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differenteagletragedy · 6 months

Text

Baxter is a daaaaddy

In which @orion4ever generally requested fics with Daddy Baxter and I decided to write a novel -- this is a series of short little shots of Baxter and MC having a baby and watching that child grow up.

(Note: the baby's name is maybe the corniest thing I have ever done in my entire life but I stand by it and now it is my truth.)

"Do you think maybe you've taken enough tests?" Cove asked, standing next to you in his bathroom.

You looked down at the counter at the neat little line of pregnancy tests. There were different brands, different prices, but they all had the same result.

You were pregnant. With Baxter's baby. And it was NOT planned.

"What are you going to do?" he asked after you didn't answer his first question.

"I'm going to tell him," you responded, trying to project more confidence than you felt.

You and Baxter had been back together for a while at that point, and you'd been living together in Prism Vista City for a couple of years. Your relationship was great, and you absolutely wanted to marry him and have children together. But the plan was for all that to happen in the future.

Life, however, had a different plan.

Cove hyped you up as you collected all the sticks, wrapped them up in the bag from the drug store and threw them away. He kept it going as you walked out to your car to drive home, telling you about how great it would go, how Baxter would be so excited, how you'd be the best mom -- the sweetest words from your sweetest friend.

You tried to keep them in your mind as you made your way back to the apartment. When you made your way up to the front door, you paused, taking in a breath, then went inside.

"There's my girl," Baxter said sweetly, glancing over from the kitchen. The smells wafting through to the living room told you he was almost done cooking dinner.

"Hey," you answered, a bit less enthusiastically than normal.

It wasn't that you thought he'd be mean about it, or disappointed or anything. Not really. It's just that Baxter's original disappearing act left a bigger impression on you than you liked to admit, even now. Logically, you knew there was no chance of him running away. But still, those old feelings were resurfacing and it made you a little uneasy.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, dropping what he was doing to move to stand in front of you.

"Nothing," you said automatically -- you hadn't planned out how to tell him, but you didn't think the doorway would be a great place.

"I know you better than that," he chided, then repeated, "What's wrong?"

His eyes were boring into yours, and it just slipped out.

When he heard those words fall quietly from your lips, he froze. For what felt like forever, he didn't make a sound. He didn't move.

Then he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

All the emotions you'd been trying to hold in let loose, and you started sobbing on his shoulder. He held you, stroking your hair, whispering how much he loved you until you were able to calm down a bit.

He leaned back just enough to look at you and asked, "Are we doing this?"

"I want to," you said, certain of that much.

A wide grin broke out on his face -- not one of his usually little lazy smirks, a full-on smile.

And that's how you and Baxter started on the journey of a lifetime.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"If A goes into C ... then ... no, that can't be right," Baxter said, staring out at all the wood pieces and hardware bits laid out around him.

You were about six months along, your tummy was getting rounder, and he had you sitting on the rocking chair in the room you'd been converting to a nursery like the dainty princess he'd been treating you as for the past several months.

He was putting together a crib for the baby. It was not going well.

After you became pregnant, the two of you had decided that it might be time to find a nice little house in the suburbs, somewhere with a yard and a little more room. Baxter took the task on, spending hours upon hours researching and making calls and talking to the bank. When he found some real contenders, he'd taken you out to see them, and that's how you found your new home.

And yes, he'd assured you, the ice cream truck came down this street.

Looking down at your boyfriend reading a packet of assembly instructions like it was the most indecipherable text known to man, you couldn't help but laugh.

"I do believe we're missing something," he muttered, not hearing you.

This had been going on for an hour, and he hadn't gotten anywhere. Baxter was beautiful and sweet and graceful and so many good things, but he certainly wasn't a handyman.

"Ok, that's enough."

He looked up when you stood, then got up himself, moving to you.

"You should be resting, darling," he said, putting his hands on your waist. "Sit back down, let me take care of this. Please."

"I'm pregnant, Baxter, not helpless," you laughed, snaking your arms over his shoulders and pulling him closer.

He smiled -- he had been making quite the fuss over you since you'd told him the big news, but he didn't mind a bit. He actually enjoyed it very much. After all, you were giving him the greatest gift -- a family -- and the least he could do was pamper you while your body created an entire human being.

"I like taking care of you," he reminded you. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and another on your temple.

"Then stop messing around with this stupid crib and mess around with me instead," you said.

He raised an eyebrow, but your remark wasn't a huge surprise. Pregnancy hormones were intense, and after you got through an unpleasant first trimester, you'd gotten pretty ... fiesty.

"What kind of man would I be to deny the mother of my child something she asks for?" he asked.

"No kind of man at all," you replied, pulling him down for a proper kiss.

If Baby Ward ever asked where their antique crib came from, you'd have to come up with a good answer. "Your dad couldn't figure out IKEA instructions and your mom was too horny to help him" just didn't sound like a great story to pass on.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You were exhausted, more exhausted than you'd ever been in your life by far. If you'd been in any another situation, you would have passed out a long time ago and slept as long as humanly possible.

But the sight of Baxter standing in your hospital room, cradling your newborn baby girl with such a look of love and devotion on his face was enough for you to keep your eyes open.

"She's perfect," he told you softly. "Absolutely perfect."

The baby, who you still hadn't named yet, gave a little coo, and you'd swear if he wasn't so intent on holding her so carefully he would have melted right into the floor.

"Daddy loves you," he told her, using a mix between his normal fancy voice and a baby-talk tone that he'd been using throughout your pregnancy when talking to your tummy -- it was equal parts adorable and hilarious. "Daddy is going to take care of you and mommy forever and ever, you little angel, daddy's little princess ..."'

He went on like that for a while. It could have been the exhaustion, but you thought you saw actual hearts in his eyes once.

After a bit, the baby started crying. Baxter swiftly handed her to you, and you started a breastfeeding attempt. He stayed right by your side, helping you angle her around and move her head to try to find the best latch. Once you'd found it, you smiled up at him.

"I think I know what her name is," you told him.

"Oh?" he asked. "Do share."

"Penelope. Penny for short."

He smirked at the reference to one of his old favorite sayings, then looked down at the baby. He studied her for a moment, then looked back to you.

"Penny Ward," he said, giving you a quick kiss. "One of the two lights of my life."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Penny ... baby, please ..." you cried, holding your six-month-old daughter in your arms as she cried right along with you.

She was teething, a sharp little top of a tooth poking through her gums, and she didn't care for the feeling one bit. You'd tried everything -- teething rights, soft frozen foods, tylenol, walking, sitting, lying down. Nothing was working.

"Daddy's home," you heard from the doorway. Baxter had been off working a wedding, and you hadn't heard him come in over the sound of Penny's screams.

He walked directly to you, still in his self-designated work uniform of a black shirt and slacks, and took the baby from you.

"I've got her," he said, rubbing her back lightly. "Why don't you take care of yourself? Bed, dinner, a bath, perhaps? What do you need?"

You leaned against the wall, still crying yourself and not sure how to respond. You watched as Baxter kissed Penny on the cheek and moved with her across the room in a little waltz. He'd done this since she was born -- she liked being walked around, but why would Baxter walk when dancing was just as easy?

She settled down a bit in his arms -- a daddy's girl, through and through.

"Can I take a shower?" you asked. "Then I can get her to sleep while you get ready for bed."

"Absolutely not," he told you. "And miss an evening with one of my favorite girls?"

"You worked all day," you reminded him. "You need to rest."

"I think we both know I've got quite the knack for burning the midnight oil."

The two of you had a bit of a stare down, but you were too tired, and Baxter with your baby in his arms was too sweet.

"Ok, fine," you finally said. "I'll take a shower and lay down for a little while, but you come get me soon so you can go to bed."

"Absolutely," he said in a way that actually meant "absolutely not."

Still, you wandered off to change out of your vomit-stained shirt and hop in the shower, completely drained but completely aware of how much you'd lucked out with Baxter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You'd been with Baxter for a long time. You'd seen him at his highest and at his lowest, at his most confident and in the depths of his self hatred.

But you don't think anything quite compared to the Baxter you saw in front of you -- the Baxter who was standing in a hospital room, watching his four-year-old daughter wailing with a broken arm.

He had taken Penny to the park while you got some work done, and she'd fallen off the swing and landed funny on her arm. That was all, a normal childhood injury. Of course it was difficult to see your child in pain, but you could tell Baxter was also blaming himself.

"I've got you, sweetheart," he said softly, standing by the bed. He had one hand on her head, holding it against him, and the other was grasping the hand on her uninjured arm.

"You've got to be a brave girl, ok?" you said. You were kneeling in front of her, careful for the doctors who were at a small table by the bed, preparing to anesthetize her so they could set her arm in a cast.

"But it hurts!" she sobbed. "I want to go home!"

Baxter tensed a bit, and when you glanced up at him you saw tears in his eyes. Still, he did his best to hold it together for his pride and joy.

"I'll tell you what," he said, gripping her hand. "You just be brave for a little longer, then tomorrow we can do whatever you like. Movies all day, candy for breakfast, a toy store shopping spree -- just name it."

You glanced at him again. This girl could take this guilt trip for a major ride if she wanted.

Penny's sniffles slowed down a little as she looked up at her father. "Can we play princesses?"

"We'll be the prettiest princesses in all the land," he replied with no hesitation.

That seemed to make her happy, then the doctors were ready. They put her to sleep, then ushered you and Baxter out of the room while they got to work.

"I'm so sorry," Baxter gasped, all the emotion falling out of him now that his daughter wasn't there to see it. "It happened so quickly -- I should have been closer, I should have caught her ..."

"It was an accident," you told him simply as you pulled him into a hug. "That's all. It's not your fault."

"But it is," he argued. "I was there, I was taking care of her. If she'd fallen differently, if something else had happened, I don't --"

"Stop," you cut him off. "There's no reason to think like that. You're an amazing father. This was an accident. Don't beat yourself up."

He buried his face against your shoulder, and you felt the wetness of his tears. Penny was his world, the thought that he'd put her in danger and inadvertently caused her pain was killing him.

"You're a good father," you repeated. "If I was the one with her at the park, would you blame me?"

"Of course not," he scoffed.

"Then why can't you give yourself the same consideration?"

An age old question about an issue that Baxter was better about, but still struggled with. He held himself to an impossibly high standard, one that he'd never expect anyone else to meet.

When he failed to answer, you hugged him tighter. You told him again how wonderful he was, how much Penny loved and adored him. As you were singing his praises, a nurse came out of the room and told you that they were all done.

After a while longer, the little girl was discharged and sent home with a pink cast that gave you some warm and fuzzy feelings of your own childhood. After sleeping in the next morning, she felt better when she woke up, and your little family spent the day as princesses, complete with tiaras, tutus and wands. And you were the prettiest in all the land.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Oh my god ... oh ... my god."

"Amazing, right?"

Penny, now a precocious ten-year-old, sat on the floor in the bedroom you shared with Baxter, holding an old photograph in her hands. She looked absolutely entranced, which made sense, considering what the picture showed her.

She'd heard of Baxter's infamous monochrome phase. Her aunts and uncles had made plenty of remarks about it over the years -- Uncle Terry was able to paint an especially vivid picture.

He didn't have many pictures at all of himself when he was younger. He'd cut ties with his family years ago, so any photos there were out, and he'd gone through that lengthy phase where he didn't really let himself have friends. He didn't really like being in photos then, although you had managed to snap a couple of him during that summer in Sunset Bird.

And so your daughter had in her hands a picture of Baxter, all of 19 years old, in all his black and white glory.

"Oh my god," she repeated.

The man himself appeared in the doorway then. He'd been about to announce that dinner was almost ready, but seeing the scene before him, he stopped.

You looked from the photograph back up to Baxter, taking in all the changes that the past two decades had brought. The black and white hair was gone of course, and he'd long been able to wear actual colors. He'd put on a few pounds too -- after all, he wasn't 19 anymore. The smirk though, that was definitely the same.

"Dad, can I be honest?" Penny asked.

"Always," he answered easily.

"You looked ridiculous. Like really. What were you even thinking?"

"I don't know, I think there was a certain charm there," he teased, leaning over her to get a better look at the picture. "I wonder, do you think I could pull that off again? Perhaps a trip to the salon is in order."

"No."

"Oh, come on," he continued. "It wasn't nearly as bad a look as you seem to think. After all, your mother liked it well enough."

"Gross," she cried, standing up and placing the photo on the bed. "I'm going to my room so I don't have to hear this. I'm traumatized."

You laughed as your dramatic daughter did a full-body shake to emphasize how scarred she was. After she was gone, you turned to Baxter, who was grinning at you.

"It wasn't that ridiculous, was it?" he asked, knowing that it, in fact, was that ridiculous and more.

"It's what's inside that counts," you told him, going in for a kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Look up ... more ... keep your eyes open, I've almost got it."

After a moment, Penny pulled back and examined Baxter's face. She nodded, satisfied at the look of the eyeliner she'd applied on him.

She was 16 now, and she'd developed a flair for the dramatic like her father had when he was a teenager. Instead of a monochromatic look, she preferred dark colors and heavy makeup. She'd also grown out of her "ugh, parents" stage early, which was why she was letting Baxter take her to a concert.

It was a metal band he liked, and when she heard him playing it in the car, she liked it too. He found tickets to a show they were doing nearby, and you encouraged him to take her on a daddy-daughter date.

That's why you were gathered in the bathroom together -- she had to put a little makeup on him so he fit in.

"I've got some leather pants I'm going to wear as well," he told her. "And for my shirt, I was thinking perhaps I skip it and instead put on a matching leather vest. What do you think?"

After 16 years of living with Baxter, Penny was no longer bothered by his constant teasing. She went on with her business, smudging the eyeliner before beginning to apply a dark blush.

"Whatever you want, dad," she answered. "Whatever you wear, I'm sure you'll be the prettiest princess in all the land."

Baxter was already thrilled to be going out with her, but after hearing the old callback to her favorite childhood game, you could see he was melting.

When the makeup was done, he got dressed -- not in the leather ensemble he suggested -- and you waved them off as they left for the concert.

After they returned home that night, Penny was ecstatic, and so was Baxter. You listened as they went on about how great the show was, and how excited she was to experience her first mosh pit. A hint of anger flashed across her face when she mentioned a guy who was too rough and nearly knocked her down, but then she smiled when she told you her dad had taken care of it.

"What did you do?" you asked suspiciously.

"I took care of it, darling," he answered, giving a quick wink to Penny

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Years later, you found yourself taking in a familiar site, something you'd seen hundreds, if not thousands of times before.

Baxter was standing in front of you, nervously smoothing out his suit.

"Do I look all right?" he asked.

"As handsome as always," you told him.

He smiled and leaned in for a kiss, then ran his hands down his jacket again.

It was Penny's wedding day, and you don't think you'd ever seen him look as anxious as he did then.

He had planned the wedding -- of course he had. While he always took his job seriously, doing his very best to give his clients the best experience he possibly could, this time was just different. He went above and beyond, pouring himself into every detail to ensure his daughter had her dream day.

You and Penny had had to convince him to bring on a partner of sorts, someone to execute everything during the actual wedding so he could enjoy it. But you'd watched him keep a close eye on everything anyway, totally read to jump in if needed.

But right now, his mind was on something else. The reception was about to begin, which meant it wasn't too long until the father-daughter dance.

And Baxter was taking that dance very seriously.

He watched the newlyweds take their first dance, grabbing for your hand as you both looked on with pride. It was such a special feeling, knowing that your child had found someone who meant as much to her as you meant to each other.

Before you knew it, the music changed and Penny found you in the crowd gathered around. She gestured for Baxter to join her, and with one more tug at his tie, he walked towards her.

Watching them dance together was always so lovely, but it was a little different this time around. A lifetime of dances came to mind -- Baxter and Penny dancing around the kitchen when she was a cranky infant who refused to go to sleep, them dancing around her bedroom in their princess gear. You remembered him teaching her the basics of ballroom dancing as she prepared for her first school dance so she'd feel confident. He'd showed her all the trendy dances that were popular when you and her were kids, and although she pretended to die of embarrassment, she did laugh after he taught her how to Dougie.

You wondered how many more chances you'd get to see them like this, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. Things had changed so much, and they only kept changing. It was a bittersweet feeling.

As you were getting lost in your thoughts, you met Baxter's eyes as he moved Penny around the dancefloor. Instead of getting caught up in the uncertainties of the future, you let your heart swell with love.

Against all odds, you'd created a family with him. After a number of chance meetings and a couple of false starts, you'd built a life with him -- you'd put decades of blood, sweat and tears into it. And it was beautiful.

When Baxter led Penny by you, she stuck out her arm and snatched yours, dragging you into the dance as well. He laughed with delight, content to stop the more elaborate routine to wrap his arms around his two best girls and sway together.

"We did good," you told him quietly, glancing over at your daughter.

"We certainly did."

#olba #our life beginnings and always #our life #baxter ward #olba mc #olba baxter #baxter x mc #baxter x reader #our life beginnings and always baxter #baxter ward x reader #baxter ward x mc

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thepenultimateword · 2 years

Note

okay so:

I had a dream about this one idea where everyone makes fun of villain for whatever reason. Villain starts to believe all those things, still feels terrible of course, but finds it easier to deal with it all when they just accept those "jokes" as truth.

But well, since I'm a sucker for villain x villain stuff, Supervillain swoops in to help them out of their misery

Thanks a lot in advance and have a wonderful day ❤️♥️

*Me reading this ask*

My villain x supervillain heart can’t resist. (May just be my favorite ship, even more than hero x villain. Just something about two crime-hardened people being soft for each other)

CW: Bullying, panic attack

"Smile~," the hero said, the big black eye of their phone camera reflecting Villain's queasy face.

The colors were muted, but even so, their skin was far too pale. Their lips seized somewhere between a grimace and a glare. A scribbled line of a mouth that gated off the burn rising in the back of their throat and anything else that might let it loose, even their own words of defense.

They didn't even know who this hero was. They were just some start-up who jumped them in one of the back allies. What was worse was this wasn't the first time. Not even close. Every hero seemed to have eyes on them these days. Even some civilians got the courage to gang up together and get in on the fun.

"Come on," the hero insisted, pouting their lips like they were talking to a baby. "Just one little smile."

Villain swallowed hard on the bile, wincing at the way it scalded on the way down, and shakily rose the corners of their lips. This was fine. It was just a stupid trend. People would forget about it soon. And maybe it was funny. Villain certainly had never met anyone else with such an...interesting reaction to fear. People liked it because it was weird. It was just a joke.

Villain's eyes burned. They'd been wearing these contacts for too long. The wetness pricking in the corner of their eyes stung like salt in a wound.

Wait. Wetness? Were they crying?

No, please. Not now. Not here. Not with their hands bound to a back alley waterspout and this vigilante nobody putting them on their live stream for the whole world to laugh at.

"Aww, why are you crying, buddy? You're just fine. I mean, I've barely touched you aside from those bonds. You're not actually frightened already are you?"

Logically, Villain should be fine. They'd won against stronger heroes than this idiot. So why couldn't they move?

“N-no…” Villain choked weakly. They had meant to shout it, but as soon as their mouth was open, they felt any force on their stomach muscles would be their doom.

Their heart pounded in their ears at this point and it was hard to get enough air with their mouth clamped shut. Dark spots flecked their vision, but the alternative seemed much worse.

No, Villain wasn't frightened. They were terrified.

This hero might be a rookie, but Villain didn't know them. They didn't know what they were going to do to them. Whether this joke extended further than their humiliation. What their limits were. And it was the same story with most of their attackers these last three months. Ever since a reporter caught Villain puking on video in response to Other Hero pinning them in a corner and nearly killing them. They should be somewhat thankful for that; Other Hero's shock had given them the few seconds needed to escape. But in this moment, with so many people talking, so many people watching...it was hard not to see that as a catalyst for a nightmare.

It wasn't the only thing of course...there were also the tics: handwringing during monologues, giving up on schemes when it turned out none of the heroes they were used to were coming, etc. Half a villain the media called them. Because some part of them must be a hero for how much they foiled themself.

Yeah...maybe that was funny. Maybe Villain just needed to understand the joke better, and they would stop being so scared. Maybe if they just went along, things would get better.

"Alright, viewers," the hero said cheerily, "what do you say we spice things up a little."

They moved in closer, and Villain huddled back against the brick wall behind them.

"Now, now, don't freak out. I'm just going to ask questions, and you're going to tell us some things. Things we've all been curious about. Like why you do it."

Villain squeezed their eyes shut as if doing so could hide them from the hero's prickling smirk. They didn't want to talk about this. They didn't want to talk about this. They didn't want to--

"Get that phone out of their face before I choke you with it."

Villain wasn't sure who said it, but there was a yelp and the scrape of two pairs of shoes scuffling in the gravel, and then the pounding of one pair running away. When they opened their eyes, the hero was gone. In their place stood a face they'd only seen on television. Well-dressed, unnaturally attractive, and sharp, diamond-cutting eyes boring into their soul: Supervillain.

Villain gaped. People like Villain didn't just run into people like Supervillain. Maybe they were both criminals, but they were in completely different classes. Supervillain was untouchable. They didn't even bother hiding when they went out because not even the heroes had developed a good protocol to stop them. The media compared them to a cat swatting at flys.

And now they were right here. This...this was...

They doubled over and vomited into their own lap.

Nooo.

The shame blanketed them in a hot haze, and their upper lip went cool with a gathering sheen of sweat. Villain twisted away from Supervillain's face before they could see their disgusted expression. "I'm sorry. I--" They scrunched small and pressed their forehead against the cool brick, swallowing the sour taste trapped in the dry of their mouth several times before mustering up a few more words. "Thank you. Thank you, but... Please go."

"That must hurt." Gentle fingers touched their raw wrists where the ropes pinched and scraped. Something cold and metal laid across Villain's forearm and pressed through the small space beneath the bonds.

Villain flinched and whirled their head back around just in time to see the rope slacken and flutter to the gravel. They stared at the mess of frayed cord for several moments before forcing their gaze toward the master criminal.

Supervillain twirled the long blade back into a holster on their side. A moment later, they unclipped their cape and swept it around Villain's shoulders, fussing with the folds a moment before bundling them up in their arms.

"N-no," Villain protested gripping awkwardly to Supervillain's arm through the fabric as their feet were taken out from under them. "You shouldn't touch me. I-I'll ruin your cape."

"I get it dry cleaned twice a week," Supervillain said, voice vibrating low and even in their chest. "It'll be fine."

