#maybe I’ve been too wordy or too rambling
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Hello! I remember a while back you answered an ask regarding Andrew’s dating life/why he isn’t married yet when he could be if he really wanted to. You responded that you have your private thoughts on the matter, but wouldn’t expose them.
I find this to be such a bummer, because with you being a long time AG fan you seem to have a lot of insight on the topic. Also, I’m sure your thoughts would start some intelligent conversation.
Do you think that maybe one day you’ll break your rule and tell us your thoughts? 🤔
Thanks and love your blog.
Hello dear!
Yes, I have my own private views on Andrew. And yes, I avoid exposing. It such a bummer, but I’ve been attacked for exposing my opinions, even if in a more superficial way. The "less bads", I even answer. The worst ones I end up deleting, because someone has to protect my mental health. I have already been accused of thinking myself better than AG's fandom. I am no better than anyone in this world. I just look at life and everything around me rationally, as much as I can. I am an adult with a life outside the internet and not a teenager chronically online. And I don’t build castles in the sky. And here, oddly enough, it’s a rare place where I have fun and few times someone takes my patience.
I constantly see some fans pushing the limits. I see some wanting to choose who he should relate to. How he should relate. I see a big part of AG fandom fancy him as a perfect prince, when in the end, he’s just a man. Hot, kind, attractive, popular and he is living a life that many would like to have. He hasn’t had a long-term relationship since Emma. And yes, he’s really no stranger to casual flings. He is just another single guy, celebrity but very human in the world wanting some nice fucks without commitment to a beautiful busty girl - things that celebrity's life style make so much easier. Apparently it’s too much for them to face. Sometimes I have the impression that there is a confusion between Andrew and TASM Peter in the imagination of these people. You cannot point out humanity from idealized people without paying the price. And so I fully understand why he keeps his social networks private - although some incredibly still track his movements in the IG.
Sometimes I get criticism in ask box for I find him hot and express it here in my space. This is frustrating for me. it takes maturity to listen/read other people’s opinions and disagree and discuss the matter politely rather than offend, hidden behind anonymity, as a great coward.
That’s it. I hope my answer wasn’t too long. Or frustrating.
#ask box#my thoughts#maybe I’ve been too wordy or too rambling#andrew garfield#ask anon#ask response#ag fandom
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Heya! I’m new to writing fanfic despite reading for more than half of my life, and I have maybe a silly question: do you get help from a beta? How does one…find that help? 😅 I have a TRC and a TFC fic I need to complete and no godly clue how to find someone to read over what I write so I don’t obsess myself into spirals on my own haha.
I don't personally! But not for any specific reason - I think if literally ANYONE turned around to me and said they would be cool with beta reading my fics I would LOVE that shit. With the amount of mistakes I miss even after half a dozen rereads, I probably should have one lol
In general what I do is just step away from things for a day or two once I think they're finished, then read through it all, and if I trip up over anything in my brain, or find anything that feels a bit too wordy/like a mouthful, I'll revise it. I hate second drafts with a PASSION but for my first draft I usually write out the whole thing, with its bare bones, and fill in the gaps later. If you get stuck on something, just move on and come back to it later. Need to describe another character but don't know what to do? Just write 'He had blue eyes and brown hair' and move on. Things like that. It's so much easier to come back to it and fix it then fixating on it and getting nowhere. (i do a lot of additions in my edits, hence how my most recent fic went from 13k words in the first draft to 18k after the edit.)
I'm one of those losers that gets inspired by reading my own writing, so stepping away from fics when you think you've spent too much time spiralling over it, to come back to it later, is a LIFESAVER. Things you thought you were stuck on will get so much clearer once your brain has had a break, once you've """forgotten""" the exact words you wrote down. Read it from the beginning like it's your first time reading it, read every word, and if something takes you out of it, then figure out why and fix it.
Most importantly try not to be too worried about numbers and other peoples' opinions. It's easy to become discouraged when you're 5 chapters into a fic and it feels like nobody is reading it or liking it, but write for yourself!
Practice makes better, because it’ll never be perfect. Just have fun, don’t take it too seriously, and write what you want to read. Make a post and tag the fandom on it asking if anyone wants to be a beta reader, or maybe ask if anyone wants to “swap” (you beta read theirs and they read yours). I don’t know though!!!! I have never ever written with a beta reader so I don’t really have any advice there:((
I'm sorry I know you didn't ask for advice and I hope this doesn’t come across as rude or anything. We all start somewhere!! Here’s snippets from a fic I wrote in 2016 vs a different one I wrote this year.
Everybody starts somewhere, I’ve been writing fics for like 12 years and I still doubt if my writing is any good. Sure, validation is nice, but you have to trust yourself (and like your own stuff!!). and if you feel worried about your writing just keep going!!!! You’ll find your style and settle into it but just trust yourself and have fun my friend!! You’ve got this<3
(This got way too long and I rambled too much I’m so sorry)
#I’m so sorry if this comes across as like patronising or anything#just wanted to share some thoughts as someone who’s been writing fics for far too long#to someone who’s new to the game#your writing will always be better than you think it is#so fuck it#have fun#write stupid crack ships and ugly sex scenes!!! because who cares!!!!#write what you want to read and if you like your story then#that’s all that matters#idk I’m really sorry if this comes across badly but pls!! write!!!
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thanks for the tag, cori! your wip titles are immaculate. I absolutely must know about 99.3 kiss fm, jason sudeikis must pay, and mickey mouse the matchmaker.
:) thank you darling !!
99.3 KISS FM
This one's a college! bob floyd x reader !! bob, reader (nickname: cherry, pronouns: they/them), and various other daggers work the late shift at their college's radio station!! there's just endless amounts of mutual pining, a dash of miscommunication, and so many song references that only i will understand <3
have a little taste:
As the studio filled with the slow strums of “Trust” by Lucy Dacus, you made sure your mic was off before turning to the blob on the couch across from you.
“Was that still too wordy? I’m really trying to take Penny’s note about brevity to heart but how else am I supposed to fill time?”
Bob’s eyes shot up from where they had been focused on his laptop, composing his next setlist for the shift after yours. “I don’t think it was wordy but I think your pacing is more of an issue here. You literally said take a breath, but talked too fast to take one yourself. You’ll sound less like you’re rambling if you just slow down, speak with confidence.”
"If I had realized this job would be so stressful, I never would have begged Penny to let me sign up." You pouted, slumping in the desk chair as much as you could without falling off.
“Cherry, you’re fine! It’s not like the 12 people listening to a college radio station are gonna be concerned with your takes between songs. Not when you have the best song queue out of the whole lineup bar one.”
“If that one is you, I’m gonna smack you upside the head, Bo. I’m not listening to a whole night of The Cars, not again.”
“You love The Cars!”
“Yeah, in moderation! Not when I have to hear “My Best Friend’s Girl” eight times in a row at 2 in the morning!”
“I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you, obviously you have no taste.”
jason sudeikis must pay aka the hangster sleeping with other people au
two lonely souls in college agree to lose their virginities to each other, only to spend the next ten years having very strained relationships with sex. When they meet again in a sex addicts support group, Jake and Bradley decide to use their renewed friendship to help each other heal. Maybe, in more ways than one. (and also rhett abbott is there because i needed a scapegoat thank you <3)
something to whet your appetite:
"He came through every few weeks on one of his bull riding tours or to meet with vendors. He never stayed more than a night before he went back to her, and I was left with this profound emptiness in his absence.
I let myself get wrapped up in his world. I deluded myself with these fantasies that one day he would stay. All I wanted was for him to stay. I just wanted to be enough for him, so I broke myself apart into something I thought he would want. There's no telling how much of me I lost pursuing that pipe dream.
"Must have been a pretty good pipe to string you along like this for the past ten years."
"Oh shut up, Bradshaw."
"No, I'm serious! What, is it ten inches? Is it made of gold? Can it vibrate? What about him and his magical two foot long dick had you so spellbound?"
mickey mouse the matchmaker
this one is soooooo very self-indulgent. it's bob x mickey's cousin (x reader for now but that is subject to change). BASICALLY, mickey and bob have been good friends since their OCS training in Rhode Island all those years ago. While they were stationed in Newport, Mickey and Bob would go and visit Mickey's cousin while she was in school in Providence. Bob and the cousin got along like a house on fire, but were both too scared to do anything about it (even though mickey knows they both want to). Fast forward a few years, and she moves out to San Diego where the daggers are now stationed. AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, READER NEEDS A PLACE TO LIVE AND BOB HAS AN EXTRA ROOM !! Mickey's masterplan is all coming together
(there's no excerpt for this one because the whole fic is just various one-liners strung together with a wish and a prayer)
CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOUR WIPS DARLING !!!
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hi!! as ”miss este”, so to speak, do you have any recs of romantic books?? Some that are about young adults who fall in love and all that and that make u feel the same way as fanfics do sorta…. i’m taking up reading again (honestly….. a lot to do with reading your fic - it was amazing) but i’ve not found a lot of romantic books that arent like super cheesy or for way older women or children. i want them in their 20s!!! so yes i noticed your books of ’23 and thought maybe you were the right person to ask??
this is like the best message ever to get😭💖 i love that you’re taking up reading again!!!
i’m so honored to be part of that and that you thought of me but honestly i haven’t been much into romance this year! most of my pile was either nonfiction or literary fiction but not much romance. i agree - most romance nowadays is sooo cheesy which is why i don’t really dabble much. i find that most of the ‘BookTok’ resurgence of reading is very millennial, i’ve tried to get into a few recommendations from there and the writing just is not great🥲🥲
i have loved Emily Henry’s books tho - Beach Read and People We Meet on Vacation are ones by her i read back in 2021. they’re not technically in the romance category they’re just shelved in general fiction so they’re not overly cheesy. very reminiscent to fanfiction, plenty of tropes that i love are in them! she has two more books and i’ve heard great stuff about them too, you should check those out! Beach Read is sort of enemies to lovers and PWMOV is friends to lovers :)))) i was kicking my feet and giggling when reading them.
otherwise, for something a bit different - i really love Persuasion by Jane Austen which is a classic and has a ton of pining! it is a bit hard to get into tho just bc Jane Austen can be a bit old timey and wordy but i listened to the audiobook on Spotify as i read back in 2021 as well and that made it way easier.
any other romance-adjacent i’ve read recently have been queer because i’m Gay hahaha. i read one called Body Grammar by Jules Ohman which is a queer coming of age book, there’s a long time best friends to lovers pipeline that runs through the whole thing that was sooo amazing to read. i was obsessed when i first finished it hahah thread of gold which is my second matty fic is sort of based off of it💀 (if you’re not opposed to queer stories I read another called Sirens & Muses which was amazing too. another coming of age artsy pretentious college love ish story drama!)
Normal People by Sally Rooney is also an all time fav of mine - devastatingly sad but definitely a story of two people falling in love. highly recommend!!!!
anyway sorry for rambling and i apologize that i don’t have many good romance recs but i hope these will suffice x
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Hey I read this somewhere idk a fic or something maybe idk if its canon, that like brucie Wayne is Bruce's public, tabloid persona, dicks is Richie grayson and only people who knew him, family or friends call him dick
hmmmm. see, here’s where it gets a bit tricky babe.
so, it’s very clear that bruce has 3 different personalities: “brucie wayne,” the over-the-top borderline alcoholic playboy who throws money around like it’s nothing and over the years, has become (not canonically, but accepted by the fandom as) a kind of dull but doting father. then there’s batman, the gruff professional legend that actually acts as more of a legend than a human and drives everything for the sake of the mission. and then there’s just bruce, who is a little more relaxed and caring version of batman that’s only let out around his family and a few close friends.
but dick,,,,doesn’t really have that?
now as far as i’ve seen and read, dick grayson is,,,,dick grayson. the public calls him “dick,” (or probably, as i headcanon, “dickie grayson”). he’s seen as a cute little kid that bruce took in during the early years. i’m stopping myself from screaming and saying a bunch of words because jesus christ is high society racist. then later on when he grew up, people started treating dick as a mini-bruce: a fun, flirty playboy.
the thing is, there isn’t,,,,that stark of a difference between dickie and dick. with bruce, you get whiplash, but for dick, it’s almost as if a couple pieces fall into place? they’re both cheerful, exuberant, funny people who are freely affectionate and loving.
(and part of that playboy persona is actually dick’s.
there’s an absolutely disgusting trend in comics that i’m sure almost all of you have noticed of dick being objectified, catcalled, and sexually assaulted by a lot of people in the dc universe, mostly women. and dick’s shown to be very uncomfortable with all this unwanted attention from people he doesn’t know or doesn’t know well. we all as readers are also uncomfortable with this.
but it’s also shown that when he’s with his friends, he does act playful, fun, and flirty. this is because there’s already a foundation of mutual trust and respect, along with a relationship built on years of friendship. once dick knows, is familiar with, and comfortable with someone, his naturally fun and flirty side comes out, and it’s usually mutual bantering on both sides. and dick’s okay with it. he enjoys it because it’s a way of him relaxing and playing with his friends, and it isn’t at all affected by his appearance or anything because he’s known these people for years, because knows that the mutual appreciation of each other comes from friendship.)
so there’s that: the fact that dickie grayson and dick grayson’s personalities aren’t all that different.
but then there’s the fact that dick grayson is a performer. and he has a lot of masks. it’s almost like there are minute personality changes every time dick’s company and position in the team or duo changes. this is partially due to evolving times, character changes, and of course different writers. but this is something i’ve seen happen with the same author, and if i’m wayyyy off-base, then this can just be a hc of mine that explains the way dick’s core personality changes from writer to writer (ignoring the few writers that just completely obliterated him.)
when dick’s with the titans, he steps up as a leader. he’s commands respect and gives respect in return, issues out orders, sometimes has some control issues but he works through those and learns to listen to his team. when dick’s with the original fab five, or kori, or babs, he lightens up a bit. he’s more easygoing, relaxed, and goofy. he’s still committed to his job and has a strong work ethic, but you can tell he allows himself to chill a little bit in the presence of people that he knows has his back.
when dick’s with the batfam, he acts as sort of an authority figure. this came after jason, once dick started assuming responsibility for tim, but it continued on with each addition. bruce has obviously been the figurehead and sort-of patriarch of the batfam since the beginning, and alfred and babs are people the bats love and respect and give credit where credit is due. and trust me, it’s a lot of credit. but dick’s become their emotional anchor, someone they know they can rely on, someone they fall back on when they need it. he’s their safety net. (although i have to say. recently jason has been turning into the batfam team mom. idk what that’s about but i am thoroughly amused and kinda enjoying it.)
when dick’s with bruce, he becomes,,,,,,,i don’t want to say more childlike because dick’s gone to great lengths to make sure bruce respects him and treats him as an adult. and bruce does, for the most part. but there’s years and years of history between the two of them, and you can’t just wipe away the years of bruce raising dick as his own kid. too much has happened for them to go back to the easy dynamic they used to have, but too much happened in the past for them to ever pretend like they don’t mean as much as they do to each other. so,,,yea dick takes on a little more of a childlike role and bruce acts a tad more paternal than he normally does in the suit.
and when dick’s allied up with people to defeat either a greater or common enemy, his demeanor changes once again. allied, or fighting against people he has history with. this includes shrike, deathstroke, and tiger. when he’s with them, the nightwing mask drips into his entire personality. he’s chatty and witty, but each word is carefully calculated and has a purpose. he makes barbed jokes, fights with 110% of what he’s got, and pushes himself to his limits without ever letting anyone else know.
this is probably how the public never figures out he’s nightwing. (,,,,,,,most of the time.) dickie grayson is probably just different enough from nightwing that no one puts it together. going back to my point of dick being a performer, he probably holds himself differently, moves his body differently, styles his hair differently, has a different resting face, etc. these subtle changes are what people absorb easily, and are what throw people off. dick also probably uses this in the other masks i mentioned above, depending on how approachable, easy, or cunning he needs to appear.
there are constantly thousands of masks that dick’s putting on and taking off. so to sum up my own, person opinion and very long, very wordy, very rambly answer to your quick question: no, dick doesn’t have different drastic personalities like brucie wayne and batman. but dick does have a bunch of masks, and he slightly shifts his personality depending on his company.
#dick grayson#nightwing#batfam#dc#long post#dick grayson meta#nightwing meta#batfam meta#dc meta#river thinks too hard
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thank you very much for the ask, @kachowwwww !
I did do a covernalysis for Vol 3, which you can read here: [https://digital-dhampirs.tumblr.com/post/168641851375/here-it-is-the-beautiful-twosome-vanitas-no ], but after staring at the cover of the volume for a little while I’ve started to notice some stuff I didn’t see way back in my original post from 2017. So! I will be doing an all new (hopefully improved) covernalysis four years later! oh by the holy glow of the blue moon it’s been four years
this is technically a part 2, but it’s completely separate from the first part! feel free to just read one or the other..!
VnC Volume 3 covernalysis: part 2
Volume 3 is our first cover featuring multiple characters together, and boy is it a fantastic way to start the trend! Vanitas and Noé lie peacefully in a pool of water, a golden frame between them. There is a Lot going on here, so let’s get started with breaking down the frame!
Volume 3’s golden frame is absolutely dripping in Chasseur imagery— the frame is decorated with stacks of skulls similar to those in the catacombs, the design in the frame’s corners is just like the Chasseurs’ six- winged sword symbol, and at the top of the frame we see the high- ranking vampire skull Roland shows our protagonists in chapter 14. Vol 3 contains chapters 11 through 15 of the manga— the time leading up to and the beginning of Vanitas and Noé’s adventures in the catacombs— so these Chasseur designs seem very relevant. We see one of those ever- present butterflies perched on the dead vampire’s skull, a symbol of transformation and rebirth.
We also see daisies growing in one section of the frame, possibly symbolizing innocence, purity, rebirth, fidelity, and/ or new beginnings. Maybe these daisies symbolize the new developments for Vanitas and Noé’s relationship during and after the events in the catacombs? Or maybe they’re a callback to an old Celtic myth in which daisies grew to console parents after the loss of a child? Or maybe something else!
The other plant featured on this frame is ivy— a symbol of attachment, immortality, fidelity, and eternity. Both daisies and ivy have something to do with eternal life and eternal faithfulness, which is very interesting considering Vanitas’s eventual demise. Ivy is a plant that holds on to things and doesn’t let go, which is pretty neat considering the events of chapter 53..!
There’s one last part of the volume 3 frame I want to mention before moving on to the rest of the cover— the skeletal hands adorning it. Two of the hands are holding the inside edges of the frame, reminiscent of the hands on Vanitas’s frame in volume 1, and two more are holding the vampire skull in a manner eerily similar to the way the Teacher’s hands frame Noé’s face on the cover of Volume 2.
The volume 3 frame has a lot of lil details combining aspects of Vanitas and Noé’s frames from the two previous volumes— the rectangular shape of Vani’s frame with the skull at the top, the row of beads and stick bone decoration thingys (if anyone knows what those things are please tell me I’ve been wondering what they are for literal years at this point) from Noé’s frame, the skeleton hands from volume 1 in the Teacher’s position from volume 2… the Volume 3 frame might have a lot of chasseur elements, but it’s also a combination of Vanitas and Noé’s symbolic details, once again indicating the pair’s developing relationship.
And with that I think we’re finally done with the frame! Now it’s time to tackle the main subject of this ask, the boys themselves.
Vanitas, smirking, shows his mark from Luna to the viewer. The Book of Vanitas rests on his stomach, and he has two more marks of possession on display— Jeanne’s mark, which is bright red, and a duller purple mark on the other side of his neck. We don’t know who this third mark is from yet, but just based on the mark’s color palette it seems pretty likely it’s from Noé. Unlike the marks from Luna and Jeanne, though, the purple mark isn’t leaking out onto Vanitas’s clothes— it’s just there, like a bruise, and the only place its color is really echoed is on the Book. I don’t really know what this means and I suspect we won’t find out until Noé drinks Vanitas’s blood in uhm… chapter… 105… but it’s a notable difference nonetheless!
Moving from Vanitas to his partner in crime! Noé is lying above Vanitas, with the chain from the Book of Vanitas wrapped around his arm. He’s wearing the comfortable sleep clothes he wore in chapter 11 and seems to be calmly watching Vani as the latter shows off his mark from Luna. Noé’s right hand is resting on the Book of Vanitas’s chain, but he isn’t trying to remove it or snap it, he’s just touching it.
The chain around Noé’s arm reminds me quite a bit of another piece of official art,
But on the Volume 3 cover, the chain around Noé’s arm is Noé’s classic purple-magenta color, rather than Vanitas’s cobalt blue like it is in the official art. This difference in color (along with the drastically different poses between the cover and the official art) makes the official art look far more aggressive and confrontational, while the cover image looks much more peaceful and relaxed despite the chain.
The chain’s color on the Vol 3 cover makes me think that, unlike in the official art, Noé is in control of what’s going on and is choosing to keep things this way. He could get rid of the chain at any time, but keeps it wrapped around his arm. In a way, it’s tying him and Vanitas together rather than dragging them apart.
So we’ve covered the frame, we’ve talked about our protagonists… all that’s left to talk about from this cover is the background/ whatever’s going on with the water Noé and Vani are lying in! And honestly? This is another one of those things I have no ideas about. Water symbolizes a lot of things— life, purity, the moon, transformation, and a whole lot more. But I don’t quite know why Vanitas and Noé are lying in it beyond ‘it looks very pretty’.
One thing I do know for sure, though, is that there are shards of glass lying in the water with the boys. Where might those shards have come from…? My best guess is that the frame between Vani and Noé was originally a complete mirror or picture frame made out of glass, but at some point it was shattered, and now the boys are able to lie down side by side between it.
The internal walls separating Noé and Vanitas start to crumble with their argument during the ball and conversation on the roof, and fall apart a bit more during their time in the catacombs. It’ll still be a very very long time before they can even approach the idea of fully understanding each other, but at this point in the manga they’re slowly getting closer and learning to walk side by side.
Annnnnd with that, I think this covernalysis is complete! For now. Thank you so much for reading this ridiculously wordy covernalysis, and thanks again for this ask! Thinking over a cover again four years after my initial analysis was a truly unique experience— maybe in 2025 I’ll come back to this cover one more time and cringe at this analysis the same way I’m currently cringing over my 2017 cover breakdown. Hope you enjoyed this meta/ analysis/ confused rambling thing!
