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braindeadmaggot · 2 years

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Yaay I get to ask you stuff!

2. Most hated character?

3. Favorite romantic ship with Shachi? And with Bonney?

16. If you could change one thing in One Piece (the story or the world), what would it be?

ask away sensei~ I am prepared to answer all.

BUT BEWARE ALL WHO ENTER!!

This will end up long winded and preachy just like my tags and fic comments.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

2. Most hated character?

believe it or not it’s not Blackbeard lol. I’m actually kind glad he exists and while I wish we had seen more of Thatch (it’s crazy he literally has like TWO panels in the manga and he’s super duper popular throughout the fandom, it’s so great). I hate quite a few characters, mostly because they suck or they pissed me off, but my top two are Nami and Bartholomew Kuma.

Why Nami? She’s kinda.... meh to me. Don’t get me wrong, I like that there are some normies in the plot that aren’t just naturally superhuman like Zoro and Sanji (but then we learn it’s haki and biological experimentation). Usopp’s a normie (his ammo is not), Tashigi and Kuina seem pretty normal to me (just very skilled with swords). Bartolomeo is pretty normal (he just has a janky devil fruit). I’m not really sure what it is, I had already disliked her before I discovered them diehard Nami haters (are they even still around, I never followed any of that). She was cool at first but I think the timeskip ruined her for me. Hard to explain. Hatred for Nami 7/10.

Bartholomew Kuma........ Kuma Kuma Kuma. Where the fuck do I start with this? I’ve had blow ups with Cyriusli about this a few times whenever his ass popped back up in the story line or in rando memes. I didn’t mind him in Thriller Bark, thought he was a good add-in to the whole ‘fuck around and find out’ bits. I love the memes of Zoro figuring out that his sacrifice was pointless because Kuma wasn’t really going to kill his boss’ son. Those are hilarious! It was during the time skip when we learned about Kuma, about him being a Revolutionary, when Ivankov got mad in the flashback, when we saw him guarding the Sunny, when he was a slave to the Celestials. It actually took me a couple of years and some talks with Cyriusli until I realized that Kuma planned all of this. How I didn’t notice before I have no clue, but everything he did, he did just full intention. He made deals with Vegapunk to experiment on him (consent), he sent the Straw Hats to islands that were perfect for their growth (you think he knew Sanji hated okama or was he just thinking “oh this boy is a cook, Iva-chan has all these amazing recipes he made for us before, this young cook will benefit from this” and just sent Sanji’s homophobic ass off to Twirling Heart Island. I also think he knew full well about Zoro’s plans to fight Mihawk so that must have been a last attempt at being a troll before becoming a mindless drone). And his last wish before losing all control was to protect the Sunny. What the serious fuck Kuma? How are you benefiting from this?? This is where I get mad. Why didn’t you tell Ivankov and Inazuma (oh btw I ship KumaZuma)? Why the lies? Why the deceit? Who are you trying to protect? I asked all these questions and thought of something.

NEW THEORY: He sent Franky to one of Vegapunk’s abandoned labs... He sent Franky to learn ALL ABOUT Vegapunk’s experiments. Bastard is banking on Franky being able to turn him back. That’s what it is. At first maybe he didn’t see a way out, but then he saw Franky and the Sunny at Thriller Bark, and of course he follows the news and learned about the new crewmate, he knows what Franky’s capable of. He finally agreed to Vegapunk’s terms and gave up, hoping the Straw Hats might save him. Now that’s a huge gamble but we all know Franky is a man of honor and might volunteer to do it. My hatred for Kuma went from 10/10 to 8/10, but I still don’t like him.

3. Favorite romantic ship with Shachi, or Bonney?

ho ho ho, before I got into KilGuin I was shipping Penguin with Shachi, and Killer with Bonney. I think the whole KilBon came from some old fanart when we were first introduced to the Supernova and also the fact that his fave food is pasta, and her fave food is pizza. I just imagined them owning an Italian resto together and said that’s the ship, done. Not the case anymore because I see Bonney as more of a lesbian or bisexual, but cares more about food than sex so it is was it is with her. I shipped Penchi because I liked the idea of them being childhood friends and they share a room in the sub and while they might not be exclusive to one another, they do often do dirty stuff together as a mutual “I scratch your back you scratch mine” kinda thing but they’re too close and too stupid to admit any real romantic feelings to the other. But they’re fine, they go to brothels together and dabble in the occasion threesome. [These are very old ideas, not sure if I’ll continue this when I write my monster fic.]

16. If you could change one thing in One Piece (the story or the world), what would it be?

As mentioned earlier I would have liked to see more of Thatch and who he was as a person. It’s confirmed that he’s a chef but I think we all deserve to see his talents showcased. Also how he interacted with the crew. Lot’s of fics and art depict him being super childish and playing pranks with Ace, making fun of Marco (aka Whitebeard’s parrot lol), and dancing with Izou. I love how the fandom made him into a real person but I crave to see him in official work.

I’d also like to see passed villains come back to the main plot. We see Foxy come back twice in fillers and in some movies, Crocodile came back in Impel down, Buggy is always around the lovable idiot. But I want to know more about Morgan and Klahadore, where did they go? What about Don Krieg? Did Mihawk chop him up and dump his body? What about Gin? We see Gin so much in fanfic, even in new released fics but he’s not been back since in the manga. What will happen if Morgan and Helmeppo meet again? Jango became a marine and I bet Morgan became a pirate lol.

SPOILERS: I think Eneru should make an appearance again with the happenings in the latest chapters.

In the world? Not sure... I theorize gravity is lower on OP Earth than ours, just by a little bit. Just enough to make us jump higher and fall slower but not affect our health too much, as the atmosphere will thin out a bit and it will be more difficult to breathe. (I imagine someone from our world would die if they go to Skypiea). (I was really excited to see this visualized in the new film Bubble, it’s on Netflix if you want to watch it~) so if this isn’t the case then i would change it to this.

My SO theorizes that the Void Century is like the missing history here in the Philippines. When the Spaniards came, they stayed for 333 years and they destroyed a lot of indigenous landmarks, tribes and nearly erased our mythology. There’s a lot that has been lost but luckily the Spanish didn’t go everywhere (we got over 7000 islands). It’d be cool if this was the inspiration (also Gray Terminal’s pollution is based on Manila).

#BrainDeadAsks #BrainDeadAnswers #Vergina-spva #long post #Bartholomew Kuma #one piece ask game

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sopyop · 3 years

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alright thats it im writing my wilbur paradigm shift rant

A quick preface! I joined the fandom very late, like in Jan 2021 late. I haven’t experienced much of wilbur’s character live. But, I’m still throwing my two cents out here. Also, all this is about Wilbur’s dream smp character.

So, I’ve seen a lot of conversation around when Wilbur’s spiral truly started; with losing the election, in pogtopia, or all the way back at Eret’s betrayal. And additionally I’ve seen talk of where Wilbur’s character is right now. I think I have a solution(?) for both. Wilbur did experience a breaking point during the revolution, at Eret’s betrayal, and while it may be considered the root of his spiral there is a different thing at play in my mind. What Wilbur experienced at Eret’s betrayal was a paradigm shift.

For those unaware, a paradigm shift is something that happens when someone’s core beliefs are fundamentally challenged, and your entire world view is shaken. An example of this may be if someone falls out of a religion, or falls into one, or even something quite small. All of us have experienced paradigm shifts, and will continue to. We don’t have the same beliefs that we did as children after all.

There are three general ways to react to a paradigm shift: you continue to cling to your previous notion, despite knowing it isn’t true; you swing to the complete opposite of your previous belief; or you build a new paradigm with all the information you now have. Eret’s betrayal was the root of Wilbur’s paradigm shift, and he went through all three reactions.

Before Eret’s betrayal, we saw Wilbur’s leadership skills, his beliefs in his community, in the ideals of freedom and “sticking it to the man”, and of protecting those he cared about. We saw the trust he placed in all of original L’Manburgians, and that he trusted and cared enough to go to war for their perceived needs of freedom. I’m not here to debate the revolution, hell I wasn’t around during it. But Eret’s betrayal shook Wilbur’s paradigm of absolute trust.

I would even argue Wilbur’s beliefs of words over violence stem from this comradery and belief that the people he trusts are the most important thing to him. I will admit, I don’t have a strong handle on Wilbur pre-L’Manburg. But I think it’s fair to note the shift in Wilbur even back then.

To get back to the paradigm: After Eret’s betrayal, Wilbur’s paradigm is broken, and at first he clings to it despite it being shattered. We see this with him running for president; he’s trying to grasp on to that sense of duty and trust and the power of words he believed so much in. But, then Quackity points out that it’s a power grab, and more people show support for other parties, and more L’Manburgians also attempt to run. And Wilbur’s paradigm continues to be challenged.

Losing the election is when Wilbur abandons his paradigm. It had already been shattered by Eret, but the election’s loss has solidified in his mind that he was wrong in what he believed during the revolution. And so he moves into the second form of coping with a paradigm shift: he goes to the complete opposite belief. No one around me are worthy of trust, words have no power, and the ideals L’manburg was founded on are wrong and corrupt.

(and just as a little storytelling nerd-out moment: That’s the kicker to me. Wilbur’s paradigm shift is something I find so fascinating because his paradigm was what quite literally shaped the world he lived in, and the world of so many others. Tommy still holds true to the paradigm Wilbur helped him shape, and while his has been challenged in so many ways (like by Wilbur’s spiral in Pogtopia, by Dream in exile, by Doomsday, by the prison; the list goes on), he has always continued to take the healthiest route of fixing it. By adapting and growing, while holding on to some of those core values that still ring true. Like trust. And seeing what happened to the literal embodiment of Wilbur’s paradigm even after he was gone makes it truly emotionally moving.)

So we move into Pogtopia, and Wilbur’s paradigm has yet to heal. He continues to spiral, he lashes out at those around him, and he plots to destroy L’manburg. Because, as I mentioned in my aside, L’manburg is the physical manifestion of Wilbur’s first paradigm. And now he can’t stand it.

And so L’manburg falls, and so does Wilbur. And through the lens of the circumstances of his death, as well as what we now know of his communication with Phil, his last speech gives us more insight into this paradigm. L’manburg was always his. It was the beliefs of a man who now refuses every single part of them that he used to hold dear. But it was also those beliefs that he continued to preach to his father in letters that eventually stopped being sent. And those beliefs were flipped in Pogtopia, like black to white and white to black, and have now been crushed by rubble.

But Wilbur dies, L’manburg rebuilds, with the ideals of new leaders and new struggles. Ideals of protection, and peace, and trust. And Ghostbur joins the game.

Ghostbur is an interesting character to me. In the lens of Wilbur’s paradigm, he is everything Wilbur believed without the fighting spirit. He is a good representation of what I understand of New L’Manburg; peaceful, and passive, and trusting. That trust, I think, is what Wilbur holds as the core of his paradigm. It’s what truly got shattered with Eret, what was abandoned in Pogtopia, and what is echoed in Ghostbur. Ghostbur trusts everyone he comes across, and we as the audience now get to see how naive that trust truly is. It gets Ghostbur lost in the snow while Tommy suffers, it get Friend killed during Doomsday, and it is eventually what gets Ghostbur killed, and gets Wilbur back.

Wilbur was dead for a long time, from his perspective. And right now, he’s seeing the world again. He knows now that his feelings in Pogtopia were self destructive and wrong. And he doesn’t want to feel like that again. What we are seeing now is Wilbur building a new paradigm.

“My L’manburg.” “My sunrise.”

Wilbur is exploring the new world of the SMP, and as an audience his actions are often confusing and contradictory. He’s grasping for straws, flitting between new places and attempting to rebuild bridges without truly fixing them. He’s trying to regain trust and build a new paradigm.

Wilbur, while being guite a morally grey character, has always shown very black and white thinking. Now that he’s back, he’s continuing those habits of absolutes but showing more of his awareness of those moral greys. Before, we got him jumping from believing himself to be a ‘good guy’ to a ‘bad guy’. We went from the ‘us versus them’ mentality of the revolution to the same mindset echoed poorly in the election, to ‘everyone versus me’ in Pogtopia.

Absolute trust like what Ghostbur had didn’t work. No trust like Pogtopia Wilbur had didn’t work. The community Wilbur built as a leader betrayed him. And so he goes to Phil and thanks him for killing him and asks for a place to stay. And so he says he would have murdered Dream for what he did to Tommy but he claims Dream’s his hero. And so he goes to Quackity and asks to be his servant, he lashes out when Quackity rejects him, and he clings to Tommy’s trust like it’s all he has. And in many ways, it is. Wilbur hasn’t been with anyone in over 13 years. And so he lies and he jokes and he lashes out, and begs Tommy not to leave while claiming right after that he doesn’t care. He hasn’t had anyone place trust in him or had anyone to trust. He’s taking any sign of remote kindness as something he can latch on to, and Dream bringing him back is a very sturdy olive branch. Wilbur wants trust. And yet he knows how it fails.

And so the sunrise is his, just like L’manburg was, but it’s not quite built on anything yet. And we have to only hope the paradigm Wilbur builds this time is healthy and stable.

#dsmp #wilbur #dsmp wilbur #dsmp analysis #dsmp wilbur analysis #soopspeaks #please reblog this i worked so hard #character analysis #long post #c!wilbur #c!wilbur analysis #mught jump off the deep end and go more in to Tommy's experience with Wilbur's paradigm #or i might just pass out

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 3 years

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the sky’s open wide, i’m running with the wolves - chapter 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, background Remy, background c!Thomas Rating: Teen & up (see Warnings) Relationships: Platonic/brotherly Virgil with Logan and the Creativitwins; platonic/parental Patton & Virgil; platonic/brotherly Logan and the Creativitwins with each other; platonic/parental Janus with Logan and the Creativitwins; background endgame Moceit. Warnings: Probably some language; references to Christianity; non-graphic violence. Word count: 1570 Notes: Wolfwalkers (2020) AU! You don’t need to have seen the movie to enjoy this, though.

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

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Summary: When Patton is charged with hunting down the wolves in the woods, he believes he is protecting his young son Virgil. But Virgil is afraid to watch his father vanish into the woods, and sneaks after him. When Virgil runs into three wolf cubs who hold the secrets of the forest, he has to make a choice: obey the rules he’s known all his life? Or try to help the three shapeshifting boys find their missing father—even though Virgil's always been taught that the only safe wolf is a dead one? As Virgil explores the wonderful world his new friends show him, and uncovers the lies his town is built on, he may be too late to realize that his choices will cost him more than he ever bargained for.

Chapter 1

Remy would never have particularly considered himself a God-fearing man. Oh, he said his prayers and went to church, of course, but it was more a comfortable habit woven into the fabric of his life than something he devoted much thought to. Even at nineteen, he preferred to occupy his day-to-day thoughts with such matters as the tending of his sheep, the comfort of a nice dry pair of woolen socks, the avoidance of wolves, and, most of all, the brewing of a good cup of tea.

Remy was good at his job. He tended his sheep; he stayed well away from the woods. Everyone knew you didn’t mess with the woods. Stay away from their territory, and keep up the deal of old, and always be safe. He had never put much thought into this, either; it was much more important, in Remy’s eyes, to consider the fine taste that a brew steeped just right could carry.

He never expected his thoughtless respect for the woods to pay off.

The first time Remy saw a Wolfwalker, he was twenty-five years old and had started to wonder if he even believed they were real. But after that day, he never doubted again.

After all, how else could one explain the way the huge, snarling gray wolf, poised to deliver a killing bite to one of Remy’s finest sheep, had heard that commanding howl come from the woods, and put its tail between its legs and run back home in response?

Remy had watched the wolf run, standing frozen in fear and shock—and then he’d seen the Wolfwalker. A tall, tremendous wolf standing at the edge of the treeline, easily twice the size of the largest man, with dark gray fur and eyes gleaming yellow, a jagged scar running down one side of its face. Lean and powerful. Remy instinctively knew this was no ordinary wolf.

Remy had never considered himself a God-fearing man, but staring at the Wolfwalker and the way it commanded the pack of ordinary wolves surrounding it, he thought to himself that perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to pray a little harder.

“Thank you,” he croaked out when the Wolfwalker turned its eyes on him. “Thank you, m’lord—bless ye—I’ll never cross your territory, you may be sure of that—thank you for protecting my sheep—” He barely even knew what he was saying, babbling out his thoughts in more than a little healthy terror.

He wasn’t quite sure if the way the Wolfwalker bowed its head was a nod of acknowledgement, but the next moment, the Wolfwalker was leaping away, the pack of wolves trailing in its wake. And not a single sheep of Remy’s had been harmed.

Remy didn’t see the Wolfwalker often; over the next decade or so, he crossed paths with—him? Remy somehow got the feeling it was a him—perhaps half a dozen times. Every time he came away filled with awe and fear and a renewed sense that though the Wolfwalker was terrifying and fearsome, Remy would far rather live under his odd protection than whatever farce could be provided by all these guards the new Lord Protector kept bringing around.

Before he knew it, Remy was nearly thirty-seven and his appreciation of a good cup of tea had only strengthened over the years. He went to church and said his prayers with gusto, and every night he glanced out to the woods and gave a little nod of respect. For the Wolfwalker and, these last few years, the little cubs that followed in his wake.

As long as the people kept themselves to themselves and stayed out of the woods, Remy knew there was nothing to fear from the wolves.

***

“I don’t want you to go!” Logan clung to Janus’s wrist, digging his heels into the ground and trying to physically hold him back.

Janus lifted his powerful arm and picked the near-teen right up off the ground with almost no effort at all. “This is terribly grown-up of you,” he informed his eldest son dryly.

“There are too many humans,” Logan insisted, dangling from Janus’s arm, the little claws of his hands pricking at Janus’s skin. “You said only the forest was safe!”

Janus drew a long breath. “And that has been true for time immemorial. But things have changed. I like it no more than you do. But I need you to stay here and look after your brothers, you understand me, Logan? I will find us a new forest, a safer one, without any humans who want to cut and burn the trees or trap us with iron. And then I will come back and get you three, and we will go there.”

“But this forest is ours!” Logan protested. “No other forest will be ours like this one is.”

“Logan,” Janus said, and his voice bore an undercurrent of a warning snarl now, “I am doing what I must to protect my cubs.”

He didn’t know where to go, only that they couldn’t stay here. Not with the way the humans kept getting bolder and bolder and venturing deeper into the woods. Between Logan’s poor eyesight and the twins’ recklessness, and the way all three of them were only cubs and couldn’t defend themselves well yet, Janus was getting twitchier and twitchier by the day.

Logan stilled, an unhappy look on his face. “Can I come with you, at least? I can help! I’m very good at figuring things out! We could find a new forest together!”

