#I feel like L could maybe even do this in canon if the circumstances are right | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shanastoryteller · 3 years

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on one hand i’ve been wanting to talk about this for a while, and on the other hand i’ve been avoiding it for the massive potential it has to go from us having a conversation to devolving into the most annoying discourse possible

but i got another comment that just broke the camel’s back so i’m going to talk about it anyway

a lot of things i see people are saying are “wrong” in untamed fanfic are actually just translation preferences and just because someone chooses to translate something differently than you doesn’t make it wrong

first, before we get into what i’m talking about, we have to talk about what translations are and the motivation behind them

translations are taking something from one language and making it understandable and consumable in a different language

this can be as big as the differences between chinese and english or as small as the differences between british english and american english, which are considered different enough that books published in both places will have words and phrases translated to make them more digestible to the population it’s being marketed towards

there are few different ways someone can translate something

there’s a direct translation, which is just finding the closest applicable word and plopping it in there like a smarter google translate

there’s translating to preserve the intention and cultural significance behind a word/phrase as closely as can be replicated in the foreign language

there’s translating to convey the vibe/feeling as closely as can be replicated in the foreign language

there’s not translating at all, which doesn’t technically count, by definition, but is brought up often enough that we’ll talk about it

there’s an infinite number of ways this applies, but for simplicity’s sake, and because it’s the one people keep bringing up to me, we’re going to go with jiujiu / maternal uncle

because i don’t speak chinese, my first job is to gain some level of understanding about what this word really means in the original language and the way it’s used. only once you understand that can you make a semi-educated choice on how to translate something (since most of us aren’t fluent in the language or culture, semi educated is about as good as it gets, but for smaller words like these i think it’s easy enough to get most of the needed context). so we need to start off with: maternal uncle, respectful, people don’t use names to differentiate between uncles like we do in english, using first names and/or birth names is either intimate or disrespectful depending on circumstance

now, the simplest way to translate this is just as uncle. in english, referring to someone just as uncle is a little unusual, but common enough that this works as a good translation all around. if one wants to translate the maternal aspect of it, then “uncle lastname” works pretty well. the issue with that is that naming convention only ever happens in english maybe with grand uncles or “uncles” that fall more under shushu than jiujiu, so if i was translating it then that’s something i would avoid, because i wouldn’t want the readers to think that the characters have a less close relationship because o this, but it’s something that’s easy enough to do without distorting the original meaning so i think it also works

if the character only has one uncle

but we are, specifically, talking about jin ling here

so if he’s talking about both jiang cheng and wei wuxian in the same scene, and referring to them both as uncle, how do we differentiate them?

uncle wei and uncle jiang work here, because they’re both maternal uncles but they have different last names, which is really just us getting lucky in this situation. but it presents the problem we have earlier.

to an english ear, that creates distance between jin ling and jc/wwx. if i want to show them as being close to an english speaking audience, that’s not a translation i personally want to use

the most obvious solution is to then have jin ling refer to them way most english speaking people would refer to their uncles (that’s not just straight up having him call them by the their names, which is what i actually think is most common. i only refer to my uncle as uncle when i’m talking ABOUT him to someone else) which is “uncle first name”

however first names also present a problem in untamed because of courtesy names and because courtesy names are used ahistorically and inconsistently in canon

wei wuxian uses jiang cheng’s birth name but jc doesn’t use wwx’s. wwx is basically the same age and lower in rank than jc, so it would make sense for jc to call him wei ying in turn, but he just ... doesn’t. same for jiang yanli. she’s arguably the one wwx is closest to and has the most positive relationship with through out the show and she’s older than him. it would make a lot of sense for her to call him wei ying, or even a-ying to mirror the way she calls jc a-cheng rather than calling wwx a-xian. lan xichen calls lan wangji by his courtesy name rather than birth name, and i’m pretty sure lan qiren does the same to both his nephews, which doesn’t really make sense to me in world

i think the real purpose here was to give wwx and lwj names that they only call each other for special intimacy reasons rather than to create a consistent more in the untamed universe

however, going with that and jin ling obviously being so much younger and wanting to retain at least some of the respectfulness that would be inherent in the original language, i do think that uncle wuxian and uncle wanyin are good translations

u n l e s s

see the thing is that jin ling refers to wwx as “wei ying” before he knows him as a way to be disrespectful to him because he believes that he killed his parents. i personally like the symmetry in him shifting to calling him that in a positive manner to make up for him calling him that in a negative manner, which isn’t something that can really work in chinese, but can work in english

as for jiang cheng, probably because the story is told from wwx’s pov even in the show, we’re used to seeing his birth name rather than his courtesy name, and honestly no one uses his courtesy name unless he’s being a bitch. because of this, the use of wanyin creates a cognitive sense of distance that the often used wuxian just doesn’t. so if someone uses his birth name for that reason, i think that makes sense too. so i think uncle ying and uncle cheng can also work

there is, of course, just using jiujiu and trusting context to take care of the rest, but that’s less a translation choice than it is just choosing not to translate

i’ve done different things in different works with different contexts. in rotten work specifically, i had jin ling refer to jc as just “uncle” because i imagine that’s what he’s been doing for 16 years with no other maternal uncle, and because he’s the uncle he’s closest too among all of them, and i wanted to reflect that. i have jl refer to wwx as “uncle ying” a little bit because of the reasons above, but also a way to stake a claim on him to everyone and to demonstrate that they have a close relationship before the really have one as a way to partially shield wwx and to goad those around him (plus a bonus plot reason that doesn’t get revealed until the final chapter)

my point here is that there’s a lot reasons why someone could choose to translate something one way versus another. i used this one thing as an example, but this same thought process applies to lots of things

you do not have to agree with everyone’s translation choices, or like them, or think them appropriate. but translation is by its very nature imperfect and there’s a lot of different potential reasoning behind people’s choices and i really don’t think there’s one perfect way to translate something and that all other ways are wrong

#this is your grandma talking #if you disagree we're going to do it nicely and have a normal fucking conversation #or you're getting blocked #i am not getting into a bitchy fight about translation opinions

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strawwritesfic · 3 years

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Leo Fitz x Female!SHIELD Agent!Reader: Current

Summary: These sorts of things only work out in those weird romance stories teenage girls post on the internet.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (some sexual references; set during season 1, but I stopped watching Agents of SHIELD three episodes into the Ghost Rider arc so I can’t say for sure where this falls in terms of canon compliance after that; platonic Fitz & Simmons; referenced Natasha & Reader friendship)

Challenge: "160 Collective Drabbles" challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Current

“Fitz. Get up. Start walking to the room. I’ll rendezvous with you in ten minutes. Remain calm.”

As if the last instruction was even possible to follow in the best of circumstances. Danger lurked around every corner. He was out in the field, his best source of protection at least ten minutes away. The previous night had been spent watching the targets decrypt all his hard work on the hotel security system. Now you had the audacity to tell Fitz to remain calm? Way to make that nearly impossible, [Name]. Way to get him in this situation to begin with, Simmons.

Fitz had never seen a longer hotel hallway in his entire life. Each of his steps felt like it might jitter his feet out from under him, and then what of the mission? They were watching. If he slipped up, who knew what would happen to SHIELD., to him, to you? This was why he didn’t go out into the field. Give him a computer lab, nice and safe, then maybe he could concentrate on counting down ten minutes like he was supposed to be doing.

‘Nine minutes and fifty seconds. Nine minutes and fifty-one seconds. Nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. Nine minutes and–’

Footsteps racing rapidly down the hall in his direction. Fitz sucked in a breath. He spun. Someone was coming right for him, someone in insane stilettos and a flimsy skirt and shirt that hardly attempted to cover an acceptable amount of skin. So distracted by someone running around in such an outfit was he that the woman was upon him before he looked up and saw your face on top of the ludicrous getup.

“What are you wearing?” he hissed as you reached for his wrist.

You smiled in answer, such a smile that Fitz’s stomach turned over. This was not an unusual occurrence when he was around you, but he definitely had the feeling that something was going to go wrong–even more than things were already going wrong, that was. And when you finally spoke to him, he knew for sure that things were going wrong:

“Not now, sugar booger,” you practically cooed, causing alarm bells to start going off in his head.

“Sugar booger?” Fitz repeated incredulously, but he wasn’t able to get much more out, because you shoved him forcefully up against the wall. “Wha-”

There were voices coming down the hall. You stopped to listen. Fitz knew you probably understood more than he did; that was the whole reason you were on this mission. The team needed all the help they could get tracking down Centipede and the Clairvoyant. One favor called in from May, and they had it: Agent [L Name], rumored to have trained under Natasha Romanoff herself. He could believe it, too, after everything he’d seen the past few weeks with you, but he hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to ask if that rumor was true. There were a lot of things he couldn’t work up the nerve to ask you, such as what in God’s name was going on just then.

If the voices were saying anything important, Fitz certainly couldn’t make out actual words. Only noise. Before he could attempt to process that noise, you had turned to him with what he could only describe as a concerned expression.

Oh, because that was going to calm his nerves. He could barely stand still for fear, and the field agent was scared now. No time to ask what that was about, though. You had stepped a hair’s breadth closer, and that hair’s breadth was all it took. He was too busy looking at you to mouth off. Your big [color] eyes were wide in your face as you gazed at him; soft fingers drummed against his shoulder.

Fitz very nearly forgot the situation he was in until you cocked your head, pressed your lips together, shrugged, and said, “Probably should have practiced this first.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Not that you were looking at him anymore, or listening. You were rearranging his body as though Fitz were some bizarre, breathing mannequin. His hand on your shoulder now, his face pushed towards yours, his other hand’s fingers latched tightly around your hip. Just as the voices grew close enough to distinguish, you took a final step into his personal bubble, and stood on your tiptoes so that his lips were nearly on yours.

“Now kiss me like you mean it,” you breathed.

Fitz had no time to question this order either, of course. Then again, the desire to do so didn’t last long. You kissed him like he had never been kissed before. There’d been kisses prior to this, due to his role in the mission–but those were soft kisses, sweet kisses, pecks on the cheek while out shopping in public, or on the brow when you found him asleep by the pool. Nothing so burning or invasive as this!

Your tongue against his lips and your fingers in his hair all made for a rather pleasant distraction. Distantly, he heard the footsteps close in and fade away, a voice at the end of the hall saying Michaels must be losing his mind, no way was SHIELD in on this, no one in the hall but a couple of horny teenagers, that woman in the suit probably just found the wrong conference room ‘cause she sure weren’t wearing heels like that.

Then the men were gone. Surprisingly, this did not immediately end the kiss. Rather, their absence softened it. The cool down was quite nice, really, and Fitz was only just thinking he ought to have tried actual dating at some point in his life when you pulled away. Your blush-painted cheeks were definitely darker now, he noticed as you continued to stare at him and work your fingers gently through his hair.

“There,” you whispered throatily after a minute or so passed. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I’m that bad, am I?”

“No!” But you laughed, and the throatiness left your voice entirely… which meant you weren’t trying to keep the truth from him. He knew very well you could have if you wanted to, bloody secret field agent that you were.

He peeled away from the wall to look toward the door out to the dark parking lot. Empty. At least he had not forced you to quit touching him for nothing. You’d saved the day, as per the norm. All the same, now that the magic was gone, Fitz felt all his usual grumpiness at having been put in need of saving return.

“Yes, well. Next time you’re in need of someone to make out with against a wall, ask someone else.”

“Now why would I do that, sugar booger?” In answer to his responding glare, you simply entwined your fingers with his and started leading him to the elevator. “You’re my boyfriend.”

“No one with half a brain really believes I’m your boyfriend, Agent [L Name].”

No one but Simmons would have even believed someone like Fitz had a chance in hell with someone like you. He couldn’t even appreciate her support now, what with the whole “Take Fitz! He can pretend to be dating you. It’s the perfect cover!” plan being her uncharacteristically stupid idea.

So he thought you were beautiful. So he admired your talents. As far as he could tell, every man on the face of the planet felt the same, and they were all better suited to you. All this charade was doing was making his ill-suitedness plainer than day.

You caught his frown in the reflection on the metal wall. “They won’t if you keep calling me that. Unless you’re into roleplay?”

“Obviously not.”

Another short laugh turned into a sigh as the lift came to a stop on your floor. “Just a couple more weeks, Fitz. You can put up with me for that long, can’t you?”

Here was where your tremendous acting ability came into play: Fitz actually felt bad when he caught the look of hurt upon your face. Bad enough, even, to squeeze your hand tighter in his and press a faint kiss to your temple when the two of you stepped into another hall. This only made you beam, which only highlighted how your tears were every bit as fake as the romance between you.

He closed the door to the hotel room, and you finally let go. His hand felt oddly cold without yours in it. Flexing his fingers in the hopes of ridding himself of the sensation, Fitz rolled his eyes. “You’re the one putting up with me, if you think I’m that a terrible a kisser.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself!” you said from where you were already digging through your staggeringly large wardrobe for whatever would cause the next disaster. When he did not smile back, you stopped the search for new clothes at once. “I’m serious, Fitz. You’re probably the best fake boyfriend I have right now.”

He snorted, then settled on the edge of the single bed in the room–the single, not-quite-large-enough-to-avoid-touching-at-night bed he had to share with a woman who must have thought he was an absolute joke.

“How many fake boyfriends to do you have,” he asked, “currently?”

“A girl can never have too many beaus. But don’t worry, you’re the best I’ve got. If you’re not careful, I’ll decide I want to keep you.”

“That’s a laugh right there.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Gathering several articles into your arms, you picked your way through the dark to stand in front of him. You were not, as Fitz had suspected, carrying some back-exposing evening gown and preparing to sneak into another Centipede party. Rather, you held a pair of modest pajamas in your arms.

His eyes went from those to your face, then back again before he gave a shrug. “You could get anybody. Like–Like someone who knows what to do with his lips, for instance.“

“Maybe I like my men inexperienced.” You smiled cheekily over your pajamas when he chanced another glance at you. “You did fine, Fitz. I’m going to go take a shower. Won’t bother inviting you to join me.”

The bathroom door clicked shut, though there was no further sound of you locking it. Just a testament to how safe you felt, even here surrounded by Centipede sharks and psychic maniacs. Whereas Fitz, even ensconced inside with the door dead bolted shut, would spend the rest of the evening jumping at every little ambient sound. When he heard the water turn on, he allowed himself to lay down, roll over, and close his eyes.

