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punemy-spotted · 3 years

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The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #steve rogers x reader #mob!au #mob!steve #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #dark!fic #dark captain america #captain america #writing challenge

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 7 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke up with a pounding headache and no memory of having gone to bed.

This would not have been a surprise had he been at home, as his routine was blissfully static and required no thought whatsoever – each item he needed in its proper place, each movement mapped out through years of practice, his entire body trained such that he would automatically begin to go through the necessary acts at the appropriate time and would immediately begin to feel sleepy once he started the sequence – but it was highly notable that such a thing would occur while he was out of the Cloud Recesses, where each day’s sleep would only be the same in terms of the time at which he fell asleep.

In this case in particular, he also felt sore all over – his head, as mentioned, but also his upper arms and, oddly, his right knee. Had he been exercising unwisely? The bed in the room he had been given at the Sun Palace was not that nice, too hard and unyielding, but it wasn’t enough to cause this sort of aching…

“I will see to it that the next bed lives up to your stringent standards.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes shot open and he sat upright at once: that was Wen Ruohan’s voice.

“What are you doing in my –” he started to say, then stopped.

Wen Ruohan was not in his bedroom.

He wasn’t in his bedroom.

He didn’t even recognize this bedroom.

It was massive, for one thing: a full suite, the way the hanshi was back at home, with place for a bed and a table and plenty more besides. The bed was similar in style to the one in the room he had been assigned but larger in scale – made of dark wood and covered in the red sun motif like all the other décor, but over twice as broad and an extra chi in length, and the brocade fabric used to upholster it was considerably more lush and luxurious and, admittedly, more comfortable than what he’d been sleeping on in the Sun Palace’s guest quarters. The room itself was the same, decorated in luxury extending to the point of opulence: there was a painting scroll on one wall that if genuine would be worth more than everything Lan Qiren owned put together, young master of a Great Sect or not, and on the other wall hung six swords, each more glorious than the next, and he suspected if he knew more about weaponry he would be able to recite their names. Even the red sun that was painted on every ceiling here glittered with embedded rubies and spiritual stones, emanating pure qi – a tremendous waste, each one of them sufficient to be a cultivation sect’s precious treasure.

Amidst all this luxury, Wen Ruohan was sitting not far away from the bed, a book held loosely in his hands – it was as if he’d been waiting for Lan Qiren to awaken.

“I think you’ll find, in fact,” Wen Ruohan said, and his eyes were glittering the way they had been the day before when it had been Lao Nie he’d been looking at, full of malice and self-indulgent amusement, “that this is my bedroom.”

This was not a surprise, but rather the only logical conclusion.

Not that it explained why Lan Qiren was here.

“Did I – fall asleep?” he asked uncertainly, though surely that must be the reason. “And you – brought me here?”

“You did, and I did,” Wen Ruohan confirmed, and seemed amused for some reason. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Lan Qiren wracked his brain, which was hurting and unhelpful and slower even than its usual plodding pace. “…I was thinking that liquor tastes vile.”

Wen Ruohan’s smile broadened. “Mm. It seems that you inherited your grandfather’s head for wine.”

Lan Qiren’s grandfather was one of the elders who refused to obey the rule against alcohol. He had also, in his later years, developed a most un-Lan-like fondness for wine.

He had not at any point developed a tolerance for it.

Lan Qiren closed his eyes in a wince. He must have made a complete fool of himself!

“This foolish junior apologizes to the Sect Leader for his misbehavior,” he said. He wanted to lift his hands to salute, but the movement, when he started it, set off his stomach, and he was forced to wrap his arms around his midsection instead.

There was a rustling sound, robes moving as Wen Ruohan rose to his feet, but Lan Qiren kept his eyes stubbornly closed, fearing that any further input would cause him to bring up everything he’d consumed the night before – only to open them in shock a moment later when he felt a finger press against the acupoint between his eyes, a warm stream of spiritual energy pouring in to cleanse away the nausea and pain of his headache.

Of his hangover.

He had a hangover.

Wen Ruohan, the mighty Sect Leader Wen, was providing him with medical attention to deal with his hangover.

There weren’t going to be words for how much he was going to get punished when he got home.

“Thank you, Sect Leader Wen,” Lan Qiren croaked, feeling hot all over with unending mortification. He had truly been foolish to think that just because there was only one night left in the Nightless City there was little danger of him repeating the mistakes of the past – he had no face left to speak of.

“Oh, no need to be so formal,” Wen Ruohan said, drawing out the words in a drawl. “Not after such a memorable night.”

Lan Qiren did not want to know what he did to make the night get described as memorable. He did not.

Especially not since Wen Ruohan was so obviously enjoying himself over it.

Of course, he wasn’t an idiot: he might be slow and bad at social cues, might find it difficult to understand the unspoken or keep up with sarcasm, but even he knew what was being implied here.

An older man with a younger one, liquor shared, a bedroom…

Yes, he understood the implication.

He just wasn’t stupid enough to believe it.

Lan Qiren folded his hands together and held his head up high.

“It is good that the Sect Leader did not take insult at my foolishness,” he said stiffly. “I thank you for your care and attention, and regret the burden I placed upon you.”

If anything, Wen Ruohan looked even more amused. “Such dignity, little Lan. You’re not even going to ask what happened?”

“This junior is only sixteen,” Lan Qiren said, still stiff and icy. “There is nothing that could have taken place without Sect Leader Wen’s approval, and naturally Sect Leader Wen would not permit this junior to offend his dignity.”

There, he thought with some satisfaction. That neatly turned the situation around: even if something untoward had occurred, which honestly Lan Qiren did not believe past that first initial moment of panic – even putting aside the fact that he wasn't anywhere near sore enough for something like that to have occurred, Wen Ruohan was not known to succumb easily to lust, nor was he so eager for war that he would recklessly try to deflower the son of another Great Sect while the latter was intoxicated for the first time – the blame would fall squarely on Wen Ruohan’s head, not Lan Qiren’s.

Wen Ruohan laughed, understanding perfectly well what Lan Qiren meant.

“You would think so,” he said, sounding almost approving of Lan Qiren’s rule lawyering. “I would have thought so, too, but I find that you Lan have truly remarkable arm strength…especially when trying to keep your conversational partner from escaping while you explain the difference between what the Lan sect consider to be fundamental rules and those considered ancillary.”

Lan Qiren blanched.

That was worse than what he’d thought – because unlike the notion of him making unwanted advances (or receiving them, for that matter), it was plausible. Terribly, painfully plausible.

“Oh, yes. All five iterations of the debate.”

Oh no.

“Four sect discussions. Seventeen separate texts on the subject, not counting later commentaries. Sixty-four subsidiary rulings, all of which you were very enthusiastic in recounting - and here I was thinking that your Wall of Discipline had a surfeit of rules, when in fact it was only the beginning. Apparently, I underestimated you.”

Lan Qiren buried his face in his hands as if that would make it stop.

“Still, I suppose I’ll have to accustom myself to hearing more about the rules in the future,” Wen Ruohan mused. “We’ll be spending far more time together, after all, on account of our sworn brotherhood.”

Lan Qiren looked up and opened his mouth, then stopped.

He had nothing to say.

His mind was absolutely blank, a state which had never before occurred.

“Forgive me,” he finally spat out. “Our – what?”

Wen Ruohan smiled at him with eyes full of poison and a mouth full of teeth.

“Sworn brotherhood,” he said casually, as if it was nothing. “You were saying that you regretted not being able to see more of the Nightless City before you left, and that you could only leave the Cloud Recesses to visit family, so we became sworn brothers.”

“We did not.”

“Oh, but we did,” Wen Ruohan said. “We drank mixed wine and swore all the appropriate oaths – I have the written version here, if you’d like to see.”

The piece of paper he put in front of Lan Qiren was recognizably in Lan Qiren’s own hand, although his normally impeccable calligraphy was rather wobbly. It was still readable, though, and the first few clauses very clearly laid out a sworn brotherhood oath.

Lan Qiren stared at it.

“We – but we can’t be sworn brothers,” he said blankly. “We’re – you’re two generations older than me. Am I supposed to call you da-ge?”

“No one has called me da-ge since my youngest brother died,” Wen Ruohan mused, and Lan Qiren was abruptly reminded of the rumors, never confirmed, that that particular death had come at Wen Ruohan’s own hands following a challenge for the seat of sect leader. “It’ll be very charming, I’m sure.”

“But…”

Wen Ruohan said nothing, but only smiled at him.

Lan Qiren looked down at the paper.

He didn’t understand what was happening.

He tried to go over it again in his mind: he had left the competition when the celebration had started, he had wandered the halls, he had tried to obey his brother’s instructions in avoiding Wen Ruohan, and when that failed, he had obeyed him in trying to be obedient. He had drunk liquor for the first time, and he had no memory thereafter until he had woken up here and now, in Wen Ruohan’s bedroom, with Wen Ruohan saying that they had –

He didn’t think Wen Ruohan was teasing him over this, though. Not the way he had so obviously been with his implications that they had used the bedroom for purposes other than sleeping.

Not with evidence, written in his own hand.

He didn’t understand.

How could this have happened?

“…did we really?” he whispered, half-hoping against hope that it was still a tease, still a joke, still – something, anything, other than what it was. That Wen Ruohan was just waiting for him to declare that he believed him, to demonstrate dismay, and then he would tell him the truth.

“Yes,” Wen Ruohan said instead, inexorable. “We did.”

Lan Qiren’s mind fell into chaos.

He didn’t understand.

“You’re shaking,” Wen Ruohan observed. “Ah, little Lan – don’t tell me it’s now that you’re scared?”

Lan Qiren’s hands were in fact shaking, he observed, and he put them over his face.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, his whole body starting to rock back and forth in his distress. “Why would you – with me – an oath of brotherhood can’t be taken lightly –”

“It can’t be,” Wen Ruohan said, and for some reason he sounded satisfied. “Certainly not for someone like you, little Lan, who always keeps their word and does not lie.”

“But why?” Lan Qiren asked, his voice rising almost into a plaintive wail. “Our sects aren’t even allies.”

“They are now,” Wen Ruohan said, and put his hand on the back of Lan Qiren’s neck. It felt hot against his skin, like a hot stone used for massage – a little too hot to tolerate for very long. “You know the obligations of a sworn brother oath as well as I. My duty as the elder brother is to guide you and care for you, support you and yours, and in return you are to obey me and be guided by me.”

Did Wen Ruohan want a spy in the Lan sect? Lan Qiren wondered wildly. But surely there were easier ways than this – not only would he make a terrible spy, with his clumsiness and his terrible social skills and his inability not to take everything seriously, but it would be simple enough for his sect to counter such a move. All they would need to do would be to cast him out…

His rocking intensified.

Wen Ruohan brought his other arm around him and pulled him close until Lan Qiren’s forehead, with its forehead ribbon still firmly in place, was pressed against his chest.

“Don’t cry, little brother,” he crooned. “Am I to allow a priceless painting to be kept by those that see it only for its use as spare kindling? A peerless treasure sword left to prop up a door?”

“You have a half-dozen swords hanging on your wall, each more priceless than the next, and all of them rusting away for lack of use!” Lan Qiren cried out. “Even if it’s only a door, at least it’s – it’s my – my brother…”

“Do not worry about your brother, undeserving as he is of your sincerity. Qingheng-jun has been trying to get concessions out of me this entire conference,” Wen Ruohan said. His breath was warm against Lan Qiren’s hair. “I’ve been refusing, but now I’ll grant them. He won’t punish you.”

“That’s not how that works. Punishment isn’t inherently bad; it’s meant to correct and guide the individual – the failure of good conduct will always be my own, no matter the result –”

“What I have taken into my hand, no one yet lives who would dare seek to take away,” Wen Ruohan said. “Anyway, it’s too late to regret now, isn’t it? What’s done is done. Don’t you have a rule like that?”

Lan Qiren sniffed. “No. There are at least four that could potentially qualify as having similar underlying meanings, but none directly on point.”

Wen Ruohan huffed. “Little Lan, if I tore out your heart, would you have time to cite one of your sect rules before you died?”

“…maybe if it was a short one?” Lan Qiren said, blinking at the strange question; his lashes brushed against Wen Ruohan’s lapel. “I mean, there’s a difference between ‘Be loyal and filial’ and ‘Set the wise as your teacher and the moral as your example’, isn’t there? And of course you’d have to consider whether in tearing out the heart you impeded the lungs, and how much time it would take the exsanguination to take effect…”

He was calming down, he realized, and pulled back out of Wen Ruohan’s arms, blushing as he realized that the question must have been meant as a distraction, though how Wen Ruohan had realized that a distraction would be the best way to reduce his distress when even he hadn’t known, he had no idea.

“Thank you for your consideration,” he mumbled, ducking his head in embarrassment.

Wen Ruohan started laughing.

“Truly I have found an unappreciated treasure, unlike any other,” he said amid his chuckles. “Come along, little Lan. Let’s go break the news to your brother.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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kob131 · 2 years

Note

Hey Ho, it’s the seldom heard Creative Insults Anon. Mostly coming by to answer your question. And honestly? It’s because we don’t agree on a lot of things. You may be a bit too vehement in defense of RWBY for instance, though I know it’s more reaction than malice, but simply put, I like to see other people’s points of view on it. Just cause I can’t enjoy something doesn’t mean I don’t want to try to see why someone else can.

Oh hey man. I wish you'd stop by more.

And...if I may get personal and honest with you...I do that myself. It's why I still complain about RWBY critics to this day: I want to look at an opposing view to see if I can learn from it, see if there is something I missed.

But my issue is that whenever I see a criticism about RWBY, all my knowledge about media analysis and the facts of the show itself tell me otherwise. Like take for example the criticism of 'Jaune is a self insert'. On a very basic level I can understand it as Jaune is voiced by Miles Luna, acts somewhat similar to Miles and does get more focus than your average side character. But when I try to look at this from a deeper perspective, it breaks more and more. Like how Jaune is constantly the target for slapstick humor, a type of humor that degrades and belittles its targets. Or that Miles tends to be the one who criticizes Jaune (like saying that Jaune reminds him of himself at a younger age, which Miles hates, or saying that Jaune is a thick headed dumbass for not noticing Pyrrha). Or that when Miles had full creative of a project (Red Vs. Blue Chorus Trilogy), the character that Miles voiced was superficially like Jaune (Felix)...as a means of deception and is truly nothing like Jaune before being degraded and humiliated in his final moments.

All of this tells me that Jaune ISN'T a self insert of Miles. So I look to find another pattern that does match up...and it always seems to circle back to using Jaune as a proxy to bash Miles because it's an accepted target.

That's not the only time this has happened. The same is said of 'Team RWBY are the real villains' make sense on a basic level (their actions did cause James to become mistrustful)...but deeper analysis (AKA what I always do) shows a lot of contradictions (like how Ironwood seems to think people should just follow him without him explaining himself or that 'the heroes make the same mistake as someone else' is a common trope used to demonstrate nuance by showing that they aren't inherently better) and many others.

Could these be the result of misunderstanding? Possibly but from what I can tell, these people think and speak clearly. They are capable of clear communication which in my experience is a sign of intelligence. So if they are capable of this-then I can't truly say that they're wrong because they're dumb. And even if they were, you would think that someone in their group would speak up to correct them right? But it never does. So...all I'm left with is that this is due to either willful ignorance of overwhelming bias. And my experiences with politics affirm that for me.

But that always leaves me with some doubt. Am I right? Did I look at everything available? Did I miss something? Did I misunderstand? Will the future prove me wrong? I'm constantly stuck in this loop of my knowledge and experiences telling me one thing but my brain saying another.

I wish I did understand the criticism on some level. It'd be a lot easier for me. But I don't and I don't believe in lying to myself. I also don't believe in just listening to affirmation over and over, it just feels so...constraining and gross. So I still try to listen.

... Sorry Anon. That was building for a while. Stop by when you got a good zinger for me.

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Forever

Based on this request: “you're dating and it's kinda the first night you spent together, so you wake up in each other's arms and he refuses to let you go. Then he keeps cuddling you and tells you how much he loves you and that he wants to be with you forever? 😊 Just some fluffy Bucky. And maybe his pov too.”

masterlist

Three months, two weeks, and four days.

That was exactly how long Bucky had known Y/N. It wasn’t that long of a time, at least not compared to the decades since he was born, but it was a good enough time to feel like it lasted for forever. Bucky doesn’t always have the best memory; sometimes, dreams feel more like reality and scraps of times from years long gone confuse themselves with what happened yesterday. This being said, Bucky clearly remembers every detail of the moment he first met you.

