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itsabouttimex2 · 5 months

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Y’know how reader is stuck as a monkey in the Yan monkiefam posts, what if reader somehow sneaks off the mountain and stumbles upon macaque. Macaque gets a specific vibe from the mysterious monkey, so he takes it as his own. Monkey reader is trying to communicate to macaque on how to transform back, but either due to lack of understanding or macaque not wanting reader to turn back, reader is still a monkey much to their dismay. Meanwhile Monkiefam is panicking and looking everywhere for reader. This could be seen as a part 3 to the Yan monkiefam posts with an added platonic Yan macaque.

How would you write this scenario? Sorry if it’s long, I started rambling a bit lol. I really like your writing and was hoping you would write something similar to this, I love platonic Yan and you stuff really caters to me. Thank you🩷🩷

Monkiefam: Part Three

Sable Savior

(Part Zero) (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

(💜💜Post one-hundred, huh? Feels good to have gotten here! My ask box has been wiped, and is open again! Character x character requests are now allowed! 💜💜)

Monkeys don’t make for good pets. They’re cute, sure. They’re funny and interesting creatures that are worthy of study. But it’s impossible to raise them properly.

And it’s impossible to obtain one ethically.

Either the mothers are shot to death in the wild and the babies are ripped from their still bodies, or they’re kept in horrid conditions and forcibly bred again and again, having their babies torn from them after only a few days or weeks.

All for a cute pet that will be dumped in a few years. Monkeys don’t stay cute, after all. They grow out of the clothes you put them in, grow out of the training you put them through, grow from cute “living dolls” and into wild, fanged animals all their own.

Once they’ve shed their youthful looks and compliant behaviors, the fate of every ‘pet’ monkey is the same- death.

Whether shot or euthanized or dumped far from home and left to starve, monkeys kept in captivity almost always have unhappy endings.

You could be easily mistaken for one of those unfortunate creatures, stuck in a simian form and curled up near the roots of a looming tree.

Even after two full weeks, the transformation you had accidentally locked yourself into remained strong, showing no signs of faltering.

What at first seemed like a potential method of escape had quickly because the thickest chain in your shackle.

Not only was your newfound ‘family’ thrilled to have you as a cuddly little monkey, they seemed even more intent on coddling you.

MK especially adored having a ‘little sibling’ who couldn’t escape his grip. Day in and day out, every minute spent by your side, tending to your needs as a form of stress relief. Whether it was wrestling you into the bathtub or carving up fruit to spoon-feed you, the hero had quickly become a constant smothering presence. He was a fine caretaker, but you would much prefer that he used those skills on anyone else but yourself.

Just barely had he talked himself out of dressing you up, reasoning that you might find fabric uncomfortable over your fluffy white fur.

Not that he allowed you to remove the silk ribbons that his mentor had tied. Those were staying, and MK made sure of it. Every single time you had managed to squirm one free from your body, he just snatched it off the ground and tied it back on.

And, speaking of his mentor-

For all the doting you faced at the hands of MK, Sun Wukong was twice as bad.

Having been the caretaker for thousands of monkeys through the passing of centuries, it seemed that the Great Sage had a knack for pampering the furry darlings- and that translated quite easily to a human being who had accidentally trapped themselves in the form of a cub.

Already you had spent hours upon hours upon his lap, feeling Wukong’s deft fingers comb through your fur in search of debris to remove. Given that you weren’t allowed outside, he rarely found anything more than dust. Still, his intention was more to bond than it was to clean.

For him, the best part was when you'd get so bored that you'd start stroking his fur in turn, picking through it just to pass the time. Even though your heart wasn't really in the action, he was absolutely thrilled to have you acting like a real monkey in some small manner.

The Great Sage was so thrilled, in fact, that he'd barely allow you even a minute alone. And though some of this was justified by your inability to properly function in this new form, it went far beyond the realm of understandable when the king started taking you to bed with him- all under the guise of 'keeping you safe'. You'd rest all through the night tucked into his arms, listening to a powerful beating within the Monkey King’s muscular chest.

Against MK, you were lulled to sleep by a slow throb, finding some gentleness in the steady and low thrum.

Against Wukong, you were cascaded by the furious white-hot pounding of a heart blessed by power almost beyond comprehension.

You’d be lying if you said neither was at least a little comforting to hear as you drifted to a deep, dreamless sleep.

But here and now, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth to be found.

You had finally managed to slip from the clutches of your ‘family’, mustering just enough motor control to clamber up the couch and jump to a window left cracked, slipping under the peering pane and crawling to ‘freedom’.

On unfamiliar and furry legs you had fled, away from a gilded cage and into the beckoning wilderness. Maybe a part of you now longed for the forests, driving you to escape and run free. Perhaps some newfound simian instinct craved a life free from unchanging scenery and sturdy walls.

So away you went, chirping and chittering and calling out to the rising moon as the night grew darker and darker.

And as you raced into those darkening woods, throwing caution to the wind, you also drew further and further away from any semblance of safety.

It hadn’t taken you even twenty minutes to find trouble on the supposedly idyllic mountain.

And now you were here, stuck in a simian form and curled up near the roots of a looming tree.

Not alone, of course.

A troop of monkeys surrounds your quivering form, hissing and snarling at such a strange outsider. The count is easily fifteen to twenty, each one bearing sharp fangs and hunched down in aggressive stances.

You hunker away, pressed to the cold bark with eyes pointed downwards. You don’t dare move or make a sound.

It’s not enough to save you.

The largest member of the pack snarls for just a second, rearing back with his teeth bared. Before you can even flinch, the simian lurches towards you with a splitting howl, powerful jaws snagging the skin of your neck.

The scent of blood fills the air.

As it shrieks through a mouthful of your flesh, the monkey violently slings you back and forth. It beats at your face and neck, hammering your diminutive form with all the strength it can muster. When you dare to try and strike back it throws you to the ground, beating ruthlessly down on your stomach.

It hollers.

The rest of the pack jump into the fray, beating and biting and tearing at fur. Where one shoves, another pulls. Any spot left untouched by one is promptly assaulted by another. Not an inch of you is spared the violent assault, nor is mercy given in regards to your youthful form.

And right as darkness swells in the corners of your vision, the troop freezes.

A barbed lash of black strikes the alpha across the face, leaving a deep and stinging cut where it lands. He howls and shrieks and falls back, shooting off into the jungle and disappearing from sight. From only the trail of blood left in his wake, his troop follows, fearful but still loyal.

“Someone’s had a rough go of it,” says a voice that would be insufferably smug if it hadn’t just saved you from probable death.

Two cold hands wrap around your prone form, prying you from the ground.

The white of your fur has almost entirely disappeared behind a mixture of wet soil and stinking blood, filthy and pungent. The ribbon around your neck has been torn free and left on the ground, lying in tatters.

“You‘re still a little too young to be without your mother, fuzzball. She’s the one who’s supposed to teach you ‘the ways of the wild’, yeah? Where’d she get off to?”

Macaque cradles you close in one of his arms, lightly stroking the underside of your chin with a sharp nail. His touch is surprisingly gentle, far more than you’d expect for a demon. His voice takes a turn for the soft.

“Nah, that’s not it. If you’re this close to another pack without her, then she’s… not around anymore. You probably weren’t raised by her at all, actually.”

His thumb presses against your ragged silk ribbon, toying with the red fabric.

“Must’ve been dumped by some mortal who got sick of taking care of you, huh? Bastards.”

You chitter desperately for his help, hoping that this one might understand even a word you say. But he only gives you a pitying smile, untying the ribbon from your tail and letting it flutter slowly to the ground.

“You never even learned to speak, furball? They must’ve taken you young. Humans always do. Keep you for a few years and dress you up like babies, then throw you out once you’re not cute enough for them anymore.”

Your vocalizations grow more desperate and wild, becoming outright hysterical.

“I know, I know. Hungry, right? Never learned to forage for yourself, or pick for bugs. C’mon, let’s find something to eat- bet I can scrounge us up some peaches, at least. After all…”

Macaque pulls free his tattered scarf, then holds one end of it against your stomach. You can’t so much as chitter before he wraps you head to toe, swaddling your fluffy form tightly. It’s warm, at least, if a bit restrictive.

“Shouldn’t we outcasts stick together?”

And off he goes into the night, far from home and far from safety.

It’s not quite freedom, but you’ll take it.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere MK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #Monkiefam #All that stuff I said about pet monkeys is 100% real by the way

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ataraxiaspainting · 8 months

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Where Did The Years Go?

Yan Scaramouche x GN Reader.

Synopsis: You said you understood him. So why do you plan to leave him too?

Warnings: Yandere themes, manipulation, Scara is in his Kabukimono era, thoughts of murdering the Reader, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 800.

*~*~*~*

Dendrobium could only grow in areas where Celestia is blind. Kabukimono knew that, almost more than he knew anything else. The Dendrobium blooming next to a grave long since abandoned, much like the rest of this island, has no one to watch over it, no one aside from you and him. The seven red flowers sprouting in the tomb were unloved by this world, much like Kabukimono once used to be before he found a home within you, his beloved.

The flower had many names, unlike the unmarked, broken stone that hid some sort of rotting human beneath the soil. The Flower of Poison because of the stamens which are indeed poisonous to mortals unlike himself, intended to keep pests like mice away from the inner parts. The Flower of Death was another ominous title since the flowers are said to bloom only when an Inazuman is said to cross over to the other side after passing on, be it from old age, disease, or some slow and painful death they either did or did not deserve. Sometimes, when you are feeling guilty enough, you visit this grave too, and sit down to meditate, contemplating what your mother is doing in the afterlife if it even existed. Perhaps this was why you were given a Vision, the shade of that of the tea you often brewed for both Kabikumono and yourself, a bright green color that dared not dwindle. The Flower of The Other Shore is also a common label for Dendrobium because when a soul passes the river they are said to be greeted by a field of them. Kabukimono ponders for a moment, leaning down to pick out a petal, playing with it between his thumb and pointer finger, stopping when he hears you call out his name, followed by the slightly loud note of a bell. He leans back down and buries the petal within the soil of the grave, bowing before hurrying off in the direction of your home.

Today’s dinner is a combination of what you both managed to gather. Kabukimono gathered the fish and seaweed, while you cooked the rice from the small field outside your home, along with some Lavender Melon. Your meals are often like this, Kabukimono found out a few days into him becoming a resident here for the time being, that what you ate depended heavily on the weather and the harvest. He promises himself that one day he will treat you to a meal and life so grand that you will never go back to foraging all day to just be barely given enough to scrape by.

Seven months have passed since he first arrived here, according to you. He hopes that this life will continue to get better and that he will be able to give you the life you deserve.

“Kabukimono,” The saying of your name is unusually deflated like it has been the past week or so. “I… have to tell you something, alright?”

“Absolutely! Tell me anything, anything at all.”

What comes out of your mouth is not what he wanted to hear at all. “I… I’m leaving Yashiori Island.”

“...Huh?” He looks down at the small bowls that are in the center of the two of you. His side, as usual, has more food than yours, because you keep saying you cannot bear to see him go hungry. “Why?”

“There is not enough food. Not enough… anything. The thunderstorms are getting much worse too… I can’t live here anymore.”

You think this is the first time you have been scared of Kabukimono, because that new expression he is wearing is utterly terrifying.

“I… I’m sorry, Kabukimono. I’m… leaving for Inazuma City soon.”

He smiles, and in the blink of an eye, he is standing up and then your foreheads are touching, his hands grabbing your shoulders so tightly you could feel them almost dislocate.

“No, you’re not, because that’s awfully selfish of you! My [First] would never do such a thing, right? They wouldn’t leave me alone to starve and cry and be covered in filth.”

Being aware that you are unaware of his non-human nature, yet acknowledging your uncontainable empathy, makes employing this strategy even simpler. It works every time you want to leave.

“Here, you can have my portion for tonight, alright? Just… Just don’t leave me. Please?” After a moment of silence, along with the tears that trickle down your cheeks, he knows he has one, at least for now. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me, [First].”

When you don’t answer again, looking to the side, to the bag of your essentials, Kabukimono wonders if that grave would have enough room for two and not just one.

But he dismisses it because surely, you’ll be with him forever, right?

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lilacxquartz · 11 days

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CHASING HUMANITY • kenjaku x f!reader

ao3 • masterlist • << previous chapter • next chapter >>

summary: upon following his intuition with securing the study, something within him snaps.

warnings: violence, torture, death

Chapter 5. Roses

It felt weird surrendering to the crumbs of humanity that he had offered you, but you also felt like you had no choice in accepting what little he gave you to work with. It wasn’t as though intentionally sought to find comfort in his offered presence, but it was all you had right now.

You felt just a little off from the whole thing though.

The act of him offering you that hug didn’t feel kind; more so a fleeting glimpse into fabricated comfort, maybe even manipulated to mould you into being someone you weren’t quite ready to be.

The fact that this oddity of a person—this killer—that you teamed up with on a whim was more capable of care than your (former? ex?) boyfriend was a telling sign that you were unfortunately fully, well and truly messed up, perhaps even beyond repair.

For that reason, you didn’t care how fake it all might have been, because for once, you felt validated; you felt seen and you weren’t about to let any of that go.

Maybe that’s all you ever needed to begin with.

Someone to enable you.

You did as he told when you finally managed to pry away from him, returning yourself to the self assigned space that you had claimed as your own. Suddenly, the act of texting the latest ‘study’ felt like torture; so dry and tedious. The comfort that you found from the man from the ramen joint was now long gone, torn and placed into the hands of a murderer instead.

This was technically what you wanted all along, though. From the very moment you offered yourself as some sort of spontaneous dedicated tag-along fan of a man who could have been the definition of evil itself. For someone to look at you and at least pretend to care.

How pathetic were you though, to be so starved of something so terribly mundane.

A part of you twisted your own thoughts on the matter, telling yourself deep down that he did so out of a place of care because he wouldn’t have bothered otherwise.

You sighed as you flattened your back up against the knobbly headboard, feeling the ridges twist against your spine. The cold glow of the phone screen only marginally kept your attention as you texted someone that you no longer wanted to bother with.

Flicking your sights over to Kenjaku, you could see that he was in no different of a place than you either; half sprawled out and staring with a slightly covered hand at the dim hotel lighting that painted the room an almost sickly beige.

You wondered what he was thinking about when he subjected himself to quiet moments like those.

The phone buzzed again, slightly jolting you and tearing your sights away from the guy and back to your point of disinterest, where you were condemned to feed more and more into someone’s own falsely prescribed impressions of what this whole exchange truly was.

You felt bad, you really did. At least partially. It was different when you didn’t know their names. The guy slipped it to you when he inputted his digits into your phone when you were collecting his number, but you changed his contact to just ‘two’ because that’s who he was to you; a statistic for your own indirect kill count.

Your own hands might not have been as copper tinged as Kenjaku’s, but they were just barely faintly tinged with the beginnings of something similar. Just how long was it before your dubious involvement in stealing lives would be held hostage by an eventual iron grip? You could feel it after all, the pull that beckoned to you, perhaps similar to his own; to find your own meaning in this broken world?

Were you as doomed as he was?

You sighed, remembering the objective. You were easily distracted when faced with something you didn’t want to do even if it would mean that in doing so, it would result in a desired consequence.

(Praise. Validation. Acknowledgement.)

…Was that fucked up?

You shrugged as you blankly sent a reply, considering it. It probably was, but you were starting to care less and less. Maybe that’s just how it was destined to go.

The first fate you sealed was the undoing of your state of mind.

The second fate sealed would be when you can finally start letting go.

The third…?

That’s for you to find out in the future, you guessed.

Texting out a couple of words, you gambled just how comfortable the noodle shop man was.

[I’m back on the road in a couple of days, would you like to come hang out at my hotel maybe?]

A response soon vibrated in your hand.

[I’d love to! What time?]

His enthusiasm was already putting you off, at least by a small fraction. In a way, you did have that hint of creeping morality leftover. You considered telling him to just ignore you, that this was all some sort of sick joke, to please not come over, but… you didn’t.

[Whenever you can over the evening, I’ll be around.]

You hit send and quickly arranged the remainder of the details before putting the phone on the nightstand table to conclude that entire interaction. You then leaned forward, poking your head around the corner to inspect the odd guy, feeling unsure as to how to effectively communicate with him.

Resigning to a nudge of his shoulder, you stared down at him. “It’s fine. He’ll be here tomorrow and you can do… whatever it is that you have to do.”

Kenjaku stretched and sat upright, seeming to regard you in an unreadable way. He was quite particular when he didn’t properly understand something, or in this case, someone. Something about your body language seemed strange to him but he couldn’t tell what it was about you exactly triggering that sort of feeling.

“What’s bothering you?” he bluntly asked, hoping to extract some information from you. He had a penchant for social engineering, after all, and you were his biggest mystery yet. He wanted to understand more of your moods because that would make you a lot easier to both keep up as well as work with.

“Nothing,” you however replied, not seeing the issue that he diagnosed you with.

Tilting his head to the side, he attempted to brainstorm the subject anyway. “Does meeting with the man bother you?”

“It doesn’t really,” you continued to deny, feeling slightly resigned when you saw a determined glint in his eyes from attempting to dissect what was going on in your mind.

