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k-s-morgan · 4 years

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What would you say would be the great but rarely used, mentioned (?) Will's quotes about Hannibal that show his depth of feeling for him and show that Will does love Hannibal. I know the most frequently used ones, but what do you think are the underappreciated moments?

What a great question! Here are the ones I recall and that I rarely see mentioned. If anyone who’s reading this can think of more, please share them too!

You’re supposed to be my paddle. It’s said at the very start of S1, and it shows the trust Will already puts into Hannibal, which is amazing, considering how hostile he is to people in general and especially to psychiatrists.

I don't know what's worse. Believing I did it or believing you did it... and did this to me. I felt so betrayed by you … I trusted you. I needed to trust you. Will is playing on Hannibal’s emotions here, but I think what he says is absolute truth. He sounds so wistful and sad - he really feels all this. It’s not the idea of Hannibal being a murderer that hit him hard, it’s that Hannibal betrayed him.

You've never condemned me. Not even under oath. You've always been my friend. Same here: he’s playing Hannibal, but what he says rings true. There is once again wistfulness in Will’s voice - Hannibal was his friend and it meant the world to him, but now he doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t understand why Hannibal is trying to help him after putting him in prison.

I have to deal with you. And my feelings about you. Sounds so deeply personal and romantic, in my opinion.

I envy you your hate. Makes it much easier when you know how to feel. Will confessing to Peter that he can’t hate Hannibal no matter what he did, and hence he can’t bring himself to kill him even now.

Where else would I go? This is so striking - Will confessing that Hannibal is the only person he can confide to, his safety net and in a way, his home.

Will: I tried to murder Dr. Lecter.

Margot: Did he have it coming?

Will: What do you think?

Margot: Can't say that I know.

Will: Neither can I. - This is a lot, coming from Will. Hannibal betrayed him, killed Abigail, murdered who knows how many innocent people, including Beverly, and yet Will isn’t sure Hannibal deserved having Matthew sent after him.

Hannibal is good enough for you. Considering the context and the emphasis he makes when he spits these words at Alana, he’s jealous, and this jealousy is about Hannibal and his affections.

Could you be happy there? This is what Will asks when Hannibal tells him that if he’s ever arrested, he’ll be living in his Mind Palace. It’s such a simple but powerful question because Will knows Hannibal might end up arrested because of him, and he’s worried about his happiness. He needs to hear that Hannibal won’t be miserable.

Hannibal: You would deny me my life.

Will: Not your life, no. - Will is no longer capable of killing Hannibal, and it’s important for him to make Hannibal understand this.

We have a mutually unspoken pact to ignore the worst of one another in order to continue enjoying the best. - Almost a love confession, the same one as “Because he was my friend and because I wanted to run away with him.”

Now, the entire brilliant Primavera is a big and loud love letter from Will to Hannibal. Here are my favorite quotes (I’m changing pronouns in Will’s discussions with fake!Abigail because he’s talking to himself there).

He left me to die... But I didn't. He was supposed to take me with him. We were all supposed to leave together. He made a place for us. Why did I lie to him? The wrong thing being the right thing to do was too ugly a thought. He gave me a chance to take it all back, and I just kept lying. He wants me to find him. After everything he's done, I would still go to him? Yes. - You can see his mental struggle, him being torn between love, guilt, and resentment.

Later:

This is what Hannibal sees when he steps inside the frescoed walls of his own mind ...But this isn't Hannibal, it's just where he begins. Beyond this, far and complex, light and dark, is the vast structure of his mind. A thousand rooms, miles of corridors. Everything he remembers, wonderfully and fearfully reconstructed. Hannibal is well armed against the physical world, but there are places within himself he can't safely go. But I can. If I find them. And that's how I'll find him. - Will is so incredibly reverent and admiring here, I love it.

I do feel closer to Hannibal here. God only knows where I would be without him ... I still want to go with him? Yes. - This says everything: Will acknowledges how crucial Hannibal is for him, how he can’t imagine himself without him now, and how much he craves his presence.

Will: You couldn't catch him when he was just a kid, what makes you think you're going to catch him now?

Pazzi: You.

A small, polite scoff from Will, unable to take his eyes off the small stairwell to the catacombs.

Will: What makes you think I want to catch him? ... You don’t know whose side I’m on. - Will openly admitting to a police officer that he’s siding with Hannibal.

Hannibal... I forgive you. - One of the most heartfelt things Will has ever said to him.

Chiyoh: How do you know Hannibal?

Will: One could argue, intimately. - This come across as Will flaunting their relationship to Chiyoh, who he perceives as a possible threat.

A part of me will always want to [slip away with Hannibal]. - I’m forever amazed at the things Will keeps saying to Jack.

Please. You need to get over yourself, whatever self this is, Bedelia. You expect us to believe you somehow got lost in the hot darkness of Hannibal Lecter's mind? - I seriously can’t believe Will said this. Could he sound any more jealous?

You helped Mason Verger find us. - I love how he refers to them as a team in front of Alana, even though Hannibal literally tried to saw his head open when they were found. Sounds like Will is resentful of the fact that they were interrupted o_O

I have to see Hannibal. Very simple words said to Jack in E8, but their meaning and the way Will phrased it... Will doesn’t need Hannibal’s help with the case, we know it because we saw him easily reconstruct the crime hours before that. But he’s not even really hiding it well! He doesn’t say, “I have to discuss this with Hannibal,” he says, “I have to see him.” There is a palpable difference between the two.

All conversations with Bedelia, but especially this jealous gem:

Poor Dr. Du Maurier, swallowed whole. Suffering inside Hannibal Lecter's bowels for what must have felt like an eternity. You didn't lose yourself, Bedelia, you just crawled so far up his ass you couldn't be bothered ... Have you been to see him?

In the next conversation again:

Will: Have you had any contact with him? - Jealous Will is the best.

I'm not fortune's fool. I'm yours. Will looks at Hannibal, clearly expecting him to react to his teasing, and then he’s so affronted when Hannibal ignores him.

The divine punishment of the sinner mirrors the sin being punished. Chilton languished unrecognized until Hannibal the Cannibal. He wanted the world to know his face. (And now he doesn’t have any). - This sounds like Chilton was Will’s courting gift to Hannibal. Instead of choosing more valid reasons for his actions, he focused on Chilton’s desire for popularity and him mocking Hannibal.

Hannibal said those words. To me. - Will is so proud to be seen as worthy by Hannibal, and he can’t help but throw it into Francis’ face.

Hannibal: Save yourself, kill them all?

Will: I don't know if I can save myself. And maybe that’s just fine. - To me, this sounds like Will confesses he doesn’t know if he can “kill them all”, meaning Hannibal first and foremost, and that at this point, he doesn’t even mind. The long stare their exchange afterward speaks volumes about their feelings.

#hannibal #will graham #hannigram

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

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Fallen From Grace. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

Giorno has given you too many gifts to count.

This benevolent act serves multiple purposes, culminating towards the goal of making your time here better. He doesn’t shy away from the reality of what he’s doing to you, the extent of your loneliness after being displaced. Forcing himself to remember this bitter truth keeps him from getting complacent, striving to make your experience all the better.

No detail is to be overlooked. In what little free time Giorno has, he molds your surroundings to your liking. The meals that are planned for you consist of high nutritional value, often rotating your favorites with only the best ingredients and chefs to prepare them. Your wardrobe is full of outfits tailored to your measurements and tastes. Rare and ethereal flowers span across the master bedroom you share with Giorno, him creating them with the purpose of soothing you.

For all this effort, Giorno never has an expectation for your gratitude. He doesn’t believe he deserves it, having stolen you from your normal life. He’s the reason for the tear soaked pillows, the restless nights and detached demeanor you’ve adopted. Whether it’s to ease the guilt that suffocates his heart, or to see your eyes light up for only a moment, Giorno tends to you.

This custom, handmade journal is one he gave you at the start of your time here. With you receiving limited human interaction, Giorno found it important for you to have a way to express your thoughts. While you were initially antagonistic towards him about the journal, you began to use it. He lets you hide it from him, letting you believe it’s out of his reach for peace of mind.

Ironic as it may sound, Giorno respected you by never laying a finger on it. The overwhelming temptation of learning his beloved’s most inner thoughts isn’t lost on him. He could read it and place it back to its original spot without you being none the wiser. For months, he made a point in refusing this alluring idea.

That is, until this very second.

Sitting on his dark mahogany desk, is the journal that contains your private thoughts and experiences. Giorno’s eyelids flutter shut, a soft sigh leaving his lips. Leaning further into his chair, he gives more thought to the situation. The forbidden fruit lays before him, ready to give knowledge he shouldn’t have.