Their arms squeezed a little tighter around Villain's form, and with a rush of air, the dark alley shrank and dropped out of sight. It wasn't even that Villain lost sight of it as Supervillain jumped; it was like the world literally folded it out of existence, leaving them sailing through dark nothing. Villain tried to make sense of it, but they were already in a daze, and their lurching stomach wasn't making cognitive functions much easier. Most of the journey was a blur. So it was rather sudden when they found themself on their own two feet again in the middle of a bright, cream-colored living room.

Villain felt like a newborn deer blinking in their first surroundings. It was beautiful. Like something from a home decorating show. Suede sofa, plush rug, tall ceiling...

Supervillain stood to the side, steadily drinking them in, and Villain pulled the cape tighter around them, as if it could shield them from Supervillain's view and hide their obvious displacement . One worn shoe tread halfway over the cream rug and when they edged onto the hard floor, it left an ugly, gray smear.

Villain's eyes leaped up to Supervillain's in a panic, but the master criminal simply looked down and up again. They smiled.

"Why don't you take a shower? Make it as long as you want. I'll leave some clothes outside the door. We'll talk when you're done."

Villain stared.

"Bathroom is straight down this hall. Use any of the products you find; I have a lot."

Villain nodded numbly and unsure what else to do, followed Supervillain's pointing finger into the master bathroom.

It was beautiful too. The bath looked more like a hot tub and the shower was like a walk-in closet. The mirror covered nearly the entire wall and only then did Villain realize how truly pathetic they looked, especially beside the rich, deep blue of Supervillain's cape. Hair a mess, eyes sunken, dirt all over their face, lips bloodless, and just overall small.

Villain broke eye contact with themself and began stripping away the dirty clothes, carefully folding the vomit stains inwards before gingerly piling them on the toilet. The air conditioning from the overhead vent sent a shiver down their spine, but it was nothing compared to the goosebumps still prickling their skin from the incident.

They turned the faucet up to nearly the hottest setting and let all that cold fear and alley grime wash down the drain. Steam gathered comfortingly around them in humid lavender and mint as Villain busied themself with lathering their hair.

It took a long time for their uneasiness to fade, but once it had, they wrapped themself in one of the bathroom's plush towels and peeked outside the door to find a neatly folded pile of clothes: a fleece long-sleeved shirt and a pair of baggy drawstring sweats, all roughly their size.

They dressed quickly, and a little poking under the sink led them to a bottle of mouthwash that rid them of the sour bile taste lingering in their mouth.

Feeling significantly better, Villain padded out to the living room, clenched hands sunk deep into their pockets. They found Supervillain sprawled out across the sofa, a book pinched between thumb and forefinger. They looked up at the sound of Villain's footsteps.

"Ah," Supervillain swung their legs to the rug and waved Villain toward the pillow-covered arm chair across from them. "Please, sit.

Villain did so, hunching their shoulders and staring at their knees. "Um, so, thank you again for um…well…all this, but...what did you want to talk about?"

Why did you bring me here? That was the real question knocking around in Villain's head, but they didn't dare say it loud.

"I haven't introduced myself," Supervillain said, tone as if they'd truly only just realized. "Excuse me, I'm--"

"Th-that's ok," Villain interrupted peering up from under their lashes. "I know who you are."

Supervillain smiled, even looked somewhat flattered as they leaned their elbows on their knees. "Good. I'll be blunt then. I can change your image. That is, if you want."

Villain swallowed. “How?"

"The media is fickle," Supervillain said. "They drop the old for whatever's hot. It may not be exactly what you want, but if you present them with another story, one that overshadows your current image, it will be like all this other stuff never happened."

"And...what would that other story even be?" Villain asked, trying to feel out Supervillain’s angle. There was no way they were doing this out of the kindness of their heart.

Supervillain scooted onto the very edge of the sofa. They clasped their hands, unclasped them, laid them flat on their knees. "Perhaps your new relationship with me?"

Villain choked on their own breath. "My... my what?"

“Think about it! It’s the perfect solution! I’m the biggest name in villainy this city has ever seen, and that’s not my ego talking. No one would dare touch you knowing that you’re associated with me. And with a presence as strong as mine, after a few months, you’ll only be thought of as my partner. This ‘half a villain’ nonsense will fade away.”

Villain had a lot of things on their mind but the first thing that burst out was, "What if it backfires? What if I ruin your image?"

Supervillain chuckled like Villain had something silly. "Not gonna happen."

"So...we'd pretend to date?" Villain said slowly, still trying to figure out why Supervillain was doing this.

"Oh. Oh, no, no, I was thinking more of the real deal,” Supervillain said quickly. “I'm not really into confusing personal feelings with work. But hey, if you're not comfortable, I can see about giving you a job instead. It may take a slower course, but it should still do the trick."

Their smile remained pasted on, but their forehead creased and the nonchalant wave of their hand seemed stiff. They preferred the relationship idea. Not a fake one. A real one.

"Why would you want that?" Villain said.

"Um, because you're adorable?" Supervillain said without hesitation. "We have the same ideals, same job, there must be tons of other things we have in common. And you've got this defenseless vibe around you that I can't resist. I saw you in that first video, and I knew right away: that villain is going to be mine."

"I don't get it."

Villain’s voice cracked without warning. They clenched their fists, but they were already trembling. Was Supervillain in on this too? Was there a hidden camera somewhere amongst all this finery? Ready to broadcast Villain's gullibility? That had to be it. It was the only thing that made sense. There was no way Supervillain—Supervillain!—was interested in them of all people.

“What about that video could have appealed to you? The whole city saw what happened, maybe the whole world. Everyone saw what a joke I was. It's hilarious how bad I am at being a villain. And all those weird things I do, fidgeting and throwing up and all the rest, they must be funny too because I'm a trend now. Why would you involve yourself with that? I'm a total embarrassment!"

Without warning, Supervillain's warm hand slid over their cheek and cupped the left side of their face. Villain wasn’t sure when they crossed the room, but here they were crouched in front of them. They tipped their head up at them, and those shiny eyes drilled earnestly into their eye sockets, maybe saw right through them. Their faces were still a couple feet apart, but it felt as if Supervillain was whispering straight in their ear.

"I want to protect you."

"W-what?"

"Let me protect you," Supervillain said.

Villains mouth had gone completely dry. This whole situation was strange, but a part of them wanted to believe it was true. They were just so tired of hurting.

"Prove that you really want to,” they finally said. “If you can…then ok.”

“That should be easy enough,” Supervillain grinned. They leaned in closer, hands bracing on either armrest. The heat of their breath ghosted against their cheek.

Villain squeezed their eyes shut and tried to steady their trembling. They weren’t prepared for this!

Supervillain’s forehead knocked against Villain’s, the tips of their noses just shy of brushing and… And then they stopped.

Villain cracked open their eyes. Supervillain stared straight through them, irises alive with a deep fire. Gone was the sharp, measuring look they’d maintained most of the night. This was hungrier, more destructive. Without breaking eye contact, they gently rubbed their forehead back and forth against Villain’s.

“I’ll start with the one who hurt you tonight.”

Part Two

#villain x villain #villain x supervillain #writing snippet #hero x villain #villain #creative writing #heroes and villains #fiction #heroes and villains community #superheroes and villains #hmmm does this ending feel too close Big Bad or Date or Die?#beginning to worry that all my supervillain x villian stories are the same

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rpedia · 3 months

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Hello, I have a question about combat roleplaying. Is there anyway to counter someone trying to wipe your character from existence? I have a character whos high 1-A, just wondering.

I cannot tell you how wild of an ask this is because of how much of it must be entirely contextual to your current situation. A-1 means nothing to me, this isn't a universal term in RP, but after some looking around it seems to be a categorization used in the vsBattle fandom to allow people to rank character power stats against each other like classes of heavyweight versus lightweight. And it seems to have been very thought out by a bunch of people who are very very serious about it, so it's a well-thought out thing. So, I'm assuming if this is the right power ranking to go off, your character is an "High Outerverse level" character similar to God/Death in some series.

Whew, back in my day we just had Marvel Mutants being Omega class, or Naruto Ninjas being S-Rank... Looks like you're in somewhere with a lot more math and intensity than I'm used to considering I just had to read "structures with a number of dimensions equal to the cardinal aleph-2" with my own two delicate innocent baby boy eyes. This means whatever advice I am about to give you is unlikely to be useful, but fuck it, I'm game.

So, you're getting wiped out of existence...

Your character is, as far as I can tell, able to manipulate all of existence, including every multiverse, hyperverse, and whatever-the-fuck-have-you because they can fuck with but infinity times infinity, except they're a step below the ultimate Boundless, and one step above the guy who can mess with infinity times three. Really getting back to the playground "infinity plus one" argument. You must be going up against someone who is going a little faster than you or doing better than you to have them cockblock your entire existence. I think I have the scenario broken down for more feeble minds like me can figure out what the hell this means.

Logically, the answer is you can't do shit. Guy is faster/better/more tactically sound, so he wins. He's managed to outdo you on every level, and made your existence just stop, you can no longer be who you are, you're a never-was similar to Cul from the Thor comics. Absolutely buckshit wild stuff here. This suggests to survive, someone has to remember you, which may be a way through if there's space where you still exist while you don't exist. How does time work in your universe? What's the standards here for how to change existence? Is there a ripple effect, or is it impossible to change the timeline? Are you forced into an alternate universe where you DID exist, and how is the other guy handling the obvious issue that if you never existed, he would never have gone back to erase you, and shit— we've got either a figure eight loop forcing us to repeat these two states of 0 and 1 endlessly, or a paradox.

So go for the throat, make them explain the paradox. Make them fix the paradox, which can paradoxically never be fixed because that's what them boyes do. You might have to live one step ahead of them in only alternating universes for the rest of existence and be satisfied with that. Or, I suppose, find someone bigger and stronger than old Jokey-poo here who is putting you in the un-birth grave, and have them de-powered or something to end the rigamarole. Maybe you have a good trap for them set-up where the state of your birth is a fixed point, and them entering it makes time stop entirely so they can never reach the point at which they actually delete you.

But this is all just Watsonian fuckery, stuff from within the perspective of the story. If you go Doyalist, we can ask the question "What kills a vampire?" and come up with the answer "Whatever satisfies the narrative." because those blood thirsty bitches be fictional. This is all fictional. You are imagining a story. The only truth of a story is the satisfaction of those who write/read it.

Therefore, if you are happy with the end of your character, and you feel like it's been given weight and meaning, and you like the outcome. You win, you finished the story, they are gone.

If you are unhappy, you can make up whatever bullshit you want because it's all in your head anyways, and suddenly your character survived going over the falls due to some vague handwaved plot point far in the misty difference that is really an in-universe cover to 'they made me write Sherlock after the Reichenbach Falls was supposed to be the end of the damn serial'. It all comes down to what you're happy with as a player and a writer.

You think any Shonen writer had the good sense to end their series after the bad guy seemed all-powerful? Absolutely not, these other guys had trickery and even more power beyond the power that is infinite power to call on, and they sure did win because they said so. Same thing here. As long as no one is upset, you can do whatever you want. "Blue fairy said I could come back." "Some Boundless Character found me beyond the universes and pulled me back into this world." Seriously, make shit up, it's all you've been doing anyways.

I recognize at this point it's more of a thought experiment, kind of a highbrow push against the mundane realities of our existence. It's where philosophy meets story. Making something that really sticks to the bones of your story, and gives you something to work off can be a huge ask when it gets to these extremes. You're working with a framework outside our actual existence, a thing we can comprehend only because we've pushed so hard against the limitations of this world we've given concepts like infinity not only a limit, but a word for when that limit is breached and repeated.

Being able to truly understand what you're asking, and whether there's any rules to it is more than a simple roleplay help blog can give you. You're bending rules that aren't even confirmed to exist, that have been developed to create a framework by which people can enjoy fighting tiers to simplify things that are wildly imaginative and unusual. Certainly you are at the moment asking me if I can conceive of a situation in which literally Death themself, if they were a character, could be erased from existence by something just as powerful or even more powerful than themselves, and then get around that somehow. It's mythical. It's entirely a toy that you, yourself, are defining the rules for play with. I can simply say "this Roleplaying Blog is actually a Boundless level character and has rebuffed that attack" and it would be equally true because the canon of this blog now says so.

So you can do whatever works for you.

Just make sure it's satisfying, so you can do it again next week and relish it all over. The point of RP is to be fun. Keep having fun. You do you, in whatever style makes you happy. Even if it's a lot of math and now I know there's a term for approaching the infinity after Real numbers run out of integers because someone made their character so powerful they ran out of numbers for them and somehow this is the same power level as Those Who Sit Above In Shadow, which means Loki's punked their ass plenty of times in-comics by saying he's the Storyteller who tells them into existence anyways. God damn Beyonder ass...

But you're the Storyteller now, so write something true to your heart, and see how far you can take it. See if your character can manage to break reality one more time, and level up to becoming Boundless themselves. You have the power, because that power is imagination. The true Boundless power.

#rpedia #ask rpedia #roleplaying #rph #fight rp #vsbattle power levels #seriously just have fun #but also this is wild #my man I have trouble deciding if my lil guy should win against a big dog #because I want the narrative to have weight #and be fun #and I don't wanna be overpowered #fighting a dog #that wants to eat me #this stuff is beyond my pay grade #and I play Loki #the fuck #exactlypleasantsuit

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radkindoffeminist · 11 months

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Hey there, thank you so much for your post documenting all the phrases/slogans TRAs stole from other movements! Even when I wasn't gender critical yet, I noticed they were doing it and something about it really bothered me, so I think noting it down can be a good stepping stone to peaking (aside from being important history-wise!). From an outsider's perspective now, it's really telling how not only are 99% of the slogans TRAs use stolen from other movements, but also and especially that the only chants they came up with themselves are physically and/or sexually violent threats to women. Hm.

One more thing you can add to the list is them taking the 80's feminist chant "women's rights are human rights" and swapping "women's" for "trans" (which is, in fact, a nice little microcosm of what the movement stands for: sidelining women even while stealing directly from them)!

I have a couple of other things that might be worth adding too, although they're not really set chants like the others and more "copied ideas/responses originally used to argue against homophobic beliefs", so it's up to you if they fit the post's goal:

First is the general argument about "minding your own business; how this affect/hurt you and your rights" which doeeeesn't really work when you're a movement trying to redefine fundamental truths and words that everyone knows and uses their entire lives and constantly police everyone about them.

Second is pointing out the behavior of other animals: originally it was "look at all these species who have homosexual animals/behaviors, how can you say being gay is unnatural or against God's will if animals do it too?" but for TRAs it's "uhhh well fungi have a billion different sexes and clownfish can change sex and caterpillars become butterflies sooooo obviously men can become women" which is arguing a different point entirely: the former was specifically meant to counter a single particular argument from religious homophobes just on a logic/consistency basis ("if God hates gays why some of the animals he made gay?") and was *never* meant to be taken as "animals do it therefore humans should be allowed to do it". But the latter is trying to argue to *everyone* that because certain animals have unique biology which allows them to do things that are physically impossible for humans to do, that somehow means we as completely different animals can and should do said things. Idk if it's just them being lazy copycats and not realizing their arguments make no sense when taken out of the context they were created for, or if they genuinely believe humans can do literally anything so long as evidence of some thing happening exists somewhere, but either way it's dumb lol

Sorry for my rants haha, hope this is helpful!!

I’m fairly sure ‘trans rights are human rights’ is already on the list, but I could be wrong! Definitely one which gets screamed a lot and people just ignore that it’s taken directly from a feminist slogan!

Also think it’s funny that all these different movements have managed to come up with completely different slogans which have minimal crossover (only one I can think of is ‘black is beautiful’ and ‘fat is beautiful’) even if we could take them for our own movements because they’re relevant! Stop Asian Hate could easily be Stop Black Hate or Stop Woman Hate but we respect that that’s their slogan. Walking While Black, which talks about being profiled by the police for being black, could easily be Walking While a Woman to discuss catcalling, but that would be disrespectful to the black community so of course feminists wouldn’t steal that slogan for their own use. Same for so many other slogans: BLM, the future is female, women’s rights are human rights, love is love, etc.

As for your suggestions, I’m not sure how to add them but I agree that they’re fucked. Things like ‘mind your own business’ and ‘how does trans people having rights affect you?’ is completely ignorant to what rights some trans people are trying to fight for! Trying to remove sex-segregated spaces which put women at significantly more risk for rape and abuse and also means that we’re not allowed spaces to discuss female bodies because that’s labelled as transphobic or not inclusive enough; removing all sex-based protections (not even just adding a gender based one but actively removing the sex-based one too) which could further endanger women’s rights as they are no longer classed under sex-based protections so it would not be considered a protected right (think about things like maternity leave - that’s not something women need but rather some people so it’s not discrimination to deny it so long as it’s denied equally across all genders). Like, sure, some rights don’t infringe on women’s tights (eg: anything relating to surgery) but they quickly ignore that women’s rights and trans rights are literally at odds with one another.

Your second example is a really good way of showing how they have no leg to stand on but lean so heavily upon other movements to the point where their arguments are ridiculous. They don’t understand why these arguments are made and what they mean, so they steal a similar argument and then scream at you for finding a flaw in it! Homosexuality is also found on nature as many animals are homosexual so why would God make so many animals exhibit these behaviours if He hated it and only made people have some ‘gay feelings’ to be able to test if they could resist them? If it was just a test because that behaviour was so disgusting, animals wouldn’t be able to conceive of the idea of being gay? Though, personally, I’ve always hated this argument because the other point has a side: animals also eat their young and kill one another so is that behaviour also okay for us since God allows it in animals? It defends the ‘nature’ argument -it happens on nature so how could it be unnatural?- but that’s about it. Anyway, I digress, trans people are trying to do the same by pointing out either odd animals in nature (like that one lioness who obviously had something akin to PCOS which caused her to grow a mane) or animals which are able to change their sex at will and being like ‘well, this happens in nature so what’s wrong with it in humans’ and ignores that some of these animals are actually just intersex or have some other medical condition or they are able to fully and naturally change their entire sex which is vastly different from requiring medications and surgery to make yourself at least appear like the opposite sex despite your actual sex not being able to change. The fact that they don’t seem to understand that is actually baffling.

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my-wayward-son · 1 year

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Trans truths #6

What’s up with social passing, anyway?

Passing is largely defined as the condition or point has come when a passerby would see you, and, based on features, will assume you are male.

Yes, it’s all social and institutional mysoginy, which is bullshit and needs to be noticed and worked on, whether through bills or laws or pride or protests… But, in the same way,I’ve addressed concepts such as “the silhouette,”most public spaces and those who occupy them. In a single glance, people tend to read one’s gender presentations and and they automatically allocate you to the basic (if outdated) categories of XX or XY. It’s just the sad truth.

Again, this is all highly opinionated, I know, but I’ve lived in 2 different cities over the past 10 years, and I’ve met my fair share of oblivious/unkind/unwanted attention. Let’s just say that a lot of people still living under rocks, and a good handful of professionals (usually nurses) who have received inclusivity training and wear a badge or pin identifying themselves as LGBT friendly have not received updated information or training beyond the basics. Much of the presented literature not current. People may insist on calling you a previous. Often it is unintentional, but it hits the point home: training is basic, doesn’t not ebb and flow with evolving lingo, name or using your preferred pronouns. Many folks (especially medical professionals) is from backlogged DVM, late -90s era pamphlets and news articles (such as those disseminated from PFLAG,) and legal specifications that read “do not do/say xxx, or you will be immediately fired for breaking that the pesky laws drawn up with Title IV”. That pertains to things like providing service (like in restaurants, barber shops, caregivers in the hospital, etc. ) and abolishing police and personal related to whom is allowed to be in public space.(park, theater, median in the freeway…whatevs.) And, jsyk, you can report mistreatment and advocate for yourself—usually by first stating your problem to the lead nurse/boss /manager/etc). Bring up possible Title IV infraction a little longer down the road. Most of the time the business, hospital, etc, will find someone somewhere to translate respectful speech for the …backward, I guess?

When you’re in a situation where you are speaking to someone such as a receptionist in a medical office, be prepared for hiccups. One of the best ways to get started and easily establish the who, how, and when is by using honorifics. Yes, it’s a bit (ok, a lot) scary to initiate conversations with strangers, but here’s the logic: in clinical, business, and academic situations, greeting the person with an honorific (like “Good morning, sir,”), allows them to feel good about themselves and want to be equally kind, which leads to a higher opportunity of the interaction going well. In my experience, the receptionist will usually use a non-gendered name for me, like “Sweetie.” In this case, the other person is perceiving you as young, and their mind has glammed on to that, rather placing you as XX or XY’) I’ve also had several instances where I”ve been called “bud,” which I find entertaining ok, since this indicates the person (usually a male person, for some reason) is reading you as both young and male. Past honorifics and greetings, depending highly on the situation, you’ll become a name and a pronoun (as the receptionist speaks to the MA, etc.). Try not to interrupt, but when it’s your talking term, here are the phrases that can keep you from feeling quashed under a past identity. Saying “My name is (masc name), although in the record it might be under (femme name).” is a great place to start. Usually your conversation partner will get with it. If they either don’t respond or continue to misgender you, jump back into the conversation at any pause point and say something like “My pronouns are he/him/his.” Or “I use they/them pronouns.” or whatever the case may be. Almost 100% of the time, the other speaking partners are misinformed, and they don’t have a problem with switching to correct terms. There’s usually no need to state that you’re trans (that’s really not anyone’s business—you don’t need to be blatant in the waiting room, even if you’re there to see the doctor who prescribes you T.) If you still feel comfortable talking to the receptionist or whoever, consider asking for your preferred name and pronouns to be added to your chart. Most of them have forms with space given for that info. If they don’t seem to be able to do it right away, I can 100% assure you that the program they use to keep personal information and/or the physical printed forms can be edited by an administrator of the system. ( Years of SharePoint training not yet gone to seed.)

#laur talks #trans tips #trans truths #ftm #transgender #trans #pronouns #names #communication

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indexsnake4 · 2 years

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9 Easy Facts About Alcohol Problems: How to Stop Drinking Explained

Alcohol consumption is mostly accepted as a social activity and a way to deal with stress. Studies suggest that drinking can lower psychological capability to assume logically, to experience really good concerning myself and to receive along effectively with other people. In spite of this, I can easilynot recommend that individuals drinking may lead to better happiness. The essential trait for a lot of individuals and even more for many people, is to be persistent with all the pain and suffering that can easily be induced by an alcoholic's life-long intake practices.