No matter how badly he might have wanted to forget his completely real feelings, that was easier said than done after a kiss like that. Warmth still flooded him from the kissing session ten floors down, and a sort of tingling sensation in one specific area hadn’t faded yet either. A shower didn’t sound too bad, but no way on God’s green earth was Fitz going to attempt to slip in there with you. You were kidding. Had to be.

The cellphone on the bedside table buzzed, and Fitz groaned into his pillow. A few seconds of blind groping later, his hand found the vibrating object.

“Hello?” he asked dully.

“Fitz!” came Simmons’ bright voice. “I was hoping I would get you.”

“What do you need, Jemma?”

“You know. Coulson asked me to check in.”

“On what?”

“The mission, of course. Though, I wouldn’t mind hearing how you’re progressing with [Name]. I’m sure he doesn’t care much, but Skye and I are dying to know. Is the plan working?”

Sitting up, Fitz rubbed at his eyes. “Plans like that only work in the stories Skye reads on the internet, Jem.”

“So you have nothing new to report?”

He caught the disappointment in her voice. For one moment, he thought of sharing what had happened between the two of you in the hall. Almost immediately, the thought vanished. That kiss was no more real than anything else–the hand holding or the snuggling or those cheek pecks at the mall. No need to get Jemma’s hopes up, and his along with them.

“No,” Fitz answered. “Nothing.”

Because another thing he couldn’t work up the nerve to ask you? Was if you’d go out with him for real.

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yuyuntianyu · 3 years

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[2HA analysis blog] To love you is torment but leave you I cannot

I wanted to write this (hopefully not-too-long) blog to give 2HA fandom a different perspective of the events in the past timeline. I noticed that there are many little things that could not be carried over to the English language. These little things can give more explanations to our characters’ actions so I hope sharing this would help the novel make more sense. This blog focuses on Taxian-jun and Chu Fei.

Warning: Spoilers ! ! ! Taxian-jun and Chu Fei are their own trigger warnings ! ! !

Despite the novel having 350 chapters, we really know little about what happened between Taxian-jun and Chu Fei besides the abuse and mistreatment and that little is relayed to us by the Most Unreliable Narrator of the Cultivation World - Mo Ran Mo Weiyu. If we only take Mo Ran for his words then a lot of his and Chu Wanning’s decisions told later on would seem irrational and almost silly. So let’s dive deep in the past so we can understand how the great cultivator Beidou Xian-zun could raise such a dumb husky since the events in the past would explain the more irrational decisions made by both main characters.

Given Mo Ran’s narrator is about as reliable as his character in the first 120 chapters, we have to look at other more subtle clues and some of them are due to cultural and linguistic differences.

1. I used to like you a lot

At his coronation day, Taxian-jun stated that he once greatly looked up to Chu Wanning and that he used to love and respect him dearly. Maybe I am reading into this too much but this is my theory: The flower could erase the memory itself but cannot erase the feelings associated with the memory. He had his memories of the good deeds Chu Wanning did for him erased but still remembered that he used to love and respect him. It doesn’t make sense unless it is indeed that the flower could not erase its host’s feelings. So throughout the novel, Mo Ran’s complicated emotions are complicated possibly because he could not remember how he came to have these feelings. Similarly, Hua Binan could mess with the undead Taxian-jun’s memory to a great extent but could not erase his obsession with Chu Wanning.

2. I gave you a new title

Chu Fei. 楚妃. In the Imperial Chinese harem hierarchy, “Fei” means consort and not concubine (嬪 “Pín"). Consorts were highly respected positions in the palace weidling much political power and were only seconds to the Empress Consort. Another major difference is a consort would be married to the emperor while a concubine would not. So if Taxian-jun had truly wanted to only humiliate Chu Wanning and keep him for the carnal pleasures (I am intentionally ignoring his breeding kink completely), he would keep him as a concubine but he gave Chu Wanning the Consort title and hid him from the world. At this point, Taxian-jun had almost lost Chu Wanning once and had spent a lot of effort to bring him back from the verge of death after hearing Chu Wanning’s apology so his anger might have softened a bit. Also, given that Chu Wanning is a man, having a legitimate offspring ( (I am still intentionally ignoring Mo Ran's breeding kink completely) is not an issue so although this is not clearly stated, I believe Taxian-jun wanted to force a relationship and somewhat proper marriage on Chu Wanning. Another hint of this is in an Extra chapter where Taxian-jun tried to get Chu Wanning a birthday gift. He recalled that in his past timeline, he had wanted Chu Wanning to give him something on his birthday as well and that he had wanted Chu Wanning’s heart.

3. Shizun likes to write letters and poems

On Book 3 Chapter 247, Chu Wanning sat down and wrote a few unsent letters to the people he used to know. He also wrote a few lines of poetry. In the first few lines taken from different literature works, he expressed his sense of helplessness and his wish to remain untainted despite the circumstances. The more important two lines are from a poem written by a real poet named Fàn Chéngdà ( 范成大) who lived in the 12th century Southern-Song dynasty. The two lines read:

“May I be like the stars, may you* be as the moon. Night after night, may we shine together side by side.” **

*In the original work, the character used instead of you is “jun” 君 (as in 踏仙君 Taxian-jun). 君 could mean king, emperor, lord, or gentleman ** This is my rough translation - I haven’t found an English version of this poem

These two lines are commonly used in romantic novels as a way to express one’s unchanging love and loyalty to another person despite the circumstances. He compared himself as the stars and wanted to remain by Taxian-jun whom he viewed as the moon. Chu Wanning wrote this to express his willingness to stay but he would never voice this out loud. In the next timeline, he did the same thing by quietly loving and caring for Mo Ran 1.0 despite the mistreatment and was content with never expressing his feelings vocally. Mo Ran was rather uneducated and thus could not fully comprehend these two lines and misunderstood that Chu Wanning was missing Xue Meng.

4. You are all I have left

In chapter 252, after Chu Wanning returned to The Red Lotus Pavilion, he found Taxian-jun already waiting for him. Taxian-jun told Chu Wanning about a dream he had and said:

“I am afraid I don’t resent you… I want to resent you… Otherwise, I…” “In the end, it’s just you and I”.

This is not the first time he expressed that Chu Wanning was all he had left or they only had each other. I believe that at this point, Taxian-jun might have somewhat believed Chu Wanning and recognized that his memories were missing. His words and behaviors seemed a lot more gentle and he mentioned they did have periods of time where their marriage was easier. I believe it was after this point. He told us about the numerous times he attempted to spoil his consort or expressed his affection through gifts, a trip outside the palace, goods, jewels, and even teaching Chu Wanning how to cook or personally taking care of Chu Wanning when he was sick. At one point, Taxian-jun expressed his wish for a more peaceful marriage with Chu Wanning through his breeding kink by saying that if they had children, perhaps they would be more civil towards each other.

Edit: I really wanted to go about this blog without having to refer to their particular taste in bed

5. Are you still mad?

This is a smaller detail but in the original text and the Vietnamese official translation, the way they talked to each other had a bit more of the “husband-wife” dynamic. Especially Chu Wanning ( l┐(︶▽︶)┌ ), the comment section said he sounded like when your wife is mad that you didn’t take out the trash but still says: “I’m not mad” and Taxian-jun, the husband, would come around and ask “Are you still mad at me?” after every fight.

6. I did not think you would really leave me.

On Chapter 99, Mo Ran recalled the fight between him and Chu Wanning after an assassination attempt. In order to convince Mo Ran to not go to Taxue Palace, Chu Wanning said:

“If you destroy Taxue palace, if you kill Xue Meng, I will die before you”.

Now the line “I will die before you” in my language is less of a suicidal ideation but more of a threat. It's used when a person already knows that they are important to the other person and is using their own death as a threat to make the other person do something. This line is thrown around a lot during heated arguments between people close to each other but they almost never mean it. (Even my mom said it numerous times before T_T . I personally think it’s manipulative). Therefore, it is understandable Taxian-jun did not take this line seriously and replied almost mockingly. After all, they had been married for almost a decade at that point, Taxian-jun probably felt somewhat comfortable that Chu Wanning would not do anything reckless. He could not foresee that Chu Wanning meant what he said and actually followed through with his words. I believe that if Taxian-jun had known that Chu Wanning was serious, Taxian-jun would not have gone to Taxue Palace. 7. Don't leave me, ok?

Then Chu Wanning died and Mo Ran spent two years alone. In those two years, we know he basically went insane because of grief, talked to a corpse everyday, and deep fried his Empress Consort. But strangely enough, Mo Ran 1.0 did not immediately mention this after being reborn although it was the main reason he committed suicide. And at that point, it had been well over a decade since Shi Mei faked his death in the past timeline, yet Mo Ran 1.0 seemed to still hold a lot of resentment towards Chu Wanning. Also, he said he could accept Shi Mei’s death but would never accept Chu Wanning’s. So honestly, it did not make sense to me the first time I read the novel and I believed Mo Ran resented Chu Wanning for a different reason.

The answer was first hinted at in chapter 9 when Mo Ran scolded the sleeping Chu Wanning. He called Chu Wanning a donkey hoof (lol) and this is actually an idiom to scold someone who is disloyal and unfaithful in love. The puzzles came together when the undead Taxian-jun showed up and immediately went after Chu Wanning (and not Shi Mei). He believed Chu Wanning used his death to hurt him and was angry at Chu Wanning for leaving him. This is the resentment Mo Ran 1.0 carried over to the next timeline. He hated Chu Wanning for abandoning him. This is solidified in chapter 262 by the undead Taxian-jun pleading to Chu Wanning:

“Don’t betray me” “Don’t leave me the second time. The first time you left, I could choose death as a relief. This time, even death is not an option any more… I won’t be able to bear it…”

So there it is! I hope this blog brings some new information and feel free to discuss! Let me know if you have any questions for me ＼(￣▽￣)／

Disclaimer: Plenty of this is my conclusion drawn from the already ambiguous original text and various translations. Unless Meatbun says it, it’s not canon. I am looking at the novel in three different languages so I might have made some mistakes. Pls forgive. Also, I am not making excuses for Mo Ran 0.5’s actions nor am I justifying the abuse in any way. Chu Wanning never said Mo Ran 0.5 was innocent of these crimes nor will I.

#2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun #chu wanning #mo ran #mo weiyu #ranwan #taxian jun #chu fei #erha #husky is dumb but husky tried his best

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imagineanythings · 3 years

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Whiskey Warmth Chapter 1 (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Chapter 1/2

Before long, he could barely hear the gentle, even wisps of her breathing over the truck’s engine and there was that burning feeling again, whiskey in his throat. It went down smooth and pooled in a ball of warmth in his stomach. He didn’t hate it. Daryl has always been quiet, stoic, and a realist. On the road he meets someone with a completely different outlook on life. She's a rare ray of sunshine a world that loves to block out all light, but can she keep that light alive?

Follows the plot of the show from post CDC up until Alexandria

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

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She was all sunshine and light. Daryl had never really met anyone he’d consider an unrelenting optimist until she came along, covered in walker guts with a smile on her face that could make the world stop. They had picked her up on the road, as they drove aimlessly trying to decide what to do after the CDC. Daryl had been the one to spot her. She was walking along the side of the road, covered in remnants of the dead, looking like she hadn’t slept or had a bite to eat in days. But as soon as their little caravan showed signs of slowing, she broke out into a broad, toothy smile and suddenly Daryl was sucking wind like he had been struck in the gut. She stepped up to the window of his truck and stuck her thumb out like a hitchhiker and before falling into a small cascade of laughter at her own gesture.

“Sorry, that was really lame.” She said, still giggling. Her voice and laugh rolled like gravel, it had clearly been a while since she had spoken, but there was a brightness to her lilting tone that had Daryl leaning in to hear more, as if a few more words from her might just set the world right again. “Where’re ya headed?” Daryl finally managed to ask, once he had collected himself. “Anywhere” she said, no hesitation in her voice. She was peering into the cab of the truck, looking around, getting a read on the situation. She seemed satisfied. “I got room,” Daryl offered and there was that smile again. He ducked his head and focused on his hands in his lap. No gaze like that, no smile like that could ever really be meant for him. He squirmed uncomfortably under that kind of focus. She quickly slid into the cab of the truck and placed her pack down at her feet. With a contented sigh she settled in and he chanced a glance at her again but found her eyes still on him. Her smile had dimmed but the corners of her mouth were still distinctly upturned as she watched him eyes still alight. She wasn’t just glancing at him either, the way most people did before they move on to whatever’s really important. She was actually seeing him, observing, like she actually wanted to know more about him. He could practically feel her eyes combing over every inch of him, searching for all the answers he wasn’t willing to give up out loud. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the road as quickly as he could, getting the truck moving again.

“Thank you,” She said quietly. It was genuine and possibly even a little desperate. He didn’t want to think about how long she had been alone out there, what had led to her being out there like that, all alone. “-‘S nothing” He said, shaking his head a bit, still refusing to meet her gaze. He could almost feel the heat of that smile singe the hair off of the back of his neck. “Y/N L/N” She said, and held her hand out to him. His eyes slid over to her quickly as he shook her hand before focusing again on the road. He tried not to notice the way the contact seemed to burn the same way her smile did. “Daryl Dixon.” He responded and he swore he didn’t even have to look, he could just feel that goddamn lazer beam of a smile lighting up the cab again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her nod to herself a bit, satisfied with the interaction, before leaning back in her seat and pulling the baseball cap she had on down over her eyes. “Thanks again, Dixon,” She said with a soft exhale before settling in comfortably. Before long, he could barely hear gentle, even wisps of her breathing over the truck’s engine and there was that burning feeling again, whiskey in his throat. It went down smooth and pooled in a ball of warmth in his stomach. He didn’t hate it.

The group took to her instantly. She was always there with a smile and a solution, a bright side, another option when things looked grim. She was also a bit of a jack of all trades it seemed. She knew her way around a knife, could tell you what every single plant in the forest was and whether you could eat it or not, had a little sewing kit that she used to make small repairs to everyone’s clothes, could start a fire with just about nothing, the list went on and on. While she wouldn’t give up what she did before the end, she did reveal that she was a girl scout as a kid and had picked up a lot from that. She was great with Carl and Sophia and seemed to be the positive energy that was sorely needed to balance out their perpetually moody and brooding group. It wasn’t like the group was entirely falling apart before, but as soon as she showed up it felt like everyone was much closer, like there was just maybe something other than unfortunate shared circumstances keeping everyone together.