There’s a grander reason for this dilemma. When spending time with you, Giorno is keen to pick up every nuance of your behavior. It’s a trait of his that has followed him since childhood. Every twitch of your mouth or hesitation in your voice paints a larger picture. He’s capable of reading you, knowing your thoughts before you even know them yourself. This often works out in his favor.

But lately, when he speaks to you, something feels different. In a way that doesn’t make sense. You still hold apparent dislike for him, but you avoid eye contact less. There’s a sense of underlying assurance, like you’re privy to information that he isn’t. It gets under his skin, eating him from the inside out.

No longer do you threaten him with bitter words, detailing your resentment towards him. You seem content to sit in his presence, talking casually about what you’ve done that day and asking him the same. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t like the development. But his gut tells him there’s a malicious intent laced in your new behavior.

What are you hiding from him?

The realm of possibilities is few and far between, and Giorno considers every possibility. None of his theories placate a voice in his head, a gnawing that something is very wrong. Talking to you and asking questions laced with hidden agendas has led to no discoveries, options growing limited to discover the truth.

Running his fingertips over the spine of your journal, he gingerly opens to the first page. It’s a dirty feeling to be doing this, invading your privacy behind your back. He’s done worse for the sake of your well being, the justification spurring him to continue on to the next page. It contains your first entry.

“I didn’t want to write this. Putting the words into paper almost feels like I’m accepting the reality of what’s happening to me, this parody of a life. I don’t have much else to do to pass the time.

Even my hobbies bring me little joy, knowing who set them up for me like a doll in a dollhouse. Focusing is another thing entirely. How can I focus knowing I’m always being monitored to some degree? Even as I write this, I wonder who’s watching me.

In the past, when I felt anxious, I’d write. And well… anxiety is the heartbeat of my life now. Everyday I wake up, more numb than the last. All I look forward to is when I’ll sleep next. At least then I don’t have to feel anything, I can just exist without trying. There’s nothing else for me to say.”

He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Giorno’s lips curl down into a frown, his eyebrows furrowing and stomach dropping. Seeing the depths of your pain so tangible, in your own words, kills a piece of his soul. It’d be an insult to you to waver now, he thinks, resolve staying firm. Not wanting to invade your privacy more than necessary, he skims through more entries in hopes of finding any leads on your current behavior.

“It’s already been three months since I’ve begun living here, if you can even call it that. I’ve gotten better at spotting the guards. I like to think of it as a little game. They’re good, I give them that. But when you have nothing to do, living in a house with no noise, it grows easier to listen. To notice things I wouldn’t have before.

Maybe I’m going stir crazy. I don’t like knowing how I’m being monitored, but I’ve grown accustomed to it. I hate to admit how he was right , when he said I’d grow accommodated to this with time. I don’t want to. I don’t want to learn to live like this. But I can’t stop it. Resisting the inevitable is a pointless waste of energy, which I hardly have anymore.”

Giorno picks up on your lack of mentioning him by name. In most of your entries, you avoid even insinuating to his existence when possible. It’s a cold sensation, knowing who he loves most omits him at every chance. He understands -- it’s what he deserves after putting you through this isolation -- yet the complex hurt remains prevalent. Every word stingers more than the last.

He soldiers on, searching through more entries.

“I wonder if they’re allowed to talk to me. When I call out to the occasional shadow, or creak in a room beside me, there’s no response. But I know they’re here, I’ve seen him giving them orders in the past when I pretend to sleep. It’s always in hushed whispers, as if anything they say could surprise me.

I just want to talk to someone. Someone that isn’t him. Someone that doesn’t avoid my gaze like everyone else here. It makes me feel like I’m a disgusting sight to behold, even though I know why they look away. The guilt from witnessing what they do, outweighed by their longing for money. I hate it. It makes me hate them. At least look at me, like I’m a human.

They’re spineless cowards. All of them. Disgusting subhumans that take a paycheck over my suffering. I hate them so much, almost more than I hate him.”

Giorno freezes, noticing small crinkles in the paper towards the end of this entry. Signs that you must’ve been crying, he deduces. God. He wants to tell himself that it’s worse than he thought, but that’d be a lie. All along he’s been aware of the great extents of your suffering, all pointing back to him.

Running a hand through his hair, loose from its normal styling, Giorno wonders if he should stop now. Every word is like a nail in the coffin of his heart, paining him in more ways he thought possible. Making difficult decisions has come as second nature to him, so he preserves on.

“Yesterday was my birthday. What a shitty thing to realize. I got a lot of things. More than I ever had gotten before. More offline games, clothes, perfume, shoes, jewelry, and even a painting. By the looks of it I think it’s rare, but who gives a fuck.

An interesting development occurred. One of my guards, if that’s what you’d even call them, approached me. He had just gotten off the phone, and informed me that my plans for the day were going to be different. Apparently the big boss got held up at work, so he wouldn’t be joining me for dinner.

Am I supposed to be upset about that? Well, I certainly wasn’t. Who cares. Seeing him would just make me feel worse. I hate how out of control I feel like he’s around. I almost find myself forgetting about all he’s done, when he speaks to me so calmly. Just thinking about it makes me feel dirty, like I should shower.

I didn’t see a point in responding at first. But eventually, I spoke up before the guard could leave. I asked him why he was okay with this, what he sees everyday. He didn’t offer a response. But I noticed something. His breath hitched, I’m sure of it.

Maybe there is another human being in this pseudo-prison after all.”

A painful reminder of the past. It did hurt him at the time to have to miss out on an important day with you, even though Giorno was self aware to know his presence brought you little comfort. There had been emergency phone calls over an attack from former Passione members, retaliating for losing drug related income.

The timing of it was awful, just thinking back to it reminds Giorno of the impatience he felt then. Hours were spent personally dealing with cleaning up what had happened, meaning he wasn’t able to see you as was originally planned. Orders were given back home to inform you of this change, though it’s now evident it impacted Giorno more than you.

The last section piques his interest. You felt you had noticed guilt in one of the guards? The pool of men that Giorno had carefully sifted through are no strangers to witnessing barbaric acts. Such is the life of a gangster. In your state of heightened emotions, there’s a possibility you could’ve imagined it.

The journal goads him to continue, unraveling the mysteries of your heart.

“I’ve gotten better at spotting the guards.

I can’t believe something like this is exciting to me, but it is these days. It’s kinda funny in a pathetic way, watching as they shrink back when I spot them. The guard from before is the one I recognize the most. I pretended to be hurt, and he came out of the shadows to check on me.

I guess he wasn’t expecting me to turn around looking fine after my acting, because he didn’t leave right away. Before he got the chance, I asked what his name is. He sighed, probably relieved that he wouldn’t have to report to his boss about me being harmed. He said his name is Marco.

At that point, it was my turn to be surprised. I guess he was too, given the slip up. I must confess, it felt nice talking to someone. It’s been so long since I’ve heard another person’s voice. He went to walk away soon after, but I stopped him. It’s not like they can use force to get rid of me, so why the hell not?

I told him I was bored and wanted someone to talk to. And, for some reason… he stayed.”

Giorno rereads this passage multiple times, scrutinizing it. So you managed to speak to one of the guards he assigned to watch over you? When he was recruiting within Passione for the position, he made expectations explicitly clear. They were not to interact with you unless an emergency calls for it. And if they felt the situation called for it, they needed to report it back to Giorno.

Your safety is paramount in his eyes. Regardless of this being a minor grievance, this guard will be punished accordingly for breaking the rules Giorno set. All of them were put in place knowing that if you grew connected to someone and they you, possibilities of insubordination would blossom.

The dates on the pages are getting closer to the current day, not many more entries left.

“Marco and I have been speaking more frequently.

He gave me a rough idea of the conditions in which we can talk, only in certain blind spots and times where other guards aren’t around as often. I wish it wasn’t so complicated. In our rushed conversations, I’ve learned more about him. I didn’t really think I would get all that invested in this person, since he’s stood by and watched my situation for a while now.

But now it makes a bit more sense. He told me that his little sister is unwell, having to practically live in a hospital room. That this dirty job is the only one that can cover the full expenses, and that without it she wouldn’t last. I can’t say that I forgive him entirely yet, but… I guess I can sympathize. I wish there was more I could do to help.

Her name is Lucia. One of the times we talked Marco told me she’s the strongest person he knows, staying dedicated to her studies despite having waning strength. She’s a few years younger than me, but I think we’d have gotten along well. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave this place, but I wish I could meet her one day.

Having him to talk to is nice.”

Ah... so that’s what it is then.

Unpleasant emotions rise within, feelings that Giorno long thought were gone. Times before when you were speaking freely with your friends, laughing among them and living your life to the fullest. Those times were he wanted nothing more than to join you, to have you by his side and share in the experience. His position shot down any hopes of that, the possibility of endangering you deterring him.

