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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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Title: Lovebug (13/14)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D

With attire alone, Levi was already a fish out of water.

As the seconds ticked though, his self consciousness only grew.

It wasn’t just an issue of clothing. Too many things had been against him the whole way to the dinner room. The white and silver of the windows of the private dinner room in the hotel reflected the setting sun, the marble floors, the glass bridge, the carpeted floors.

The scenery was only half the battle though. The men and women strode in and out of the dinner room with attire much grander than is. There were leather bags, the jewelry and constantly hovering in the air were the business vernacular that fell into one ear and out the order.

There were too many conversations on mergers, acquisitions, business climates, market prices he could never be part of. And his own direct companions weren’t making it any better.

As Levi soon understood, it wasn’t their job to make him feel comfortable anyway.

“Yelena,” he repeated, a memory exercise for himself. The whole journey from the convention center on the first floor to one of the rooms in the mid floor of the hotel was silent and long. In the sea of business pleasantries though, it seemed ironic that the blonde had never even made conversation beyond her own name.

Even as she sat next to him on the dinner table, she didn’t speak, not even bothering to respond to her own name. She was too close though, only a few inches away that Levi swore she had heard it.

“That’s your name right?” Levi added. He couldn’t think of much else to say. After blurting her name mindlessly, with Porco and Pieck seated just in front of him, looking at him expectantly, he knew he had to continue with something.

“I introduced myself back in the lobby already,” Yelena finally responded.

“You did,” Levi said.

“Is there anything you want to ask?” Yelena asked, no hint of benevolence in her tone.

Levi had been rolling on the bed, in and out of sleep the whole day. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else. He didn’t trust himself to think.

Yelene had a knowing look on her face, as if she knew something he didn’t. And she seemed to be enjoying it. Since a while ago, she hadn’t at all been subtle with the fact that somehow, by just their first meeting, Levi had managed to rub her the wrong way. It wasn’t too radical of an idea, that she may enjoy his pain.

Levi’s mind was suddenly racing, reminding him why he had even considered going in the first place. Is there anything you wanna ask? Those words echoed for a while longer. The longer he sat there silently, the more restless he became. He avoided her gaze, looking behind her, then behind Porco and Pieck, taking in his surroundings again. He was observing mannerisms, branded bags, branded ties, branded purses and Zeke in the middle of all of it, going from one table to the other.

Eventually, after the discomfort settled, Levi realized he was torturing himself for a reason.

Hange wasn’t there. And he shouldn’t have needed that long look to notice it. But you’ve given up already? Right?

“You’re not going to eat?” Pieck was a lot more friendly. There was a huge difference between being polite and being friendly and Levi suspected, he was only seeing politeness as friendliness given the stark contrast of Yelena’s overall approach towards him

In the air, tension hung so thick. Levi didn’t notice a piece of bread and a bowl of soup had been served in front of him. “I will.” He immediately went for the spoon in front of him.

“That’s the spoon for the main course,” Yelena said.

“What?” By the second, Levi was starting to realize how disconnected he actually was. Around the soup, there were spoons, forks and knives in multiple sizes. In a panic, Levi had looked around to see it was the same for everyone else.

Yet, everyone else knew how to navigate such a complex design.

“The small one is the soup spoon.” Pieck was helpful at least. “No, that’s the tea spoon,” she added as she looked pointedly at the smallest one Levi had taken hold of.

Levi was familiar enough with tea to be familiar with the size of the teaspoon. At that point though, who cared what spoon he ate with? He wasn’t there to dine.

By some pride or just utter frustration at the whole situation, the spoon debacle was never solved and Levi never touched his soup that night. He closed himself off from everything else, keeping his world closed to anything but the entrance, Zeke, the crowds, and the one familiar face he wanted to see.

But Hange never showed up.

“She’s not coming. If that’s what you’re thinking.” Yelena could have been reading his mind.

“Who’s not coming?” Levi asked. He widened his eyes in mock surprise but he kept his voice toneless. In his mind, that seemed like a good balance to display both calm and disconnect.

Yelena never answered the question. Maybe she knew silence was the right answer, that is, if her attention had been to keep his insides boiling in frustration, his mind racing.

The grin on her face only proved it. Maybe that was her intention.

It only got worse though as the night dragged on and Levi noticed his own restlessness around the salad course that he could barely even look at.

He could barely coordinate his hands. His legs were trembling.

Those few moments he focused on evening out his breathing, he was able to grip the spoon, then the steak knife as the main course came in.

As if to add salt to whatever wound she had, Yelena commented abruptly. “It’s not everyday people like you will be able to get steak like this.”

The steak could have just been soft. Or Levi was recovering. One of those, he couldn’t be too sure. But it was a good steak. He could tell that much. It melted in his mouth and he had spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating how it was physically possible for steak to melt in his mouth.

Then suddenly the delectable steak rotted mid chew. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” It was as if Yelena was on a mission to be a total buzzkill. Maybe she was being paid by Zeke to do just that.

And she was doing a wonderful job. Levi almost choked on that last piece, his fork fell to his lap. In a bout of embarrassment, he stood up. “Toilet.”

Five minutes and an empty bladder later, whatever peace and calm he had managed to muster alone in the toilet completely dissipated. It seemed like that dinner was also on a mission to make him as miserable as possible even in a supposedly pleasant environment.

“Where’s my steak?” Levi put too much energy into keeping his tone as subdued as possible.

“Oh, you weren’t done?” Pieck asked, seeming genuinely curious.

He had only gotten two bites. Of course, he wouldn’t be done. He was close to raising his hand up to call the waiter until he was reminded, he didn’t even pay for the dinner. Did he even have the right to complain?

At that point, Levi was just a little ticked, his grumbling stomach at having missed three courses over his own discomfort and tense state was already catching up to him. “What made you think I was done?”

“You put your spoon and fork together, like this,” Pieck said. “That means you’re done with the course.” She organized her plate the same way Levi did, for just a second.

Maybe Levi had been too self conscious. In an attempt to seem more posh than he actually was, Levi had channeled his own fastidiousness into putting the utensils together before he left for the toilet.

“I would think someone who works in corporate would know this. This is standard fine dining,” Yelena said nonchalantly.

Fine dining for Levi meant a dinner at a cafe, or a sit down restaurant. The whole world that existed for the sake of fine dining, the course meals, the secret language he didn’t seem to understand felt completely unnecessary. And the longer they sat there as if deliberately keeping him in the dark while he starved, Levi only became more and more impatient.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have known any better at first,” Levi said.

“I’ve been handling Zeke’s properties overseas for years so I’ve had my fair share of fine dining experience.” She then turned to Pieck and Porco who both nodded. “Even before that, my parents have taught me this. Have yours?”

Levi’s earliest memories of fine dining had been sit down restaurants, diners, nothing too fancy. He shook his head. “Well, I didn’t come here with the intention of dining. You put me on that list yourself, without even waiting for a reply.” He regretted it, as soon as he let it out. His grumbling stomach had him almost out of control.

Yelena raised one eyebrow. “Oh? Then why did you still come, Mr. Ackerman? The free food?”

Levi froze.

“The free food you barely even touched?” Yelena pressed.

And Levi stiffened up, much harder than he would have thought was ‘completely frozen.’

“You have some business to settle with Mr. Jaeger I’m guessing?”

“It’s none of your business.” Levi managed to say.

“I’ve been working for the Jaegers for years. I manage their overseas properties, a few apartments and houses here and there,” she said proudly.

“And?” Levi challenged. “Does that make you entitled to whatever other business Zeke has?”

That question was a response enough. Enough to get Yelena crack, her expression shifted from incredulous, to abrasive to subdued. One eyebrow raised, mouth twitching slightly. “I had to clean up the mess you two left behind.”

Mess? Levi had an inkling of an answer.

A clatter of metal on a plate. “Yelena! Not here,” Pieck said.

“Then we should talk outside then.” Yelena was half way to standing up, before she stopped herself.

Levi found himself following her gaze. The one view that had her frozen in her tracks had been Zeke and before Levi even knew it himself, he was just as surprised as Yelena.

“Should we retire early?” Zeke asked.

“Sir, you haven’t eaten yet,” Yelena argued.

Zeke shook his head. “I hold these dinners to find potential business partners, not to eat.” He turned to Pieck. “I think Pieck can take over from here. I’ll leave you to answer any questions about Jaeger healthcare holdings.”

Pieck nodded. “Yes sir, I’ll take over.”

“No hurry, everyone’s still busy with their meals…” Zeke looked pointedly at his surroundings at the other people. HIs staff table had been conveniently placed by the corner, and it didn’t seem at all like their conversation had been heard by everyone else.

Pieck and Porco were noticeably eating faster, seeming deep in thought. Back into business mode maybe, the caustic exchange of a while ago completely forgotten. Or at least they looked like they were attempting to forget it.

Not burdened with that same responsibility, Yelena didn’t seem to put up any facade. Her own antagonizing attitude towards Levi didn’t falter. Yet somehow, Zeke’s presence had kept her mum, subdued her to just venomous glares.

They exited the dinner hall and made their way out of the hallway, opening up to the open hotel lobby. “We can talk in my private suite,” Zeke said. “I don’t like having a lot of my conversations in public.”

Levi didn’t respond. The glances Yelena snuck him only made it harder to come up with anything more than a few mumbles which he was sure would only make him look pathetic in front of Zeke.

“Did you pay for the flight yourself?” Zeke asked.

Levi nodded. Where’s Hange? That thought tore into his mind so abruptly, Levi found himself having to clamp his mouth shut, much tighter than normal. He couldn’t trust himself to speak. God knows, he might end up asking just that cursed question.

“You’re quiet,” Zeke commented as they entered the elevator. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

Levi nodded and mumbled some hint of a yes.

Zeke raised his eyebrows. “Really what was your favorite course?”

The steak obviously. Even those words got caught somewhere in his throat, admitting to Zeke that he enjoyed the food seemed almost like flaunting himself naked.

Luckily—or unluckily, Zeke didn’t prod, instead going for another speech which made Levi regret keeping silent. “I hold dinners every night for PR, get the right potential partners to the same room, for my healthcare holdings, my supermarket holdings, my…” Zeke rattled on.

To Levi, it felt the blonde had just been jacking himself off instead of actually making conversation. Still, that gave Levi time to think.

Thinking turned out to be a bad thing.

Even before they arrived at the penthouse floor, Levi had to admit, the hotel was posh. The scent of new wood hung in the air, the marble finishings, the lamp made out of metals Levi suspected weren’t easy to acquire. And when they stepped from the elevator wing to the matted floor of the penthouse, whatever plush they used underneath greeted him in some strange manner.

Strangely, Levi felt guilty for dirtying something which he was completely aware was supposed to be dirtied anyway dealing with foot traffic everyday. Then the more they walked, the more self conscious he became of the way he was walking.

Zeke and Yelena both walked ahead with confident strides and Zeke never stopped talking. When Levi found himself listening, he noticed, Zeke's tirades only made the grand hall seem grander, a completely different world to Levi, something he wasn’t supposed to be in.

Was he a visitor. Hell, maybe not even a visitor. A slave? A serf?

“The convention is to attract potential resellers. We’re planning on reselling our research, our products, our technology, to this region...”

They walked towards the end of the hall, stopping in front of some fancy door only accentuated by the plush carpets and the decorative lamps.

“... And this city will be our hub…” It looked like Zeke had been too distracted by his own grand plans to even bother to open the door. It was fortunate then that Yelena had the key and that she knew her way into the presidential suite.

They settled on the sofa in the living rooms, the first room past the foyer.

“We’ll set up office space... Maybe a building...”

It was around then that Levi noticed he hadn’t been offered a seat but he didn’t mind it too much. The multiple sitting rooms, the wide window to one side that gave a good view of the infinity pool on the balcony, and beyond that, a view of the city.

Did Hange get to swim? Levi looked out for a while longer and he couldn’t look away. The longer he looked, the easier it became to imagine her leaning over the infinity pool in her purple bathing suit.

“It will cost a few million dollars…”

Just like in the country club.

“Levi, you want to go for a swim?”

Levi coughed, an instinctive movement. “Sorry… Excuse me, what?”

Zeke looked very unimpressed. It was obviously a joke. “For gods sake, sit down. It’s distracting just watching you stand awkwardly.”

“So why did you invite me here?” Levi asked. If not to listen to you ramble. He added silently to himself.

“I think I have a right to answer first,” Zeke said. He nodded to Yelena. The latter walked away and back to the kitchen. “Why are you here? Don’t tell me you’re here for the convention?”

“What if I am?”

Zeke spared a small grin. He leaned back on the sofa and looked to the side, as if sharing an inside joke with himself. “And do you have plans of investing?”

Millions of dollars. Those three words echoed in Levi’s head. He didn’t have that money and he most likely never would.

Zeke didn’t give him time to speak. “Figures,” he muttered. “So why did you come here?” He asked in a clearer voice.

“You invited m---”

“I wouldn’t have invited you if you weren’t here already,” Zeke said.

Yelena chose that moment to come in between them, a wine bottle on one hand, two wine glasses on the other. Her movements were too casual, the fine dining positions of a while ago seemed almost like a facade.

Zeke gave a nod in thanks. “Sit where you’re comfortable.”

Yelena didn’t hesitate. She settled on one of the sofa chairs, a comfortable distance between them. She mirrored Zeke’s own expression, a mix between mocking and expectant.

It only became harder to speak. When Levi was weighing between speaking up and staying mum, he found, as painful as it was to continue speaking, the outcome seemed more desirable.

At least in his head.

“What’s wrong? Can’t tell me why you visited my convention?” Zeke took a sip of the wine. “Unless it’s something… controversial? Embarrassing? Offensive?.”

Levi felt his skin crawl. Not completely in control of his body, he almost feared his facade cracking and not noticing it. He cleared his throat. “I was going to speak.” He paused, using that moment, to meet Zeke’s eyes. “It’s about Hange.”

“What about my Hange?” Zeke had put too much emphasis in those last two words, it seemed almost out of place. In one sleek movement, he straightened up on his seat and tightened his grip on his wine glass

It was as if Levi was walking on Zeke’s territory, completely unwelcome. And Levi was starting to notice that. He shook his head and softened his voice, a subtle peace offering. “I had plans for the emotion alarm, I wanted to discuss them with Hange, get her opinion---”

“Erwin hasn’t told you yet?” Zeke put down his wine glass. “We’re terminating the contract.

It was like a ton of bricks fell on him. His stomach followed suit. Levi went for his wine glass and took a long sip which quickly turned into a gulp then he let out a cough. Water would have done a much better job to clear the tickle in the throat, the pang in his chest and the hollowness in his chest that followed. But he wasn’t going to ask for water in Zeke’s territory yet.

A ninety five percent chance of termination. Erwin had said back in their meeting.

“So it’s final?” Levi asked. The crushing disappointment had been enough proof that Levi had been vouching on that five percent.

Zeke nodded once. “Hange won’t be bothering you anymore. We’ll find another developer for her to work with.”

“I was working on some plans. They’re suggestions I was hoping she’d consider. If I---”

“Levi, can you send it over through email? Do you have to talk to her?”

Levi felt the blood rush to his face. He bent his head down almost immediately, focused on his shaking hands that were only gripping his knees tighter. He dug his nails into his knees, as if that would be enough to stop the shaking. “No, I don’t need to.” It could have come out as an exhale or an actual response.

“Well, that makes things easier. You know, she doesn't want to see you.” Zeke’s voice was painfully casual.

Levi looked up again, regretting it almost immediately. Zeke had a look of triumph on his face. It had only served to piss Levi all the more that Zeke had tried to hide it behind a nonchalant face. Seeing the small smile that decorated his lips, Levi dug his nails deeper into his knees. “Then why?”

“Why what?” Zeke pressed. “Why doesn't she want to see you?” His voice was getting colder and colder with each word. They twisted into an almost malevolent sneer.

“Why invite me here?” Levi asked, his voice clipped. Grappling with both Zeke’s attitude and the revelation on Hange’s feeling, Levi was finding it harder to speak.

“So you came because you were invited then?” Zeke took another sip. “And how were you invited?”

Does he expose Hange? And maybe Levi had taken too long vacillating.

Zeke had ended up answering the question himself. “An email? A support ticket with a flyer? Spam mail?” He took another sip. “You and your company have your very techy love alarm. And I have my own version too, my very old fashioned love alarm.” He gestured in front of him, right at Levi. “And it’s ringing in front of me right now.”

It took a few more seconds for Levi to understand it.

Zeke was either impatient. Or probably he thought Levi was a total idiot. He bent forward, leaned his elbows on his knees and dropped his wine glass on the wooden table with a loud clack.“Tell me, why would you go all the way here, over a fake email?” he asked. “Her name really was enough for you to book a plane ticket and fly across the ocean?”

Levi didn’t respond.

And it looked like Zeke didn’t need an answer anyway. He waved one hand in front of him and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve been in the corporate world long enough to know, there are meetings that could have been emails yet you still chose to take a plane and come here.”

“Do you want me to write an email?” Levi asked.

Zeke shrugged. We don’t need your input. This project...it’s mine and Hange’s.”

Yours and Hange’s? He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, as if that slow and subtle movement had been enough to quell the fire in his chest. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s our project. It’s my gift to Hange.”

What does that make me? Levi didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t even want that instinctive jaw drop, the twitch in his mouth that followed to expose what the hell he was thinking.

“You’re merely someone paid to do the work.” Zeke continued, as if he had heard Levi's silent question.

Levi didn’t even feel it. He wasn’t even completely aware it happened until Zeke’s eyes widened for a split second in surprise, then narrowed again, shifting instead to one could have been pure fury.

But Levi didn’t care. Even when looking down had revealed, he spilled wine all over the lush carpet. The wine glass had hit the table, scattering pieces of broken glass on the table and over the floor.

It would be a bitch to clean up. Levi didn’t care about that either, it wasn’t his mess. It wasn’t his fucking presidential suite.

Zeke just had more practice in the diplomacy department. “Why do you feel it necessary to stand up and cause such a ruckus?”

The calmness had Levi’s blood boiling more violently inside him. He could only be grateful that the breaking the wine glass had released some of that pent up energy.

Zeke was only making it harder and harder to stay still. “I’m only stating facts. The money I put into it makes it mine. The fact that you’re being paid to do it. The fact that you even signed an employment contract relinquishes all ownership you have of all the projects you do in the company. You of all people should know that. I can’t even believe I need to school someone like you on this. You can’t even keep yourself together.”

Levi looked away, back at the view of the balcony, the glowing city. How much of it was owned by people who knew nothing about construction, architecture or just the hard work that went into even making such a view possible? A tiny injustice that surfaced in Levi’s mind as he let Zeke’s words sink in. “With all due respect... ” His last few words came out softer than expected. But Levi had seemed almost confident with them. “...You know jackshit about coding or psychology.”

Soon, Levi gripped enough of that new found confidence to take control of the conversation. “You know nothing about how any of that shit works. You didn’t stay up all night working on that damn application. I’ll fucking bet my whole life savings you don’t even know how this application works.”

“Ackerman, watch your mouth!” It was Yelena who spoke, looking as if she had just recovered from shock, eyes wide, her own wine glass on the table.

Levi cleared his throat. “Once again, with all due respect.” He was mildly aware then, that he may have raised his voice. Zeke was surprisingly—almost admirably calm. He put one hand as if to stop Yelena and spoke up. “And does ‘knowing jackshit’ make me less of an owner?”

That was a question that Levi couldn’t answer. He regretted losing control. In shock, or in some punishment which only the inner workings of his mind understood, Levi could only stand still, unable to even sit back down.

Zeke stared at him accusingly. “Mr. Ackerman…” he started. “You don’t believe there’s any dignity in the labor of moving money around? Investing and reinvesting?”

Levi felt shame wash over him.

It was a strange state to be in. There was more than enough dignity in being a billionaire, in being one of the top one percent who just bought and sold whatever they got their hands on. It was an inarguable fact that society thought highly of the top one percent regardless of where they got their money. Yet Zeke had a way of speaking that made Levi reflect the validity of his own words, any disrespect or any backhanded insult he could have been sending to anyone else.

Levi knew he was being manipulated but he couldn’t seem to point out how.

Maybe it had been the way Zeke had opened his eyes, his face a mix of confusion, hurt, with a hint of derision. Or maybe everything had been Levi’s imagination and once again he was faced with the prospect that maybe he didn’t mean it.

“That…” That wasn’t what I meant.

At that point, Zeke had stood up and at that difference of height and difference of social status, Levi had to bite his tongue, not to lose his composure.

Zeke though seemed to know he had taken control of the conversation. “You’re trying to cover your ass?”

“Cover… my ass?” Levi said that last word with a little more venom in his mouth. Somehow, the eloquent Zeke suddenly putting so much force into one single curse only added to the tension of that moment.

“Trying to justify your own mistakes by emphasizing your own superiority. It’s a very common tactic. You’re not the first to employ it.”

“I never---”

“You should be thanking me. I’ve been treating you fairly, paying you for your hard work. And on top of that, I’ve tolerated the transgressions, even putting more money unnecessarily into covering this up.” Zeke said. He walked towards the kitchen island, pulling an envelope from next to the telephone and slamming it on the counter. He wasn’t motioning though for Levi to come.

Levi preferred to stay frozen, just standing between the sofa and the coffee table. But when Zeke opened the envelope, pulling out pictures, and a few pages which he waved on the air and slammed on the table, Levi’s curiosity peaked.

Levi covered the distance in so short an amount of time, he never figured out if he seemed too desperate.

In hindsight, it wasn’t important. The contents of the papers, the pictures bundled together by paper clips had only been a more pressing matter.

Zeke’s words only confirmed it. “You went on a road trip up north on Hange’s birthday?”

“We did,” Levi said. There wasn’t much else he could have said to deny it. The evidence was too overwhelming— blurred pictures, screenshots of comments online in threads, subthreads, all speculating Hange’s side relationship.

“No use denying it. Yelena made a call to our employees in our estate up north. They mentioned Hange’s companion when she visited.”

“But we didn’t do anything…”

Zeke raised one eyebrow as if he had caught them in the act. “I’m not accusing you of it. But what would you say in your defense? When the Love Alarm rings, when you book a double room in a motel and when you’re together, almost inseparable in all of these pictures,” Zeke spread the photos on the table, shots of them in the motel, in the train station, in Zeke's house. “Hange isn’t a high profile person. It never made the news, Yelena and I made sure of that but people talk, anyone familiar with the tech world and particularly interested in it, would know how our family looks like."

It was funny, how anger could so easily sour to shame. At that moment, Levi considered disappearing an almost welcome development. Zeke pushed the pictures nearer to him, in one messy pile, the screenshots on comments, mentioning words like ‘misters,’ ‘paramours,’ ‘who’s the man???’ “We purged the internet of all photos, no names. Some people repost but I have people watching and reporting. This isn’t cheap.”

I’m sorry. Levi’s first instinct was to apologize, the adamance of a while ago almost completely forgotten. But sorry’s wouldn't work. “How much? I’ll pay what I can.”

Zeke scoffed. “Can you?”

Levi couldn’t think up much to say. He scanned his eyes over the comments at first to feign business, an excuse not to speak up. The more he looked, the more engrossed he got at lines of comments. Others towards him, then as he turned the pages, they were all towards Hange.

Slut. Whore. Low life. Cheater.

“I’ll pay what I can,” Levi said.

“How much are you willing to shell out? A hundred grand?”

That was a huge chunk of Levi’s annual earnings already. He wasn’t one to disclose salary though. He kept his mouth a thin flat line and nodded.

Zeke shook his head. “I’ll be generous, considering all the inconvenience you’ve caused both of us. While you're here, humor me,” he said. “I may not be a coder or a psychologist but I’m sure, there are things I can teach you. If you’re willing to shell out a hundred grand, let’s gamble with it. I haven’t had a good game in a while.”

“A good game?”

Zeke turned to Yelena. “Can you be a dealer again?”