Then Sophia went missing, and Carl was shot, and suddenly everything was falling apart again. At least the farm felt like a safe place to exist for the moment while everything else went to shit. And then Daryl had to go and be an idiot and fall on his own damn arrow and that idiot Andrea fucking shot him, and his sorry ass was stuck in bed instead of out there looking for Sophia.

He woke up in a bed in the farmhouse to someone’s gentle touch on his face. She came into focus slowly with the rest of the world, a bit blurry and so soft around the edges. It was all her. All he could feel were her fingertips brushing against his skin, her breath the sole sound in his ear, that soft sort of floral scent that followed her around seemed to swaddle him. When his eyes finally came into focus, there was only her frame hovering over him, changing the bandages on his head wound. As she saw his eyes open her face lit up and he winced.

“Oh god I’m so sorry! I’m just making sure your dressings are clean, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She said quickly, her bright smile replaced with a deep look of concern and Daryl felt something like shame twist up in his stomach. The smooth burn in his throat from her touch and her gaze had already slid downwards and turned into a knot. “Yain’t hurtin’ me woman,” He said, wincing again involuntarily at how harsh the words had come out. He felt her touch lighten despite his words. She sighed and continued to work in silence. The air felt empty without her usual positive chatter, her gentle but firm affirmations, or her kind reassurance. Daryl was never one for conversation but he’d be lying if he said he’d have objected to the sound of her voice at that moment. Instead, when she was done, she simply placed a gentle hand on his arm, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and whispered a quiet “you get some rest now, Dixon” far too close to his ear before flashing him another heart-stopping smile and leaving him to wonder if he had maybe just up and died when Andrea shot him. She had been in and out constantly, bringing him food, changing his bandages, just checking up on him in general. She would sit in the room with him for long chunks of time, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in silence next to his bed while she patched up peoples’ clothes.

He had just woken up after a hazy, fitful sleep to find her sitting by his bed once again, eyes focused on her sewing. She was humming gently. It was quiet, but he could hear that familiar sweetness in the tune, the brightness that always radiated through a room in her crystal clear laugh, now present in her low and soft humming. If he had focused a bit harder, he was fairly certain he would have been able to make out the song she was humming. It was something he knew from before, but she stopped before he could manage to recall what it was.

“You’re awake!” She said excitedly, “I hope I didn’t wake you, I swear I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” she looked genuinely nervous and apologetic as the words seemed to just spill out of her mouth. Daryl had never been one for speaking up, but the reassurance was slipping from his lips before he had any chance to stop it.

“Naw, weren’t sleepin’ much anyway...” He paused for a moment and was surprised to find that he didn’t want to settle into silence like he usually did. Instead he kept going, “... ‘s nice tho... yer voice” She blushed at that, and if he had thought her smiles packed heat, he was worried he might downright melt from the feeling of making her blush like that.

“It’s nothing,” She spoke so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. She stayed quiet for a moment before shaking her head a bit and focusing back on Daryl. “How are you feeling?” She asked like she genuinely wanted to hear the answer. And not just as a nurse either, not for her medical opinion but because she really cared about how he was feeling. He wanted to pull his head under the covers like a little kid and hide from that kind of attention. But her eyes were wide on him and he couldn’t bear to let her down.

“-’M alright,” He said with a sigh, “wish ya’d just let me outta this bed,” he was being childish and he knew it, but he was too cooped up (and now even more skittish under her gaze) to care. She simply quirked an eyebrow at him and let out a stifled but still achingly melodious giggle.

“You are a handful, you know that Dixon?” She said with a shake of her head. Her sewing had been abandoned on her lap and she reached over to check the dressing on his head. He cleared his throat as she gingerly pulled the bandages off and looked at his wound.

“What were ya singin’?...when I woke up... sounded familiar,” he asked, anything to distract from her caring and gentle touch burning holes in his skin, or her face so close to his as she carefully looked at his wound.

“Oh” she paused for a moment, thinking. She had been in the middle of wrapping his head back up and she had frozen with her hands resting on either side of his face. He didn’t know how he had somehow managed to make this situation even more painful, but he was stuck practically holding his breath, eyes fixed on a little silver pendant swinging back and forth from a chain on her neck so he didn’t have to make eye contact. Finally, after a small infinity, she blessedly began to move again.

“It was Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls,” She said with a fond smile. “One of my favorite songs back in college,” He nodded to himself as the song came back to him, but he didn’t say anything else. She was still so close to his face, like she was trying to see past whatever walls he had built up. Before he could pull away or try to squirm under her gaze she was already leaning back, picking up her sewing again. He didn’t know what she had managed to see, but he was sure it hadn’t been something good.

“Wound looks pretty clean if you ask me. Other one was looking good earlier too, shouldn’t be long now before you’ll be back on your feet.” She said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He grunted something affirmative and appreciative and she couldn’t stifle the laugh that slipped past her lips.

“What’re ya laughing at, woman?” He tried to be at least a bit intimidating, but she just looked at him with that real, genuine smile that he never quite could fathom being directed at him and a fondness in her eyes that was missing mere moments ago.

“I know you don’t like talking much, and that’s ok. I can do plenty of talking for the two of us. One of these days though Dixon, mark my words, I’ll get some full and complete sentences outta you,” Her tone was slightly mischievous, like she was taking on a great ambition, and hell, maybe she was. Especially after that proclamation, Daryl was determined not to make it easy for her. The slight smile he felt himself showing surprised even himself. He gave another purposeful, but this time definitely skeptical grunt and there was that laugh again. He was glad he couldn’t see himself because he was fairly certain that he was beet red from head to toe.

“Well now you’re in for it Dixon, I’ve decided to make it my personal mission. One of these days you’re gonna look around you won’t know how or when it happened, but all of a sudden you’ll realize that I’ve become your best friend.” He was slightly shocked at this proclamation, but tried his best to keep his expression steady and unconcerned.

“Ain’t really worthy of that title,” he said, he couldn’t stop from dropping his eyes down to his hands. “And that is exactly why you need a best friend like me,” She said. He didn’t have to look up to see her smile.

The farm fell. Shit hit the fan, which was something Daryl was well accustomed to even before the world ended. They made it out alive. They survived on the road for months. Everyone wasted away but they made it through. They had cleared out a prison. Things were finally looking up.

Daryl sat in one of the guard towers on watch. He would probably sleep up there too. He couldn’t get used to sleeping in a cell, even if the doors were taken off, made him feel trapped, like a caged animal. He was scanning the tree line when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Y/N poked her head in with a smile and he nodded to her as a hello.

“Hey Dixon, Rick told me you came right up here after your run?” She said cautiously. He nodded accompanied by a vague grunt. “He also told me that you had a nasty looking gash on your arm that you refused to let anyone check on?” She asked and he sighed, holding his arm out for her to see. “Got caught on some glass gettin’ out through a broken window. Was careless and stupid,” He said nonchalantly. She sighed and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tried not to flinch at the unexpected contact but he could tell by her shaky exhale that she noticed. She gave him a gentle nudge downwards and he got what she was asking. He sat down beside her on the edge of the platform, legs dangling below them. She took his forearm in her hands and examined the gash, which began a little below his elbow and extended an inch or two down his arm. It wasn’t too long, but it ran deep.

“It’s not too bad. You’ll only need a few stitches,” She said, turning away. He was about to grumble something about not bothering the old man when she turned back to him, first aid supplies in hand. “Ya don’t-” He started, but she raised a hand and cut him off. “I got you, Dixon, let me get you fixed up” She sounded stern, yet somehow still gentle and he had to force himself to shut his mouth which had, against his own wishes, just sat there, hanging open at her statement. “This is gonna sting a bit, I’m sorry,” She said, dabbing some antiseptic on the gash. She began stichting and he hissed through his teeth. She seemed to wince at his expression of pain and he immediately felt bad for worrying her. Getting the actual damn gash had hurt far more than this. She was quick and gentle and it was over within a few minutes. She let out a shaky breath when she snipped the thread and he looked down at her hands which definitely had not been shaking that much when she put the sutures in him.

“Ya did good,” he said quietly, wanting to reassure but not quite sure how. She looked up at him with a soft smile. “Sorry, I hope they didn’t hurt too bad. Haven’t done them much on real people, I got nervous.” She admitted. He shook his head. “Weren’t nothin’” He reassured and she let out another long breath. “Good.” She said, and he had a feeling that was more for herself than for him.

They sat in silence for a while, legs hanging over the edge of the platform, staring off at the treeline. The quiet felt more safe and comfortable than anything Daryl had experienced in a long time. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her turn to look over at him, so he kept his eyes focused on the treeline, afraid of what awaited in her gaze. She sighed and very slowly leaned down to rest her head on his shoulder. His entire body went stiff for a moment, almost entirely reflexively, before he could manually force himself to relax a bit. He took a deep breath and tried to let some of the tension leave his body, but it was hard when the weight of her head was right there on his shoulder and he could feel her hair brush up against his neck. He thought he was going to go crazy trying to fixate on all of it when she finally spoke.

“Daryl...” She started. She sighed quietly and he could almost hear her brain whirring, searching for what exactly she wanted to say. He could tell by her second, slightly more defeated sigh that she hadn’t quite found it. “Do you think this could really be home?” She finally asked. He let out a sigh of his own, grateful for something to focus on besides the contact but unsure of how to answer.

“Don’t know,” He said after a brief moment of contemplation. “Neither do I,” she said the words so quietly he wasn’t sure if he’d heard them correctly. He didn’t really know how to respond. She was usually the one who was so sure. She was always there with a smile and reassurance that this was the moment where everything would go right, that it would all be ok in the end. He didn’t realize that he didn’t really know how to have that kind of hope if she wasn’t the voice in his ear reassuring him.

They sat in silence for a few more moments before she sat up. He looked over at her sudden movement and she had a scrunched up, determined look on her face. Her eyes were dead set on the horizon. “It will be. It will be because you’re here and Rick’s here and we’re going to make it home.” She seemed to be reassuring herself much more than Daryl, but he didn’t mind hearing it. She looked over at him when she was done speaking and flashed him an appreciative smile. When he turned back towards the horizon and away from her gaze she leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. As she stood up to head back down she called over her shoulder, “See ya later best friend! Take it easy on those stitches! And get some sleep! I’ll send someone to take over for you in a couple of hours!” She turned and headed down the stairs when she was done and Daryl let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in since she had taken his injured arm so gently in her hands.

She got into a habit of checking in on Daryl whenever he was on watch. She would sit with him and talk to him about whatever was on her mind, or whatever was happening with the rest of the group. He would talk too occasionally. He mostly gave quick responses to whatever she was saying but every now and then she reached in with nimble fingers and pulled something more real out of him, either a story about Merle, or some thoughts on the rest of the group, even a promise to give her a proper lesson in tracking and using a crossbow. She had been fascinated with his bow since the first time she’d seen him shoulder it and was constantly harassing him for lessons. He figured now that they were in the walls not on the run, worrying about staying alive from one moment to the next and they actually had the time and energy it couldn’t hurt to see what she could do. Before he knew it, that little offhand promise had transformed into a routine, they’d work with the bow or go out and track and hunt in the early morning and she’d always come up to see him in the guard tower as the sun began to fall over the horizon. Sometimes she’d bring dinner for him, or her sewing, or just herself. If he was being completely honest, he didn’t mind any of those options.

“Daryl Dixon, I swear to god, you better start being more careful out there,” her words were chiding but there was no harshness in her tone. If that weren’t enough, her exasperated smile definitely gave her away. “Told ya, I always do my best. Shit happens tho” He said, trying to swat her hand away as she tried to move his hair out of the way to get a look at the gash on his forehead.

“Hey!” her laughter filled the air as she grabbed his wrist to keep him from swatting. “You know that I’m not leaving until I make sure you’re all good, so you might as well make it easy on yourself and let me do my thing. Don’t make me get Rick up here to hold you down.” She had put on a scowl, and he could tell she was trying to be menacing, but it was an ill-fitting mask on her. As soon as he held his hands up in surrender it was thrown away in favor of her usual smile. She moved in closer to him, moving up on to her knees to get a better look. As she gently began to clean and inspect the wound he found himself face to face again with that pendant he had noticed at the farm, and while on the run, and if he was being completely honest most days in the prison. He had always wondered what it was, but had never seen it up close since that first time in bed at the farm. It was a symbol made up of two hands holding a heart with a crown on top. The silver pendant seemed as much part of her body as her eyes, or her hands. He never saw her without it.

“Seems like it wasn’t too deep, you don’t need stitches but I do want to put a butterfly bandage on there just to be safe.” She spoke while she looked through the first aid kit, and lapsed back into silence as she found what she needed and went back to work. Before he could really think about what he was doing, Daryl reached out and gingerly took her pendant between his fingers. Her eyes snapped downwards, confusion written across her features.

“Sorry,” Daryl said, letting go quickly, mentally kicking himself for grabbing it in the first place. “-’s just a nice necklace,” he said, eyes dropping to his hands, which lay folded in his lap. She smoothed the bandage once more before sitting back down next to him. “Thank you. My dad gave it to me when I was a kid,” She said, her face a picture of fond heartache. “What’s the symbol for?” Daryl asked quietly. “It’s called a claddagh, it’s Irish. The hands represent friendship, the heart, love, and the crown, loyalty. My dad ran a marathon in Dublin when I was young. I think it was sort of a bucket list thing. He brought back this necklace for me. I used to wear it everywhere as a kid, I mean I really loved it. Then in high school I thought I was too cool and it got shoved in a drawer for a while until I found it again in college. I’ve worn it ever since.” She brushed away a tear that was poised to fall and sighed. “Especially when shit went down, I don’t know where my parents are, if they’re alive at all...” she paused, chest heaving, words thick. He could see her denying tears. “Still feels like they’re with me,” she finished with a soft smile. How she could manage to smile after that, he had no idea.