It may also be a remedy for sleeplessness or stress. When speaking concerning sleep, there's merely no demand to be as well limiting. Your body will certainly simply carry out its job all the opportunity. Once once again, my body system is totally free to stray outside in purchase to finish its task. Without concern, you get this sense that is typically a extremely usual premium. What are some pointers you can easily make use of to improve your tranquility of thoughts? How do you avoid a sense of 'negative' sleeping behaviors? Yet, alcoholic drinks commonly doesn’t carry out much to ease these problems long-term. The majority of problem drinkers would have to live in anxiety of having their physical body metabolize ethanol after consuming, and lots of do still consume alcohol at some point in their lives. In that condition, there would be no method to stay away from alcohol-related health conditions but it's not a incredibly really good point. So, several of us have spent virtually all of our adult lifestyle addicted to liquor. It also happens along with some significant downsides. When it happens to safety and security, there's one. For starters, you don't really want to send out weapons at a nightclub. That's a extremely bad suggestion. Try This might appear counterproductive. But not actually. In truth, it's downright foolish. If you send out a younger man somewhere who's going to do poor points, he would perhaps be stopped through the police. And he could be very late, probably even at the flight terminal. As such, you could wonder if it’s time for a breather. The upcoming couple of paragraphs are regarding one that is commonly misconceived through enthusiasts, but it could still be correct for you. The existing issue of Shogakukan has actually a big amount of webpages in which a number of personalities were eliminated. And there have been no documents of serious legal activity against this short article. The writer simply mentioned that the publishers had failed them. Coming from monthlong soberness difficulty to the #SoberCurious motion, more and even more individuals are taking a closer appearance at the role liquor plays in their lives. Currently in its 3rd month, The American Psychologist reported on four research studies of Americans' drinking routines in their previous 4 years of sobriety, starting in 2012. Among these were self-reported (BMI >25) and alcohol-impaired personal habits surveys of around 50 people. Whether you’re looking to cut back or take an uncertain rest, these suggestions can easily assist you develop a plan that works for you. When Do I Write My E-mail? What can easily I take a look at? Your email handle are going to most likely include something like "DATE_I". When you sign up to email at one time, you sign in and you have no suggestion what e-mail you get. Booze can affect your health in numerous methods. It can increase your danger or offer your health and wellness troubles the capability to acquire back on track with you," she mentions. "But it's a lot much more probably to lead to enhanced danger of cancer cells or other unwanted edge impacts and health and wellness complications.". The scientific documentation has been mixed along with conflicting, conflicting and conflicting information, and while researches have been posted as yet, alcoholic drinks has been presented to significantly have an effect on the risk of boob cancer. Even drinking reasonably can leave you feeling dazed, smoggy, or hungover. The signs and symptoms seem to stretch over time after drinking a handful of cocktails, but they generally don't last long. Even thus, drinking even more alcohol may include to your anxiety-over-drinking disorder. Drinking also much or as well slowly may lead to some of these indicators, which might feature a constant sense of sadness or hopelessness that's very similar to being under the effect of a drug and experiencing nervous. The much more you consume, the extra likely you observe other health results, too, like: interfered with rest digestion concerns mind complications enhanced stress and anxiety, clinical depression, and irritability disputes and various other disagreement along with adored ones Over time, these effects may start to pile up. The much more you consume, the a lot more probably you discover other health impacts, as well, like: impaired coordination concern shared growth of the feet and feets, blood stream circulation concerns issues and nerve complications, improvements in your state of mind and physical body photo, and various other health problems.

#benefits of not drinking alcohol #how to quit drinking alcohol #how to stop drinking alcohol home remedies #stopping drinking alcohol

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husbandohunter · 3 years

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Moments of Despair #2 [Genshin Impact/Albedo x Reader]

Synopsis: "The alchemist who relished in his gifts only to fall from grace."

(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).

Diluc’s despair

Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death and psychological horror (correct me if otherwise)

(A/n): I decided to take a slightly different approach this time. Regardless, it’s still killing my heart TwT.

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Out of the many wonders of Teyvat, one thing Albedo loved most was how you were so different from him.

Difference ties to the unknown, one that must be discovered. He was drawn to you the first time he had laid his eyes upon your form standing at the heights of Mondstadt's cathedral. The Sisters scolded you from below, but all you did was reply with a wink amidst their chaos before soaring into the skies and letting the wind carry your glider. Reckless they said. For him, your recklessness was intriguing.

As the sun's light blinded his vision, everything he saw seemed like a glass barrier. For the ground was where he thrived and chalk was his core, it became the basis of Albedo's very existence. Even the geo Archon granted him a Vision of the same element to affirm his identity. The earth will forever be attached to his feet as he will keep on his stride until every last truth of Teyvat have all been realized. You, on the other hand, hailed from a place where he couldn't quite reach. What lies beyond this glass ceiling? Albedo found himself gradually holding onto a string of curiosities, a string he could touch but was not able to feel.

'Interesting,' he thought quietly, while the breeze slip between the fingers of his outstretched hand.

He was a character of logic, possessing sharp eyes that could pierce through the depths of the most complex formulas and a mind to predict their outcomes- as long as alchemy was still related. All impossibilities thrown in his way only paved a path for him to become the well known genius he was now. Whether it was alchemy or investigations with the Knights of Favonius, Albedo never failed to deliver the answers. But despite it all, he always found himself endlessly contemplating over things that were considered intangible. He wonders why you smile when there was nothing to laugh about. How could you tell between the complexities of the human heart? Albedo can't seem to put a finger on it.

'Why? What drives you? What are you thinking?'

The Chief Alchemist couldn't resist being fascinated by your unpredictability. It reels him in similar to a fish being baited out of the waters. However, unlike those creatures, Albedo only tightened his grip on the strings as if they were a lifeline, determined to find out what they truly felt like to the touch.

"I can't really say it's much of an answer," you hummed, clasping both hands behind your back before declaring with a grin, "To put it simply, you just gotta follow your heart."

'Follow your heart...' What does it mean to follow your heart?

"I'm afraid I still don't understand," he replied in a thoughtful manner. The statement never really resonated with him and it certainly weren't the words his Master taught when he was in the early stages of being created, "But it does suit you very much."

"Really? But still bring your head with you," a playful laugh escapes and you add while pointing a finger, "At least, it's what everyone tells me these days."

"Hm," Albedo then affirms with a nod, "I can definitely see why they would tell you that."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

The days go by and his repetitious march towards the truth remains the same. However, there was never a dull moment when you were at his side. Perhaps that was the reason why Albedo became so attracted to your aura. The way you'd follow around his experiments, eyes so full of enthusiasm at every step of the activity. Sometimes the events can get a little too out of hand in which he needs to step in and save you from getting stuck in slime condensates...constantly. Albedo grew fond of your childlike excitement even when you weren't entirely sure what was going on. He normally distanced himself from socializing as it never sparked his interest. Frankly, he was too much of a genius for mundane conversations. Your presence was rather refreshing in this case. You were an oddball, just like him, and for once the alchemist felt like he didn't need to place that glass barrier between the two worlds.

"You seem to be in a very good mood today Mister Albedo."

He was a man of subtle expressions yet anyone could notice the small gleam in his eyes whenever he saw you walking in the hallway. Sucrose often remarked with a giggle after she noticed her teacher holding his documents upside down. But who could blame him? Joy, fun, laughter. He was able to experience those emotions all because of you; his beloved. You were the colour to his canvas and the meaning to his flower. You were a force of nature. Like a warm breeze gracing upon the terrestrial lands, you move him.

Thump- thump- thump-

Strings around his world began to weave one whole picture while they also tugged inside his chest. God had finally blown the breath of life into mankind's body, it was only a matter of time before Albedo came to follow his heart too.

--------

"Alright, just one more detail aaaaand done!"

You gave a small tap using the tip of your pencil and leaned back to examine your artwork.

Masterpiece!

On days when Katheryne had no commissions assigned to the guild, Albedo would accompany you to the Whispering Woods and conduct his sketches there instead. He was aware of the discomfort Dragonspine brought as the temperature wasn't ideal for anyone except for him. You eventually learned that your lover was not only intelligently different from the rest but physically too. Albedo, aside from the Cavalry Captain, was mysterious in his own way. He was hard to read yet never came off as intimidating, no one knew of his origins nor they knew how he came to Mondstadt. You wondered why someone like him would have wanted to get involved with your shenanigans. Rosaria often gave warnings regarding the alchemist's 'hidden intentions' in which you'd roll your eyes in response. The Albedo you knew was far from that. He was a big brother to Klee, a man passionate about his work, he was the one golden star among the many silvers in your sky. He was your lover.

My Albedo.

Brushing a hand upon the drawing you made of him, you glided down the lines of his cheek before resting your finger on the mark by his neck. You gazed at it with fondness. Truly a masterpiece indeed.

"You do realize I'm still here?"

The paper nearly flies out of your grasp and you snatched it back to your chest, "HUH A-ALBEDO, WHEN DID YOU APPEAR???"

"I was with you the whole time," he states. The corner of his lip tug upward ever so slightly, "You said you wanted to sketch me."

"A-Ahahaha, so I did," you reply while scratching your head bashfully. 'I thought I was looking at a sculpture!!' You rushed to cover your face with the sheet. It wasn't that you forgot he was there, rather, you forgot he was still a living and breathing specimen who just witnessed your little serenade. As Lisa had once said, Albedo was easy on the eyes. His graceful features made him seem almost like an oil painting that could only be found in halls of the most prestigious households. You made sure to capture everything, every detail, every curve just like he had done with your portraits. Only now you noticed the sun already began its descent below the lakeside, dusting the landscape with hints of bright orange as it marked the day's end. If only time could slow down. But duty calls upon your next journey and there was no telling when you'd return. At the very least, a simple portrait would suffice to fill in the temporary gap of his absence.

"Can I see it?"

You glanced his direction while keeping the drawing close to your nose, "Are you sure about that? It might not be up to your expectations."

"I'm sure," Albedo affirms with a straight countenance, "I can already tell you've put a great amount of effort, otherwise you wouldn't have taken this long."

"Yeeaahh I kinda lost track of time. I guess it's only fair that you get to see the finished product," you say and shoved the drawing in front of him, "Tada! I present to you, my masterpiece!"

Albedo takes it out of your grasp and you watched the way his eyes expanded upon sight.

"Well? Whaddya think?"

Words could not describe the mixture of emotions that erupted within him. Was it distinguishable or abstract? Albedo spent his time pondering between the two answers as he examined the drawing closely. Despite the lines being slightly jagged and the unevenness in the placement of his eyes, he managed to make the shape of the entire image you were trying to convey. Perhaps it was all thanks to his well trained artistic vision which gave him the ability to do so. Or maybe he was simply biased. But there wasn't a shred of doubt that this was indeed your craftsmanship.

"You even added flowers in the background," he pointed out with amusement.

"It's the thing you make when using your elemental burst, I couldn't fit your hand in the picture so I decided to put it somewhere empty," you informed, "Out of everything, that one took me the longest."

"And the rabbits?"

"They resemble Klee's bombs!"

He lets out a chuckle, "I see."

Albedo kept his attention downward until he was mindlessly staring at the paper in hand. This was a memory made to be carried as you moved on to your next journey and it saddens him that he could not accompany you. If only time slowed down. Albedo wanted to hold onto the memory forever, because he knew once he gave it back, he wouldn't be able to see you for an uncertain amount of time.

"Do you really have to go?"

His voice was barely above a whisper. Guilt crept into your heart and you gingerly layed your fingers on his gloved ones, bringing down the paper that blocked his face. A pair of teal orbs held a reflection of your image as the sun's rays casted from the side. You returned it with a reassuring grin, hoping to soothe his worries somehow, "I just need to pay a visit to my father since he's been very sick lately. I'll be fine, so don't worry too much okay?"

Albedo turns over his palm and gave your hand a squeeze, "How long will it take?"

"I'm not sure but it will be a while. Snezhnaya is pretty far so..." you trailed off, "But my time in Mondstadt, with Klee and with you, I will never forget! I won't even if I tried."

When you were met with no answer, a breeze came in to fill the melancholic silence. He too will not forget and he would ensure that it was the same for you. Slowly, Albedo brought your hand up, past the center of his heart all the way to cupping his cheek. He allowed himself to indulge in your warmth, tangling the strands of his hair with your fingers while closing his eyes. Sweet flowers. You always carried the smell of sweet flowers.

"Albedo?" You gawked, "What's the matter?"

"...There are certain aspects where drawings can't imitate," he says, grip tightening ever so slightly, "How I feel against your skin, the shape of my jaw, your warmth radiating with my own. These are the things I want you to remember."

Breath leaves your slightly parted mouth. It was unfair how straightforward Albedo could be when showing his affection. Doing as he pleases without anyone's approval to the point it would even catch you off guard since he often absorbed himself in the arts of alchemy. But during times when Albedo did choose to express his feelings, you knew they came from a place of pure genuinity. The thought made it hard for you to tear away from him, "Did you ever find out what the strings felt like then?"

Albedo returns his gaze, long golden lashes hovering them as he smiles softly, "...I have."

As he began to reveal his stories, the dusk sky continued to flare across the landscape with colours of passion. Red, it was the thread that had led him to you, the same string that weaved him together as a whole. Albedo lays a kiss atop of your pinky, there was a reason why Mondstadtians called him the Chalk Prince. You didn't know the intention behind his sudden affection but he knew. It was a promise, one to ensure that the thread would also have you return safely back into his arms.

Oh how he hated the colour red.

"Al...bedo..."

With speed he never knew he had, Albedo scoops you into his embrace and held you close. How did everything happen so fast? He curses his mind as it proceeds to scan your injuries, drawing a conclusion where he wished to be wrong for once:

You were beyond help.

"Ah..haha..." you managed to laugh through bitter tears, "You don't have to say it. I know."

His breath hitches, trying to make sense of the feeling that was slowly tearing him apart from the inside. It's not real. Of course it wasn't, it couldn't be. What other possible answer was there to explain the numbness stinging his fingers? The reason for his shaking? Everything felt so cold. Your body hardly registered to his to touch, you were losing so much blood. You were losing. He was going to lose you.

"No," Albedo shakes his head, "We still have time. I'll go find help."

Please, hold on.

He forced himself to think. The ruin hunter ran off shortly after it had ambushed you, by now the Knights would eventually noticed and apprehended it on sight. They couldn't be too far. All he needed was to carry you back to safety and everyone can go home. Albedo darted his eyes all over the place, breaths becoming shallower with each passing second. Where? Where to go? Which route was best to not overexert your wounds? Think. Think. Think. Why couldn't he think?

"A..." You watched him in your helpless state. Every part of you throbbed with pain but it pains you even more to see the renowned genius who stood atop the pedestal of elegance and grace so utterly, undoubtedly lost. This was not the goodbye you wanted, though death already had you tight in their grasps. Not yet. Using the last particle of your strength, you tried to stay alive as long as possible. Just a little bit more time.

Albedo freezes when a trembling hand extends itself to cup around his cheek. Every single thought he had in mind vanished and was replaced by a loud ring resonating in his ears. Dreadfully, mechanically, he turns his attention to where you lay.

"Don't cry," you whisper, "I love you, don't cry- okay?"

Albedo grimaces, shutting his eyes closed as he allows the pent up sadness to flow out of him completely, "I can't," he said in a shaky voice, "Please. Stay."

"I'm sorry," Your vision blurs and he hugs you even more. Drawing your final breath, you relay your most cherished words through a broken smile, "But no matter w-where I go...I won't for..ge.."

The moment your hand fell, Albedo finally understood the difference between death and loss.

It was...suffocating. Having the air trapped in his throat, begging to release yet it hurts to speak. The never ending stabs that pulsed within his veins rushed forth like the scraping blizzard of Dragonspine until his whole body lost all its senses. The world was shattering. He could no longer feel your weight. He could no longer feel.

(Y/n).

Albedo glances at his blood stained fingers where the thread had been severed, wide eyes drowning in sorrow. What a horrible feeling. Was this a warning sent by the gods? For stepping into the boundaries of knowing too much? Ah the curse of knowledge man must bear when eating the temptatious fruit. It was the result of choosing to love you. With life, death is inevitable and with love, it will eventually bring pain. Everything had a price to pay and as an alchemist, Albedo knew that better than anyone.

"...Meaningless..."

But he refused to accept it.

Cradling your corpse, he leans in and places a kiss on your forehead, lips quivering as they lingered for a second too long before gathering the strength to stand back on his feet. Nothing will stop the alchemist from reuniting with you. If the laws wished to take you away from him then he will use everything in his power to fight against those laws.

"This is not goodbye..." Albedo said to the sleeping girl, "And it will never be."

When the sun sinks below the plains and the stars lose their light, the sky had been replaced with a palette of darkness. It was time to go home.

------

"Have you all heard about the rumours?"

A group of knights gather in the corner as they whisper about. Sucrose stops on her tracks and hides behind a wall, clutching the book close to her chest in an attempt to stay hidden.

"Another criminal disappeared from the dungeons? Crazy..."

"More like creepy. I was told that place might be haunted by some dead prisoner's ghost. Even the Church is hopping onto this case."

"Well I hope it doesn't get any worse. So many of us started going on night patrols..."

Their voices faded out of range as the anemo user backtracks her steps carefully. Several months passed since the news of mysterious kidnappings have been announced to the public. Rumours of their whereabouts swirled around the city and much to her discomfort, Sucrose happened to catch every single one of them. There couldn't possibly be evil spirits lurking in the Favonious Headquarters right? She silently shrieks at the thought, shaking her head furiously to stop her mind from going too deep. No, I have to find him. Without wasting another minute, the anemo user sprinted towards the stairs all the way up to the second floor before stopping directly in front of her teacher's office. Despite the adrenaline that occured at the same time, she made sure to knock.

No answer.

"Strange, he told me he would be here today..." Sucrose muttered to herself. But suddenly she heard the sound of objects shifting from the otherside, signaling that there was indeed someone occupying the room. Without realizing, she held her breath out of anticipation.

"Come in."

The door creaks as she opens them, giving her enough space to slip between the gap, "Mister Albedo?"

"You're early today," The Chief Alchemist noted from his desk, "Is there something the matter?"

"Y-You mean you don't know? There was just another case about a person disappearing from the dungeons," Her tone became more frantic as she rambled to herself, "The kidnapper never leaves a trace and no one knows how they were able to get out. Even when we ask the guards what happened, they can't seem to remember as if...as if someone casted a spell on them!"

"A spell?" He inquires, "I suppose that could be a possibility."

"I think so too. I-It's the only explanation that makes sense! I mean...ghosts don't exist after all," Sucrose nervously looks down at her shoes while giving her book a squeeze, "But why? Who could be capable of such advanced techniques? No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to understand their intentions."

"...Yes. It is a very strange occurrence indeed."

Noticing her teacher's withdrawn attitude, Sucrose couldn't help but feel flustered at her own behaviour, "Ah my apologies Mister Albedo, I didn't mean to go off track. Have there been any progress on the investigations so far?"

Albedo briefly glanced at the various documents splayed across his table. His reputation as an incredibly intelligent individual had reached far and wide through Mondstadt. This led to the authorities requesting his assistance regarding the recent matters, despite him specializing in the alchemical field, he was also the Captain of their Investigation Team. Although, Albedo detested partaking in things he deemed irrelevant to his research;

"I'm afraid I would need more evidence to draw a conclusion."

"Eh? You still need more?"

He could not deny that the given authoritative position had provided much benefits to his own accord.

"My expertise lies in the subject of alchemy," Albedo reasoned and proceeds to intertwine his fingers in front of his mouth, "Humans on the other hand, are very unpredictable in nature. Even the essence of their existence is hard to obtain."

"Essence of their existence?" Sucrose repeated softly. She wanted to ask what he meant but the blank expression was evident enough to signal his impatience. At least, that was what she thought, "Nevermind! I have something that might help," taking out a slip from her textbook, she handed it to him, "It's the report Captain Kaeya gave me. He said that the culprit might be a traitor coming from the Knights of Favonius."

He narrows his eyes.

"I-I think he might be right! Just think about it, we haven't found anything at all for the past few months but when we do, I sometimes feel like we're just running in circles...oh what if it's becau-"

"Sucrose."

"Y-Yes?!"

Albedo calmly looks at the flustered girl, not realizing how sharp his tone was, "You're overthinking again. Perhaps it's best that you take this day off."

"But I came here to help," she insisted, "I know it hurts to lose someone you love! Don't you understand that we're all worried about you? And Klee, she..."

"..."

"Please Mister Albedo, if there's anything I could do-"

"No need," he cuts her off once again, "Your stress levels are too high. We can't go any further if you continue to act like this."

"Oh," her ruby eyes casted to the side, "I understand..."

"Good. Now, if you would excuse me," Albedo bid her farewell and watched as the door clicked behind her, observing every detail until he was sure that the absolute silence had returned. He picks up Kaeya's document. Such remarkable handwriting. But of course, appearances are only meant to be displayed on the surface for the Captain was a sly man, wearing a mask to shield what lies underneath. Just like his letter, they were full of innuendos and condensed meanings, orchestrated together until the truth spoke loudly to Albedo himself.

"So, that's what he thinks."

Perhaps the alchemist should have been a little more discreet.

--------

There was a certain place in Dragonspine that no one dared to enter. But those who have, they never return.

"Hm, no response. Now as for the next step..."

And he was the reason why.

Taking the sword out of the transmutation circle, Albedo turned to the snowy hill nearby and activated his alchemy. A small portion of it dissipates, revealing a trench that went so deep underground that even warmth couldn't outplay the sheer cold. It was the perfect hiding place for the evidence to lay out of sight and an environment where only he could handle. The alchemist tossed the leftover along with the others before exiting quietly, summoning back the ice to bury his victims once again. Another day, another experiment, another stain goes to his title. The path he walked upon was one littered with corpses and the sins he committed. But despite the bones crunching beneath his feet and the weight of the dead hanging on his shoulders, the alchemist was numb to it all. Like an entity floating in space with nothing to hold, he became unable to feel.

"I'm back," When reaching the center of Starglow Cavern, Albedo puts his hand on the icicle and caressed it's hard cold surface, "Did you sleep well?"

The girl did not respond. Her eyes were closed and her skin was as young as ever. She was frozen in time.

"You must have."

Albedo felt the sword beginning to shake in his grasp as it resonated with his energy. Dust particles emitted from the hilt and slowly made their climb to the side of his arm. Still, Albedo's attention did not waver, "To this day, I've been thinking about what you told me the first time we met."

"..."

"Follow your heart. I couldn't understand it at first but after being around your presence, I believe I can finally recognize what that term means."

He closes his eyes as he envisioned your lively form running across the landscape. Albedo, Albedo! The sound of his name was mixed with your laughter while Klee came into the scene and caught the dandelions with you. A content smile formed on his countenance as he watched from afar, even if it was just a memory, "It's everything. The breakfast we ate together, to the nights spent camping outside, and the silly moments we shared, they bring all these colours that I never knew existed."