“You plan on playing heads up?” Yelena asked,

“We have a table in one of the private rooms, why not?”

“Heads-up poker?” Levi clarified. There was only one game heads up that the two could have been referring to, mentioning terms like ‘deal.’

Zeke didn’t even bother to answer the question either for lack of consideration for Levi or just an expectation that Levi may have understood.

Levi didn’t live under a rock and he was very much familiar with the game. He had played a few games on online poker sites back in college.

Still, he moved a little sluggishly behind his two companions. Levi could have just been a little too wary or Zeke could have been out for blood.

The stakes then and there were completely different. For one, he had never bet almost a year’s worth of his own salary on a single game. He had never played with anyone whose net worth was a thousand, or maybe even a million times his own.

At that moment, Levi felt like a total beginner and it was as if hesitation clipped every single moment he managed to pull out of himself. There wasn’t too much he was expected to do but watch as Yelena prepared a few playing cards then chips.

Zeke made himself comfortable right in front of Levi. “Willing to bet a hundred grand?” he said those last words with an ominous smile on his face.

Levi sensed danger, but he couldn’t sense any proper way out either. He owed Zeke, he knew that much, whether it be for the money or the utter disrespect he had been treating him with since a while ago. Maybe he owed Zeke for more than that, for any inconvenience Zeke may have experienced at Levi having gotten a little too close to Hange.

Levi admitted, even just to himself, he had been a little too close to Hange for either of them to have been comfortable. Guilt, a sense of duty or just hyper awareness of everything all at once had Levi conceding, “Do I pay now?”

“We play with chips first,” Zeke responded.

Yelena dropped colored stacks of chips in front of them. Levi counted reds, blues, yellows, browns.

“You should have a hundred thousand worth,” Yelena said. “Do you know the colors?”

“Yes, just a bit.” Dabbling into online poker for a few months at least, Levi had enough experience to tell the browns as five thousands, the light blues as two thousand and the rest had inferred for himself from the amount of chips in front of him. He looked up to see that Zeke had a noticeably larger stack. “That looks like a lot more than a hundred grand,” Levi noted.

Zeke didn’t answer immediately and the flicker of realization came quicker, quick enough to have Levi coughing in surprise. The odds were against him.

“It is,” Zeke said as he counted his own chips, as if it wasn’t plain and utter cheating or even deception that he had a glaringly higher amount of chips than Levi. He slipped the chips towards the side and looked questioningly at Levi.

What had Hange told him back then in the golf course?

Zeke likes winning...But the way he goes about winning is like...He’s always been smart about it, always playing safe.

And what a better way to play safe than to have a larger pile than your opponent.

Zeke spoke up. “Hange and I, we’d play games with business partners while talking contracts and logistics. And Hange always said this about games. They teach things and sometimes they expose parts of ourselves… And the more I played with Hange, whether it be mahjong, blackjack, golf, or chess, I started to notice something. Games are a mirror of life, almost a clear reflection of what you deal with in business and in relationships.”

Zeke paused for a second and closed his eyes as if deep in thought. The room filled with the sound of shuffling of cards, the sound of the clack of chips as Zeke ran his hand over the brown ones, tapping them over the wooden round table in stilted and deafening movements.

“Poker is one of my favorite games. Like business, you base your decision on three things… Tells, numbers and circumstances,” He paused for a few seconds longer and he could have been expecting Levi to speak.

Levi didn’t look up though, instead using the brief silence to make sense for himself the amount of chips on his side.

Zeke spoke again. “Yelena, shuffle up and deal. We’re playing heads up. Our small blind is five hundred dollars and our big blind is one thousand dollars,” he said coldly. “I hope that isn’t too much money.”

In truth, that was enough money to make Levi’s stomach turn. Zeke’s manner didn’t look like it welcomed any protest though, so Levi merely nodded as some weak reply.

A weak nod could have sufficed as a response. Zeke turned to Yelena. “Give our valued guest the dealer button.”

The dealer plays the small blind. Levi counted five hundred dollars worth of chips and pushed it in front of Zeke.

Two cards lay in front of him, care of Yelena. Levi had played before and he was familiar at least with what a good hand would have looked like. In one swift movement, he held the cards in front of him.

Ten of Clubs and Nine of Clubs. With just one look, he knew he could complete either a flush or a straight.

If the board plays to his advantage.

Zeke tutted. “It’s not considered good practice to lift the cards. Most poker players would just raise the corner just high enough to see their own cards.” He demonstrated that exact same movement, only raising high enough that he could get the contents cards with one glance. “You’ve never played on the board?”

“I’ve played for a few months online,” Levi muttered. He would look back at that experience with little animosity. After all, a few months dabbling with bets online and just applying what little he learned from his statistics class had seemed like an overall enriching experience at first. Then and there, on the board, with thousands of dollars at stake, Levi felt utterly vulnerable. Like a beginner. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, someone with only months worth of casual experience was a beginner.

And Zeke held a glaring advantage, something Levi couldn’t so easily brush away. Levi’s own instinct, his own experience with odds had him considering raising. Just for a second. When Zeke was staring at him though, his own pile much bigger than Levi, Levi could only weigh between two decisions, fold and give up that hand or match Zeke’s bet.

It’s still a good hand anyway. “Call,” Levi said, matching Zeke’s bet.

By the way that Zeke was looking at him though, Levi knew he was probably not playing on the board properly. Zeke spoke up. “Tells. One important concept in both poker and business is tells,” he explained. “The way you carry yourself tells me you never played on the board. Am I correct?”

“Yes.” There was no use denying it but Levi didn't have to spare him a long answer.

Zeke dropped five purple chips on the table. “Raise to 2500.”

There was value in those chips, his lifestyle, his savings. And for a split second, he saw an abyss. He had spent too much on a flight ticket, a hotel room, just all the food he had been eating in that town. Then another year's worth of income on stake, reduced to chips.

By some strange instinct, by some adrenaline rush, Levi had managed to brush it away, reducing whatever stakes to the few chips on the board. And he was grateful for the power of delusion. By god, if he didn’t have at least a sliver of self-delusion, he could have folded right then.

“Call,” Levi said, once again matching Zeke’s bet. He needed to calm down. It wasn’t a loss yet, the game hadn’t even started.

There was hope in whatever cards Yelena was shuffling. She spread the first three on the table.

“We call that a flop,” Zeke said. “Just in case you didn’t know.” And of course Levi knew, he had played online long enough to pick up some terms. With the grin on Zeke’s face, a far cry from a face more appropriate for a game of poker, Levi was certain Zeke was provoking him. “I know what a flop is,” Levi said, running his eyes over the three cards.

Ace of clubs. Seven of Clubs. Eight of Hearts.

Levi started to calculate. He had 2500 dollars, a months worth of basic living expenses on the line. He wondered if it would have felt better just dropping the one hundred grand to Zeke from the start. There was something notably more painful and more terrifying about the possibility of watching his money whittle away slowly.

“During business meetings, I like to tell which topics, which specific products make my business partners uncomfortable, when dealing with stakeholders, with employees. I like to take a few quick guesses on the backgrounds of the people in front of me, to see whether they’re worth dealing with in the long term. ” Zeke explained. “How they handle pressure…”

Was that a threat? A challenge? Maybe it was. Levi was suddenly morbidly aware that he had licked his lips, that his hand shook as he took another peek at his cards.

He had a chance for a straight. But what would Zeke have? And Levi had made the mistake of looking at Zeke then.

“Another ‘tell’, your eyes widened just there. You have a pair? A potential straight? For someone who wears her heart on her sleeve, Hange does a much better time hiding than you do.” Zeke had deliberately put more emphasis on the word Hange.

If Levi hadn’t frozen solid, tensed up by the shoulders with Zeke’s almost accurate guess, the word Hange had done the trick to make Levi terribly, terribly self conscious. In an instinctive moment, Levi bent his head down, raised one hand in an attempt to cover his own eyes, only to realize a second later with his hand halfway to his eyes, that that had done worse to even show that he had something to hide.

“You don’t have to hide it. We all know already, you’re in love with Hange.”

Levi had accepted that part already. If he had been in complete denial at that moment, maybe he would have lost himself in Zeke’s accusing glare.

“Are you going to deny it?” Zeke dropped an alarming number of yellow and purple chips. “Raise to four thousand.”

Levi let out a sound, a combination between a no and a quiet huff and he matched Zeke’s bet.

“A month ago I heard from the staff in our summer house up north mentioning the man, who always followed closely behind Hange, the man who so willingly got a single bed hotel with her, the man in the train station who sat close to Hange Zoe,” Zeke said. “People talk, Levi. Did you consider that? And I thought to myself back then, maybe, it could have been a coincidence but Hange had her own tells as well. When Hange saved you from drowning, did you know she didn’t want to let go?”

Yelena put one more card down. Two of diamonds.

“This is a convenient turn card ,” Zeke commented. “If you have a nine, or a ten, you have a chance at a straight. Have you calculated?” He raised one eyebrow.

Levi didn’t answer. Hell, anything he did say could probably be taken against him.

“Hange would have. When we played, she would babble on about statistics. Everytime she held out a hand, completely beating me, she would babble all the calculations in her head. She has always been quick witted, intelligent, clever. That’s why I fell in love with her too.” He had said that part louder, more confidently and so matter-of-factly, and Levi was reminded he would never have that same confidence to say those words about Hange, even if he would have meant it.

There was a clack of poker chips. Four thousand dollars? Levi counted. He looked towards the pile next to Yelena. He had four thousand dollars there already. A total of eight thousand dollars on the table, months worth of rent for most.

From the expectant look on Zeke’s face, Levi was expecting he’d only go higher. Do I fold? But maybe with the excruciating mentions of Hange, that was something Zeke had wanted him to do. In a sliver of weak protest, Levi matched the bet, his own bet up to eight thousand dollars.

He needed a jack or a six for a straight. But why was Zeke easily dropping bets? Did he have something better?

“Let’s consider numbers in real life. Even with how you and Hange were acting, I thought I could give you the benefit of the doubt. When the alarm rang, when you and Hange accepted it as truth, I realized my suspicions might be right. Hange might actually be attracted to you, she might actually love you. So what does that mean for me?” Zeke was once again playing with his chips.

Five thousand dollars worth? Levi thought loudly to himself as he counted the chips.

A bluff? Levi’s mind was racing. Zeke’s own words were deliberately or even just half heartedly disturbing. But there wasn’t much else he could do, four thousand dollars were on the line. Zeke proved to be confident at least with his own hand.

Bluffs happened, Levi played enough to be aware that people did put more than enough money than necessary just to scare people into folding. Another surge of protest later, Levi had matched the bet, putting his total bet at eleven grand.

The final card on the board was a jack and Levi didn’t have to look back at his own cards to confirm it. He had a straight. When Zeke had bet ten grand in chips, it had been much easier to call.

Soon the cards were revealed, an Ace and a King. Zeke had the strongest pair.

But Levi had a straight. He took the pot, more than a total of twenty thousand dollars, more than enough to offset his whole trip. When Levi looked up at Zeke, he regretted it almost instantly.

The latter didn’t seem at all affected by losing over twenty thousand dollars. “Circumstances, the most powerful tool but the easiest to control with the right resources. ” Zeke said, as if that had been the explanation for his own strange behavior. “It’s only natural when the person I’m married to starts running off with another man, I’d feel threatened. When she started working on the love alarm and I noticed she was happier, happier than I’ve ever seen her before. Then she was crankier than I’ve ever seen her before, then sadder. I wondered, what was our head developer doing to make Hange like that.”

Nothing. Fall in love with her? There weren’t too many things which could have fit what was starting to seem like a redundant question, so once again, silence was the best response.

Yelena spread the deck of cards over the table and Levi instead focused on dropping the new blind and appreciating the deft manner at which Yelena ran her hands over the cards.

He wasn’t in any state to be mesmerized by cards though.

Zeke’s voice echoed in the room. “Levi, I asked you a question.”

“What did I do, you mean?” Levi asked. That was the last thing he remembered and it had seemed almost redundant, not worth an explanation. Zeke shook his head. “Do you think she’s in love with you?” A strange question to ask someone, too personal. Zeke had a way of speaking that demanded answers.

Levi’s mind was working faster, vacillating between answering or not. He thought back to the ringing of the love alarm, Hange’s words up in the tower. Hange seemed happier, then crankier, then sadder, than I’ve ever seen before. “That’s for Hange to decide, right?” Levi said.

Zeke’s voice was suddenly softer as if they had released a sigh with his words. “Considering circumstances though, I was assured Hange can’t just leave.”

That last word had peaked Levi’s interest. “Leave?” He repeated.

“Even if your love alarm is correct, even if by some chance she loved you, and she didn’t love me, Hange can’t leave. I made sure of that. I’ve covered my bases.”

Covered your bases? Levi bent his head down, hiding that incredulous look that forced itself out of him.

“I paid for her research. I paid for the emotion alarm. I paid for the media embargo so your photos wouldn’t get printed. I paid for everything, our home, our trips. Hange can’t just leave, after I put so much into this relationship right?”

Yelena dealt a new set of his cards and Levi pulled his new cards towards him and took a peak.

Eight of hearts. Three of hearts. Shitty hand with a potential for a flush.

Zeke slipped the new cards towards him. “She’s not going to leave. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized, why are you still hurting yourself over this. Why don’t you give up?”

“There’s nothing to give up. I wasn’t holding on to anything.” Those words had been surprisingly easy to say. “Hange married you. I went here to talk to her, nothing more than that.”

“You could have sent an email. You could have sent it through Erwin. Why come here yourself?” Zeke’s words were suddenly ringing through his ear.

“Why are you so bothered by me showing up? You didn’t have to invite me here,” Levi said, and somehow, a cathartic release that came with those words.

The shocked almost speechless expression on Zeke’s face, a far cry from the calm, poker face of a second ago, sent a rush of confidence over Levi

Maybe there were things he knew about Hange that Zeke didn’t. Levi continued “I don’t understand why you had to go through all this trouble, covering the embargo, sending Hange away, buying the emotion alarm. Even if you didn’t cover your bases, even if you give Hange all of that, she wouldn’t have left you. She really believes she’s in love with you.” She’s a prideful prick that way. He added silently to himself.

“What do you know about Hange? You only met her months ago.”

Long enough to feel like I’ve known her my whole life. If his words could have at least been enough to ensure some happiness for Hange in the future, it was worth a shot. “You should have just trusted her. You take in the most free-loving person I have ever met as your partner and you trap her by hanging all that over her head? That’s not how to love someone like Hange.”

“Who are you to tell me how to love the person I’m married to?”

This time, it was Levi’s turn to ask a question. “Do you love Hange?”

“More than you’re capable of understanding,” Zeke answered venomously, as if it was an attack on Levi.

Somehow, of all the things, an attack on his own ignorance didn’t feel like anything at all. Levi was confident, he wasn’t ignorant. “Hange really believes love is a choice, love is freedom. And you think the best way to love her is to tie her down with money and gifts? With circumstance?”

“You can’t assume that.”

“Then why do you have to make her feel guilty? Why do you give her everything just so she won’t leave? Why are you assuming she’ll leave the moment she gets the chance?”

One hand on the table, and the table rocked, the pile of chips Levi had meticulously organized fell in one crash, the few others as they slid amongst each other, colors mixing amongst one another.

Yelena was the first to speak. “Focus on the game, Ackerman.”

“Check.” He didn't have the best hand. As the river opened up to reveal a potential for a flush, he still thought it worth a shot.

Zeke pushed a huge pile of chips to the front. “Raise to a hundred thousand dollars.” Almost all of Levi’s available funds.”

“Fold,” Levi said.

The button switched. Levi and Zeke dealt their blinds again. Yelena dealt another two cards. And the game continued.

Carefully raising the corners of his pair, Levi noted a three of spades and a queen of hearts. Even before Yelena had dealt the river on the table, Zeke had already pushed his pile to the middle. “Raise to a hundred thousand dollars.”

Levi couldn’t win, and just like the hand before, he folded.

It continued with that same pattern for the next ten hands. Zeke started to bait him, going all in towards the fourth hand, enough for Levi to lose all his savings, and Levi would fold. Hands later, Levi had lost the winnings of the first hand, he had absorbed a net loss. Zeke’s large pile was starting to seem more ominous.

Circumstances. The word started to hold more gravity as Levi reflected the unfairness of it all. Zeke wouldn't have minded putting one year’s worth of Levi’s salary in a single round, he had more than enough to spare.

You can’t win against money. What the hell was he thinking, giving up his blinds every single time. Zeke obviously bluffed a few times. No one would be lucky enough to have a streak of good hands.

But which hand? Levi thought loudly to himself, as if by some miracle, a god-sent answer could echo in his head.

“We can do this all night,” Zeke said, his composure once again collected, the exchange of a while ago forgotten.

Levi lost track of the number of hands. A quick look at his chips only made him realize he had forty thousand dollars left. Did he lose that much by just folding?

He would lose a hundred dollars that night if he continued playing but when he willed it, he realized was ready to lose that money. But the more Zeke played, the more he spammed all ins, the more urgent the loss started to seem.

It took a few more handsfor Levi to gather the courage to play, even with the stakes completely against him. Levi spared some thought to calculation, taking from Zeke’s rulebook.

Tells.

Zeke wore a poker face...Nothing there.

Circumstances

He had to do something fast, or risk losing all his money.

Numbers

Most importantly, statistics were on his side. He had opened his new hand to find a pair of aces.

Ace of Clubs. Ace of Spades. Statistically, the best poker hand. He could easily win everything back.

Then came the first three cards.

Ace of Diamonds. Queen of Diamond. Nine of Clubs.

“Raise to ten thousand dollars,” Zeke said.

Three of a kind, with the strongest cards. “Call,” Levi responded.

The next card was dealt. Ten of diamonds.

“Bet twenty thousand dollars,” Zeke said.

“Call,” Levi said again, pushing his pile of chips to the middle of the world. He couldn’t be too sure how he looked then. Were his hands shaking? It wasn’t a graceful movement for sure. He had to push his pile to the middle with three clumsy movements while Zeke did it in one elegant push.

But Levi noted the subtle way at which Zeke raised his eyebrows before they met eyes. And for one second, Levi allowed himself a long stare, a slight movement of his lips, nothing close to a smile. If that one expression would be enough for Zeke to fold and give up everything, it was worth a try.

It wasn’t.

Yelena dropped the last card on the board. An Ace of hearts.

“Raise to one hundred thousand dollars,” Zeke said, notably louder than every other time before.

Enough to make Levi jump, enough for him to doubt. He snuck another look at his cards. Four of a kind. You’re fine. Why was his heart still beating wildly? Why was meeting Zeke’s eyes for a while longer such a harrowing experience?

It’s a poker face. People do this when they play poker. Levi told himself and the longer he was able to convince himself that Zeke knew what he was doing. And maybe it had always been good practice to stay calm, even when everything was stacked against you.

“Showdown,” Yelena said.

Or maybe Zeke just wasn't that connected, especially since nothing much was at stake for him.

It could have been all those guesses, or it could have been the ugly one that opened up in front of them right then and there.

And it looked like Zeke had figured it out first. “Have you heard of the term bad beat?”

Levi was taking longer than usual to make sense of the cards, much slower than usual and maybe it had been the exhaustion of calculating the past almost countless hands.

“There is roughly a four thousand to one chance of getting a four of a kind. But sometimes, people have something better than that… Not often but… It’s still worth considering.”

Something better. And when Levi was considering every hand better than a four of a kind, it became much easier to scan the river then Zeke’s hand for the answer.

Zeke had two cards: King of Diamonds and Jack of Diamonds. A Royal Flush.

“There’s a six hundred thousand to one chance of actually getting a royal flush. First one in my life.” Zeke could have been genuinely amazed, but that big ham reaction had been more than enough to piss Levi off.

It made it difficult to sit still.

“When you consider circumstances, you introspect, you strategize and you pray for a little luck,” Zeke said. “Believe me, you had every other chance to win before. I went all in with the worst cards and you folded every single time. Are you that terrified of losing a few thousand dollars?”

Hundreds of thousands of dollars. Levi corrected in his head. An annual salary’s worth. And maybe that was the point Zeke had wanted to make. By circumstances alone, Zeke had manipulated Levi's choice.

Zeke smirked. “Circumstances rely on luck too and luck is a funny thing. Even if you play everything correctly, you can still lose. Life’s unfair isn’t it.”

“You had less to lose than I did,” Levi said, his lip trembling. “That’s all there is to it. If you lost all the money, you would have put more in.”

“I would have,” Zeke admitted.

“I was playing a losing game.”

“At least you got the lesson. These are your circumstances. Every life lesson everyone should have learned from birth, life isn’t fair. I’m surprised you’re expecting that from a casual game.”

“I never said that. I knew I was playing a losing game and I expected that.” It had taken all his effort to keep his reaction unreadable, and god he wished he had managed it every other time before. “Thank you for the food. Thank you for the game. Thank you for covering for me and Hange.”

With the game over, it didn't look like he felt compelled to wipe that smug grin off his face. And there were things Levi wished he could tell Zeke, and maybe it was worth the risk. “One last thing, I don’t agree with you about relationships, businesses being like games. Loving isn’t a game. When you give all this money to Hange do you expect her to give back? You expect to be able to manipulate relationships through circumstance alone?"

“I told you Ackerman, don’t tell me how to love my partner.”

"I don't have enough fucks to give for every single person in this world. I’m not telling you how to love the person you married because I actually give a fuck about your love life. I’m only telling you how to love your partner because your partner just so happens to be Hange and Hange’s a free bird. She doesn't deserve at all to be loved like that. Don't cage her in with circumstances. Don’t tie her down with money, with a debt of gratitude.” He pushed his seat back and walked away.

“Where are you going?”

“I need some fresh air.”

The sliding door wasn’t locked. He forced it open gently then too hard, enough to make it rattle, He gave one was long look at the infinity pool then leaned his arms on the balcony railings. He took a deep breath.

And that reprieve was just a little too short. It turned out Yelena followed behind him, a piece of paper in hand. “Zeke’s bank details,” she said.

That had seemed too abrupt. But really, what was he supposed to expect, a consolation prize? Hange’s location?

“It would be much easier if you paid immediately,” Yelena said. “Do you have the money on hand?”

He didn’t have the credit rating to pay that in one go. He opened his own banking application and attempted to transfer that much in one go.

Bank error.

“We accept checks,” Yelena said.

Levi had never dealt with checks. His credit card limit was far less than how much he needed to pay. And a few exchanges later, a quick google search later, Levi had figured it out. He could pay by wire transfer but by god, and just the wire transfer would cost him more money than necessary.

Levi was a man of principle though. Slip of paper on hand, Yelena’s contact details on his phone he made his way out of Zeke’s presidential, without even bothering so much as a goodbye. It looked like Zeke had retired to his own private room or study anyway. Did he need that pleasantry from Levi of all people?

On the way back to his own hotel, he took a long cut, through the hotels that connected to one another through glass pathways, a few floors above ground. He made sure to take a longer time than usual, enough time to reflect on his own shitty luck.

A fruitless reflection with a very very repetitive and depressing conclusion. That’s just how life is?

If it hadn't been for those two who had talked a little too loudly by the side, maybe Levi would have deemed it fruitless.

If didn’t look to his right to see the entrance to the casino, if he didn’t walk quickly past the slot machines, taking in the red plush carpet, he would have said it was a total waste of time. The dim room only further accentuated the lights that never seemed to come from an exact same place. The casino had a way of just letting some strange feverish state, some illusion blanket his surroundings.

Hange Zoe. The man at the front had said her name, too proudly, as if in total amazement. For a while, the dazzling casino lights had him doubting that name clipped into one brief exchange. Others seemed to be talking about her too. Then he was following the crowd.

Murmurs of Hange Zoe, none of them demeaning or admonishing. Others seemed breathless, and Levi thought it worth his time, to tiptoe just to see a good look of what they were staring at.

Fruitless.