It had been a rainy day, the dismal chill familiar of foggy Octobers out in full force. The glass and concrete of the tall buildings around him were barely lighter than the dark gray sky, clouds pressing in around the tops of the skyscrapers. Bucky had shoved his hands into his pockets, the cold weight of his metal arm especially present in the freezing air.

Then, he had seen her. It seemed cliché, too imaginative for a supposedly stone-cold soldier such as himself, but the woman walking towards him looked like a ray of sunshine. She was dressed in a warm coat, flickers of a yellow dress darting out from underneath its folds. Her eyes shone despite the dimness of the day.

Bucky wasn’t used to speaking to civilians. He shouldn’t be, anyway. There are always spies dressed up as friends, malice hidden behind innocent smiles. Bucky should have kept walking, ignored the woman, and maybe even forgotten her in a few minutes once their shadows had passed each other by. Yet something in him told Bucky that leaving her behind would be the greatest mistake of his life.

He was preparing himself to open his mouth and speak when he saw the young man behind her. This man is in dark clothes, hood pulled up to hide his face. He draws out a small knife from his pocket, quickly cutting the strap on the woman’s purse before attempting to run past her and melt into the crowd to make his getaway. However, this man hadn’t intended on someone interfering with the theft, especially not someone who’d been trained in combat for the last 70 years.

Bucky moves quickly, with the dangerous efficiency of a deadly soldier. He steps to the side, blocking off the thief’s escape route. His metal arm flies out of his pocket to rap sharply on the man’s right hand, sending the knife clattering to the ground. Bucky’s right arm grabs the purse. The thief blinks up at him in terror, then takes off in a flash when he realizes Bucky isn’t looking for a fight. Or at least not now.

Bucky bends over to grab the knife, idly flipping it over in his hands. It’s cheap, probably purchased at some sporting goods store from the camping section. The thief most likely just needed the money, and so Bucky ignores the retreating man to hand the purse back to its grateful owner.

The woman beams at him. “Thank you so much! Oh, my name’s Y/N. By the way.” Her smile could light up the entire world. Bucky shifts slightly. “Bucky. I’m Bucky.” The woman ties the strap of her purse back to the bag and slings it over her shoulder, this time with slightly more care. “Well, I appreciate it, Bucky. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost my purse. I’m about to go into a pretty important meeting, and I would have needed my keys.” Bucky glances over his shoulder to make sure the thief isn’t coming back. “No problem.”

The woman smiles at him one last time, then moves forward to start heading on her way again. Before Bucky can back out of it, he calls out to the woman. “Wait, Y/N?” She walks back to him. “Yeah?” “Can I have your number? I know we just met and all, but-” She cuts him off with a grin. “Absolutely. Here it is.” She fishes out a pen and a slightly folded sticky note, scrawling out a series of digits onto it before handing the note back to him. “Thanks.” Bucky takes the note, looking from it to the departing woman. Did he really just do that?

It turns out asking Y/N for her number was one of the best things he ever did. He calls her soon after that first meeting, and she answers happily. Their first date is to a small restaurant in some corner of town, the second was walking through a park, and things just got even better from there. Bucky feels like he can finally let his guard down around her, and have a chance to be the smiling man he was before all the traumas of yesteryears had come crashing down around him.

The night is cold when he wakes. For a second, Bucky can’t remember where he is, and he jolts upright in a panic. His eyes feel clouded over, and he sits there, chest heaving, until the details slowly start piercing themselves back together again. There are faint patterns of moonlight dancing in through the thin, filmy curtains. The bedroom door is faded white, open just enough to let the air flow through the room. The blankets, now rumpled and in disarray, are wrapped around him in an effort to stay warm in the late January chill.

He’s in Y/N’s apartment. That’s right. They had arrived late last night, stumbling up the stairs due to a combination of alcohol and exhaustion from too many nights spent up until the early hours of the morning. This is Y/N’s apartment. It’s alright.

Y/N is lying next to him, starting to stir and sit up. He must have woken her. She looks up at him through eyes just starting to open, one hand unconsciously rubbing her face. “Nightmare?” Bucky just nods. “Yeah. Sorry to wake you.” Y/N flashes him a smile, bright despite the darkness of the night. “Don’t worry about it. Here, I’ll go make you some tea.” She starts to swing her legs over the side of the bed, but a sudden, unidentified panic hits him and Bucky reaches out an arm to stop her.

“Wait. Don’t go. Not now.” Y/N glances back at him. He must look troubled, because her eyes soften and she pulls the blankets back up around her, settling back into bed. “I can do that too. Is there anything you want to talk about? Something in the nightmare, maybe?” Bucky sighs, pulling Y/N close to him. “It’s one I’ve been having a lot recently. There’s some problem, you get hurt, it’s my fault. It’s like I see you die over and over again, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

Y/N reaches out to him, gently placing a hand against his cheek. Her palm feels cool against his skin. “I’m not going anywhere. That I can promise you. I know your work comes with all kinds of threats and dangers, but I know that as long as I have you I’ll be safe.” Bucky can’t help but think back to his nightmare again, and he finds he can’t look Y/N in the eyes. She notices this, and a slight line works its way into her brow.

“But that’s not exactly what happened this time, is it? You saw something different.” Bucky nods reluctantly. “I-” His voice breaks off. “I am not a good man. You know that, don’t you? If you knew half the things that I’ve done, that I’ve seen in my head, you wouldn’t-” Bucky finds he can’t finish his sentence. Y/N presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to be you, Bucky, a man with a good heart. Maybe things haven’t always made themselves easy for you, but all I ask is that you try. Try to be proud of yourself and accept that times won’t always be good.”

Bucky breathes out slowly. How is that despite everything, despite the monster he’s become, Y/N is still here? It had taken all of his courage to tell Y/N who he truly was, that he was the Winter Soldier who had murdered innocents. He couldn’t look her in the eyes as he said it, sure that he was about to hear the sound of her footsteps heading towards the door and carrying her out of his life, but she had stayed. She was the one thing he could count on.

That’s why tonight’s nightmare had scared him so much. Yes, there had been the usual assortment of HYDRA villains and tragic memories, but Y/N had been at the center of this dream. She had stood over him, a twisted smirk replacing her usual happy smile. She had laughed at him, asking why he had ever thought she would want to be with him. She deserved better, didn’t she? Even he knew that.

The worst part is that some part of Bucky’s mind believed it. Why would she stay, anyway? He could only promise her darkness. Yet he reaches out to her now, fingers curling around the loose fabric of her nightshirt. “Stay with me. Please.” Y/N tucks her head into the space beneath his chin. “I will. I’m not going anywhere, Bucky.”

Bucky stays there for a moment, breathing in and out, letting himself enjoy this one instance where he can be at peace. “I love you, Y/N. I hope you know that. You’re the only person who I think has ever understood me. I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t have you.” And it’s true- even on the stormiest of nights, she was there to usher in the light. When he needed to smile, to laugh, even, she was there. How did he ever get lucky enough to know her, to have her in his life?

Y/N smiles, and even in the darkness, he can almost see the happiness in her eyes. “I love you too, Bucky. Always have and always will. I think I knew that even when I first met you.” Bucky laughs quietly in spite of himself. “Forever. I always knew that there would be some girl who’d come around and I’d want to stay with them forever. I think you might be that girl.” He pulls Y/N closer to him, and cherishes the feeling of her arms around his. “I would be honored to be that girl. Only if you’ll stay with me forever too.” And he will.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader

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aspoonofsugar · 3 years

Note

saw your monster meta when i was searching through the tumblr tag. how did you understand johan's perfect suicide, and why did he come to such a conclusion?

Hello anon!

I am happy you read my meta and came here to ask!

I think that my meta on Johan, Nina and Tenma partly answers you:

These repetitive actions give birth to a pattern Johan himself is unable to leave. He is trapped in his own past and so he keeps reproducing it together with the fairy tales he used to read as a child.

This behaviour underlines a contradiction Johan has. On one hand he wants to develop relationships with others and this is why he keeps searching for new parental figures. On the other hand he is not able to properly have relationships which are not manipulative or exploitative. All in all he is never able to make “the monster inside of him” rest. This restless monster who keeps getting stronger is not really his violent side, as Nina thinks at first, but it is nothing more than the emptiness he feels because he does not really understand who he is. He can’t give any meaning to his life and so he keeps searching for one, does not find it, accepts nihilism and repeats. In a sense, he fails in his search because he has already given up on it before starting it. He has already accepted the vision of the doomsday:

Wolf sees it before dying and calls it the land of the nameless.Having a name in the story is symbolic of having an identity and this means mostly that someone knows you. If nobody can’t call your name, then you do not really exist and there is no proof of your existence. Relationships with others define the person to an extent and the land of the nameless is a dimension where all these relationships are lost and the individual is alone in front of nothing. It is a place full of solitude. This landscape is symbolic of Johan’s mind and of his vision of the world.

In short, Johan is a nihilistic character and his perfect suicide is just another declination of this nihilism.

Monster is a masterpiece on all levels, but I think its strongest part are its themes. The story’s main theme is the value of life. This topic is often treated superficially in stories. It is either discarded for a pragmatic approach or conveyed in a simplicistic and moralistic way. Monster manages to treat it honestly and to convey a strong and harsh narrative about it.

It all starts with this question: “Are all lives equal?”

Tenma embodys the the message the story wants to convey. Yeah, all lives are equals, not only that, but all lives have value. This is why Tenma is a doctor. It is because he has sworn to protect life.

His point of view is challenged by a different point of view:

It is not true that all lives are equals. Some lives have less value than others, so they can be sacrificed to protect the most important ones.

Johan’s point of view is even more extreme. It is not just that he thinks lives have different values. He thinks life itself is meaningless. All lives are equals in the sense that they have no value at all:

Why is this point of view so dangerous though? And why can’t someone refuse Johan’s complete nihilism, but accept that sometimes it is necessary to kill a person to save many others? Why does the story refuse to say Johan’s life has no value? Because if it is false that all lives have equal value, then it means your own life might be meaningless. It means you have to give your own life value or that someone else has to give your life value for you. It means you might have to fight and to steal from others, so that your life has value. It also means that if your life has no value, then you do not deserve to be saved.

The root of Monster’s thematic conflict is not a moralistic one, but an existentialist one. If Tenma or Nina kill Johan, then they are accepting their lives have no meaning.

If Tenma kills Johan, then he is not a true doctor and if Tenma is not a true doctors, then true doctors do not exist. It means his corrupted superiors were right.

If Nina kills Johan, then she is refusing to face her past and her responsibility in how things turned out and her wounds can never be healed.

If Lunge and Eva tie their value to external factors, like their jobs or their love stories, then once they lose the external factor, they become nobodies.

So, Johan is a character that does not value life, be it his own life or others’. This is why he can face death so many times without fear. And this is also why he drives people to their suicides so often throughout the story. He does not even do it out of malice. He does it out of emptiness.

Johan’s perfect suicide is an act that completely negates the value of life. Suicide itself does it, since it means you are refusing your own life. Still, Johan as the embodyment of nihilism looks for an even more extreme gesture.

This is why his perfect suicide is said to be

a) Johan killing himself together with everyone who knows him (like the Nameless Monster)

b) Johan reproducing the Red Rose Mansion massacre, killing Bonaparta (his father figure) and having Tenma (his other father figure) killing him (like The God of Peace).

Losing his life is not enough for Johan. He wants to completely cancel his own existence and completely destroy Tenma’s ideals.

That said, he spends the majority of the series being passive about his death wish. He does not really mind facing death, but he is not active in pursuing it. He becomes more proactive in it by the end.

Why is that so?

It is for the same reason as Nina does:

We are never granted access to Johan’s head (except in the last chapter in an ambiguous way), so his feelings and contradictions are often reflected in Nina. It is through her that we can understand where Johan is coming from.

Nina and Johan are parallels and they have parallel journeys. They are both looking for their past and when they discover it, their first reaction is to hurt both themselves and others. They do so because the past they discover shatters their already frail self-images.

Nina is supposed to be the innocent victim. She is supposed to have been untouched by her past. She is supposed to have been protected by trauma, just like she was not in Kinderheim.

Johan is instead supposed to be the tragic demon molded by unspeakable pain and abuse. He is supposed to be the one, who went through the worse trauma.

Still, it turns out that Nina is the one brought to the Red Roses Mansion. She negated her past and Johan made it his. He has been symbolically harboring all the negative feelings Nina should have felt. He has expressed her hurt and her violence in her place (again symbolically speaking). This is why Johan is Nina’s shadow.

Nina refuses all her negative memories and represses her negative feelings. Still, she needs to accept them if she wants to grow and to heal. After all, at the end of all those horrible memories there is this:

One single good memory. A good memory masked as an ominous one is able to solve Nina’s arc. Nina looks for who she is only to realize in the end she can be whoever she chooses to. She does not need to be a prisoner of her past. Still, she had to aknowledge it to properly understand it.

Still, her first reaction when discovering the truth is to attempt her own perfect suicide:

Nina wants to kill her brother and then herself. She wants to kill her past and herself with it. This is just another version of The God of Peace. It is just The Nameless Monster of the East that kills the Nameless Monster of the West.

As a matter of fact the twins take inspiration for their perfect suicides from the picture books Bonaparta wrote. They are still very much influenced by him.

Luckily, Nina’s attempts fails:

This picture is powerful because it resembles the scene where Nina and Johan walk together to reach the border. At the same time, it evokes The Vision of the Doomsday. Nina and Tenma are both walking walking through The Land of the Nameless. Still, they manage to keep moving and are able to make it out.

By saving themselves they are also able to save Johan. As I have written in my first meta, ultimately Johan’s perfect suicide fails because he, differently from the Nameless Monster of the book, never kills Nina and Tenma aka the only two people who truly know him. It is because in the end both Nina and Tenma are able to understand him that Johan is saved. He can’t be no-one because there are two people who know who he is.

Finally, if you were to ask where does Johan’s nihilism come from, the answer is in the last chapter aka The Real Monster. The title can be read in different ways. You can choose to read it as the mother being the real monster or as it meaning the truth behind the monster. I choose the second one.

Whatever you choose, the point is that Johan’s nihilism is born by the doubt he is not wanted. It is a feeling born by someone whose sense of identity is so frail that he is scared his mother might not have even recognized him when she sacrificed his sister for him. Did she mean him? Or did she make a mistake? Who is him without his sister anyway? If his mother can sacrifice his sister will she sacrifice him too?

I hope this answer helped.

Thank you for the ask!

#naoki urasawa's monster #johan liebert #nina fortner #naoki urasawa's monster meta #monster meta #asksfullofsugar #anonymous #my meta

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aurabird · 3 years

Text

I'd give my heart, I'd give my soul (I'd turn it back, it's my fault)

Pix just wanted to get home, death by the void was the most painful way to go and he was sick of it, he was sick of seeing it be the only escape from the End by his fellow empires as well. If only he had stopped to listen then maybe things would have turned out differently.

At the end of the day, he felt nothing but guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders...

...and guilt is a weakness that can easily be exploited.

Tw: I think just mentions of blood & violence in this one.

Also on Ao3

------------------

Pix could hear nothing but the sound of the sand under his feet as he trekked through the desert, solemn and emotionally exhausted. Guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders and while he hadn't been the one to land the killing blow on the enderdragon, he was responsible for spilling most of its blood. Gem...Fwhip...Scott, Shelby, Kathrine, Pearl...all of them had tried so hard to keep it alive for even a moment more.

He remembered the flashes of their deaths as Sausage blew the end crystals they were placing up with maniac glee and eyes red as blood, he remembered calling out their names as their bodies burst into magic and their items left behind. Yet he still fought on the wrong side of the battle...if only he'd stopped to listen, then maybe everything would have turned out differently.

The Copper King...no, he wasn't a king...he was a fool who just unleashed a great evil beyond even he, an oracle, had ever seen before.

He'd lost track of how many days he'd been walking, his mind too burdened to care anymore. But he could not die, not of hunger, not of thirst, not even of age. A pitiful existence awaited him, one rightfully deserved for his actions. No village pitied him, no wandering traders offered him wares, even the elements themselves were out to get him.

When Pix slept, he was never greeted with dreams, only nightmares of destruction and chaos, of corruption and pain, of corpses and blood...of the other Empires destroying each other in barbaric warfare.

If only he could turn it all back...undo his mistake.

His vision began to blur as the world around him started spin. Conscious thought was long gone by the time he collapsed into the cold sand.