Fun Fact
This volume’s inside cover features the lovely Dominique! Domi doesn’t feature too heavily in this volume, but she plays a major role in Chapter 12, and we learn a lot about her true feelings for Noé during the chapters she’s in. The color scheme of this inside cover is particularly notable when compared with the vibrant yellow and magenta of Domi’s volume 8 cover— Domi isn’t exactly colorless here, but she’s definitely quite desaturated compared to her volume 8 appearance. The magenta color reflecting on her hair and bow actually seems quite close to.. that… faded………. purple….
#vanitas no carte#the case study of vanitas#vnc#covernalysis#meta-ish#i m so inordinately proud of myself for getting slightly better at cover analysis in the past four years#the fun fact is just a joke I swear#unless…….#nah it’s 1000% a joke#unless……….
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How about this: the Bad Batch all awkwardly flirting with Echo, trying to bring him into their poly relationship?
(ajhsdsjhk yes please I love this)
Echo is many things, but despite what people might believe, oblivious isn’t one of them. He’s an ARC, trained to notice even the smallest details - and in missions, those usually are the difference between life and death. What he wants to say with this is that he has noticed that the bond that unifies the Bad Batch isn’t just a platonic one; it checks out, he thinks: the only people they can lean onto are each other, so it makes sense that they would seek each other out for that too.
What he wasn’t expecting was for them to try and bring him along for the ride, which he appreciates and all but… Well, maybe it’s still too soon, he thinks; he needs time.
Of course, this doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy their awkward attempts at flirting, and what attempts…
Since Echo’s healthier now he can go back to physical training, which makes Wrecker the happiest.
“I’m gonna show you all my favorite moves!” he exclaims, eager to get started. Although Echo’s eager as well - he really needs to get back on track - he also knows that if he allows him, Wrecker would wreck his shit - he really can see how he got his name.
“Make sure you don’t break anything important, please? I don’t want to be stuck with physical therapy again…” he warns in fact.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle…” Wrecker immediately says, smirking, although it doesn’t last for long as he realizes the implications of what he just said, which makes him cringe and stutter. “Um… I mean…”
Echo can’t hold back a chuckle, shaking his head. This doesn’t last long either, because in a moment he immediately goes on the offensive, taking advantage of Wrecker’s distraction to land a kick on his knee, making him lose his balance.
What? Last time Echo checked, there’s no rule against fighting dirty.
Tech’s way of flirting is more ramble-y than Wrecker’s, but Echo still finds it adorable. He’s so earnest in the way he begins to explain some complicated mechanical process that even though Echo doesn’t understand everything he’s saying, it’s still a delight to listen to him.
Right now he’s listing all the features he installed on his new mechanical arm; some have already gotten lost, but Echo’s gotten most of them.
“I figured you’d want to be still able to connect to machinery and such so if you close your pink like this…” he begins, gently moving Echo’s finger in the way he’s supposed to imitate next time he wants to do it, and soon a valve opens at the center of his palm, making space for a plug that begins to come out, just like a droid’s one. “There!”
“I’m sure it’ll come handy,” Echo says, “Thank you.”
“I’ve also adapted the shape to the rest of your body,” Tech continues, barely registering Echo’s reply. “You’re so well proportioned that I couldn’t not do it…”
“Well proportioned, huh?” Echo repeats, fighting back a smirk. He’s definitely heard worse - he really has - but still that’s not what comes to his mind when he thinks about complimenting someone.
After a solid minute of Tech stuttering, Echo thinks that he must’ve broken him. It’s cute but also he feels kind of bad now, so he decides to do something about it.
“Thank you,” he says then. “Took me a while to get back in shape, so it means a lot that you’d think that.”
Those words seem to calm Tech down, who sheepishly smiles at him.
Echo, of course, smiles back.
Crosshair’s idea of flirting is, apparently, not insulting him, which Echo appreciates he guesses, but it’s still peculiar.
“You shoot well for a reg.”
“Thanks?” Echo says. He’s never sure about how to reply to Crosshair when he tells him this stuff; he supposes it could be worse - he’s heard Crosshair says way worse - but it seems that the sniper has some sort of soft spot for him, not that he admitted it of course.
They’re firing guns at the improvised shooting range they’ve created for Echo. Now that he can move better he needs to improve his aim to get back to his previous levels; thankfully muscle memory is still a thing, so it’s going faster than anticipated. Still, it’s hard to keep up with an expert marksman such as Crosshair, though Echo likes the challenge.
“Really, you’re recovering much faster that I thought.”
Oh, this is new: usually Crosshair is a man of few words, but today he’s trying to strike a conversation - at least this is how Echo is interpreting it.
“I am, and it’s also thanks to you,” he replies, smiling at him, because it’s true: they’re helping him in many ways that he would’ve never expected, and he’s truly grateful that they’ve taken him in with so little hesitation.
Crosshair reels back like he’s just been hit on his stomach.
“Yeah, right…” he mutters. “Let’s get back to target practice. We’ve lost enough time already…”
A chuckle leaves Echo’s lips.
“Yessir.”
The way Hunter flirts is different from the others’: it’s less wordy or more physical.
Echo doesn’t mind that at all - it reminds him of Fives actually - but there’s always some hesitation in the way Hunter touches him, though he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s afraid he’d hurt him or because he thinks he might be overstepping some sort of unsaid boundary, which is beginning to unnerve Echo, especially if he’s doing it for the first reason.
Eventually, in fact, he snaps: they’re walking back to the Havoc Marauder, and Hunter’s hand is hovering over Echo’s shoulder, barely touching it. That’s the final straw.
Echo takes Hunter’s hand and draws it closer so that it’s actually resting on his shoulder. There.
“E-Echo?”
“I’m not going to break just because of a touch, Hunter,” he explains.
“O-Of course,” the other stutters, making a pause and then squeezing Echo’s shoulder with his hand. “… Is this okay, then?”
Echo nods, his hand still over Hunter’s.
At least they’re going somewhere…
“Wait! So you knew?”
Echo laughs at those words. Many things have changed since those awkward flirting attempts, and now Echo can say that he’s officially part of the group, officially as in he now cuddles with them and kisses them and… other stuff too.
“You weren’t exactly subtle,” he says then. He feels Wrecker shift from behind, but he doesn’t move away. He’s not going to lie: he missed cuddle piles, especially with these many people.
“Why didn’t you say anything then?” Tech, settled between his legs, asks.
That surely is a question. Well, there are many reasons why he didn’t say anything at first, but Echo decides to just shrug. “Was funnier.”
He hears chuckling on his left and he turns towards Crosshair.
“I knew there was a reason why I like you.”
Echo doesn’t have the time to say anything because Cross’ lips are on his. He smiles into the kiss, especially when he feels Hunter hugging his waist.
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
Yes, it did indeed.
Tag list: @maulusque @snap-p @menac-ika
If you want to be added feel free to let me know! Just know that if you are a minor you’ll be tagged only for the sfw fics.
#assorted clonecest fics#cloneshipping#clonecest#bad batch/echo#echo/hunter#echo/wrecker#echo/tech#crossecho#arc trooper echo#clone trooper hunter#clone trooper wrecker#clone trooper tech#clone trooper crosshair#my fics#odekiisu
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A very long meta-analysis on P2 Bad Grief
So, I've gone over every dialogue with this guy a few times, and there is some stuff I've never seen addressed before. This is a mix of analyzing and theory that have been in my head for a while, and I’d love to know if it all also makes sense to other people
The thing about Classic and P2 Grief, is that they are very different characters playing the same role. Who is Bad Grief? A thief, a kingpin of the town's criminal underbelly, and a smuggler working for Big Vlad. In P1, he's also a dangerous murderer who kills people for fun, but denies it, even claims that he kicks people out of his gang for daring to take up knives. Dude lies a lot. In fact, he maintains the lie up until the last route, the Changeling's, and then tries that on her too but ends up confessing. This is my very wordy way of saying that while I kinda agree with people who are like "he's not a violent murderer like P1 Grief", P1 Grief also claimed to not be one up to the last minute. I don't think they are making him a sadistic killer this time, yeah, but I'm pretty sure he's a liar, and that there's a darker secret. The game implies Grief keeps his cards close to his chest and there is more to him several times, like here, when you talk with Lara's reflection
Lara's Reflection: You see, she puts her stock in deeds and not in words. So Stakh was always close to her; for he would hear his heart, and act. A trait you share, Burakh.
Haruspex: And the most taciturn of us all, Bad Grief.
Lara's Reflection: He speaks so much yet does so much more.
or when Artemy confronts him at Aspity's Hospice:
Bad Grief: You heard about Rubin? Know why the Kin wants him dead? He's walkin' around all downcast, doesn't sleep. Says not to ask. Says it's safer like that. What's he done, I wonder? I wanted to ask Sahba, but maybe you know?
Haruspex: You're lying. That's not what you wanted to ask. I can tell.
Bad Grief: If I did lie, I wouldn't tell you the truth now anyway, would I? So back off.
I'm not gonna go over the blowing-the-train tracks quest now, though I have some thoughts on it/what I think might be his plan there. For now it suffices to say that that whole thing is very odd, that his plan doesn't make sense(yeah, blowing up the tracks is a bad idea for his business. kinda meaningless though if the alternative is being hanged). That is to say, I'm pretty sure there's a hidden agenda there that we're probably only finding out in Changeling route.
So, what I mean is, if you think P2 Grief is harmless, or just a clown, or became a gang leader by accident, then, well. I think honey, you got a big storm comin'
A few more notes on Grief's character, and what I think of what we got so far:
-I believe the reflection(I have some thoughts about the nature of those too, actually lmao) is telling the truth, mostly. He is terrified, he doesn't want Artemy to think badly of him, he never wanted violence. P2 Grief is younger, more sympathetic, and very obviously more scared than his P1 counterpart. I don't think he's out there killing for fun. Still, I think he has a lot of blood on his hands anyway.
-I think his loyalty to his friends is sincere. He's kind of really big on companionship and loyalty, which fits, as a gang member. I really think that he wants to belong, to a gang, to a friend group, somewhere. Artemy mentions he's "always been weird" a couple of times, or stuff like "I knew you'd end up like this." and that thing with Lara's reflection... I think Grief was always a little bit on the margins, even in his own friend group, and that's why he made a place for himself as the leader of the misfits, of the people who don't fit what the town considers to be good society. I gotta get on with this because this is gonna be long enough without me rambling about every single thought and feeling I have about this bastard though
-He doesn't give away Stakh's hideout accidentally because he's goofy and dumb. He mentions more or less where it is like, three times. I think it's obvious that he's practically asking Artemy to go check on him, but he doesn't want to be a snitch, so he plays the fool like "Oooh no I gave you a hint, I sure hope you don't go looking for him now, don't ask me because I’d never tell!!". He's playing the clown, he's not that stupid
Okay, now we're getting to the heart of things. In P1, along with the reveal that he's actually a violent murderer who played another violent murderer(Barley) into taking the fall for his crimes, we get something else: he's working under the patronage and protection of Vlad Olgimsky. In P2, they put a lot more emphasis on that, Grief will tell you about it in the first AND second conversation you have. There is even a certain imagery associated with it... actually, allow me a quick digression here, I wanna go over some motifs around Grief.
Grief is pretty into clockwork and gears, going by his choice of decoration for his Lair. The town itself is compared to a machine several times, by himself, by Big Vlad, and regarding how the Kains view it. I risk to say that the way Grief sees it is rather different from the Kains, at least at first. For him it seems to be more of a blunt factory machine, while to the Kains...it means something else, more complex. Grief seems to have glimpsed what that is inside the Cathedral, near the end. That reminds me of something else, in the Diurnal End when Grief talks about how he used to be a clocksmith before, and now he's going to be "another kind of clocksmith", I don't think he's necessarily being literal in either case. Curiously, there's also a Clocksmith inside the Cathedral in Marble Nest...but I'm going off topic again
Bad Grief: Not a keeper of stores, but stories. This town, this great machine, the gears don't turn on their own, no, not till they're slick with secrets.
But so, webs and puppets. We return to Vlad Olgimsky(old), who uses the metaphor of his “web”. There's also an important character in Grief's journey that is strongly associated with (spider)webs and strings, and that's Aglaya. The most notable time Grief himself refers to it though, I think, it's in the Theatre of Death, if you let him die:
“My path was not called 'The Spider'. No, think wider. It was 'The Silkworm'! The end of a railroad, I pulled strings firm; unaware someone more cunning pulled mine upstairs.”
So about that. He’s referring to the PTB right? Probably, but not only. A theme in Patho is like...these layers of manipulation. I’m gonna pass the mic to P1 Clara and Saburov for a second:
Alexander Saburov: Begin with the Olgimskys. That is the most important sin for me, and the least for him, for it is not his fault. So did Olgimsky protect his illicit trade? Did he benefit from it?
Changeling: He didn't just benefit; he presided over it. Grief was his stooge.
Alexander Saburov: Now then, we shall skip the issue of the barber gang, since it's clear now who their true mastermind was... thanks to your courage, my brave girl.
Changeling: Don't skip it just yet. Barley was as much of a puppet in Grief's hands as Grief himself was for Olgimsky. Everyone has their toys.”
Grief is a puppet in Vlad’s hands both in P1 and P2, as there he says he’s Vlads “eyes and ears” in the warehouses. In the Cathedral, he seems to more or less realize the extent of it, and how it goes against what he always wanted in the first place: to not be trapped by anything.
Bad Grief: I used to be a thief, yet they made me a storekeeper. And what a perfect fit I made! I got my Warehouse kingdom, and with it, the insides of the Town's great machine. I kept Vlad's riches while havin' all I could dream of. Can't imagine a sweeter life.
Funnily enough, by that time he’s trapped in someone else’s web: Aglaya’s. That seems to be his thing, he thought he was in control and playing everyone, knowing all the secrets and pulling strings. In the end, he’s a Silkworm in the web of bigger fish. I mean, spiders.
Bad Grief: ...Yet they, too, are controlled by someone. Insane to think what kind of teeth you need for that.
But okay. Back to the start, I believe Grief has a lot of blood in his hands even before shit breaks loose. The things he seems to be most afraid of are also… interesting. This ties to his connection to Big Vlad, and the Kin.
Grief’s role in the payroll seems to be as a stool pigeon. He knows where everyone goes, what people are talking about, what they don’t want to become public. And he responds to Big Vlad. What I think is, hm, you know, even after Victoria passed it seems like the Kin and the Bull Enterprise never really defied Olgimsky, or had a leader in any way. Grief, too, seems to enjoy a pretty comfortable life for a gang leader. As an important piece to Vlad, he really doesn’t have that much to fear, since the guy “owns everything” and is very explicit to Artemy about how he can destroy anyone who doesn’t obey him. And probably has done that before. My guess is, Grief kept the machine working right by tattling, so no leadership or enemy to Vlad’s Enterprise could rise. I’d speculate that Vlad possibly paid the favor not only financially, but by maintaining Grief in that position. Basically, I think with Grief’s info, Vlad could eliminate any potential problem. That would mean that maybe without even having to shed blood himself there might be a lot of deaths Grief is responsible for, not to speak of the maintenance of that horrible system in the town. I think the route they are going for here is that Grief is a class traitor.
Why do I say that? Well, first let’s look at Grief’s relationship with the Kin: he’s remarkably close to them for a townie. Geographically, obviously, and also in the sense of living on the margins of society, but he also shares many of their superstitions, and seems to hold Aspity’s opinion in high regard(even calls her Sahba). I find it easy to believe that many of his men are part of the community as well, due to not being welcome in the town. At that time we see him in the Hospice though, and talking with the Kin people there, it’s pretty clear that they are planning some sort of uprising. That it’s imminent. Grief seems to know it. Seems to be absolutely terrified of that too, and to feel betrayed by Vlad.
Bad Grief: It's too late for me, Cub. I've only got one road ahead of me now. Perhaps the outbreak is for the best... Plagues are like fires, people forget old scores. And all hell will break loose here soon.
Haruspex: Any dark prophecies to share? You're the criminal mastermind here, after all.
Bad Grief: No need to prophesize. People fear hunger. Even honest workers will turn their hatchets and hammers to crime. Burglin' houses, lootin' corpses, guttin' each other. They will. Oh, they will.
Haruspex: Not all of them, Grief. Not all.
Bad Grief: The turf's so dry, you don't even need a match-a glare would start a fire. And when the Kin bares its teeth, that's when we'll all dance! They're slow on the start, but oh so fast on the draw! The Master likes them mute and obedient, but apathy makes them that way, not stupidity. They're only obedient till the time comes. And here it comes.
And the people who lose their jobs? They won't be too fond of staying home. They'll find new hobbies, like looking for food, or venting their anger. ...And Fat Vlad shut his facilities down the day before yesterday, didn't he? Crafty... Didn't whisper so much as a single word to me. Do you think he knew?
At the same time he seems to think that he deserves this, and it’s inevitable. “We reap what we sow”, paraphrasing him. He talks a few times about how there’s a vile beast inside each person in the town, about how they are all wretched and everything, including him, which I think might just be a way of coping like “yeah, I sold out, but anyone would do the same if they were in my place”.
So, yeah. What I think is that Grief was a guy that had no power and money, with absolutely no perspective, who due to his very particular skills had an opportunity to climb up and took it(all while still getting to pretend he’s an outlaw, free from the chains of society!). And it’s...very bad. And he knows it’s very bad, and he’s not evil or sadistic, but he’s immature, cowardly, and desperately wants to be in control of his own destiny, and to not be alone, and all that. He’s still Artemy’s childhood buddy, a loyal friend, and someone who never really wanted to cause that much damage. He also knows that what he did is unjustifiable, and that no matter what he truly feels, the damage is done and he’s guilty of horrible shit.
#pathologic#pathologic 2#bad grief#pathologic meta#I forgot to talk about the shotgun. but oh well#full of spoilers both P1 and P2
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A hello!
Hi everyone! Mod Moon here with a brief update! I hope you all are doing well. <3
I’m still working on setting the tumblr up; the discord and archive itself have taken my priority admittedly, but the tumblr will be more active hopefully soon! I think we’re nearly done with the groundwork for the discord (again, mod Moon is still very new to all this LOL so it’s taken her some time to get things figured out and settled down into a schedule; thankfully I’ve had a lot of awesome help from the fellow mods and the rest of our members. <3) so hopefully soon I can focus more of my attention on this page!
Though I’m admittedly still trying to figure out what to...do with this blog, exactly. I’ve been in talks with all sorts of people the last two weeks about how much this should be “spread”, per say, and the more I’m in talks with others and think about it, the more I get hesitant having an “update” blog where I talk about everything that’s going on in the discord/archive, if that makes sense?
The archive itself is private and doesn’t contain any paid content; just the English server stuff, but still, I get anxious being too public with all our doings and having it spread too much anymore. However, if anyone has any opinions/suggestions on it, I’m open to hearing them-always!
So, while the changes are still coming, I’m gonna mull over it some more and get opinions from the rest of the group about what the purpose of this will be. Maybe a general info page? I dunno, but again, if anyone has any ideas please hit me up! <3
Otherwise, we’re still looking for archivists! Just DM me on here if you want into the discord and I’ll do my best to get you in! <3 (Just be patient with me, I, uh, kinda forget tumblr exists anymore with how much discord has taken over my life now LOL!)
Sorry for the lackluster update, for the most part! But I do want to say that the archive has had huge gains and is doing absolutely fantastic! We’ve done such mind-blowing work for being in operation two weeks (can’t believe it’s been two weeks, wow...) that I still can’t quite wrap my head around it. O_O But it’s the amazing passion and dedication that the community has that’s gotten us this far, and I’d like to thank everyone again. <3
Anyway, Mod Moon got too wordy again, LOL! Gonna end it here before I ramble much more! All my best as usual everyone!
-Moon
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Never Look Away (Yennefer X Bard!Reader)
Hey guys! This is for @toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account- she gave me the idea for the fic couple months back in answering one of my asks, and one thing led to another and now this exists. Love you Hannah!
This is it.
You take a deep breath in the mirror, watching as your body swells with the breath. Your eyes dart over your face nervously, but your stage makeup is immaculate- it has to be on today of all days.
Today is not your first performance, but it is the first time you sing a love song for her.
Yennefer of Vengerberg. Gods, what a woman- you could travel to the ends of the Continent and back, and still you would not find a person more magnificent. This truth, you know it in your bones.
As you go over the strings on your lute one last time, you can’t help but recall the day you first saw her.
You’d just arrived at the local market when you saw her haggling over a bunch of apples. You weren’t one to fall in love at first sight, not even for her, but you’d noticed how striking she was- she took up space like she was once a scar on the world, and though she was now its beauty, she’d never forgotten the anger she’d been born into.
You learned later how true that thought was.
Yennefer of Vengerberg is a woman-shaped storm, and you are the avid traveler whose only wish is to be blinded by her lightning and be deafened by her thunder.
...hm, maybe you should use those lines in the next song you write for her.
“Bard!” You snap back to reality, hands fumbling on your lute. Ahead of you, the stage manager stands in the doorway, an impatient look on his face. “You’re up next. Get to the stage!”
Right. You take another deep breath before slinging your lute on your shoulder. It’s showtime.
---
You grin with a sort of feral glee as the crowd roars.
“Thank you!” you yell, loosely holding your fiddle now. “Truly, you’ve all been a fabulous audience- much better than any of the audiences I’ve come across!”
You’re not quite lying- you can see your lady love in the crowd right now, and her presence alone shoots this crowd to the top of your list, leaving aside the rather unhinged energy the crowd possesses right now as it cheers once again for you.
Sweat drips down your brow, and your arms ache from the combined efforts of playing the lute earlier in the night and playing the fiddle now. But even as your chest heaves from all the singing and dancing, you’ve still got breath and strength left in you for one more song- the most important one of them all.
There it is, you think, watching two stagehands roll the pianoforte- a new, yet popular instrument- onto the stage. The crowd quiets down, murmuring at the sight of the new instrument. For a lot of them, it is their first time viewing a pianoforte- you vaguely wish it could be the first time for Yennefer too. Ah well, you’ll just have to be content with knowing that it is the first time she hears this song.
“Now this last song- Yes, this last song,” you say, trying not to laugh at the crowd’s dismay. Gods, but you really love this crowd. “This one is new, and hopefully the first of its kind.”
The crowd prickles with interest at that. You lean in and whisper theatrically, “Would you all like to know why?”