“Sorry to bring it up,” he sighed. “Didn’t mean to make ya sad,” He dropped his eyes once again. “Stop doing that.” She sounded genuinely annoyed. He looked up, confused. “Doin’ what?” He couldn’t fight the scowl that made its way onto his face. “Gettin’ all down on yourself! Whenever you’re beating yourself up you always look down like that! Like you’re ashamed, and I’m sick of it! Dixon, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of!” She was almost yelling now, and he had to fight the urge to lower his gaze again. He settled for scowling at the horizon. He stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek and turned his head so he was forced to meet her eyes.

“Daryl, you’re the best of us. I mean it. It kills me that you don’t see it. Please, just...” She trailed off, searching his eyes as he practically held his breath. Maybe if he didn’t breathe, didn’t let anything in or out, she wouldn’t be able to see through him, whatever ridiculous and righteous illusion she had created in her mind would remain untouched, unharmed. “For me Daryl, please, try not to be so hard on yourself.” “I don’t-” he started, trying to look down again but she immediately cut him off. “No. I’m not done.” She held his gaze with a look that said Look away Dixon, I dare you. “I don’t pick just anyone to be my best friend, Dixon. Believe it or not I don’t just go around gettin’ chummy with every redneck who picks me up from the side of the road.” He couldn’t help the surprised, sort of strangled laugh that escaped him. His reaction drew a gentle, warm smile across her lips and even after a year of knowing her he still couldn’t fight the heat that ran beneath his skin whenever she directed that small slice of sunlight towards him.

She leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek, something she had incorporated into their little routine (not that it made his heart slow or his face flush any less when she did it the first time or the 50th time), and sighed. “I’m sorry for flipping out on you. I just care about you and I hate seeing you doubt yourself like that.” “-‘S ok.” He said, forcing himself to hold her gaze and not lower his head like he wanted so badly to do. She narrowed her eyes a bit as she studied his face, and he could practically hear her mind moving, analyzing him. It scared him, he wasn’t used to feeling so seen. She seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to say any more and pulled him into a hug. He stiffened immediately, and she pulled back slightly before he forced himself to relax. She let out a small laugh that was more awkward than genuine, no humor behind it.

“I feel like I’ve done enough damage for one day,” Voice apologetic as she moved to stand but instinctively Daryl reached out and grabbed her wrist. He was careful to keep his grip light, not forcing her to stay but asking. “Ya haven’t. Ya could stay... if ya want” He said, voice barely above a whisper. She broke out into a full grin and lowered herself back down to sit beside him. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he felt some of the tension in his body melt away. “You really are the best of us.” She said with a small sigh, and he responded with a small grunt that drew a burst of giggles out of her, which slowly dissolved into comfortable silence as the sun began to disappear over the horizon.

For a while this life at the prison almost felt too good to be true. Of course it was. Reality always came crashing down, weighing heavily on his shoulders in the end.

The governor came crashing through the gates with a goddamn tank and everything went to shit again. Except this time he didn’t have her there to reassure him that it would all turn out alright. He had Beth, which was a close second in terms of optimism, but then suddenly he didn’t even have her and everything felt like it was falling apart around him. He was completely alone, his family all likely dead, and he had fallen in with a group that made him feel more like his daddy than he had ever wanted to feel. He stuck it out with those assholes for no reason other than that tiny glimmer of hope that Beth was still out there somewhere. If nothing else, he owed it to that girl to get her out of whatever mess he landed her in in the first place. And then he found Rick, Carl, and Michonne and suddenly his reasons to live had multiplied by three. Terminus was a flash of hope. It didn’t bring him any closer to finding Beth, but Rick pointed out that if anyone from the group survived and found the signs, they would likely be heading there as well.

The train tracks had been easy enough to follow. As the compound came into view, for just a brief moment Daryl allowed himself to hope. But once inside that hope began to very quickly whittle away. It was too quiet, and there was something off about that Gareth guy. And suddenly they were spotting Hershel’s pocket watch, and the riot gear, and Maggie’s poncho and a silver necklace with a claddagh charm and then Daryl felt himself begin to drown. Everything that had kept him going, the small spark of hope that he had allowed to live inside him had been drenched. Now all he felt was steam rising, his insides boiling, but before he could do anything about it the gunfire began and then they were herded towards a boxcar.

Daryl wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but his whole family corralled into one place had definitely not been it. They were all there except Carol and baby Judith, two losses which weighed heavily on the entire group. But everyone else was there and safe and alive. He scanned the room, giving hugs and looking people up and down, making sure everyone looked ok. He moved slowly through the car, through each of his family members, before he came to a stop in front of a figure balled up in the corner. Her face was hidden but her frame was unmistakable.

“Y/N?” he asked, and her name on his lips again felt like coming back to a place you’ve once called home. She slowly picked your head up, and he immediately noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and the way her cheeks looked gaunt and hollow. But when she saw that it was really him, that Daryl Dixon was really standing in front of her, her eyes widened. She leapt to her feet with surprising speed and threw her arms around him. His arms wrapped around her body and when he lifted her off of her feet for a moment he could have sworn that the weight of the world wasn’t all that much to hold. She pulled away and placed her hands on either side of his face.

“I can’t believe it’s really you” Tears began to pool in her eyes and she pulled him back in for another hug, face buried in his shoulder. He could feel her shoulders shake and a patch of wetness grow on his shirt. “Thought you were gone.” She whispered. He shook his head and brought a hand up to stroke her hair. “Naw, ain’t gettin’ rida me that easy now, womanl” He said quietly. After a few more moments she pulled away and just stared at him with those wide, shocked eyes. “Promise I ain’t goin’ anywhere, I’ll still be here if ya blink” She nodded and let out a shaky exhale. “I missed you,” she whispered just as Rick and Carl made their way over to give her a hug. “Missed ya too” he said.

He took a few steps back, and only when he stepped away did he notice the cold emptiness nipping at him, like something was missing. He watched her hug Rick and Carl, he watched the most important people in the world to him all come back together in a single moment, and yet he felt cold. She was crying. She was hugging people. She was telling everyone how much she missed them.

She wasn’t smiling.

#The walking dead #Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixonxreader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/reader #reader/daryl dixon #reader insert #slow burn #friends to lovers #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #writing #walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon has a huge crush

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lightrises · 3 years

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"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

#hollow knight #hornet (hollow knight)#hornet hollow knight #hk hornet #the radiance #hk radiance #herrah #hk herrah #hollow knight meta #sup folks it's been a minute since i dropped a whole dang essay but Here We Go!!!!!!

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eevee-nova · 3 years

Note

Oumota, but i feel like you already answered something like that for it so Kaimaki too

Lol I could rant about oumota all day but cuz I know I have I'mma keep it short!

Ship It: (obvs)

1. What made you ship it?

Chapter 5. Full stop. I loved Kaito's character from the beginning and Kokichi grew on me but seeing their team up was 😍. I didn't originally ship it in a romantic context until I looked at the fan content and saw just how well the pairing works in a platonic as well as romantic lens. Plus I love a good narrative foil/enemies to lovers dynamic and they have the best I've seen.

2. What are your fave things about the ship?

Narrative foils, the fact that they understood each other better than anyone else despite hating each other, chaotic energy, smart boi/"dumb" boi, height difference, P U R P L E. But mostly the potential the ship has for so many different relationship dynamics. They work in any AU or situation. They came together during their hardest times so it's possible that under different circumstances they'd work as well. Domestically or casually, healthy or unhealthy, whatever you want to explore with the pairing, you can, and it'll stay in character for them. They're two great characters that become amazing when played off each other. Even in a platonic context.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have for your ship?

Idk what's popular and unpopular so imma just give a couple headcanons?? Lol.

• Kokichi is a very "show my love thru actions" type of person so he doesn't always say "I love you" or other mushy stuff (except in a teasing way) so he'll get gifts or show kind gestures esp if he accidentally (or purposely) pisses Kaito off, he'll do sweet things to make it up to him.

• Everything is a competition with them. Theyd do dumb shit like "who can give the other more kisses in a day" or "who can get the other a better gift". They're pretty even with who wins, but Kokichi is a much more insufferable winner.

• Kaito would propose first, he'd make it super romantic and perfect and just how Kokichi would want it. But then a week later, Kokichi also proposes in an even grander gesture because he "needs to make sure Kaito wants to marry him just as much as he does."

Kaimaki tho... It kind of teeters on the edge for me. I love both Kaito and Maki as characters, and their friendship is sweet and romantically it's cute, like seeing art and reading fics I always find it adorable but canonically... It feels more one sided than anything. So I'm gonna say

Don't Ship It:

1. Why don't you ship it?

Maki very obviously had feelings for Kaito, she literally says so. However, I relate to Maki in the sense that I've felt unwanted and unloved and struggled to love myself. And I've had people who come along and make me feel special, almost like a replacement for that self love I needed. I think Kaito is that someone to Maki. He cared for her, and saw the good in her when others seemed not to, and as sweet and romantic as that can be, it also has potential to lead to a misunderstanding and over idealization. So from I guess a personal stand point it's one of those "oh yikes this doesn't seem ideal" situations.

2. What would have made you ship it?

Probably if Kaito showed a bit more of reciprocation, but he doesn't. Also if maybe there was a moment of Maki realizing that Kaito kind of has a lot of issues too.

3. Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

I think it still has potential. It's possible for them to grow and love each other in an equal way, but it requires a lot of effort on Kaito's part to bring down his walls for his friends. I think that Maki would need to also establish herself and understand who she is and what she truly wants because it's hard to tell if her feelings for him come from a genuine romantic love or if she simply loves the idea of Kaito. I just think it would end up very one sided without those things. Which, don't get me wrong, would still make for an interesting dynamic when it comes to exploring that part of their relationship.

This was tons of fun, thanks for asking!

Send me a ship and I'll tell you if I ship it or not! 😊💜

#i meant to answer this sooner #but i went to hershey park and have been so behind on things lol #im so sorry!!#danganronpa #drv3 #kaito momota #kokichi ouma #oumota #maki harukawa #asky thingys

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kiranatrix · 3 years

Note

Do you think both L and Light were incapable of romantic and platinic love? I remember Ohba saying L could never have a friend because of his trust issues, and while Light had friends at school it seemed like it was "just for show" in a senese, since he couldn't really connect with anyone

Hi anon! Thanks for the question! I think both of them are ‘capable’ of some kinds of love but the events of canon (and their lives) really corral both opportunities and expression of it.

Light

Romantic. Ohba said in HTR that Light was incapable of romantic love with a woman. Does that exclude men? Dunno, but under canon circumstances where Light is Kira, I don’t believe he’d let himself fall for anyone. That’s because he believed attachments can compromise his judgement and sway potentially hard decisions he might have to make as Kira. But having to remind himself of that fact means that he knew he wasn’t totally immune to it. A little giveaway about himself in his thoughts. He was capable of it and actively prevented it.👇

Platonic. Light is capable of platonic love and demonstrates it in canon with his family. He loves Sayu and his parents, and greatly respects his father. Perhaps that’s filial love specifically, but I’d argue it’s close enough to show Light can care for other individuals without romance or gain.

Idealistic. In a sense, Light has a great love of humanity (as Ohba says in HTR) but has a funny way of showing it haha. But there’s an enormous amount of effort he expends on changing the world for the better (his idea of it) and wanting to be a god is only part of it. There’s ways he could have done that that didn’t even up with some net positives for the world (wars ended, crime reduced) and he put himself in the (self-identified) role of martyr for it. His motivations were a complex mix of selfish and selfless. It’s probably more comfortable to take that complexity away and consider him just a madman unable to love, but that strips away a lot of impact of Light’s story. He could love but not all love is healthy.

Platonic. I do think L was capable of platonic love although there’s no canon examples of it. The reason I say this is that he does show some concern over the safety of the Task Force and kind of goes ‘blue screen’ when Watari died. It’s never clear what Watari meant to him exactly but the man was an ever-present, solid relationship in his life he depended on, who raised him. In the anime there is slightly more warmth between them vs the manga, but either way, I think his level of reaction to the potential or actual death/harm to others close (or perhaps just useful?) to him suggests he is capable of it. On the other hand, L shows no care at all for those not close (or not useful/adversarial) to him. He shows no concern for the Wammy’s kids, Roger, the Yotsuba group’s victims, Misa, or Light. And even though Soichiro is both useful and close to him, L shows little to no care towards the man’s feelings or trauma asking him to do things (like pretend to shoot his son). So I would say L is capable of it but the bar is very high and conditional.

Romantic. In canon? Flat no. Past his own self-awareness about his quirks and difficult personality, he has a dangerous, isolated, and very mobile lifestyle that would be unfair to subject anyone to. In some ways it’s a similar consideration as Light— attachments would compromise his ability to do the thing he loves most. He also gets bored quickly, had mood swings, doesn’t compromise, has stubborn tastes and ways, zero social skills, a suspicious and over-analyzing nature, is pretty much a manbaby with no life skills, and deeply entrenched trust issues. That’s not to say he didn’t potentially experience romantic attraction in canon (maybe to Light since they were so very similar), but that’s different from love. Canon!L would make a pretty horrible boyfriend imo (sorry!) but that’s what AUs are for. If placed in a different situation from canon, I think romantic love could be possible; but he’d probably be a big mess lol with so little experience, possibly fall hard and have a lot of confusing emotions/uncertainty/sulking/awkwardness. I love to think about him in AUs!

Idealistic. Again, flat no. On the one hand he initially gives lip service that he’s pursuing Kira out of high-minded ideals of justice, but everything he does and says after that betrays why he’s really doing it. For fun, to win. It’s a game to him, like playing the stock market was when he was younger, just on a much bigger chessboard with high stakes. Kira is the best opponent he could hope for. So yeah, he lied about the whole justice thing lol. Which is one of the reasons I love his character! It’s refreshing!