You just wanted for this phase to come to an end, but you weren’t sure how to describe it to him, hence you were being vague.

After this, you would slowly crack beneath your barely contained surface and only then would you be able to warm up again, to say those silly things that drew him in to begin with.

Yet, his persistence with seeing something more than you let on was relentless. He pursed his lips as he considered the next cause of blame for your indifference, asking his next question, “Do you think he’s a good person? Perhaps you’re having… second thoughts?”

“It’s not that,” you replied with a slightly annoyed tone that he mistook for hitting a nerve.

“Then what?” he asked you with a slight scoff, leaning back into the sofa as you also sat down on it.

You sighed. Fine. You’ll give him one little glimpse into your mind if you have to. You’ll bring up one little shred of your worries, already regretting forming the concern in your mind because you just knew that he was going to over analyse the hell out of it.

With a heavy sigh, you opened up slightly. “I just… I just don’t like manipulating people.”

“Oh? And yet you’re here with me,” he observed, finding your concerns to be slightly amusing.

“I’m not the one manipulating you, though,” you replied with some confusion evident in your tone.

Kenjaku could only shrug, his lips curling into a twitching smile. “Perhaps not. It’s not like you convinced me to spare your life or anything, but I suppose you're right, it’s more of the other way around, isn’t it?”

“You’re not manipulating me either,” you scoffed.

He hummed and his smile widened into something that resembled more of a smirk. “Aren’t I, though? I’m having you do a good portion of my dirty work, so in some ways I am. All so that you can feel something, right? You really don’t think that I haven’t noticed just how needy you were earlier on?”

“Hey, that’s different—“ you attempted to defend yourself, finding that your attempts to do so were promptly cut off.

“—ah, ah,” he interjected, reeling you forward with the pull of his arm, “you’re a willing participant in all of this, [name]. You want something out of what I can offer you and you’re acting a certain way to get it. That’s manipulation. If you’re denying it so defensively, then you’re likely just projecting, aren’t you?”

You scoffed and tried to pull away from him, finding that it made his hold around you only tighter.

“That’s not true,” you said, finally pushing back and escaping his grasp. “What on earth could I possibly be projecting?”

He let his arm sag and leaned forward, shrugging with a nonchalant expression. The accusatory tone you retailiated with was now boring, he thought, so maybe it was time to tone it down a little to get you right where he wanted. “You’re not broken enough yet, but you’re getting there. You used to have a kind heard in there, I bet, that’s why you’re probably seeing yourself in the victims and feeling sorry for them because they’re placing themselves into a situation that they didn’t anticipate.”

Confused, you questioned him, “What?”

“That’s what your relationship was, right?” he continued. “You were trapped in something unfortunate and then you came across me. Now look at you. Hopelessly searching for something in between the lines that might not even be there. But it’s a nice lie to believe, isn’t it?”

“What’s your point?” you warily asked.

“My point is that you’re not manipulating anyone,” he sat back again, widening his legs a little as he relaxed. “Everyone seeks something out and finds meaning where there is none. The ramen shop guy thinks that he has a chance as much as you do, with the only difference being that you can live out your delusions while he won’t.”

You sighed, finally understanding him. It felt a bit humiliating for him to highlight your desperation to feel something other than emotional abuse that was otherwise carried out daily when you stayed behind at home. Whether or not this was any different, you could at least pretend that it was. At least sometimes.

“Your silence speaks volumes, you know,” he added, “but that’s alright. I don’t have a problem with playing the part you want me to as long as you can play yours too.”

“But why are you enabling this…?”

“Because it’s interesting to me,” Kenjaku admitted. “It’s like a study that I can’t quite get enough of; my biggest mystery yet. But don’t worry, unlike with the others, I don’t have plans to let you go. At least not yet.”

“So, I’m just supposed to play along with luring people in?” you asked in a resigned tone.

“A sailor who answers a siren’s call is neither at fault nor is she,” he replied.

“What are you, eighty? Who talks in idioms nowadays…” you tried to shoot back in a joking way, both to cope with the situation at hand as well as to try and get him off your back with the way he was speaking to you.

He rolled his eyes in response. “Let me rephrase everything for you. You’re not manipulating. You’re surviving. Those who follow shouldn’t be so trusting.”

“Are you really trying to manipulate me about the subject of manipulation?” you asked.

He scoffed lightly, getting the sentiment. He even smiled.

“It’s about me taking on the blame for the guilt you feel,” he corrected you. “Just, listen. Don’t shut me out. You’ll help me and I’ll help you because we have a mutual agreement that can benefit us both. But I do need your compliance.”

“Well, you’ve got it…” you mumbled.

“Then that’s really quite excellent,” he replied, relaxing into the sofa even more. “Now, was there anything else?”

You thought about it for a moment but there was truly nothing else on your mind. It wasn’t as though you felt fulfilled from the conversation you had with him, but was surprisingly not that annoying to talk to as you had initially thought which was a step above the situation you were in before.

Which really said something about your life.

As a result, you shook your head.

“Then go rest or go for a walk if you’d like,” he dared to offer, thinking that there couldn’t have been a worse person in this sleepy town than him so therefore it was safe. He had some trust in you that if you got a similar feel from a stranger, that you wouldn’t try to tag along with them either. He was self aware, after all. He could entertain interesting people, but a lot of other people who wanted to hurt others didn’t really have such intricate reasons.

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

“Call it an exercise of trust,” he added with a smile.

“You really trust me with walking considering that’s what got me into this whole mess to begin with?” you challenged back.

Kenjaku simply just shrugged. “That’s irrelevant, [name]. You come from a relationship that didn’t any stability or care and you ran away as a result. That’s how you ended up in this whole mess, not the other way around. Had you been in something that actually had a solid foundation and maybe not abusive, then you wouldn’t have been out all alone on a dark rainy night looking for trouble. You won’t run or try to test your fate against any other strange people because like it or not, you’ve found yourself in a better predicament than you were in before.”

You took one good look at him and huffed, refusing to admit that he was right to his face.

And he didn’t follow.

Just as he promised.

Because he knew you’d be back.

~~~

You returned at some point during the night, or rather closer to the morning. He wanted you to be wide awake by the evening, so he allowed you to sleep in. While you were out cold, he shopped for another outfit for you.

Considering the man’s type, he observed that he was into women who were comfortable in their own skin. So maybe nothing too revealing. He had a thought that you would refuse to wear anything too suggestive out of spite anyway, so that plan was scrapped in his head before it reached the surface.

Outfits were a relatively powerful component, he supposed. He was very certain that this man would show up with flowers of some sort and assume that this must have been some sort of date.

That led him to the confusion that slightly simmered away in his mind with one simple question; what on earth did the noodle shop guy see him as?

A friend? A relative? Perhaps the age gap was a blessing, he considered, because the man was still confident enough to meet with you despite the male company you had.

He looked at your phone that you left behind, thinking that you did perfectly well. You gave him an address, a time and even used emoji hearts to see the messages through.

How… endearing?

But he also did suppose that your words didn’t quite match your style, at least from what he could understand about you. He glossed over the perfectly intact grammar and over enthusiasm to match the man’s and he grimaced slightly, thinking you were more of the type to be facetious during your usual exchanges. If this much was forced, then your interest likely never existed in the first place, so maybe there was no reason for him to feel weird to begin with.

He sighed to himself, thinking back to the brief feeling of arousal that he experienced within your company after that news highlight.

For some reason, the idea made him feel uneasy. It was weird though, considering what type of person he was, but the idea of forcing himself onto you didn’t feel right. It left a sour taste on his tongue, so he didn’t press the thought any further. He would continue to manipulate you in other ways, but he did have a strong feeling that you weren’t actually looking for something sexual.

Maybe… emotional?

Cold showers it was then, at least for now.

If it was meant to be, then he would wait for an opening.

Pocketing your phone just for the sake of it, intending to push the conversation towards a direction he wanted in particular if the man decided to text you at any time, he set out for the town square to find a clothing store.

Once there, he skimmed the racks until he found a semi modest dress. He also found more clothes that could suit you and your new identity, so he added that to the pile as well. After all, he had to start you off from fresh, which meant leaving behind your old life and not leave behind a trail of sloppy evidence on your own end.

He also stopped to pick up a few quick bites to eat at a local supermarket, tutting at the lack of selection. He picked up whatever would put enough energy into the two of you and then headed home with his hands full and returned just in time to watch you stretch awake.

It was only two in the afternoon, which was decent enough he supposed. You went to bed at five in the morning though, so he thought you’d be out for much more, but he wasn’t about to argue with you about how your own body operated. In comparison, he was a light sleeper, so he wasn’t one to talk either.

Kenjaku threw you a packaged sandwich, watching you with some amusement as you started to dig in without questioning it from the second your eyes opened. It was a little concerning actually how you just blindly ate whatever he presented to you and maybe one day, he would have to scold you out of that habit. He could even be cruel about it, since his impulsive thoughts were very rarely contained.

Had they been better managed, then he would still be working his ass off at the hospital. It was only because he finally slipped that he… nevermind.

You were done eating, so it was the next phase of the plan. He threw you the dress.

“Change into this, will you?” he requested.

You simply gave it one look and nodded, walking off to the bathroom to get changed. He let you go, of course, not quite caring where you demanded privacy and where you didn’t. Although, he did for once wonder more about your body, imagining just how you really looked underneath those clothes, feeling that faint hint of arousal poking underneath his trousers once again.

Slightly widening his eyes, he reached for the monk robes and donned them in a near instant, thankful for the flowing material to hide the annoying consequences of his own damned biology.

He then sat you on the sofa the second you emerged again, his movements a little strained. While everything was hidden, moving around with the thing was a little painful.

“Is there a chance that this man thinks this is a date?” he asked, trying to resist the urge to ogle you.

You considered it, seemingly oblivious to his glaring. “I think so…? He asked me for my favourite flower in the shop, so he might have taken it seriously when I shot him the hangout request.”

“…And what was your answer for that one?” he asked.

“African daisies,” you calmly replied.

“Yeah, I highly doubt that there’s a place here that carries such a thing,” he lightly laughed, but also mentally logged the answer somewhere permanent in the back of his mind. “He’ll show up with pink roses.”

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Red would be too serious and romantic, this guy has too low self esteem for that,” he shrugged, seeming to be an expert on the matter, “he would still want to impress though, since he strikes me as a people pleaser so he’d go for roses because they’re a bit pricier than the other flowers. Pink is good as an in-between option.”

You quietly nodded as you considered his words, thinking about just how much he’s capable of speaking if you gave him the opportunity to do so. Maybe he was right about most things, but the way he spoke still was slightly off putting.

Kenjaku in turn also watched you go quiet, trying to get a good read on you. For now, he was misinterpreting it as you being conflicted with sympathy in regards to the noodle shop man, because he was still under the impression that it was some sort of internal moral battle for you. This led him to feel off again about the whole situation, finding that he didn’t quite like how you were likely thinking about the man and his feelings.

How kind of you.

He hated it.

Pressing on, he informed you more about the way you should be acting and the way you should try to drop down this guy’s guard until he was both comfortable enough and even trusting in your company.

If the process of the ‘study’ was what really bothered you, he would give you an opportunity to go for a walk again or just stash you in the bathroom as he got to work on the guy. He wasn’t totally clueless, after all, he knew what he was doing to people was an atrocity and you were still very new to his way of life and given your background in comparison to his own, you were likely not so used to seeing people in distress.

In a way, he was especially excited to tear away this man from you and remove him from the space where he settled in your mind (even though you were no longer thinking about him). He was almost vibrating at the thought of it, feeling elated from the consideration alone. Not to worry for you, he would offer you the comfort that he promised; a small price to pay, he thought, for erasing the existence of someone unworthy.

And come the evening, the door knocked at last.

Kenjaku watched as you opened it, overseeing the situation from afar and trusting you to hold up your side of the plan. The man didn’t seem to mind him being there, even if there was a slight flicker of uncertainty when the two of them briefly locked eyes together.

Maybe the fact that he was now wearing the monk robes was actually a good thing, if he had to read more into it. Perhaps this man thought that he was celibate or something similar, because what else could a monk possibly be?

He internally stirred as he looked away for a moment, biting back a sarcastic comment as he did so. The awkward dance of a hug that you didn’t really want to reciprocate from what it looked like was too painful to witness.

He looked again towards your direction.

You were now holding a bouquet of pink flowers.

He was right.

That aside and more onto the task at hand, he speculated that the man perhaps found his own meaning in you, which meant that he had to tear you away in order to drive an educational response from the guy. Killing you wasn’t an option, so he had to research him in a different kind of way. This man obviously thrived on optimism and delicately assigned hope without the confirmation that it was being given to him, so perhaps he could take it away by simply just being warmer to you.

Nothing forced of course, he already knew that you were dealing with some feelings to do with him, so he could just play that into his own advantage.

The guy was insecure, after all. His body language suggested that he was nervous and was very likely overthinking every single little action you gave him. If Kenjaku showed up and started to get close with you in a way that went beyond just being friendly, then that would be one way to get him to crumble mentally.

He seldom got to dissect people’s minds as he was more hands on and practical when it came to his own approach. Maybe having you around for that trust factor was more beneficial than it was an obstacle. After all, it was only thanks to you that the hitchhiker from days before even went that far along with his otherwise sketchy plans.

Oh, he could do it tauntingly too. He could deny anything of the sort if the man would start to get suspicious; claim to just be your very good friend and call him out on why he’s so focused on where his hands are going or why he’s thinking such thoughts to begin with.

What a great idea, he thought.

He swooped in from the second that he settled on such an idea, joining you at the table within a flash. It took everything he had not to let his sarcastic personality take over though, idly listening to the forced laughter and watching as you dryly entertained the guy.

But then the man complimented you in a way that you liked and he had to watch as your eyes ever so slightly lit up, smiling with both your heart and your soul.

There was that ugly feeling again.

Snaking an arm around your side, he moved in just a little closer to you, finding it utterly entertaining when the guy stopped mid sentence to nervously gulp and stare at what exactly was going on.

You didn’t move away either, which likely only fed into the guy’s worries further.

You continued on as usual, listening to the guy as he spoke but his demeanour now seemed a little deflated and not as confident as before; his voice shook at times, his words stuttered and he no longer made as much eye contact. The light in his eyes no longer twinkled, instead dulled at the prospect of reeking uncertainty.

His cause of being was no longer true as he was forced to endure an unspoken betrayal for something that you didn’t even have to accomplish at your own hand.

Insecurity was a bitch, after all.

Kenjaku crept a little closer so that you could now pick up on what he was trying to do. His shoulder rubbed against yours and his cheek leaned against your arm.

It was so suggestive that the man could no longer hold in his suspicions.

“Are you two together?” he blurred out. There it was. A voice that was both fearful and assuming; so self accusatory as he wondered if he was treading on spoken for grounds.

Kenjaku hummed and smiled at the man. “No. we’re just friends.”

The man didn’t buy it, of course. The seed of doubt had already been planted and the uncertainty was quickly blooming but then when you didn’t deny his words, he started to regain his composure once more.

How fucking peculiar.

Did he really think that he was so much better than him, or what?

Now that was a thought, because he absolutely wasn’t. What a spin. Kenjaku lightly scoffed, unable to hide how he felt about the guy’s persistence. His own pride was truly being threatened because it wasn’t playing out how he envisioned it in his head, but then again, such imagines seldom did. Just like the librarian who reacted in a way that he didn’t truly care for.

Kenjaku leaned back slightly as the man continued to regard you with awe, watching as you spoke about your varying hobbies and interests, attempting to relate to you in a way that seemed acceptable. You weren’t truly buying this, were you?

“You’re staring a bit too much,” Kenjaku piped up at last, letting the jealousy show. You didn’t react and he thought it was odd, but then again, maybe you just thought that this was all part of the act.

The man wavered. “I-I am…?”

He nodded his head, feeling the annoyance rise. “Too much eye contact is a bit off putting, don’t you think?”

He watched as the man’s gaze flicked down to your chest in a quick attempt to look away, prompting a snort out of Kenjaku when he messed that one up.

“I’m sorry, I’m not too good with people—“

“—you’re doing fine,” you replied however, stifling his worry and playing your part perfectly well.

Kenjaku however didn’t like something about the way that the man continued to look at you with that persistent unblinking gaze.

“You’re staring again,” he was quick to remind the man of his behaviour, his voice carrying a hint of venom as he finally surrendered to a taunt.

Finally, the man’s demeanour crumbled a little more.

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” he finally protested.

However, rather than whittling the guy down slowly and focusing on a psychological route, Kenjaku couldn’t quite resist anymore. Without really thinking about it, he got up and walked himself over to where the man sat and slammed his head straight into the table, rendering yet another soul briefly unconscious.

He then dragged him over to the bed and stared at him, snapping his sights over back to you. He considered letting you go on a walk or hide away in the bathroom, but no, something else was going on within him and he needed you to watch him perform.

Using a knife that he kept in his pocket, Kenjaku cut at the man’s achilles tendon prompting a guttural cry from him. Moving quickly, he quickly stifled it with a pillow rammed into his face, something that he growled at you to hold in place. “Keep him quiet.”

Without protest, you obeyed. You didn’t complain nor did you question what he was doing and just did as he said. How peculiar again, he thought. What a strange thing you truly were.

Kenjaku’s eyes scanned around the hotel room, noticing a bottle of half empty hand sanitiser resting atop the desk. He stepped back and swirled it around in his hand, placing it on the nightstand table for now as a plan formed in his mind.

Reaching for a sock off the floor, he stuffed it into the man’s mouth that he kept secure with a belt tied around his open maw to further silence him.

“Keep him steady,” he murmured.

You could only nod and obey.

“Since you like staring so much,” he muttered off to himself, rambling in what seemed to be a crazed slurry of incoherent feverish thoughts, he considered just what to do exactly.

Dipping briefly into the bathroom, he pulled out a first aid kit from the mirror cabinet that he had stashed away. Extracting some medical scissors from the box, he had an idea to really emphasise the point of staring as he returned back to the scene.

While the man was still relatively out of it from the probable concussion that was forming from his slightly bleeding forehead, he kept the man’s eyes just barely open and snipped away at the eyelids. Bothersome things, really. His arms convulsed as he worked and his legs thrashed. Luckily, the sock did a good job at keeping his screams contained for the most part, at least.

You looked uneasy as you stared. For now, he allowed you to look away from such horrors. “Close your eyes if you want.”

Compliant as you were, you did as you were told, even if it was more of a suggestion than an order.

Snipping away at the remaining tissue, he carefully carried over to the next eye, wiping the blood off the blade on the man’s cheek. He watched blankly as his sockets attempted to close again and again, but of course, they couldn’t. His eyeballs rolled around in their holes, wide, erratic and bloodshot as the man desperately searched for answers.

Staring at the convulsing spheres, he found another annoyance. He wanted for them to stay in place and so, digging into the kit, he pulled out two safety pins. Propping one open, he pricked the needle in and pierced the matter, finding that the prick melted into the flesh like soft jelly. For some reason, he expected a popping sound, but found that eyes were rather soft when being poked around.

To his delight, it all stayed in place.

A shame that he had to go this far though; if only bodies weren’t so pesky with their involuntary reactions.

Next came the fun part: he unscrewed the lid of the bottle and discarded the pump, tilting it just enough to slowly trickle the hand sanitiser into the iris of the horrified man. His eyes were forced to watch as the burning liquid fully submerged in his socket, all as Kenjaku watched in continued delight as the crescendo finally reached and the sounds of true pain were finally met.

It was never screaming if it was real pain.

It was something much more raw.

You could hear them too, your eyes were screwed desperately shut in an attempt to block it all out.

Kenjaku however shrugged at your reaction, continuing onwards. He watched with deep set fascination as the man slowly lost his vision in the most brutal way, finding him rather boring once he no longer flinched at whatever sharp object he drew close to his eyes. So be it, he thought. That was that. The fun was over, and now it was time for him to be discarded and thrown away, like a broken toy that he no longer had any use for.

Taking out his pocket knife; he swiftly traced out a scarlet line as he tore open the man’s throat, gutting the man from his stomach and then moving the blade down his arms and legs.

He took one glimpse at you; finding that your eyes were finally open and yet, only seeing indifference in your glare.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe you were broken at last.

Goodbye to that once kind heart, you didn’t need it.

Since the checkout wasn’t until tomorrow, he was comfortable with leaving the hotel room overnight after otherwise brushing it clean of any evidence left behind that would give either one of you away too quick, too soon.

But first, just as he promised you, he would tend to you.

Since because of you, he accomplished one of his most satisfying kills yet.

And that much deserved praise.