They shout their agreement, and you smile. “Well, you see, almost a year ago, I met the most amazing woman.”
The crowd titters at that- there’s even some light jeering from the back, but you choose to ignore it. “Yes, yes it’s a love song, which I know is cliche, but listen! She is truly the most amazing woman- made of nebulas, and novas, and the most mysterious of night skies. From the moment I met her, I knew I could never even hope to look away from her.” Saying this, you make eye contact with the woman who owns you- heart and mind and everything in between. She’s staring right at you with a rare look of wonder on her face, and you are bewitched once more by her warm, bright eyes.
“Though between you and me,” you say to the crowd, not once looking away from Yennefer, “I’d never want to.”
“Sing the song!”
With that, the floodgates are opened, and the crowd is cheering, in some cases even outright heckling, for you to sing your song. Well, not yours, not really. It’s Yennefer’s if she so wants it.
(You hope she wants it).
You take a deep breath and place your fiddle down gently before sitting down at the pianoforte. Slowly, you press down on a couple of keys, just re-familiarizing yourself with the instrument. The notes you pull are bright and clear- they remind you of the purple in Yennefer’s eyes as she snarks at you in the evenings, of the way her smile curls in your heart, of the strength of her fingers when she pulls you in for a soft kiss.
...This is really not the best time to be this distracted.
Luckily, the crowd doesn’t seem to realize just where your mind had fled to in the last moment, but they’ve also hushed down. You play one last chord- it glitters in the air, floating like the smoke from your love’s potions before dissipating entirely.
Then you take a deep breath, and you play.
---
“Bard, there’s someone here to see you.”
“Send them in!” you tell the stage manager gaily, touching up the last of your makeup. After all, if you’re to meet fans, as you’re supposed to after a performance as big as this one, it only makes sense for you to look your best.
“So that’s where my old lip stain went.”
You whirl around with wide eyes, and there, in the doorway, stands…
“Yennefer,” you breathe, a smile, wild and loopy with wonder, stealing over your face. “You came!”
Then her words register, and you backtrack. “I- uh- sorry about that I just- thought I took mine and then there wasn’t time to come back and-”
She laughs, cutting off your rambling, before walking over towards you. “Peace, darling,” she says, cupping your face gently. “I didn’t say I minded.”
“I’m sorry,” you say again, placing a hand over the one she’s put on your cheek. “I still should have asked.”
She clicks her tongue dismissively. “No harm done,” she says, her thumb stroking gently at the corner of your lips.
“Besides,” she murmurs, leaning in with a dark, mischievous look in her eyes and a deliciously wicked curve to her smile, “I rather like the look of it on you.”
“Oh?” you manage to say, utterly distracted by the softness of her finger so very, very close to your lips. “Really?”
“Mm,” she says, leaning in ever closer. “Really.”
It’s no surprise then that she kisses you, languid and soft. She smells like she always does- lilac and gooseberries, but this close you can taste her favored apple juice on her breath, sweet and heady. She pulls you closer, her hand threading through your hair and stroking your ears in a way that never fails to make you melt, and you feel your hands come up to settle at her waist. Her dress is like velvet, the fabric soft and lush under your hands, but better yet is the warmth of her skin underneath the dress- it prickles at your fingertips like lightning and makes you want to drown.
She pulls back then, and you whine, chasing her for one more taste of her lips. She laughs, gentle, teasing, and cups your face. “Needy thing,” she chides you, stroking your cheekbone with her thumb.
“Can you blame me?” you whisper, mouth dry and hoarse. “You are the world given flesh and blood, and somehow, you chose me. Can you really, truly blame me for being needy?”
The flush on her cheeks would be difficult to see in any other circumstances, but here, a breath’s distance away from you with candlelight gilding her face, it’s a veritable sunrise. “I see that not even a kiss can stop your words. Tell me darling, are all bards as wordy as you?”
Your hands tighten on her waist, and slowly, you pull her onto your lap. “When their muse is this wonderful, what bard wouldn’t be?”
“Oh?” she teases, her blush deepening. It’s amazing how she still keeps composure. “I’m your muse?”
“Yes,” you say, kissing her cheek. “And I suspect you will only continue to be.”
She laughs again, soft like she can’t believe your words- that’s alright, you have the rest of your days to show her the devotion she truly deserves. “You flatter me.”
“I resent that!” you protest, bumping your foreheads together. “I speak only the truth when it comes to you!”
Her smile gains a wicked curve then. “Are you calling yourself a liar on all other fronts then?”
“Rude!” you crow, clucking your tongue. You dart up to kiss her face, once, twice, thrice. “Rude, rude, rude!”
“Peace!” she exclaims, even as she chuckles at your kisses. “Peace, darling!”
“Never!” you swear, pecking at her cheeks. “Not until you apologize!”
She laughs again but does not give in- you admire her stubbornness, but you are not one for giving in either. You double down on your attack- kissing every inch of skin in sight once, twice, thrice over.
Eventually, she catches your lips in a kiss and draws you in. You breathe into the kiss as if you’ll breathe for a thousand years, as if you’ll never breathe again. Her hands find their way up to your hair again, and the soft way she tucks some of it behind your ear makes your heart swell in warmth.
Eventually, you both have to pull back- much as you’d like to drown in her, you are both still human of sorts, and you are both still in the backstage of the hall you just gave a concert in.
All at once, fatigue hits you, and you yawn, slumping in her arms. She hums soothingly and tucks your errant hair away again.
“Tired, darling?” she murmurs, her lips resting close to your forehead. You nod, and she kisses your hair. The sweetness of it all makes you want to melt.
She hums again. “Alright,” she says, sliding off your lap. You whine, feeling the chill set in where she has left you. “Shush, darling,” she says, not unkindly, “and get your stuff. I’ll portal us home.”
You whine again, but this time it’s more for show. Yennefer cuts you a look, and though she looks amused, you know she means business. With a sigh, you get up, biting back a groan as blood rushes to your legs once more. “Ow.”
She tuts and just puts her hands out. “Any day now.”
“Yes yes,” you say good naturedly, shouldering your lute. It takes you a scant minute to put the rest of your things away and then you’re standing in beside Yennefer. “I’m ready.”
“Took you long enough,” she says, smirking, but she pulls up the portal. Through the whirling winds, you see the cottage you two call home.
This is it, you think once more, taking Yennefer’s outstretched hand and letting her pull you through the portal. This is my life.
And honestly, you couldn’t ask for a better one.
#yennefer of vengerberg#yennefer#yennefer x reader#the witcher#the witcher netflix#ace writes#fluff#songfic#domestic fluff#established relationship
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I saw one very stupid post on my dash about how snk is OBVIOUSLY nazi propaganda and trying to convert all of us into imperialists and white supremacists. tbh it’s not the first time I’ve seen that kind of stuff and probably won't be the last, but for some reason this time it gave me a lot of anxiety (I got wordy, I'mma need to send another ask, sorry)
(part 2) It's been more than half and hour and I still feel this awful sensation in my chest. It's just overall pretty fucked how to have something you hold dear being misinterpreted in the worst way possible, and I was just wondering what are your thoughts on this situation or how you deal with people claiming all sorts of awful shit.
(part 3) I imagine that as an artist some people probably direct their issues with snk towards you, 'cause I don't even post that much fanart and I've gotten anons "trying to educate me" on why this series is so wrong, after posting drawings. Of course, you don't have to reply, maybe the topic makes you anxious too and I don't want to bother you, so sorry for the depressing topic (｡•́︿•̀｡)
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Tiiish, I want to hug you, I’m really sorry that this happened to you. I hope you’re feeling a little bit better now.
Like we already mentioned a while ago, when we were talking about that darn article, after we read through it and did a little fact checking (and I mean it when I say a little, because there weren’t many facts to check), we stopped caring about it. It’s not research at all, just a manipulatively written speculation on Yam’s motives and worldview, but sadly, people easily believe these accusations because they hate SnK and want to find a valid reason to hate it and shit on its fanbase. Because “I hate it because it’s nazi propaganda” sounds much cooler than “I hate it because it’s popular”, doesn’t it?
It’s easier to ignore the article itself though, and it’s much harder not to think about tumblr posts or those Twitter threads that get very popular (although there are a lot of bots on twitter, trust me…), and it’s especially difficult to ignore it when it’s specifically directed at you. But the only thing that these people deserve is a good ol’ block and (if they’re getting too offensive and abusive) a report for harassment. The thing is, their opinion doesn’t matter: it won’t change SnK’s story, it won’t affect its success and popularity, it doesn’t affect anything other than our mood (temporarily lol). Because they aren’t critics who actually give a flying fuck about the subject matter, they’re just random assholes with a hateboner for SnK, who sit in their echochamber and discuss the same shit over and over again. And if they’re “fans” of the SnK, it’s just them “consuming it critically” 🙄 such a convenient phrase and so easy to abuse.
If we think about these accusations again… they’re so damn nonsensical, it’s almost amazing. I’m not going to reread it or to make a proper counterpoint article out of this ask, so this is just based on how we remember these accusations.
Like, what part of SnK approves and pushes the idea of imperialism in any way? When the entire idea of the story is that war is bad? When people like Onyankopon, whose homeland was invaded by Marley, exist? And it’s never portrayed as a good thing? Having only one country dominating the world’s situation is literally the main reason why everyone’s suffering??
And come to think of it, Isayama is one of the few manga artists to kind of sort of openly critique Japan: he literally drew Kiyomi losing her cool and drooling while thinking about all the profit and wealth she would get from the deal with Paradis. Why do people never talk about that? What is it, if not a critique of greedy and two-faced nature of people from Azumabito clan, who are heavily implied to represent Japan? I don’t read a lot of manga in general, but do you know how many mangakas I’ve seen who directly talked shit about Japan while being Japanese? Two. Excluding Isayama.
Isayama is clearly invested in the Western culture and he understands the World’s History. He understands that political relationships are complex and that there are no “bad” or “good” countries. I don’t want to make assumptions about how much perspective of the world’s relationships the average person from Japan has, but I still feel like Yams has a pretty good understanding of it. He did his research for the subject matter, and while it’s obviously not perfect, it’s clearly there.
These people also claim that SnK is anti-Korean and anti-Semitic, but if Hetalia had taught me anything, it is that if the story has or used to have any anti-Korean undertones, the Korean readers wouldn’t want to have anything to do with it. They would be the first people to ditch the manga, they would be the first people to critique SnK, and rightfully so. They burnt Uniqlo clothes, their overall domestic policy is pretty anti-Japanese, so there’re literally zero reasons for them not to destroy SnK if they see it as anti-Korean. But the size of the Korean SnK fandom suggests otherwise, doesn’t it.
And the “big noses = Jewish caricature” argument, seriously? How anti-Semitic can you get? Who the fuck looks at people and goes “oh, those have big noses, bet they’re caricature of Jews”?? Sorry I’m getting heated lol The argument about “Asian artists portray Westerners with prominent noses because that’s what we look like to them” has been done a lot of times, I’m not going to go over than again.
And god forbid Isayama to use Germany and Europe to draw a story where his characters are (approximately) Germans and Europeans! Let’s go fetch our pitchforks to punish Isayama for using their aesthetic to make his story look more believable and authentic, right? “Oh, those areas where they hold Eldians resemble places from real life”, like no shit???? Ofc they would??? That’s what references for making the story more grounded are used for??? If I were to write a story about a fictional place based on a real one that I don’t live in, I’d use some visual references to help me to make it more believable??? Why do I even need to explain that?
In my previous post I talked about the armbands and ghetto and stuff, but I’ll reiterate: even if there are thematic similarities, it doesn’t mean that the story mirrors our history. And it doesn’t mean that there is an analogy, since Eldian’s situation is quiiiite different than what Jewish people had to go through. It’s just thematic similarities. And it still doesn’t plant any specific idea in the reader’s head, other than “having people shoved into ghettos with 0 civil rights is a horrible thing”, and I can’t comprehend what’s anti-Semitic or imperialistic about it. Also I’m sorry, but nazis are not the only people who genocided a bunch of people, breaking news. Nor did they invent armbands. Same goes for Japan in WWII.
And now for my favourite argument: Erwin is nazi because his name is Erwin and he was born on the same day than some nazi guy died… I won’t even talk about why this idea is hilariously stupid, I just want to appreciate the level of nitpicking that’s going on here.
So… yeah. People who have nothing else to do but to complain about the show they hate don’t matter. And people who consider themselves a part of the SnK fandom and still say this bs (yep, there are people who do that) are huge hypocrites. The heck are they doing in this fandom then?? Of course, any story is up to interpretation, but this is so backwards?
Sorry for rambling so much… anyways. We’re happy enough not to encounter any hate related to this topic, but we think it’s because we ship Ereri and people already hate us for that, so the majority of shit we get is related to that, I guess we’re a lost cause for them. We’ll see if anything happens after this post though.
But once again, I’m very sorry that you had to go through this. Please remember that this isn’t personal at all, and people who harass strangers on the internet just want to flex their high moral ground while acting like complete assholes. You don’t have to explain anything to them, you don’t have to talk to them, you don’t have to listen to them or give them any attention. I hope you’ll never stumble upon anything like this; but if you ever do, please block them, don’t even bother reading their attempts at “educate” you. Isn’t worth it.
Please have a good day, Tish. And everyone who’s reading this reply.
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in another life, you and i
Pairing: pjm x male!reader ; one-sided!kth x male!reader
Word Count: 16193
Warnings: major character death, brief descriptions of violence, mention of a massacre, terminal illness
Rating: PG15
Genre: angst, fluff (?), supernatural!au, demon!au, reincarnation!au
Summary: you are, surely, the strangest human Jimin has ever met, and he’s had two hundred years to mingle with your kind. still, a deal is a deal, and your soul is interesting, so why not?
he soon realizes there’s much, much more to the story than he knows.
A/N: written as a belated birthday fic for @sombreboy, whose fics feed my never ending thirst!! this is pretty wordy and kind of wonky, but I had a lot of fun writing this, the ending stressed me out though, I couldn’t help making it bittersweet
a big thank to you @tigertaehyunq who helped encourage and support me writing this!! I could ramble about her help but it’d take a lot of space, so I’ll just say I couldn’t have finished this without her. also, I rushed making the banner and will probably replace it later. edited a little now!!
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
The first time Jimin’s summoned in decades, it’s to a human who he cannot understand at all.
And as a demon, he’s met plenty of human beings over the course of two hundred years. He’s met humans who worshipped him, humans who feared him, humans who hated him… he’s granted all kinds of wishes as well, has made more deals than most demons, even those older than him. He has a reputation, one that he’s earned.
He doesn’t think that you’ll be different from any human that he’s met before, and that like usual, this would be a quick transaction. Boring. Repetitive. But if he doesn’t meet you, then there’s nothing else to do- even if you’re only a quick distraction, he welcomes it.
Yet, when he’s summoned by you, you manage to blow all his expectations out of the water.
Oh, as the fire that rises to the ceiling brings him over, his feet making contact with the rough floor, the markings on the ground, the offerings- there is not one bit that surprises him. Instead, he readies himself for your shock.
Humans are always ever so vocal, after all, even those who seem to be, at first glance, calm and composed. It’s a waste of energy and effort to introduce himself when they’re too busy panicking over the fact that they’ve ‘actually summoned a real demon!’. Therefore, he waits for you to get your screaming done and over with.
But as the flames make way for your visage, the face with which you greet him is not one that he’s familiar with.
Yes- In the split second that the flames die down to a simmer before disappearing, he can see the vivid surprise in your face, then replaced by fear and- grief?
However, as soon as they come do they pass, leaving him wondering why and if he only imagined it. You approach him with a mild look on your face that gives away nothing as to what you really feel inside, your tone even. Still, your slightly heavy breathing gives you away. “... You’re not the demon I aimed to summon.”
Jimin chuckles. “No, I am not. However, do not fret. I am much more powerful than whatever demon you originally intended for, I assure you.”
“... Or perhaps, you are not worried, so much as you are afraid right now?” As he takes a step forward, he has to inwardly commend your courage- even at the distance of a mere foot between the two of you, still you do not cower away from him. Rather, it seems you even have the nerve to take a step closer, as you tilt down to look at him. He feels a small surge of excitement in him- maybe this one won’t prove to be boring at all. Jimin continues his words. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Humans are ever always so afraid, after all. Especially of the supernatural.”
And then it takes him by surprise- the way that your lips shift oh so suddenly into a smile. It turns your face from a still lake in winter to the blooming fields of spring, and a stray thought in his head arises- for a human, you’re quite attractive yourself. “I’m not afraid of you at all,” you easily state. “I don’t mind if you’re not the one I was originally calling for. You’re much better than him, after all.”
At this close a distance, he can see in clear detail the way your eyes are clearly free of any fear, as you say.
How interesting.
“Wonderful,” he purrs, smiling widely, taking delight in the way you freeze for a moment, evidently charmed by him, especially when you’re so close to each other. “For humans like you, I do not mind making a deal.”
It would be best to take a step backward, the current distance between the two of you unsuitable for a serious conversation. Still, he’s never been the one to back down first. With that in mind, he simply continues on the conversation. “Now, human, for what reason have you called for me?”
You nod your head, a small smirk on your lips. “This is my last cycle,” you suddenly declare, and, what-
Before Jimin can process the words you’ve just spoken, you admitting to information that you should have no way of knowing, you are the first one to take a step back. As you do, you make a gesture to the center of your chest, and-
“As you can see.”
Jimin makes a sound of surprise in the back of his throat as his attention is demanded by your soul. As he examines it, the first thought in his mind is that- impossible.
It’s an enigma, like you. Whole, unbroken. Your soul can almost be called pure, as there’s not a single crack to be found anywhere, the orb smooth. Yet mystifyingly enough, at the same time there is a black shroud of darkness that surrounds it, the type that only souls broken beyond the point of salvation can emit. The pristine state of your soul would qualify you a place in heaven- yet at the same time, the aura of death and hatred that surrounds your soul would open a position for you as one of hell’s most powerful demons. He can’t help wondering just what exactly were you like, and if the state of your soul is the reason why you can remember your past lives.
It’s how the game of heaven and hell works, after all. Humans are given ten lifetimes, ten journeys in the mortal world, their souls starting out as pure orbs filled with the power of uncertainty and potential. And then they are born as humans- starting out with truly blank roots, no outside influence offering them good or bad luck.
Starting from the first lifetime, all decisions they make are important as it determines their next lives. The more giving and loving they are in their previous life, the more luxurious and pleasant their next lives come to be, as they are blessed with luck by the heavens. Even those that seem to start from a tragedy, it wouldn’t be too hard to survive and thrive. People would adore them, they would find themselves more attuned with the world, and ultimately whatever field they endeavored in, they would find themselves succeeding.
In turn, the more wretched and hateful a person is in his previous life, the more the heaven casts him out with luck against him. They may be born in a wealthy family- but if you wait longer, then you will find that their only choice is to fall deeper into disgrace with evil, fight fire with fire so to say- or to suffer the fall and endure pain to gain heaven’s blessings again.
Both would face harder and harder trials in each passing cycle of life- yet, for those with heaven on their side, passing such trials would not be that hard a task, and they would gain even greater benefits if they are sincere. Yet to those who are hated by the heavens, they may only turn to more evil to mitigate the luck that deems them betrayed, failed, loathed by even those that they may trust with their life.
With each passing life, a human’s soul either cracks or repairs. To those who persevere, who manage to mend their ways, who somehow are in heaven’s good grace- their souls are instantly taken to heaven the moment their tenth and final cycle ends. To those whose souls are broken and filled with hatred, well. They are disposed of, turned into demons.
Most of the time though, souls at the end of their cycles are broken down and remade into new ones. He’s never heard of any exception to the rules of the game they’re all bound by.
And as for him? Jimin is one of the few demons who became one even before his ten cycles were completed. It’s what gives him his reputation, his power.
Yes. As a demon, he’s quite familiar with the system. He’s familiar with all the types of humans in different stages, different cycles of their lives. It’s easy for him to realize, with a glance, the state of their soul. Not even their reactions faze him anymore. After all- you can only listen to one too many screams and whimpers, before they lose the thrill, before they become merely annoying. With a glance, he can tell if they are headed to the world above or the one below- yet with yours, it seems as though you belong in both.
It’s a contradiction- you’re a contradiction.
“What kind of lives did you lead before this?” He mutters, a hint of surprise evident from his voice. “I’ve never quite seen a soul like yours before. Never have I met a human who knew about the cycles before, too.”
In response, though, you only laugh quietly, dodging his question. “I’ve lived the best lives, that’s all.”
Jimin’s lips curl up into a bemused smile. “Then I suppose you really indulged yourself in the past?”
“And now the heavens punish me for it,” you agree with a smile. “But I don’t want my last life to end like this.”
With that, you suddenly gesture to the room around the two of you, bringing Jimin’s attention to your state of living.
Jimin frowns as he notices the run down walls, the naked floor, the cracked windows. That’s not even mentioning the bare feel of the room, without much furniture or personal items in any way.
“As you can see,” you explain. “I’m currently down on my last legs.”
Giving him a nonchalant shrug, you continue. “Estranged family, no friends, no money, not much possessions left… a birth defect that will deare me dead soon enough… with the state of my soul, it seems that there is no changing it in this lifetime either.”
At your last sentence, you fall quiet, but it’s not quite the quiet of despair, but rather- calm acceptance. It intrigues him. With each second that passes by in your presence, Jimin finds himself sensing layers underneath layers in your personality, little things that make you stand out from other humans he’s met before.
He hums. “Well, YN, I hope you realize it isn’t possible for me to give you the perfect life without a proper price,” he teases you with a lazy smirk, wondering if you’ll notice his lie. “Seventy five years of a human’s life, one that’s evidently been marked against by heaven too, it doesn’t seem like one that offers me much power. At most, I could give you a year.”
And yet you only shrug a little. “I figured that might be so,” you admit. “I… I think I just want a better life, in any way I can get it.”
He lets out a chuckle at your words. “If a better life is what you want, that you want to repent, I believe you’ve summoned the wrong entity,” he muses. “After all, with a soul like yours, even an angel could be persuaded into helping you.”
You scoff. “If I wanted to repent, which I don’t, I never would have summoned you.”
“I just... I just want to make the last years of my life worth living,” you clarify, voice becoming wistful. “Rather than live a lifetime like this… I’d much rather use the rest of what I have for a moment of happiness.”