#death note #light yagami #l lawliet #meta #asks #anon #shipping #character analysis

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eyecicles · 3 years

Note

thank you :) OKAY so maybe i am just desperate to slot another note into canon because despite its flaws i love it so much but hear me out. hear me out

so in-universe it's written by mello, right? so we already have the high potential for unreliable narration. (i love him but i will also be the first to admit that he is not exactly the pinnacle of reliability.) add this to the fact that it's being told to us secondhand and the potential grows exponentially. it's not like mello was THERE, obviously. he just heard about it. (whether or not the idea of L telling him about it is reasonable is a whole other thing i have many thoughts on, i tend to think it's possible under certain circumstances. maybe it was meant to be a warning to someone exhibiting concerning tendencies in line with a certain serial killer regarding the need to surpass certain individuals... i cannot say) and he would of course have been young when this occurred. when he wrote it all down is up in the air, but no matter where you put it, i think it still works. if he wrote it when he was young, it'd get embellished with the imagination of a child. if he wrote it when he was older, it'd get distorted by time affecting how he remembered it being told. either way, we're basically playing telephone with the story.

so like in the end i feel like the plot holes and distorted viewpoints actually make more sense within canon than i think a lot of people give them credit for. i doubt that was the (real-world) author's intention but hey i will interpret it how i please. because in the end it's still an in-universe work as well, and so has the same potential for erroneous memory, personal bias, and all sorts of other distortions.

when it comes to characterization i think it's a bit more complicated, but again, erroneous memory and personal bias could very easily distort the characterizations of the other characters. as for the characterization of mello himself, i know i for one tend to sound a lot different when i'm writing a story than i do when i'm just talking. idk if that's common, but hey. maybe mello is also like that.

and finally, we have the line about 'the best dresser who died like a dog', which i like to take as just... mello being dramatic and a bit fatalistic. but that whole line is really epic no matter how you look at it in my humble opinion, so i'll let it slide

anyway like i said i might just be completely desperate to fit my beloved book into canon and so am talking crazy in attempts to rationalize it, but what is analysis if not talking crazy about things you enjoy. thanks for reading my ramblings i just wanted to share them with you on account of you are my cool dn friend who thinks about these things and i figured you can probably understand where im coming from with regards to 'i love this thing so much that i can just sit down and think about it for hours' (its the autism of course...) so yeah. like i said. thanks

Oh yeah, that's definitely how I try to explain most of the contradictions away! Well, with that and by pointing out that B is...B.

You know, it does feel like the narrative wants us to believe Mello wrote the novel close to his death. Not just because of the "died like a dog" quote, but also because several other referenced plot points later in DN.

You can also combine some of the theories you mentioned and interpret it that way: he began writing it when he was a kid and finished it - hastily - later, when he knew he was about to die. Maybe he didn't have the time to proofread his novel (properly) and that's how we got Another Note how we all know and love it, haha.

Another idea I had is that someone else finished the book for Mello, someone who knew how he died. ...Which would be incredibly unlikely, yes, but it would explain a few things, at least.

I do think that Nisio Isin knew somewhat what he was doing with letting Mello narrate the story. This way he didn't even have to try to copy the style of Death Note, and he gave us several ways to interpret the story and everything that doesn't quite add up.

It gets even more complicated when you think about why Mello wrote it in the first place…

So yeah, I'm completely fine with saying that AN is, as a book, canon, but not necessarily everything that happens in it. Which would be kind of impossible anyway.

#asks #mewtonian physics #mello #another note #sorry that it took me so long to reply!#I got a surprise visit haha

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cannibal-witchh · 3 years

Text

Reader(Fem) x Alcina Dimitrescu

(PART 2)

Written by cannibal_witchh

Part 1

:https://cannibal-witchh.tumblr.com/post/641589115086929920/readerfem-x-alcina-dimitrescu-part-1-written

⛓Trigger Warnings⛓

Story contains: Gore, sexual elements, vulgar language, violence, elements of sub/dom behavior, and captivity.

Notes: This is the 2nd part of the story and it will progressively get more sexual, and the elements between the reader and Alcina will become more dom/sub. It is a little bit of a slow burner so bare with me. It will get juicy soon! I want to add, I do not support in any fashion abuse, and or non consensual actions. ⚠️ I have clearly placed trigger warnings to indicate there may be elements that are not for every reader. I heavily gravitate with dominance and submission/gore so thats where the relationship in the story will go ⚠️ Again, limited information so nothing in the story really is canon.

The reader is referred to as:

Y/N- your name

Y/L/N- your last name

She/her- in italics and bold

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Her blood boiled as she felt the weight of humiliation and rage filter through her. She was in poor shape, bloodied up, bruised, and very little hope could be found within her. She stared at Alcina with a hateful expression, but the vampress had full awareness beneath that thin surface of loathing was absolute fear. "Don't be foolish. I will not say it again.", she continued a smirk as she rested her elbows up on the edge of the bath. Even in absolute indecency she was wicked and intense. Her body at full exposure, water glistening off her porcelain skin, and gentle beads of water trailing down her breasts. The moon was illuminating off her soft tall figure, as she tipped her head back and relaxed it on the edge. "I think I've been more than patient with you."

Y/N, had so many emotions cycling through her, there was disgust, hatred, and anxiety. But she had concluded that there was no point in stalling. Alcina would grow tired and eventually kill her if she wasted anymore time. She began to strip, peeling an article of clothing at a time, trying desperately to cling on to every second. Her hands trembling as she slid her panties down her ankles before the wicked vampire.

She submerged her body in the warm water, blood began to scatter out from her knee, and she watched fragments of the water become crimson. Fuck. "Relax, I'm not a shark. I can smell your wonderful nectar but I have no need to feed at this exact instance just because you're coloring my bath water red.", she teased pulling her head up. Loose black waves stuck to her wet skin, spreading out like a small web on her smooth pale skin. Her intense bright eyes focused on Y/N, her eyes looked so preditorial, and so hungry. Those eyes burned deep in Y/N's soul, it was haunting.

After about forty minutes of soaking and cleansing, Alcina decided to privilege Y/N by showing her the cellar room. She held a lit candlabrum guiding them deep inside. It smelled foul, there were variations of fresh corpses everywhere, limbs lost in other areas of the large hallway, and it was incredibly dark. The walls and floor were built with thick cobblestone, and there were numerous cellars with rusted bars. " Now, I believe I have treated you kindly with allowing you to stay in an actual guest room.", she said as she continued to lead Y/N deeper into the cellars. Abruptly, an incredibly dry groan echoed through the cellar, it sounded as if it was in absolute suffering and pain. Y/N darted her head in the direction she believed it came from but it was too difficult to really distinguish actually where it sounded. " Relax, I won't allow them to touch you.", she assured as she stopped and turned to face her. "Those are family.", she stretched a pearly grin, her fangs teasing under her satin red lips. Alcina instructed with just her hands for Y/N to come closer to her, and she obeyed the demand. "You look much better being cleaned up, pet.", that name alone flooded a pool of humiliation in her, being stabbed, bitten, and beaten countless times to this nonsense- it just delivered a wave of embarassment to her. Alcina let out a soft giggle, and for moments there wasn't words being exchanged.

Thud! With swift impact, there was a heavy hit that landed to Y/N's head, and she flew several feet back away from Alcina. She tried to gather herself but her vision grew blurry, and her knee still in poor condition to make quick movements. Dwindling in and out of clear vision, the sounds of agonizing groaning reverberated through the corridor infront of her. She felt shivers, hair raise, and another dose of adrenaline greet her. What could this be? Within moments, a strong smell of decay flooded through the damp cobblestone hallways, and echos of pain continuing to sound. A group of corpse like creatures swayed in, their bodies detierating, bones exposed, long sharp aged nails, and hollow dark eyes. Her family. Absolute horror welcomed Y/N, Alcina had lied, she wasn't going to protect her. The creatures began to hobble towards her, surrounding her, their stench choking her, and their groans ringing in her ear. She was fucked, no available escape was present for her to attempt. She closed her eyes and she felt the stroke of long thin nails brush against her face and arms. Felt the cold breath of their hissing near her ears, as she tried to control her panic. This was it. "Enough!", Alcina screeched, and immediately the creatures shrieked and fled away in the tunnels. She relaxed her hands on her hips and walked over to Y/N with a pleased expression. " This is what will become of you but worse if you do not submit to me. Do we have ourselves clear?", Alcina watched as Y/N nodded trying to control her panicked breaths, and maintain her shivering. "Good."

Without effort, Alcina had carried Y/N in her arms all the day back to her captive room. When they arrived, she locked the door, and rested Y/N on the sheets. Y/N felt some release of tension the moment she establish this was her room. She spread her arms out, tracing the creases of silk that collected under her. The presence of the fabric brought her slight comfort. "Honestly, you truely are pathetic.", she sighed as she sat the candlabrum on the wooden nightstand beside the bed. Y/N felt beside her sink, Alcina had sat beside her and began to run her fingers through her hair. Despite the cruel treatment, this minor kindness felt relieving to Y/N. She let out a small sound of relief as Alcina continued to lace her fingers through her hair. "I feel despite some tension, you have gathered an understanding of your place as my feeding pet. I appreciate that submission. I have mutually contributed. I awaited feeding until you were cleansed and in the comforts of your room.", a sharp spike danced in Y/N's stomach, she felt acidity well up, and her knee twitch with discomfort. It was time.

This time, Y/N did have opposition towards the situation this time. She fully gave in to the unfortunate circumstances. Her pants were removed, revealing a blackened knee with blood stains feathering out from the site. "I'm quite surprised how quickly you've adapted to your position to me. I have to admit, I am pleased with you.", Alcina leaned to her side, hovering over Y/N's wounded knee, her large breasts nearly spilling out from her nightgown. The closer she leaned towards her knee, the more her alluring breasts pressed gently against Y/N. "Despite my daughters, I have control over my hunger. I will treat you well, and I will know how to savor you slowly.", she looked down at her knee and let out a sound of disappointment. "So much for being patient. Its scabbed. I suppose I will make a new feeding site."

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"My f-femoral atery?", Y/N muttered as she felt her cheeks grow hot. A major artery, not even her daughters had fed on. The violent feeding they did more than likely would've killed her if they attempted to. " Yes, now please relax. I have fed in this location before and no one has ever died. I have lived a long life and acquired quite the knowledge on self control.", she began to move close to her upper thigh, her nose brushing lightly against her skin, and her mouth leaving light streaks stained from her rouge. The sound of skin break was heard through the cold air, Y/N let out a pained moan and held her breath. The pain was unpleasant, it was like having a canine bite but with small thin teeth. She tried focusing on the candle wicks, watching them sway and dance softly in the distance. The warm occasional crackle it did from time to time. It was the closest thing to resemble peacefulness during this taxing time. Alcina began to feed, siphoning Y/N's blood, she made sounds of utter bliss as the sweet flavor danced along her desperate tongue. Her body stiffening in surprise as pure satisfaction greeted her mouth. Her nipples growing erect through her night gown, brushing against Y/N's leg. Y/N felt light headed, feeling blood leaving her as she grew quickly cold. Strangely, she had no presence of panic, perhaps, the loss of blood delivered her brief emotional insensitivity. Alcina stayed down there for quite sometime, muttering muffled sounds of bliss, occasionally latching off revealing a bloodied chin, teeth, and lips. She met Y/N's eyes and immediately flashed a wide smile, it was almost sickening but in a way bewitching. Maybe the lack of blood was making Y/N confused. " W-why am I so relaxed?", she muttered feeling a heavy weight of tranquility possess her. " Shh...its the lack of blood. Soon I will stop.", Alcina whispered as Y/N felt her tongue lick her inner thigh. Her long tongue tracing and prodding the bite marks. Desperstely trying to drain whatever was left of the site.

" I believe, I am full. Thank you for the meal.", she wiped her crimson stained lips and chin with the back of her hands ,now tarnishing it with red. " I believe, I owe you a thank you, pet. You have been surprisingly obedient the whole time, and quiet too.", Alcina slowly adjusted herself until she was on all fours above Y/N. Her large smooth breasts draping down reaveling down her well tailored gown. She began to crawl slowly towards Y/N's face, her chest lighting brushing against Y/N's body. It was incredibly soft yet cold. " I am going to need you to open your mouth, won't you, pet?", without hesitation, Y/N dropped her mouth open for her. Alcina licked her lips and pressed her right fang into her plump bottom lip. Blood began to trickle out and run down her chin and onto her chest. Her hand traveled slowly up to Y/N's neck, gentle gripping it, and holding it against the mattress. Her opposite hand, explored under her shirt, and rested on her heart. Y/N, felt the a wave of heat flush away the cold that was residing in her. What was she about to do? "Can't let my obedient food die on me, yet.", Alcina leaned herself forward, pressing her lips against Y/N's. Her tongue inviting itself into her mouth, brushing metallic crimson inside. The flavor was terrible but Y/N did not seem to object. Alcina continued to kiss her, muffled sounds escaping between their lips as a warm blanketed feeling continued to lay over Y/N. Blood had managed to escape their lips, trickling down Y/N's chin, it was incredibly cold as it traveled down. Alcina ceased the kissing, her face revealed itself to be flush and pink. Strange for a creature of the undead. She moved her long delicate fingers along Y/N's blood covered lips and chin. Collecting whatever escaped under her finger tips. "Don't waste it.", she whispered softly nudging her fingers against Y/N's lips, as they slipped their way inside her mouth. More of that bitter flavor met Y/N's tongue, and she felt her body grow warmer and warmer. Alcina took her fingers out after a few moments, examining there was no trace of remaining blood present. She made a sound of approval that trailed with a small smile. An overwhelming amount of insatiable hunger found Y/N, she felt her body perk with energy, her senses incredibly alert, and her heart accelerate as if it was injected with caffeine. She brought a hand to Alcina's cheek and drew her to her own. Lips reuniting again, her tongue pressing its way into Alcina's mouth, and Y/N biting her lower plump lip. She was hungry, the introduction to Alcina's blood was intoxicating, addictive, and restoring. It brought her energy and she needed more. A small line of red flowed from Alcina's lower lip, and Y/N quickly licked it from her face. Her tongue returning back to Alcina's mouth the moment she collected all of her crimson. Alcina muffled a small moan, as her hand tightened around Y/N's neck, the opposite hand no long resting on her Y/N's heart but traveling down her stomach. Her incredibly sharp nails dragging into her sternum down to above her navel. She felt blood seep from those insicions, and she let out a pained moan. She buried her lips against Alcina's for a few more passionate moments until she broke it. Her lips pressing against Y/N's neck and her tongue dragging down her neck to the freshly bloodied cuts on her sternum and navel. She kissed and licked the bloodied wounds hungrily. Little delicate moans left her mouth as she glanced up at Y/N with her appreciative smile. Still continuing to clean the newly made cuts with her tongue. "Dont act as if this is an invitation of making love, foolish one. Vampires have restorative blood that gives humans the ability to briefly recover, replenish energy, alertness, and on some occasions enhance their libidio.", she rolled her eyes, " In this case, you acquired all of it. What a headache. I just wanted to make sure you didn't die of blood loss.", She sighed. " I suppose I will find more uses for you, pet. But don't think it will entirely feel good."