~~~

tag list: @cloudybunns @ahoeindeedinneed @angis-filthy-corner

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

Hold onto me

a/n I think someone suggested something along the lines but tumblr deleted the ask and now last night it hit me again.

summery: You're not really Joel's girl. Or are you? When Joel gets stabbed and the journey to get Ellie to the fireflies takes an unwanted turn. Will you survive to see another day after David gets a hold of you.

warnings: my lack of skills in writing, blood, shot wounds, choking, death, guns, violence, David is a warning himself, sexual assault.

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Heavy. The past couple of days have left you feeling heavy. Nothing made sense. No matter what you did, you simply couldn't find any sort of comfort. The panic still lingered. The light ink of blood—Joel's blood—still coated your palms. As if it had seeped deep within you. As if it had become a part of you. And it had, in a way. Making you restless at night. Jumping up from nightmare after nightmare. A finger pressed onto Joel's pulse point, counting the beats anxiously.

What idiot pulls a knife out of a stab wound? Even amid fear, you couldn't wait for Joel to be able to stay conscious long enough so you could lecture him. Under what rock has he been raised? Neglecting the most basic rule of survival. But then again, he wouldn't care for your opinion. He never did. Maybe because his ego was really big. Or maybe because you were simply no one to him.

Ever since you joined them, Joel has mostly been cold. Sure, occasionally your heart would flutter when he would shrug off his jacket and throw it your way. Or handed you a cup of coffee. Pulled a blanket more over your shoulders when he thought that you were asleep. Or left bits of his food for you to finish when he saw you swaying slightly. Other than that, you were always welcomed with a calculated look. A look that you couldn't read, yet you knew that it didn't carry any real care in it. As if he was waiting for you to mess up so he could finally get rid of you.

You all met in Jackson. Tommy had told you many stories about his older brother. You had been tasked with gathering information about him on your own. But none of the trips had been particularly successful until Joel Miller himself came through the gates of Jackson. "You didn't do him justice, Tommy", you had laughed as the four of them sat down in the food court. "He ain't all old and cranky". The girl beside him, who you later learned was Ellie, had snorted. "He's the definition of cranky", she muttered, earning a frown from Joel.

"Do you think it's getting better?", you looked down instantly. Ellie was rubbing her eyes, still leaning against your side. You pulled the dusty blanket even tighter around her. "His fever is going down", you muttered, rubbing her shoulders in hopes of providing some more warmth. "Does it mean he's dying?", Ellie had been worried sick ever since. She had gone into shock after it all happened. Just sat in the corner. Barely blinking. Then the guilt came. Then tears. Besides fetching snow to break the fever that Joel had, you held her in your arms. Offering her the last and only thing you had — comfort.

"No, Ellie, it doesn't", placing a kiss on her forehead, you rested your cheek on her head with a deep sigh. "I'll go hunt us something to eat and…", you stated firmly, but Ellie cut in almost immediately, "I can go as well. The chances of us getting something if we both go are higher". The girl pulled away from your embrace and now looked straight into your eyes. "I ain't letting you go anywhere alone, especially with a gun", you said, shaking your head. Joel would never agree to that, and you wouldn't either. You were in a bad enough situation. It didn't need to get any worse.

"So we starve…", Ellie said dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. "Are you questioning my hunting skills?", you placed your hand on your chest playfully, pulling the most hurt expression you could manage. It did make Ellie crack a smile for a moment, but her face fell again. "I just want to help somehow", she mumbled. And you knew how she felt. She had been blaming herself for what had happened to Joel. She had been letting the weight of his limp body drag her down. You knew you couldn't do anything about it. She needed Joel's reassurance. Nothing else was going to cut it. "Fine, but you shoot anyone who comes near you", you said, pointing your finger at her. Ellie only nodded.

Joel let out a pained growl, and you instantly looked his way. Ellie had already rushed to the back room to look at the guns, leaving you two alone. "Hey, cowboy", you purred, reaching to change the warm cloth from Joel's forehead. "Don't let her", Joel snarled through gritted teeth. "Unfortunately, you are no longer in charge. Focus on recovering", you tapped his shoulder with a smirk, but he grabbed your wrist instantly, even if it caused it immense pain. "If something happens…", the look on his face said it all. You nodded. "I know you'll skin me alive, Miller. My hearing is perfectly fine".

With two rabbits by your side, you let yourself sit in the snow for a moment. Head in your hands. You hoped. Hoped you all were going to pull through. That you were strong enough to hold the front line until Joel was strong enough to fully boss you around. The truth was, you were mortified. Had been for a while, and then Joel came into your life with his broody attitude, and all of a sudden you felt the safest you've ever been. Even if you just sat in silence. Even if he was annoyed. There was always comfort in his presence. A safety blanket that you naively believed was unbreakable. Until this. And now you were back to being scared.

"Where have you been?", you said angrily, once Ellie walked into the basement. You had been pacing the place for at least an hour. She hadn't returned to your meeting spot. "I got this", Ellie said, pulling out a bundle in her hands. "What, Ellie? Where did you get those?", your body froze at the sight of medicine and a needle. No. No one had access to stuff like that, and if they did, the price for it would be astronomical. "Ellie?", you asked her again in a much sharper tone. "Some man… well, there were two of them", she muttered. "Ellie", you nearly cried out. Guts turned instantly with a sickening feeling.

"They live nearby", your head immediately jerked up to the door at the top of the stairs. "Did they follow you?", you asked as the anxiety started to creep in. "No, I don't know…", now even Ellie's voice trembled slightly as she too looked up. Your lips thinned. Sure, if they didn't follow her, then maybe it was nothing, but there was just that something, that inkling, that told you that something was not right here.

"Right, let's just be grateful then", you said, shaking your head, reaching for the bundle as you stepped closer to Joel, who stirred, opening his eyes just as you fell to your knees beside him. "Wait", Ellie caught your wrist right as you were about to stab the needle through Joel's skin. "I just… Will this hurt him?", her big, scarred eyes meet yours. "Not more than he already is. This will kill down the inflammation", you clasped her palm, squeezing it slightly. "You promise?", she asks quietly. "I can hope", you admitted. Giving Ellie fake hope wasn't something you were willing to do. It would only break her more in the end.

Ellie lay down by Joel right after you pulled his shirt down, bringing the blanket over his body once more. Joel leaned into her, yet his eyes met yours briefly. Something like a silent thank-you lingered. You gave him a little smile before brushing your hands through Ellie's hair. Hoping for a moment of calmness as well.

You suddenly jumped up to the sound of the front door slamming. Jole's arm falls from over your side as you scramble to get up, reaching for a knife. Yet the footsteps sound familiar. Way too familiar, making your muscles ease until a terrified Ellie practically falls from the staircase. "They followed me", but she doesn't look at you. Reaching for Joel's knife and pushing it into his hands. "If anyone comes here, you stab them straight in the neck. You heard me?", she asked the male before turning to you.

"We need to go; we need to distract them so they…", Ellie started to ramble once more as her breathing picked up. "Take the gun, get on the horse", you pushed her forward slightly. Reloading your guns as the banging upstairs rang out. Right as Ellie was about to jump into the saddle, you grabbed her by the shoulders, "You go straight for the woods, lose the horse, and never turn around". Her body was visibly shaking, yet she muttered, "And you?", "I'll be okay kiddo", you lean in to press a kiss to her forehead as you lift the garage door.

Everything that followed after that was a blur. You took out every single man that stood in Ellie's way. You smirked to yourself as she managed to disarm a man with a shot. Maybe it was just fool's luck, yet you couldn't help but feel proud. More than happy that you convinced Joel to give her a couple of lessons prior. You saw Ellie flying off the horse as one of the guys shot the animal a couple of times. Hitting the ground with a thud and sending all of your senses on fire. "Hey, fucker, pick someone more your size", you fired a bullet into his head carelessly. Ellie let out a scream just as the man fell to the ground. But you gave it no second thought, yanking her up by the collar to stand. "Run", you barked out, not even recognizing your voice. She staggered back like a scared animal before she took off. Right as another shot rang out, you cried out in pain as a bullet pierced your thigh. You turned around, teeth-gritting against one another. Aiming your gun at the two males there. You managed to shoot one of them, and then something hard came into contact with your head, and everything went dark.

Blissful is the state of not knowing. When you can't identify if you are dead or have already entered the afterlife, even if you weren't sure that shit was a thing in this broken world. And it's the sharp pain that ripped your eyes open as you choked out a cry. Head hitting the wall behind you as the unfamiliar faces filled your vision.

"And I thought you were a goddess while you were sleeping", the male pulled his fingers out of your wound, licking them eagerly. "But your eyes", you blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out where you were. Or what was happening? Have they got Ellie too? Or did she manage to escape? Was she with Joel now? Safe and sound. You clenched your jaw, starting ahead of yourself.

"Little lamb, do you feel blessed?", you knitted your eyebrows together, turning your head to the side so you could escape the male's fingers touching your skin. "When I see you bleeding out in front of me, I will", you crocked out. To your surprise, he only smiled and said, "Ah, I knew your soul called to mine; you have the devil inside you". You couldn't move because of the chains, which left you vulnerable to his touch all over your body. Yet your face stayed cold. Unreadable. Untouchable. "I'm David", the male put a hand on his chest, yet the smile made you want to vomit. "Where's your scary partner, huh?", he leaned closer to you. "Probably out there doing scary partner things", you sassed away. David's face bloomed with a smirk.

"You can have it all. Be a true leader. Be mine", he continued, brushing his hands through your hair, but you turned to the side, spitting right at his face, "I'd rather eat my shit". David's face darkened as he clenched his fists. Turning away from you, he let out a sigh, saying, "You are in the dark still. Don't worry, I'll get you back to the light, doll." They turned quickly and stabbed a needle into your neck, and just like before, the world around you turned into nothingness almost immediately.

Jole had been beating up the two males in front of him for what felt like hours. "I'll ask you one last time. Where are they?", Joel pulled a handful of the man's hair, pulling his face up so he would face him. "Man, please, please", the pleading continued. The pleading that was driving Joel insane led him nowhere. "Where are they?", Joel snarled, pulling harder. "The town", "What fucking town?", the booming of Joel's voice echoed through the room right as his left fist came in contact with the side of the male's face.

It was a nightmare. The worst one he had ever had. The last thing he saw was Ellie's mortified face. He saw you ushering her outside. The slight tremble in your own hands didn't go unnoticed by Joel. And now he had no idea where you were. Were you even alive? He would burn the whole town to the ground if any of you were hurt. No, Joel wouldn't allow himself to make the same mistake twice.

He felt guilty. So guilty. He needed to find you somehow. Even in his slightly delusional state, Joel felt you. Felt your gentle touch. The way you squeezed his hand. The way you ran your fingers through his hair. It was an odd feeling. Something Joel had long forgotten. He had no recollection of the last time someone cared about him. Yet alone reach for him in such tender ways. Joel often cursed himself for the frustrated remarks that he threw your way. He didn't mean them. He just didn't know how to approach this.

"Joel", the voice said, making him blink, and he only now realized that he had been beating the man without stopping all this time. And now his disheveled body lay limp in front of him. Joel turned around quickly, his body running cold at the sight in front of him. "God, Ellie", he blurted out, crossing the room in a couple of steps. Bringing the girl to his body. Feeling the fear easing. Feeling her smaller hands holding onto his coat. Feeling the way she trembled.

"Are you hurt? Did they do anything?", Joel pulled away eventually, cupping Ellie's face as he looked her over. The girl only shook her head. "They took her", only now did Joel notice Ellie's tear-stained face and the lip that still quibbled. "What", Joel breathed out, silently urging her to speak. "They she… she saved me and just.. they", Ellie looked behind her, pointing somewhere, and Joel quickly turned her face so he could face her.

"Hey, slow down, baby girl, slow down". With a couple of breaths in, Ellie finally spoke up again. "They dragged her off, Joel". Her voice was desperate. Just as desperate as when Joel got stabbed. You and Joel had become her whole world. She never had anyone to rely upon, and now you both were so important to her that every time anything happened to any of you, it threatened her whole existence. "Do you know where they took her", Joel asked calmly, never dropping eye contact with the girl. Ellie nodded her head, Joel did the same, "We'll get her back; don't worry about it, kiddo. I won't let them do anything".

You woke up loopy. Head pounding. There was no recollection of what had happened. Until minor snippets started to explode in your brain. You tilted your head up. None of the clothes were on your body; you were only in your underwear. Your body went cold. Heart beating faster. A sickening feeling rose as you turned over to vomit. Shaking violently.

The door to the room opened, making you flinch. You watched the man who came in with fear. You watch him push the tray of food through the lower part of the cell, trying to stay as far away from you as he could. As if you were diseased. As if you were the one who was insane here. "I can't reach it", you muttered. "Please", you begged. He looked back at the door. Then at you. David must have given him strict orders, and if he was hesitating so much, the consequences for breaking those orders had to be severe.

"Please", you begged again, and with a sigh, he reached for the keys that dangled from his pants, unlocking the door. Then stepped in. "Can you… Could you help me sit up?", you asked, lifting your hands slightly and reaching towards him. "You own my head", he bit back before licking his lips. You mimicked his expression quickly. "Of course", you breathed out, "I'll even choke you". You smile sweetly at him before you move the metal shackles around his throat, pushing against his skin. You wrapped your whole body around him. Like a snake holding its prey. Choking out the last drops of air. You let the tears stream down your cheeks as you leaned back, pressing even harder.

The moment the choked-out plea for help died down and he sank against your body, you quickly reached for the keys in his hands before rolling him away from you. You kept asking yourself… What would Joel do? How would he stay calm? You had seen him completely dissociated while he shot people who meant any harm to the people he cared for. The question now was - Would you be able to do the same?