It was a painful time. Knowing that what he wanted was close and yet so painfully far, just out of his reach. Giorno wanted you to look at him like that, mirth in your eyes and a smile on your lips. To enjoy outings to the movies like you did with your friends, to have inside jokes and memories to fondly look back on.

Envy doesn’t begin to describe the hideous feeling that permeates within him. Giorno’s grasp on your journal feels weaker, fingers shaking as he flips to the next page. Predator-like intent shines on his visage, emerald eyes narrowed and grip tightening. Not typically one to dwell on what could’ve been, it’s rare Giorno would feel like this. He makes the most out of every situation, his resolve unwavering and sights set on a single goal.

You throw all of it into a loop, his normal composure a long forgotten memory.

“Today I played a game of checkers with Marco.

I think he was letting me win, but it was fun nonetheless. Apparently one of the normal guards was tending to business elsewhere, so we had more time together. He’s kind, kinder than I would’ve ever expected. When we’re together I just forget about everything other than the present moment.

For once, I don’t feel like a prisoner all on my lonesome. I don’t notice the heavy ring on my finger, the suffocating air of this villa that I despise. It’s just us, cracking jokes and learning about one another. It’s what I look forward to the most, what I hold onto even when Marco isn’t around. It makes me feel human again. Like I’m not [First] Giovanna, but entirely myself.

Smiling comes a lot more naturally these days. I can even find myself stomaching his presence easier, though I still don’t like when he’s around. As long as he doesn’t find out about Marco and I, I feel like I can get through this. Everyday I change the location of this journal, within the expanses of this mansion.

I still wish there was more I could do to help Lucia. I suggested giving Marco some of this stupid jewelry to pawn off, but he said it’s too risky. It’s surreal to know even pawnshops in Italy are fiercely loyal to Passione’s Don, and would be too hesitant to purchase his wife’s jewelry in fear of retaliation.

Having all this wealth surround me feels like a waste when I know there’s someone who could actually use it. As much as I don’t like the thought, maybe I could convince Giorno to help Marco somehow. I have a few ideas but they’re probably all too risky. He does always tell me, ‘If you ever want anything in this world, tell me.’

I want to help Lucia. I want to help Marco, who I’ve found myself caring for.

I’ve never asked Giorno for anything really. I don’t know how to propose it without making him suspicious--”

Giorno can’t stand to read it anymore.

Closing the book and placing it down, he steeples his fingers together. It takes a great deal of effort to frustrate him, normal composure melting away. Is it betrayal? Hurt? Jealousy? Everything wraps around his person, the air in his office feeling thick. Loosening the tie around his neck, he takes a much needed deep breath.

A flash of your smile from earlier this evening at dinner comes to mind. You called him by his name, maintaining eye contact and asking about his day. Lulled into a false sense of security, wanting to believe nothing more than the farce unfolding before him. Of course you didn’t love him back. He was a fool to have deluded himself into believing that.

At his fingertips is his phone. With a single phone call, he could command the world to fall. To have this guard who failed him tortured in the worst ways imaginable, experiencing hell on earth. Or to even join Passione’s former boss in a never ending cycle of death, that stretches the lengths of eternity.

So many possibilities. Yet none of them would soothe the agony of his heart. Completely and utterly alone once more, like his earlier days. Requited love was all but an illusion, a fog that has now been lifted.

Giorno purses his lips, considering. Fingers drum against his desk, the sound reverberating across the empty room. Grabbing a hold of his phone, he calls upon someone who could help him deal with this traitor appropriately. A message must be sent, he thinks, that will set the tone within the organization. It will hurt you to lose this newfound companion, but it’s a sacrifice he is willing to make. It’s not like you need to know the details either.

The phone rings. Once, twice. Before his second in command on the other line picks up.

“Yo, Giorno? You’re calling pretty late,” Mista’s voice is chipper as ever, the distant sound of music playing in the background. “Everything alright?”

Getting up from his chair, he walks over to the window that overlooks his garden. His beloved wife walks among the paths, bending down and inspecting a rose. Giorno remembers when he turned an object into that very flower, how your dull eyes lit up at the awe inspiring sight.

This is ultimately all for you, he reminds himself.

“Yes, everything is fine. Are you free at the moment? I have a job for you.”

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codename-adler · 3 years

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Kevin Day and his Oblivious Literature Lover, pt. VI

This bit explores Kevin’s sexual identity and his relationship to Jean, so, you know, not all funs and games... But very cathartic to write. I love them.

>> Table of Contents, TW and other parts are here!

after Juliet’s confession, their little talk does not flow any easier, but despite the rocky start and their dirty secrets, they push through the stuff that matters

it’s like a dam burst open

though, some subjects remain silenced

no parents, no exy, no relationships, no entourage, no names…

it’s just them

Kevin stays well into the afternoon

he has no class on Tuesdays, except in the mornings and, well, for once, he chose to rearrange his priorities

it wasn’t even a difficult choice, it wasn’t even a question: he had to stay, simple as that

he even missed morning practice

morning practice

it scares him, he feels the restlessness running through his veins, he feels guilty, guilty, guilty… and so, so weak…

but that was easier than leaving Juliet in the state she was

that had never happened before

not even with Jean

he’s used to flight, not fight

as for Juliet, either she didn’t have class or she chose the same as Kevin

either way, both were unspokenly grateful

sometimes, Juliet would fall asleep

sometimes she’d go non verbal and simply watch Kevin do his homework

one time he fell asleep

he woke up extremely tense, his jaw hurting from the clenching and his back protesting against his curled up position on the floor (really, an elite athlete should know better)

Juliet was looking at him strangely

“Can I ask for another truth?” she said quietly

he nodded calmly while his heart went racing

“Who’s Jean?”

“You said his name in your sleep. A lot. Are you usually a sleeptalker? I know I sleepwalk sometimes, but I don’t think I’ve ever talked,” she added

Kevin took an awful long time to think

he was looking at Juliet without really seeing her

instead he was imagining Jean’s bruised and battered face

he started speaking without refocusing his gaze, staring in the distance behind Juliet

“Jean is… He’s the one who taught me French. He’s the one who made me discover philosophy, Sartre and Hell is other people and all. He’s the one who listened first. He is the man that knows my shames, my failures, my mistakes, my ugly side, the man who knew and still looked at me as a human being with worth. He’s the one who showed me how to reset a dislocated shoulder. He’s the one I used to talk to in the middle of the night, about future plans or crazy ideas or incredible historical discoveries. He was my crutch when I couldn’t stand on my own anymore. He’s the one who kept my spirits up when times were tough. He is the man who kept me alive without either of us realizing it until it was too late. He is the man that I took for granted, the man I left behind without a second thought when things got too bad. I could beg for forgiveness my whole life and it still wouldn’t be enough to do right by him. He is the only person that has ever left me speechless. He can make my mind go blank, he can make me lose my words, he can shut me up with just a word. He’s the only one I let, at least. Jean is… So much. Too much, sometimes.”

Kevin’s throat tightened as he spoke, fists clenching and unclenching, his stomach twisting into knots of guilt and shame

if he’d been able to cry, Kevin would have shed burning tears

but he couldn’t

it’s as if everything in his system had been ready to cry, only for his body to realize that his water tank was completely empty of tears

and if Juliet hadn’t been looking at him with such intensity and such intent, Kevin would’ve ran away to Jean’s bedside right this second

three entire languages couldn’t even begin to express everything that Jean was to Kevin

Jean was every single emotion Kevin had ever felt in his short yet brutal existence, wrapped in one person as complex as the mechanics of the world

Kevin thought back on that first night when he allowed himself to be close to Jean since his escape from Edgar Allen

he thought back on how, with a single touch, all their entangled feelings came rushing back to the surface

how Kevin had never wanted to let go ever again, but the dark and violent waves of emotions had made his instincts scream with the urge to run away

Kevin had forgotten Juliet was still a witness to his battle

“Jean was… is… you ex?” she asked, something like wariness in her eyes

and what

“What?” he even says aloud

“Jean was your partner? Before… whatever it is you overcame?” Juliet repeats

“No!?”

“Okay… I’m sorry, Kevin… I didn’t mean…” she apologizes

“Why would you say that?” Kevin harshly asks

“Why wouldn’t I? It seems you two shared a very special bond, that’s all I’m saying,” she replies

she couldn’t possibly know

she couldn’t know

how would she know?

only two people in this godforsaken existence knew about these secrets in the dark, one of them being barely conscious in a bed a few minutes away, and the other one being himself

it was impossible that Juliet knew about what had transpired between him and Jean

“Kevin?” Juliet’s voice finally reaching him

“I said ‘Sorry for assuming’, I shouldn’t have done that. We don’t have to talk about it anymore, I’m sorry.”