Levi dove into the crowd, slipping his way through, bending over, moving his hand through when necessary. He never made it to the front, but he did note the messy mop of brown hair, tied into a high ponytail, bent over the table. The autumn jacket, the side profile and the glimmer of some tight lips.

Hange was deep in thought in the middle of what looked to be some poker game. Her own pile of poker chips right next to her, much larger than everyone elses. He knew her enough to make that type of guess.

Circumstances.

Levi decided it would be a waste of time. Circumstances were never his to control anyway. They were Zeke’s, they were hers.

Hange Zoe’s win again.

How many hands had she played before that?

She’s cheating.

No, she’s just lucky.

I heard she calculates every single hand.

Levi felt some sense of superiority, knowing something the murmuring crowds didn’t.

All summarized into three things. Firstly, lady luck was probably on her side, it had always been as if making up a string of misfortunes in a previous life. Secondly, she probably calculated every single hand. Third, Hange would never ever cheat.

And those would be last few thing he would allow himself be proud of. That would be the last time he would think of Hange as someone remotely his.

As Levi turned the heel and walked back to his hotel, he decided, although it wasn’t too fruitless a detour, he still regretted making that quick trip into the casino.

***

If Levi knew he would have felt like shit as soon as he came back from vacation, maybe he never would have gone on that stupid vacation in the first place.

Monday. Monday morning. Those words managed to taste bitter, even when Levi was barely forcing it out of his mouth. It could have been the fact that he barely had time to get over the jet lag or it was just way too early in the morning. Scratch that, it wasn't any of that at all.

Zeke was sitting on the couch, seeming very much unaffected by what should have been transoceanic jet lag and very much unaffected by the words that came out of Erwins house just a second ago.

At first, Levi even doubted what I heard, attributing it to exhaustion. He turned back to Zeke, no sadistic grin, no furrowed brows. He was calm, unimpressed and all business.

"Sorry… it's too early in the morning… I don't think I heard you correctly,” Levi said, an attempt at professionalism even with the trappings of shock, disbelief and very inconvenient drowsiness.

“We don’t usually invite lower management to these types of meetings… But Mr. Jaeger requested you be here, to answer any questions that might pop up...” Erwin said apologetically.

“No. Not that… You mentioned it a while ago...Why is Mr. Jaeger here?”

"We’re making amendments to the contract," Erwin answered.

“And why do you need me here?”

“He’s here to buy the love alarm,” Erwin said so casually that Levi had to clear his throat, get rid of whatever popping sensation had been going on in his ears.

My love alarm. The love alarm he worked more than half a decade on. The love alarm which he knew like the back of his hand, from the backbone of the codes to the front end bugs.

"It's for sale?" Levi spat out. There were only so many ways he could speak and so many ways he could even articulate the emotions running through his head.

Erwin cleared his throat, seeming uncomfortable at such a simple question. "Initially no… we never considered selling it but when Zeke called about it last week, we thought it worth a conversation.” He turned to Zeke then back to Levi. “We were able to run through Zeke’s proposal with the higher ups last Friday, and given the generous proposal, we are more than willing to sell him the rights to the Love Alarm and the Emotions Alarm project.”

How much did he offer? Levi instinctively looked towards Zeke but he soon figured out that no matter what he said, Zeke probably would never disclose the final price. In some vague response, Zeke pulled the brown envelope on the table closer to himself. "Everything has a price,” he said matter-of-factly.

Erwin spoke up. "I did the calculations as soon as I received your call last Thursday and it looks like it would be more than enough to cover what potential earnings we expected within the next two years and more than enough for the development of another project.

Last Thursday night. The night they had met in Zeke’s penthouse suite. Was buying the love alarm an impulse decision on Zeke’s part? The timing just seemed too right.

And they only continued to talk about it, as if Levi wasn’t there. What did an engineer know about business though or about purchases as high volume as the rights to the love alarm?

For something that had taken countless all nighters over time and years of development, the process of selling it just seemed too easy. “Mr. Jaeger, if I may ask, what made you consider buying the love alarm?” Levi asked.

“Hange’s research,” Zeke said, as if it was the most obvious and the most noble reason in the world.

“And when you buy it, what then?” Levi challenged.

“I’ll work with Hange. We’ll hire new developers to fix the bugs you never fixed. We’ll further improve the product and the code and we’ll break the product down, see what else we can use to improve the emotions alarm project.” The answer was disappointing, a far cry from what Levi wanted to hear.

Your other plans with Hange. He had opened his mouth, ready to expound on the question.

Erwin though may have sensed the thick tension between them. "You have the contract?"

Zeke nodded. "I had our lawyer work on it over the weekend, a rush job. You can run through it with the higher ups and I'll have someone pick up a signed copy by this week"

"Believe me, we’re decided, you can even pick it up tomorrow," Erwin said as he opened the envelope, pulled out papers and flipped through the pages. For a second, he dropped the paperwork on the table then onto the page where the executives were expected to sign.

All familiar names from the big wigs all the way, down to Erwin. Levi's name wasn't there at all. Figures, Levi after all, was merely an engineer. He couldn't help but sense irony though in the fact that the one who knew the most about the product had no say in its actual fate.

Erwin's words only made the irony seem more glaring. “We'll use the next two weeks to do some clean up on our end, pack up the resources and work on data migration.”

By ‘we’, Levi knew Erwin would be ordering him to do that.. He couldn’t help but feel slightly cheated though. He would be basically ordered to take apart something he built from scratch, send it off and never see it again. And the longer he stared at the contract that would be ordering all that, the more desolate the air around him seemed to feel.

The product he had worked on for years, taking apart every now and then, breaking and putting back together to find even the smallest bugs, going on countless hours of overtime over, was like a child to him, a child he was unwillingly sending it away to some known.

Some masochistic part of him had him still staring at the contract, long enough still to remember his first contract when he first signed into the company, something that stayed snug into the back of his mind, unexpectedly kicking his arse then.

Ownership of Intellectual Property. Employee agrees that the Company shall own, and Employee shall (and hereby does) assign, all right, title and interest...

Everyone in the room seemed to have too much regard anyway for pleasantries anyway and never felt the need to clarify it. Levi had to rely on his own memory of Zeke saying it just a few days ago in his hotel room.

The company pays you. Any effort, ideas, projects you put into our product is company property.

And Zeke will be buying it so it will be his property.

Whether Zeke even knew how the alarm worked didn’t seem to matter to him though.“So, I guess in a matter two weeks, all server data and resources should be with Jaeger corporation.”

Erwin nodded. “We’d be happy to expedite the process. If all goes well, yes.”

When a huge sum of money was on the line, suddenly red tape was so easy to squeeze one’s way through. It took an enormous amount of effort to stay calm as they signed away the culmination of his own hard work, his countless hours of overtime, the blood, sweat and personal investment he put into that one application, all signed away in a brief second, all the red tape of a few weeks ago, non-existent.

Erwin turned to him, “If you can stay behind after the meeting, so we can discuss the logistics…”

Most days, Levi appreciated the manner at which Erwin spoke, the way he took some regard of Levi’s own time when giving orders. That day, there were too many things happening to even appreciate.

What else do you expect me to do? Say no? Hell, he had wanted to say no, but by the glaring lack of his own name on the contract, the glaring lack of regard for his own opinion on the matter, Levi could only seethe silently.

“Oh yeah,” Zeke snapped his fingers, loud enough to call Levi’s attention. “Hange sends her regards. She enjoyed working with your company a lot.” He turned to Levi and gave him a nod. “And to you too Ackerman, I just have to say we’re very grateful for your hard work and your generosity.”

What generosity? The implication that Levi had any say on commercial decisions seemed mocking.

“We’ll take good care of both applications,” Zeke continued. “And regards from Hange, she wishes you all the best with Petra.”

Petra. Levi let out a cough, letting out a subtle look at Erwin. If the latter did seem bothered, he didn’t show it.

With that, Zeke left the room, and Levi started to understand how someone could keep such a confident demeanor even with the slightest inconveniences. Somehow, having that many assets, wealth and power under one’s belt really had that paper.

The way he strode, embodied it, the way that in just a few phone calls, he had completely dismantled everything Levi had worked on, making it his own.

And when he closed the door gently behind him, leaving Levi and Erwin alone in the room, Levi was reminded once again, the love alarm, the emotion alarm, were never his, as much as he would have wanted to claim ownership.

They were never his, but suddenly they were Zeke’s. Levi turned to Erwin, narrowing his eyes, as he watched the blonde make his way to the desk. Erwin seemed uncomfortable as if he sensed the strange betrayal that something so standard as corporate procedure could bring. Then he cleared his throat and spoke up.

Two weeks. Levi was given two weeks to clean everything, migrate all data and vacate the office.

It was the company's project but it was Levi's responsibility. There was a broken partnership which somehow ended with two products sold. Yet even with all the damage dealt by that deal, the management needed some scapegoat from within the company.

Erwin had explained everything with as professional of a face as possible. With the tight lipped attempt at a grin that followed, the way he had avoided Levi’s eyes one too many times, Levi suspected Erwin knew more than he was letting on.

The photos maybe? The bug with Hange? The broken partnership? Of course someone would end up having to take the blame for giving Zeke a ‘bugged’ application.

Too many reasons, many among those rooted in some attempt to save face, in filthy office politics. And by then, Levi hadn’t been expecting too much.

That probably had been the reason that when Erwin looked back at him with a much softer expression, Levi couldn’t help but let out a long sigh, something to abate whatever emotion was threatening to let loose.

I didn’t think it was right for the mastermind behind the application to be terminated completely empty handed.

Erwin had arranged for some severance pay after the two weeks were over.

Enough to get out of the country, start somewhere else.

A job termination shouldn’t have been enough to be driven out of the country. Levi didn’t make too much sense of Erwin’s words until he had experienced it for himself a week later, through an empty email inbox after sending out the same resume to twenty companies for over thirty roles.

Have you heard of a no poach agreement? Erwin had asked back in the office.

A no poach agreement?

It’s technically illegal so this usually comes as a verbal agreement among companies. They’d note their best employees and if they have to let one go, all companies agree, they cannot hire them for a certain period of time, five to seven years. It's a 'scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' type of deal.

To keep company secrets apparently or to keep Levi from making a similar application in any other company.

If you want to continue working in the development industry, your best chance would be abroad.

Around one week left before his termination would become effective and Levi gave up on finding a development job in his city, hell even his country. Around that time he had started to clean up his studio apartment, throwing out whatever was needed.

He started looking through immigration laws, consulting when necessary. He looked through apartments in other cities, then labor laws. The severance pay was more than enough at least to get him out, and Erwin had been a big help in straightening other legalities out.

He had an extra few weeks to clean out his room, pack up his things, straighten out immigration issues and buy a damn ticket out of there.

In between, his final week at work. He had never considered leaving his job of over a decade to have ended such a long bittersweet moment. In reality, he never really had the time to appreciate normalcy and he felt some regret at that.

Migrating server data, resources, making sure everyone under him had straightened out their leaves, making sure they were assigned to new projects took time. Allowing himself reprieves in-between to just sit down, and stare at half filled boxes also took longer and more effort than he had expected it too.

He stared at the ever increasing boxes that lined his office walls for a while longer. Surprisingly, for someone so fastidious, he had a lot he needed to clean out, both inside the computer and outside.

You will lose all accesses, to emails, to chat accounts and to company property by end of day Friday. He got that same message, in different forms from human resources, from Erwin and Levi was on a strict time limit to get everything out.

In some protest, some act of empowering rebellion, Levi was taking his sweet time. He continued to reserve conference rooms, staying out of his own room as much as possible, going through each line of code slowly as if he they were all individuals all deserving of their own greeting.

He started with the backend, then went to the frontend. He looked through the pull requests and the merge requests and the fixes that would never make the next release.

And Friday couldn’t have come any faster. By then, Levi had ninety percent of his office space cleaned out. He entered the room to find his own team lugging out some of the boxes.

100 percent done then? Levi thought to himself.

Eld was the first one to speak up. “We thought you’d need some help. We heard you only had until five to vacate the room." Yet, he had the expression of a guilty child caught taking cookies from the cookie jar at midnight.

His whole team looked similar.

Levi shook his head. "No, this is much appreciated," he said. A stiff choice of words if he did say so himself but the last few hours of work weighed on him more heavily than the days leading up to it.

He only had two hours before he lost access to everything he had worked on for years.

He held his work laptop close to himself as he watched them lug box after box out of the room.

"Eld was suggesting we go get something to eat tonight," Gunther suggested.

"That depends…" Levi started. Definitely, whether he enjoyed it depended on how quickly he could brush off that weight then that tightening in his chest. "Have you talked to your new team leads? Your new managers?" he asked, an attempt at a light conversation. He wondered if his expression betrayed his words.

Maybe they did. "Or we could wait a few days," Eld said.

"We'll see. We have a few more hours before the end of day," Levi said. He slipped past them and walked back into his office.

Shelves empty, desk spotless and even the floor shone with some unsettling gleam. It had always been spotless, he made sure of it but there had always been something melancholic about rooms that had been full for years, suddenly empty.

And until a few weeks ago, the room had felt like Hange. He had deliberately left many of the crooked books on the shelf, the crooked documents, the titled reusable paper tray and the test devices messily lined up on the shelfs because Hange had left it that way.

And the whiteboard right next to his desk which Hange had failed to clean many weeks before was suddenly wiped clean. Levi didn't even noticed he let out a sound, a mix between a gasp and a whimper when he saw Hange's list of emails completely gone, erased over.

"You okay in there, boss?" Petra asked.

"Someone cleaned the whiteboard," Levi said.

"Oluo, I told you he'd point out your shitty job cleaning the board!" Petra said, from just outside.

Oluo responded. "Well, he's not going to be using it anymore so I though--- Ow!" Some silence followed, then approaching footsteps. "Sorry sir, I'll clean it again."

"No, it's fine," Levi said, he put his hand up, as if to stop Oluo from making that quick trek back to the white board. "I'll clean up the rest. Thanks for the help."

For once, he was grateful for someone's carelessness. The white board wasn't as clean as he thought it was a second ago and maybe because he would have rather it wasn't clean.

Hange wrote in crooked lines where ends hit one another, others fell and the fonts and sizes were never too similar from one line to the other. And the closer Levi came to the whiteboard, he noticed it, one email peeking out, spared by the shoddy erasing job.

Wingsoffreedom132

Hange had multiple emails she used for testing and when Levi opened his work laptop one last time, enjoying the last few hours of access as he cleaned up folders and code repositories, he found himself looking back at the email.

Does she still use it? He asked himself

Maybe. It was worth a try at least.

He looked once again around the room, the very empty room. Then he looked back at his screen, opened the repositories that were ready to be sent out to the point person from Jaeger corporation.

Then he opened his own personal folder, the unfinished codes from the love alarm then the mood alarm then the plans, the files and on the upper left of the file 'the Mood Alarm.'

To hell, with red tape, bureaucracy and all that shit. It was his project, right at his fingertips. It wasn’t Zeke’s nor was it management. The only reason they probably hadn’t sacked him on the spot was because he was the only one who could have so efficiently organized it before they sent it off to some poor sap who worked under Jaeger corporation.

He allowed himself one rebellion, or more specifically a string of rebellions.

If he were forced by some bureaucracy to send all the resources of the love alarm and the mood alarm to Hange, he would do it on his own terms.

He disconnected from the office wifi. He opened a hotspot then he opened his own personal email. Opening an incognito tab, he transferred all the codes and resources to his own personal repository, organizing it in a similar manner.

Then copied the link and started to compose an email.

To: [email protected]

All the codes for the love alarm

He pasted the link right below.

All codes for mood alarm.

And below it, he pasted another link.

He waited for a few more seconds as the email loaded the attachment, the file with all the plans he had for the mood alarm, allowing himself a small smile as he imagined Hange pondering the name 'mood alarm.'

He vacillated between writing a message under and keeping it brief. Then a second later, his fingers moved for him, he didn't even realize what he had been writing until it was on the page, ending on a period for finality.

“Dedicate your heart.” He read it out loud, then he felt a pang on his chest and a twist at his gut.

Dedicate your heart to what? He didn't want Hange dedicating her heart to anything. He wanted her free, flying high, doing whatever the hell she wanted to, bound by no role, no debt of gratitude, no excuse for love.

Reach for the sky? Hell, she could probably even make it to the stars.

So he went for something that left him cringing.

Reach for the stars (or anything higher than that).

Then he added something, collateral from that rush of indignance.

Don’t let anything stop you. Just remember, I would have given you all these damn codes for free.

After sending the email, he took a few precautions. He cleared his history, his cache, his browser and he deleted the rest of the files in his laptop. With one hour before the end of day, he turned off the laptop.

“Do you need any more help?” Petra had entered the room, hands behind her back in some very faux casual manner. And she seemed to be avoiding his gaze.

Levi used that moment to wipe that last line of Hange’s email, as if that could have been evidence to that bout of rebellion. “I’m done. Let’s leave the rest to whoever will be cleaning up the desk.”

Petra didn’t seem at all suspicious, or maybe she didn’t care. “That’s good. WIll you be joining us for dinner?”

Levi nodded. “Maybe my leaving is worth a dinner.”

“You’re really leaving?”

“Looks like it.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I bought a plane ticket, secured a visa. I'll go somewhere, far from here, then find a job or maybe work freelance.

“I want you to stay here.”

“I wanna stay here too,” Levi admitted. “But I couldn’t even find a job.”

“I’ll miss having you here… And working with that love alarm. I really believed in the product and it made me realize my own feelings too,” Petra leaned by the window, looking worse for wear.

When Levi gave a long look, he noted maybe she had been crying. He almost felt guilty for not even struggling to fight back tears then.

Maybe his body had already reached the point of pure catatonic, pure acceptance at the hopelessness of the situation. “I’m sorry.” What was he saying sorry for? “I mean— I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

Petra took a deep breath. “This is probably the only time I can say something so I’ll say it now and you know, if you believe in your love alarm, you probably figured it out already,” Petra started. “I like you, I really like you. Actually you know what, it might be love. I don’t know if that would change anything—”

“It won’t.” Levi kept his voice firm. “I bought the ticket. I organized my papers and I have a place to stay. I’m leaving.”

“For good?” Petra had on a wounded look, her mouth twisted into something similar to a pout, by her eyes were elsewhere as if she knew there was a little too much vulnerability in her voice. “So, whatever I feel, it won’t change anything?”

Levi shook his head. “I don’t think it would be fair to you if I accept your feelings. I’m in no hurry to date.” He let out a clipped sardonic laugh. “At this point, I’ll probably die alone.”

“You deserve—”

“And you deserve someone who wouldn’t decide to date you for convenience.” Maybe Levi had been a little too frank at that moment.

Petra didn’t respond, her mouth frozen in a tight lipped line.

“The love alarm will be back so maybe you can use that to find someone else whose alarm rings with yours,” Levi continued, his voice deliberately gentler. “Or what about growing something organically, without the help of that stupid app. I honestly think, sometimes the love alarm causes more chaos than actually fixes things.” He shrugged. “It depends on the circumstances really.”

Circumstances he probably would never understand. He turned back to the black screen and reflected for a long painful moment about it. He was a slave to circumstance.

They were silent for a while longer and Levi used that time to recover, willing himself not to meet Petra's eyes.

She broke the silence a few seconds later. “We’ll meet you by the gate for dinner?”

“I’ll see you then, just give me an hour or so,” Levi said, checking the clock on his phone. He had a little more than an hour left before EOD. “Or just text me when you find a restaurant.”

It took a little longer to convince Petra to leave and it had ended with them having to text Levi a familiar restaurant name.

Levi had taken his time doing nothing at all, just sitting on his office chair in his bare office room. He counted down the minutes on his phone until five. A few times he had even stared at the seconds counting down on the digital clock view on his phone.

Around a minute past five. He booted his laptop again, typed out his email and password.

Access Denied. Please contact your IT Administrator.

At exactly five in the afternoon, he lost access to the system. He took a deep breath and let reality weigh him slowly, then sink deep into him in one swift sensation.

The love alarm and the mood alarm were never his. Any delusion that they were his had dissipated with all the company accesses.

***

In an airport, the point past immigration is international space.

Maybe that explained that strange liberation that came with getting past immigration and walking through the gates, searching for his own. Or it could have been many things at once. He was out of his old job, out of his old environment and somehow, in its own way, it symbolized a new beginning.

Even as an international space though, some things weren’t completely unavoidable. Settling on the departure gate, Levi went through some final checklists on his phone.

He had a new bank account. He had a place to stay as soon as he landed.

And his inbox was a confluence of unread mail. Many of them were goodbyes, from colleagues, some from finance, from human resources, from his own team and he wondered how the hell people found out and what they were thinking about his leaving.

Erwin sent a few tips on taxes and getting housing loans. Petra had sent a ‘safe flight’ message with the same pleasantries of meeting up when she gets to visit.

There was one message was avoiding and he decided to open it last. He spent the first few minutes before that spamming the same thank you message to every single goodbye message.

That one other message after all, was easy to ignore, just a bank notification that money had been wire transferred.

One hundred thousand dollars, the exact money he had lost and sent over to Yelena, he realized as he opened the message and put a little more thought into it.

You have two weeks to claim it. Two weeks? The countdown started a week ago and he only had a week to claim it.

Actually, not even a week. Looking up at the boarding time, he realized he only had an hour. He could probably organize something to have it sent over to his new account. Considering timing and the logistics though was stressful enough already. And besides, his mind found it more enticing to just indulge the context behind such a large sum of money.

It could have been a scam. The amount of money though had seemed too much of a coincidence and admittedly, Levi was a still lovesick.

Don’t send me money. Just fucking talk to me. Levi whispered to himself. Just in case, just in case that was Hange.

In some indignant response, he decided to delete the message and instead, spend last few hours going through some obscure threads on the industry. Something he had been actively avoiding.

Business Jaeger Zeke Jaeger acquires the love alarm… The mogul had found a fatal bug on the love alarm…

In a noble effort to improve the efficacy and accuracy of the product, he took it upon himself to oversee development….

Head developer behind the love alarm has been terminated....

Unnamed developer. He had at least been given that much. Levi let out a sigh. For a high profile application, no one really figured out the name of the head developer. It was a thankless job but Levi never thought too much about the glory of it.

And at that moment, he could only be grateful for the anonymity, whether or not Zeke had done it deliberately.

Plane ready for boarding.

They would be starting with first class passengers first and Levi knew he had more than enough time to take a trip, to the farthest trash can, yet still something near enough to catch the flight.

He unzipped the front pocket of his backpack, pulling out a small sim card pin. He poked it, pulling out the tray, noting the bronze sheen of the sim card. It had taken him a few tries to hold the small card between his fingers and a few more tries to bend it between his fingers, bend it to the point of unusable.

He pocketed his phone and quickly made his way back to the boarding gate.

No bank account. No phone number. He wondered why he went through that much of an effort to destroy everything.

Maybe just for an attempt for a new beginning. Or maybe because he didn’t want her to find him.

The more he thought about it though, the sooner he realized he wanted her to find him. He just thought it better to assume that she wouldn’t even try.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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some-cookie-crumbz · 3 years

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Insights

Insights Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: TodoMomo; established Huwumi and Natsuo x Mouse GIrlfriend Summary: TodoMomo Positivity Week Day 2 Prompt Fill: Roses. Shoto kinda seeks out romantic advice from Natsuo and Hawks and then everything gets complicated. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

Despite his concerns in the beginning, Todoroki Shoto had learned that relationships were a relatively easy thing to navigate. Well, given that there was respect and trust and communication, anyway. Which, he was proud to say he had with his girlfriend, Yaoyorozu Momo. The two of them were hitting the start of their third year at UA as well as their first year together as a couple. Shoto hadn’t thought much about it until he’d gone to a small training event with some of his other classmates.

“So,” Kaminari had drawled, a sly grin on his lips, “I gotta know. What’s on the agenda for you and Yaomomo’s anniversary? Because if you need some suggestions, I’ve got your back!”

He had blinked and tilted his head at him. “Ha?”