“I won’t ask much from you. I don’t want to stand out too much anyway, humans can be just as troublesome as devils and angels.” You huff wryly at that, fidgeting with your hands. “I just need you to-” for the first time, you falter, a noticeable blush coloring your cheeks, but you go forth anyway, “-stay by my side.”
“At all times. I mean- to ensure I am happy and safe at all times, for at least a year, keep my disease at bay,” you add, at a point almost stammering. Still.
Jimin blinks. Looks at you. Twice. Waits for you to continue- to rescind your words, to say something. Yet you continue to stay silent, eyes not quite meeting him but peeking at him anyway, and he-
Jimin erupts into laughter, loud and long, practically falling over himself at that. “You want me to- stay with you, protect you, heal you and oversee that you are always happy, that’s your wish, human?”
You huff, making a snippy comment, "I don't believe you can heal, which is why I'm only asking you to keep the pain away," but you nod your head without a hesitation.
Jimin grins. “You really are daring, aren’t you? Aren’t you afraid to bring heaven’s wrath down on you? Asking a demon for protection and healing! For happiness- and I doubt what you’re asking is the one that you can gain from materials or other humans.”
You scoff. “I’m not afraid of heaven,” you deadpan, brows furrowing as the solemnity of your voice, coupled with the tight look on your face makes him smirk. Daring, indeed. “And- do you really believe an angel would grant this wish?”
His lips curl into a smirk. The answer to that is something that you obviously know as well. No, an angel would never.
Seemingly satisfied with his silence, taking it for compliance, you take a step back towards him.
At this close a distance, for the first time of the night, he fully takes you in. And- truly, although he doesn’t know what standard of beauty humans have at the present, even with the faint, bluish hue to the tips of your body that he now notices, Jimin thinks you’d fit any and all requirements to be considered being able to bewitch one’s soul at a glance. Not him, though, as a demon.
“So,” you murmur, a slight smile visible on your face. “Do we have a deal? Seventy five years of life, in exchange for a year of living however I want.”
“Deal,” he purrs, tilting your head down to seal your transaction. As his plush lips glide over your own, he whispers, light and teasing. “I truly hope you don’t regret it.”
With his eyes closed, Jimin fails to see the way your face flashes with an unknown emotion. “I know I won’t,” you murmur just before he fully claims your lips for a moment.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
After that starts his deal with you, and Jimin is given all the time in the world to realize- that yes, you truly are one of the weirdest humans he’s ever met, much less made a deal with.
The first evidence to that is perhaps the morning after the night of his summoning.
As a demon, he never had the need for sleep. However, after signing the contract, you’d immediately claimed to be exhausted, heading straight towards your bed. With that, he took upon it himself to first examine the state of your apartment, and to verify your past. Well, this cycle’s past, anyway.
What he finds only deepens the mystery that is you in his mind.
Twenty three years old as of today (he’s amused that you summon him, a demon, on your birthday, of all days), YN LN. Congenital birth defect. Living family, however, there’s a record of abuse towards you, particularly from your parents. Still, the charges were dropped, and the records erased. Most likely because your family is influential and rich. No friends, none that can be called upon in times of need, anyway. No lover, of course.
You also have a brief history of showing great skills, particularly academic wise. It’s baffling how you've come this low, if you remember your past lives. Luck plays a huge part in living, yes, but so does skill and it does not seem as though you are lacking in that in any way.
Not to mention, your personality. You are- brave. Or perhaps fearless is the right word. You do not panic in unknown situations, and you are clearly quite intelligent. Witty as well. Skilled, and experienced.
And yet.
You truly hold no wealth or money under your name, and you are without a job too. More than that, you live in the shady part of town, in a dilapidated apartment.
"... I can't wait to discover your secrets," Jimin cheerfully announces as he takes a seat at the table. Placed on it are food that you've cooked, and he's more than curious to try it out. Though he doesn't need to eat, he's never been one to deny himself of any pleasure, and food is no exception.
You hum in response. "Well, good luck with that. Although I'm not telling you anything."
"You will," he assuredly tells you. "It's only a matter of time."
He hears you snort, before diverting your attention back to your food. "... I hope you like it."
Jimin has high standards. Or, rather, humans have very low standards for what they see as delicious, which is understandable considering that most never leave their cities, much less their countries to sample other foods.
Still, there’s something about the hotteok you offer him that brings him comfort. He takes one bite- and a part of him is already impressed.
"It's passable," he admits, amused when he sees the way your mood suddenly seems to become happier.
For a moment, silence reigns in the room as the two of you as you eat breakfast.
A moment like this- it's rather nice. Compared to the screams and flames that fill hell with noise, the murmur of the city outside, in a time where the world still holds a small piece of quiet, Jimin finds himself relaxing a little.
Still, all too soon the food is gone and the conversation starts again.
“Truly, it astounds me, how those who heaven is frustrated with are bound to the worst lives," he finally remarks as he takes another look around at your apartment. In the light of the day, its inadequacies are only made more apparent. The wallpaper peeling off the walls, the faulty pipes that offer you poor water, rusty doors that creak noisily and the cracks in the walls and floor that are damp with water. No doubt would they leak if there is rain. “I will have you move to a more suitable lodging. This one is not fit for a human in a deal with a being like me, much less one that is fit to house a demon like me.” The distaste in his tone is pronounced.
He misses the smile on your face, hidden behind the cup of tea you’re drinking.
“I’ve made plans for you to win the lottery,” he announces.
“I refuse.” You bluntly say, before adding. “Sorry.”
Jimin frowns. “Why not,” he crosses his arms. “Would you then prefer to live in a place like this?”
“I don’t,” you deadpan. “However, winning the lottery would make people suspicious of us, and I’m pretty sure there are people who would target me for the money.”
“Are you doubting my ability to protect you?”
“I’m not. I just don’t want to deal with having to be protected in the first place.” At your words, something in your tone changes for a moment, and Jimin frowns. Sensing the sudden fall of your mood, he opts to acquiesce.
“Your family is quite well off, isn’t it? And you aren’t close to them in the slightest... I could arrange their deaths and leave you with their riches,” he offers quickly, not really meaning it- just wanting to keep your mind off whatever thoughts you found yourself in.
“For the same reason as the first, no,” you refuse. “Angels would notice, and that would be troublesome.”
“A contest?” Jimin drinks his tea while he waits for you to consider his proposal, internally pleased with your skills in cooking. It doesn’t come close to renowned chefs, but there’s something about your food that makes him feel happy, and safe. The way you’ve acted so far… the lack of fear, the familiarity… perhaps you’ve dealt with demons in your past lives? It’s certainly a possibility. “I can acknowledge your skills with food.”
You smile for a brief moment, but all the same, it’s laced with the same emotions as before. Grief and longing.
“... Thank you,” you reply after a moment, although you shake your head after. “But I don’t want the fame that comes with it. … I’ve had enough of it.”
Left over feelings from a previous cycle then. Jimin nods, finally letting out a sigh. “Well then,” he grumbles. “I suppose that leaves me no choice.”
“Human-”
“YN,” you interrupt him, gaze not particularly on him, but the tone of your voice firm. “Call me YN. Please.”
“... YN, how do you fancy a game of poker?”
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
Six hours later, YN is a man richer by several hundred thousand dollars. And as Jimin feels the cold air of the night meet him as they step outside, he has to suppress the giggles building up inside him. There’s nothing quite like being in a casino, surrounded by danger and despair hidden beneath the veneer of luxury and temptation. Nothing quite like the faces revealed to them as he deceives foolish humans, especially when they believe they’re about to win- and then, just like that, the victory is taken away from them. It’s all quite hilarious, really.
“You seem quite happy,” he hears you remark. Spinning around gracefully, Jimin grins at you.
“What’s not there to be happy about?" He smoothly retorts. "I've gambled to my heart's content, and you are richer than you expected. This has been a productive evening."
He's about to tell you exactly why casinos are amazing, when he notices the man standing around the corner.
Jimin's smile falls.
Clad in simple but fashionable clothes, the handsome face and sculptured body would have been a cause for getting mobbed by humans, not just girls, but also boys.
However, he's standing alone.
He may be without his wings, but there is no mistaking the holy aura that surrounds him, evidently sensed by even humans, as none dare to approach him.
Crossing his arms, Jimin sends Taehyung a sharp look, the frown on his face all too visible. He instinctively pulls you behind him, not wanting you to get taken away by the self righteous sanctimonious angel. "Taehyung."
His name rolls off Jimin's like a curse, but it's as if Taehyung doesn't hear him, or he doesn't care.
In fact, the only assurance Jimin has that Taehyung has seen them is the way that he looks up- before freezing, the surprise all too visible as his eyes dart from you, to him. For a moment he sees something flash in his eyes- before it dies down, and like Jimin, he frowns deeply. He takes a step forward, towards you, but Jimin pulls you back as well, restoring the distance between the two of you and him.
"What are you doing with him?" Taehyung's jaw is clenched, a sure sign that he's angry, if the way his eyebrows are knitted aren't enough. "Let go of him." What more, the way he bites out his words.
“Let go of who, my human?” Jimin sneers, arm holding you close against him. A lazy smirk arises on his face as he meets Taehyung’s eyes and sees the sparks of anger inside. “You aren’t in any position to warn me away from him, angel, seeing as he called for me on his own.”
“Although it is quite intriguing for you to take so much interest in a human,” he taunts. “To go so far as having a personal meeting with him… why? Have you fallen in love?”
“YN.”
Instead of responding to Jimin's words, Taehyung turns to you, worried countenance seemingly pleading with you.
“Taehyung,” you softly reply. It makes a part of Jimin annoyed, for some reason. The first time he hears you like this- and it's for an angel. “It’s my choice.”
Still the other does not back down, and you add with a helpless sigh. “Please.”
If possible, the angel's fury grows at your words. Not to you, though, but perhaps for him. For a moment, Jimin readies himself to fight- even if he doesn't know why the angel sees you as someone close enough to personally protect, more than the view of heaven treasuring a potential asset, he's determined not to give you up. You are a mystery he wants to unravel himself, after all. And it'd be another way to oppose the angel.
Still, soon enough even that diminishes, until the angel's face is blank and seemingly uncaring.
“If you know what’s good for him and for you, you would leave,” he glowers at Jimin. And then he faces you and his face immediately softens. “I’ll try to plead with them.”
“There's no need for that,” you shake your head, a small smile on your face. “... But thank you.”
And with a nod of his head, the angel disappears, and the two of you are alone, again.
"Well," you sigh. "That was an experience."
Jimin turns to you, pinning you down (or rather, trying to) with a look. Still you remain calm under his gaze.
"An angel," he states, the question there all the same.
You only shrug at him, a playful smile on your smile as you start walking down the road. "A secret. Come on, I want to eat at a proper restaurant. Feels like it's been forever since I got to eat good food."
Jimin follows behind you dutifully, but it doesn't erase the suspicion in his heart.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
"So, YN” he starts as he watches you stroll through the aisles of clothing.
At this moment, the day after your casino outing, your first plan of action had apparently been to head to the mall and acquire new clothing. While Jimin personally thinks that there are other places, other things that you could handle first-
“Where do you think I should go then?” The sarcastic tone in your voice is loud. “The hospital? What’s the point of getting treated if, after this year, my conditions still stay the same? Maybe you’ve forgotten the state of my soul.”
“My old family? Oh, to make amends. Unfortunately I hate their guts with a passion,” you continue, making him fall silent with how suddenly the words seem to spill out of your mouth. Your face is set in a tightly neutral look, but the bitterness is easy for him to see.
“A job for after then? What’s the use? As with my condition, this cursed, rotten luck will ensure that I never truly succeed without dirtying my hands. And while I don’t mind it, it’s just too troublesome.”
“I just want to live my life the way I want to, without other people fucking butting in for once.”
There’s an intense look in your eyes then. There’s a history behind that sentence that Jimin can easily see. It can’t be from this life, so it definitely must be from your previous ones. Still, for once, he can’t help but wonder just what exactly it was like, for you to react like that.
“The mall it is, then,” Jimin hums with an easy smile, pressing his body closer to you. Since that little moment when he was first summoned, he’s noticed that he has quite the amusing effect on you whenever he goes near- your cheeks reddening, body stiffening for a moment, eyes darting away- it’s clear that on some level, even though you try to hide it, you find him attractive. Which really isn’t a surprise.
Even now, he sees you bite the inside of your cheek, angry look easing down.
And that was that.
“What is your requirement for,” he pauses, mulling the word over in his head, “‘happiness’? Is there anything in particular that you want? … I doubt you’d be one to wish for the typical.”
You pause from your steps, looking up from the rack of clothes.
The answering smirk that he spots on your face only confirms his words. “Well, I was hoping you’d answer that question,” the hint of cheer in your tone makes him look at you with even more surprise.
“... Me?” Jimin repeats. Your smile grows and you turn back to the matter at hand. In your hands.
“Give me a year of fun that can rival even more than my past lives,” you challenge him brazenly, although your attention is seemingly only on the clothes that you’ve picked. With a scowl, Jimin stalks over to you.
“And you believe I can provide you with that?” He dodges your challenge, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m curious as to what a demon enjoys,” you nonchalantly say. “Aside from casinos, that is.”
Jimin suddenly has the urge to sigh, his face falling at once, but it seems you pick up on it.
“I mean… aren’t you a demon?” you grin at him unabashedly. “Are you seriously telling me, that in all the years you’ve been a demon, you’re still surprisingly-”
He has a bad feeling about this.
“-pure?” You chortle at that word, and Jimin bristles.
“I’m not,” he instantly denies, lips pushing up. “It’s only that your wish was for me to protect you and keep you happy, however, why should that mean that I become your… your…" He pouts even harder, "... your helper?"
“Because that was our deal,” you say simply, before throwing him a look, a hint of mischief in your expression. “But there’s no shame if you can't do it. After all, it's not usually what a demon is summoned for, is it?"
Jimin crosses his arms.
"And if I choose a dangerous place? If none of what I choose brings you any enjoyment?"
"Well, if I remember, part of the deal was for you to protect me. And it’s alright, we’ve got a whole year to play around with!" With that said, you finally turn back to look at him with a pleasant smile, holding up a jacket to your frame. “How about it? Do I look good?”
“Put down that clothing for one moment,” he bites out, annoyed. “And listen to me?”
“Don’t want to,” you blithely reply. “Besides, I’ve already made the decision. You can’t make me change my mind.”
There’s an obstinacy that your stance conveys all too well, and goddamn you’re such a brat. When you refuse to look back at him, he grabs your arm, pulling your body to finally face in his direction. When you still keep your gaze locked away from him, he uses his other hand to tilt your head up firmly but gently.
In this distance of less than a foot, he looks you in the eye and asserts himself.
“I am not a toy, nor am I your butler,” he tells you slowly, but with a weight in his words. “I am a demon. If you know that, then you should know not to treat me like we’re anything like friends, as I assure you, it is only a mistake. And one that will cost you your life.”
You bare your teeth at him, eyes suddenly clear of any emotion. “And so?” You demand, pulling him closer in turn, a strange pressure present in your tone. It makes him tremble, an unknown emotion building up inside him. Annoying, frustrating, maddening. You’re the strangest human he’s ever met. “You say that like you believe that will somehow change anything.”
It’s not fair. Why do you have this effect on him?
He opens his mouth to speak-
But then he catches your expression change slightly. There is a brief flash of pain on your face, and the heavier breathing alerting him to your condition. Barely does a second pass before your legs tremble and Jimin spurs into action.
Jimin immediately maneuvers you to fall into his arms as your legs give way, leaving you to collapse on him, your chest falling and rising with increasing tempo.
“Someone dares to harm my charge,” he swears under his breath, immediately spreading out his power to sweep through the nearby areas, but to no avail. There are only humans around, ignorant humans, so-?
“It-” you shudder as you struggle to breathe, your voice coming out as a croak. “Heart-”
-of course. Your congenital birth defect.
He places one hand against your body, the magic in his veins directing, telling him that your disease is acting up again. Although a little awkward, he directs his magic through the nerves in your body, cutting off the pain and easing up the exhaustion of your body. Jimin isn’t an expert in the workings of the human body, but he at least knows enough to figure out how to temporarily ease and solve the problem at hand.
When he feels your breathing slow down, body relaxing, melting to his own- only then does Jimin allow himself to finally stop worrying.
“Don’t you humans have more regard for your life? Isn’t it human instinct to want to survive, or is your brain just that broken?” He hisses, glaring at you when you purse your lips, the very picture of stubbornness.
Still, when you speak, he’s forced to listen.
“... The moment I summoned you,” you say quietly as you press yourself closer to him. If anyone were to see the two of you now, they’d assume you were lovers embracing each other, the fleeting thought races into his mind. “I knew what I was getting into. I place my life in your hands. I trust your hands to take care of it.”
“After all,” you continue. “what else is there to live for?”
“Besides, it’s only for a year. After that, you’re free to do whatever you want with my soul.” And then do you smoothly pull away from him, earlier weakness gone, the clothes you’d been trying on in one hand as you make your way to the counter. “Choose something you like. We have the money for it anyway.”
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
After that starts what might be Jimin’s craziest deal yet. Fully committed to live your remaining year of life your way, you have no qualms about using the contract to make him submit and follow your tems.
What’s even more infuriating is the way you do it. Sure, he could easily get mad, as a demon there is pride in his bones that cannot be easily handled, but you somehow manage to avoid that. When you talk to him, your tone is always light and playful, teasing, ever so confident. You don’t bow to him, like some of the humans he’d met who knew him and his power, but neither do you assume yourself to be the better of him, ignorant and drunk on power. For a lack of a better word, even after everything he’s done to you, you treat him as an equal.
“I feel exhausted.”
“I don’t want to hear that from you, considering I was the one who carried all our luggage.”
After that event at the mall, the two of you decided on a plan.
A year’s worth of time, several hundred thousand dollars and absolutely no responsibility left to hold you down anywhere. Jimin didn’t know where to start, who the fuck would ask a demon to guide them? No one in their right mind would.
Except you, that is. Infuriating you.
“It’s not my fault I’m not as strong as you,” you dramatically sigh as you flop on the bed.
Jimin snaps the lock on the suitcase a little harder than he intends.
Still, when he’d been practically browbeaten into accepting your deals, you’d offered him a piece of advice.
“I’m alright with anything you want to do. … Isn’t there something you wished you could do here? I don’t imagine a demon can spend so much time aboveground, the same way angels don’t linger here.”
So here the two of you were, on a trip around the world.
“Maybe not,” he mutters under his breath, “but getting here would have been done much faster if it weren’t for you almost fainting in the middle of the damn street.”
“I didn’t think it was that serious,” is your blithe reply.
Starting from Japan, to Philippines, to a week in a country of your choosing, sometimes more, sometimes less, the two of you have gone in several different countries, trying out food, experiencing the vividly different cultures, learning about famous landmarks and basically touring around. All things that Jimin (if only to himself) admits that he enjoys, especially with your company.
Choosing this particular plan is perhaps a mix of his own desires and an assumption. Almost every human had the desire to travel the world, didn’t they? Even you, with your past lives, would have to enjoy it.
He just didn’t expect how much he himself would have fun as well.
“You,” he sighs, “are completely hopeless.”
“But you’re still here with me, aren’t you?”
Perhaps that’s why three months later, as the two of you are checking in into your hotel rooms, he finds himself… being more gentle (not fussing, not, he would never fuss or truly worry about you, he’s a demon for fuck’s sake) with you, especially after you’ve just experienced another one of your episodes.
Three months with you, and Jimin’s become accustomed with you being… well, you.
When you mention something clearly ridiculous (who asks a demon to dye his hair? Just because you are doesn’t mean he should, and why would he know how to?), to doing something ridiculous (he didn’t really need that stuffed toy. Really), to just about almost collapsing from overexerting your body in your excitement (the most annoying thing about it perhaps may be the fact that you don’t even seem to care that you’re in pain, just that you can’t move as your body refuses to listen to you), he slowly becomes used to handling you. Reading you, learning to take care of you.
He doesn’t understand it himself, even as he slowly recognizes that maybe, just maybe, he’s started caring for you more than he should. More than he wanted to, far more than he ever thought he would.
He accepted the deal because you were a mystery he wanted to unravel, but as each day passes, he finds your existence to be more than enough reason for him to stay.
“I keep telling you to take better care of yourself,” he scolds you as you lie down on the bed, eagle-spread. Still you remain completely at ease, complacent look on your face and body relaxed. If not for the way that you eye him with amusement, Jimin would assume you’re not listening to him at all. As it is, he fixes you with a glare. “I’m not all-encompassing, you know. All I can do is take the pain away and temporarily fix your body’s failure.”
“That’s more than enough for me,” you cheerfully exclaim. Jimin aggressively unpacks the clothes in the dresser in response, grumbling under his breath. No matter how much he practically insults you into taking care of yourself, you always shrug off his words.
“What kind of human are you? Don’t you want to live?”
“Of course I want to live,” you immediately reply, before yawning. “But I don’t want to live it in a hospital.”
“Anyway, this current life is good enough for me. As long as I’m happy, I don’t care what happens to my body,” you quietly laugh, as if there is a joke hidden somewhere in your words that Jimin has failed to see. “Now, won’t you kiss the pain away?”
He sighs even as he looks over you, scanning you for any signs that your disease has flared up again. You wink at him in turn and he snaps his head around, annoyed at you. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Says the one who took me to Disney World. A demon taking a human to Disney World, can you think of anything more ridiculous than that?”
The clothes in his hand almost slip from him as he splutters. Red flashes in his cheeks as he whirls around to glare (read: pout) at you. “You had fun! … Didn’t you?”
“Of course I did,” you agree with a small smile. “I’m pretty sure I had the most fun there, even if you were the one screaming your head off while we rode the rollercoaster.” Jimin’s face reddens even more at the reminder, while you chuckle at his reaction. “Though you lost all your dignity for a moment.”
“If you can make jokes like that, then I know you’re feeling alright already,” he glowers. “Go on and get some rest.”
“Yes sir,” you mock salute him, before shutting your eyes and falling asleep just like that. Jimin sighs, and then pulls up the sheets to your chin.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
“Why does he like to visit you so fucking much?” He asks, maybe a little more aggressively than he likes. Still, it’s very much justified in his opinion. Taehyung stops by way too often, dropping by at least once a week, if not even more. It aggravates him to no end, to see the angel dare to get close to what Jimin has marked as his. “Does he not have anything else to do, or is heaven really that idle?”
