#‘I think mass genocide should be frowned upon’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

potato-an0n · 3 years

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Hi, so I came across Escapism from Steven Universe and this question came up "what if this was what Hange was thinking throughout s4 as commander that lead to her fate in ch 132?" (or at least, that's what she convinces herself to think). Especially when Hange would say "I'm tired."

AO3 link here

I guess I have to face

That in this awful place

I shouldn't show a trace

Of doubt

"I'm saying the next commander of the Survey Corps, will be you, Hange Zoe," Erwin announces.

Hange looked at him shocked and a bit unsure.

"Eh? Me? But I don't understand.....do I even have the qualifications to even lead a whole military branch? Is there anyone else you could've picked? Like Armin!" Hange says, feeling unsure if he made the right choice choosing her for this role.

Erwin shook his head and gave her a serious look.

"Hange, you are more than capable of taking on this role. You have a brilliant mind, the experience of leadership, you're calm under pressure, you trained with the Scouts the longest therefore our soldiers know and respect you. I have great faith and confidence you'll lead humanity to victory."

"Oi, Hange."

Hange snaps out of her thoughts and looks around her office to see Levi standing at the doorway, making his way towards her desk.

"Oh Levi hi. Sorry, I've been caught up with all this paperwork. It's a lot more work than being a mad titan scientist researcher," Hange says letting out an exhausted chuckle. Levi knows that look all too well, so he lets out sigh, went in front of where she was sitting and leaned back against her desk.

"When was the last time you slept? Or bathed? You smell like shit, not like that's new," Levi commented. Hange chuckled a bit at his usual sarcasm. "Good to know you're still your usual grumpy, clean freak self," she says as she lets out a sad smile but then returned to a frown when she felt the stress get to her.

"Hey Levi, do you think....maybe Erwin made a mistake? That maybe-"

Hange felt him grab onto her shoulders and looked into his eyes in shock.

"Listen here four eyes and listen well, if anyone can take Erwin's place it's you. I don't know who told you or if someone said anything, but the Scouts need you! Paradis needs you! We need you...." As Levi finished his little speech, he felt Hange face planting into his chest. He sighs and rub his hand over her greasy head.

A few minutes has passed and Hange wasn't saying anything. Levi was starting to get concerned.

"Oi, you better not be asleep!"

Hange grumbled a bit," but I feel so comfortable right now, just a few more minutes please."

Levi pushed Hange's shoulders back away from his chest, "tch, not with your hair all gross and filthy, go take a shower."

"But the paperwork-"

"Will still be there when you're done, plus you need a break."

Hange pouts but gives in, "fine." However, an idea sparked in her head as she got up, so she gave Levi a mischievous grin and he knew exactly what that meant.

Before she could say anything, Levi found a towel and threw at her.

"Don't even think about it!"

Hange bursted out laughing as she took the towel off her head and left. She didn't notice Levi softly smiling to himself when he heard her genuinely laugh for the first time in a while.

But pulled against the grain

I feel a little pain

With Eren grabbing her by the collar screaming if she has a plan, the whole island doubting her leadership, trying to figure out Eren and Zeke's true plan, Levi being away technically babysitting Zeke, and the sudden rise of the Yeagarists, it was all too much for her handle, not to mention, she’s still grieving over the loss of Moblie and Erwin, but here she is, locked up in a jail cell with the remaining 104th squad, Niccolo and Onyonkapon.

After hearing more about the Yeagar brothers' plan to enable the rumbling, she was furious! 'Are you fucking kidding me?! Mass genocide?!!!’

After all the sacrifices, all the countless lives risked just to keep him safe, it all leads up to this. She needs to get out of here and come up with a plan to stop this.

Luckily, she and everyone else were able to get out of jail, only for her to stumble upon a lying body in the grass, who happens to be Levi.

Panicked, she ran straight to him and felt his pulse, praying to God she’ll feel a pulse, but she did and allowed herself to relax a bit.

“I have no idea what happened, but we’re lucky, our number one threat here is all bloodied up,” Hange heard Floch said.

“Lets shoot him in the head!” a Yeagarist exclaimed.

“He’s dead,” Hange announces after hearing the Yeagarists wanting to kill Levi. ‘Like hell they’ll lay one finger on him.’

“He got caught in the explosion of a thunder-spear point blank range. I’ve seen similar accidents during training, but beyond external wounds. Internal organs would be ripped into shreds and death would be instant,” Hange tries her best to convince Floch, but he doesn’t buy it.

“I can also take his pulse. Let me check,” he says eyeing her suspiciously.

Hange looked at him in panic and had to think quick. She spotted the river next to her and quickly dove in.

That I would rather do without

She emerges from the water with Levi in her arms. She laid him down and began the CPR procedures.

“Come on Levi! Don’t die on me please!” She screams as she continues giving him CPR. Tears were falling down her face and when she felt hopeless, Levi started coughing up water and Hange flipped him to his side as he catches his breath.

When he was able to breathe a little bit easier, Hange wraps her arms around his neck and starts bawling her eyes out. “Thank god you’re alive!”

Levi turned to look at her, caressing her hair as he laid back on the ground to allow his body to relax a bit, despite the pain he feels on his face and hands. As he feels Hange’s sobs die down, he felt her head get heavier on his chest. He smiles and quietly whispers to her “thank you” as they both slip into unconsciousness.

I’d rather be free

“I’d rather the two of us just live here, right Levi?”

Free

“If we keep running and hiding.....where will that get us?”

“Oh, so you heard me talking to myself?”

Free

“I know you four eyes. You won’t be able to stay out of the action.”

‘Fuck, he’s right. Looks like that dream has to wait I guess’

“You’re right.....I can’t.”

Hange’s voice cracked a bit as a tear slides down her cheek.

I’d rather be free

There’s no way the plane will take off in time, and the colossal titans are close!

"The plane! It won't take off!" Onyonkapon exclaims.

"We don't have much time left! The rumbling is getting closer! We need to hurry!" Hange hears someone yell.

"I'm doing the best I can!"

More panicking ensues as Hange is thinking of a plan.

"Your death is the only way the Alliance will survive and save the world."

'My death?'

"You've been suffering for so long Hange. The sudden responsibilities of being commander, while on top of that, grieving the loss of Moblit and Erwin. Don't you want that all to disappear?"

"Wouldn't you rather be free?"

'I can't....'

"It's either you die or everyone else dies."

"What will it be Hange? You have until then to decide."

Hange gripped her hair and gritted her teeth, frustrated with the stressful situation situation she's placed in. The voices in her head, everyone panicking outside, and the sound of the rumbling, it's driving her crazy, she feels her head is about to explode.

'Wouldn't you rather be free?'

'Sacrifice.....myself.....'

Hange takes a look at the colossal titans coming closer, and the plane is still struggling to take off. 'This is the only way huh?'

She thinks about whether she should go through this or not, knowing she'll be leaving the Alliance behind, leaving Levi behind.

They only had each other left. She wanted them to live together when this was all over, but looks like that won't be happening, after all, he did say they couldn't.

"What's the point if we just run and hide?"

"I know you, you won't be able to stay out of the action."

'You're right, Levi. I can't.......we can't....I'll do it.'

After Hange formed her suicide plan, she went to the deck to find the Alliance. She appoints Armin as the 15th commander of the Scouts and headed towards the colossal titans, until she heard footsteps following after. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Levi.

“You understand. It’s finally here, you know? I want to look as cool as possible right now, so please, just let me go will you?”

'I'm sorry Levi."

She waited for his response, scared of what he might say. She saw Levi coming close to her, eyes loosing his color. They look so cold and dead. He raised his right fist and bumped it onto her chest, where her heart is.

“Devote....your heart.”

Hange felt herself about to cry with the way her lips are quivering. Before she could think about changing her mind, she took off, but not without saying one last thing to him.

"Wow, I never heard you say something like that before!" she says as she tries to maintain her positive aura, but who was she kidding?

She ran towards the colossal titans, and flew up in the air with her ODM gear.

She looked below her, feeling their heat.

‘Is this what you wanted right?’

She took a deep breath and smile sadly.

“Titans.....are truly wonderful.”

'I hope you'll forgive me.'

Free

All the emotions she was feeling right now, all that anger, pain, sadness and despair, she let all out as she knocks down every colossal titan one by one.

"What are you really doing this for? To save the alliance or yourself?"

Hange paused for a minute to look at the plane that looks like it's about to take off.

'Am I?'

"Are you?"

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt her cape catch on fire and spreading throughout her body. 'Fuck....well, there's no stopping now.'

With what little strength she had left, she kept fighting, screaming out her emotions with angry yet sad tears spilling out of her eyes as she slices as many colossal titans as she could until she couldn't anymore, falling to her death.

Free

She wakes up to a plane noise, and sees it flying in the sky.

“The plane!” she exclaims to herself.

“It took off,” a deep voice said.

Hange turned around and saw Erwin, Moblit, Mike, Nanaba, the rest of the veterans, and even Marco and Sasha was there to greet her.

“You did your duty well,” Erwin says with a proud smile.

Hange was still in shock to see everyone again, but lets out a soft smile as Erwin helped her up.

‘But, I just got crushed by-‘ she pauses herself and decides to meet up with her comrades to tell them everything, only for the moment to pass by in a blink.

"There's so much to talk about...I don't know where to start..."

"We have all the time in the world," Erwin says as he reached out his hand and helped her off the ground.

From here

(If you want to stop here, you can, but I'm a sucker for happy endings and I also have my own speculations with how love is perceived in AOT that I want to write about or why Ymir chose Mikasa to be the one to decide the fate of the world pretty much, and i was think 'how about both eremika and levihan both be living proof that love isn't a like shackle or something to be a slave to?' and this whole thing I wrote is basically like a test for Hange, if she genuinely wanted to kill herself or actually did die not just for humanity, but for the Alliance to survive, also I kind of wanted Hange to have a bit of a conflict with what she really wants. Anyways, this got a lot complicated to write than I thought so hopefully, it's not too messy)

“So this is it then. This is how the great 14th commander of the Survey Corps Hange Zoë dies.”

Hange opens her eyes and sat up, only to see nothing but darkness. She swore a moment ago she was telling her fallen comrades about what happened after the battle to take back Shiganshina.

She stands up and walks around trying to find anything that can help her figure out what’s happening, but it’s no use.

“What’s going on?! What’s happening?! Where am I?! What are you?!”

Suddenly, she’s no longer stuck in what looks to be a dark void. There’s somewhat of a galactic sky above her, sand beneath her feet and in a distance this light that’s in a form of a giant tree. 'Am I in paths?'

She turns around and sees a little girl with blonde hair, eyes closed and a frown staring at her.

"I assume you must be Ymir Fritz. The original founder of the titans."

“Indeed I am. And as I stated earlier, you're Hange Zoë, 14th commander of what's left of the Scouts and leader of the Alliance. Everyone views your death as a noble sacrifice for humanity, but is it really a sacrifice for humanity or was it something more personal? Perhaps, even a little selfish?”