Fwhip had him at sword point, a murderous glare in his eyes as blue met brown. "Why did you do it, Pix? All of this is your fault."

He tried to reply, but no words came out. He...he was sorry! He...he hadn't known!

Blood splattered on his face.

"Traitor!" Gem cried, amethyst crystals trapping his legs and preventing movement.

Kathrine, Pearl, and Shelby stood at her side, disappointment and disdain in their eyes. "What are we going to do with him Gem?" Pearl asked, her voice dark and full of malice.

"Toss him in the dungeon to rot. He doesn't deserve to see daylight."

Cold stone and chains greeted his every waking hour

Joel lay broken and motionless before him; his eyes dull and empty with death. Lizzie grieved over his body in anguish at the loss of her husband.

The second she noticed him, the Ocean Queen's eyes glowed blue with vengeance...with hatred..."YOU!" she snarled, "YOU DID THIS!"

Pix couldn't breathe as the whirlpool suffocated and drowned him.

Scott held him against the wall, a dagger against his neck. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you." the elf said, his voice cold and sharp.

Pix couldn't form words...he couldn't speak! He wanted to apologize for everything but couldn't! He was sorry! So, so, sor-

He never finished the thought as the blade slit his throat.

Jimmy trembled in fear, his body covered in new and old wounds. "Pix...why? I thought...I thought you were my ally and friend..."

'I still am!' he wanted to cry, but his voice wouldn't budge again as usual.

"You left us, Pix...you left us all to die..."

At that, Jimmy's quivering form fell limp and lifeless at his feet. When Pix dared to look up he saw them all, every ruler, even Sausage and Joey...dead...corrupted.

And it was all HIS FAULT!

He jolted awake, sweat dripping down his back as his vision slowly welcomed reality back. His heart was racing as he gasped for the cold air of the moon-lit desert. His body shook and it wasn't long before Pix realized his face was wet with tears...he was crying.

He shook his head to try and purge the nightmares from his mind, but failed. With a sigh, he got to his feet again and took off aimlessly once more, there was no going back to sleep for him now, not after that.

Then, the sky drew dark as thick clouds blocked out the moon and his vision went black once more. But it was not in the embrace of unconsciousness, he could still see a short distance ahead of himself...no, he was blinded...a blindness spell...

Pix already knew who it was. "What do you want?" he asked, voice full of exhaustion, "If you're here to kill me then make it quick."

Xornoth entered his view, "Quite the contrary, Copper King. It is not death I wish to bring you, it is release from your burden."

Pix gave a pained chuckle at the demon's words, "If you think thanking me for my help in killing the dragon and getting you to full power is going to make me feel even the slightest bit better, then you would be mistaken. My burden is rightfully deserved, my actions had consequences and now I have to live with them until they are undone."

"And yet instead of trying to undo them, you're out here alone in the desert, wasting away in your exile. You are powerless and unprotected, Copper King. Shunned and abandoned by those that once trusted you."

Blinded by darkness and distracted by the demon before him, Pix was unaware of the red tendrils that had begun coiling around his legs, preventing him from movement. "Tell me, Copper King. What will being out here accomplish for you? Do you think that if you're gone long enough that they will simply forget you existed? Question who the corrupted structures in the sands once belonged to and what they once were? Perhaps they were a once-proud empire that acted as an oasis, a place where life and death were worshiped. Perhaps a kingdom abandoned by its ruler and left to rot in corruption's wake."

Stop...

"Or perhaps you expect to return once they've all killed each other in true mortal fashion? Too afraid to face the punishments they'll give you for your role in killing the dragon like the traitor you are? The seeds of distrust are already there, all it'll take is influence to get them to grow."

Stop...

"And yet you miss them, don't you? Worry about them now that you cannot see their fates? The gullible Codfather and the lovers of land and sea. The chaotic tinkerer and the loyal wizard. The gentle farmer and the selfless fae. The naive gnome and the ignorant elf. Even the idiot king and the parrot hybrid...you worry how they are faring without you, if you could ever be forgiven by them"

Stop...

"But we both know that, even if you did return after this exile...by then who do you expect to be but a hollowed shell of yourself?"

"STOP! Please...just...stop..." Pix begged between sobs, "What do you want..."

Xornoth's grin grew wider as he used a claw to tilt the fallen ruler's head upwards to meet his gaze, "I want your loyalty, Copper King...and I'm not giving you a choice."

There was no time to respond before agony coursed through Pix's body, a scream tearing from his throat as he collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. His eyes opened enough to see the pulsating red and purple webs snaking up his flesh, corruption searing into skin as it traveled.

He tried to fight it, he tried to resist the influence that had started clouding his mind...

...and he failed.

#empires smp #empiresblr #My writing #pixlriffs #xornoth #pix has a bad time #because xor-xor is not nice

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dreamologisth2o · 3 years

Text

My Thoughts on c!DreamXD

So Ruby’s recent analysis on the different interpretations of c!Dream has me thinking about my own interpretation of c!DreamXD because I feel like it’s fairly different from other people’s.

To start out with, most of what I’ve seen aren’t actually analysis posts. The one off character from 3-4 wacky streams doesn’t have much analysis going on for him, who would’ve guessed? But based on a lot of art and headcanon posts I’ve seen around the c!Dream apologists circle most people believe him to be either full on ancient eldritch god or someone who seeks acceptance through any means necessary and is similar to c!Slime, who’s easily manipulated. Everyone agrees he’s a c!George simp.

Outside the c!Dream apologist circles, of which I have not seen many of and mostly heard second hand, people believe he’s manipulated and cursed c!George into an everlasting contract of being his friend, and that the actions he takes during c!George’s dream are done out of malice and not ignorance.

From here on out I’m only ever referring to the characters and not the content creators unless specified.

First things first: DreamXD has agency. He has things he’s ok with and things he’s not ok with. He has boundaries and he sets those boundaries and when someone infringes upon them he’s not afraid of pushing back or punishing them for said infringement. Yes, George eventually convinced DreamXD to give him netherite armor in exchange for his friendship at the end of his stream. No, DreamXD did not immediately give into George’s demands. In fact he argues against it, multiple times. Constantly pointing out how George only wanted him around for “stuff” and refusing until it seemed to be the only thing he could do that would convince George to stay. That’s nothing like Slime, who pretty much does whatever anyone else asks him to do.

The way I’ve seen people treat Slime is very similar to the way they treat DreamXD, and that’s not surprising, because both are characters who don’t know much about how humans act and how they work nor how to fit into “human society”. BUT the big difference between the two is that DreamXD has agency while Slime does not. I don’t know if it’s because of their apparent age or because of their origins, but just because DreamXD doesn’t know how “normal human society” works doesn’t mean he has the mentality of a toddler or a new born baby. He’s ignorant, not naïve. He knows when he’s being used and he knows it’s not something he likes.

I also do not believe he is controlled by the book. Quite frankly that entire scene to me felt more like DreamXD sensed a disturbance and much like when Techno and Phil started messing with the portal room, had simply gone and investigated. He was not required to grant them a wish, it was Techno who asked if he could, which he then offered them one. When they try to summon him again, he doesn’t show up, further proof that the book, while having caught his interest, doesn’t actually have any real hold/power over him. Also, he sounded kinda annoyed in the chat log, speaking in short sentences and single word answers.

Another example of DreamXD refusing to be used for items is when Foolish foolishly (haha) asks him for another shulker box. To which he retaliates by summoning lighting on him, multiple times, until Foolish takes back his request.

That said, DeramXD is perfectly fine with giving things away if it’s of his own volition and not because someone demands it of him. When Techno asks if he grants wishes, DreamXD offers them 1 when he could’ve just said no. When Foolish and Bad are having another territory dispute, DreamXD comes by and places heads of the various server members for them. He’s also given George diamonds of his own volition before as well. He’s not opposed to doing things for someone or giving them stuff, it’s only when people try to use him for things (cough cough George) does he get defensive and upset.

Second: DreamXD is not inherently malicious. When he does something bad, he doesn’t do it to be mean or to hurt them. He does it because he thinks it’d be funny, get a laugh out of George, or because he doesn’t recognize that sending someone to hell and back isn’t nice. (it was pretty funny though XD)

What he considers “good” or “bad” or acceptable is very different from “normal” and so most of his actions are born from ignorance of what “normal” is, ignorance he tries to correct by learning from George, the one person he’s been seen talking to outside chat. Which, George isn’t a good teacher, at all, but I’m not here to talk about that.

And more recently, when we see him cause mild chaos with Bad and Foolish, he ultimately leaves things back to the way he found them in. Returning L’Sandburg back to where it was, teleporting Foolish out of the void, showering both Bad and Foolish in EXP bottles to heal their armor and giving them some extra food to help them recover health after smiting them a few dozen times. (he also placed water on the TNT Skeppy lights in Foolish’s summer home at the same time as Bad, to prevent the explosion from blowing the place up.)

Third: There is a non-zero chance that DeramXD is whatever it is the dreamon hunters split from Dream during that first dreamon hunter stream, and not an ancient all powerful god of the server. (Though the members of the server certainly believe him to be which is what I personally believe led to DreamXD calling himself “god”. Because everyone else calls him that) If he’s a god, which considering his abilities he can certainly be counted as one, then he isn’t old, and is in fact quite new.

DreamXD explicitly states "I’m not Dream! ...I... am not Dream, sort of. I’m a part of him.” (Which means Dream came first!) He has also mentioned having been hunted at one point in the past (either as Dream during manhunts or because of the dreamon hunters, we don’t know), and has spoken in Dream’s voice once before switching back and saying “mm, he’s gone.”

Lastly: and, again this is just my personal thoughts on DreamXD and something I find interesting/funny about the fandom’s response but. George and Techno both say DreamXD looks like Dream. Foolish has mistaken Dream’s head for DreamXD before. By all means and canon evidence, DreamXD should look basically identical to Dream. Does this stop the fandom from going wild with his design? Nope. In fact, it’s so wild I have a hard time believing that this 23ft tall eldritch abomination with too many eyes, multiple floating hands, rings of halos around his (usually just an orb) head, twenty pairs of wings and long flowing robes looks anything like this scruffy, homeless, teletubby in a mask. Much less close enough that George keeps accidentally or on purpose mistaking him for Dream.

Like, all these designs are amazing and super duper cool looking and extraordinarily creative but it’s not accurate to canon at all and the spiderman meme makes much less sense when neither of the “spidermen” looks anything like the other. (Unless of course, everyone on the dsmp is mask blind and think anyone with a white mask looks like Dream because they can’t see past that and--)

ANYWAYS, this concludes some of my thoughts on DreamXD. I certainly have more but this has gotten long and kinda rambly. If you’ve gotten this far, then thanks for reading and I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

#c!DreamXD #long post #my rambles #my thoughts #I have #so many thoughts on c!DreamXD and c!George's relationship #it's so messed up man #and not just the part where c!George is locked into an everlasting contract with c!DreamXD #for some netherite armor and tools #because c!George is pretty messed up too #and the way he so casually manipulates/tries to convince c!DreamXD into giving him things #even though c!DreamXD has already said/proven multiple times that he doesn't like that #kinda reminds me of beeduo's dynamic #where it looks sweet on the outside #but there are definitely unhealthy undertones when you examine certain aspects of their relationship more closely

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annabethy · 3 years

Text

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 9: cliffs

Character A vows to do something nice for a stranger during the Christmas time. Character B is that stranger,, percabeth

Percy happens to think that he’s a nice human being. He tries to be, at least. He has his moments because no one is perfect, but he’s always done his best to be considerate of those around him.

So when his friend tells him that he’s really not a nice person, he just about loses it.

“I am not a bad person!”

Leo raises his hands defensively. “I’m not saying you’re a bad person. All I’m saying is that you could be a little bit more... generous.”

Piper rolls her eyes. “Leave the poor man alone, Leo.”

“I’m generous,” he says, miffed.

“But...” Leo waves his hands wildly, and Percy feels the instinct to punch him in the nose and make him Rudolph. “Do something nice for once.”

“Percy,” Piper says, “he’s just mad that you didn’t give him a piece of your gingerbread cookie. Don’t listen to him.”

Still, it stings just a little bit. Even if it’s a joke, Percy doesn’t think it’s very funny. That’s what prompts him to do something kind this Christmas. He honestly doesn’t know what he plans on doing because what could he do? Buy all of someone’s presents and also go broke in the process? Maybe he could buy someone’s cheap coffee, but then is it really something nice if it’s only two dollars?

Whatever it is, Percy knows that Leo has to be there to see it so he can make Leo choke on his words. The only problem then, though, is that Leo would no doubt say something along the lines of you’re only doing it because you want to prove me wrong, not because you care, bla bla bla, and the Percy will actually shank Leo with a peppermint candy cane.

Percy tries so hard to find the chance to make someone’s Christmas, but it’s so much harder than he would’ve thought. People ignore him when he’s speaking to them about buying their order, or they think it’s some weird Christmas ploy.

He doesn’t get to do something kind until Christmas day.

Percy’s standing in the freezing air on top of a snow-tubing mountain. His friends had dragged him here against his will, because despite being a native New Yorker, he hated the cold. He wanted to be included though, so he came along anyways, stuffed into a black snow suit and a knitted hat. His nose burns from the icy atmosphere, and his fingers are numb. He considers checking for frostbite but then he decides he’d rather not know.

He’s standing on a small wall of ice overlooking everyone else. Leo is somewhere to his right, threatening to push Piper off of the wall, and Percy purposely avoids making eye contact in fear that he’ll be next.

The wall of ice can’t be anything more than five or six feet. He doesn’t know if they’re actually allowed to be up there, but there’s so many people doing the same thing that he’s not too worried.

He watches as a few people jump off of the wall into the fluffy layer of snow, vaguely listening to the conversations around him. He hears a mother hassling her children, and his ears perk up as he notices her muttering something along the lines of her not being able to afford buying them each a hot chocolate from the cabin that lays near the bottom of the mountain.

Percy doesn’t stop to think first, which is probably a mistake.

“I can buy it for you,” he interjects kindly, thrilled that he’s finally getting the chance to do something nice.

The mom looks at him, and it’s almost as though she’s appalled that he’s spoken to her. Percy shrinks back.

“I’m good,” she says.

“I don’t mind,” he continues, more nervous. “It’s only a couple dollars each, and—”

She holds a hand up. “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

Percy’s mind comes to a screeching halt. “What!? That’s not what I—”

“You’re going to tell me that you’re offering to pay twenty dollars and it’s not because you want to sleep with me?”

“No! I was just trying to do something nice for a stranger after my friend said—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” she snaps, already beginning to walk away from Percy. “Follow me and I’ll cut your dick off.”

It’s so shocking to him that he doesn’t even have time to respond before she’s already gone. He truly must have the worst luck because he’s just trying to create Christmas magic, and everyone seems to be doing the exact opposite of that.

Percy’s mouth gapes slightly, his brain still not comprehending what just happened. He’s only pulled out of the haze when someone snorts next to him.

He turns his eyes and catches a girl looking like she was smothering laughter.

“I’m sorry,” she says, laughter now bubbling out of her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a conversation go so wrong so quickly.”

“I don’t even know what I did,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

“Something she didn’t like, apparently.” She’s still giggling slightly, and Percy thinks it’s kind of cute. She’s shorter than him, and her nose has a red tint to it. He can see the puff of air each time she takes a breath, and she looks like she’s ready to go inside and curl into a ball for a nap.

“God. That’s embarrassing.”

“I got a front row seat to that show,” she says. “Why are you trying to do something nice, anyways?”

Percy is surprised that a stranger would want to talk to him after witnessing that, but he doesn’t mind. “My friend called me a horrible person and said I was going to hell.”

“Ouch.”

“That’s not exactly what he said,” he admits, “but he might as well have. He’s dead to me.”

“And yet you’re still trying to please a stranger,” she says wryly.

“I don’t want to go to hell,” he whines, and she laughs softly.

“I’m sure you won’t go to hell. You might lose your genitalia, but you’re not going to hell.”

“Yes, thank you for the reminder,” he says. The faint music in the background changes songs, and she rolls her eyes.

“This music is getting out of hand,” she says. “It’s like they’re trying to suffocate us in Christmas spirit.”

“It could be worse, don’t you think?”

“Is rather drown in eggnog than listen to another Christmas song.” She thinks for a moment, looking out into the distance off of the cliff of ice. “Can you promise to push me off this cliff if all I want for Christmas is youplays again?”

Percy chokes. “Push you off the cliff?”

“Yes, please.”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he says.

