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jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav · 4 years

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Obey Me: The Brothers Accidentally Trigger an Abused MC (Lucifer) (1/7)

Disclaimer: I’m not an expert on abuse or mental health. I’m not portraying how one should respond to these situations, only how I think the characters might. Abuse and trauma in particular are very complex topics, and people respond in all sorts of ways to them, and sometimes it gets really bad on all sides.

I can only draw from my personal experiences as well as those of people who have shared their stories or who I’m close with. There’s no one narrative of abuse and how it affects someone, so what I’m familiar with might not be what you’re familiar with. Let’s try and all be respectful of each other.

Content Warnings: Heated arguments, reference to past abuse, parental abuse, trauma response, breaking down in tears, this is quintessential hurt/comfort y’all, buckle up

First up is Lucifer! I will be writing similar scenarios for the other brothers, and they’ll get linked below once they’re done and posted.

Lucifer (You’re here) Mammon (X), Leviathan (X), Satan (X), Asmodeus (X), Beelzebub (X), Belphegor (X)

Becoming the embodiment of a sin is much like a curse. It takes a natural trait and amplifies it to absurdity, and there is nothing you can do to curb it. While the appetites caused by greed or gluttony or lust can be all-consuming, there is no sin more cruel to fall victim to than that of pride.

Lucifer sees how his brothers are affected by their sins and both pities and is disgusted by them. How low, to succumb to base urges like that. He could never do that. He’s better than that. He is in complete control of himself.

He has to be.

This attitude does not lend itself well to maintaining close personal relationships. When Lucifer gets stressed, his controlling tendencies get worse. He can’t handle another failure, not again, but he also can’t admit that he’s in over his head. His brothers know to steer clear of him when he gets like this.

MC does not.

They won’t stop bothering him, asking if he’s sure he’s okay, offering to help with this or that, and shooting him such pitiful looks when they think he’s not looking. He cares for them deeply, he truly does, but they’re still human. And the idea of a human pitying him is revolting.

“Lucifer, please, let me help, you look so-”

“What makes you think you know how I feel?” Lucifer’s wings snap open and the aura of tension around him becomes suffocating. “I am thousands of years old, and have lived through things you could not hope to understand. You think you have the right to even guess at what I’m feeling? You think you can help?“

“I-I’m sorry! I j-just-”

“Just what? Couldn’t help sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong again?“ Stop talking, you idiot, Lucifer thinks, but his mouth doesn’t comply. “Just stop wasting my time and go, MC!”

“I-”

“Leave.”

Lucifer’s posture, the anger in his voice, MC can’t help it. Eyes full of tears, they run out of his study, and don’t stop until they’re outside the House of Lamentation. They happen to breeze past a very confused Mammon, who follows them, only to find them curled up on the steps of the dormitory.

“MC? What’re ya doin’ out here, you shouldn’t be alone outside-” He notices their sobbing. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

For a few solid minutes, MC can’t manage anything more than fragments of words and hiccuping cries. Mammon holds them close, rubbing slow circles into their back and murmuring soothing platitudes until they calm down enough to explain.

They got into a fight with Lucifer. He’s been so stressed lately, and they just wanted to help, but he...

“Oh, I know exactly what he did,” Mammon frowns. “Said somethin’ stupid like ‘what makes you think a peon like you can understand the Troubling Complexities of I, Lucifer, the Avatar of blah blah blah’,” he flaps his hand as he talks, poorly mimicking Lucifer.

MC lets out a small giggle, but their smile quickly fades. “He got really mad at me... And it... brought up some bad memories.”

Mammon sobers up as well. “Do you...” he scratches the back of his head. “...do you wanna talk about it?”

Lucifer is drowning his feelings in paperwork when the door to his study bursts open and in flies a pissed off looking Mammon. He can barely get out a “Mammooooooon...” before his piles of completed work are pushed aside and the Avatar of Greed slams his hands on his desk.

“You got a lotta nerve, sittin’ there pencil-pushing after what you did!” Mammon snaps.

“As do you, barging into my room uninvited-”

“Oh, shut up, Lucifer!” The oldest brother’s eyes widen.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me! What makes you think you can talk to MC like that, huh?”

“...Oh.” The tension in Lucifer’s body changes from aggressive to almost meek.

“’Oh.’ Is that all you have to say?! Do you know how scared they were when I found them? They could barely speak! I thought someone had tried to kill them!” Each word might as well have been a punch in the gut.

MC had feared for their life. Because of him.

“I... I need to apologize to them,” Lucifer mutters, which does nothing to quell his brother’s anger.

“Like hell ya do! You better get on your knees and beg after what you did! Bringin’ up memories like that, sheesh...”

“What are you talking about?” Mammon freezes for a second, then scrambles backwards, the reality of what he’s doing starting to set in. “Mammon.”

“I-It’s not my place to tell ya...” he feels for the doorknob behind him, determined to get as much space between himself and Lucifer as possible just in case the latter fully processes the unspoken rules he’s so thoroughly violated. “You should ask MC about it.” He turns the handle and zips out the door with a SLAM!

Just as Lucifer relaxes, the door peeks open once more. “After you apologize!”

MC sits on their bed, contemplating their immediate future. They aren’t sure what to expect the next time they encounter Lucifer. More anger, perhaps, or a terse explanation about what was frustrating him so much that he lost his composure like that. Maybe he wouldn’t even mention their argument, or worse, he would say that he forgives them. Because that’s all they do: fuck up and stick their nose in other people’s business. They’re a useless, meddlesome brat who needs to be put in their place-

Someone is knocking on MC’s door.

Lucifer calls out from the other side, “MC, are you alone? I need to have a word with you. Privately.”

MC tenses. Privately means they will be punished.

“I-I’m so sorry,” they say, growing increasingly frantic as they start to address someone else. “I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have bothered you, I knew you were busy, and you work so h-hard, and I’m just in your way- I promise I won’t do it again! I promise, I promise, I promise!”

What on Earth are they talking about? Lucifer throws open the door and storms in, making a beeline for MC. The next thing they say stops him dead in his tracks.

“PLEASE DON’T HIT ME!”

And with four words, Lucifer knows everything he needs to.

Slowly, carefully, he approaches MC, who is holding their arms out in front of them, protecting their face. They lower their arms when they don’t feel the sting of a hand or a belt and look up at him fearfully. Telegraphing each motion, he kneels down at the side of their bed, hands out in front of him, eyes locked on theirs.

“I will never lay my hands upon you, MC, not without your permission.” Lucifer pauses, and his eyes wander to something in the back of the room before returning once again to MC’s. “I came here because my behaviour the other day was… unacceptable. You were simply trying to help and I see now that my reaction was…” Say it. “You were deeply upset by it. I want to apologize, and to assure you that I will do everything in my power so that such a thing never happens again. Can you forgive me?”

Can they? Even as MC returns to the present, the panic doesn’t fade with the memories. They’ve given others so many chances, much like the one Lucifer is asking for now. Is this the only one they will have to give? Or will there be more? Can they truly expect the Avatar of Pride to both admit to and right one of his wrongs? In the end, MC decides…

...to forgive him. Lucifer’s actions were hurtful, but not intentional. And now that he’s aware of MC’s history, he is extremely conscientious of upsetting them like that ever again. Once they fully calmed down, Lucifer had asked them if they had any other triggers he should be aware of, and has since made it his top priority to prevent MC from being exposed to them.

Of course, he is still as headstrong as ever when it comes to accepting help. A demon’s nature cannot be swayed so easily, after all. But now, he is clear about his boundaries and notifies MC well in advance when a rough patch of work is coming up. There are still some surprises, and in those times the two learn each other’s rhythms, when to hold fast and when to give each other distance, and it works for them.

...they can’t forgive him. They know he didn’t mean to hurt them with his behaviour, but it doesn’t change the impact. The rational part of Lucifer understands. He broke their trust, and it is not his place to demand forgiveness. But this is MC, this is the person who helped him and his family so much, and it kills him that he can’t do the same for them. That they will always be at a certain distance now.

And it’s his fault.

#obey me #obey me!lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me:swd #abuse mention #trauma mention #mine #my writing #lucifer #here we go #all aboard the angst train everyone

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1

- Chapter 2 -

The sayings of Wen Mao were not exactly what Nie Mingjue would consider to be entertaining reading, but he put in the effort to learn them in the hope that it would explain something about the people around him. They were always speaking in significant tones and looking at each other, finding meaning in the spaces between words, and he felt as though he was falling further and further behind in understanding what they meant.

“- be beheaded for tens of thousands to revile,” he murmured, staring down at the words with a frown. It seemed straightforward enough at first glance, but surely it couldn’t mean what it said, not with how Wen Ruohan regularly behaved. “Wen-da-gongzi?”

Wen Xu twisted to look at him.

“This particular saying – the one about people who oppress others and do evil using the power of their clan –”

“You’re still reading that old thing?” Wen Xu asked, sounding exasperated. “Why? Haven’t you memorized it yet?”

“I can recite it,” Nie Mingjue said. “But I don’t think I understand it. Aren’t these sayings supposed to serve as a guide for behavior for the Wen sect? Take this saying. It can’t be right. I mean, your father is always going around doing things on the basis of his sect and clan having the most power. So is the nuance in the definition of ‘oppress others using the power of your clan’, maybe, or possibly in the interpretation of what’s being defined as ‘evil’? Or is there some other –”

“No one listens to those sayings,” Wen Xu said. “Haven’t you figured that out yet? There’s the rules on paper and then there’s the rules in reality, and only the latter matter.”

“But then why have the rules on paper at all?” Nie Mingjue asked, utterly baffled. The Nie sect didn’t have sayings, like the Qishan Wen sect, nor rules, like Gusu Lan; it had principles, basic ones, and everything else in the world could be debated based on how those principles interacted with reality. It was simple and straightforward, yet allowed for a certain degree of independent thinking and flexibility: as long as you could account for your behavior with one of the principles, the action was generally considered acceptable; if you couldn’t, you knew you had done wrong. “If they’re not being used, then they’re hardly worth the paper they’re written on. Just replace them with new ones!”

“Knowing the sayings of Wen Mao is our tradition.”

Nie Mingjue frowned, turning the words over in his mind and trying to understand what he was missing. “So the tradition is to know the sayings but not follow them?” he hazarded. It seemed utterly bizarre to him. “That’s very complex. Is the idea to teach people to think for themselves?”

Wen Xu laughed – the first instance of that that Nie Mingjue had heard, and it didn’t sound quite right, sounding less like a laugh and more like a strangled noise that echoed in the ear in a manner not unlike the yelp of an injured dog. “You’re getting further away, not closer,” he told him. “Just – do as you’re told, all right?”

Nie Mingjue was trying.

He attended the classes and did his best to excel in them. He maintained his training even when the Wen sect techniques didn’t work quite as well for the saber as Nie sect techniques. He took care of Nie Huaisang, ensuring as much as possible that he did the best he could in both classes and training.

He didn’t grieve for his father out in public where people could see, keeping his pain to the late hours of the night, when his weakness could not be used to hurt his family and sect.

It would all be so much easier if they just told him what they wanted.

It was another few weeks after the Wen cousins joined them that Wen Ruohan finally decided to attend one of the dinners himself, sweeping in unexpectedly to seat himself at the head of the room.

The start of the meal was as silent as a Gusu Lan banquet. Everyone had recently started talking a little more during meals, probably as a courtesy to the two of them since Nie Huaisang couldn’t stop running his mouth about everything and mealtime was the ideal place to catch Nie Mingjue up on everything he’d done that day, but now it was as if that had never happened, everyone reverting to the silent and gloomy atmosphere the meals had all had at the beginning.

At first, Nie Mingjue thought it was silence out of respect for the food, like it was for the Gusu Lan, or maybe just the quelling presence of an elder, but after a while Wen Ruohan finished serving himself, and then he looked down at them and began asking questions.

Nie Mingjue’s father had done the same, sometimes, but where he’d asked questions about their studies and training and general well-being, about their friends or their hobbies, wanting to know more about what interested them, Wen Ruohan seemed instead to take vicious pleasure in quizzing them all on various hypotheticals, testing their intelligence and retention and ability to deliver an answer on the spot.

Nie Mingjue was able to answer the questions directed at him, and Nie Huaisang lucked out in the first round – it was a question about poetry, moderately obscure but at least something Nie Huaisang actually knew – and the others were able to answer theirs as well, but in the second round Nie Huaisang was not so lucky and he got a question on sword forms.

“I – don’t know?” he said, sinking down a little in his chair.

All the other Wen children averted their eyes, except for Wen Xu whose eyes went vacant as if he were deliberately forcing himself not to really watch even as he did not turn his head away. A cruel smile played around Wen Ruohan’s lips. “How – disappointing,” he said, though his tone was far from disappointed. More like anticipatory. “You will need to be punished, of course.”

“For what?” Nie Mingjue interjected, forcing his voice to remain level and disinterested. “Not knowing the answer, or missing the logical fallacy in the question?”

Dead silence.

He looked up and met Wen Ruohan’s eyes.

“When you said I could practice on you, I didn’t think you meant that you’d be throwing yourself into trouble,” Wen Qing scolded. Her hands were shaking as she wrapped bandages around his chest and back, but that was fine – he didn’t actually think he needed bandages, since the bleeding had stopped, but it was, in fact, good practice for her so he didn’t say anything about it.

“If I didn’t interfere, he would have punished Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said instead. Wen Ruohan had actually given him a choice: three strikes with the whip for Nie Huaisang, for failure to answer, and two for himself, for insolence, or else ten for himself alone.

He’d chosen the latter, of course.

“He knows he’s your weakness now, you know,” Wen Xu said, standing by the door watching. Wen Chao, Nie Huaisang, and Wen Ning were all behind him, Nie Huaisang sniffling and Wen Ning biting his nails and Wen Chao’s tense shoulders up high by his ears. “He’ll use him against you.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged, then stopped when Wen Qing poked at him. “It’s not like it would be hard to guess,” he said. “And our teachers would have told him that we were close anyway. If he was always going to know, what does it matter to tell him?”

“Aren’t you worried about him knowing?” Wen Chao burst out. “Not that you care about Huaisang, but that you’re stupid over it – he’ll think less of you because of it. It’ll make it harder to avoid disappointing him in the future.”

The way he looked at Nie Mingjue’s back made clear what being ‘disappointing’ would entail.

“If it’s a choice between suffering pain and having to hold myself distant, I’d pick pain every time,” Nie Mingjue said, then smiled ruefully. “I’m not smart enough to play the mind games of Qishan, A-Chao; I’d only ever trip myself up even trying. I’ll find my own way to survive.”

Wen Chao turned away from him.

“You’d better,” Wen Ning suddenly said, his reedy little voice unexpectedly fierce. “You’d better survive.”

“He will,” Nie Huaisang said, and he was a little fierce, too. “He will.”

The cultivation styles of Qishan Wen and Qinghe Nie were not that different, even if the Nie used the saber and the Wen the sword, and Nie Mingjue had always had something of a genius for cultivating. Although he had suffered a setback at the death of his father, he was young and unwillingly resilient; once he was properly settled in at the Nightless City, he began to progress quickly once more, earning the praise of his tutors and teachers alike.

It drove Wen Xu up the wall.

“What’s the use of having extra years or height,” he snarled, viciously kicking a practice dummy, “if you match up to me so quickly? If we spar and I lose and he sees…”

It was not necessary for him to identify who ‘he’ was.

Nie Mingjue looked at Wen Xu, feeling helpless. “If I pulled my strikes, he would know,” he said, and Wen Xu jerked as if he’d been struck by lightning.

“You can’t say something like that!” he hissed. “That was almost an offer!”

Nie Mingjue was out of his depth again. “No, it wasn’t,” he said, and Wen Xu relaxed a little. “I was explaining why it wouldn’t make sense for me to offer –”

“You’re hopeless,” Wen Xu declared, scowling. “Don’t you have enough trouble, without drawing more on your head?”

“My shoulders can bear the weight of a little trouble,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug. “Besides, you have the harder hill to climb. I’m only his ward, not his son, after all, and anyway I only want him to leave me alone, while you want to impress him. If it costs me nothing, why shouldn’t I help you?”

Wen Xu was silent for a moment. “Some things will never be more than dreams,” he finally said, shaking his head, and Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure of what part of his statement he was reacting to. “Do you train outside of the regular hours?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at the abrupt subject change. “Yes,” he said. “I like to train in the mornings, before breakfast, and I meditate with Nie Huaisang in the afternoons. Would you like to join in?”

“I don’t see that I have much choice,” Wen Xu said, although for once he didn’t seem especially resentful about it. “It’s one thing not to have as much talent, that’s the disposition of the heavens, but not putting as much effort? Now that would be beneath me.”

Nie Mingjue nodded, understanding. “I’d be happy to have your company.”

“I don’t understand how you just say things like that,” Wen Xu muttered nonsensically, and stalked off before Nie Mingjue could tell him that he probably didn’t need to bother with coming to the afternoon sessions, since those weren’t really about his cultivation.

Instead, he put Nie Huaisang on his lap and helped guide his brother’s feeble qi through a full rotation, meridian by meridian. The doctors of Qinghe had helped put together this routine to strengthen Nie Huaisang, to empower his too-weak musculature and help build his foundation piece by piece so that he could one day create the golden core with his own efforts, even if they were weaker than most. It was time-consuming and exhausting for Nie Mingjue, who had to deal with trying to direct spiritual energy that wasn’t his own through an exceedingly complex sequence, and Nie Huaisang had complained about it being boring when they were back in Qinghe.

He didn’t complain now, though Nie Mingjue sometimes wished he would. It would make things feel more normal.

Nie Mingjue explained what he was doing to Wen Xu when he showed up, and to Wen Chao and Wen Ning and even Wen Qing when they unexpectedly appeared as well, but they all decided to sit in the little garden he’d found and meditate alongside him anyway.

“It’s a nice place,” Wen Chao mumbled, not looking at him. “And you don’t own it.”

Wen Qing shoved him. He shoved back.

“Of course not,” Nie Mingjue said, breaking them up with his hands, a little puzzled. “You and your cousins do. But if you find it peaceful and conductive to your meditation, you are welcome to stay.”

He wasn’t sure how quiet they really found it – he’d been born with his nose stuck in other people’s business and couldn’t help but offer unsolicited advice whenever he saw something that he thought could be improved, telling Wen Ning to prioritize finding his calm over any specific technique, walking Wen Chao through breathing exercises he thought would suit him better, showing Wen Qing the pressure points that could be pressed to help induce relaxation, even making small suggestions to improve Wen Xu’s form that mostly got glares and eye-rolls – but they came back every day.

Wen Ruohan attended dinner with them again only a week after the previous time, asking new questions and letting his eyes linger on Nie Mingjue and the way his actions were slower than usual, a smile curling his lips at the involuntary flinch Nie Mingjue gave when he twisted to respond to a question with a demonstration.

Wen Xu had advised Nie Mingjue to play up the injury, rather than try to deny or suppress it, in order to give the impression that he was nearer to his limits than he really was, a stratagem designed to reduce future injury, but Nie Mingjue had never really known how to dissemble.