To be continued...

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#resident evil #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re village #re8 #resident evil village #alcina #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #alcina fanfic #reaident evil village fanfic #resident evil 8 fanfic #resident evil fanfic #fanfic

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an-eldritch-peredhel · 2 years

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Me and my salty rants about Luthien continue, this time by using my fandom-given right as a reader of the Silm to complain about other people's interpretations of my faves*!

*Obvious disclaimer, everyone has the right to interpret stuff however they want, these are just my opinions, don't come at me.

Undirected salt lies below! If you think it's about you, it's not! I was just stricken by burning rage all at once and decided to vent!

A thing that bugs me is when people (not many, but I've seen the occasional take) make the end of Beren & Luthien out to be some kind of tragedy- or at least heavily bitter-sweet. It's understandable, but it feels like it removes a lot of the characters' (by which I mostly mean Luthien's) agency.

Like ok, Option 1 for being "tragic": Luthien giving up immortality. I personally don't interpret this as just being for ~true love~ and stuff, but even if you don't think she had any other underlying reason for her Choice, to say it's tragic is... weird? Like yes, she'll have to die. But she's died for Beren once, why on Arda would she hesitate to do it again- especially with the good-as-guarantee that they'll actually share an afterlife this time? Her permanent separation from her parents via separate afterlives is sad but HEAVILY dependent on how you see their relationship. Plus, separation via death is. Normal. For humans. That's how it works. And also, it's not like the promise of eternal life really means much in Beleriand under Morgoth, although I will admit that really ramps up post Nirnaeth, not post Bragollach, but still. And there's the whole thing about how elves' eternal life comes with the cost of fading and exhaustion and never being able to truly rest- mortality isn't categorically better, but to some it might be preferable. And also, SHE CHOSE. IT WAS A CHOICE. THAT'S MORE THAN HUMANS GET??? SHE'D LITERALLY JUST DIED FOR THE FIRST TIME WHEN SHE MADE IT SHE KNEW WHAT SHE WAS GETTING INTO???

(related side note: few things drive me more insane than people who characterize Luthien as an innocent naive princess. At the start? yeah honestly I can see it, even if it's not my cup of tea. But by Mandos she has: escaped her home/parents, gotten kidnapped, escaped her kidnapers, beat Sauron, thought Beren was dead with good cause (like 3 separate times), almost gotten kidnapped again, broken into hell, danced for satan to protect her & Beren's mission, put satan to SLEEP, escaped hell, watched Beren nearly die (again), had Beren ACTUALLY DIE, and died herself. And probably more that I'm forgetting! Just because she's not angsty doesn't mean she's an UvU soft pure bean)

Option 2 for why it's "tragic": the Silmaril shortens their lifespans. Except, Beren was 71 when he died for real, and he and Luthien had about 40 years together. So even if you take canon as gospel (i personally think that the silmaril's whole thing with mortals is idiotic except for certain circumstances so i ignore it) that's still pretty good! Not quite a modern life-expectancy, maybe, but given uh. Everything. about Beleriand and Beren's young adult life, it's probably better than could be expected. Also, Dior was 33 when they died, so that's not an excuse either.

Option 3: The end results of the whole silmaril theft situation (everyone heckin dying). Ok this one is actually valid. I'd argue that for the most part the tragedy doesn't belong with Beren and Luthien so much as with Dior and Nimloth, but since it was B&L's actions that kinda set everything up I guess it fits. It feels... different? I guess? To me, because on the one hand their lives end peacefully, happily together in a cottage in the forest with like. Chickens probably. And on the other hand you can trace a direct line of cause-and-effect from the Quest to the Nirnaeth to the Kinslayings and even though the Quest ended well and without true tragedy, it's results did not.

So basically tl;dr: Beren and Luthien doesn't end in tragedy, even if it isn't 100% sunshine and rainbows, especially looking at it through a human lens re: immortality and in comparison to the rest of the Silm. The tragedy comes after, and is even worse in contrast as a result :)

Also like 90% of this applies to some of the ice cold takes I've seen about Arwen/Aragorn as well. Except even more so because there's that one post I can't fully remember that was like "their romance is a tragedy bc they're just imitating B&L for the sake of their Story and don't have the heart behind it and Arwen chose to be mortal without real thought behind it for the sake of the Dignified Elven Tragedy" which sent me into a FROTHING RAGE. That's not what this post is about but VALAR I had to set my phone down after that one. Like if you want to interpret it that way I can't stop you and it is a fascinating idea (derogatory)(intrigued) but also NO that's just. No. And to state it as if it was canon??? *HISSSSS*

#i cant use UwU/OwO for luthien or melian bc they're birds so they get to have tiny beaks instead UvU #gil estel speaks #ok to reblog #i mean if you want to #gonna make a tag for these rants #hmm #why everyone is wrong but me and my mutuals: an essay /j #it just annoys me #taking arwen and luthien's choices to only be made because of a guy #like ok that's the one reason that's in the text #but its like people dont even try to dig into their characters more #the best example of what i think was actually in a post about the little mermaid #how ariel falling for eric may have been the catalyst to seek out ursula but she was already interested in humans!#she LITERALLY SANG 'i wanna be where the people are' before then! she would've jumped at the chance to be a human #she just didn't have the last push until she saved eric #maybe its just the aro in me but...#to say 'oh she just did that because she fell in love' makes their characters seem so shallow??#and even if it isn't that deep it still feels really dismissive?#like no one seriously goes after beren for going on a death-quest for true love! and he *would*'ve died if not for luthien!#asldkjflkjkjh this is a whole 'nother rant #but one that deserves to be said #maybe i'll make another post later #anyway thats enough of that

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frogsmulder · 3 years

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Maybe There’s Hope: chpt 7 Together Towards Entropy

Starting from the final events of 09x20 The Truth, Mulder and Scully tackle their new reality as fugatives. When they finally settle into things, Scully finds out she is pregnant again. A canon divergent AU where I thought, what if Scully got pregnant whilst on the run instead of at the end of season 11?

3.6k words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic; read on ao3

With the last box packed, Margaret Scully locked the door to her daughter's apartment for the final time and handed the key over to the landlord, who mumbled his appreciation and ambled back down the hall. Maggie was left there, standing by the shut door like it was the final page turned and the chapter ending. She shook the thought from her head, knowing it was a silly one. It was never over: God has his way of bringing people back together.

Back in her own home, Maggie put the final boxes into the guest room all of their things safe under her roof. All of the furniture had been sold-- that was mostly inconsequential-- but everything else was here. Taking a final look at the room, she hummed. It was like she could feel the physical presence of Dana in everything she had loved, cherished, and lived with.

Closing the door, she padded down the stairs and into the living room where the glow from the fishtank illuminated the room. She checked the temperature of the tank water, watching the mollies swim around in the bag that floated on top. She could tell they were eager to return. To their familiar surroundings, but the water wasn't warm enough just yet, but soon.

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Scully quietly mused the breakfast menu, feeling calm and content sat in the booth of a Mexican restaurant. Mulder was sat on the other side of the table looking out of the window to the sun-speckled bay. His hand had been grasping hers under the table the entire time; his thumb traversing the mountain range of her knuckles repetitively.

"You seem happy," she commented, turning the page of the menu awkwardly with one hand.

"I am." He turned his attention to her, his smile fading slightly as his mind began to race ahead with implications. "Are you not?"

"No, I am," she sighed, continuing to puzzle over some of the dish names. Mulder lowered his head to try and get under her fixed gaze and her eyes flicked up to meet him. "What? I am happy."

Mulder sat back and nodded, smirking to himself.

Scully looked up from the menu, bringing their hands to rest on top of the table. "Have you had any more hallucinations?"

"No, I haven't actually." His head had been surprisingly clear since that night on the beach like his words had freed him when he'd finally shared them. He hoped it was the case.

A refreshing smile turned the corner of her mouth upwards and she subconsciously held his hand slightly tighter. "That's good."

"Hmm," he agreed, lost in her smile. Her hand was soft under his thumb, sparking gentle memories of her surrounding him and the bed sheets the last few days they had given in and spent every night in a motel, comfort of waking with her head laid against his chest a luxury beyond compare. It made a difference to the cold sweats she used to wake in, lurching from her position to escape the night terrors. On restless nights he had witnessed it, when only his arms could wrap around her and anchor her to this world as she gasped to gain control.

But not the last few days. She had woken as peacefully as he had slept, usually with a tiny speck of drool decorating his bare chest, which he didn't dare tease her about.

"And you've not had your nightmares for a while...Unless?"

She had rushed to the bathroom again this morning, although she had told him it was nothing to worry about.

"No, I haven't," she reassured him.

"Maybe we're finally getting it right then."

Scully laughed and shook her head. "I used to think we'd never get it right."

The past few months she'd forgotten what right felt like until she saw the familiar glimmer on the horizon that meant the sea and she'd persuaded Mulder to make a stop-off. That night, with the water at her feet, she felt something click, like the reassuring words of her father existed in the sea spray, telling her that she was loved and trusted. Being close to him had put her soul at ease. She still worried for her child in the world, for Mulder, for her mother so far away but that anxiety had eroded into a constant ebb of care for all of them.

"I saw a little place down the road that does postcards, I thought we could pick one up later. We could start a collection. Maybe even do a scrapbook."

She licked her lip and bit back a smile. Of course, Mulder had found the one she had taken. It was impossible to keep secrets from him, especially given their current circumstances.

"Yes, that would be nice."

Giving the menu one final look over she handed it to Mulder as she stood up and moved out of the booth.

"Can't find anything?"

He looked up at her and she stroked his hair affectionately as she walked past, making him grin.

"Just order for me whatever you're having. I'm going to the restroom."

Taking her hand, he kissed her palm, and gently let her go.

"Okay."

Scully moved through the bar to the back, pushing against the door to the restroom. It was quiet inside, a welcoming contrast to the constant hum of conversation. She brushed her hair out of her face, holding her palm to her forehead, trying to quieten the loud ache that resided there. Standing in front of the mirror, she considered herself and smiled. Once again, she could recognise the person in the mirror, despite the unfamiliarity still of her longer blonde hair. The dark rings from under her eyes had disappeared and there was a warmth to her cheeks again underneath her dusting of freckles. She shook her head, foolish thoughts of happiness flooding her mind. But they were good. She was good.

And then she felt the clenching in her gut again, not as powerful as this morning, but enough to make her lurch. Splashing some cold water to her face, she refreshed herself, sweeping other thoughts under the carpet. She cupped her hands under the water and brought it to her mouth to drink, tempering her queasiness and headache.

By the time she got back, Mulder had already ordered and a glass of orange juice was waiting for her on the table.

"I chose the huevos rancheros. It's the specialty dish and I thought you deserve a treat for putting up with me this last couple of months." He smirked mischievously and then he turned sombre. "I know I haven't always been there for you when you needed, Dana, and you're still here for me–"

She brought his hand to hold it against her cheek.

"Of course, I am," she interrupted, which made his smile reappear.

They waited in companionable silence for their brunch, never deciding whether to gaze out at the bay or at each other. When the food came, Scully made her way through the large portion of fried eggs, which Mulder raised his eyebrows at but didn't question.

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Midday and they were back on the road driving to nowhere, an appetising silence filling the space. Mulder's hand rested on her leg and Scully had her fingers twined through his. He kept stealing frequent glances at her, smiling every time he caught a glimpse of the freckles that dusted her rosy cheeks, or the curl of her lips, or her red roots showing through her blonde hair-- the Scully he loved reappearing from behind the cracks in her walls.

"Do you ever think about him? Our son?" She broke his spell of reverie and looked at him inquisitively. "What he might be doing at this very moment whilst we are miles away?"

He sighed and gently squeezed her hand. "Dana, you know the answer to that."

"I know... I wanted to hear it from someone else."

She continued to look at him with a softness that almost broke him and he paused for a moment, remembering holding his tiny baby. It seemed so long ago and wished there was more to remember, but he held them with fondness, the phantom feeling of his tiny fingers wrapped around his little one, never letting him forget. Those fingers would be bigger now, stronger, but he could still feel them. He clenched his fists on the steering wheel reflexively.

"Not a day goes by when I don't think of how well he'll be doing and how proud I am of him."

"Not a day goes by where I don't think the same." She looked out towards the glistening of the sea with a frown knitted into her brow. "It... It's strange... learning to love someone from afar... Accepting... that we only a small part of his life now takes some getting used to."

Mulder swallowed apprehensively, his heart clenching around her words pinning precisely how he had felt out in the desert and now.

"Dana?" His voice was pricked with worry. "What's brought this on?"

"I don't know," she sighed.

Pressing the cool flesh of her fingers to her forehead, she sucked in a breath. Every lump in the road seemed amplified with the motion of the car. The churning of the tires over asphalt mimicked the churning in her stomach.

"Stop the car. I need to get out," she whispered.

"Scully?"

She gulped a breath and managed to raise her voice a little. "Stop the car!"

As soon as Mulder had pulled over to the side of the road, Scully was out of the car and doubled over, the contents of her brunch returning. Initially, shock had caught him like a deer in headlights, but Mulder rushed to her side and swept the hair from her face, anxiously clenching his jaw.

"Jeez Scully," he breathed, rubbing her back.

Coughing, she stood up and brushed away his hand.

"It's okay, Mulder. I'm fine."

He cupped her cheeks, wiping some spittle from the corner of her mouth with his thumb, and gazed into her welling, blue eyes. Back-dropped by the ocean, they glistened surrendering to something solemn deep inside. He sighed and pulled her into his chest.

"You forget I know what 'I'm fine' means."

She let his words hang in the air, trying to avoid them but only hurtling towards inevitable admittance. With her head cradled between his hand and chest, she let the tiniest tear form and fall.

He stood still for her like that, absorbing her sniffs, stroking her hair, never questioning her need to let go and have control over herself. She tried to stay rigid and unmoving and he feared that she was drawing into herself again, hiding from him to protect herself again. That their rhythm was out of sync again after things felt like they were falling into place. In reality, he knew it had only been a couple of months since they had started this journey: no time at all. He couldn't expect deep wounds to heal with one plaster of good fortune. But it had already felt like years of waiting, and he was tired, exhausted from the grief, wanting to move on. Maybe they weren't ready to move on yet.