“No,” Janus responded at once, his heart rate quickening at the idea. “I don’t—” He broke off and reconsidered what he was about to say. “I need you to look after the twins,” he said at last, striving to keep his voice casual.

Not casual enough. Logan stared at him, a look of dawning horror on his face. “You think you might not come back!” he accused.

Janus refrained from speaking the curse he wanted to let out. Logan had always been far too observant. “Of course I’ll come back,” he lied through his teeth, running a comforting hand through Logan’s tangled hair. “I only want to make sure the way is safe for my little ones first.”

Logan had spoken the truth a moment ago: there were too many humans these days. Janus wasn’t sure it was possible to safely venture past the borders of the forest anymore. He wasn’t sure there was anywhere left to take his little ones.

He wasn’t sure he would survive this search.

But it wasn’t like there were any other options left at this point. “Logan,” Janus said, kneeling down and putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He focused on making his voice honey-sweet and sincere. “I’m going to keep you safe, you understand? I would never abandon you. You are in charge of keeping your brothers safe until I return, but I will be back in a month or two.” Janus held the little boy’s brown eyes and tried not to think of humans with their traps and spears and guns and the way that once Janus left the forest he would have nowhere to hide.

“I will come back,” Janus told Logan, and he put his whole heart into his lie. “I promise.”

***

“I don’t want to move to some stupid village.” Virgil kicked his feet against the edge of the wagon petulantly, poking a piece of straw through the bars of his kestrel Thomas’s cage.

Patton sighed and reached back to ruffle his son’s hair, not taking his eyes from the winding dirt road. “I know, kiddo. We’re going to have a better life there. The Lord Protector offers a handsome salary to Hunters who can bring down wolves. They say the town is terrorized day and night, and they need to rid the forest of these pests so they can safely harvest the wood and expand the borders of the town.”

“But I hate when you go hunting!” Virgil crawled up to the driver’s seat beside Patton and clung to his arm. “I’m always so scared you’ll get eaten up! Or step in a trap! Or fall off a cliff! Or drown! Or—”

“Hey, there. Hey, now.” Patton wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. “Breathe, child. Breathe for me.” He murmured soothingly for a few minutes. “Now, come on, tell me: who taught you to draw a bow and arrow?”

“You,” Virgil mumbled.

“Good lad. And who taught you to track?”

“You did.”

“And what do you think? Am I a good Hunter? Haven’t I always kept you safe as can be?”

“Yes, but—”

“Virgil,” Patton interrupted, gentle but firm.

Virgil fidgeted for a moment. “It only has to go bad once, and you’d never come home again!”

“It’s a good thing I’d never do that, then,” Patton said, chucking Virgil under the chin and chuckling. “I mean, I have a sturdy little lad to look after, I must always make sure I hasten home to him at the end of the day.” He drew Virgil close and gave him a protective, reassuring hug. “Nothing’s going to get your Papa. I promise. I will always protect you, Virgil, you hear me? And today, the best way to protect you is to find ourselves a new home out here. We’ll make do, never you worry. I’m sure you’ll have lots of new friends in no time!”

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!):

@theimprobabledreamersworld @private-snippers @fivehargreeves05

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party-in-eldarya · 3 years

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Makin survey*. We all know that sometimes Beemoov makes unpopular decisions. Some are more accepted by fandom, the others are remembered months later but we all are still in this mutual sense of despondency, of letdown...it is that, which brings us together after all.

Say, my beloved friends & foes- what would be the last straw for you? Thing that would make you stop playing Eldarya?

For me it would be death of another LI. I would still log in for events, but Eldarya’d be a dressing-up game since then. If Beemoov would kill Lance, Leif-leif, Nevra or Mathieu (and so far I reaaaally do not care for him as character, but you know- it’s about principle), the story would cease to me.

How about you? What would you say “enough”- eldarya being more expensive, pay-to-play, a certain direction in writing, or...? Perhaps you are too deep in it to ever quit?

Please share :)

*not really

#stream of conscience

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drivingsideways · 4 years

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in search of a better dream

This is about three pieces of South Korean media that crossed my path recently: the dramas Search WWW and Flower of Evil, and the novel Kim Ji Young, Born 1982.

Disclaimer and context : I'm not Korean, I don't speak the language, and I've watched a very limited set of kdramas. The criticisms I make in this piece are not to single out kdramas, or kdrama fandom, as what I've described exists in Western and other Asian media and fandoms as well.

Under the cut for length:

There's a scene in the first episode of the hit 2020 k-drama "Flower of Evil" that made me want to quit watching the show within the first ten minutes. The scene goes like this: our protagonists, Cha Ji Won and Baek Hee Seung meet Baek Hee Seung's parents along with their four year old daughter. The occasion is Baek Hee Seung's birthday, and loving wife Cha Ji Won has set up a special birthday dinner for them. On the way to the restaurant, the daughter has already complained about how she's scared of her grandparents, and they don't like her. When we meet the grandparents, we see the truth of this- they are as cold as the Arctic to all three, but especially to their daughter-in-law and granddaughter. In a bid to smooth out the social awkwardness, Cha Ji Won instructs her daughter to greet her grandparents the way they had "practiced" earlier- a cutesy little greeting where the adorable Eun-ha makes a heart over her head and chirps "I love you grandma and grandpa". When this fails to soften them, Eun-ha retreats, looking scared and disappointed. Not to worry, Cha Ji Won has this completely figured out: if you try harder, she tells her four year old daughter, they'll eventually love you.

Reader, I was, as they say, mad.

We find out soon enough that this stellar bit of parenting follows from an abiding principle in Cha Ji Won's life. Her romance with Baek Hee Seung starts when a handsome oppa walks into the family store, and is a saga of her stalking and pursuing a man who repeatedly tells her he's not interested, until he finally gives in. The power of her persistence pays off when the emotionally distant and abrasive man, in a classic beauty-and-the-beast transition, becomes a loving boyfriend, and then later, husband and father. It's a fantasy- some might even say feminist fantasy come true- he's handsome, supportive, reliable, artistic, the primary housekeeper and caretaker of their daughter while she pursues her demanding "dream" job as a police officer, and they have enough money to live in a charming and lovingly set up two-storeyed house in ruinously expensive Seoul. This is heterosexual female wish fulfilment at its peak, and it is all made possible because she persevered.

It all threatens to come apart with the discovery of the perfect man's dark past- for a brief period, she's forced to contemplate the idea that he's actually a serial killer who's conned her for the entirety of their relationship of fourteen years; that the perfect life was, in fact, a lie.

However, since this is written and billed as romance melodrama, this horror is short-lived. As the story progresses through increasingly improbable, violent and sometimes downright hilarious twists and turns, we grow closer to the (inevitable) happy ending. Baek Hee Seung/ Do Hyun Soo is no killer, just a traumatized child with a horrific past. The lies are the result of psychological damage inflicted by a society that unfairly deemed him a monster; the cage of repressed emotions that he'd locked himself in needed only the unshakeable conviction of Cha Ji Won's love to be broken open. "I wish you could see yourself as I see you" she tells him, in one of the show's endless supply of tearfully emotional moments, "I wish you could understand yourself the way I understand you."

This framework continues right to the end, when a bout of short term amnesia (!!) has Do Hyun Soo questioning himself and her: do you know, he asks her, when I'm lying to you, and when I'm not, because I don't. The show answers that almost immediately- it doesn't matter, because it's her vision of him that he wants to be; in other words, he chooses the version of himself that she wants. The horror of the lie was a red herring, Cha Ji Won was right from the start about her husband- all it took was the power of her love and her perseverance to overcome the lie at the heart of her marriage, to restore it to its previous shape- quite literally. The dream house they built together, which was destroyed by the villain, is shown in the last shots as unchanged from how it was in the beginning. One of the last shots we have of the couple is of them kissing in the artisan husband's workshop, an almost perfect recreation of the first time we see them. Paradise Regained, and all of us- and Cha Ji Won- can breathe a sigh of relief. You, the twenty-first century woman, are the architect of your own fantasy and can have it all. What could be more powerful than that?

In Kim Ji Young, Born 1982 , a novel published in 2016, and often credited with kickstarting a new conversation about feminism in South Korea, the eponymous protagonist's story is also one of perseverance. It's a starkly written tale, an everywoman tale, a dryly narrated fact finding mission report complete with citations and references, about a woman born in the late twentieth century into a rigidly patriarchal culture, whose very existence is an aberration- her parents didn’t opt for a sex-selective abortion unlike many of their contemporaries when they found that their second child would also be a girl. Kim Ji Young, like the rest of us, grows up immersed in a misogynist culture. Even before she understands it, she learns to work around it and through it, rationalizing the micro-aggressions, burying the anger at the casual and institutional sexism that permeates her life, compromising and coping with it all, and achieving some semblance of having it all: a job, a decent, loving husband, a child. However, it's when motherhood arrives that it all falls apart- Kim Ji Young, faced with the exhausting carework of having a baby at home and another regular, full time job, does what so many women in her position do- quits her "outside" job for her parenting one. Fighting exhaustion and depression, a casually cruel and misogynist remark from a stranger in a park proves to be the proverbial final straw; Kim Ji Young suffers a mental breakdown, dissociating herself completely from her own life, and "seamlessly, flawlessly" taking on the personalities of other women she's known- her mother, her friend, her colleague. The novel ends with a narrative twist that's both horrifying and appropriate: we learn that our narrator is actually her male psychiatrist. Kim Ji Young doesn't even get to be the voice of her own story; instead, it is told by a man cocooned in his own privilege, who displays the same paternalistic and misogynist behaviour that he correctly identified as the cause of her breakdown.

There is no escape here for Kim Ji Young save that of a complete break from reality. In the light of the narrative that leads her to that point, it feels both inevitable and even more horrifically, a blessing. This is a horror story told as it is shorn of any hope; the ending is death or insanity.

Reading Kim Ji Young, Born 1982 was to confront the familiar and heart-breaking and horrific neatly distilled into 200 odd pages; it's "fiction", but not really. My only surprise was how similar the culture described there was to my own in specifics; how incidents in Kim Ji Young's life were things I had actually experienced myself or seen other women experience, in a country several thousand miles away.

I read this novel just after watching the 2019's Search WWW, a show with a bit of a cult following, I think. Before I started watching it, one friend assured me that I would love it, that it was made for me; another said that she dropped it because it "rang false" to her at the time. I've seen the show described several times as a feminist power fantasy, sometimes, if the reviewer wanted to demean it, with the qualifier, unrealistic.

This seemed an odd sort of criticism to me- after all, who turns to k-drama romances or really, any romance, for realism? Female wish fulfilment, which is the cornerstone of romance as a genre, whether in books or film, is still written and recognized as fantasy. So what was particularly unreal about Search WWW?

Well, simply put, it is written like the patriarchy doesn't matter, and has never existed.

The three female protagonists are all in their thirties, in powerful positions in their careers. As such, they are constantly walking into meetings where women speak more than 33% of the time. There are men in the room, but they never outnumber the women, and they don't silence the women.

The interests and decisions and choices of women in the show- even the lead antagonist, who is an older woman whom we often see casually making beefy young men pose nude for her paintings- matter, not just to domestic and private realms, but to society at large; the antagonist is a power broker whose reach goes right up to the highest echelons of the country's politics; the younger women's ethical choices directly affect the republic's functioning as a democracy.

What about the men? It's not that they've been ignored; it's just that their place in the narrative has been decentered. Do with that what you will, the writer seems to say, as she writes in speaking roles for women wherever possible—every second side character is a woman— I have no time or inclination to justify that choice.

As for romance- it's not just that two of the three romances fall into the "noona romance" category, which is subversive in itself. It's that the power of decision making in these relationships clearly rests with the women.

In the "main" romance track, in a reversal of the usual trope, the woman is the one who is emotionally unavailable, and whom the man has to convince to take a chance on their relationship. What was hugely refreshing was that the reason for her emotional unavailability isn't trauma, that the man has to help her heal from, unlike the gender reversed versions we often see, eg in Flower of Evil. Instead, it's a difference in perspective that has its roots in the years of experience she has compared to him; it's the difference in life perspective of a twenty something man, and an almost-40 woman. She considers the implications and possibilities of entering into a relationship with a man who wants marriage and kids, while she doesn't want either and is unlikely to want them in the future. She thinks through it, and sees the pitfalls of it, perhaps all too clearly. In the end, when she makes a decision to commit, it's with the understanding that she's choosing to live in the moment, that he makes her happy; that they make each other happy and it is worth something, even if it doesn't last. But both of them understand that her happiness is not centered in him or their relationship being successful. The other two romances end on a similarly open note- the possibility of love with the man you just divorced, but there's no hurry to get there; and a long distance relationship that may or may not last the two years of military conscription the man has to undergo.

The happily ever after in this series is not the perfect heterosexual family unit; it was always going to be the complicated, thorny and intense queerplatonic relationship between the three women, who, in the end, literally drive off along an endless open road under a blue, blue sky, to "a place with no red lights", as one of them describes it.

For a week after watching Search WWW, I wandered around in a daze. How did this show get written, I kept asking myself? How did it get produced? Aired??? What magic was worked to put it in my eyeballs, and how can it keep happening?

That feeling intensified when I read Kim Ji Young, Born 1982. But the book also provided the answer, at least to the first question. Because it is Kim Ji Young's voice in Search WWW. This is the fantasy that Kim Ji Young would have wanted to live in; a society and a life where she's seen as a person, entire, and it's not something she has to fight every day for. The gigantic leap of imagination that the writer of Search WWW took was only because that fantasy has been yearned for, in a way only a person growing up in Kim Ji Young's world- our world- could.

"Flower of Evil"- and other dramas like it— are also, undeniably, products of this world. It's unsurprising to me that in many ways, Cha Ji Won's little fantasy domestic world in Flower of Evil, on the surface, looks exactly like a post-feminist world. If the real revolution is men doing housework and childcare, then that fantasy has already been achieved on the individual level for Cha Ji Won. Sure, she's the only female member on her squad, and maybe the entire police force, for all you see women in her workplace. Sure, the other female characters with speaking roles exist mostly to be tortured for manpain by the narrative or literally by men as part of the plot. She seems to have no friends outside of work, which means that all her friends are men. As for relationships with other women, except her mother, who exists mostly to share the burden of childcare, and her mom-in- law who turns out to be an evil sort herself, there are none. When she meets her sister-in-law, the entire scene gives off a strange catfight vibe- her sister in law is the only other woman who can legitimately be said to have a claim on knowing the real Do Hyun Soo, and Cha Ji Won's reaction is to deny that claim and tell her to buzz off, basically. "I'm his family now" she tells her sister in law, "He has a wife"; firmly establishing the primacy of a heterosexual romantic relationship over all others.

Her "dream" job means nothing much despite the work she has put in to get it; for most part of the narrative she ends up betraying every professional ethic and her squad- her only friends. Of course, she is easily forgiven for it, without doing any of the work to earn that forgiveness, but that's really because who has the narrative time to develop those relationships which do not matter, like her work, which is shown up for the narrative prop it is, just like her daughter? Even her sociopath (but not really, poor baby) husband ends the series with a tentative sort of friendship with a person he's not married to, but not Cha Ji Won, whose entire world by the end of the series has narrowed down to the four walls of her perfect little house and her perfectly-rescued husband. "I can't be happy if he's not happy," she tells her mother, who suggests that maybe it's time she let go of her not-so-perfect husband. "So please accept him."

In the end, the fantasy is based on this : self-improvement as the winning strategy, not structural change. Try hard enough and you'll get what you want. In the fine print, easily ignored: as long as what you want falls within the bounds of heteronormative patriarchal standards. It's an attitude that is passed down to the next generation; Cha Ji Won's early conversation with her daughter is an example.

The writer's vision is clear- what could have been an interesting and intimate look at our deepest fears in a relationship- that the other person will see us for who we are and horror-struck, leave; or even a deconstruction of the heterosexual woman's fantasy of The Perfect Man, is instead a tired repetition of the Beauty-and-the-Beast trope. You can dress it up and put a gun-toting, career woman wig on it, but that disguise falls apart pretty quickly. Cha Ji Won openly states not once, but several times, that she would rather live the comfortable lie; it's only when even that isn't an option- and not because of her choice or agency, but circumstances and the man coming to a decision, that she begins to let go. But only for a little while- barely ten minutes in show time- because ultimately, this is a female wish fulfilment fantasy, isn't it? Her longsuffering perseverance is rewarded when he decides to mould himself to her fantasy version of him, and the past is erased, and time reset, complete with soft lighting and soaring soundtrack.

Some love stories are horror stories, but others are horror stories masquerading as love stories. Why are we so often sold the latter, and so accepting of the narrative gaslighting? When I look at the popularity of Search WWW vs Flower of Evil, I feel bitter despair and quite a lot of anger. Why do so many women- and it is women, who are producing this work, for women, primarily (I mean, romance, as a genre)- settle for so little? It's the twenty first century, I think, why are we still here, I rage, gnashing my teeth, and indulging in the vicious satisfaction of giving Flower of Evil a single star rating that will make not a dent in its popularity. If we can't demand and aspire to a better class of fantasy, what hope do we have? As you dream, so you will do.

I often think that these days feminism is made toothless because we're shaping it into something that will validate every little feeling of ours; we don't want to be made uncomfortable by it. But feminism is not meant to make anyone comfortable; interrogating your own desires and pleasures is as much a part of smashing the patriarchy as fighting for fundamental human rights like bodily autonomy.

I guess, in the end, what I want to say is this: for the love of sanity, dream better.

#flower of evil #search: www #kim ji young born 1982 #unpopular opinions cw

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twstlotus · 4 years

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Hi there! 👋 Nice to see our fandom growing, more writers joining and trying their pens out with twst boy~ I'm here to wish you a nice day and leave a request, if I may. How would Epel, Malleus, Trey and Rook react to their s/o being well versed in a sword fighting? Seeing her(or them, I don't mind) in an act, maybe even protecting the boys? The s/o haven't disclosed it to them before and took a stance only because she had no other choice. Thank you very much💓

Before we begin, I apologize if I had written Epel a bit ‘off’, for lack of a better word. I have not played through Pomefiore’s chapter thoroughly let alone get to the important bits of said chapter (I’m only on 5-9..)

If I did mischaracterize Epel, please inform me! I will try to perfect how I write him as soon as possible.

Now, onto the headcanons.

Epel Felmier

Epel is astounded to see you swordfight. Perhaps his amazement is a bit inappropriate considering the context being that you were fighting off a few Savanaclaw boys for teasing and mocking Epel about the rumors that he wanted to join the Savanaclaw dormitory—but they did it right in front of your face. Saying how “a pretty boy soft as he is could never join Savanaclaw!” and continued.

You didn’t find violence necessary in the situation, but you weren’t opposed against it either. So when the Savanaclaw members began taunting both you and Epel, you quickly drew your sword and began fighting them, all while Epel walked in at the perfect moment and hid behind a wall and watched you.