He answered the questions directed at him with his tone a little short but carefully near to neutral, keeping his eyes down in what could be seen as respect. Perhaps Wen Ruohan found his little rebelliousness entertaining, but the questions didn’t seem that bad this time, and everyone was able to come up with something to satisfy him, even Nie Huaisang who grimaced and strained himself to recall the most basic concepts and Wen Ning who knew the answers but stuttered so badly in Wen Ruohan’s presence that he could barely utter them aloud.

When dinner was done, Wen Ruohan asked Nie Mingjue to touch his toes and laughed at him when he couldn’t, pushing his head down to ‘help’ his inferior flexibility and tearing the few marks the whip had torn into his skin open again as he did.

“Do better, next time,” he said, and left without demanding any other exhibition of talent.

“There’s a discussion conference coming up soon,” Wen Xu said, looking down at his mostly unfinished plate. Noodles, as always, with pork and vegetables in a sauce, pungent but not as spicy as Yunmeng, served alongside a too-thick lambs’ blood soup and delicate side dishes that were more appearance than taste; it was the usual food they got, and most of the time they all ate it quite happily. “He’ll be busy for a while, preparing for that.”

“Could you show me where the kitchens are?” Nie Mingjue asked instead of anything else. “I have the sudden desire for barbecue.”

Qinghe used more salt than Qishan and applied spices in a different fashion, focusing more on the savory meat and evoking sour flavors using vinegar; it took them the three incense sticks to teach the cooks how to prepare it, but that meant that by the time the food was ready they’d all regained their appetites.

“Aren’t there medical cuisines, too?” Wen Ning asked Wen Qing, slurping up the thick noodles that Qishan people apparently couldn’t do without but which at least were swimming in a proper soup for once. “To strengthen the muscles, replenish the blood, that sort of thing.”

“There are,” she said, looking thoughtful. “I’ll ask my teachers about it.”

“Can I come?” Nie Huaisang asked, and it was so unexpected for him to ask to take more classes that Nie Mingjue dropped the piece of meat he’d been dipping right into the sauce. “Hey, food is good! How boring can a class on food be?”

“I’m always willing to encourage your interest in things,” Nie Mingjue said, and everyone laughed at him even though he was being sincere. “I’m sure you’ll be an excellent chef someday, Huaisang, if that’s what you like.”

“You’re just calculating whether wielding a kitchen knife still counts as cultivating,” Wen Xu said with a smirk, which of course meant that Nie Mingjue held out his hands and pointed out that the Nie were butchers, after all, and that in turn made Nie Huaisang start complaining that cooking and butchering weren’t the same thing in the slightest. Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Wen Chao laughed at each of them equally, adding unhelpful comments all the while.

By the time they went to their afternoon lessons, it was as if Wen Ruohan hadn’t been there at all.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wen qing #wen ning #my fic #my fics

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uniarycode · 3 years

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Takari Week Day 4 - Rainy Day

Yes I skipped 2 days I'll get on that

Could one cry tears of joy and sorrow at the same time?

Set ~year 2 of college. Written as part of @takariweek

Warnings: cheating, break-ups, some T-rated topics

Hikari always liked the feeling of rain. Especially warm rain, a gentle shower, caressing and cleansing her body.

She’d heard that rain was the tears of the gods. If that was true, then she wondered if they were tears of joy or relief, liquid stress escaping the body and purifying the soul. Or if they were tears of loss, of mourning that which would never again come to be.

Perhaps, someone could discover which her tears were as well.

They were well hidden, salt deluded by freshwater a thousand times stronger. No observer could tell if her sniffles were from her heart or the cold. From the pain of losing a lover, or the relief of no longer having to hide herself.

All was washed away from the rain. Perhaps if she were lucky, it would cleanse her sins as well.

The rain had started gently, but the absence came abruptly. The pitter-patter on plastic giving unwanted shelter.

“Don’t you think you’re wet enough?” a familiar voice teased, he bent down to her ear, not caring if her hair dripped all over him as he did. “Want me to get you even wetter?”

That was part of the problem, or the solution. She was still unsure whether her problems had increased or decreased.

Hikari shook her head lightly, slow enough that her hair would not whip him in the face. She pushed her eyes closed. There was very little she trusted right now, her voice, her eyes, her breath, all would betray her to him.

“You’re crying.” He said, a hand gently placed on her soaking shoulder, “Hikari what happened?”

Perhaps it was the gods that had betrayed her, perhaps Takeru just knew her too well. She took a deep breath to voice her crime. “Kamando.”

The blond jumped, “Yuki?” she did not react, but he took it as acceptance, anyway. “Since you’re using his last name, I take it things are not going well? Is it because…you know.”

She nodded; eyes fixated on her shoes. “He doesn’t know-know, but well, he thinks he knows. He decided it would be better to stop.”

“I see, I’m sorry you had to go through this because of me.” He said, moving his hand down her arm.

‘Sorry you had to go through this’ he had said. He did not say he was sorry that it happened, nor did he say he regretted his actions. Because both would be a lie, and she knew it better than anyone.

Miyako had once said that no girl could resist Takeru Takaishi, not when he positioned them squarely in his crosshairs. Hikari had laughed it off at the time, Takeru’s foreign looks, kind personality, and silver-tongued compliments had earned him a certain reputation in high school, but irresistible he was not.

She still believed that, she just knew better than to believe it applied to herself.

But then, he’d only teased her, only coaxed. He had followed her tempo, offered words of warning, advised her against continuing, even as he’d non-verbally begged her to stay.

She’d been the one to cross every line, to move past boundaries she thought she’d never break, pulling him deeper into her sin. Despite his reputation, he had saved himself for her, that final first. After learning that, how could she resist? How could she stop herself from coming back every time?

He had told her many things about their forbidden relationship, none of them were regrets, and he didn’t look to be starting now.

“We should get you home. Hypothermia always liked you far more than you like it.” He said, hand sliding further down her arm to her wrist, grabbing it gently to pull her forward. If she were in better spirits, he would have risked her hand.

The umbrella was not large enough to cover them both at an arms-length, and she did not have the energy to keep up with him, allowing him to drag her along. Despite the fact he was dry and she was soaked, he still chose her anyway, allowing his second hand to hang back. To shield her from the rain.

A gesture designed to be gentlemanly, but ultimately impractical.

Thankfully her apartment was not too far, by the time they got there, he was still dryer than she was. She did not care that he was leading her through the building. He held that right long before her now-ex, and he would hold it long after as well.

He moved through her apartment as if it was his own, obtaining some towels and bring them back to her, at least until she was dry enough not to drip all over the hardwood. Hikari found herself guided to her bed, another towel placed to save the blankets, as he fished out a change in clothes.

Takeru had left her alone to get changed, not that she saw much of a point to it, and made himself useful in the absence to make some tea.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked when he finally deemed her dry and healthy enough.

She didn’t respond.

“You aren’t crying.” He observed.

She wasn’t whether that was because her tear ducts were depleted or simply because he was there, she didn’t know. The latter seemed too harsh, too cruel to her ex, she was worried it was true.

He placed his hand inside hers, giving a light squeeze.

“I don’t know.” She finally said. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this. I’m sad, I’m happy, I’m excited, I’m scared, I’m guilty, I’m relieved. He didn’t know, he broke up with me, but I was the one who broke his heart, but…”

“But?” he coaxed, using his thumb to massage the back of her hand.

“But…” she took a deep breath. “Because I broke his heart, I didn’t have to break yours. I don’t think I ever could.”

“I don’t either, whatever happens to me, so long as your happy, I’m happy.”

Although that made her feel better, it didn’t reassure her.

“How can I feel like this? It’s like my emotions are doing summersaults.”

“People are complex. We knew this wouldn’t be tearless for a while now. If you didn’t like him, you would have broken up with him ages ago. If you wanted to keep him, you would have at the very least, admitted it.”

“I’m selfish.” She said, “I wanted him, I wanted you more. If I had just kept my hands to myself, no one would be hurting.”

“That’s good.” He said, “I’m biased though, but you always worry too much about others, being selfish for once is a good thing.”

“But he-”

Takeru silenced her with a kiss.

“The game of love is very dangerous, we all know that: he took a risk, you took a risk, I took a risk. Sometimes risks hurt. But a bad outcome does not mean a bad decision. Hikari, do you regret any of your decisions?”

The answer was surprisingly cruel.

“I don’t. I don’t regret saying yes to him, I don’t regret going on dates, I don’t regret him. I don’t regret you.” It was very selfish of her, but it was true.

“I don’t regret it either.” Takeru said, pulling her close, “And I can’t speak for Yuki, but I don’t think he regrets it either, other than the ending, which was his choice.”

They remained entangled for moments, minutes, perhaps days. Hikari felt her emotions continue to fluctuate, but in Takeru’s presence, no more sobs escaped.

“What does this make us?” she asked when her voice found strength once again.

“A thousand poets working for a thousand years could not begin to describe what we are Hikari, there’s no reason to try on such a dark day. We are Hikari and Takeru. We are complex. Whatever we want others to see us as can wait until later.”

She nodded. “Then stay with me, a bit longer.”

“As long as you need.”

She wondered if she could make him regret that. She didn’t know if the nerve required to face the world alone would ever come to her. But for now, she would bask in his presence, hear the pitter-patter of rain on her window, as she let the gods shed her ambivalent tears for her.

#digimon #takari #takari week #takeru takashi #hikari yagami #so much catching up to do

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nikkoliferous · 4 years

Text

Phase One: Thor

Since I was looking up my past live-blog of the novel and realising how annoying and repetitive reading through it all is because of my having structured it as a bunch of reblogs, I’ve decided to organize it all into one long-ass post instead. In case anyone else wants to read it in the future. Or in case I decide to re-read it. Because I’m hilarious. 😅

SO WITHOUT FURTHER ADO

My Hilarious Yet Wrathful Overview Of Phase One: Thor, Redux

—

If your son who’s to become king requires a babysitter to not screw it all up and also the idea of him being king is stressful enough to put you into a coma, maybe, uh… reconsider doing that? Just a thought.

But you see here why Odin was so deadset on Thor becoming king, despite him being ill-suited for the role. It’s not about what’s best for Asgard; it’s about personal legacy. Thor is Odin’s mini me, and Loki is very much not. There are places within the text where Odin laments Thor “lacking his father’s wisdom” (he’s definitely inherited your humility, though, Odin!), but he hopes for Thor to grow into a “wise king” like himself. Whereas he holds no such illusions (lol, pun) that Loki will ever take after him.

now with tag commentary! #this scene is in the script and both novelizations #(though in reading this novel seems to just be a more complete version of the junior novel? #idk i'm confused because they're supposedly written by different authors but so far the text is identical) #and it drives me insane each time i read it

“Haha, I’m a warmongering piece of shit, isn’t it funny?”

I know, I know. I try to cut Asgard some slack for being such a militaristic culture because social changes happen slowly and when you live for thousands of years per generation, it makes sense that your views on things like war would be regressive. The text says Odin has ruled Asgard for tens of thousands of years (so much for taking Loki’s “give or take 5,000 years” line literally; sure, the Odinsleep would have extended Odin’s lifespan, but by that much? Idk).

Still, fuck Odin. Especially since he’ll eventually try to shame Loki for doing the same thing he’s fucking boasting about here. And on a much smaller scale too.

…is it, though?

I actually think Loki’s relationship with being the centre of attention is really interesting in its complexity and we don’t discuss it enough. I’ve said this before, but he strikes me as the sort of person who craves attention but also wouldn’t really know what to do with it if he had it. He craves it as a result of neglect, because he’s never been shown recognition or validation. This is why he seems to revel in it in Stuttgart, even in (or maybe especially in?) his brainwashed state. But he also frequently comes across as pretty introverted and has horrible self-esteem, so I think on another level, sustained, genuine attention would make him feel kind of uncomfortable. Loki seems to believe that in order to be loved or respected, he has to literally be Thor, though. And Thor has always been the centre of attention, so for Loki, attention is synonymous with respect.

I find Loki’s relationship with wanting attention especially fascinating because I too both crave and fear it. As a borderline, I need it. When no one is paying attention to me, I lose my sense of identity. I feel as though I literally cease to exist. It’s excruciatingly painful. And yet, I have no authentic sense of self; I’m just a chameleon, and the closer people get to me, the more likely it is they’ll see behind my mask. They’ll realise it’s all a show and that I’m actually no one. And then they’ll leave. I can’t help wondering if that’s how Loki feels sometimes too.

Wait, what? You mean goat. His horns are shaped like a goat’s. This is a ram:

This is a goat:

This is Loki:

Do you see now? They’re like a goat. Not a ram. Not a cow. A GOAT.

This book was written before Ragnarok was a thing, so it may be unfair to connect the two, but it still seems worth noting that it was Thor who reduced Loki to being no more than a trickster to begin with. “You could be more,” my ass. Loki’s problem has never been that he was one-dimensional; it was always that the people in his life, including Thor, refused to see any other dimensions to him. Which makes those words particularly cruel—as if they aren’t cruel enough already, what with the physical torture and all.

Always happy to have cause to point out that

Loki was on Thor clean-up duty their whole lives; he certainly was not trying to kill Thor.

People like to point to Loki’s attempted genocide of the Jötnar and attempted(-ish? lol) conquest of Earth as proof that he’s some kind of violent maniac. But in a little place I like to call reality, Loki was historically far less aggressive and bloodthirsty than his peers.

Question: why is one conqueror evil and the other is righteously entitled to ruling over the Nine Realms?

Asgardian exceptionalism FTW

I can’t even begin to imagine what would lead you to expect such a thing, Odin. 😂

Uh, ‘cause it is?? And also their planet is MELTING without it??

This is all only within the first two chapters, btw. Lmao

—

“Looking for answers,” my foot.

YOU WOULD THINK SO, WOULDN’T YOU??

#i mean unless you knew heimdall #he only commits treason on days that end in y

—

What’d I say? Thor clean-up dutyyyyy

Just wanna remind everyone that this

is why he’s smiling during this scene

because it makes me laugh every time. 😂

—

My heart breaks every time I remember that second excerpt because literally ALL OF IT happened to him when he survived falling through the wormhole. My poor boy. 😭

But also of note… Loki gets cold (and also does not like being cold). This interests me because 1) as many are aware, the prevalent headcanon that Loki has a low body temperature irritates me and 2) it possibly(?) lends weight to the theory that he may not be fully Jötun, whether by virtue of his birth or Odin’s spell.

Haha, look at this Feminist Icon�� trying to take credit for his female friend’s accomplishments! Truly inspiring.

#for some reason the ragnarok lovers have somehow decided that thor is both a feminist and lesbian icon #whatever that means 🤷‍♀️ #and i'm still trying very hard to figure out why #is it literally just because he *says* he respects women or whatever in that dumb rambly conversation with valkyrie?

Ooh… you were so close to getting the point, Volstagg. So close. Take your tongue off Odin’s boot for just a couple minutes longer.

Also, the author just forgot the name of the Casket. How did this book get published? 😂

JUST LOOKING FOR ANSWERS, HUH?

Because fuck Loki, amirite? He, uh… he’s a prince too, you know.

Also… Fandral, you dweeb 😂

…am I reading too much into this, or did Odin just literally forget that Loki exists?

On the other hand, the author also seemed to forget Loki existed for most of this chapter, so who knows. 🤷‍♀️

lmao @ Jane immediately trying to convince herself she’s too rational to be attracted to a stranger

Honestly, though, big mood.

Just your periodic reminder that Thor’s sycophantic friends KNEW Loki was right and decided to throw him under the bus anyway.

Just as I’ve always said: That was it. That was their ENTIRE rationale. That Loki *could* have done it, therefore he must have. Please tell me these people have nothing to do with Asgard’s justice system.

…lol, jk, Asgard has no justice system.

Ok, first of all, no.

Second: thank you, Fandral. You’re a self-absorbed cad, but also evidently Thor’s least stupid friend.

Thirdly, how…? First, it was, “Loki arranged all this because he’s jealous of Thor.” Now they’ve suddenly jumped all the way to, “All of Asgard is in danger.” What exactly does Sif think Loki is planning? He’s gonna, what… assassinate Odin and then sell Asgard to the Jötnar?

—

Please stop hurting me.

Just so there’s no confusion: this one sentence explains everything Loki did for the rest of the movie. It explains how a person who has been historically non-aggressive suddenly transforms into a warmonger. To prove himself a real Asgardian, like his brother and father and grandfather.

—

…why did Odin fall into the Odinsleep in two completely different scenes in this book? I’m super confused.

Also, we really need to talk about how cruel it is of Marvel to keep forcing Loki to prove his loyalty again and again and again when he’s been doing so almost literally since we met him. And by “we need to talk about it”, I mean I need to tie Kevin Feige and co. to a chair and spend a minimum of five hours lecturing them on how poorly they understand their own fucking character.

Let’s just be clear here: they’re talking about Loki. They’re saying Loki, their LEGITIMATE king, is an enemy of Asgard, based on evidence so paper-thin it’s practically invisible. Just… please, let that sink in. Take a moment to appreciate how utterly fucked up that is.

I’m sorry (not really), but Thor was so much funnier before Ragnarok.

This scene has always kind of bugged me. If Odin removed Thor’s powers, how come he can still control the weather? Confusing.

So what exactly was Thor’s plan anyway, before he realised he couldn’t lift Mjölnir? He was just gonna call on Heimdall to help him commit treason AGAIN, show up on Asgard against the expressed command of his king, and… Odin would just shrug and be like, “You got me, son! I guess I can’t keep you down. Welcome home!”?

…I mean, I guess that more or less is what happened in the end, but it’s hard to imagine it would have still gone down that way without all the stuff that happened with Loki. Idk.

#look what i'm saying is... thor is not exactly a thinking person #no one on asgard is a thinking person #except loki but he's crazy now so he's also thinking somewhat poorly lol

Cool, Thor. Now imagine feeling that way for ONE THOUSAND YEARS and develop a little fucking empathy for your brother.

But you won’t.

You’ll brush off his feelings of worthlessness as “imagined slights”. 😒

Nice that somebody knows how the royal line of succession works, I guess…

That sound you hear? Yeah, that’s just my heart breaking. NBD.

First, they mislabelled it the Casket of Eternal Winters. Now it’s the Cask of Ancient Winters. Author must have been thirsty when they wrote this. Lol

Look, not to nitpick, but this is not the recommended procedure when you see a storm that you don’t believe is of supernatural origin coming. I’m just saying. Lol

Uh… ‘cause he is?? And your pals are committing treason AGAIN, Thor, so it technically is responding to a threat to Asgard. Just FYI.

Anyways, this is an important point that doesn’t get made often enough. People want to act like Loki illegally usurped the throne somehow, but even without the deleted scene that explicitly shows Frigga passing rulership to him (a scene which is, for some reason, entirely skipped over in this book, but whatever), understand this: Loki could not have controlled the Destroyer unless he was legitimately King of Asgard. The fact that he’s able to do so is irrefutable proof that his rulership is valid.

lmao you little shit

So… here’s my issue with this scene (and with Thor as a character): He always assumes that Loki’s acting out specifically to hurt him. That Loki’s entire life and thought process revolves around Thor. He does it in this scene, he does it in The Avengers… it’s just a chronic thing with Thor. Everything is viewed through the lens of Loki inexplicably hating him.