Hange gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. She did not want to deal with this right now, but deep down, what she's implying might be true.

"What are you trying to say? I had no other choice. They all would've been dead! This was the only way!"

"Even if it meant leaving that Ackerman behind? You did say you wanted to live with him when all of this was over. I envied what the both of you had for each other. You both could've been something more if you stayed. You say you sacrificed yourself for humanity's sake, but I sense there's a more selfish intent. I could tell in the look of your eyes you didn't truly want to die, perhaps because you had strong feelings for that Ackerman. But he wasn't enough....wasn't he? Your desire to free yourself from your responsibilities as commander and grief were much stronger."

Hange felt anger surge into her veins, so she grabbed Ymir by the collar and looked her in her closed eyes as she gritted her teeth in anger. However, in the back of her mind, Hange knew Ymir was kind of right about her. She did had a selfish reason, she was tired, and frustrated. She couldn't handle the responsibilities that just kept on coming, along with learning the politics and general information of every new country discovered and having to rely information from the Marlayans that showed up, along with the books Grisha left in the basement.

The more paperwork and planning she had to do, the more she started loosing herself. Everyone saw it but didn't say anything, that included Levi, but she couldn't blame him, she was too far gone. There were so many times she wanted to die, but stopped herself every time.

'Not the right time. They still need me,' she would tell herself. It wasn't until Eren started getting rebellious and the rise of the Yeagarists that really pushed her on edge. She felt so hopeless, and was lost. When Eren started provoking her in the cell, it was a sign to her that she wasn't meant for this position. She lost control of the situation and felt it was her fault. Hange felt that she wasn't useful anymore, even if they've managed to save the world and prevent Marlay from attacking Paradis.

However, without her sacrifice, the Alliance would have died with her. She didn't want to drag them down with her when they had a chance of saving humanity and living a peaceful life after the war. Even if it meant abandoning her dream of living a peaceful life with Levi.

She calms herself down and lets go of Ymir.

"You're right about one thing, I did have a selfish motive. I wanted to be free from the responsibilities and the grief I've been feeling while I was still alive. I know I'm a coward for wanting to die, but that's not the sole reason why I sacrificed myself. Not only me, but the Alliance and the rest of humanity would've been killed because of the rumbling the Yeagar brothers started! As much as I wanted to stay for Levi, I wanted him to experience a life of peace, same with the Alliance. And even if that means sacrificing myself, and giving up my future with him just so he and everyone else can live a better life after this war, then so be it." As Hange finishes her long speech, she started feeling tears streaming down her eyes.

Ymir just stood there, looking at Hange with her eyes still closed. It was silent for a bit, and then Ymir spoke up, "Very well then."

In a blink of an eye, the two appeared on what happens to be the top of Eren's spine in his founder titan form.

Hange looked below them to see the Alliance fighting past titan shifters and more titans forming. She already picked up that it was probably Ymir's doing. 'Looks like my sacrfice was worth something.'

"Why are you showing me this?" Hange asks suspiciously.

"Your friends succeeded into coming here to stop Eren from flatting the Earth with the rumbling. Everything is all going according to Eren's plan," Ymir explained.

"Why are you willing to help Eren? What is his plan really? And why is he doing this in the first place?" Hange asks, super confused on what's going on.

"You'll see if he succeeds or not. It's all up to what Mikasa decides."

"What does Mikasa have to do with any of this?"

Ymir doesn't respond and turned into some sort of a pig creature. Hange looked at her shocked and is really confused of what's happening. 'What the hell?!'

The pig creature took off and went to search for Armin. Hange sighs, knowing she can't do anything, but watch it all unfold.

'What's your true motive, Eren? And how does this connect to Mikasa?'

She winced a bit when the Alliance were struggling to keep up with the fight, and was itching to go in there and help, until, she saw something fly by. ‘What is that?’

Her eyes widened with joy when she saw Falco’s titan.

"Oh my god! HE HAS WINGS?!!! HE CAN FLY!!!! OH MY GOD THAT'S SO COOL! I CAN'T TOO- oh right.....I'm dead....." Hange sighs and continues watching over the Alliance.

Eventually, the events played out as it should and as Mikasa took the final blow (cutting Eren's head off), suddenly Hange ends up in front of Levi who's slumped against a giant rock and behind are their fallen comrades. 'Where did they come from? Ymir has to stop doing this...'

She takes a good look at Levi and can't help but feel sorrow. She regrets not being mentally strong enough, and not being a part of the fight, even if she did her part, but she doesn't regret doing what she had to do in order for everyone to survive.

It still hurt her that she couldn't be there for him physically, and experience what life would be like at the end of the war. She wasn't ready to move on, but she had no choice, this is the last time she'll see him again. She put on a sad smile, and saluted him as she and their comrades slowly faded away.

It was dark again and Hange couldn't see a thing. 'Not again.'

"Hello?!" she calls out to into the void. No response.

"Anyone here?!" she calls out again. Still no response.

'Am I in hell?'

"You should know by now this is not hell," a familiar voice says in a distance.

'That voice.....it sounds....familiar.....'

"Hange, it's me, Eren."

Hange's eyes widened in shock. "Eren?! What the hell is this? What's going on? Why are you doing this?!" Hange responds in anger.

The dark void suddenly transformed into some sort of starry night, galactic scenery. She's back in paths except, Eren is standing in front of her.

"I know you're upset. You remember our conversation back in the forest right? Where you and Levi settled for the time being."

Suddenly, the conversation started playing like a film in her head and she shouldn't have listened to him.

"In order for the Alliance to succeed in stopping me, you must sacrifice yourself by fighting the colossal titans."

"You've been suffering for so long Hange. The sudden responsibilities of being commander, while on top of that, grieving the loss of Moblit and Erwin. Don't you want that all to disappear?"

Hange grits her teeth as anger flows through her veins and punched Eren in the face.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! This was your plan all along?! All of these deaths I've experienced throughout my years in the Scouts.... my death......it was your doing all along?! OUR COMRADES EREN! AND 80% OF HUMANITY!!! I hope you're fucking happy because your plan fucking worked!"

"I know, I don't expect you to understand, but I brought you to apologize for the things I've said to you when you locked me up in the cell and in paths while you were in the forest was uncalled for, so I'm sorry about that and I haven't really given you a proper thank you either. For teaching me how to use my titan powers, and being like our second parent...same with the captain."

"Thank you? Seriously? What the fuck Eren?! You just destroyed 80% of humanity and committed mass genocide! This will take more than a mere 'thank you' and sweet talk to make up for all the cruel things you've done!" Hange says with anger in her tone.

"I understand you're angry, but I did this in order to free the world from titans. For the Marlayans to stop seeing us as 'devils' rather, I set them up to be heroes. Actually, it was more thanks to Mikasa's decision to kill me that convinced Ymir to left the curse of the titans."

Hange calmed a bit, but is still fuming with anger, 'what the fuck is wrong with this guy?!' However, she is curious about something, "I have a question though. What does Mikasa have to do with this? Why her?"

"That's something I'm not so sure either. The only person who knows is Ymir Fritz herself, however I do have a theory." Before Eren can continue, he walked towards the tree and motioned Hange to follow.

She hesitantly followed him into the tree only to end up in what looks to be a snowy mountain with these greenish blue light waves in the sky.

"The Northern Lights," Hange whispers in awe. She's read about them before, but seeing it in person was an experience, but she's starting to get distracted. "What's this theory of yours?" Hange asks getting straight to the point.

"I assume you know the true story of Ymir right?" Eren asks.

"Yes, you told me in paths back when Levi and I were camping out in the forest. Ymir was not actually the goddess cults worshipped her to be, she was a slave to the Eldian king. 2000 years ago, Ymir Fritz set a pig free and was caught. As punishment, the king set her free, but was hunted by his soldiers. One day, she stumbled upon this tree for shelter, but fell and gained the powers of the titans, thus she becomes the founding titan. She then went running back to the king despite him doing the cruelest things to her, and bore his daughters, Maria, Rose and Sina. She then sacrificed herself for him when a surviving Marlayan soldier threw a spear at him, and the king forced his daughters to eat Ymir in order to gain her powers and here we are now. Am I missing something?" Hange sarcastically asks.

"No, and good to know you remembered. I encountered this in paths when I met her, that her submission to the king, must be because she was in love with him, as hard as it is to believe in, but that's the true reason why after all this time, she continues to submit to him. For 2000 years, she's been in pain, a slave to love wishing for someone to set her free from it. She kept waiting, and waiting until finally the person arrived. And that person, was Mikasa." Eren finished explaining, but Hange was still confused.

"Hold on, so you're telling me it was all because Ymir was in love with her abuser? You've got to be kidding me....but after listening to that, I'm guessing that Mikasa killing you, despite having feelings for you is the result needed in order for Ymir to lift the curse am I right? Ymir needed to see proof that you just because you love someone doesn't mean you're a slave to them, and Mikasa killing you but still loving you was proof of that," Hange said and paused for a moment before asking a question that's been on her mind for a bit, "just wondering, did you love her too?"

"I still do. As much as I want her to be happy and be happy with someone who truly deserves her, I don't want her to move on from me," Eren says as he's tearing up. "I didn't mean anything I said to her, nor Armin. I told Mikasa that I've always hated her when that was the biggest lie I ever said in my life, but I needed her to hate me so she can kill me. I remember when you said you wanted to run away with Captain Levi and live together in the forest, I wanted to do that with Mikasa. I wanted to abandon everything and spend the remaining years I had left with her in the mountains."

"Well that makes two of us. Those Ackermans are strong aren't they? Then again, they don't call them humanity's strongest soldiers for nothing," Hange coldly chuckled a bit.

"Yeah, they really are," Eren agreed. "By the way, were you and the captain dating? What's your story with him?"

Hange sighs, she really doesn't want to talk about it, especially to Eren of all people at the moment, but since she's technically stuck in here, might as well entertain him.

"Our relationship is......complicated to say the least. We don't have a label, and we didn't need one. We knew we love and cared for each other, why do we need a label for it? At the end of the day, we're just Hange and Levi. However, I believed after that night in the forest together, I started thinking about our future. I thought to myself, 'what would life be like for me and Levi if we decided to settle down here?' I wondered if Levi ever felt the same way. Instead, he snapped me out of reality, reminding ourselves that we're soldiers first, and he was right." Hange paused a bit to wipe her tears only for Eren speak up.

"How did you first meet?' he asked.

Hange started reminiscing the moments and memories she had with Levi. She told Eren how Levi, Farlan and Isabel joined the scouts and how he almost stabbed her when she first approached him because he thought Hange about their plan to kill Erwin at the time. She went into some detail about how the deaths of Farlan and Isabel impacted him, how Hange handled it and how their relationship with one another grew. 'I miss him so much.'

"Do you still love him?" Eren asks.

"I never stopped loving him, even if it meant parting ways with him just to save humanity from the destruction you caused and also freeing myself from my personal baggage. It hurts that we can't be together, but I don't regret my decision. As long as he's alive and not alone, even if it meant I'm not there, then I fulfilled my duty. That's all I ever wanted, " Hange answers.