"..."

Albedo curls his fingers against the ice as he continues to lament, "Perhaps that's why I began noticing the strings around me. The closer I was to answer, the more I felt it was necessary to discover what they are. All this time, you were the answer I was searching for," Moist begins to build up in his eyes but they freeze up once reaching the corners. How cruel. Despite what he went through, he wasn't even granted the liberty to cry, "Because with you, I'm able to feel them."

He wonders what you would think if you saw him right now. Albedo peers at his reflection casted on the crystalline surface, the frame of his face had been decorated with streaks of purple and red, spreading out like tree branches as they both fought for dominance. The teal coloured orbs you once adored were beginning to transform to a colour that reminded him of his darkest days. This was Albedo's true nature- a monster, a being that wasn't human, the essence in which you never had the chance to see.

"I know I may not be the same as I was before," he added, "But if that is what it takes to follow your heart, will you let me feel the strings again?"

Would you still love me the same?

"..."

"If so, then please understand my actions," Albedo takes a step back as he held out the sword in front of him. At last, the preparations have finally been completed. He plunges the blade to the ground with full force and the surrounding area begins to shake under the power accumulated through many, intentional sacrifices. To revive the dead was a forbidden art as it came with heavy consequences. If it weren't for Albedo's talent and quick wit, the process would have consumed him long before executing the last stage. He winces, the pain was excruciating. It was hard for him to ignore the sound of his skin cracking below his ears and all the way to his nose as they fall off in the shape of small rock-like chunks. Everything hurt so much that even death sounded like a sweet dream but Albedo couldn't afford to give up. He had already come this far, his hands completely washed with sin and his reputation already broken beyond repair, Albedo had nowhere else to go. This was his last destination.

"Soon-" he pants between choked breaths. Soon your eyes will open. He could drown in your embrace, one that was warm and not cold. Soon he will be able revive those cherished memories from a frozen past. It was all he could think of right now. Your existence was the reason why a part of him felt whole and your death made him realize how painful it was to tear away those pieces. Albedo refused to let go of those pieces, they had already become a part of him. And if this path ended up tearing him even more, then so be it.

"I should have stopped you the moment you were born."

The intruder snapped him awake and he swung around to where they stood. But before Albedo could make out who it was, they lunged past him with incredible speed, kicking the sword off the ground while severing his two arms once and for all. They flew to the side, blood dyed purple trickling from the edges of his joint as he struggled to stay upright.

"Dains...leif..."

Dainsleif watched the alchemist fall onto his back as the light around him slowly faded away. He turned his gaze to where the objective was and noticed a girl encased within the ice. The man sighs out of relief when she shows no signs of life, he came just in time, "So this is how it ends."

Albedo weakly stared at the blonde man. He attempted to say something but the blood caught in his mouth prevented him from that.

"Save your breath, you won't be having any," Dainsleif remarks in a cold manner and glared at his bloodied form, "The renowned Chief Alchemist of Mondstadt and an important member of Ordo Favonious. Hmph, what an interesting turn of events. Out of everyone, I never thought you were the type to act so foolish."

Foolish...what a foreign name to be called as. He never heard anyone tell him he was foolish.

"Truly a pity," With a flick of a wrist, Dainsleif brought his sword to Albedo's neck. It was unbelievable how he had the endurance to go through all that pain while still breathing at this point but what is there to be expected from a monster? "Remember that all actions have consequences."

The alchemist watched as his life flashed before him, the weight of his sins had finally caught up. He had always seen the world as a platform for his objectives and results were merely a natural cause after attempting many experiments. But death as a consequences was an unbearble realization upon his final moments. He abandoned his title, his pupil and his dearest sister. In the end, he was still unable to fulfill his duty.

"I just..." Albedo mumbled, his words slurring together, "wanted..."

As the ashes turn to ashes and dust becomes dust, chalk returns to the earth, forever yearning a place that can never be reached.

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #nya-writes #dainsleif #genshin impact dainsleif #sucrose

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goddesswritings · 3 years

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“Can I slap her for you?” - Corpse Husband | Part Two

Title: “Can I slap her for you?” – Part Two

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Reader

Summary: Being stuck living with the queen of YouTube drama and partying during the pandemic has seriously worn down your patience. Meeting Pokimane has changed your life for the better, making Among Us a pivotal part of your life.

Word Count: 5.2k

Unedited for now. I was eager to post. I will edit it later.

Corpse Masterlist

********

<< PART ONE

After you left the apartment, you sat in the parking lot of some random store, trying to decide what to do now. Sighing, you opened your phone and went to Instagram. Corpse was probably wondering if it went okay.

Corpse: She left the stream, thank you!

Corpse: What exactly did you do?

Corpse: She’s sending Sean angry DM’s now.

Corpse: Hey, are you okay?

Y/n: Hey sorry, I had to pack. I’m fine, happy to help get her out of the stream. I switched off the power to her office.

Honestly, you wished you could have stood up against her more often than you did. She was four years younger, so you should have been able to have the say in things. But no, Olivia was a control freak and a spoiled brat too. She would no doubt tell your parents you started a fight with her, and she felt unsafe.

Corpse: Wow, you’re badass. Packing for what?

Y/n: Um, she may have kicked me out of the apartment, and I may have left without a fight because I’m tired of her shit. 🤷‍♀️

Corpse: Do you have a place to stay?

Of course you didn’t and you really should have thought about that before just leaving the way you did.

Y/n: Not really but I will find somewhere.

Well you hoped you could. There weren’t many people who were keen in taking in a friend during a pandemic.

Corpse: Poki’s going to call you.

At that message, your phone started to wring and sure enough, it was Poki.

“Hello?” You asked hesitantly.

“So someone let it slip that your sister kicked you out?” Poki said calmly.

“Is that someone, Corpse?”

“Yes, he said it out of shock but I’m glad he did. Knowing you, you would have kept it a secret from me.” She was right. You hated inconveniencing your friends.

“Damn you, Corpse.” You muttered making her laugh. “Yeah so I ruined Olivia’s stream and she started screaming at me before kicking me out. I didn’t fight it because I am tired of her.”

“Understandable. Well do you need somewhere to stay?”

“Yes but I will find some place.”

“Nope, you’re staying with me. Come over now or I am coming out to drag you back to my place.” Her protectiveness made you smile.

“Sure, I’ll be there in a few.” You hung up.

Y/n: Thank you for looking out for my stubborn ass, Corpse. I would have never told her.

Corpse: Stubborn is one word to describe you. Cute is another.

That comment made your face heat up from the sheer adorableness of it. Corpse seriously just called you cute.

Y/n: Can I say you have a genuinely nice hand. It’s marvelous.

Corpse: Hey, don’t make fun of my hand. It takes all the heat for me. That hand is very anxious every time I post him.

Y/n: Awe I bet. Give him hugs from me. Also tell him I’m a big fan!

The easy flow of conversation between the two of you was nice. You got along extremely well and talking outside of the game was nice, since you could focus on what you really wanted to say to him.

Corpse: He’s flattered!

This was great and took your mind off Olivia and the fact she just kicked you to the curb with nowhere to go. But Poki was there for you. You appreciated her more than she knew.

You pulled up in front of her apartment building, parking the car, you got out and grabbed your stuff. Typing in the code Poki had given you a while ago, you were let into the building. Entering the elevator, you made your way to her apartment.

Barely knocking, the door flew open to reveal Poki. She looked mad but also worried. She pulled you into the apartment and hugged you tightly.

“Can I slap her for you?” She asked calmly.

This made you giggle. “I mean I would like to slap her as well.”

“We should make a plan. Hey, the group is still on, come say hi.” She started to lead you to her office.

“Are they still streaming?” You didn’t want to reveal your face to the world, not like this.

“Oh no. We ended our streams when Olivia started talking about you. She completely wasn’t respecting your privacy and we weren’t about to let her spill it to our viewers.” That was so sweet of them to do.

You had left your bags in the other room while you followed her. An idle conversation was going on when you entered.

“Hey guys, I’m back.” Poki took a seat in front of the computer, she pulled up a second chair. “I have someone special here.”

Sitting down, you saw her nod for you to say something. “Hey, did you miss me?”

They went wild.

“Y/n! Oh we missed you!”

“Don’t leave us again.”

“I’m sorry I invited your sister to stream.”

“Hey Y/n.”

The mix of voices was overwhelming in a good way. Sykkuno, Rae, Sean, and Corpse pretty much spoke over each other which made you laugh.

“One at a time, guys. You can’t overload her.” Leslie told them.

“Sorry Y/n. We just really missed having you here. You’ve become one of our favorite friends to play with.” Sykkuno said sounding as sweet as ever. That man was just the best.

“Yes, I can say we agree.” Rae added.

It was nice to hear they missed you. It really helped to lift your mood as well.

“Did your sister really kick you out?” Toast asked

“Yes she did. But it’s not surprising at this point. She’s probably been gunning to kick me out as soon as she could.” Sad truth

“Well she’s the worst player ever. She can’t keep a secret at all. I really should have never agreed to get her into the group.” Sean said sounding sad.

“Hey Sean, please don’t worry about it. She’s always weaseling her way into things. It’s completely not your fault.” One of the things she loved to do was incessantly DM other youtubers for collabs or for free stuff. She really had no morals.

“Well thank you, Y/n. You’re literally the sweetest.” Sean said earning a bunch of ‘I Agrees’ from everyone else. That really was helping make the night better.

“Who’s up for some more Among Us to relax after that shitshow?” Lud asked making everyone laugh hard. It was agreed the group would do it. Luckily, you had your laptop and joined the call and game and stayed in Poki’s living room to play. Honestly, it was so good for you.

At the end if gaming, you said goodbye to the group. Then Poki showed you to the extra room that used to be her roommates before she moved out last month.

“Hey, are you looking for a roommate?” You asked as you put the bags on the bed.

Poki sent you a smile. “I am. Are you interested?”

This was good. “Yes, I mean I still have to find another job since my main is still furloughing me until this pandemic gets better but I have some money saved up.”

“Hey, please don’t sweat it. Besides, I know a friend who’s in need of an editor, I may have mentioned your name and she really wants to talk to you about it. Is that okay?”

“Wow, that’s perfect. Thank you, Poki. You’re such a great friend.” It felt good to have someone there for you.

She pulled you into a hug. “Always. I am so glad I met you. You’re one of my best friends.”

This was an honor. “Don’t make me cry.”

“I can’t promise anything. Anyway, I will leave you to rest. It’s been a long night. Tomorrow I will give you my friends details.”

“Sounds good, night Poki.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.” She waved goodbye and closed the door behind herself.

Smiling, you sat on the bed. It was such a good thing that she was here got you. But also Corpse was the catalyst that got you to actually tell Poki was what happening. He was sweet and it seemed he was looking out for you.

After changing into comfy pj’s, you brushed your teeth before climbing into the freshly made bed. Opening Instagram, you saw that Corpse has messaged you.

Corpse: I don’t like being too forward but hey here we go. Can I please have your number so we can talk more easily?

A smile made its way to your face. For a tough man, he surely had a sweet way of getting to you

Y/n: Yes you can. xxx-xxx-xxxx.

The nerves jumped when you sent that message. Less than a minute later, you received a text from an unknown number.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Hey Y/n, it’s Corpse. Would you mind if I called you so we could talk for a little?

You liked this idea truthfully. It only helped to show how genuine Corpse was being.

Y/n

Not at all. Please go ahead and call me.

Your phone rang, displaying Corpse’s name.

“Hello?” You answered the phone while pushing away the anxiety.

A soft deep laugh filled your ear. “Hey sweet girl. How are you feeling?”

His words made you want to sigh in the most lovesick way. That never happened these days.

“I’m good. Poki had an extra room I could crash in and well I might just be her new roommate.”

“I love that. She’s so much better than your sister I assume.”

“She is. Here I won’t have to deal with the incessant pandemic partying Olivia likes to do.” That selfish bitch.

“Shit, is she stupid? She does know she’s risking a lot of lives, right?” You loved that Corpse had the logic you craved.

“So she is stupid, and her response was always that it’s not her problem and that the vulnerable people should stay home.”

“She sounds like the typical beauty youtuber these days.”

“Yes, she is. She has no morals.”

“Well that’s not good. I guess that’s why her name keeps popping up all over social media. She really needs to be careful, before she becomes the next Tana.” He was right but you personally thought she was past that point already.

“It’s too late. She’s already passed the point of return with all of this.”

“Yikes. It’s good you got out of there when you did.” A soft but deep laugh was heard through the phone. The sound made you giggle. Hearing such a tough guy laugh the way Corpse laughs, made you feel giddy. “So about what I said earlier, I meant it.”

“Huh, what are you talking about?” You truly were a little lost by this.

Corpse laughed again. “When I called you cute earlier. I meant it.”

Heat filled your face and a small smile made its way to your lips. “Thank you, Corpse. That’s really sweet of you. I don’t like to show many people who I am because they will immediately connect me to Olivia, and I don’t want that.”

“I get that. I don’t show my face for fear they won’t like me when I do. All my fans have built up this expectation of what they want me to look like and now I just don’t want to let them down. Plus it’s nice being able to stay anonymous if I go into public, but of course people will hear my voice and know. Shit, it’s hard.”

“Awe, I’m sorry. I saw what the attention has done to some people, but I think not everyone goes into that headspace. Also, I think you should stay faceless if it makes you feel better. There is no rule that says you ever have to show your face. People who push you to do it have no boundaries.”

Corpse was quiet for a while and you thought you had offended him. “I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing, Corpse.” You squeaked.

“No, you said the right thing. I was just thinking. You’re right. A lot of people have been on me to reveal my face, but I never intend to. I want to be able to live my life without being swarmed by fans, or god forbid, them judging me by my appearance.”

“Which is really fucked. When I first appeared in my sister video, the comments were awful. They couldn’t understand how she was related to me, but I never thought I looked bad. But I guess they expected Olivia to be surrounded by people in her genre. It was so hard to see those comments.” Thinking back to it, Olivia had even added to it. Telling you that you should have tried to look more like her for the video. You should have worn something more colorful and put-on way more make up then you liked. But you hated that. That wasn’t you.

“I can’t imagine the things they said. Is that why you deactivated your twitter?” How did he know about that?

“Oh, yeah. How did you know about it?”

“I remembered seeing a story about it on YouTube last year. They didn’t show your face, so of course I didn’t know it was you. But I figured it out when Olivia joined the game tonight and she blabbered on about being your sister. I’m sorry you received that hate. No one deserves that ever.” His voice was calming you now.

“Thank you. Olivia seemed to add to it, as well. Fuck, she’s just the worst person.” Family definitely had the ability to be shitty. “Meeting Poki last year really was the best thing. But also joining this Among Us group has been so good for me. Thank you for accepting me.”

“Of course. You’re a natural in the game but you also fit very well with the group.” Corpse really hoped you believed him because this was true. The group had a whole conversation about it when Olivia finally left

“I’m flattered. The Corpse Husband is telling me I fit in with him and his streamer friends. Wake me up, I must be dreaming.” You knew his words were genuine because it was just easy to tell.

“You better believe it, baby, because it’s true.”

You stopped short when you heard him call you baby. Of course Corpse had used that word before but right now it felt more intimate.

Letting out a yawn you realized it was nearing 4 am. “I appreciate it.” You mumbled, feeling the events from the day seep in.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” His deep voice was lulling you closer to sleep.

“No.” Another yawn broke through.

“You can’t lie to me, Y/n. Get some sleep and we will talk tomorrow.”

The words made you smile. “That sounds good, Corpsie. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” Despite wanting to stay on the phone, you hung up. Sleep was quickly coming in to claim you. You can happily say you fell asleep with a huge smile on your face.

Waking up was easier than it had been in a long time. Normally you woke up to Olivia screaming at you or someone else. So it was nice to wake up to silence. It allowed you to relax and wake up properly.

Your phone buzzed from beside you. A text from Corpse is what you first saw, so you opened it.

Corpse

Good morning, sweet girl. I hope the night treated you well.

Sweet and to the point. His messages made you think he had a thing for you. Well you hoped he did but he also could just be treating you the way he treats friends.

Y/n

Yes, I slept well and for once I wasn’t awoken by my obnoxious sister.

It would he good not to live with her.

Corpse

I bet. Hey I hate to be the one to show you this, but your sister posted this on her instagram.

He then sent a link to the post. It made your blood boil.

::::

There was a picture of her, she was holding up a ripped picture of you. A huge frown was on her face.

oliviaxoxo It’s a shame when family starts to treat you like you weren’t the one to give them money when they needed it. This is my sister and she’s a bitch. For the last few years, she’s been the one editing my videos. Well I found out she was trying to sabotage me, so I had to fire her and kick her out. What a shame it is when family stabs you in the back. 🙃🙃

1,454,787 people like this

oliviafan23 Is this true? Damn, f*ck fake people.

queenolivia Sueeee herrrrr!

lovinliv Family ain’t shit. Spill her info so we can drag her.

sykkuwu Whoa, why are you spreading lies about your own family?

queenolivia Why would you defend someone like that?

valkyrea You’re such a sad human for doing this. Stop lying.

pokimanelol Let’s see, none of this is true. Your sister has done so much for you and you’ve never appreciated it. Get some help for this.

corpse_husband This is sick. No wonder your name is always blasted everywhere. Do your sister a favor and stop talking about her.

oliviaxoxo I don’t know why you’re defending my stupid sister, but that totally makes you not hot to me anymore. Ugh.

valkyrea Uh, that’s what you got from this. Wow, you’re not worth this.

corpse_husband What can you expect? The covid must have gone to her brain. |

corpseandlivfan Whyyyyyyy Corpse, why would you stand up for her. Do you not realize how horrible Y/n is? Please tell me this is a joke!?!?

corpse_husband Well, she’s a good friend of mine and I won’t let people make up lies. So it’s not a joke.

::::::::

You were mad that she’d even say this shit publicly, but you should have known she would. She was nothing without her group of misguided followers.

Y/n

Can’t say I’m not surprised. This is so on brand for her. Thank you for sticking up for me. It means a lot.

Corpse

I would do it any day. She shouldn’t be able to get away with doing that to you.

Sadly, growing up, she did get away with doing the absolute worst shit and you always received the brunt of it.

Y/n

With any luck, she draws negative attention.

You clicked the link to view it again but instead were lead to a page that said the content was unavailable.

Y/n

I believe she just deleted the post.

Corpse

Oh, she did. That’s awesome.

It was. Olivia was never one to swallow her pride and admit any wrongdoings. That means she would never delete a problematic post, but she finally did

Y/n

I didn’t really read any other comments besides you and your friends and the top comments. I can’t imagine what her fans are really saying.

Olivia was completely okay with letting her fans attack people. It was seriously a huge mess. She fell into the category of YouTuber with the worst most entitled attitude.

Corpse

It’s good you didn’t read them, because they were horrible. I can’t believe she would let her fans do that.

Y/n

She’s done a lot of shady stuff. This is even before she blew up on YouTube. There is a lot of issues between us.

There was a lot that could be said about your relationship with Olivia and none of them were good. Forever it seemed, you had tried to make it work and hoped your sister would grow up and change but it never happened.

Corpse

I think she’s a vile human. From what I have seen and her complete lack of human decency, I just can’t help but feel she’s just not a good person and she never will be.

He was right. She would never change.

Y/n

You’re right. Hey, I have to go thank Poki for letting me stay but I also need to go back to that apartment to get the rest of my stuff. Can I call you when I get back?

Corpse

Yes, of course. Good luck heading over there.

Talking to him was pretty natural feeling. It was clear now that you were getting a massive crush on him. You had a crush on a man who’s face you’ve never seen. You couldn’t help it though, his personality just meshed so well with yours. He’d made you feel safe and wanted.

After getting dressed, you found Poki in the kitchen making breakfast. She sent you a sweet smile when you entered the room.

“Thank you for standing up for me against my sister on Instagram.” You were truly honored this group of friends liked you enough to do something like this.

“You’re welcome. I couldn’t just let her say that and get away with it. She’s done a lot to you, that you don’t deserve. Corpse messaged all of us the minute he found it and we all jumped into action. Sean and Felix were getting ready to comment when she deleted it.” She explained as she set a plate in front of you.

“I’m so honored. Thank you!”

“Of course, you’re one of us now and we will never let her get away with this stuff anymore.”

You could just cry with how loved they were making you feel. This is what had been missing in your life. Friends who genuinely cared about you and wanted to protect you from the nasty stuff Olivia was capable of doing.

“Would you come with me to the apartment to get the rest of my stuff?” You asked once the two of you finished eating.

Poki nodded. “Of course I will. You shouldn’t have to go alone.”

An hour later, you exited the elevator on the floor where you once resided. Your sister wasn’t home, which would be good but there was a chance she could return while you were packing. But you would deal with that when it came down to it. The two of you quickly got to work, packing your life up into the boxes you’d brought with you. Luckily, you weren’t one to collect a ton of stuff. You mainly just had to make sure your clothes and makeup were packed up.

You and Poki would fill boxes and pile them by there door, then you would take them down to the car when you acquired a good amount. In the end, you figured you would fill maybe 10 boxes which is actually not too many considering you’ve lived in that apartment for five years.

Poki had left to go take two more boxes to the car while you finished up packing up your last few items. The front door closed, and you assumed it was Poki, but it wasn’t.

“Oh look who’s here? My lovely sister.” Olivia’s voice was flat and emotionless.

You rolled your eyes and turned to find her standing in the doorway, glaring at you. “Hello, Olivia. I’m just packing my stuff and then I’m leaving.”

“Who said you were allowed to come back here?” She grumbled, eyeing the boxes.

“Well, this is my stuff and I have every right to come pick it up.”

“If it’s in my apartment, it clearly belongs to me.” She snarled.

You snapped. “Cut it out, Olivia. This was my apartment too, until you kicked me out last night. You can’t just claim my stuff as your because you’re salty about me having friends.” She was a spoiled brat, and you were done letting her get away with it.

“I’m not the salty one. Everyone can see it’s you.” God she was so annoying. You taped up the last box and turned to her. She held her phone in her hand. “Everyone say hi to my sister. You know, the one I posted about earlier before someone reported my post.”

“Are you live?” You asked, keeping your face expressionless. Olivia would do this.

“I bet some of you remember the few videos I did with her. Well of course that was before she turned against me and decided she was going to try and ruin me. Say hi, Y/n.” A sick smile played on her face.

“I never consented to being in your live, Olivia. Please stop.” You tried to keep your voice calm so that she wouldn’t have any way to make you look like the bad person. But regardless, she was already doing it.