Kevin considered their exchange

“I think I want to talk about it. To you,” Kevin finally spoke

Juliet nodded slowly, ever so careful, a silent yet binding promise passing between them

and so Kevin told her everything

absolutely everything

everything that didn’t touch exy, Riko, the Ravens, but that still left plenty, enough to cover many pages of poetry

he told her about how it had started between them, how Jean’s resilience had intrigued Kevin and how it had made him discover that there was more to life than his adoptive-brother

how Kevin had wanted a part of that rebellion Jean carried in his heart, how he tutored Kevin in French to share that slow-burning flame

he told her how for the first time in his life, Kevin’s entire focus wasn’t on one thing, but on a person too

he told her how their midnight talks became as important to him as his duty was

he told her how he began fighting for something else without knowing what it was, or why

he told her how on these nights, as Jean was teaching him verb tenses in French, their heads had, inch by inch, made their way closer to the other’s, until their foreheads were touching and their whispers barely made a sound on their lips

he told her how one fateful night, as Jean was teaching him the future tenses, their faces hadn’t stopped moving once their foreheads touched

how that simple touch hadn’t been enough anymore

how Jean had been his first kiss, his every kisses for the longest time

how he had been Jean’s first kiss, too

he told her how they had been each other’s first for everything

how they had been each other’s everything for a long time

he also told her how his fear and his shame, and his ambition, had ruined what they had

how his and Jean’s “situation” made it so, so hard

how once he was 17 and was “promoted”, Kevin didn’t choose Jean back

how it was on-and-off between them even when he showed interest towards Thea, also his now ex

how he had “moved” when shit hit the fan, and how he didn’t bring Jean with him because he was too scared, too self-centered, too weak

he told her how nobody knew back then, how nobody knows even now, because he had denied everything to everyone, including himself

and he told her how Jean was back, now, and how the memories came flooding back in with that same sour, yet familiar taste of shame, guilt, and fear

Kevin talked and talked and talked…

and Juliet listened

and Kevin cried, or rather, tears escaped his saddened eyes without even realizing it

and Juliet cried, too

they both wiped away the mess with the sleeves of their sweaters

“I have nothing to say about guilt and shame, but… If you liked Jean, if you loved him… if you still do… that is so okay, Kevin. It’s just love. You find it where you can. There’s nothing wrong with that, or with you. That’s how I see it… how I- I see you. You’re still you, Kevin.”

“You don’t know me,” Kevin replied fast, without thinking

Juliet just raised her eyebrow in a really, Kevin? way

“Look at where we are… Look at me… This isn’t even my worst. And I don’t believe it’s yours either. But it’s not pretty. Give us a little credit here, Kev; we’re not strangers anymore. Please don’t be a stranger… “

“Okay, Jules”

---

Kevin left Jackie Hall after sundown, with his heart heavy and his mind racing, but his shoulders a little lighter than yesterday

nothing in his life had magically changed into a goddamn fairytale, yet it felt different

Jules had told him nobody could decide who he was, that was his decision and his alone

he held that power, and only he chose who could wield some of it

he could choose what to do with it, and that thing could be outside of exy

at least, it could be for someone, instead of something

someone like Jean

on his way back to the familiarity Abby’s, back to Jean, he began plotting

by the time he was back by the bedside of the person he’d held so close to his heart and his lips, once upon a time, Kevin had formed a plan to give Jean the happy ending he so deserved

he’d have to make a few calls to USC, to the Trojans, to Jeremy Knox, he’d have to be careful of what he revealed, he’d have to convince Jean to leave, he’d have to convince himself to let Jean go, too, but he believed it was worth it

and if once in a while, in his cautious planning of Jean’s second chance at life, Kevin absentmindedly thought of a certain face framed with frizzy hair when the words “happy ending” kept nagging him, well no one could take that away from him either

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orangeoctopi7 · 3 years

Text

A Negligible Price

I guess it’s becoming a tradition for me to add another chapter to A Minor Inconvenience every year for @stanuary . I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s just that the prompt “Sacrifice” got me thinking about this story and where I thought it could go, and then I got writing and I started coming up with ideas for how I could actually put a finish to this story. So yeah, hopefully it won’t be another year before I post chapter 4, but not promises!

Also, first time I’ve had to do this, but:

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE/MARTYR COMPLEX AND SUIDICE ADJACENT THEMES.

* * *

Bill rushes to gather himself together again. Now that Sixer and his idiot brother have caught on, he knows they’ll probably be making a move against him soon. The time for lying in wait and keeping a low profile has passed. He’s been getting faster, better at finding the tiny flecks of gold scattered into the dark abyss below.

Unfortunately that also means that he’s noticed that some missing pieces just never turn up. As an interdimensional being who’s existed in countless dimensions across innumerable timelines, Bill likes to think he knows himself pretty well now. What he’s made of, how much power he’s accumulated, what he’s capable of. And if he had to estimate now, which he does, he’d say he’s been reduced to maybe a third of his power. Roughly two thirds of him are missing.

What happened to those missing pieces? Were they simply deleted by that memory eraser? Did he leave some of himself behind in that physical form he left to enter Stan’s mind in the Fearamid? Bill can only guess, but really, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this moron’s brain and starting again on his path to a universe free of rules.

* * *

Stan recovered from his latest memory lapse quickly, despite the fact that it was the worst one he’d experienced since he sacrificed himself to the memory gun last summer. The experience had clearly put Ford on edge, and as much as he tried to bottle up his emotions and remain calm, Stan could practically feel the panic coming off him in waves.

They were both relieved when they reached Spitsbergen. There was a hospital in Longyearbyen, where Ford insisted they stop to give Stan a check-up. Stan felt fine, but if it helped ease Ford’s nerves, then he could sit through a check-up.

Explaining Stan’s condition to the doctor was a struggle, considering English was not his strongest language. They definitely got across that Stan was experiencing memory problems, but the doctor seemed to be under the impression it had been caused by an injury to the head in an accident, rather than a purposeful exposure to a memory-erasing device.

Eventually, Ford had lost his patience and just asked if they could use the CT or MRI machine themselves. The doctor spoke enough English to tell them that the nearest CT or MRI machine was in either Iceland or Russia.

The elder Pines twins left the hospital in low spirits. Ford kicked at little pebbles as they walked down the street.

“There’s a research facility in Ny-Ålesund. Perhaps we could sail up there and commandeer some equipment to rig up our own CT scan…”

“I think it’d be easier to just hop on a plane back to the States at this point.” Stan suggested.

“If we’re going to hop on a plane somewhere, it’ll be to Reykjavik, where we won’t have to pay an arm and a leg for any treatments.”

“Yeah, we’ll just have to wait half a year.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they’re gonna take ‘revived demon in my head’ as an urgent need.”

“Probably not…” Ford admitted.

“And you’re sure you didn’t figure anything else out the last time you were pokin’ around in my head?”

Ford grit his teeth. The truth was, he was afraid what would happen if he tried to revisit that memory. The cold flames of the memory eraser had felt so real, even just revisiting it in Stan’s mind, and they seemed to be the trigger of his latest memory lapse. Would they have a similar effect within Ford’s own memory?

“Nothing I’ve been able to make sense of.”

Stan grit his teeth. “So what now? Just leave that jerk in my head?”

Ford sighed. “I want to do some more research into what we’ve learned so far. Perhaps a trip to the library will help me find some insight. But truthfully… I may have been too hasty with punching out Bill, when I encountered him. He’s a liar who can’t be trusted, but he’s also a braggart. If I’d just let him run his mouth a little longer, we may have learned something about what he’s up to.”

* * *

Longyearbyen’s library wasn’t any bigger than the public library in Gravity Falls, and had significantly fewer books relating to Bill and mind magic, but it did at least have access to several library databases that Ford couldn’t typically log into from the Stan’O’War II. (According to Fiddleford, these databases could be hacked into quite easily, but Ford didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to learn how) It would have to do for now. Ford took a seat at a computer, and with a little help from a librarian, he was soon scrolling through peer-reviewed articles from different archeologists and anthropologists and folklore experts and descendants of the Aztecs and Mayans debating who Xolotl was, what his role was in the Aztec religion, how much his lore changed from Pre- and Post- Colombian invasion, and so forth.

What he’d learned so far was interesting, to say the least. The things that most people agreed upon was that Xolotl was a god of death, fire, and lightning. What caught Ford’s attention was the fact that they were also the god of twins and deformities. He glanced down at his twelve fingers, which rested awkwardly on the small keyboard meant for people with just ten. It seemed odd that Bill would call on this particular death god, when they seemed far more likely to be a patron to Stan and Ford.