The beastmen tucked their tails between their legs and ran off soon after you had your sword pointed to them on the ground. Once they were gone, Epel quietly walked out of his hiding spot and asked if you were okay, to which you hesitantly replied with a “yes”.

Quickly after, Epel began to somewhat gush about your sword fighting abilities and how great you were. Yet, he’s also curious about why you never told him about your skill in such. You explain to him that you never thought of a reason to why you should inform anyone of it, but you were also a bit afraid that he might find your talent in it ‘weird’.

He shoots your suspicions as completely incorrect. You were amazing out there! Epel has never seen sword fighting up-close and done so well! It makes him stagger through his words. He also states that you don’t need to hide anything from him and that he’ll accept you whole as a person and as a lover. The reason why he even fell in love with you was because of how free-willed you are, you know?

“Well, I think your sword fighting is great, (Y/N). I don’t think it matters what other people see you as, especially the negative ones—you’re great and that’s all there is to it!”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus first saw you sword fighting a handful of the Savanaclaw boys, or, well—it looked more like you were deflecting and inflicting minor wounds on the beastmen until they eventually ran off out of cowardice.

The fae was completely stunned. He had never known you were so skilled in sword fighting, and you fight with such gracefulness and elegance, too! The only other time he had seen sword fighting up close was when he and Lilia trained Silver as Malleus’ knight. Even so, his fighting style was merely that of a normal knight’s—but you, you looked like you were dancing with the sword.

When he snaps out of his amazement, he quickly comes out of the shadows to your aid and checks if you have any wounds. Humans are very fragile, after all. You reassure him that you’re fine and he eventually brings up your talent in swordsmanship, to which you bashfully deny ever being skilled in such a thing.

Malleus can obviously see through your lies, and after a while, you admit that you do. You kept it a secret because you were afraid that he might see you as improper or ‘strange’ and the only reason you even fought those Savanaclaw boys were because they were ridiculing your beloved fae.

He’s visibly surprised by the notion. Fighting...for him? Of course, he has literal knights who fight for him, but he always considered it as the two merely doing their jobs. You, on the other hand; you didn’t need to do such a thing for him, yet still, you did it anyway. He’s touched, to say the least. Afterwards, he comforts you regarding your talent and says to not be shameful of it, for it is a talent one could only look up to and that he’s always welcome to talk about anything.

“You’re not required to put yourself in dangerous situations, Child of Man. Trust that I can fight my own battles, so please, do not burden yourself with mine. Though I must say...you did well.”

Trey Clover

‘Surprised’ would be a bit of an understatement to describe what Trey felt when he saw you sword fighting with a fellow Heartslabyul member. Just a little bit.

The way you made your sword swings seem effortless renders him speechless. Just when did you learn to swordfight? And how will Riddle react when he sees you, battling a Heartslabyul member, with a sword!? The consequences may be severe… (and even so, when did Heartslabyul C-kun learn to swordfight!?)

Trey quickly steps in and stops the duel between you and the other dorm member. Heartslabyul C-kun leaves with a scoff while small wounds decorate his otherwise clean skin. Meanwhile, you seemed completely fine. There were only a few cuts from C-kun’s sword but it wasn’t at all serious. Still, Trey treats your wounds so they don’t get infected.

The entire time, Trey is almost quiet as he tends to your wounds until he releases a sigh of defeat, for lack of a better word. He tells you that fighting by yourself isn’t safe, you know? That would just end up in both you and him getting your heads chopped off by Riddle (thank goodness he brought you out of the scene of the crime).

You explain to him that the only reason you had done it was because C-kun recently found out about your talent in sword fighting and wouldn’t stop bugging you until you agreed to duel with him, knowing it was against the rules, so you denied his every demand. However, he brought Trey into the story by mocking him and that was the last straw.

Quite honestly, Trey doesn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, he’s afraid and a bit worried for you and what could have happened. And on the other...he’s grateful and rather enamoured about the fact that you tried to defend him. Still, he shows appreciation for what you did in his name but reminds you to be careful next time.

“Don’t run off fighting other people, okay? I really appreciate what you did for me but I don’t want you getting hurt. Plus, I can’t have my favorite cupcake get in trouble with Riddle!”

Rook Hunt

Saw you sword fighting another Pomefiore member, but it didn’t look intense if at all. From afar, it did look like you and Pomefiore B-kun were simply practice-duelling—and from afar, it stayed as such. Rook continued to watch you from the bushes with a keen eye and a smile tugging on his face.

However, B-kun just had to do it. During your duel, he began taunting you about Rook, your Hunter of Love. It started small; calling him a weirdo and other nicknames Rook had likely grown accustomed to. But B-kun just went on and on, his small taunts grew to harsh insults, and you weren’t having any of it.

You swiftly defeat B-kun in the duel. His sword flying out of his hands and landing on soft grass, piercing the surface. You quickly tell him to scram and he leaves without a word, not even to retrieve his sword.

You let out a sigh before turning to the bushes, where you know Rook is. You call out his name and after a few rustles from the bushes, he walks out with a large smile on his face and claps for your performance, stating that it was marvelous! ....However, this does spark curiosity in him—curiosity on why you never informed him of your talent in the art of sword fighting.

You say that you never found the reason to tell him of it, though you weren’t exactly ashamed, it was just what it was also because you knew Rook wouldn’t stop pestering you about it once he found out that you were skilled in sword fighting.

Non, non! This is wonderful news to him! He’s happy to know that you’re confident in something you’re skilled in and he would be all the more glad if you wanted to speak to him about sword fighting, should you ever wish to do so.

“Your swordsmanship is fantastique, mon cherie! Though, I must ask…,” The self-proclaimed hunter steps towards C-kun’s sword and picks it up. “May I request a few sword fighting lessons from you?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #epel felmier #malleus draconia #trey clover #rook hunt #epel felmier x reader #malleus draconia x reader #trey clover x reder #rook hunt x reader #twisted wonderland headcanon #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #well of the lotus flowers

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 3 years

Text

Playing With Fire - Girls Night Out

A/N: So this is my first crack at Chicago fire fanfiction, so don't judge too hard, alright? This will unfold from the beginning of season three, so if you haven't watched it yet, but plan to; SPOILER ALERT! I tried to follow along with the storyline of the show, but some things have been changed. Shout out to my superawesome beta @thorne93, you rock!

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Beth (OFC)

Warnings: Language probably. Drinking

Wordcount: 2245

Beth stood in front of her TV, coffee in hand as she watched the morning news in disbelief. A helicopter had crashed and landed on top of a building, the reporter on scene kept talking as the camera panned out and captured the unbelievable scene that unfolded.

“Witnesses say that there are still people trapped inside the helicopter, but luckily the Chicago fire department is on the scene and working tirelessly to get everyone out safe.”

She couldn't really make out any faces or the names on the uniforms, but the big white ‘81’ on one of the trucks was easy enough to see, and her heart sank in her chest. Everyone she knew and loved in Chicago was on that scene.

With eyes glued to the TV she paced back and forth in her apartment, her heart beating a million miles an hour. “They have to be alright,” she said to herself, feeling more helpless than she had ever done before.

She didn't really register what she was doing when she jumped in her car and headed for the fire house. There wasn't really anything she could do for any of them right now, but she was sure as hell gonna make sure they returned to a hot meal. The plan was to make some lasagnas that they could easily heat up and then get out of there before they returned, but it didn't really work out like that.

One by one they poured into the kitchen, their somber faces revealing the impact of the day they had had.

“Beth? What are you doing here?” Gabby asked, surprised and happy to see her friend.

“I saw you all on the news and figured you’d be hungry when you got back,” she explained.

“You weren't wrong, kid,” Herrmann said with appreciation in his voice.

“You’re the best,” Otis chimed in.

“The best,” Cruz repeated, backing up his best friend.

Beth gave Gabby a tight hug. “I'm glad you’re okay,” she said. Over Gabby’s shoulder, she locked eyes with Kelly and gave him a small smile, but he just averted his eyes and walked away. “What's his deal?”

“Who?” Gabby wondered, turning around just in time to see Kelly disappear down the hall. “Oh. Brittany showed up to the scene today, all hysterical and shit because he wasn't answering her calls and texts,” she explained.

“Wow. That's… a lot.”

“Yeah,” Gabby agreed.

“Alright,” Beth said a little louder. “I'm gonna get out of your hair,” she announced as she started backing out of the room.

“You’re not gonna eat with us?” Mills asked.

“Nah. I have a bar to open. Since my bosses are all busy saving the day and shit,” she said with a chuckle.

Goodbyes were mumbled through mouthfuls of food as Beth walked away. She had no intentions of looking for Kelly, but she saw him sitting in his office and her feet just walked themselves over there and she knocked on the open door. “Hey,” she said softly.

“This really isn't a good time,” he said in an annoyed tone. It wasn't Beth he was angry at, he knew that, but he couldn't help the annoyance in his voice.

“Just wanted to say I'm glad you’re okay. I saw the news earlier and I just… I'm glad you made it back in one piece,” she offered.

Kelly sighed. “Thanks, Beth,” he said with half a smile.

“I'll leave you to it.”

He followed her with her eyes as she walked away, but his mind was on his wife and the inevitable fight that would come later. Beth would never have showed up at a scene like that.

***

“Haagen Dazs and beer.” Those were the first words out of Gabby’s mouth when Beth opened the door. “I need a girls night.”

“You know I'm not gonna say no to that,” Beth said, taking the tub of ice cream from Gabby and letting her inside her apartment.

Things had been kind of rough between Gabby and Matt since she had started working on truck 81 and Matt became her Lieutenant. It was a difficult situation for the both of them and definitely something that would take some time to get used to and to find their new pace.

They both fell onto Beth's couch with deep sighs. “You first,” Beth ordered.

“It's this whole candidate/lieutenant thing,” she said twisting open a beer. “It's not working at home and it's not working at work.”

“I'm sorry,” Beth offered. “You'll find a way to make it work. I'm sure of it,” she tried to assure her friend. Gabby and Matt were strong, solid, so there was no doubt in her mind that they would make it through, one way or the other.

“Thanks. Got any advice?” Gabby asked through a mouthful of ice cream.

“Dude. I literally drove the guy I like all the way to Vegas where he married a stripper,” she noted with a humorless laugh. “Not sure I'm the best to give out relationship advice.”

“Graphic designer,” Gabby corrected, pointing her spoon at Beth.

“Allegedly,” Beth countered, making them both chuckle. “You know what?” She suddenly said.

“What?”

Beth got to her feet, Gabby watching her with furrowed brows. “It's Friday night. We shouldn't be in here eating and drinking our feelings. We should be out in some club, getting our dance on. We’re young and half of us are single… let's go paint the town.”

Gabby mulled it over for a quick second and then jumped on the bandwagon. “You go get dressed right now, and then we’ll stop by my place on our way downtown.”

Beth hesitated for a second. “I'll just wait in the car while you get ready,” she said, not wanting to run into a certain roommate.

“Kelly isn't home. He and Brittany had a date night planned. You’re safe.”

Ten minutes later, Beth reappeared from the bathroom, a short black dress hugging her body, completed with teal accessories to give it a pop of color. “Yay or nay?” she asked

“Definitely yay,” Gabby replied. “Now let's hustle.”

Beth stood in Gabby’s kitchen with Matt and waited for her friend to get ready. The longer she stayed there, the greater the chance she'd run into Kelly, and that was the last thing she needed right now.

“Want a beer?” Matt asked, but Beth shook her head. “You can relax, they’re not here,” he assured.

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” Beth lied, making Matt chuckle.

He was just about to call her out on it when they heard the front door and Beth went stiff.

“Casey, have you seen my wallet?” Kelly called out.

Beth was hidden from his view and she would really like to keep it that way, but then a sly grin appeared on Matt’s face and Beth noticed the little black walled on the kitchen counter. She looked up at Matt with big, pleading eyes, shaking her head vigorously.

“Yeah, it's in here,” Matt called out, still smiling.

“Thanks man,” Kelly said, not noticing Beth at first. “Got all the way across town before I noti…” his words trailed off there as his eyes finally found Beth. She looked amazing, so much so that he had a hard time getting words out. “You look… wow.”

“Thank’s,” she said shyly. Luckily, Gabby was just done getting ready and walked in to interrupt the awkward scene that was unfolding. “I'll wait for you in the car,” Beth said to her friend before she turned on her heel and started walking away, praying to some higher power that she wouldn't trip on her high heels and fall on her ass.

“Don't wait up, babe,” Gabby said before kissing Matt on the cheek. “And you might want to wipe that drool from your chin before you get back to your wife,” she said with a coy smile to Kelly.

***

Couple of hours at a loud club was more than either Beth or Gabby could manage before they hopped in a cab and headed for Molly’s. It was great to be out and about and Beth was definitely taking advantage of her evening off, pouring ‘em down like it was her last hurrah. Gabby held back a little, but she didn't want to be a buzz kill, so she just kept an eye on her friend. It wasn't often that Beth got out and it was great to see her in such a good mood for once.

Molly’s was packed, but Gabby found them a couple of seats while Beth went to get drinks.

“One beer and one Mojhito, please,” she requested from Otis with a huge smile, leaning on the bar counter. “Oh, and don't make it too sweet,” she added.

“Coming right up,” Otis said and got to work.

“You look really nice today,” Kelly complimented from her right.

Honestly, she hadn't even noticed him sitting there. “Thank you. Girls night,” she explained.

“I can see that,” he noted with a smile. She was clearly inebriated, but it was nice to see her relax and enjoy herself. “Don't think I’ve ever seen you all dolled up,” he noted.

“Well, that's because you never took me out,” she countered, no accusation in her voice. “Thank you, barkeep,” she chirped as Otis returned with her order. “Now if you gentlemen will excuse me.”

And with that, she went to search for Gabby, who she found at a table with a bunch of people from CPD.

It was a fun night, lots of laughter, good conversation, and alcohol. The crowd gradually thinned out and about half an hour before closing, Gabby too called it quits, leaving Beth and Halstead behind as the last two of their group. Herrmann and Otis were getting ready for closing while Kelly sat at the bar and nursed his drink still.

“This has been a really fun evening,” Jay noted, taking a swing from his beer.

“I agree. Nice to be on the other side of the bar for a change,” Beth said, stirring her drink with a straw. Now that things were quieting down around her, some of the sadness she had been carrying around returned. “Think I'm ready to call it, though,” she added as an afterthought.

“Alright,” Jay dragged. “Let me call you a cab,” he offered.

“I literally live 3 houses down from here. But thanks for the offer.”

“Okay. Can I walk you home then?” he pushed.

It was pretty obvious what he was getting at, and Beth wasn't completely opposed to the idea, just the circumstances. “Alright. Just know that I have a pretty strict rule. No hookups after three drinks, and I’m definitely more than three drinks in this evening.” She really hoped she didn't come across as conceited, but she was pretty sure that this was where things were heading.

“Why? I can assure you that I'll be just as devilishly handsome in the morning,” he joked making her laugh. “My intentions are honorable, I promise. Just want to make sure you get home in one piece.” he assured.

“Meet me outside? I'm just gonna say goodnight.”

Jay headed outside and Beth made her way over to the bar, as far from where Kelly was sitting as was possible. “Thanks again for covering my shift tonight, Otis. I owe you one.”

“Don't mention it,” he said, barely looking up from the paperwork he was getting ready before closing.

“Alright,” she said a little louder. “Night fellas.”

“Hey,” Kelly called out, jumping off his chair to catch up to her before she left. He had spent the last hour and a half watching her and Halstead get all cozy and he didn't like it one bit. “Let me walk you home?” he asked in a kind voice, not knowing that there was already someone waiting for her outside.

“Uhm…. no thanks,” she said simply.

“Come on. Just want to make sure you get back safe,” he told her.

She looked into those beautiful blue eyes of his and for some reason she felt herself get angry. “No, Kelly. You promised me some space, remember?”

“You didn't seem so concerned about your space when you came looking for me at the station the other day,” he retorted.

“I wasn't there for you. I was there to make sure my friends were all safe and in one piece,” she defended.

Before Kelly could say anything else, Jay stuck his head through the door. “You coming?” he asked and Beth just gave him a reassuring nod and then he was out the door again.

“Unbelievable,” Kelly snorted. “Halstead?”

“Go home to your wife, Lieutenant,” she spat before she turned on her heel and made her way out of there.

“You okay?” Jay asked as they started their little walk back to her apartment, seeing the change in her mood.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she assured, looking up at him. “I have a question for you, Detective.”

“Hit me.”

“Those intentions of yours,” she started, referring to the conversation they had a few minutes ago. “Still honorable?”

“As honorable as you want them to be.”

Beth looked up at him with a coy smile as she slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together. That way she was telling him without words what she was thinking. It was probably a bitch move on her part, using him like that, but right then she didn't care. She just wanted to forget.

Tags: @campingmonkey @deansgirl215 @thevelvetseries

#Chicago Fire #chicago fire fanfic #chicago fire fanfiction #Kelly Severide #kelly severide fanfic #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide series

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mesmusae · 3 years

Text

Severus: Lily

I know what Fandom says and thinks for the most part. And I know what Rowling has said. Both of which I reject. I don’t like this narrative that Severus was stalkery obsessed with Lily. I am disgusted at the “it’s a good thing harry wasn’t a girl who looked just like his mother” discussions. So let’s break down how I view their friendship.

Let’s start with them meeting. A lot of people take him watching Lily and Petunia at the park as creepy but here’s a few reasons why it’s not. 1) People watching. Literally everyone does this some. If you’re in a public place, you’re going to watch the other people there, see what they’re doing. 2) Shyness. Severus is clearly not a social person. He’s very introverted. Plus, we know he and his family are quite the social pariahs in the neighborhood. They’re looked down upon for being poor, and it seems that perhaps their family life isn’t so private either. He’s not just going to feel comfortable or safe approaching two girls who are from a much better off family. 3) Lily was doing magic in a public setting, in broad daylight. On purpose. For Severus, that’s quite impressive. And likely what caught his attention as well as being how he built up the courage to talk to her. He was like her, and it was clear he had answers that her family didn’t.

And that is how their friendship is born. It is born of this mutual thing they have in common. And Severus is getting to tell Lily everything he knows. She listens, she talks with him, asks him questions, everything. This is likely everything he doesn’t get at home. Lily has become a refuge. Which is perhaps unhealthy, but at this stage, she’s his friend.