"I see. That's all we needed to hear."

"We?"

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed, they were back in paths. Hange was now faced directly at the tree with Eren and Ymir standing on both sides of the tree.

"Mikasa isn't the only Ymir chose. It's obvious both you and Levi have something special that could blossom into something more, and you both could've ran away together, but you didn't, instead, you gave that up to ensure him and the Alliance would save humanity and finally live in peace, while Levi gave you up because he knew you wanted to be free, so he let you go. We can't bring back someone from the dead, but there is something I can do."

Suddenly, the light from the tree grew even brighter and before she could react, the light engulfed her body as she felt herself fading away from paths.

"Hange"

"Hange!"

"HANGE!"

Hange's eyes instantly opened as she woke up in a cold sweat and heavily panting. She looked around the room she ended up in and saw that she's in a bedroom.

"Oi, four eyes, how long will you be staring at the wall for?" a familiar grumpy voice asks.

Hange turned to her left and saw it was Levi sitting next to her. The right side of his face was scarred and his right eye turned white. She looked down at his hand to see it was holding hers and his two fingers were still missing. Suddenly she felt tears coming down her right eye, leaving Levi confused and worried.

"Hange? What's going on-"

Before Levi could finish his question, Hange instantly wrapped her arms around him and buried her head onto his shoulders, sobbing her heart out. Levi, despite being confused, stayed silent and held her close, comforting her as she cries.

A few minutes passed and he felt Hange's cries die down to sniffles.

"So, you want to tell me what was that all about?" Levi says.

Hange pushed herself back up to wipe the tears from her face.

"I missed you so much Levi! I'm so sorry I left you behind. The truth is, I did want to kill myself back there, at least, that's what I thought I wanted. I guess what I really wanted was for you and the Alliance to survive and live in peace once the war was finally over, but when I saw you against the rock, I couldn't help but feel sad. I wanted to be with you and we were so close, only for me to die at the last second. But where am I? What is this? I thought I died, did I die? Are you dead as well? I swear to god please tell we're-"

"Ok, one thing at a time four eyes. First off what do you mean died?" Levi asks. Hange was genuinely confused, "Didn't you see me die when I was fighting off the colossal titans? There was no way I was going to make it."

"Hange, did you hit your head or something? Or just somehow forgot 3 years worth of memories?"

"THREE YEARS?!!" Hange exclaims. 'Have I been asleep for three years?'

"Hange what has gotten into you? Was your nightmare that bad?"

Hange was so confused at what's happening, was she dreaming this whole time? Or sent to another universe of some sort- wait a minute.

"Hey Levi, where are we?" Hange asks attempting to stay calm.

Levi looked at her concerned and a bit nervous that she might be going crazy.

"Our bedroom? In the house we've living in ever since the war ended. We found an unused cabin near Odiha. Hange, are you sure you didn't hit your head last night?" Levi nervously asks as he grabs her head to examine it, seeing if there's any bruises.

"No I didn't! It's just that, one moment I was watching you guys fighting titans on top of Eren's spine, and then I was with our comrades seeing you for one final time, only to end up in paths with Eren and Ymir standing next to a tree and then suddenly, a bright light appeared....wait a minute," Hange mumbled to herself.

"We can't bring back someone from the dead, but there is something I can do."

'Is this some sort of dream or am I actually in an alternate universe... wait, did they send me into an alternate universe where I didn't die?'

"Oi, four eyes!"

Hange snapped out of her thoughts, theories still developing in her mind.

"Levi, what happened back when the plane couldn't take off in Odiha 3 years ago?"

Levi gave her a really confused look, but answered anyways.

"I saw you running out of the deck and overheard you appointing Armin to be the 15th commander of the Scouts. Those brats knew about your suicide plan so they convinced you into letting them help you take down as many colossal titans as they can to buy time, and you caved in. Luckily the plane took off in time before you and those brats started getting exhausted. I assume you know the rest."

'So, they did send me to an alternate universe. The one where I didn't die....'

"Sorry Levi, it's just that, in my 'nightmare' I fought those colossal titans alone. I burned to death and got trampled on. To be honest, back then, I did want to die. I thought being free from my responsibilities as commander was what I really wanted, that death would set me free, but it didn't. Instead, I started feeling more regret that I left everyone I care about behind, that includes you Levi, but even if I realize that now, my death was inevitable. Either I go, or you guys die with me, and if my sacrifice was the price, then so be it."

Hange felt Levi pull her close and felt his hand caress her hair.

"We're here now Hange. It's all over, we can finally rest and live the life we've always dreamed of. And for the record, you were a great commander, without you, the world would've been flattened."

Hange eyes glistened with tears when heard that. She leaned in closer to Levi's embrace, taking it all in.

They stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes until they heard knocking on the door.

"Must be Gabi, Falco and Onyonkapon, maybe you can explain to them your dream. Can you get my wheelchair?" Levi asks as looks for his shirt and pants on the ground.

"You're in a wheelchair now? Awee Levi, is age catching up to you?" Hange asks teasingly.

"Just get the goddamn wheelchair Hange! And for the record, I permanently broke my left leg saving your guys' ass three years ago," Levi grunted.

Hange went to get his wheelchair that was lying against the wall in front of their bed, and helps him sit.

"You should change or at least fix your hair," Levi suggests.

"Do I have to?" Hange whines.

Levi glares at her and Hange rolls her eyes and pouted.

"Ugh, fine," Hange grunted.

As she made her to way the bathroom to get dressed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she felt genuinely happy to see her reflection. A reminder that she's alive, and she can finally experience a peaceful life with Levi and the Alliance, not to mention, traveling around the world.

"Hey Levi!" Hange calls out.

Levi was about to wheel his way out of the bedroom to answer the front door, but paused when he heard Hange calling him.

"What?"

"I'm so glad to be alive."

Levi was kind of stunned with the sudden out burst, but he found it endearing and didn't care, as long as she's happy.

"Me too, four eyes."

#levihan #levihan fics #fan fiction #holy shit this took me awhile to write #stress writing #idk what im doing tbh

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liddolwhynot2000 · 3 years

Text

Decisions Of a Capricorn

____________________________________

Summary: Levi Ackerman woke up one fine morning. In the past. Shit.

Genre: Angst, lets-change-shit, drama, liddol romance (Levixhappiness)

Pairings: Levi/Original Female Character, Levi/Petra

Warning: Manga spoilers

____________________________________

Chapter 2: White Poppy

____________________________________

Summary: Capricorns are responsible and disciplined. You always make the most practical decisions. You think about things thoroughly before acting, and you make choices based on what provides the most benefits for everyone.

Alternatively, Levi decides what to do.

____________________________________

Usually, when he was left alone in his office, Levi was either buried in an absurd amount of paperwork, courtesy of Erwin, or trying to sleep a little.

Today, however, he was simply sitting at his desk and staring mindlessly at the table. He didn't even feel the urge to get himself some tea, too lost in his internal monologue.

He was back in the past. The Godamn shitty past.

Eren hadn't turned into a douche bag yet. Erwin was still alive. 95% of the people that had been dead to him a day ago, were alive and well. And if he played his cards right, he could ensure that at least some of them would stay alive.

He could and would change shit.

But.. How?

Levi was a practical man. He knew his own limits when it came to plotting and planning. There was no way for him to change things in a way that wouldn't result in the rumbling. Not on his own. Only the likes of Hange or Armin or-

Erwin

____________________________________

'Erwin.'

'Yes Levi?'

Erwin continued to work, not even bothering to look at Levi as he filled out forms for the upcoming expedition. It was late at night and the blonde commander was sitting at his desk, working away as everyone else slept. Others would think he was simply sleep deprived and that's why he was hardly paying attention to his trusted captain.

Levi knew better. Erwin was always sharp, he just preferred luring people into a false sense of security that he wasn't.

He leaned back against the couch, crossing his legs casually and took a sip of his tea.

'I've been thinking about your plan.'

'And?'

'I think we made a mistake.'

At this, Erwin calmly settled his pen down and finally deigned to look at him.

'Explain.'

Okay, time to put his plan into motion.

'We're sure that The Armoured and Colossal are like Eren right? Humans that's can transform into titans?'

'Yes.'

'The Colossal Titan and Armoured Titan appeared five years ago. Which means whoever is inside those shitty titans, they have at least five years of experience over Eren. Taking him and my squad into a battle field where they aren't prepared for enemies like that-'

Levi could only feel relief as Erwin's expression lit up with understanding.

'It means that I judged wrong. Of course, not all titan shifters would be like Eren. They've had more time and access to their power. More time to harness it in battle. Eren has hardly had 2 months and still can't transform at will. This makes it difficult to use him as bait to lure out the traitor, because simply put, Eren won't be able to protect himself. In which case, we would risk losing our greatest weapon and... '

Watching him open the drawer and pull out the mission plan, Levi realised that he had forgotten how smart Erwin was. He could practically see the gears turning in his mind. The brilliant bastard was changing the plan as they spoke.

'Exactly. And if the Armoured Titan comes after us, we're fucked. We don't have anyone except Eren who even stands a chance against it. And that's not saying much.'

Levi liked to believe it was sheer dumb luck that Annie had come after them, rather then Reiner. They could at least still fight and capture Annie with their limited resources--Reiner would have gotten away with Eren easily.

'Do you think your squad can take on a titan shifter?'

Levi blinked and snapped out of his thoughts.

'Frankly, no. If the shifter is Eren, he'll get his ass kicked. If it's the Armoured fucker, they're dead.'

His old squad just wasn't able to take on an opponent like that. They were all prepared to take on the worst, however, Levi acknowledged their lack of creativity and improvisation. They would simply think between to kill or to not kill, which was likely what would had gotten them killed in the first place. If they had let Eren transform first and tire out the female titan before they fought her, they would have likely lived. His next squad had proven better then them because of this--for they often found ways to fight and get out of it alive against the shittiest of odds.

'Even if we tell them about the traitor?'

'If we tell them, they'll judge accordingly and try to keep Eren safe no matter what.'

If he instructed his squad of the situation beforehand, he was confident they'd get out of it alive. They weren't the best at spur of the moment thinking, but they were still extremely talented. As long as they stuck to his orders and were informed enough, they'd manage well.

'Do you think we should tell Eren?'

Inwardly, Levi winced at the mention of Eren, remembering that he still hadn't figured out what to do about him.

'Yes. The brat needs to be prepared too. And.. I think we need to give him reasons to trust us.'

Erwin raised an eyebrow at him, silently probing for more. Levi obliged.

'The brat's a Survey Corps fanboy. The hero worship will wear off soon enough. I'd rather our greatest weapon actually trust us because we give him reasons to. Don't want to risk him acting out.'

'Fair. This is rather odd coming from you, I-'

'Don't take this the wrong way. I don't trust him. But he should trust us. We're gambling lives for his shitty ass.'