While Ford puzzled over this new information, Stan browsed the library, looking for something to entertain himself while he waited. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t a whole lot of English books in this Norwegian library. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he stumbled upon an extensive comics section. Even though he still couldn’t read most of them, the pictures were at least enough that he got the gist of what was going on.

European comics were very different from American comics. They featured a lot less costumed superheroes punching bad guys and a lot more weird, quirky characters setting out on adventures and exploring the world. They also seemed to lean more heavily on comedy rather than drama. Stan decided he liked them.

He’d been looking at a story about some rich duck when he noticed he felt odd. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than to say that his brain felt itchy. The more he concentrated on it, the more it faded away, but when he went back to looking at the comic and got absorbed back into the story, it came back.

After almost an hour of the feeling coming and going, Stan decided he was not imagining the sensation. He stuffed a tissue into the comic as a bookmark and got up to see what Ford would have to say about it. Almost as soon as he laid eyes on his brother, a wave of anger washed over him. Just like the itchy brain feeling, it went away almost as soon as he stopped and thought about it, but it had been so strong, that he couldn’t deny it had happened.

“Hey.” Stan tapped his brother on the shoulder as the old researcher skimmed an article about why the Aztecs associated lightning with twins.

“Hmm?” Ford acknowledged him without looking away from the screen.

“Am I forgettin’ to be mad at you about somethin’?”

That got Ford to turn and look at him. “Are you having a memory lapse!?”

“I don’t think so, but just a second ago I looked over at you and I felt really mad all of a sudden. Can’t really think of a reason why, though. I’m just wondering if maybe the other day, when I had the big blank-out, maybe we missed somethin’?”

The old researcher’s face contorted with guilt. “You have ample reason to be mad at me. I didn’t stand up for you when dad kicked you out. I never reached out to you for over ten years. I expected you to drop everything and help me with my problems without any explanation. I refused to thank you for saving my life--”

“Yeah, no, none of that stuff.” Stan shook his head. “I remember all that stuff, and I’ve already forgiven you and junk. Mmmm… did you try to enchant the mop again and not let me remember it?” But even as he joked that the underlying reason must be the latest chapter in a minor argument, he knew that couldn’t be right. The sudden bloom of anger had been much more deep-seated and horrible than that. It had felt like… it had felt like Ford had ruined everything.

To be fair, there had been a long period of Stan’s life when he had felt like Ford had ruined everything. But Stan was over that now, and this brief brush with anger had felt even more heated than that.

Ford gave him an appraising look. “Were there any other memories or emotions associated with this feeling?”

“Oh yeah, my brain was feelin’ itchy right before that.”

“Have… you been using shampoo?” Ford asked, unsure of what to do with this information.

“Not my scalp, genius, like the actual thinking part of my brain!”

“... I can’t even begin to guess what that means.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how else to describe it, ok? It’s like somethin’ was squirmin’ around in my mind!”

The brothers wore twin expressions of realization as the words left Stan’s mouth.

“We need to get back to the boat.” Ford stood from the computer desk abruptly.

“Yep.” Stan set the comic he’d been reading down on the desk, not even bothering to remove his improvised bookmark.

* * *

Bill throws his hands up and roars in frustration. He can’t seem to take control, even when the moron’s mind is zoning out, losing himself in some stupid comic book. He’s already in the mind! He’s been here for months! He knows his way around here. So why isn’t it working? Is it because he never made a deal with this guy? That shouldn’t matter! The last thing they did before the whole memory gun thing was shake hands!

There's no time to waste complaining, though. Sixer will be poking around here any minute. Bill needs a plan. Before, he'd spent millions of years in the Nightmare Realm planning. Now he's making everything up as he goes.

It's clear that Bill can't just take control of Stan like he'd been counting on. But do the other two know that? He might still be able to use that to his advantage.

If Bill is going to trick these losers and get out of here, he needs to play his opponents right. Luckily, he's got years of experience fighting against Sixer. It's the Big Mackerel that he worries about.

Before, Bill hadn't paid much attention to Stan. He thought he understood what made the simple con man tick. But then, in the end, he found he didn't understand at all. Even after months of being trapped in his mindscape, Stan is very much still a mystery to Bill.

But there is one thing about Stan that Bill does understand.

He’s willing to sacrifice himself for his family.

* * *

Once they were back aboard the Stan’O’War II, Stan allowed himself to relax, just a little. At least here his surroundings were familiar, and the only person he had to worry about was his own brother.

Under normal circumstances, “the only person he had to worry about” meant he didn’t have to look over his shoulder for law enforcement or old criminals who might recognize Stan from his drifter days.

Today “the only person he had to worry about” meant the only person he could possibly endanger if Bill was able to take control of him. Ford was the last person Stan wanted to put in danger, but he also had to admit, his brother knew more about the demon than any other living being on the planet.

Stan may have been able to relax a tiny fraction once they were back aboard their boat, but not Ford. Ford was in full-blown panic mode.

He frantically searched around the storage room for something, anything, that could help protect his brother from Bill. Unfortunately, they hadn’t thought to bring unicorn hair or moonstones on their voyage. He did have titanium, but he wasn’t confident enough in his emergency medical knowledge to perform cranial surgery on his own, and he doubted they’d be able to find a doctor crooked enough to do it for them. Currently, his best idea was to build an updated version of Project Mentem, but that would take time. Time he wasn’t sure Stan had.

“I can re-enter your mindscape and shatter him again.” Ford decided, pulling out the candles again. “That should at least buy you a few days.”

“Ok.” Stan nodded. He’d definitely prefer to know Bill was shattered again, and not moving around in his brain. “But it’s not like he’s doing anything right now.”

“He’s probably trying to get us to lower our guard.” Ford assumed. “I’ll need to tie you up. He usually makes his move while his victim is asleep.”

“If I need to fall asleep for your spell while tied up, we’re gonna be waitin’ a long time.” Stan warned. “I dunno if I could even fall asleep right now if I had the world’s most comfortable bed.”

“Fair point.” Ford nodded. “I may have to drug you.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” It was abundantly clear that Ford was not kidding in the slightest.

“Would you rather be used as his puppet!?” The old researcher shouted. The outburst rang in the air for a few seconds while Ford tried to steady his breathing. “Stan I… I’m sorry, I just--”

“It’s ok.” Stan pulled him into a hug and tried his best to calm his brother down. “I know you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared for myself.” Ford explained in a small voice. “I’m scared for you. Waking up to find that you’ve hurt someone, it’s-- I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you--”

“Stanford, look at me. We’re not gonna let that happen. What if we do it while I’m awake, like we did with the memory before?”

Ford nodded meekly. “That… that could work.”

“You can still tie me up if that makes you feel better.”

The old researcher bit his lip. “...It shouldn't be necessary...”

“Ford.”

“...But it probably would ease some of my fears, yes.” he admitted.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll go get the rope.”

Still unwilling to let his brother out of his sight, Ford followed Stan up to the deck while he retrieved said rope. Once they were back below deck, he wrapped Stan tightly in a large blanket before sitting him down on a chair and tying him up, to ensure he was as comfortable as possible while still restricting his movement.

“How do you feel?” Ford asked as he lit the candles.

“Like I’m about to be shipped back to Oregon in the mail.”

“And Bill…?”

“I haven’t felt anything else from him since we left the library.”

The lack of activity should have reassured Ford, but instead it just added to his general unease. At least he was able to compose himself enough to perform the incantation.

Just as last time, after a flash of light, he found himself on the deck of Stan’s mindscape, with Stan himself standing beside him. This time, though, Bill was floating there, waiting for them.

“I KNEW YOU’D BE BACK HERE AFTER I GOT YOUR ATTENTION IN THE LIBRARY!” The demon taunted. “OH, AND LOOK. STANO HERE EVEN MADE A MENTAL CONSTRUCT OF HIMSELF WITHIN HIS OWN MIND JUST SO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO FACE ME ALONE! HOW CUTE!” He prodded Stan in the stomach like he was the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“Back off, bucko!” Stan threatened. “We’re here to break your whole face!”

“WHAT, YOU COULDN’T WAIT UNTIL TONIGHT TO DO IT IN YOUR DREAMS LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO?” Bill asked, voice dripping with false innocence.

“We’re not able to risk the chance of you parading about in Stanley’s body.” Ford growled.

“HA! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN ANYONE, FORDSY, I ONLY DO THAT TO STUBBORN KNOW-IT-ALLS WHO WON’T WORK WITH ME WILLINGLY.”

“If you think I’m gonna work with you willingly, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Stan grunted.