Olivia cackled. “Well I think I’m free to do as I please in my apartment.” You could only imagine what her fans were saying. “You’re right, Andrea, she is an idiot, and I should have her arrested.” She spoke aloud making your blood boil.

“You’re so immature, Olivia.” You grumbled before grabbing the last couple boxes and moving towards the door. Olivia decided to swat the boxes out of your hand, and they fell tumbling to the ground. “What the hell, Olivia. I could have fragile stuff in there.” You growled at her.

Olivia was just laughing. “This is funny. What else should I do, guys?” She asked as she panned the phone around the room.

Her immaturity was giving you a headache. Poki walked in and saw Olivia.

“Oh hey guys, look who’s here. Pokimane.” She panned the camera to Poki who frowned. Olivia just laughed and started talking shit until she was cut off by the stream just ending. “What the hell.”

You gathered the last few boxes, and Poki came to help while Olivia attempted to start another live.

“What the fuck, it won’t let me go live.” She growled while stomping her foot like a child.

“That’s what happens when an influx of people report your live.” Poki spoke as you both had gathered the boxes.

Olivia was frowning. “What did you do, Y/n.” She wanted to pounce at her, but Y/n and Poki were already at the door.

“Y/n did nothing, but I got word of your little livestream and contacted some friends for help. It will be at least 24 hours before you can have another live. But with the amount of people who reported you, well you may be banned for a while.” With that, you and Poki left Olivia standing there is absolute shock.

You and Poki put the last boxes in the car. “Thank you, Poki. How did you get so many people to report it?”

“Well it was actually Corpse. He texted me and informed me that she was doing a live and bothering you. He had his fans go report it, but apparently Sykkuno and Rae also sent their fans. I was going to send mine, but they had it handled. So this was all Corpse.” She explained.

Hearing this made you feel so soft for Corpse. “Awe wow. That’s so sweet of him.”

The two of you entered the car. “Y/n, can I tell you something without you telling him I told you?”

You looked over at her. “Yes, sure.” Your heart rate kind of picked up.

“Well the other day, Corpse admitted he has feelings for you, but he wasn’t completely sure if you felt the same way for him. But I mean I can clearly see you do. Your whole face just lit up when I mentioned him. So do you?”

Heat filled your face and you suddenly felt shy. “I do, yes. Which is ridiculous because I just met the guy, and I don’t even know what he looks like. But gosh, I like him so much. When I talk to him, I feel happy. He’s been so good to me through this crap with Olivia.” You admitted, knowing she already knew.

Poki smiled and squealed in complete happiness. “You two are just the most adorable people! It’s not ridiculous. We pretty much knew from the first time you joined us, that Corpse was into you. But oh my god, you’re into him. You need to tell him!!!!”

You agreed, Corpse deserved to know. “I do. But how? It’s been a really long time since I’ve told someone I liked them. Shit, I feel like I’m in high school again!”

This made Poki giggle. “Calm down, Y/n. I have a plan. Let’s get back to the apartment and we will talk about this. Rae also wants to be involved in this.”

Back at her apartment, you had jumped onto a call with Rae and the three of you talked about what your plan was for you to tell Corpse what you felt for him. Rae and Poki decided to organize an Among Us game strictly for fun and no one would stream, they would also use Proximity chat.

“So we will get him to follow you around until one of us is imposter, then we will lock you into wherever you end up. Do it then” Rae explained sounding so excited.

“Okay, that can work. Let’s do this!” You were nervous but also excited to finally do something good for yourself.

You and Poki set up for the gane and Corpse sent you a text.

Corpse

Are you joining the game tonight?

Seeing a text from him, made you feel giddy.

Y/n

Yep I am. So I will see you in game?

Corpse

Yes you will, angel.

Cue the insane butterflies.

The lobby loaded and it was you, Corpse, Poki, Rae, Sykkuno, Karl, Tina, Sean, Toast, and Leslie. All streamers you had grown to like a lot in the time you have been playing with them.

“Y/n, I am so happy you’re playing with us!” Tina gushed as her little character ran around yours.

“I’m happy to be here.” You really were.

“You’re sister is a piece of work, Y/n.” Sykkuno said.

You giggled. “Don’t I know it.”

“What did she do this time?” Sean asked.

“Decided to film a live when we went to get Y/n’s stuff from the apartment.” Poki explained.

“Oh, that’s gross.” Karl commented.

“I have to thank Corpse for helping.” You stated to the group.

“Yeah Corpse was quick to text us.” Sykkuno added.

“You’re welcome, Y/n. I wasn’t going to let her get away with what she was doing. Truth is, I got a bunch of fan DMs that were telling me what Olivia was doing. So a lot of my fans were already reporting it, but the tweet helped.” Corpse’s deep voice soothed you.

“I appreciate it so much. She was just being an immature brat as always.”

The group laughed before deciding to start the game. Poki and Rae agreed to text you when either of them were imposter. Now it was a matter of getting Corpse to follow you.

The group was on the Polus map, which seemed to be a favorite for everyone.

Rae

We should lock them in weapons.

Rae had texted you and Poki through the group text.

Poki

That’s the best place for them.

Y/n

Okay but I still have to get him to follow me.

Rae

He will. Just wait, I have a plan.

You trusted Rae and Poki to help you. Now it was time to admit it all to Corpse and hope he genuinely liked you back.

Y/n

Let’s do this!

PART THREE >>

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pompompurin1028 · 3 years

Note

Heyyy 🥰

Okay okay, a thought: Dazai has a similar mind to Mori's, but the day Oda dies he decides to let his emotions influence his decisicion. Which means he's actually a highly emotional person, right? But what if part from his great suffering comes from him not being able to UNDERSTAND all his emotions. What if he has a sky-high analytical intelligence and is therefore skilled at deciphering other peoples' emotions, but can't seem to understand and hence accept himself?

Summary: Dazai is an highly emotional person? And his intense emotions are what is causing his suffering?

Ooo this is a very interesting thought Jade!!😌

Mori and Dazai are definitely quite similar, they are complex and intelligent characters that are seemingly logic driven with the tendency to look at the whole picture of a situation!

But I actually do highly agree with you that Dazai is actually a highly emotional person🤔 I have always felt that about him. But I don't believe that I have enough evidence to support my claim unfortunately, at least canonical evidence, but I will still talk about my thoughts below cause I’ve been thinking about this a lot. But my belief is actually opposite to yours, I believe that his suffering comes from being too sensitive to his emotions and understanding and feeling them too deeply. But I would love to hear your thoughts as well after reading this!

We can see this with Oda of course, as you’ve said! The fact that Oda's words and his death alone is able to drive him out of the mafia, despite not really knowing about what the future could hold and all the uncertain factors that could happen if he left the mafia, somewhere where he is extremely familiar with to one that is unpredictable kinda shows that he is an emotional person. Because this is definitely not a rational decision, and as you said one driven by emotions.

Another thing that I think might have actually shown that he may actually be, originally, an emotional person is that he numbs himself of emotions. Yes perhaps it may seen paradoxical, but sensitive people are actually more prone to suffering from emotional numbness surprisingly, or so I've read. Because it is in human nature to defend against pain, and with emotional sensitive and intense people, it is extremely easy to be able to feel everything around them. And I personally believe Dazai is actually a sensitive person (I will talk about why I feel this more later), and this coupled with his high intelligence is extremely self destructive to him.

This is because as you said he has a sky-high analytical intelligence, I mean he is able to at a young age of 15/14 to understand the idea that there is no point in the act of living. He is able to see the deepest truth in life, and a knowledge of the universe beyond our common understanding that some of us are not even able to comprehend in a lifetime, thus showcasing his absolutely high analytical ability. But the understanding of the hopelessness of the world, and the lack of a meaning in living in this life is what is hurting him the most, especially if he is extremely sensitive. This would explain his utter hopelessness and emptiness he feels. Also may explain why his emotions are stunted or seemingly so, as it may actually be his own mind using it as a self-defense mechanism to prevent further sources of pain and suffering.

This can also be supported by a quote from Dazai-sensei himself in one of the short stories from Blue Bamboo (I believe it is The Samurai and the Mermaid) which says “how I envy those self-satisfied commoners who, seeing nothing and comprehending nothing are convinced they know it all. There are in this world things of such mysteries and awesome beauty that the small minded cannot even imagine them. There are, yet he who discovers them risk falling into a bottomless hell”.

Him being highly emotional could also explain why he is such a good strategist, as we’ve seen throughout the anime. Dazai in his plans doesn’t simply manipulate people to do what he wants them to do, I’m not saying he doesn’t because it can definitely be seen that he does in a few different cases. But in a lot of scenarios especially in his long term plans, we actually also see him predicting how other people will react to different situations presented to them rather than him guiding them like pawns on a chessboard to establish his plans. (Prime example of this is his plan with Chuuya in Dead Apple).

So the main question you may be asking right now then is probably, where did the assumption that he is emotionally sensitive come from in the first place then? I have this assumption because Dazai-sensei himself is a very emotionally sensitive person, this can also be observed in No Longer Human as well.

One of the quotes from No Longer Human that could support this is “The weak fear happiness itself. They can harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness”. You can also see it subtly in this quote "For someone like myself in whom the ability to trust others is so cracked and broken that I am wretchedly timid and am forever trying to read the expression on people's faces”. The fact that he is always trying to read the expression on other people’s faces shows that he fears rejection, and is extremely anxious about how other people see him and view him, but also at the same time craves acceptance.

“I have always shook with fright before human beings. Unable as I was to feel the least particle of confidence in my ability to speak and act like a human being, I kept my solitary agonies locked in my breast. I kept my melancholy and my agitation hidden, careful lest any trace should be left exposed. I feigned an innocent optimism; I gradually perfected myself in the role of the farcical eccentric.” Here’s another quote from No Longer Human, once again fearing and is extremely anxious of what others think about him and seems to be sensitive to criticism and being called out as an outsider, and being different, and the mask that he wears is actually a defense mechanism used to protect himself.

Of course No Longer Human is not the only source that shows Dazai-sensei’s sensitivity. Other short stories have also showcases similar themes such as this. His short story 《候鳥》 I wasn't able to find the English equivalent wrote 「太敏感的人會體諒到他人的痛苦，自然就無法輕易做到坦率。所謂的坦率，其實就是暴力。」 It means people who are too sensitive can understand the pain of others, naturally they are unable to be frank. For "frankness" is equivalent to violence.

I also remember somewhere it talked about Dazai-sensei being too anxious to visit someone as well and was pacing outside of their house? I don't remember where I read it though and I can't find it again😭

Therefore from these many examples, I have a few that Dazai is actually a sensitive person judging by how much he is also described as such in other articles; and Yozo as well in academic journals and articles I have read.

And so I believe that he may be able to feel emotions quite deeply, not only that but also understand the world deeply as well. And it is this deep understanding that is the source of his despair, his difference from other humans, because they are not able to understand him on that level. It is actually the fact the he might be too human that he ceased to become human. But the reason why I am still thinking about whether or not this is true is mainly because how he treated Akutagawa, which I feel doesn’t really fit this idea.

#asks💌#Jade😸#kat rambles #bsd theories #bungou stray dogs analysis #bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #this is so long omg I'm sorry

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quietrainfan · 3 years

Text

Hey! Anyone want some heavy platonic Loceit angsty headcanons I've extracted from the new episode? Well, too bad because it's happening regardless. :)

Yes, also some Unsympathetic Patton. You know what blog you're on. (This interpretation/headcanon shall not die. Not here.)

(Also, this is going to combine my observations and thoughts as well, so sorry in advance if this post turns out as a bit of a mess.)

Alright, so! Orange Side confirmation. How we feelin', Sanders Sides fandom, how we feelin'?

Honestly, the Orange Side theory wasn't something I was really all that into. It was a 'meh, could be cool' headcanon for me personally. But I have to say the way the reveal was handled made me jump in my seat with pure joy. No joke, I audibly gasped when Logan's eyes flashed orange.

It was all downhill from there, I was excited. Anyone who knows me will tell you I'm a sucker for character's eyes glowing when they've reached their limit or are displaying a power they've never shown before, combine that with an unexpected reveal and I'm sold.

Plus, glowing eyes have been a common theme with Unsympathetic content and Dark Side headcanons so you could imagine how the first peak into the Orange Side's existence (or, rather confirmation. we all saw the 'hello' hint, Orange, you cheeky little munchkin.) was his color in Logan's eyes made me feel. It was so cool!!! Ah!

Then Thomas had to tease us again at the end card with our boy Orange's eyes popping up in the darkness, waiting for his chance to be too loud to ignore. Like, the audacity. Who do you think you are, Thomas?! (That was a joke. Sorry, I'm just really pumped.)

Also, Remus got quite a few laughs out of me. Ah, I missed him.

Okay, headcanon time! We're going to do Logan first, then Janus, then combine the two. Sound good? Alright, here we go (Trigger Warning for discussions of alcoholism, please if anything I write here sounds insensitive or inaccurate, let me know and I will edit. Also, no need to read if you don't want to. Stay safe.) :

Logan

Logan knew where to grab for that alcohol bottle.

I mean, I guess that makes sense since he lives there and is naturally the most observant Side. But...that bottle's placement was a little too convenient.

Sure it was played up as a joke and it was funny.

But something about the way Logan threw his coffee into the sink and quickly replaced it with the wine stuck out to me.

I've joked about Logan and/or Janus having to "drink to cope" due to sharing the single brain cell Thomas has amongst all the chaos. But seeing that in an actual episode, even as a gag, is kind of...different.

Let me explain.

This may be a common thing for Logan that he struggles with.

He wakes up early to be the first one to help Thomas start the day, naturally. Logan goes to make his cup of coffee and there's always the lingering urge to take a sip of wine before anyone can see because he just...can't face everyone without needing just a little bit of it to cloud out all the gross, petty, negative feelings he experiences every day around them.

He's logic. He can't be drinking and risk any more harm to Thomas's function.

So, it's a constant battle with coffee vs wine, coffee vs wine, coffee vs wine-

Most of the time Logan is able to resist and go with the coffee.

It doesn't make him feel good in the slightest. If anything it makes him feel even worse knowing he'll be more alert that day.

Logan hates that was even a thought at all. He needs to be alert. Otherwise everything will fall apart. He is the rock in the system and without him everything will crumble.

Such a selfish mindset. He needed to focus.

Other days Logan just doesn't have it in him to discard the wine regardless of how much he wants to.

He knows what the day holds for him. It was all so repetitive at this point. Logan knew when he wasn't able to get through it despite it all.

That didn't stop him from shaming himself for caving. He should be able to handle this. He's made so much progress with resisting it up to this point but today he through it away again because he just had to, right?

Sometimes Logan finds himself "cheating" by hiding a couple drops of wine into his coffee on days when he chose the coffee but later felt particularly bad about...a lot of things, into his second cup.

Logan more often times chooses neither. The temptation for clouding out the others was just too strong and was a waste of time.

Logan is beyond tired of the others.

Every single action they have agitates him now. No matter how minor it is.

Roman's loud voice and constant references makes Logan's toes unconsciously curl beneath his shoes. Even a silent warm smile and wave from the prince fills Logan with an unpleasant tingle in his knuckles.

Virgil's neverending foreboding and unnecessary nasty remarks that he doesn't even bother to filter provokes Logan's new habit of biting his tongue. Any kindness he ever gives him makes his stomach twist.

Patton's nicknames, poking for for a laugh, his "sweet" way of shoving away any objection he may have, how casually he behaves as if he isn't part of any problems- how quickly he's prepared to "bounce back". Logan feels like every word, action from him something steps on a guitar cord in the back of his mind that makes the ugliest, loud, screeching sound. He feels this strange warm fuzzy ache he can't define. All he hears is that cord playing faster and faster the longer he stays in their presence. Logan no longer trusts himself alone with Patton.

Logan thinks if he just separates from the others long enough, the ugly strumming noise will go away.

But he's so wrong.

Logan can hear it even when he's all alone. When it's finally silent, he still can't get rid of it.

It's loudest when Logan is alone in his room. Logan has lost count of how many nights he's spent clenching his head, quietly sobbing, and praying for it to just go away already.

Logan often feels like he's losing it.

On nights where the sounds are particularly louder than usual, he swears he can see orange shadows creeping around him, lights of the color flashing on and off, he sometimes even sees it seeping in and out of the cracks of his door like a thick fog. At times he'll even wake to it glowing absurdly bright through his window.

It's just the sunrise. Logan tells himself. He has to believe that. Everything else looked normal, after all.

What's worse is Logan doesn't know how long he's been hearing this sound or seeing the strange lights.

Patton knows about Logan's late night and early morning struggles.

But surprise, surprise, he pretends as if he's nonthewiser.

If either Virgil or Roman asks about Logan, Patton will answer: "Oh, that silly billy's probably got his head in one of his astronomy books again! I wouldn't bother him right now."

Knowing full well he's having an emotional breakdown in his room that gets worse every day.

Knowing about the little sneaks of alcohol in his hot morning beverage. Might even speak about yummy drink combinations when they hang out in the living room, while Logan is present, specifically and even only on the days Patton knows he's cheating with his bad habit, while he's still drinking it.

The further Logan is to the edge, the better. Patton is still bitter about the events of Redux ending in his favor, after all. He needs leverage from somewhere.

When Thomas left to see Nico, Logan heard the cord again. His chest tightened and though he could feel the tears welling up, he kept them down.

Thomas hasn't been very happy lately. He had to let him have this.

No matter how loud those cords get.

Janus

I noticed that Janus was either unseen by the others or unacknowledged by them.

Janus was near all of them but far enough that he was separated.

He could've just popped up at the end without them noticing but...that's less angsty therefore less fun so-

Janus has been the instigator for bringing Sides that have been hidden away to be brought to light for a long time. If the assumption that Janus let Remus out is true.

He's always been hinting at upcoming events that are sure to come if Thomas continues to ignore certain aspects of himself.

He knows. He knows our Orange boy is getting worse and soon will be too loud to ignore. Janus wants to protect Thomas but that's becoming harder every day. Thomas is making it harder.

Janus will reveal the Orange Side eventually. And very soon. Hell, that's looking like less and less of a choice considering Logan's...outburst.

I think Janus has this painful awareness that he can be seriously hated for doing his job. After all, he's always the one who's forced them to acknowledge uncomfortable truths about Thomas.

He's the one giving them all of those hard pills to swallow and especially after Remus, it is definitely overwhelming and exhausting to be met with.

They question their roles more and more because of how used they are to the fixed mindset Thomas has had for such a long time.

That can't feel good.

Janus knows that his job may cause more hatred to fester the more that's revealed.

Janus is being kept at arms length and he knows that won't stop any time soon.

But he's a clever snake. That won't keep him from keeping an eye on Patton.

(Find it real suspicious that Patton was all mushy with Janus in that end card but still is at a big distance from him.)

Loceit

Janus will sometimes find Logan in the common room with his head in his arms, sprawled out against the coffee table. His glasses being discarded from half his face, unmistakable tears lazily dripping out of his lifeless eyes.

Janus would wordlessly go to the sink and grab a glass, filling it with water.

Janus goes over to Logan, giving him a gentle rub on the back. He urges him to sit up. It takes Logan a few minutes but eventually does.

Janus hands Logan the water, supporting the back of his neck as struggles to get it down, reminding him to take his time.

Janus takes his glasses and gently sets them on the table. He hands Logan some tissues.

Logan lifelessly takes them and tries to clean his face. But he always ends up crying into them.

Janus moves Logan unkempt bangs from his face before moving his head to his shoulder. Janus manifests a warm blanket over Logan and uses a bit of his abilities to soothe the shorter man's pain, tenderly putting pressure on his neck.

Janus and Logan have a talk. Logan always asks why he bothers to stop and comfort him.

"You've helped me through a lot, Logan. Not returning the favor is out of the question."

That was always his answer.

Janus and Logan do this often.

Janus opens up about sometimes needing a bit of a drink himself from time to time. Though mostly that consists of tea more often than not, he sometimes has a glass of wine or two to relax on days when it's particularly hard.

He feels ashamed of it. Janus has to be the strongest out of everyone, especially the Dark Sides. Allowing things to faze him was the worst case scenario. At least, to that degree.

But Janus understands that isn't his fault and urges Logan not to blame himself, either. While he hated that weakness he occasionally submitted to, he wasn't going to let the rare slip up to define the worth of his role.

Logan thinks that Janus really is the strongest out of all of them just for saying things like that and he's being too hard on himself.

On nights when things become too much Janus will sit with Logan and share a drink. They try to have as many conversations without wine as possible but sometimes Janus says "screw it" and sits with Logan with one or two drinks.

Just having Janus there helps Logan choose his coffee in the mornings and feel as if he's being heard even a little bit.

Now if only those cords could actually quiet down, that'd be even better.

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swanhookheart · 3 years

Text

Angry Grishaverse book review time!

After watching and LOVING s1 of Shadow and Bone, I read the trilogy! I was not impressed.

Spoilers incoming for Grishaverse stuff, so if you don’t want those, don��t read on!

Watching Shadow and Bone this past weekend, I was hooked : Darklina, the lore behind the amplifiers, the Aleksander backstory… I was really impressed and hoped that this was it--that at last, I’d found a fantasy series that was going somewhere big, something I could really, thoroughly sink my teeth into.

*Sigh*

Then I read the books.

The reader / viewer enters the Grishaverse associating darkness with pure evil. The Fold, described early on, is shown to be this bleak, awful, ruinous place where people go to be eaten alive by volcra and hope goes to die. We therefore, naturally, associate the Darkling--who possesses the power of shadow--with that evil from the off. I’m speaking as someone who only got into the Grishaverse last Saturday. My initial thoughts were, “oh, he’s being set up to be viewed as dark and scary; this is the expectation Bardugo wants us to have so that we’ll be blown away by some great twist later. Count me in!”

But that twist never came. He was set up as evil, and he stayed evil. Surprise, he’s the Black Heretic! Surprise, he’s an abomination effectively created by Morezova’s greed! Surprise, he’s ruthless and horrible and does cruel things! Except none of those things are actually surprising, given he was SET UP from the beginning to be viewed that way. He did bad things, walked a bad walk, and talked a bad talk. I kept thinking “ah, so he’s gonna get a sweeeet redemption arc,” and then he just never did. That element of the story was predictable to a nauseating degree, and that predictability made the entire universe feel a bit flat. If the reader saw more of his backstory, had more real, logical, sound justification for why he does the things he does (like in the show, where they at least tried to paint his actions as borne of some misplaced sense of servitude / protection for the Grisha or where we saw him actively struggling at points to grapple with the darkness inside him), then maybe the trilogy wouldn’t have been such a letdown. And yes, I know about his sacrifice or whatever later on. It’s not enough.