'Ah. I see.'

'How much are you going to change the plan?'

'I haven't decided yet. I'll tell you by tommorow. I need to think on it a little more.'

'I just want you to let me tell my squad about the traitor. The rest is your shit to figure out.'

'... Well, you do have valid reasons so-'

Levi smirked,

'So act in whatever manner you see fit.'

Levi nodded before making to leave. His job here was done. Just as he was about to shut the door and leave Erwin to strategise, he paused.

'You might regret letting me do what I want.'

Erwin smiled at him.

'No regrets.'

Levi almost smiled back, but instead opted to shut the door.

____________________________________

Early in the morning, Levi walked outside in the courtyard. The sun had risen a while ago and the air had been crisp. It wouldn't be long till his comrades would be awake, so he figured a stroll to clear his mind wouldn't hurt.

Had he made the right decision? Levi honestly didn't know.

Initially, he had planned to just tell Erwin everything. About Marley, Eren letting his inner lunatic out full blast, the truth about the King. But, he had stopped himself.

Maybe it was because he had grown used to not having Erwin around, that he was making decisions on his own? Or maybe it was just that he was tired of following orders that only got people killed?

He hadn't wanted to not tell his squad about the traitor, yet he had obeyed orders and stayed quiet. Resulting in their deaths.

He hadn't wanted to go along with the battle in Stohess District, but he had obeyed orders and watched countless civillians die.

He hadn't wanted to take part in any plan that involved keeping Zeke alive but he had fucking obeyed orders and done it. The end result had been a mass genocide that none of them had been able to stop.

He knew Erwin would lead them well if he knew everything, but for now, he would prefer changing things using his own authority. It was selfish of him, but he had learned his lesson.

Ever since that dark day in that field, when he had made his decision to serve in the Survey Corps, he had always relied on Erwin. Or rather, his orders. It had been easier to let him make all the decisions and just go with it. The objective was always completed, so the cost had always been brushed aside.

Except following orders like that had only worked for singular, short term goals. When it came to the end goal, it had only led to their destruction.

Levi was scared that if he followed Erwin half blind like before, history would only repeat itself. But what if he made it worse? Erwin had always been more visionary. The brains of the operation. Levi was used to being the brawns that just did as told.

He kicked a pebble, sighing. Taking a deep breathe he closed his eyes--only for someone to bump into his chest and fall to the ground.

Levi didn't so much as step back, hardly phased. He frowned at the person rubbing their head as they half lay on the floor.

It was a woman, with startling, long red hair. A basket lay next to her, full of flowers. Some had fallen out of the basket.

'Tch. Watch where you're going.'

The woman looked up at him, vivid pretty green eyes blinked up at him in confusion. Levi raised an eyebrow, and then realisation dawned upon her. She immediately scampered upto her feet

'I'm so, so sorry--I was - I mean- I didn't mean to bump into you Captain. It was an honest mistake.'

'Whatever.'

He rolled is eyes and gestured to the flowers on the ground.

'Well? Clean up this mess'

'Oh yes, of course.'

She began hurriedly picking up the flowers, before nervously apologising to him once more and running off. Just as he was about to walk back to his office, he noticed a flower she hadn't picked up.

Holding it in his hand, he couldn't help feeling a sense of peace. It was a white poppy. Clutching it tightly, he began to climb the stairs to his office, suddenly feeling more sure of himself then ever.

Hange had told him, in one of her I- learned-something-new-so-your-eardrums-have-to-suffer sessions, about what a poppy symbolised. Peace. The end and remembrance of a war. It had been one of the last happy conversations he had with her, right before Eren had unleashed hell on them.

Peace was all Levi had ever wanted--not just for himself, but for everyone living in the walls. And he would try his damned hardest to achieve that.

Yet again, he would believe in his own decisions. This time, he would trust himself even more. Feeding Erwin little information that made sense would be easy enough, the man was intelligent enough to draw conclusions that would benefit them.

And, there were somethings he would prefer that still happened. To keep things predictable for him. Like the 57th Expedition. He would capture Annie this time around and not let the Stohess Battle occur. The wall titans and humanity existing outside the walls could be proven when Historia was made queen and they reached the basement-

Wait, shit.

Historia was still part of the Survey Corps.

____________________________________

Levi stared blankly at the flower on his desk, debating whether if breaking the queen's legs before she was even queen would be considered treason. Because there was no way in hell he was letting her near any danger.

Historia was a game changer. A hope for the war. Levi knew some people would still die, but Historia was one who couldn't. Eren could be replaced, Erwin could be replaced, Levi himself could be replaced, but not Historia. He would have to get her out of the fold safely-

*knock knock*

'Come in' Levi answered without a second thought. Petra entered holding a tray full of biscuits and a steaming cup of tea.

'Captain, here's your morning tea. The staff had some biscuits today too.'

'Ah. Thank you. Just put it here.'

Petra settled the tea cup and plate on his desk, catching sight of the poppy.

'That's a pretty flower captain. Where did you pick it from?'

'I didn't. I got it from some girl.'

If Levi hadn't been busy checking the temperature of his tea, he would have noticed the slightly crushed expression on his comrades face. By the time he looked at her again, the girl was saluting him.

'Petra--go tell the others we'll be doing transformation experiments with Eren today. Everyone has an hour to get ready. If anyone's late, they'll have a special sparring session with me.'

'Yes Sir!'

Watching her leave, he resolved himself. He was doing what he could for them. He would try to get them closer to peace. He found himself looking at the white poppy again, the barest hints of a smile on his face.

He might just have to thank that girl for bumping into him.

.. And look into the law books regarding what injuries to historia wouldn't count as treason. There had to be at least one right?

__________________________________

A/N: hope y'all liked this! Sorry I've been MIA. My dad got pnemoneia and ended up admit in the hospital. Thankfully we caught it in time, so he's recovered well now. But it's been a crazy couple of days.

Soo, I debated Levi being absolutely honest with Erwin and telling him the entire truth but I realized it wouldn't work. The story is going to be set in more changing the timeline from chapter 4 I think, when the expedition starts. I'm actually writing this as I go sooo, *laughs nervously. Also poor historia. Will Levi actually break her legs? Till next time!

(also I'm working on those asks now, so they'll come soon)

#aot #snk #levi ackerman #attack on titan #levi aot #Time travel #Levixhappiness #Isayama won't make them happy so I will #Angsty #Let's change shit #Manga spoilers

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nicklloydnow · 3 years

Link

"In 1910, the last year of his life and only a few years before World War I put an end to the long European peace, William James wrote a pamphlet for the Association for International Conciliation, one of the many pacifist groups whose prominence in that period convinced many people that war between nations, being so obviously irrational, was therefore impossible. James’s essay, titled “The Moral Equivalent of War,” is a work of supreme pathos and wisdom. James himself was a pacifist, a founding member of the Anti-Imperialist League, a group formed to protest America’s military interventions in Cuba, Haiti, and the Philippines, and one of the most humane and generous spirits America or any other nation has ever produced.

James understood perfectly the folly—the “monstrosity,” as he called it—of war, even in those comparatively innocent, pre-nuclear days. But he also acknowledged the place of the martial virtues in a healthy character. “We inherit the warlike type,” he pointed out, “and for most of the capacities of heroism that the human race is full of we have to thank [our bloody] history.” “The martial virtues,” he continued, “although originally gained by the race through war, are absolute and permanent human goods.... Militarism is the supreme theater of strenuousness, the great preserver of our ideals of hardihood; and human life with no use for strenuousness and hardihood would be contemptible.” “We pacifists,” he wrote with characteristic intellectual generosity, “ought to enter more deeply into the aesthetic and ethical point of view of our opponents.” To militarists, a world without war is “a sheep’s paradise,” flat and insipid. “No scorn, no hardness, no valor any more!” he imagines them saying indignantly. “Fie upon such a cattleyard of a planet!” This, remember, was the era of Teddy Roosevelt, preacher of the strenuous life and instigator of splendid little wars. James’s pacifism may be common sense to you and me, but when he wrote, the common sense of Americans was mostly on Roosevelt’s side.

How to nourish the martial virtues without war? James resolved this apparent dilemma with a suggestion many decades ahead of its time: universal national service, every youth to be conscripted for several years of hard and socially necessary physical work, with no exceptions and no class or educational discrimination. This army without weapons would be the moral equivalent of war, breeding, James argued, some of the virtues essential to democracy: “intrepidity, contempt of softness, surrender of private interest, obedience to command.” I am sure James would have agreed that these are not the only virtues essential to democracy—he himself, with his anti-imperialist activism, exemplified an equally essential skepticism and resistance to authority. But I wonder if our contemporaries, who mostly need no convincing about the necessity of skepticism and resistance to authority, would also agree with James about the importance of valor, strenuousness, and self-sacrifice.

James wrote in America before World War I, a situation of almost idyllic innocence compared with that of the next writer I want to cite, D. H. Lawrence. The Great War, as contemporaries called it, was a soul-shattering experience for English writers. The complacent stupidity with which Europe’s governing classes initiated, conducted, and concluded that war, the chauvinism and bloodlust with which ordinary people welcomed it, and above all, the mindless, mechanical grinding up of millions of lives by a war machine that seemed to go of itself—these things infuriated Lawrence almost to madness. Like many others, Lawrence saw the facelessness, the impersonality, the almost bureaucratic character of this mass violence as something new and horrifying in human history. But more than all others in the twentieth century, Lawrence was the champion of the body and the instincts against the abstract, impersonal forces of modernity. Like Nietzsche, he marshaled torrents of impassioned prose against the apparently inexorable encroachments of progress. Here is a passage from “Education of the People,” published posthumously in the two volumes of Phoenix.

We are all fighters. Let us fight. Has it come down to chasing a poor fox and kicking a leather ball? Heavens, what a spectacle we should be to the ancient Greek. Rouse the old male spirit again. The male is always a fighter. The human male is a superb and god-like fighter, unless he is contravened in his own nature. In fighting to the death, he has one great crisis of his being.

What is the fight? It is a primary, physical thing. It is not a horrible, obscene, abstract business, like our last war. It is not a ghastly and blasphemous translation of ideas into engines, and men into cannon-fodder. Away with such war. A million times away with such obscenity. Let the desire of it die out of mankind.... Let us beat our plowshares into swords, if we will. But let us blow all guns and explosives and poison-gases sky-high. Let us shoot every man who makes one more grain of gunpowder, with his own powder.

And then let us be soldiers, hand-to-hand soldiers. Lord, but it is a bitter thing to be born at the end of a rotten, idea-ridden machine civilization. Think what we’ve missed: the glorious bright passion of anger and pride, reckless and dauntless.

(...)