Still, with only your underwear on and a throbbing leg that without a doubt would get infected eventually, you stumbled out of your little cage. Clothes should have been your priority considering the cold weather outside, but you just didn't care and couldn't care. You could smell other people on your skin. Feel the fantom sensation of their fingers. You needed to get out.

"Where do you think you're going", the sound of that voice made bile rise in your throat. You quickly turned around before you darted into the room closest to your right, shutting the door. "You bitch", David barked from the other side of the door, rattling the handle frantically. You needed to think. Needed to make a plan. Your eyes scanned the room, falling onto the door across it. Pulling them open, you stumbled into what appeared to be the kitchen.

Your hands rested on the counter for support at the sight that was in front of you. Human bodies hang from the ceiling. Some were missing parts of their bodies. Parts that, without a doubt, filled the buckets in the back of the room. "Don't worry, you won't become the next supper", you felt David's arms sneaking around your waist as he pulled you back into his body. With an inhumane-like growl, you staggered forward, reaching for the butcher knife.

"Get your hands off me", you screamed, every word met with a knife that David managed to dodge the first couple of times before the blade hit his flesh. His cries blended into static silence. You couldn't even hear yourself. The blood slowly coats your body. But you didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Until the knife slipped out of your hands and you finally saw the body in front of you. A choked-out sob slipped past your lips. Your eyes darted to your hands. Hands that didn't feel like they were yours.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even hear the door being pushed over. You did not hear your name being called out. Only when two hands reached for your shoulders did you jerk back, once again reaching for the bloody knife. "It's just me, just Joel", his hands were in the air as he slowly moved closer to you. The blade slipped to the floor, and you darted forward, arms wrapping around Joel's neck as you buried your naked and trembling body into his chest.

"I'm tired. I tried", you mumbled through the tears. Joel pressed you tighter in his arms, "Shhh, it's okay. I've got you", his voice was low. It was the kind of low that made most people think twice, but to you, it was so comforting. "I tried, Joel,", you repeated yet again, pulling away slightly, and Joel was quick to catch your face in his hands. "I know, darling". And of course, he knew. He saw the bodies that were left in the snow. He saw the purple-faced male in the cell. He saw your torn clothes. The blood was all over the cell and the corridor. The smell of blood in the air was thick. So thick that he could practically taste it, and this whole time Joel was trying to keep the flame of hope burning. To keep believing that you would give them hell. That you would not yield. That you would not let them break you.

And now here you were. Bruised. Covered in cuts. With a swollen thigh. Blood all over you. Trembling. And even if the fact that you were breathing was supposed to be enough, Joel couldn't help but feel the need to butcher every single breathing creature in this building. "I tried to be strong", you croaked out, right as your legs gave out. Joel was quick to catch you in his arms, saying, "And now you don't have to because I'm never letting go of you". Your eyes met his, and you knew that Joel meant every word that he said. You wanted to open your mouth. To tell him. Tell him how much you need him. And how scary it was to be there without him. But your body fully shuts down.

Joel quickly shrugged off his jacket before he wrapped it tightly around your body, reaching to lift you into his arms. "That's it. You'll be okay", he mumbled against your hair before carefully stepping out of the room. There and then, Joel realized one thing. One truth that he tried to ignore for so long. When you love someone, you have no control. You are powerless against all the feelings in your body. And if you truly want to love, you have to let that feeling wash over you.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

TLOU taglist: @theslytherinwriter @daddysfavoritesexkitten @randomstory56 @woofgocows @ohthemisssery

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #tlou x reader #tlou imagine #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years

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oh my god I am frothing at the mouth PLEASE tell us about how Unohana is SO WEIRD ACTUALLY

(her reveal is my favorite thing in the whole series and I was obsessed with Bleach for a good long time)

I love Unohana. She's magnificently insane and deliciously fun to write so far.

My take on AEIWAM Unohana is that fundamentally, she just wants to be happy.

Oh, that doesn't sound too nuts. I hear you say.

Yeah, but I also headcanon that she has ADHD. We joke a lot about it on this site, but if you have the good fortune to have functioning dopamine factories, allow me to explain the worst part of it, for me.

There's no passive happiness.

Most people, as I understand it, if left to their own devices without undue stressors like capitalism or any particular stimulation, tend to be able to feel pretty okay most of the time. Which fascinates me because if I am left alone without undue stressors but no stimulation, my malfunctioning dopamine factories will shut down and I will rapidly develop a terrible black depression and paranoia that life is cruel and I will never experience happiness again and also my appetite vanishes and sleep cycle collapses and I will end up mentally and physically distraught, sometimes in less than an hour.

So I've always got to be doing something, or The Horrors get me.

So imagine Unohana, and with a brain that wants to die if she gets bored... living in fantasy magical ancient japan. Not much to do, out in the early days of the soul society, besides being attatcked by monsters, or participating in warfare, or starving to death. the first two, at least, get the blood pumping, but the first is difficult to come by regularly, so as a young woman, the most interesting thing that happens to her on the regular is Mortal Combat.

And how exciting it is! Adrenaline! Dopamine! And on the rare occasions she meets a fellow combat enthusiast, she also gets one of the best things about ADHD- Recognition Responsive Euphoria. You know that great feeling you get at Con or meeting another person with your special interest and you guys just VIBE and it feels like you've been best friends for life in less than five minutes? Yeah, apparently Non-ADHD people don't get that.

So naturally, she develops her skill in combat, not in pursuit of Honor or The Art or something nebulous like, that, but in the simple Pursuit of Happiness. She gets very good at it, and a lot of people die.

But she starts getting... too good at it. The fights don't last, there's nobody willing- let alone able, to meet her on her level and the previous joy she felt fades and fades until she is once again left in the darkness.

Then, a Miracle happens! Some punk stabs her in the lung :)

Man, what an evening for her. Kills a hundred men with barely a stroke and there's no more joy in the world for her when suddenly some barely-legal scarecrow looking bastard with a raggedy sword he pulled out of someone else's corpse appears at the top of the pile of bodies and then goes Ape. Fucking. Shit. on her.

It's the most fun she's had in ages! He's strong and fast and his moves are inefficient but delightfully unpredictable and by the GODS the STAMINA! Alright, she might be 1,000 years his senior but in the soul society age really is just a number and she can't help but be charmed.

So she flirts back by nearly cutting his face off. This DELIGHTS him!

And there it is again, that sudden feeling of intimacy between like-minded individuals, only these two ships aren't passing in the night, there' here to make Titanic 2: Electric Boogaloo. They make eye contact, and know-they're just like me.

True Love is a wonderful thing.

It's also a great opportunity for a surprise thrust and she only sort of manages to block it, and despite the feeling of blood pooling in her lung, she returns the blow full across his chest.

She staggers back, coughing.

He, miraculously, sits up, coughing. He won't die if he can crawl off somewhere to lick his wounds, but he can't continue the fight either.

She stands up, teeth gritted through the pain, and sheathes Minazuki. "What's your name?" She asks. "So I may find you to fight again."

"Don't have one." he wheezes. "But I'll never forget yours."

She's had men spit that as a threat to her before. It sounds very different as a declaration of love.

"Yachiru." she says, trying to not cough up blood. "Unohana Yachiru."

A Year later, there's a problem.

Soul Society has a bit of a problem with lungs. They can make entire fake bodies for shinigami to travel the living world, but individual organs, especially lungs... never seem to transplant well. Perhaps it's the fact they're already dead.

Her left lung is "healed" in the sense that it no longer has extraneous holes in it, but... Godsdammit, she still has all the power but none of the stamina. Barely 10 minutes into a fight and she's wheezing worse than The Old Man. 20 minutes and her hands are starting to shake and she's seeing spots in her eyes because she can't breathe well enough to keep the oxygen in her veins. Her fights usually last seconds so functionally she's still one of the most powerful people in the afterlife but it's a far cry from where she was before.

She can no longer be the 11th division's Kenpachi. Hell, she can no longer be the woman she was before.

"Unless you figure out some new medical miracles, this is as healed as it's going to get." Explains the chief medical officer after yet another frustrating checkup.

"...If that's what it takes." She decides.

The next morning she re-enrolls in the Shinigami Academy, under the name Unohana Retsu. The sole change she makes to her appearence is to braid her hair down the front of her chest because people WILL ask about the scar, and she doesn't want to think about how badly she's letting down that warrior with no name.

Either she needs to learn how to get back to his level, or find a new rival and learn to heal them to actually last the 20 minutes she has, or she'll die.

She studies.

To her vast surprise, bodies are actually fascinating. She'd previously seen that there were lots of interesting organs inside people but now learning what they are and how they work and the fact that the human body is already astonishingly death-resistant compared to most animals AND a carefully balanced meat sculpture minutes away from catastrophic failure at all times delights. She learns about the extreme ways humans can survive and the bizarrely mundane ways they can die, and she starts to form an idea- not an image, not a philosophy per se- but a working theory of how to keep someone alive and moving for as long and far as they will go, and what they need to stay upright.

This idea shines so brightly that it can keep that terrible darkness away.

The century practically flies by, and one night she stays up manually pumping the mechanism on a device used to keep the also-failing lungs of a young boy going after the power goes out. He's been blessed by A God that he's lived as long as he has, but even Gods can fuck up sometimes and she effectively has to breathe for him for twelve hours until the God gets its shit back together and he can breathe under his own power again.

"Hell of a fight you put in, keeping him alive." says one of her colleagues, collapsing beside her out in the 4th division medical garden where all the doctors go to smoke.

Retsu slowly exhales the smoke, fatigued but still coming down from the high of success. She cocks her head. Her body aches and her mind races and her heart thrills, just like- "I guess it was. " she realizes. "Interesting fight, going 12 hours in the ring with a dying child and winning because he walked away at the end." She laughs, and hands him the cigarette to share.

"You weirdo." he colleague laughs. He's far too young to remember when she was Yachiru. Most of them are these days, and it's a weird sort of peaceful anonymity and personal joke. "You weren't fighting the kid. If we were actually allowed to fight patients, I'd've stabbed the Kuchki hypochondriac decades ago." he grumbles, taking his own drag.

She snorts. "Who was I fighting then?"

"Death?" smoke billows out as he laughs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

She freezes. Oh. Oh. That's why she likes this so much. She's gone from fighting mere men to the one opponent she knows she can win battles with, but never the war, and who will defeat her personally someday.

"Are. Are you crying?" he asks, a little worried.

"I- yes." She laughs, tears streaming down her face. "I just fell in love all over again."

"Ouch." he nods sympathetically, offering her the cigarette back. "Who with?"

"Death's own Angel, apparently." She giggles, feeling positively prepubescent with this crush.

And thus she goes on, for centuries, learning everything there is to know about bodies and minds and how the two keep each other going and the ways she can help. She gets very good at it, and a many more people do not die.

But there is a special, secret place in her heart for that nameless warrior that defeated her in battle, and made her stronger than every before.

Nearly 1,000 years after she stopped being Kenpachi, she is supervising the annual "see if you can kill the captain" tournament. Her colleague Kaname is there, a walking anxiety disorder with undoubtedly real but strangely hard to diagnose phantom pains, but he's still easily in her top 10 coworkers of all time because he made her a new medical record filing system so functional they were actually able to recataloge three millennia of medical records into a usable format in under a decade. He can come twitching into her office any time he likes, especially if it gets her that mass vaccination process for the Rukongai he's been biting The Old Man's heels for.

Then

as suddenly as he had appeared the first time,

He's back.

He's older now and larger, having matured into a spectacular bastard, but there's no mistaking that cutting edge on his reiatsu (which, oh, that has gotten much, much stronger since last time) or that scar running down his face as he turns from where he had just cleft the previous Kenpachi in twain, and stares out into the crowd in the shower of blood, challenging anyone to do something about it. Hell, even when Yamamoto appears to congratulate him on his promotion, Death's own angel's first reaction is to turn to fight the old man without hesitation.

He then promptly picks three different fights with four captains in under five minutes, tells Yamamoto to shove the job up his ass, imply he's had a WILD collection of vocations in the last millennium and furthermore, he has to get home to his daughter.

...Named Yachiru.

Hilariously, Unohana is only having the second weirdest time about this here, because Kaname and Kenpachi are, somehow, even weirder than she is.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Everyone in this fic is a freak and I'm having a great time

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unabashednightmarepizza · 1 year

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𝐼𝑠𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑖'𝑑 𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑇𝑒𝑦𝑣𝑎𝑡

Part 2

Life is strange.

You were in your world and doing godforsaken homeworks from your teachers and laying down idly while obsessing over maybe that game you started to obsess over... Then-

Now, seeing yourself in what appeared to be a godly attire in a gameworld that you barely knew wasn't on your list

Besides, how did you even come here?? You weren't actively trying to shift-

"Paimon thinks they are a bit pale..." she said while poking your arm that, surprisingly enough, didn't break or fall off during your fall. Hearing the familiar child voice of her, you widened your eyes and sat up on your hands and knees, letting out a high screech after throwing a comment.

"And Y/N can hear you, whoever you are." you groaned and they both screamed on top of their lungs much like you in fright, hugging each other thightly.

But... Why were you slapping your cheeks?

"This is insane... I didn't think those creepy and weird Isekai anime thing would happen to me!" you mumbled in deep shock, looking around yourself and seeing all the vibrant colors of Teyvat, the ones you were so used to seeing on screen...

Then came another startling thought: There were every kind of monsters, slimes, Hilichurls and even more dangerous and hard-to-kill ones.

Before you could freak out even more Aether, as the sweetheart he was, helped you, with Paimon finding something to burn to warm you up

They wondered how you were here, perhaps you also fell down like him and his sister and now were stuck? Since you looked, and still did, really horrified to find yourself here. But yet again, your looks was much different than anyone he had seen.

Shining bright eyes with sharp star shaped irises... They were mesmerizing, so alluring and so full of wonders, power as if they held the answers to all questions...

Where were you from?

But, apart from your obviously tall body, like really tall, and your star-like eyes which he found to be cute, there was another fact that stood out and made him realize how much trouble he would find himself in:

Your behaviour too which was becoming... concerning the poor boy.

Because who the fuck just kills an entire horde of elementals with just a quick flick of their... hand through sending golden waves singlehandedly with a cute smile and excited skip in their steps? Just how unhinged are you?

So, that was the first time you met the blonde who was way too pretty for a boy Aether and his cute companion Paimon, not that you didn't know them already.

" I think I will die very young, like very young..."

"Nah, you are the main character in this game. If you die, the game is over."

*Cue tripping into the lake headfirst but still managing to breathe with a thumbs up*

You just gave the biggest spoiler to anyone who would understand you but poor Aether, tho he tried to understand your words, didn't know shit about what you said.

Now, obviously, you couldn't tell them everything... That would, what, fuck with the order? The Heavenly Cosmic Rules? Whatever their names were, you really didn't want to anger anyone but also really wished to fuck with people.

Not now tho, you had to stay alive for that one.

But Aether had his own suspicions. He had been around long enough to know that he couldn't trust everyone but yet again... He needed another actual human who he could seek comfort when needed, be sure that they would have his back...

Poor, touch-starved boy ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

And he couldn't lie: You were funny as you tried to grab Paimon and squeeze her thightly to your chest, and even managed to kill a few of the hilichurls that came out of nowhere from behind your group...

Then there was the red tint of his cheeks, when you turned to look at him excitedly( not knowing that this was what you always wanted to do) and seeked his approval as if you needed it.

I mean, you were strong and pretty, a little bit too odd and obsessed with death and never took something serious, always praised him( God knew he needed that) and patted his head, even cooking delicious food that he never heard of before...

....

Exactly what he needed in another company!

"Hey,um, since you also came from another world probably... Whose language and words I absolutely don't understand, how about we stick together? I mean, I-I wouldn't want a woman to be alone, not that you can't take care of yourself, I just saw you-" he stammered nervously, absolutely not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But as you stared at the boy with a blush as his golden eyes looked at everything but you, there was only one single thought:

Hehehe cute ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

"No problem, it would actually be amazing since I know nothing about this world!" (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Lie, not completely but still a lie

But come on, his stutter was cute and besides he needed to have... a human sized companion in case things got so very wrong

Whether you were the human companion or not... Well, was unknown.

The poor, still-innocent Aether was eager to know your story. Where you were from, whether you came from another world like him too, how you used that power you obviously had but you had no idea of having it in the first place...

Poor boi was just so touch-starved, and had been so lonely until he stumbled upon Paimon two months after he woke up and one month later, you.

Besides, Paimon was not affectionate in the way he wished... More like, she was an emergency food~

"For the last time, Paimon is NOT AN EMERGENCY FOOD!"

Oh how you always loved watching her get riled up so easily

You three were each other's everything from now on.

So that was how you started to have adventures while trying hard to not to die. Paimon would offer her funny thoughts while sometimes giving really useful info, Aether would often cook for all three of you until you learnt how to make most of the food known here to help him.

He was already doing a lot by protecting you and making sure that none of the hilichurls were eating you

Though soon, his protection contract you did between the two of you unofficially came to an end when an excited young scout named Amber found you three and brought you to-

"Holy shit, Monstadt is even more beautiful in real life!" you exclaimed excitedly as Amber watched you three run happily, looking at everything in astonishment as if she was the one who created the city, nodding her head proudly at what you said. "The rumors don't do enough justice to us! Of course the real thing is much better!"