In villains, I and probably plenty of others like to see humanity. We want to empathize with our villains to a certain extent--to understand them just a little bit--so we can fully commit to hating them when they violate our trust. The Darkling didn’t have that human, redeeming quality, though--at least, not in the books. In the books, he was just a power-hungry jackass who simultaneously didn’t want to be alone and kept trying to kill his only opportunity not to be alone. His single-mindedness, his lack of human empathy, the simplicity with which he pursued this made him seem almost stupid to me as a reader. For someone who’s lived hundreds of years, he’s kind of an idiot when it comes to other people--which, itself, almost seems incongruous with his having lived for so long. If he’d maybe had more backstory or more in his story to justify his actions, maybe he’d feel like a better villain. But atm, all I’m doing is rolling my eyes with him. I couldn’t love him because he didn’t put in any work toward being a better person. Even in the end, he doesn’t actually do the work or repent. But I also can’t hate him because the source material hasn’t given me enough actual human qualities to hate or to feel betrayed. His character just… missed the mark for me.

As did Mal’s. Fucking MAL, oh my GOD! This dude’s literal only personality trait was loving Alina. Cool, he could track--for Alina, mostly. He could fight--for Alina. “I am become a blade”? Sir, you got a whole-ass tattoo announcing that you’re an object in this woman’s service? No WAP is worth that, and I’m speaking as a very bisexual woman. My dude, it’s weird, it’s extra, it’s just too much. I’ll go back to the Darkling for two seconds to say that, ofc, his actions were painted as problematic and misogynistic and gross. But, like, the possessiveness Mal displays with Alina kinda feels on that same level? Why are we pretending he’s better when he actively tries to keep her low, keep her powerless, and keep her his? Again, dude got a tattoo of her sigil. He was fully prepared to be the leader of her guard even if she married Nikolai just for the opportunity for some sexytimes. I know that YA is about really intense emotion, the fire of teenage hormones and stuff, but that all just felt a bit toxic. The way that his entire life revolved around her while she tried to balance the role of saint, hero, orphan, and all the things she was just felt goofy and like a wildly unhealthy dynamic.

Their whole relationship also felt really obvious, as I guess the Darkling being revealed as the trilogy’s big bad did. It was predictable, set up to be that way from the start. There were no surprises. It was Mal, and then it was still Mal, and in the end, it was also Mal. We weren’t really shown any of what made them so drawn to each other, we were just kind of told and expected to be fine with the intensity of it. But it read as being way too much for me, and god, it kept getting worse. Again, this one felt like low-hanging fruit--low effort, lazy writing. Nothing about it actually read to me as romantic, just as too much. They didn’t so much as fall in love as just start out that way, and reading that was somewhere between boring and uncomfortable. At least with the Darkling or hell--even Nikolai--we saw some of that chemistry unfold on the page. We were shown some of what made them work the way they did. There was something underpinning their relationship, and not just “oh, they’re supposed to be together”. I mean, after all JKR’s bullshit, I feel totally fine saying fuck authorial intent. If you can’t even be bothered to actually put your shit on the page, don’t ask me to blindly accept your version canon as gospel truth.

We could have had Deckerstar vibes, Beauty and the Beast vibes, seen light and dark come together and surprise us by actually working well together. But no, we saw a special girl lose everything that made her special and settle for some mediocre fuckboy from her hometown. We get characters that actually have the potential to be dynamic and make for a good story, but she still ends up with this bland, vanilla, trick-ass bitch? It’s a major letdown when you’ve actually been exposed to decent fictional couples, tbh.

OOF! And the ending? Oh jesus fuck, that ending. Darkling just… dies. Just like that. I read three whole books for that? I know he comes back and dies again and all, but the whole trilogy felt like it was building up to something more, something deeper and greater and more profound. He was horrible for the things he did, sure, and he deserved defeat as long as he refused to waver from his power-hungry, destructive path. But his death brought about no closure. He and Alina never actually had the fight they needed to or reached an understanding with each other. Everything is left undone, unsaid, unexplored. The ending just felt super anticlimactic on the page, and so, the trilogy as a whole fell completely short of any mark I hoped it might hit.

Did I hope Darklina would be endgame? Sure. But I’d also have been A-okay with a tragic ending if it had been done right. Did I think it would have been a lot more interesting to see a redemption arc for Darkling than just… more of the same? Or maybe Mal develop a personality outside of Alina? Absolutely. There was so much potential, and it really feels like Bardugo squandered all of it. And for what? This was nearly as disappointing as the eighth season of Game of Thrones. I probably won’t be watching future seasons if they follow the books, but I guess I’m glad for the day or so of fleeting pleasure I got when I still had hope for a properly told story.

#Shadow and bone #anti-mal #darklina #shadow and bone spoilers #grishaverse

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ecclais-fouoras · 3 years

Text

Bathroom talk

Wilhelmina venable x reader

Warning ⚠️Slight smut mention of body image issues

You always woke up after mina, since you literally took forever to fall asleep. You'd often wake up, her side of the bed empty, her far gone to work.

So this morning when you didn't find her next to you, you weren't alarmed. However, judging by the clock it was way to early for her to have been gone, so you paid attention to everything you could hear to try and spot her somewhere in the house.

You finally heard some wrestling and a soft whimper, you immediately got up and grabbed your nightdress and went to see how she was doing.

You opened the door and found her naked, staring at herself in the reflection.

"So you left our bed to come and admire this master piece, i get it. We could put up a mirror on the ceiling that way you can admire yourself without having to leave my side sweetie.

"I'd rather not do that."

"Besides next time wake me up, I'd love to stare at your naked form"

"Stop it."

"Stop what honey"

"Stop mocking me"

"I'm not"

"Yes you are. You always do that when you talk about my body"

"I do not mock your body. Why would you think that"

"Well. I am not here 'admiring myself'

Like some kind of narcissist would do."

"Then why are you here babe ?"

There was a short pause and she bend over to you to take her shirt. You offered your help, but she snapped at you.

"Here let m..."

"I AM NOT INCAPABLE Y/N"

"I know that"

"Well then stop treating me like so, and stop making fun of me" you went to reach for her.

"Mina...what are you talking about, this doesn't make any sense."

"Of course it doesn't, you don't think there is anything wrong with mocking me "

"Babe I never mocked you, what are you talking about ?"

"The mirror on the ceiling mm ? The I'm beautiful comments ? Masterpiece ? The fact that you'd like to admire my backed form. And these are Just today."

"I'm being honest"

"There it is again"

Your heart broke, she couldn't even believe that you found her genuinely beautiful. After years of being told she wasn't, that there was something wrong with her, that her back made her ugly, worthless, and broken, that she was handicapped, and it being defined as a bad word. She didn't believe anything you ever told her.

"I took it before today, covered it as just some funny jokes, but i can't go on being laughed out every day by the person supposed to love me y/n"

"Oh my god mina..."

"What ?"

"You never believed me"

"Huh ?"

"I've told you I found you pretty since the first time"

"Yes."

"And you never believed i did"

"No"

"Look at me"

"No"

"Mina, look at me"

You took her jaw and lifted it.

"I love you"

"I love you too"

"And you know i do"

"Yes"

"I like pasta"

"With lots of cream, yes"

"Regardless i do"

"Yes

"And you know i do"

"Mmm"

"I have a beauty mark on my left boob is that correct ?"

"Yes"

"And you know i do"

"Yes. What's the point dear ?"

"I like france, i miss my grandparents house by the see"

"Yes"

"And you know i do"

"Correct, but i don't see where you're going with this"

"I like your hair, i think the fire bings out the cooper reflect in them"

"Yes"

"And you know i do"

"...Yes"

"You know i love your hips, i can always grab them it makes me very horny"

She let out a cute chuckle

"Yes"

"And you know i do"

You started placing kisses everywhere, stoping at each place on her skin.

"You should also know that i think you are beautiful, your eyes are like the earth, steady and grounding, your lips are thin and purplish, they bring me peace. Your cheeks are like valley's where the river flows to the rithm of your tears. Your nose is like the one that belongs to those ancient greece goddesses feared and loved by all that's living. Your neck is like the fine wine that I'm always starving to taste. Your breasts are as the moon and sun, shining bright in the sky while we all think we could never get there.

Your stomach is soft like some red velvet that i would want to hold forever. Your back is like a path, it bounds you all together, and as different as it might be, it still brings you close to me. Your legs are like the two last piller standing in the jordanian desert, carrying you wherever you'd like. And your pussy, like sweet and calm dessert i long to taste. Every part of you is alive, it makes me amazed and greatfull, because you are with me, breathing, walking, carrying my love. I love you body. I'd sing for you in eternity.

You are beautiful mina, inside and out. All of you. Your back, nose, shoulders and thighs. You. Not only your features singulary, but you, as a whole."

She took every word you said, every kiss you laid on her skin. You were now on your knees in front of her. Where you'd last kissed her.

"You really think so ?"

"No, I know so"

"I don't know if I can believe you, part of me feels like I'll wake up and it was all a lie"

"Oh baby...it's not. This...this is very real"

"I love you" she said as you got back up to kiss her

"Me too Wilhelmina"

"You make my name sound so pretty"

"And you make living sound so too".

She was still naked next to the mirror

"Stop looking at yourself through those eyes, mina, they are to mean. To lying. To far away from the truth"

You went behind her and took of your clothes as well. Your hands found hers on her hips. And you pressed your chest against her back.

"Do you think I'm not beautiful ?"

"No why would I ever think so ?"

"Well.. I hate my stomach, my thighs, my chest...nose, arms, back, shoulders...and the list goes on. I've always been told I would never be likes by a man. Which ended up being true. I was always told I would get fat, Which ended up being true as well. I was always told I was ugly, is it true now ?"

"Noxt at all baby, and you know it. These people where just stupid."

"So despite what everyone used to say about me, I'm pretty ? Ans somebody will want me one day ?"

"Of course y/n ! You are not what they said you were"

"Okay. Then apply that logic to yourself mina"

"What"

"You are not what people said about you, you are not ugly, you are not incapable, you are very beautiful, sexy and a talented women."

"I...I'm..."

" Look into my eyes babe."

Her gaze met yours and all she found was love and adoration. They roamed around her body with so much fire and warmth. Her shoulders, chest, stomach was becoming just what you saw they were. Pretty and sweet. Her legs, pussy and hands too. And then you moved her so her side was exposed to the mirror and you took a step back to admire her back, your fingers drawing shapes in the movements of her skin, your eyes radiating loveliness, truth, welcoming and...want ?. You wanted her like you always did. You eyes never lied, she knew this. She could finally begin to see her through you.

"I'm beautiful"

"Yes you are"

"And you think I look pretty"

"Indeed i do"

She turned around and kissed your lips softly again. Her joy wheezing out of her mouth.

"YOU THINK I'M BEAUTIFUL ! ....I LOVE YOU" she yelled holding your head and you did the same

"YES I DO... AND I LOVE YOU TOO"

You two stayed like this for a while, holding each other saying fuck to the mirror.

You drew a bath and asked her to join, she entered and rested her back against your chest as you sat in the quietly in the hot water. Hands running over each other's skin. Loving yet urgent. Her body melting into yours. Your hand found her pussy and she moaned loudly bucking against it.

"I've always knew you'd believe me one day"

"Mm?"

"You are finally letting me touch you thinking you're beautiful and desirable, it's the sexiest thing ever"

She smiled and turned around in your arms. Her own hand finding you under the water. Fingers dancing on your clit, sharing heated kisses and soft breaths.

"I love you" she murmured on your lips as she came around your fingers.

You replied in the same way, your bodies rocking together like a both finding it's way home after the storm as brought it back together.

#wilhemina venable x reader #sarah paulson fanfiction #wilhelmina venable

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madcatdaderpydrawer-blog · 3 years

Text

My Benrey Backstory

Okay, so I thought I might as well lay it all out. Be careful about reading this, because it will contain some DARK DARK shit. Just for that I’ll put a chance for you to opt out without seeing it.

Still reading? Okay :D

It started when Benrey was what could be considered an infant on Xen. He didn’t look nearly as humanoid as he does when he grew older, and his hair was much more like thick black fur. He looked kind of like a mutated rodent/bug, with several hundred eyes across his fur. He had lived a rather.. adequet existence. He was still alive, purely due to instinct, but had no parents like a normal kid does. He had to learn things by himself. Is it friendly looking? No? Run. While it was similar to a animals way of thinking of things, it was far closer to how a human child would decide things.

Needless to say it wasn’t hard for the scientists to catch him, considering his way of processing threats. Humans aren’t nearly as threatening looking as the creatures on Xen. Maybe he would’ve been lucky if he wasn’t so trusting..

The first about five years of his life were spent mostly in complete isolation. They had started to catch on to his abilities, and had still not completely figured out how to stop him from doing things such as escaping by no-clipping. They still hadn’t figured out the extent of his regen either, so thankfully he wasn’t harmed AS much as he would be later on. He was still experimented on, though. During this time he met Bubby and Tommy for the first time. Tommy was ten years old, and was excited to see another young child. The more Benrey was around Tommy and the other scientists, the more he changed his appearance to be more humanoid.

Would it not be for Tommy, he probably would’ve gotten taught not to use his sweet voice due to the way the scientists treated it. Tommy trusted Benrey, so much so that he wasn’t scared when Benrey used the sweet voice on him and he quickly realized that it was harmless and convinced the scientists to be lieniant and to let him use his sweet voice without being punished. Tommy really made things better for him, as much as he could. He’d talk to him, give him gifts, and try to make him feel as comfortable as possible. But he was still a ten year old, so he could only do so much...

During the first few years, Benrey tried to initiate hugs a lot or hold the scientists hands like any normal kid but they always jolted back like they got electrocuted. The only time they would touch him was for experiments, and not without gloves and or medical suits on. Tommy gave him all the hugs he could, but he only visited for a few hours a couple of days a week. Eventually Benrey stopped trying, and it led to him being severly touch starved as an adult.

He learned how to talk from the multiplayer video games Tommy gave him, and that was also how he learned to read. The scientists had no intention of teaching him anything, since he wasn’t human they didn’t deem it necessary. As he grew older, the testing got more severe. They would drug his food to analyze the effects it had on him every week, sometimes multiple times a week. This happened so often that after several months he stopped eating at all, and wouldn’t explain why. Even to Tommy.

During this he had been breaking out to see Gordon and play around, but he was eventually caught and they restricted his powers so he couldn’t leave. After this, also came the pain treatments.

They did everything you can think of pain wise: holding him under water until he almost blacked out, locking him in hot and cold environments until he passed out, shot him, and cut off his arms; they even performed vivisections on him without anesthesia. He screamed his lungs out for the first few times, until they figured out a chemical that would prevent him from speaking during the surgery. That way, he couldn’t make noise- but he could still feel everything that was happening. They had to put a muzzle on him or else the sweetvoice would get in the way. He sobbed almost constantly the entire procedure, and for hours afterwards. They never took care of the wounds they inflicted, so his clothes were always covered in blood. His room was covered in dry blood stains, and whenever he came back from the surgeries he’d throw himself onto his bed and sob until he fell unconscious. Otherwise, he never slept. When he used to sleep, they would drug and hurt him or move him somewhere different and he’d wake up strapped to a table with a muzzle on.

This happened for years. By then he was a teenager and had adapted to his cruel treatment. He went emotionally numb and after years of being called a monster, he started to believe it and accept it as the truth. His regen was incredibly sharp due to the constant injuries he had, but that came to an end when G-Man offered him his freedom for the agreement that he would do as he says or else be returned to his life of being a test subject.

Things got better, for a while. And then the Resonance Cascade happened. When he first saw Gordon he recognized him, even if he had transitioned by then and was now a guy, which is why he annoyed him. But he hadn’t yet had any plans until after the explosion. Much like with Gordon, G-Man had periodic meetings with Benrey instructing him what to do. He layed out his plan to Benrey: he needed to play the bad guy, lead Gordon through black mesa so he could finish the “game”, be the “final boss” in Xen and die. Of course this wasn’t G-Mans only goal: he was setting Benrey up to be assumed dead so that after Xen he could be recaptured and put back into testing without Tommy interfering.

Benrey came up with the military thing on his own. He thought it would come off as villian-y enough to be excused by G-Man, but honestly he was worried about Gordon and thought that if he was taken by the military he would be away from black mesa and he wouldn’t have to hurt him as the big boss. This, obviously, went horribly wrong. He got slightly defensive about the arm thing, though. He didn’t think it was THAT big of a deal, because he thought Gordon could regrow his limbs like he could. Tommy had to explain him that no, he couldn’t, and that arm was gone forever and Benrey felt AWFUL afterwards. As time went on he just kept doing more and more messed up shit until Gordon hated him by the end. It stung, but he knew it was better for them to hate him so they could kill him easier.

But.. they didn’t. Somehow, through his nonsensical ramblings Gordon got some string of coherence. He knew there was so much more to Benrey, there had to be, and it didn’t help that Benrey wouldn’t shoot at them and seemed to recall such fond memories with him. Gordon connected the dots as to who Benrey was, and the fact that he used to know him, and by that point Benrey was one shot away from a game over. The battle had died down drastically, and he assumed he was going to be dead. It was the only reason he was willing to tell the truth: he thought it didn’t matter, as he was going to die anyways.

When the cave started falling apart Gordon Niceman couldn’t stand to leave him to be crushed on an alien planet. SURE, he was a dick who got his arm cut off and insulted him regularly but he still was his sort of friend! Plus Tommy would be sad.

(because he was in denial: benrey definitely fucked up, dude. His actions were shitty, even if considering his situation they were understandable. Just- wanna clarify, he definitely not escaping blame here. He definitely was a shit head, because of the whole “doesn’t give a shit, I’m a petty asshole” thing.)

When Gordon eventually got this information out of him, once they were living together and all that, a lot of what Benrey did made much more sense. It was heartbreaking to hear that he had such a fucked up childhood. He definitely tried to be more understanding with Benrey, and explain why he was mad knowing Benrey never had any logical discipline. Probably why he’s so childish.

Oh, and it also made Gordon much more physically affectionate. If those bastards thought he was too dangerous to touch, it was their loss. Benrey is a great cuddler.

#hlvrai #hlvrai bubby #bubby #tommy coolatta #g man hlvrai #hlvrai gman #gordon freeman #frenrey #benrey #benry #hlvrai benrey #resonance cascade #tw torture #tw pain #tw blood #tw like a lot of bad shit #vivisection #hlvrai headcanon #gordon is gay and won't admit it

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haloud · 3 years

Text

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 7

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, starts forlex ends malex, other characters may appear - Freeform, tags subject to update

Chapter Summary: Alive but weak, Michael wanders Alex’s house as he tries to come to terms with the past few days.

Excerpt:

At night, Alex slept in his bed, and Michael slept in the guest room, but the sheets were Alex’s, the pillows were Alex’s, the walls and floor were built to hold him, he picked out the curtains. Alex was inescapable. And now, neither could Michael escape knowing that he still slept in old band shirts worn soft and peeling, that he composed music with his eyes closed and hid his written notations in books around his house, that he kept all his condiments room temperature and screwed up his nose at the thought of cold sauce on hot food. All these domestic details he’d lived and loved without, stuffed inside the empty spaces in his skull after only a few days.

What was he supposed to do, knowing this? The little details made up friendships, too, for certainly Michael knew plenty of his siblings’ idiosyncrasies, even kept shelves in his heart for lovely little scraps old one or two-night lovers had left him as parting gifts.

But things would never, ever be so simple and nostalgic and normal with Alex. Too many years had passed for Michael to even attempt to fool himself. His ribs sung like a tuning fork struck pure, and Michael longed, with the oldest, basest longing, to be anything so useful for Alex to set the music of his life to. And here he was, sharing Alex’s house with Alex and Alex’s boyfriend’s dog and Alex’s boyfriend’s toothbrush on the sink and Alex’s boyfriend’s clothes in the laundry.

So he’d live with it.

“Fuck!”

Michael’s water glass flew to his hand but bumped the edge of the table and skidded the last few feet, spilling water across its surface. Still cursing, Michael shoved his chair back and got to his feet to clean shit up the old-fashioned way, on weak and shaky legs, with weaker and shakier lungs.

Max kept healing him, checking for any possible little injury, but it seemed that Michael was just weakened by the enormous strain Jones’s “teaching” had put on his body, and he’d have to build back his strength.

So there it was. All his fears about not being to protect anyone, all the needy clamor in his head, all of them led him here, by nothing but his own recklessness and desperation. Weak as a kitten. More a burden on Alex, quite literally, in his life, taking up his space, invading his home, leaning on him to get from point A to point B.

Fuck.

He was, at least, too tired to wallow in much, in between long jags of ragged sleep, torn apart by vivid dreams of light and letters and scraps of knowledge just out of reach. But despite the awful aftertaste of near-death those dreams represented, they were almost better than his waking hours, hovered over by a furious Isobel and a Max worried half to death, Valenti inspecting him head to toe the normal way, Maria trying to cheer him up, and Alex .

They hadn’t spoken much since Michael awoke. Alex had to work, and when he didn’t, they, well. Cohabitating was a lot to get used to. But no matter how awkward things got, he offered a perfect porcelain protection, and Michael studied him obsessively for flaw, for the true Alex underneath the façade brought on by Michael’s own foolishness.

“Everything going okay?” Max asked, emerging from the guest bedroom, Buffy at his heels. She’d become his shadow in the days since Michael’s near-death; it was almost endearing enough to keep Michael from snapping at him, but only almost.

“Fine,” he snarled, but far from driving Max off, his tone brought Max forward, to sit across the table from him and fold his arms.

If snapping wasn’t gonna keep people away, why had he been working so hard to not be a total asshole for the past few days, through every well-meaning coddle and condescension from any one of their friends, from everyone but Isobel, who wasn’t talking to him.

Max sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, and a twinge of guilt disturbed Michael’s surly mood.

“Go ahead,” he said a little too loudly, before those thoughts could get to him. “Tell me what a hypocrite I am. One of you has to, and it might as well be you. I was fucking stupid after getting on your case constantly, and it almost killed me. Go ahead!”

“You seem to have gotten a head start, so I don’t see the need,” Max said wryly.

Michael scoffed.

Picking up Michael’s abandoned glass, Max ran his finger around the rim as he spoke. “You know, I know what it’s like to lose this. When my heart was still so weak…I pushed myself too hard and almost…well. You know. So I understand. Give yourself time. Let your system settle and see where you are.”

The words were too kind and too logical for Michael to bear, so he let out another bratty huff and didn’t respond.