But that’s… just not accurate. Yes, Loki harbours a lot of jealousy towards Thor. But that’s not what’s happening in this scene. Loki is not trying to kill Thor here because he wants him dead; he’s doing it because Thor (and his friends) are getting in the way of Loki completing his ultimate goal. Loki tried to solve this problem non-violently, by lying about Odin being dead. It’s Thor’s friends who all but forced his hand by going behind his back and trying to bring Thor back to Asgard against Loki’s (and Odin’s!) direct orders.

For all the humility he’s learned in the past few days, this entire speech is still really all about Thor. About assuming that Loki’s doing this for personal reasons, because he holds a grudge against Thor for some unknown reason. This is implicit in his request to “take [my life] and end this.” It never even occurs to him that his friends are traitors to the Crown and Loki, as King of Asgard, is perhaps justified in pursuing them.

It also needs to be acknowledged that Thor’s apology here is hollow, even if it’s ultimately coming from his heart, because he has no idea what he’s apologising for. “Whatever I have done to wrong you” is not an apology. An apology addresses specific hurtful actions taken and commits to not repeating those mistakes in the future. Thor cannot commit to not repeating the hurtful things he’s done, because he doesn’t know what he’s done. Despite his best intentions, what Thor is doing here is actually kind of manipulative. He’s not addressing any substantive issue between the two of them; he’s just trying to talk Loki down. And it ultimately fails not because Loki doesn’t care or because he wants Thor dead, but because it doesn’t actually change anything.

Finally and only semi-relatedly, we should maybe at some point talk about the fact that Loki, who is stated to be a master tactician, has displayed a weird pattern of hardly ever being as lethal as he could be. He freezes Heimdall in place instead of killing him outright; he backhands Thor with the Destroyer instead of incinerating him; he, well… *gestures vaguely at almost the entirety of the first Avengers movie* Anytime the violence is even a little bit personal, he seems to hedge. Odd behaviour for somebody who’s supposedly super evil.

I’m sorry, I know I’ve pointed it out at least a hundred times before, but I just can’t encounter this scene in any form without taking a moment to appreciate how underrated and hilarious it is.

I also genuinely wonder how many Ragnarok stans who have accused me of having no sense of humour, have failed to laugh at moments like this one. Kinda feel like if you need to have the comedy spoonfed to you in the form of ass jokes, maybe you’re the one whose sense of humour is lacking. 🤷‍♀️

Let’s be super clear: this is not what happened. Loki did not betray Odin; he was betrayed by Odin. He did not open Asgard to its enemies; he attempted, misguidedly, to destroy Asgard’s enemies. And he most certainly did not commit suicide out of a sense of guilt.

I’m not saying Loki did nothing wrong, nor am I saying he feels no regret for the lives he has taken. What I’m saying is there’s no indication that he believes he betrayed Odin or Asgard in the process. Which makes perfect sense, because he didn’t. Everything he tried to do was for Odin and Asgard. It was misguided and horrible, yes, but it can hardly be classified as a betrayal.

The insurmountable burden on Loki is not that he did terrible things, but that no matter what he does or how hard he tries, Odin will never look at him with anything but contempt. Consider once more these passages from the very beginning of the book, at Thor’s coronation:

—

Consider that this book goes to great pains to point out that Odin favours Thor because Thor is a warrior like him. And yet even when Loki embraces that, even when he acts more war-like than ever before, Odin rejects him— just as he always has.

There is a reason why this moment is the last time Loki will ever call Odin his father. Because he realises once and for all that, no, nothing he tries will ever be good enough; no, Odin won’t ever look at him with pride. That is Loki’s burden. That is why he lets go.

The epilogue is really just two pages of making me want to vomit.

There’s your party where Thor and a certain subset of the fandom insist that Loki was mourned. There’s barely an indication here that anyone even perceives his demise as a negative thing.

“[Sif] could see Frigga thought [Loki was dead] as well” also contradicts the tie-in comic for TDW, so I don’t know what the author is on about there. Unlike the majority of Marvel comics, the tie-in comics are canon to the MCU, so it’s a bizarre statement to make.

COULD YOU SMEAR THE DEAD* ABUSE VICTIM A LITTLE HARDER, PLEASE? Fucking hell.

No matter how many times I encounter this scene, in whatever format, I still fail to become desensitized to how disgusting it is. I realise there’s a good chance that whatever version of events Thor has been told was twisted at best; but how you can look at a man whose son has just committed suicide under any circumstances and say there will never be a better father than that guy, is utterly beyond my capacity to understand.

And Odin’s “you’ve already made me proud” line just feels like extra salt in the wound because, again, Loki let go because he realized Odin would never say those words to him. And yet they come so damn easily when it’s Thor.

Fuck this entire family so much. I think I hate them more than Loki does. Sometimes I wonder what he would think about that. How he would react to knowing that not only is he actually loved, but that he’s so loved that people are genuinely furious at the way he’s been mistreated. That there are people who regularly devolve into full-on rants because they just can’t contain how much anger they have towards the people who hurt him. I think he’d have a hard time wrapping his head around that concept, tbh.

Anyways, to end on a not-completely-depressing note, I’m still waiting for someone at Marvel to explain how Loki knew what Thor said in this scene after plummeting into a wormhole. ‘Cause he references this conversation as Fauxdin at the end of TDW. So like… ?? Did he steal Odin’s memories before he erased them? Because that would be… kind of neat, actually. And very clever. Not entirely ethical, of course, but it’s Odin, so fuck ethics.

WELP, THAT’S IT. Thanks for following along with my dumbassery, hope you enjoyed yourselves. Lol

#phase one: thor #loki meta #thor meta #odin's a+ parenting #frigga's b+ parenting #topic: thor and loki's broken relationship #loki #thor #heimdall #lady sif #the warriors 3 #jane foster #ragnarok cinematic universe #mcu #topic: asgardian hypocrisy #topic: asgardian militarism #topic: odin's family dynamic

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bowl-of-shortness · 3 years

Text

*SIREN NOISES*

BIG UPDATE TO THE NECROMANCER AU

———————————————————

Songbirds:

Once necromancers started being openly hunted in Atlas and Mistral, Vacuo and Vale decided they needed to step in quietly. They couldn’t let it be known that they supported necromancers, lest they put their populations in danger.

This is where Operation: Songbird comes in.

Operation: Songbird is an operation created to sneak necromancers out of Atlas/Mistral and get them to Vacuo/Vale. ‘Songbirds’ are ordinary looking people who own fleets of stolen Mistral/Atlas ships, they sneak the necromancers out of Atlas/Mistral and into Vale/Vacuo.

Information about Songbirds:

- their names aren’t known

- they look like ordinary people to blend into crowds

- they are highly intelligent individuals

- they, and the operation in general, are very hush-hush

Once Operation: Songbird goes into effect, Atlas and Mistral start throwing necromancers in prison the minute they are even suspected to be a necromancer. Songbirds start learning how to sneak necromancers out of the prisons. Mistral flies it’s necromancer over to Atlas to deal with them.

Songbirds use songs to communicate. Hence the name ‘Songbird’. these songs sound similar to eachother sometimes, making it difficult for Atlas and Mistral to decode them. They can mean anything from ‘Soldiers nearby, stay quiet and hide’ to ‘the ships are here, come to the dock or whistle for us to find you.”

Codes:

Songbird to Songbird:

[Whistling Meanings]

“Get the ships ready” (“ok” whistle from other songbird)

“Songbird in the area, are there any others?” (Other songbird will whistle back to alert the one)

“Prison raid soon” (will whistle at a specific tone afterwards to alert the others of what time it will happen)

“Found on the street” (referring to finding a necromancer not in prison. Other songbirds will whistle for them to send the necromancer with them.)

“Caught! Run!”

“Caught! Help!”

Songbird to Necromancer and likewise:

[Singing, whistling, humming meanings]

“Docks are open, hurry” (a general hum for any necromancers who haven’t been caught by Atlas/Mistral yet)

“Halt.” (Whistle)

“Soldiers, hide.” (Low quick hum)

“Soldiers, run, QUIETLY.” (Low long hum)

“We are here, whistle if you are in a cell.” (A song, imprisoned Necromancer whistles back)

“Ships inspection, hide now.” (A short song)

“Where are you?” (High pitched long hum by necromancer)

“What time do we leave?” (Long low whistle)

There are general tunes that the Necromancers sing, about atlas and mistral, about the long ride to vale/Vacuo, about what they’ve been through, about hope.

Ozpin’s past:

Ozpin was a young Necromancer kid who was raised in an orphanage in Atlas. Once he hit his teen years he was thrown out to fend for himself, and for the longest time he did. Stealing food, stealing money, running around the streets, he even made 2 necromancer friends along the way. These two’s names were Qrow and Glynda. Qrow, a young boy who was shunned out of his family for his type of necromancy and his unwillingness to use it for his family’s crimes. Glynda, a young girl part of Atlas’s rich society who was looking for an escape to be herself. One day unfortunately, The 3 were caught using necromancy to revive a few dead animals and were all thrown into an Atlesian prison.

They would stay there for 3 years and in poor treatment until that fateful night. The night Ozpin heard a songbirds call.

The young Necromancer immediately started whistling back to get the songbirds attention, and the three were soon let out of their respective prison cells. But leaving Atlas would turn out to be no easy task.

While the batch of Necromancers were leaving the prison, they were nearly caught when the prisons sirens went off from the sudden disappearance of necromancers. They managed to escape without getting caught easily, but the next two instances of nearly getting caught would not be as forgiving.

The second time was on the ship dock, a pursuer in disguise as a necromancer attacked at the group of necromancers, specifically Oz, Qrow and Glynda. The pursuer was very quickly killed as to not let that information get back to the government. Oz was left with a permanent scar on the back of his neck from the incident.

The third time would be on the ships while out at sea. Where Atlas’s ship patrol had chosen Oz’s batches ship to inspect. Narrowly escaping the inspection, Oz tried not to panic but ended up breaking down after inspection was over and patrol was gone.

Before they went to sleep, Oz said that he would alert Qrow and Glynda if anything happened while they were sleeping. Oz had never been good at sleeping, such is the way of being a necromancer streetrat, but that night was different. He had never felt fear like this, never had this many questions; “what if we get caught again?” “What if they find us this time?” “Are we going to be okay?” “Where are we going anyway?”. Due to not being able to sleep, Oz wandered the ship, eventually being caught by the ships Songbird and questioned as to why he was up.

He spoke with the songbird for a little while, exchanging stories with the middle aged man. Sometimes Oz would ask a question that the songbird wouldn’t answer, but he understood. Somethings he couldn’t know, it was too much of a risk to everyone’s safety. Living a crime was one thing, but committing a crime like this was something else.

“Where are we going” the young Necromancer asked the middle aged man, exhaustion seeping through in his voice. “Vale.” The songbird answered flatly, Ozpin raised an eyebrow, “what’s it like?”, He looked at Ozpin out of the corner of his eye and smiled “everything you could’ve ever dreamed of. It’s safe, you won’t be hungry, you’ll have a home, it’s lovely.”. Ozpin scoffed “yeah I WISH a place like that existed. But unfortunately the world doesn’t work like that at all.” He spoke that last part with venom in his voice.

The songbird gave the young Necromancer a sad expression, it was understandable why he thought this way, from what the songbird had gotten out of their previous conversation this kid had been fucked over by life over and over and over again. But it didn’t make it any less sad that such a young and bright kid had lost all the light and hope he once had, ripped and torn straight out of him by a cruel and unforgiving world who sought only to kill him.

“I promise you, I’m not lying.” The songbird said, Ozpin didn’t respond. “Go get some sleep, boy, you’ll need it for tomorrow.” Ozpin turned around “right...”

He tried, he really did, but the panic and fear kept him awake like never before. Anytime he’d get close to falling asleep, the images of the prison, the pursuer, the patrol guards, would flash through his mind and spread unsavory thoughts like wildfire. By the time the sun had risen and the ship had come to a stop at the Valian dock, Ozpin was exhausted but At the same time, wide awake.

“Holy shit you look like hell Ozzy...!” Qrow gaped, Glynda quickly turned around to see Oz with dark bags under his eyes “You didn’t sleep a bit, did you?! You moron!” She scolded. “Thanks guys” Oz laughed tiredly. They walked off the ship and into a new world, “Listen up!” The songbird called out, “any young Necromancers will be heading with me into the city to get Situated in an apartment room, find your friends now or forever hold your peace.” He finished. “I guess we’re living together now” Oz smiled “UUUUGGGGHHHH, I can’t BELIEVE I have to live with YOU two.” Glynda dramatically and sarcastically said “HEY WE’RE NOT THAT BAD!” Qrow shot back.

When they got to the apartment complex and up to their apartment, the three were amazed. “What is all this stuff?” Qrow spoke, astonished “I don’t know, I used to see it in my parents house but I never used any of it.” Glynda said as she searched the room. Oz didn’t say anything as he walked to one of the rooms and flopped down on the bed. He flipped over and stared at the ceiling. “I’m safe....” he thought. He thought some more about that phrase. “My friends....are safe.” He smiled a little at that thought. “Everyone on the ship.....is safe” he thought some more until, “I’m...........safe?” And for the first time in a very long time, he broke down into tears.

Oz hadn’t known how long he cried for, but before he knew it, he was waking up 2 days later, staring at the ceiling.

What the fuck is a vacuum cleaner and why is it so goddamn loud?:

Ozpin, Glynda, and Qrow, understandably because of their previous living situation, have no idea how to use any appliances. Let alone know what they are.

- Oz is specifically fascinated with dimmer lights, gas stoves, and microwaves

- Glynda likes TV’s, Oven’s, and thermostats

- Qrow is just fascinated with anything that glows

- All of them Hate the vacuum cleaner

- All of them are fascinated with the concept of a sink and faucet

- they are all taught how to use these things by and adult neighbor who has been in the apartment complex for a long time. As to not let them accidentally burn the apartment complex down.

- “Ah I remember my first time in Vale too.”

- they get used to it eventually.

#rwby necromancer au

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sifeng · 4 years

Text

Review: Love and Redemption

While I first started watching this drama out of pure curiosity of why people claimed it to be “the second most tragic drama” (after GMP, of course). While there are certainly aspects of this show that could be better, I find it fair to claim that it is a wonderfully made xianxia, and certainly one of the best in the genre within this decade.

Plot:

According to legends, the god of war saved the heavens in a deadly battle against the demon a thousand years ago. Both fell from the heavens and disappeared from the world. Chu Xuan Ji was born to the world lacking in the six senses which makes her rather clueless and inept. She befriends Yu Si Feng, the outstanding head disciple of Lize Palace who falls for her, thus beginning a xianxia romance that is entangled with the conspiracies from the past. The Zan Hua Tournament is being held in the Shaoyang Sect and its leader Chu Lei has two daughters - his trusted eldest daughter Chu Ling Long, and the youngest daughter Chu Xuan Ji who is lazy and terrible at martial arts. When Yu Si Feng and Chu Xuan Ji meet through a coincidence, they forge a friendship with each other. Yu Si Feng falls for Xuan Ji despite the harsh consequences that he must face as it is forbidden for students of Lize Palace to fall in love. Meanwhile, Ling Long clashes with Wu Tong after she criticized his foul actions at the tournament. In retaliation, Wu Tong accidentally injures Xuan Ji and gets expelled. Having recovered from her injuries, Xuan Ji promises to concentrate on cultivating. Four years later, Xuan Ji and Yu Si Feng meet again. Si Feng wears a mask due to a curse that can only be broken if he finds true love.

Cast:

Cheng Yi (成毅) as Yu Sifeng (禹司凤)

Yuan Bingyan (袁冰妍) as Chu Xuanji (褚璇玑)

Liu Xueyi (刘学义) as Hao Chen (昊辰)

Zhang Yuxi (张予曦) as Chu Linglong (褚玲珑)

My Opinions:

Plot (My Rating - A-):

First of all, I quite like the pacing in this drama. As the matter of fact, towards the end I actually feel like some things were rushed, not dragged out. It’s never a show that allows you to press the fast forward button, because 1. the tragic moments are super intense and dramatic, and 2. you don’t dare skip over the cute/funny moments because you know there won’t be many left. Second of all, I really appreciate that the writers of this drama really decided that they were going to make the most tragic drama ever. They really dedicated themselves to that craft, and I think they succeeded wonderfully. In terms of plot points, I absolutely loved the whole 9 lifetimes idea. It really brings out the tragedy and beauty of Yu Sifeng - he will do anything to protect those he loves, especially Xuanji. I would not complain if every single lifetime was made into a 45 minute episode, though that would be 405 more minutes of Sifeng being tortured by love on top of the infinite amount of minutes that already exist in this drama.

One problem I had, again, was with the misunderstanding that separated our two leads. I understand that this misunderstanding was one that had to do with the morals, backgrounds and fates with both of them, and thus was obviously meant to be a separating factor, but with the way the two characters were written, it felt odd that it created such an amount of misunderstanding. Overall, the plot was good, it didn’t have any revolutionary ideas, but it turned up the tragedy factor and had consistent pacing (if not too rushed towards the end). I’m sure there were probably a few plot holes here and there (one of which is why is it so easy to destroy that huge jar thing towards the end? If that’s what’s keeping the universe at balance, shouldn’t it take more than just one Yuan Lang to destroy it?), but overall, solid plot.

Characters (My Rating - B):

Sifeng is an absolute angel. He’s probably the most heroic lead in a drama who acts totally out of selflessness, who will help his loved ones no matter what pain it puts him through, and who can remain so kind, so unbothered mentally by whatever pain everyone puts him through. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have faults. He acts irrationally in the face of love and he often mistrusts the people around him. He’s a very complete character that not only evokes viewer’s sympathy, love and admiration, but also makes sense when taking into consideration his morals. He rarely does things that are out of character. If I were to rate just his character I’d probably give an A+.

But, there are other characters in this drama. I do like Xuanji, not as much as I like Sifeng, but I like her more than most drama leads. Despite the whole lacking six senses thing being a super confusing plot hole of sorts (like she clearly likes people in the beginning, Linglong, Minyan, her father, and dislikes people, Wu Tong, but isn’t she supposed to be unfeeling? Also she screamed out of fear when she fell using the teleport tool etc etc), I liked how she wasn’t stupid, but simply naïve. She’s actually a pretty smart person, especially in the first half of the drama, when she defended Sifeng against the Five Sects, and then Minyan after he was caught from Tianxu Tang. She didn’t let herself be manipulated by her father or Hao Chen, but rather thought for herself, took into account what she knew of their characters and came to the correct conclusion that the Five Sects were being stupid. I found myself a slight bit annoyed when she took the Five Sects side on the whole Mosha Xing issue, but given that the argument was no longer Sifeng vs. her father, but rather demons vs. humans, I can sort of understand why she didn’t trust him. Also, he did lie to her a bunch of times so, I suppose that adds to the fact. Though, she failed to use the trait that I used to really like, which was the ability to take logic and character into consideration. Did she really think that Sifeng never loved her? Because like, with all the evidence right there in her memory, I find it hard for anyone logical being to come to that conclusion. Also, I really like how she eventually became as loving of Sifeng as he was of her. She was literally willing to destroy the world, and herself, just to save him.