“Nothing could hurt more than having my ears bleed to that song. I think it would be easier to simply die and get reborn as Santa’s slaves in the north pole.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Besides, this could be your chance to do something nice.”

“Does murder count as something nice?”

“In certain situations, maybe.”

Percy smiles, though he instantly regrets it when his teeth start to ache. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Annabeth,” she says.

“Percy,” he returns. “So before I get arrested for shoving you off a cliff, let me just make sure I’m hearing this right. You want me to push you off that ledge if Mariah Carey starts playing?”

“Exactly. You have my full permission.”

“Great,” he chokes out. They lock eyes and chuckle slightly at their own antics. Percy thinks someone calls his name from somewhere behind him, but he’s much preoccupied to turn around. Percy doesn’t think Annabeth would be someone to bully him, unlike some friends.

Percy thinks he should write a letter to Leo about his recent harassment. He thinks little rascals is a good baseline. It would start with, Dear Darla, I hate your stinking guts. You make me vomit. You’re scum between my toes. That’ll show him.

“Are you alone?” Annabeth asks kindly.

“I’m here with my friends, but I might as well be alone. They’re mean. I don’t like them.”

“You sure they’re your friends?”

“Eh. Not really,” he says, but he’s only kidding. He loves them dearly, even if they’re the worst people he has ever met. Leo in particular.

“Lovely,” she says. Her gloved hands reach up to move a strand of hair away from her mouth. The wind has started blowing harder, and it’s beginning to tangle her hair. “I’ll be your friend, then. I won’t bully you.”

“I hardly know you. How can I be sure you won’t bully me?”

“I guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out.”

He wouldn’t mind sticking around, he thinks. Especially not with the way she’s looking at him, making him feel the urge to pull her in close and protect her from the biting winds.

As they continue talking, Percy can’t help but think that he likes her. He really like her, actually. She’s sweet and funny, always having something to quip back to him. He finds out soon that she lives quite close to him, and something in him screams to ask her if she wants to do something soon. He holds off on that, but he still can feel the way his heart threatens to pound out of his chest.

A sly grin forms on his face as he hears the change in music. It’s not a song that’s easy to miss, so it catches his ear immediately, and he is prepared.

“Hey, Annabeth.”

“What?”

“Guess what’s playing.”

She tilts her head as she listens to the music, and then she groans in annoyance. “Of course it is.”

“I promised to do something nice this Christmas.” She blinks. “You did.”

“I gotta do it to you.”

“Percy—”

“I made a promise,” he says, shrugging. He steps forwards, and she takes a step back, but there’s a wide grin on her face.

“Don’t you dare,” she threatens with zero malice in her voice.

“It’s my duty to you,” he says. “I don’t break my promises.” With that, he fulfils the gap between them, grabbing her in his arms by the waist and lifting her up. She wiggles in his grasp, letting her legs go limp, and she’s laughing until she can’t breathe.

Percy brings her to the ledge, his smile matching hers, and as he tries to drop her as gently as possible, she grabs on tighter and pulls, and he goes tumbling face-first into the snow with her.

He lands somewhat on top of her, and his face is buried surprisingly deep. He pulls his face out of the hole he’s dug, and when he looks at her, her head is thrown back as she lets out uncontrollable giggles. When she looks at him, it only gets worse.

“Your eyelashes are covered in snow,” she gasps, wiping carelessly at his face for him. She kicks him off of her lazily and leans back, looking up at the sky. “You ass.”

“I just did what you asked me to!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“But you’re alive, and I’ve done my good deed! We both win.”

She shakes her head at him, eyeing him is mock disappointment. “I change my mind. I am going to bully you.”

“You’d have to stick around long enough for that,” he reminds her.

“After you just tried to kill me? You bet I’m sticking around, if only for revenge.”

Percy pouts. “I’m so scared.”

“You better be because when I push you off a cliff, it isn’t going to be seven feet into snow.”

“At least I can die happy knowing that I did my good deed for the year.” Percy turns onto his size and gazes deeply into her eyes. Her eyes fit in perfectly to the scene around them, layers of white snow, barren trees in the distance, matching the grey sky above. He really does want to see her again, to find out if she’s as soft as she looks, if she’s as perfect for hugging as she seems, if she wants to kiss him as bad as he wants to kiss her.

He gets his answer when she says, “You haven’t finished your good deed quite yet.” Percy pretends to be oblivious. “Oh? What else do I need to do?”

She smiles in the perfect way he just knows he’s going to fall in love with. “Kiss me.”

He pulls her in close, both of them still laying in the snow, ice beginning to seep into their backs, and when he puts his lips to hers, she’s warm and sweet and perfect.

And when she pulls away to lock eyes with him before slamming his face back into the snow, he can’t even be mad. She’s cute, looking at him proudly, and he’s falling in love with this stranger on Christmas night.

,, courtesy of ash @silenabeth

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #my writing

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senadimell · 3 years

Note

Boromir for the character ask?

send me a character and i’ll list:

favorite thing about them: Honestly? His focus. He's a problem-solver. He focuses on whatever task is in front of him, and while he's the golden child, I honestly don't know if he'd be the best fit for Steward because he seems to be at his best when he's thinking about concrete solutions to discrete problems.

Oh! The other thing is that he evaluates the advice given to him for what it is, not based on the authority of the advisor. He’s not going to accept bad advice just because it comes from a trustworthy source, and he’s going to be honest about his thoughts. So he’ll trust and respect the advice of the council of Elrond, but not to the point where he doesn’t ask questions or question things that don’t make sense (I’m thinking about Caradhras here) It’s a good skill to have as the de-facto heir to Gondor, and it makes sense that he’s not in awe of elves or Gandalf and acts among them as a guest but also as an equal at least in political status, though his experience is vastly more limited.

At the same time, he’s not arrogant or haughty. He's a team player. He’s supportive of decisions for the most part, though where the ring is concerned, things get skewy. He’s not the kind of person to rub mistakes back in your face. He’s compassionate and understanding (which we see even in the way he treats Frodo as he strives for the Ring).

least favorite thing about them: Honestly Boromir doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I suppose his positive traits are also double-edged swords. Focusing more on the advice than the giver sort of has Feanor vibes? And you can see where his focus leads him when he talks to Frodo about why he wants the ring and how he would use it. He can see his corner of the world (Gondor) and his place in saving it (political, but primarily military leadership), and it’s his practicality, drive, and focus that the Ring exploits. He’s too busy thinking about what he must do to save the day that he misses the grander scheme (yet he’s doing it because he cares! he cares!).

brOTP: Um, Faramir, I guess. Though I guess it’d be kinda sweet if he’s got a brotherly relationship with Bergil. I can easily imagine Bergil hero-worshipping Boromir, and so I think it’d be sweet if Boromir did acknowledge him and know him by name.

OTP: none? look, I rarely ship and even more rarely out of canon.

nOTP: also none? Shelob? The Ring?

random headcanon: I dunno...

unpopular opinion: boromir has dark hair Sean Bean is an actor he’s not the only face

So I feel like there’s a bit of a structural problem with the LotR fandom. Characters are often written in pairs or as foils, and inevitably the comparison starts to turn towards “who’s better?” Then, if you don’t ship them, there’s a tendency to aggrandize one character’s virtues and minimize their flaws (which tends to happen everywhere), but then the comparison game starts. Because they have a paired character, the natural next step is to lionize your favorite by de-emphasizing the other character’s strengths and virtues (and sometimes also highlighting their flaws). (I’m not immune to this by far, btw, and am possibly about to engage in it.)

This happen the most with Frodo and Sam, but I think you also see it in Boromir and Faramir. Because obviously, in the books, Faramir is the golden child. Not in his father’s eyes, of course, but narratively speaking. And I have mad respect for him.

Most people don’t try and diss Faramir (because frankly. it’s hard. like, what are you going to say?), but there’s a tendency to downplay the fact that Boromir is his culture’s golden child, and Faramir...isn’t. Which isn’t to say Faramir isn’t beloved by those who know him, but his strengths are not valued in the same way that Boromir’s are. Faramir knows this. And given Boromir’s attitudes discussed above (how confidently he assumes his position in the world), I can’t believe he’s the 100% supportive, loving, sensitive, protective brother that fanon depicts him as. I don’t see how he can be.

Don’t get me wrong, I do believe the brothers love each other deeply. But growing up with siblings has taught me that it’s possible to love someone and yet be deeply wounded by them due to the casual and inescapable intimacy of your relationship? You can share more inside jokes and weird stories than anyone, yet you can never get away from how deeply they know you--not your thoughts, but who you are at home and who you were when you were seven and how you acted when someone broke up with you or what you did when your parents were furious.

You also know exactly how you match up against them, because you will always exist as a unit. And because your relationship is as natural as the lens in your eye (you can’t imagine viewing the world without it), you forget about the other as a person and just say something and don’t think about how it hurts them. You can joke about this one thing and your sibling can carry around the hurt for years and you didn’t even know. And maybe the hurt isn’t even your fault--maybe they were just sensitive and you had no way of knowing, but the hurt doesn’t go away for the lack of malice. And even best-friend siblings are capable of malice towards each other at times.

So Boromir is good at things that Faramir isn’t, and Boromir knows it. He’s probably ribbed his brother in what he thinks is a playful way about when you’re going to shape up, or do X, or do Y, or why do you do that, anyways, or do you realize that’s a little unbecoming? maybe you should stop that. You know Father’s going to think that you’re... And he doesn’t realize how those slights can add up over the years. I do think he’s said things to his peers about his brother that have ended up hurting him. No matter how pure and nice he is, that sort of thing is unavoidable, and due to his cultural upbringing I don’t actually think he’d question the appropriateness of his attitude/acceptance and glorification of martial prowess at the expense of those who don’t have it in the same degree.

I think this passage is really telling:

For on the eve of the sudden assault a dream came to my brother in a troubled sleep; and afterwards a like dream came oft to him again, and once to me. 'In that dream I thought the eastern sky grew dark and there was a growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingered, and out of it I heard a voice, remote but clear, crying: Seek for the Sword that was broken: In Imladris it dwells; There shall be counsels taken Stronger than Morgul-spells. There shall be shown a token That Doom is near at hand, For Isildur's Bane shall waken, And the Halfling forth shall stand. Of these words we could understand little, and we spoke to our father, Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, wise in the lore of Gondor. This only would he say, that Imladris was of old the name among the Elves of a far northern dale, where Elrond the Halfelven dwelt, greatest of lore-masters. Therefore my brother, seeing how desperate was our need, was eager to heed the dream and seek for Imladris; but since the way was full of doubt and danger, I took the journey upon myself. Loth was my father to give me leave, and long have I wandered by roads forgotten, seeking the house of Elrond, of which many had heard, but few knew where it lay.'

There’s so much you can read into this. Faramir has this dream, and he has it many times. We know he’s a lover of lore and no less devoted to his kingdom than Boromir, though his love is expressed differently. He is “eager” to heed the dream. So would I if I was having prophecy dreams all the time.

But is Faramir a member of the fellowship? No. Why? Because Boromir “took it upon himself.” He wanted to do it, he thought himself the better candidate (and Faramir the worse), and he argued his way into doing it against his father’s wishes. Coupled with Denethor’s later attitude towards Boromir, I’m inclined to believe Boromir was uniquely able to obtain this quest for himself because Denethor has a soft spot for him.

I find myself inclined to disregard Boromir’s account of Faramir’s motive (”how desparate was our need”), because it sounds like he’s justifying the appropriateness of his actions. If it’s just about the great need of the kingdom, it’s nothing personal that one brother goes and the other stays. That view implies that Faramir’s interest in this mission is primarily utilitarian in purpose, with a little academic curiosity--that is, it’s nothing personal. Doesn’t matter who goes! Not as long as we protect the kingdom! Which...just doesn’t square with his description of Faramir having repeatedly cryptic dreams that he wants to understand. I can almost guarantee that Faramir wants to know what those dreams meant more than Boromir.

It’s a bit tragic, because ultimately Faramir was more suited for the quest than Boromir (tramping about in the wilderness doesn’t seem to be a problem, he’s also a team player, and he’s much more willing to accept the power of the Ring/not downplay its personal danger, and would be able to see it in a bigger picture beyond just Gondor). Ultimately, though, if Boromir was the one to catch Frodo in Ithillien, the story would have a veeeeeeery different ending. (Gollum would likely be dead, and I can’t imagine he’d be inclined to just. let Frodo and Sam go free.)

I kind of view their relationship as a much less antagonistic version of Agravain and Gwalchmai from Gillian Bradshaw. (Agravain is more of a jerk than I can ever imagine Boromir being, and has a wicked temper).

Also none of this is to say that I don’t think he’s not protective of his brother.

So a lot of words to say: I don’t think the Boromir and Faramir relationship is as uwu cinnamon roll as it seems in fandom. I think they loved each other, but I think Boromir did have a tendency to take what he wanted when he thought he deserved it and not give it a second thought, even when it was at the expense of his brother. Sure, he’d defend his brother night and day, but I expect him to be a bit of a jerk, be unaware of the extent of his behavior, and also see little wrong with it (the ring quest seems to have crossed a line, by the way he justifies it).

Still, they do love each other deeply and genuinely. It’s just a little more conflicted.

song i associate with them: Requiem, from Dear Evan Hanson. Not a particularly creative association (and I don’t associate him with Connor at all), but his death comes as such a shock at the beginning of TTT and brings with it so many mixed feelings due to both their relationship and the circumstances of his death. Nobody’s mourning is straightforward: not Frodo, or Denethor, or Faramir, or Aragorn, or Merry, or Pippin. His absense is woven throughout TTT and even RotK, in plot and in emotion and in theme.

favorite picture of them:

Don’t really have a favorite, but this one is nice.

The Sean Bean runners-up: one, two

#asks #answers #boromir #did not think i had this many thoughts about boromir!#thank you so much for the ask!

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skellebonez · 3 years

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Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 9

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!, Chapter 2 Link!, Chapter 3 Link!, Chapter 4 Link!, Chapter 5 Link! Chapter 6 Link! Chapter 7 Link! Chapter 8 Link!

Summary: As their time in the Calabash continues, the trio is face with three very different kinds of scenarios. Some simple, some subtle, all personal. Outside, the elders come to a realization and start to plan.

Warnings: Re-living emotional and physical abuse, psychological torment, panic attacks, blood and injury descriptions.

Author’s note: ... so it’s been... 3 weeks since I last updated this fic. Being honest, I wasn’t happy with what I had already written after re-reading it. I decided to take a week to let what I had left sit and come back to edit again, and then I realized I HATED what I wrote. So I took a second week off updating and completely rewrote everything I had in the fic so far, including this chapter. I think part of the problem was that, at the time I wrote these chapters a couple months ago, we didn’t have the special and the way I wrote the characters when the situation gets heavier felt off to me. Hopefully I have fixed this!

Chapter 9: Mix and Match

Another blink, another move, and Red Son was at the counter of his food stand that he opened for the Lunar New Year festival. Watching as potential customers passed by and looked over their options, still at the festival stall, still at the Lunar New Year festival where...

He blinked again and there was a flash of red and green flames burning in tandem, wrapped around each other and swirling around a figure clad in golden light.

When his eyes opened the visage was gone, not replaced by another change of scenery but back to same view of the festival he had seen before he closed his eyes. Another blink, and time seemed to have moved forward. There was a man standing before him and yelling and grabbing his frock and oh. He remembered this.

“Look, I wanna speak to the manager.”

It was different this time. Red hadn’t blinked, but it was like the world glitched around him in a strange kaleidoscope not unlike a broken computer monitor that made his eyes ache and skipped forward in time. Like someone was pressing the skip button on an online video and jumped over his own response. He watched as the man (was it the same man from the shoe store? he looked like him but he had only ever seen him once before so he couldn’t be sure) ran off after seeing his father, screaming into the crowd and drawing more than a few confused and concerned looks.

A skip. “Great!?” His father yelled with a growl. “I am the Demon Bull King! What would you have me be? The King of Street Food!?”

Red Son opened his mouth and there was another skip, he was right next to his father’s face when he growled at him. He’d made the mistake of mentioning the White Bone Spirit at that time, he remembered. His father had been growing more and more frustrated at this arrangement as the day had gone on and looking back on it now this was possibly the tipping point that made his father snap.

Why had he brought her up in the first place?

Another skip and Red’s head started to feel light, like he was on the verge of feeling like he would pass out but wasn’t quite there yet, and his father slammed his hands into the countertop. “Enough! I may have failed as a conqueror, but I will not be made a fool!”