Their first obstacle comes at the sorting. It’s clear that Severus wants Slytherin. He is starting to believe the toxic pureblood rhetoric at a young age. But then again, two thirds of his interactions with muggles are extremely negative. You have his father, who resents Severus and Eileen for what they are. He punishes them for it. And then there’s Petunia. Who is envious of Lily (and likely Snape on the magic front if nothing else) and lashes out because of it. There’s also the muggles around him, in which he gets only pity and a blind eye from as well as sneers and jdugement. And he knows he’s more powerful than them. But he can’t do a damn thing with that. So unlike most prejudice against muggles wizards, his prejudice lies in his real life experiences as opposed to people like Draco who are just raised to believe that muggles are scum and wizards are the elite but have likely never even interacted with a muggle.

He also wants Lily to come with him. Because he thinks she’s different. (Not a healthy mindset at all. But to him, she is the exception to the rule). Slytherin would not be a safe place for Lily (nor the safe place that he is expecting it to be for him). Though, I think if she’d been in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff it would have gone over better to him than Gryffindor.

The rift here begins, I think for a couple of reasons. 1) James and his group are now trying to interact with lily. With James of course later in the years growing romantically interested as well. And while we know that Lily is rejecting James’ friendship and romantic advances throughout school, Severus has a lot of mental health issues. Thus, I think his issues stem more from jealousy and fear. Fear that Lily will one day decide that he isn’t worth her time. Maybe she’ll think that James and his gang are in fact better. And that would leave him alone again because 2) Slytherin is not the Sanctuary he thought it would be. Slytherin was supposed to be his home away from “home”. He’d be amongst his kind. Except that Slytherin is a pureblood and very rich house. Most of the purebloods come from Old Money. Classism is a massive part of that. So not only is Severus not a pureblood, but his family is poor. He wears hand-me-downs that are often described as feminine blouses, meaning they’re probably coming from his mother. Add to that, his only friend is a muggle-born. Which he is obviously judged and mocked for. But he’s loyal to Lily. To a fault, honestly.

So he’s not only severely separated from his only friend from the start, but bullied by both the marauders AND his own housemates in Slytherin. And unfortunately, Lily is the cause to some degree on both sides. (that is not to say it is her fault. IT IS NOT HER FAULT. James’s decisions were his own, as well as the actions of those in Slytherin around Severus. And Severus’s actions in response are his own).

Now at some point, his feelings turned romantic. And unfortunately, Severus did not have many sources to look at for what it really means to love someone. Because his parents certainly aren’t the answer. And everything else would be at a distant. Also, again because he has so little and because of those fears of losing her, he is slightly possessive about that. He sees James as a threat.

And he’s having to find some way to fit in when it comes to Slytherin. And he finds that with potions. A particularly difficult class, but he didn’t struggle. And he was quite adept at defensive magic as well as dark magic, thus starting to give him value to his peers. And he of course starts to fall into the classic “bullies are often people bullied themselves.” He starts to partake in bullying the muggleborns, using the word, mudblood, etc. just to fit in amongst his own peers. And Severus is not stupid. He’s also not blind (well, in some ways he is). He is bound to see that pureblood rhetoric against muggleborns is bullshit. His issues lies with muggles themselves more so. And still a lot of wizards. At this point in his life, he’s become bitter, quick to anger and defense. Anyone who does him the slightest wrong is against him. He’s learned not to really forgive.

So let’s talk about the event. Snape’s worst memory. Where James is tormenting Severus, yet again. When Lily comes to his defense, and James tried to blackmail Lily into a date by using tormenting Severus, in a moment of weakness he lashed out at her. He used the term mudblood in regards to her. (And was then publically humiliated and shamed for it by James and the group).

Yes. He waited in the hallway all night for her outside the Dormitory. To apologize. Regardless of anything, he did not want to hurt her. So he apologized. And when she rejected him (Which i think had less to do with him using the word against her and rather the fact that there had been a rift growing for years and this was just he last straw). But he accepted that. I think he knew their friendship was over and had been for quite some time. He left her alone, and thus was completely intergrated into Slytherin and those who were molding him and shaping him.

Now. Just because they stopped being friends, doesn’t mean the caring stopped. They had their childhood memories they formed together. Severus was always going to have those feelings for Lily. It does not make it obsession. And I think of it like this.

I have a friend, who was more the Snape to my Lily. She was kind of an awful person, awful friend, and there came a point we cut each other out. (I’m not saying i’m entirely innocent in the destruction of that friendship. But I do view her actions as far more Severus’s toxic side than my own. But that’s besides the point). I did not stop caring about her altogether. Especially not immediately. Especially not right out of school. I still think of our friendship often. I think that if she came to me needing something, I would likely help her, even if I have a feeling she wouldn’t do the same for me.

So that is what I view Severus’s feelings towards Lily. Except stronger. Because Lily was the only light in his life. She was the only good thing. The only positive influence he really had. Adults were never on his side. His peers were rarely on his side. So losing Lily, he clung to what little he had. The death eaters who took him in under their wings over the years. Those who were promising him power and control, something he rarely had in his life.

But that care is what got him. He heard that part of the prophecy, and of course he kept track of his friend. Wizarding circles are small anyway. It probably spread without intent. He was scared for her. So he did his job, reporting the prophecy. But begged for her life. In his fear he didn’t think about James. The man that ruined his life and tormented him every chance he got. And he didn’t think about her child, not born yet. Because his reactions were emotional in knowing that Lily’s life was in danger.

So he went to Dumbledore to have her protected. And yes. Then her family was brought to his attention. And he did not hesitate to agree to keep them safe too. Listen. If Snape really wanted Lily for himself. If he really didn’t care about her at all, it would have been a fight to protect, at the very least, James. He would have argued against it. He instantly agreed because someone reached to the logic in him. And he agreed to risk his life to be Dumbledore’s spy. He signed on to do that for the rest of his life. He signed on to do whatever it took to protect Lily and her Family. So when it was just Harry left, he did everything he could. (that doesn’t mean he went about it right. But he did do his best to protect Harry). Until his very last breath. If it was just about Lily, he would have stopped the moment she died.

None of this was about sleeping with her. None of this was about winning her over or having her. He accepted that he fucked those things up. He accepted he had no place in her life. This was about making up for his mistakes. Or at least, trying to feel like he could. I don’t think even if he lived to see Harry win and everything, that he would think he had. But he certainly seemed to be trying to show he knew he was wrong, and trying to do the right thing. Total change was never possible for Severus. But the fact that he was even able to admit he was wrong in joining Voldemort and turn to the right side, is a massive step for him.

#[severus headcanons]#[severus about]#listen #snape is a tough character #he's morally grey #he's an asshole #he did not make the best decisions in his life #or treat people the best #but it isn't so black as he's a bad guy #and if you have questions or thoughts #send an ask #POLITELY

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

Text

camping trip

prompt: camping

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hi! welcome to this fic :) i feel like it is a little different from my usual stuff but idk how exactly so you just have to read to find out! hope you enjoy :)

It’s a little after six-thirty when they finish making camp. The tent is...standing (nothing much else can be said for it), and inside it the sleeping bags are carefully arranged. A cooler and tote of food sit by one end of the picnic table, atop which is a small folding stove and a propane lantern. Four folding chairs form a sort of circle around the firepit, which is currently devoid of fire.

“I’ll go find us some firewood,” Nick decides. Thus far he has felt less than useful - apparently, he’s the only one of the group - Hank, Monroe, Rosalee, and himself - that’s never been camping, and consequently the only one who knows absolutely nothing about how to set up a campsite. He would like to do something useful tonight, at least.

“Don’t bring back anything that’s -”

“Wet, I know.”

“Just making sure,” Monroe says, raising his hands in surrender. “You want someone to come with you so you don’t have to carry a ton of wood all the way back here?”

Nick shakes his head. “I got it,” he insists with a smile. “Really.”

“Have fun,” Hank calls over his shoulder from where he’s digging through the food tote. “Once you get back, we’ll start dinner.”

With the promise of Hank’s mediocre spaghetti to sustain him, Nick heads out into the woods behind their campsite, scanning the ground for any pieces of wood that look like they could be useful. He picks up a couple and ventures deeper into the forest, until he finds himself looking down the slope of a small hill. About halfway down it are several logs that look perfect, and Nick decides it’ll be worth the climb back up to get them. He leaves the wood currently in his arms at the top of the hill and begins walking down.

The hill is covered with various plants, and several of them have thorns which keep catching on Nick’s clothes. More than once he debates turning around to avoid going through any more of them, but he reasons that he’s already on his way down and already has several thorns sticking out of his clothes. Might as well make this little trip worth it.

He’s close now. He pulls away from an especially prickly vine, yanking the leg of his pants out of the grip of its thorns, and he must pull too hard, because suddenly his legs aren’t where they’re supposed to be and he’s losing his balance and he sticks out a hand to break his fall but he’s on an incline and one hand isn’t enough to stop his momentum. He rolls down the hill and can do nothing to stop it.

It’s one of the most confusing experiences of his life. One moment he’s just stumbling, sure that he’s about to catch himself, and the next, he’s tumbling painfully downwards, thorns and pinecones and twigs poking at him and catching on him and hurting, and the movement itself is hurting, slamming every part of his body into the hillside, and it’s making him dizzy and -

And then he’s stopped, breath momentarily knocked out of his lungs. It takes a moment for the sky above him to stop spinning, and when it does, Nick realizes that he must be at the bottom of the hill. His whole body hurts, and anywhere where he’d had exposed skin stings, and he can feel little bits of who-knows-what sticking into him.

“Ow,” he whispers, because everything hurts.

For a moment or two he just lies there, forcing himself to get it together. The pain dies down fairly quickly, replaced by aching and embarrassment. He really does not want to have to explain this to his friends. It’s not that bad, anyway. He’ll just be a little bit sore and bruised, and it’s not like that’s an unfamiliar concept to him. He’s essentially fine.

His fineness decided, Nick gets up. His hands hurt something awful when he presses them into the ground, and when he’s finally standing on achy, slightly weak legs, he sees bits of wood and a couple thorns and even a pinecone scale pressed deep into his palms. He brushes off what he can and decides to pull out the rest when he gets back to camp.

The walk back up the hill is exhausting. Whether Nick wants to admit it or not, his entire body has taken a beating, and it protests against the task. His legs burn with every step he takes, his chest constricts unpleasantly when he takes too deep a breath, and his clothes are still getting stuck on the thorns.

He reaches the halfway point and the precious firewood he’d endured all this to obtain. Nick decides that there is absolutely no way he is going to return to camp without it, so he scoops it all into his protesting arms, wishes it was lighter, and continues his slow and painful trek up the hill.

By the time he reaches the top, the sun has nearly set, and Nick wonders just how long he’s been gone. He hopes, belatedly, that his friends aren’t worried, as he picks up the other pieces of firewood that he’d left behind. If nothing else, they’ll have a roaring fire, and he can sit by it and not move for several hours. That sounds nice…

But he still has to make it back to the campsite. Which, after his walk up the hill, is an easy task. He makes it back just as the sun dips completely below the horizon, dropping the wood with a clatter onto the ground.

“Nick?” Rosalee calls out, peeking out from inside the tent. “There you are, we were starting - oh my god, what happened to you?”

Nick opens his mouth to say, nothing, really, I’m okay, but before he can say anything, Monroe and Hank are calling his name simultaneously, and he turns to look at them as they walk back up the path that leads to the campground bathroom.

“Nick,” Rosalee says, and he looks back to her. “What happened?”

Monroe and Hank walk up to them just in time to hear Rosalee’s question.

“What do you mean, what happened?” Monroe asks, and Nick turns again to look at him.

“Ah. I see it now. Man, you’re covered in...forest. What happened?”

Nick turns away from all of them, feeling his face burn in shame. It’s so stupid, he thinks, what a stupid way to get hurt.

Rosalee says something soft, which Nick assumes is not directed at him, and when he looks up again, Hank and Monroe have left. He reaches up to rub his eyes and Rosalee gently grabs his wrists.

“Don’t touch anything yet,” she says. “I know you can’t see it, but I assume you can feel all that stuff poking into your face.”

Now that he thinks about it, he can. It’s like it is on his hands - he can feel what he assumes are thorns and bits of wood and other such things pressing uncomfortably into his face, and some of them sting and some of them just ache and all of them hurt. He really wants to sit down.

“Let’s sit down,” Rosalee suggests, and they walk over to the picnic table, where the lantern is already glowing, providing light to Hank, who is stirring a pot on the little stove at the other end of the table.

Nick sinks down onto the bench, slowly and gingerly, and Rosalee disappears into the tent, emerging a moment later with a first-aid kit.

From the kit, she produces a bottle of painkillers, shaking out two of them into her hand and holding them out to Nick. He thinks about refusing them and insisting that he’s not hurting that bad, but she seems to know what he’s thinking and shoots him a look that has him taking the pills without argument.

Rosalee sits down on the bench next to him, gently turning his face towards the light. She begins cleaning off his face, starting by brushing off the bits of forest that will come off easily, then carefully pulling away the more resistant thorns. Nick resolutely does not react at all as she does this, just sits there and watches Monroe build the fire and rearrange the chairs.

“This might sting a bit,” Rosalee warns, and Nick turns his gaze back to her as she tears open a packet containing an antiseptic wipe. She rubs it across his skin, and it does sting, but again he forces himself not to react. When she finishes with the wipe, she waits a minute for his face to dry, then pulls out a jar of something that is definitely not standard in first-aid kits and rubs it gently over his face. It feels extremely nice as it settles into his various cuts and scrapes, and he wonders what it is, then wonders whether he really wants to know. He decides not to ask, not that he feels much up to saying anything at the moment anyway.

Rosalee repeats this whole process on his hands, and she’s nice enough to not mention the fact that they’re slightly shaking. “Done,” she says quietly, finishing rubbing the contents of the jar onto his palms, and Nick lets his hands fall back to his sides. “There’s still stuff in your hair. Do you want me to…?”

Part of Nick insists that he say no. That he’s already been cared for, been vulnerable, more than enough for one day. But he’s hurting and she’s offering and he really doesn’t want to do it himself. He nods.

Gentle fingers run through his hair, pulling away bits of pine straw and twigs and who knows what else. Nick finds himself slowly relaxing, the aches and pains slowly fading, and by the time she’s finished, he no longer feels quite as bad.

They both stand up from the table, meeting each other’s eyes. “Thank you,” Nick says, quietly.

“Of course,” is Rosalee’s reply. “I’d hug you, but your clothes are still covered in..poky things.”

Nick smiles lightly. “I’m gonna go change, then,” he says, and makes for the tent.

It takes what feels like forever, but eventually Nick is out of his dirty, scraped-up clothes. He carefully wraps them together and puts them at the bottom of his bag, then dusts off his sleeping area. The last thing he wants is to wake up with more thorns sticking into him because they’d fallen off his clothes and onto the place where he’s supposed to sleep.

“Dinner’s ready!” Hank calls out, and Nick unzips the tent entrance and steps outside, taking a moment to survey the scene in front of him. Hank, Monroe, and Rosalee are clustered around the table, and Hank is handing them bowls of his spaghetti, which smells a good deal better than mediocre. The lantern casts a warm glow on their faces, and to the side of them, the fire crackles and pops and blazes strongly, which Nick supposes is the least it can do considering all the trouble he’d gone to for it.

Nick walks over to the table and accepts his bowl from Hank, who claps him lightly on the shoulder and gives him a soft smile. The four of them then head for the chairs around the fire, where they sit and eat and talk and nobody says anything about Nick’s injuries.

When they finally put the fire out and start cleaning up the campsite, after several rounds of s’mores and a rousing game of 20 questions, it’s nearly midnight. Nick is still aching as he helps Hank gather up the dishes, but he barely even registers it - evidently, this evening is the best medicine he could’ve asked for.

Twenty minutes later, he’s lying in his sleeping bag and wondering if everyone else is also secretly thinking that the ground beneath them is incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe you just have to get used to it, he figures. He could get used to it, eventually, he thinks. He’d like to get used to it. Because, despite the fact that he’s managed to hurt himself extensively and somewhat embarrassingly, Nick has realized that he really, genuinely likes camping.

thanks for reading this! all the stuff in this fic is based on my own experiences camping with my family (apart from the falling down the hill which luckily has not happened to me), so if anything sounded a little “why would you do that while camping” just know it’s a product of my weird family lol. hope you liked this fic!!!!

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump10 #camping #grimm #nick burkhardt #fall #cared for #i rlly liked writing this...the projection...strong #both in terms of nick and the camping experience lol #i feel like if one of my family members read this they would know it was by me lmao #although who am i to know. maybe everyone makes camping spaghetti.#somehow i doubt that.#oh also one difference that i also would like to point out is that i haven't camped in a tent since i was like 8 or so #we have a beat up ole popup camper :) bc otherwise you cant camp for most of the year bc of how hot and/or rainy it gets here

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firebirdsdaughter · 3 years

Text

Random Writing Guess What…

… New fandom???

I’m gonna actually holding off on tagging this as Hakuoki atm bc… I dunno. I’m scared of bringing my particular brand of odd to the tag (I say, about an apparently incredibly historically accurate yet fictional dating visual novel about samurai vampires…), but… Here we are.

Look, this is Sunagawa’s fault, if the man weren’t so goddamned good at acting, I wouldn’t be here.

Or maybe I would. Who knows.

Actually, @fluttering-by, bc this is also your fault (affectionate/grateful).

~I’m trying desperately to find a replacement for the horizontal line and failing~

“You lied to me.”

The words aren’t so much angry as hurt, trembling slightly—Miki’s shoulders were taut, but more in the way of nerves, huddling into himself rather than readying for a fight. He hovered by the end of the table, one hand by his side, anxiously pulling at the hems of his sleeves absently, the other fidgeting on the hilt of his sword. He was looking more at his boots than Koudou, an odd appearance on one as tall as he was, with a katana in his sash—and yet, when he felt the doctor’s gaze on him, he looked even further down, biting his lip.

Koudou sighed deeply, straightening up from the table, setting the bottles he was had been looking through aside and wiping his hands off before turning to face the young man. “It wasn’t a lie. It is merely a process.” Miki said nothing in reply, his hands merely tensing even more, teeth sinking further into his lip. He truly was so easy to read.

In a few measured steps, the doctor came level with the young man and reached out, tucking his hand under Miki’s chin gently to tip the young man’s face back up. The very first time they had met, when he had reached out like this, Miki had jerked away with a proud glare—now the young man didn’t move back at all, allowing Koudou to lift his head up to reveal unguarded, confused, and wounded eyes beneath his bangs. The nights spent tending to the Miki’s transition into a Fury, wiping the blood from his mouth when needed had apparently won him over. He had taken miraculously well to the basic kindness, combined with honest praise for being such a successful test—where Miki had once maintained a brash and arrogant veneer, Koudou was now privy to the gaze of an insecure, innocent young man filled with desperate pleading. Underneath the spiky shell, he was such a simple soul, longing for worth and guidance—when dangled before him, he scrambled eagerly for them like an abandoned puppy.