Sero snorted as he walked over as well. “Todoroki, it’s okay! You don’t gotta play coy with us! High roller like you must be planning to bust out the big guns for your first anniversary with your girlfriend!”

He merely continued to stare at them, unsure what they meant. “You shitty extras are giving IcyHot way too much credit. Dumbass probably doesn't have shit all figured out,” Bakugo scoffed.

“... Should I be making a big fuss over it being a year since we officially started dating?” Shoto had asked, genuinely befuddled. Which seemed to distress Sero and Kaminari, who had just as genuinely thought he was just teasing. The epiphany that he wasn’t just messing with them had led down a rather slippery slope of explaining the significance of anniversaries and such when in a romantic relationship. Specifically, how the one year mark was a huge landmark and warranted going above and beyond for your partner. And it wasn’t as if Shoto was completely ignorant to these things - both his older siblings were in successful relationships, after all - but… Well, the way they made it sound, their schedule should be much grander than it was. Outside of them agreeing to spend that day together, they hadn’t discussed much more nor had Momo implied she expected more than that.

But, then again, it seemed like an unspoken rule of courtship. So maybe she had simply assumed he already knew what to do?

Which was how he ended up awkwardly wandering into the living room of the estate, where Natsuo and Keigo were settled in front of the television and having a playful debate. “Nii-Chan,” he said when there was a lapse in the conversation.

The two older men both looked up at him. “Which one?” Keigo teased.

Natsuo rolled his eyes. “You aren’t his brother yet, birdbrain,”

“Ah, yes, because three months of time will make such a huge difference,”

“I meant Natsuo,” he clarified. Keigo’s feathers ruffled a bit at the remark while Natsuo flashed the Pro a smug grin. He then turned his attention back to Shoto and nodded his head, indicating he continue with what he had to say. “I need your advice on something… personal.”

He blinked before his brow knit in concern. “Hmm? Did you strain something during one of your workouts again? I keep telling you, Shoto; it’s fine if you wanna push your limits a little, but you can’t go breaking yourself like your buddy Midoriya,”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not about that. It’s about my upcoming anniversary with Momo,” Both men looked absolutely stunned by this, eyes wide and gawking. Shoto shifted his weight uncomfortably to keep himself from backing down, feeling incredibly judged. “I need help figuring out what to do for it.”

“Ah, Shoto, Shoto! You’ve come to the right man for help with this!” Keigo suddenly sang, a few of his feathers flying over and starting to push him towards the blonde. Once he was close enough, he was pulled down beside him, one of his arms draping over the younger’s shoulders as he leaned into him. “Let the King of Romance help you out! With my knowledge on your side, you’ll woo Yaomomo right off her feet!”

”Uh, excuse you,” Natsuo snapped, slamming one hand on the table to get their attention, “but he was coming to me for help. You know. Me. His big brother.”

Keigo’s arm slipped off Shoto’s shoulders so he could clap his hands together as if he was praying. He then gently tapped his lips with his hands, humming as he did. “Yeah, but… How to put this gently… You are bad at romance,” he said after a few pregnant pauses, enunciating the words of the final sentence with small chops of his hands.

“Wha-! What the Hell?”

“Look, I’m not saying I’ve heard some things but I’ve heard some things. Pro tip: Being together for three years doesn’t mean you don’t still have to try,” Keigo said, smirking as he held his hands up in a placating manner and glancing at Shoto.

Shoto blinked slowly before turning his attention to his flustered older brother again, curious what his response to that would be.

“I’d rather have room for improvement than being a brain dead peacock like you!” he snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at him. He then turned to Shoto again, pointing at Hawks again aggressively. “Shoto, did you know that our sister got accosted by a Villain when this idiot tried to propose?”

“I was off duty and out of my jurisdiction! It’s not my fault the Pro that runs that area had shit scheduling! And I got her away from the creep!” Keigo snapped back, slamming one of his hands down on the table as well and leaning closer to the other Todoroki.

“That creep was naked!” he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest and quirking an eyebrow expectantly.

Shoto’s head snapped between the two of them in complete bewilderment. He didn’t recall that being part of Fuyumi’s retelling of how Keigo had proposed. “... I… What?”

“It had to do with his Quirk,” Keigo waved a hand dismissively, as if that answered ever question Shoto could have to go along with that, but his gaze never wavered from Natsuo. One of his bushy eyebrows twitched in a way that seemed a bit menacing, as if he was about to deal a huge blow to the other. “Look, you don’t get to criticize me on shit when you’re too much of a coward to take the plunge!”

“What did you say, you mushy chicken nugget?”

“You heard me, protein powder!”

At this point, Shoto quietly crept away from the pair and made a beeline for the kitchen. After that, he had earned a glass of water or juice or something. Fuyumi was settled at the counter, preparing tea water with the electric kettle, while chatting amicably with Nezumi, Natsuo’s girlfriend. Nezumi herself was settled at the table, rounded mouse ears up to show she was comfortable and content. His sister perked up and smiled at him. “Hmm? Oh, hey, Shoto,” she mused. She seemed to read his body language well as her smile faltered. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.” She motioned him over towards the table while plucking out another tea mug for him.

“You two are dating a pair of useless idiots,” he groaned as he slumped at the table, letting his head thunk against the surface. After a moment he sighed and brought his arms up to rest his head on them instead. “Or maybe I’m the useless idiot.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk about yourself like that, Shoto!” Fuyumi admonished as she started pouring the water into the mugs.

Nezumi’s ears tipped down a bit as she meekly leaned over to give his head a comforting pat. “Would talking about it help, Shoto-Kun?”

He sighed again and closed his eyes. “Well, it’s just… Momo and I are going to be having our one year anniversary next Sunday and I worry that I don’t have anything spectacular figured out,” he confessed. He opened his eyes as Fuyumi carefully set a mug in front of him, watching the steam billow over the top. He pushed himself to sit upright and take the mug, letting the warmth bleed into his hands through the ceramic.“I want to make this something good for her. She’s important to me and… I just… I want to make sure she knows that. I want to make sure to show her that the right way.”

“Shoto, there is no right or wrong way to celebrate your anniversary. Every couple is different and what works for one may not work for another,” Fuyumi said, ever patient as she reached out and gently stroked his back. He could feel some of the tension slip from his body at her presence and reassurance. A glance at her revealed a small smile on her lips. “I mean, what Keigo and I do is radically different from Natsuo and Nezumi-Chan. And what you and Momo-Chan want to do to celebrate is most likely different from both of us, too.”

Nezumi nodded, lifting her mug to blow a bit at it. “Has Yaoyorozu-Chan made any mention of what she’d like to do with you on the anniversary?” she prompted before taking a small sip.

“She told me she just wants us to spend the day together,” he said. He took a sip of his own tea as his mind churned back to the conversation for the umptenth time, looking for any and all small details he could have missed. “We talked about maybe going to a park to walk around or something. But we do things like that for dates all the time. I want to make it special, somehow… Something more than just another date.”

Fuyumi tapped her chin before her eyes lit up and she grinned at him. “You could prepare a picnic for that day!”

Shoto stared at her for a long, quiet moment. “... Do you remember what happened last time I tried cooking?”

“We could help you,” Nezumi chimed in. Then, seeming to immediately worry she’d stepped out line, she slumped back. Her ears were tipped further down and she avoided eye contact. “O-Only if that’s okay, of course!”

He offered her a small smile, gently patting her shoulder so she would look at him. “I would appreciate it. Thank you, Nezumi-San,” She blinked then smiled and nodded. Her ears tipped back up completely and her stance became a bit more casual again. He blinked then frowned again as another thought occurred. “Ah, but what about a present?”

“Hmm… What do you think she’d like?” Fuyumi asked before taking a sip of her tea.

“She’s been gardening in her free time and seems to enjoy that,”

“Ah, a bouquet! You could get her that if she likes flowers!” Nezumi said eagerly. Her tail was visibly now, swaying a bit like he’d noticed it did when she was excited about something. “And I may have a suggestion for how you can make it a little more special!”

“Thank you, both of you,” Shoto said, finally allowing his whole body to relax at the prospect of having some real help to figure out what to do.

……………………………………………………………..

“Shoto-Kun, good afternoon! I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” Momo called the following week as she jogged over to him. They had agreed to meet up at the entrance to the park. In one arm he had the sizeable picnic basket Fuyumi had helped him put everything in while the picnic blanket was tossed over his opposing shoulder.

“Ah. Not at all,” he said, smiling when he was her. He then held the basket up, looking away sheepishly. “I, um… prepared a lunch for us. With Fuyumi-Nee and Nezumi-San’s help. It’s nothing extravagant but I hope that it is acceptable,”

Gray eyes lit up at that. “Oh! I brought a homemade dessert for us as well!” She indicated the large purse she had slung over her shoulder, moving it to hold it open so he could peer inside. There was a colorful tupperware container inside, along with her other personal effects, but he couldn’t make out what was inside it. “It’s just some cookies… I’m still figuring out how to make more complex treats but I felt this would be a simple but enjoyable.”

“I’m sure they’ll be delicious,” he said with a nod before starting to rummage through the basket. “One last thing. I got these for you.” He help out to her a bouquet of a dozen white roses, tied off with pastel pink paper and lacy purple ribbon.

“Roses? They’re lovely, Shoto-Kun. Thank you,” she giggled, reaching to take them. She help the bouquet closer to smell them. She perked up when the rose dead center, sticking out just the slightest bit more than the others, brushed her nose. She blinked in alarm before tentatively reaching out to touch it. “Ah, it seems that this one is fake.”

“Yes. That was intentional. You see, this bouquet comes with a promise,” he explained, heart racing a ,mile a minute as he remembered what Nezumi-San had told him to say.

“Oh?”

“Yes. That I will love you until the final rose wilts,”

Momo’s eyes widened, her fingers still tracing the fabric petals of the fake flower, as a pink hue crept up her cheeks and the tips of her ears. A small smile turned up on Shoto’s lips as she stared down at the bouquet affectionately.

Maybe he could get this whole romance thing down, after all.

#My Hero Academia #TodoMomo #Yaoyorozu Momo #Todoroki Shoto #TodoMomo Positivity Week #my fics #I just really wanted to include family shenanigans #And Shoto getting to bond with his siblings partners #And stupid sappy cliche internet post style shit from the early 2000s so #*shrugs*#If you don't like it #Fite me in a Denny's parking lot

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docholligay · 3 years

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Doc what's something you firmly believed in your late teens/early 20's but no longer think is true?

Oh fuck me WHERE DO I BEGIN???? I was wrong about so many things, small and large, and it was time and knowing better that taught me differently. This is why I’m such a firm believer that people can change, because I know I changed! I am lucky enough that I had the room to grow on shit, that there were enough chances for me to see another point of view explained to me that they stuck!

For example, and really putting myself out there in a vulnerable way:

I was kinda TERFy when I was younger! Not like, “I hate trans women, full stop” nothing so garishly obvious, but like, I believed in the idea of trans women having been ‘socialized male’ and thus always ‘kinda being men’ no matter how long they’d been transitioned. I believed totally uncritically that one could be not attracted to all trans women despite that fact that they don’t all look the same, or even particularly similar. I was one of those people who thought of trans men and women as Men* or Women* instead of men and women, you know? Experience has taught me differently. Actually like, meeting people has taught me differently.

I used to think that checks to Natives directly and the reservation system was a huge mistake, because of what I saw here, but oh my god it is so much more complicated than that, and I now know enough to know I don’t actually have the full answer to how to fix things. And can’t! My experience with the one tribe I have lived half an hour from my whole life is not universal, it’s not even MONTANAVERSAL, it’s not even entirely fair based on my own experiences, but it’s so easy to be like, WELP, and I was very guilty of that. I don’t see things that way anymore. I find there are probably multiple shades toward an answer that actually helps people, and I know that smarter people than me will have to be the ones to find the compass point.

I used to firmly believe in an “open market” a lot more than I do. I have gotten FAR FAR more lefty as I’ve gotten older, while somehow also getting more independent. I don’t fit neatly into a category anymore, where I feel like “white liberal” would have fit me really well before. I have become a huge labor radical in a way I wasn’t when I was younger. I also believed in “choice liberalism” a lot more than I do now, which I basically find to be “self-soothing behavior” and I think we can all agree I don’t really engage in that anymore.

I used to think you are what you are, and that was impossible to change, and I know now that it’s horseshit. I was never smart but at one thing, but that’s not something to be lamented. I can always work harder to be something better, because we are not the accumulations of our genes and our past. We have a say in what we are, and though what you have been can lay a road to see what’s likelier, detours are real. I have the strength to turn back, to make a new road, to cut across a field. I don’t surrender to things the way i did.

I’ve always been EXTREMELY strong-willed and quick to judge, part of my charm, but now I see myself with the same eye I see others with, and am just as quick to demand things of myself, versus my old “The things that I find easy are HUGE SOCIAL ISSUES AND YOU’RE BAD FOR DOING THEM the things I find hard are totally understandable” I’m a lot better at sussing out my own bullshit as well as others, at knowing when my needs are genuine versus when I’m making an excuse. I’m a lot harder on ME, which I value.

I mean, even five years ago I made the mistake of thinking social justice was a club to be wielded and not a conversation to be had. I learned the vocabulary, and figured out how to win with it, and I find that DEEPLY embarrassing now.

I’m struggling to come up with a TON of concrete examples, I know, and I apologize, I have pregnancy brain REAL BAD lately, and to totally make excuses for myself, my pregnancy this last trimester is playing merry hell with my ADHD. I’m doing a lot of stuff to try and fight it, but there’s a lot of things I can no longer do.

All this, I know, could get me in trouble, and when one makes one’s living online it’s not an UNREASONable concern, but I’m a human person, and I want you all to know that. I have been DEEPLY wrong, about so much, but that didn’t have to be my life’s story. I will look back at the me of now, five years from now, and be ike, “What the fuck were you thinking” I hope! I hope I continue to learn and grow, and be better, be closer to someone I can be proud of.

#Anonymous

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goldenkamuyhunting · 3 years

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Wilk and Grisha Yeager from Attack on Titan had the same goal: to liberate their races from oppressive regimes. But their parenting styles were radically different. Zeke resented Grisha because Grisha raised him not as a child but as the prince and future savior of Eldia since his birth. Asirpa, on the other hand, remembers Wilk fondly and shows no signs of being raised as a tool and weapon. Why did Noda portray Wilk differently from Grisha as a father and a freedom fighter?

Well...

I’m not really a fan of “Attack on Titan”. I recently tried watching the first series and I loved the animation (I so wish GK could benefit of such an amazing animation!) but, for some reasons, it still didn’t really intrigue me that much even if I could see it was a well constructed story with lot of interesting characters so I ended up stopping there.

Maybe I should give it a second chance when work isn’t draining me.

Anyway, back to your question I can’t really compare Wilk’s raising methods to Grisha‘s because I didn’t manage to see Grisha’s methods yet... but still the answer to your question is pretty simple.

They do things differently because they’re different people/characters written by different authors for different purposes.

Not all the fathers and not all the freedom fighters are the same so it’s not like Noda and Isayama HAD to forcefully represent them as the same. Sure, sometimes in stories authors chose to go for the same tropes, so you meet father figures who act the same but this is not a given. You can also have authors who chose to defy those tropes in favour of different portraials.

Even if we consider GK, who has two fathers who’re also 2 freedom fighters we see how Kiro and Wilk raise their children differently.

Wilk views Asirpa as a future leader of the Ainu and seems to count on her to reach his goal where Kiro wants to be the one who’ll reach his goal for his children.

Wilk started to train Asirpa when she was really young... while Kiro left his children safely at home and didn’t involve them in the gold hunt.

Even in the way in which Kiro and Wilk handle Asirpa they’re different.

Neither of them taught her to kill or encouraged her to do so but Wilk, in chap 137, entrusted her with the task of murdering a bear when she was really small (even though, truth to be told, he was there to cover her back)...

...while Kiro, when they were facing a bear in chap 68, told her to stand back.

Kiro wanted Asirpa to be educated on the minorities outside Japan and to learn about the risks all the minorities were facing as well, where Wilk preferred her to learn about Ainu culture and go to a Japanese school.

This reflects the fact they’ve different views on how to raise children and on how to introduce them to their cause.

They’re not the only ones who, despite being fathers in similar situations, act differently.

Thinks to Ueji’s father and Koito’s father.

Both had a right to be disappointed in their children as they were performing poorly at school but Ueji’s father insisted he was disappointed with him and, officially, gave his dog away so as to force him to focus on his studies where Koito senior instead first let Koito be (probably also due to him suffering depression due to his son’s death) continuing to spoil him without scolding him and then acted supportive when Koito decided to switch from the navy to the army (even though navy and army had poor relations ans this could be a problem for him).

And then we’ve Hanazawa who pressured his son into becoming an idol for the army.

Fathers, and even more characters, come in any flavours in Golden Kamuy. They don’t have to be all the same or follow the same rules because their goals are similar.

So, back to Wilk, I think he loved Asirpa and put value in showing his daughter that love. Maybe he was a loved child, so he learnt to pour love to children from his parents, maybe it was Riratte who influenced him by giving him love.

It’s also clear Wilk wanted Asirpa to be involved in his cause... but I think he also wanted it to be her own choice, not something he forced upon her because there’s nothing that makes you more devoted to a cause that the fact YOU decided for yourself that’s what you want to pursue.

So he gave her an aducation of which she would benefit once she were to decide to become a partisan... but didn’t introduce her to partisans, didn’t pressure her to hate Japanese or educate her to murder people.

Ultimately what Asirpa will do with her knowledge is Asirpa’s choice.

Truth to be told though, Wilk seemed so enamoured with his ideals it could be he believed Asirpa’s choice would come naturally and she wouldn’t need to be forced into it.

It’s hard to say.

It’s also worth to mention that, in truth, we only have small fragments of what Asirpa’s life with Wilk was. As she loved her father and lost it when she was a little above 6 it’s entirely possible that, if she had some unpleasant memories of him, she subconsciously removed them and kept only the good ones.

Long story short it’s really hard to judge how Wilk was as a father because there’s little material and all of it is seen through Asirpa’s eyes.

He clearly came out as an odd father in Ainu’s eyes as the education of Ainu children at the time was very gendered, with the boys going with the fathers and learing how to hunt and the girls remaining with their mothers and learning female works so Wilk, teaching Asirpa how to hunt, surely came out as odd... and he would have looked even odder if it turned out he wanted Asirpa to lead the Ainu... so his actions aren’t just moved by his love for her.

He clearly has a goal for her.

But back to your question what’s interesting though is that his goal for her is not to be a tool or a weapon in his hands, is to be a leader. Somehow Wilk didn’t want Asirpa to be an instrument but the master of her own destiny. If anything he hoped she would surpass him as a partisan warrior and become what he couldn’t be.

The one who would lead Ainu... gaining what he couldn’t get, freedom for the Ainu.

Fathers who view their children as weapons or tools often instead want to be the one who’ll become something or who’ll gain something, with the kids being merely pawns in their games, not masters of their own destiny.

In a way it’s a matter of trust and ambition.

Wilk didn’t aim to lead the Ainu for himself and trusted Asirpa to be able to do a better job than he would, other fathers just want to reach something for themselves and don’t trust their children to be able to reach goal without them ‘leading/directing/using’ them.

We see it in the Hanazawa/Yuusaku relation, where Yuusaku is a pawn, meant to inspire Hanazawa’s troops and not make his father look bad.

And it’s interesting because Ogata too expected Asirpa to be a pawn in Wilk’s game and didn’t quite understand why he hadn’t taught her to kill... whcih Wilk should have done if Asirpa were meant to be just an instrument in his hands.

Wilk instead wanted for her something more than just that.

Said all this, I don’t mean Wilk was an awesome father.

In his love for his own cause he still influenced and directed Asirpa’s growth toward the destination he wanted. It was much lighter manipulation than the one children were normally subjected back then (back then fathers were to chose a child’s future job and, possibly, also who they would marry) but it’s still manipulation.

He might have been blind to it, thinking he was doing it for Asirpa’s well being... but he still forced her in a situation that was pretty dangerous and manipulative.

Long story short I think Wilk wanted to be a good father... but that ultimately he still prioritized his goal over what Asirpa might want in the warped idea Asirpa would surely want the same as him.

But well, that’s just me so I might be wrong.

#Golden Kamuy #Wilk #Asirpa #Kiroranke #Hanazawa Yuusaku #Hanazawa Koujirou #Ogata Hyakunosuke #Koito Heinojou #Koito Otonoshin #Riratte #Ask #Iukasylvie #Other people's posts

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joshslater · 4 years

Text

Russian Dolt

Another Hank collab. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I was just about ready to give up and head back to the hotel. I’ve spent 16 years being a sales representative across Southeast Asia, and I know all the regional variations on the prostitutes fairly well. Here in Manila, a Russian girl would go for at least twice the price of a local. A Malay girl would go for a discount. But too much of the same old thing grows boring, and that’s why I was out in the bars tonight instead of just calling an escort to the hotel for a “massage”.

I wasn’t sure what I was after, to be honest, which was part of the problem. Maybe a threesome? A gymnastics girl doing tricks for me – and on me? I’ve heard that in some countries the Olympic teams even earn some side money in brothels. I’ve never found it myself, but that would be something different at least. So far nothing I had found had really turned my crank. I was polishing off a mediocre whiskey when I was approached at the bar by the man.

The guy was younger than me, maybe 25, and looked very Russian. Buzzed hair, tank top, tight jeans, flip flops, cheap tats and the don’t give a fuck attitude that their entire nation has adopted since they lost the Cold War. He smelled of smoke and cheap cologne. He looked to be in great shape. I didn’t want anything to do with him.

“I overheard you speaking of freak sex, yes?”

The accent was heavily Russian as well. This could be exactly what I was after, but it could also end up with me robbed and dead in a ditch.

“What’s it to you?”

“We have proposal. Have you had sex as not you?”

Despite the hot and wet climate, I could feel a wall of heat radiating on my other side as one real furnace of a man stepped closer to me. I turned my head and looked right into a black tank top. It was filled with a huge pile of meat. I looked up at his face and he made a silent nod. Perhaps not as stereotypically Russian, but still very much old Soviet stock, and presumably lots of old Soviet hormones, not all his. His muscles seemed to have muscles.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Sex as not me?”

“We have a thing that lets you do sex as if someone else. Understand? You could be me?”

“I could be you? Who would you be?”

“I would be you, for short time. Very short. Then you as me do any things, dangerous things. Nasty things. But safe for you. When finished, you are you and I am I.”

I was thinking really hard on how this scam worked. Was this just going to trick me out of 5000 pesos, or was the end goal to take me for all I was worth? The setup was intriguing. Performing sex as someone else… I’d certainly never tried that before. I didn’t want to let fear hold me back, in part because I knew, loathe as I’d be to admit it, that it often did.

“What kind of nasty things?” I finally answered.

“Many different things. You chose. How about fucked by wrestler?”

He gestured towards the pillar of meat on my other side. That surprised me. Back home where I grew up there was a lot of "God hates fags" and crude gay jokes, but I always thought it was a bit obsessive. It's a free country so they can do whatever they want, as long as they keep me out of it. I’d never had sex with a man before, obviously. Never even considered it. I was about to protest how I wasn’t a fag, when a small little voice at the back of my head pointedly said “Damn straight, but apparently he is one.” Well, if I was going to be someone else, then why not go for something truly wild and different? Something I would never put my own body through.

“How does it work? How do we do it?”

“We put your body somewhere safe. To keep your mind off it. Then we swap. When you are done, we swap again. 3000 pesos per hour.”

Twenty minutes later, if even that, the three of us were standing in my hotel room. The lobby was deserted, save for the night manager who gave us a disapproving look on our way to the elevator. On the way up, I made a quick estimate of what everything I brought was worth. I only had my carry on, some clothes, my laptop, cell phone and travel wallet. If I was completely cleared out by these guys, I could stay an extra day, have the cards blocked and reissued, use insurance to buy replacements, and be on my way. Not much to lose, really.