Once again Red Son opened his mouth to speak and the world glitched again and he was being pulled from the food stall in the hand of his father now changed into his full size, grip almost too tight in his frustration but not tight enough to hurt him. Not physically, anyway. But Red couldn’t help feeling his chest tighten and grow cold despite the warmth that lived under his skin. He knew this was just the Calabash, knew this wasn’t really happening.

But he still knew what was to come. And regret filled his heart like ice water.

“We are going to have a talk, you and I.”

MK looked down at his hand, the one that had slammed into the Monkey King’s face still clenched into a fist both shaking and numb, and felt his breathing speed up more and more and his head hurt. His head felt like a steel vice was gripping it and yet like it was empty and too light at the same time, his vision blurred and he distantly heard the familiar voice of his mentor asking him if he was ok and no no he wasn’t ok he was dying.

Except he wasn’t dying, he knew that. He’d experienced this before, many times. A panic attack. He’d be fine, just needed some time to-

“Kid?”

That wasn’t Sun Wukong’s voice anymore.

MK raised his head and his eyes widened at the change in scenery. He was in Pigsy’s Noodles, not on a cliff side after training, and Pigsy had just come back from buying... something, he couldn’t remember what.

But what he did remember were the two people he had just taken his eyes off of.

“Look at us when we’re talking to you, brat!” A woman’s voice, one he hadn’t heard in person in almost two years, rang out before a hand reached out and grabbed a sizeable chunk of his hair and yanked his line of sight back to her.

“Hey, get your hands off my employee!” Pigsy yelled out, dropping whatever he had purchased to rush to MK’s side and grab the woman’s hand and pull it back flush with his head to keep her from pulling his hair out. “Who the hell do you think you are!?”

“Who do you think?” a voice that should have been less familiar now than it was.

His mother was gone. Where his father should have been stood Pigsy, no longer holding the hand in his hair but looking at him in disappointment with a shake of his head. MK looked up and...

Sun Wukong looked down at him with disdain. A look that he hadn’t even given to the Six-Eared Macaque when hey fought, one of pure malice and hatred and his hand went to yank his hair harder before the hand holding his own gripped claws of some kind into his wrist to force him to let go.

“You ungrateful little brat, why did I ever give you a chance to be my successor!” The Monkey King hissed and this wasn’t him this wasn’t his mentor this was not Sun Wukong MK repeated to himself as he felt his chest grow tighter again and he clenched his teeth with a scowl.

He turned behind him and where Pigsy should have been standing behind him, the one to catch him as he stumbled backward, stood someone else. Blurred in computer glitches and shaped with long robes and large ears and a fluffy tail and he could see that the shape of the person was smiling softly. Too softly.

The scenery had changed back to the cliff side and suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and MK jumped and whirled around and saw the once again kind face of Sun Wukong. Marred in worry and fear and confusion. MK flinched back without meaning to.

“Bud? MK? What’s going on?”

Nothing had happened since Mei arrived at the festival. Absolutely nothing.

After what happened not even a few minutes ago the dragon was on edge, looking over her shoulder at every movement. She kept her hands in her pockets now, not wanting to look at them. When she did she saw red, a red no one else seemed to be able to see on her, blood from the MK that she had sliced open. It marked her, not only her hands but her clothes and face where it had splattered on her.

She didn’t dare look at her sword.

Logically she knew that it wasn’t real, the Calabash was tricking her senses as best it could. But it felt real, it felt like she had truly killed her best friend on accident and his blood was on her like a warning for others to stay away.

No one did, though. They acted like she wasn’t covered in the evidence of a murder. Maybe that was an error or maybe that was the intent. To make her feel like she was slowly going to fear everyone learning her secret. A secret that wasn’t real. Lucky for Mei she had plenty of experience pretending that everything was alright and moving forward with a smile. More than enough experience.

Something far worse was coming for her though. She could feel it. After what Princess Jade Face had said to her? This couldn’t possibly be the plan by itself.

“You’re acting weird,” Pigsy said beside Sandy and looking up at her on large demon’s shoulder as they watched the parade procession. “You’re quieter than usual.”

“Just thinking about stuff,” she answered with a shrug, easy as saying the sky was blue. It wasn’t a lie, she was thinking about stuff. Just not what the real Pigsy would have expected, or even a construct Pigsy.

“Huh...” the construct Pigsy said with a shrug, turning back to the parade. It was odd though... He hadn’t once mentioned MK like he had during the real festiv- “MK would have liked to see this.” Calabash. Reading her mind. Of course. “I miss the kid...”

So that was the angle Jade Face was playing with right now. Something simple. Something easy. The calm before the storm.

“Yeah, he would have,” Mei sad softly, not looking at the blood still running down her shirt. She watched as a ghost of a wound opened on Pigsy’s back over his clothing, like a preview image of what was to come, choosing to ignore how it looked suspiciously like her sword. Choosing to ignore how the blood seeped over his back and dissipated before hitting the ground and how she could see bits of bone and viscera she should not know the look of in person.

She ignored.

“You bastard,” Sun Wukong said with a hiss in his voice, baring his teeth at the Demon Bull King. “You- how could you have possibly thought that was a good idea!? In what universe would that have been the way to make him listen to you!?”

For his part, the Demon Bull King actually looked at least somewhat ashamed. Despite being larger than all of them put together the disapproving glares of Sun Wukong, Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, and even Mo seemed to do their jobs well enough.

“I make no excuse for my words or actions that day,” he said firmly, standing straight with a shake of his head. “But do not doubt that I have regretted and wished to undo them every day since-”

“Since what?” Pigsy snapped, beating Wukong himself to the punch. “Since you said them? Or since he told you to fuck off?”

“Pigsy!” Tang whispered out loudly behind him, grabbing his shoulder and moving his disproving gaze from DBK to give the other man one of worry.

“No, it’s gotta be asked Tang,” Pigsy responded, glower not moving from the larger demon. He didn’t back down, gritting his teeth with a growl of his own building in his throat for them all to hear. “Answer me you-”

“Since he told us to leave him,” DBK answered, his honesty in his tone surprising the pig demon. His face was angry, but Pigsy could tell it wasn’t entirely at him. There was anger at himself there. “Again, I made no excuses. I was blinded by power and anger before and it took much more than it should have for us, both myself and my wife, to realize what we had done. That does not change that it happened.”

“... that’s why you let him stay,” Wukong said after a moment of silence between them. “That’s why you’ve been trying to convince him to come back and why you...” He scowled more, shaking his head with a conflicted look of anger and sorrow on his face. “You’re actually trying to make it up to him somehow.”

“Poorly,” DBK also admitted in shocking honesty, sighing before he rotated his shoulders and morphed in front of them. Shrinking down to a more reasonable side, not that much taller than Sandy. “I know I have made mistakes and this alone won’t set things right, but I do care about my son.” He said ‘son’ like it was the most odd word to say, like he hadn’t said it in a long time but he finally understood what it meant. After what he had told them, it made sense. “We will help you find him, and you have my word that should he chose to return to your side we will not stop him.”

“But you won’t stop trying to convince him to give you another chance, will you?” Wukong asked, looking up at DBK. His face was neutral once again, businesslike. Testing the waters.

“No, I won’t,” DBK admitted something for the third time, nodding his head. He was serious.

Wukong turned back to the rest of his companions, three of them looking at Pigsy instead of Wukong. The two once-brother in arms looked at each other. One middle brother and one eldest. Wukong nodded to Pigsy, a silent acquiescence.

‘It’s your decision now’ the nod seemed to say.

Pigsy waited a moment, weighing his options. This had only made his disdain for the Demon Bull Family grow more... but his kids were still in danger. What was worse? Working with someone he hated to help the people he cared about? Or pushing aside help they may desperately need due to that hate?

“... Fine. But you are going to give us everything we need.”

“That can certainly be arranged,” Princess Iron Fan’s voice rang through the room, entering the room with a veritable army of Bull Clones carrying everything from tech to tables and chairs in behind her. “Where shall we begin?”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #whump fic #hurt comfort #sfaut #smoke flasks and unfinished tasks #fanfic

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it-me-butts · 3 years

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So I dug through my secret stash and I could bring you this:) Some sneak peeks of Ch1 and Ch2 of Swords, Magic and Monsters

From Ch1

For her credit, Ruby made good on her word. A good hour passed before she returned. Maybe she really took her sweet time, maybe it was Ruby’s lack of knowledge of the castle or maybe it was that Weiss didn’t tell her which gardens she will sit in

By the time the dark haired girl found her, she was calm again. After all, she loved sitting among the plants of the gardens. Despite all, it made her feel less suffocated and more like she is not trapped under his father thumb.

“Want this?” Ruby broke the silence and held a piece of pastry in her outstretched hand. “I don’t know what this is. But the kitchen maid said you love it.”

“Yes, I do.” She took the food. Weiss smiled to herself. This girl really knew nothing else than potato and carrots. “Thank you and it’s a cinnamon bun.”

“Bless you.” Ruby said, took a seat next to her and pulled out a piece of similar pastry from the opening of her shirt. The heiress watched in horror. First: a common person dared to sit right next to her and even rub elbows! Second, did Ruby really pulled out food from her shirt?

Upon closer inspection, she realized Ruby’s shirt was stuffed with goods from the kitchen and she was hugging a rather large linen sack filled with several other items of food in her injured arm. The guardswoman had a wide variety of nourishment. All kinds of baked goods, a few pieces of cooked meat and many different kinds of fruits were now in her possession.

“Did you mean to say, ‘you’re welcome’?” Weiss asked.

“Oh yeah, that’s the word.” Ruby said sheepishly. She moved to gobble down her sweet bun, but she was stopped by Weiss.

“I hope this one didn’t come out of your shirt.” She held the pastry up for inspection.

“No. I brought yours in there.” Ruby laughed her mouth half full, pointing to the sack of goods in her lap. “The kitchen people said you were picky, but I had no idea this much.”

“I’m not picky!” Weiss felt her temper rise again “Who said that?”

“Like I spit them out!” After swallowing the bite she was chewing, Ruby laughed heartily.

Weiss fumed, but let it slip. Ruby hummed an awful lot while eating, but the heiress suspected it was some peasant thing to not being able to eat in silence or keep table manners. She tried to ignore the fact that according to the example right next to her, the people of Solitas ate loud and stored food under their clothes and maybe worst of all, rubbed elbows while eating.

Other than these minor hiccups, she enjoyed her food. They ate in relative silence.

“You know, Weiss, I saw sooooo much food today.” Ruby chirped when she finished with most of her food. Weiss wasn’t sure if it was healthy to eat that much. “The kitchen was full of so many things! It was amazing. You own all the food in the world.”

The heiress listened halfheartedly. She carefully picked a handful of grapes as dessert.

“You can have the rest if you want.” She said, ignoring Ruby’s ramblings about all the amazing food in the pantry. She turned to the girl and gestured for her to have the food she won’t eat and she was greeted with a sight to behold.

The dark haired girl was staring at her with glistening eyes, much like when a dog stares at its favorite person in the world. Truth be told, Weiss was afraid she’d be victim of a tackle hug, but fortunately her guard seemed to get a grip on herself.

“Thank you, Weiss.” She said and gobbled up all the baked and cooked items, leaving only the fruits. Ruby wrapped a smaller portion into the linen sack mumbling something about tomorrow’s breakfast and some food for Penny.

With her provisions prepared for the next day, Ruby leaned back in her seat.

“Want to tell me what your problem was earlier?” the dark haired girl loosened her belt under the chest plate.

“Are you kidding me?” Weiss shot her a look of such malice.

“No.” She said after a few minutes of consideration. She made a conscious effort not to hold eye contact. Her uncle always said it just angers already furious creatures more. And Weiss was a very furious creature right next to her.

“Don’t you dare tell me you danced on my nerves all day without even meaning to.” The heiress chewed on her grapes, like she was working out all her frustrations on the poor fruit.

“Your culture is really confusing, Weiss. I need some time to understand the habits.” Ruby turned cautiously to the other woman “What did you expect from me?”

“Excuse me?” Weiss nearly spat out her half-chewed fruit.

“I excuse you.” Ruby said, but quickly realized it was a mistake.

”I’m not asking for a fight. I want you to tell me what you want. I don’t know your customs yet.”For her credit, Ruby held Weiss’ blazing gaze now. She had the opportunity to watch as the heiress sunk into deep thought and a few minutes later realization dawned on her.

Ruby discovered that the frowny face meant that Weiss was deep in thinking. She thought the small wrinkle between Weiss’ eyebrows and the twinkle in her cold blue eyes as she found the answer was kind of cute.

Her surprised face quickly turned into a scowl.

“You are not from Atlas, right?” Weiss asked curious.

“Close enough! I’m not even from the continent!” Ruby cheered and slightly turned in her seat to face Weiss. “Ask and I’ll answer your questions.”

Weiss took a minute to decide which one should be her first, but before she could ask away, Ruby raised her hand in a gesture unfamiliar to Weiss.

“But only if you answer my questions too.”

“Deal.”

---

From Ch2

“That makes nothing sense!” Ruby exclaimed angrily.

The two of them spent the better part of the afternoon sitting in the flower garden, telling about their own customs. Mostly Ruby talking in length, while Weiss kept herself to short and straightforward answers.

The huntress roared up at regular intervals, mostly on things that were so natural to the heiress, but apparently seemed to enrage the dark haired girl. Weiss made sure to enjoy the show she got gratis with her mid afternoon fruit snack.

“Why would someone do that?” Ruby seemed to hold against her confusion really bad. “This place is really all backwards….From all the things you told me so far, this is the biggest bollocks of all.”

Weiss couldn’t contain her giggles longer, needless to say, it only served to confuse Ruby even more.

“That’s it! I knew you were just pulling my hair!” Ruby laughed along with Weiss.

“For real now.” Weiss started with a dead serious expression “I wasn’t. You cannot call me by my name in public.”

At that, Ruby seemed to deflate. Now that Weiss knew the reason behind her guard’s unusual behavior it started to enjoy how needlessly expressive the other girl was. Of course, they only grazed the surface of the most of it, but she learned enough to have the outline of what to think of when Ruby opened her mouth to speak.

After she got to ask all her questions and got satisfying answers for all, it was her turn to give explanation. Or more like, give out the pointers and rules of public manners used among the noble folk of Atlas.

It was tiring to explain everything twice, but Weiss had to learn with great amazement that Ruby was a rather entertaining conversation partner. She was quick on her mental feet most times and surprisingly witty. Maybe a little simple minded about a lot of topics, but Weiss suspected it wasn’t ignorance, just a way to find some sense in it all.

Ruby often made good hearted jabs or tried to come up with something to lure a laugh out of Weiss, only to fail miserably. Weiss caught silver eyes glued to her, taking a close inspection. She knew that Ruby’s intent was purely to learn and copy how to talk and behave properly, without causing a disaster. If she had to be honest, she found it a little flustering. Just like now.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Weiss said and Ruby whined a little as a reply. “It is rude to do so.”

“Then what am I supposed to call you, if I can’t say your name?” The guardswoman pouted.

“You can call me ‘Your grace’ or ‘Your majesty’” Weiss selected the next piece of grape she would eat. “Also, I have a title.”

“What. Is it princess?” Ruby butted in, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“It’s heiress, actually.” Weiss deadpanned. At that Ruby snickered.

#rwby #frosen steel #rwby ruby rose #rwby penny polendina #rwby weiss schnee #Swords Magic and Monsters #SMM update #rwby fantasy au #nuts and dolts #whiterose #frostbyte #this butt can write?#i'm just trying to make up for not posting drawings

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bumblebee-moreno · 3 years

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LGBT EDUCATION EVENT

I posted a bit ago to see who might be interested in an event for anyone to ask me any question they want about my LGBT identities, or the LGBT community in general, and there seemed to be quite a bit of interest, so here we are!

Event goes from midnight to midnight March 30 (starts in 5 minutes, lasts for the full 24 hours).

For those of you who don’t know me (you can skip this part if you already know who I am):

My name is Bumblebee, but you can call me Bee. I am white and use he/they pronouns. I am FTM nonbinary, queer, demisexual, and polyamorous. I work part-time at a non-profit targeted towards trans youth. At the non-profit, I moderate our 24/7 chat (I’m not the only moderator, don’t worry, I do sleep), am a facilitator for our middle school support group (When one of our high school facilitators cannot make it, I also step into that group occasionally). I also help create and present workshops (We are currently in the process of creating a presentation for Microsoft). My other job is as a receptionist for a Veterinary Clinic. (For safety reasons, I will not be sharing which nonprofit I work at, or which veterinary clinic I work at. If, for some reason you find out where I work, please keep this information to yourself). I was diagnosed with ADHD in February, and was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder two years ago. I have lived in the USA my whole life, and was raised in a non-religious household. My extended family is mostly Christian, with a few relatives who are Norse Pagan (we are originally from Norway). I am agnostic.