Max just sighed again. “Well. Anyway. Kyle’s going to be here soon. I know you hate him, but he’s—”

“I don’t.”

“Huh?”

“Hate him. Kinda hard to hate the guy after what he did for you. I don’t like the doctor shit, but…”

That brought out a small smile on Max’s face, and the knot in Michael’s stomach unclenched. “That’s good,” he said.

A knock on the door saved Michael from having to find a dignified answer, and he stood hastily to answer it—a little too hastily, it turned out, because the world tipped and took Michael with it.

“How ‘bout you let me,” Max said as Michael dropped heavy back into his chair before falling. He clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “Alex’d kill me anyway if it was trouble and I let you answer it.”

Alex. The too-casual reminder that he might have some kind of stake in Michael’s well-being sent him reeling. What was he supposed to do with that information, that perspective? How did he earn it, how was he worthy of it, and how did he keep it from flying away? All questions that were too much to answer—questions he’d asked his ceiling and his eyelids and his stars every night for a decade and was farther than ever from answers even now that he was coming to accept the core truth of the problem’s existence.

Of course, there was no trouble at the door; it was just Kyle, as expected, and he pet Buffy with one hand while waving at Michael with the other.

“Hey, Guerin. How’s it going?”

Michael marshalled himself to answer.

“How do you think it’s going, Doc? A newborn deer’s got fancier footwork than me right now. But I’m alive, so…”

“Can’t complain,” Kyle finished the sentence with an amused shake of his head. “That’s one way to look at it.”

His exam was quick and efficient, something Michael was grateful enough for that he’d die before he ever let Valenti see it, and when he was done he took a seat across from Michael.

“It’s not exactly a clean bill of health, but your condition seems stable and improving. The condition of your body, at least. It’s hard for me to give any diagnosis about what might be impacting the use of your powers.”

“Yeah, yeah, wouldn’t expect you to. I’ll figure it out. You’ve done enough,” Michael said, scratching idly at his temple where Max’s handprint lay, thankfully hidden by his hair. “Tell me this, Doc.” He glanced around to make sure Max wasn’t in earshot, and when he spied him through a window throwing a ball for Buffy, he continued, “Have you had a chance to check out Max yet? The healing he did, with his heart—”

Kyle smiled, and Michael glanced away from his knowing face, shifting in his seat.

“I did, and you have nothing to worry about. He’s fine. It was a significant strain, but considering the alternative, the outcome could have been much worse.”

“But what about his condition otherwise?” Michael powered through. “He’s been dealing with depression and exhaustion for months since—"

The back door swung open and Buffy bounded in for her water bowl, Max following. “How’s it going?” he asked them both, but mostly Kyle, voice full of false cheer.

“All good,” Kyle said easily, getting to his feet. “It’s going to be fine,” he tacked on the firm reassurance to Michael. “I should get going so I can get ready for work. Catch you later, Max.”

“Thanks again, man.”

“Free drinks at the Pony for life, you know my price.”

As little as Michael cared to socialize with Valenti even now, awkward silence descended when he was gone and it was just the brothers again. What did you say to the guy who saved your life—again—when you had nothing but your own stupidity to blame?

It didn’t help that Max’s ability to make Michael feel small and stupid and guilty as hell without even trying was still unparalleled, or that he was still too weak to pace it out, or that he was hyperaware of how everyone would perceive him if he sampled some of Alex’s liquor cabinet to take the edge off.

“I’m going out to the back to get some light exercise,” he said eventually.

“Okay,” Max said, not arguing or inviting himself along.

“Thanks,” Michael replied, not elaborating on what for as he passed him at the fastest shuffle he could manage.

Outside, under the sun, Michael’s head was no clearer, his muscles no stronger. Alex’s backyard was featureless, incomplete, clearly not somewhere he spent much time, unlike the front patio, which at least had some furniture, some lived-in rested energy. And, Michael thought, of course: Alex would spend his leisure somewhere he could anticipate most attempts to accost him.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Michael ambled from one end of the fence to the other. As he went, Alex’s cameras followed him, and Michael tried not to feel weird about that, weirdly paranoid despite it being Alex, weirdly comforted to know Alex could watch him. The whole thing was weird. Living in Alex’s home was…weird.

So he’d live with it.

His pocket buzzed frantically, and he swore loudly, startled, before he realized it was just his phone ringing.

“Fuckin’ spam calls,” he muttered as he fished it out. “Why the hell does anyone carry this shit around all the—”

But it wasn’t a spam call at all. Ortecho sat dead center on the screen, and, not knowing what ring it was on, Michael answered immediately.

“Mikey!” Liz’s breathless voice shouted before he could say a word.

“Well it’s about damn—”

“Thank god, are you okay, why am I hearing from Maria that you almost died, what the hell?”

“Glad to know that’s what it takes to get a hold of you,” Michael snarked back.

“Listen, I—”

Michael just sighed. “I know. I get it. But we’ve been calling you a damn lot, Ortecho.”

“…I know.”

Despite what he said, he didn’t understand. He’d never understand the running, not as someone so stuck in the ground he’d been planted in that he’d die if he tried to rip himself away. But he couldn’t love Alex after ten years without accepting what he’d never understand and knowing how to survive it.

He hadn’t thought, until now, that maybe he and Max could talk about this shit. But maybe it’d be worth a try. If there was one thing that Michael did know, it was that Liz and Alex wouldn’t talk about how the situations made them similar until they’d exhausted all possible escapes from that conversation.

“Well…” Michael said into the silence. “How’s California been? How’s the Genoryx lab; they better be letting you do all the mad science shit, or else what good’s a shady government drug company…”

“Don’t change the subject! You haven’t even answered me. Are you okay? ”

“I…”

What was the harm in being honest? Liz wasn’t even here, wasn’t even talking to anyone who wasn’t dying, so who would she tell? Maybe Maria, but Maria could read it from him like an open book.

“Gotta tell you, I’ve been better,” he admitted.

Liz let out a soft, sympathetic noise. “What happened? You can…you can talk to me, if you want. I know I haven’t been the most reliable, but we’re friends. We are. Okay?”

Shaking his head, Michael paced the length of the fence again, one hand on it to steady himself. He reached the house and kept walking to the front, leaving the barren back garden behind.

“There’s not that much to say. Maria probably told you already. I made a bad gamble on Hyde, and Jekyll had to haul my ass out of the fire. That’s it.”

That version of the story left out the part Isobel played, but Michael didn’t have the words to describe walking his own head as it melted around him, images flying past bright enough to sear his eyes, snatches of conversation, aphasia in every sense, and how empty and cavernous and bereft he felt now, knowing what Jones had stuffed inside him—the knowledge of his entire people—knowing he wasn’t enough to contain it, weak, corrupted, and now he might never get it back. And knowing Jones did that to him on purpose, gave him more than his body and mind could handle to make him feel this way, didn’t make the feeling it any damn easier.

Liz went silent on the other end. There was a question she wasn’t asking, but Michael let it ride, gave her the space.

But finally, he answered it for her. “Max is okay. His heart held up, and so did the pacemaker. And I’ve got a handprint six inches from my nose, so I can call him on it if he tries to bullshit me.”

“I—okay. Thank you, Mikey.”

“Don’t thank me. Seriously, don’t. I, uh, said a lot of shit I probably shouldn’t have in your voicemail, about Max. But it’s up to you if you want him in your life at all, so, uh. Yeah.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

There was a thunk on the other line like she’d dropped or hit something.

“Look, I should go,” she said.

“Okay,” Michael replied.

“I’m—really glad you’re okay.”

“And, uh, it was nice to hear from you.”

“Okay.” Her final reply was soft and hesitant and awkward as Michael felt making an earnest overture a friend might make. “Bye, Mikey.”

“Don’t be a stranger.”

She hung up.

Michael dropped his arm and let his phone dangle at his side for a little while. His legs shook a little, so he held onto the back of one of the patio chairs to steady himself, but he wasn’t ready to sit just yet.

Friends or not, clearly he and Liz had plenty to work on if they were that fucking awkward without a project between them.

Still, this was something. Something unexpected. Michael was too tired to sort through feelings right now.

But he should have—

Before he could second guess himself, he pulled his phone back up and dashed a text off to her.

We all get together on Thursday nights. Open invitation. -G

Then he dropped his phone face-down on the seat and sat down several feet away so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at it if she texted him back.

All the chairs on Alex’s patio were tilted subtly to watch different angles of the approach to the house, so Michael settled in the one that was shadiest. It was too fucking hot to be relaxing outdoors without water or sunscreen, but the air indoors with Max hovering and Alex…everywhere…was just as stifling.

Max hadn’t asked him why, yet, even though the question itched at Michael’s head, even through the careful distance they were keeping from the handprint bond between them. Which was good, because, in the sunlight, on the other side of the storm, his arms wrapped around his own stomach, holding himself, Michael couldn’t have answered it himself.

Eventually, though, people would ask. And what would he tell them—should he admit he thought that the pollen would be enough to keep himself from harm, should he confess that he’d been willing—or thought he was willing—to accept the risks if it meant no one would have to take a blow for him?

The street stretched long and quiet as far as Michael could see. Every now and then, a car would pass from one point on the line to the next, disappearing down some other driveway or just continuing until the heat haze swallowed it whole. The sun hurt his tired eyes, so he blinked slow, and let minutes trickle past, waiting for something to happen.

Maybe his phone would ring again; maybe Max would come looking for him. Maybe Flint Manes would leap out of the bushes and shoot him. Maybe Alex would come home from work and smile when he saw him. Maybe Forrest would come home early and try and fight him for shacking up while he was gone. Maybe Jones did something to him that was lying in wait and would detonate his heart any second.

Thinking of possibilities was an endless sort of entertainment for a man who never knew what to do with having a future and who just nearly lost his lease on it.

As Michael watched the road, a truck appeared on one side of the horizon, moving faster than most would on a residential street like this. It whipped up dust as it went, and Michael rolled his eyes and slouched deeper into the chair. Fucking assholes in their screaming steel overcompensators almost universally considered themselves above getting work done in a junkyard, and that didn’t exactly give Michael a better opinion of them.

And this piece of shit in particular, Michael recognized. What the hell was Wyatt fuckin’ Long doing on this side of town? Michael tensed as he roared by, just waiting for him to slow or stop—did he drive by often, harassing Alex for dating his cousin? Or looking for his cousin to harass somewhere off the farm where a real adult might stop him?

He didn’t do either, though, and in seconds he was gone, cowgirl mudflaps dangling behind him.

Asshole.

What time was it anyway? Narrowing his eyes, Michael focused on his phone where he dropped it in the other chair and, slowly, tried to pull it toward him. It took seconds and enough strain his head hurt before it moved, but move it did, wobbling slowly towards him. Halfway there, it changed velocity and came shooting toward him, and he only barely managed to catch it before it overshot and slammed against the wall behind him.

Still, progress.

It was later than he thought. Shouldn’t Alex be home from work by now? Should he be worried?

He was just hovering his thumb over Alex’s contact, deciding whether or not to call, when another car hissed along the drive and slowed. This one, though, turned into Alex’s driveway, and Michael relaxed.

Alex pulled the car to a stop, and Michael stood up to greet him, stretching as he did. Unexpectedly, Maria was also in the front seat, but her presence answered the question of why Alex was late. If he wasn’t talking to Michael, at least he was talking to someone.

“Hey,” Michael greeted them.

“Hey, Guerin,” Maria replied.

“Is everything alright?” Alex demanded.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Kyle was by earlier. Seems like I’m still on the mend.”

“That’s good to hear,” Maria said, as Alex said nothing.

Michael gave her a smile. “Yeah, it is. So…are you staying for dinner? Maybe I can cook something…”

Side-eying Alex, who stood as stiff and stoic as Michael had ever seen him, shoulders and back soldier-straight, Maria returned Michael’s smile and said, “Oh, Alex just asked me to take Buffy out for her walk for the next few days, so I’m here to see her.”

“I didn’t want to impose on you for that,” Alex added.

Michael rocked on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets, chewing on his tongue to hold back any indication of how desperate he was to be imposed upon. The weakness in his legs kept him from making a real argument; despite her age, Buffy was a hell of a walker.

Was that the reason Alex was asking Maria to step in? Was his leg okay? Michael rocked forward again, swaying toward Alex and tugging himself back, an old, familiar dance.

“You could’ve. You’re puttin’ me up, I oughtta work for room and board,” Michael joked.

It didn’t exactly land. If possible, Alex shut down harder, face cold and hard, though his voice was soft.

“You don’t have to work for me to take care of you when you’re in need,” he said, every syllable clipped and careful.

Michael should have known something was up then and there, seen it, seen Maria’s downcast eyes and crossed arms, the way she hovered close between them and kept to herself; he should have expected it, Alex to pull some kind of bullshit, but his head didn’t go there. Not yet.

“So…you going somewhere?” he asked, licking his lips. The thought might have sent a bolt of panic through him, but now that Alex had a life here, a house and a job and roots, the threat was less immediate.

That didn’t stop Liz, his mind whispered, but he shook it off.

Alex wasn’t answering, so Michael continued, “You heading out to meet Forrest in DC? You should have gone with him in the first place, man, take some time off.”

Maria shot Alex a loaded look, but Alex’s face just hardened.

“And been across the country when you almost died on my doorstep?” he demanded so fervently Michael took a step back, and Alex closed his eyes, chest rising and falling with a deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“No, uh, it’s fine. You’re right. I’m glad you were here.”

Somewhere deep in his heart, Michael thought that it wouldn’t have mattered where in the universe Alex was when he lifted his foot and stepped across space to get to his door. His thoughts were inside out, tripled and rearranged with pieces missing, he couldn’t have said what he did or the powers he used or how he could do it again, but he could say this: for a brief moment, he’d possessed the ability to reorder the universe to put himself at Alex’s side, and no technicalities of time or distance would have stopped him.

He didn’t have that power anymore, though, and neither did he have the ability to read Alex’s mind.

“Seriously, though, are you going somewhere?” he asked again.

“…I should get inside. My phone’s dead, I need to charge it,” Alex said.

“ Alex, ” Maria said in a scalded voice.

Michael, though, was cold. Frozen. It barely registered when Maria reached out and squeezed his wrist to reassure him; he wasn’t reassured, though he was pathetically grateful to her for trying. She was a good friend—better now than she was or he was when they were two isolated points on a severed line, ten years as two stars on an unintelligible constellation, half its lights gone out.

But that friendship, as cherished as it was—could it hold him up if the new foundation he’d built for his life was ripped away again? Again, he’d built it up around Alex without expectation or intention. It was reflexive, habitual, migratory. He followed a pattern etched into his bones. He didn’t know any other way to build.

“Alex, I told you,” Maria said.

“I know. But—”

“No! No buts. If you can’t even be honest about what you’re doing, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“It’s fine,” Michael said. His voice was distant inside his own skull. “I get it. You don’t have to tell—you don’t owe me anything.”

For some reason, Alex turned back around to face them, then, his face so openly wracked with pain and indecision that Michael had to close his eyes.

Even less than he could stand to watch Alex walk away again, he couldn’t stand to watch it hurt so bad and him choose it all the same.

“I’m not leaving you, Guerin. Michael. I’m—not. I’m not!”

He said it again and again, like he was arguing with someone who wasn’t Michael or Maria, both of whom were silent. Maria pressed closer to Michael, leaning her weight against him, wordless but telling him: I’m here.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said again.

Michael forced himself to open his eyes. A few feet in front of him, Alex took up the same amount of space he always did, posture helplessly perfect, hands helplessly flat at his sides.

Through a tight throat, Michael said, “Okay. Then why…”

Alex struggled for the words. At his side, Michael felt Maria breathe in and release a heavy sigh.

“Talk to us, Alex. Please,” she said.

Dropping his eyes, Alex replied, “I’m just going to be busy and out of the house a lot for the next few days and won’t have time to give Buffy the attention she deserves.”

“Really? That’s it?” her voice was close to tears, and Michael unlocked himself to wrap his arm around her. She continued, “I asked you to talk to us, not just repeat what you told me before. What business, Alex? You’re scaring me.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Alex cried, spreading his arms wide. Then he dropped his arms just as suddenly, head snapping back and forth looking for anyone who might have heard the outburst, then he dragged a hand over his face. He continued, quieter, flatter, “I get so wound up about one threat, and another one starts swinging from my blind side. I’m not waiting for Fields to come calling while Michael is here. And Jones—” That awful blankness crossed his face again. “—What am I supposed to do, let what he did to you go without doing something about it? Wait until he tries again? Absolutely not.”

Every word stung Michael’s senses; he had no response, mouth parted but silent, eyes wide.

Maria let out a frustrated growl. “And would you have told anyone these plans if I hadn’t forced you? Oh my god, of course not, you both suck so bad! What part of this one,” she jerked her thumb at Michael, “getting his gray matter pureed forty-eight hours ago makes you think now is the time to run off with some lone wolf Rambo act? What’s the point of being able to see the future if no one ever asks or listens?”

“Did you? See something?” Michael asked.

“Well. No. But I might have,” Maria replied.

“Wait, nothing at all? It’s been how long now?”

“Too long,” she admitted. “It’s not nothing, I just keep seeing our bearded friend standing in a field. I can’t even tell if it’s now or if it’s from before or even if it’s from the home planet. He doesn’t look at me, just…stands there.” She shivered.

Alex’s eyebrows drew down. “Can he…block your sight? Is that possible?”

Shrugging helplessly, Maria said, “I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure we can’t just ask him. What are we going to do?”

We. Part of Michael wanted to protest, in the face of the danger that alliance would pose to two of the people he loved most in the entire world. Standing alone already almost got him killed, left him weaker than he’d ever been, but still part of him would try again, and again, until he was out of second chances, if it meant sparing Alex and Maria anything.

But that wasn’t in question, was it. They’d made their choice. It was time for Michael to learn to live with it.

“Thursday’s coming up,” he said. Maria and Alex turned to look at him, and he lifted and dropped his shoulders, curling in on himself. “If you guys are still available. We can talk about a game plan.”

“ Guerin, ” Maria sighed. But she smiled when she reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Of course we’re available.”

Alex didn’t reply. Silence fell between the three of them, until Maria sighed again and headed toward the front door.

“I already came all this way, I might as well spend a little time with Buffy. Since I won’t be walking her after all.”

As she passed Alex, he made a soft noise, and whatever it was, she understood perfectly, because she turned to meet Alex’s raising arms, and the two of them hugged tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You were right. I’m sorry I didn’t--I shouldn’t have made you--”

“Stop with the ‘shouldn’ts’,” Maria replied. “Just...don’t make us watch you destroy yourself alone when we’re here for you, okay?”

Michael flinched. Neither of them looked at him, but her words hit home anyway. He was part of that grief, too.

Alex nodded against her shoulder. “I won’t.”

Then she gave him one last squeeze, he let her go, and she went inside, leaving Michael and Alex alone.

And alone, what was there to say? They hadn’t found it so far.

Michael’s heart still beat uncomfortably fast in his chest, a frantic effort to keep him standing and sane while his brain and body figured out that Alex wasn’t going to disappear from before his eyes, and it only pulsed harder when—he blinked to clear his eyes and—Alex got closer, closing the space between them in a few long, uneven strides.

On instinct, Michael took a step back, but Alex stopped six inches away, just staring at him with his dark eyes. They scanned from his feet to his hair, taking in every minute tremble of his damaged muscles.

Jittery, Michael licked his lips and said, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer--”

Alex took Michael’s shirt in his fist and pulled him in. They hit, chest to chest, Alex’s arm trapped between them until he pulled it away, down and out, clamped it around Michael’s back and held on, held on for dear life. He didn’t need to hold on so tight; Michael froze with the shock of Alex around him and couldn’t have budged for love or money, not until his mind caught up with his body and he slumped in Alex’s safe arms.

“I’m so mad at you,” Alex said in his ear, close enough that his hitching breaths stirred Michael’s ear.

“I know. I know,” Michael spoke back, lips moving against his shoulder. He let his eyes fall shut again. Like this, he didn’t need them, dropped every sense that wasn’t touch, anything that didn’t tell him the only thing he needed to know. Alex was here. Michael was here. They were alive. They were together.

“How could you? What did I do wrong?” His breathing hitched harder, enough for Michael to feel it in Alex’s entire body.

Gripping him tighter, one arm around his lower back, one arm around his broad shoulders, Michael murmured, “Nothing, God, nothing. I was stupid. I just wanted—I just had to—”

“I wanted to protect you. That’s all I wanted—did I push too hard?” Hot, wet heat hit Michael’s neck. “I’m so shit at this, Michael, every time I try, I just make everything worse!”

“No! No, hey, hey.”

They were too tightly entwined for Michael to do much, but he maneuvered them enough to press their foreheads together.

“I just wanted to protect you, ” Michael rasped. If he looked at Alex this second, this close, he wouldn’t be able to stand it, so he squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know how to—be protected. You making that sacrifice for me, I don’t know how to be worth it. It’s not your fault.”

“You don’t have to do anything. Ever. I’m so fucking—sorry, for all the times I made you feel like you had to—earn...”

They swayed slightly back and forth, half because Michael had pushed himself too far on his weak legs, half because it was an old self-soothing motion one or both of them fell back on, completely alone in the universe as children. They did it together, now.

“We’ll figure it out,” Michael swore, clasping Alex’s sweaty hand in his own sweaty hand, in the nonspace between their chests, knuckle to sternum, palm to palm, sternum to knuckle. The words tasted like hope on his tongue.

They opened their eyes, Alex first, then Michael, and they stood like that for a long time. Alex’s eyes were red from crying, but beautiful. Always beautiful.

We’ll figure it out. Neither of them believed it fully, but if both of them held a half, maybe they’d manage to make it work.

“We should get back inside,” Michael said eventually, dropping Alex’s hand, stiffening his own to keep the shape of it held to his side as they parted.

“Actually, could we, um.” Alex cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe we could sit out here a while longer. It’s a nice sunset? And maybe we could catch up on normal stuff.”

Michael looked over his shoulder at the sky. It really was stunning, broad beyond comprehension, all alien with pinks and purples and golds.

“Normal stuff sounds great,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

#malex fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #my fic #roswell new mexico

17 notes · View notes

dorminchu · 3 years

Text

ALL THESE THINGS THAT I'VE DONE

The war against Paradis is over. Eren and Annie are forced to confront their mortality in a world that seems to have no need of them, and their significance to each other. [Post-Canon]

I didn't know there was an ereani week this year until a couple days ago, but I figured: cool, I should probably post something. Title comes from the track of the same name by The Killers.