As I have said before, no one likes Hao Chen, and that’s good. He’s obviously written to be a character that you should dislike, not only because he gets in the way of Sifeng and Xuanji, but because he is clearly so biased against demons (despite the fact that most demons aren’t even bad at all); because he manipulates Xuanji/God of War so many times and doesn’t even feel guilty whatsoever; because he always says “for the three realms” and yet happens to do things that will completely destroy the peace of the three realms. There are things to like about him, like I am pretty sure that he does actually care about the three realms, and he does want there to be peace, but his ideology about peace, and love, and war are just so skewed that he ends up doing the opposite of what he wants to do.

Other characters were mostly likable, like Linglong, Zi Hu, Teng She, Minyan (most of the time), Xiao Yinhua, Ruo Yu (sometimes), Wu Zhiqi, etc etc. Some were evil for no apparent reason like Yuan Lang (why does he want to control the three worlds? What happened to him in the past for him to become this power hungry? If these questions were answered this character could be sooooo much more compelling) and Wu Tong (again, why did he start out so violent and cruel? I understand why he become a demon and helped them, but like does he not realize that it was clearly his fault first?) Also, the Heavenly Emperor seems like such an odd character. I understand he is the emperor and so he shouldn’t hold his relationship with Bailin and Xixuan above their faults, but like why was he so okay with like letting a totally faultless Xi Xuan endure several mortal trials all ending with painful deaths? And if that was because he was being a good and fair emperor, why does he let a game board decide fate? He also just stood there while the world was ending, and it took Xuanji to convince him to help her. I would like to know more about this guy and his complete lack of ability to care about anything.

So overall, while I think the main characters were written very well, with complex characteristics, some of the villains were just left tools to push forward the plot.

Acting (My Rating - A-):

So first of all, Cheng Yi’s portrayal of Yu Sifeng was absolutely amazing. He brought out all of Sifeng’s traits super well, from shyness initially to the cruelness Mosha Xing to his loving gaze at Xuanji to the heartbreak in tragic parts. I’m pretty sure he’ll become a star after this show, and can I just say, he totally deserves it!

(Like can you see the pain in his eyes?)

I was pleasantly surprised by Yuan Bingyan here. I really like how her acting style changed along with the new role she took, as Xuanji she was bright and cheerful, as God of War she was heartless and cruel. You can see in the nine lifetimes that the way she reacts to Sifeng’s death slowly changes. Her crying scenes need a little more emotion, but overall, a super stable performance.

Chemistry/Romance (My Rating - A):

The chemistry was just amazing. I find it interesting that their kisses slowly got more and more passionate as time went on.

I think part of the reason they have such good chemistry is because of the acting. Like oh my god their tiny reactions to when the other gets hurt really gives it away that they love each other.

The romance was also written nicely. While some people complain that Xuanji didn’t suffer enough, I feel like they don’t have to be equal in suffering in order for them to be a good pairing. You could tell from the very beginning that Xuanji liked Sifeng in a different way from other people. And the fact that they went through nine lifetimes together, each one when Sifeng died because of Xuanji... it just makes their romance so much more epic. Add that with good chemistry, good kisses, and good acting, well of course people love this ship so much! Xuanji would destroy the world for Sifeng, because the only person that matters in her world is Sifeng. Sifeng would put himself through ten lifetimes of torture just so Xuanji can be happy, because so long as Xuanji is happy, he will be happy.

Music (My Rating - A): this one is simple. Just listen to the soundtrack and you’ll understand my rating. I didn’t give it an A+ though, because while all the songs are great, there isn’t one in particular that I love.

Costumes (My Rating - A-): Sifeng’s costumes are really pretty. Some of Xuanji’s are pretty too, they get prettier as the show goes on, but some of the ones early on were kind of meh.

CGI (My Rating - A+): the best CGI in a cdrama. Just look at the scenes where Sifeng shows his wings!

Overall Rating: A-

Recommend For: People who like xianxia dramas and dramas that try to incorporate a lot of themes. People who don’t mind their heart breaking a thousand times while watching a drama. People who want to find a couple that you have to root for. People who like super epic guzhuangs with lots of subplots, mythology, reincarnations etc.

#cdrama #Cdrama Review #I actually like this more than AoL #cheng yi #成毅 #Yuan Bingyan #袁冰妍 #I love the otp okay #they have such amazing chemistry

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theshinsun · 3 years

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For the character ask thing I'm gonna ask for Oikawa and Himuro 👀

sure!!

Himuro’s already answered here (beware of hot takes, tho)

now, as for Oikawa...

Why I like them

A KING. Honestly, what’s not to like about Oikawa? There’s so much depth and complexity to his character, and seeing his passion for volleyball and how far he’s willing to go, only to be thwarted at every turn right before he makes it... it makes him really relatable, as does his frustration with trying his hardest and practicing to exhaustion only to be overtaken by the next upcoming genius. He’s... extremely sympathetic to me because I identify with his struggle, but he’s also just a fantastic character with powerful themes and iconic moments all the way through the story.

Why I don’t

I know I asked what’s not to like, but... there are one or two things that are not so enjoyable about Oikawa. His ferocity has the side-effect of him coming off as a little cruel at times (especially toward Kageyama), and he can sometimes be a little too petty and unserious, though I do understand that being lighthearted and provocative is like a coping mechanism for him... These aren’t traits that detract from his character at all, it’s just... almost uncomfortable how flawed and human they make him. ...I guess that means I don’t actually have a legitimate complaint about this guy, sue me.

Favorite episode (scene if movie)

Oh I love the episode where he takes his nephew to volleyball practice and runs into Kageyama (s2 ep 6 is my favorite in general, so this shouldn’t be surprising). Seeing him interact with Takeru is precious and hilarious, and I love that even though Kageyama is probably the last person he wants to bump into in public, he still humors him and actually gives him very helpful advice (by way of insulting and degrading him, but what else would you expect). It’s not out of the goodness of his heart, but somehow that makes it even better. If I were to go beyond the show and into the manga, the entire Brazil arc is also a thing of beauty, but if I have to pick a single episode, it’s this one.

Favorite season/movie

Season 2 is where Oikawa really shines, I think, there are so many great moments, from his practice game with college students where he effortlessly falls in sync and leads them, to his handling of Kyoutani, to the entire Karasuno/Seijou game and his iconic confrontation with Ushijima at the end. This is the season where I fell in love with this character, and where it became clear that he was hiding a lot more depth than is visible on the surface.

Favorite line

“Talent is something you make bloom.” His whole monologue after that flashback about his mentor gives me chills, but this line... sums up his entire character arc, and really resonates with me personally.

Favorite outfit

SEASON 3 GLASSES OIKAWA IN STREET CLOTHES OWNS MY HEART. He and Iwaizumi are seriously serving looks in season 3, fashionable bois...

OTP

You know it’s gotta be IwaOi. I’m weak to childhood friends and these two share such an intimate, long-standing and often instinctive bond, it’s beautiful. I imagine they’ll be together the rest of their lives, even when they’re apart, you don’t form a relationship like that temporarily.

Brotp

I can’t decide between Maki and Matsun... bc they’re a squad, so yeah, those two. The Seijou third years honestly give me such joy, I love seeing them interact and joke around together.

Head Canon

I’ve seen a lot of things about Oikawa breaking gender roles, and I’m here for it. I’ve written him as genderfluid once, but I’d also just love to see him in skirts and heels, maybe painted nails, and still kicking ass.

Unpopular opinion

THAT BEING SAID... I don’t agree with a lot of the fandom’s tendency to write Oikawa as fragile, delicate or sensitive; that man has balls of steel and he is Terrifying, he will wreck your shit and more people need to acknowledge that.

A wish

I wish he and Kuroo could’ve interacted in canon at least once, can you imagine the chaos? I guess I’ll settle with fanon interpretations of their relationship but it would’ve been amazing to see it for real.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

I have a tendency to write crippling leg injuries, and have drawn Oikawa with a wheelchair and a prosthetic in the past, but in reality, I really hope he doesn’t ever suffer a debilitating injury that would prevent him from playing volleyball.

5 words to best describe them

Leader. Eclipsed. Flourishing. Tenacious. Conqueror.

My nickname for them

Oiks, x-kawa (i.e Shittykawa) or just Tooru <3

#shin speaks #answered #oikawa tooru #himuro tatsuya #knb #haikyuu!!#oh shit don't ask me about hq characters I will gush for days #i love my knb boys a lot but hq is next level #them's just the facts #homiro

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temporalies · 4 years

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[ @violnc : i’ve learned to like it here. it’s quiet. i can be alone. ]

he could be cruel. it's easy for him to be cruel, like second nature. he could say something like don't bother making things sound better for my sake, or the terribly simple you don't have to pretend. because she doesn't have to pretend around him. it's the end of the world. there's nothing left to pretend about. there is no goal. there is no escape. there is just the endless now, the way that the landscape is burnt and the bones are bleached and the buildings are all rubble. thirteen year olds are supposed to have toys and worlds to play in. instead, the two of them eked out their meager existence together, and only a little apart. in different rooms. in adjacent spaces.

the fact is that it is his fault that she's here. yes, vanya grabbed onto him. but he made the jump in the first place, the jolt of her hand on his shoulder knocking him off course enough for them to end up this many years into the future, sometime after the end of the world. he knows what his siblings look like as adults, and he is barely an adult now. the only way he tracks the numbers are by the neat and tiny rows of tally marks in his copy of anna karenina, taking advantage of the few blank pages at the end of the volume.

vanya asked him once why he didn't just use a blank book. keeps me company, he told her. we should both have something else for ourselves. unsaid: if one of us dies. just in case. it's happened before, a call too close, and the thought has never left his brain since the first time. their first two winters were difficult, but now they've found a place in the ruins of somewhere. doesn't matter where. they have stores upon stores of food, and a chess set. vanya has her violin; he has his books and his endless equations spiraling out within margins and inside covers. they are equipped to be alone. they are equipped to be together.

❝ it is quiet, ❞ number five says, staring out at the endless warped planes of the world. it's like something bigger than the galaxy held a match up to the earth and watched as it blackened. what could do that? an extinction-level event. complete and entire obliteration. if it he thought of it most of all when they first finished their long meandering trek across the united states and stared out at the greying tones of the pacific ocean.

no one there. the whole world, dead. they are walking upon a mass grave, some bodies were certainly vaporized, which means they are breathing in bits of flesh and bone and skin scattered and obliterated, and they are never going to be truly alone.

he can't say he's learned to like it.

❝ we've made it tolerable, ❞ he decides instead. ❝ which is commendable, i think. most people would have given up by now. ❞ by now. five years in. in other worlds they would have drivers' licenses and careers and apartments. in this one, they have a half-crumbled room, and his bottles of wine, and her ragged sheet music, and maybe that's enough. when you have nothing, even the most meager success can feel intoxicating.

their chess game from earlier sits half-finished, interrupted by a single bird freewheeling overhead. five had surged upright, blinked across the room, picked up the ancient hunting shotgun, always loaded with two rounds just in case, and fired. the crack of the gun firing felt like it was going to break the air open, the stock knocking back against his shoulder hard enough to bruise. the bird had tumbled out of the air, plummeting like a rock. when he and vanya managed to find it among the scorched remains of a field, they had found that it had been too mangled by old wounds, skeletal and thin. dying. on the way to being dead before five put it out of its misery.

it wasn't meant to be a kindness. but it was, inadvertently. that's how things work after the end of the world, the reversal of emotion. what should be cruel becomes unbearably gentle, like the way vanya's hands gently turned the bird over, avoiding the side of it that had been blown apart by the round.

they haven't talked about it since. five would say the bird was already dead. vanya might say otherwise. maybe she just wants a pet bird. it's not like reginald would ever let them keep a pet of any variety. a distraction from the noble mission of saving the world would never be tolerated in the walls of the umbrella academy. well, the old man's doctrine didn't seem to do shit, as the world is still well and truly ended.

❝ vanya, ❞ he says after a long moment. ❝ ... when we go back. ❞ not if. when. ignoring every failed attempt. ignoring every time they stand out in the empty world, when the winds aren't too bad and the sun doesn't beat down too badly on them, and he says this time this time this fucking time and it is never the right time. ignoring how he can never unravel time apart in the same but opposite way he did to get them here. ❝ where's the first place you would go? we wouldn't have to go back to the academy at this point. no one would know. you could go anywhere in the world. a real one. not this one. ❞

isn't this the real world? shouldn't he be able to say that? it's not a dream where he'll pinch his arm and wake back up with their family alive. this is the only thing that exists.

so it's real. but maybe it's a world he can't let be real for any longer than he has to live in it. once he and vanya get back, he is going to fix things. every event has a chain of prior events leading up to it. break the chain. save the world. simple in theory, complex in practice.

and if they have an afterwards, what then? that's always the question. what now? what then? what if? those cruel and lovely hypotheticals, blooming in his brain like sickness on the bleak greyscale of a scan.

#violnc #[ ANSWERED. ] what have you been doing as an accusation and a mercy.#[ V: ALONE TOGETHER. ] the whole world an animal gone quiet.

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ashleyswrittenwords · 4 years

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How To Be A Queen [Part 13]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Warning: Mentions of PTSD. Fluff.

Part 1

How To Be A Queen

We had walked through the night in mostly silence. There were times where we would stop because I felt lightheaded; other times he would loop an arm around me to hold me up. Link suspected I had lost more blood than I previously described. I didn’t stray far from his side nor do I think he would let me. When we reached the stable not much was said. We parted at the innkeeper’s desk where I wandered towards the back. He didn’t leave for long and when he came back his hand lightly touched my forearm to guide me to wherever the bed we had rented for the night.

There wasn’t much said between us. The exchanges we did have were short and pointed like when we opted for a partially hidden trail instead of the main road. When my body did hit the bed, I shut down. The noise of the inn quickly faded in the background and I dreamt of nothing. It wasn’t a sound sleep either and when I did stir awake my muscles ached as a cruel reminder of my eventful night.

Daylight filtered in through the window at the side of the bed and I could hear the dull chattering of the innkeeper at the front. My wrist pulsed, but as I brought it up to my face I noticed the wrappings were fresh. An attempted to wiggle my fingers was mostly for naught. They were numb and the tightness of the bandages held them steadfast. The sheets melted to my waist as I sat up, careful to be easy on myself.

A snore brought my attention to the edge of the bed. Slumped over with crossed arms, Link leaned onto the bedframe. His entire body moved upward and I stifled a laugh. The night must have taken a toll on him as well, I had never heard such deep snoring from him until now. Swinging my feet over the bed, I sat next to where Link sat and brought a hand to his hair. I gently ran my fingers through the blond locks.

My memory of last night was still fresh and I knew there had to be a discussion about it. It would happen sometime and someday, but that wasn’t now. Right now, I wasn’t going to dwell on it. All I wanted to do at that moment was live in it.

His hair tangled around my fingers and I found blue eyes staring up at me.

“I’m sorry,” It came out as a whisper, my voice was scratchy and hoarse. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Link shook his head slightly to negate my apology. Birds were chirping outside, and he sighed, “I think this is the first time we’ve slept in.”

“Oh, yeah? I believe we should do it more often.”

His laugh was breathy as he stood, tugging at the waistband of his pants. “How do you feel?”

“Actually,” I wiggled the fingers of my numbed hand. “Not horrible.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “Good enough to start crossing the country?”

My face must have given away my concerns because he grinned. Even if I didn’t feel as bad, I felt like I had been trampled by a horse with how sore I was. As much as I hated to say it, I wasn’t ready to start walking miles through Hyrule. Link sat next to me on the bed, procuring a blue coat. He was probably sitting on it.

“I had woken up earlier and a fur trader had come by. I didn’t think you’d want to be walking around with a bloodied coat,” he spoke, handing it over. I took it gingerly; the texture was a rough colored leather on the outside. The inside, however, was a soft brunette fur that felt warm to the touch. Touched, I smiled softly at him.

“Thank you.”

I wrapped my arms around him suddenly. Admittedly, it was an awkwardly positioned hug with an effort to keep my wrist unbent. Despite that, he reciprocated, bringing me closer. Warmth engulfed me and I felt content against all odds of the recent events. His breath was hot on my ear, “You’re welcome.”

My face flushed, but I stayed put. The embrace was more healing than any bandages in the world. An unsaid sentiment hung in the air. There was so much I wanted to say, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to verbalize it. The captain and I had grown closer whether we consciously realized it or not.

We had mutually decided to pay for a horse from the stables. According to the keeper, there was a network of sister-stables the entire route to Gerudo Town. That suited us perfectly. We could switch out horses and have a free stay at the inns for as long as we were paying for the service. My wrist prevented me from being able to properly ride a horse and it was questionable what the temperament it would have.

“Are you cold?” Link asked behind me. The brown mare trotted along the path without needing too much guidance from Link, so we had switched positions where I had the reigns instead.

“No. Only my cheeks are cold,” I replied. He made a noise saying he understood, and we slipped into a comfortable silence that was filled with the sound of hooves on dirt. Familiarity crept in. I had always loved horses and I think Link knew the same. He was forced to follow me on short horseback rides whenever I could force them in. The area where we could ride at the castle paled in comparison to what was around us now. The air wasn’t as piercingly cold as it was last night. I dare say it was even nice. It was hard to be too cold when there was a human heater right behind you. I smiled at my thoughts, mulling over how better this was versus traveling alone. After not too long, I zoned out with the motion of the mare’s steady jostling movements.

In my mind’s eye I was alone.

Walking along the same path with a darkened sky in the same grey coat. Then there was the sound of hooves behind me. I couldn’t run fast enough because my legs weren’t moving. Nerissa was there. She was laughing and taunting me.

It hurt to breathe.

It hurt to move.

It was like the galloping horse was on my heels.

I jolted awake and whipped my head around to find her. I could hear Link saying my name, but it didn’t register. My heart was pounding and my bloodstream was full of adrenaline. I looked behind us to find – nothing.

Nothing but an empty road.

“Zelda!” Link repeated my name except this time my eyes snapped to his blue ones which were staring down at me with alarm.

“They-They were following us and,” I swallowed, realizing I had been hyperventilating.

“No one’s following us,” he said with his arms around me to keep me from falling off the saddle.

I shook my head fervently, “But, the woman! She was there and… and…” Words seemed to come out in short spirts, but they died down in due time for Link to slowly take to reigns from my hands.

“Do you trust me?”

I almost turned around to look at him incredulously. “I- yes, I do.”

“They aren’t following us. No one is, Zel,” he insisted.