When Koudou smiled at him with practiced warmth, that naive eagerness blossomed, waiting to be reassured. The doctor remained silent for another moment, gaze flickering over Miki’s face for a little longer. “… Have your injuries healed completely?” He didn’t need to feign the concern in the question—the young man was the most successful, responsive specimen he had ever had; losing him would be a significant setback he could not afford.

Miki hesitated for a moment, put off by the change in subject, but eventually nodded slightly, chin bumping against Koudou’s hand. The doctor gave him a quick once over just in case, slowly lowering his arm—although the young man hadn’t been one for deceit even before letting his guard down, it was best to be sure—and was satisfied with the response. There were a few remnant marks from mostly-healed wounds, but no actual damage. Good; what he needed to do today was going to be rather… Invasive, and he preferred that Miki be in full health for the procedure.

The young man’s gaze turned curious. “… Why?”

“Like I said, it’s a process.” He made certain to hold Miki’s wide-eyed gaze the entire time. “Thanks to you, I’ve already found a method of mitigating the energy consumption.”

The young man watched him with more uncertainty than he had before—but not enough for concern. “… What is it?”

The question wasn’t new, either, and he was already giving another smile of studied reassurance before the words had finished leaving Miki’s lips. “There now,” When the young man looked away nervously, Koudou brought his hand back up to hold Miki’s chin once more, gently turning his face back forward. In a last second addition, he brushed his thumb over the young man’s cheek briefly, noting how Miki’s head tilted slightly into the touch, eyes darting back to the doctor’s face, “You trust me, don’t you, Saburo?”

The silence that followed was longer than it had ever been before, but Koudou wasn’t terribly concerned—he could still plainly track every thought that ran through the young man’s head, displayed clearly on his face. There was some hesitation, but nothing strong enough to make him think Miki would refuse. The young man was desperate, both for worth and for the means to avenge his family—a raw, determined, consuming rage fuelled by grief that Koudou easily recognised as kin to his own. They were like spirits, in some ways—enough that he knew Miki would never back down from the promise of a chance to achieve his goal. One of the things besides his uniqueness as a test subject that made the doctor almost… Fond of him.

At last, the conflict in Miki’s eyes dissipated, and the telltale nod came, the young man’s chin tapping against Koudou’s fingers once more. The doctor gave him another soft smile, releasing his face and turning back towards the table. “Put that aside, please.” He instructed, lightly gesturing to Miki’s katana. He heard the sound of cloth and motion behind the sounds of him readying supplies. Turning back with the appropriate cloth and bottle in hand, he was unsurprised to find the young man had obeyed, the sword leaning against the wall. Yet another pleasant trait—finding a cooperative subject was almost as rare as finding one that took to the procedure as well as Miki. “And you should sit down.” He didn’t look up from the precious task of pouring the liquid onto the fabric, but again he heard the rustle of silk as the young man sank down onto the straw mat covering the corner of the room, next to the futon. Another good thing—it would be best to not have to move him too far. He really needed to see about finding a new exam table.

Putting away the closed bottle, he took the soaked cloth in his hand, crossing the room in measured steps to kneel behind the young man’s shoulder. Miki was staring either at the floor or his hands in his lap from lowered lids, biting his lip slightly, still a bit tense. Well, in a fashion, this would help with that. As a forewarning, he reached up and gently smoothed his free hand over the young man’s hair, noting the instinctive start at the sudden touch. Lingering for a moment to be sure Miki was calm, Koudou’s hand drifted to the back of the young man’s head, fingers tangling slightly in his hair for grip. Then he raised his other hand to set the cloth over Miki’s nose and mouth.

The young man stiffened immediately, resisting on impulse, but the doctor’s hand tightened on his hair, pulling Miki against him to keep the cloth over his face. “Shh… It’s alright… It’s alright…” He doubted the words were understood, but that didn’t matter—what was most important was a level tone, “Just breathe… Take deep breaths…” He positioned his arms around the young man to contain him, combing his fingers through the small tangles in Miki’s hair as if to sooth a panicky animal, continuing to murmur softly. The young man continued twisting a bit, hands grasping instinctively at the doctor’s arm, but he managed to maintain enough control to not actually pull hard enough to dislodge the cloth from his face. It took effort—Koudou could feel him trembling, and tears began to well in his eyes, catching in the lashes.

The doctor drew him even closer, folding over him a bit, counting silently as the young man struggled to take slow, heavy breaths. “Do not be afraid, Miki Saburo,” He whispered, smoothing his hand over Miki’s hair in a steady, constant rhythm, in time with each inhale and exhale, “You are my greatest success—I would never cause you unnecessary pain.”

At long last, Miki blearily mumbled something, and his eyes finally closed over the tears brimming in them. The word was muffled by the fabric, and the way his head lolled sideways as his body went fully limp, pressing his face into Koudou’s chest, but… It sounded like ‘aniki.’

Koudou held him for a little longer, running a hand over his hair a few more times, more slowly, until the young man’s breathing levelled out completely. Once he was satisfied Miki was completely under, he slowly unwrapped his arms from around the thin shoulders, tossing the fabric he’d used into the laundry. In the next moment, he guided the unconscious form in his hold over to the futon, cushioning the young man’s head on the pillow carefully, with the same attention he had bequeathed to injured animals in the past.

Under anaesthesia, all the anger and frown lines in Miki’s face smoothed out, easing the weariness that the rage and grief had added to his appearance. The tears that had been partially formed in his eyes were smeared across his cheeks, dripping onto the bedding, leaving small stains in the cloth. When not standing tense like a tightly coiled spring, his body was slender, delicate—all awkward angles and youthful softness.

He looked… He was… So young. He couldn’t be much older than Chizuru—two or three years, at most. Barely more than a boy.

Somebody’s child, whispered a voice in the back of Koudou’s mind, as he watched Miki’s tear streaked face, somebody’s son.

A softness he hadn’t felt in years gathered in his chest as he watched the young man—the boy—sleep. Under the influence of the chemicals, there were no twitches or movement—if not for the languid rise and fall of Miki’s chest and the fact that he wasn’t quite pale enough, he could have passed for a corpse. Another child caught up in a conflict that had been brewing for long before he was born, one that would likely destroy him.

Koudou sighed, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself. There was no purpose to these lingering emotions—he had no use for them, they served no purpose to his goal. He might not savour using as innocent a soul as Miki, but he didn’t have a choice. Not when the boy was the foremost amongst all his attempts. A pity, yes, but he couldn’t lose so precious a specimen.

Opening his eyes, he took one last deep breath, then reached out to brush the wayward strands of hair away from Miki’s face. He’d wasted enough time—he needed to get to work. He had been able to brew a brand of chloroform that was sufficiently effective on Furies, but it didn’t last forever, and there was much to do. His posture shifting back into professionalism, he leaned further forward to arrange both the boy’s arms straight at his sides before getting to his feet and turning back towards the rest of the lab, to fetch his bag. It was time to get to work.

~I’m trying desperately to find a replacement for the horizontal line and failing~

Yeah, have I mentioned I MISS THE HORIZONTAL LINE BRING IT BACK TUMBLR I SUFFER.

Anyway. I. Uh. I finished a thing.

Bc by the by I love this musical/game/thing now. It has soothed my frustrations so much. I’m gonna now go and listen again bc I’m starting to get kinda salty and it is like the magical ‘Detox the Fire’ button. Or maybe that’s just Sunagawa singing.

#Firebird Writing #Random Writing Tidbit #Hakuoki #Hakuouki #Miki Saburo #Saburo Miki #I should give Miki a precious tag Sunagawa landed him there #anyway I wrote this #and now I am so frickin tired so I'm gonna try to go to bed here #maybe make a few notes first #aaaaaah also gotta send an email #and leave myself a note to call the CPAP equipment people…#okay okay #why is having a life so very hard #Things You Didn't Know Fire Was Into #for lack of a better end tag #EDIT: I'm going for it

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

Text

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 14

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 5213 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Doflamingo, Violet, Baby 5, Trebol, Diamante, Monkey D. Luffy, Robin, Sanji, Usopp, Franky Notes: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Two Days Ago

Law stood at the helm of the Thousand Sunny, one hand light on the wheel as he watched Dressrosa come into focus. Though Law’s own ship was a submarine, he’d learned how to sail other vessels well enough and directed the Sunny toward the port. The sea, as expected, was calm, so there was little maneuvering he needed to do. With the weather warming up as the ship approached Dressrosa, Law had discarded his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie, though he was still warm beneath his hat. The ship was eerily quiet, considering whose home she was.

Law glanced down at the hat in his other hand; he could have put it down on the deck alongside his coat and Kikoku, but he hadn’t been able to when the feeling of the worn straw under his fingers was such a stark reminder of those weeks on Amazon Lily two years earlier—where the whole mess Law now found himself had begun.

As Law steered the Sunny into the familiar docks and dropped anchor, the only people greeting him were dock workers, already unwinding ropes in preparation for securing the ship to the dock. Curious. And fortuitous. The last person Law wanted to run into before seeing Doffy was Violet; the less she knew about what Law had gotten into on Punk Hazard, the better for them both. Though she’d obfuscated for him more than once in the past, she’d never outright lied to Doffy for him—and he wouldn’t ask her to, knowing what she was risking. He’d take the small victories where he could find them.

Straw hat still in hand, though with his heavy coat now draped over it, and Kikoku resting in her usual place against his shoulder, Law pocketed his log pose and hopped down from the ship. He peered down the docks to see the Polar Tang shining brightly in the late-afternoon sun. His chest gave a twinge at the thought of the ship that had been home for the last decade. Would she be able to take the Hearts to freedom? Or would she be stuck docked in the Dressrosan harbor without a crew to sail her after today?

He shook his head and glanced back at the Thousand Sunny once more, looking for anything out of place. When he saw nothing, he took a breath and turned back toward the city. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the harbor master hurrying toward him.

“Corazon, sir!” he huffed once he reached Law. “My apologies for not greeting you immediately.”

“It’s fine,” Law said, waving him off.

He really wasn’t in the mood for this, but the harbor master’s mood could be a good indicator of how he would be received in the city; if news from Punk Hazard had reached Dressrosa and Law was walking headfirst into a trap, Doffy likely would have had the harbor master and his workers watching for Law’s arrival and trying to detain him until Doffy himself could arrive. The harbor master, however, like most Dressrosans, was too terrified of the executives to lie to their faces—even on order of the king. That he didn’t seem to be hiding any ulterior motives was a positive sign.

“Shall I call a carriage to bring you back to the palace?”

“I’ll walk,” Law said, talking a few steps up the dock.

“Are you sure?” the harbor master asked, falling in step with him. “It’s no trouble and would be faster.”

Law leveled a stare at the man, and he quavered. “O-of course, I didn’t mean to challenge you, sir.” He swallowed before nodding at the Sunny. “And this ship?”

Law forced his lips into a smirk. “A trophy from a defeated pirate crew. Keep it in good shape until the king can inspect it.”

Doffy loved keeping trophies, from plundered goods and hijacked ships to defeated crews themselves—many of whom turned into merchandise—from his many victories, so the harbor master didn’t so much as blink at the explanation.

“Of course, Corazon.”

They’d reached the end of the docks, and the harbor master bowed Law out into the city before turning back to the dock workers and yelling orders at them.

Law strode the familiar streets of the city toward the palace, ignoring the eyes and murmured whispers of his title by the Dressrosan citizens and the toys as he passed; Law always drew a fair amount of attention when he was out, considering his status as second to the king. Being watched didn’t mean Doffy knew what had happened. He forced his tense shoulders down as he walked. He was returning from a straight-forward mission, as he had hundreds of times before. There was nothing different about today.

Pushing aside his paranoia, Law trekked the familiar streets until he reached the palace. The grounds were quiet as he stepped through the gates, and he licked his lips. He was used to the palace being busy, members of the Family and servants alike scurrying around the grounds at all hours of the day. In the late afternoon, he’d expect to see preparations being made for dinner, but, as he walked toward the courtyard, he only saw a few figures moving about in the distance.

“Ah, Corazon!”

Law started as Rosalie, Doffy’s personal aide, came hurrying out of a side hallway. Forcing his expression neutral, he nodded at her.

“The Young Master asked me to find you once you arrived. He’s waiting in his office.”

Law nodded for Rosalie to lead the way, and she turned on her heel to head back into the palace. As they walked, Law considered whether he was more or less likely to be ambushed in Doffy’s office. On the one hand, it held fewer people, which meant fewer enemies for Law to fend off in the case of an attack. On the other hand, it was more isolated from the rest of the palace, meaning fewer people would know what was happening—not that Law would find himself with many allies in the palace if he was outed as a traitor to the Family.

He shook his head; there was no point in catastrophizing until he assessed what information Doffy had. Instead, he addressed Rosalie. As Doffy’s personal aide, she was aware of more goings on in the palace than most, as she was regularly required to track down Family members on short notice for the king.

“The grounds are quiet. Where is everyone?”

She looked back at him to acknowledge that he’d spoken before returning her gaze forward as she strode forward with purpose. “I believe Trebol is with Sugar. Diamante is at the Colosseum, making preparations for the upcoming tournament. I believe Machvise is with him. Pica is at the training grounds, drilling soldiers,” she said, ticking off executives with her fingers. “Dellinger is at the beach with Jora and Lao G. Señor Pink and Gladius left for a mission this morning. Buffalo and Baby 5 went to the market an hour ago. Violet retired to the library after lunch.”

Law nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. None of that seemed unusual and explained why the grounds were as quiet as they were.

Once they reached Doffy’s office, Rosalie knocked on the door and waited for the king’s call to enter. She ducked inside to inform him of Law’s arrival. A few moments later, she stepped back into the hallway and gestured Law inside.

Law took a steadying breath then strode past Rosalie into the office, suppressing a flinch as the door shut behind him. Doffy sat at his desk, papers spread out in front of him and a pen in hand. Law stepped forward but remained just outside of Doffy’s wingspan—not that it really mattered with his strings. He could have Law trapped with no more than a thought. Law’s fingers itched to activate a Room, but he knew that would only give him away. Instead, he did his best to wrap himself in the cloak that was Corazon, second in command to a Warlord and a king.

Even Corazon, however, knew to wait until Doffy was ready (having learned that lesson the hard way), so he waited. Once Doffy finished signing a document, he put his pen down and looked up at Law. He crossed his arms and tilted his head.

“Welcome back, Corazon.”

Law was unable to read anything in his expression or vocal tone so pressed forward. “Thank you, Young Master.”

“I trust you ran into no further complications?”

Law quirked his lips into one of his trademark smirks. “Of course not. I even brought presents. One is in the harbor.”

Doffy chuckled, a deep, pleased sound that rumbled lightly throughout the small room. “I heard.” Of course he had. “Very impressive. What else?”

Law pulled the straw hat out from under his coat and tossed it onto Doffy’s desk. Doffy froze as he realized what had landed in front of him.

“A trophy,” Law said. “From the head of one of the Worst Generation.”

“Take it, Torao. If it’ll make Mingo believe I’m dead, then take it.”

“Straw Hat-ya, I can’t take this.”

“Shishishi, I know you’ll give it back. I trust you!”

“This hat—” Doffy murmured, turning the worn thing over in his hands, the straw crinkling in the quiet between the two pirates. Doffy looked up sharply at Law. “Do you know who this hat belonged to?” At Law’s frown, Doffy shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, voice gentling. “This is quite the prize.”

Law blinked and caught the hat on instinct when Doffy tossed it back to him.

“You defeated its wearer, my Corazon. It is your trophy.” His lips twitched. “Though I think your own hat suits you better.”

Law snorted. “Not a lot of use for a straw hat in the North.” And Law was, at his core, a child of the North Blue—of winter islands and warfare.

“Indeed.”

“Was there anything else?” Law asked, raising an eyebrow. Impertinence was one of his defining traits, after all.

Doffy waved him off, already looking back toward the paperwork in front of him. “Dinner’s in an hour. Get yourself cleaned up.”

Law gave a shallow bow then turned to leave. Presenting his back to Doffy was one of the hardest things he’d done in a long time, but he forced himself to offer that vulnerability, since, if nothing were wrong, Doffy at his back would be no threat. Breath caught in his throat, Law headed out of Doffy’s office, part of him waiting to be impaled with an onslaught of strings…

But it never came.

He let out the breath he’d been holding when the door shut behind him and very nearly slumped against the wall. But the walls had eyes in the palace, so Law instead straightened his spine and headed to his chambers. He wanted nothing more than to make a direct line to the Hearts’ wing of the palace to check in with his crew, but with the distance he’d kept from them in the previous years, doing so would look out of character.

He encountered only a few servants as he headed for his room. Once he shut the door behind him, he leaned back against it tiredly and ran a hand over his face. He hadn’t been locked up in Seastone and thrown in the dungeon yet, so that was a good sign. Maybe, just maybe, he could get his crew out after all. They’d be on the run, but that would be better than the prison they found themselves in now—and they had allies.

Law dropped his coat on his bed and rested Kikoku on top of it. He placed the straw hat on his desk and pulled his Den Den Mushi from his coat pocket. He put the snail on the desk next to the hat then went into the bathroom, as if to wash up; instead, he activated a Room. He Scanned for the surveillance snail in the vents that kept an eye on his room and, with a quick Shambles, switched it with a snail he’d set up years earlier to broadcast a recorded feed of his empty room. Now it would simply appear that Law was in the shower. He’d found the surveillance snail immediately after he’d moved into the palace at seventeen, though he had no idea how often Doffy checked the feed nearly a decade later. The snail had never been removed, though, so Law worked under the assumption that the Warlord regularly monitored it to be safe.

Law then stepped back into the bedroom and went over to his desk. He pulled out a scrap of paper and scribbled a note: After dinner. Crew meeting. He folded it and pushed his Room in the direction of the Hearts’ quarters until he found Bepo’s room. The bear wasn’t in the room at the moment, but that was not unusual at this time of day. Law switched his note with pen on Bepo’s desk then retracted his Room once more.

That done, he turned to his Den Den Mushi and dialed. He only had to wait two rings before the other side picked up.

“Torao, it’s about time!”

“I told you to give me until nightfall to check in, Straw Hat-ya,” Law snapped, glancing out the window at the late afternoon sun. “I’m early.”

“But it’s boooooring on your ship,” Luffy whined.

Law rolled his eyes. Before arriving in Dressrosa, he’d come up with a plan to sneak the Straw Hats in without them being noticed. Because Doffy had eyes on all the ships coming into and going out of the harbor, it was imperative the Straw Hats stay out of sight as the ship approached. They would stay below deck as Law steered the Thousand Sunny into the harbor.

