when you used to be happy, a gleefully stupid child that believed that the world was perfect as it is. No, you were born into a villainous world. You weren't supposed to get a happy ending. It was for the princes and princess that lived in the brighter side of the world. You're a villain in truth. You lost your happy ending when your mother took it away from you.

She was a selfish woman, and you didn't blame her for it. Never mother.

So when your new father, Dire Crowley introduced you to dark, gloomy academy as your new home, you were forced to follow new expectations. It wasn't something you could roam freely amongst the halls like you used to in your abode, you were to follow a set of rules, rules where you have to endure until you were old enough to work at the academy itself.

It wasn't bad, was your first thought.

You managed to feed off from the cafeteria, with food so exquisite to the student's eye and taste. Sleep in a dorm called Ramshackle, a dorm abandoned years ago due to the ruckus a trio of ghosts caused daily that they had to move out. The inhabitants welcomed you with transparent arms, seeing you were too young to pull a prank on. Since you were the one to cater after your father when he was in his mood, you eventually learned to clean. Crowley was surprised for sure, but pleased with your talents.

"I never expected for a seven year old to clean. You had exceeded my expectations, little raven." That's what he called you. A raven. Despite their loud nature, the birds of prey could be as quiet, and you had chose that side. But never had you felt that warm blossom at the peak of your chest, blooming at your newfound pride.

"Thank you, Mr. Crowley." You say to him, with a gentle smile. That smile lasted quite a bit.

He shook his head in response. "It would be fine to call me your father now."

Perhaps it was better to call him your father. Better than your last one, you had molded into a perfect little doll for Crowley, ready for the compliments that you had yearned for. Your life was too bland, too boring. Yet maybe, just maybe, your new home would spark some new feeling into you.

A few days in and you were already settled in your new home. It was much, much better than your old one indeed. You found yourself wandering the halls of the academy and waltzing into the library to read the books settled into their little nooks. Watching through the cracks of the doors of the classrooms as the students learned (but Crowley has seen you curious, and forbid you to distract the students).

You were currently writing down the basic ingredients to a certain potion during your lesson with Crowley. Since you had a little free time to yourself, you thought that you might as well learn. Rolling the pen against the pad of your fingers, you gingerly wrote down the next component to the substance.

"Are you getting all of this, [Your name]?" Crowley looked up from the book that he was scanning about, ready to recite the next phase of the potion. You let out a hum, giving the man a side glance before continuing your writing. "Almost, father." Your back was pressed awkwardly against the chair as you tried to sit upright, but your extra limbs were hard to settle.

Ruffling your feathers just slightly, you curved the last letter with the ink of you pen before nodding. "Please continue." The lesson continued on, and you were indulged within the primary components of your learning, taking in every last detail as your father announced the most important things from his books. Learning was something you'd like to take into hobby.

Your new father.. Crowley, had thought you were a little bit weird. You weren't like a natural seven year old like the ones he has seen. Normal seven year olds played, and laughed and were spoiled. You- on the other hand.. You were serious, elegant and yearned for love and compliments every single day. It was very hard to please you, with a few exceptions of head pats and soothing words that Crowley said very seldom.

But then again, Twisted Wonderland wasn't normal. Though Crowley was joyous when you had received your unique magic. Healing. Your eyes sparkled, a small smile against your lips, and you practically shoved your pricked finger as high as you can to manifest it to his height. It was when you were one day walking amongst the dark gardens in the courtyard, admiring the bright red colors of the roses that settled there.

You had touched the petals gently, feeling the texture against the pads of your finger and you admired how easily the red coloring got into your hands. Perhaps they weren't all red. With a buzzing curiosity, you held your finger up to your face, tilting your head as you watched the red substance ooze and dripped downwards. It was paint.

In the amidst of the red palate of the rose, you noticed the rusted white that gleamed true behind its façade.

So it was white all along. You never went out much, and you realized that there was so much to see. Curiosity got the better of you as you turned your focus towards the prickly thorns of the vines of the rose bush. It lured you, lulling you to touch the sharp thorn. Then as soon as you pressed your finger against the prick, you quickly withdrew your hand in surprise.

Your wings outstretched hurriedly in panic as you now stared at your blood. It cascaded down your finger just as the paint did and dripped onto the floors of the garden. You winced at the stinging pain of the aftermath of your mistake. That was.. that was a refreshing feeling. Your eyes wide, shining. And you smiled.

It was a new experience indeed.

The second you turned to stare at your wounded finger once again, you noticed a peculiar deed. It was healed. No trace of a small hole that had pricked the flesh of your skin. No blood that pooled out of the wound. Blinking twice, you tilted your head before realization hit you hard.

You ran back inside the academy, ready to tell Crowley of the new sensation as you await just outside of his office. You heard muffled voices and decided to wait patiently, an excited look plastered amongst your face. After a few moments, two men exited the room, each with a different markings of cards next to their right eye, they looked formal and barely glanced your way.