His irritation only deepens as your lips quirk up in amusement.
“He’s just checking up on me.”
“What he is is being a nuisance and an overall pest. The urge to swat him down like the fly that he is rises up every time he appears.”
He hears you snort with laughter beside him.
“Pfft! Geez, alright. Instead of thinking about that, why don’t you look over this with me?”
He feels you lean on his shoulder, the phone’s screen showing your possible next destination.
“As long as that fly doesn’t dare to appear, I’m fine with wherever.”
“So you don’t mind missing out on the music festival in England for some other place then-?”
“I never said that,” he glares at you, pout on full display, ignoring your snickers. “Give me that phone.”
“Yes, yes, here you go.”
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
It takes him five months- almost half of the time he’s dedicated to your deal- before he asks you about the question he’s always wanted to know the answer to, the curiosity backed up by the fact that you probably will answer him. Hopefully.
Five months, and with every little thing he manages to glean about you, there comes another question to replace it. The skills he can easily guess to be remnants of your past lives, far off gazes reminiscing old memories, the unbothered attitude the accumulation of lives lived and lost.
Not to mention the way you always seem so... sad. Yes, perhaps that’s the best way to describe it. You hide it well, but even as you smile, you always seem to be one step saying goodbye. It doesn’t make sense, considering it was your choice to traded away your remaining years. Not to mention, you’ve let it slip that no one from your past lives are still living in the present.
Although.
It’s not as if he cares, not really- besides the fact that you always keep him on his toes, surprising him at ever moment, you’re just like any other human. Actually, you’re even less than that, considering your living conditions.
But time is running out, and if he lets you slip away without even trying, out of fear, then it wouldn’t be like him, now would it? And that won’t do at all.
At this moment, the two of you are sitting on the roof of the cabin you’ve rented out in Swedish Lapland. Something that you both came here to accomplish was seeing an aurora borealis, and as you’re both clad in warm layers of fur, hot chocolate in your flasks as snow surrounds you below and around you and the brilliant flashes of light above you- he can’t help but let his thoughts wander.
For once Jimin decides to take a step past the line he’s tried to define against you.
“What were your past lives like?” The question slips from him before he can take it back, and he sees you tense up, though you soon cover it up with a befuddled look.
“Hm?”
“You know what I mean,” he pushes. “Even us demons barely remember our human lives, much less a human like you who remembers their past cycles.”
A flash of heat decorates his cheeks as he sees the light in your eyes fade a little. “.. I was merely curious. It’s alright if you don’t want to-”
“I was the village healer in my first life,” you simply state. Jimin freezes, shocked that you would even reply.
Still, when he sees you turn to him, the look on your face clearly asking him to respond, he clears his throat.
“A healer huh…” he trails off, the image of you in his head becoming clear. “Somehow, I can easily see you as one. … Although it’s a little ironic, considering your current state.”
“Yeah,” you quietly chuckle. “It was one of my favorites. I had a loving family, and many friends. We had enough to live by ourselves, and the place where we lived was peaceful and beautiful.“
“Our village was situated on the mountainside- we were surrounded by this huge forest, and the blue sea below. My daily life started with tending to my patients first, and then to my garden. After that, I’d go into the forest to scavenge wild herbs, and I’d always take the time to appreciate the beautiful scenery. When I got back, I’d start making medicine, and then I’d continue taking care of any patients that came through the door.”
“Sounds like an idyllic life,” Jimin remarks, before adding, “If it were me, I wouldn’t have been able to stand that.”
“I wouldn’t begrudge you for missing that sort of life. It’s much more simple and easier than the life humans lead nowadays.”
You laugh, the sound full of melancholy even as there is nostalgia in it. “Right? You have the same way of thinking as- as him,” you pause, before your tone changes to a softer, gentler one, full of unspoken feelings. “My best friend. Kindest, most cheerful and helpful angel of our village. He was the son of our chief, but that wasn’t the reason why everyone loved him. We all adored him because he was the brightest part of our lives.”
“You sound overly fond of him.”
“I am.” The way you phrase your words doesn’t escape him as you look him in the eyes. You pause for a moment, before almost whispering the words, though he still hears them. “I will always love him.”
“... Do you?” For some reason, Jimin’s chest feels tight. It’s impossible for it to be like that. His body doesn’t function the same way that a human does, after all, no matter how much it may seem otherwise. Still, the way it suddenly feels as though the breath in him is slowly being stolen away, pain filling in the space left- he hates it. “How did it go, then?”
“How did what go?” You ask him, bemused. He sighs irritably and repeats his question, mixed emotions unknowingly present in his tone.
“You said you love him, so… did you, with him...?”
For a moment, you stare at him in surprise-
- and then you burst into laughter, long and hard. “Pfft! No, we didn’t,” you clarify as you giggle. “I’m sure I don’t have to point it out explicitly, but he was the son of the village chief, and I was just the healer. Besides, we were both men. No one would have approved of it, and it’s not like we could just shrug off the village and run away together.”
You smile widely, brighter than he’s ever seen you smile before, but Jimin is not blind to the lingering pain inside. “He got married to someone else.”
“... He did? But I remember you saying you were the closest one to him. If he knew-”
“-I never told him,” you shrug, a hollow chuckle slipping out. “It wouldn’t have done anything anyway, except make him miserable.”
It should make him happy. Thinking about this ‘best friend’ of yours who you’re still in love with makes him unnaturally angry, and to know that you have feelings left for a ghost even more.
Yet in the face of your heartbreak, as much as you try to hide it, Jimin feels sympathy for you instead. He clears his throat, breaking the silence.
“So you spent your life alone, then. While the guy you loved was with someone else?” He shakes his head. “I’m surprised, and yet I’m not.” Only half a year spent with you, and yet he can tell it’s something you would do. “Tell me about your next lives then.”
You smile a little then, recognizing the out he’s giving you. After a brief period of contemplation, you start speaking again.
You tell Jimin vaguely about your previous lives, the previous cycles you’ve gone through. You tell him about the city in your second life, the wandering merchant family you’d been born to and how you were pulled into the trade. You dipping into secret deals, backstabbing and a little manipulation to protect your family from malicious people. Your third life, where you are from a family of low nobles, and your forage into politics to find out who’s your allies and who’s your enemies. All the way up to your eight life, you talk, and talk, and talk, filling up the silence of the night with tales of lives lived so long ago, details lost to history and moments uncaptured but remembered.
Even as a demon, as old as Jimin may be to the humans, he’s barely as old as you are, if one were to take your first life as your moment of birth. He’s only heard snippets and rumours of dynasties and eras so far down history, nothing can be proven a hundred percent true. Yet in your words, you manage to vividly paint a picture, a window into a world he’s never seen before.
In your eighth life, you tell him about the powerful family you’re born into. About the way your family held you tight, how politics ran deeply and tightly around the city, the powerful dictating the lives of those without, and how you carved a place for yourself into history despite the obstacles in your way.
About the prince you grew up with, the emperor you eventually strived to serve faithfully.
That’s something that he’s noticed is a commonality with every lifetime of yours. There is always the presence of this other person. Some lifetimes, they are your childhood friend and others they come late into your life. Their personality often varies, and so do your relationship, but several things always remain the same.
You and them are partners in some sense of the word.
They are in a position of power higher than yours.
You are close to them, devoted to them, perhaps even in love with them, although it never leads to anything tangible in the end.
“That sounds like a tedious life,” he quietly comments as you tell him about the banquet you’d been forced to attend, the beautiful but dry and cold food. “It doesn’t seem like one you’d like, but let me guess, this lifetime around he was the emperor, wasn’t he?”
To your point, you don’t ask him what he’s talking about. A bitter smile alights on your lips instead as you consider his question.
You huff. “Yeah. It’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? He was the emperor’s son in that lifetime,” you admit. “I helped him battle his siblings and gain the throne.”
“But if you’re wondering... as I’m sure you know, relationships between the emperor and the officials are forbidden.” You look away from him then, eyes going back up to the northern lights above, though neither of you have been paying attention to it since the conversation started. “I was already pretty controversial in that time.”
He raises an eyebrow. “How?”
“Secret~” you smirk. He frowns at you, rolling his eyes- and you giggle.
“... I can’t understand how your soul became like that,” he grumbles. “How the hell do you have a soul that’s both pure and not? More than that, how is it that you happen to be reborn together and in almost the same circumstance in every life? It’s as though you’re tied together.”
You laugh, although it’s tinged with sadness. “... if I ever find out how, maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
He only rolls his eyes. “You will.”
The resounding laughter he hears from you makes it worth it. Still...
“Where is he in this lifetime, then?” He finally asks. Surely, if this person who you’ve met and waited for in every cycle has been part of your life without fail, then, surely, he has to have appeared in this one as well, right?
Although he thinks they don’t deserve you, but they obviously make you happy, and… you’re just about the only human Jimin thinks deserves that word the most. Happiness. He hasn’t seen you truly happy even just once, and it’s not as if he cares, no. But you made the deal with him to enjoy your last life, didn’t you?
You fall silent at his question, lips struggling to hold the smile on your face. When it doesn’t work, you take a deep breath, and then turn to him. “... Who knows? If he’s out there, alive… I just hope he’s happy.”
Jimin hisses at that.
“Asshole,” he furiously mutters. “After everything you sacrificed for him, you should get to have your own happiness too. If I ever see him, I’ll-”
You interrupt his angry tirade with laughter, warm and isn’t it funny how that single action seems to be more effective at keeping the cold away than the drink in his hands?
“Being with him was what already made me happy,” you smile. “But thank you.”
He pouts, wracking his mind for words to not only keep your smile afloat but to show you how worthless the person you’ve endured heartache for is. “... I wouldn’t leave you to suffer alone.”
“I know,” you coo at him, smile becoming a smirk.
“Because of our deal,” he hurriedly clarifies, the tips of his ears burning red as you lean on his shoulder. Jimin feels his body stiffen as the weight of your head on his side registers. He doesn’t want to push you away- but damn it if this isn’t something he’s ever done, and is familiar with before.
Your fingers intertwine with his, bringing with them affection and comfort, and he finally calms down with a huff. “... I-I made a deal with you, after all.”
“Yeah, I know,” you repeat, obviously struggling to hold back your laughter. “Thank you.”
“... As long as you know.”
That night ends with the two of you spending far more time than you should out in the cold, no matter that it’s the rooftop of your cabin. The aurora lights last all night long, the beautiful glows of colors dissipating and blending into the rosy colors of the morning sky, a beautiful sight that even Jimin has to appreciate as he sees it from the bedroom’s window.
If only you would wake up from your slumber, you could see it too. Still, he isn’t too keen on waking you up in any way, much less shoving your body away from him.
… Even if your body is a little too cold than he likes.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
It’s in his seventh month of being with you that he slowly realizes something. As the cherry blossoms die, autumn leaves falling and snow coating the world in white, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he’s let you come a little too close, a little too familiar with this heart.
At first he looked forward to knowing your secrets, but it’s infuriating to realize that even as much as he gets to know about you, it’s surprisingly not enough. He wants more. It never feels enough- whether it be your secrets, your attention, or maybe just you.
Not to mention he’s never had reason to stay so long as he has in the human realm, and not so close to anyone, moreso his human. Perhaps that’s part of the reason why it takes him so long to realize.
The way that it dawns on him too is frustrating- the thought instantly settling in his mind when he sees you flash one of your rare smiles at him. Mid-afternoon, as you stir the tea in your hand, the sunlight almost seeming to cover you with an ethereal glow as you sit with your back against the window.
For once, you’re the one filling the silence, chuckling over incidents that happened as the two of you went to see the parade earlier that day. The memory of you watching the performers decked beautifully in white facepaint, skull masks and roses, and elaborate clothing, with an awed look on your face… the thought of it makes him smile unconsciously and you catch it.
“Are you smiling?” You raise an eyebrow at him, bemused. “I didn’t know you liked the parade that much, you wanted to join.”
Red flares up in his cheeks when your words sink in. “What. I- I wasn’t smiling! I was just- thinking.”
You give him a skeptical look, eyes travelling from feet to head, before you hide a very visible smirk behind your cup of tea. “Huh. Must’ve been a wonderful thought, if it made you smile so easily like that,” you tease him. “... It’s nice seeing you smile more often these days.”
Do I? He wonders. You’re all that fills his head these days, from your ridiculous antics and decisions, the unfathomable way of thinking you have, the way you so easily see him and read him. Does he really smile that much, when you’re the only thing he thinks about so much?
Do the thoughts of you really make him happy, enough to the point that he’s always smiling?
You offer him a warm grin. “I’m glad. I worried I was the only one enjoying this deal, after all.”
… He’s fucked.
After that, it takes a miracle (heh) to act the same as before, to pretend that nothing is going on. After all, it’s not as if he can confess his love for you, can he? He isn’t even sure if it’s love that he feels- can demons even feel that emotion?
But the truth is, now that he’s aware of just how much exactly you mean to him, it’s hard not that smile a little too much when you get the pleased look in your eyes, to keep the laughter at bay when you make a mistake and pout just the tiniest little bit, sulking, to generally just not let you catch on that everything you do is making him feel like holding you close as much and as long as his heart demands.
He can’t. He shouldn’t. He wants you, and he’s never had a problem with taking what he’s set his sights on before. But you aren’t like anything else he’s collected. You aren’t a toy he wants to play around with, nor are you a rare item he wants to keep locked up. You’re someone he treasures, and while he has no doubt he’s charming and powerful, that on some level, you’re attracted to him, that’s not enough to make you choose him.
At least, not enough for you to pick him over them.
Not if you chased them across literal lifetimes, if you’ve spent lifetimes dedicated to them.
Even now, when he approaches the subject, he can feel you distance yourself from him. He’s torn.
Jimin watches you, a smile of his own appearing.
I don’t want to push it and push him away for good.
But.
I really want to get past this wall.
… It’s fine though. There’s still time. There’s still time to make you change your mind, to love him too. He’ll make sure of it. After all, whoever he is is long gone, and Jimin is the one in front of you and beside you at all times. Something is bound to change.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
“You’re much more agreeable these days.”
Walking side by side, he thinks that it would be more than easy to reach across and hold your hand in his. Instead, he raises an eyebrow at you and pushes those thoughts out of his mind.“And? You aren’t complaining, are you?”
You chuckle. He averts his gaze, feeling a little blinded. “No, not really. Just an observation. Does this mean you won’t mind the festival tomorrow? It’ll be messy, after all. And not in the way you like.”
He grumbles. “... I suppose so. It’s not like I have a choice, anyway, so why not?”
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
The days pass, and the cold becomes unbearable. It burrows under his skin, surrounding his body that not even human clothes can keep away. Especially at night, when the temperature is at its lowest, does he find himself shivering. Although admittedly, it’s much better than how it was months ago, now that the seasons are shifting into spring, it’s still bad for his health.
At least that’s what he tells you, any extension himself, as you continue to share one bed. You are his responsibility, but in the line of thinking Jimin is someone under your care too, as you are both partners. Therefore, it only makes sense for you to share warmth with him by cuddling (read: spooning, you’d been the one to bring it up after a very embarrassed Jimin almost stomped off, although you never mentioned the implications wrapped around it) with you.
In your arms, your scent surrounds him, legs thrown over his own, your hair soft on his cheek. Moments like this are hard to come by, but that just makes him savor every one of them even more.
Under the darkness of the room, minutes after you’ve agreed to turn off the lights and go to sleep, he finds himself whispering, wondering if you’ll reply.
“Aren’t you scared to die? … Is it really that terrible, to be confined in a hospital?”
Your response is short, tone even, but the way you tighten your hold on him says everything.“I’m more scared to not have lived.”
“And honestly… I can’t stand the somber atmosphere in hospitals. I never have, and I never will.”
Months ago, he wouldn’t even have entertained sharing a bed with a human, much less cuddle with one. But these days, Jimin finds he can’t ever sleep without the uneven beat of your heart lulling him to sleep.
He’s become spoiled with your presence.
“I’ll give you the best two months of your life,” he mumbles before correcting himself. “... Lifetimes.”
“Really now,” you hum, a yawn escaping you near the end, “I’m looking forward to it then.”
“Don’t give me those perfunctory words,” he gripes. “I mean it.”
“I know,” you adjust your position, just so that Jimin is pulled close, close, closer to you. WHe can hear the faint beating of your heart even louder, the miniscule warmth of your body a familiar blanket over his own. “... I’m just really tired right now. Can we go to sleep?”
Jimin finally yawns too, feeling exhaustion wash over him as you accept his declaration. “... Alright, fine. Good night, YN.”
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
But everything good has to come to an end. It isn’t an opinion, but rather a fact, and Jimin is only reminded of this just as the seasons start to shift back to spring, the year coming to its last month.
The way it happens is not even anything gradual, or perhaps it is, but he’s long chosen to ignore it. Because he’s been able to handle it so far, so it should be okay, right? If it’s for you, he’s willing to dole out his magic freely for your sake, so, you’d be alright no matter what, right?
But the way you suddenly collapse on the sidewalk tells him otherwise.
There’s barely a few seconds of warning, maybe one or two. Jimin can’t really tell. All he can remember is how you were walking side by side under the warm weather, enjoying the sun him telling you to take a break at the next cafe over, your laughter ringing out-
-before you fall over, just like that, your legs and arms painfully stiff, you almost crashing onto the asphalt if it weren’t for him catching you in his arms.
“J-Jimin,” you instantly choke out his name, the blue tint of your skin becoming stronger as the words fail to leave you, leaving you gasping and clutching your chest. He isn’t as worried at first, thinking that he only has to fix your failing heart again, but-
No. Your blood won’t move. It won’t close.
He tries again, his hand clutching you tighter this time as if to respond to the panic slowly rising up inside of him, but- still. It’s as if your body is rejecting him, the magic being blocked out, unable to enter you-
“No-”
-and he can only uselessly hold you in his arms, you getting closer to dying with every moment that he wastes-
“No, no, n-no-” he stammers.“YN, hang in there-”
Again and again, he keeps trying, trying to push your body to do something, but no, nothing.
From thereon, it’s a blur. He remembers that he can call the hospital, and scrambling for his phone, he immediately punches the numbers in, though his hands shake with every passing second.
“9-911, help, please-” he chokes out, “please help, m-my YN, he’s- he’s-”
“Sir, can you please give us your location?” The voice that answers him is quick, urgent, but focused, and how can they be focused when you’re bent over, convulsing in pain-?
“I-I can’t-” he stammers, the address muddled in his head. Though he then looks around, searching for landmarks to give the other person. “W-We’re in front of the entrance to the Keukenhof Gardens.“
He fails to hear what they say, the only words standing out in his head that they’re coming.
It should amaze him, later on, how at this moment all the panic seems to melt away and not, leaving him shaking but able to speak better, clearer. It’s as if the emotions have dulled away, leaving him pounding but still going on.
“YN,” he tells you, voice wrapped up in emotions that not even he can tell is what. “Hold on, the medics are coming- just-”
“Jimin,” you whimper, trembling. He can see your skin turn even bluer with every passing second, a warning that your heart is pumping yet your lungs are failing. You’re clearly in pain, but- despite that, your whole focus is on him. “... I couldn’t- I can’t see you- I t-thought you left me again.”
An ugly sob tears its way out his chest then. It feels as if his eyes are burning with tears, blurring his vision, but he’s resolved not to let you go.
“D-Don’t worry about that. I’m right h-here sweetheart,” he reassures with a shaky voice. “Didn’t I say I’d n-never leave you? Just focus on my voice-”
Whatever words he speaks next, you never hear as you fall unconscious. Jimin catches you in his arms, and promises to not let you go.
He doesn’t register the sound of the ambulance arriving, the medics pulling you away from him, him using his power to convince them to let him go with you. The ambulance’s siren doesn’t sink into him, and neither do the busy personnel connecting you to various machines and leading you away into the emergency room, him stuck outside as they tell him to wait. He wants to go inside, to see you, but- they tell him that they can’t work with him in there. So he lets him be sat down on the bench outside by the nurse, eyes drifting into space as he stares at the doors.
All that remains on loop in his mind is the moment you look at him with tears dripping down your face, the terror reflected back in his eyes as you whispered that you thought he’d left again.
The tears fall even faster.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
When they allow him to come in, hours and hours and what feels like an eternity later, the sight of feathers and a(n unfortunately) familiar face barely surprises him. After all, it was made clear to him during your earliest days with you that the angel has a soft spot for you, though how much is still a mystery.
“Taehyung,” he says quietly. “what are you doing here?”
“What do you think?” Taehyung stands by your bed, lips pursed and entire countenance stony as he regards Jimin. You continue to slumber, unaware of the conversation taking place before you. “I should be the one asking you that question. Then again, I guess I can’t be too surprised. You really are dedicated to your job, aren’t you?” He doesn’t laugh, only tightening his grip. “I’d say I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done to him, what you will do to him, but we both already know that’s a lie.”
Jimin bristles. “You say that like I intended for this to happen. … I care about YN.”
At his answer, Taehyung only seems to grow even more furious, the tick in his jaw appearing as his glare becomes murderous.
“If you really cared for him,” he doesn’t outright yell, no, but Taehyung’s voice is low, trembling with anger, the type that takes every part of yourself to hold back. His hands are drawn into fists and Jimin doesn’t doubt that if you weren’t asleep, he wouldn’t even talk, he’d use his fists instead. “You wouldn’t have stayed near him at all, much less let it come to this point!”
“If you cared about him, you would have let him move on!”
“I-” Jimin should be angry, and he is, but there’s something about Taehyung’s words, something about the grief in his face that forces him to take a step back. “W-What do you mean…?”
“... this was supposed to be his last chance,” Taehyung whispers. Looking down at your sleeping face, Jimin sees the way his face crumbles with bitterness. “If he could just move on from you and start anew, he could have been given a chance to be an angel instead. Now, it doesn’t even matter if you and him aren’t like before, that he hasn’t done anything to harm others at all, they aren’t letting him go-”
Jimin’s whole body stills as he stares at Taehyung.
“... Like before?”
Taehyung’s face darkens- and then he snaps.