The purpose of this event:

Education. That’s literally it. I’ve noticed a lot of misconceptions about the LGBT community, and want to combat that with a good ol’ fashioned Q&A.

Here are a few rules before we start:

(I do have a TL/DR at the bottom, but if you have the time, I encourage you to read the full thing)

- This is a safe space.

This means a few things: You can ask any question you like and I will not be offended. Nothing is to be taken personally, it will always be assumed that you are trying to learn, unless you’ve clearly proven otherwise. If you’re hurt by something someone (including myself) has said, you’re free and encouraged to say something about it. All identities are welcome. Everything will be tagged with appropriate content warnings (If I don't tag something you need tagged, let me know and I will happily tag it!)

- Who can participate:

Anyone wanting to learn about anything LGBT, including but not limited to:

Cisgender/heterosexual people who want to become better allies, Writers who want to learn how to be more inclusive, People questioning their gender/sexuality, literally anyone prepared to be respectful to anyone else participating

(I do want to note: this event is open to NSFW conversations. If you are uncomfortable with this, please filter the tag “adult conversations”.)

- Any question is okay to ask.

This is a space for everyone to learn, regardless of their prior knowledge. I will never get offended by a question. I will not be offended by the phrasing of a question. If I am not comfortable answering something, I will explain why, but I will not be annoyed. Part of learning is making mistakes, and I want to be courteous to that.

I am super open, so I will answer almost every question, regardless of how personal it is, with a few exceptions (see the “my boundaries” point.

Yes, this means you can ask questions that you’ve been previously told never to ask. I want to clarify though: I will make it clear when a question is inappropriate to ask in normal circumstances. Since I am telling you beforehand that it’s okay to ask personal or private questions, it is acceptable to do so in this context. However, I will always add a note explaining why you shouldn’t ask people this in other circumstances so that it’s still clear which questions I am making exceptions for.

- My boundaries

I’m not going to share identifying information. That includes: My legal name, where I live, where I work, photos of myself, etc.

I’m not going to share my deadname either, though I am willing to have conversations about deadnames themselves.

I’m not going to share what my plans for bottom surgery are. I am fine to talk about bottom surgery itself, I am fine to share where I’m at right now, and have next to no boundaries about top surgery. But I’m not going to share what my plans for whether or not I’m getting bottom surgery are.

I’ve worked as a receptionist and trans advocate for long enough that I take nothing personally. Because of this, I ask that if you need to get upset or aggressive about something related to this event, please come to me directly instead of attacking a participant. I’d rather you send me hate than sending it to someone who is trying to use this safe space as a learning opportunity. This includes if you’re frustrated with a participant. I’m happy to facilitate a healthy conversation about a disagreement, but I will not tolerate anyone attacking others.

- Hate will be blocked.

When you’re talking directly to me, I’m going to assume you’re well-intentioned. HOWEVER. If you’re directly attacking others who are involved in the conversation, you will be blocked. If you have a problem, please come to me and I will work to resolve it. Sending hate to people other than myself is in violation of the safe space.

- My intention is never to speak over anyone

I don’t know everything about every identity. As a white person, I experience white privilege. As someone who passes as male about 80% of the time, I experience male privilege. I am able-bodied. I try my very best to educate myself, but I am still learning (and always will be).

If I speak on an identity that is not my own, I will always add a note to clarify this. I will only be speaking from the stories shared with me by people who have that identity, and from the additional research I have done.

MY WORDS ARE NEVER THE ONLY TRUTH. I cannot say this enough. Don’t take my words over those of someone who uses a specific label. Even if I also use that label. Everyone experiences the world differently. My words are a STARTING POINT. Please be aware that other opinions and experiences exist. I will try my best to have resources paired with every conversation so you can further your learning, but please be aware that I cannot teach you everything.

If I don’t know the answer, I will do research as well as provide you with sources.

- No question will go unanswered

Yes, this includes questions that come across as “disrespectful”. I have said this already, but I will always assume good intentions unless it’s proven that you’re coming from a place of malice. If a question is phrased in a way that comes across as harmful in any way, I will still answer it AND explain why you should ask it differently in the future or not ask it at all going forward.

If I don’t respond within 2 hours, please message me again: I either didn’t receive it or I am still writing my response. I don’t want to miss anyone just because you think I’m ignoring you, I promise I’m not.

The ONLY time I won’t answer a question is if you’ve made it clear that you’re only here to attack the people using this safe space (I will have already asked you to leave).

- If something upsets you, don’t ignore it.

If you’re hurt by something I, or someone else said, please let me know. My intentions are never to hurt or upset anyone.

You can disagree with people, including me, as long as you’re polite about it.

If you need me to talk to someone for you, I’m happy to do so. If you want a private conversation with me, my DMs are open. If you want to stay anonymous but don’t want your questions posted, use this 🌙 emoji (or just say so), and I’ll make a post trying my best to answer your question without sharing the contents of the ask itself.

I don’t expect you to educate me as to why you’re upset by something: that’s not your responsibility, I can educate myself. I do appreciate anyone willing to talk about differing views or why something upset them, but that is not the purpose of the event and you are under no obligation to educate anyone else. I will do my research the moment someone says something bothered them.

- Please don’t weaponise my words.

Please don’t use anything said here as a way to attack people. This event is to educate people. I hope there’s nothing said here that can be manipulated to hurt people, but I didn’t want to leave this unsaid; the point of this isn’t to attack people who are uneducated, it’s to help educate them.

- Most importantly: Please come into this with a desire to learn

This event won’t be helpful if you’re determined to not learn anything. The purpose of this is to ask questions and learn something. I can’t decide for you that you want to learn. I can’t force you to learn. You have to be willing, or this may seem very pointless to you. I’m not trying to change opinions or beliefs, I’m just trying to spread a little education. If you’re unable to take my words and really think about them, this may not be the space for you, but that’s up to you to decide.

Any topic is okay!

This includes (but isn’t limited to):

- Writing LGBT characters (such as how to incorporate same-sex representation without fetishizing gay people, writing for gender-neutral or non-female readers, making content trans-friendly, etc.)

- What to do when someone you care about comes out

- Coming out

- Transition-related questions (HRT, surgery, binding/tucking, deadnames, etc.)

- Defining terms or labels you’re unfamiliar with

- Working out your feelings about something (such as something you saw in media and need to talk to someone about)

- Various laws (questions about laws may take up to 3 hours to answer, as I would have to research your particular area, depending on the question)

- Literally any other question you can think of that has to do with the LGBT community in any way, these are just some ideas off the top of my head to get y’all started.

TL;DR: This space is open to anyone, any topic, any question just please be open-minded and respectful!

(Just like my first post, I’m including tags for the Pedro fandom because I’ve seen a lot of issues within that community, but this is open to anyone that wants to participate, regardless of what interests you have.)

@phoenixhalliwell

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rhmg-au · 3 years

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Prequel part 1.

Thinking of some endings for the final confrontation, would try to get them out once I complete the prequel first.

This AU belongs to @rhmg-au . Please follow them, reblog their art, give them fanart, support them in any way possible, etc.

TW: Torture, blood, gore, restraints

(Mod Swanno: Edited with the read more option due to length and content!)

Eyes fluttered rapidly in the dark, the aching pain ran rampant throughout his entire body, the tears in his uniform exposing his skin to the coldness in the room from the lack of heat inside. Two figures seem to be in front of him, chatting with one another.

He let out an involuntary groan of pain, causing the two to turn to them. They look familiar.

“Awake already, Price? Thought you’d be knocked out for at least for few more hours.”

At that statement, the memories flooded back to him, as if he was in the sea in the middle of a big storm, only he was alone on a boat, the lighting and crashing waves wanting to throw him off the only thing keeping him from drowning.

The fighting, the snapping, the discovery.

———

A knock was heard on his door, he was in one of the rooms made for soldiers who needed to rest after a tiring mission or just stay for a break from their duties. His mind was wandering in its own little world, trying to think of ways to get rid of that monster he calls his general, he’s not noble anymore, after what he witnessed him doing to a Toppat, though he is a criminal, it was still so cruel to strip him of his memories and forcefully turn them to their side, and how it was carried out was…too brutal to watch or even hear for that matter. How could he live with himself after such a heinous act?

Those thoughts were carried to the back of his mind when that sound caused by a hand repeatedly hitting the door from the other side to get someone else’s attention inside.

“Rupert? May I come in?”

It’s him, it’s time to play the role of the actor again.

“You may, general.”

Galeforce entered the room as soon as the request to come inside was approved by the soldier, closing it behind him. His smile looked so normal that no one would ever guess that he did so many terrible acts behind that mask.

“What is it you need, sir?” Rupert asked, straightening his posture, and making sure to wipe his face clean from any form of an expression full of hatred. He cannot reveal his true feelings towards the man, or anyone for that matter. They can be loyalists to him, blinded by their duties to ever consider siding with him. No one is safe to talk to about his issues.

“Are you…actually loyal to the government, Mr. Price? I was informed by Dr. V that you were acting quite strange these past few days, and she has a suspicion that you’re a traitor.”

These words caught Rupert off-guard. They knew? How…how could they know? He thought he hid it so well, concealed it from everyone, how, just how?! Did someone snitch on him? “I, I am loyal sir. I was just thinking about my next missions those past days is all.” He was praying that he would buy it, he couldn’t risk to be found out of his resent. He knew it wouldn’t be anything but bad.

“Then tell me…do you know about the latest piece of technology we developed?” What was that supposed to mean? Naively, he shook his head, realizing too late that he made a crucial mistake by doing that.

Galeforce’s smile contorted into a smirk, one that is full of malice. That never meant good, at all. “A device that allows us to know who is lying by just hearing their words and their tone. Think of it like a lie detector, but a better version.” He took out the little gadget, the design was rather basic, just a square shaped piece of metal with antennas sticking out, a screen was visible with lines rapidly going up and down. Such a simple yet complex device. And it’ll be used for an occasion like this. “It’s still in the alpha stages, consider yourself honoured since you’re the first one we’re using to test it.” He took a good look at the lines. “And would you look at that, judging by the way the lines are moving, it detected that you’re lying.”

“No, no sir, are you sure it’s just a misinterpretation? An error?” Rupert knew that he was screwed, yet he still tries to deny it. Anything to get him out of this situation. Anything.

“Sorry to say, Price, but Dr. V told me these lines represent when someone is lying. It is no bug for sure.”

That was the answer he was dreading to hear.

“Now, do you remember what happens to those who are traitors? Or, for you, a potential traitor? You have quite the disdain for me, and that leads to backstabbing.” Galeforce pocketed the device, that grin turning sadistic now.

There was nothing left to hide. He saw through his facade, and now he has the information that he harbours distaste for him.

“You really think I would let something like that slide? What you did was absolute torture! How could you consider yourself to be human after what’d you done?! He may have been a Toppat, but you didn’t have to go to the extreme! What the hell is wrong with you?! Did you even think about how the Toppats feel?! That you took away someone who was so valuable to them, both personally and usefully, did you ever consider that?! Tell me, was there a time you even felt some sympathy?!” He couldn’t contain his rage anymore, he had to snap. It was in there for too long for him to ever hold it back, he may hate the Toppat Clan, but even he couldn’t deny that what Galeforce did crossed the line.

Galeforce didn’t responded, instead he took a step forward. Then another one. His face blank, showing no emotion, no care, no concern, no astonishment, no happiness, only apathy. Before he eventually leapt out and attacked him, like a wild animal would when it sees potential prey.

Rupert didn’t hesitate to fight back, both of them knocked to the ground. He raised his hand to counteract the opposing one ready to strike, catching it in time before it could land a hit on his face. Immediately afterwards, he caught the other hand that threatened to finish what the other arm wanted to begin.

“You could’ve been a valuable soldier here, had you not raise this hatred inside of you.” Galeforce taunted, ripping his hand out of his grasp and grabbed his hair that still stuck out from his hat, pushing his head forward.

“What was I supposed to do? Watch you turn someone into a relentless slaughtering puppet to do your dirty work? That isn’t how anything should go!” Rupert gave him a hard punch, directly on the nose. He wasn’t sure if he broke it, but blood poured out from the openings, a good indicator to confirm his suspicions.

Galeforce didn’t get knocked out, though the sudden punch to the face disoriented him for a few seconds, giving the resentful soldier enough time to rip himself out of his grasp and push him off, making a break for it to the door.

He didn’t make it, because of course he didn’t.

He was yanked back by his uniform, the grasp so tight and so harsh that he felt the cloth made to create this suit tear, and before he knew it, he was thrown against the wall, black starting to tease around the edges of his eyes from how hard his head hit the concrete.

“It’s the least I could do, trust me, I would do much worse.” Blood dripped down from his nose, staining the floor with the crimson substance.

“I don’t need to see them to know you’re a horrible person. I’ll beat the shit out of you and I’ll expose you and your heinous deeds.” Rupert shakily got up, it was rather hard when you’re close to blacking out from a strong hit on the head, but it was manageable.

“Still being cocky as ever? That’s biggest downside to you, always so certain you can do everything no matter how impossible it may seem. How cute.” Galeforce’s smirk increased in size as he approached him, taking him by the neck and lifted him off the ground, feet barely touching the floor. The soldier threw his hands onto the wrist of the general, suffocation is very likely if he was not released soon.

“It’s…not impossible…to get you…dismissed…” With his windpipe blocked, air couldn’t get inside to his lungs, affecting his breathing and speaking abilities.

“Dismissed? Why, so many ridiculous ideas run through your mind these past few days huh?” Galeforce released his grip on Rupert, letting him fall to the floor gasping for breath for a moment.

“They’re…logical…not ridicu…lous…” Regaining his strength albeit a bit slowly, he threw his fist at the general, aiming for his chest. The sleeve on the arm of his clenched hand was caught, yanking him to his feet so violently that another tear was made in his uniform, as well as causing pain to his arm due to how hard it was pulled, almost out of its socket. It took all of his willpower and gritting his teeth to not scream from the pain travelling up the limb.

“You must be forgetting that I’m a general, the public believes me as a good-intentioned nobleman who brings criminals to justice. Nothing can ever convince them otherwise.” Galeforce brought his face close to the soldier’s, letting him see that wicked grin close up, which only succeeded in letting his glare darken. He took ahold of his arm, tightening the grip instantly, as an attempt to prevent escape.

“Not if I get evidence, your acts are inhumane, no one deserves a fate like that.” Rupert spat, bringing his knee up and kicking him right in the stomach, using all of his strength in that one blow.

This action caused Galeforce to stumble back, releasing his grip on his arm in the process. Taking this opportunity, the soldier opened up the door, running out of the room. He needed to get out of here, now.

The attempt at escape didn’t work, as the general caught up with him easily, sending him crashing to the floor as he felt a heavy weight fall onto his body, He looked up, the black around his eyes more prominent.

Before his irises could see who was there, even though he already knew who, a fist collided with his head, causing the void in his eyes to finally take over.

The last thing he remembered before blacking out were these words:

“Really thought you could get away? Now, you’ll face the consequences.”

———

Everything was made clear now.

“What is this place?” His voice sounded weak, probably from the lack of water. “Are you going to robotize me like Green? Is that it?”

“No, something much worse. But now that you mentioned it, it would be a great idea. For now though, we have something else planned.” Galeforce answered, that grin so sinister it might as well be considered taking a spot on the most evil smiles list, if one was created that is.

“I would like to turn you into walking weapon, but I still need to monitor Green for the time being. Consider yourself lucky.” Dr. V added, sharing the same smirk as the one on Galeforce.

Rupert tried to throw a fist in either of their faces, but when he did, his hand never moved. Instead, he was greeted with the coldness of a metal cuff holding his hand down on one of the arms of the chair he was sitting in. It’s likely his other wrist was also in the same state as his left one. Though it should’ve been expected, it still shocked him. He was being restrained.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that you aren’t going to be able to leave. You’ll spend the rest of your days here rotting away while we make you realize just how stupid you are to doubt my acts of protection.” Galeforce informed, as if the feeling of the bindings on his wrists weren’t made clear to him enough.

“Protection?! You call that protection?! You hurt someone beyond the point of acceptance and you call that protection?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Despite his throat hurting after such an outburst, Rupert called him out on that statement of absurdity. Still thinking he’s a hero after everything? Even criminals don’t deserve that happening to them.