I let out an unsteady breath, forcing myself to trust his words. With a tired wave wash over me, I leaned back into him, “I think I’m going crazy.”

“Not crazy,” I watched as his hands tighten around the reigns. “Those people assaulted you when you were vulnerable for no reason other than avenging their politics.”

He paused and I looked up to see why. Link seemed angry, not unlike the unfortunate night before. I didn’t like him like that. His brow smoothed and he spoke again, “Sometimes when people experience… very shocking things, they aren’t equipped to handle the side effects. Like when a child first loses their family pet. They’re parents are supposed to prepare them for situations like that so they can learn to process those experiences before they happen. That doesn’t completely prepare them for when it happens, but it helps them process why. Does that make sense?”

I nodded, watching him as he watched me. He spoke slowly, trying to formulate his thoughts coherently. Something in his speech told me he was just as shaken as I was. Link looked back towards the road and continued. “Sometimes there isn’t a ‘why’ that makes sense to us. Like… when someone important dies in front of you. There are rational reasons that we look towards. Sickness, age, and so on. But when those reasons end up being more complex, like war, they begin to break down. The questions start to multiply, and we end up making up own whys. When you want to process things, you just end up shutting down.”

Link stopped to look at me. “What did you go through to sound like such a wise old man?”

The corners of his lips quirked upward, “I got the privilege to be around old fools for the last few years. It’s inevitable that I’ll turn into them.” His eyebrows raised, “Although, I didn’t expect it to be so soon.”

A smile brimmed my cheeks and I laughed.

Link shrugged, “I had to learn things like that quick. If I didn’t, I would have been left behind.”

“When?”

He didn’t respond immediately, “When my battalion reached the Gerudo region. We were ambushed. By then, we hadn’t adjusted to the guerilla tactics the rebels were using. I had seen people die, but I hadn’t seen anyone be killed before that.”

“I’m sorry,” my voice sounded meek compared to his. Link pulled at the reigns softly and the mare slowed. He then dismounted by swinging his leg over, holding onto my hips for a small moment. I knew in my head he only meant to steady the saddle, but I wanted to believe he did by choice.

“You know,” he chuckled lightly, “You should learn to stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault.” The horse started following Link’s lead and with the extra room I scooched back on the leather.

“Well,” I started defensively, “I was doing nothing then! Father was only delegating people around. There might have been more diplomatic means.”

“First of all, you were what? 14? You can’t be hard on yourself at that age. Everything was out of your control. And though your ability to talk situations into going your way is what I admire about you, it wouldn’t have worked then. The Gerudo rebels were,” he sounded uncomfortable, “immune to diplomacy. They had been convinced the Hyrulean crown was stifling the Gerudo race from prospering again and their own rulers were puppets. They wanted to devolve back into a fascist war state.”

Embarrassment struck me. “Why don’t I know about this?”

“I think your uncle likes to sugar coat issues like this,” he said, “It’s one of the few things I disagree with him on.”

I felt frustrated, “So what is he going to do when I’m queen? Give me a crash course on modern world issues and throw me into the thick of it?”

“I don’t disagree.”

There was a moment filled with quiet.

“But Zelda,” Link spoke up, looked directly at me suddenly. His eyes looked to be a mixture of sadness and resolve.

I hummed back, snapping out of my thoughts.

“Whatever happened back there,” he began, seeming to put emphasis on each word as if he had recited it. “Whatever unforgivable thing they did to you, I need you to talk about it.”

I swallowed harshly and looked away. The piercing eyes of the woman flashed in my head.

“It doesn’t have to be to me, nor does it have to be now. But please,” my eyes found his. His forehead was creased, and I felt tears prick at my eyes. “Please promise me you’ll do it eventually.”

My nodding seemed to satisfy him. I could see the amount of pressure he felt about what had happened, but he didn’t pry further and the topic withered away.

The last of the sunset flickered away and the shadows engulfed everything around us but our humble campfire. The mare was tied to a barren tree branch and had a long blanket draped over her per my request. Next to our fire, Link laid out a makeshift sleeping bag. It was dubious just looking at it, but the fire crackled on promising warmth and a small escape from the night’s frost.

Link motioned towards it, “You can sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

“No, I think I’ll be doing the watching,” I said, apparently much to his dismay. He wasn’t the most rested man in the world to say the least. Dark circles hung under his eyes and when he didn’t think I was watching, he changed into a dead man walking with the exhausted expression on his face. As expected, Link denied my own rejection. “But I want to keep watch. I’ll wake you up when I’m done.”

I rolled my eyes, “At dawn? You look like you just crawled out of a grave. Please go to sleep, Link.”

He gave me a look that said he wouldn’t let up. “As your princess and future queen, go to sleep.”

“Are you serious?”

I held in a laugh; the soldier appeared more like a pouting toddler. I crossed my arms, “As serious as sin.”

From my seat on the ground, I gazed up at Link. He waited several moments to see if I was going to budge on the matter, but I was indignant and soon his shoulders dropped in (what I hoped was) defeat. He mumbled something about waking him if anything strange happens. As he shed off the sheath buckled onto his belt and his boots, I looked away suddenly feeling perverted.

“Zel?”

My heart lept in my chest and I looked his way. He was pulling the covers back.

“Wake me up if-“

“Go to sleep, Link. A zombie can’t protect me.”

He made a face and I grinned, looking at the flames instead. Time went by steadily and I fed the fire with a stray patch of sticks. It was difficult to find ones that the melting snow hadn’t reached yet. Link was evidently a deep sleeper because my walking around had left him unbothered. At one point I had tried picking up his sword, but I couldn’t manage to unsheathe the blade. There was a small latch that held it steadfast and my numb fingertips were useless. Not to mention that I couldn’t lift it up without using both hands.

With a tinge of frustration, I opted for an abnormally large stick and sat back down by the fire at the foot of where Link slept. The covers moved up and down with his breathing. The stars above took on a different glow tonight and I traced their shapes with my eyes. I found the brightest trio of stars that represented Hylia and reminisced on what Impa had told me and a child. Just to the right of the last star was where the ancient hero was supposed to be immortalized.

It was one of my favorite tales in my childhood, I think I made Impa and Mother tell it a hundred times over before my bedtime. A smile crept onto my face; it was such a preposterous legend. Centuries upon centuries ago, the goddess and a hero fought valiantly against a formidable demon king. Hylia had bestowed upon to the hero her sword. They fought valiantly side by side, but in the final moments the hero was fatally wounded. The goddess wept and for the first time felt what it meant to be mortal. In a desperate attempt to save the remnants of the kingdom she suspended Hyrule in the skies. In order to vanquish the demon king, Hylia tied the hero’s fate to hers in the hopes of returning in a different lifetime. By doing that, she gave up her immortality. As time crawled on, the people of this place forgot about the ground below.

My craning neck felt cramped, so I rested it on the mat and prayed Link wouldn’t kick my head in his sleep. The story felt hazy as I recounted it in my head, maybe Impa had it written down somewhere. Nonetheless, somehow the goddess’s incarnate was captured and the hero had to return to the ground. With the power of Hylia unveiled once more, they defeated the enemy together. Amidst this, Hylia realized her love for the hero. My mother recounted that they live together in the heavens, watching Hyrule from above. Impa, however, says that with the hero’s fate tied to the goddess’s mortality they would live countless lives together until the end of time.

I decided long ago that I liked mum’s ending better. It didn’t matter though. The story was just that – a story and nothing more. Father had always detested those tales. He said they filled my head with fantasies. Yet he listened adamantly to Impa’s prophecies like gospel.

There was a low whisper coming from Link, “Zelda?”

I propped myself up with my elbows and looked at Link, who was sitting up and looking at the moon. Worry casted over me, “Did I wake you?”

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, “No, but we should switch. Sunrise isn’t far away.”

I wrangled with my boots, but the ending to the tale gnawed at me. It must have shown because when I was peeling off my coat and he had sat next to me, Link inquired about the inquisitive look on my face.

“Do you know the story about the goddess and the hero?” I yawned, crawling to the head of the blankets. He watched me with an eyebrow raised, “The one with the flying island?”

A chill snuck under my layers and I eagerly pulled the covers over me, reveling in the warmth from Link. “Do you remember how it ends?”

“The guy and the goddess get married or whatever,” he said it haphazardly and arranged another log onto the fire. I sat up, disgruntled, “I thought you were more eloquent than that.”

His fingers combed through his hair as he scoffed, “That’s more of my sister’s forte. I never had the patience to sit through the songs the bards played.”

“You don’t think it’s romantic?” I smiled sleepily, “Hylia gave up her immortality for him. It was one of my mother’s favorite stories.”

Link laughed softly at me. His smile reached his eyes, “As your escort, sure. As me, I think the hero should have defeated the evil king the first time around. Go to sleep, Zelda.”

“You know, the lords have escorts for other reasons in Castle Town.”

“Go to sleep, Zelda.”

#how to be a queen #htbaq #zelink #legend of zelda #loz fanfiction #fanfiction #zelda #link #zelda x link

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lesbianarcana · 5 years

Note

could you just... like... answer all of those questions at once? I can't pick one but I wanna know all the things

Oh God okay

[[MORE]]

1. When did you start playing?

Oh a long time ago...over a year ago I’d say? The main 3 were only up to uhhhh the Hermit book I think. I remember I stopped playing after that gross fetishy Asra CG came out.

2. What got you into the game?

The beautiful art and the tarot theme. This was before I knew what I know fdjhksd

3. Who was your first route?

Julian!

4. Who is your favourite route?

Honestly Muriel is shaping up to be my favourite so far. Before that, I loved Asra’s route.

5. Who is your least favourite?

So far, Portia’s. Don’t get me wrong - it’s nothing to do with Portia herself. It just feels a little stagnant and flat.

(I bet you expected me to say Lucio, didn’t you? Well, you’re wrong).

6. Who do you play in Heart Hunter?

Chibi Chandra!

7. Who is your favourite to chase in Heart Hunter?

Portia or Muriel!

8. Who of the not playable LIs do you wish you could romance?

The baker. Selasi route when?

9. Opinion on Asra?

Asra is often mischaracterised imo and held to an unfair standard that a lot of the other characters aren’t. I’ve seen many of these arguments and I’m tired.

Asra is not jealous, possessive, creepy, manipulative or shady. Not once does he act possessive towards the MC in any of the routes including his own (a possible exception could be made for the Reversed Ending, but what do you expect? That’s after the MC literally enables that behaviour).

Being sad or cautioning the MC against Julian is not being jealous or possessive. The way he talks about Julian it’s pretty obvious he felt more for the man than he realises, even if he doesn’t understand that himself.

Asra keeps secrets from the MC because canonically trying to remember too much too fast harms the MC. This has been established. In his route, he literally tells you that he hates keeping secrets from you. He takes you into his own personal gateway - an expression of trust and a willingness to open up to you. Does he do these things in the other routes? No, but that’s because you’re not spending that time with him.

I also see people angsting about how sad Asra is going to be when you tell him about Lucio in his route. Lucio harmed his parents and has been cruel to Asra so like idk what you expect. The MC doesn’t know this of course, but you do!

I think we also forget that Asra took a considerable amount of time and effort to rehabilitate the MC, care for them and reteach them basic tasks as well as magic.

Is Asra a perfect person? Of course not. He’s probably overly cautious, he can be a little distant and he reacts badly when in a crisis (see the deal he made with the Devil). He’s not always brave and not always strong, but why should we expect him to be? He’s a human being and he’s bound to have faults, but he has a generous nature and is remarkably well-adjusted considering the trauma of his childhood (don’t tell me that suddenly losing your parents is not traumatic).

10. Opinion on Julian?

I once said that Julian is likely hypersexual and I still maintain that. (For those of you who don’t know, being hypersexual is like..a tendency to engage in compulsive or self-harming sexual behaviour, sometimes as a result of trauma). I think Julian craves affection and associates sexual interest or sexual contact with his worth as a person. I don’t think he does it deliberately or to be manipulative, but because he has a definite self-esteem problem. I honestly see him as bipolar like me.

I think the way the fandom treats him as this dumbass uwu subby boy is kind of annoying. A lot of people I feel erase his bisexuality either by just ignoring it or by making homophobic jokes where the punchline is ‘ha ha he likes dick like you do!!!!’ like no shit, he’s BISEXUAL. But he’s also hard-working, brave, clever, pleasant and good-natured, and once he starts to really come into his own, he’s cheerful and optimistic. He has so many more good qualities than just ‘submissive and kinky’.

11. Opinion on Lucio?

This may surprise y’all but I actually don’t hate Lucio that much. I love to hate him as a villain.

I think he, like all of us, is a product of his environment. He grew up in a clan with a strong martial culture; his clan were warlike and frequently made war on his neighbours. We’re all influenced by our upbringing and I don’t think he’s an exception. I draw the line at saying he ‘just didn’t know right from wrong’ though. He’s not a baby.

But the differences between Lucio and the other LIs like Portia, Asra, Muriel etc is that Lucio’s life and his fate and the hardships he’s faced are almost entirely due to his own choices. It was he who decided on the eve of his eighteenth birthday to kill his parents. He sought out Vlagnagog with the intention of making a deal. He chose to continue to make deals. He knew he carried the plague and he chose to carry it across the continent including into Vesuvia, causing the deaths of thousands. He murdered and blackmailed his way across the continent. He wouldn’t have even needed to bargain for a new body if he hadn’t caught the plague that he brought into Vesuvia himself after making a deal etc.

Do I think he is a sort of cackling, villainous cliche or unrepentantly evil? No. I think he’s a person who has made deliberate choices that he is facing the consequences for and IMO it’s important that he face those consequences. I do think his main issue is entitlement and a profound lack of self-esteem (I don’t think he really believes any of the stuff he actually says about himself or other people; even Lucio’s not delusional).

I mean that’s about as generous and objective a take on Lucio as I can give you. I’ve made my feelings clear on him, but I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t actually understand him as a character, hopefully the above will prove I do haha.

12. Opinion on Muriel?

Out of all the LIs I think I relate most strongly to Muriel because of a few reasons: trauma, touch-starved, lonely and wants to connect but afraid of getting hurt (physically or emotionally).

Now that I’ve gotten personal, I really hate the way Muriel is treated by the fandom. He’s either called bland or boring, or he’s treated like he’s an animal, called feral and animalistic. He’s none of those things.

Muriel has a big complex about being alone. He was literally given away by his parents and left in Vesuvia on his own, to fend for himself on the streets. Being abandoned by his parents and not knowing why, not remembering is traumatic enough, but because of his size he’s often characterised as aggressive and strong when he’s always been gentle. Later in his life, Muriel was forced to fight and kill people against his will. I don’t think a lot of people get just how traumatic that is; not only being forced into doing Lucio’s bidding, but being forced to violently take someone’s life. I don’t blame him for leaving to live at his hut and resist connecting to anyone. It’s common for traumatized people to withdraw and isolate themselves, because the thought of getting hurt again is more frightening than being alone. But everyone needs human contact, and I think Muriel struggles a lot between wanting connection and contact (physical or emotional), between not wanting to get hurt again, to not feeling like he’s worth the effort. That struggle is something very close to my heart and that’s why I’m attached to him.

13. Opinion on Nadia?

Nadia has the biggest youngest sister complex and it’s almost amusing because I, too, have the same complex (even though I’m actually the older sibling!). Nadia, like me, feels like she’s always been compared unfavourably to her older sisters, and has felt like she has to work harder to prove she’s their equal.

It’s probably because she’s a Cancer like me. We have dual natures sometimes; the caretaker and the ringleader, who feel like we have to take it all on ourselves to get the job properly done, but who have moments where our self-doubt takes over.

I do find some aspects of Nadia’s route to be sort of odd, where it’s mentioned that the people of Vesuvia find her to be a tyrant. There’s literally no evidence to suggest that, so the only reasoning I can find next is she’s a woc. But race doesn’t matter in Vesuvia apparently so...what else could be the reason? Not to mention she’s been asleep for the past three years, so the people haven’t even seen the Countess in that time.

I feel like we didn’t really get to understand a lot about Nadia even from her route-why did she fall asleep? What on Earth did she see in Lucio? Why did she let him do all those bad things in Vesuvia before he died? (My initial thought was Cancers can be sloth-like and passive, so that could be why).

14. Opinion on Portia?

Of all the LIs I feel like it’s Portia I know the least about despite having probably the most appearances. Sure, she’s quirky and fun and cheerful, and that’s cute, but...what does she want? What does she fear? How does she feel about her brother being on trial?

I’m hoping we get to expand more of her personality in her route. I know her patron Arcana is the Star, so her route will likely be about learning to have faith in other people, but who knows.

15. What is your favourite Arcana card?

Justice. The Empress is a close runner-up.

16. Have you bought any of the official merch?

No, I refuse to give a single cent to Nix Hydra. (I really want those Tarot cards though hhh)

17. What is your favourite CG?

The one where Asra is sitting in the gondola. Squishy cheeks :3c

18. How many Arcana themed blogs do you have?

Three! This one, then I run an Ask Muriel blog at @ask-muriel-inanna and an Ask Asra blog at @ask-asra-and-faust

19. Do you draw any Arcana art? What is your favourite image you have drawn?

The cover I just did for my Arcana comic! I cant link but it's in #arcana comic and #my art

20. Self insert or apprentice insert?

Both are valid, but I have an apprentice OC.

21. Do you have an apprentice?

Yes I do! Their name is Daya

22. If there is one thing that could be made with the Arcana theme on it, what would it be and why?

Idk what this means I big dumb

23. What is your favourite ship?

Outside of the LI x MC ships I really do like Asriel and Portia/Nadia (but only if Portia isn’t her servant anymore).

24. What is your least favourite ship?

Muriel x Lucio, Asra x Lucio or Julian x Lucio. None of them would even consider ever touching Lucio with a ten foot pole and y’all know this.

25. On your first play through, what direction was your ending for the LIs?

Upright babey!!!!!

#the arcana game #anonymous #asks

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kinktae · 6 years

Text

soliloquy

Jimin was a boy who had an affinity for flowers. You were a girl who liked to talk to them. It all should have been very simple. Except for the incredibly complex fact that Jimin was an angel and you were painfully human, completely oblivious to his existence and how he had somehow fallen deeply and foolishly in love with you.

soliloquy (n.) - the act of speaking one’s thoughts aloud when by oneself, often when oblivious to any listeners.

pairing: angel!Jimin x reader

word count: 7k

genre: FLUFFY FLUFF that is :) and :(

A/N: this is a spin-off from my Tempting series!!! So Jimin from that series is the Jimin used here. This one-shot contains no real spoilers so you can enjoy it without reading Tempting but you might enjoy reading it to see how it overlaps with setting and characters. Jimin is a flower angel in this.

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Angels were fond of familiarity. When things changed, chaos occurred; something angels tried to avoid at all costs. They were creatures of routine and rules; many of them sought out to do the same thing every day.

Jimin, however, was a fan of change. He liked how the changing of the seasons brought upon a need for him. Jimin was a flower angel; he gave the earth its color and vibrancy. His touch could bring on spring much like how his breath could spur on winter. It all sounded very grandiose and, objectively, it was, but Jimin was just one of many flower angels planted all over the world. He was just happy to do his small part.