Then, while Law then checked in with Doflamingo at the palace, pretending the Sunny was a conquest of their fight, the Straw Hats would use their submersible to make their way to the Polar Tang; Doffy would undoubtedly have his men examining the Sunny to see what Law had brought him, so it would be a poor hiding place. The Tang, however, was generally left alone except for some basic maintenance, meaning she would be safe for the Straw Hats to hide out in until Law could contact them with an update and to decide their next move. He’d left them with a hand-drawn map of the palace as well as a rough map of the city itself for them to study while they waited.

Luffy had protested, wanting to see the city and, naturally, try the local cuisine, but his crew had reminded him that they were all supposed to be dead; being recognized would put Law and his nakama in danger, and—after his suggestion that they go into the city in disguises was thoroughly shot down—that had quieted his complaints.

Mostly.

“Boring?” Franky called, affronted, from somewhere in the background. “This ship is super! I want to know everything about her, Tra-bro!”

Law sighed. “Please tell Robo-ya to refrain from destroying my ship before we leave Dressrosa.”

“We’ll rein him in, Torao-kun,” Robin promised, though there was humor in her voice. “What happened with Doflamingo?”

“Mm, yeah. What happened with Mingo?” Luffy echoed. It sounded like he was moving around the Den Den Mushi, likely bursting with pent up energy. Law only hoped his ship would survive the Straw Hats’ cyborg and its bored captain.

“He seemed to take my report at face value,” Law said. “But there’s no telling when he’ll hear from his sources in the Marines about what happened. We’ll still need to move quickly.”

“When do I get to kick his ass?” Luffy asked. Several of the Straw Hats groaned in the background.

“That’s not the point of this, Luffy,” Robin reminded him, not unkindly. “The goal is to get Torao-kun and his nakama out of Dressrosa unnoticed.”

“We’re trying to avoid a fight with a Warlord, Luffy!” Usopp added, a tinge of panic in his voice.

“Fine,” Luffy grumbled.

“I’m expected at dinner with the Family this evening,” Law said, breaking in. “If I skip it, it’ll raise suspicions.”

Luffy whooped in excitement at the thought of food, and Sanji snapped that he’d brought food from the Sunny, which only made the younger captain more excited.

Law grimaced, wondering not for the first time why the mysterious pull in his chest had brought him to these people. He knew the Family was its own type of ridiculous, but the Straw Hats took that to a whole other level. Why did he think he could entrust something as important as his nakama’s lives to them?

“I’ll see my nakama after dinner and contact you then,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Good luck,” Robin said over her chaotic crewmates.

“Same to you,” Law replied then hung up.

For a moment, he stared at the snail then at the hat on the desk next to it. This was a terrible idea, but Law was already in too deep to turn back now.

After a quick shower to wash off the travel and battle from the last two days, Law changed into a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt then switched the surveillance snail back to the one with live feed and dropped his Room. Pulling his hat on, he glanced at Kikoku but decided not to bring her to dinner; he didn’t usually walk around the palace grounds with the nodachi in hand. His head was starting to ache—the concussion symptoms, while improving, were still bothering him—so he took some painkillers before heading to the dining room.

Though Law was on edge, dinner was a standard Family affair. The only executives not present were Señor Pink and Gladius, who were off the island. Law easily fell into his typical standoffish self, meandering into the dining room a couple of minutes late and sliding into his seat with an insincere smirk. Doffy, who was in the middle of a discussion with Trebol, merely raised an eyebrow at him, and Law shrugged. Doffy huffed once before turning back to Trebol.

Law rarely invited conversation at meals, though Baby 5 wanted to tell anyone who would listen—and for some reason, she thought Law was listening—about the wares she’d found at the market. Law ignored her, picking at his plate without much enthusiasm. The food, as always, was excellent—Doffy had high expectations of those who worked for him; Law’s stomach was simply tied in knots. It was a good thing Law rarely finished his meals, so his lack of appetite tonight didn’t appear unusual.

More than once, Law looked up to see Violet trying to catch his eye from several seats down the table. Law shook his head minutely and looked back down at his plate. He didn’t need to get her involved in this.

Law started when he felt a smack on his arm. He rubbed it with a frown at Baby 5. “What was that for?”

“Are you even listening to me, Corazon?”

Law snorted. “Of course not.”

Baby narrowed her eyes. “You’re such a jerk,” she muttered.

“Don’t act so surprised, Baby,” Law replied, lips twitching. It was easy enough to fall into this familiar pattern of banter with her.

She sighed dramatically. “You have been a jerk since you were ten.”

Law rested his chin on his hand, angling himself toward her slightly. “You want me to hear about your day, but you didn’t even ask me how my mission went.”

She scrunched up her nose then sighed resignedly. “How did your mission go, Corazon?”

Law shrugged, turning back to the table. “Fine.”

“You asshole!” she squawked, whacking him in the arm again. “Did you get rid of all your manners with your spots?”

Law gaped at her a moment before laughing in surprise. He would miss this; Baby was one of the only members of the Family he cared about. She’d been one of the few things that made his return to the Family tolerable.

“Just my people skills.” He picked up a piece of silverware from the table. “I still know a salad fork from a dessert fork.”

The rest of their conversation was cut short as Doffy pushed back from the table and rose. He nodded at the members of the Family gathered around the table.

“The rest of the night is yours. I have work to attend to.” He glanced to the side. “Pica, Machvise, a word in my office.”

As the summoned executives stood to follow Doffy from the dining room, Law pushed himself away from the table and headed for the hallway. He had a few things he needed from his room before meeting with his crew so headed that way; he could have just opened a Room and summoned them, but something told him to reserve his stamina for now.

He was about halfway to his chambers when he stopped. “What do you want, Violet?” He turned to see her turning a corner to face him.

She crossed her arms. “Why were you ignoring me at dinner?”

Law suppressed a sigh. “Because I’m an asshole.”

“True, but that’s not it. Try again.”

“I have a lot on my mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” Law started to turn back toward his room. He knew he was being unfair to her, but he didn’t want her reading him. Not today.

“Corazon, stop. Something is going on with you.”

Law turned back to her, jaw clenched. “Violet, don’t.”

“I can just read you to find out,” she threatened, lifting her hands.

Law grabbed her wrists before her hands could reach her face. “Don’t.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Let go.”

“Don’t try to read me, Violet,” Law practically growled. “I mean it. Not this time.”

She let out a huff then nodded. “Fine. Now let go.”

He released her wrists, and she rubbed her left wrist absently. “Something happened on your mission.”

Law chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before agreeing, “Yes.”

“What can I do?”

He blinked at her in surprise. “What?”

“If you’re in trouble, let me help.”

Law shook his head. She’d been trying to help him almost since he arrived in Dressrosa, and now the only way he could repay her was to keep her out of this mess. She had her father and niece to think about.

“Not for this one.”

“But—”

“Let it go, Violet.” Then he did open a Room and Shamble himself into his chambers, leaving a pen in his place in the hallway.

Years of practice with his powers allowed him to avoid landing awkwardly on his desk, and he dropped to the floor. He opened a drawer in his desk and pushed aside the items inside. He pressed on the right spot, and the false bottom opened. He reached in and grabbed the papers inside then replaced the false bottom and shut the drawer. He spread the papers out on his desk: blueprints of the castle. Violet had once mentioned that there was a secret passageway in the castle that only the Riku family knew about. She hadn’t revealed its location, though, and Law hadn’t asked.

If he could find that on the blueprints now, perhaps he could use it to get his crew out without being detected. He leaned over the paper with a frown, looking for anything that looked out of place or that he didn’t recognize. He could have asked her in the hallway just now, but he didn’t want what he was looking for getting back to Doflamingo—not before he and his nakama were gone, anyway.

He was so focused on the blueprints that he was taken by surprise when his door slammed open, rattling on its hinges. Law jerked upright but didn’t have a chance to react before a wave of mucus slammed him into the far wall. Law’s head slammed back against the wall. His vision darkened, and his body went slack, air leaving his lungs in a sharp exhale.

Goddamn concussion, he thought blearily as the world slowly started coming back into focus in front of him. His doctor side was distantly outraged at the battering his brain was taking, but the rest of him—the part in the here and now—was just trying to breathe.

As he came back to his senses, the first thing he recognized was that he was being held upright against the wall by Trebol’s mucus. Gross.

The shapes in front of him slowly materialized into Trebol and Diamante standing in his doorway.

“What the fuck, Trebol?” Law growled, though his voice lacked the power he wanted to put behind it.

“That’s what we should be asking you, Corazon.”

Law’s stomach dropped as Doffy entered the room behind his two executives. Law could feel the anger radiating off him.

He knows, Law realized. I wasn’t fast enough, and he knows. Fuck.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Law said, glancing around to assess his options. Though the mucus was holding him to the wall, his lower arms were free, so he could still form a Room. Kikoku was on the bed, but he could summon her with a Room.

He just had to do it at the right moment.

Doffy paused at Law’s desk and looked down at the papers. “Blueprints of the castle?” He turned back to Law. “And how did you get your hands on these?” Then he shook his head. “Never mind. I know how resourceful you are. And why would you need blueprints of the castle? Looking for an escape route?”

“Escape? Because that’s gone so well for me in the past,” Law scoffed, though he knew it wasn’t lost on Doffy that he’d side-stepped the question.

“I just heard from some sources in the Marines,” Doffy said, resuming his approach into Law’s space. “You’ll never believe who they have in custody.”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

Law winced as a string sliced through his cheek. It was a shallow cut, but blood dripped down the side of his face. A warning.

“Monet and Caesar,” Doffy said, tilting his head as he looked down at Law. “And I can’t imagine how that could be when you told me you saw them this morning, Corazon.”

Law licked his lips, hating the way he had to look up at the Warlord. “I did see them this morning.” That wasn’t a lie. He’d just… withheld the condition he’d seen them in. “If they were careless enough to get arrested after I left, that’s not on me.”

Another string sliced through Law’s cheek, this one a bit deeper, just below the first cut.

Doffy leaned over to whisper in Law’s ear, “I’d be very careful of what you say next.” The temperature dropping with Doffy’s icy words.

Law swallowed but remained silent. Doffy could probably feel the racing of his heart at this proximity.

“I’m only going to ask once. Did you see Vergo on Punk Hazard?”

“I thought Vergo was here.” Which was true—he had thought that, until Vergo had shown his face on the Straw Hats’ ship the day before.

Doffy straightened and, eyes never leaving Law’s, pulled a Den Den Mushi from his coat. He dialed a number from memory.

The discarded coat on Law’s bed started to ring.

Law cursed silently. He’d completely forgotten to get rid of Vergo’s Den Den Mushi. He’d planned to look it over on the trip from Punk Hazard, but he’d gotten distracted by making plans to get the Straw Hats into Dressrosa, and the snail had remained untouched in his pocket.

Doffy finally tore his gaze from Law and went over to the bed. He grabbed Law’s coat and dug around until he found the buzzing snail. Law’s own Den Den Mushi was on his desk and silent, cutting off that potential excuse.

“This is Vergo’s Den Den Mushi.”

“I…”

“Vergo’s dead,” Doffy said, the snail still ringing in his hand. Doffy’s voice remained low, and Law had, from his childhood, found Doffy’s restrained fury far more terrifying than when the man lost his cool. “His heart had been removed from his chest and squeezed.”

Law was well and truly fucked.

Deciding he had nothing to lose, he flexed his fingers ever-so-slightly in preparation to open a Room—

Then cried out as a blade impaled itself through the palm of his right hand.

It took a moment for his abused brain to register why, other than the pain, this was such a problem.

It was his dominant hand.

The one he used to wield Kikoku.

The one he used to control his Fruit.

The one he led with in surgery.

Oh.

“Nuh uh,” Diamante said from the other end of his waving blade. “No tricks, boy.”

“Nene, Corazon. Don’t surgeons need their hands?” Trebol chuckled.

Law made a choked sound as Diamante pulled the blade out. His thoughts spun as his hand dripped blood to the carpet beneath him. He’d felt worse pain than this—nothing he’d experienced had been worse than the final stages of Amber Lead Disease—but this was his hand.

“I can do the other one, Doffy. Make sure he can’t pull anything,” Diamante offered.

“No,” Doffy said, eyeing Law. “He’s no good to me if he can’t use his Fruit.”

Trebol’s mucus retreated, and Law fell forward. Without thinking, he reached out with his hands to catch himself then crumpled into a heap with a cry, hand coming to his chest as an electric shock jolted from his hand through his entire arm. The breath caught in his throat and the room around him fuzzed.

He’d failed.

He’d failed as an executive.

He’d failed as an ally.

He’d failed as a surgeon.

He’d failed as a captain.

He’d failed as a friend.

He’d failed Cora-san.

He barely registered the snapping of Seastone restraints around his wrists, the little strength he had left draining from his body as he went limp on the floor.

From somewhere above him, Doffy spoke, though Law couldn’t make out the words. He winced but didn’t struggle as Trebol and Diamante each grabbed one of his arms. The two executives dragged him bodily down the hallways of the palace, his feet trailing limply behind him. In his peripheral vision, he caught Violet’s shocked expression as the procession passed.

Law grimaced as they reached the stairs to the dungeon but didn’t have the strength to try to get his feet under him, so his legs thumped against each stone step as he was taken down. At the bottom, Trebol and Diamante exchanged a few words with the guard then followed him to what Law assumed was one of the Seastone cells. The guard opened the door, and Law was pulled into the cell and shoved against the wall, forcing the breath from his lungs. The chain between his wrist shackles was hooked above Law’s head before all the figures retreated.

Law slumped forward in defeat.

But he jerked upright at a familiar voice.

“Captain?”

Next chapter

#This kind of exploded on me #trafalgar law #Donquixote Doflamingo #Caitlin's fic #One Piece fanfic #One Piece fanfiction

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

A fresh Start alternative ending

This was prompted by a lovely anon! I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 [original story]

Nines couldn’t help but stare at the man who had just run from him, his body completely frozen still holding the ripped off part of Gavin’s sleeve. He looked down on the grey fabric and let his analysing program run although it wouldn’t help him at all. What kept him in his frozen state was the memory of Gavin’s heavily scarred arm for everyone to see. What had led to this scarring? Why was he so afraid of someone seeing them? Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? But everything Nines could remember was the panic in his eyes. And that worried him. The man had looked up at him as if he would hit him the next second. That… Nines couldn’t even think of a reason for it. They had never gotten along well, but Nines had never laid hand on Gavin. And he was sure he never would. There was no reason for that reaction and Nines wanted to know the reason now. He had to ask Gavin if he was okay and offer his help. It was the least he could do after causing such unease for him in the middle of the bullpen.

So, he pocketed the piece of fabric and ran after him out of the building and to the parking lot. He managed to set foot on the pavement the very moment Gavin’s motorcycle roared up and sped off the property with squeaking tires. Nines couldn’t help but scream after him, but the man didn’t even turn his head. Nines didn’t think he had heard him at all. But he wasn’t so quick to give up. He calculated his most likely destination and took the bus to get him to Gavin’s home.

When he arrived, the windows were dark, but Nines still rung the doorbell. Maybe Gavin just didn’t want to be disturbed. No one answered, so he rung it a second time. And a third. Then he hammered his fist against the wood. ‘Gavin! I know you don’t want to speak with anyone, but it’s me, Nines! I’m sorry about what happened and I worry. Please, open the door.’ He waited for an answer that didn’t come. ‘Okay, then please at least listen! I am really sorry. And I didn’t want to expose you like that, whatever was the reason for your scarring. I want to apologise and just wanted to make sure you are alright. Can you tell me if you are alright? I… I really don’t want to wait until tomorrow to see for myself.’ But again, when Nines waited for an answer, Gavin stayed silent. The android sighed and went around the house, looking into every window he could reach. Not a single trace of the man. And no hint of his motorcycle either. Maybe he hadn’t driven here after all.

Nines quickly accessed the android network and browsed through Gavin’s scarce social media profiles. He could make out three bars that corresponded with those Tina had spoken of a few times and decided to head there next. The time spent waiting for the bus or driving in it until he was where he wanted to be, was torture to him. What if Gavin wasn’t there either? Or what if Gavin was there? What words could Nines use to make it better? How could he convince the man to share his story with him? They weren’t exactly on personal terms after all.

He got off the bus at his first stop and braced himself before entering the bar. He did a quick scan of the guests but couldn’t find Gavin underneath them. So, he walked up to the bartender and held up his hand to project a picture of Gavin on his palm. ‘Hello. Have you seen this man?’ ‘No, why?’ ‘I’m a friend of him and worried. He hasn’t shown up to our movie night’, Nines lied. ‘If you see him, could you ask him to call Nines? I just want to know he is safe.’ The man in front of him nodded, but Nines wasn’t very convinced he would remember his request for long.

The next bar was similar. Nines scanned the patrons and repeated his plea to the bartender. This time it was a woman and Nines thought the chances might be better this time. He followed through with his strategy the next few bars, but never got any closer to his end goal of finding Gavin.

His next stop was a gym with insufficient protection on its security: It was an easy task for Nines to hack the surveillance cams and look around for Gavin. But once again he was left with no results. By now his only course of action was wandering the streets aimlessly trying to find the man per sheer chance. He regretted never trying more to initiate conversation with Gavin. If he only knew him better, he might know of more places to look for him. He thought hard, but nothing came to his mind.

So, he grasped the last straw and decided to go to Tina’s house. The woman was friends with Gavin and Nines knew her quite well, too. She was his last chance at conveying a message to the man. So, he boarded the next bus and walked up to her small home about twenty minutes later. He rang the bell and the door opened to a surprised Tina. ‘Nines? Err… Hello. What can I do for you?’ ‘I- Tina, I am so sorry. For disturbing you this late and… and for what happened today at the DPD. You are Gavin’s friend too, right? If you see him again, could you give him this message from me? I-‘ ‘Hey, Nines? I think you should come in first.’ The android nodded and let himself be guided towards a suite. He sat down on one of the sofas and Tina followed, positioning her opposite of him. ‘Okay. What do you want to tell Gavin?’

Nines sighed. ‘I want to tell him that I’m sorry I upset him. I should have thought about the impact of my report on his career and talked to him upfront about it. I shouldn’t have talked behind his back to Fowler. All that lead to the scene in the bullpen in the first place. I also want to tell him I’m concerned about him. I didn’t mean to expose him like that and whatever led to these scars and him wanting to keep it a secret shouldn’t have been something I unveiled to the public. I worry about how he’s doing now, he looked panicked. And I don’t know enough about him to judge that reaction correctly. I would like to, but we aren’t exactly on good terms. I guess that’s partially my fault, I never showed any interest in him outside of work. I would like to know he is safe, and I want to apologise to him. For… everything I guess. I hope he can forgive me.’