Poor girl... If only she knew that this world was actually a game and you were talking about that by saying "in real life".

Or whatver concept it was.

Even though the quality of the game was *chef kiss*, nothing could have prepared you for the gentle breeze that flew past you, how it made you shiver pleasantly as your hair danced around, the air of wine and... freedom filling your every cell.

This was definetly what home felt like.

You might not have enough knowledge about them, with being a new player and all and not having that obsession to know everything about them yet... But there was one thing obvious as your attention was on a certain florist: Her... obsession(?) over a certain redhead was very fucking obvious- was that a jewelry store?

Meanwhile, as Aether was left with a blue haired-cyro user who also had the same star eyes like you, trying to dodge all the flirty and suave comments... He searched for you desperately to get out of the situation he found himself in.

Because even if he was the fighter, you were the talker with a sweet voice and surprisingly very convincing when you wanted to be. Whether you were always like that was a mystery to solve another day.

"Paimon could always ask them! Y/N likes Paimon the best after all, they said so!"

"wHaT? Y/N! IS THAT TRUE, AFTER ALL THE TIME WE SPENT-"

That was the other side of Aether you didn't see much through playing the game. He was more excited and more lively, always running around and helping people while making new friendships whereas Lumine was more well-kept and calm.

Though to him, your and Paimon's friendship meant the most and he would never let you, her or him forget about that.

You three were quite the Trio after all!

Besides, your talent of negotiation worked wonders with him since you decided to use it to braid his hair and force him to sleep.

But if there was one thing he despised about you, which was also the only one, was the attention span of a baby you had whenever you saw something either shiny or cute.

Or someone attractive and hot...

Which showed itself again when he was called upon Kaeya's, the Cavalry Captain's, commands for a "super secret mission" and he wasn't able to flee out.

"The other knights can't know about it! I can't ask for help from any other than you... Please, help me." Aether swore he saw the hint of a smirk on his face-

"What kind of secrecy is this?? And what's with that eyepatch?"

"Well, to be honest my little friend... My great grandfather was a pirate!"

Yep, he better find a way to get out of this soon (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

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inaris-mage-of-storms · 4 months

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}{ I Found Love Where It Wasn't Supposed To Be }{ An Empires S1 Scwhip AU }{ Content warning for suicidal thoughts. }{ next part }{

Tyrant.

Madman.

Demon sympathizer.

Scott sighed. Or he thought he did; the wind snatched away his breath so thoroughly he couldn't really tell. It stung what little skin was exposed on his face, but the sharpest part of it was the way he could hear his people's complaints in its howls.

He'd tried his hardest, these last three years, and Rivendell was well on its way to...maybe not a full recovery, but as full a recovery as any empire would have been able to manage given the circumstances. Sure, it had meant he had to make some less than popular decisions, but his kingdom was stronger because of it. His people were sheltered and fed while so much of the rest of the world shivered and starved. But because he also extended one hand in forgiveness to a former enemy and the other in offering to former allies, his efforts were for naught.

You should have died, your majesty.

Now the wind sounded like his longest-serving advisor. You should have died, the old man had told him, and Scott knew it wasn't an expression of surprise, but an admonishment. That the Rune Blade failed to kill him wasn't a miracle, but a mistake.

The wind and snow grew so cold it chilled even him, and Scott smiled bitterly. Well. No one could say he wasn't one to correct his mistakes. Let the blizzard take what the blade couldn't.

There was a cave near the top of the desolate mountain Scott climbed now, one only he knew about. Though calling it a cave was being generous; it was closer to a sheltered nook amidst the rocks for all the space it offered, barely large enough for a single elf in a traveling cloak. If he'd carried any supplies besides the waterskin and dagger tied to his belt, it would have been a tight fit. As it was, he knew from experience that there was just enough space to curl up inside and ice himself in. The water with him would last a day, and when it ran out he would have a few more after that to lie alone with his thoughts before it became absolutely necessary to leave in order to seek out food and fresh water.

Scott squinted through the blowing snow, finally able to spot his destination. His plan was the same as it had been the last two times he came here. If he was meant to keep going, the handful of days in isolation would be enough to clear his thoughts and let his resolve return. If he was meant to keep ruling, he would find the motivation to leave the cave. And if he wasn't...well. Xornoth was always complaining that Scott didn't get enough sleep. A very long rest in a frozen tomb should at least rid him of the bags under his eyes.

Despite his macabre jest, the thought of his sibling was the only regret that tugged at Scott's heart and whispered that this might be a mistake. Despite their attempts at atonement, despite it being their magic that brought Scott back from the brink of death, and despite their invaluable assistance in Rivendell's recovery after the cataclysm, the empire shunned them for their sins. It was only a hotly contested decree from Scott that allowed Xornoth to return to the land that had exiled them. Scott was the only one in all of Rivendell to speak to them or even acknowledge their presence most days. If he didn't return, they would be entirely alone.

But even that wasn't enough to cut through the dark fog that weighed down his thoughts. He'd spent so long working himself to the bone for his empire, and for the empires of his friends - the ones that had survived, anyway. But like Xornoth, Scott was utterly alone except for the awkward, fragile bond with his sibling. Pearl was dead. Lizzie had been found wandering, nearly unresponsive, and every second of Joel's time was spent caring for her. Everyone else was just...gone. Even Jimmy had disappeared, and Scott's stomach churned with unease every time he let himself think about what could possibly have prevented his betrothed from coming back to him. Some months ago an apologetic Fwhip had returned from wherever he and Gem had fled to, swearing that he would help the survivors of his empire rebuild. But then he vanished again, and Scott's hopes of having one remaining ally vanished with him.

Once, Scott had exiled himself to a frozen mountain to be alone. Now, he exiled himself to a frozen mountain because he was alone. He was so, so lonely these days. The end of the world had strengthened so many bonds across the empires as people clung desperately to what remained, but it had severed all of his. Every effort he'd put into finding the missing rulers came up empty. His advisors questioned every decision he made with suspicion, and far too many of his people looked at him with fear and anger.

He'd done all he could, and then some. There was nothing left to do now except this. Scott squeezed into the cave, and with the smallest curl of his fingers, a wall of ice swept across the entrance and cut him off from the blizzard. From the world. Scott sighed, his back to the wall, then slid down to the ground. He was really, truly -

- not alone?

His hand brushed something that was neither stone nor snow, and he looked down with a start. The ice was so thick that it turned the midday sun into twilight, and he could barely make out the shape huddled into the corner. Even so, the scales he felt under his palm as he ran his hand over the form were unmistakable. In a secret cave near the top of an uninhabited mountain in the middle of a blizzard, Scott found himself in the company of a dragon.

It took only seconds for Scott's shock and confusion to turn into worry. The mountains of Rivendell were colder than those of any other empire by far, and this was one of the coldest. Dragons, no matter what type, were by nature creatures of heat. Larger ones could rely on their own strength and magic to keep warm in chilly environments, but this one was small. It was almost as small as Gem's hatchling, despite what seemed to be the proportions of an adult, and its breath was faint as it slept. No warmth emanated from its dark scales; it was as cold as the ice that encased them both.

Cursing his decision to not bring a tinder box or even a small flint, Scott bundled the dragon into his robes and against his body before he could even think about it. Maybe, like him, the creature had come out here to die. But maybe it hadn't. Careless as he was with his own life, Scott refused to be careless with the lives of others. And certainly not now, when so few lives remained. Every one of them was more precious than ever.

The ice crumbled easily with a flick of his hand, and Scott had never been so grateful for the strides he'd made with his magic these last three years. Even the wind was weakening, though he couldn't tell if it was coincidence or conscious effort. It didn't matter; there was no time to think about it. Scott stepped out of his intended tomb, unfurled snowy wings from under his cloak, and raced toward the warmth of home.

}{

Warmth.

That was all Fwhip had the strength to be aware of, that smallest bit of warmth against his frozen body. He didn't know what it was or where it came from, but he didn't have it in him to care. He'd been so, so cold for so, so long, and now there was warmth again. The source didn't matter.

Where was he? He couldn't remember. He'd been attacked...somewhere. By someone. He was vaguely aware of that, but no details came to mind. Someone versed in magic, surely; he could feel the invisible chains of a curse wrapped tightly around his own magic. Around his body, binding his form to something small. Around his throat, binding his ability to communicate.

It didn't matter, not right now. Fwhip would find the strength to be furious later. He was just grateful that there would be a later, thanks to this small spark of warmth. For now, Fwhip allowed darkness to keep its hold on him a little longer as he slipped back into slumber.

}{ next part }{

#file: storm writes things #been actively working on the next chapter of i have dined with kings but needed something else to work on when that one gets frustrating #so we're going back to old habits of stream-of-consciousness'ing a first draft to clear the cobwebs out :D #empiresfic #empiresshipping #scwhip

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big-ass-magnet · 3 months

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Relatively Speaking, This Will Probably Be Fine (7/?)

Fandom: Girl Genius Rating: T Summary: Everyone knows Agatha Sannikova can't be a Heterodyne, even if she did arrive mysteriously one night to live with Lady Teodora and Lord Saturnus. She's got those headaches, and she's not too bright - she's not even a Spark! She does get along quite well with Lord Saturnus, which is a bit odd, but she's had a very good affect on his health. Lady Teodora doesn't like the kind of, er, "life lessons" he's tried to teach her, but Agatha hasn't set anyone on fire or unleashed any terrifying monstrosities on the town.

...what do you mean, tempting fate?

<Last Chapter | Chapter One | Next Chapter > AO3 Link

While Saturnus had made tremendous progress in the last month—and he would long treasure the look on Dr Sun’s face when he’d walked into the room of a dying man and had the corpse sit up and say hello—his body was not fully recovered and he still spent most of his time sleeping. But it was reparative sleep, that of a working mind, not the darkness of respite and the taunting death just beyond reach. Not anymore.

If you had asked Saturnus to name the force that could bring him back from the brink of death—that could make him want to return from the brink—it would take him a good thousand years before he ever guessed something so trite as the power of love.

And the source of that power, blazing like an invisible sun, stretched out on the rug, lying on her stomach, her legs kicked up behind her as she wrote industriously in her school workbook. He could not help but smile. If there was any part of Saturnus that had worried she might not enjoy being around him now that there was a him to be around, it had died quickly. Agatha spent more time with him than ever—but not always conversing. She would read or work or quietly fiddle with her clocks while he slept or did his own reading.

I enjoy his company, she’d told Teodora.

Saturnus knew she understood she’d had a hand in his recovery, but he wondered if she knew how much of a hand. He wondered if he'd ever have the words to tell her.

“What year was Bludtharst and Andronicus’ first battle?” Agatha asked, distracting him from his thoughts.

“I won’t tell you,” Saturnus said, not opening his eyes.

“He’s your ancestor, how can you not know?”

“Didn’t say can’t. Said won’t.” He cracked an eyelid open. “You won’t learn if I help you cheat on your homework.”

Agatha stuck her tongue out at him, and he chuckled.

“I can’t wait for us to be done learning about Andronicus. It’s so annoying. Everyone talks about him like he’s so wonderful, but I think he sounds like an idiot. What’s so great about a person that neglects their duties and lets everything fall apart just because their fiance goes missing? I wouldn’t do that, and I certainly wouldn’t want to marry anyone who would.”

“Attagirl,” Saturnus said, earning a puzzled look from Agatha. “Royalty rarely sees their people as people, just resources. Heterodynes know better. It’s what makes us good masters.”

“The Heterodynes killed plenty of their own people, and not always by accident.”

Saturnus waved a dismissive hand. Always fussy with the details, this one.

“Oh, sure, an individual or five, but we never watched our people starve after a bad harvest and called it God’s will. If we sent our soldiers into a meat grinder, you can be damn sure we were in there with them.”

Oh, but he did miss those days, when he had that fire in his blood. What he wouldn’t do for one last ride…

Suddenly Saturnus caught her eyes, speaking with a severity that startled her.

“Loyalty—true loyalty—is earned. You don’t demand it. You don’t build it in. You certainly don’t force it. The Heterodynes have always understood that, and that, my dear, is why we have ruled for thirty-five generations while these upstart Sparks barely manage two.”

He sighed.

“That Teuful had promise, though. Such a shame.”

Agatha sat up, tucking her legs beneath her.

“Why do you tell me this stuff that way?”

“I shall need at least one specific noun in that sentence.”

“Sometimes you tell me about what the Heterodynes are responsible for or what they shouldn’t do or what you think a proper ruler is supposed to be like. I think it’s interesting, but you always say it like I'm going to use it. You know I’m not a Heterodyne.”

I know you are my granddaughter, the Lady of Mechanicsburg, and if I can’t make you a proper Heterodyne at least I can try and get you to be better at it than your father.

The reflex came and went, as it always did. It had nearly given him another heart attack, the day she’d looked up from her book and he finally recognized his own eyes staring out at him from a girl who called him Lord Saturnus.

Fortunately, by the time he’d regained the ability to tell her, he’d realized why he shouldn’t—not that it galled him any less to keep secrets from his flesh and blood.

“Maybe so,” he said. “But these things are important. Better to know it and not need it, than need it and not know it.”

Agatha snorted, derisively.

“Undignified,” Saturnus chided. “Listen, if nothing else, knowing what a good leader does will let you spot a bad one.” He nodded to her book. “How else would you be able to see him for the prat he was?”

“I guess,” Agatha said. “It’s still boring.”

“That’s just because you’re not learning the interesting parts. Our parts.”

Agatha had to agree with that.

“None of them ever seem to mention what was going on inside Mechanicsburg.”

“Well, we were never particularly welcoming to outsiders wandering in and asking about what we were up to."

Depending on your definition of welcoming, anyway. A man appreciated a test subject who walked in of their own accord.

"These historians have only had access for a couple of decades, and now they need to dig through our records—and most of those were in the castle.”

“Don’t the Jägermonsters live a really long time? Why don’t the historians just ask them?”

Saturnus laughed so hard he started to cough and Agatha had to fetch him a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and Agatha helped adjust the pillows.

“A historian interviewing the Jägerkin,” Saturnus said, still wheezing, wiping tears from his eyes. “Red fire, I would pay to watch that.”

“What’s so funny about it?” Agatha asked.

“Oh, come on, you’ve met—” He stopped. His smile faded. “No, I suppose you probably haven’t. Unless you ever ran across them while you were out with your uncle?”

It was a weak and unlikely hope, but he was disappointed all the same when Agatha shook her head.

“No. Uncle Barry and I always hid if any Wulfenbach soldiers came into town. I think I saw one once, but I was too far away to get a good look.”

“Alright, then I’ll tell you this: one does not become a Jäger by possessing an abundance of mental acuity.”

“They can’t all be stupid.”

“Oh, they’re more clever than they let on, I’ll grant you, and the ones that survive to be generals are very smart, but on the whole...let us say it is not so much a lack of brains as an inability to put said brains to use." His voice was fond.

Ve couldn’t get the arrow out, so ve tought maybe ve could use anodder arrow to get it loose, und dot vun got stuck, so ve tried to get dot vun out vit—

Agatha resumed her seat on the floor.

“You like them a lot.”

“Of course I do! They were my Jägers! Every Heterodyne loves their Jӓgers.” He scowled and added in a mutter. “Every proper Heterodyne.”

“There’s a boy in one of the upper classes who says his great-great-grandfather is one,” Agatha said. Saturnus was fully aware she was changing the subject deliberately, but allowed it.

“One of Ognian’s brood, no doubt.”

“You know him?”

“I know of the family. I don’t know Ognian personally—there’s far too many Jägers to know them all so well—but I don’t need to. There are horse breeders who pay less attention to bloodlines. He’s got scrapbooks.”

The sight of which were enough to send even the generals scampering for safety.

“What are they like? When I lived outside of Mechanicsburg, everyone was afraid of the Jägermonsters—”

He’d missed it last time, but this time he heard it, with a sting of anger. Not for her, it wasn’t her fault she didn't know, but the fact that she didn't know.

“Jägerkin,” Saturnus corrected, firmly. “Or Jägers. Only outsiders call them Jägermonsters. They are citizens of Mechanicsburg, the same as everyone else.”

“Oh. Right.”

Saturnus leaned back against the pillow, lacing his fingers together over his stomach and staring at the ceiling.

“What are they like…” he repeated to himself. “Well, they are all individuals with their own personalities, but on the whole...fun.”

“Fun?”

“Oh yes.” Saturnus grinned. “Boisterous. Excitable. And unbelievably loyal. Imagine growing up surrounded by a few hundred people who think everything you do is the greatest thing anyone has ever done.”

“It sounds nice,” Agatha said, in a wistful voice. The anger stirred in his guts again—she should know, know it so deep in her bones she couldn’t imagine not knowing.

But that wouldn’t help, now, so he brushed it away and put on a playful scowl.

“Alright, little miss, I see what you’re doing—getting me to distract you so you don’t have to do your homework.” He shook a finger at her, and Agatha stifled a giggle. “Go on, back to work. History is just as important as science. You have to know where you came from and what happened before. It tells you why things are happening now, and how to avoid making the same mistakes. Like why we don’t build time machines to go find out what we don’t know.”