Jimin’s job mainly consisted of tending to a flowering park near where he and his roommates lived, in a human town that hardly ever changed. If Jimin craved chaos, it could be found in the city, but Jimin found the concrete jungle unnatural and disheartening. He liked his park and he liked the people who roamed through it.

He never spoke to them; angels couldn’t be seen or heard by humans, after all. It was slightly lonesome to be in a park full of people but have no one to talk to, but Jimin had people to come home to at the end of the day. His roommates were angels as well so they could see and hear Jimin, thankfully.

Nevertheless, Jimin liked to watch the humans’ reactions as he made leaves on trees turn red and orange, as a signal for them to prepare for the upcoming winter. He liked the way the park was quiet and bare during winter, but come springtime, neighboring families would come to see the newly bloomed flowers he had given them. During the springtime, Jimin often sat up against his favorite tree, a Camperdown Elm, and watched the squealing children run around, chasing after butterflies. Every year those children grew bigger until they grew too old for the park and left Jimin alone to wait for the next set of children the town would bring over.

Even though Jimin liked change, he knew deep down that even the change he so happily sought after was still a routine. The seasons come and go in a cycle, much like how the children that once roamed the park became adults that then in turn brought over their children to run around the open grass.

The most disorderly thing that happened in the park were the occasional visits from a neighboring cat. Jimin was quite fond of it, as animals weren’t blind to angels like humans were. Often it sat beside him, underneath the great elm tree, seeking refuge in the cool shade. Jimin would scratch in between its ears until it closed its eyes and began to purr in content.

Even though the cat’s visits were sporadic, sometimes its visits were spread apart week at a time, Jimin could still count on the cat to show up.

And it did today.

Jimin made his way over to the park early one morning, eager to get to work now that Spring was here. He spotted the cat immediately; it was sat neatly under the elm tree as if waiting for him.

He called it over with a click of his tongue and a nudge of his head. The cat perked up immediately and made its way over to Jimin who was already on the ground and starting to tend to some flowers.

Jimin had never gotten around to naming the cat. He considered doing so once before he realized that it didn’t matter what he called the cat, it undoubtedly already had a dozen other names given to it by every person that crossed its path.

Jimin was picking at some weeds when the cat finally met him. It sat down beside Jimin, beginning to watch what it was that he was doing.

Jimin hummed along to a song that was stuck in his head as he worked. He usually had a song in his head. Normally, it was a song he heard playing somewhere, either overhead in a grocery store, or perhaps from a passing car that had its window down as it played the radio. But sometimes it was a song that he couldn’t cognitively recognize but rather just came to him naturally. He thought once that perhaps he once knew these songs, back when he was still a human.

Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. He, like all angels, lost all memories of his human life after he died, but it was still a comforting thought to think that his human existence wasn’t entirely erased.

Today, he hummed along to a song that sat somewhere in the back of his mind, just out of his reach.

“Here kitty-kitty!” A voice rang out.

Jimin paused his humming and turned towards the sound.

He raised his eyebrows at the sight of you slowly making your way through the grass, eyes focused on the cat. The cat had taken interest in you as well. It sat in place as it watched you approach, the tip of its tail flicking up and down lazily, intrigued but not enough to move.

“Kitty, what are you doing out here?” You laughed, crouching down once you reached it.

You didn’t see Jimin, of course.

Jimin watched as you sank to your knees and sat on your heels. You held out your hand in front of you as if proposing it to the cat as a peace offering.

Racking his brain for any previous image of you, Jimin quickly realized that he had none. He had never seen you before which was odd. Everyone that lived in this town had made their way to this park eventually, falling victim to the never-ending cycle of life Jimin spent his days watching.

He frowned. Who were you?

The cat sniffed at your extended hand experimentally before walking in between your legs. The cat pressed its head against your stomach and nestled its head into you, rubbing its face against the fabric of the sweater you had on.

You let out a laugh and pet its head, “Silly kitty, aren’t you supposed to be the one getting their belly rubbed?”

Without hesitation, you swooped the cat up and cradled it into your chest, placing a kiss to his head.

Jimin blinked at you in surprise. From what he had gathered, humans weren’t particularly affectionate to stray animals. Not that they were cruel, but certainly they didn’t pick them up and lay kisses on them.

Luckily for you, the cat didn’t seem to mind its sudden change in orientation, laying in your arms without protest.

“Are you lost, buttercup? Or do you live out here?”

The cat let out a simple meow and you put it back down.

“Really? Is that so?” You replied, sounding genuinely interested.

Jimin narrowed his eyes, unsure of what to make of you. He knew for a fact that humans and animals could not communicate so he found it odd that you were pretending like you could.

The cat meowed once again and you slipped your index finger under its chin, scratching generously, which caused the cat’s eyes to shut and for it to let out a grateful purr.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kitty. My name is Y/N!”

Jimin looked at you in confusion. You had just introduced yourself to a cat.

“You know, this is probably the most pleasant conversation I’ve had since I moved here. And it’s one-sided so that’s pretty sad.” You told the cat with a soft giggle.

You had just moved here. That made sense; that’s why Jimin didn’t recognize you. Curiosity ran through him as he began to wonder what your story was.

Everyone had a story. And for the most part, Jimin knew what everyone’s was. It was a relatively small town and the park seemed to be the designated gossip spot between adults. Jimin knew far more about everyone in this town than they probably knew about themselves.

You were new and strange which excited him. He wished now more than ever that humans could hear him.

Taking in your yellow sweater and loose denim jeans, he wondered where it was you moved from as the people here were already dressing up in less fabric with the weather warming up.

“Oh, these are pretty!” You thought out loud, turning towards the bundle of daisies that Jimin had been tending to just minutes ago. Jimin brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, watching you cautiously as you reached out to touch one.

Jimin panicked for a moment. If you plucked any of them out, he would personally follow you home and litter your front lawn with sand spurs so that the small spiked balls would stick onto your jeans and ruin your morning.

Much to his relief, you simply ran a finger down the white petals.

“I miss Daisy.” You thought aloud, with a sad smile. Jimin tilted his head to the side at the sound of your voice turning small. Who was Daisy?

You turned away from the daisies quickly, once again returning your attention to the cat.

“You don’t mind if I talk to you, bug?”

The cat merely blinked at you in response.

You moved into a more comfortable seating position, thinking to yourself for a moment.

“Right, so my grief counselor, Lisa, says I need to start talking more– scratch that, that’s not what I meant; I talk plenty. What I meant is that she wants me to express my feelings and thoughts more.”

You paused for a moment to lean forward as if to whisper to the cat, “But between you and me, she’s a real creampuff. She’s all about feeling and coming to terms with your feelings.”

A laugh escaped through Jimin’s lips at the sound of you referring to someone as a creampuff, of all things.

“Feelings are great, kitty. But the thing is that they are a very ‘inner thought’ kind of thing and I'm an ‘out loud’ kind of person. She told me to keep a journal but I’ve decided I’m just going to talk about my feelings to anyone that will listen.”

The cat tilted its head at you, ears perking up.

“Or I guess, in this case, anything that will listen.”

Jimin wondered for a moment if he should give you and the cat a moment. Sure, you had no clue he was there, but Jimin couldn't help but feel like he was invading your privacy. Then again, he did sit and listen to everyone else’s gossip so he supposed listening to yours wouldn’t be any different.

You stared at the cat for a moment before speaking again.

“I don’t want to be here. I know I just got here but still. My mom says I need to try and enjoy myself but what’s the point? I’m going home eventually, so there’s no point in getting attached to this place or anyone here... No offense, kitty! You are a great listener and are very cute.”

The cat meowed as if to say thank you.

You spotted a daisy that had fallen onto the ground and picked it up, placing it on top of the cat’s head.

Both Jimin and you laughed as the cat froze in alarm, its ears pressed flat.

“They’re not a fan of daisies, I guess.” Jimin spoke automatically, before realizing that you couldn’t hear him. He had forgotten the reality of the situation for a moment. He blushed lightly.

You closed your eyes for a moment. Jimin watched as a slight breeze ran through your hair. You let out a breath before opening your eyes and speaking again.

“Daisy was my best friend. I mean she is my best friend. She just left the program early. She got to go home so we don’t exactly talk anymore.”

‘So that's Daisy, huh?’ Jimin thought to himself. He didn’t understand what you meant by program but he was more bothered by how upset you sounded when you said the two of you no longer kept in touch.

“She said she was going to try and reach out to me once she left but I kind of figured that wasn’t going to happen.” You sighed, glancing over at the now napping cat.

Suddenly, you spun around and dramatically laid down onto the grass. It happened so quickly that Jimin had barely just enough to time to move out of the way, your head nearly crashing into him. Shuffling close to the flowers, he laid himself down on his side, perching himself upon a bent elbow, his head facing across yours.

“I literally just bored a cat to sleep.” You laughed in disbelief, shaking your head slightly. The cat in question was still asleep, resting now in between Jimin and you.

You turned your head to the side, looking directly at Jimin.

“Will you listen to me?”

What?

Jimin froze, eyes widening in shock as his stomach did a flip. Could you see him?

You turned your head over again to stare directly up at the sky.

“Why I’m even asking? It’s not like flowers can say no.”

Jimin let out a breath of relief.

You hadn’t looked at him, you had looked right through him at the daisies behind him.

“Well, flowers, let me tell you about the pickle I’m in.”

Jimin let out a snort at the funny way you worded that. Did you always refer to food when you spoke?

“I really want to go visit Daisy. But my mom doesn’t think it’s a good idea, which I get. I mean, she hasn’t come down to see me or anything, so it’s not like she’s going to talk to me if I go see her.”

Jimin reached out to pet the top of the cat’s sleeping head.

“I can always wait until I go home. I know I’ll see her once I leave the program. But, I dunno. Things are just different now. I’m kind of mad that she left.” You laughed, before falling silent. Jimin took in your sudden change in expression.

“Does that make me a bad person for wishing I was the one who left the program first so that I wasn’t the one who got left behind? I feel alone here. I know there are others in the program but I feel alone. Daisy left me alone. Gosh, I don’t want to do this alone.” You confessed with a shaky voice.

There was so much Jimin didn’t understand but still so much that he wanted to tell you. Even now, you weren’t alone. You thought you were but Jimin was proof that you weren’t as alone as you felt. He wanted to reach out and hold your hand, to comfort you, but such gestures would be pointless as you wouldn’t feel him.

You let out a deep sigh.

“Huh? What was that?” You questioned, placing a hand to cup around your ear as if to listen to the flowers.

If there was anything that Jimin had gathered so far, it was that you were very expressive in the way you presented yourself. Your face and hand movements almost always expressed what you were about to say before the words even left your lips. It was almost theatrical.

“You guys think I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and just get through this silly program? Hm, I agree! How hard will it be, honestly? I’m sure going home will be a piece of cake!”

It was in that moment in time that Jimin decided he quite liked you. You spoke a lot but he found that he enjoyed listening to you. He noted the way you went painfully optimistic after every negative thought you expressed as if that would nullify how you felt.

So Jimin spent the next hour with you, just listening to anything and everything that crossed your mind as he lay beside you.

You eventually left, of course, and Jimin watched you do so in disappointment. The change you had brought with you lasted not nearly as long as Jimin would have liked but he was still grateful for the hour of change you had granted him.

Even though he couldn’t speak to you, you helped him feel just a little less lonely and he hoped to see you again as he watched you walk further and further away from him.

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Much to Jimin’s excitement, two days later, you marched your way into the park again with a book pressed against your chest. This time you chose to sit in a different location and Jimin almost ran to you, eager to see what you had to say today.

You didn’t say anything for a few moments, opting instead to sift through the book you had placed on your lap.

By the time Jimin had reached you and sat down beside you, you had become quite fixated with a particular page, your eyes flicking up occasionally to the purple flowers that were planted near you.

“Aha!” You exclaimed suddenly, causing Jimin to jump slightly.

“Chaste Tree!” You proclaimed confidently, pointing at the flowers that were, in fact, not Chaste Tree. Jimin laughed.

That must have been a book of different types of flowers and it appeared as if you were trying to identify those near you.

Jimin felt a gust of wind approaching and quickly flipped the book a page back as the wind hit you, so as not to draw attention to himself.

You let out a shiver in response before glancing back down at your book. You looked at the new page for a moment before glancing back up.

“Oh, just kidding! I meant Catmint!”

Jimin chuckled to himself as you corrected your classification. The two plants looked similar so he didn’t blame you for being confused.

Looking at the page you spoke out loud, “So says here you're like catnip, huh? Is that why that cat was here the other day?”

Jimin wanted to tell you that yes, catmint and catnip were in fact related, but no, the cat seemed unfazed by the catmint that Jimin had grown in this park. Not all cats seemed to feel its effects it would seem.

“Sorry about that, Catmint, I’ll get better at this flower thing soon or later. Fun fact: I’ve decided to pick up floriculture! Lisa says I need a hobby so this is going to be mine.” You exclaimed, excitedly.

Jimin sighed in realization; he had been wondering why you were holding an encyclopedia of flora.

“I found a flower shop not too far from here and the nice girl that worked there gave this to me for free! Who knew the people in this town were so dandy?”

Jimin shook his head; he was positive that humans nowadays didn’t refer to things as being dandy.

Jimin was familiar with both the girl and flower shop you spoke of. Naturally, he was drawn to it, being a flower angel and all. He often got seeds from there. Not that anyone who worked there knew that, of course. Jimin would just lay some money on the counter while whoever was working that day, be it the girl or the owner of the shop, had their back turned, before taking a packet of whatever seeds he needed.

He hadn’t been to the shop in a while– not since last spring. He made a mental note to go visit sometime.

“Anyway, enough lollygagging. I’ve got some reading to do.” You sighed, as you made yourself comfortable and began to read.

Jimin stared at you for a minute, wondering if you truly were done talking. When it appeared as if you indeed were just going to be spending your time at the park reading, Jimin decided he might as well be useful.

Turning towards the Catmint, he reached out and held a wilting stem, smiling in accomplishment as he watched the plant spring back to life. He went on like that for a few more minutes before he heard you hum.

Turning back over to look at you, he saw you sitting upright, your eyes scanning the park.

“I don’t see any daffodils here.” You thought aloud.

“Shame.” You said, turning your head back to the page in front of you, which just so happened to read ‘Daffodils’. “I quite like them.”

“I need to have a word with whoever oversees gardening around here. Daffodil representation is seriously lacking here and I refuse to allow it to go on for any longer!” You declared suddenly, before giggling to yourself, continuing to read.

There was no doubt that you were odd. You were extremely chipper and loquacious; Jimin had never encountered someone who spoke to themselves as often as you did.

And with that, once again you fell into silence and Jimin went back to his gardening, trying not to stray too far from you in case you spoke again.

And of course, you did.

Jimin was by the butterfly weeds when you began your next soliloquy.

“Back when I was still in high school, I was in a play. It was called Little Shop of Horrors. I played the main character’s love interest, Audrey. I’ll spare you the details, Catmint, but basically, a giant alien plant comes down to earth and eats everyone.”

‘Oh, God.” Jimin thought to himself.

The fact that you were an actress made sense to him. He always thought that you often spoke as if you were reading a scene.

You looked over at the Catmint plant.

“So just imagine a Venus flytrap,” You paused for dramatic effect, “gone horribly wrong.”

Jimin snorted before falling into laughter, joining your own. Humans were so peculiar in their forms of entertainment.

“It’s just as weird as it sounds.” You laughed.

Jimin liked the way his laugh overlapped with yours. It made him feel less like an outside listener to your stories and more like he was someone you were actually talking to.

“Anyway, Audrey works in a flower shop and I just remembered that one of the fake flowers we used for a prop was this.” You stated, pointing down at the page you were currently open to. “A foxglove!”

Foxgloves were beautiful and Jimin would have them growing in this very park if it weren’t for the fact that both the flowers and berries of the plant were extremely poisonous. They were colorful flowers of purple, pink and cream, but Jimin worried that its beauty would attract the mouths of curious children that visited this park.

“I owe my first kiss to that play, you know.” You revealed shyly. Jimin stared at you, waiting for you to go own.

“Seymour, the main character, and Audrey had to kiss, of course. I got to kiss Kim Seokjin. He was older than me so you can imagine everyone in my grade thought I was as cool as a cucumber.” You sighed dramatically, placing a hand over your chest as if you were swooning.

“I wonder what he’s up to these days.”

Before he could stop himself, Jimin began to wonder what it might be like to kiss someone. Angels weren’t usually one to engage in romantic activities, as it often leads to sins such as Lust. But still, Jimin watched as couples in love strolled down his garden, sometimes interlocking lips, and wondered what it might be like to have someone you cared for kiss you.

He felt himself grow pink in the face at the thought.

“I was so happy back then. I can’t remember the last time I felt that happy.” You smiled, despite the weight of your words. “I’m sure I’ll get to be that happy again once I go home.”

That was something Jimin noticed you did a lot of; smiling. You wore a smile often despite not even having anyone to make you do so. Jimin quite liked your smile, and he hoped his flowers gave you a reason to smile.

But more than your smile, it was your eyes that really piqued Jimin’s interest. He didn’t understand how someone who always smiled had such sad eyes. He could see the grief in them no matter what it was you spoke of and Jimin wondered about it often.

There was something about you Jimin couldn’t quite shake. He found you endlessly interesting and looked forward to what you had to say.

As the days turned into weeks, that interest in you turned into something else.

You continued to show up to the park, nearly every day. That much hadn’t changed. You still spoke to the flowers and read your book. You still spoke in the funny way you did and still yearned to go home.

Rather, it was Jimin who had changed.

He left his house more eagerly and went home more reluctantly. The thought of seeing was you always somewhere in his mind.

He used to watch you speak to the flowers in bewilderment, but now he listened to you readily, growing to look forward to the sound of your voice.

Jimin had grown fond of the way you spoke with your hands. Fond of how you talked to the flowers as if they were people. Fond of the way you spoke of sad things in the loveliest of ways.

Jimin had grown fond of you in more way then he could count. You had rooted yourself deeply into his heart before Jimin had even realized.

The first time he mentioned you to his roommates, he had done so casually, even though his heart was racing as he did so. He didn’t know why it had taken him so long to tell his roommates about you; he had known you for a month already, even though he felt like he had known you your entire life. You were his best-kept secret and as funny as it seemed, even though he was the invisible one, talking about you to the people he cared about made you seem all the more tangible.

It was an awful thing really, for him to grow so fond of you. Jimin pretended not to mind most days, but he would give anything to be able to speak to you.

You spoke words that ran through his very soul while all he could do was sit back and watch you with feelings unheard.

It was as if Jimin and you stood on two different parallel lines, doomed to stand by one another but your lines never meant to touch.

Still, every thought of you brought a smile to his face; Jimin was the happiest he’d ever been and all he wanted was to make you happy too.

Jimin had woken up early one morning and gone to the flower shop. Lately, you seemed more down than you usually were, so he set out to do something special for you.