"I feel fine, Mulder." She pressed the words muffled into his chest. "Better than I have in a while but... I-- I don't think I am... fine."

"What do you mean?"

She lifted her head from his chest but still couldn't look him in the eye, ashamed that she might have kept something so important from him. "I think I might be ill. From either stress or a virus, I don't know. But I've had migraines and nausea for some time now."

She watched as his eyes softened with compassion, and she felt more guilty for ever thinking he shouldn't know.

"Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

He brought his hands to her face more gently this time as if he were holding delicate china, his thumbs soothing over the pattern of her cheeks. Scully placed her hands on his arms, pulling them away.

"I didn't want you to worry, especially with your own condition. And I thought it would pass."

"Scully, you need to let me worry." He wanted to cup her cheeks again, to feel the reassuring weight of her press against his skin. He looked down at where their hands slowly swung like a cradle between them, all their worry turned to motion as it tried to escape. "What do you need?"

"Some ginger ale and some painkillers for the symptoms." Her tone took on a cold and measured value, detached from feeling and from herself as doctor Scully took over.

"For the cause?"

"I should probably see a doctor."

He nodded solemnly. "Okay. Let's get you some ginger ale and pain killers first."

Mulder guided her back to the car, his hand like it always had been, a rudder at her back. She didn't shy away from his touch and even gave him a smile from one corner of her mouth. She sat down clumsily in the passenger seat, grasping onto Mulder's arm to steady herself.

"We'll get through this." Scully looked up at him earnestly. "Us both."

"I should be the one saying that to you, Scully."

She gave him an honest smile, letting him know that what she had said was true: she did feel fine. Even better than that, she felt good-- great-- until another wave of nausea hit, but it never lasted long. She was more worried about him than she was herself.

Time seemed to drag along with each steady revolution of the wheels. Mulder was driving extra slowly, conscious of Scully who had the window wound down and the fresh air blowing in to keep her nausea at bay. She looked radiant even though she was struggling to keep the rest of her breakfast down. The sun danced through her golden hair and over her skin, lighting little kisses of freckles across the flush of her cheeks.

He felt her small hand reach across and squeeze his knee, and although he was focusing on the road, he could tell she was smiling, gazing at the city they were driving through. Her index finger was probably over her lips, her arm resting on the door like she did whenever she was quietly happy. Mulder kissed the back of her hand before pulling into a grocery store parking lot.

"You coming?" she asked as she got out of the car, hope sprung in her voice.

He grinned. "I wouldn't dream of leaving."

Inside, the ginger ale and tablets were easy enough to find, but it was something else in the health aisle that had made Mulder stop. He felt like his heart had stopped and the air had stopped moving in his lungs. The only thing that hadn't stopped was his mind whirring at a million miles an hour, escaping down a rabbit hole without him and he was left to chase after the implications.

"Mulder? Are you okay?" She tugged on his arm.

"Yeah. I'm good..." He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Have you thought..."

Scully stepped in front of his gaze,

"Have I thought what?"

She turned around and followed his line of sight like a red piece of string held in the air, connected to him stretched out beyond her. It was almost tangible the way he was focused so intensely like she could trail it with her fingers. She too stopped when she caught sight of what held his attention, the breath knocked out of her.

"Mulder don't be ridiculous. You and I both know it's impossible," she breathed.

He reached for the innocuous box, holding it tentatively.

"When was the last time you got your period? You haven't used any of the tampons we bought. It's been almost two months."

Anger broiled in her gut, wanting so desperately for him not to be correct. She hadn't thought about the tampons, why hadn't she thought about the tampons? She pushed aside all rationality in denial, feeding that fire that she might not recognise the pain.

"Mulder, just because I missed my period does not mean I am pregnant." Her voice was shaky with restrained emotion. "It's normal to miss a month once in a while, and with the stress of our current situa--"

"Just, please. And then we can rule it out for definite."

He looked mellowly at her, eyes soft with a mix of affection and concern, and she felt her resolve puddle.

"Fine," she sighed, half snatching the kit from him in her frustration.

He felt her rip at his heart as she grabbed it and he wanted to take it back, wish he never thought of it himself. She was frightened, he could tell in the way she projected her strength. But her strength only pushed him away from where he wanted to be most. He blamed himself for bringing this upon her, that he couldn't help her without harming her. He gently took her hand back and she looked at him, holding back tears that threatened to fall, holding back a heaviness in her breathing like cries threatening to spill. It made him queasy seeing the look that had haunted him the last couple of months return. Like a ghost, he saw her desperately cling onto everything familiar whilst inside she was starting to strip herself empty, using numbness as a defence. He wanted to give her back the smile that she had had earlier, fill her back up with laughter and love. He looked at the box.

Scully turned, slipping out of his hands to find the checkout. "You coming?"

Yeah, he thought.

Scully was silent in an all too familiar, daunting way. She stood in front of him, strong but rigid, confident but scared as she paid for the ginger ale, the paracetamol... the pregnancy test. He winced as she reached her hand back to touch his, felt the tremours brush through her fingertips as she stayed rigid.

She reached her hand back to ground herself in him, control the dizzying, drunk feeling of floating in a void of uncertainty. She was burning up from the inside with an injustice she tried to ignore, and the feel of his skin was cool enough to douse her and keep her anchored. Whatever happened she wanted him there, and she wanted him to know that. Whatever happened it was for both of them. She only hoped to god it wouldn't be true.

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Her fate was already sealed, she knew that, but if she prayed hard enough she felt like she could twist reality in her favour. Mulder was waiting outside the restroom and she was alone inside, holding the test between her fingers. The cap clicked loudly as she removed it from the tip of the test. Suddenly, her heart started to thump in her throat and her stomach tried to work its way up to meet it. Taking deep breaths, she did her best to push that anxious part of herself down. Her fate was sealed, and she wanted to trust God, whatever he had decided for her, but she wasn't sure she could. She wasn't sure he was still there for her. The only thing she could do was take the test.

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Mulder heard the toilet flush and, tipping his head back against the wall, he held his breath. He was leaning against the wall that separated him from Scully, waiting for the verdict. He didn't know what he wanted, except for Scully to be okay. He held onto that idea lest he start thinking of futures that could never be.

The restroom door opened and he stood up, watching Scully as she quietly walked out.

"Do we know yet?"

"No, we'll have to wait a few minutes."

She kept her head hung low, avoiding his gaze.

"Do you want to go and wait in the car?"

He touched her cheek and she startled, offering a weak smile when she saw his.

"Umm, yeah."

Mulder held the test level as they walked out, Scully clutching his other hand. She took a sip of the ginger ale, but it did nothing to quell the nerves brewing in her. Her walk was unsteady as she tried to ignore the other people around her. There was only her and Mulder in the world, but the loud intrusions of other people talking, of traffic, tested her to her limits.

Mulder leaned down to whisper in her ear, "It's okay: no one is watching us." and Scully smiled, reassured that his uncanny ability to read her was still strong. She leaned into his arm. Us, she thought, together in spite of the outcome.

They both sat in an itchy silence waiting for the time to pass, Scully stock still and Mulder fidgeting with his fingers. It was only a few minutes but it felt like hours, constantly checking the radio clock. The illuminated digits didn't change quick enough, every time they looked back at them they were the same as if time was standing still. Or at least time was going slower, edging towards entropy, the final moments before the answer closer and incrementally closer like Schrodinger's cat finally getting a diagnosis. Until she reached to turn the test over.

Scully looked at the stick and sat back, putting it back face down on the dashboard.

Mulder picked it up and a sudden surge of joy infected him, a grin spreading across his features. Two lines. Until he looked at Scully, whose eyebrows were pinched together as she stared up at the sunroof. Slowly she closed her eyes and let a single tear fall.

#maybe there's hope #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #on the run #Okay all caught up now 😊#xf fanfic

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flowesona · 4 years

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guess how much i love you - soft yandere! seokjin x reader

This is part of the MFEEU canon, written by the amazing and talented @worldwidemochiguy. I hope I can do it justice :)

“What’s wrong, little Yoona?” Jin crouched down to see Yoona. She was sulking in the corner, having pushed away all of her pseudo-siblings until one of them finally resorted to asking Jin for help. Jin always had a way to make Yoona smile, yet even now as he pinched her cheek and gave her buckets of attention he could barely get a sniffle out of her.

Finally she gave some kind of reaction to him. As he continued to try to coax her into smiling, she finally pointed at something as the cause of her woes. Jin followed where her finger was pointing to the sofa, where Hanuel and Jihae were cuddled together with their Nintendo switches engaged in visiting each other’s towns in animal crossing.

“Why does Hanuel-eonni treat Jihae differently to me?” She whimpered. Her godfather smiled, turning her gently to face him.

“That’s because they’re in love. One day, you’re going to find someone you love like that.”

“Really?” Yoona was looking at Jin as if he was some kind of prophet, enlightening her on the path to true happiness.

“Yes. You know that when I met aunty (Y/N) it was love at first sight?”

“Really?”

“Of course, Yoona. Of course, it wasn’t easy, but love never is.” Seeing how his discussion with Yoona had pacified her qualms slightly, he had an idea to make her happy.

“How about I tell you the story of how I met aunty (Y/N)? Should we find your Shooky and have a storytime?” He offered.

“I’m not a kid anymore!” Yoona had pouted, but eagerly climbed onto his lap with her round plushie in tow ready for his highly anticipated storytimes.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“N-no, stop!” Jin raised his head at the sound of the melodic voice. His focus switched from the seven takeaway coffee cups he was trying to balance to the source of the glorious sound. And it was love at first sight.

She was near perfect. Her skin glowed, her eyes were filled with an otherworldly mirth and her sweater hugged her body in just the right way. The only part of her that was marred was her arm, to which some unattractive boy clung. Not a hair on his body held any appeal, yet the girl seemed infatuated, giggling at every word he said as they waited for their order.

“(Y/N)? A cappuccino with a double espresso shot?” So that was her name? Jin watched as she took her coffee with a sleep-deprived grin. And he knew he had to have her.

He whipped out his phone and dialed Taehyung’s number quickly, still glancing at the couple as they waited for the vermin’s drink.

“I need your help.” He said quickly. “Fuck, she’s leaving.”

Taehyung quickly caught on.

“Follow her. See if she’s going home. Do you have her name?” Taehyung’s voice was background noise as Jin followed (Y/N) out of the shop. Snow was starting to drift down, sticking to his hair and dampening his clothes but in that moment his appearance was the least of his worries.

As he told Taehyung her name, her appearance, and the university he presumed she attended due to her sweatshirt being emblazoned with the name of a nearby establishment.

“I found her. We’ll have all her details in a few hours. Come back to the offices and we’ll sort this all out, alright?”

It was only when he hung up his phone he realised that half of the various hot drinks he’d volunteered to bring back for everyone - planning to secretly use the outing as a opportunity to spike their beloved drinks with salt - had spilt onto the ground in his haste. But he couldn’t care less about his colleagues when fate had granted him a much greater design.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“We understand you applied for the assistant role last week?”

(Y/N) was hidden in the back of the university library, trying desperately to keep her voice down whilst attempting to quell the situation.

“As I said, you’ve got the wrong person. If you’ll excuse me…”

“You are (L/N) (Y/N), correct? We have all your details on record.”

She didn’t respond.

“Well, if you want the position then come to our offices by 11AM tomorrow in business casual.”

The phone call ended, leaving (Y/N) with all sorts of unnerved feelings.

Those feelings intensified as she stood outside the offices the next day in a simple blouse and trousers. Whilst the strange circumstances surrounding the offer were nothing to be ignored, she’d looked up the company name to find they were a reputable business, and their staff pay was nothing to sniff at. As a student barely able to afford a coffee in the morning, could she really afford to look a gift horse in the mouth?

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The job was truly a blessing upon her life. Reasonable hours that perfectly coincided with her university lectures, decent pay and fellow employees who seemed to respect her.

She didn’t know why, of course. How could she know of the stranger pulling the strings behind the scene to get her into his arms?

“Sorry, could you drop this off with Kim Seokjin? He’s on the top floor. You can borrow my keycard to get there.” One of her colleagues asked, pressing a manila folder into her hand along with the keycard needed.

“Sure.”

Her heart was pounding as she scanned the keycard to enter the new level of offices. Never before had she been around such high up executives, who could have her fired in a second if they so pleased.

(Y/N) approached the first man she saw.

“Excuse me, do you know where Mr Kim is?” She asked timidly.

“You’re speaking to him, darling.” He responded, turning to face her. (Y/N) resisted the urge to blush when she made eye contact with him, as he excluded an aura of attractiveness and wealth she could never compete with.

“Oh, right. This is for you, sir.” She handed over the folder, trying not to die from the embarrassment.

“Wait a second.” She felt a presence next to her. Standing by her shoulder was another man. To put it simply, he was gorgeous. From his clear golden skin to his sharp features, it was as if an ancient statue had been breathed into life.

“That was meant for Kim Seokjin, right? That’s me.”

As if the situation could get any worse.

“Kim is a common surname, darling.” The former man commented as he passed the folder to the real Seokjin.

Noting the look of anguish on her face, Seokjin took one of her hands into his own.

“You’re new here, right? Don’t worry, it’s an easy mistake to make.” He offered her a warm smile.

“Thank you. I should go…” (Y/N) gently tried to pry her hand out of his hoping to end the whole interaction as soon as possible.

“Here, my card.” Seokjin pressed a rectangular business card into her hands, emblazoned with his name and number in stunning cursive. “Call me, and I’ll take you out for dinner sometime. As an apology.”

(Y/N) nodded, and he finally released her.

The business card lay buried in her purse for days afterwards. She couldn’t bear to face him again to be reminded of her embarrassment. But her interia was only serving to anger Jin.

“It’s been three weeks, Jin-hyung.” Taehyung said cooly. “Maybe it’s time to try again.”

His office had become a second home for Jin, who would spend around an hour each day ranting and raving to his boss, who just took it all on board with a knowing grin every time.

“How?” Jin muttered. “How do I get her to talk to me?”

“If there’s a will, there’s a way.” Taehyung responded, tempted to return to his mountain of work but also not wanting to leave Jin to wallow in doubt.

Jin just kept pacing.