The big hunk of meat was Boris, because of course he’d be a Boris. He didn’t speak any English. The sleazy guy in the wifebeater was Mikhail, and he was now explaining the details of how he proposed we do this. He had a handcuff with a really long chain, so I could be cuffed to the bathroom water pipe and still make it to the bed. This would allow Mikhail, in my body, to stay securely in the room, watch TV, use the bathroom and such and such while I was out in his body. I was full of doubt. Step one really can’t be that I chain myself with handcuffs to the bathroom pipes? Mikhail saw my hesitation without me saying anything.

“You want to see first, yes?”

“Please.”

From his pocket he pulled out two thumb rings. They were plain iron rings with no inlays, but with engraved symbols running around them, which gave them a brutish look. He gave me one.

“Sit down. Put it on, right hand.”

I did as I was told, and nothing happened. He sat down next to me on the bed and unceremoniously slipped on his ring. Instantly, everything shifted a few feet to the side, and I suddenly looked out of his eyes instead of mine. It worked. It felt amazing.

His body was in such great shape. I ran my hand over the buzz cut stubble on my head, feeling the prickliness of it against my palm. Then, swiftly, just as quickly as I had jumped into his body, I was back in mine, looking at my hand. Mikhail had just removed the ring.

“You can see it works. You want to continue, yes?”

I sure did. I could scarcely believe this technology was legit. Perhaps it was magic. I know, magic isn't real, but then neither are body swaps. I put the ring back on, and wow, the rush. I was back in Mikhail’s body.

Mikhail patted me and got up. It was so trippy to see my body moving next to me. He quickly locked the handcuff to to his left wrist and then stepped into the bathroom to attach the other end of the cuff. He then stepped out again and gave me the key.

“Here, keep this safe. My suggestion would be to put it in the room safe, so you don’t lose it in the excitement.”

To my shock, he was talking fluent English now, without any accent.

“I will do,” I answered, immediately laughing a dumb Russian laugh. Wow, how stupid my own voice sounded. I sounded just like Mikhail in voice, accent and whacked English.

I immediately realized that whatever these rings did wasn't simply placing my brain inside Mikhail's body. That would just change the voice. But to also changed my accent and even words and grammar, which hinted at something more complex. It somehow both frightened and excited me, and I felt a stir in my pants. I wondered what else would be different, what else this body I now inhabited might be made of.

I put the key and my wallet in the safe, and locked it with 7478. Same code as my old phone, based on the Boeing 747-8 plane. As an international businessman I've had many trips on those. Boris started moving and ushered me out of the room, almost impatiently. As the room door clicked shut, I realized that I’m standing outside of my room with no key, no ID, a different body, and next to this oversized hunk of meat. I reminded myself that I can, at any moment, just remove the ring and appear back in the room. I could then open the safe, grab the key, unlock the shackles on my own body, and pretend like nothing had happened. As long as I have my hand free to remove the ring, there is no need for a safe word tonight. I chuckled with Mikhail’s voice at my own internal pun.

The feeling was amazing, getting accustomed to the body. I could tell my first thought was spot on: this bod was in great shape. It was lithe, almost sprightly compared to where I was at normally. Toned and packed with just enough firm muscle to have a bit of a swagger, it seemed. As we strode out of the hotel and into one of the waiting taxis, I ran a hand through my buzzed hair once more, feeling the spike of the flat cut against my palm. I tugged a little and played with the studs in my ear lobes.

Is this how fags felt, I wondered? Are these sort of bodies part of where their pride and sex drive comes from? I hadn’t given any thought before to the idea that men who are attracted to men might find their own bodies hot, too. I looked down at my forearms, noticing the fit power in them, the veins lightly popping. It did look good to me. I could feel queer thoughts, but I wasn’t ashamed or repulsed by them. This wasn’t me, but I could tell it could be very hot to play the gay. And looking at my arms, I felt an erotic buzz. I was starting plump up a little. I was legitimately turned on.

“In Soviet Russia, you not find faggot. Faggot find you!” I said out loud, laughing, thinking that I sounded even dumber than Mikhail did in this voice. One of my favorite jokes finally had a body worthy of it. Both Boris and the driver ignored me.

I suppose Russians didn’t usually make such a classic Russian joke, did they? Or did they? This really was the most out-of-body experience I’ve ever had, quite literally. Talk about risk versus reward payoff. I had to do it again.

“In Soviet Russia, big dick find you!” I found myself slurring, stupidly, and just hearing the ridiculous accent come out of Mikhail’s mouth, a mouth that was mine for the time being, made me snort with laughter again. I didn’t expect that the first few things I’d be doing in this body would be laughing my ass off. It was truly surreal. But it was hilarious, I mean, wow. Maybe it was my way of trying to find my sea legs after such radical change.

We arrived at a different hotel only 15 minutes away from mine, but looking at it they couldn't be further apart. If Mikhail and Boris looked seedy in the lobby of my hotel, they would appear posh in this neighborhood. I was still not used to this body, and wobbled a bit getting out of the taxi. Boris stopped and waited by the hotel entrance while I made a few jumps to test that everything is fine.

“Boris,” I say, my voice reminding me of some squirrel and moose thing – Natasha – Rocky and Bullwinkle – I can’t get over this accent –

“Boris, where is room?”

I find that I almost have a feel for the way the Russkies talk, I think, and that if I just roll with it, I’ll be able to work with it almost effortlessly. Boris started leading me into the hotel and down a hall. He stopped by a door and opened it, with a real key. Not one of those card reader doors. He entered the room and I followed.

First thing I did was to swagger on over to the mirror. I didn't get a good look while in my room before Boris ushered me out. Yeah, I pretty much looked amazing. This body, or whatever sense of sexual desire was in this bod, recognizes male beauty in a way that wasn’t apparent to me at all as a straight guy. This body is fit, it is toned, it is more tanned than I would have expected from a Russian guy. He must have been in The Philippines for a while now, I figured. The tats, which I thought looked like cheap pieces of shit from a budget tattoo parlor before, looked masculine, tough, and sleazy.

I looked like the mirror image of a guy who lived to fuck, drink, smoke and party, I thought- And I could feel that I was craving a smoke, too. But man, that mirror… I was boned, totally erect over a man for the first time in my life, even if it just was myself, in a way.

Mikhail had been wearing that rich brand of underwear to try to act like he was worth something, I suppose. What’s the name of it? I can’t even remember, not being an underwear type myself. To me, despite whatever he must have spent, the briefs and tats all just made him look cheap and trashy. But I liked it. It’d be perfect for tonight. I fully intended to take advantage of it all, go out for a while, have fun and bring someone back tonight. If things stayed chill, I was ready to fuck. Boris looked bored, and wasn’t even really watching me, so I was guessing things were cool.

I recalled Mikhail had blurted something out earlier about “Fuck Wrestler,” which I presumed meant Boris. And I had been thinking maybe I’d do that, initially, not really being sure what I’d do. But now that I was attracted to men, apparently, I really just didn’t think Boris was my type. Or this body’s type. Or whatever. He didn’t seem to be into me, either. I like the look of Mikhail’s body for sure, and it’s almost mesmerizing to me. Breaking away from the mirror is a bit of a challenge, I notice, as I put my tank top back on. Maybe the old line about Narcissus isn’t so far from the truth after all.

“Boris, I want to go to bar,” I said. “Gay bar. You know where?” “да,” the oaf answered.

I understood it as "Yes", of course, but I understood it in a fluid way. Could I speak it, too?

“Вы можете общаться со мной на русском языке?” I blurted to see if he could understand me. My own words sound like something an insect would come up with. They buzzed. They sounded slushy, and they sounded like shit. I really don’t know how folks can speak such an ugly language, how anything could evolve in such a strange way.

“да.” he said again, without any emotion.

There’s some male jewelry on the counter, I noticed as I started to turn out the lights. Dog tags, a pendant. I picked them up and put em on. Looks good- Wonder if Mikhail walked around with that, normally. The whole walk to the bar, I couldn’t help but to act cocky, shifting my posture, feeling playful with this body. Boris, as I found out by trying to chat him up, despite him being a man of few words, did have a pack of cigarettes to help me out with. Soon I’m bumming a couple off of him, and as soon as I could get away with it outside of the lobby, I light up.

The guys walking around Manila that we passed – some are kind of, I don’t know how to put it…not ugly, but not really attractive. I wasn’t really drawn to the girls, I noticed, but not the guys either, all that much. Some of them caught my eye a little more than others. I hoped when we got to the bar that I would find one of the Russians I was expecting to be there. Was that what my genes were hunting for, or was that what I just was expecting to find? A Russian? Would I be attracted to a German, a Frenchman or an American if I ran into any? Good luck picking one up with this voice, I thought to myself. But this is a sexy body. I bet I could pick up a lot of different kinds of guys. Gays aren’t really known for being particular, I thought. At least they’re known to do a lot of depraved shit with anyone. They aren’t like women. They have it easy, so I should too.

The thought of trying to hit on a guy, though I had no clue how to do it, seemed amusing. I felt a tinge of nervousness, but then I remembered this isn’t my real body. I could say anything. There’s a wallet in these jeans and I flipped through it. Was that arranged? There’s enough cash in there, 400 pesos, to drink for a while depending on the prices. I wonder if Boris would loan me more, but how smashed would I really gonna get? It should be more than enough.

Soon we were in the bar. I eyed the field. I spotted my prey almost instantly. Dark beard, full, thick. Bomber sunglasses tank top, twists of tribal tattoo down one arm. I wondered what sort of guy wears glasses in a bar, and I was thinking, fag guys do. And that’s you too, fag boy, so hop to it. And it was alluring, even as I knew it was done for affect. I didn’t care. He was hot.

I didn’t sit down by him right away, though. Boris and I took a spot at the corner, by the entrance. Soon enough, though, I wink at him on his way to take a piss. Why not? Nothing to lose, man.

Once he was out of sight Boris stood up, and surprised I asked him if he was going to leave. I kind of expected he would stick around to make sure I didn't do anything too stupid with Mikhail's body. He smiled for the first time, patted me too hard in the back, responded "Ты справишься" and left. And with that I was on my own.

Well, that’s all fine with me, because I was worried these guys might think I already scored Boris or something. Didn’t want that crimping my game. I was totally comfortable on my own, too. Fuck, it’s not my body. Still can’t get over how liberating it was to just know it.

The night got rolling, more folks were trickling into the club, and Bomber Glasses and I were talking, finally. He is German, but does speak some English. This body did the work for me, I thought. He was into me. I couldn’t help but be fixated at his beard, man, and the chest hair that foofed out of the top of his tank. He has a dog tag of his own around his neck. It’s all so sleazy and fucked up. It’s weird, knowing that what once would have repulsed now allured.

Soon he was buying me a drink. I wondered if I was attracted to powerful guys, as this was the first one who caught my eye out of the bunch, not that there were many to choose from. He was at least a good three inches taller than me. Darker complexion. Thicker hair, and of course that beard. That chest. Mine’s got just a little fuzz. I started to wonder if Russians were a hairy people compared to Germans. I didn’t think they really were, but some definitely are. The train of thoughts caught me by surprise. I’ve never before considered how hairy guys are. Must be the fag in me for sure. Wondered what mixing with this body for the night is gonna do to my mind, long-term. You know, like what if it’s like the long-term effects of a powerful dose of shrooms? That might not be good, depending. It felt OK in the trial swap we did earlier, so clearly it reverts without any seeming issues, but then that was just after a few seconds.

No time to be nervous, though. I wanted to get my money’s worth.

Now the guy’s looking at me, intensely, right in the eyes over drinks, and I was feeling like maybe the gays have a point about wanting their public display of affection. I was feeling like if this guy wanted to fuck out in the streets of Manila with me, I’d do it, despite the filth and chaos. By the time he was kissing me, right in the bar, and I was feeling his thick beard press into my jaw, and we’re speaking our stupid, malformed English to each other, all I could think about was the hard cock that might end up in my ass tonight if this kept going well. I wantws this guy to come back to the hotel with me.

“You and I,” I said, between kisses. “Go wild, with sex, you make sex with me. Hot as sex,” I went, fascinated by the chest hair he was got spilling out of the neckline, rubbing it with my fingers, playing with it, all as best as I could. He was trying to slobber on my earlobe stud and probe my tongue with his ear. We’re making a scene in the bar. I couldn’t care less. He stripped my shirt off right then and there in the bar so he could see my chest. He was playing with my pecs, rubbing the muscle, slapping my firm belly, my firm biceps. “Flex for me,” he commands. I've never done that in my life before, and don't really know how, but somehow I manage to make some tight abs for him. He is lost in admiration, I could see.

We walked out the backdoor of the club, his fingers in the back pocket of one of my jeans, not just kinda steering me, as I’m rather sloshed, but claiming me. Showing who is the top. He squeezed an ass cheek through the denim, and I loved it. He leaned in for another kiss. It’s a steamy night. I needed a smoke, so I lit one up, buzzed up, feeling dreamy as hell, wondering what "nasty things” would actually going to be like. A cock up my ass? I could take one, fuck if I care. Sounded glorious right then. I wondered if I could feel that desire in my ass that they supposedly get? Not yet, I thought, searching my thoughts to see if I felt anything, and decided that maybe it’s because I haven’t tried it, yet. I wanted to try it. This German guy, a man, had me feeling like a creature of beauty. I felt beautiful in a way no woman had ever made me feel before.

I can scarcely remember the walk back to the hotel, for all the alcohol, hormones and groping. I remember wanting to be rather cautious the whole while. Manila is just loaded with chaos, deep pits and potholes you can step into, nothing in the way of sidewalks, not to mention motobikes and jeepneys. The hotel was much too close to bother with a cab.

I remember thinking that the longer I stayed in this body, the more risk I was taking, but I’d come this far tonight and intended to finish it. We didn’t set a time limit. “When you are done” was the deal. That made sense, as they got paid by the hour. They’d want to give me time to fuck until I’m sick of it, presumably by dawn at the latest, and I would obviously want my body back. This set of jeans didn’t even come with ID, and most of my few bucks had already been spent at the bar.

As for the sex, this guy was experienced. I figured as much, but found it out fast once we were in the bedroom together. I mean, I had barely latched the door behind me when he really flaunted his power, flipping me right around, pressing my back up against the door, passionately taking my jaw in his big hands and kissing me, licking me, tenderly and firmly, all at the same time. It’s hard to describe. He was even licking up my neck in broad strokes like I’m a fruit that’s ripe on the vine. It was hot. I suppose I must be a fruit, at least for tonight, haha. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, on my breath. I wanted to hear my dumb, hot, sexy Russian voice again. I was fumbling to get him out of his tank, which should have been an easy move, but I was too drunk.

“Chest, man,” I said. “You hairy, man. You are hairy. It’s hot.” I sounded like an idiot, I know, but it’s hot to hear my voice, too, my slurring, Russian voice.

”Yeah, boy,” he went, feeling up my pecs. I liked being called boy by this guy. Made me feel young, sexy, which I am. And I knew it.

He was practically ripping me out of my briefs and threw me on the bed. He got me naked, and he has got coke. It’s not my body, I think. I knew what to do, believe it or not. I've been to the bars around Wall street and seen what happens in the men's room. So I snorted up a line off the glass counter, walked over, naked, lit up a cigarette right in the room. Didn’t see any non-smoking signs, at least. This isn't the kind of hotel that bothers with smoke detectors. He slapped me on the ass and I couldn’t believe this was me, just hanging out casually, naked with a guy who’s occasionally slobbering all over my lower jaw.

I snorted another line. I felt amped, like coffee, only crazier. I took more at once. With a cross-fade like this, I know it’s more dangerous. Not my body, not my problem.

He was wrestling me down. I loved the feel of my muscles pushing back against his, and I loved trying to toss him, to pin him down, but he was stronger. We wrestled a lot that night, playful. I was so drunk it didn’t really hurt even when he threw me to the floor and body slammed me. It’s just fucking fun, don’t know how to put it, that state when you’ve got adrenaline and passion and lust and a few drugs pumping through your veins.

Man, his cock was a thick one. At one point I remember him shoving his hand in my ass, licking and slobbering all up in my crack, and I’m just on hands and knees, drooling, playing with my own dick as it flopped around and dangled down, making slimy fish line circles of pre-cum in the carpet. Although most dicks in the world are uncut, it somehow felt wrong that my dick now was one of them. Like peeing with boxers on. I was on my haunches, and he was fucking the living shit out of me. It hurt and I yelped out, but guy knew what he was doing, I told myself.

At one point, I half cum, forcing myself to hold it back, not wanting the experience to end so soon. “Try,” I said to him, stopping, getting up off my knees. “Try not to cum,” I said. I had pulled back, hard, using my groin muscles to stop it so I could save my load. A minute later I was good to go again. He put a cock ring on me, telling me that will shut the dick up. I don't know if he brought it or if he found it in the room. Everything was a blur. “You are my pet now”, he told me. He was pushing me down, going for my armpits, slobbering and licking all over them. I had no idea men did that. I was shocked, but it felt great.

There were other surprises. I didn’t expect to be gagging on his thick cock, or expect that he’d seemed to want to pleasure in making me choke on it. But I sure as hell did choke on it. “Spit on it,” he ordered, so I did. “Lick,” he said, so I did, licking my own spit on his cock. I was slobbering up his cock as much as I could with my tongue, thinking that must be what he wanted. It felt good to do. I mean, what an iron rod, what a maypole. This was better than eating pussy, I thought, for sure. I wondered if I’d feel that way tomorrow, realizing I wouldn’t, so I’d better make the most of it now. This would have just seemed sick to me yesterday.

“Fuck me, fuck hard, fuck my ass,” I said to him. My ass had almost started to throb after getting fucked for a while, and it was starting to feel almost empty when it wasn’t getting fucked. Crazy but true, like I wanted him in there. I wondered if this was the prostrate being activated. I could feel it, almost like a heartbeat or something, inside my ass. “Put it in,” I said, wanting him to fuck me more, wanting to understand these sensations better. My ass was sore and yet it just felt so good. Fuck the pain away, and why not?

We took a breather and it was hard to even keep my hands off him for a little while. I wanted to at least massage his shoulders, wrap my arms around him, stroke his legs. If I didn’t have a life of my own, a successful, straight life, I could almost love this guy. The feelings were just so intense, drunk as I was. Probably the alcohol was causing the feelings, but did it matter? He was so beautiful to me. He made me feel sexy. We knew what to do with each other, even as new and awkward as I surely was. The dumb Russian voice Mikhail had was awkward, so fuck if it would matter if my technique was, too. This was all for my excitement, not for the sake of the performance, I remembered.

How long did we fuck? It must have been hours. Time passes at such strange rates when you’ve been partying. I remember my cock being sore, the skin rubbed raw, the thing just aching from the weight of the cock ring, swollen up, but not wanting to stop. I wasn’t sure if I could even get the ring off at this point, drunk as I was. Fuck the pain. “Harder,” I grunted at one part. “Fuck me harder. Deutschland!” I shouted, playful, in lust, this German sex king… my own command sounded like a woof. I really was his pet. But he was also mine.

I didn’t just pass out, I blacked out. I blacked out hard.

I was utterly confused when I woke up in a hotel bed, but then memories started trickle in. The body swap. I clearly was still in Mikhail’s body, I knew, because I could feel it. I felt sore. Wait, why was I still in Mikhail’s body? Looking around I could see I was in the bed in his shitty hotel room, no German to be found. I got up while the whole body was screaming in agony. The bed sheets were pretty much ruined with semen and other fluids. What a mess. My head throbbed with a hangover worse than I have ever experienced before. I stumbled over to the mirror.

Young, muscled, and well-hung were the bright side of what I saw. Everything else I saw in the mirror disgusted me, even more now than when I swapped into it yesterday. I was naked except for the thumb ring and a cock ring. The dick and balls looked bruised, a dangerously purple color. I tentatively touched the dick and pleasure tinged pain shot through my body. It was swollen and had a dull ache, but a small part of me even wanted to play with this dick some more, as I was still horny as fuck. I didn't remember cumming. I didn't even dare to think about the agony it would be to remove that cock ring. I needed to recoup.

I knew Boris and Mikhail were basically showboating a lot of this from the get-go, but after all that, I was really tired of this immersive experience shit. I didn’t know where the German went. I didn’t know if he even kissed me goodbye, and I tell myself it doesn’t matter. This was the wildest trip I’ve ever been on, and definitely worth it. But I didn’t want to deal with this body. I didn’t want to be a fag any longer. I reached to remove the thumb ring when a sudden fear came over me, like I needed to think this through. I paused.

When I remove the ring, where would I end up? Strapped to a cross in a BDSM dungeon? In a Filipino jail? Who knew what sort of Willy Wonka arrangement these guys had in store for me? Hopefully this is just part of the game, or it’s something else that I’m not thinking of. I was trying not to panic. I was not feeling amused anymore. I just wanted out.

I was hungry, thirsty, sore, emotionally drained, horny, and I had a godawful craving for a smoke. Whatever they’ve done to my real body, it couldn’t be any worse than this.

I removed the ring.

Nothing happened.

I screamed. I punched the wall. I screamed ‘fuuuuuuck!’ until I was sobbing on the filthy bed. I was reduced to a crying mess, not surprisingly.

This is my body now. A trashy fag’s body, with an unrelenting sex drive, a smoking habit, a drinking habit, and I no doubt more addictions waiting to be discovered. No surprise he was eager to ditch it. I'm sure my hotel room was cleared out by now, the credit cards emptied to the limit. What would I do with the stuff there anyway? Clothes that doesn't fit and a passport I can't use. This is who I am now, and there is no way to even begin to explain it to anyone, without seeming like a madman.

I really needed a smoke.

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irandrura · 3 years

Text

Terra Ignota

Over the last few weeks, I read Terra Ignota. I read all of the three published books so far: Too Like the Lightning, Seven Surrenders, and The Will to Battle.

Every review of Terra Ignota I have ever read is wrong. Or rather, every review of Terra Ignota I have ever read takes an extremely different perspective to my own, to the extent that I genuinely don’t understand how the author could have concluded that.

So as not to keep anyone in suspense, my perspective on Terra Ignota is that they are surprisingly trashy books, in a world that doesn’t make very much sense, but that doesn’t matter because the heart and soul of these texts is over-the-top soap opera drama. I think they are probably bad, and they outright offended me at several points, but nonetheless they drew me in enough that I wanted to keep reading. There is merit in that.

If you’re the sort of person who cares about spoilers, this is your only warning.

As I said, I don’t understand most of the reviews I have read of these books. I simply don’t.

I don’t understand the view that the writing itself is poetic and beautiful. Palmer has some good phrases from time to time, but overall I don’t find the prose particularly amazing. This is a very subjective point, so I won’t belabour it.

I don’t understand the view that the books are a masterful triumph of worldbuilding. From my perspective, the worldbuilding is actually kind of half-assed, and more importantly, Palmer does not seem to actually care about worldbuilding that much. It isn’t her priority. Reading the books I found myself constantly asking “How does X actually work?” or “Y sounds totally insane, could you explain how it makes sense to me?” or “Z seems like it clashes with X, please resolve this contradiction for me?”, and Palmer never answers those questions for you. If I want some more explanation for why, say, a global transportation system serving billions of people is run without oversight, from a single private residence, looked after by a man well-known to be suicidally depressed… nope, I’m not getting that. If I want some context for how hive-switching works, or how it interacts with crime, not happening. Even minor questions: in The Will to Battle, our heroes talk to a band of criminals involved in human trafficking, and I immediately wanted to know what human trafficking means in a world where borders have been abolished, geographic nations have been abolished, and every place on Earth is just a short taxi ride from every other place. This is the sort of question Palmer does not answer or even acknowledge.