Modernity imperils another set of virtues, which are a little harder to characterize than the martial virtues, but are even more important. I don’t mean the bourgeois virtues, though there’s some overlap. I suppose I’d call them the yeoman virtues. I have in mind the qualities we associate with life in the early American republic—the positive qualities, of course, not the qualities that enabled slavery and genocide. In 1820, 80 percent of the American population was self-employed. Protestant Christianity, local self-government, and agrarian and artisanal producerism fostered a culture of self-control, self-reliance, integrity, diligence, and neighborliness—the American ethos that Tocqueville praised and that Lincoln argued was incompatible with large-scale slave-owning. Today that ethos survives only in political speeches and Hollywood movies. In a society based on precarious employment and feverish consumption, on debt, financial trickery, endless manipulation, and incessant distraction, such a sensibility seems archaic.

According to the late Christopher Lasch, the advent of mass production and the new relations of authority it introduced in every sphere of social life wrought a fateful change in the prevailing American character. Psychological maturation—as Lasch, relying on Freud, explicated it—depended crucially on face-to-face relations, on a rhythm and a scale that industrialism disrupted. The result was a weakened, malleable self, more easily regimented than its pre-industrial forebear, less able to withstand conformist pressures and bureaucratic manipulation—the antithesis of the rugged individualism that had undergirded the republican virtues.In an important recent book, The Age of Acquiescence, the historian Steve Fraser deploys a similar argument to explain why, in contrast with the first Gilded Age, when America was wracked by furious anti-capitalist resistance, popular response in our time to the depredations of capitalism has been so feeble. Here is Fraser’s thesis:

During the first Gilded Age the work ethic constituted the nuclear core of American cultural belief and practice. That era’s emphasis on capital accumulation presumed frugality, saving, and delayed gratification as well as disciplined, methodical labor. That ethos frowned on self-indulgence, was wary of debt, denounced wealth not transparently connected to useful, tangible outputs, and feared libidinal excess, whether that took the form of gambling, sumptuary displays, leisured indolence, or uninhibited sexuality.

How at odds that all is with the moral and psychic economy of our own second Gilded Age. An economy kept aloft by finance and mass consumption has for a long time rested on an ethos of immediate gratification, enjoyed a love affair with debt, speculation, and risk, erased the distinction between productive labor and pursuits once upon a time judged parasitic, and become endlessly inventive about ways to supercharge with libido even the homeliest of household wares.

Can these two diverging political economies—one resting on industry, the other on finance—and these two polarized sensibilities—one fearing God, the other living in an impromptu moment to moment—explain the Great Noise of the first Gilded Age and the Great Silence of the second? Is it possible that people still attached by custom and belief to ways of subsisting that had originated outside the orbit of capital accumulation were for that very reason both psychologically and politically more existentially desperate, more capable, and more audacious in envisioning a non-capitalist future than those who have come of age knowing nothing else?

If this argument is true—and I find it painfully plausible—where does that leave us? An individual’s or a society’s character cannot be willed into or out of existence. Lost virtues and solidarities cannot be regained overnight, or even, perhaps, in a generation. Even our ideologies of liberation may have to be rethought. A transvaluation of values may be in order: faster, easier, and more may have to give way to slower, harder, and less—not only for ecological reasons but also for reasons of mental and moral hygiene. And even if we decide, as a society, to spit out the poisoned apple of consumerism and technological addiction, is there a path back—or forward, for that matter? If individual self-sufficiency and local self-government are prerequisites for human flourishing, then maybe it is too late.

(...)

Do my apparently disparate-sounding worries have anything in common? Possibly this: they all result from one or another move on the part of the culture away from the immediate, the instinctual, the face-to-face. We are embodied beings, gradually adapted over millions of years to thrive on a certain scale, our metabolisms a delicate orchestration of innumerable biological and geophysical rhythms. The culture of modernity has thrust upon us, sometimes with traumatic abruptness, experiences, relationships, and powers for which we may not yet be ready—to which we may need more time to adapt.

But time is short. “All that is solid melts into air”—Marx meant the crust of tradition, dissolving in the acid bath of global capitalism. Now, however, the earth itself is melting. Marx’s great metaphor has acquired a terrifying second meaning."And so has Nietzsche’s. If we cannot slow down and grow cautiously, evenly, gradually into our new technological and political possibilities and responsibilities—even the potentially liberating ones—the last recognizably individual men and women may give place, before too many more generations, to the simultaneously sub- and super-human civilization of the hive."

#nietzsche #zarathustra #marx #modernity #virtues #values

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avengers-nextgen · 5 years

Text

The Aftermath II

“Scout,” The voice sounded far away as a gentle hand shook his shoulder. Blinking through bleary eyes, Scout made out the fuzzy image of his father.

“Huh?”

“It’s late,” Vision smiled, “go to bed.”

“I-I’m Okay,” Scout insisted only to be interrupted by a yawn halfway through his sentence, “I’m not tired at all.”

“Very funny,” Vision laughed, gently prying the book from his son’s hands and picking him up with ease, “but a horrible lie.”

“Uh huh uh huh,” Scout nodded barely listening. Vision only rolled his eyes and let Scout drift back into a half sleep.

Upon making it to Scout’s room he placed the boy gently on his bed and eased him out of his shoes. Leaving them neatly by the door, Vision flicked off the lights and wished Scout goodnight.

— — —

The next morning Scout was still asleep well past his usual time when Orion finally went to check on him. He found Scout still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, curled up on top of the sheets with wild hair and a peaceful expression.

But what struck Orion the most wasn’t that his boyfriend was sleeping in for once-it was that his room was rather messy. Books of all sorts were strewn about and open on different pages. Sticky notes decorated the walls and numerous notebooks were tossed about.

Arching a brow at the uncharacteristic mess, Orion carefully picked up one of the heavy hardbacks (making sure to keep the designated place marked) and studied the cover. Thick blocky letters read: The Neurological Process of Memory When Faced With Pavlovian Conditioning.

Orion had to read the title three times to gain even a small comprehension of the book. With a comical look of disgust he set it aside. His brain was not ready for that kind of comprehension so early in the day.

But curiosity won out and he began to look at other titles, books, and notes Scout had made. The more he looked, the more he got an idea of what was happening.

“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to snoop?” Scout yawned, stretching out on his bed with a look of tired mirth.

“Your room’s usually not this messy, that’s all,” Orion shrugged, setting down a notebook. “I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately. What’s up?”

“It’s a long explanation,” Scout sighed, rubbing his temples.

“I have time,” Orion assured. Scout nodded and moved over for Orion to sit beside him.

“You know how I can sense and feel emotions right?”

“Mhm,” Orion nodded.

“Well, lately, with all that’s going on it’s very overwhelming. I get headaches and I have to hibernate -in a way- by shutting that aspect of my brain off. It’s why I’m a bit detached at the moment. If I wasn’t, I’d be hypersensitive to everything going on and I can’t deal with it all at once,” Scout explained. “But to combat the chaos- I took to studying. I’ve found a lot of information that may help us with Drew.”

“Well, as excited as I am to hear that,” Orion snorted, “you look like a zombie. You have to take care of yourself too you know. And if you need help to block things out just borrow my headset, or if you’re overwhelmed just tell me. I get worried when you just disappear.”

“Sorry,” Scout frowned, “I didn’t really know I was doing it. It just sort of happens. If people don’t tell me I won’t notice. So, just smack me about if I start getting bad about it again.”

“I’ll smack you with my lips,” Orion offered earning a small laugh in response. “Anyways, since I know you’re bursting with info-what’ve you found?”

“Do you really want me to ramble this early in the morning?” Scout asked, arching a brow.

“I’ll handle it,” Orion promised, laying down and making himself comfortable.

“Alright,” Scout rolled his eyes playfully, “well, I’ve been able to understand brain chemistry more and because of that I have an idea. See, lots of our memories can be triggered when we least expect it. All there needs to be is a source or small piece of that memory. If Drax is part of any memories Drew has at all, exposing her to a similar situation involving him could very well force her to remember her past.”

“Scout, not to be rude in anyway, but I don’t think we can or should re-create mass genocide,” Orion warned.

“I know that!” Scout huffed, earning a playful smirk from Orion. “Let me finish.”

“You’re always grouchy when you haven’t had your peanut butter toast in the morning,” Orion winked.

“Anyways,” Scout insisted trying to avoid embarrassment, “if we use Drax’s memories and somehow figure out how to link their subconscious together we can use him as a trigger source.”

“But?”

“But there is the chance that it doesn’t work and Drax may lose any hope he has left of us being able to help,” Scout concluded.

“It sounds feasible but I’m not exactly the most intelligent when it comes to none space science,” Orion frowned, “but I’m sure you could get help.”

“The issue is being able to identify the memory most likely to have a positive result,” Scout explained, “and I’m not particularly practiced in digging up memories. It’s more of an ability to see the present through someone else.”

Orion sighed, humming a tune as he thought until an idea struck him, “Can’t Sage see memories?”

“Yes,” Scout nodded, “but she’s been distracted with Bianca lately and I don’t want her to have another burden.”

“What about Enzo?”

“He’s been...moody.”

“Loki?”

“Maybe,” Scout pursed his lips in thought, “but how are we going to convince him to participate?”

— — —

“You can have it for a week,” Orion warned, “but if you break it I break you!”

“Wonderful!” The God of mischief beamed, studying the headset with delight. “Well, when you need me just give me a call and I’ll be there.”

“I’m serious,” Orion glowered, “if you break it-“

“Babe, I think he gets it,” Scout settled a gentle hand on Orion’s shoulder. He could tell Orion was anxious about letting one of his most prized possessions go, but it needed to be done. Loki had a fascination with old music players. Scout gathered that it had something to do with an old record/music store and a chance meeting with someone playing a piano.

“I’m only making sure,” Orion insisted.

“Well, he won’t break it because I’ll be mad and I’m scary when I get mad.”

“Yes, I’ve seen your mother,” Loki nodded, looking serious for once. “She’s very frightening.”

“She gets mad?” Orion asked as his eyebrows arched in surprise.

“Yes, be glad you haven’t seen it,” Scout mumbled. “Well, Uh, thank you Loki.”

“Don’t mention it. Like I said, give a call when I’m needed, until then I’m off to explore.”

“What are you looking for?” Orion questioned.

“A few familiar faces, that’s all,” The God assured, and before either of the boys could question him he vanished in a puff of green fire.

“He‘s shady,” Orion shivered.

“I like him,” Scout decided, “he’s got a bit of mystery. Makes it entertaining. Especially when he messes up which he normally does.”

“You’re pretty maniacal you know that?” Orion laughed.

“I was told once I’d make a good psychopath. I’m not sure if it was a compliment or an insult,” Scout frowned, pressing a finger to his lips in thought.

“Doesn’t matter,” Orion snorted. “Bottom line is, I’m thankful you’re trying to help me out with my cousin. It means a lot, and you didn’t have to do it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“She’s not someone you’ve connected with. I know bonds mean a lot to you and it’s how you make a lot of key decisions. So, the fact that you’re putting so much effort into helping someone you really only know the name of is...beautiful,” Orion smiled.

“Your family is my family,” Scout shrugged, “all I needed to know was that she’s your cousin. Besides, I’ve decided that the person we fought isn’t the person she is deep inside. Before I judge her I’d rather get a chance to meet her for who she really is.”