“HEAR ME OUT, MAC! WE BOTH WANT THE SAME THING HERE! ME, OUT OF YOUR SAD PATHETIC MIND!”

“You can’t leave!?” Ford asked in surprise.

“WHAT, YOU THINK I ENJOY SPENDING TIME IN THIS BOZO’S MIND? YOU THINK I WAS PLOTTING MY REVENGE?”

“Honestly, yes.”

Bill gave a long, mocking laugh. “AHAHAHAHAHA! YOU REALLY THINK I CARE ABOUT A COUPLE OF INSIGNIFICANT FLESH SACKS LIKE YOU?”

“We’re the insignificant flesh sacks who killed you!” Stan reminded him.

“WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY. THE BEST REVENGE IS LIVING WELL.”

The brothers exchanged a suspicious glance. They highly doubted Bill actually believed that adage.

“BUT I CAN’T EXACTLY LIVE WELL TRAPPED IN YOUR MINDSCAPE. I MIGHT GET BORED AND DECIDE THE BEST REVENGE IS KILLING YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY WITH YOUR OWN HANDS.”

Ah yes, that was more along the lines of what they expected from Bill.

“So you’re saying you’ll just let bygones be bygones if I cooperate with you?” Stan asked skeptically.

“WE’LL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS, NEVER TO MEET AGAIN!”

“And what are you planning on doing once you’re free?” Ford asked coldly.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SIXER.” The demon waved him off. “NOW ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME OUT OF HERE OR NOT? THE SOONER THE BETTER. YOU TWO AREN’T GETTING ANY FURTHER AWAY FROM THE AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY OF A HUMAN MALE, AND FISH FACE HERE DOESN'T EXACTLY TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIS BODY.”

“Hey!” Stan shouted indignantly.

“Why should Stan’s life expectancy factor into this?” Ford asked.

“HMMM? OH, NO REASON.” Bill said evasively. “I’M JUST, Y’KNOW, IN A HURRY.”

“You’re an immortal, extradimensional being. You’ve been trying to find a way out of the nightmare realm since before multicellular life developed on this planet. If you’re so sure we’re close to the end of our lives, why not wait until we’re out of the way? You must realize we’ll try and stop you from starting Weirdmaggedon again!” Ford reasoned.

“WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT STARTING WEIRDMAGGEDON AGAIN?” Bill denied. “AND MAYBE AFTER A BILLION YEARS, I’M TIRED OF WAITING!”

“Unless you aren’t immortal any more.” the old researcher concluded.

“YOU’VE SEEN FOR YOURSELF, FORDSY, EVERY TIME YOU OR YOUR IDIOT BROTHER SHATTER ME, I PULL MYSELF BACK TOGETHER.”

“Immortal in the mind, perhaps. But what happens when the mind you’re occupying finally dies?”

“ALRIGHT, YOU FIGURED IT OUT!” Bill sneered. “I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN A GENIUS LIKE YOU WOULD. YEAH, MY LIFE’S TIED TO THE BIG MACKEREL’S NOW. SO WHAT? YOU GONNA KILL YOUR BROTHER JUST TO GET RID OF ME?”

“Of course not!” Ford barked.

“Hey, I’d be more than happy to take you down with me if it meant making sure you never hurt anyone else ever again!” Stan challenged the demon.

Ford stared at his brother with wide eyes. “Stanley, no!”

“Hey, relax, I’m not talkin’ suicide or anything.” Stan assured him. “But he’s right about one thing. I’m not gonna live forever.”

I’ll only do it if I have to. A stray thought cawed overhead.

Stan cussed under his breath as Ford gaped at him with a mix of alarm and pity.

“I’m not gonna take it back.” Stan insisted after a moment. “If that’s what it comes down to, to keep him from hurtin’ you or the kids, then I’m taking him down with me.”

Ford placed his hands firmly on Stan’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye with all the intensity he could muster. “We won’t let that happen!”

Bill laughed at them cruelly. “RIGHT, CUZ YOU’VE HAD SO MUCH SUCCESS STOPPING ME IN THE PAST.”

“I’ll find some other way!” Ford insisted.

“I’M SURE YOU COULD, WITH TIME.” Bill agreed. “BUT I’M GONNA STRANGLE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP BEFORE THEN!”

Not if I strangle myself first! Another one of Stan’s stray thoughts called.

Ford gave his brother a frustrated shake. “No! Stanley, I swear to you, that won’t be necessary!”

“Alright, that’s it. We’re not havin’ this conversation in my brain, where you can hear all my unprocessed thoughts.” Stan decided.

Suddenly, Ford’s form and everything around them flickered and began to fade to white. Stan and Bill were the only ones who remained solid and whole. Stan was waking up? But he’d never been asleep before the spell in the first place!

“Don’t you try any funny business!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at Bill. “I’m coming back to shatter you into a million smaller pieces as soon as I fall asleep tonight!”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Stanuary 2021 #This jerk

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shini--chan · 4 years

Note

a part 2 on,"Allies with a small country s/o with rare gems and species"well can you do it again,but this time the s/o shows the world why their gems and species are so rare.There all magical.With that being said, they go into straight magical girl mode.Like no shit before the boys can get their or attack,the s/o is already destroying-No demolishing the enemy.And when their done they shine this independent aure that says,"I my be small but I can still kick ass!"Turns out they don't need the boys

Sorry (not sorry) if this you imagined something different, I’m just not into writing somebody just swooping in and reaping a Sailor Moon-style victory. I guess I can’t help but imagine just how complex the situation would actually be.

Yandere Hetalia

Firstly, if you have magical gems and metals, then you can bet your life that there is more of that distributed across the world. You would just happen to have the most or the other countries exhausted all their resources. Even if said magical ores came via asteroid, it would have to be a very large one so that you would have that many resources. And larger asteroids tend to either be chipped away upon entry in the earth’s atmosphere, or splinter upon impact so that they cover a larger are.

Secondly, you would only manage to keep it under the wraps if you were isolationist for all your life and didn’t have any trading partners, which in this case you do. Because ally = trading partner in most cases.

Thirdly, the invader would very likely know about the magical properties and have prepared for them. You beating them back so easily would have just been to deceive you. Or they didn’t know it at first but now they would since you gave them such a wonderful demonstration.

Yandere America

He would emerge at the scene, clapping his hands as if this were just a good Hollywood Blockbuster while letting out a low whistle at all the havoc you created. Once he would reach you, he’d be greet you with a goofy grin all while he congratulated you for your victory and rambled about you being so awesome.

Oh, America would be laying it very thick with the sweet talk, so much so that you wouldn’t notice the calculative grin in your eyes.

Did you really think he wouldn’t know? Did you really think he wouldn’t have concluded that something was off due to the strange energy levels your trade goods emit the first time you sold some of those ores and gems to him? Do you really think he is that stupid?

Oh right, you do. Alfred has become terrific at playing dumb after all.

Nevertheless, bask in your glory as long as you can, it is not as if the whole world knows of your magical abilities due to the television crew that he certainly didn’t bring with him. Besides, Alfred is very keen to find out how you’ll react when you have your own weapons turned against you. Bet you wouldn’t be so chipper then.

Yandere Canada

This would be the point where he would take his glasses off and massage his temples as if that could relief himself of the stress headache that was impending. Not because you reduced his chances of obtaining you, quite the opposite since you would have even enhanced them. No, in his mind he would already be imagining all the paperwork and negotiations that would succeed this.

Just how could you be so tactless? While demolishing the enemy you obliterated half of yourself. Using such powers on enemy territory would have been all fine and dandy. But here on your own turf you inflicted so much damage on yourself.

And this would mean a lot of negotiations with anxious neighbours, dealing with the immediate fallout of your thoughtless actions, whole new regulations on your products whereas before he would have gotten, they without any hassle and for a fair price. Not to mention all the new laws that the UNO would impress upon you.

You thought you didn’t need him? Wrong! You would need him even more than if this was just ordinary warfare. And just because you can’t think your own shit through you clearly need his guidance and protection. Of course, he would ensure that all the pieces would fall in his favour so that you would be dependent on him – forever.

Yandere China

Yao would be completely unimpressed and would encounter you with a stoic expression as he nonchalantly lighted himself a cigarette with one of the many fires littering the battlefield. Calmly he would congratulate you, remarking on how he had only expected such grand displays of power from you and would say that you really are an eyecatcher.

Unknowest to you, he would actually be insulting you.

Anybody with common sense would know better to teach their art of war to their enemy and show all their tricks to their allies, something you just did. Additionally, you put your one trump card on full display and now you would have no more aces up his sleeve. Not that it was a secret to begin with.

You’re forgetting that during his long life, China would have seen almost everything the world has to offer, so magic would be nothing new to him. Indeed, he’d probably know far, far more about your own capabilities than you.