With a handful of seeds, he made his way onto his park, scanning the area for the perfect location to plant some daffodils.

You spoke of daffodils often, almost as often as you talked about your friend Daisy. You had made your way through the entire book of flowers by now, and you had declared aloud to the entire park that Daffodils were your favorite flowers. There were a fair number of other people in the park at the time, and they all stared at you curiously, but you didn’t seem to mind.

Reaching his destined location, Jimin fell to his knees and placed the seeds on the grass. He placed a palm over them and felt as the earth shifted under his hand, allowing for the seeds to sink in and bury themselves into the dirt.

The cat was here today sitting beside Jimin. Ever since you showed up, the cat began visiting more frequently, clearly quite fond of you as well.

A call for the cat is what informed Jimin of your arrival and he smiled automatically before turning to look at you. You looked tired, as you often did, but the smile on your face didn’t let up.

“I’m so glad you’re here today Kitty! I have big news!” You said once you finally reached Jimin and the cat.

You bent over and sat down with a heavy breath. You were wearing your favorite yellow sweater and Jimin wondered if you were sweating underneath it with the way the sun was beating down today.

Jimin got up suddenly and ran to the shade that the elm tree provided. With a click of his tongue, the cat burst into movement, running over to the tree to meet Jimin. He hoped you would move yourself to the shade.

You made a small noise of disappointment as the cat abandoned you but, ultimately, you followed it and sat underneath the hanging leaves of the tree.

For a moment, the three of you just sat beside one another watching over the park as the children ran around laughing. Even if you weren’t talking, your presence was loud and speaking to Jimin. He hummed in content at being able to enjoy moments like this with you.

“I’m going home.”

Jimin snapped his head over to look at you in alarm. What? You were going home? You were leaving?

Jimin felt his heart sink deep into his stomach and his breathing quicken. No, you couldn’t leave him.

“They say I still have a week or so left in the program but after that, I’m going home.” You smiled.

Jimin leaned himself back onto the thick bark of the tree, bringing his hands to run through his hair in disbelief.

“They’re going to want to monitor me constantly before I go to make sure everything is alright so I think this might be my last visit here, Kitty.”

Jimin’s world was falling apart right in front of him. Even if he hadn’t been rendered speechless, it wasn’t as if there was anything he could say to you.

What was so bad about this town? Why couldn’t you stay? Why did you want to go home so badly?

These were selfish thoughts that Jimin held but his heart ached far too much for him to care.

You turned your head to look at the cat and you surprise Jimin with the tear that rolled down your face.

“I messed up.” You sniffed with a sad smile.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to get attached to this place but I did. To you, the flowers, everything. I’m going to miss you so much.”

You gently picked up the cat, hugging it tightly. The cat let out a sad noise as if knowing what you were saying. You let it back down with a laugh.

“Please don’t leave me,” Jimin whispered to you pathetically, knowing that you would never hear him.

He loved you.

It was impossible and wrong but Jimin had never been surer of anything in his life. He had never spoken a single word to you yet he loved you more than he had ever loved anything in his entire life.

You stood up, smiling down at the cat as you did.

“I’ll try to come back to visit someday. I promise you, I’ll try.”

Jimin thought back to Daisy and how she must have promised you the same thing before failing to do so. God, he didn’t want you to leave.

“I’ve got to go. My mom and them are waiting for me.” She said quietly, shifting from foot to foot.

Jimin watched you walk away and out of his life through blurry eyes. He began to cry, tears running down his face for no other reason than himself, for being foolish enough to fall in love with someone who didn’t even know he existed.

The cat walked over to the weeping angel, nestling itself onto his lap.

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A week had gone by since Jimin last saw you. A kind of soundless numb had taken over him, his life falling apart the moment you stepped out of it. Everything was out of Jimin’s control and he knew better than to mope around and feel sorry for himself. But that didn’t stop him from doing so.

Jimin hadn’t the heart to go back and tend to the park after the first few days of you not being there. He refused to believe that you had just left him as easily as you did.

Your absence was present, however, as the cat once again stopped coming around.

When Jimin finally came back to the park, his heart fell at the sight of the dying grass and withering flowers. He had been so distraught after losing you that he stopped tending to the park, which before you had arrived, was the thing that he loved the most.

He almost turned around and walked back home, but a budding flower of yellow, barely tall enough to poke over the untouched grass, caught his attention.

Amongst a field of dying things, for whatever reason, the daffodils he had planted for you were still alive and growing.

The sight almost sent him into tears, and he decided at that moment that if he was going to do one thing right, it was to help those daffodils grow.

Because maybe you would come back eventually, Jimin didn’t care if it was years later, because if you did, he wanted those daffodils to be the first thing you saw.

Day after day Jimin took care of the daffodils, nurturing them to adulthood. The yellow reminded him of that yellow sweater you liked so much. He clung onto the image of you lying beside him wearing it as days turned into another week.

He worried once if he’d forget the sound of your voice, before dismissing the idea as impossible. He knew the sound of your voice like he knew the sound of birds chirping in the early Spring.

It was now nearly mid-spring and Jimin knew he should be helping the entire park, not just these daffodils.

Maybe he would do so some other day, but as for today, he was content with giving all his love and attention to the yellow flowers. It had been two weeks without you.

Jimin ran a finger down the soft petal of a daffodil, humming in content as he watched the petal’s color grow even more vibrant. Not a day went by that Jimin allowed its color to fade.

Suddenly, Jimin heard a song come from somewhere in his head. Since you left, his mind had been void of all music, so to hear a tune again, even if it was an unfamiliar one, made him feel like he could breathe easier.

He hummed along, for the first time in a long time, welcoming the change.

“Daffodils!”

Jimin froze, unable to move. It almost sounded like...

“Oh, I love daffodils!”

You.

It was you. Your voice was the song that played in his heart and he’d recognized its melody anywhere.

Jimin turned around quickly, just in time to see you run up beside him, falling onto your knees to smell the flowers.

The smile that broke out on Jimin’s face almost hurt his mouth. His heart soared at the sight of you. You came back. You said you would and you did. No change in the weather could ever top the sensation of having you beside him once again.

“Did you plant these?”

What?

“Or did you just stop by like I did to admire them?” You asked.

It was if all the air from Jimin’s lungs had been sucked out, leaving him speechless and unable to move.

You turned your head and stared at him expectantly, awaiting an answer.

Jimin could only stare back at you with eyes as big as saucers. You spoke to him. You were looking right at him.

Oh, God, you could see him.

You let out a noise of sudden realization, “Oh, I’m sorry! I just snuck up on you out of nowhere like some sort of lunatic. Let me introduce myself. I’m Y/N!”

He couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening. Here you were, looking at him, introducing yourself as if your name wasn’t already etched into his very soul.

“What’s your name?” You asked politely, eyeing the silent boy cautiously. Jimin blushed when he realized you were waiting for him to speak to you.

“Jimin.” He squeaked out in a hurry. His voice felt so odd responding to yours.

“Nice to meet you Jimin! I just arrived a couple of days ago. I was on the way to see my new home when I saw the flowers and just had to stop by. I love flowers! I know you didn’t ask me about any of these things but I’ve been told that I tend to overshare, so, oh well!” You rambled. “Are you a flower angel?”

Jimin could only nod in response. Speaking to you felt foreign and strange. He had spent so long just listening that he struggled to find words.

His lack of effort to continue the conversation made you feel slightly awkward so you found yourself letting out a nervous giggle.

Jimin marveled at the sound before shaking his head to focus himself.

“Are you... I mean, how are you?” Jimin asked, clearing his throat. He didn’t understand. You could see him so you couldn't have been human.

You tilted your head to one side, “I’m just a little confused as to how this whole being an angel thing works. Apparently, I have to pick some sort of title? Well, you know that already since you’re a flower angel, obviously. I don't remember anything before arriving here which is weird, but from what I’ve been told that’s kind of how it works, huh?”

Jimin couldn’t help but stare at you. Looking at you felt as natural as breathing to him at this point. You looked different somehow. Maybe it was the way your smile finally met your eyes. Maybe it was the way you breathed easier now. Your cheeks had a reddish hue that you never had before.

“But, I mean, other than all of that, I’m fine and dandy like cotton candy. How are you?”

“I’m good.” Jimin laughed, tears welling in his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. He could’ve sworn he would never hear anyone use the word dandy again.

Your eyes widened in alarm, “Oh no, why are you crying? Did I say something to upset you?”

Jimin looked at your concerned face in awe, still in shock that you were actually here and talking to him.

“Sorry, it’s just nice to have someone to talk to, I guess.” Jimin said, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand.

You gave him a sympathetic look before smiling at him gently, “Well, I’ve been told I do a lot of talking so it must be your lucky day!”

Jimin laughed, sniffling slightly because wasn’t that the truth.

You watched at the way Jimin threw his head back as he laughed, his smile taking over his whole face. You felt your own lips quirk up at the sight, finding his laughter contagious.

Jimin ran a hand through his hair in disbelief. He once thought he was lucky just to be able to sit and listen to you talk to yourself but to have you in front of him, seeing and hearing him, was by far the greatest joy he had ever known.

“So did you plant these daffodils?” You asked once again.

“Yeah.” Jimin nodded, looking down at the flowers he had planted and worked so hard for.

“Daffodils are my favorite flower.” You informed him pleasantly. Jimin opened his mouth to tell you that he knew that but thankfully caught himself just in time. Angels weren’t allowed to know about their past lives, and by technical means, Jimin wasn’t even a part of yours.

“Why are they your favorite?” He replied instead, genuinely curious. He had wanted to ask you the day you announced it but couldn’t for obvious reasons.

You shifted off your knees and onto your behind instead.

“I like what they stand for.”

Jimin thought for a moment before frowning, “Unrequited love?”

Jimin knew for a fact that loving someone who couldn’t love you back was nothing to pine after.

“No, you dork.” You rolled your eyes, laughing.

Jimin faked hurt, “Dork? And here I thought we might be friends.”

You laughed lightly, shoving his shoulder playfully before continuing.

“Daffodils represent a lot of things, unrequited love being one of them, but I meant I liked the fact that they symbolize rebirth.”

Jimin blinked in surprise. He had forgotten.

“You know your flowers, huh?” He mused.

“I must have been some sort of florist or something before I died because there’s more where that came from.” You said with a boastful smirk, pointing to your head.

Jimin could only smile in response, unable to tell you that he watched as you laid down in the grass in this very park, reading through a gardening book you had one day picked up.

Jimin decided to change the subject.

“Well, welcome to the angelic realm and to my park, I guess,” Jimin began with a small chuckle. “I mean, it’s not actually mine, I’m just the only angel who takes care of it.”

“Really?” You widened your eyes in surprise. You looked around at the park as if to take it all in.

Suddenly, Jimin felt himself begin to panic. The grass had dried up in patches; some of the trees had fallen bare despite the fact that it was spring. Not to mention the wilting flowers that surrounded the entire park. Jimin had become so distraught because of what had happened these past two weeks that he had left much of the park untouched. Instead of helping the park bloom and flourish, he only bothered to take care of the very daffodils you were now admiring. If he wasn’t tending to them then he would lay under his favorite tree silently, just listening to whatever noise made its way into his ears, wishing he was listening to your voice.

The cat sometimes came to visit Jimin. It could sense that something was wrong, as animals often do. So instead of its usual resting spot, it opted instead to jump onto Jimin, resting on the sad angel’s chest, rising and falling with every hollow breath Jimin took. It rubbed its face into Jimin’s chest as if trying to heal his broken heart.

“Um– It doesn’t usually look like this! I’ve just been... busy lately. I promise you it’ll look nicer in a week! I don’t want you to think that I don’t take my job seriously, because I do. I’ve worked really hard on this park and I’m usually really dedicated, I’ve just been a little distracted–”

You placed a palm over one of the flustered angel’s hands, which had been fiddling with the another nervously. The small gesture left Jimin at a loss for word. He felt his cheeks turn pink at your touch.

You could see him. You could feel him.

“Jimin, I love it.” You assured him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Jimin felt his heart soar.

“You do?” He asked shyly, feeling himself shaking slightly with your hand still on his.

“Yeah.” You breathed, giving Jimin a gentle smile that took his breath away.

“Feels like home.”

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If you still have questions about soliloquy after reading it, this post might help :) haha Tumblr sucks ass and ruined links so to read the post please go to my masterlist!

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liltcm · 5 years

Text

hylandtask001

lillian christine thomas: sept. 5th, 2019

“Hello, Ms LILLIAN THOMAS. My name is Detective Booth and I’m handling this case. I don’t need to go into details; you know why you’re here, and we already have you down as a suspect in her death. We’ve got witnesses to corroborate and a budding timeline, but we need more information from you directly. Make my day easier and cooperate with me on this, will ya’? I just need you to answer these questions for me. Do me a favor and don’t lie – you’re talking to a trained professional right now, I’ll be able to pick up on certain things whether you realize it or not. Lying will only come back to bite your ass later on. Just some food for thought. Let’s begin.

Lil did not want to talk to these people. She thought about her court hearing with Dominique; a charge for attempted murder only amounting to a shitty ten-day restraining order. She was livid, and didn’t want to cooperate. This was now the third time she’d been in a room like this, and she was getting sick and tired of it. She said nothing to his initial greeting, arms crossed over her chest, clearly irritated that this was happening.

Q: I’m gonna’ start light. I hate interrogators who go straight into the hard stuff, ya’ know? I find it impolite. So, tell me a little about yourself. Give me your full name.

“I’m Lillian Christine Thomas. I go to Hyland University, I’m a dance major and cultural anthropology minor. I work at the library so I don’t have to talk to people, and I’m president of Hyland Dance Alliance.”

Q: Alright. Tell me your date of birth and age.

“October 31st, 1999. I’m twenty going on twenty-one. How old are you?”

He laughed lightly, and she didn’t laugh back. He took that as a cue to continue.

Q: Where did you grow up? What was your home life like? Tell me about your family and your upbringing. Give me your story.

“I lived in Crystal Lake with my mom and dad for a while and then moved here to Chicago when they split. They had split custody so I was always going back and forth. Mom got remarried when I was seven to this Asian lady that I’d thought was my godmother. Life with moms was cool but dad was a little weird to be around; I think he resented my mom and I have her face. I have an older brother Charlie, who was mostly nice to me but still picked on me like a normal older brother. I danced. A lot.”

Q: Tell me about the most impactful people in your life. I’m not picky – they can be good or bad impacts.

“My sophomore year biology teacher pulled me aside to talk to me about how I was doing when I clearly wasn’t doing alright. I wasn’t raising my hand in class anymore even though I clearly loved science, I could hardly stay awake, and I never turned in homework on time. She was the only person to notice or ask me and just didn’t assume I was lazy.”

“Other than that, I would say... my dad. He’s a CEO and is on his second wife since divorcing my mom. We had a falling out when I came out of the closet to him, and things still aren’t fixed. But it’s more complicated than that, now. I think we were closer when I was younger, but age just divides people, I guess. Still, he’s had the most impact on me lately, so.”

Q: What are your goals in life? What would be your ideal final ending? What would help you reach these goals?

“Uh... I guess I just want to dance. If I could dance until I died I would. Like those people in France. They did that, right? The French? Diagnose me with that.”

Q: How would you describe yourself?

“Prickly. Dynamic. Harsh. But reliable, a team player. I’m good at understanding people but don’t have the patience to layer everything I say with bubble-wrap.”

The investigator, Booth, very badly covered a snort. Lil wasn’t trying to hold any barres; fuck these guys. They could interrogate her as much as they wanted and she’d still tell them the same things.

Q: What do you do in your free time? What’s your idea of fun? What sports or extracurriculars are you in at Hyland University?

“I dance in my free time. Dancing is my idea of fun. A good birthday party is my idea of fun. Pokemon. Normal shit. Fuck sports, but I do watch games sometimes to support friends even if I’m bored.”

Q: Do you drink? Smoke? Take drugs of any kind? Answer carefully on this one, kid.

“Do you count Zoloft? Because if you do then we’re probably going to have a problem.”

Q: Tell me about the relationships in your life. Friendships, romantic, everything in between.

“Romantic? None. Friendships... I’ve been friends with Caroline Kinsey since we were just being freed from the duck-foot trap that are diapers. We’re not particularly close but she’s been there long enough that I consider her important.”

“Reid Garwin gets on my nerves but he trusts me enough to have the key to his apartment for some reason and I’m planning on leaving a dog at his place. Is that a crime? Is that reverse stealing?”

Q: What’s the best thing that has ever happened to you? What’s the worst?

“My best moments happen on stage. Every time I can possibly think of I’m surrounded by all of the people that share my passion and support me and move with me.”

The detective seemed warmed by this, which is why she decided to attack him next.

“Both of the worst things that ever happened to me are probably in your fucking case file on me, considering I went to court for both of them. Thanks a whole lot, by the way. Fucking ace detective work, pretending giving someone something they’re allergic to and then literally stabbing them in the chest with an EpiPen isn’t attempted murder or at least assault. How much did Daddy pay you? This department is a little bitch. I bet if Morgan’s parents were paying you that much the case would be “solved” by now.”

His pleasant expression wiped clean off of his face. If he was going to try to incriminate her then she was going to shove blame right back onto him. “That case is closed.” He couldn’t say shit because Lil knew she was right. They both knew. Fucker.

Q: Let me throw in a fun one, lighten up the mood. Would you rather only be able to tell the truth or only be able to lie?

“The truth. Lying is stupid.”

He made a mark with his pen and Lil wondered what it was. The question was stupid, too. “I could’ve guessed that.” He admitted.

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish?

“I don’t see my lawyer around so I elect to say nothing on that.”

Q: Let’s get some background information on this. How do you know Morgan Parrish?

“We had the same freshman seminar class. We hit it off because we both liked to talk shit about people.”

Q: Explain the extent of your relationship with her. Was it platonic? Civil? Rocky? Romantic?

“Rocky and romantic. We dated for a while, but it didn’t always feel like dating. Have you seen those kinky porn videos where people get vibrators tied to them and they just have to sit there and suffer until they cum? That’s how it felt with Morgan, emotionally and physically. Suffering and catharsis until you’re kicking and screaming.”

The detective pulled a face of distaste; obviously, it was too much information but that was honestly how Lil would describe it. “What? Squimish, detective? I would’ve thought you’d heard everything by now.”

Q: In your own words, describe Morgan Parrish to me.

“A self-serving, lying, cheating, manipulative bitch. Do you want me to elaborate?”

Booth inhaled a deep breath, and if this were any other setting Lil would’ve been satisfied that she was aggravating him this much. She must be the most insufferable person he’d ever interrogated.

Q: Would you say your life got better or worse upon meeting Morgan Parrish?

“Sometimes it was worse, sometimes it was better, sometimes it was the same. You’re asking a lot of leading questions. You do realize humans are complex beings with complicated feelings? Or do you treat everyone that walks in here like a lizard person?”

Booth threw his pen onto the table, scrubbing his eyes with his hands and sitting up in his seat, staring at Lil with a stern expression on his face. “Miss Thomas-”

“It’s Lil.”