A soft chirp rumbled from your lips, before you cautiously turned away to peer inside Crowley's office, looking around to see if there was any stranglers left. A letter was unfolded against your father's fingers as he read the writings written on it.

"Father..?" You questioned, knocking lightly on the mahogany door. Crowley looked up from the letter and smiled wildly at your appearance. "Hello, [Your name]." He greeted you, "Is there anything you need, my dear?" You stumbled towards him, feet padding against the carpeted floors. "I- I think I got my unique magic!"

You showed him your appendage and he looked at it confused. "Indeed..? What are you talking about, child?" You deadpanned before you explained the situation to your father. It was then his face morphed into genuine surprise. "Ah-! I see, it seems that your unique magic is healing. It'll be a useful technique to use when your comrades are in danger. Though it might be your fae side that had done this, but you might have healing as your unique magic.."

"Ah. Very well then! Since I am as gracious as the Seven Wonders themselves- I will find myself a professional medic to teach you the ways of the healing department." You nodded in return, eyes wide at the news. "Really father?" before turning your attention towards the letter that draped against an open book. "Who were those men?" It was rude to ask questions that weren't your business, but you couldn't help it.

Crowley sighed as he picked up the letter, feeling the parchment against his fingers. His golden eyes from his mask crinkled to show in a way that he was agitated. Now that you've thought about it.. You've never since his face before. His real face.

"Those were the imperial soldiers. The Queen of Heart's birthday is coming up. But I don't know what to give her." Crowley pondered, before turning to his desk. "Do you have any suggestions, little raven?"

You shook your head and hummed. "No.. But maybe you shouldn't go if you don't want to father."

Crowley snapped his head towards you abruptly, his eyes wide before he shook his head. "What a horrendous idea! It'll be off with my head if I weren't to come, child. This invitation is mandatory, and we have no choice but to go." You gave him a look before bowing. "I suppose so, I've heard about the consequences. I'm sorry for asking. It was a ridiculous idea anyway.."

"Right." Crowley nodded towards you. "It's best if you were on your way. Remember to return in time for your classes [Your name], don't be late like last time." Your father said threatheningly, but you knew there wasn't really any malice in his voice.

If you had the audacity to roll your eyes, you would have done so as you left Crowley's office. But you didn't. You were supposed to be polite and proper. To get what you want, to get the love and affection you needed.. You needed to please. Please and entertain.

You spent most of your time lazing around Ramshackle dorm, ignoring the dust that lingered around the rooms. You figured it was best to leave the dust since it was going to come back day to day, anyways. So only did you fully clean your bedroom, that was the decent looking in the whole building.

Carefully sliding a book out of a nook, you carelessly rippled through the pages and read, laying on your belly to fully stretch out your wings for a better position. A content sigh escaped your lips as you read word by word, ocassionally looking at the clock that one of the professors has given you.

It was when the clock turned six o'clock and you were sure that the students were more than done. Closing the book with your bookmark in place, you glided towards your desk and grasped your own books. Scrolls were grabbed and you stuffed it all in a bag. All of the parchment were just basic things that you needed to learn for your age.

A little hum of a tune escaped your throat, it was a familiar one.. Your mother used to sing the lullaby to you as she cradled you amongst her frail, soft arms. And for a second.. You could feel yourself feel a bit disheartened, and your chest hurt at the thought of your mother.

She took my happiness away with her. You thought shamelessly as you stood tall. It's all up to me to restore it.

⬖ __________ ⬗

"Everyday all I ever wanted to do was stay by your side."

⬖�� __________ ⬗

The day of the Queen's party came.

Your father came by to drop off your dress that you would be wearing during the celebration, took one look around your room and left you be. It was a lively, purple dress that reached your knees. With silver finishes that swirled towards your waist to your skirt. You wore a hooded cloak that reached your wings to shield it away from any view.

You.. You didn't know how to do your hair so you managed to do a simple bun. You didn't want to be too extravagant to be noticeable, but just enough for Crowley to distinguish who you are just by recognizing your cloak (if you were to get lost).

You fumbled onto your dress as you made your way to the main building of the academy, avoiding all the passing stares of any onlookers that strayed from their classes. You could feel your fingers shaking in unease. You've never been out beyond the academy before. Crowley was very busy.

"You look magnificent, dear [Your name]!" Crowley exclaimed as he took in your sight. You shifted nervously and gave out a smile. "Thank you. I hope I don't look too fancy.." You softly said, avoiding your father's look. You turned your head to make sure your cloak covered your Raven wings fully.

"Are you ready to go?" You nodded in confirmation and Crowley led you towards the magic mirror that was blank for a moment before its face fully showed up from the glass. It bewildered you on how they managed to create a inanimate object such as it to come to life. Perhaps it was made by magic, crafted with special ingredients.

"I'll introduce you to the Queen, little raven, I'm a good friend of hers. And there are plenty of kids for you to make friends with."

"I don't need friends when I have you." You told him, turning your attention away from the glistening glass panes. "You'll need them as you grow, for I am gracious enough to let you come!" You then wondered if there were going to be any faes in the party.