“I’ve said it before,” Orion grinned, taking Scout’s hands in his and resting their foreheads together, “but I will say it again. You are one impeccable, kind, and sweet man. I can’t seem to remember how I got by without you in life to make things seem less daunting.”

“I don’t know,” Scout admitted, “but I can agree with that statement.”

“I’m glad,” Orion pressed a light kiss to Scout’s lips, “but on a side note-“

“He won’t break the head set,” Scout laughed.

“I don’t know what life is like without it either. Okay? It’s second only to you!”

“You dork!” Scout snorted.

“I’m your dork, so deal with it,” Orion fake pouted as the two left for breakfast all the while never ceasing to tease each other.

#avengers #avengers next gen #marvel #black widow #captain america #mcu #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #romanogers #scarlet witch #the aftermath #theaftermath #phase3 #scorion

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hotelconcierge · 6 years

Text

HYPOCRISY IS BAD, BUT YOU’RE WORSE

“I like the Walrus best," said Alice, "because you see he was a little sorry for the poor oysters.” “He ate more than the Carpenter, though,” said Tweedledee. “You see he held his handkerchief in front, so that the Carpenter couldn't count how many he took: contrariwise.” “That was mean!” Alice said indignantly. “Then I like the Carpenter best—if he didn't eat so many as the Walrus.” “But he ate as many as he could get,” said Tweedledum. This was a puzzler. After a pause, Alice began, “Well! They were both very unpleasant characters—” (Through the Looking-Glass)

This is a moviepost—extensive spoilers follow for Death Proof, Jackie Brown, and Inglourious Basterds—and I wrote it mostly because I wanted to talk about some movies. But first, a topical tie-in:

There is always an outside that a person considers unworthy of life...The individual progressive or racist may never say that the outside is unworthy of rights, but they feel it. This is what is meant by that line from Inglorious Bastards when the character of Lt. Aldo Raine says; the "Nazi ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a jew-hating, mass-murdering maniac and they need to be de-stroyed!"

Here we have a thirst to destroy the perceived inferior, except instead of a racist seeking the end of Jews it is the progressive liberal seeking the genocide of racists. That's irony.

And understand what is happening here. Aldo Raine is really a proxy for Quentin Tarantino. Tarantino is the one speaking, not Brad Pitt. The man is very left-wing and he wrote the script. That move is essentially an exposition of the directors [sic] politics.

The above quote is taken from The Anti-Puritan. Exactly what it sounds like: dude read three Moldbug posts and now thinks he can write. The specifics of this guy’s bad opinions are not that interesting—would you believe that even the videogame industry has been corrupted by cultural Marxism?—but perhaps something can be learned from the framing:

A climate scientist drives to an important summit on global warming. On the way there, he fills up his tank with gas. The only reason oil companies are in business and climate change is occurring is because of people like him who fill up their tanks with gas. Their payments make climate change possible. The payments are the reason Exxon, Shell and BP exist.

A feminist complains about the cis het patriarchy. Her boyfriend, whom she spreads her legs for, is tall, strong, confident, manly, and "dominant" in every way. Fucking dominant men is the reason they exist, the reason they will continue to exist, and the cultural incentive to become dominant...She and billions of other women perpetuate "the patriarchy" with their sexual choices. Patriarchy exists because of them.

A college professor complains about McDonald's. She has eaten fast food from a burger restaurant recently. She, and millions [of] others, are the reason McDonald's exists. (Source)

Let’s accept that there’s a lot to unpack here and move on. Focus instead on the form of the argument: tu quoque, again and again. The feebler the discourse the more accusations of hypocrisy (Bush Lied, Barack Hussein’d) because hypocrisy doesn’t require knowledge of anything but pre-algebra logic. Even a child can identify a contradiction: “But mom! You said—!”

This is precisely the skull malformation that has constricted discussion of the protestors who identify as “Antifascist Action” and are derided as the “alt-left.” Antifa has already become a perennial non-issue where all opinions are based on anecdote and there are plenty of anecdotes to go around; no one has skin in the game, anyone can upvote, and measurable achievements are dwarfed by spikes of indignation like hypertensive hemorrhages into America’s brain. If you don’t believe me, you haven’t been watching the stock prices of PP, NRA, PETA, and BLM.

Antifa now faces the two attacks that were long ago formulated against other activist groups. One: antifa is composed of violent morons who carry upon them body and pubic lice species yet to be classified by science. Two: antifa is counterproductive to their stated goal, e.g. getting to whack-a-mole pamphleteers is actually a powerful incentive to suffer for fashion.

I suspect both criticisms are true, but whatever—does the first imply the second? Is violence bad even when it is effective? Because if it isn’t, then claiming that “antifa are thugs too!” is worse than useless. Your opponent can simply reply, “So what? Nazi ain't got no humanity.” And now that you’ve cried wolf, that guy won’t listen when you claim that, in this instance, violence might not work. So you better be damn sure about your answer: what price should be paid for the sin of hypocrisy?

There is always an outside that a person considers unworthy of life...

Quentin Tarantino has dedicated his career to answering this question.

QT has seen too many movies for it to be any other way. If you consume enough art across epoch and genre, you can’t help arrive at the Susan Sontag #redpill that content doesn’t matter all that much. All art is genre fiction no matter the pretensions and our lizard brain judges accordingly. Sure, thematic analysis is fun to play with after the fact, but if a movie has the right tropes in the right places—femme fatales, tough muchachos, pretty pictures, happy ending—well, you can convince yourself of just about anything.

Take, for example, Death Proof. Genre: exploitation/slasher. Synopsis: hot babes go for a night out, ex-stuntman stalks and runs ‘em down in a death-proof car; stuntman rinses and repeats with another girl gang except they turn the tables and Mortal Kombat his thoracic spine. Rating: extremely badass, you should check it out, anyone who tells you different is a pleb.

Namely: some people complain that the movie has too many scenes of girls talking and that their QT-isms are an unrealistic depiction of an actual group chat. The characters bicker lewdly, if that’s a thing, alternating between weirdly masculine sex-as-status teasing and pledges of undying affection, the verbal equivalent of a catfight, which is maybe how a creepy foot fetishist would imagine female dialogue, but...

Nope, still pleb. Tarantino wasn’t the first guy to invoke this trope, it’s part of the DNA of the slasher genre, as old as Jamie Lee Curtis getting razzed for her virginity in Halloween. Misogyny, maybe, but also content is a spook. Slasher movies have to fill 70 minutes before the eponymous slashing, and they also have to make you care about the outcome of said slashing without humanizing the characters so much that you get all Marley and Me when they die.

What’s the secret? Status games, the less nuance the better. Boys would watch paint dry if you said it was a grudge match. Catfighting is no different than the elaboration of powers in a shonen manga or the suspicious glares exchanged between heist movie protagonists: it creates tension. Different value systems have been described, there can only be one, now you’re rooting for process of elimination to reveal the truth. No—you identify with that process. Hail Gnon. You could make a movie with men playing status games and being killed off by women and men would still find it hot; I know this because of female horrorcore rappers but also because this movie is called Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! and it’s 10/10. Incidentally:

This is referenced again in the final scene of the film, in which the viewer cheers on our group of heroines as they beat to death a pleading, injured man.

Here’s the hot take: tote bag feminists are wrong to think that drawing boobs on Powergirl is a male attempt to diminish her power. On the contrary, the more vampire slaying the better. Sexualization is an attempt to gain access to female power: if she wants The Phallus badly enough, she might just lend her power to you. Obverse: men are idiots for thinking that the existence of rape fantasies means that women secretly want to be raped. There’s an image floating around the manosphere about that terrorist with a heart of gold, Ted Kaczynski, who was gauche with ladies in the free world but deluged in love letters upon his incarceration. Before you can say medium = message, someone tragically rendered celibate by their 23andMe results will point to this as proof that women “only want serial killers.” Newsflash: Kaczynski is serving eight life sentences without possibility of parole. Do you think the fangirls didn’t know that? Rape fantasies (theoretically “hot”) are qualitatively different than being raped (“unimaginably horrific”) because you construct the former, can turn it off at any time. The fantasy victim is assaulted by a terrible power, but the person who selects and controls that power is...

Of course it is, cough, problematic, that slasher movie girls display power through HPV vaccinations while male zombie apocalypse survivors soliloquize on whether suicide is inevitable in the absence of God. But once you sexistly set up that women should be valued by their sin, the wages = death equation is not in and of itself misogynistic. No, it’s just inevitable: sex-as-status tension can only be relieved in two ways and one of them is frowned upon in theaters. Film crit cliché and Kraftwerk song, I know, but: watching a movie renders you impotent—you can’t interact with the sexy image on the screen—except through what the camera will allow.

That’s why you are complicit in the murders that occur in the first half of Death Proof. The ex-stuntman—old, a teetotaler, star of TV shows long forgotten (and played by once-famous Kurt Russell)—is as impotent as you are, capable of getting a deleted scene lap dance but zero penetration, and when he gets in his car to commit vehicular homicide x4, he looks at the camera and smiles. Because you’re right there with him, waiting for the money shot. It would be nice to fuck, but you’ll settle for a murder. Except when it actually happens, played four times for your amusement, it’s horrible—a face melted off by a tire, a wet leg flapping in the street. Throw in a Wilhelm scream. Wasn’t that what you wanted? Are you not entertained?

It’s all perspective, my man. For all the short shorts and naughty words, the girls plan and backup plan ways to prevent unwanted sexual advances; two of them have boyfriends and one is texting a crush trying to seal the deal; they discuss and decide against inviting the opposite sex to their lakeside vacation. But that’s not what you see from the outside. That’s not where your attention is drawn, wandering the club and editing your .jpg of grievances. For you, dancefloor means sex, choker necklace means slut, and being a slut means she would never sleep with you. That’s a personal insult. And that means that nothing else matters.

Which is insane. This isn’t an argument for or against promiscuity, the point is you don’t even know promiscuity looks like. You know symbols, and for that matter, why those symbols, where did you learn those? Brazzers? If you’re gonna be mad at a thing you should at least be mad at the thing itself, not at whatever fucked up fetish you’ve imposed on reality.

There’s a scene midway through the movie where QT tips his hand. The second girl gang is lounging in a car, one of them dangling her feet out the window. The ex-stuntman approaches, you assume his perspective, and maybe because it’s an old grindhouse film...

...but the color goes out, and everything is black and white.

Which, speaking of:

Jackie Brown is first and foremost a movie about being extremely cool all the time (you should watch it). The plot is an excuse: briefly, Pam Grier (airline stewardess), Robert Forster (bail bondsman), Samuel L Jackson (arms dealer), Robert De Niro (ex-convict), Bridget Fonda (stoner surfer chick) and a couple Feds each try to nab a briefcase holding $500K.