“I bet kids outside of Mechanicsburg never had to spend a whole week learning about Robur Heterodyne,” Agatha muttered.

“And they’re the ones who get eaten by time monsters.”

Agatha flopped against the bed and groaned.

“Can’t you tell me a story from when you were young? That counts as history, right?”

Saturnus sputtered.

“History—how old do you think I am?”

“A million years,” Agatha said, promptly.

“Alright, smart mouth, one more story, and then you get back to work.”

Nodding obediently, Agatha settled in, wide-eyed.

“Let’s see…how about the time I beat an army of mutant frogs, twice?”

“Twice?”

“Twice.”

Saturnus was going to get better, yes, and now he would fight tooth and nail to stay that way. No more wasting away, waiting for the final release of death. He would live to see his granddaughter take her rightful place in this world. Whether it be with a gentle touch or an iron fist, a Heterodyne would rule Mechanicsburg again.

And Saturnus would be there to make damn sure it happened.

#girl genius #saturnus heterodyne #agatha heterodyne #grandfather saturnus au #tossing my fics out willy nilly this week

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gatitties · 2 years

Note

"Owing its speed to his metobolism, the user can quickly process poisons and alcohol before their affects can damage the body, making them immune to such attacks. The speed fruit enables all parts of the body to become faster and strong, including metabolism. As such, the user's body can become starved of energy to the point of near death if they overused it, allowing the user to have a bigger appetite than other members of the crew." Imagine Luffy and male! reader participating in an eating competition tho? (Btw love your works 🥰)

─Strawhats x male!reader (Platonic)

─Summary: Your devil fruit gives you a huge appetite, but it seems you'll always get second place.

─Warnings: none

Part one / Part two

jdshaj this is so cute I can see they totally doing that every time they can, both could leave an entire village without food 😭🤚

"Ready… set… let the competition begin!"

The announcer started the little festivity on that island where you stopped, a festivity in which both you and Luffy signed up because it was nothing more than a competition to see who could devour the most food.

You fought hard against your captain, the other contestants gave up pretty quickly, but your pride took a beating, you weren't able to beat Luffy in one of these competitions, at least, not the vast majority of the time.

Yes, your fast metabolism makes you have an increased appetite, but not enough to win it, however, you were able to beat it only once, although it was after a fight in which you racked your brains because you did not stop running all day, you almost died from overusing your power, but that was the only time you could beat him.

"I… I give up!"

Your body collided so abruptly with the back of the chair that you fell directly on the floor, your arms and legs spread out like you were a sunbathing starfish, your chest rising and falling rapidly from the speed at which you ate. Luffy smiled proudly, still eating, he reached out to lift you up, you nodded as a thanks, albeit with a slight frown in defeat.

Since you had nothing to do here, because Luffy continued to eat even after winning, you decided to continue exploring the surroundings a bit more, the different stalls that the festival offered, small games, a lot of symbolic souvenirs of the place, lots of traveling merchants looking for buyers. It didn't attract much attention to you and you just went to say hello to Robin who was looking at some books together with Chopper.

You didn't know where the others were, but it didn't take you long to find Sanji and Nami, the blond seemed very focused looking at the different ingredients that a vendor was displaying while she was engaged in a verbal fight with a guy who didn't seem to listen to the attempts to Nami's haggling, you decided to stay out of their business since both seemed busy, you definitely didn't want to end up listening to Sanji rambling about what to cook or embarrass yourself because of Nami being so loud when it came to buying things at a good price.

You met the rest in a bar and it looked like it could be your second attempt to beat someone from the team in a competition, you shared looks with Zoro after you sat down at the table where Usopp, Franky, Brook and he were, you both had seen the paper that was stuck on the wall, 'drink 50 beers without passing out and get a prize, if you don't make it you will have to pay'.

"Are we betting?"

"Hell yes, what are you waiting for, old man?"

He clucked at your behavior, calling for the bartender to bring a hundred beers, you split them up and Franky counted down for you to start drinking. You were a little younger than everyone on the boat, but old enough to drink alcohol, the bad thing is that apparently not enough to handle the bitter taste, thanks to your metabolism you managed to drink the fifty beers barely without them doing some kind of effect on you, though… not before Zoro.

"You have done well, but you will not be able to surpass me so easily."

"Just wait and see marimo!"

"Someone is spending a lot of time with Sanji…"

You narrowed your eyes at Usopp making him go back to his drink as if he hadn't said anything, again, completely defeated you shrank back in your seat savoring the second loss of the day, you didn't even care that you won the award for drinking all on time, you just wanted to wallow in your misery of being the eternal second in the team.

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iys-cloud · 2 months

Text

hello to everyone in the void that is Tumblr, a single conversation with @arrowheadedbitch made me create a whole ass Mbav x Pjo Au and now it's everyone's problem

SO the Au starts with Ethan, Benny, Sarah, Erica and Rory going to new york for vacations and they tun into nico, leo, percy and will (nico is there bc will forced him to come along lol) in like, a remote part of a park or smt. and nico, being the son of hades and all low-key just... Senses smts wrong with the vampire trio And tells the others, leo, being as subtle as a bull with bells, points at them and says something along the lines of

"them? They're the 'dead feeling' guys??"

fast forward a lot of discussion and accusing later they're all fighting, Leo managed to stab Erica and, used to the monsters dissolving into gold powder, turns around. Erica being the petty bitch she is BITES him because that's SUCH a great idea cue everyone panicking bc at the moment the gang™ had been trying to be subtle about what they are (not that they accomplished it) and the demigods had only pulled a normal sized dagger that looked well, normal.

Rory, seeing the mess, fucking flies away, leaving the chb kids dumbfounded, sarah grabs erica and drags her away from leo, benny BOOKS IT and Ethan's on the floor wondering why can't anything go Right for them, the chb peps are wondering what new pantheon they just stumbled across and procced to get incredibly concerned because LEO IS QUITE LITERALLY DYING ON THE FLOOR.

Ethan seems to process the fact and panics but oh would you look at that, there's a bigger problem, Nico's there and since the mf can sense death he panics even harder because Leo is DYING and starts questioning them on "what the fuck is happening to him!?" And everything is kicked right back into a frenzy

Anyway long story short, the gang (minus rory and benny) ends up locked up in camp Half-blood for ✨ questioning ✨ and stay in a locked up room in the main house till Percy comes to drag Ethan and Erica out because Leo just woke up and apparently he's attacking people and making a mess out of everything???

Ethan SOMEHOW managed to convince Percy to take Sara with him instead ( "if you take Erica it'll just get worse, believe me" )

And oh boy the infermary looks like a war zone, Also are Leo's eyes glowing yellow??

He barely notices their entrance seeing as hes too busy trying to rip anyone who even comes clos eto shreds.The piper, who has been debriefed in the matter,nico, and will have sort of restrained him (pushed him into a corner with weapons).

And that sounds great and all but the thing is, Sara doesn't have the fake blood she usually drinks bc it's in her purse which the chb peps confiscated, so now they have no way to deal with the starving agitated fledgling

"well fuck" is the only thing she can think to say as she gets ready for a lot of struggling

They ( Sarah and Ethan) try to get the demigods to get Sarah's purse but they won't listen.

after a lot, and I mean A LOT of fighting, some (a hella lot of) begging from Ethans part and a little wake up call that ' hey somethings wrong!!!' (Leo throws Percy motherfucking Jackson into a wall with so much force it KNOCKS THE AIR OUT OF HIM) they do listen to them and from there it's a game of ' let's feed the starving fledgling without the other weird people finding just what we're giving him'

It somehow works because Sarah opens the container and Leo's head SNAPS towards the thing, they manage to get him into a 'safe' position while he rips into the (weirdly red) liquid with the desperation of a starving man.

everyone is trying to get air back into their lungs after the heart attack and proceed to glare daggers at Sara and Ethan

"okay what the actual fuck is happening!?!?"

#local cloud #percy jackson #pjo #leo valdez #percy jackon and the olympians #nico di angelo #Sarah mbav #ethan morgan #benny weir #erica mbav #mbav #AUSSS #Au for you #And you and youuuuu #If this gets enough attention (2 comments) I'll follow on #Or whatever #Actually just ask me questions I'm riding the hyperfiction high

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cosmicjoke · 1 year

Text

Part 2 of the Psychological and Emotional Impact of Levi’s Early Childhood: How Levi’s Years with his mother weren’t Idealic:

So some of the conversations and additions to my post about Levi’s childhood got me thinking and focusing a little more on one, specific aspect of it, that I wanted to delve into here.

Again, it’s interesting, because, as we know, Kuchel was a loving mother toward Levi. She clearly loved him and, at risk to herself, wanted and kept him. Something which undoubtedly made her own life exponentially harder, when obviously it was already incredibly difficult. I also talked about how this decision had an aspect of selfishness to it, though, as she knowingly brought Levi into a situation in which he would also end up suffering a great deal. I want to reiterate that this isn’t meant to be taken as a criticism of Kuchel or her love of Levi. It’s just a stated fact.

Kuchel clearly struggled to take care of Levi. The fact that Levi was at death’s door when Kenny found him is testament to this reality. All the love in the world wouldn’t have been enough to provide the basic necessities a growing child requires. Levi was in a state of extreme neglect. He was starving to death. He was filthy. He was barefoot and completely alone, with no sign at all of anyone having come by even once to provide help, and no sign that Levi ever left to seek help. It was pure luck that Kenny came by when he did and was able to rescue him. If he hadn’t, Levi would have surely died.

So what I wanted to get into here more specifically is what it tells us about Levi’s upbringing with his mother, that he was left in such a state, and why when Kenny found him, it was obvious that Levi was totally isolated, that nobody came by to help him, and that he also, apparently, never left their room to find help.

What that tells me is that Levi likely never had any real social interaction outside of his mother. That his isolation may have been so extreme, in fact, that nobody outside of their home even knew he existed. This seems supported by the fact that Levi was socially inept when Kenny first meets him. He barely speaks, almost to the point of muteness. When Kenny talks to him, Levi more often than not says nothing, just stares at him with shuttered eyes. Kenny describes Levi as “cold” or “unfriendly”. Levi is also constantly looking at Kenny. He rarely seems to take his eyes off of him, which could indicate a wariness of him, which, given the sort of life his mother was living, and given where they were, the Underground, makes plenty of sense. Levi would be wary of strange men.

Given these details, it seems likely to me that Kuchel, in the least, kept Levi as isolated and alone as she could manage, and that she likely did this out of a desire to protect him from the dangers of the Underground. It seems likely that she kept him in their room and rarely, if ever, let him out. Again, probably because she wanted to shield him from danger.

But as we see, there was a price to pay for doing something like this. Not only was Levi maladjusted, but when his mother was dying, and Levi was left to starve to death, Levi seemingly didn’t know how to ask anyone for help. Now it’s possible Levi might have tried finding help, and nobody listened to him. I wouldn’t find that surprising either, given the environment they were living in. The Underground is a cut-throat, dog eat dog place, where very few people can afford to help anyone else, given the general, desperate circumstances most down there find themselves living in.

Whether Levi sought help and was turned away, or he didn’t seek help because he didn’t realize he could, and also because nobody ever came by to help either of them, either way, this would have, tragically, affirmed for Levi that neither his nor his mother’s lives were worth anything to anyone.

I assume it took a long time for Kuchel to die. She was completely wasted away by the time Kenny found her, essentially skeletal in her appearance. Part of this could have been because her body was decomposing. But the fact she’d been dying from disease would have obviously ravaged her body, too. Levi would have had to witness this slow, no doubt agonizing deterioration for who knows how many weeks or months. That alone would have been horrifically traumatizing for him, especially given his own, general helplessness. And in all that time, nobody ever once, we can assume, offered them a helping hand, offered them food, offered them money, offered them medical assistance.

It’s interesting to consider too that Kuchel must have known that she was dying, and that without her, Levi would surely die too. She had no way of knowing that Kenny would come by when he did, or that he would come by at all. She hadn’t seen him, I’m assuming, since before she gave birth to Levi, since Kenny didn’t even know Levi’s name when they met. So what does this tell us? That Kuchel knew she was dying, and that without her there to take care of him, Levi would die too?

One might think Kuchel, once she realized her case was hopeless, would attempt to hand Levi over to someone else to care for him. But clearly that didn’t happen. There could be a million reasons for this. Mainly, I would think, Kuchel didn’t trust anyone she knew enough to actually care for Levi, or that she simply wasn’t close enough with anyone to feel confident in her ability to ask them to care for her child, and that gives us a pretty good idea of what Kuchel’s relationships with other people in the Underground were like. We can assume from this that she didn’t have any close friends, and in turn, we can assume that neither did Levi. I would go so far as to say Levi probably didn’t have any friends. I don’t think he ever had any real, meaningful interaction with other children, even. Again, remembering Levi’s social ineptness when Kenny finds him, how withdrawn he was, seems to support this. So from all of this, I think it’s likely that neither Kuchel or Levi ever got much social interaction, or had any, real social lives to speak of. I think we can clearly see the ill effects of this in Levi throughout his entire life. He’s famously very socially awkward. He doesn’t really know how to express himself in words. People often mistake him for being apathetic or rude or unfriendly because his face isn’t generally very emotive, and he often speaks in a monotone. This in itself is it’s own kind of tragedy, because at his core, Levi is actually exceptionally compassionate and kind. Levi’s social difficulties would also have obviously been terribly exacerbated by the way Kenny raised him after Kuchel died.

But going back to the way Kuchel raised him, I think it’s fair to say that she kept Levi very isolated, and that she herself was probably very isolated too, and so we have to think about how this bleak reality likely impacted Kuchel’s own ability adequately care for Levi.

Again, going back to the state Kenny found Levi in, it’s obvious that something went very, very wrong in Kuchel’s ability to take care of her son. It’s obvious that she was struggling severely to provide for him, once again not from lack of effort, but because of the desperate circumstances of their lives. Food, clothing, shelter, warmth, etc... We see those things were clearly not being provided to Levi on a consistent basis. He was dressed in rags, some type of garment that was too large for him, and might be supposed to have belonged to Kuchel herself, meaning she couldn’t afford to buy him anything better. He was barefoot, meaning she probably couldn’t afford shoes for him. His hair was uncut and unwashed, as was the rest of his body. They were living in what appears to be a single room with next to nothing in it. There’s a single bed which Kuchel occupies, some pots and a pitcher for water I’m guessing, and that’s about it. We see no toys. We see no books. We see nothing of any comfort or luxury. There’s no other obvious rooms attached to the one they’re in. No bathroom or washing area. No doors leading anywhere else but outside. And finally, Levi clearly hadn’t eaten anything of substance, or any kind of full meal, in a long, long time. And he was completely alone. So we see that, in the end, Kuchel, despite her obvious and genuine love for Levi, wasn’t able to take care of him. Obviously Levi’s deteriorated state when Kenny finds him is a direct result of Kuchel herself falling ill, and she no doubt did her best when she was still able to work to provide for him these basic necessities. But it’s also still obvious that it was always a struggle. They had no money, and that’s plain. They were living, very obviously, in abject poverty. And already living in such a dangerous, cut-throat environment, where criminals and predators were able to openly roam the streets without consequence, since the above ground authorities rarely ventured down there, a lone mother and her very young child would have struggled all the more to survive. With such a poor financial situation, their day to day lives must have been incredibly precarious and uncertain.

But I’m also not just talking about providing the bare life essentials when talking about Kuchel’s struggles to take care of Levi. Going back to Kuchel’s own seeming lack of social interaction or dependable friends, one has to consider the psychological impact of this on her, and how that in turn would impact her relationship with Levi. Being a mother is a hard job. It’s hard enough even in the best of circumstances. Taking care of a helpless child that is in constant need of love, care and attention is incredibly draining and time consuming. We often hear people joke about how mother’s should be paid to be mothers alone, because it’s such a consuming job.

Now, you take the general difficulty of that job, and you amplify it with the sorts of difficulties and bleak realities Kuchel and Levi faced, things like abject impoverishment, a lack of any sort of real social life or friends, constant fear and paranoia of ones surroundings, the ever present reality of being surrounded by criminals, and Kuchel’s own day to day life working as a prostitute, and you start to really realize just how bad and difficult their lives together must have been.

Kuchel wouldn’t have had any sort of outlet, or escape, from the harsh realities of her day to day situation. If she had no real friends (again, something that seems almost certain when considering everything else), then we have to assume whatever downtime she had from selling her body for money was spent with Levi and Levi alone. So after hours and hours of being forced to let strangers have their way with her and use her body for sex, which we can pretty much guarantee also involved plenty of physical violence against her, Kuchel would then have to come home and take care of a young child who needed to be fed, clothed, washed, paid attention to, etc, etc... all things Kuchel was clearly struggling to provide. I don’t think the mental and emotional toll this sort of existence must have had on her can be exaggerated. She had to have been exhausted, both physically and mentally. With no one outside of a young child to talk to or interact with, she must have been deeply depressed and often felt incredibly alone. Those feelings would have only been worsened by her struggle to provide enough food and shelter and warmth to keep them both alive. They would have only be worsened further by her need to constantly be vigilant and protect Levi from the many, many dangers of the Underground.