And I don’t actually buy that she’s interested in the questions that I see raised when the books are spruiked to me. Are you intrigued by the question of what the world would look like if every individual could choose their own government, their own law code, unconstrained by geography? I’m intrigued by that. It sounds interesting. But this is not a question that Terra Ignota is actually interested in. It seems like it should be interested in it, and I read enough breathless expositions of how cool the hive system is that I expected Terra Ignota to be interested in it… but it’s not. If you’re interested in, say, the question of whether a permanent exit option would make absolute dictatorship more humane, as in the Masons, then I agree that’s interesting – but it is not a question that the text of Terra Ignota takes any interest in. The big worldbuilding questions raised by the hives are all window dressing.

I don’t understand the idea that Terra Ignota is a brilliant depiction of utopia. I want to acknowledge straight off the bat that I may have a bias here, because Terra Ignota’s world is premised on the, well, genocide of people like me, or at least the forcible suppression and exile of people like me, but I don’t think it’s only the fact that I’m openly in defiance of the First Black Law. Rather, I note two things here. Firstly, it’s hard to see whether Terra Ignota’s society is actually utopian because we spend so little time in it. We do not see how ordinary people live in this world, or what makes it wonderful. What Terra Ignota spends most of its time on is the scheming and backstabbing of the dozen most powerful people in the world, and everyone outside that little circle barely exists in the text. (Abigail Nussbaum noted in her review that Terra Ignota’s world never really feels like it has more than a few hundred people in it, and I agree.) It’s hard to convincingly argue Terra Ignota is a utopia or a dystopia, because we never meet the whole population. We meet a small handful of amoral nobility as they play out a space opera Game of Thrones. That’s certainly entertaining, and I give Palmer credit for making it fun to read, but it’s not really an investigation of utopia. Secondly, where we do see glimpses of the world outside the parlours of the ruthless rich, it…honestly seems rather conventional, and rather like the 21st century. People work fewer hours a week, taxis are much more efficient, movies have smelltracks as well as soundtracks, they go to the Olympics, apparently the Oscars endured the collapse of all nations and religions… but there is little in this world that seems radically different to our own. It’s all minor, incremental bits of technological progress. They’ve eliminated poverty, which is good, but I usually expect something more radical from utopia than that. What do people actually do in Terra Ignota that’s different to what any upper-middle class American might do today? Other, of course, than not go to church, call everyone singular they, and wear tracking devices.

I don’t understand the idea that these books deal with deep philosophical or theological themes. Like the hives themselves, it’s all window dressing. The narrator Mycroft is obsessed with the 18th century, and so is a bizarre anachronistic brothel that somehow every major world leader attends (cf. worldbuilding being weak, the world only feeling like it has a few hundred people in it), but they don’t do very much with this. Mycroft imagines Thomas Hobbes occasionally butting in, but his imaginary Hobbes has little to say beyond "Hi, I’m the guy who wrote Leviathan!” The characters reference Diderot and de Sade and Voltaire, but usually only on the surface level, and when they do try to go deeper, they often get the references wrong. The same for the theology. My point is not that Terra Ignota is bad: just that it isn’t really that interested in the political philosophy or the theology. It uses 18th century thought as an aesthetic. Deism, miracles, proof of God’s existence, how gods might communicate, etc., are not the questions that occupy the text. Ada Palmer is not a theologian.

But all that said, I enjoyed Terra Ignota.

I want to emphasise that. I enjoyed Terra Ignota! I am not saying that it’s bad! I’m just saying that it was not what everyone told me it would be.

Terra Ignota is a book about a bunch of very powerful, very horrible people, who all apparently go to the same brothel and are interested in the same wacky theories about human nature and God and so on, lying to and betraying each other. I think Palmer is really interested in the characters. Mycroft, our pretentious narrator who by the end of book three is genuinely losing his grip on reality and writing hallucinations. Jedd Mason, the madman who believes he’s God, but is probably just the delusional product of a radical set-set experiment. Caesar, the iron-proud absolute dictator seeking to do his duty by his ambitious, power-obsessed hive. Dominic, the sadistic sexual predator who nonetheless worships Jedd with fanatical devotion. Carlyle, the kind and compassionate philosopher-in-residence who inevitably gets tortured and abused. Ojiro Sniper, the freaky sex doll who nonetheless seeks to become the Brutus to Jedd’s Caesar. Apollo Mojave, the dead-but-still-influential space wizard who sought to cause a world war for stupid reasons. And so on. The characters are generally well-drawn and interesting enough that I want to see what happens to them.

I should emphasise Palmer’s achievement in making me want to know what happens to these people, especially because they’re all so unsympathetic. Carlyle and Bridger stand out as the most truly sympathetic characters in the novels, but by book three, the former has been captured, tortured, and now limps along, dead-eyed and broken-spirited, in the train of one of the resident sadists, and the latter has quite reasonably gone “Screw this” and used his immense psychic powers to delete himself from the book. But most of the core characters in this drama – Mycroft, Saladin, Jedd, Sniper, Ganymede and Danae, Madame d’Arouet, etc. – are mad, evil, both, or otherwise extremely unsympathetic. It is to Palmer’s credit that I want to know what happens in the war anyway. The most sympathetic of the political leaders in the text, Vivien Ancelet and Bryar Kosala, spend most of their time fruitlessly begging for peace. While they, perhaps alone of the leaders, have genuinely laudable intentions, it has been clear from the first book that neither will be permitted to achieve anything notable. The only people to barrack for, in Terra Ignota, are those noble if compromised few who seek to avoid a war – and who we all know will fail.

Book four, it seems, will finally be about the war that the first three books have been setting up, and even though I frankly want all three sides to lose – the Jedd faction, the Sniper faction, and Utopia are all deeply unpleasant, albeit in different ways – I am sure I will find it extremely entertaining to see how this all collapses.

Do I recommend Terra Ignota? I don’t know. If you want detailed, thorough worldbuilding, sincere contemplation of deep philosophical questions about theodicy, politics, and human nature, or a stirring vision of a possible utopia… no. Do not read it for those things. It does not have those things in it.

But it does have a scene where the prime minister of Europe body-tackles the Olympic president through a plate glass window and they land in a pile of people having sex mid-orgy, while the media broadcasts it worldwide.

And that’s excellent.

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takonei · 4 years

Text

Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 4, deadly life (Part 5)

Note of the author: This chapter was hard to plan. And very. Hard. To write. Whatever divine entity exists in this realm, please help me.

Chapter 4: Dance, dance, hanged puppets - Deadly life

...

A heavy silence settled upon the courtroom.

None of the two suspects were talking, which clearly didn't help appease the tension in the room.

Shuichi could feel his heart racing in his chest.

He kept glancing between Rantaro, Ryoma and Kiyo.

The medic's furious gaze seemed to be aimed mostly at the smaller man, for some reason, but sometimes eyed the other.

Ryoma was as stoic as ever. How on Earth could he stay calm at a time like this?

Kiyo's nervousness was faint, but definitely here.

The others didn't dare to say a word either. It felt like whoever was going to talk first would be Rantaro's next prey.

"Answer my question."

His intense gaze didn't falter.

"Who, between you two, executed Tsumugi?"

His choice of words felt unnatural.

Up until now, he kept confronting Monokuma, saying he was the one who executed Tsumugi and that there was no trial to hold.

Hearing him radically change his attitude was not something Shuichi wanted to experience again.

After a long silence, Ryoma spoke.

"Maybe I'm the blackened. Maybe it's Korekiyo."

Shuichi swore he saw Rantaro's eye twitch.

"What. The fuck. Are you saying."

"I said what I just said." Ryoma was keeping a straight face. "Perhaps I am the blackened. Perhaps it is Kiyo."

"Don't play dumb with me. You know the answer damn well. Spit it out already." the medic's grip on the podium strengthened.

The weapons maker stayed silent.

"Since our dear friend refuses to help his class..." The violinist could only watch his partner's gaze slowly shifting to the therapist. "Let's talk to you, then."

He tapped his fingers on the podium, the eery rhythmic sound of his nails echoing through the courtroom.

"What do you have to say, Kiyo?"

After a short silence, the therapist took a short breath.

"What is the point of accusing Ryoma? We would simply argue back and forth when none of us have any concrete proof."

...

The tapping stopped.

The way Rantaro was staring at Kiyo, he feared that breathing too loudly would make him the next victim.

The others seemed to feel the exact same level of discomfort.

Shuichi wanted to be anywhere but here.

The only thing that kept the courtroom not in complete and utter silence was the faint ticking of the clock's gears.

He drew a shaky breath, waiting for one of the two suspects to just talk.

"... So that's how it is." Rantaro closed his eyes.

"You two refuse to talk. And now we cannot make a decision to vote."

His voice gained back its calm. But that wasn't the usual calm Shuichi greatly missed. His voice carried a certain heaviness. It felt like he was seconds away from lashing out at the two in the most violent way possible.

"What exactly do you wish to accomplish? Nothing will make the outcome of this trial any different. The blackened will be executed by Monokuma and we will all desperately try to move on despite the continuous deaths of our friends. You two are only delaying the inevitable."

His monotonous tone sent chills down Shuichi's spine. And he wasn't even the one Rantaro was talking to.

"Is it perhaps that you two were accomplices in the matter?" he slightly tilted his head to the side. "Did you two cooperate to make this murder happen, knowing damn well only one of you will be able to escape?"

Kirumi took a silent deep breath. "Rantaro, let's think ra-"

"I'm sorry, did I ask for your opinion?"

She perked up, clearly not expecting this passive-aggressive reaction.

"This is a matter between those two traitors and me. So if all of you could be quiet right now, that would be nice."

Shuichi did the right thing by not talking, then.

The others not in the trio glanced at each other. What could they even do?

"As I was saying..." the medic turned back to the small man. "Are you two admitting being accomplices, then?"

Ryoma kept staring at him for a moment.

"... If that's how you want to put it. Then sure."

"Stop playing with us and talk."

"Do you listen to yourself for a second? What do you-"

"I want this trial to be fucking over already, is it that hard to understand, or do I have to repeat myself over and over again?"

"Rantaro, look at our situation for a minute. Do you seriously think I'm messing with you for fun?"

"Our situation is a fucking class trial where we could all die if we make the wrong choice! Is it your wish to get us executed?!"

"I suggest you take a step back for one-"

"A STEP BACK ON WHAT??"

Rantaro extended his arms. "Look at ourselves for one fucking second, Ryoma! We're all dying one by one in this miserable hellhole, and all you're thinking about is messing up this godforsaken trial! What is there to understand??"

"Rantaro-"

"I trusted you!!"

Those words echoed through the silent courtroom. Shuichi could feel himself shiver at the sudden yell.

"... I trusted you Ryoma. I really did."

Even though it was faint, Shuichi could hear a slight shaking in his voice.

The voice of betrayal.

He didn't get it, Ryoma and Rantaro were close but... That much? It was already rare to see him like this, but what sort of bond did they have for Rantaro to react in such a way?

The courtroom fell silent.

Ryoma was still looking at his friend from the other side. The violinist swore he saw him flinch at the medic's words.

"... I wish things were different. But for now, I have a duty to accomplish."

"Don't 'duty' me Ryoma. A traitor is a traitor. You betrayed me. And you betrayed each and every one of us."

Shuichi saw Kiyo taking a deep breath.

"Rantaro, that's enough."

He didn't even bother turning to him.

"Shut up. This isn't about you."

The therapist strengthened his grip on the podium. "This is about me as well. Yes, right now we are working together. So if what you want is answers on the blackened, then ask the both of us."

Rantaro blinked a few times. "Answers...? Blackened...?"

He started laughing nervously. A laugh that reminded Shuichi a bit too much of the previous trial.

"Ha... Hahahahahaha..."

The others could only watch in horror the green-eyed boy giggle to himself, for once his gaze turned to the ground.

"You know what?"

"I don't care who the blackened is anymore."

He raised his head to face Ryoma.

"I just want answers from him."

Ryoma slightly narrowed his eyes.

"If your intentions are solely for me to speak the truth, then you have lost your way. This isn't like you."

"I could say the same. Does this group mean nothing to you?"

He paused for a moment.

"... They do. And I've chosen who I'm fighting for. What about you, Rantaro?"

The medic stared at him.

"Who are you fighting for?"

There was a long pause.

"... You of all people don't get to ask me this question."

He put a hand on his heart. "I dedicated my entire existence to save people. To save my people. To save my friends. And the very moment Monokuma decided to put us through this killing game..."

"... I started dedicating my entire existence to all of you."

Shuichi didn't know if it was the calmness in his voice, the fact that those words felt natural for him to say or the deafening silence in the room, but he felt shivers hearing the last sentence.

He had heard more than enough times about his will to put an end to the killing game no matter the cost, but this time it felt... different.

"So you haven't strayed away from your purpose."

"And you, on the other hand, did." Rantaro replied. "So tell me."

"Why the treachery? Who are you fighting for who is worth more than our lives and more than the honor you swore to yourself as well?"

The weapons maker fell silent once again.

"... Fine then. Which is it?"

Rantaro raised a finger.

"Korekiyo convinced you his cause was worth more than our lives and you are willing to get all of us killed."

Then another.

"You planned this murder for a greater reason and betrayed each and every sermon you swore to me- to us."

And another.

"You two actually planned all of this together to escape and thus making both of you the blackened."

Ryoma remained steady. The two soldiers were staring at each other in complete silence.

Just the ticking of the clock.

And after what felt like an eternity, Shuichi opened his mouth to say something. He couldn't stand this tension anymore. But...

"WHY DON'T YOU JUST FUCKING SAY SOMETHING ALREADY??"

"You've been silent for who knows how long, just say something!! I've been trying over and over and over to understand your intentions, why you are doing this, why you two are so stubborn about this whole case, but I've had enough!! What the fuck do you two want??"

Shuichi's heart skipped a beat, the slow realization settling in.

This... Wasn't Rantaro.

This wasn't the person who tried to help them get together. Who helped them organize themselves by groups with the motive videos. Who took care of the ill ones during the despair disease motive. Nor tried to get them to stay strong during this motive.

The person right in front of them was not Rantaro.

Now that he was thinking about it, he had seen this person once.

It was the same person holding a scalpel onto his throat back in the warehouse.

The eyes, the expression, the tone of his voice...

Was this who Rantaro truly was?

At this thought, Shuichi started feeling sick to his stomach.

The fact that Ryoma was as stoic as ever over the situation felt less horrifying, somehow.

The smaller man quickly glanced on his left.

"... Did you ever wonder why there was a clock in this courtroom?"

"Don't change the subject. Answer my question already."

"Monokuma introduced it to us when we started this trial. It was never here before. But suddenly it appeared. Why is it so?"

The violinist glanced at the giant piece of decoration, gears ticking every second. The two huge, metallic hands remaining steady.

"If you think I'm going to drop my question over a damn clock, then you can stick it."

"Monokuma never does anything randomly, does he?"

Shuichi had thought about this clock but... He never actually guessed its use.

But why bring it now?

"Besides, I noticed something quite strange about it."

The others turned to him.

No one had actually dared to say anything after Kirumi tried to. But their expressions were still the same.

The exact same worry was gnawing at them, fearing for what would happen next.

"Drop this bullshit, Ryoma. What do you want?"

"You see, the bell of the clock rings twice an hour. Once when the hour starts, and once when half an hour passes."

Kirumi frowned. "Your point being?"

"The first bell, the loud one, indicates the start of the hour. That much is not something too complicated to understand."

Shuichi slightly tilted his head to the side. Whatever point Ryoma was trying to make didn't get across.

"The second one, however, rings at 5:30 PM, 6:30 PM and will soon ring at 7:30 PM, is that right?"

This was getting confusing, much like the rest of the trial, actually.

"Y-Yeah, that's what we all have seen from the past three hours!" Kaito wanted to raise his voice but quickly quieted down.

"Except it doesn't."

He perked up. "W-What do you mean?"

This time it was bright blue eyes staring at him- which wasn't exactly less intimidating than the other soldier's gaze.

"The clock doesn't ring at half an hour. We assumed it rang at half an hour because we were focused on ourselves."

"The clock actually rings at half an hour... and 36 seconds."

Miu frowned. "How do you know that??"

"Try for yourself. It's 7:28 PM. You'll see the hand of the clock and the bell don't act up at the same time."

"And what on Earth is that supposed to mean?" Rantaro spat.

"Who knows?"

Shuichi's eyes were dead set on the clock. If what Ryoma said was true then perhaps they could try to understand the situation.

Tik.

Tok.

Tik.

Tok.

Suddenly, the hand reached 7:30 PM but...

... Nothing.

"... What? What is this?" he muttered.

* B i n g *

And just as Ryoma said, at 7:30 PM, 36 seconds, the bell rang.

He felt dumb for not noticing sooner.

The clock had always startled them all- he never realized something was wrong with it.

But what did that even mean? What was the point of making this clock ring at this exact moment?

Considering how, according to Ryoma, the clock really did ring at the beginning of the hour then...

... Why the time delay?

Monokuma was silently watching them from above.

He hadn't said anything for a long time. And yet the situation didn't seem to bother him.

"As I was saying..."

Rantaro was back to tapping his fingers on the podium.

"... Do not change the subject."

Miu hesitantly leaned forward. "Rantaro... I know you're upset... We all are but... Perhaps there is something that we have to investigate...?"

...

The medic froze.

"Tell me, Miu..."

"Have you ever watched someone die?"

She raised an eyebrow. "W-What do you mean? We've all witnessed the executions and the dead b-"

"No. Not like that."

"I meant watch someone die knowing damn well you could have done something. Or you could have done better. Just anything."

"Rantaro, I already told you." Kirumi interrupted. As confident as she tried to sound, there was still a hint of remorse in her voice. "There was nothing we could have done for Tsumugi. You don't have to feel guilty about-"

"Nothing we could have done?" he perked up.

"We could, I don't know, have guessed using your lock in the dining hall would have locked the door? We could have found another way to get to Tsumugi's lock when the fire was there? Or maybe go back even when the Monokubs were extinguishing the fire? I could have guided her to the tunnels so the exisal wouldn't get her? I could have tried to save her when she took the shot from the exisal? There is so much we could have done, Kirumi."

"There is so much I could have done."

It was faint, but Shuichi could hear his voice cracking.

He saw Ryoma looking away for a moment.

This trial was just a painful experience. The previous trial was already what he thought was the worst experience of his life, but this... Wasn't any better. Not in the slightest.

"Ha... Hahahahahaha..."

"It's the same over and over again."

"I thought the killing game would somehow be an escape to that feeling but..."

"I can't escape it. I never will."

"I've watched people die, ally or enemy, I've done autopsies, I've seen liters of blood gush out of someone and yet nothing will ever come close to this feeling."

"The feeling of a heartbeat stopping."

"I have felt it over and over, and over, and over again."

"The feeling of someone's life ending when you could have tried to help. When you could have done better. When you could have saved this person's life."

"But didn't."

"And once again, just when I'm supposed to do my job as a medic..."

"I failed her."

"I failed my mission. And I failed as a soldier."

"I failed in every aspect there is."

Shuichi couldn't see well but...

Were those tears in his eyes?

Arms crossed on the podium and head low, the green-haired teen started giggling to himself again. It was nothing like Kokichi last trial. It was an empty, quiet, and shaky laugh.

He glanced at the others- who didn't know what to do either.

Ryoma was looking at Rantaro with pity. It was almost unnoticeable, but definitely here.

Kiyo was looking away from him, allowing Shuichi to see a part of his face.

It was the most disturbed he had ever seen the therapist be.

And yet the two were accomplices in the matter. One of the two -if not the two-, orchestrated this entire scheme and organized a class trial.

"... Rantaro."

The weapons maker spoke up.

"You are right on one thing. It's that I will probably never understand that feeling you're describing. And I cannot tell you how you should feel."

"But there is one thing that I know about you, it's that you never gave up on trying to save us all. You always did what you judged was right. And you always excelled at it. You always took risks and volunteered to do the most painful and risky tasks."

"You always have been of huge help. And I don't think anyone here would disagree."

"You didn't fail us in any way."

Rantaro clenched his fists.

"What are those words even worth?"

He slightly raised his head, just enough for him to stare at Ryoma, but not enough for them to see his face.

"You are standing here as a traitor. Whatever your role in this whole fiasco is, it doesn't change anything."

Ryoma closed his eyes. "... And I'm sorry for it. But I mean what I said."

The medic stared at him for what felt like an eternity before standing back up. With a swift movement of the thumb, he swept away a tear from his red eyes, still keeping eye contact with the weapons maker.

"You should know how I feel about treachery by now."

"I do."

Rantaro stayed silent.

"Don't think I'm going to give up on this case simply because of your words. And if it means taking you down, then so be it."

"Very well then." Ryoma replied. "Do your worst."

...

After a long silence, Kokichi hesitantly raised a hand. "I've... been thinking about this clock and... I honestly don't know how to feel about it."

At least they were back on the subject. Shuichi exhaled a breath he didn't know was holding. Perhaps it was because the tension broke a little- even just slightly.

Kaito glanced at the decoration. "I was trying to think and... It's not consistent to have an alarm set at 0 seconds and one at 36 seconds. It's definitely something intentional."

Shuichi had realized the inconsistency but he never thought about why.

Miu pondered. "Perhaps... The alarms have different purposes?"

Another purpose? That would make sense, but what?

Think!

...

"I was thinking..." he started. "When did the trial start exactly?"

"4:30 PM." Rantaro bluntly replied, only sending him a quick glance. "3 hours ago."

Now that he thought about it, they didn't hear the clock ringing when they placed themselves near their podiums.

Did it have anything to do with it?

Or maybe...

"Miu, you said they had different purposes, so what if... The loud bell is simply here to indicate the time, and the second alarm is here as a timer?"

"A timer?" Kokichi tilted his head to the side. "Why would we need a timer for a trial?"

Shuichi glanced at the two suspects, both as silent as one could be.

"I don't know but... I feel like we should keep that in mind."

Kirumi pondered for a moment.

"... Is this clock the reason you two have been acting so... strange?"

The two suspects turned to her. And yet their expressions were as stoic as ever.

"After all, all you've been doing is staying silent for the past hour or so. Does it have anything to do with-"

"Ahem!"

The robotic bear interrupted the mercenary.

"I've been watching you whining and arguing for well enough time... You guys are here to investigate on miss Shirogane's tragic death..."

Rantaro slightly flinched at those words.

"... Not to babble about my glamorous decoration!"

Kirumi glared at him for a moment.

"And what the hell are we supposed to talk about, then?" Rantaro coldly asked.

The bear groaned. "You guys are not very smart, aren't you? I just told you to investigate the victim's death! That's what the class trial is for!"

"Pretty suspicious you're telling us that just as we talk about the clock, huh?" Kaito narrowed his eyes at him.

"The headmaster's orders are ab-so-lute! Now shoo! Get back to your investigation. This is getting boring!"

Kirumi slowly turned back to the others. It was clear she didn't buy any of this.

And neither did anyone else.

But Kiyo and Ryoma were still not talking.

"... Looks like we're going to have to figure it out by ourselves from what we know." Rantaro broke the silence. He opened his mouth to say something else but-

* B O N G *

The clock acted before him.

8:00 PM.

Shuichi was starting to get even more worried about the clock's use.

And the fact that Monokuma didn't want them to talk about that was definitely suspicious.

"... Anyway." Rantaro turned back to the others. "I stand my point."

"I'll bring justice to Tsumugi no matter what. She was one of us and she deserves it."

"There is one traitor among you two, and I will find out who that is."

#ndrv3 #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 au #beta au #main story

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felassan · 4 years

Note

Hello! I want to ask you smthing bc i am new to the fandom and i am trying to get it. Solas wants to take down the veil to bring back his people but bc of the veil his people started to get old and die and it has been more than 1000 years since be did that. So, arent his people dead? And the ones alive now are their descendats? I mean the evanuris are his people but he hates them. I know some are still alive, like abelas but the others are dead. I dont understand, what people can he bring back?

Hello, welcome to the fandom! Good question. Let’s see! There are several aspects to this. I don’t know if you’ve read Tevinter Nights, so I put this answer under a cut as some of it pertains to that.