"Why do you keep saying gracious?" You questioned the older man, sweatdropping. He turned to look at you with squinted silhouette for eyes. "It is a magnificent catchphrase! And it defines my personality." You were about to make a snarky comment before you stopped yourself. "Okay."

"Oh Dark Mirror! Take us to the Queen's Castle Gates!" Crowley crowed, raising his arms with his palms outstretched for a dramatic effect. The mirror was silent before it's glass swirled into the figment of the colorful gateway to the Queen's abode.

Then they were suddenly teleported just outside the gates. The soldiers and the line of people didn't seem to care and moved on their spot on the line or were either giving out instructions. Crowley handed you a small box presented in white wrapper and a red bow, you were the one who was going to give the present to the Queen herself.

You could feel your wings twitch nervously.

As the two of you stood in line, you couldn't help but admire the variations of presents and creatures alike. Though there were more humans than the creatures. You could swear by your magic that you could sense a few faes here and there.

One present was about the size of your six year old self. You wondered what was inside. Some people spoke riddlish and spoke rather quickly more than you can comprehend. Your spot moved and you came closer to the gates. There were many rose bushes apparent, and gold linen that made the golden gates look fresh.

The guards seem familiar, you saw. But it was those soldiers who visited Night Raven College on deliver the invitation. Oh.

"Invitation?" One of the guards drawled out in boredom as it was your turn. You held onto Crowley as he passed the letter towards the guard's outstretched hand. Once you entered the courtyard, you couldn't help but marvel at buffet of sweets line up and ready to dine.

There was some sort of game that involved hammers.. Upside down? They pushed the ball towards one of the iron hedges. It was peculiar. There she was, the Queen herself perched on her outside throne musing over guests and opening presents. There was a kid close to the Queen's tent, and a woman who looked related to him was talking, but he held a monotone haze.

"Crowley! Good heavens- it's been a long time hasn't it?" A man approached your father and laughed. Crowley greeted the said man and indulged themselves into a conversation. You stopped holding onto his feather like tailcoat and looked around.

Oh!

You noticed a tall pink animal that stood within it's flock. Approaching it, you noticed how it was taller than you. "They're flamingos!" A voice said from behind you. You quickly turned around to see the boy from earlier. The boy near the Queen's tent! Instead of his expressionless façade, he had a hopeful look in his face.

The little boy had silver gray eyes and reddish brown hair that was cut towards his chin and v-shaped bangs. He wore his formal attire that looked way too expensive. And didn't look like his taste.

"They're really pretty." You commented, staring at the flamingos with interest. "Would you like to hold it?" The prince asked with a smile. He turned towards the bird and coaxed it towards him. "I'm Riddle. Who are you?" You paused for a moment, debating whether or not you should reveal your last name.

"[Your name]." You introduced yourself.

"That's a pretty name." Riddle said, his smile widening.

A first new friend in this place! Perhaps making mutual relationships was something she can consider when she was older. "Here you go. You can hold it now." You placed a hand against it's feathers. It was silky and soft. "Is it a girl?" You questioned, mesmerized with the creature. It gave out a noise of content.

"I um- I don't know." The shorter boy said sheepishly, a blush forming on the apple of his cheeks in embarrassment. "Oh." You giggled, patting the neck of the flamingo once again. "Did you just get here?" You nodded in return. "Yeah, we won't stay long I think."

His smile replaced with a disappointed frown. "Do you like the party?" What's with all the questions? You hummed before letting go of the flamingo. "I don't know yet. It looks really good though.." The music, the decorations, the animals! It was very much a delightful party fit for the Queen's liking. You wouldn't dare say that it wasn't fulfilling.

"Oh! Do you want a tart? It's especially made for Birthday Parties! It's just like from the rules." Rules? You tilted your head in question. "I didn't know they had rules here." It was true. Then again you recently just came here, so you were yet to understand their traditions. Maybe when you get back home, you'll do a little bit of research regarding the other countries of Twisted Wonderland.

"Are you a foreigner?" Riddle questioned, "If you aren't, it's a violation to not know of the rules, you know." You nodded, but you were still curious of the rules. "Is it the Queen who made the rules?"

"Y-yeah.. The Queen made them." Riddle said. He looked sad, lonely even. You furrowed your eyebrows. You were going to leave due to his questions but you stayed. A smile crept it's way towards your face. "That's cool, it's good to have some sort of authorization."

"Riddle?" He perked up as he heard his name. His silver eyes trailed up to your figure, seeing now that you were kind of taller. You reached a hand towards him with a shy smile, your other holding your gift to the Queen.

"Would you like to become friends?"

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T-twisted wonderland?! Yes lol, I've been obsessed with it recently. Omg Riddle baby 😭 He just needs love. This will be a slow progress! Probably expect slow updates.

#twisted wonderland x reader various x reader twisted wonderland various x reader chapter by chapter dorm leaders

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