He let silence conquer the room after his monologue and only after a few moments looked up to Tina pleadingly. But she just looked back at him, her face neutral. ‘I forgive you’, a familiar male voice answered then and Gavin’s face emerged from behind the sofa and looked down on him, tired and likely drunk. ‘But I’m still pissed at you.’ ‘I understand’, Nines nodded humbly. ‘I just wanted to make sure you are alright. I didn’t know you… had history.’ ‘Didn’t give you any reason to think that’, Gavin shrugged. ‘Not like I ever really talked to you.’ He went around the couch and Tina scooted to the side to make way for him.

‘But I think it is time we had a talk.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Sorry I didn't really change the story line #just how it happened #I needed the happy ending

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ohnobjyx · 4 years

Text

Okay, I received many asks that can be answered in one post...

On Twitter, the rumor turns around when X iao z han and Y ibo are kissing, what is this?

I've try to stay away as much as possible from tt because it's so messy over there, but then today i decided to browse a bit and there's so many people talking about their break up? Do you know if there's any rumours about this that I missed or something? Or it's just people being ott lol

Hello, love ur blog! What do you think of the possibility of xiao zhan and li qin being a couple?

hey dear, wonder if you know why dd gets repeatedly caught up in dating rumors with an heiress (dont want to mention her name for obvious reasons but you probably know who it is). yh keeps denying it and the same rumor pops up again and again. i dont support or oppose whatever it is but curious why this association has occured multiple times now. thank you for being kind always and stay safe and healthy

Hi, anons! I’ve decided to answer all in the same post because my answer is the same for all of them: they are just rumors.

Sometimes the rumors are spread for the sake of spreading rumors and adding “fire” to a fandom. Sometimes, they are translations of fanfiction from Chinese fans and w/ibo (it’s often quite difficult to differentiate between a rumor the author believes in and a fanfic).

So, since rumors that turn out to be true (the latest one would be dd and his jet ski heart), baseless rumors and fanfics are mixed together, they lead to confusion and misunderstandings, and sometimes they spread to international fans.

In my opinion, we don’t need to pay a lot of attention to any of them unless they are confirmed by official channels, like events, tv shows, posts...

(More detailed answers about each ask)

1. About the kissing thing, there’s no such real photo (there are a lot of photoshopped images). If there was, their “alleged” relationship would be in the open by now. I think there was a photo of a fan meeting that people fawn over when they are introduced to the fandom.

Quite misleading, isn’t it? Of course, when you look into it, you’ll find out the truth quite quickly. This is the same moment from another angle.

So this is what comes to my mind when I hear of a “kissing” photo. But there was no such thing (but the moment dd pats on his back and says “be careful with your waist” it’s quite funny).

2. There has been rumors about their break up, but about their engagement as well. In my view, all of that it’s still baseless, there’s nothing that would point in either direction. Quite the contrary, gg’s last post in weibo is a mirror of those first posts in 2017, and dd’s posted on 0704 with the kadian 13:10 and his “surprise”. So it doesn’t look like a break up or a fall out, and an engagement is pointless in a country that doesn’t allow two men to marry.

Edit (thanks to zhansww!): it’s true that a religious/espiritual ceremony would still be possible even if they can’t marry legally. Those were my own views of marriage in there. It depends on how they view commitment and devotion to each other, for what I don’t think a ceremony is necessary, but maybe they think otherwise. However, a rumor of an engagement is still likely to be false.

And both of them requires them to be a couple, of which I’m mostly convinced (let’s say to 98%), but there’s still this last straw of possibility that they aren’t.

3 and 4. Both of them are repeatedly shipped with other people (actresses, actor, their bandmates...). It’s something that happens to all of the celebrities, so I don’t think much about them. Besides, what’s quite telling is how they act and their chemistry with all of those other people. Here, in this post, it’s explained what happened to other ships dd had. I suppose that those ships too are brought up often, but we don’t hear it from here.

GG has been shipped lately with Li Qin and Yan Zi, his co-stars for his next dramas. However, I don’t see him behaving very differently than he does with other people. He’s polite, friendly, cheerful, as he is with every other people he works with. But It’s only with dd that he banters, bickers, playfully fights and says things like “he’s noisier than me”.

Edit (thanks to zhansww again!): regarding the thing with the heiress; there is (was?) a rumor that she is gonna debut in Korea and since dd was a trainee there, he was an easy target to use as clout, to get more attention for her upcoming debut. At one point, people who believed those dating rumors hated on dd for 8 days straight so of course, YH had to make a statement, denying them.

I wholeheartedly agree with the people who say that they both are drastically different with each other in the sense that dd softens and talks (to the point of being called noisy) and gg drops his all time present politeness. Romance or friendship, it tells about closeness, familiarity and trust, and I think that’s more precious than the exact nature of their relationship.

#asks #my post #bjyx #yizhan #got the photos from google #answering as many as possible because I'm leaving for the weekend #only trust things from official channels (and what you can hear and see)

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words-writ-in-starlight · 4 years

Note

modern reincarnated song lan/xiao xingchen first meeting with both their memories back 👀

KIDS IT’S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I WROTE A FIC TO PROVE IT (I’mso sorry Les Mis fandom) BUT REINCARNATION FICS ARE STILL MY JAM and oh boy amI ever going to make it the Songxiao fandom’s problem. It’s also been a while since I postedsomething for that five headcanons meme, but I’m on lockdown and except for goingto the grocery store a week ago I literally haven’t left my apartment in goingon five weeks, so like, I’m officially still doing that meme. Not QUITE the prompt, but a cousin of theprompt, and it’s 3:18 AM so you’re not my boss.

ONE

Song Lan remembers the very first time he sees XiaoXingchen. Xingchen is eighteen, a yearolder than he was when they met before, wearing a white shirt and a messy bun, andSong Lan takes one look at him in a grocery store and almost knocks over adisplay of oranges. It’s—a lot to takein. Xingchen looks exactly like himself,like Song Lan remembers him from—from before. He’s talking with a store employee, a basket in one hand and the otherholding up an apple. He looks apologetic,with the mild smile that he always wore when he felt like he was imposing onsomeone’s time, and he’s saying something about being sorry, but please couldhe have some help choosing.

Song Lan’s ears are still ringing and his chest is still aching andhis hands are still shaking, but his voice is clear and steady when he hearshimself say, “I can give you a hand.”

Xingchen turns toward him, a startled look on his beautifulface, and Song Lan’s throat threatens to close up on him, because Xingchen’seyes are a clear light brown more familiar than anything in the world, and theydo not focus on him. He has a white canetucked into the corner of his arm—blind, still.

“I couldn’t impose,” Xingchen demurs immediately, and Song Lanshakes his head.

“It’s no imposition. I—I don’thave anywhere else to be.” Song Lan castsaround a little desperately for an excuse, a good reason for Xingchen to lethim help, let him stay under the light of that smile, and says, “I’m supposedto be studying for an exam and if I didn’t get out of the apartment I was goingto tear up my textbook. You’d be savingme three hundred and fifty dollars.”

Xingchen laughs, then, and Song Lan doesn’t know what hisface does, but the employee gives him a mildly pitying glance.

“Well, I suppose I had better, then,” Xingchen says, warm andamused. “I normally come with one of myroommates, but one of them is sick.” Heholds up the apple to Song Lan and says, “I’m Xiao Xingchen.”

I know,Song Lan almost says. He doesn’t. He takes the apple and says, “This one isbruised. I’m Song Lan.”

TWO

Xiao Xingchen, for his part, doesn’t remember for three weeks. It’s a piling up of little things that weardown the wall hiding the past, for him, but the last straw, the crack that bringsthe dam down, is nothing at all: his roommates are usually good about makingsure to keep all the silverware in their assigned places, so that Xingchen canfind them, but that day, one of them, a study-abroad student named Morgan,forgets, and he slices open his palm on a knife. She’s horrified and sorry and he has to talkher down from calling an ambulance, and she still insists on bandaging his handfor him, which he appreciates. It hurtsand pulls all evening, and when he goes to sleep, he has a terrible nightmare.

This is nothing new. XiaoXingchen has had terrible nightmares all his life. Sometimes he even sees in them, which hewould find academically interesting if it were happening to anyone else—all thecolors are right, every line detailed and familiar. He can’t read characters, but he knows theengravings on the swords.

It’s not a seeing dream that night. It’s a dream about darkness and lies anddying, and there’s blood drying sticky and hot on his hand and sleeve when he sobshimself awake, from where his hand is clenched into such a tight fist that itseeped through the bandages. His handfeels like someone’s laid a match to the cut, and he has a headache likenothing he’s ever felt, a bone-deep spike of pain behind his eyes, and he needs—

His hands shake as he grabs his phone and manages to pull upSong Lan’s number.

THREE

Song Lan has the gift of waking up to a vibrating phone—which isto say, he worked in retail for three years before he got into teaching school,and still has anxiety about it. Thephone is already at his ear and he’s saying “This is Song Lan” before he’s evenawake.

“Zichen?”

“Xingchen?” Song Lan issitting up and doesn’t really remember how that happened, and he’s staringwide-eyed at his desk through the dim city-twilight creeping around his darkcurtains, and Xingchen’s voice sounds ravaged on the other end of theline. “What’s wrong?”

“I—please, Zichen, I—”

“Are you hurt?” Song Lan demands, and he’s already on his feet,the phone pinned between his cheek and his shoulder as he grabs whateverclothes are near at hand.

“No,” Xingchen says faintly. “Wait—yes. My hands—no. Just my right hand.” He makes a noise that sounds like it might,theoretically, be a laugh, if he stopped crying. “I cut it on a knife, Zichen.”

Song Lan thinks about the world-ending feeling of remembering XiaoXingchen, and tries not to love the sound of Xingchen’s voice saying Zichenagain, and that moment, when he’s already dragging on socks with his keys inhis hand, is when he finally, finally catches up.

He stops cold, one shoe on. “Xingchen—do you remember me?”

“Yes,” Xingchen whispers. “I remember everything.”

Song Lan shuts his eyes for a moment and really, really hatesXue Yang. “I’m coming over.”

FOUR

Xingchen’s roommates are not going to appreciate him having his “weirdfriend with the scary face” show up at three in the morning and waking them upby knocking on the door, but on the other hand, Xingchen knows he probablylooks…bad. He knows he has blood leakingfrom his hand, and he can feel that the cut is probably worse than he thought,and he can hear one of them make an alarmed sound as he wavers on his feet inhis bedroom door, but then Song Lan stops knocking politely and startshammering on the door with the side of his fist. Xingchen makes a helpless gesture with his bleedinghand, and hears someone fumble the lock open and immediately scramble back toget out of the way. They’re scared ofSong Lan for some reason.

Xingchen can’t imagine being scared of Song Lan.

“Xingchen,” Song Lan says, Zichen says, and Xiao Xingchenknows, like he knows his own name, that Song Lan doesn’t like to be touched,but he can’t stop himself from reaching out. He stops when he can feel the warmth of a body beyond his fingertips anddoesn’t go any further.

“Zichen.”

Song Lan’s hand closes around his bare wrist without hesitation,and he forces Xingchen’s hand palm up, and says, “You’re bleeding.”

“Yes,” Xingchen says, starting to laugh. He’s not sure why he’s laughing. He thinks he might still be crying. But Song Lan is here, touching Xingchen inthe measured, intentional way he always did, and it seems obscurely hilariousthat he expects Xingchen to care about something as petty as bleeding. “Yes, I am.”

“All right,” Song Lan says softly, like he’s answering aquestion that hasn’t been asked. “Comeon, Xingchen. Let’s get a look at yourhand.”

Xingchen hates to be led around by the hand, like a child, buthe goes easily when Song Lan pulls him toward the bathroom. Song Lan lets him rest his head against SongLan’s hip, while those familiar hands dab blood from his skin and peel away thesoaked bandages, and Xingchen listens to Zichen’s low voice, and tries tobreathe.

FIVE

So, Song Lan isn’t going to class tomorrow. He send the emails from the emergency roomwaiting area, on his phone, with Xingchen sitting beside him and holding asmall pile of gauze to his palm. Xingchenhas been quiet since Song Lan announced that they were going to the hospital,but he went without a fight, admitted that the laceration was worse than it hadbeen before—from the clench of his fist in his nightmare, apparently. His hair is tied back into a braid that curlsover his shoulder, and he forgot his cane, and Song Lan washed the smearedblood from his face and didn’t throw up at the memory of watching Xue Yang dothe same, and—

“I missed you,” Song Lan says quietly, and Xingchen turns towardhim. All at once, all the things thatSong Lan planned and imagined and dreamed of saying are piled up behind histeeth, trying to force their way out in a rush. “I’m—so sorry, Xingchen. Everything—it was all my fault, I was so cruel to you.”

“Zichen,” Xingchen says, and he sounds so tired. His head tips toward Song Lan’s shoulder, buthe stops, just like he did before, just like he always has, a little distancefrom touching. Xingchen always lets SongLan be the one to close that last gap, always lets him choose how and when andwhere he’s willing to be touched. Hedidn’t need it explained to him when they first met and doesn’t need it thistime. Song Lan has missed him so much.

“I’m not—I never had your gift with words,” Song Lan goes on, somefeeling rising in his chest that he can’t name, something nearly frantic,because he’s not Xingchen, has never been Xingchen, has never had the rightwords at the right time even when he needed them most desperately. He wrote so many versions of thisconversation in his head, before, that he can’t pick one now. “But I—I am so sorry, Xingchen. I should have done better by you, I was—I wasthoughtless, and you suffered for it--”

“Zichen,” Xingchen says again, weary, and Song Lan shuts up. “I only regretted being blind when it killedyou,” he says, in a low murmur. “When itkilled all those—and that—that was not your fault.”

“But—”

“Enough,” Xingchen says. “You’reforgiven. You were always forgiven,Zichen.” He smiles a little. “Besides, I should be the one apologizing.”

“I won’t listen,” Song Lan says, trying for humor. He never did have the talent for being funnywhen he meant to be, but Xingchen smiles a little more.

“I missed you too. Allthe time.”

Song Lan thinks briefly about kissing him. Maybe later. Instead he reaches up and tips Xingchen’s head onto his shoulder, andsays, “Keep pressure on your hand.”

“It’s not bleeding anymore.”

“Good. Keep pressure onit.”

AndXingchen laughs, with his cheek resting on Song Lan’s shoulder, and Song Lansmiles a little himself.

#the untamed #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #songxiao #xiao xingchen #song lan #starlight writes stuff #headcanon meme #ask meme #i should apparently start doing what sarah yyy does and tag for sadness level according to the girlfriend #mild to medium angst #I THINK YOU MEANT THIS TO BE...KIND AND SWEET #IT'S STILL KIND! but like mild to medium angst without a doubt #this is also verging on being a whole fic rather than headcanons but are any of us really surprised #sl is a few years older than xxc again and he's in grad school for a degree in education #xxc is in his first year of post-secondary something #he has kind of a whole existential crisis about it after getting his memories back #but it turns out okay all things considered #a qing is one of the students song lan teaches the next year and she sees him the first day and shrieks 'daozhang' and throws herself at hi #song lan heroically doesn't drop her in a panic but he does later ask her not to grab him because he doesn't like to be touched #xxc on the other hand loves a hug! and by god a qing wants to give him one!#i have no idea how xue yang figures into this if at all #i just wanted sl and xxc to sit quietly in an er waiting room and talk about missing each other #xiao xingchen kisses him the next day by the way #he reaches out and stops with his hand three inches from song lan's face and says 'may i'#and song lan forces his hand down and brings his left (uninjured) hand up instead and puts xxc's palm to his cheek #and xxc is laughing when he kisses him #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #insert-cleverurl #asked and answered

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nicriverswriting · 3 years

Text

Fights and Forming Friendships (Oneshot)

Pairing: Hanako Fukushima [OC] x Li-Wei [@flipnegg’s KNY OC] (non-ship)

Words: 4,323

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Warnings: semi-graphic violence, (slight) angst

Notes: This is another oneshot from my upcoming Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba oneshot book, Beyond the Wisteria Trees. Quite honestly, this is probably my favorite oneshot that I’ve written (thus far). Li-Wei is my best friend @flipnegg ‘s OC. His storyline is that he’s the Ice Pillar, mute, and turns into a demon while trying to protect his tsuguko and boyfriend, Xiao-Li. Hanako and Li-Wei don’t exactly see eye-to-eye at first, but as the story progresses, their friendship changes...

The lively estate of Tengen Uzui was filled with laughter and the loud boom of Tengen’s voice as he recounted the tale of what occurred on his Red Light District mission to Hanako. Hanako and Tengen’s three wives, Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru chuckled as the Sound Pillar “flamboyantly” recounted defeating not one, but two Upper Moons, losing a hand and an eye in the process. Hanako thought it was sweet how the normally stuck-up and egotistical man was giving a huge amount of credit to the three Demon Slayers (and one demon) that accompanied him on the mission.

“Yeah, if it weren’t for those four,” Tengen stopped, turning to face his wives. “And these three, I’d be dead.”

“I’m glad you made it out alive, Uzui,” Hanako grinned, taking a sip of the tea that Makio had provided them with. “But are you sure about retiring? We’ll all miss you a lot.”

He quickly nodded, a lock of his loose hair falling over the eyepatch that now adorned his face. “Yep, I’m done. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

As the five continued to talk, a distant cawing noise could be heard. Hanako snapped her head up to see Arisu land on the floor, hopping towards her. In her beak was a little scroll of parchment, rolled up neatly. Hanako sighed, beckoning Arisu over with a wave of her hand. After taking the scroll and unravelling it, she read the message laid upon it:

New mission.

Meet Li-Wei at the village of Baman.

Possible Upper Moon activity.

Proceed cautiously.

Hanako scoffed, crumbling the paper in a clenched fist. Tengen and his wives were alarmed at her sudden mood change. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

She looked up to them. “I’ve gotta go. Thanks for the tea, Makio. I’ll see you all later.”

The village of Baman was a small one, filled with little houses row by row and a small hotel for wary travellers at the entrance of the village. Hanako had sent Arisu off with a note to be delivered to Li-Wei, telling him she’d meet him outside of the hotel.

She was now standing here, arms crossed and back against a wall as pedestrians crossed in front of her. A soft wind blew, making the tail of Hanako’s long braid flow in the breeze. The sun was setting, lighting the sky on fire -- Hanako figured that Li-Wei would arrive at dusk, or sometime after dark. A frown came across Hanako’s face as she thought of the mission at hand. The fact that she was going to be completing it with a demon Demon Slayer made her blood boil with hot rage. Though, even begrudgingly, Hanako would do whatever Oyakata-sama wished.

A soft pressure on her shoulders snapped her out of her trance. Arisu had landed on her shoulder. Hanako looked up at the sky, seeing that the sun was pretty much hidden. Looking back across the horizon, she was met with the sight of a single figure shuffling towards her.