“It’s for the greater good. Besides, would you want a cyborg to be roaming free with those crooks?”

“He’s still human!”

“Criminals aren’t humans if they don’t have morals.”

“And you aren’t human if you feel no sympathy for them! Think about the hardships they went through that forced them to turn to crime and we never noticed! If anything, it’s the government’s fault!”

“…Dr. V, do your work.”

“Yes, sir.”

The blonde took out a pair of surgical scissors from her lab coat, walking over to the soldier, who is now struggling in the cuffs that held him in a one spot.

“Let’s begin the lesson, shall we?” Dr. V said, holding the surgical scissors over his face for a moment before snipping a part of his skin with them, blood immediately dripping out from where she made the cut.

Rupert grounded his teeth together, not wanting to give either of them the satisfaction of hearing him in such pain. He knew it would only bring more trouble if he gave them the reaction they wanted to hear, so no screaming. Just endure the pain all enough for something else to occur that causes them to leave. Like boredom or duties.

When no strong reaction came from the soldier, Dr. V dug the blades of the scissors deeper into his flesh, sliding it along slowly and painfully, intending to stop at his cheek if no signs of a scream comes soon. This was only the beginning. The next stages are much, much worse.

Despite the fiery pain growing inside of him from the scissors digging into his skin, Rupert still didn’t give them what they wanted out of him. His teeth were gritted so tightly together to suppress it the best he could. Blood started to leak into his mouth, that metallic taste made clear from the get go. He has to stay strong, this wasn’t the worse thing that happened to him. Seeing Dave getting fired and him going missing were much worse than experiencing torture…

Nothing, no reaction. “You’re stronger than you look. Impressive, but not too impressive.” The doctor pocketed the now bloodied scissors back into her lab coat, the remains of the crimson substance staining the white colour of the garment. She then took out a scalpel, this time instead of his face, she targeted his arm, plunging the sharp edge of the blade onto his shoulder.

The soldier bit down on his bottom lip as to let his teeth rest from the pressure they were under from grinding against each other for so long. Blood slipped out from the bottom lip due to how hard he was biting down on it, the metallic taste more prominent now.

Dr. V’s face contorted into frustration. “Don’t bother trying to hide your pain.” She advised, taking the scalpel out from his shoulder, that crimson substance affecting colour of the metal to make this surgical tool, now just like the scissors sitting inside of her lab coat. She clenched her hand into a fist and made it collide with his cheek, the one that isn’t soaking with blood from the cut. The force in the punch was hard, bound to create a bruise.

Rupert felt his head snap to the side momentarily, causing him to quickly look back to the woman in front of him. “How do you call this revenge if you only really want the Toppats?”

“Anyone who sides with Toppat Clan is called revenge.” Dr. V answered, making an incision on both of his wrists as he spoke, acting and speaking nonchalant about it. “I told you, masking your pain would make things worse. Cooperate with us.”

“You just need to give him a little push in the right direction. As I said before, he’s as stubborn as Green when he was a Toppat.” Galeforce said, his first words in a while.

“And how do you suppose we shove him where we want him to go?”

“Allow me to handle it. I’ve known him for quite a while now.”

The general stood in front of Rupert after Dr. V backed away. He leaned in close to him, whispering something in his ear, his breath causing a shiver to run down his spine. Surprisingly, his eyes widened at what was said, horror written all over his expression.

“Y-you, no you couldn’t-”

“Don’t worry, I trust him enough. But if I find out he’s been going behind my back…”

“Don’t you fucking hurt him! It’s me who you’re mad at, so just do whatever the hell you want with me but leave him alone!”

“I will take action if that’s the case, and what can you do in your current state?”

“This.” Rupert lifted his legs up and slammed them into Galeforce’s chest, the general taking a few steps back due to the impact. Man that hurt…

He looked up after a few seconds, Dr. V coming by his side to check if he had any injuries, pocketing the scalpel beforehand. “Chain his legs too. I’m not letting this happen a second time.” He checked his belt and took a pair of handcuffs from them, handing them out to her.

Dr. V nodded hastily, snatching the restraints quickly and cuffed the soldier’s ankles to the legs of the chair, despite his trashing interrupting some of the progress. “There we go.”

“Someone will find me here, and you’ll regret all of your actions.” Rupert promised, the glare so dark you could probably see a shadow brooding across his face. He’d struggled for a little bit more before giving up, the burning pain playing a part in why he stopped.

“You are in basement of lab, no one knows of this.” Dr. V said, immediately crushing any hope that he may have. Green most likely doesn’t know of this too. “Let’s continue now, shall we?”

Before she could pull out the blood covered scalpel however, Dr. V was stopped by the sound of beeping. “One sec.” She took out the communicator she brought down here, in case of the event someone made a call to her while they were doing what they were doing.

“Hello, this is Dr. Vinschpinsilstien speaking, how could I be of service?”

Rupert saw this as an opportunity, an opportunity to get outside help. It doesn’t matter who it is, the Twins, Victoria, Hayden, Charles or even Green, he can get out of here if he just yells at the communicator. He hated asking for assistance for anything, if he had to be honest, but at this moment, he needed help, he can’t escape by himself.

He was about to shout, to scream, to cause a scene to get the attention of whoever is there, but at the last second, his mouth was harshly covered by Galeforce, both hands were on him to block out his cries for help. Still, he called out anyway, muffled by the hands on his mouth, barely creating any noise.

“…Ah yes, I will be at the lab Green, just come along and I’ll attend to you.” The line cut off soon after Dr. V finished her call with the cyborg.

The opportunity passed…gone.

Galeforce released his hands from Rupert’s mouth as soon as the call was finished, allowing him to take in deep breaths and finally talk properly. “I’ll…I’ll scream down here and…Green will hear me. It doesn’t matter that he’s rewired, he will notice that something’s wrong with me down here.”

“And that is why you shouldn’t speak so soon.” Dr. V said, taking a piece of cloth out from her lab coat, using it as a gag as she wrapped it around his mouth, muffling his words once again. As soon as she finished tying the knot, she and Galeforce left for the door, opening it up to reveal stairs, his only way to freedom if he can get out from this stupid chair. Light temporarily pouring into the room as it was opened up, but soon it was closed, denying any light from projecting itself into the room, leaving him in the darkness again.

What now?

———

Every passing day was torturous.

Literally.

Beating after beating, his blood spilling out from his system, eventually creating blood stains on the floor, chair and his uniform. The smell of the dried up crimson substance still lingered.

Any cry for help was muffled from the gag, guaranteeing that no one could ever find him here while Galeforce and Dr. V continued to teach him the lesson.

Every gash, every bruise, he even got some broken bones some days.

Whenever they went away, he cried and cried to himself, tears mixing in with the dried blood that stains his face. His spirit breaking down everyday. He still held onto hope, but it seems his grasp on it is fading away slowly.

“Someone…please…find me…I can’t hold out for much longer…”

#PACKAGE - [ FANWORK ]#[ NON CANON ]#tw blood #tw torture #tw gore #hoooHHH BOY!!! HOLY SHIT - MOD - [ SWANNO ]#submission

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mosaicofdreamsanddragons · 3 years

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Nagging Doubts

Find on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255805

Pigsy did not sign up for this monkey nonsense. He had half a mind to march over to Flower Fruit Mountain and tell that Monkey King to clean up his own mess leaving him and his delivery boy out of it.

Two things stopped him. One, he couldn’t seem to get away from the shop what with the frequent attacks on his person and employees setting them so far beyond schedule. And the second reason defiantly wasn’t how excited the kid and Tang were to be living the legacy of Sun Wukong. Or how good having an outlet for all this pent up energy was for both of the kids. Or how nice it was to see Sandy on the regular even if he wasn’t really up for fighting as much as he had been.

Oh who was he kidding. He’d probably do anything to see them all so happy.

That didn’t mean he didn’t have second thoughts.

Lying tied up at the hands of Red Son, hearing the kid sputter out that he wasn’t invincible anymore.

Being saved from being crushed to death by the massive clone of his employee while contemplating all the negative reviews and refunds he was going to have to make. Only to find out there were more of these threats and they were with his kid and friend.

Hearing from Sandy that his kids had been attacked in Mei’s house of all places.

Upon hearing the last one he’d actually gone ahead and asked Sandy if he could take him to Flower Fruit. Sandy had blinked at him and asked, “Why? You could just send a message with the kid when he goes up there to train.”

Pigsy opened his mouth to explain that this wasn’t a conversation he was ready to have with the kid present but a rush of unpleasant memories stopped him, dragging him back to the last time he’d seen the kid on Flower Fruit mountain. He blamed word association.

“He almost died,” he said quietly into his teacup.

“But he didn’t,” said Sandy in a somber tone leaning forward. “He made it to Sun Wukong, gaining the ability to solve the problem on his own.” He sat back and waved his giant blue arms “And look at us all now!”

Pigsy raised his eyes to meet Sandy’s, “You got attacked in one of the most secure places in the world.”

“Yes,” Sandy acknowledged with a nod of his head, “but we came together and fought the guy off. Mei gained a new weapon of her own. We’re growing into a solid team. When danger come, we’ll have each other’s backs.” He smiled down at Pigsy. “Now how about you and me have some more tea and you can tell me all about noodles.”

While far from a subtle change in topic it was, alas, effective. Sandy knew him a bit too well. And he spent the rest of the evening happily thinking of noodles.

He was walking up a mountain. A mountain he’d barely seen through smoke and fire. But as he is guided by chittering monkeys towards a massive waterfall he somehow knows this is Flower Fruit Mountain.

He steps into stone room full of pillars and there, at the end, was stone throne. Upon laying eyes on its occupant, orange fur, fiery eyes, and a golden headband, he knows without a shadow of a doubt this is Sun Wukong.

“Why are you here --------?” says the king. His last word comes out garbled, like static corrupting a signal.

One of the King’s eyebrows lifts at his silence and he realizes he must speak. Why was he hear? He’d wanted to speak to this man. Something to do with danger.

“We are in danger,” he said. The king’s tail quirked up and his eyes narrowed. “The others are in trouble. Sandy was…captured,” he hadn’t known it before speaking but the words rung true. They’d been fighting something together and then…then everything was fuzzy but somehow he’d escaped only to find, “Mei has been injured. Damage to her leg. And what’s worse she told me Tang was capture too.” Panic that hadn’t been there before swelled up but he shoved it down. He needed to stay calm.

“And what do you want me to do about this?” said the King, now surveying his nails nonchalantly as his tail whipped back and forth.

“You?” he said and a bit of his frustration bubbling up. “I’m here for the kid.”

“What kid?” there was no malice in the voice, just idle curiosity.

“My kid,” he said. “You decided to train him, even if he’s barely more than a boy.” Wukong was now openly staring at him. “Oh don’t give me that. You decided to take him on after he picked up your staff? And we got him all the way over here? Through all the fire and…”

He was in the flaming mountains watching Princess Iron Fan had tossed his boy into the fire. Humans can’t survive in lava. He’d grabbed a distressed Mei before he lost another kid and carried her back to the boat. When they’d got to the water it had been so cold inside and out. His boy was gone. His boy was gone. And he couldn’t save him. He couldn’t do anything. Like he couldn’t do anything back then.

“W-----!” Someone was shaking him. “B----!” Someone with furry hands. Wait. He looked up and stared into the wide golden eyes of the Sun Wukong. They were back on Flower Fruit but the room was now old and crumbled. Where the throne had been was now a painted mural he couldn’t see because Wukong blocked most of his vision, majestic phoenix tails blowing in the wind which would have made him intimidating were it not for the worry in his eyes. “Wake up,” he said, “You’re dreaming.”

He woke up.

The next morning nothing was going right. And he wasn’t just saying that because he’d gotten so little sleep. For starters the kid was late due to Monkey nonsense. In a fit of anger he told him he’d fire him if he was ever so much as one minute late again. Mei took one look at how he was acting and grabbed Sandy to hang out at the secret base. He didn’t really care, he had more important things to deal with. Like all these customers. Or the boxes of vegetables which had the nerve to be empty today.

While yelling his frustrations to an empty pantry he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder. He turned to see the freeloader. “What do you want?” he growled.

“You could keep yelling at the pantry,” said Tang. “Or you could come with me shopping.” Pigsy opened his mouth to retort but Tang beat him to it. “I’ll pay.”

He opened his mouth. And shut it. Tang watched him with a raised eyebrow and quirked smile. Then he turned and walked back out. Pigsy followed him dumbly.

About four carrots in his shock wore off in favor of ensuring that this once in a lifetime opportunity to use Tang’s money got him the best produce he could find. About twenty in his confidence was back in full swing. There’s nothing like doing something he was good at to bring up his mood. Even if Tang failed to see the difference between the individual vegetables.

And then he saw her.

She was beautiful. And she was interested. And…and being wanted felt good. It made him feel young again and capable. Like he could still do this one thing. It was tantalizing. He needed this. This promise of a future break, with all the stress of his day, was too good to pass up.

So of course it was a trap. When was it ever not a trap? When in the history of his life had romance ever ever gone right for him?

The only thing worse than getting tied up to a salty Tang, losing his ability to speak, and having to rely on Tang’s smooth talking to keep them from being eaten was being used to lure in his arachnophobia kid into a trap and then watching it get sprung on him, his other kid and oldest friend.

By all rights it should have terrified him, but a well-placed sword and a little teamwork managed to get him and the others free to pull a little rescue mission of their own. It worked. And it was exhilarating.

Maybe Sandy was right. They could do more together then apart.

In the spirit of apologies and team-bonding, he actually recommended Tang tell the story about the Spider Queen and how the Monkey King had defeated her. Tang had laughed and said he didn’t know that story but he did know about seven spider sisters and a centipede. MK did not enjoy the story much despite it being about his idol.

They trap a seven spider sisters in a river. He takes the opportunity to mock them believing them subdued. Then at their next stop they find themselves poisoned by the spiders’ ally for revenge against him…not the revenge against them all, no, revenge against him.

The poison raging through his body hurts, so much so he’s on the ground. But what hurts more is that everyone he cares for is beside him in the same agony. Save one. Off saving the day as usual while he lies here helpless, unable to fix his own mess.

“Again?” he heard from the behind him. “Ba---, wake up!”

He woke up to the screeching of a bird. The window was open and the moonlight streamed through the curtains. Had he left that open?

He got up to close it and caught sight of the full moon. He’d always had a fondness for moonlit nights. He moved out onto this balcony, a moment in the fresh night air would do him some good.

He let the cool night air wash over him and sooth away the lingering feelings the dream had surfaced. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness and uselessness. Unable to protect those he loved, unable to make up for his own mistakes, unable to do anything. But that had been a dream, based on Tang’s story. Right? Why just yesterday he’d come up with a solution, escaped with Tang, and faced the spider queen head on, turning the tide. And they’d been able to save his kid. That feeling of inadequacy it was just part of a dream it was just part of a dream it was just part of a dream.

“Pigsy?” came his roommate’s voice. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, just a bird waking me up,” he said not looking over at Tang as he approached. But he could hear him approach and lean on the balcony beside him.

They stood in silence for a moment. Then Pigsy sighed. “I had a nightmare. Just some nonsense about living your story, but not as the Monkey king.”

Tang did not respond. Which was unusual for him. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Pigsy let out a deep sigh. “It just reminded me how helpless I am to protect everyone I care about. And I know, I know that we are becoming a strong team and support each other and the kids are getting older or would find trouble anyways…it’s just… I worry about them. I worry about all of you. And I feel like I should be the one doing the rescuing, I’m practically a father to both of those young ones. But I can’t. So what am I?”

Tang was silent for a moment. Finally he leaned back from the balcony and said, “I worry about them too. I worry about all of you. Especially the kids. And I don’t know how to fix it.” He turned to face Pigsy. “But I do know who you are.”

“Oh?” goes Pigsy, turning his head as much as he could while still leaning over the balconies edge. This ought to be good.

“You’re the owner of Pigsy’s noodles, father figure to those two kids, and part time superhero,” said Tang with a grin. “And you’re my best friend.”

“oh,” he said and let his eyes drop down to an orange bird perched on a balcony below them. He didn’t know what to say to that. He closed his eyes and gruffly replied, “Don’t expect free noodles just because you’re my best friend too.”

Tang’s laugh startled the orange bird and it flew off into the night, red and green feathers illuminated by moonlight. Pigsy felt himself smile. Everything was going to be fine.

As he turned to head back into his house, he was unaware of the gold and silver demon hiding beneath the balcony frantically scribbling ‘best friends’ down on a piece of paper.