“How daft can you be?! Have you never wondered just why, out of so many demons, you’re the one he summoned? 75 years of a human life, even on their last cycles, that’s more than enough for a lifetime of wealth and riches!” Taehyung’s voice becomes increasingly loud, anger and blame visible in his eyes, before they shift to bitterness. “But no, he just wanted you. You, who’s always been the reason why he got screwed over in all of his previous lifetimes!”
“I…”
“And now he’s dying, his tenth life and he can’t enter heaven or hell, neither can his soul be broken and made anew,” he spat out bitterly. “Don’t preach to me about how his current state is our fault, because if you’d never tempted him in the first place he wouldn’t even be born into this wretched state!”
After saying his piece, it’s as if a string controlling Taehyung has been cut, as his whole body sags. Once more does he show grief in his face, tears falling and him brushing them away.
And Jimin?
He doesn’t know what to say, how to react.
Thinking back on it, perhaps the clues had been there all along, and it was just him who refused to see it for what it was. The whole mystery, presented to him, while still missing important pieces had already given him the most important information.
All along, it’d been Jimin who YN searched for in every life, who you’ve been devoted to, may be in love with, and-
And him who’s ruined you in turn, whether it be your previous lives or this one.
The revelation makes him fall, crushing the breath in his lungs. It feels like he’s falling, deep, hard, with no way out and goddamn it why would you still want him after everything?
“... no.”
It’s your words that halt them in their tracks. Surprised, they see you awake.
“YN!”
They both exclaim your name in surprise. You smile weakly at them in turn, and the way you struggle to breathe a little doesn’t escape them.
“Thank you, Taehyung, for trying to protect me,” you start, before your smile turns sad. “But I think you forget I’ve always had the choice to leave Jimin. If I ever wanted to, if it ever got too hard for me, I could have left. But I didn’t. And I never will.”
You close your eyes. “A life without him isn’t a life worth living at all.”
Taehyung’s laugh is broken as your words sink in. “Is it worth it even if it costs you everything?”
“You know my answer will always be yes.”
It’s kind of funny. Jimin has always known you would die. Not just mentioning how you’re human, the fact that you refused to get treatment for your condition means death was only ever a few steps behind you.
But even so, now that the moment is creeping closer, it still hits him hard, anyways.
Perhaps the worst thing yet is the calm smile on your face, reminiscent of the first time Jimin’s met you. You aren’t angry, aren’t defiant, aren’t trying to fight against this in any way at all- you’re just accepting what’s to come and it breaks both of their hearts.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
After that, Taehyung leaves, though not before he has a private talk with you. When he leaves your room, Jimin sees the trail of tears remaining on his face before he disappears.
Coming in, it all feels like a dream.
It was only a day ago that the two of you had been planning to take a stroll together and admire the garden boasted to be the ‘most beautiful spring garden in the world’.
Now the only thing that reminds him of spring inside is the flowers on the vase by your bedside (probably placed there by Taehyung, his mind tells him). You’re admiring them with a small smile (fake, his mind oh so helpfully tells him), though the way you’re determinedly not meeting his gaze, hands clutching the blanket tightly tells him otherwise.
Silence reigns in the room like so many times before, but this time, neither of you are breaking it. He can only stare at you, the questions in his mind screaming at each other to make themselves known, but as he sees the vulnerable stance you’re holding, your body curled up just enough that you could hide in on yourself, he hesitates.
He can’t.
It’s with that that Jimin turns around, intending to leave, but-
Only then do you finally speak. Your voice is almost a whisper, but he hears it loud and clear. “Don’t leave,” you beg him. “Please.” The way your voice cracks at the end with unshed tears echoes in the room.
Jimin stops. A moment passes- and then he turns around again, sighing as he seats himself beside you. You still aren’t looking at him, but you aren’t quite looking away from him either.
“... Is it true then? YN.”
You flinch, but you answer all the same.
“... Yeah, it is.” When you speak next, it’s only too obvious that you’re trying to be casual and light. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think Taehyung was such a blabbermouth.”
Jimin already knew. That was a fact.
But damn it if it doesn’t hurt right now. If it doesn’t make him physically sick, to consider his part in your current condition. To actually have to face the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have-”
“You could have what?” You interrupt him. Jimin falls silent, unable to answer and you smile bitterly. “That’s what I thought.”
“If I told you when we first met, would you have believed me?”
He looks away. “... Yes, I would have.”
“Liar,” you immediately call him out, a hint of exasperation present in your tone. “Don’t blame yourself, Jimin. I chose this. I’m happy right now.”
“Originally I wasn’t going to find you, but… when I saw you, you just reminded me of the old you,” you smiled sadly. “when you didn’t know what to live for, desperate for anything to keep you going. And then I realized you didn’t recognize me… I just wanted to see you smile happily again.”
And then it feels as though someone’s punched him in the chest.
“If you die, I won’t be smiling happily anymore! If you die right now, I won’t find any reason to smile for the rest of this hell that I’m stuck as a demon. This time, I won’t ever be able to forget you. I won’t ever be able to forget your smiles, your laughter, the way you smirk at me when you tease me- I couldn’t ever forget you.” He chokes out, tears brimming in his eyes as he looks you in the eyes, forcing you to see him. “How could you ever think there would be a life where I wouldn’t fall in love with you?”
“... I’m sorry, Jimin,” your voice breaks with tears. “I’m sorry for being selfish. I should’ve just let you go, I’m sorry, I just missed you so much-”
He doesn’t know who starts crying first, only that the two of you are so close to shattering.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
“What did I do to you?” He finally asks. To your credit, you don’t break eye contact with him, only flinching a little. Jimin quietly continues. “Taehyung… he said your soul became like this because of me. I want to know the full story.”
When he senses you hesitating, thinking over what to say, he clasps your hands in his own. “Please.”
Your shoulders sag, and you look away.
“... in our first life, your wife cheated on you with another man from her village,” you finally say softly.
Jimin says nothing, only encouraging you to speak.
“Your father married you to her because she was the daughter of the head of the neighboring village, and she seemed to like you. When you were married, you made sure to treat her well, going above what people would normally do and almost even pampering her. With everything that was going on, you becoming head and your marriage, we began drifting away.”
“But your wife turned out to be tricking you only for the money and the status. I soon found out she’d been stealing money and lying about it, and going behind your back to see other men. At first I was incensed, and I immediately confronted her. She knew I could make you listen, so she promised to stop and change her ways. I agreed. I didn’t want you to be heartbroken when you realized how much she’d been lying to you.”
“... I found her under another man weeks later, near the shed. I confronted them, threatening to tell you- and her lover, who obviously knew who I was, panicked. He tried to kill me then, but I was stronger than him- and then he tried pleading for his innocence, killing your wife in turn before begging me to let it go.”
“I was shocked. At first I didn’t know what to do, but then I tried to confront her, and well-” you fall silent again, obviously torn about telling him what happens next. Jimin awaits your response, and it isn’t long before you make up your mind.
“... I tried to detain him, but in the process killed him instead. You came out, attracted by the ruckus… I can’t ever forget the face you had when you saw both your wife and another man dead, and me, standing over them,” your voice comes out as a whisper. “You never blamed me, especially after you heard the truth, but- we were never the same afterwards.”
“I think… that was the start of everything.”
The way you retell your past lives now, revealing to him the parts that you glossed over before, it puts the clues he’s seen before in clear perspective. It breaks his heart to hear your journey through the different lives, always there for him, always getting dragged into the darker side of the world because of him. Because of him, in almost every life you’ve been dragged to kill, to manipulate, to ruin lives on his account. If not to protect him, to keep him safe then to avenge him in some way.
Taehyung was right. It is his fault.
Finally, you touch upon your last life with him, your eight life.
“In our eight life, you were the emperor’s son, and I was the concubine’s son of the right minister of the court. We were childhood friends,” you smile a little in reminiscence.
“... The royal family was full of backstabbing and schemes. I wanted to protect you, but I was too young. When I finally had the power, you were already broken in by others, wanting nothing but power and revenge. I thought… no, I wanted to help. If I could have just stopped it sooner, you wouldn’t have suffered so much after all,” the guilt in your tone is thick as is the regret in your eyes. “I became the minister, scheming and backstabbing others in order to gain what I wanted, to protect you, and to help you get revenge.”
“At the end of that life, we’d drenched the whole city in blood, not a single person against you left alive.”
“... I remember that,” Jimin finally says.
A demon’s past lives are always sealed shut and kept secret, but- perhaps just by the virtue of standing by you, the one person who’s always been a central point in all his lives, that he can remember at least his last life clearly.
“... I was poisoned, wasn’t I?” He chuckles. Your smile tightens, a shaky breath leaving you that he knows isn’t just from your illness.
“Yeah,” you confirm. “In the ninth life, I couldn’t find you anywhere. I lived my whole life searching for you, but I couldn’t even sense the slightest hint of you anywhere.”
“You were looking in the wrong realm,” he laughs a little. You shrug.
“... And now, this life.”
“This life,” he echoes, falling quiet.
“You already know about my family. My mother dying at childbirth, father abandoning me, my relatives only being greedy… I ran away as soon as I could. I suffered, that’s true, but- I thought,” you swallow nervously. “I couldn’t find you anywhere last time. And this was my last life. So… I thought that maybe, I could summon a demon to help me search for you, if you were at least still alive somewhere.”
“Imagine my surprise when I summoned you instead.”
You place a small kiss on his palm, intertwining your hand with him after. “I promised I’d only take a little peek, see if you were happy, but… I guess… I guess I got greedy.”
Jimin lets out a shaky exhale, feeling the strength leave him as your words sink into his mind. “And Taehyung?”
“I met him in my ninth life. I’m pretty sure he already told you, but… he’s the one who made it possible for me to remember my past lives,” you smile a little at that. “I started searching for you after that.”
“I guess they were pretty anxious for a new angel to arrive, making me that deal.”
He scoffs. “The amount of angels that enter heaven have heavily decreased these past centuries. I’m not too surprised if they are. For a system that prides itself on its morality, their pragmatism rivals even hell itself.”
“Yeah,” you simply reply. “Don’t be too harsh on him, okay? He was the reason I found you in this life, after all. I’m thankful I got to see you again in my last life.”
And just like that, he’s reminded again of the situation at hand.
“After all, they said,” you continue, “I could die at any moment now.”
Fingers trace where your heart would be in your chest. “Complications from my birth defect. A blood clot formed in one of the arteries near my heart. ”
“More than that though- there’s only two weeks left, before our contract ends,” you tell him. Jimin squeezes your hand, seated beside you.
“...Is there anything you want?”
“Just stay with me, please,” you close your eyes as you lean on him.
“Alright. Alright, I can do that.”
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
After that, Jimin stays by your side at all times, every waking second of the day, if not to keep you company, then to ease the pain in your body. It’s ironic, considering your past lives. He remembers being bedridden, every change of his condition monitored. You’d told him multiple times then, that you were willing to follow him to the grave. The ministers praised your loyalty. Only he knew that it wasn’t a promise so much as a statement.
“Wow,” your lips quirk into a grin as you take the cup from his hands. “Tea from you, our great and oh-so-gracious emperor. How lucky of me.”
“Perfectly brewed tea too,” he preens as you compliment him.
In a reversal of roles, he brews you tea, accompanying you around (though not too far lest your disease acts up again), making sure that in your last days, you’re left with as little regret and as much contentment as you can get.
Still, he can’t help thinking over the angel’s words. Every time he sees you just enjoy being alive together, he wonders, why not? If it guaranteed your survival, he’d push you to become a demon, or even an angel.
The one time that he brings it up, though, you instantly shoot him down.
“I don’t want to be an angel,” you bluntly state. “If I did, I’d be bound to fight you someday. Besides, heaven cast me out already..”
“Becoming a demon isn’t something you can so easily do, either. Remembering my previous lives actually makes it harder for me. Even if it’s for you… I can’t justify ruining people’s lives in any way in this life.”
He exhales, grip on you tightening with every word you say, feeling as though if he doesn’t, then somehow, somehow, you’ll instantly disappear.
“... I know.”
He doesn’t bring up that topic again.
And if he leaves moments later, not returning until an hour later, appearing the same but feeling empty of everything inside, well. At least you don’t call him out on it.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
A few days before your contract ends, he’s visited by someone he didn’t think would see him.
“If you had a chance to save him,” he says. “Would you?”
Of course. If there’s anything that binds Jimin and him together, it’s you.
“I would.”
A heartbeat’s worth of moment passes- and then he replies.
“What are you willing to give up?”
“Everything.”
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
“YN!”
You cheekily wave at him from where you are, standing by the bed, outfit not the hospital gown but rather clothes for outside wear. Jimin stride over to you, features stiff as he almost-but-not-quite glares at you, or to be more specific at you standing and dressed to go out.
“I didn’t want to spend my last days on a hospital bed,” you explain before he can say anything, a forcefully lighthearted tone in your voice. You smile at him easily, pulling him down for a kiss- one that he easily returns, before grasping his hands in yours. “So. Accompany me, will you?”
Cold. Your body temperature has always been a little below than how normal humans should be, but in this moment it’s fallen even lower and Jimin can’t help but let his magic ease the discomfort you must be feeling. You hum in pleasure as you feel the pain in your body dull, no doubt because of Jimin.
“... Fine,” he sighs, before warning you. “But we aren’t doing anything strenuous.”
“I know,” you roll your eyes at him, before tugging on your interlocked hands. “Come on, we’re losing daylight.”
Where are we even going? He wants to ask, but it’s a futile question. After all, he’ll follow you wherever you decide to go, whether it be even heaven or hell.
With that thought in mind, he lets you lead.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
The destination in question turns out to be the Keukenhof gardens, the place you two intended to visit before the incident.
Although he originally didn’t want you to put too much pressure on your body, Jimin thinks, if only to himself, that maybe this trip is doing you more good than harm. Surrounded by the beautiful scenery, it seems as though you are at peace for once. The tension that seemed unnoticeable before has visibly melted away for both of you, leaving you both at peace.
“I remember you strolling in the imperial gardens.” The memory in question comes in a burst as he watches you walk around. The scene before him blurs. The present overlaps with the past vision of you in his mind- where you’re wearing brightly colored robes, followed by several attendants. Tulips on the ground are replaced by falling plum blossoms, and even the atmosphere is different.
What only remains the same is you and the gentle look on your face.
“I always found you having tea in the pavilion. That was the first place I looked to when I needed you, and I rarely failed to find you there.”
You laugh a little. “I always asked you to join me.”
“... Yes, you were the only one who could so easily ask me to take a break with you,” he murmurs. “No one else would even dare meet my eyes. They were always too afraid.”
“The memories keep coming back to me now.”
“Do they?” You ask him, swinging your linked hands a little. “Our lives keep changing, but if there’s anything that stays the same… I guess it’s this. I’m glad I got to do this at least once with you in this life too.”
“If it were up to me, we’d do this everyday.”
And then he feels you tug on him. He notices the way your breathing quickly becoming erratic, you starting to struggle even more just to breathe. It’s nothing that his magic can’t dull, the pain disappearing but the damage increasing.
This is the limit of what Jimin can do (he hates it, but you always look at him a grateful look on your face and he swallows back the words, knowing what your reaction would be).
After that, he carries you to one of the benches by the path. In the late afternoon, the sky is a brilliant shade of rose, sunlight gently bathing the sea of flowers with gold.
‘Just a little longer’, he thinks. Please.
“Hey, Jimin.”
“... You asked me before,” you suddenly speak up again, voice falling lower as if you’re sleepy. “If I was afraid to die.”
“Even after countless lifetimes, I’ve always been afraid to die,” you reveal. “But I was more afraid to die without seeing you at least once.”
“Were you happy, this past year?” He abruptly asks. The answer should be obvious- you’ve done so much just to find him, just to stay by him, so obviously you should, but he can’t help asking. Were you? Were you happy? Was he able to make you feel that the pain was worth it in any way?
Maybe it isn’t for you as much as it is for him. I’m sorry. The words are laced in every touch and he wonders if you can hear it.
You chuckle. “Of course I am.”
“... Jimin,” you call out his name again, when the silence drags him down to where his thoughts fester. He shivers- feeling your presence slowly wither away beside him, as you struggle to speak, your voice becoming more and more quiet. “Jimin...”
“Yes?”
“If there’s a life beyond this one, and the other one, and beyond… I’d still want to spend all of it with you.”
Jimin laughs, but it’s strange.
His voice… it really isn’t as smooth as it used to be. The trembling, choked up feeling in his throat- they turn his words into ones filled with tears. “Really, YN? That’s a promise then, alright? After all, I still haven’t paid you back for all the lifetimes I’ve caused you grief… I don’t think I ever will, no matter how much I try.”
He looks at you then- at your eyes that hold nothing but fondness in them, to the gentle slope of your lips, the smooth space between your eyebrows. Dipping his head low, he cups your face, pressing a kiss on your forehead. Your grip on him would be painful if there was any force behind it. As it is, he only grasps your hand in turn to make sure that at least you know you are together until the end.
A moment passes, and then another.
An evening breeze brushes by, making the trees sway, leaves falling down to the ground.
Jimin’s hands barely tremble as he closes your eyes for you.
Like this, it’s easy to pretend you’re just sleeping.
“... Goodnight, YN.”
Flower petals dance through the air, and Jimin thinks that is probably the send off that you would like. Surrounded by what you love.
He hopes that your smile carries on wherever you may go.
“I’ll meet you soon.”
Only the wind is there to hear him now, only the rising moon there to witness the tears that follow yet again.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
“Hic… hic…”
It’s the sound of something that draws him to the place hidden behind the playground. He’s not scared- no, really!- but the other kids are too busy playing, enough that they couldn’t hear him when he said he wanted to join, so they definitely wouldn’t notice if something interesting was happening somewhere!
He’s a big boy though, so he can wait until they’re done, whenever that is. In the meantime, he can hear something weird, and he’s curious, so he can go investigate that!
So he walks carefully to just the veeeeery edge of the sandbox, looking around and trying to find out where the noise is coming from.
When he looks through the bushes, it’s when he finds himself what’s making the noise.
“What the- hey, are you okay?”
It’s a crying boy.
For a moment, the two of them look at each other, surprised- before he awkwardly smiles at the other. When they don’t say anything, just staring at him, he patiently waits for them to say something. That’s what his mother always told him to do, after all.
“Are you okay?” He repeats. The other nods a little. “What happened? I heard this strange noise but you seem and sound like you were crying!”
At that, they begin to tear up again.
“... I-I got lost, and I can’t find my mommy or my daddy…”
“Oh,” he says, before smiling. “That’s okay! I’ll help you find them!”
“... Really?”
He grins, eyes turning into crescent moons as he holds out his hand for the other to take. “Yeah, really! I’m kinda new here, so my mom told me where to go if I’m ever lost! I can take you there!”
They hesitate, face sad, before they seem to decide- and they take his hand.
And in that moment, he feels something wet on his cheeks.
“... a-are you crying!? I’m sorry!”
“Um- no, it’s okay… I just got really happy for no reason!” He hastily wipes away the tears, feeling really happy and sad for some reason. “Um… sorry… um.”
“What’s your name? Do you want to be friends? You’re really cute!”
“H-Huh?” They blush. “... My name is YN. And you are?”
“It’s Jimin! From now on, we’re friends, okay?”
They smile, and his chest feels a little funny. A little warm too. Just- he’s really, really happy, more than he’s ever been!
“Sure!”
Behind them both, a feather falls onto the ground.
#bts x reader#bangtanhq#ficswithluv#bangtanfairygarden#bangtanscenery#park jimin x reader#jimin x reader#bts fic#bts scenario#jimin fic#jimin scenario#bts x male reader#park jimin x male reader
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let's hear about FFVIII seifer, if you're still doing this XD
Why I like them: You know my tastes. A green-eyed man is introduced throwing fireballs around, is kind of a condescending jerk but in a fun way, instigates deep conversations on high ground while staring at the sunset...Well, before we even get to villainy, immolation, and redemption arc, I start going “Is this a favorite character?” I’m joking...kind of. Some of that does factor in, even the fire.
Okay, so my favorite thing about Seifer’s arc is that, in the limited focus he’s given, he’s complex and layered from the beginning, and his villain arc is a clear and fascinating illustration of “No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks” ….with a side of brainwashing.
Let’s break this down:
What are some of the words used to describe him by those that know him (by himself, by Squall, by Fuu and Rai)? Romantic. Idealistic. Sensitive. He is the one who believes in making a difference in the world--not just as a wish or goal, but as an imperative to do what your heart says is right even if it’s going to cost you--where Squall is just follow-the-orders-and-do-the-job. If you’re already reading this and objecting, I’m not saying Squall doesn’t care...obviously he does, defrosting Mr. Go Talk to a Wall and getting him to a place where he admits how many layers of mask he wears is his character development...but Seifer isn’t just a hothead. He wears his heart on his sleeve.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not trying to deny that Seifer can be an abrasive, self-serving, hypocritical jackass sometimes, who can fight dirty, wants to “wreak some havoc,” and has a history as a bully--though, gentlefolk of the jury, I submit to the courts that he puts on a tough act like Squall does and they are both different flavors of trying to mimic toxic alpha male--but let’s not forget that some of his establishing character moments are throwing out his future to disobey orders because he sees that the higher-ups have possibly misjudged the situation and civilians could be in danger, and, again, going AWOL because he thinks Squall and Rinoa could be killed. And he calls himself the white knight and holds up a code of honor until the end, even though it gets twisted. He is about duty and honor, with honor even over duty.
Oh, this was only going to be the beginning. I haven’t even begun to touch on what I would want to touch on--this is just surface personality and the beginning of the game before we even get to joining Sorceress Edea, and even then not all I would say-- but this post isn’t actually supposed to be my Ted talk on what you missed if you just think of Seifer as a recurring boss fight. Let’s move on.
ONE MORE THING ACTUALLY. Even though we see a lot of Seifer at his worst, you can use Fujin and Raijin as a mirror. What do they say near the end of the game if we paraphrase/summarize? They knew pretty early on, before even the senseless slaughter and torture era that Seifer was going down a dark path with the sorceress, but they knew it wasn’t him and stayed with him, not because they agreed with his actions, wanted power, or out of fear, but to take care of him and try to break through to him--and not because they are saints, but because he, despite what had happened in the past year, is the type of person who deserves and inspires that kind of loyalty. Let’s think on that.