“You could give her a promotion? Or maybe you could turn up at her university and sit on a lecture or two. That way you’d have an excuse to see her when you like.” Taehyung pressed. “You’ve still got some holiday hours this year to spare.”

Jin didn’t reply, but his decision was already made.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) was ready to go back to sleep. No number of espresso shots could cure her banging headache, as her hangover weighed down her body as if she was carrying a ten pound barbell on her back.

She didn’t noticed how someone new had slipped into the seat next to her in the lecture theatre. All that occupied her mind at 9am was the desire for sleep. The double life of being a student and office worker was wearing on her hard, and she was contemplating on handing in her notice. The only thing that kept her from so was the tantalising paychecks and the haunting beauty of Seokjin, the memory of whom which had remained in some unused part of her brain.

The professor had a droning voice. The monotone syllables were practically a lullaby, and surely resting her head for a few minutes wouldn’t hurt? Not when she was at the back of the theatre and was practically unnoticeable.

Jin smiled as he observed (Y/N) slowly drifted into a deep sleep. The poor lamb had overworked herself. If only she knew of how he wanted to make sure she would never lift a finger again. He’d bided his time, months of casual stalking building up the the moment he’d finally decided to sit next to her, and how fortune had smiled upon his to give him the chance to admire her without being ‘creepy’.

Her deep sleep remained uninterrupted as people started to leave the lecture theatre, and a daring plan started to form in Jin’s mind. It was dangerous to just take her in the middle of the crowd, but it wasn’t like anyone else was particularly attentive at 10am and besides, anyone who asked questions could be paid off without a worry.

Gently he scooped (Y/N) up under his arm. She didn’t stir, as he gently guided her to the exit amidst the groups of other lethargic students. Navigating the crowd with a sleeping girl attached to him wasn’t easy, but Jin managed to make it out of the building and into his car without her waking up. It warmed his heart to see her head loll against the soft leather of his car interior as he indicated for the driver to start the engine.

Halfway to their destination, (Y/N)’s eyes starting to peel open.

“Mmmm... where am I?” The confused words stumbled out of her mouth as (Y/N) rubbed at her eyes.

“We’re going home.” Jin responded simply.

“Home? Wait... why are you here? Aren’t you... you’re one of the bosses from work?” The gears in (Y/N)’s brain we’re starting to turn.

“Well... yes. We can call this a promotion, I guess?”

The warmth of his smile, the smooth feeling of the leather car interior against her back and the steady beat of her heart all worked to convince (Y/N) that she was alright. It wasn’t conventional, but the adoration in Jin’s eyes was like a dream.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Unfortunately, a serious event plagued their ‘honeymoon’ period.

On Tuesday morning, as Jin gently woke her up with a cup of coffee, he noticed something was wrong. Her face was hot to the touch, and she could barely open her eyes.

Evidently, the cold weather and her busy schedule had taken a toll on her health. For the day she was stuck in bed, Jin dabbing at her forehead with a wet cloth and feeding her spoonfuls of broth.

“(Y/N)? How do you feel, my love?” Jin posited as she was nestled up half paying attention to the TV he’d brought into their room.

Through her drowsy drawl, he could barely make out what she was trying to say.

“Why are you… so nice? No one has ever loved me, not like you do. It’s not normal, to have your boss slash kidnapper treat you better than your exes. I don’t know why I’m not fighting you like any sensible human should.”

Seeing tears start to well up, Jin wiped at her eyes, wanting to shush her but simultaneously wanting her to continue praising him.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend who cares for me like you do… this isn’t right. I must be dreaming.”

Jin gave her a soft smile, his heart drumming loudly in his chest.

“This is reality.This is love. And I love you all the way to the moon and back.”

Before he could go on to tell her of what lengths he would go to show her his love, she’d fallen asleep.

He wanted nothing more than to stay by her side for the rest of the day, but the vibration of his phone in his pocket reminded him that he still had a job to do. He left the bedroom before answering it, closing the door with as soft of a click as possible.

“How’s it going, lover boy?”

“Shut it, Jimin.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“You see, love triumphs all. When you love someone, you should stop at nothing to make them love you back.” Jin concluded. Yoona had been hooked onto his every word, Jihae and Hanuel long gone both from the room and from her mind.

“Yoona? Yoona, we have to go!” At the call of her father the young girl clambered out of her godfather’s hold.

“Do you feel better now?” Jin asked. She nodded happily.

“Will you tell me more stories next time?”

“Yoona!” Yoongi finally found her next to her godfather.

“Go find Mommy, she’s got your jacket.” Yoona nodded happily, rushing off leaving only the two colleagues.

“You’ve gone soft, hyung.” Yoongi commented.

“Show a bit more respect for your elders.” Jin snarked back, but he couldn’t hide his happy glow.

“Sure thing. Pass on my regards to your wife.” Yoongi said before turning on his heel to find his own family.

Now that he was all alone, Jin pulled out his phone to send a quick message.

‘Be home soon, love.’

(Y/N) responded about ten seconds with a gif of two dogs hugging, to which Jin chuckled.

‘I love you. All the way to the moon and back.’

#yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jin #yandere seokjin #yandere seokjin x reader #yandere au #yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #soft yandere #yandere kim seokjin #yandere kim seokjin x reader #yandere jin x reader #bts jin #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin #kim seokjin x reader #yandere kpop #kpop yandere

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rainbowcarousels · 3 years

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I don't know how interesting this is going to be but I started to answer a comment on the latest JBSWM from @zanahoriabaila and realised I actually kind of want to talk more depth about the subject so I'm going to post it up here. Between talking a little about Genesis especially on twitter and briefly talking a couple of chapters ago about Sephiroth, it's kind of all been ruminating into something meta that borders on a directors commentary.

Again, how come your Genesis always spews all the stuff I think?

This is absolutely something I do with my version of Genesis on the regular and there's a few different reasons why he’s my character of choice for uncomfortable examinations of stuff.

Cut for discussion of fic, canon, trauma and interrelationships with everyone!

The first reason is the Eve symbolism that comes with Genesis as a character. There's a decent bit of it with Genesis (much like Aerith) when you consider his name, his limit break, his carrying around of the forbidden fruit and the look of the Goddess statue and in CC canon, he is the first person to tell Sephiroth about what Jenova is. As such, giving a lot of the harder hitting commentary to Genesis feels natural because he is good at weaponising knowledge.

It also makes more sense out of AGS to give it to him because of each of their interactions with how knowledge effects them. The revelation of the Jenova Project in general (I hope!) illustrated this pretty well in that Angeal takes in knowledge and then thinks about what he should say or do or feel about it and it impacts it greatly. Sephiroth takes in the knowledge and tries to analyse and categorise because exploring how he feels emotionally about something is really difficult for him and unless it's pertinent, he just doesn't address it in terms of how to feel about it. Genesis in contrast to both goes instantly to what he is feeling in the moment and it fuels his decisions and choices.

Angeal's issue comes when what he should feel and what he does feel are so at odds that he can't reasonably justify how he feels and he's been going through a lot of that since he doesn't want to think ill of his mother, he does not want to consider that his father might have lied to him and he absolutely does not want to think about Hollander at all. His sense of honour is wrapped up in family, in the idea that he pulled himself up to get where he is with hard work and determination and that he does make a positive difference and he's just...completely lost right now emotionally because he can't reconcile his feelings with what he thinks he should feel.

Sephiroth's comes when something is emotive and he can't pick it apart and make sense of it through physical and observable changes. I think this probably comes from spending his childhood as a lab specimen so he knows how to report things that are observable and that emotions are too subjective so he doesn't include them. Then getting thrust into war, he also learns to describe himself by a physical status report. Zack gives him one based on how he is physically because he knows this is how Sephiroth is. The problem for him and the reason he is as noted by the same comment so detached is because he just doesn't really process anything emotional in any significant way, which is why as noted in one of my much earlier chapters, he struggles with saying 'I love you' because it's pure emotion and he tries to show it in his own way instead.

Then you have Genesis who runs on his emotions and experiences like they're fuel. There's a throwaway line in Don't You Know My Name about how Genesis doesn't so much like or dislike things as he dismisses or obsesses over them and because of that, he has the nastiest tunnel vision and comes across as self centred. He likes to write his own narrative in a way that makes sense to him based on what information he has and how he feels about it. There's a line in the song from JBSWM's title song that says 'judgment made can never bend' and I think this is part of Genesis struggling more with Zack's inclusion into their relationship with Cloud because he formed his own opinions on Cloud and Zack is Angeal's little puppy he's been hearing about for years. It's hard to shift perspectives for him.

Zack and Cloud have their own relationships with truth and feelings but Gast is history for AGS. So onto Gast, because that the subject being discussed in the chapter. It's not something new, if I go by my own timeline, Genesis and Angeal have known since they were 15 about a decent chunk of what happened as Sephiroth's background and Angeal comes down hard on the 'respect what Sephiroth feels even if it's not entirely accurate because it's important to him' side and Genesis comes down on the 'This was bullshit and Sephiroth needs to know it was bullshit regardless of how attached he is to the memory of Gast because he needs to deal with it'.

Zack and Cloud are just forming their opinions and it'll happen over a few chapters, but Zack is far more emotion based but he also has rose coloured glasses and if there is an upside, he will find it. Cloud, growing up feeling angry and isolated and idolising Sephiroth, kind of has a similar way of coping as him in that he has this idea he can't be openly emotional or vulnerable because he'll get hurt but he also isn't about to pull any punches either. It should make for interesting interaction hopefully.

I think Sephiroth is more knowledgeable than he realises in that he quickly guesses from Genesis being willing to share that they are in the 'experimented on parents' club that this is colouring some of his interaction here. He backs down earlier when the subject comes up, not because he thinks he's wrong but he's not pushing that hard because as much as it comes from a place where he's sad and angry that this terrible thing happened to someone he loves, he can rationalise backing down because his feelings are second hand. Except now they're not. While Angeal and Sephiroth can look at their parents to some degree and assign some kind of blame (and Cloud can from being victimised), he can't because he doesn't know who his parents are or what the circumstances were but Gast was the head of the department when this crap went down so he is a prime target for someone to be furious at.

These guys spent their teenage years building coping mechanisms based on battlefield experience, it's probably not a surprise Sephiroth is practical and tries to funnel it into something productive, Angeal tries to find the honourable method of dealing with it in the way he's supposed to and Genesis just wants someone, anyone appropriate to unleash all of that emotion on. I'd also argue that Zack tries to apply it to being the best hero he can be even though he was doing a lot of pretty unhero-like things and Cloud was cannon fodder, it's no surprise his sense of worth is in the toilet and he can't really grasp the idea of being special.

Someone described JBSWM as five broken people trying to make each other whole and I don't think it's exactly right, but it is close. It's five people trying to figure out a way to live with a shit ton of trauma and a lot of it is trauma they're complicit in which is really difficult to work through given all time and resources let alone trying to deal with Shinra at the same time.

This kind of brings me back to why Genesis is often the pushing person in the relationship and why he's not always right to do it.

As horrible as the Project G revelations are, it's not the same as growing up in the way Sephiroth (and in some ways, Aerith) did and he has the coping mechanisms he has for good reasons. He needs to have this idea of Gast as this good person who tried to be good to him but died because the alternative is Gast wandered off the moment he wasn't as interesting anymore and left him (in JBSWM's timeline at around the age of 4) to try and survive it by himself. He's already lost this perfect idea of a mother by having the 'L' put there and all SOLDIERs having JENOVA on their files and he's kind of desperately clinging onto something good because he hasn't really thought about what a lot of it would look like to someone coming in now until Cloud started to ask about it and had enough first hand experience to know it was really messed up. He can justify it as Gast was the better scientist, the better man, the better influence for him but if you start taking that away, it puts him in the position of being victimised and abused and that's all there is and I don't think he knows how to even begin to process that. As @aimeelouart pointed out, if he thinks about it or talks about it with any perspective, he would have to acknowledge he is traumatised and a large part of his identity has been built on his own invincibility. How can he be traumatised if that’s so?

The flipside of it being that I don't think any of them understood fully in a conscious way what happened with Sephiroth’s childhood until they saw it up close and personal with Cloud and even if it's coming from Genesis (dude is loud), Angeal is also pissed off and furious that it's just as bad as they thought it might be but could never be sure because they've only ever seen the aftermath and he does not talk about it. Zack got it all in one, he heard about it and saw it and is trying to deal with that but for Genesis and Angeal, it's festered for a decade and since no one save for maybe Zack has ever met a single healthy coping mechanism, it goes out as Angeal being cautious and letting Sephiroth set his own pace and Genesis going no, this is important, you have to confront this because if it hurts them from just caring about him and realising how bad it was, if Sephiroth some day realises how awful it was, he's going to just...shatter or explode and they'll lose him and even if he struggles to express it sometimes, he does love him dearly and like with Cloud, he wants him to figure out what will make him happy and it doesn’t seem like he’ll feel happy until he can stop blocking out what he’s feeling on instinct as some leftover coping mechanism. Cloud having to deal with his own lab trauma just brings it to the forefront and Genesis is not wasting the opportunity.

The thing is I don't think he's wrong about it because I think Alien Demi-god Sephiroth and Sane Sephiroth are two sides of the exact same person. There's hints of it here and there, but I think one of the biggest ones is he's very possessive and it took Hojo crossing the line and almost killing Cloud when he was beginning to grow attached to him to get him to move out of his holding pattern. In a way, this can also be traced all the way back to Gast and the idea of his mother because it's this almost childlike view that when he's attached to someone, they leave and it hurts so the obvious answer is make it so they can't leave or in the case of canon, try to push them to come back. I genuinely do not think Jenova knew what they were getting themselves into with him because they were like 'hey I could be your mom' and got absolutely swallowed by someone who was hurting, desperate for connection and just So Fucking Done with all of it until his will overrode theirs and he was never, ever going to be alone again because the entire planet would be reborn as part of him.

Not the direction I'm going with JBSWM, they have some things they need to work on with each other but they are together and leaving Shinra was as close to a statement of commitment as you can get. With Midgar behind them and a chunk of their identity and dreams left with it, trying to face those uncomfortable truths will be hard for everyone and as much as Genesis puts it out there, he’ll struggle with his own too because if they have to deal with their shit, so does he.

#to say this got away from me is a gross understatement #i hope it makes a little sense #fic: just be still with me #fic related meta

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