My point with bringing all this up is to show that it’s unlikely that Kuchel, in these circumstances, would have been able to provide Levi, not just things like food or clothing or warmth, but a healthy social environment. It’s very, very doubtful that Kuchel would have had the time, or the energy, or even the mental capacity, to be able to give Levi the kind of love and attention she would have under even slightly better circumstances. Realistically speaking, she was probably simply too tired at the end of each work day to really play with him, or spend time with him in any meaningful way. She was probably too exhausted to indulge in any sort of wants or needs of his outside of immediate essentials. Assuming Kuchel was often depressed (which I don’t think is at all a stretch or unlikely, again given her own isolation and the ugly reality of her life), that would have also impacted how she interacted with Levi. Children aren’t stupid, they’re intuitive, and we know Levi in particular is maybe the most emotionally intelligent character in AoT. He would have picked up on her depressive moods, and her general unhappiness, I’m sure. He would have felt that negative energy coming from her.

Going back to Levi’s maladjustment when Kenny finds him, to his muteness and wariness, his “cold”, “unfriendly” demeanor, I think it’s safe to assume that these problems in Levi were a result of not just the incredibly harsh circumstances of his life with his mother, but also came from Kuchel’s failure to provide Levi with enough stimulation to teach him social skills. Again, please remember, this isn’t meant as a criticism of Kuchel or her love for Levi. I don’t want anyone to think I’m trying to cast doubt on those things. Again, it’s just to highlight and draw attention to the fact that, despite that love, Kuchel still wasn’t, and frankly couldn’t have been, a perfect mother to Levi. Their situation just simply wouldn’t have allowed for it. And so I think it’s realistic and fair to assume that Kuchel failed Levi in certain ways.

Levi wasn’t okay when Kenny found him. Again, not just based on the fact that he was literally dying and in a state of extreme neglect, but based on the fact that he was clearly a child who had never learned to be social. He was strange. He didn’t act at all like a normal child his age might. He was deeply withdrawn, almost mute, he never smiled or laughed, he was wary, probably from having been taught to be afraid of men, listless and resigned. None of this speaks to a child who is well adjusted or who received a lot of love and attention. He doesn’t demand attention, the way most children do. Instead, when Kenny finds him, Levi is curled against a far wall, just waiting to die, quiet and accepting. Think about this. He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t making a fuss, he wasn’t even visibly upset in any way over his situation. He was just resigned to it. He didn’t beg Kenny for help when he came, or even talk to him, except to tell him his mother was dead, and after being promoted multiple times, to tell him his name. Levi didn’t demand or seek attention, even from the first person to show up and offer help, likely because Levi was taught through example not to expect attention. And once again, this isn’t a criticism of Kuchel, but an acknowledgment of the likely reality that she just didn’t have the time, energy or ability to give Levi attention beyond providing for him the bare minimum required to keep him alive.

Levi’s state when Kenny finds him, not just physical, but his emotional and mental state, suggests a certain amount of neglect in Levi’s life from his mother.

So again I posit that this general perception in the fandom of Levi being provided plenty of love and care from his mother in the first, few years of his life is idealized in the extreme, and fails to acknowledge the harsh reality of their lives and circumstances, as well as fails to acknowledge the state Levi was in when Kenny found him.

I say all this, and think it’s important to acknowledge, because I don’t think Levi is given enough credit for making himself into the man he would eventually become. Very often, the credit is solely given to his mother, and sometimes even to Kenny (really don’t get that one), for Levi turning out to be a kind, caring and compassionate human being. But in my opinion, in the face of everything we know, this belief doesn’t hold water. It doesn’t account for just how bad off Levi was, not just physically, but mentally, when Kenny took him in.

There’s always the question of nature vs nurture, and I’m always of the mind that how a person turns out is more a mixture of the two than any, single one. And certainly, we see parts of Levi’s personality which have been shaped by the way he was raised, both by Kuchel and Kenny. Levi’s social awkwardness, his blunt, sometimes rude interactions, his anger and violence, his fear and readiness to act in the face of that fear, etc... all these things were no doubt informed by Levi’s experiences growing up. And yes, I’m sure that part of Levi’s ability to love and be loved came from his mother. But not all of it did. Levi, from seeing how his mother was treated, from seeing the negative results of the life she was living, not just on her, but on him, would have been sent the lesson early on in life that neither of their lives were worth very much to anyone but each other. From Kuchel’s inability to really take care of him, Levi would have undoubtedly questioned his own worth, not because Kuchel didn’t love him, but because he would have picked up on how his existence was a burden to her, how it made her life harder, how she in turn wasn’t always able to provide him with a great deal of warmth or affection, because it was already too much to provide him with basic necessities for staying alive. Levi knew not to expect a lot of love or attention, and that tells us an awful lot about Levi’s life with his mother. He doesn’t throw a fit or complain when Kenny takes him in and starts treating him harshly. He doesn’t whine or demand love when Kenny starts teaching him how to use a knife, or how to “greet people” (ala, beat the shit out of them). He doesn’t show any expectation from Kenny at all, let alone an expectation for love and affection from him. Every panel we see of Levi with Kenny shows Levi standing there, mute and listless, simply accepting of his new situation and the new way in which he’s being treated. He just... takes it. This isn’t a child who’s been taught that he deserves better. This isn’t a child who expects to be treated with kindness or respect or gentility. This isn’t a child who is used to getting his way, or who expects to be paid attention to. This isn’t a child who expects much of anything at all. Again, the fact of Levi’s immediate acceptance of the way Kenny treats him tells us a LOT about what his life with his mother was like. He wasn’t spoiled, he wasn’t treated as special, he wasn’t given an excess of attention or love. If he had been, that would have made itself evident when Kenny took him in and started treating him the way he did. And once more I reiterate, this isn’t meant as a knock on Kuchel, or to cast doubt on the love she had for Levi. It’s just a simple acknowledgment of certain facts. When Kenny leaves Levi, Levi just accepts that as well, though obviously it hurts him immensely. He doesn’t chase after Kenny, or beg him to come back. He just stands there and watches him walk away. He just accepts that he’s being abandoned. Again, this isn’t indicative of a child who has a particularly strong sense of self-worth or importance, or a child who was taught to fight for his right to love. He was taught to fight for his life by Kenny, sure, but he was taught the exact opposite regarding other people’s lives in turn. And we know, bizarrely, from how resigned he was to his own death after Kuchel died, that Levi’s experiences in the first years of his life with his mother didn’t teach him to fight for or value his own life, though I’m sure that isn’t what Kuchel ever intended.

And so when we take this all into account, when we take into account that Levi wasn’t ever really taught to value or fight for his own right to love and compassion, or even life, how he wasn’t taught to even expect those things, on top of which, taking into account how he was taught not to value the lives of others through Kenny’s lessons, and then you reflect on how, DESPITE all that, Levi was open enough to make, on his own, his first, real friends in Furlan and Isabel, to form an actual family with them, and to make more friends after they died in Erwin and Hange, how he fights with everything he has to protect the lives and dreams of others, how he has so much deep compassion and care for others, how deeply affected he is by the deaths of others, how hard he tries to keep everyone around him alive, how much he values life, values the lives of others, and their right to life, you realize how remarkable that really is. You realize that nothing in Levi’s life growing up can really account for that ability to care, or that deep compassion he holds. It comes down to his nature. Levi is just an innately caring, kind and compassionate person. Rather than inheriting that ability from Kuchel’s example, I would rather say Levi inherited that ability from Kuchel’s nature. He wasn’t taught to be loving and compassionate. He just was. And so was his mother. Both of them maintained that capacity despite their horrible circumstances and experiences, not because of them. Just like how Levi and Mikasa are innately loyal, Levi I would say is also innately, inherently kind and compassionate. Some traits of our personalities are just inborn, not taught.

I think Levi deserves so much more credit than he generally receives for being the kind, caring man he is.

#Levi Ackerman #Kuchel Ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #meta #analysis

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destiny-in-the-universe · 3 months

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more updates! [rc9gn post]

currently working on something for an ask i received and let me just say, this is going to be incredibly chaotic lmao. also why does ao3 have such little tags for RC9GN, give me more i'm begging. it should not be this niche of a fandom!

that show had so much potential- but anyway, here's some more under-the-cut headcanons about our title lead Randy Cunningham!

Randy Cunningham Headcanons

Like mentioned before, this kid has Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder- specifically ADHD-C (which just means he has combined inattentiveness and hyperactivity)

Thanks to @mrfartpowered, Randy comes from a rich family! Though both his parents are workaholics and hardly come home which means Randy's left to his own devices

He doesn't fully know how to cook, but he knows enough basics to not completely starve when he's alone at the house- also because he and Howard eat out a lot at like, Charlie Cluckers and PJ McFlubbusters (?)

Randy literally doesn't mind paying for things because his family's kind of fucking loaded!

He has Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD) and struggles with not completely giving up in one-go when he fears he's about to be rejected, when he's about to do something wrong- it comes and goes, but there's no way he isn't a little insecure

He's developed a curiosity for law ever since becoming the Ninja. His parents are in awe about it because they think he's wanting to become a lawyer (he doesn't-)

Randy has always been an intense fan of the Ninja as we know from canon. He kept a lot of memorabilia over the years and never parted with it- he wanted to help people, deciding if it wouldn't be the Ninja, he would do other forms of service. Imagine his surprise when he's actually chosen to be the Ninja

He looks up to the First Ninja. Like, a lot

I'm trying to not accidentally spoil anything in the headcanons, but okay this has to be one of my favorites: you can't convince me that Randy wouldn't use more powers he found in the Shadow Warrior's part of the Nomicon

The Ninja Suit can only protect Randy from only some injuries- if anyone read my tengu! Howard fic, the suit will automatically have a defense/safety mechanism built in to heal any severe injuries/wounds- it sort of overrides the user and knocks them out (especially when it comes to near-death experiences)

If there ever was a time when a Ninja had to decommission early (coughs Mac Antfee coughs), someone else would have to be chosen- it's sometimes a hastily chosen decision but this rarely- if ever- happens. Somehow not many notices

Angst Headcanons

There have been times when Howard has needed to patch Randy up after some nasty fights- this one time Randy didn't make it back after a battle and he was found with a nasty gash, barely managing to stay awake and it freaked out Howard a lot

Randy sometimes uses the Nomicon to avoid his problems- it's become an unhealthy habit but he can't quite bring himself to stop

You can't tell me he doesn't dissociate. When Randy isn't actively doing his part in being the Ninja, he tends to space out a lot and he isn't all too present to say the least

This boy does have some scars. You can't convince me otherwise

He doesn't really question his self worth as the Ninja, but the thoughts still come sometimes- wondering if he's doing a good enough job, if the Nomicon hadn't made a mistake choosing him. It eats him up more when his RSD acts up

Randy does his best to impress Finja and feels horrible everytime he feels he's messed up. He doesn't like seeing others' disappointed (gee, I wonder why /lhs)

He feels responsible for others getting hurt-

I don't have much else to add, but let me just say I'll be doing another post soon! I have something kind of fun planned when it comes to the currently unofficial canon for Into the NInjaverse! I'm kind of hyped and all over the place today!

#randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #rc9gn #randy cunningham #rc9gn headcanons #randy cunningham headcanons #ask update #currently hyperfixated #time to hyperfixate #rc9gn randy #first ninja #rc9gn first ninja #character headcanons #updates #updates on my headcanons and whatnot #i'm honestly bouncing off the walls with my newest incoming posts

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chris-continues · 1 year

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Head empty no thoughts except just Vash

Trigun college au tags: @vashfantasy @h4venpha @lune010

ALSO IDK IF U WANNA BE TAGGED BUT HERE U GO BRO @macncherries

Cw college au vash has depression btw

Like I haven’t had him super on the brain lately but I do miss him

Imagine college au vash and you just kinda coming to the stalemate of “I don’t think they like me and I’m lowk too tired to do anything besides just slowly inch into their arms” so you’re both having your usual movie nights that slowly progressed into Milly Meryl and Wolfwood doing their thing and your thigh barely touching Vash’s

You can hear his breath stuttering if you listen closely enough, hand almost skimming his 0///0

Months later you watch movies alone with him, your legs draped over his as you check your phone notifications and he’s like: “wait wait this is the good part!” And quotes the scene word for word to your amusement

It’s cute, really. You both nerd out together, have greasy takeout that probably has more sodium than you should be having but indulging in sweet moments like this? Where you’re in his company and enjoying the all too charming grins and fleeting touches, coupled with as you try to keep it down (lest his brother get pissed off since you’ve interrupted his brooding). Vash is a wonderful friend who you find plenty easy to talk to and relate to- when his depression fucking slams him you’re one of the people he trusts. When he cannot get up you’re one of the people he (begrudgingly) texts when he doesn’t want Nai’s help (to his frustrations- Nai has become more acquainted with you due to this).

Or (because he’s AUDHD) imagine his executive dysfunction hitting him in the face and he’s like lowk dying

You bring him food and good company if he needs it. And sometimes he’s nonverbal as he gestures you in, forcing himself to speak until you can tell he’s really straining himself and just super fucking exhausted, allowing him to pick a movie as you set up the food on the coffee table (open takeout containers and grab napkins + utensils)

Your legs curled into criss cross applesauce or propped against the now half empty containers, glancing over to him every now and then to check on him. He’s closed off, sometimes his knees are tucked to his chest or he’s also sitting criss crossed, arms against his knees as the fatigue he harbors becomes more apparent.

He’s vulnerable like this. And to be honest? He never thought he’d be reaching out to anyone like this. But you’re so comforting, so sweet about how you approach it because you understand. You get it. And you’re you and-

He exhales once more.

Maybe one night he ends up resting his head on your shoulder, exhaustion seeping through him as he doesn’t fully process what he’s just done. Let his guard down, possibly pushed your boundaries- but all you do is momentarily tense up and tentatively rest your head over his, basking in his company once more (despite your nervousness. I’m projecting and making reader touch starved in this too)

And then it doesn’t happen for a bit. But then one of you initiates it again. And it’s a silent, unspoken thing asking for comfort- you don’t assume it’s romantic in nature, but you each just tend to flock to one another in times like these. He’s so comforting to be around- understanding yet solemn eyes, empathetic gaze and when he does speak, he knows. He gets it. And you’re the same way to him.

It’s with this that you start to fall for the guy with the cool designs on his pants- he painted them himself! The guy with the brightest smile you know and the kindest heart, who can probably recite most Star Wars movies and has rebuilt the Lego Death Star on multiple occasions because it manages to roll off of where he keeps it (he wants to hang it up on his ceiling but Nai is hesitant about putting more holes in the apartment walls/ceiling). The guy who you learn to rest on after a hard day, oftentimes splurging a tiny bit on something sweet for you to share, even if it hurts your wallet a small bit seeing his eyes light up after a long day makes it plenty worth it.

He makes you feel on a constant high and you can be yourself truly around him, unabashedly and unapologetically rambling about your interests and viewpoints to one another for hours on end.

And when times are hard?

You’ll find your way to him. And he will do the same.

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silvfyre-writings · 1 year

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My Head Hurts (BSD Fanfic)

I wanted to thank you all for reading this fic, even though I'm sure it's not my best one. I had an idea, wrote the first part, and then just kinda, idk, lost the bunnies. But I wanted some caring ADA towards Ranpo, so that's what I did. Besides, it's fanfiction, it's free, and it doesn't have to be great lol.

As long as I enjoy it, and you enjoy it, that's all the matters really.

Anyway, that's all I really want to say, so thank you all for reading, and I'll see you in the next fic!

Ranpo was twelve when he experienced his first migraine.

A headache so intense that he hadn’t been able to so much as open his eyes, let alone leave his bed that day. It felt like his neighbour had smashed their axe against his skull and then just left it there, that was how much it hurt. And on top of that, there was the nausea, and the exhaustion, and really, it just sucked. It was the worst thing he’d ever experienced in his life. The only good thing that had come from this headache—he hadn’t yet known what they were called—was that his mother had walked into his room, taken one look at him and then smothered him in love and attention. It’d made the headache much more bearable to know that someone was there, helping him to bear the burden.

And then his parents died.

And there was no one.

The second time Ranpo experienced a migraine—he now knew what they were, courtesy of his parents—he’d been at the police academy, in the middle of class, and the pain had been so intense that his brain had elected to just shut down rather than even try and deal with it, and he’s passed out. In the middle of class. That all his classmates witnessed. He awoke a few hours later in the infirmary, his head still trying to split itself open, and all he could do was stay still until the nurse noticed that he was awake; she forced him to take some pills that he somehow managed to swallow, nearly gagging as they slid down his throat. After that, he’d been left alone, in a room that wasn’t nearly dark enough, until the pills—painkillers he’d realized afterwards—kicked in and his head hurt a little less.

The third time was the worst time, at least, in his opinion, because he’d been on the streets when it’d hit, and there’d been nothing he could do but curl up in the darkest corner that he could find, and cry over how much it hurt. Because all he could really do was cry; sleep was impossible, it was too bright, too noisy, too painful, and there was no one around that he knew well enough to ask for help from. Sure, he could’ve used the last of the money he’d earnt from his last job to pay for a doctor’s visit, but it’d been four days since his last meal, so he’d gone without. Not that he could bring himself to even buy food, what with the way his stomach was rolling. And by the time the migraine had passed, it’d taken another day before he had the strength to drag himself out of his little corner and back into the world.