Li-Wei was wearing his straw hat, his long white hair peeking out from underneath. The skin of his forearms, neck, and hands were covered in fabric, protecting it from the harsh rays of the dying sun. His sword was sheathed at his side and Toji, his crow, was perched on his shoulder. Seeing Hanako standing there, Li-Wei gave a small wave of his hand.

Hanako arched an eyebrow. “Took you long enough to get here.”

Rolling his eyes, Li-Wei moved his hands to sign. Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get moving.

As Toji was about to speak for Li-Wei, Hanako nodded, pushing herself off of the wall. “Yeah, I agree. We can’t be sure where the demon will be.”

Li-Wei was shocked by the fact that Hanako seemed to have understood his signing without Toji translating for him. He pressed on as the two began to walk forward. Do you understand sign language?

Hanako, who was busy scanning the town in front of them with nimble eyes, gave a nod, glancing at him slightly. “My brother, Daisuke, was deaf.” She left it at that.

The town didn’t hold much. Though, there was a small restaurant up ahead, and Hanako’s stomach was growling. Li-Wei heard this and nudged Hanako’s shoulder, nudging his head at the ramen house. Let’s get some food before we scout the village out. It’s only dusk.

Hanako frowned, but reluctantly replied, “Alright.”

The two Hashira entered the ramen house and waited to be seated. Upon sitting at a table and ordering food, waiting for it to arrive, an awkward silence fell between the two. Hanako didn’t know how to talk to Li-Wei without taunting or insulting him, so she thought it’d be better not to say anything at all.

After what seemed like an eternity of avoiding eye contact and fiddling with their own hands, Li-Wei cleared his throat to get Hanako’s attention. He lifted his hands to sign. Where do you think the demon could be?

She considered him. “It could be anywhere in the town. Or, honestly, it could be at the outskirts of the town, as well. It’s hard to say. There wasn’t much information.”

He nodded. Right. But I believe the two of us can do it. Though, like you said, it’s hard to tell where it will be.

“What, do demons not have a radar sense? Like, can you not tell when one is near?” Hanako teased, trying to fight a smirk. Li-Wei only rolled his eyes.

Thankfully, their meal arrived, breaking the tension that was slowly building between them. Li-Wei had never been more thankful for ramen -- even as a demon. He just pushed the bowl towards Hanako and watched her eat.

After leaving the ramen house, Li-Wei and Hanako began to scout the town. Even after dark, the town was bustling with travellers and stragglers. The two had already scanned the town twice over and the outside of the town once over, not finding anything the least bit suspicious. It had at least been an hour or two -- Hanako was growing frustrated.

Li-Wei noticed this and got her attention with a hand tugging on the sleeve on her haori. It’ll be okay. We just need to be calm.

“And let it continue to harm people? I want to find this demon tonight,” Hanako snapped, making Li-Wei flinch slightly. “You may not care about it as much, but I do. If you want to be left in the dust, then so be it. Just don’t get in my way.”

Hanako stormed off, her braid whipping behind her. Li-Wei had to jog to catch up with her, even though he didn’t want to. He tried to push down the sting he felt from the Flower Pillar’s harsh words. It was something he was unfortunately used to being a demon Demon Slayer; yet, it never seemed to get any easier.

The pair walked by a building with an open door. Hanako glanced inside, only to lock eyes with a peculiar figure sitting on the floor of whatever establishment it was. An oddly shaped hat covered his pale, blonde-ish hair. A red shirt stretched over a toned body, pants flaring out at his crossed legs. The most striking were his eyes -- it seemed as if every color imaginable was present in them. He was surrounded by a few women, all who seemed to be fawning over him. At the last second, he shot a grin at Hanako, revealing something that made her gut turn in anxiousness.

The glint of fanged canines.

Hanako quickly turned her head, wide eyes aimed at the ground. “Li-Wei,” she said slowly, getting his attention. “I think I found our demon.”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Besides you, of course.”

He gave her the most annoyed look he could muster. Is now the time to be joking?

“It helps me to calm down,” Hanako replied nonchalantly. “The demon was in that building, surrounded by people. We can’t let him attack anyone. Let’s split up and corner him.”

I’ll go around to the back. You take the front, Li-Wei signed, nodding. Within a blink of an eye, Li-Wei was gone, the sound of his sword being unsheathed following him. Hanako gripped the hilt of her sword with a shaky hand, beginning to run back to the building where she had locked eyes with the demon. What if this is an Upper Moon? she thought. What if it’s the same one who killed Kyojuro?

Arriving at the entrance of the building, Hanako subtly peeked in to see it empty. The demon and the people who had once surrounded him were gone, the lanterns unlit. Had she missed him? Did the demon realize the presence of Demon Slayers? Was she too late?

“Hello there, gorgeous.”

A deep voice behind her froze her heart in uneasiness. Whipping around, Hanako was greeted with the same person she had seen earlier; except, this time, he had shed his stupid hat, revealing an odd blood-looking stain at the crown of his head. He was holding a closed fan. The worst of all had to be the change in his rainbow pupils -- kanji for upper two was etched on both of his eyes.

“I’m Doma,” he said in a flirty tone, that same grin he had shot her earlier making its way across his face. “You seem to be a Hashira. That’s unfortunate. You’re cute.”

Hanako sneered, unsheathing her sword. The purple blade glowed in the darkness, enticing the demon in front of her. “You’re disgusting.”

So, this isn’t the demon who killed Kyojuro, Hanako thought, gripping the sword hilt tighter, placing the blade in front of her body. But it’s one even more dangerous. I have to weigh my options carefully here.

Doma pursed his lips in a fake pout, considering Hanako. “Aren’t you at least going to tell me your name before I kill you?”

“You want to know my name, asshole?” she yelled. “Hanako Fukushima. The Flower Hashira. Your demise, if you prefer. Gods, you’re annoying.”

The look on Doma’s face turned from flirty to deadly in an instant. He flicked his fan open. “What a pity. I thought we would be friends.”

The speed with which Doma moved next was nothing less than disturbing; before Hanako knew it, he was coming down on her, war fan ready to strike. If she didn’t act quickly, the war fan would go straight into her skull.

“Total Concentration Breathing… First Form: Sakura!” An upward slash of Hanako’s sword met the edge of the war fan, the collision making the edge of it narrowly miss her face. The impact sent Doma stumbling back.

Before Doma could think to make a snarky quip at her, Hanako ran at him, attacking once again. “Sixth Form: Flame Nettle!”

With a jump, Hanako slashed vertically at Doma, managing to get in a thick slice on his face. While he was distracted, she cut through his abdomen -- at least, she thought she did. Her sword got stuck on his thick skin, allowing Doma to retaliate.

A rogue hand easily snatched the sword out of his side, the strength of his movements knocking Hanako to the ground. Her sword clattered on the ground. She watched as Doma pulled out a second war fan from seemingly nowhere and flicked it open.

“You know, I’m really disappointed…” Doma watched as Hanako scrambled for her sword. “For someone as cute as you are, you’re a real pain in my neck.”

Finally finding her footing, Hanako stood up, sword back in her hands. “Do you ever shut up?!”

The deadly look returned to Doma’s gaze. It seemed as if a fire lit his rainbow eyes as he drew out his fans in front of him, flicking them. “Freezing Clouds.”

A gust of extremely cold air washed over Hanako, making her limbs feel heavy and useless. It felt like she couldn’t move at all. Doma used this advantage to attack, his war fan coming down in a sharp and painful slice across Hanako’s face. The Pillar fell to the ground, her sword once again clattering to the ground -- except, this time, it was out of her reach.

Doma stood over her, enjoying the terrified look that her face held. As he was about to speak (again), Hanako gave him a swift kick to the groin, swiftly pushing herself off of the ground and going for her sword. Though, Doma noticed, and prepared himself to launch another attack.

As Hanako grabbed her sword, she couldn’t help the thoughts racing through her head. Where the hell is Li-Wei? Did he get killed? Was there another demon? Am I going to die?

Facing each other once more, Hanako and Doma released their assault at the same time.

“Eighth Form: Flame Azalea!”

“Wintry Icicles.”

A rampage of sharpened icicles came flying at Hanako, ready for the kill. She managed to block several of them -- though, those that hit her cut up her face, her arms, her legs. Ignoring the stinging feeling present throughout her body, Hanako went in for the kill, jumping and swinging a wide arc. Her sword was aimed directly for Doma’s neck, and she saw an opening. I can do this... I can kill him!

Hanako saw red as her sword came down on Doma’s neck, ready to make the kill-

The sword’s blade snapping in half broke her out of her hate-fueled stupor. The broken blade clattered to the ground, leaving the sword’s hilt in the hands of a baffled Hashira. Seeing her predicament, Doma gave a malevolent grin and backhanded Hanako across the face, sending her flying back due to his incredible strength. The hard ground was unforgiving on her back as it made contact. Hanako tasted copper in her mouth.

A raspy and distasteful cackle came from Doma. He picked the broken blade off of the ground and menacingly paced towards Hanako. “What a shame,” he mused. “You’re a Hashira, yet it didn’t take long for your sword to break. I didn’t even have to use my Blood Demon Art!”

Once again, Doma was looming over Hanako. With the hilt of her broken sword, a part of the blade still attached, Hanako jabbed into his calf muscle with an intense force -- yet, all he did was laugh at her futile attempts, pulling the hilt out and throwing it off to the side. The wound healed almost instantly.

Doma eyed the piece of metal in his hand, licking his lips. Hanako watched him with gut-wrenching anticipation of his next moves. “It really pains me to kill someone as cute as you are,” Doma said, the same fake pout from earlier forming on his lips. His gaze returned to her.

Hanako caught sight of a blur in the corner of her eye. She thought she saw the same blue that colored Li-Wei’s haori. A spark of hope lit inside of Hanako. Finally.

She met Doma’s gaze, rolling her eyes. “Girls must have hated you when you were a human.”

Hanako watched as a sword was driven through Doma’s chest from the back. He gasped, obviously taken by surprise. Li-Wei stood behind him, straw hat missing from his head, the fabric once covering his skin now gone. He quickly took the sword out from where it had been plunged into Doma, delivering another slash across the back of his neck.

Doma dropped the piece of the blade he was holding, war fans materializing in his hands. He flicked them open, ready for another fight. Though, when he turned around, seeing Li-Wei, he had to do a double take.

He cocked his head to the side. “A demon… wearing a Hashira uniform?” Doma chuckled. “Well, now I’ve seen everything! How did you manage to escape?”

Li-Wei was alarmed that Doma had picked out his true form so quickly. Though, it was harder for him to maintain his “human” appearance while in battle. It must have slipped through without him noticing.

Hanako watched as Li-Wei and Doma relentlessly attacked each other, war fans and sword hitting against each other with vigor. She furiously searched the ground for her broken sword hilt; upon finding the floral guard, a piece of broken metal sticking out from it, she sighed. If she lived through this, she’d need to get this fixed. The swordsmiths wouldn’t be happy about this.

When her attention turned back to the two demons, Li-Wei’s sword had been abandoned on the ground, now using his fists to defend himself. There was a huge gash across the lower part of his face that looked to be -- slowly -- healing itself. Li-Wei was defending himself with incredible strength and speed against Doma.

“I’m really curious as to how you’ve avoided the Master for so long!” Doma yelled almost giddily, his war fans striking Li-Wei’s upper arm, ripping his haori and making him grunt. “What’s your name, traitor? At least tell me before I kill you.”

He can’t talk, dumbass, Hanako thought, watching the two. She tried to get up, wanting to help in some way, but the pain inflicted upon her by Doma’s icicles shot through her body forced her back down.

“You should answer when someone talks to you, Hashira,” the Upper Moon taunted, the teasing tone in his voice diminished. “Especially when your superior is speaking to you.” Li-Wei had a panicked look on his face, his moves becoming sluggish and sloppy. He aimed a roundhouse kick for Doma’s face, the satisfying crunch of cartilage following. Both of Doma’s war fans dropped to the ground.

He leaned over, hands on his knees as blood dripped from his face. A glint of silver on the ground caught his attention. In a flash, Doma grabbed the broken part of Hanako’s blade from the ground, plunging it into Li-Wei’s abdomen. Li-Wei let out a broken gasp, his eyes going wide.

“Li-Wei!” Hanako yelled, her face contorting in fear. She couldn’t see the entry wound from where she was, but the end of the blade was sticking out of Li-Wei’s back. Crimson blood formed around it, staining his light-blue haori.

Doma, who had both hands on the end of the blade, leaned in close to Li-Wei’s face. “You disgust me. You shouldn’t be alive at all, you traitor.”

The way that Doma was speaking to Li-Wei caused a fury in her that was equivalent to what she felt when thinking about the demon who killed Kyojuro. Looking to her left and seeing Li-Wei’s discarded sword, Hanako used what little strength she had left to pick herself off the ground, grabbing the sword and running over to where the two were standing, ready to strike.

“Get off him, you bitch!” Hanako yelled, gritting her teeth. “Seventh Form: Firethorn!”

While it was a bit odd using a sword that wasn’t her own with breaths that she had developed, Hanako worked with what she had. This particular form released a floral scent that distracted her opponent, allowing her to strike. It was something she had formed with the help of Kyojuro.

Please, Kyojuro. Be with me. Guide me.

Doma fell for the bait, his face relaxing at the scent of flowers around him. His hands let go of the blade stuck in Li-Wei, allowing him to rip it out. Hanako sliced down on the demon, managing to completely remove his left arm. Li-Wei, who was still bleeding heavily and stumbling, took the piece of metal and cut across Doma’s throat while he was distracted.

Hanako gave Li-Wei a raised eyebrow look that asked him if he was okay. Li-Wei nodded back, but the Flower Pillar was worried for him.

Doma glared at Li-Wei, completely ignoring Hanako. “You’re a filthy, good-for-nothing traitor! I’ll make sure to take your goddamn head to the Master myself!”

As the two Hashira prepared to take down the Upper Moon, the sight of Doma looking at something behind them with wide eyes confused them. Li-Wei turned around to see the sun peeking through the clouds. He too grew panicked.

Doma sprouted a new arm in no time, the cut on his throat closing up. “Well, this was fun, but I’m going to have to go now!”

He snatched his war fans off of the ground below him and began to run off, making Hanako limp after him.

“Get the hell back here! You hurt my friend, I’m not going to let you get away! You bastard!” But Doma was long gone, his incredible speed allowing him to be gone from their sight within a few seconds. “If I ever see you again, I’m going to kill you! You hear me? I’ll kill you!”

When she was sure that Doma was gone for sure, she turned around to see Li-Wei on his knees, cringing due to the rays of the sun hitting his skin. Hanako gasped. “C’mon, Li-Wei, we need to get you inside.”

She moved over to him, putting his sword back into the sheath at his hip. Hanako then put one of his arms around her shoulders, picking him up and supporting him as they made their way to the hotel at the end of the village.

The hotel room that they had rented was dim, protecting Li-Wei from the sun. It was mid-morning now, and Li-Wei was laying on the futon, fast asleep. Hanako sat cross-legged, watching the white-haired boy in front of her slumber. She had tended to his wounds before he fell asleep, wanting him to rest as soon as possible.

Li-Wei had told her as she was cleaning him up that there had been another demon at the back entrance of the building that Doma was in, and that he had to take care of it. He had profusely apologized for not being there sooner, which Hanako felt bad that he even felt the need to apologize; it wasn’t his fault. Though, she couldn’t get over the fact that Li-Wei had saved her life. A wave of gratitude washed over her everytime she thought of the image of Li-Wei’s sword being driven into Doma from behind.

As she was deep in thought, eyebrows furrowed, a small noise got her attention. Hanako looked up to see Li-Wei waking up. He frantically looked around the room until he met her gaze, slightly calming down once his grey eyes met her purple ones.

“You feeling okay?” Hanako asked.

Li-Wei sat up, wincing. He had shed his ripped up and bloody haori, leaving him in his Hashira uniform. Yes. It takes me longer to regenerate than other demons, but I’ll be okay. Thank you for your help.

“Of course.” Hanako looked down at her hands, fiddling with them in her lap. “You… you saved me.”

He gave her an incredulous look. Of course I did. He would have killed you.

“But you got hurt. I just…” she sighed. “I’m sorry. For how I’ve acted towards you up until now. You’re not a bad person just because you’re a demon, and I should’ve had that mindset from the beginning.”

I understand, Li-Wei signed, giving a small smile. I mean, you’re a Demon Slayer. It’s your job to hate demons. I do too.

Hanako couldn’t help but feel overwhelming guilt at how nonchalantly Li-Wei was taking this. She had been awful to him, but he still took the time to be kind to her, and even save her. Hanako didn’t understand it.

“Can I ask you something?”

Li-Wei considered her before answering. You want to know how I became a demon. She nodded.

He took a small breath in. Hanako could see the pain in his eyes before he even started to sign.

I was trying to protect my boyfriend. Hanako watched as he spelled out the name Xiao-Li. From the king of demons. His blood transferred to my wounds. It was an accident. I was already a Demon Slayer at the time.

Hanako felt tears well up in her eyes. He didn’t want to be turned into a demon, and had lost someone close to him. “I’m so sorry.”

Li-Wei frowned, waving a hand. It was a long time ago. Though, she heard him sniffle after he turned his head. It made her heart ache.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Hanako spoke up. “My family was killed by demons.”

Li-Wei returned his gaze to her. Hanako was looking at her hands again. “We were about to go to sleep, and my dad heard something outside, so he went to go check it out. He was the first to be killed,” she said. Hands laid on her lap were clenching in and out of fists.

“The demon came into the house, and uh… it got my mother first. My brother, Daisuke, was weak. He had a lot of issues. I tried protecting him, but one hit from the demon killed him. The demon would’ve killed me too if Kyojuro didn’t come to kill it.”

The boy in front of her frowned. Rengoku?

Hanako nodded. “Yes. He saved me, and took me in as his tsuguko. I owe my life to him.”

Studying her, Li-Wei recognized the look on her face. He got Hanako’s attention with a grunt. You loved him, didn’t you?

Hanako’s mouth formed an o at Li-Wei figuring her out so quickly. Though, it was evident to anyone how she felt about Kyojuro Rengoku with the way she talked about him. “Yes, I did.”

Li-Wei gave a small and playful smirk. I can tell. It’s the way you talk about him.

The purple-haired girl rolled her eyes, smiling genuinely for the first time in what seemed like forever. “Alright, alright, you got me there.”

Hanako watched as Li-Wei gave a big smile. It almost made her heart ache because it was just so pure, seeing this boy who had everything taken from him smile so brightly. She returned the gesture, giggling a bit.

Li-Wei lifted his hands to sign. Can we be friends?

This time, there was no hesitation left in Hanako’s heart. “Of course, Li-Wei.”

#demon slayer #oc #original character #kyojuro rengoku

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