He ignored her. “Miss Thomas, you do understand that this is a serious investigation and that it would be in your best interest to answer these questions seriously and honestly.”

Lil sat up in her seat, leaning on the table. “What makes you think I’m not being serious? Was it my laughter? Or did my smile give it away?” she hadn’t given even a hint of a smile in three days, much less in this fucking room. “Do you want me to pretend this is a pleasant conversation? I don’t want to talk to you or even fucking look at you. I’m answering your questions. What else do you want?”

“Some respect would be nice.”

“You haven’t earned any.”

They both stared at each other hard. He slouched back into his chair, picking up his pen and fiddling with it before looking back down at his questions.

Q: What was your favorite thing about her?

“She was transparent. She knew who she was and owned up to it. I admired that about her.”

Q: What was your least favorite thing about her?

“She was cruel and mean and only cared about herself. Next?”

Q: Where were you the night of her murder?

“I don’t remember for sure. I want to say at rehearsals? They take attendance if you want to get that deep.”

Q: Where were you the day before?

“To be real with you probably the same place. Or at work or something.”

Q: Where were you after?

“Do you mean when they found her body? I don’t know. I saw it on the news while at school, eating lunch in the union. Needless to say I threw it up.”

Q: How did you feel about her passing?

“At the time I was just scared and freaked out. You don’t expect that kind of stuff to happen to people you know.”

Q: What do you think about the way she died? Just as a refresher, Morgan Parrish was drugged, strangled, beaten, and then shot.

“What do you mean what do I think? Do you want me to give my expert analysis since you guys haven’t had luck finding the killer yet? Either someone’s just demented as all fuck or they really hated her. Maybe both.”

The eye contact was intense but Lil didn’t back down from it. She supposed his approach to her sass was just going to be ignoring it from here on out.

Q: Did you make any sort of tribute to her death and put it on social m-

Lil’s answer would’ve been a huge big fat no, if she’d had time to answer the question, but then someone else was opening the door to the room she was in.

Another interrogator walks into the room. She’s holding a folder with your picture clipped to the front. She opens it in front of Detective Booth and whispers something into his ear. He shoots you a look and then excuses himself from the room. He returns twenty minutes later, features stony. He quickly writes something down on his notepad and then caps the pen.

Lil’s anxiety spiked, even though she knew they were trying to make her nervous on purpose. She’d been through this already, and she knew that she couldn’t slip up, and that she shouldn’t lie. She just hoped she didn’t lie inadvertently.

Q: Change of plans. I’m going to scrap the questions I had prepared and ask you what I see fit. Where were you exactly the night Morgan Parrish died?

“I already told you I was probably at rehearsals. April is when technical rehearsals kick up so I was probably at light tech.”

Q: Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

“Uh. Assuming I’m correct about being at rehearsals, I would’ve been there at around 8pm and would’ve gotten out at around 10pm. Probably went to get food with my roommate really late at a drive-thru.”

Q: Were you intoxicated at any point?

“No.”

Q: Are there any witnesses able to corroborate your story?

“Over ten people, so yeah.”

Q: I feel like you’re leaving things out. Tell me all the details you can remember from that night.

The berating was grating on Lil’s nerves. What did they want from her? A confession? “I woke up at five am to get to work by six, because I always work at six. Worked for a few hours, went to my first class - I don’t remember which class it was so don’t fucking ask, thanks. Then I would’ve gotten food until my next class, and then eaten again and done homework in the library until I had rehearsals. And then you already know the rest.”

Q: … are you telling me the truth, kid? We got six other students we’re talking to today – sure would suck for you if one of ‘em was able to prove that something you’re saying is false.

“You’re asking me questions about something that happened over a year ago. Maybe you should do your job better and get on it faster and then maybe you’d get an exact account. If something I said ends up not being true it’s not because I did anything wrong on purpose. Fuck you.”

He was trying to scare her into saying something and she wasn’t going to have it.

Q: What was the last thing you said to Morgan?

“Probably that I fucking hated her guts. Why?”

Q: Have you ever gotten into a physical altercation with Morgan before?

“Yeah? And?”

Q: Have you ever fought verbally with Morgan?

“What the fuck do you think?”

He cleared his throat, and Lil looked away from him with an eye-roll.

Q: Would you say you felt safe around Morgan?

“No. Fuck Morgan.”

Q: Do you wish you had never met Morgan?

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Q: Do you own a gun?

These were the questions Lil hated. Morgan had been treated horribly before she died, but the nail in the coffin had been a bullet, and Lil had been trying hard not to think about it.

“No.”

Q: Have you handled a gun before?

“Yes.”

Q: Do you know someone who owns a gun?

“Yes.”

Her grandparents owned one and so did her dad. She’d shot before at the lake house, blasting cans off of the dock with her brother.

Q: Have you gotten into physical fights before?

“I know for sure that there’s shit in your file telling you I have so I don’t know why you even have to ask that fucking question but go off I guess.”

She was just tired and she didn’t want to be there anymore. She was ready to go home.

Q: Is there anyone who can prove where you say you were on the night of her death?

“Talk to the chair of the theater and dance office. She keeps attendance records.”

Q: Do you think Morgan deserved to die?

“Not the way she did, no.”

Q: Do you wish she was still alive?

“No.”

Q: Do you miss her?

“Fuck no.”

Q: Has your life gotten better or worse since her death?

“Worse.”

He seemed puzzled by that, but of all the questions he chose not to elaborate on, it was that one. That had been the whole point of contention in her case with Dominique, and here she was a few weeks later doing the same fucking thing. She didn’t know how they hadn’t arrested her already; it’d be easy to pin it on her. It wasn’t like they weren’t dealing out false verdicts anyways.

Q: If you could bring her back to life, would you?

“Hell no. The dead don’t like being brought back to life.”

Q: Are you hiding something from the people of Hyland? From your family? From me?

Lil sneered. “What? Even my brutal honesty isn’t enough for you?”

Q: Have you been telling the truth this entire time?

“To the best of my knowledge. Yes.”

Q: Did you kill Morgan Parrish?

“Ask me that again once I’ve spoken to a lawyer.”

The detective closed his case file, rubbing his temples and looking like Lil had given him a serious migraine. She probably had. “You’re free to go.” He waved her off, clearly exhausted. Lil pushed herself from the chair and said nothing as she left.

#hylandtask #[ lil task. ]

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missmentelle · 6 years

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My brother has depression and (had?) passive suicidal thoughts but he’s also constantly irritable and always angry, really hard to be around and bullying my younger siblings. How can I and my family talk with him about it without triggering something? Should we feel guilty for being mad at him and seeing his constant angry moods as a problem and character flaw? How much of this is part him, part depression, and part “just being a teenager”? Should his depression factor in with forgiving him?

Deciding where a loved one’s mental illness stops and their own shitty choices begin is a really, really difficult thing to do, and there’s no perfect way to do it. As a species, we aren’t very good at figuring out why we do the things we do - it’s possible that not even your brother knows when his actions are driven by depression, and when they’re driven by teenage moodiness or hunger or sleepiness or just because he feels like making other people miserable. Honestly, sometimes it’s going to be all of the above. Trying to pin down one cause of someone’s behaviour is like trying to remove just the egg from a baked chocolate chip cookie - it’s all so blended together, there’s no way to tell. Sometimes mentally ill people really can’t help the way they’re behaving, and sometimes mentally ill people do shitty things on purpose and blame it on their mental illness. It’s naive to claim otherwise. It’s a good idea to keep in mind that your brother is a moody teenager, and that the vast majority of people outgrow their horrid behaviour in their early 20s, but that doesn’t mean you have to automatically forgive him for everything that he does, and it doesn’t mean that his depression isn’t affecting him. Ultimately, you have to use your best judgement and your knowledge of your brother’s character when you’re trying to understand him as a person. You are allowed to be angry with your brother, even if he is depressed and going through a hard time. Your feelings are valid, and you are entitled to have them. You are allowed to be upset when someone makes your life miserable, even if that person is mentally ill or unable to stop themselves. The fact that someone’s crappy behaviour isn’t their fault does not mean that you have to react to it with cheerful tolerance and forgiveness. You’re allowed think that your brother’s behaviour sucks. You are allowed to wish that he would stop being shitty. This is a complicated situation, and it is possible to hold a complex opinion of it. It is completely possible to acknowledge the impact that mental illness is having on your brother and the pain that he’s experiencing, while also being angry with him for the way he is choosing to express that pain. Mentally ill people are not helpless, and they do have autonomy. It is not cruel to be angry with a mentally ill person for their anti-social behaviour, and it is not unreasonable to expect them to find better ways to deal with their emotions that don’t involve hurting people. Your family do not have to be smiling emotional (and physical) punching bags for your brother, just because he is going through some stuff right now. You can set rules and expectations, and put consequences in place when he breaks those rules. If your brother is working with a therapist, doctor or mental health professional, it would be best for your family to collaborate with that person and find some strategies that the family can use to manage your brother’s symptoms and behaviour. No two people are alike - some teenagers with behavioural issues need a firm approach, and respond well to having clear boundaries and consequences in place. Some will crumble or escalate if given a firm hand. Some need a gentle and non-confrontational approach. Some will walk all over you if treated gently. It’s up to your family to see what works best for you. It might also be helpful to read up on teenage mental health, and to talk to other families who are in similar positions to get support and trade tips on what works and what doesn’t work. And ultimately, it’s important to take care of yourself. This is a storm that you’re caught in right now, and no matter how your family chooses to proceed, to some extent you have to just ride it out together. As I mentioned before, the vast majority of teenagers grow out of their mental health issues and behavioural problems, but that takes time. When my youngest brother was in middle and high school, my family went through a lot of the same issues - all of a sudden, he started bullying other kids at school and online, getting into fights, and coming home drunk. He said horrible things to my parents and my other brother and I, and he managed to single-handedly make every family outing miserable. He struggled with depression and anorexia, and nearly failed out of high school. He smashed another kid in the face with his football helmet, told his teacher to fuck off, and walked out in the middle of a final exam. It was a mess. For a long time, I felt like every conversation I had with my parents was about my brother and his horrible behaviour, and what we were going to do about him. But over time, it did get better. Gradually, he grew up and grew out of it. We have a close relationship today, and he’s nothing at all like he used to be - he’s about to graduate from university, he’s in a stable relationship, and he fosters rescue dogs. Five years ago my brother was openly smoking weed in the living room and throwing things at my head, and this year he surprised me with the little rescue dog who’s sitting on my bed beside me right now. It took a long time, and it wasn’t an easy road to get here. I spend a lot of that time leaning on my friends, and getting involved in hobbies that kept me out of the house. But I got through it. And you will too. Best of luck to you all!

#family #depression

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desperate-entwives · 6 years

Text

Razor

Emori appreciation week day one: pre-canon

TW: This contains violence and abuse.

It’s cool in here, but all Emori can think of is desert.

An unendingly raw landscape of yellow and white. The vicious nighttimes and the way the sun burrowed under your skin in the day. It was nothing but aching knees and fine-chiseled deception and fighting over scraps but Baylis told her, at a very young age, that she was a scawager. Just like him. “There’s nothing wrong with being a vulture,” he said to her and she must have been a child, not even a woman yet, angry and violent and confused and unsure.

He looked nothing like the unconscious man on the table.

John is walking towards her. She’s leaning against the railing still, watching people mill around, small and anxious. But they’re moving. They’re walking, aren’t they? They should be grateful.

“They’re setting up,” John says, touching her arm. That darkness in his face is still there. John is a complex machine; some of his darkness is defensive, learned, and some lives in him like a restless child. He has a fascination with winning games, especially if he’s the only one who knows about the victory. “They’re going to start in, uh, an hour.”

“An hour,” Emori echoes. Her voice is flat. The adrenaline, the part she has been playing, the excited desperation in her blood-- it has streamlined into this, this detachment. A kind of floating. A kind of numbness.

He takes her hand in his and squeezes it tight. “Let's walk,” he says. “Get away from all this for a minute.”

She looks up at him. “Okay.”

---

It was ten years ago, maybe twelve. Emori remembers it clearly: the group of people she traveled with, the man who taught her to steal, to lie, to hurt.

“Kill him.”

She looked up at her leader, Baylis, who calmly evaluated the scene before him: the group of other travelers, frikdreina like them, lifeless on the road. There was something inhuman about corpses, something that looked like crumpled scraps of paper.

Their group outmatched this group of strangers, both in numbers and in skill. Even though she was a child, Emori had killed two of them herself. Two kills might guarantee her food that night.

There was one survivor. A little boy around her age, maybe a year or two younger. His face was covered in blood from where he’d taken a hit, but he was still moving, groaning in the sand.

“Kill him,” Baylis told her again. “Put him out of his misery.” He looked at her calmly, and she knew what the look meant: Are you weak, little claw-hand?

She gripped her knife in her bad hand, trying not to tremble. The boy looked up at her, mutated face shadowed in the sunset.

Then he moved.

Swiftly, he grabbed a knife from where it had been dropped on the ground. Emori could have lunged, stabbed him in the heart right then and there, but something stopped her. She took one step back, and he stabbed her in the leg.

She looked down at her calf, which was dark and sticky with blood. The boy gripped the dark red knife; the wound was shallow, but it hurt like hell. Baylis made a sound from in back of her: laughter.

“He stays, since you’re too cowardly to kill him,” he announced. The rest of their group started collecting the belongings of the dead, piling them into their carts. “But he shares your food.”

She turned around to glare at the boy, who bared his teeth at her. There was a sudden blow to the back of her head.

“Start collecting,” Baylis told her, moving past them to the bodies laying in the dust. She rubbed her head, which was throbbing from his blow. “Don’t make me regret feeding you,” he added.

There was a feeling like sickness in her chest, but Emori knew how to ignore it and keep moving. It was what she did every day.

---

They ate birds that night. Desert vultures, charred and stringy. Emori had to share her small portion with the boy.

If she killed him, she reasoned, she wouldn’t have to share anything else with him in the future. I’ll do it tonight, she decided, chewing on the tough meat. The boy was even smaller than her and would be easy to sneak up on when they all slept. She could choke the air out of him, and who would know?

“What’s your name?” she asked, not knowing quite why.

He glared up at her, chewing slowly. He swallowed. “Otan.”

His name came from the same region as hers. “Southern Sangedakru,” she hazarded. “One of the villages by the Trikru border.”

He nodded slowly.

“Me too,” she said. He nodded and looked away. She did the same, watching Baylis and some of their group’s seconds, Philia and Shersh, sort through the day’s loot, their motions dark in the firelight. Philia was a small, sharp knife of a woman. Her mutation weakened her bones, and she made up for her stature in ruthlessness. Shersh was slightly kinder, and quiet-- he was born tongueless.

“That was mine,” Otan said to her, quietly, as Philia unearthed a metal cuff and slipped it on her wrist. It was filthy with dirt, but engraved with small stones that glinted in the firelight. “My nontu left it with me when I was given to the desert.”

“Idiot,” she said, watching her companions. The only family she had. “None of us have nontus anymore.”

---

She didn’t kill him that night. The next night, she reasoned. That’s when she would do it.

---

It was barely the next morning when they were woken with a shrill scream. It seemed to surround the desert, echoing off the cliffs of sand, piercing everything. When Emori opened her eyes, she saw that it was Philia screaming, a weeping nub where her thumb used to be.

The woman had collapsed in the sand, the pale rising sun washing her out, making her seem small. Baylis was standing over her, his knife to her other thumb.

“What are you doing?” Emori cried, sitting up. Philia was often unkind to her, but the sheer pain on the woman’s face was difficult to stomach.

“What do you think, claw-hand?” Baylis asked, focusing on his task. “How many fingers should someone lose for trying to steal from me and run away?”

“I wasn’t, I…I had to go and find my sister,” Philia said weakly, until her voice faded and her body slumped into the sand. She had passed out.

In a moment, the bone was sliced through. Emori made herself watch as the long sleeves of Philia’s garment were stained red, as the blood slipped into the sand around her.

“Remember, my little vulture. This is what happens when I’m betrayed.” Baylis looked at her then and she nodded, trying not to tremble. She had always been afraid of Baylis, ever since he found her and let her live, telling her she was small enough to kill for him without being seen. She knew what he was like, what he could do to people. He’d slashed her in the face once with a knife because of a con she’d ruined for their group the previous year. This shouldn’t be shocking.

She shouldn’t be nauseated.

When she curled into her coat to go back to sleep, she felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder. The boy, Otan.

She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t shrug his hand away either.

---

In the following weeks, Otan proved himself to be nearly as cunning as Emori. He wasn’t as good at fooling travellers as she was, but he was quick with a knife and able to deduce which passersby would have the most tech.

“I’ve traveled with a lot of people,” he explained to Emori once, sharpening a blade for Baylis, who rested while Shersh and Ashing kept watch. Philia had been left for dead weeks ago, that cold, unkind morning. “I would pretend to be deaf and listen as they revealed their secrets.”

“Why didn’t you do that with us?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“You scared me. I thought you were going to kill me sometime, and I forgot to be smart.”

She laughed, reclining in the sand. “I was absolutely going to kill you. Still might.”

He kicked some sand onto her shoes, and she kicked him back. He laughed and dropped his blades, picking up a fistful of sand and pouring it into her hair. She shrieked and did the same, throwing the sand down the back of his shirt and laughing as he started running in a circle, saying, “There was a bug in that sand, Emori, I swear--”

Baylis sat up. They both stilled, and Emori felt the smile fade from her face, falling like a stone into water.

“Come here, claw-hand,” he said, and Emori stepped forward. “What were you supposed to be doing?”

“Sharpening knives with Otan,” she said, quietly.

“Was that what you were doing just now?”

“No,” she said.

“No,” he echoed. He backhanded her in the face so swiftly she didn’t see it coming. Her lip stung, and she tasted blood. Stubbornly, she didn’t cry out.

“Come here, boy,” Baylis said, and Emori cried out “no!” before she could stop herself. The man turned and looked at her coldly, a dark-eyed, predatory bird.

“Then you’ll take his punishment as well,” he said, and struck her face again, harder, and once again. She cried out with the fourth strike, which was a closed-fisted blow that left her eye stinging. It would swell up later-- it usually did.

Baylis then knelt next to her then, taking her face in his hand and forcing her to look him in the eye. “Pain is good,” he said, almost gently. “It’s all life is for people like us. Remember to use it.”

She looked at him, the imposing shadow he cast, even kneeling down, and reminded herself she wouldn’t always be this small. One day she could kill him, and run away, possibly with Otan. She could start her own group in the desert and never have to answer to anyone as cruel as Baylis ever again.

She would be so cruel herself that no one could ever hurt her.

“Don’t worry,” she said, already sharpening herself on the inside. “I will.”

#emori #emori appreciation week #fanfic #memori #emori kom spacekru #hey guess where i jumped off from #gimmie shelter #!#it's like we as a fandom like that episode or something #backstory #abuse tw #abuse #found siblings #ableism #emoriweek2018 #my fic #some memori writing #sorta

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