Magic would require a healthy and capable person to wield it, so what would you do if a strong, potent poison would severely weaken you? You should go to Yao then; he would protect you and take you in.

With your powers, you would represent a potential threat and Chinas reactions to such matters would either be total annihilation or total assimilation.

Yandere England

Arthur would sneer at just how crass you were. You had to flaunt all your powers, in the process being an even bigger show-off than his darling son.

One quick glance in his telescope would tell him that the invader was regrouping for a secondary assault along with a few new toys that would negate your powers. Just how easy are you tricked? Although, he would humour you and let you prance about.

Foolish little child, you won only half the battle.

When the enemy would reappear and you would confidently brag about how you would be able to take care of this yourself, he would let you and watch as despair would overtake you.

Because you’re a stupid little grasshopper that doesn’t have a clue about tactics and strategy, and whose go-to plan would be hit-it-until-it-dies, you would fail miserably. Completely dependant on your magic, you wouldn’t know what to do if it didn’t work suddenly, nor would you consider even trying new moves. Not to mentioned you wouldn’t have even thought about conserving your energy and would have blasted it all away during the first wave of attack.

England wouldn’t storm to your aid if he saw you losing in this scenario. He would make you beg for his help instead. Then he would sweep in total victory and then he would subdue you in your vulnerable state with a subtle magic trick of his own.

Yandere France

Your lack of tact would make him shriek and in a very bad, ear-drum bursting way as well, He would count down your mistakes in a persuasive and tactful way, successfully making you feel as incompetent as you actually would be. You would realise that you actually just made things worse for yourself.

It would take a while for France to calm down and even then, he would still hole you with questions that would guilt-trip you.

Why didn’t you go after them and crush them completely? They would be regrouping now to conduct an even better assault. Where you even thinking about the repercussions that your actions would have? No, you didn’t. Did you even consider that you were hurting yourself more than you were hurting the enemy? No, again! Why didn’t you try a more subtle way of using your magic? If you would say it was easier that way, then Francis would smack you.

You’d be dependant on him to help you with the aftermath and he wouldn’t let you have any say in those matters. You would have already proved yourself to be less than competent, after all.

Yandere Russia

If anything, be would be intrigued. Like America, he would already know either through scientific analysis of your trade goods or spying or both. Russia would have already had his own brands of magic back in the day, but it would have been so long since he saw somebody else display it.

Of course, he would have tried his own hand on the magic that your ores and precious stones generate, always careful, always cautious.

With your unrestricted use of it and lack caution, you would become his experimental guinea pig. Ivan would constantly prod you with questions, prompting you to try new thing. Through that, he would learn the limits of your power and the breaking points in your own character.

He would look forward to see your expression when you would realise that you had choked on your own hubris, when he would have you in his grasp due to a subtle attack that would be akin to a knife in your back.

After all, it would be your own fault if you remained narrow-minded and didn’t expect him to know and didn’t except an indirect attack. Russia would just be there to exploit your idiocy and use it for his own ends

#yandere hetalia #yandere allies #yandere america #yandere china #yandere england #yandere canada #yandere russia #yandere france #yandere hetalia x reader #yandere x reader #x reader

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Note

1) about the social class headcanon that you write, that’s actually makes sense, but isn’t exactly what i meant. According to Isayama, Hange when she was young looked very much like Eren in the way of acting (even more with the titans), and (this part I am not sure if it is true) she lost her family at the fall of the maria wall. Eren looked like a rebellious teenager angry at everything, and recently I found out that depression in teenagers and children tends to manifest itself that way

2) (anger and rebellion), well, we know Eren was depressed (it only got worse with time) but what about Hange? seems to me she learned to hide her feelings so it wouldn't be between her and her job. We don't know her past, she probably didn't grow up in a violent place like Levi but it doesn't mean that her life was all joy and happiness you know..

--------------------------------------------- MY ANSWER --------------------------------------

Hello Anon,

Thank you again for your ask! Woops, sorry if I didn’t answer your questions. I answered those two asks in a row so I ended up just building off of the last one.

I don’t think it was ever confirmed if Hange lost her family at the fall of Wall Maria. I did some research and couldn’t find stuff on my end. If you could send me some on that, I’d love to read it.

I am aware at least that no one’s life is all joy or happiness. I think there is a difference though with growing up without ever having to consider your next meal and living in abject poverty.

There are people who have had time to be a child and there are people who haven’t. So I think to a degree, Hange had more of a childhood than Levi. And a normal childhood is incredibly important for every single child. The early years are crucial because that’s where children build wonder, curiosity. That’s one of the psychological reasons behind children’s books. They make everything so fantastical to heighten the senses of the children. Because in fact, children only get full control of their senses later in life. Before they are even able to make sense of everything, everything is just a huge bubble or conglomeration of senses. That’s why children are so perceptive, imaginative and quick to learn things like languages. Their view of the world isn’t set yet by the rules and norms of the society they live in.

That’s why asking children questions and exposing them to so many different things at a young age and providing for them is important. Children need to see the wonder of the world while not having to consider their next meal, their danger. A childhood is generally where curiosity and imaginative thinking is most easily built.

And that’s why I say, that Hange somehow is a lot more curious, sees a lot more wonder than Levi. Similar to Erwin, he had a pretty comfortable existence, he went to a good school, he had a father who engaged him and that’s why Erwin was able to think beyond what was within the walls. Same for both Eren and Armin. Eren had his father who probably fed him some info and Armin had his parents books and his parents who were curious enough to build that hot air balloon

And, I know about that scene in the manga that explained that it was the lightness of the titan head that got Hange curious about titans. I think kicking the titan head was a good catalyst for titan research but I suspect that even before that, Hange was curious about the outside world. Hange’s interest extends beyond titans for sure because it was confirmed by Isayama already that Hange would have been studying botany outside the walls if it wasn’t for the titans. Also, the way Hange is handling the new world where she’s constantly on top of developments in Paradis etc, also shows that titans are only one facet of her scientist personality.

Besides, if she didn’t have that wonder and curiosity about the outside world, I don’t think she would have done something as ridiculous as join the survey corps in the first place.

“Eren looked like a rebellious teenager angry at everything, and recently I found out that depression in teenagers and children tends to manifest itself that way”

Although depression can manifest itself in anger, similar to Eren’s probably, there’s no exact formula for how humans react to anything. It’s incredibly complex that the field of psychology (or any other field) is just a conglomerate of people and a bunch of reports and the people trying to make sense of all the results of the experiments they made. This is particularly true in the social sciences where any findings won’t point to anything as exact as those in the pure sciences.

Anger and rebellion could also stem from someone having grown up in a rich family with strict rules on how to go about this and that is generally how it fits into my head canon. Someone can have a good relationship with their family while at the same time have qualms about how they were raised. To be honest, I’m probably the same way. I grew up in a relatively well off family, I was a generally angry teenager but I admittedly have a generally positive relationship with my family.

Okay to tackle the issue on depression

I don’t want to be quick as to define any action or any emotional analysis as depression. Depression is an incredibly complex subject, there are biological causes, life events and it manifests itself in so many different ways. So many different ways in fact, that people are rarely diagnosed with just depression. There are always diagnoses which accompany it.

To be honest, I went through a period in time also where I was considering ending it. I was sleeping a lot. I quit everything. I went straight home from school. Barely talked to anyone. I talked to a counselor about it, then a therapist but it took them months before they wanted to give the diagnosis of depression. I actually never pushed through with the sessions after a while, got busy with school and eventually, this cleared up on its own weirdly. I’ll never know actually if I was depressed during that period in time. Was I going through very stressful life events, definitely. Were my answers to the tests they were giving me alarming then? Probably. They could have pointed to depression. But I generally got past it and am generally a happier person now without much intervention. So was it even considered depression? I’ll never know. Some people who are probably much stronger than me needed interventions to stay functional. They needed to make radical life decisions, like move out from their parents place, change their courses to keep going. They needed meds to keep functioning everyday.

Depression is a complex and terrifying condition and manifests itself in so many different ways. In fact, talking to some friends who really watched their life spiral down because of this shitty condition. Towards the later stages of depression, they weren’t even feeling anything anymore.

Could Hange have been experiencing symptoms similar to depression? Definitely. General teenage anger and hormones can manifest as symptoms of depression. Grief can manifest with symptoms of depression. Loss can manifest with symptoms of depression. Trauma can manifest with symptoms of depression. Hange will have experienced a lot of things that

Note : Also Eren’s depression? I honestly think given the experiences he had, inheriting the founding titan and inheriting centuries worth of trauma, I think his experience is beyond fathomable for the average person so I chalk that as completely something else.