After that, whenever another migraine came along, unless he was throwing up or physically unable to see, he forced himself to keep going; they happened with enough frequency, that if he laid in the corner of some alleyway until they passed, he would’ve starved to death long ago. And while Ranpo was starting to think that it would simply be easier to just give up and die, he kept on going. It was hard at times, to keep working through the pain that threatened to bring him to his knees, yet he managed. Barely.

And yet, despite his determination, his life only continued to get worse.

Until Fukuzawa.

The first time he’d experienced a migraine under Fukuzawa’s care, had been two weeks into living with the man. For two weeks, Ranpo had kept his head down and stayed quiet; Fukuzawa had already done so much for him, giving him a place to live, a place to sleep, along with clothes and food, and he really didn’t want to lose that. So, he kept to himself and kept his head down to avoid invoking Fukuzawa’s wrath. But then, in the middle of the night, two weeks into this new living arrangement, he’d woken up to nausea so intense, that he was barely able to process the feeling, let alone the sensation of his skull being smashed between two buildings, before his dinner made its acquaintance with himself and his sheets.

And just because Ranpo’s luck couldn’t possibly get any worse, Fukuzawa woke up.

There was an apology spilling from his lips the moment his bedroom door cracked open, and tears in his eyes because he truly felt awful, because there was nothing fun about throwing up, especially over oneself, and not to mention, he’d woken Fukuzawa from his own sleep. Yet Fukuzawa hadn’t looked mad. In fact, he’d looked concerned, worried even, but that couldn’t be right. Because Fukuzawa was stoic and firm, and this was a new and familiar side to the man that Ranpo hadn’t witnessed before in the short time they’d known each other. And that scared him.

But it was also a lie, since he’d seen that same worry and concern back at the warehouse after he’d nearly died.

However, his head was hurting far too much to think much about it.

Ranpo watched with wide eyes as Fukuzawa took in the scene before him, although he had to close his eyes when the nausea decided to make a reappearance. A cruel thing for his body to do, really, when he’d already thrown up everything he’d eaten. He heard footsteps approach, barely audible to most, but like a timpani to him, and soon he was being lifted and carried. The next few moments blurred together, Ranpo drifting somewhere between conscious and not, but he did remember the distinct feeling of something cold dragging across his skin, bringing with it, utter relief.

Awareness returned to him when he was lifted again, and he blinked once, letting out a whimper when a harsh light assaulted him. The light vanished, but the pain had already increased, and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. He heard Fukuzawa say something, the words indistinguishable, but oh so gentle and soothing, and Ranpo cried just that little bit harder. Which only made his head pound that much harder.

He felt himself lowered back into bed—at some point, Fukuzawa must’ve changed the sheets, but he couldn’t remember his guardian leaving his side—and the actions were so soft and kind, that Ranpo couldn’t help but let out a sob when he was tucked in. It’d been so long since he’d last experienced such kindness, and it was just so, so overwhelming, especially in his current state where his senses and his emotions were heightened. Still, Fukuzawa said nothing, he just sat on the edge of his bed and wiped away the tears that fell with his sleeve until finally, he drifted off.

When he woke, an hour later, Fukuzawa was still there on the edge of the bed, and dozing himself, but now there was a glass of water, along with a couple of painkillers sitting on his bedside table that Ranpo didn’t hesitate to reach for. His head still felt like it was being stabbed—or being electrocuted, but the point was his head really fucking hurt, and he was honestly desperate for any kind of relief at this point. And while he normally struggled to swallow pills, this time he didn’t, taking them easily before he laid back down, his movements disturbing Fukuzawa from his rest.

“How do you feel?” Fukuzawa asked, voice muffled and quiet, yet still loud, in the sea of pain that was Ranpo’s head. A warm hand rested upon his forehead, the touch gentle and soothing, chasing away some of the tension in his body.

He blinked once, eyes heavy, and grunted, unable to do much more than that. He certainly didn’t feel great, and would very much rather be sleeping off this latest migraine of his, but here he was, awake and hurting, and also burdening someone else with his problems. “’m fine…” Ranpo mumbled. “Jus’ a headache…”

Fukuzawa hummed, and his hand fell away. “I’ll grab an ice pack for you. It might help.”

Ranpo liked to think he made some kind of noise in response to Fukuzawa’s statement, but he honestly couldn’t remember. One second, Fukuzawa was there and the next he was gone, only to return shortly after with an ice pack in hand that was quickly settled on his aching skull. The chill chased away the pain to bring him some relief, enough that he could close his eyes and finally drift back to sleep, and as the last of his consciousness faded, he wished to sleep through the rest of this migraine.

Apparently the gods had decided to be merciful for a change, because he did end up sleeping through the rest of the pain, waking up two days later with just a dull ache behind his eyes, to see Fukuzawa asleep on the spare futon next to his bed that the older man must’ve rolled out at some point while he’d been unaware of the world. Seeing Fukuzawa by his side like that, brought a warm feeling to his chest, and he closed his eyes again with the intention of getting some more rest; he managed to get another hour of rest before he woke and saw that Fukuzawa was also awake.

And that meant it was time for his least favourite pastime.

Talking.

If there was one thing Ranpo didn’t like doing, it was talking about himself. Sure, he didn’t mind bragging about his ability and powers of deduction to those that would listen, but there was a difference between talking about his ability, and talking about his migraines. Because his ability was a strength. It was something good that he could use to help other people. It was what made him, him. But the migraines he’d just one day started having? They weren’t good at all. How could they be, when all they did was stop him from functioning? How were migraines supposed to help the people that came to him? The answer was, they weren’t, which was why Ranpo still hadn’t said anything as he and Fukuzawa sat next to each other—well, Fukuzawa sat, Ranpo laid beside him with a cold towel covering his eyes to further dull the ache behind his eyes that continues to cling.

“You have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.” Fukuzawa murmured, the quiet tone he took on at just the right volume to be comfortable instead of painful. “They’ll find out if there’s a reason behind your migraines—” Of course Fukuzawa had figured out that this wasn’t the first migraine he’d had. Nothing got past the man and his observation skills apparently. “—and treat them if there is.”

Ranpo grunted, almost certain that a doctor wouldn’t be able to help him. Because if a doctor was actually capable of curing these migraines, then surely his parents would’ve dragged him to the local village doctor to help him? They had loved him, they had cared for him, so why hadn’t they taken him to the doctor when he’d had that first migraine? Sure, it’d been the only one he’d had with them, but it’d been the most pain he’d ever been in his life, and they just… hadn’t taken him. Why? Why hadn’t they? Had they truly loved him? Or was he just imagining that love? It would make sense, it really would, looking back on it now, and he—

A hand threaded through his hair, dragging him away from his spiralling thoughts and bringing him back to the present. Fukuzawa’s voice worked further to ground him, and he rolled over to grab at Fukuzawa’s yukata, hiding his face against the man’s leg. The hand in his hair moved to readjust the cloth so it was covering his eyes. “Ranpo?”

He let out a whine this time. “Yeah?”

“You’ll be okay.”

“Really?” Ranpo asked, uncertain, because no one had ever tried to help him, so he couldn’t understand why Fukuzawa was so willing to do what everyone else had failed to do.

“Yes.” Fukuzawa’s hand returned to his hair, fingers moving through his hair. “You’ll be okay, because I promised to take care of you when I took you in, no matter what, and that includes helping you with this.”

“They’re just headaches…” Ranpo tried to argue, because the last thing he wanted to do was waste Fukuzawa’s time in something he’d managed to deal with for years. Sure, his migraines had increased in frequency over time, but he was still managing just fine. It was just that this one had caught him unaware.

Fukuzawa’s hand paused, and his voice softened even more than before. “You deserve to be free of pain, Ranpo, so please, trust that I’ll be able to help you get treatment for your migraines.”

Ranpo sighed and nodded, allowing himself to be lost in the comfort that Fukuzawa brought, placing his trust in a man that he’d only known for two weeks, trusting in Fukuzawa’s promise of getting him help, and trusting in the words you’ll be okay.

He clung to those words and trusted.

He only hoped that trusting wouldn’t fail him.

Something’s wrong.

The thought came to Fukuzawa unbiddenly, and was sudden enough that he paused mid stroke in the report he was signing. He tried to think back to everything that’d happened so far that day, yet there was nothing that came to mind. The day was as normal as a day at the Agency could be; he’d arrived after making sure that Ranpo was awake and out of bed—there’d been too many a time when he’d woken the boy up, only for him to go back to sleep the moment he left the room—to find Kunikida already there with Atsushi, the two of them working on a case together. Dazai was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t a surprise. Seldom was Dazai ever in the office early, much preferring to start late, and finish late, which coincidentally, worked quite well with Yosano’s schedule as well.

Tanizaki had asked for the day off, because he’d heard that Kenji and Kyouka hadn’t been to Cosmo World, and wanted to take them, and who was Fukuzawa to begrudge his younger staff members into acting their age for a change. It would do them some good, and would also promote closer bonds, all things Fukuzawa approved of his employee’s doing, and not just because it improved work ethic. He wasn’t so foolish as to think his employee’s were the kind of people that could keep going and going without the appropriate breaks. Many—if not all—of them were wounded souls that sometimes needed that little bit of extra care, quite often because they were so bad at taking care of themselves. But that was okay, because Fukuzawa was more than willing to be that support.

Ranpo always liked to tell him he’d turned soft in his old age.

Fukuzawa was inclined to agree, but now wasn’t the time to focus on that; there was still that intense feeling in his gut, telling him that something was wrong, or that something was about to go wrong if nothing had yet, and he could no longer ignore it. And since there was nothing in his office, that meant it had to be something within the main office.

Please let it be a broken window. Fukuzawa thought as he stood from his desk, walking around it towards the door. He was hoping for a broken window, but he knew deep down, that it wouldn’t be as simple as that; this feeling in his gut wouldn’t exist if the problem was just a broken window. Because between his employees and the mafia raids, the windows were broken more often than not, and really, if any of his employees decided to stop being detectives, they could probably open up a window repair business just from how often they’d had to repair the windows.

So yeah, a broken window was the best case scenario in Fukuzawa’s mind.

And he knew it wasn’t when he heard a timid knock, just as he was about to open the door. Fukuzawa shut his eyes for just a moment, and sighed, steeling himself for whatever problem he was about to encounter, before opening the door.

“Oh, um, President!” Atsushi blinked, surprised at how fast the door had been open. But the boy was quick to recover and stood up straight, restless, and fidgety as he always was. But Fukuzawa was a patient man, so he stood there, calm, as he waited for Atsushi to find his words, which thankfully didn’t take long at all. “Kunikida sent me to get you. Something’s wrong with Ranpo.”

Oh no, what’s happened this time? Fukuzawa closed his eyes, already running through every possible problem that could’ve happened with his ward. Which was a long list because Ranpo and trouble may as well have been the same word, what with how often he ended up in it. He let his mind return to that morning when he’d woken the detective; Ranpo hadn’t seemed off when he’d been woken up, only being a little more annoyed than he usually was if anything, and Ranpo hadn’t yet been summoned for a case that day. So whatever the problem was, it was a sudden one, and that was enough for him to step past Atsushi, worried. “What happened.”

Atsushi fell into step beside him. “I could hear his heart rate increasing, so I looked over and he looked to be in pain? I asked Ranpo if he was okay, but he didn’t answer me. But Kunikida looked up and told me to get you before rushing over.” Atsushi’s thought for a moment. “I think I heard him throwing up as I left, but I’m not sure.”

“He probably was.” Fukuzawa confirmed, knowing just from that brief explanation what was wrong. It’d been years since that time he’d woken up to the sound of Ranpo throwing up, two weeks after taking the kid in, suffering from a headache so strong, he’d barely been coherent as Fukuzawa had tried to figure out what was wrong and take care of him. And even after taking Ranpo to the doctor back then and getting him diagnosed with chronic migraines, and getting him the medicine that helped to reduce the frequency of them, the dreaded headaches still enjoyed making their appearance at the most inconvenient of times.

The last time had been before Atsushi had joined them; Ranpo had been summoned out by the police, only to fall ill upon arrival. Dazai had been with him at the time, to Fukuzawa’s relief, because Ranpo hadn’t even been able to stand from how much pain he’d been in.

“He suffers from migraines.” Fukuzawa explained, getting straight to the point because Atsushi wasn’t a child that needed coddling, and in the short time he’d been with the Agency, he’d become just as protective and caring as the rest of the members, fitting in well. “He’s had them for as long as I’ve known him, and he gets rather sick whenever they happen. Try to remain silent when we enter.”

“I understand.” Atsushi nodded, dashing ahead to open the door for Fukuzawa, and he gave the boy a nod as he stepped into the main office, taking care to be silent as he moved.

The curtains are drawn, and the lights are off, but Fukuzawa has no trouble locating his ward, if only because Ranpo is currently on the floor, leaning against the side of his desk with Dazai beside him, Ranpo’s head on Dazai’s shoulder, eyes closed and body trembling. There’s a wastebasket being clutched tightly in Ranpo’s grips, and as Fukuzawa steps closer, Ranpo makes a noise that has Kunikida reaching over from Ranpo’s other side to gently guide his head back towards the basket.

The sound of Ranpo throwing up always had Fukuzawa’s heart clenching, and this time was no different as he came to kneel in front of his ward, one hand reaching out to touch his ankle so that Ranpo knew he was there. No words were spoken, in fear of aggravating Ranpo’s migraine, but the relief on Ranpo’s face told him that he knew Fukuzawa was there. Once Ranpo finished throwing up, his head returned to Dazai’s shoulder, one of his hands grabbing at Dazai’s own, his grip loosening on the basket; Kunikida quietly placed it to the side, just in case it was needed again.

“It was sudden.” Kunikida informed him, keeping his voice low. “One minute he was fine, the next he was ill.”

Fukuzawa nodded. That was how most of Ranpo’s migraines tended to go, arriving without any kind of prior warning, so he wasn’t surprised to hear that was what happened this time. “Has he taken any medication?”

“The pills came right back up, so Yosano’s preparing a shot for him instead.” Dazai said this time, squeezing Ranpo’s hand gently. Ranpo mumbled something unintelligible. As soon as he finished speaking, there were footsteps approaching, familiar steps that Fukuzawa had grown accustomed to after a decade of listening out for them, but this time without the distinct clicking of heels, no doubt to limit the amount of noise in the room.

Yosano’s smile was soft as Fukuzawa’s eyes met her own, but she was quick to focus her attention back on the task at hand and shooed Kunikida away so that she had the space to work. They all watched as she pushed Ranpo’s sleeve to his elbow and in the very same breathe, inject him with the painkillers that would hopefully work faster than Ranpo’s usual medications. Yosano sat back on her heels. “We can move him to the infirmary in a minute. I’ve got Atsushi blocking out as much light as possible.”

“We can’t send him home?” Kunikida asked, brow furrowed.

“Not when it’s this bad.” Yosano sighed with a shake of her head. “We need to give the painkillers time to kick in anyway, and besides, the rest will do him good.”

“I’ll watch over him, and take him home once he’s in less pain.” Fukuzawa said as Kunikida opened his mouth to say something. Already he was moving, nudging the others out of the way so that he could get a grip on Ranpo and lift him into his arms, going slow so as to not make the nausea worse. At first, he thought Ranpo might’ve been asleep, considering he didn’t make a noise as he was shifted, but as he shuffled his arms to get a better grip, Ranpo moved to bury his face into the crook of his neck, throwing an arm over his shoulder at the same time.

“I’ll come with you.” Yosano got to her feet and followed Fukuzawa to the infirmary, opening and shutting the door so that Fukuzawa didn’t have to try and juggle both Ranpo and the door handle. Together, they worked on getting Ranpo settled into one of the beds; Yosano grabbed an extra pillow and a few blankets whilst Fukuzawa worked on shedding Ranpo of his layers until he was left in just his shirt and pants. The entire time, Ranpo didn’t make a sound, even though it was obvious he was still conscious from the way that he tried to help. Tried being the key word. But soon enough, Ranpo was settled into the bed with an ice pack over his eyes, dozing now, and the scene was so reminiscent of that time when Ranpo was fourteen, that Fukuzawa felt as if he’d been thrown back in time.

Fukuzawa sat in the chair that’d been pulled over and glanced over at Yosano. “How bad was it?”

“It was bad.” Yosano sat in the chair beside him, drawing her knees up so that she could rest her head against his shoulder. Fukuzawa reached over with one hand and patted the top of her head a few times. “Certainly one of the worst ones I’ve seen him have. Have you seen worse?”

“Two weeks after I took him in.” Fukuzawa answered. He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. Yosano had been apart of their lives for a decade, and was plenty smart herself. She could put the pieces together without him having to say so.

“He’ll be okay.” It wasn’t a question, nor a statement, but more of a reassurance. Still, Fukuzawa nodded.

“He’ll be okay.”

And Ranpo would be, because this wasn’t the first migraine he’d ever had.

Nor would it be the last.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #hurt/comfort #comfort #fukudad #edogawa ranpo #fukuzawa yukichi #armed detective agency #writing #fanfic

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