The prompt is: Day 3 (4/12): "I love you" / "I loved you"

[Ao3 | FFNet]

When the war was over, it was Armin who took the glory. That was a new look for him, Eren thought. Smart but eternally overlooked until he inherited the role of the Colossus Titan. Willing to carry the burden of humanity's savior without much complaint, unlike his teenage self who had always been plagued by doubts and fears. Eren wouldn't have thought Armin would be ready to chew the bullet while he quietly slipped into the background—but he was the leader, and Eren had always been accustomed to his status of figurehead.

Their roles had inverted with age.

As part of an overarching deal with Queen Historia, Eren was granted quarters—a cabin ten miles from the border of what had once been Wall Rose—and a modest pension, as long as he held his tongue and did not make any attempt to intercept the negotiations between Paradis and the surrounding countries. Eren put in an application for professor at the local military academy and spent the days trying to record what he could remember of his experiences in Marley.

The cabin had been around since the start of the war. About ten or so miles from the nearest village. Perhaps even before Eren was born, when Paradis was just a penal colony in name and the boundaries on inhabitable territory were less strict. The pipes still worked and there was evidence of an outhouse as well as quarters for a small animal—he wondered if it had been a hunter’s lodge.

After growing up in the back end of Shiganshina for the first nine years of his life and living in barracks and halfway houses for the next ten, it was a lot quieter. He felt oftentimes as if he were on a permanent state of leave, awaiting orders that would never come. There was so much time to fritter away now, without a war on the backburner.

ii.

In a bid to lessen the severity of his scarring, Eren tried growing a beard. He couldn't sprout a full one like Zeke could, just the chin-hairs, an innate reminder of his days in Marley. Most often he kept his hair pulled back in a short ponytail or else cut it short in the warmer seasons, though never as short as it had been in his days of adolescence.

He'd regenerated his leg and other limbs since the ceasefire, regained his motor functions in a week-long, agonsing process that he was sure Hanji would've loved had she been alive to witness it—but a day or so after settling into the cabin the old pain was flaring up again. He had a vivid memory of asking Commander Hanji once, at seventeen, after exhausting his father’s journal, but the only conclusion either of them could come up was phantom pain. Even if he were whole and unmarred, he did not anticipate sleep as any source of relief. Colours in his right eye gradually turned dull and it was getting harder to read even by candlelight, disorienting to walk out into harsh sunlight. Eventually he just began wearing a patch for the sake of simplicity. His other eye was unaffected.

He could still remember Ramzi's face better than most of his dead Scouts and it kept him up at night for hours. His way of life—the Titans, ODM gear—was quickly being phased out, trading blades and canisters for rifles and ammunition. His place among the armistice seemed moot.

Eren thought more often of his father. He did not wish to, explicitly, but the memories of him that popped into his head were usually indecipherable and triggered by stress.

The doctors in Marley would define this as shellshock. Other times they left impressions like the outline of the sun under closed eyelids; warmth, family, agony, guilt that would eat away at him for the rest of his remaining life.

Eren was, at least, confident in the fact that he was nothing like his father. He didn't pretend he was doing anything morally righteous, nor had he allowed himself to be molded into a pariah like Zeke. He had only accomplished what those same men were afraid or unable to do. It was nothing to crow about. He did not blame Zeke for that upbringing. Eren had taken action, knowing he would be hated and feared by his own comrades. He could only leave behind his memories in print, and if by some Godforsaken chance they somehow managed to fall into the hands of a like-minded company—well, perhaps one day he would be understood or misconstrued further. Rotting in the ground he could not defend his truth or bias.

But while he was alive, he could not rest. He knew better than most that all of this was fleeting.

It wasn’t as though he was out of shape with all the walking. He still stuck to drills in the morning to keep himself busy; awaiting orders that would never come. It sounded like something Armin might say. But Armin was content to busy himself with the sons and brothers of deceased bureaucrats; the succeeding generation to the brilliant men and women who'd led them right into the mouths of hell and out again.

Commander Hanji was dead. Commander Irvin had been dead four years now. Captain Levi was on his way to retirement and attempting to get Mikasa to replace him.

After seven years of military service his soldier’s inclinations remained unshakeable. He'd wake up every morning, going through the motions as though he were still a stowaway in Marley. He'd never allowed himself to consider a life beyond the pretext of enlistment and eventual expiration within the Scouting Regiment, much less the seemingly endless war between Paradis and the rest of the world. In the best case he had assumed he would die eventually, of old age or a more unheroic death out in the field. He'd never allowed himself to be ruled by that fear of mortality because he had to eradicate the Titans first—it was a child’s logic that had gotten him through military academy. Yet here he was, nineteen, with four going-on three years left to kill. Annie had three, going-on two. That was the only certainty she'd admitted to him without need for prying.

So Eren had to be sharp for the rest of their sakes. The war on Paradis had ended and brought with it economic turmoil. A mourning period that seemed to extend indefinitely. The next decade of prosperity would not be won in a year, nor three, and it would come on the backs of the losing side and breed the same old resentment, and then inevitably the same slow descent towards outrage and madness and oppression. Always in the back of his mind like the learnt urge to drink, or his inherited memories—he could almost convince himself of his hard-won stability. It was a good enough reason as any to stop answering Mikasa's letters.

iii.

The door opened to reveal the very last person he had ever expected to see again. She was every bit the woman he had seen in Marley and little of the girl in the crystal remained. What could he say to a four-year old crush-turned-heartbreak whose face he could scarcely recall among the hundreds of thousands of other casualties? "You shouldn't have come back."

When he moved to close the door, she stopped him with her heel. "I'm no longer a Warrior, nor a soldier. I have nowhere else to turn. You and I understand each other, so there's no point in bloodshed."

He gauged this, chewing his tongue. "Did someone send you?"

Her shoulders stiffened. "No one you'd know."

"I suppose you were sent here to finish the job for Marley?"

"No." Bluntly, she forced herself into the doorway. "I came here on my own. I just—"

"—all right, it seems like there's been some kind of miscommunication between you and whoever sent you."

"I was told you'd be able to accommodate me."

"I don't need anyone else here."

Annie squinted at him. Her hand was clenched tightly on the doorjamb. "You must get bored living up in the mountains. And you could use another pair of hands if you're not regenerating." Eren said nothing. "Did you carve your eye out again?"

"Goddamn you," he growled, and wrenched the door open.

He let her walk past the threshold. Looked at her once, and then away. "I'll set a place aside for you to sleep," indicating a well-worn sofa, "you can stay as long as you need to until you find somewhere you like."

"I don't know why you're so upset. You could have killed me years ago. You've had every opportunity, and yet—"

"—I've moved on." He said it flatly, almost resigned. "You haven't, obviously."

Annie didn't flinch. "So you're just going to stay here and wait to die?"

"I keep myself busy."

"What do you do?"

"I teach the new cadets over at the Academy. It's about two hours from where we are; nothing special, but they seem eager to learn."

"I see."

He turned finally to face her. "What about you?"

Annie hesitated. "Used to work with the other displaced soldiers up until a few days ago."

"How'd that treat you?"

"It was all right. Why, are you too good for it now, now that you're a war hero?"

Eren ignored the barb. "It's been a while since everything settled down, so I wondered how you would fare."

"What, so you just popped up in this house?"

He scoffed. "Of course not. There was a tribunal, and it was decided to let me live on the condition I'd be kept far away where I wouldn't bother with anyone. I can't say the same for the others."

"You sold them out?"

He chuckled. "I didn't have to say much. They did it to themselves. We shared a common goal at one point but never the same ideology. At the very least, I can say I took no pleasure in what I—"

"—Ackermann gave you an out?"

Eren gauged the sharpness in her tone, the stiffness of her posture. "I didn't ask her to." He frowned. "You never told me how you got here. Did Mikasa have something to do with this?"

Annie froze, then averted her eyes. "I didn't have much of a choice. It was either come here or work myself to death doing manual labor. I wouldn't have minded that."

"Why didn't you tell me that she sent you?"

"I don't know. She seemed to pity you."

"Oi, it's not your fault. She can feel however she wants." He sounded bemused, scowling. "What the hell else she she think I'm going to do in four years? I have no plans to start another war."

Annie finally eyed him in her peripherals. "We didn't talk much other than that."

Within the next few hours he'd gotten a few more details out of her. In exchange for agreeing to be quartered here, her record was wiped clean. She had recently reapplied for the MP brigade under a new name and secured a position as secretary in the Karanese district headquarters. She had also admitted to him that she was dying to get back onto the streets again.

As a bedfellow Annie was, in some ways, more than he could've hoped for. Despite the introduction, she talked far less than they had as cadets. She did not seem particularly happy or unhappy, just neutral. She woke up each morning at six hours and left to do her drills. She would come back in an hour and offer to help him with whatever menial tasks needed doing, as if they really were holed up together in the remnants of a cabin lost ten years ago to a threat that would live on in sordid, haunting memory. The kind of life one would find beyond the realm of a weathered photograph.

Unobtrusive without becoming idyllic. The best outcome he could afford her was three years of uneventful domesticity.

They didn't spar anymore. Not for lack of want, or kicking the habit. Eren just couldn't keep up with her the way he used to. His leg was shaky and she pointed it out first. It would have an impact on the kind of punishment he could take as opposed to when he was fifteen and shrugged off every injury like it was nothing. His eye was not healing.

Annie was in better condition. Just by studying her gait it was obvious that she'd taken better care of herself. She had not had to bunk up with a gang of stinking, vulnerable soldiers riddled by shellshock. Trying to communicate with them in German worked, but it got him a lot of funny looks and no end of comparisons to fathers and grandfathers enlisted or long since dead.

Annie wasn't interested in his stories from Marley but she didn't brush him off either. She just tolerated it in a much more polite way than Mikasa or Armin would.

At twenty years old she came up to his chest. Either the crystallization had stunted her growth or she was naturally short. She was also scarred enough down her face but it was of the same sheer consistency as her hair. You would only know what she was if you were paying close attention.

She got skittish and temperamental if he tried to push his luck training with her. Initially it had pissed him off:

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

She'd looked at him bluntly. "You're still recovering. Why overexert yourself?"

He'd never told her about his injuries but the idea of her picking up on it this quickly rankled for reasons he did not care to discuss. "I'm not a kid."

Something flashed in her eyes. "I'm not going to push you."

And that was the end of it. He'd decided that this ritual mattered more to her than him, and respected her space. He still did his own drills.

But every time they locked eyes now he'd get that same, absurd itch in the back of his mind from a year ago. Sharpened his tongue and made him want to speak in ways he didn't think he should attempt to justify whilst sober.

iv.

Days passed. He did not always see her until late in the evening.

In the middle of the night he rolled over onto his bad leg and the pain woke him. In silence he got up, not enough to require medication but still pretty uncomfortable.

“Eren?”

He went still. Annie was up herself, over by the window, staring at him as though he were on his deathbed. In the low light her eyes looked strange and luminous. “Does it hurt?”

“Does—what?”

“Your leg.”

Eren sat up slowly as not to aggravate his condition. She didn't say anything else. “It’s not so bad that I can’t sleep.” He studied her face for signs of age, finding naught but scars, a weariness in her eyes he could speak to. She didn't frown. She just watched him coolly. Eren shrugged. “You can’t sleep either?" No answer. "Thinking about to-morrow?”

“I can get you something for it.”

Eren shook his head. “That's not necessary."

"Don't be stupid."

"This isn't something I can just take pills for.”

"It's chronic." Her tone pregnant with incredulity. "Why haven't you seen a doctor for this?"

"Annie, what the hell is a regular doctor gonna do for either of us? We already fix ourselves. There are other veterans that have been stranded here, they aren't growing their limbs back. They need all the help they can get. Anyway, it's only, what, three more years of living? I can take three. Fuck, I've taken ten."

The more he kept talking, the darker her eyes became. Clench in her jaw, tautness of her shoulders, pronounced enough to notice from a distance—an involuntary reflection of his own revulsion.

"I don't know how you managed to win one war, let alone, if you can't even prevent yourself from running into the ground." Her voice was icy and distinctly contemptuous. She stalked over to him. Cold fingers dug into the meat of his naked shoulder, pushed him upright between the wall and headboard; tight, controlled movements. "Four years later and you still want to pretend you're a fucking martyr. It might've worked on Mikasa, but I'm not your sister. I'm not going to help you hurt yourself."

She kneaded at his leg in a much brusquer way than the way the orderlies in Marley. Eren didn't argue. She was not going to take no for an answer. When it was done she coaxed him to lie down again. He stiffened as he felt her weight join his on the mattress, curled almost tentatively against his chest. She didn’t try to hold him, just huddled as though for warmth. She did not explain herself.

Eren had a vague recollection of the last time this had happened. Back then she came up to his chin, rather than the middle of his chest; their disparity was only thrown into relief. He could feel the human warmth of her through the thin undershirt, the softness of her hair on his cheek. He’d dreamt about this a lot when he was sixteen, while the tragedy of her betrayal was no longer fresh but still painful in his mind. He had no energy left to hate her then, for she was not his enemy.

He heard her breathing even out.

She had stayed this long. There was no sense in abandoning her now.

Sometime after that, Eren started noticing her in more tangible ways. Smell of her hair. The subtle glint in her eyes in lieu of a smile. She'd wait up for him in the mornings before he left. He'd tell her good-bye.

When he came home he’d catch her eyes lingering on him in profile.

Just one day too many of the same quiet inactivity. The fact that they had slept in the same bed was just a catalyst of how familiar they were with each other already.

She woke up an hour later than usual and, fuming, went out to train. A light rain had started. Eren made breakfast. Over the next twenty minutes the light sheet became much more torrential. Annie came back in about half-an-hour, dripping water all over the floor. He would've told her off but she grabbed his wrist. He turned as she leant up and took his face in her hands and kissed him like her life depended on it.

Maybe the situation had always been building to this. He had forgotten about its immediacy until the moment presented itself. But now there was nothing left to say. So he gathered her up and placed her on the counter, kissing her breathless, bunching up her threadbare shirt, palming her tits through the military-issue brassiere—he muttered, "see, I thought you were just being nice," and she scoffed, set her heel to the small of his back even as he put his mouth on her. She was chilled from the rain; it was not yet summer. Half-dressed and needy, he took her right there on the countertop. Afterwards, there was no shame or lingering uncertainty that would have been present as cadets. She pressed her cheek to his.

"I'm going to be away for a while. It's higher pay if I stay in Karanese. Maybe two or three weeks." She looked up at him. Her eyes were bright but her tone was stoic. "I just…" She trailed off because he was only looking at her face. Eren smoothed her damp hair away from her cheek.

"I love you." Then he stopped. Like he was finally coming to grips with the idea. Annie blinked rapidly. A crease formed in her brow. Her mouth worked but no sound came out. Eren kissed her chin. "But, if you're gonna be trackin' mud everywhere you'd best clean it up after yourself."

She finally came back to herself. Shoved him lightly in the chest. "Fuck off." Then hoisted herself off the counter, fixed her trousers, and asked in a dry voice where he kept the washbasin.

vi.

On his own the cabin felt distinctly empty. Sometimes he'd wake up hard and just—take care of it. Annie on top of him. On her knees. Pulling him up to her. He missed her a lot more than he'd care to admit to her face and it wasn't just in the sense that she was available. She'd probably just smirk at him anyway.

But when she returned it was nice to have her around, even for a little while. She kept to herself and he gave her space; it was as though she had never left.

It was still morning. He was working when he felt her come up behind him, hands slipping over his wrists. “Oi,” he muttered, “I’m a little busy.”

“You’re just sitting there.”

He scoffed. “Really? How would you know what I’m doin’?” No answer. Eren closed the book. “You really are demanding, ain’t you?” Faux-annoyance. But he turned.

She looked prettier in uniform. Hair pulled back into less of a bun, more of a severe ponytail. She was looking him up and down as though deciding something for herself.

She leant down, kissed him firmly, nipping at his lip until went with it, half-amused. She stepped back, breathing evenly, eyes glinting. She cupped his face, a vestige of tenderness he did not anticipate.

Then her eyes shifted, something empty, strange. A harsh crack against his jaw he could not anticipate and he took it, worked his jaw, blinking rapidly. “What the hell are you—?”

Annie jerked her head back slightly, fixing him with the same expectance he realised he’d completely misinterpreted. “Hit me.”

Eren didn’t move. Her jaw trembled, then set. He caught her wrist. “That’s enough.”

“Why?” She sounded annoyed. “It’s all right. I can take it.”

“What is this?”

“I’ll be dead before you anyway, it would be easier just to take—”

“—I said that’s enough,” he said, terse. “I’m not going to do anything to you."

Her brow furrowed. "I thought you understood.”

Eren just stared, fighting to keep himself calm when he wanted to grab her shoulders and demand her to justify why the hell she wanted to be hit. "What am I supposed to understand?"

Annie’s eyes darted over his face and then to his wrist. “I want you to hit me back.”

“I’m not going to do that.” He cupped her jaw and she almost flinched; his stomach twisted. “Do you understand me?“

Silence built up between them. "I know you’d stop if I asked you to.”

“I’m not going to wait until after I’ve hurt you to stop.”

Annie pressed her face into his chest. He took her by the shoulders, watching her stiffen.

“Do you hear me?”

She nodded.

"Why d'you want me to hit you?"

"Do you want a list?" He gripped her tight enough to make her flinch and immediately regretted the look of fear that came across her face. He let go of her. "I’ve been complicit in the death of your comrades.” Her voice thickened. “And I’ve taught you everything I know. You don't need me here for anything other than your own gratification.” Returning to the facade of impassivity with unnerving ease. “So, there’s no point in comparing our tallies.”

“Annie—"

“Are you stupid?” Annie spat, the most emotion she had exhibited thus far. “You've taken my country and my life and my father and you—now you want me to love you back. You want to marry me as if we're ever going to—I'm the one who killed your friends, why would you ever want to be reminded of—"

"You love me." She looked helpless in her vulnerability. "What? What's the matter?"

"Why would you want me? I—I can't even have children. I'm going to die in four years. I'm going to watch you die unless I kill myself fir—"

"—Annie—"

"—you could fuck anyone you wanted!" she exploded. "Why does it have to be me?"

"Because you don’t have to earn anything from me! I just want to be around you—can’t you accept that?”

Annie kissed him hard. He trembled though he was holding her.

“Take me to bed." Eren opened his mouth and she kissed his chin. “I want you to take me to bed. I—”

Even then, he was hesitant to touch her. She led the way, stripping down to skin and splaying on his bed. He caressed her when she asked him to, a gentleness in his hands that betrayed his own sympathy; for once she didn’t chastise him.

Her scarring was far more pronounced in the light. He'd noticed before, briefly on the counter and more clearly with enough attention, but not like this. It clustered around her sternum and down her spine. He wondered, briefly, if that was why she'd wanted to do it quickly. Now her eyes were bright and shimmering but she took him into her, reached for him.

"Is this OK?" His voice was a croak.

Her eyes flickered to him. Cautious, sure. "Yeah."

He was on his knees, lifting the small of her back, working her towards a much sweeter surrender. He slid one arm around her waist to support her and touched her breasts, the side of her neck, cupping her jaw. His thumb ran over her scarring.

“Annie.” She gasped at the sound of her name. “Ann. Look. Come here.” She was biting her lip. Head fallen back, her hair was almost diaphanous in the light. He murmured her name and she was shivering with emotion. She turned into her elbow and told him in an unsteady voice to go faster, and the bed creaked to match him.

Her body arched, jaw slack. She wouldn't stop shivering. Her voice did not rise in expectation. It just wavered, edgeless.

He took her wrist away from her face and—she flinched. This serrated, ugly, sound that jerked out of her body. He pulled out, holding her. “Look at me,” his voice hoarse and horrified, “please.”

Annie curled up against his chest and shook. Eren just kept apologizing. She didn't push him away.

Eventually she stopped. Raised her head. Their eyes met and she lost composure again. He brushed her hair from her face. “Stay,” she croaked, “please. I need you.”

He kissed her brow. She almost flinched. He tucked his chin into her shoulder, arms around her back, until she’d calmed down.

"You don't have to do anything," he said quietly. "Do you understand that?"

"I know."

Laying prone, she only came up to his sternum. Annie sat up first. She got to her feet and went over to the window. Her shoulder was parallel to the glass. His attention stayed firmly on her profile. “You’re gonna get colder than hell. Come back here.”

She turned and glanced at his forearm curled half-surreptitiously against his stomach. Scar tissue along her breasts was prominent. In the dead light of this cloudy, April afternoon she finally looked her age.

There was a naked uncertainty in her eyes that made him freeze. "You're not my father and you never will be. You've been kinder towards me than I deserve, given the circumstances. I wish I could despise you."

Eren rolled his shoulders. The silence held for a while. "I don't know if what either of us have done can be forgiven. But, as long as you’re here, I want you to know that I don't hate you." All she did was stare, a slight crease in her brow. “I never could.”

“You love me,” she said. Not with scorn. Like she was testing the idea in a way they would have shied away from as kids. She averted her face towards the window.

She watched him get up and tensed. He limped towards her in a couple strides and draped the blanket around her shoulders with the same tentativeness. She did not put her arms around him. She pressed her face into his shoulder. His arm came around her back and she closed her eyes, just existing in the cold slats of wood against her feet and the rise and fall of his breast.

He put the blankets around her and laid beside her.

He’d always supposed he would heal with enough rest. He didn't know how to put what he felt into words, but eloquence had never been his forte. It was not unlike laying on your deathbed, mulling over all the things that hardly seemed to matter until there was no time left to spare.

There was no pain now, just certainty in the presence of another—the old urge to drink was absent.

This is a cleaned-up version of a couple tumblr WIPs + some old/new material blended in for fun. Think of it as a pilot episode for a much larger fic.

For what it's worth I did like the ending of AoT. Elements of that ending will likely factor into the aforementioned larger fic. I am totally disinterested in arguing about ships or wasted potential—at this point, I’d rather write whatever seems interesting, and leave it at that, canon or not.

And hey, if you think acknowledging canon will override my crippling addiction to the "morally challenged antihero/problematic blonde" dynamic… I really don't see that happening. Even after exiting this fandom, it's like, ALL I've been writing for a year (looking at YOU Insult to Injury) and I feel like I'm going insane. Back on topic though: Now that AoT has concluded, I find I am far less stressed at the prospect for writing for this series again. It won’t be my main focus, but I do like this fic’s concept enough to flesh it out.

#ereaniweek2021 #ereannieweek2021 #eren jaeger #annie leonhardt #ereani #ereannie #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #apologies for any disparity between canon #I'm a bit behind but I have the jist of what happens #fanfic #fanfiction

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