Now the rest goes under a read more, because I am going to keep rambling and be wordy
Why I don’t: He can be an asshole, and he’s an asshole in an embarrassing way. As in, if one is trying to say he’s not the little punk his KH counterpart is, you remember he still uses the insult chickenwuss (though that is a legacy insult/nickname since he’s known Zell since childhood--and, fyi, Squall uses it too) and he had a little gang in school. Even once he’s a military commander of an evil army set on world domination, he has some moments where his level of petty undermines him.
Favorite episode (scene if movie): The Dollet mission
Favorite line: Sorry, not sorry that the following is my favorite exchange of lines and that the prison torture scene is another of my favorite scenes. For context, Seifer has captured Squall, has him hanging up on the wall in crucified hero imagery, implied to be shirtless even though his character model isn’t because they talk about scar tissue or lack thereof from a recent shoulder injury/Squall being stabbed in the chest/shoulder area. Seifer has been electrocuting Squall for information. By this point, I might as well have put the whole scene here. Also, I am now going to blame Squall and Seifer text boxes in FFVIII for my own abuses of ellipses...
Seifer: " I was hoping you'd be there, Squall. So... how'd I look in my moment of triumph? My childhood dream, fulfilled. I've become the sorceress' knight."
Squall: [internal monologue] ...Sorceress' knight... ...His...romantic dream...? But... Seifer... Now, you're just a…[Out loud] "... torturer."
[Squall passes out.]
Seifer: "What did you say? [Steps closer] Passed out cold, eh? This is the scene where you swear your undying hatred for me! The tale of the evil mercenary versus the sorceress' knight!”
This isn’t just me all “mmm, tension.” Seifer has passed the moral event horizon, and it’s not just faceless NPCs that are collateral damage anymore. We’ve seen him on screen torture the protagonist, who is also one of the only people who he’s shown to have a real bond with that goes beyond superficial. Then we get this and see Seifer thinks he’s the good guy still, on a noble mission where he’s had to make painful sacrifices, and Squall is a representative of the power-hungry evil. Seifer’s been playing a different game, and had his will twisted via magic.
Favorite outfit: The Amano art where the white coat is cast off and he’s wearing the simple black shirt and black jeans under it. Symbolic? Maybe. I wouldn’t give up the coat though. I love the long white/gray coat, the outer embodiment of wanting to wear the white hat, but the desire easily getting tarnished, and the red cross that turns into a sword and becomes Seifer’s symbol and soon to appear other places, emblazoned nice and big on the sleeve. It’s the Cross of Saint James. TRADITIONALLY red represents the blood of Christ, the three lilies represent the honor of the apostle and reference Christ as lily of the valley, and the sword shape represents the torture that St.James suffered before his murder. HOWEVER, my opinion is that here it’s more vague/altered symbolism (For starters, there are other gods not the Christian God in this world) with a side of “looks cool.” We still have something that clearly calls to mind a mission from on high, innocence in the lilies, blood and blood cost, and then war/violence with the sword. And I love it.
OTP: Seifer/Squall. I should not even start, but lest you think I am just in it for kinky torture scenes: We have these two who, in the beginning, are generally callous or mocking toward everyone, but make each other laugh/smile, see who each other are underneath and describe each other in “soft” terms even if they tease each other for it, repeatedly check in on each other to see if the other is okay, respect each other’s opinion and skills, and...you get the idea. In the words of Zell Dincht, I thought you two were rivals, but you’re all buddy-buddy.
Pause for a second and let’s just say first impression. That opening fight where they scar each other’s faces? It takes place outside Balamb Garden and the area is shown so we see they are alone. Squall passes out. Squall wakes up in the infirmary within the Garden base. Squall has to explain what happened; people don’t already know. This kind of implies after Squall passed out, Seifer, bleeding from a head wound himself, picked Squall up and carried him home, allowing himself to collapse only when Squall was being safely tended to, because he’s that extra. This is his first (okay, second, after fireballs and face slashing) action in the game even though it’s offscreen. I mean, he could have also just called for help/ran for help, but that’s less fun.
Seifer is so concerned with being a badass, but he’s admits to Squall all he’s ever wanted was to be the fairytale knight, not a mere soldier. Vulnerability and confession he wants romance....with the first time it’s brought up in game being while they are watching the sun set together, the traditional Square Red Sunset of Shipping.
Seifer hesitates to defy orders, not for himself, but until he sees Squall is with him. Even though there were other “children of destiny” who all came from the same orphanage, Squall and Seifer were the ones who were never apart, never adopted until it was by a military/mercenary training program, and, even though it may speak more to brotherly than romantic from some angles, there’s a feeling of being the same, knowing each other down to the atoms, adopting an us against the world mindset that trumps trying to best each other when it comes down to it because they are the only constant. When Squall has his breakdown/ breakthrough of why he pushes people away/doesn’t let himself care/tries not to need anyone because people leave/are taken from him and he is scared he isn’t worthy of love and happiness until Rinoa challenges him, this may seem like a dismissal of Seifer, but you can also look at it from “I had no friends or family. I didn’t even have interest in speaking to anyone. I strived to be an unfeeling machine, because all emotion is pain...But also I couldn’t go 48 hours without seeing Seifer.”
Yeah, yeah, we know their main form of hanging out was beating the tar out of each other, but sometimes, especially in older media, this was its own brand of subtext. For more on how Seifer miiiight just view sparring let’s point out that “Isn’t this ROMANTIC?” and “Kneel” as a less easily interpreted as innuendo version of “I want you on your knees” are battle quotes even in Kingdom Hearts sooo draw your own conclusion.
We get a line where Squall makes it clear these were friendly matches looked at as pushing their limits beyond what they are allowed to in sanctioned spars, and he feels prepared to take on anything now because of Seifer. Is it healthy communication in real life? No! Is this real life? No! Plus, the facial scar was an accident, pretty clearly...on Seifer’s side...I could write another essay on how Seifer draws first blood, but it’s because on Squall’s failed block, AND THEN SQUALL GETS ANGRY AND RETALIATES WITH CLEAR PURPOSE AND MAKES THE OPENING SHOT INTO THE FIRST SIGN GOOD VERSUS BAD GUY ISN’T SO CLEAR CUT (even though they both shouldn’t have been going so hard in a friendly training match to begin with).
Seifer’s later, repeated threats/expressed desire to give Squall additional scars once he goes evil? That is a different animal, and a horrible one, objectively. Not objectively? No comment. Okay, one comment. Mark you as mine. Two comments. He knows Squall’s lost some memories and he can’t stomach being the next thing forgotten so Squall needs physical reminders.
Hmmm, I was supposed to be talking about the ship, not just the sparring and scars. We can wrap it up with a Marge Simpson. “I just think they’re neat”
BUT ONE MORE THING
Squall’s jacket when he becomes Leon in Kingdom Hearts. His outfit is mostly the same, right? Except the back of the jacket now has a red patch of an emblem (of Rinoa’s angel wings, not Seifer’s cross...for the OT3 feel), and his fight with Sora he throws a fireball like Seifer’s signature. Just, you know, if you want bonus references/feeling.
Brotp: Fuu and Rai. They are willing to commit war crimes with this man, nurse him back from death’s door, and go into exile with him if he can’t return to a normal life even after a redemption arc. This section deserves to be long, but I am beginning to get talked out. Don’t take that as devaluing the friendship though. I’m glad he was allowed to keep his ride or dies in Kingdom Hearts. FRIENDSHIP! They love him, ya know?
Head Canon: What we see of him at the end of the game is a temporary situation and after he heals and refreshes for awhile he’d go back to Balamb and face consequences for his actions, and probably insist on consequences instead of leaning into “an evil sorceress bespelled me and slowly took my free will.” No hiding away in the wilderness. No crossing into and living his life in Esthar. No, “but in the end I broke free and would have been an active, onscreen part of saving the world if Square had let me join the party!” He would insist on being cast into a deep, dark cell. Squall uses pull to get him pardoned, but not before just, flat out, yelling at him for being a martyr.
Unpopular opinion: He did love Rinoa. It may have been a “shallow love,” but he wasn’t just dating her to pass time or because she played into his damsel who needs a hero mindset. There was emotion. He was prepared to die for her and Squall in Timber, and almost did--only being saved by Sorceress Edea...which wasn’t a kindness, but it all worked out in the end. Sure, he gets mind-controlled into using Rinoa as, basically, a human sacrifice and it isn’t Rinoa he wants stripped and brought to his room when we’re taking prisoners, but he cared about her. He does taunt her about their past relationship, but we’ve already established this is just part of his communication skillset. Yes, I will elaborate more if asked, though it’s more feeling based than text based.
A wish: If there’s ever a sequel, let him have put out the good in the world that was his dream and be seen as a hero. Let us see a matured and peaceful Seifer.
An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: My one fear if they ever remake FFVIII instead of just porting it, is that some of the creative team have said they like the fan theory where you are dead part way through the game and the rest is a dying dream or purgatory. It’s creative stuff; I will say that. It’s not my favorite, and I don’t agree, but those kinds of fan interpretations when they go in depth are super cool. PLEASE LET THE INTEREST IN IT JUST BE THE SAME AS MINE OF THINKING IT’S CREATIVE BECAUSE MAKING THIS CANON WOULD BE SO, SO BAD FOR EVERY CHARACTER.
5 words to best describe them: stubborn, misguided, paladin, romantic, petty
My nickname for them: I don’t really have one
#seifer almasy#seifer x squall#squall x seifer#such a long post and still not all or even communicated that well probably#you don't have all the facts the facts are i love him#tina-nina
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My honest honest opinion on second citadel season 3
Uhhhh... short answer? I didn’t like it much.
Okay wait before I go on to my long answer I need to say that this is all just my opinion and it’s all subjective. If you liked sc season 3 that’s awesome! I get why you do and I’m glad you enjoyed it!
But I really wasn’t a fan of where they went with it (even from episode 1), and I’m gonna go on a long rambly and repetitive rant about it.
I’m not gonna talk about the way the season ended and the setup for s4 because I haven’t fully formed my opinion about that - to form my opinion means to relisten to the season and i don’t really feel like doing that.
Anyways, these are my unfiltered 2am thoughts about the Rest Of It - maybe I’ll neaten it up later to make it more palatable but for now it’s wordy n messy and you can just. Not read it bc it’ll probably make you mad, or feel free to pick it apart and tell me I’m wrong, or unfollow me (and at least one person has already done so lmao) but like that won’t change the fact that I just wasn’t feeling s3 so uh. That said.
Long answer? I love the second citadel... at least the first two seasons
I love the world building, how the setting is such a unique, deliberate step away from eurocentric fantasy, how refreshing all that is! The Second Citadel (the place) is rich with culture and history from the brief glimpses we get of it (mostly in knight of the crown). Not to mention the monster society, with its own rules (or lack thereof) and environments and personalities.
I love the storytelling, how different mediums are woven into the way each episode is formatted. Rilla has her tape recorder, Damien his prayers, Caroline her letters, and each medium is so well suited to each character, and it truly lets us get a glimpse of what’s going on in their minds, and I find it utterly fascinating how a protagonist of one story could just as easily become an antagonist (or at least, an annoyance) in another
And the characters! Each one so compelling, with their own goals and motivations, their own intriguing backstories and potential.
Most importantly, the way these characters play off of each other is what makes second citadel amazing. Getting to see people with similar experiences but different world views clash (Caroline and Mira), people with fundamentally different beliefs reconcile and meet in the middle (rilla and arum), just, Kabert created so many interesting characters, and watching them bounce off one another is a joy.
And that’s what made season 2 so great for me. The exploration of each character, getting to see their good sides and bad, through either a medium tailored for them, or through interactions with others, as they explored a fascinating world.
The end of season 2 left me so satisfied, but still with so many questions and excitement about what was to come. I wanted to see Talfryn come into his own and step out of his brothers shadow. I wanted to see Damien, Arum and Rilla navigating their new relationship. I wanted to know more of the fate of Rilla’s parents, Damien’s past, the consequences Arum would surely face after defying the monster court. I wanted Marc to finally be recognized by his fellow knights, to watch as Caroline lead the journeymen knights, while learning to trust in others as she was beginning to do. I wanted Angelo continuing to unlearn the implicit biases that had been instilled in him as a result of his upbringing, or more details on Caroline and Quanyii’s relationship. I was also curious!! How would human and monster relations change after the events of the finale? And would we learn more of the past, when humans and monsters lived together in peace?
I was buzzing with excitement for season 3, and then.. it came, it aired, and then it went.
And I felt... meh?
Don’t get me wrong. There were moments that I liked. Some of what I hoped to see did happen (see the above paragraph lmao), getting a glimpse of the western wastes with its own culture a joy. The dynamics between Olala and some of the characters were really fun! And the direction the story took at the end was one I didn’t expect, but left me open to more.
That said,,, everything else about the season just. Didnt gel with me.
Everything I loved about second citadel pretty much wasn’t there??? Aside from Caroline, Angelo and Quanyii, all the characters they spent so much time introducing to us and fleshing out over 2 seasons were just relegated to the side??
I think my main problem with season 3 was that it felt like a completely different show. Characters introduced as part of an ensemble became side characters in (what was supposed to be) their own stories. Character arcs that got set up were dropped, and mysteries/backstories teased were forgotten. Heck, the monster court and senate wasn’t even brought up! The aftermath of the fear bugs attack ont the citadel went unexplored! It’s like nothing in the past season even happened!
And I’m sorry I gotta say this, but the problem is Olala.
I mean. Okay I don’t wanna be super mean- she’s perfectly fine as a character. We root for her, we cry when she cries, and we cheer when she wins the day.
But since all the episodes were centered around her, we didn’t get to see anyone else’s inner worlds. And like okay, yes, they did it for this season of Juno Steel too, where Juno, the previous POV a character for 2 seasons, became a part of an ensemble, and was a side character for many episodes. But this choice worked for Juno and not Second Citadel, because it was a natural progression for his story! We spent 2 seasons exploring Juno’s character, his backstory, his motivations, we saw him come to terms with his family history, grow and change as a person, and by the time he joined the Carte Blanche, we’d gotten to a point with Junos story where we’re okay to step away for a while, and see events through the lens of others.
But that just?? Doesn’t work in second citadel? Because unlike Juno, the characters introduced in s1-2 are virtually unexplored! There’s still so much about their stories we don’t know, and so many ways for them to progress.
But we didn’t get any of that! Stuff established in s1-2 barely got payoff in this season. Characters stagnated, and when previously it was amazing to watch them interact with each other? Having each episode throw different combinations of characters together and seeing how they clashed and came together? Yeah we didn’t get that, it was all the same characters bouncing off of Olala, which is fine at first, but honestly? After the first couple episodes, it got stale.
And remember how before, we would get to see the characters tell their story through a medium suited for them? Well I noticed that the format of this season was a lot moreee audio drama-y (basically a TV show but with no visuals) and while there’s nothing wrong with that, one of SC’s strengths was in using the medium in unique ways, presenting the episodes in unique formats depending on the POV character. And with the exception of a few moments, the season really lacked that!
I know there were episodes in s1-2, like caves of discord and the Janus beast which didnt follow that format, but I think it’s a fan consensus that the episodes that do (moonlit hermit, KOTC lots, lady of the lake) are favourites, because they fully embraced the advantages and limitations those framing devices offered, and were truly perfect for character exploration.
It’s like. Idk. Imagine wolf 359 s3 where the si5 were introduced, and there was like 1-2 episodes of them interacting with the rest of our cast, but then after that the rest of the season just completely focuses on Eiffel and the new characters, and everyone else just disappears n twiddles their thumbs and doesn’t even do anything during the finale. That’s what happened this season, and that’s the kinda weird vibe I’m talking about.
Since I’m already rambling, I might as well just say some more stuff. I was disappointed with the music this season. I can tell Ryan Vibert was trying to figure a way to make SC sound different from Juno, and he was getting there in s1-2! The pieces that stand out now are the soft, acoustic guitar pieces, like Rillas song, or the lone melody line of the guitar in the SC theme. I thought he was getting it with s3e1, when Marc fought the dinosaur while traditional Japanese instruments were playing!! But then for the rest of the season, it was just samey echoey ambient electric guitar, like how it is for Juno. There could’ve been so much potential to give this world its own musical identity, but in the end, that attempt was dropped (at least that’s how it come off to me), just like so many other elements introduced in s1-2!
I’ve gotten this far in my rant, and I haven’t even talked about the story. And the story is. Hmmmmm
Like. It’s completely serviceable? Kabert are good at what they do so the story is a okay I guess? But to be completely honest, the characters and story were so tied together in previous seasons, so much so that in this season, even though the plot was just fine, it stayed just that. Fine. it always felt like there was something missing because the characters were the story, and to have just. So many holes in that department meant that the story itself was fundamentally empty.
Anyways uh. All of this is to say that this all boils down to character. I had my nits to pick with other elements but the fact that Rilla, Arum, Damien, Marc and Talfryn got completely sidelined (Tal most of all) when so much of the previous seasons were spent setting them up- in favour of a completely new storyline featuring new characters and settings when there was still so! Much! Left! Unfinished! From unfulfilled arcs to dynamics left untapped, and creative potential lost, the essence of the show was watered down and it left me with the intense feeling of
:/
Idk. Season 3 felt like a completely different show. I liked s1, I loved a2, but s3 just. isnt second citadel for me. I’ll probably still listen to the next season out of loyalty, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel as passionately about the shows future as I do it’s precious seasons, especially if they continue this way.
Sorry.
#wow thanks for reading all that if you made to to the bottom#I’ve been sitting on these thoughts for a while but I couldn’t sleep last night bc Thoughts so here#I feel like I’m swinging a bat at a hornets nest even though I’m not putting this in the fandom tags ah well#and uhh I guess it’s okay to reblog this??#my posts
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Fetch
13th Doctor x reader
This idea truly came out of nowhere and i had to write it down, which means it could be absolutely awful. either way i think i'm going to write this concept into something fully fleshed out and angsty and actually written well onto ao3 when i have time
Taglist - @psychobitchtess @oster-hagen @dykecious @lostshadow12 @thejinxmaster @bitemealiienboy @ellacannotdance @hcney-lemon @im-tired-24-7 @sweetlittlesoufflegirl @truthbehindthemysteries @startrekkingaroundasgard @ettorah @theaussietimelord @captainlgordon @findingyouagain @fabulous-jj-style @kinglivv
"Lycanthropy. I've met a werewolf before, not a very nice one mind you."
You sat unnervingly still on the steps, watching her flap around the console without a care in the universe. She seemed just fine, but your throat was so dry you almost feared it'd ignite at any moment. "That's uh, that's great, Doctor, but I don't unders- "
"You won't be like him," she interjected, suddenly looking very gravely in your direction. Well what was that supposed to mean? "Not technically a werewolf either, that's more of an Earth thing. This is different. Less like- like an infection and more like- " her shoulders deflated, arms falling down by her sides, "I don't know, I haven't really encountered this planet before. See their name on a lot of ice cream and it's a proper good ice cream, so I thought we could check it out."
Your usual enthusiasm for her ramblings had crashed and burned with immediate effect, your leg now bouncing of it's own accord. "Doc, please, I don't understand what's gonna happen to me."
You hoped her look of sympathy meant she'd stop attempting to change the topic. She tended to do that a lot. Not to mention that even the generally relaxing ambience of the TARDIS was starting to hurt your head. There were far too many lights. Why were there so many? They were all over the walls, lining the columns, the console.
"'S there any way to, like, reverse it? I don't- I mean, how am I supposed to go about my life occasionally transforming into a huge dog. Alright in the movies an' everything, but how do you even manage that?"
As soon as she even spoke, an unbearable scent of motor oil, and maybe even vanilla wafted straight into your face. God, it made you feel sick. Not- not the Doctor's scent, that was always nice, delightful even, but it was just so heavy handed this time. You tried shaking it off in favour of having the rare intimately friendly moment with her.
"Look, I can try. We need to go to the medbay anyway, look everything over. And if not- if you're stuck this way, which is perfectly fine, then I'll help you figure it out. Trust me, I've met plenty of people over the years. Yeah?"
Her hand landed on your knee, preventing it from bouncing any further. You only stared at it, nodding. The scent was stronger. "Hate the medbay. All hospital-y."
You were in a grass field now, one that the TARDIS had already generated. The Doctor had let slip how much time she really spent in there, just sitting alone doing god knows what, but there was no time for voicing concern over her constant chattering and instruction.
"If you can learn to control it, that's better for everyone."
She'd taken her coat off, which was a distraction in itself, a tennis ball in hand. It did feel slightly demeaning, knowing you'd probably be bounding to catch it like a common houshold pet in a moment or two. Regardless, you tried to keep yourself stable and focused, a feat a little hard when standing in the bare minimum clothing, grass tickling your feet.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Doctor? What if I hurt you?"
"You won't!" She called back. She must have noticed how unconvincing that had sounded. "And if you do, I can take it. The TARDIS'll protect me."
You gave a curt nod and swung your arms from side to side, trying to hype yourself up for what was about to happen. You say what was about to happen, it could so transpire that you didn't manage to turn at all, and that you remained looking slightly insane in this solitary field with just the Doctor and not much clothing at all.
"Would it help if I gave you a countdown?" She called across.
"Uh, yeah, yeah, do that. Am I going on one or g- "
"Three!"
Oh shit, you supposed you were doing this then. How embarrassing would it be if you didn't manage it?
"Two!"
On the other hand, surely it would be substantially safer in that instance. And what would you do when transforming back? You'd just be naked in a field, in front of the Doctor of all people.
"One!"
Her voice almost acting as a catalyst, you felt it happening in near slow motion, the seems of your vest tearing apart, your form shrinking down. Your human sense of conscience seemed to tear apart in the same fashion, senses heightening, impulse control depleting.
There was still this voice in the back of your head, which was a relief, but everything in your mind was screaming at you to go absolutely mental. You barely registered you were running until you knocked straight into the Doctor. What was most embarrassing was the way you sniffed around, attention grabbed with immediate effect once she simply held the ball above her head.
"Oh that's it," her other hand reached to scratch behind your ears, which would bring a bright flush to your skin in any other scenario, but it made you feel absolutely gleeful.
As soon as the tennis ball left her hand, you were after it like a rocket, and you had to admit, the way you sprung into the air felt oddly freeing. Even as you bounded back to the Doctor, crashing into her once more, you simply felt amazing.
"I'm gonna try communicating with you in your head now." You weren't paying even remote attention, you just wanted to grab the ball back. It seemed much more fun than the Doctor's scientific experiments. Far too wordy, not to mention the incomprehensible rambling.