#Monkie kid #lego monkie kid #Pigsy #zhu bajie #zhu wuneng #Mr. Tang #Sandy #Monkie kid MK #Qi xiaotian #Monkie kid Mei #long xiaojiao #my fic

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skvaderarts · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth Chapter 50: Interconnection

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Fifty: Interconnection

Note: *Laughs in copious amounts of foreshadowing.* Oh, how I have waited for this day. I have so patently placed the cards in their places, and now I can finally flip them over and show their faces. You have no idea how excited I am! And at chapter 50, no less! Absolutely perfect!

(-~-)

A larger crowd had begun to form around the station as local law enforcement showed up to help mitigate the damage and secure the perimeter. The power had been knocked out for several city blocks, taking security cameras and traffic lights out of commission. It would no doubt prove detrimental to the investigative efforts of all the local authorities, many of whom could be overheard discussing the possibility of a terrorist attack as they tried to disperse the growing number of worried onlookers. They needed clearance to evacuate the injured civilians and start structural and criminal investigations.

Several eyewitnesses spoke of a figure in a white coat causing the train to derail by some unknown method. No one present was sure how it had happened, but they did know what had happened, and they were eager to find a method of keeping it from happening again. Everything had happened so suddenly with no apparent explanation or motive, and no one knew what would happen next. But a small group of the survivors did have something insightful to add to the conversation, giving their own ground zero testimony to one of the news outlets that had shown up to cover the attack.

“There was this group of like three or four people who helped get us out of the train and they were trying to keep that person in the white coat away from us. I think it might have been a guy? Can’t say, they were wearing a mask or something. I didn’t get a good look at them. But anyway, we’re all very thankful that they were able to help us. We hope they are okay and that they didn’t get trapped inside during the cave-in.” One younger man had said as the paramedics had been in the process of tending a minor injury that he had sustained during the attack.

“I don’t know what to even say. Were so lucky that they were there to get us out of that situation. There were demons in that terminal. I don’t know how many there were, but there was at least one. What’s happening in this place? Every few years or so something like this happens!” One of the interviewed survivors had said, shaking her head in confusion and horrified sorrow. “I was in Redgrave City when that thing started coming out of the ground. Down in the crowd trying to figure out what was going on when these spiky things came out and started to come after everyone. My family barely escaped with our lives. I swear I recognized at least two of them. They came out of that thing and it seemed like they were trying to do something to help stop it. I wish we knew who they were so that we could thank them. I get the feeling that we all might owe that small group of people more than we realize. I mean, what are the odds that they would be there to save us all both times?”

“Looks like they’re talking about you lot on the news,” Magnolia said as she reached over to turn the volume down on the TV. None of them had even noticed that she had owned it before, having not spent a lot of time in her attic greenhouse up until then. She then turned to the rest of the group, gesturing towards the young man who sat just across from them on the other side of the room. “Tell them what you told me. Speak truthfully. Believe me, they will know if you don’t”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Whatever he was here to say clearly didn’t agree with him. “No problem. Wouldn’t make much sense for me to come here and seek you out just to lie to you, especially with what’s at stake. But first, I want to be upfront with you. We’ve met before. About two months ago. That’s why I’m here in the first place. It took me forever to track you down, but I finally did. I just wish it hadn’t taken so long.”

Dante and Vergil looked at one another for a moment, both of them unsure as to how they could have met this individual before. Perhaps he had met V or Nero? He certainly didn’t seem familiar to them. “Okay wait, slow down. Let’s start from the beginning.”

“What’s your name?” Vergil asked, not quite fed up with this individual, but not in the mood to really entertain conversation with him, either. It was probably best that he got to the point sooner rather than later. And on that note, who was this individual? Were they a relative of Magnolia’s? It was unlikely considering the severe lack of blood male descendants of the Ludwig family, but it wasn’t entirely impossible. Marriage was always a possibility. Or perhaps he was a cousin?

“My name is Brenowin. Brenowin Linquist. But you can just call me “Bren.” Less of a mouthful.” He attempted to make himself more comfortable for a moment as he sat down on the built-in ledge next to a few of the botanist’s plants, shrugging to himself. “Before you stab me, I’d like you to know that I didn’t come here to get revenge or anything like that. I can tell that you still don’t remember me. I’m… the guy you spared back in the woods that night who told you where your son was. I’m glad you were able to get him back-”

He stopped, jumping back in fright as Vergil manifested and drew Yamato, springing towards him in a bid to end his life, Dante grabbing him in an effort to keep him from utterly destroying the younger man, and barely succeeded, earning him surprised looks from everyone in the immediate vicinity and an irritated glare from Magnolia. She shook her head and pointed for Vergil to sit down again, annoyed. “Do you honestly think he would be here if I thought he was dangerous? Have some faith, Vergil. I understand your anger and I have nothing but sympathy, but he didn’t have to come here and put himself in this situation. At least hear him out before out you try and murder him, especially while you are in my house.”

Vergil paused for a moment, clearly displeased, but willing to do as she’d asked him. It made sense after all. He couldn’t deny that. He backed up, breathing deeply before exhaling and sitting down. He waved his hand to indicate that their guest could continue speaking, but he would be listening to him intently and with malice. That much was clear. “Continue.”

A relieved sigh escaped the younger man’s lips as he nodded, unsure as to what he could really say that he hadn’t already to atone for his past mistakes and remedy his misgivings. “Do you remember the night that the conduit went critical? Well, you’re in the clear there. It’s not unstable anymore. But that’s the least of our problems.”

“Our problems?” Vergil said, folding his arms around his chest. He truly wanted nothing more than to stab something to death right now. What was going on this time? “I don’t recall us agreeing to work as a collective.”

Bren shrugged, nodding in agreement. He couldn’t really disagree with that. And to be fair, he wasn’t attacking him this time, at least. That was an improvement from the last time. He would have a very hard time trusting someone who had done what he had done, but maybe if he was more forthcoming, they would be able to work things out.

“Yes, “our” as in “we’re all equally dead if this situation doesn’t work itself out. Every last one of us.” He stood up slowly, gesturing in a pleading manner. “Belial has something big planned, and he needs your son for it. I overheard one of his messengers say as much when he returned. He left during the attack from what I understand, and after the devil prince decided that he wanted the cult dead, he had been systematically killing us all. I’m just an initiate who joined a little while ago, so I guess I’m a low priority, but everyone else either fled or left, and so I guess I’m the only one left. I managed to get him to trust me enough for him to think I’m doing his bidding, but after what he did to your son, I could never. Like I said before, I didn’t sign up for this. I was just in a dark place in my life and didn’t want to be alone. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I still want to make it right. At this point, that’s the least I can do. The cult caused so much suffering… I don’t want to be a part of that. It’s how I lost everything in the first place.”

“What did you lose that would drive you to such extremes?”

Everyone in the room looked over at V as he spoke, honestly forgetting that he was there. After they had returned from the train station with Vergil, everyone had gone their separate ways in order to allow Magnolia to treat Flora's injuries. They hadn’t been grave by their standards, but for a human? She needed quite a few stitches and now she was on bed rest. The botanist ensured them that she would make a full recovery, but that was yet to be seen. All any of them could do for now was hope that she was alright, and that weighed heavily on V for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps he just didn’t like putting others in harm's way for his sake.

“Look… all I’ve got left in this world is my younger step-sister. My mom died when I was a kid, and a few years back her mom and my dad got together. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I just really want her to be safe. If he just wanted me dead, I would walk over there right now and let him kill me. And even though that would break her heart, she’d be alive and I would have done something worthwhile with my life, ya know?” He looked down at the floor for a long moment, clearly cut deeply by his own words. Anyone present could tell that there was a truth to that statement that he didn’t want to recognize but he did. “But the truth is, he wouldn’t stop there. You're not the only person he’s after. He had other motives for wanting her, and I won’t pretend that I know them, but they can’t be good. And if he gets your son and manages to do whatever it is that he’s been talking about with Belial, this entire region will be the first to go. After that, probably the whole world.”

Dante nodded to himself, taking that in for a moment. “So how does your sister play into this, and what’s Belial’s plan?”

Bren shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I guess they think she’d be good for whatever it is that they have planned. But Belial needs your son to enact his master plan. Specifically, he wants to bring him to the Underworld for something. I didn’t overhear any details, but I think that’s bad enough. And apparently, now that he’s back, he has a way to accomplish that. You need to keep him safe. I can’t stress that enough. This guy has more things up his sleeve than you might think. He’s very dangerous.”

“Okay then. That makes sense. So, where’s your sister? Does she even know that she might be in danger?” Nero asked with a concerned look. He didn’t like the implications of her brother’s actions entrapping her in this situation. It hit a little too close to him for him personally. “And what do you mean they’re back? Who’s back?”

“Magnolia kindly agreed to have her brought here from a few towns over. She should be arriving any moment now. She was going to boarding school, and she just graduated a few months ago. It’s been a rough year for her after our parents died in the Redgrave City attack. That’s what derailed me and sent me down the path that led to me joining the cult. They were recruiting people in the area after everything that happened, and I thought that maybe they would help me find some way to protect her. They said as much. But now I know that they were probably just planning to hurt her from the very start. I should have known better. But at least now I can fix mistakes.”

Vergil felt his blood run cold for a moment at that revelation. So his actions had inadvertently led to this situation in more ways than one… He supposed that that was probably only fair, but for V to be caught up in this once again…

“I… Your parents' deaths were unfortunate and needless. You have my sympathies.”

Dante allowed his eyes to travel towards his older twin for a moment, noticing the grief in that statement. He believed Vergil. It seemed now that the ghosts of his past truly had come back to haunt him. It had probably never occurred to him that he would be the very monster to someone else that those demons had been to them so many years ago.

“Thanks. I appreciate that. But either way, I have some insight into what Belial has planned, and I really hope that it turns out to be helpful to you guys. I’m no fighter. Heck, I’d never hurt a fly. But I’d like to think I’m not that stupid.” He looked at Vergil more sincerely at that moment, seemingly uncomfortable with whatever he was about to say but still willing to say it. Perhaps that was something that the Darkslayer should try more often himself. The irony wasn’t beyond him. “Thanks for helping keep us safe. You sparing me was the moment I realized that I had really gone down the wrong path. We were supposed to be about unity and peace. You don’t get that by kidnapping and probably murdering innocent people.”

He was wise for his age. Vergil couldn’t deny that. But he also knew that he should probably tell him the truth in regards to what had happened to his parents. But he would wait until his sister arrived and they had privacy. It was best that he not broadcast his failures to the entire room, even if everyone there besides him did know what had happened already. He didn’t have the fortitude to confess his wrongdoings in such a manner. It was like being put on trial, even though a part of him realized that that was probably something that he wholeheartedly deserved.

V glanced between his father and Bren, a young man who was still to him at least a stranger. He could feel the tension rolling off of his father in waves, the enormity of his past actions weighing heavy on him at that moment. He had been confronted with his not-so-distant past in a very literal way, and it had utterly blindsided him. The fact that he had wronged this individual so greatly without his knowledge and he was standing there willing to help them was utterly uncomfortable to the Darkslayer, and there was a part of V that was admittedly glad for that. It wasn’t just because he needed to truly see how his actions affect others, but because it showed something arguably more important: his father was capable of feeling remorse for the actions he’d committed against a perfect stranger. Deep down, he was much more human than V liked to imagine Vergil would ever admit. There was something comforting to be found in that.

Brenowen looked mournful for a moment before looking over at V, obviously not wanting to have to say what he needed to say. “As for who has returned, I believe that the two of you have already met. The night that the cult took you? You met a man named Agreus…”

His breathing paused for a moment as he swore that he felt his heart stop beating. How could he forget? In fact, he could still feel that knife just by thinking about it. But he had thrown him through that conduit. Surely he hadn’t survived that. But then again, that explained the limp. He had stabbed him in the leg, after all. They were going to need to get Sirrus to translate that book for them as soon as humanly possible. And then they were going to ship it off to the Ludwig estate. This couldn’t be good.

Just a moment later, there was a knock at the door. Magnolia stood up, stretching as she sat down the cup of tea she’d been drinking. “Come in, dear. Though you should probably still be in bed.”

In stepped Flora, slightly pale and tired looking, but otherwise more or less okay. They all gave her a reassuring look, the young magician weaving them off playfully as she came into the room. “Don’t worry about me, everyone. I’ll be just fine. I’m a big girl. I can take a couple of cuts and bruises. Honestly, I think I’ve had worse cramps. That demon’s a total pushover.”

Lucia tried to pretend that she didn’t find that comment funny, but she did. She allowed herself a small giggle, looking over at the twins' surprised faces as they looked several different kinds of confused and embarrassed. Nero simply nodded, having heard similar things from Kyrie in the past. He had nothing in his heart but sympathy and compassion for her alleged suffering. V simply closed his eyes and chuckled soundlessly to himself, shaking his head. Flora was truly something else. He was glad that she was still with them.

But before she could make it very far, there was a distant sound, one that caught all of their collective attention. A second knock became apparent, only this time from the front door downstairs. Flora groaned and headed down the stairs ahead of them, cursing herself for marching up all of those stairs only to have to go back down them. What had she done to dissolve such treatment? Bren sprang up, eager to head to the door. “That’s probably my sister! You said they would be dropping her off soon.”

Magnolia nodded. “That I did. And I’m not expecting anyone else.”

The group then migrated down the stairs to the living room, admittedly wondering to themselves what this young woman looked like. She was his step-sister, after all. That meant that she could look completely different from Brenowin. His shoulder-length black hair and dark blue eyes were admittedly striking, but there was no blood between them to speak of. It was possible but unlikely.

Approaching the door, Magnolia unlocked it from the inside and stepped out of the way to allow their new guest to enter the room while the rest of them made themselves comfortable on the couch. V was still making his way down the stairs behind Nero as she did so, taking a mental note of the fact that Nero Vergil and Dante had already reached the couch, Bren staying closer to the kitchen. It seemed that he still expected Vergil to try and kill him. To be fair, he himself wasn’t sure that the possibility was 100% off the table just yet. Just about 95%. But before he could continue that though, Magnolia opened the front door and greeted the person who had knocked on it. And V had stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the entryway. It was perhaps the only time that any of them could ever say that they'd ever genuinely seen V look shocked.

Before them stood a pretty young woman with sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and freckles, her two luggage bags placed on the ground at her feet. She was in the process of picking them up, but had stopped to shoot a warm smile at her host, allowing V a momentary glance at her face. And judging by the sudden uptake in V’s heart rate, genuinely couldn’t believe his eyes. There was just no way that she could be…

“Morgan?!” He said out loud at a volume that surprised both himself and everyone else in the room. He hadn’t actually meant to speak that aloud, but he simply hadn’t been able to stop himself. It was just too shocking for him to believe.

She looked up from her bags, utterly surprised to hear what was clearly a familiar voice calling her name, but one that she was sure he hadn’t heard in a number of years. The second she made eye contact with him, she dropped all of her belongings on the front steps, wide eyes elation spreading across her face. She teared up as she looked at him, trembling not from the frigid cold outside but from the joy that she felt brimming up inside of her. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, either. “V?!”

He nodded slowly. Without warning she leaped forward, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace. And at that moment he realized just how much he’d missed her when he didn’t even feel repulsed by her unexpected touch. In fact, he welcomed it, frozen in place from shock, but barely holding back the fact that for reasons he couldn't explain, he felt just as strongly about seeing her again as he had the day she’d left and he’d realized that he would probably never see her again.

Morgan leaned back for a moment, taking in the sight of him as she wiped her face, panting from excitement. Her eyebrows then furrowed slightly, a light chuckle expanding her diaphragm and allowing a soft chuckle to escape her tightly clenched lips. “When did you get these tattoos, V?! Gotta say, they're pretty wicked, man!”

Shaking his head slightly he gave in and returned the favor, grabbing her into a soft but firm hug, much to the surprise of everyone else in the room. Nero was the only other person who could recall ever being hugged by V. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

(-~-)

I know that this is gonna make some of you very happy! I remember several of you telling me how much you liked her and how much you hoped to see her make a second appearance, so it was an obvious choice. After all, why add someone new when you already have Morgan? Anyway, I’ll see you in the comments and the next chapter is going up on Friday! Hope to hear from you all again soon! Have a nice Wednesday!

#Hiraeth #V #Vitale #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #My OC's #Post DMC5 #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V #Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry AU #AU #Vergil #Dante #Nero #Lucia #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU OC's #DMC

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