Jackie Brown is secondarily a movie about how race shapes each and every human interaction, but that description makes it sound like a Very Special Episode, and that couldn’t be more wrong. The movie is gleefully amoral, in fact lapses from pure MacGuffinism are treated as intolerable weakness, e.g. Jackson to De Niro:

ORDELL: You know what your problem is, Louis?

Louis doesn't say anything, he just puts his hands in his pockets.

ORDELL: You think you're a good guy. When you go into a deal you don't go in prepared to take that motherfucker all the way. You go in looking for a way out. And it ain't cause you're scared neither. It's cause you think you're a good guy, and you think there's certain things a good guy won't do. That's where we're different, me and you. Cause me, once I decide I want something, ain’t a goddam motherfuckin' thing gonna stop me from gittin' it. I gotta use a gun get what I want, I'm gonna use a gun. Nigga gets in my way, nigga gonna get removed. Understand what I'm saying?

Apparently not, because De Niro later makes this mistake and gets popped.

For these characters, race is just another weapon. When Jackson meets Forster for the first time, he lights a cigarette, puts his feet up on the desk, and taps out the ash in a partly full coffee cup. Then he points out a photo of Forster with a black employee. “Y’all tight?” “Yeah.” “But you his boss though, right?” “Yeah.” “Bet it was your idea to take that picture too, wasn’t it...?” In their second encounter, Jackson, trying to get bail for Grier, pulls the same trick:

ORDELL: Man, you know I'm good for it. Thousand bucks ain't shit.

MAX: If I don't see it in front of me, you're right. It ain't shit.

ORDELL: Man, you need to look at this with a little compassion. Jackie ain't no criminal. She ain't used to this kinda treatment. I mean, gangsters don't give a fuck - but for the average citizen, coupla nights in County fuck with your mind.

MAX: Ordell, this isn't a bar, an you don't have a tab.

ORDELL: Just listen for a second. We got a forty-year-old, gainfully employed black woman, falsely accused -

MAX: Falsely accused? She didn't come back from Mexico with cocaine on her?

ORDELL: Falsely accused of Intent. If she had that shit - and mind you, I said "if" - it was just her shit to get high with.

MAX: Is white guilt supposed to make me forget I'm running a business?

But Forster—male lead, the “good guy”—plays his version of the race card and flips the script.

Example 2: Bridget Fonda, surfer gal, plots to betray Jackson, who “moves his lips when he reads,” "let's say he's streetwise, I'll give him that.” But Jackson knows that she sees him that way, it makes her predictable, which is why he can keep her around: “You can’t trust Melanie, but you can always trust Melanie to be Melanie.”

That’s not the half of it. Jackson talks a soon-dead man into getting in the trunk of an Oldsmobile, houses a homeless addict in Compton and tells her it’s Hollywood; he lies effortlessly, and when drafting your fantasy friend group you should be aware that people who lie effortlessly do it because it’s fun. Threatening someone gets you an automaton who will system 2 your demands and nothing more. Deceiving someone gives you control over that person’s soul. So Fonda’s stoned delusions of manipulating him—which in fact make her easier to manipulate—are part of her appeal. Translated: “She ain't as pretty as she used to be, and she bitch a whole lot more than she used to...But she white.”

Except Fonda is manipulating him. She’s spent her adulthood as the side piece for Dubai businessmen and Japanese industrialists who—though she doesn’t even speak the language—get off on the fact that she’s a haughty blonde who thinks she’s better than them, thinks she can manipulate them. But since they’re paying for rent and weed, doesn’t that mean...?

Example 3: Pam Grier as Jackie Brown.

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From more Sam Jackson than Sam Jackson to mumblecore for Medicare, Jackie outsmarts everyone and it’s not even close. The Feds lean into their uniforms but she doesn’t miss a beat: urbane dinner guest in one scene, “panicked, defensive, unreasonable black woman” in another. Of course the movie ends the way it does, of course. Jackson steps into a dark room. Jackie screams “he’s got a gun!” And a cop pulls the trigger. You can’t always beat the system, but if you try sometimes, it just might beat who you need.

Why does Jackie win? The canon explanation is that she’s an airline stewardess: her job is to tell people of all origins what they want to hear. The meta explanation is she’s played by blaxploitation star Pam Grier. The gimmick of Grier movies like Coffy and Foxy Brown is their exaggeration of the audience’s favored tropes re: sex and race—say, hypersexuality and fashionable/wearable blackness. But the punchline of these films is that on-screen, Pam Grier with an afro is disguising herself as an high-class escort to fool the baddies: “The gentlemen you’ll be meeting this evening have a preference for…your type.” And then she kills them.

So it’s true that these films let you "exploit” a caricature, but the flip side is that anyone who can turn that caricature on and off gets to exploit you. And that seems to be Jackie Brown’s realist take: not that racism is the Original Sin for which Thou Must Atone—because everyone sees race and is selfish besides—but rather that it makes you a sucker. And the flip side: by capitalism or by meme magic, the world will always conspire to show you what you want to see. Choose wisely.

If Jackie Brown accepts that racism is inevitable, Inglourious Basterds sets out to prove that it’s also kind of fun.

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It’s telling that Inglourious Basterds posters are push-pinned on the walls of fraternity houses right next to Scarface and The Wolf of Wall Street. Three movies, three sets of protagonists who happen to be amoral, masculine, and white. Sounds like a diss, but who are creatine-chugging white boys supposed to look up to? Chris Pratt? You can just tell that guy was grown in a test tube. There’s a reason Tarantino movies are popular and there’s a reason I’m talking about them instead of Buñuel or Tarkovsky and it has something to do with “making intensive use of a major language” and the twenty-somethings desperate to identify with a character named “Bear Jew.” And the above scene is indeed, “sick af.” Goes off without a hitch except when the Nazi says that he got his medals for bravery, and then there’s a split-second of—what, annoyance? Like, stick to the script, asshole. You’re sure as hell gonna get it now.

But I’m sure you’re aware that’s the joke, that once you got Ennio Morricone in the background you can justify anything. The Basterds “ain’t in the prisoner taking business”; they scalp the dead and maim the witnesses they leave alive. There’s no panorama of concentration camp horrors, no humanizing backstory, no evidence of any softness save boyish joy in the art of cruelty. Halfway through the film a young man celebrating the birth of his son is shot dead after surrendering in a Mexican standoff; the Basterds shrug and move on. At the climax of the film, a movie theatre full of Germans is exploded, shot, and burned to death. The modern viewer can’t help but cheer.

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The opening chapter, Colonel Hans Landa vs. the outgroup under the floorboards, sways your sympathies in the opposite direction. No, it doesn’t make you hate the French or the Jews. But the tension—the silence and the ticking and the mounting requests and insinuations—is so unbearable that you can’t help but wish for someone to pull the Band-Aid. And the camera can’t do that. Only characters can. Only the character driving the action, and Landa drives the action in his every appearance. Something has to happen—and like the man onscreen, you cave.

Hans Landa alone seems to understand that he’s in a movie, which is perhaps why he’s so polite, so witty, so manically overacted. Perhaps this is how he sees through the Allies’ tricks and disguises: he assumes everyone else is an actor as well. And perhaps this is the apologia for his crimes: he’s just playing a role. The Basterds loathe the Nazis, but Landa bears no animosity towards the Jews, can empathize with them quite easily—it’s just, he likes to play detective and the Nazis were hiring. Is that really worse? Didn’t both the Walrus and the Carpenter eat as many as they could get?

And so, near the end of the film, when Landa cuts a deal to exchange his Hugo Boss for Levi Strauss, he asks of his prisoners the one question that would matter to a character in a period piece: “What shall the history books read?”

Landa’s argument, of course, is a load of shit.

In Inglourious Basterds, every disguise fails. The British film critic-turned-agent is unable to play the Nazi he’s seen on-screen. The German actress is revealed to be an Allied spy. The vengeful Shosanna is revealed as a sweet Jewish girl; the baby-faced Nazi lusting after her is shown to be a monster. The propaganda film burns. Only Lieutenant Aldo Raine and one Basterd make it out alive, and that’s because they’re American, i.e. monolingual.

Perception is a slave to narrative, but narrative has zip zero zilch nada to do with reality. The author is dead. Was Triumph of the Will a “good movie,” technically proficient and even emotionally moving? Absolutely. Could the director’s intentions have been “good,” apolitical, an attempt at beauty but nothing more? Unlikely in this case, but possible. But was Triumph of the Will “good”?

This is the obvious yet unswallowable truth: sometimes good people do bad things. “Nazi ain't got no humanity”? How many films have Nazis with wives, mistresses, children, pub games, medals for bravery? And yet Lieutenant Raine’s opening polemic is correct: the foot soldiers of the Third Reich worked for a Jew-hating, mass-murdering maniac: they needed to be destroyed. Reality isn’t Disney, where internal beauty works its way external. Reality isn’t even so kind as to match intentions with consequences. The American (Union) soldiers fighting against the Nazis (Confederacy) may have been motivated by every bit as much hatred and bloodlust, and yet they were necessary, they were the good guys. FYI—that’s irony.

“So you’re saying we should punch the alt-right?” Are you an idiot? The Nazis weren’t bad because they were Nazis, they were bad because of the things they did. If you actually think that punching a teenage Kekistani is going to bring down the New World Order, go ahead, but stop pushing the pillow of identity over the mouth of reality.

The goal of the System, the sum of vectors going both left and right, is to keep people arguing about abstractions of violence so they won’t deign to consider the ugliness of pragmatism. The radical left will asseverate that violence is justified, refusing to question whether their particular brand of protest is effective; the alt-right will keep rallying against cropped image lunatics, the finest examples of white genocide the media has to offer, never seriously considering that sometimes people lie on the internet; and “““centrists””” will deduce that since violence is never okay, since everyone is so irrational, nothing can be done. But that’s still a perspective: it’s the perspective of the camera.

Fuck that. This essay is a condemnation of anyone who thinks that the hypocrisy of the outgroup disproves their complaint, of anyone who thinks that good intentions are enough to absolve you from sin:

You don’t get to forget what you are.

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itbeajen · 7 years

Text

Blooming Friendship | HQ! x Reader

A part of Omorfos Kosmo. Game!AU. This is before the transition.

Blooming Friendship Before the Transition "Iwa-chan! There's another person here!" Oikawa calls out through the headset. There's a faint mumble of Iwaizumi asking what was he supposed to do about that. Oikawa was debating on letting you fight on your own, or possibly jumping in to help. But what if you didn't need his help? Your character was dodging as much as you could possibly click as you evaded the incoming assaults. The specialized combat flute in your hands indicated your sub-class. Oikawa grabbed his bow, clicking the skill button, and watched as his character began notching a holy light infused arrow, aiming it at the main ogre that was attacking you. But he freezes and doesn't click on the ogre as he originally planned, as his eyes widen. You had barely brought the flute to your lips, a single note being played as the monsters around you all froze. Within the next second, your character whips out the bow. And although the skill icon is unseen on Oikawa's screen, the familiar stance in which the bow was pointed upwards was one in which he had been trying to master for the past weeks. The sound of an arrow being launched into the air and the cascading rain of light that followed afterwards as the ogres all fell to the ground indicated nothing more than a mass genocide. "Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan!" Oikawa cries out excitedly, "Did you see that?! That's the skill I've been trying to get! Arrow rain! How did she get it so quickly?! The skill barely came out this week!" "I can hear you fine Trashykawa," Iwaizumi responds. But he too was staring at his computer screen in stunned silence. To say he was surprised was an understatement, the speed at which you reacted and the fact that you had basically solo'ed one of the more common field bosses and before Iwaizumi can say anything, he already sees Oikawa engaging a conversation with you, or maybe it was the other way around? He wasn't quite sure since he joined in half way.