First, there’s a bit of a distinction. Rather than “to bring back his people”, like just bringing back specific people or groups of people, the overarching goal is to save his people, his race. Save the elven people as an entity. This is more of a concept, like an idea? An idea that could take several forms, or entail several things, depending on who’s perspective we’re looking at, as is the case for many things (example: my Inquisitor’s conception of what “saving the People” means is radically different to his). “Saving humanity” in Battlestar Galactica involved only a small fraction of the human race escaping the fall of the Twelve Colonies on a fleet in space. In The 100, saving humanity in the in-universe history was a fraction of humanity escaping to live on an orbital space station after nuclear apocalypse. It’s not pleasant, but only a fraction of the whole, a (relative) few ‘seeds’, is truly required. (And not to get weird, but given the way elf genetics work when they reproduce with other races in modern Thedas, who’s to say how the genetics or genetic-analogues of ancient elves work? Is inbreeding weakness even a thing that can even happen to them? who knows. I just mean that their biology apparently works radically differently to ours in some ways)

It’s also that he intends to restore the world of his time, the world the elves of old lived in and the parameters of it. This is about two things: 1) reshaping reality and restoring it to the way it used to be metaphysically-speaking in pre-Veil times. Making it the way it used to be - a world where imagination defined reality, where spirits enter freely, when the Fade wasn’t a place one went but a state of nature like the wind, the countless marvels of architecture and similar things which were intrinsically tied to and whose existence depended on the Fade, the whole empire that used to be - once again. And 2) changing and restoring the higher state of being the elves once had, their prior form of existence. This means restoring to them things like their immortality, their inherent magic, their inherent connection to the Fade (in most elves this is now blocked, except in the case of mages) - everything “themselves” once meant. It’s about changing the laws of physics and [re]upgrading a downgrade in part of their.. intrinsic or original personhood? (not sure how else to phrase this). He wants to bring back what was once theirs, and restore the things about them that were “their glory”. And who knows, when he’s brought things back to a state when his or anyone’s imagination can change reality, who knows what can be done in such a world…? Can he then will all those who died when Elvhenan fell back to life? Can he will that the Fall never even happened? Can he will what essentially amounts to pressing a giant reset button on the world? There is even examples of time magic in the setting (even we as Inquisitor encounter time-altering magic in DAI in the Redcliffe arc, Ameridan was preserved for a while, etc).

But who will inherit this new world in the case of no literal resetting or rezzing? Yes, many of the ancients have died. But also well, as you say, some are still alive. Abelas and the Temple of Mythal Sentinels are an obvious example. It stands to reason there are other Sentinels and other ancient elves in similar positions to them in other ancient elven temples and similar sites dotted around the place. Felassan is another example. He’s clearly an ancient elf and he must have come from somewhere! He can’t have been the only ancient agent of Fen’Harel. In fact he definitely isn’t. In TN one of the agents speaks in a sort-of Dalish accent, only more formal, like he’s reading poetry - given what we know of how the ancient elven language is, with rhythms and meanings, it stands to reason this dude is also an ancient, just one Solas removed the markings of, which we know from Trespasser that he did for his followers who wished it during his first rebellion. Solas also refers to other awake or periodically awake ancients in his conversation with Abelas - “there are other duties”. You can’t do duties while asleep. Yet other enclaves of ancients are further hinted at elsewhere. For example, the elves in the Tirashan sure sound hella mysterious and different and might be ancients (I’d prefer they weren’t and prefer the idea that they’re descendants who have evolved in complete isolation from the Dalish-Dalish all this time and basically therefore have their own traits and own culture, but that’s another subject - like compare the Chasind with the Agadi). Sometimes I wonder if the elves who sent the Inquisitor the red hart mount were ancient. For another, it seems very likely to me that there are still surviving ancient elves in uthenera. The highest dreamers who “perfected” themselves were able to sleep indefinitely without needing any sort of sustenance or caretaking done to their bodies. In the Deep Roads in Trespasser we find a whole roomfull of coffins. Ok, those coffins were most likely actually coffin-shaped caskets full of mined lyrium going by companion comments at the time, but it definitely put me in the mind of a secret ‘ark’ type place somewhere with a bunch of hidden sleeping ancients. You know like in Mass Effect 3 where Javik came from? Just without all the power gradually shutting down. Some of the highest might have gone to sleep in places which were hidden or known to only few, or otherwise managed to escape by sheer luck the murders of their sleeping bodies by resentful lower class servants that took place in the latter days of Elvhenan. Others - specifically thinking followers of Fen’Harel’s first rebellion - might have gone to sleep in like a warded and protected place in preparation for what was to come. Like maybe he gave them advance warning of his Veil-creating plans and ushered them into what effectively was meant to function as a time capsule before he cast his magic. Like get on the ark everybody, the earth is going to flood. Cole also alludes to beings sleeping “masked in a mirror, and to wake them -” when he reads Solas’ mind. that could either refer to sleeping jailed Evanuris/Titans etc or a cache of sleeping ancients. The point is that there are more ancient elves left than we think, both awake/periodically awake and sleeping still, both in other places in main-world Thedas akin to the ToM, and in places in the Crossroads network. I fully am convinced of that. “Your people yet linger.” They’re out there, lingering somehow.

The modern elves are indeed descendants of the ancients. Sometimes he refers to them as his people and sometimes he doesn’t. The modern elves are an additional, potential factor. There’s debate about this - from what he says in Trespasser it’s not 100% clear, even the way he phrases his words about this subject to Charter in TN is really weird imo and so therefore also still not 100% clear - but some people do believe that the modern elves are included when he says “save the People/my people”, and that modern elves would survive the change, be changed/restored like the ancients, and get to live in the new world. So that’s a possible thing/element too.

There’s a further thing going on: he genuinely seems to believe that what he’s doing will straight up save the entire world as we know it. Not everyone in it, but the very world itself. There’s debate about this and it’s not clear, but some people think that it seems like he has knowledge of some looming massive cataclysm, and that this notion of a looming cataclysm is seeded in various places in the lore - that some terrible disaster is going to befall Thedas soon, or that some terrible thing is currently gradually happening to Thedas as we speak, like something to do with the very fabrics of the world unraveling or similar.

Hope this makes sense and helped out! Lmk if you’re still wondering about stuff or if this post flags up any additional thoughts/queries for you.

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whatelsecanwedonow · 4 years

Note

“Radical empathy”. I like it—I think. If I’m understanding what you mean by just those two words lol... I’m just over/about half way in (though I do know some details of what happens in the back half). Im very curious of your thoughts. Maybe you could answer in broad strokes before the cut then free for all spoilers... and pls tag so that I can come back to it!) I gotta finish, but rn I’m building up to facing the “rat king” or w/e bc I am a massive baby and am v scared lol.

Thank you for asking!! I’ll tag this for you and put it all under a cut, just in case:

Good luck with the rat king, lmao. Nasty ass motherfucker. But the game itself, my thoughts are that it’s built game ever. Every mechanic, every movement, every control interface feels so smooth. It’s all fluid and instinctual. You can feel the detail to creation in everything. My favorite thing may be the sound design, though... the score, the ambient sounds, the sound of gore, the way that different environments feel so naturally different... everything is so real. It’s mastery. I’m already thinking about what this game is going to look like on the PS5 remaster.

As for story, yes, radical empathy!! Not my original idea but it absolutely is what this is all about. This is the darkest, most emotionally distressing... media/art experience? Ever? Surely for me and perhaps objectively, for most people. This game is unrelentingly harsh. It’s physically taxing. It’s extraordinary deep and the detail at every single level is absurd. It feels so natural in the way you inhabit it and live within the world as these people that the line between observing and participating in something is so blurred... obviously that’s the trick of a video game of this caliber, but you feel truly as if you’re an active participant with agency to make decisions in TLOU2, instead of being limited to observing what is to come. The first game did this well, but this game takes it to levels that, again, blur that line so much... I think that’s storytelling taken to a new and profound level.

And there’s all that depth and darkness meant to take you on a journey that in the end, I think. is meant to communicate not just the futility of violence, the sickening reality of the cycle of violence and how it can consume anyone. It’s saying that the best thing we can do, the bravest thing we can do, is care enough to forgive those who have wronged us most. At least, see them as people, see them as people who are equal to you. In every person is a universe, and all people have their own motivations, their own pain, their own trauma. And if you acknowledge that and overcome violent impulses that’s a radical act of empathy that can save so many people. Not the least of whom is the person who may have right to vengeance.

I’ll get more specific here: I think a lot of people are upset that Joel was killed so early on. I think they’re upset that we played so much of the game as Abby (Who I don’t love by the end, but I understand, and care about and like well enough). And it also seems they’re upset that Ellie didn’t bash Abby’s head in, or choke her out in the ocean. Well if you can’t get over that Ellie didn’t murder Abby I don’t think you get ANYTHING this game is trying to do. Killing Abby would destroy Ellie, probably forever. Murdering all of Abby’s friends already took her to the fucking brink. I think Ellie’s villainous actions in Seattle are very much akin to what we never saw Joel do, in the 20 years between Sarah’s death and Boston. She’s been broken. She was broken before going after Abby in Santa Barbara. If she had killed Abby and left Lev to fend for himself and possibly die alone, do you think she’d ever again be able to look who she’d become? She would see herself as being just as evil as Abby was to her. As evil as Joel was before learning to love Ellie. And it’s the thought of Joel, the changed man, the man who changed for and because of her that compels her to take her heroic stand. To spare Abby and refuse to go down the same road and perpetuate the cycle of violent loss.

And I hope it doesn’t seem that I’m taking Joel’s death lightly with those thoughts, I loved Joel. Watching Abby brutalize him and literally beat his brains in was stomach-turning. I identified with him so much not just because he’s a dumbass but because he loves Ellie like I love Ellie as a character. He sees that Ellie is a spectacular, hilarious, wonderful person who has known almost nothing but pain and hurt in their awful world. All he wants is to give her a chance at a world of happiness. And in protecting her and caring for her, in trying to create the opportunity for that happiness to grow, he can find redemption that he thought would never come again after losing Sarah. "If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment...I would do it all over again." That fucking broke me to pieces. Even though I think Joel and Abby’s father are both guilty of taking Ellie’s agency as a person away from her - why did it never occur to either of them to ask the girl at the center of this procedure whether she thought she should die? She was 14, so it’s arguable that she would have understood the gravity of her decision, despite the guilt of what happened with Riley... but Joel at least did what he did from a traumatized, if selfishly-born, place unconditional love. And the reveal that Ellie knew since two years prior to the main story, I think it proves that she was at least beginning to understand his motivation. As conflicted as she was, as much as it hurt that he lied, she loved him too.

I’ve read thoughts from a few people who have interpreted this the same way that I did, and this is just interpretation... clearly the game is completely ambiguous with the ending. Ellie is, literally, all alone in the world as she leaves the farm. She could be heading off to wander aimlessly as some sort of TLOU Mad Max/Road Warrior. But that would break my heart, lol, I don’t think I can accept that. She’s learned something profound in sparing Abby. I don’t think I can ever accept that she’s just going to drift as an empty shell of what she used to be forever. I think she wants to honor Joel by attempting to live the life both of them wanted to have: one of purpose and meaning, but also lasting happiness and love.

So I find hope in that the game begins and ends on that animation of the moths. At the start of the game it represents Ellie being draw into the fire, into the futile flames of vengeance and revenge. At the end the moths represent her being drawn towards the light - she’s been freed and has made peace with herself and Joel, and is leaving the farm to embrace the goodness inside her and honor the lessons she’s learned. The same growth Joel found by loving Ellie. The same growth Abby found in sparing Ellie and Dina, which is no small parallel to Ellie/Joel in the way that it was Lev that saved Abby from falling into a spiral of violence that she may never have broken free of again.

Ellie’s will always be traumatized, but she’s so much wiser. Two fingers lighter but so much wiser. And now she’s off to Jackson to hope that Dina can find the strength to forgive her. And Dina definitely went back there, by the way, she wasn’t about to try and survive on that farm by herself with JJ. Jesse’s family said she was always welcome, if you read Ellie’s journal you’ll see that was said. So I think, with time, they can work through the pain. It’ll take some unbelievable forgiveness on Dina’s part but Dina is emotionally strong and incredibly empathic. Did you notice the one thing Dina took from Ellie’s art room? She took the portrait that Ellie created of her. She didn’t let go, not entirely. And now I’m going to choose to believe that Ellie won’t ever again, either.

And she’s going to learn to play guitar pseudo-lefty with a pick and tear shit up again. 👌

#The Last of Us Part II #tlou spoilers #tlou2 spoilers #tlou 2 spoilers #i intended to control myself and then... i didn't #Anonymous

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araminakilla · 5 years

Text

Faris D'jinn (long) appreciation post

Warning: If you don't like very long posts or deep analysis of a character or situations, maybe you want to skip this. But you are always welcome.

I will always say this: Treasure of the found lamp! is one of my favorites episodes of the Ducktales bomb (the other is Nothing can stop Della Duck!) I like the jokes, the journeys of the two groups, the cameos of different characters that appeared in Season One. But most of all... Him.

Faris D'jinn. Middle Eastern adventurer. Seeker of the lamp. Descendant of an actual genie and the amazing woman who freed him. Here are ten reasons (not counting the facts that he is a great swordman and a cool biker because everyone knows that) of why this warrior is one my favourite characters in the Ducktales universe:

1. He is not what he seems

The first time I saw this guy in the SDCC 2018, and the person presenting the characters said he was Dijon from the Ducktales movie, there were two different reactions from my part:

"OMG! They acknowledged the movie. That means Merlock is going to return!" And...

"This Dijon looks so COOL! But...he looks like a terrorist"

And before you sue and attack me, there are some comments in YouTube that reflected my thoughts. One of them said he looks like an ISIS member.

But I have investigated and I found out that in fact, there are some people that wear traditional black clothes in the Middle East and are NOT asociated with violence or radical groups. So, my bad people. I'm really ashamed for making this statement. I try to not be an ignorant of different cultures for reasons like this.

Anyway, those months I tried to stay positive that, if he was a bad guy, he could get a redemption arc. Because there's no way that this awesome Ducktales crew, that handles the Latino community very well, is going to portray arabs in a bad light, just like every old Hollywood productions (I'm looking at you, Aladdin)

And when the promo of Ducktales and Big Hero 6 appeared, with this warrior using his sword in front of a very scared Scrooge... well... I put my thoughts on another post, but I was a little concerned for the Middle Eastern representation.

Great was my surprise when I saw the episode for the first time. Let say that the power of the lamp wasn't the only plot twist of that episode.

2. He's so serious that it's funny

His single-minded quest for the lamp before the Ifrit's dawn (a fact that he monologued for 10 minutes without blinking) leaves him with no time to joke around, except everyone around him is a goof, and that makes him hilarous in a sense. Best demostrated when he answered ALL the riddles from a literal JOKE BOOK. He's so smart... yet so gullible that it's amazing. It's like he can't tell when someone is lying or making a joke... I don't know if that's possible. There's also his reaction at the "got your nose" prank which, honestly to me, was one of the best reactions EVER. Maybe it's how he screamed "monster!" and how he seems to really believe the creature got his nose. Truth to be to told, I was very surprised the first time I saw him laugh, that was something unexpected. And how the premise of the episode was him getting a family of adventuring Ducks, a greek Godness, a sea monster and a bunch of Beagles involved in a quest...to give himself a birthday present, like... Who gives himself a birthday present? (Really, I don't know someone who does that)

3. He is grateful even with enemies

He defeated Charybdis and the poor monster was whipped and given the beat of his life because he wanted to help Scrooge and Webby with the phony quest, and the first thing the warrior does is thanking him and saying that he will be remembered in the story of the lamp. That impressed me... And somehow made worth all the pain that Charybdis had. The same happened with the "Minotaur" and Ma Beagle (the little bow that he made is priceless). Many people would mock their defeated enemies and give them zero respect... but not him. That was so honorable, it reminded me of how Medieval Knights act, which would be discussed in the seventh point of this post.

4. He forgave the Ducks easily

"Djinn, I'm sorry I tricked you. If I'd known what was at stake..."

"Another chapter in the legend. A final trial before we find the lamp! It's all part of the journey!"

Like wow... That was something I was NOT expecting, because I wouldn't expect a guy who was shouting and slicing things all day to be that... nice. And maybe that could be because there was no time in the episode for the liar revealed drama. But the points D'jinn made about why he forgave Scrooge make total sense. He loves adventures and journeys, he likes to write in a scroll about the trials he had, so he instead took the positives aspects that the phony quest had and continue with his life. Now that's something you don't see very often. Instead of swearing revenge and dedicate his time ruining someone's life (I'm looking at you Glomgold, Magica, Negaduck and other villains) he forgave the Ducks, focused on the present and keep only the most important facts. I like that way of thinking.

5. He has a deep love for his family's history (and his heritage and bloodline)

He comes from a family that, as far as I'm concerned, keeps the stories of their past alive, passing them to the next generations. It's been ten generations since the genie was freed. What the ex-magical creature got was more valuable that having phenomenal cosmic powers: A loving wife and many descendants who remember them with such passion, and now one of said descendants, fascinated by their love story has adquired the "totem that started it all". I heard that arabs in particular are family oriented people, they would do ANYTHING for their loved ones, and that's the first time I saw that in a cartoon (at least in a Disney cartoon, the other example that is Non-Disney is the Oscar nominated "The Breadwinner", which I recommend you guys have to see it, it's so good)

D'jinn made a long journey from the Middle East to America (at least I think Duckburg is in America) for a powerless lamp because of it's sentimental value, which leads us to the next point...

6. He is a sentimental guy

You wouldn't expect a tough, serious and to some extent dangerous guy to have powerful feelings like love? Right? Think again. There's a reason of why the call D'jinn (and his VA, Omid Abtahi) a cinnamon roll. He has strong emotions, that is (I think) one of the reasons of why he's so dramatic. It's part of his personality. In fact, his volatile personality (using many times his sword, cutting things, flipping a table) has a solid base of why it is the way it is. I'm not saying that destroying the couch and threatening the Duck family is not wrong, I'm saying this because this is NOT a matter of the "He's an arab and all arabs are volatile/barbaric/will scream and attack you 'cause that is their nature" thing that all the Hollywood movies I saw (at least the examples I saw in the documentary "Reel Bad Arabs") have. No sir, this is different.

And talking about Arab stereotypes...

7. He's a HUGE improvement from the Ducktales movie and series

Back in 1990, he was Dijon, a thief and mook to Merlock, the Big Bad Wolf of the Movie. He was funny and the interactions he had with Scrooge in the movie and the series are funnier (Also, did you know that the last words Scrooge said in the series was "Dijon!" because the duck was running towards him 'cause he stole his watch?)

But, as the Nostalgia Critic put it in his review of the Ducktales Movie

"I don't know... Is this considered racist now? Yes, he has an accent and is a thief..."

He's fine as a comic relief, but nothing makes him different from the Crows of Dumbo, or the Indians of Peter Pan, or the Siamese cats of Lady and the Tramp, or...

Honest Trailer's guy: Stop it!

OK ok. The point it's... The Ducktales reboot did it again. They took a not so well liked character from the '87 series and made him/her a lovable character, like Mamá Cabrera (I swear, she's also mi mamá now)

Now he's honorable, charming, etc (and yes, those words are from a YouTuber reviewer) But specialy, they changed his name to Faris D'jinn which not only sounds more arabic, but also foreshadows his relationship with a genie. Plus, Faris means "Knight" in arabic, which describes what he is and how he acts perfectly.

8. He's different but at the same time just like everyone else

Gif belongs to @i-mostly-reblog-things

Yeah, he looks different, speaks with an accent that's not American, has a different mindset about things in life and maybe that could come from the country he's been raised, or his family or maybe he decide to be the way he is on his own accord. But, as an lesson learned in the episode "The Depths of cousin Fethry!"

Just because something or someone is different doesn't mean is bad.

True, D'jinn didn't make a first good impresion with the Duck family, except from Webby (You go girl! It seems that she has a talent to see edgy but misunderstood people and give them a chance) but at the end everyone was celebrating his birthday with him. They give him a cake! This small but powefull gesture made me 100% convinced that, even with flaws and conflicts, they are the perfect family. It still surprises me that the crew of Ducktales and Disney would make a scene like that. If someone told me a year ago that they would make a scene with: An arab. Dressed with traditional clothes (turban and all). Wearing all black. Celebrating his/her birthday with an American (Scotish in Scrooge's case) Family, I would have laugh and say: Yeah, sure, like they would actualy show that.

But they did it and I couldn't be more happy.

Just a pause from this Ducktales' post

Some of you could be thinking as you read this: "Nice that your people are shown in a positive way"

The thing is... I'm not arab. I'm a latinoamerican who just happens to love Middle Eastern cultures. My country isn't very prejuiced towards Middle Eastern people (maybe because there's a few of them) but I have come from a long way. To being sure that everything there was just sand and violence to wanting to visit some of the many wonders that the East has to give, meet people and learn their point of view. I think everyone should do that at some point, instead of, you know, getting all your arab information from Hollywood movies and concluding that everything would be better if the Middle Easterns were dead. As this quote from the YouTube Documentary "Reel bad Arabs" states:

"We feel that Arabs are not like us, are not like everyone else, then let's kill them off, then they deserve to die, right?"

The thing is, they are more similar that we think, it's just that the international media doesn't show that... until now.

And going back with Ducktales

Yeah, this dude looks different, but he laughs, feels, and enjoys having a great time just like everyone else.

It's the same that is happening with Fenton and the latino representation. D'jinn is a hero who happens to be arab. A dramatic warrior. A family values man. A great allie, friend and who knows what many things more. He, and other Ducktales characters, have so many layers that it's incredible. Just like people, you can't define someone only from their personality or their race. There are so many things that make a person unique. D'jinn broke the expectations I had for him (or he sliced them with his sword) for the better.

9. He's better than Aladdin in many ways

By starters, the voice actors. Aladdin's VA is American and has an American accent in the movie. D'jinn's VA is Omid Abtahi, born in Iran, a Middle Eastern actor. And I'm not saying arab because Irani people are not Arabs (correct me if I'm wrong). Omid doesn't have an accent, as far as I know, but I think it's a nice detail to have the warrior being voiced by someone who comes from the same place. Then, we have the fact that Aladdin lied to almost everyone and D'jinn was a victim of a lie. True, the Ducks assumed he was going to kill them all (and for a good reason) but a lie is still a lie. I don't know many things about Middle Eastern clothes and fashion in the past and the present, but I can tell you will find (maybe traditional) people who wears something more close to D'jinn than Aladdin, and I'm pretty sure the warrior would free a genie if he has the chance because he's a descendant of one. But apart from their differences, both are really good people with a big heart and a kind soul, it's just that we find out Aladdin is good in the beggining of the movie with the bread and orphans scene and with D'jinn almost in the end of the episode, because to be honest, I was expecting him to be lying about wanting to protect the lamp and instead working for the new Merlock, since that was his role in the original movie. Many of us expected a lying thief, but instead we got another Diamond in the Rough.

10. He is a key for one of Scrooge's character developments

Gif belongs to @everythingducktales

The richest duck in the World was SO impressed by the warrior's story that he opened a museum of valuable artifacts so he can share his stories with his family and the world. Let's repeat that. Scrooge McDuck, a very famous, very important and proud adventurer took the advice of a stranger (he also was 100% sure this stranger would kill him and his family if he doesn't get what he wants) because he saw his "human" side, a family side that made the duck realize "maybe we are not so different after all".

Not even the Buzzards (people who worked with Scrooge for who knows what many years) were capable of convincing Scrooge to do some of their plans (but lets be honest, their plans are awful)

That made him be more open about his adventures, his past experiences and his treasures, each one with a unique story. Maybe that would prevent unfortunate yard sales in the future.

Bonus:

11. He is going to return

It is confirmed in one of Frank Angones' posts that he is going to appear in the future, maybe as an allie of the Duck family in an adventure. Or who knows? Maybe they can recruit him as a member of a superheroes team along with Gizmoduck, Darkwing Duck and others. Plus, I want to see him interact with Launchpad and Donald.