At least that's how you saw it until her hand was back behind your ears, that combined with a stern glance - the type of stern glance you'd give your pet, which made you feel beyond sheepish.
"You can get it back once we've tried this, hm? I'm sure the human inside you isn't too happy about not being able to talk."
Her hand was against your head then, and for a moment, all you felt was a blinding hot pain in your temples, one you usually associated with an awful headache. There was a sort of static noise too, ringing in your ears. You even heard a howl, which you soon dejectedly realised must have come from you.
"There we go! Sorry about that, you're very stubborn as a wolf."
Her voice felt as though it was echoing around the walls of your head, which was a very odd sensation.
"How are you feeling?"
It took a moment, but you figured out how her strange Time Lord trickery, if that's what you'd call it, worked. You simply imagined your lips moving and came out with. "Embarrassed. I just slobbered around a bloody tennis ball."
"I thought it was fun! An' you can't help what you enjoy in a completely different form." True, you supposed. "It's like... it's like when I regenerate, I can go from absolutely loving apples to despising them. Haven't tried one yet in this form, not sure I want to..."
You managed a slight bit of a laugh at that. She was trying to reassure you, and that was nice in itself; the sentiment was there.
"And anyway, you'll just learn to control yourself the more you practice. The more human aspects of your brain will become more and more in control of the, well- the wolf-ish part of it."
When she'd finished, the static noise was back, up until you woke up entirely yourself, laying underneath the Doctor's coat.
Oh.
Okay.
That was fine, perfectly fine, laying naked underneath her coat, that wasn't an issue.
I mean, she didn't seem deterred by it at all, only sitting beside you with a grin oblivious to your wide eyes. "That was proper brilliant! I took a picture so you could see yourself, I think I got it right- Ryan showed me what to do."
"Oh, yeah- right, that's- that's great- "
"Hold on, I'll go grab the blanket and the spare change of clothes."
Beside the embarrassment, it was quite lovely. The grass was a little itchy, but the sight of the sky was certainly something to behold. You hadn't took the chance to glance up beforehand, but the TARDIS had really outdone herself, as usual. A beautiful blue, two suns, the colour darkening as time passed. You could almost see some stars.
"Here we go, I'll hold up the blanket as you get changed if you like."
You only let her hold it up, her head turning away for your sake more than anything else, as you stumbled into the clothing in a desperate need for speed. God, they smelled like her. She'd barely touched them, they were your clothes after all, and yet she was absolutely all over them. You hoped the extra sense of smell died down over time; having a heightened sense of the Doctor was perfectly fine, but what if there was some, I don't know, spoiled milk?
You pushed it to the back of your mind, and lowered the blanket in front of you back down. The Doctor was still smiling. She must have been much more excited about this than you were. The flip phone came out of her pocket in an instant, she was that desperate to show you the photos.
You weren't sure what you were expecting other than a ginormous wolf with fur near the same colour as your natural hair, but the Doctor was oddly delighted by it. Better one person be excited by the prospect of you being a glorified wolf than none at all.
"Right, ice cream then?"
Oh you still had plenty of questions, but the Doctor was always reluctant when faced with them herself. You supposed you could enjoy the moment of bliss for now. Her company was always much nicer when she wasn't getting defensive or moody, and you didn't want to ruin a good thing. And ice cream did sound good.
#doctor who#13th doctor#thirteenth doctor#13th doctor x reader#thirteenth doctor x reader#doctor who imagine#13th doctor imagine#thirteenth doctor imagine#the doctor#the doctor imagine#the doctor x reader#jodie whittaker#jodie whittaker x reader#jodie whittaker imagine#doctor who x reader#dw#dw imagine#dw x reader
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Host, Interrupted - beta request
hey so, I'd like to a find a beta reader for my westworld, dolores/reader, wlw fic. It's been a million years since I've had a beta, but I really want one for this massive project. Let's see... you definitely need to be familiar with all three seasons of the show and comfortable reading heavyTM shit. I don't need much (if any) help with the plot. I need error fixes. I'm real chill to work with and I will happily assist you with any project of yours in return. My story is FINISHED. It's 170k words and the first work in a two-part series. Just to give you an idea of what my writing level is and what the story is about, here's the summary. The first chapter and trigger warnings for the entire story are under the cut. (Yes, my fic title is a play on the movie Girl, Interrupted. Yes, that is very much on purpose)
Non-con, suicide, death, murder, violence, gore, holy shit gore, depression, PTSD, self-harm, eating disorder, alcohol abuse, the works, it’s dark guys but *points at source material* *points at self*
Part I: The Devil is in the Details
“Do you wake up as I do, having forgotten what it is that hurts or where, until you move? There is a second of consciousness that is clean again. A second that is you, without memory or experience, the animal warm and waking into a brand new world.”
― Jeanette Winterson
Chapter 1:
You have the whole train car to yourself. The magnet rail moves at amazing speeds with the kind of grace that feels like you aren’t going anywhere at all, but you are. You’re going to Westworld, the crowning achievement of the tech colossus: Delos Incorporated. The park put them on the map, quite literally after they bought an island in the South China Sea. Some 500 square miles of it is reserved for Westworld alone, the rest is divided between the other parks. You forget how big they are, but none of them are as large as Westworld. No matter how large it is and easy to get lost in, you aren’t going to up and forget why you’re here. You can’t. If you could, you’d have no reason to be on this monorail at all, relaxed into the pristine white seats, sighing at the darkened window.
Minutes pass, and your consciousness has gone somewhere you don’t have to think. A place where there’s no boredom and no worry. You snap to attention when the window lights up to show the interior of the train station. A melody of notes plays from the speaker above your chair. The voice is soft, feminine.
“Welcome to Westworld. Live without limits.”
When the doors slide open, you curl your toes and try to wake them from their fuzzy sleep. Your first steps are tired, unbalanced, and you cover your mouth to hide a yawn. As you walk off the monorail, you glance around the station. It’s just as bright as the train, and you pity the janitors for all the black scuffmarks they have to buff off the tile before you remember that the most tedious labor goes to the hosts.
The hosts – there are a dozen of them, evenly spaced out and waiting to help the guests. But there’s no one else coming off the train, just you. Dressed up and impossibly still, the hosts don’t even acknowledge you. It’s like they’re sleeping with their eyes open. They’re not here for you, but it’s weird that they’re here at all. You scour the area for a safe space when you find your welcoming committee near an escalator.
The two men stay put, but the woman gives you an excited wave.
“Harper!” Your name echoes through the station and you wish she hadn’t said it so loud. Still, you force a smile because this is a friend, and you are happy to see her. You’re happy. You’re happy…
“Hey, Elsie. How are you?” you ask as she crosses the floor to meet you. You barely have time to react before she wraps her arms around you. You can’t get your arms to hug her back, and you tell yourself it’s because she’s squeezing you too tight.
“I’m good, I’m good! How are you? I feel like it’s been so long- but it hasn’t. You lose track of time down here.”
Elsie is rambling, and you find it odd. Elsie isn’t the wordy type. She’s crass, direct, and extremely insightful, but this Elsie is stumbling over herself to make small talk. In a rare display of assuredness, you pat her on the shoulder.
“I’m alright,” you lie. “I didn’t think I’d see you today, but I’m glad you’re here.”
Elsie smiles bashfully, then turns as the others arrive. You recognize the pair she’s with – Bernard Lowe and Robert Ford. One is Elsie’s boss, the other is family.
Bernard adjusts where his glasses sit on his nose before he welcomes you. “Hello, Harper. I hope the ride wasn’t unpleasant.” You shrug. It was nice to be alone after your parents insisted on dropping you off. You can understand their concerns, but you’re not a child. Haven’t been one of those in a long time.
“I wish I could stay,” Robert suddenly interjects. Until this point, you’ve avoided looking at him. He’s an old man now, soon to face the trials of time that a mortal body can’t win. You wonder why he hasn’t died yet. A heart attack could do him in at any moment. Lucky bastard. “But there’s a project that requires my attention.” Go figure he’d leave at the first opportunity. He shouldn’t have come at all, but you let him speak. “I merely want to impart upon you how wonderful it is that you’re here, Harper. Don’t think of this place as a park or a game. It doesn’t have to be that. Westworld,” he raises his arms, displaying the pearly gates to the kingdom behind him, “can be whatever you need it to be. Here, you are awake in a dream.”
You manage a nod, and then his back is turned. His brown leather shoes clop across the floor as he disappears into a service exit between escalators. Seriously, why did he come at all if he was going to leave thirty seconds after seeing you? Maybe some things can’t be mended despite what your mom said.
You, Elsie, and Bernard stew in the silence left by one of the original founders of the park. Dr. Ford is an enigmatic man at the best of times. At the worst, he’s driven by a singular focus to achieve ever loftier goals. His ambition cost him his family once. Really, it’s a miracle you’re here at all, but other, more important people in your life have forgiven him.
“Come on,” Elsie finally says. “Let’s get you ready for your stay.”
As you weave between the sentinel hosts, the three of you leave the train station behind. Bernard takes the time to remind you the rules of the park. He doesn’t have to, you remember them.
“Now, the hosts can’t hurt you. In fact, they’ll do everything they can to keep you from true physical harm.” It isn’t the physical harm that concerns you about your stay here. “The guns are coded to differentiate between human and host. It’s going to hurt if you get shot-”
You clear your throat. “I remember, Mr. Lowe. The internship didn’t end that long ago.”
“Right, right,” he confirms. He plucks his glasses from his face and cleans his lenses as you guys walk into a large closet. Closet isn’t the right word. The place is more like a small storefront. Racks of clothes line the walls and accessories lay in display cases spread throughout. Everything is tailored to be exactly your size, but the collection isn’t fine-tuned to your taste. If it was, the vibrant, lowcut saloon style dresses wouldn’t be here. As you browse, aware Elsie is watching you choose, your mind travels back to the last time you were a part of Delos Destinations.
The internship…
The internship was a means to an end. Just this year, you worked with Behavior, you learned about host coding, and you met Elsie – who mentored you. For three months, you lived underground with the rest of the onsite staff. Everyday was a chore, but at the end of it your grandfather agreed to pay for your master’s degree. Now, you’re back three months later. You aren’t here to work, and you can’t leave until your stay is over.
You select a pair of grey breeches and find a muddy red, button up shirt to go with it. For shoes, you pick the comfiest looking boots you see. Most of your internship was spent in the workshops, but for the next few weeks you’ll be above ground, kicking around in the dust of the “Old West” as imagined by Delos. To hell with looks, you want to be comfortable. You imagine yourself not to care about your appearance, but you still pick out a belt with a holster that matches, and a leather jacket.
When you come upon a case full of guns, you hesitate. The selection of pistols is immaculate, like everything else you’ve seen so far. Everything is so damn clean, and it irks you. The more Delos tries to sell itself as perfect, the more you want to make a mess of everything. You lift the glass cover and grab a silver revolver. It’s heavier than you thought it would be, but it fits in your hand so well. That’s the thing about guns that’s always bothered you. You shouldn’t want to hurt people, and you don’t – for the most part – but every gun you’ve ever held feels like it was made for you.
Elsie and Bernard step out so you can change. When they return, Bernard is back on his tangent of explaining how this trip works. “Now, you’ll start in the center of the park. Sweetwater. Things are tamer there, but there will be plenty to see and do.”
The behavior tech raises her hand to cut Bernard off. “I got it from here, Bernard. I’ll make sure she’s good to go.” Bernard nods and wishes you well before he leaves. With that, Elsie takes a deep breath and adjusts your collar a little bit. “Finally, we’re alone.” You face warms, remembering your past with her. “I know how much you hate this place,” she states. “But I really hope you find some peace here, Harper. You’re gonna have the whole park basically to yourself, take advantage of it.”
You huff and take a step away from your friend. “The perks of being Ford’s granddaughter,” you muse.
Elsie folds her arms over her chest. “Yeah, and if our places were reversed, I’d be taking that old man for everything he’s got.”
You let that statement hang, untouched. “How is it I have the whole park to myself anyway?”
“Brass is going through their yearly audit, and they oh-so-graciously decided to give everyone a three-week vacation this time,” she mocks. “We’re running on a skeleton crew right now, but then the rest of us get to take our vacation whenever we want. I’m thinking Christmas or something else equally inconvenient for management. Maybe every Tuesday for the next 15 weeks. What do you think?”
“Hm, one week for Christmas and ten weeks of Tuesdays.”
Elsie laughs. “Oh, that’s devious, Harper. Love the way you think.”
She’s always been a bit of a flirt with you, but under all her jokes and bravado, you know there’s a brilliant but lonely woman beneath. Unfortunately for her, all you can be is a friend, and probably not even a good one at that. Like right now, how you’re not responding to her. What kind of friend just stands here in awkward silence like this? Where the hell is your mind today?
“I don’t know what all you’re going through,” Elsie muses a moment later, “but you’re not alone, okay? I made Bernard give me this assignment. He and Dr. Ford picked out a lot of the narratives and hosts you’ll come across, but they’re going to be too busy to watch you. I’ll be checking on you from time to time.”
Her sympathy doesn’t feel fake, and that almost hurts. This is the time to push a smile, but you can’t do it. “What hosts? What narratives?”
“I shouldn’t be telling you, but it’s gonna start with a bounty hunter. He’ll take you out to hunt down some bandits. From there, you’ll get the choice to side with the bandits and- and are you sure you want to know this? I feel like I’m spoiling the biggest Hollywood blockbuster of the century.”
You huff out a laugh. You don’t care about spoilers. “Stay away from the bounty hunters and bandits,” you list. “Got it. I’m just not interested in my grandfather’s games.”
Elsie straightens her blazer. “Yeah, but still try to enjoy some of it. Okay,” she tries to psyche you up. “You ready?”
“I hope you’re getting a bonus for this.”
Her hand rests on your back as she guides you forward. “The bonus is knowing I’m helping a friend.”
Your stomach drops. This definitely hurts.
--
You’re on another train. This time, the steel cage rocks beneath your feet and it’s not empty. Hosts are spread throughout the car, planted in their seats, or taking a drink at the bar. You don’t talk to them; you don’t even look at them. You know how real they seem, and despite what your grandfather has planned for you – you’re not interested in what Westworld can offer you. You’ve already got plans, big plans. You’re going to hole up in the nearest tavern and self-medicate until your three weeks are up. You don’t need Westworld to cure you of your ailments. Not that you aren’t sick, you just don’t think it can. Since a young age, the doctors said you had depression. Now that you’re older, 23, they’re not satisfied with the easiest explanation. Now you have another disease.
In a world surrounded by screens and pixels, the experts needed a new term for the bleak existence suffered by the modern man. They call it ‘Tech Fatigue’ but you’re pretty sure it was invented by the Delos marketing team. Medical professionals like to slap that diagnosis on anyone with a designer smart watch and dark rings under their eyes. Rich people – circling their second divorce and an equal number of midlife crises – seek out therapy inside one of the parks. Delos gives the doctors a fat kickback, and bam, the cycle is born. Tech companies like Delos make the problem, the solution, and profit off both. You don’t know that’s what’s happening, but it wouldn’t surprise you.
It’s ironic, really. In order to get away from a world of tech, internet, and social media, you’re taking the first train to the most manufactured place on the planet. In the mile of dirt below you, there’s a whole structure full of tablet-carrying technicians making sure the machines around you work flawlessly. Just because you can’t see the wires, doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
You wish you didn’t exist.
Suddenly, the train whistle screams. You’ve pulled up to the station in Sweetwater. As the locomotive comes to a halt, you get to your feet and grab your leather messenger bag. Nothing in that sack is yours. Except for the odd prescription, guests aren’t allowed to bring personal items into the park. You don’t have any medications because you quit all of those a while ago. Still, you need more than the clothes on your back.
You walk off the train between a flurry of host bodies. For the most part, none of them pay attention to you. They go about their loops, avoid you when you step into their path – all except for a man in a grey tweed frock. He tips his hat as he approaches you.
“Miss Harper? I’m Teddy Flood. Your grandfather paid me to keep an eye on you.”
So it begins. You look him up and down more carefully. He looks like he was plucked right off the cover of an old-timey, cringe-laden romance novel set in the Wild West with his chiseled features. But his eyes are kind, and you’re not sure how to ditch him yet so you play along as best you can.
“That’s me.”
“Can I take you somewhere? A hotel to find a room? I’ve got horses saddled for us if you-”
You hold up a hand. “Okay, I thought I could do this, but I can’t. Just… go away. Or whatever it is you do when you’re not with a guest.”
He tilts his head. “I’m afraid I can’t abide by that request, ma’am. I was paid to keep you safe, and I’m a man of my word.”
“Of course you are.” Your shoulders sag, weighed down by more than your luggage. “Fine, but we’re not doing any of your… narratives.” You should’ve asked Elsie for more details on what your grandfather and Bernard have planned for you so you could avoid it. During your internship, you worked in a different park. Park seven, the newest addition to six others. You don’t know the storylines of Westworld past what you know about old American history. Admittedly, it’s not much.
With a sigh, you press forward and walk right into another cowboy. The stranger grunts and turns, hand hovering over the pistol on his hip. Teddy steps between you two. When the guy sees that his assailant is a woman with someone to defend her, his hostility fades.
“Pardon me, ma’am.”
Though everyone so far has a very natural Southern drawl, the ‘ma’am’ thing is weird. You try to smile in acceptance of his apology, but you know your lips aren’t upturned. You used to be so much better at controlling your expression, your emotions, too. What happened to you?
Confrontation avoided, you continue into town. You almost ask Teddy where the hotel is, but as you become more aware of your surroundings, your question fades. The buildings on either of the dusty road aren’t chic. They aren’t glass and concrete monoliths reaching for the sky. In fact, most of them aren’t even two-stories tall despite the false facade that rises up from the roof like an ornate parapet. Here, everything is made of wood and clay. It’s painted in muted, earthy tones by hand, and it’s like stepping back in time. Horses of every color are hitched on posts outside, and now you kind of wonder where Teddy was going to take you on horseback. You’ve never ridden a horse before.
They’re not real horses, you remind yourself. Teddy isn’t a real man. And nothing in Sweetwater is natural, except maybe for the flies buzzing around a pile of horse dung. Surely, your grandfather isn’t crazy enough to have manufactured insects. Then again, the robotic horses are producing waste that truly, and disgustingly, smells like shit… so anything is possible.
You tell yourself that this whole experience is too much, and you’re going to find the nearest place you can have a drink before you have a panic attack. That place is the Mariposa Saloon. You push through the batwing doors, and Teddy catches them when they spring backwards as he follows you. You told yourself to be ready for the sensory overload you’d face inside, but you’re still slightly overwhelmed. Cigarette smoke wafts under your nose, people are muttering about their card game, glasses are clinking on the bar, and a piano is chiming away in the corner of the room without anyone sitting at the keys. It’s a lot. You can understand how some people would feel alive in a place like this, but it’s not for you.
Still, you push yourself to the bar. Bottles of tawny brown, gold, and clear liquor are calling you forward. You set your hands on the black counter, but the man with the twisted handlebar moustache is serving someone else first. You don’t know why you’re waiting. You’re the only person here who thinks for themselves. You can be as rude as you want to be, and no one would remember it once they were reset. You wait anyway, and one of the brothel girls see it as an opening to take a chance.
The woman’s dress is a deep ocean blue, cut so high you can see the tops of her thighs and the intricate stockings she wears to cover the rest of her legs. You hope she’s going for Teddy, but she stops beside you and grins.
“You’re new.” She reaches up and slowly caresses your face. Between the lace of her fingerless gloves and the warmth of her hand, you’re surprised at how real it feels. “Not much of a rind on you. I’ll give you a discount.”
Turning away from her hand, you clear your throat. “Thanks, but I’m just here for a drink.”
The young woman doesn’t seem too upset by your refusal. “What do you want to drink, darling?” She snaps her finger at the bartender. Throwing a towel over his shoulder, the man finally notices you.
You order a whiskey. When he asks you what kind, you fumble. Did they have different kinds of whiskey in the past? How are you supposed to know?
Teddy chuckles under his breath and answers for you. “Rye. None of that corn homebrew you try to pass off as liquor.”
The saloon girl looks past you and at your tall, handsome company. “Wise choice, Mr. Flood.”
He tips his hat, before glancing at you again. “Nothing but the best for my friend.”
You scowl. “Teddy, we aren’t friends. You don’t even know me.” This is too strange. The bartender sets out two small glasses and fills both halfway. You can’t pretend like this is normal when your normal is leaps and bounds different from the here and now. A drink at home meant serving yourself, and you poured your chilled, name brand whiskey to the top of your glass, then you drank it alone.
Teddy throws his shot back and swallows it all in one go. “I know you better than you think, and I’d like to get to you know more than that.”
You shudder. Oh god, did your grandfather put him for you to… For you two to… You can’t finish the thought. The idea of your grandfather interfering with your sex life is way more than you can handle. Before you even take your first sip, you smack your finger down on the counter – showing the bartender where he can put the whiskey when you demand it.
“Leave the bottle.”
The young woman beside you places a hand on your shoulder and you tense up as she whispers in your ear. “I’m here if you change your mind, beautiful. If I’m not your type, and neither is he, look around. Find something that strikes your fancy.”
You grab the neck of the bottle and pour another shot. Westworld is not for you, you’ve decided. It’s only three weeks you remind yourself. The hat you picked out is making your forehead itch, so you take it off and set it on the bar. Then you hear a loud pop. An older cowboy pushes through the batwing doors, a wash of red blooms across his vest as he stumbles into the saloon.
“They’re here,” he coughs out. “Hector… Escaton and his posse.”
More gunshots sound, and it’s like some miscreant lit firecrackers in the street. The saloon explodes with activity. Working girls scramble to hide behind tables. The bartender grabs a sawed-off shotgun. Teddy puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk before he tells you to get somewhere safe or be prepared to use your weapon.
It’s only three weeks.
#westworld#dolores abernathy#beta request#beta reader#help me help me dear god help me i don't even know what to tag this with#don't judge my writing by the request. i'm nervous y'all. read the summary and the 1st chap#thaaaaat's what you can expect and i'm genuinely proud of it but it has mistakes :( and it makes me sad i can't catch them all#anywayyyy#if you like my stories and you haven't seen westworld yet what are you waiting for?#git#<3
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