[L/N]: Ah shoot! Sorry, did I steal your kill?! I'm so sorry! ;__; GrandKing: No, no! WHAT'S YOUR BUILD? THAT WAS SO COOL!!! [L/N]: Oh! Hahaha, I'm a bowman with music support. GrandKing: Woah what?! A music support?! GrandKing: How?! Isn't that really hard to get as a support class?! [L/N]: You need to complete that one really long quest from that one street musician located just outside the castle. GrandKing: D:! GrandKing: I'm stuck, I never got a raid group for the boss. T^T GrandKing: [L/N] 2 gud. Iwaizumi: Or you just suck. [L/N]: LOLOL. [L/N]: Damn, you're pretty savage. [L/N]: R i p. But you know, you can always keep looking. That raid isn't well known because there aren't many bards out there you know? GrandKing: You're right, but... even my guildies won't run with me [L/N]-chan! GrandKing: ... owo I can call you [L/N]-chan right? [L/N]: Sure! It's a bit long for you to type, but I don't mind. Haha. Can I call you King then? '~' GrandKing: Yes!!! ^~^ King is oh-kay with me! [L/N]: Neat! Haha. Well, if you ever need someone for a raid, hit me up. [L/N]: But I have a request coming up, so I'll see you around King! Iwaizumi! GrandKing: Okay [L/N]-chan! GrandKing: Bye bye! Iwaizumi: See you.

You blinked at your screen and laughed, "Oh gods. What have I done?" "What'd you do?" Kenma's voice drawled out over the headset and you laughed, "I think I got myself stuck in a conversation." "Oh. G. G." Kenma teases you and you hear the hint of laughter in his voice and he asks, "Who?" "GrandKing and Iwaizumi." "Oh, those two." "Hmm you know them?" Kenma is about to reply, but the furious typing on your end of the headset makes him shake his head and he laughs, "Yeah, I think they're volleyball players in your prefecture." "Oh," he hears you hum nonchalantly and you muttered, "I wouldn't know. Tendou-senpai is already annoying as it is." "Hm?" Kenma furrowed his brows and he asked, "Who's that?" "A senpai from school that's on the volleyball team. I think the whole team plays though..." you paused, "I keep overhearing them talking about the new raids." "Haven't figured it out?" "No." Kenma stifled a scoff at your immediate answer, and you continued, "Not like it'd matter. I'm still the number 1 mercenary. No one's beaten me." Kenma shook his head and he muttered, "I have to go. Guild wants me for a raid." "Wow. Thanks for the invite Kenma." Kenma blanched at his screen and he muttered, "As if you ever invite me." "I try!" you laughed, noticing that he doesn't want to hang up first, "See ya later Kenma-senpai!" He hears the click and he sighs, "Don't call me that." Another click occurs and Kuroo teases, "Talking to your girl friend again?" "SHe's a friend that's a girl," and my kouhai. But he doesn't mention that instead his lips tug into a small smile at your in game message of "good luck!" and Kuroo says, "You should invite her." "Nah, she has a client request soon," Kenma responds as he logs back in to another character and Kuroo sighs, "You... Are you sure you don't like her?" Kuroo can hear Kenma choke on whatever it was he was drinking, or perhaps air, and the pudding haired boy narrowed his eyes at the computer screen. He sighs, "You're impossible Kuroo." "Wait, do you though?" "No," Kenma frowned. She's like my little sister. "Hmm, I would think you are, seeing how protective you are of her," Kuroo's tone changed from teasing to wondering, and Kenma muses over answering honestly or playing around, and the setter answers, "She's like a younger sister." Of course I'd protect her. You would too if you've ever gotten to know her. Kuroo hums in acknowledgement and says, "Well, let's get this raid going!"

"Yahoo, [L/N]!" Tendou calls out, and Semi sighs, "She can't hear you." "How do you know she's a girl?" Shirabu asked, again. Tendou shook his head, "[L/N] has to be a girl, no way would someone who's as cute as [L/N] be a boy!" "I hope they're a boy," Shirabu mutters. Guess: [L/N]! [L/N]: Heyo Guess! :3 "So cute," Tendou gushed and he sighed, "I wish she'd join our guild." "Why won't she?" Ushijima asked. Tendou raised an eyebrow and he teased, "Wouldn't you like to know?" Guess: Off to another client? [L/N]: Yeah! >~< [L/N]: :U But I don't know where they want me to go Guess: Oh? [L/N]: They said to meet up here, but you guys are here too... [L/N]: Are you stealing my client bruh? o 3o Guess: I'd never~! Guess: 8D "Tendou-senpai..." Goshiki softly called out, the red haired male made a weird noise in response and the younger male continues, "Did we though?" "I don't think so?" Tendou responded. He wasn't too sure and Shirabu asksed, "How do you even know her anyways?" "It's. A. Secret." Guess: [L/N]-chan [L/N]: No Guess. I will not join your guild. Guess: Okay, r00d [L/N]: Oh gods, don't type like that. Guess: My feelings are hurt. Guess: But... If [L/N]-chan wants to play that way... "Tendou," Ushijima calls out in warning as they all see the PVP flash go up, and another one confirms that the opposing player has accepted it. The entire volleyball team sighs in exasperation, and Tendou laughs, "It's okay, [L/N]-chan hasn't been able to beat me since-" Tendou doesn't finish that sentence, not when he sees that his character is frozen in place and your character charging one of the strongest 1v1 archery skills. And he cries out, "Aw what the hell [L/N]-chan!?" [L/N]: Remember Guess, I'm the one who helped you make your character build. [L/N]: Huehuehue, I know all the flaws about it. [L/N]: And that includes how bad it is at PVP if you don't strike first. You Win! Tendou frowns and sighs, "I really can't believe how heartless she is sometimes, despite us being friends." "I think you deserved it senpai," Shirabu softly comments. And Tendou pouts. [L/N]'s not fair.

Honestly, it was like today was the day everyone was online. But it was a Sunday, and last time you checked, there were no major volleyball games going on either. What luck for you to run into even the quiet ones today though. You leaned back in your chair, and softly whistled, "I must be pretty popular today." Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you directed your character to run around in circles around the new target you've caught sight of. [L/N]: Oho! [L/N]: Aone~! Aone's eyes widen and Futakuchi asks, "Who's that?" "[L/N]-chan," Aone softly responds, surprising the rest of his members and they asked, "-CHAN?" Aone: Hello. [L/N]: Hi hi! ^__^ Did you just finish your client's request? Aone: Yes. [L/N]: I see I see, I'm heading over right now. But is this the rest of your guild? I think this is the first time I've ever met them. [L/N]: Your guild leader though... [L/N]: Lolol. Fuji: Excuse me!? [L/N]: Ahahaha. [L/N]: Sorry sorry, I didn't mean to offend you it's just... [L/N]: Your equipment... you shouldn't use that set if you're a DK. [L/N]: But hey, each to their own. Futakuchi literally growled over his mic, and his teammates sighed and Aone is about to speak up, but upon reading Futakuchi's next words he sighs in defeat. Fuji: I challenge you to a PVP. Fuji: A puny bowman like you against a speed-based knight class? Fuji: You can't win. [L/N]: Ouch, harsh. [L/N]: I thought Aone's guild mates would be as nice as him. [L/N]: But. I. Guess. Not. .__. Fuji: You brat. [L/N]: Well, what you waiting for? Fight. Me. Needless to say, it ended in a loss for Futakuchi, and the beginning of a never ending friendship rivalry between the two of you.

"Ah, it's [L/N]-san," Akaashi pointed out to Bokuto. Bokuto's eyes drift back to his computer screen and his eyes widened, "She's not busy for once?" Owlicious: Hey hey hey! [L/N]: oho! Hey Owlicious! [L/N]: (x And hi Cashew~ Partying with the chatterbox again? Cashew: Always. Cashew: Otherwise he'd get lost and confused. Owlicious: Hey! [L/N]: Well, Cashew isn't w r o n g. Hahahaha. What are you two doing today? Cashew: We had a request who didn't show up, so we're just chilling in town now. [L/N]: Ooh, I see I see. [L/N]: Bailers always suck. ): [L/N]: You guys can always report them. LOLOL Owlicious: You can do that? Cashew: I never knew. [L/N]: If you report them to the mercenary bureau, you get 10% of the fee they promised to pay. [L/N]: Just make sure you give all the details and not skim out on anything. Cashew: ... Do you do this a lot? [L/N]: Well of course, I'm a busy person! [L/N]: xP I don't have all the time to wait for no shows. [L/N]: I may be a mercenary, but I'm a player too. I need my equips. [L/N]: And skill training, and quest completing. [L/N]: So.. yeah. :U Anyways, I gotta go. My client is going to be upset if I'm late! Cashew: Thank you [L/N]. See you around. Owlicious: See you later, alligator! "Bokuto-san." "What! I think she found it funny."

"Tch, of course you're here before me," he sighed as he hears the connection. Your laughter fills his room as he fumbles to look for his headset. "Sorry Kei, did you really think you'd beat me? I'm practically always on." "I'm surprised you haven't turned into a potato yet." "Well," you paused, tying up your hair, "I do focus a lot on my sports." "Mm, how's Shiratorizawa?" he asks as he accepts your party invitation. He begins equipping his character with the necessary equipments for the upcoming boss run and you hum, "Same old, same old. I'm surprised you're interested, or is it because you're curious about the boy's volleyball team, and not about me?" "[F/N]," he calls your name out, and you laugh, "Sorry." A sigh is heard and the familiar roar of your summoned dragon is heard through the headphones. You wait for him to hop on before setting your character on autopilot towards the dungeon. No words are exchanged save for the light humming from your end. You can hear Tsukishima writing, possibly doing homework while waiting to arrive at the dungeon, and you softly whisper, "I'll go watch your match between my school and yours." You can actually hear his pen drop and he coughs, as though trying to hide it and he asks, "Who will you be cheering for?" "Wouldn't you like to know?" The playful tone in your voice makes him scoff and he smiles, "Yeah." "Yeah?" "I'd like to know." You pause, and then your laughter is heard. Both of you are in higher spirits now and you let out a soft sigh. "Isn't it obvious who I'd cheer for Kei?" "No." "Mm, you're smart, figure it out yourself." "Tch." "What." "You're ridiculous." "I know," you laugh and you asked, "Ready?" "Always."

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