That would be all... for now.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales 2019 #ducktales season 2 #treasure of the found lamp #disney aladdin #aladdin #the breadwinner #reel bad arabs #scrooge mcduck #mcduck family #ducktales dijon #ducktales djinn #faris djinn #i can't wait to see him again #i just hope he doesn't pull a jim startling on us #He turning to the dark side is the last thing I would want #Ducktales the movie #representation matters

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mrneighbourlove · 4 years

Text

Fall of a Dynasty: Ch 7. First Steps to Forgiveness

At Hyrule Castle, Athena was distracted by the architecture of the palace. It was so different than her homeland. “Manaco. Is King Covarog as beastly as people say he is?”

"That really depends on if my aunt is in the room." Manaco could not help but grin. "He can't keep his hands off of her for long, so say the servants. But if you're referring to his temper?" He grimaced a little. "Uncle Covarog can be... scary. For sure. Though he's not the one that can cut you down with a single look. That's my Aunt Zarazu. Aunt Zolori, on the other hand, knows how to insult someone in three different languages."

“Can he transform into a frightening beast like his father?” Griffith asked. “We have stories passed down from our mother that if we didn’t behave as children, the great and terrible Ganon would come in the night to rip and tear us apart.”

"I've never seen him turn into a beast like his father." Manaco admitted, "But then again, I've never seen him when he's lost control either. I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps he can, perhaps he cannot."

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be hospital towards us.”

"I'm fairly sure he's going to be surprised..." Manaco took a deep breath as the three of them approached the throne room doors. This was either going to be really good or really bad. He prayed that it would go smoothly, for the sake of Athena's homeland. Then, he opened the doors.

Athena and Griffith held their heads high, carefully walking in. Inside was a young red head girl, most likely twenty or so, talking with the Queen and King. She looked a tad wild, but still held a royal air.

"Luimaya, I have told you again and again, I don't want you doing such dangerous tricks on Carsa'sec, you could fall off." Covarog was not scolding his daughter, just expressing his concern. "He's not the most careful flier either."

"Daaad, Mom did those tricks when she was my age, why can't I?" Luimaya was getting rather tired of her father being so overprotective. "Carsa'sec has never dropped me! I've never fallen off!"

"She has a point, my love." Zarazu was trying to find middle ground. "If you feel so uneasy, we can always modify her saddle."

"...? Manaco?" Luimaya glanced at her cousin and then at the two Hasai. Zannah's kids, what were they doing here?

"Ah yes, I heard you were here." Zarazu turned her attention to the twins. "I am very surprised about the proposal you submitted, Manaco. Though, I am delighted that Athena accepted." She knew not of Bonegrinder's dealing with this, thinking it was predominantly Ralnor. "We shall be sure to attend the wedding."

Covarog, however, still held no love for Zannah or anyone born of Zannah. The Hasai had left a bad taste in his mouth for ages. No matter how hard he tried to mask it, there was still that underlying scowl on his face.

"They didn't come here just to extend an invitation, they're here to ask for something." Covarog stated. "What do you want?"

Athena took a deep breath. Time to put all her learning to the test. With a smile, she gave a bow. “Greetings. I am Princess Athena. Soon to be granted the status of Empress Athena of the Empire State to Hyrule.”

Griffith did his very best to not wince at that distinction. They’d soon bow to Hyrule. “And I am Prince Griffith. We’ve met Queen Zarazu plenty of times, but never King Covarog.” It didn’t take the man any time at all to turn on the charm. “And you must be Princess Luimaya. Queen Zarazu has mentioned your near legendary skill at riding dragons at such a young age.”

"Enough of the pleasantries. You two either wish to ask a favor or your mother sent you here in her stead to do her bidding. Probably the latter." Covarog scoffed. "This is about the civil war back in the empire, isn't it?"

"My king..." Zarazu's voice held a tone, asking him to be nice. "Please."

"... I already told your mother, we will not concern ourselves with a civil war that should be handled by the kingdom itself."

“Well, seeing that we are to become part of your kingdom, I suppose it’ll be your problem too.”

“What my Brother means to say, is that our mother wishes to have a strike force help her deal with the radical anarchists. She believes that our late Uncle Nihilus has returned from the dead. Is it not true that your father had to take the full strength of your Triforce to defeat him because he faced him alone? She wants a team to deal with him quickly before he can grow stronger.”

"I figured one day that her own people would turn against such a tyrant." Covarog did not like the idea of another fight. More lives could be in danger. Yet, if the prince was telling the truth, and Nihilus was back, then this would be a problem. He would have that bastard nowhere near his wife and children. "And my father crushed Nihilus like an ant."

"Perhaps I could handle this situation, my king?" Zarazu gently placed her hand on top of Covarog's. "You could take Luimaya to modify her saddle."

"... very well." Covarog stood from his throne and held his wife's hand, easing her up as well. "Put an end to this nonsense, my queen."

"As you say."

“Did you just call my mother a tyrant? Or my uncle?” Athena rose a hand to the King.

"They're both tyrants, princess. I hope you seek not to follow their paths in the future." Covarog glared at Athena, almost resembling his terrifying father in that moment. "My queen will deal with your situation, Manaco."

Exiting the throne room with his daughter, Covarog knew he would lose his temper and was grateful his wife could handle this stupidity.

"... Manaco, may I speak frankly?"

"Yes, Aunt Zar---I mean, my queen." Manaco had to keep up appearances in the presence of other royals.

"This situation is quite... unique." Zarazu descended the steps to the twins and her nephew. "I am a touch concerned about the return of this brother of Zannah's."

Athena and Griffith both swore at Covarog behind his back, with the former muttering under her breath. “Hope you get a heart attack.”

There attention turned to Zarazu, they both calmed their emotions. “Queen Zarazu. I know my mother has hurt both you and Covarog, but that doesn’t make her a tyrant. She wants to help our people. I want to help my people. She said that Rinku was a capable warrior who could help.”

"Rinku is older than myself and my king, princess. Even if you were to ask her, I'm sure she could not handle your uncle alone." Zarazu sighed, trying to find a way to say what was needed without further upsetting the twins. "I understand that there is history between your mother and my king. Yet, there is also how she hurt my sister and betrayed her trust. While I know you two are not your mother, I cannot held but have caution meddling in these affairs. Do you understand? I am trying not to be biased."

“We know. Will you help our people and the sanctity of a partnership our kingdoms hold, if not our mother?”

"... I want to help you and your people, not only because of this partnership, but also because they are not at fault for the actions of your mother."

Suddenly, Zarazu felt a large part pat on the back lerch her forward, despite the small weight Rinku held. “Who you calling old Queenie?”

Both the adopted elder princesses came by out of concern when they heard new Hasai were in the castle.

The queen jolted slightly when the hero suddenly appeared behind her. "You are old, Rinku." Zarazu responded dryly in good humor. "I'm old, your siblings are old. Ralnor is super old cause he's a grandfather now."

“What? Me?” Rinku fake frowned, her wrinkles pulling at her face. “Late Fifties and early sixties ain’t old. Just look at Leere.”

“Sis. You know I’m a special case right?”

“Anyways, who’s the asshat that needs taking down?”

"... Zannah's brother... Nihilus is somehow returned." Zarazu informed Leere and Rinku. "I don't suppose the snake will accompany you on this one?"

Both the elder princess’ grew stone cold faces, old memories opening up. “Ah... well, I suppose I better get the blade.”

As Rinku ran off, Leere examined both the Hasai, pressing them for answers. “Do you know if Nihilus was brought back by necromancy? How powerful is the body?”

Griffith shook his head. “Our Patreon god resurrected him.”

Athena murmured, angry at all the trouble this brought. “Maybe we should worship Vatra instead.”

"Exodrum is the cause..." Zarazu sighed, now feeling worried. "A deity involved in this doesn't give me the best outlook on this situation. Only another deity can take down another deity unless you have a way to trap this one."

Manaco then glanced at Athena when she mentioned Vatra. "... if you wish to speak to Vatra, I could take you to her temple."

Leere turned to Zarazu. “Well, you’re a Demi-god, right? All the spirits combined into one vessel.” The Princess patted Zarazu’s bicep to brighten her up. “I’m an expert on undeath. Maybe I can make him un-UN-dead?”

“And I can put down any evil with this.” Rinku had returned, holding the Sword of Evil’s Bane in her hand. The Master Sword.

"No, I am no deity nor demi-god," Zarazu shook her head, making sure to stay humble. "I am simply the connection between the Seven Siblings and their children. I am magic. That is all."

“Fine. You’re a sexy ass kicker.”

Athena nodded to Manaco before looking to the older women. “Would you all met my mother at Zizi’s then? We’ll return to you shortly.”

"We will come up with a plan to help your nation," Zarazu assured the prince and princess. "We will meet you there in an hour."

One enormous temple was dedicated to the Seven Siblings. Each spirit had their own shrine where offerings were placed or given acts of worship. Vatra's part of the temple held hundreds of burning candles and a statue of the spirit herself. The fiery sibling was composed of nothing but the hottest flames in a silhouette of a woman.

"Vatra is like Exodrum with flames, Athena," Settling on his knees, Manaco summoned his own flame and used it to light a candle. "But she does not deem who is strong and who is weak by the measure of their fire, but by their heart."

Griffith had gone on ahead, citing his reasoning is he didn’t want to anger Exodrum until after they killed their uncle. Athena got on her knees, fascinated by the culture. “As long as she doesn’t appear as a shark. That’s so fascinating Manaco. Is she a god of peace and of kind nature then?”

"Vatra is actually a goddess," Manaco held up at candle for Athena to light in respect. "She commands all fire, from the depths of a volcano to the simplest flame of a hearth. Not only does she encourage us to find our passion, but she also expects us to fight for or work for what we want. A fire by itself can provide beautiful light and heat, but if we are not careful and go ablaze, then it can also destroy. There is two sides to each spirit here. The tranquil... and the deadly."

Athena nodded, lighting the candle. Tranquil Vatra... and a deadly Exodrum? That was her own conclusion. “I wonder if she’d listen to me. I... I wasn’t kind to your gods Manaco. When I was injured, I cursed your gods because I thought your mother might have caused my accident to spite my mother. That your gods would have allowed that. I’m sorry for that anger.”

"In moments of anger, it is easy to place blame. While many accuse the spirits of unfortune, I promise you, they are very benevolent. I'm sure the spirits will forgive you if you ask for it." Manaco set her candle next to his. "Vatra listens to each and every prayer. While she might not grant every request of personal value, sometimes, she will listen to a just cause."

Athena gave Manaco’s hand a squeeze for reassurance, her green skin smooth against his hand. Closing her eyes, she made her pray. “Vatra. Goddess of Fire. Please hear my plea. I ask you to find it in your heart to forgive my mother of any sins. I ask that you look after us as we struggle in times of violence, and that we might come to live in the coming days. I plea to you to lend us strength.”

Manaco remained silent as Athena said her prayer to Vatra. He had thoughts of his own spinning through his mind. How could he be a good ruler? Would he be a decent husband? Children were to be expected, was he cut out to be a model father? There were so many expectations with this upcoming change in his life. Yet, he had admired Athena from afar for so long. Now, to have her at his side... it seemed like a dream come true. The young man silently prayed to Vatra that she help him with the events, whatever may rise, in the future.

Finished her pray, Athena took a few deep breaths. “After this morning, Im glad she didn’t appear, to be honest.”

"Heh... I suppose my uncle the king is not the easiest person to deal with." Manaco rubbed the back of his neck. "He's not so forgiving and can be quite intimidating." He then was quiet for a moment before asking, "What do you... think of this union?"

“I was referring to Exodrum to be honest. Your uncle is an asshole, not a terrifying apparition.” Athena took some time to reflect on that before answering. “I understand my duty to my people. An arranged marriage was something I never thought I’d go through. Once I passed thirty years of age, I honestly thought myself too old for marriage. With my mother not aging, I didn’t worry about continuing the line. But now, my future is so undetermined. It’s scary and sudden. I can’t help but feel I’m a pawn to your uncles. On the other hand, I have no experience with dating. I’ve never even kissed anyone. Now I’m expected to get married, led the Empire, and give birth?”

Athena set the candle down, playing with the flame using her abilities as a way to calm herself. “I suppose I can’t complain. My mother’s sacrifices were so much worse. And she gave my brother and I happy childhoods free from strife, something she never got. To be truthful Manaco, it took all I had to not strike your father. My mother had hurt his family and yours with her actions, but she was never a tyrant. She was always kind to other Hasai and changed a system of glory seeking warriors into simply survivors who lived and worked alongside one another. He insults my honour by insulting hers with the title of tyrant. A tyrant wouldn’t have given up her throne to help their children.”

"He can definitely be a jerk sometimes." Manaco agreed, knowing full well of the 'incident' of long ago when his father first courted his mother. He patiently listened to Athena's words. She had reasonable fears of the unknown. It was to be expected. Yet, to his surprise, there was nothing negative about him. Part of him thought Athena might not wish for this union due to the differences between the two of them. She did make good points about her mother, yet, he could also see Covarog's side as well. To his uncle, Zannah was the person responsible for Kanisa's strife and suffering. In his eyes, that made her a tyrant. "My uncle... he's not like Lorleidians, not at all. I think that's why my aunt makes such a good match for him." He spoke quietly. "I know of the good your mother did for her people. Yet, I also know of the... not so savory acts she committed against my family and relatives. There's a lot of tension and mistrust, for sure. I suppose from one point of view and then other, a person can be seen as two different sides of a coin." Manaco gently brushed a wild strand of hair from Athena's face. "Though, I swear before Vatra, I will do my best by you."

Athena didn’t move away as Manaco brushed her hair. The woman smiled at his smooth move, a light chuckle escaping her pillowy lips. “I look forward to that Manaco.”

"Though do you think you could do something about your brother constantly glaring at me?" Manaco chuckled sheepishly. "I feel like he's trying to debate whether or not if he could get away with killing me."

Athena grasped both Manaco’s hands with her left, then stroked his cheek calm with her right. “I’ll talk to him. We only have each other as siblings, so he’s always been protective of me, and I of him. I’ll make sure he decides against hurting you, alright?”

"Thank you. I don't plan on starting a fight with him, nor do I want to hurt him." Manaco smiled at Athena's light touch. "I just don't want to see you upset if I do have to kick his ass." He jested in good humor. "I think I at least have a fair shot, right?"

“Perhaps. Our mother did have us be trained by T0-D though.” Suddenly, Athena looked worried. “He’s still at the palace.”

"Oh... what do you think T0-D will do, then?" Manaco asked Athena, knowing the robot had served the Kikai Empire for years on end. "Is he going with your mother to Danjur? Or will he stay?"

“He has right to whatever choice he’d like. He’s been rather depressed though lately.”

"... depressed?" Manaco repeated, not sure he heard correctly. "T0-D is... sad? ... sorry, I'm not doubting your truth, I'm just... the robot is always so sassy. So sure of itself. I don't think I've ever heard of or even seen T0-D being depressed."

"... he did?" Manaco looked surprised now. "I didn't think he cared for my mother all that much..."

"He likes the people he forms bonds with before they inevitably die from aging." Athena picked herself up, taking Manaco's hand to lift him up from kneeling.

"I recall he was very sassy and liked to call humans by the title of 'meatbags'." Manaco rose from his spot in front of the shrine. "That's... really it. Hopefully when you and I return to the empire, he'll find a new purpose if we give him something to do."

"Well, we can't get him to stop calling people meatbags."

At the house, Zannah bandaged up her arms, thinking over Bonegrinder's council over and over and over in her head. Finally, she picked herself up from the second floor of the barn and jumped down the ladder to go to Zizi's house. When she saw Zizi sitting on her front porch and waiting for the other women to arrive, Zannah paused. She opened her mouth to speak the words, then closed them. "Zizi..."

Fifteen children, twenty-seven years old marriage, ten greenhouses, and fifty plantations in Hyrule... that was Zizi's legacy here. In the Kikai Empire, she helped rebuild the fields for healthy crops and earned the trust and respect of the people who lived there. However, ever since she found out about how Zannah used Kahli and betrayed her family, Zizi had not stepped foot on Hasai soil. Yet, she could not do anything about a particular someone coming here of all places.

Zizi was not one to snoop, but she overheard Zannah talking to the huge snake. Forgiveness was... hard.

"To start... I'm sorry for throwing a punch at you. Can I sit beside you?"

"... the seat is open."

Zannah took it, looking out over the land of Hyrule. "Did you and Kahli choose this hill top on purpose? It's incredibly pretty to lookout over the landscape. I don't often I get to relax. To simply be at a peace of mind."

"My sister gave this land to Kahli and I for our first anniversary." Zizi figured for now, she'd humor Zannah. "He built this house for me and our children. Then again, it is a bit crowded sometimes, we never expected fifteen children."

"Fifteen children. I can't even imagine. Tell me, does having a father in their life makes things better for them?"

"Is that a trick question?" Zizi mused. "Yes, Kahli did his best by them. Spoiled them a little, taught them a lot, and loved them immensely. What more could I ask for?"

"A trick question? No. My children never had a father growing up. By the time they had Annuciata in their life, they were already in their mid teens. And hell consume me if I ever dared to take inspiration from my own father. So no, I don't think you could ask for more than a loving family." Zannah smiled with a silent sigh in her energy. "Tell me. What was your own father like?"

"I'm beginning to think you're attempting conversation, Zannah, to throw me off guard." Zizi watched as the sunset caused streaks of purple, orange, and pink across the sky. "I met him a couple of times before he died, I guess. I haven't seen him in decades, so I suppose he's passed away. Drunkard, gambler, womanizer... probably a good thing I can't remember him. He wasn't in my life. My mother died before I met her. My only 'parent' was my sister, Zarazu. She raised me from a newborn, Zolori from the time she was five, and Ba'puu from an egg."

"My mother was a concubine. A tool I was aware of, but never allowed to socialize with. My father was a sick, genocidal old man- no, a monster. Because of him I never had a proper childhood. I didn't know what love was for a long time. I only knew that I didn't want to bring my children the same harm. I suppose that is why I thought it acceptable to sacrifice the friendship we had. I was just another offspring from the ballsack of another monster." Zannah relaxed her shoulders, finally getting to the point. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I can't change history to make you forget, or ask you forgive me. But I will say I'm sorry."

"... I never thought you'd actually apologize." Zizi told Zannah, not looking directly at her. "I just... don't understand why. Maybe I'm incapable of it. Or perhaps I really don't want to know the answer. It could even be that it's my nature. A Zemlja doesn't like to hurt people and I have a hard time understanding why humans like to hurt other humans. Though when I found out about it... that was the first time I truly wished to hurt someone."

"I never took pleasure in hurting you." Zannah smirked at her knuckles, still bruised from punching Zizi. "Well, not with my plans anyways. I just shut you out because I felt it was easier for the greater good. Be grateful you never had to think about what's best for thousands of people. I thought that I could live with the betterment of thousands over just two friendships I made. I can't change what I did. Or even go into full details of my rational. I'm just sorry I hurt you. I stuck a stake through our friendship without a second thought because I honestly didn't recognize how deep our friendship was. How important friendships can be."

"Even if you didn't take pleasure from it or had any possible reason that this somehow was the best for your people... you can't expect to become a great leader from the sole purpose of using those around you, Zannah." Zizi said quietly. "Not only does it hurt them, but it can hurt you as well."

"It's defiantly hurt me. But not my people... yet I'm not here sitting beside you because it hurt me or them. I hurt you Zizi."

"You did. But not only me, Zannah. You hurt Kahli too. You hurt my family. They all adored you... and that was broken in an instant."

"I didn't even know..."

"You do now." Zizi sighed before saying. "I don't think I can forgive you. At least, not yet. I'm not there yet. I can't speak for Kahli or my family. I don't know if I'll ever trust you again. But... the least I can do is try to get along with you for the sake of my son." She clasped her hands together. "I never knew Manaco felt so strongly for Athena to get involved so deeply like this, though all I want is for him to be happy. For them to be happy. And if that means tolerating you... then I can do that."

"Alright. Then how about we start with tolerance?"

"I believe we both can do that." Zizi snorted in jest. "You would have given Venu'sa a bellyache anyway."

"Wouldn't it be heartburn?"

Zannah looked to the right to see Rinku, Leere, and both her and Zizi's children return. It seemed Athena and Mancao ran up to catch up with the others.

To view his mother sitting beside of Zannah without trying to tear out the woman's throat was... unsettling. Manaco wondered what the two of them were discussing. Either this was really good or really bad. He hoped everyone would be keeping their heads after this.

"Mom?" Manaco approached cautiously, eying both his mother and Zannah. "We spoke to Auntie Zarazu and paid our respects to Vatra at the temple... she will give us a few hands, but due to political reasons and the treaty, she cannot go herself. A queen attacking Hasai citizens that she has deemed as allies, regardless of a civil war, might be viewed poorly by others."

Zannah kept her face neutral at seeing a Leere and Rinku approach. Despite varied histories and feelings towards them, they were both remarkable fighters. They’d serve their purpose. Standing up, she whistled for Bonegrinder. “I don’t know how many have sided with my brother, but we are assured a fight. I will face my brother with Rinku. We can kill him then. The rest of you will deal with the traitors. You can kill them or incapacitate them; I care not which.”

Both Athena and Griffith nodded, not questing their mother’s order to fight.

"You're going to be at a disadvantage." Manaco treaded the waters carefully, not really wanting to piss off his to-be mother-in-law. "Your brother has Exodrum. And Bonegrinder can't show himself to the masses."

"He'd risk exposing himself to his yet to find, greatest enemy." Zizi knew that while Bonegrinder would do what he could to help, fighting a full-scale battle was out of the question. "He has to be able to remain hidden until Luimaya takes the throne. The snake is picking and choosing his allies now. Hence, why he agreed to help you."

“Hence why we need to move quickly. Rinku’s blade can slay anything with an evil heart, including gods.”

The warrior princess gave a solemn nod to confirm.

"You won't be able to get to your brother directly, he'll have others in the way." Manaco asked, "How should we clear a path?"

Zannah turned to Zizi and Leere. “I trust you both are still power kegs of magic, even outside Hyrule?”

Leere gave a light sigh. “There’s going to be a lot of casualties, aren’t there?”

"Anywhere there is earth, I have my magic." Zizi did not like the sound of what Zannah was going to ask her. "What is your point?"

“Can you deal with the masses using your magic?”

"Deal with them... how?" Zizi inquired, wanting a straight answer. "If you want me to restrain them or trap them, that's different than... just killing them."

“Restraint. Athena and Manaco can deal with their fates after.”

"... and you are sure you can stop Nihilus?" Zizi looked at Rinku for an answer. "Dirt can smother a fire, yet... if a fire burns too hotly, it can consume everything."

“Last I checked he’s flesh and blood. And this blades cut through darkness, flames, and scales.” Rinku unsheathed a part of the Master Sword, the blade humming a low frequency.

"Kahli isn't going to like this..." Zizi sighed, knowing her husband would raise hell. "I'm going to go talk to him. Start packing what you need."

Zannah looked to her children, she looked to Manaco, and she looked to the sisters. When Bonegrinder slithered out, she took Zizi by the hand and pulled her along. “We’re all ready. Bonegrinder. A portal to my palace please.”

"Green lady, take heed of Bonegrinder's advice," The Anagari made a portal with his magic and then said, "Some deities are more so benevolent than others. If one does not listen to your plea... try another."

“We’ll see.”

As Zannah pushed a Manaco and Zizi through, Kahli was little too late to stop them or go after them. “Wait! Where the hell are you going?!”

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/614950440660074496/fall-of-a-dynasty-ch-6-bad-blood-needs-let-going

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/621742623013666816/fall-of-a-dynasty-ch-8-the-hardest-choices

Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse

#crossover #Sorry for not uploading since april #Zannah #Zizi #Athena #Manaco #Bonegrinder

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