Okay, to answer your question, Hange was probably not in the best mental state late into Season 4.

Of course she wasn’t, she lost Moblit, she lost Erwin and suddenly she was pulled into a place with so much responsibility. And she was probably suffering from a case of survivor’s guilt on top of that.

Hiding emotions comes down a lot to discipline, self control and the general strength of your inhibitions.. Emotions are manageable like I could say, I have successfully stopped myself many times from punching someone in the face. Someone’s ability to stop themselves from acting on impulses, someone’s ability to manage their inhibitions is dependent on numerous factors like home environment etc. It is also dependent on the context of that moment where someone has to choose between punching someone in the face or walking away, on the context of that moment where people choose between lying in bed and letting the day go by and standing up and plastering a smile on their face. I guess, that’s the point I wanted to make in a previous post. If Hange did grow up rich, she probably found it a little easier, to plaster a smile on her face because not ever having to experience desperation at an early age, coming to the realization that you’ve had it easier than a lot of people growing up, can do that to people.

But yes, towards the end of season 4, she was going through something. She was struggling, despite her smiling face. But really, in attack on titan, who is happy post chapter 122? Like I cannot think of a single person in that manga who is happy at that point. Please tell me if you can think of anyone.

Would I chalk up Hange’s true feelings to depression?

Manifestations of depression maybe? Post traumatic stress? Stress with little time to process anything or rest? Exhaustion? Not being in the best mental state? Maybe.

I wouldn’t use the word depression definitely.

Depression is an incredibly heavy world with so many implications. In fact, it’s a medical condition which needs to be diagnosed thus, I wouldn’t use that at all to describe anyone’s situation unless they have had multiple consultations with multiple doctors and have been laid a final diagnosis.

I hope this clears things up.

Thank you for the ask again. I appreciate it :D

#attack on titan #eren jaeger #hange zoe #meta

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power-of-plot · 3 years

Text

Armin Arlet x Fem! Reader. Oneshot. -Strong-

The first paragraph is purely a small introduction, just in case you wanna go straight to the fic :)

First of all, thanks for reading this! So! i often considered posting but i'm insecure, today i somehow got the confidence and courage to post -definitely not due to watching anime motivational speeches-. I wanted my first post to be something special so i dived deep down into my thoughts for a couple hours, i'm pretty happy with my choice so hope you enjoy it! My apologies if this sucks.

WARNINGS: Some sadness ig? -Armin being a pure soul. Fluff

Summary: Armin suddenly gets an injury during ODM gear training. After Reiner and his protective nature lend a helping hand, you see beyond the walls of his stoicism, people around him made his lack of strenght clear as day and he seemed to accept it but you never wondered if that caused him any pain at all. He needs to know everything has more than one meaning including what is called strenght, you gladly stay by his side to remind him different doesn't mean wrong.

Year 848 three years after the Colossal titan's misterious appearance, in Paradis Island Keith Shadis trained and yelled his lungs out at what soon would be the 104th Cadet Corps. Like any other day, the young cadets rutinarily trained to master the ODM gear, it all would have been the same as other sessions if it wasn't for Armin Arlet, your close and femenine looking friend who in a reckless (and failed-) attempt of proving himself strong to his group discretly tried performing a complex manouver resulting in him crashing into a tree. The few people ahead of him who stopped momentantarily to admire the manouever slowly resumed their way to the target they've had been assigned, just after a couple minutes of trying to walk bearing the pain the silhouette of someone along with the sound of gas and wires pulling something was getting closer by the second at the injured male. "Who's t-.. oh no.." Being around that person for so long made his oceanic eyes know who that brawny body and short blond hair belonged to inmediately, his deep voice shouting erased all the doubt. "Armin!" Reiner said rushing towards him as soon as his feet touched the the grass. As he looked for injuries, finding a twisted ankle, scrapes and bruises; Armin confirmed his suspicions: Reiner had dropped on what he was doing again just to help a single person. Right when he thought the guilt couldn't turn bigger he heard another familiar voice, this one belonged to a female. "Reiner! I saw you going back, what happened? Wait- Armin?!" Your voice turned alarmed after your (e/c) eyes catched a glimpse of your friend's characteristic golden hair, as if that would magically heal his injuries you rocketed towards your comrades at full speed. The crash- landing was rather ungraceful but it was merely trivial compared to an injured friend "(Y/N) are you-" Reiner held out his arms as he walked towards you but you ran past him leaving him standing alone with his arms opened like a rejected boy "Armin!!" You crouched down to him as it seemed he couldn't stand up, worrying you even more "...Hey (Y/N)... what are you..." His glance went lower as the guilt and shame's hand pushed his head down "What do you mean what am i doing? I noticed Reiner was going back from the front and i couldn't find you!- Hey what's wrong?" You asked after noticing a hint of sadness in his eyes, tilting your head and resting your forearms on your knees "Nothing, i must have hit my head that's all.." -because i dared prove something even myself knew full well- He replied blunty, making an adition mentally. His analytic mind was acting as a double ended weapon, either overnalyzing each and every one of his flaws or making the weight his frail shoulders were already carrying heavier. "Armin get on" Reiner said kneeling down turning his back to Armin so he could get on "Hm? It's not necessary, i-i'll just take my time to- ah!" Without further asking the muscular soldier turned around scooping your friend up from the ground into his arms bridal style, his eyes fixed on the grass and his lips released a soft sigh as embarrasment was displayed on his face. In other situation you'd have joked about how he looked cute being held like a baby but a hunch plus his face kept you completely from doing so. "You want to recover fast, don't you?" Reiner asked preparing his equipment to propulse himself again "Y-yeah but why.." "You'll only worsen your condition if you try walking, bear with it just for a while. Besides, what kind of soldier would i be if i left a friend behind knowing i can help him?" His hazel eyes noticed you were about to say something so he remained still to let you get close "It's okay don't be so hard on yourself i just crashed on the ground a moment ago, how did you call it the other day..? You didn't make a mistake, it was a happy accident! (Armin is Bob Ross.) How did you even find out about that manouever anyway?" "I've been analyzing the instructor's movements for a while now..." You deduced Reiner would take him to the infirmary wich he confirmed with a nod after you asked and so, it didn't take a single second for you to decide you'd go with them. The three of you flew and swung across the forest though it seemed like it only was you and Reiner, Armin was so quiet for a moment you even thought he was asleep.

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

"..Thank you very much Reiner" The blond thanked him now lying on his bunk, his ankle was bandaged up and his minor injuries were treateed "No problem, don't do anything until you're sure it won't hurt you got it?" "Don't worry Reiner i'll keep an eye on him 'till he's good as new!" You said cheerfuly with a smile as you sat by Armin's side, not caring a bit you were of the few girls in there. Once Reiner walked to his own bunk with Bertholdt you turned to Armin with a curious look "So what're you thinking about, you've been very quiet so it must be serious. Any new interesting thing about the outside world?" "Not really." His response was blunt again, something was definitely on his mind otherwise you couldn't explain why he wasn't as talkative as always. As he quietly stared at the matress above him you tried figuring out what could be bothering the boy since it was a lost cause trying to make him say it, you learnt this after countless tries, thankfully you could always ask for some help with Mikasa; her skills at everything including reading people were so good it was almost frightening. She wasn't there at the time and you couldn't rely on the others forever, a small leap of faith wouldn't do any harm, would it? There was only one thing you could think of. "Armin you are not weak." Your (e/c) eyes looked straight into his blue ones, silence reigned between you two before he hummed softly as if trying to deny "Why so?" It was as you suspected, he was blaming himself for making a simple mistake (-rolling girl vibes- sorry xd). You sighed resting your back on the headboard as your hand gently grabbed his forearm "You know it's not a bad thing to make mistakes, it's an everyday thing" "If we do become actual soldiers we'll risk our and the other's lifes everyday. This training is hard to make us strong, to make sure we don't make a single mistake that could lead to a tragedy" "You are not weak Armin." Your voice reasured in a firmer but gentle tone, he believed in what he had proof of, you would give him the proof he needed. Before he had the chance to turn on his side your hand grabbed his shoulder, making you two lock glances again, for your surprise small tears were forming on the corner of his eyes "I'm sorry.." "D-don't apologize it's okay! Come on let me help you what are you..?" He sat up shaking his head refusing to let a word out even when the tears slipped down his cheeks, it was painful to see Armin weep yet not ask for help, you've had been told he was like this since his childhood but it still was hard to believe and who knows if his overthinking made dealing with things on his own easier, he wouldn't try comforting himself. You sighed placing your hand on his shoulder and moving your thumb caressing the skin beneath his clothes, small muffled sobs could be heard coming from him "After that day on Shinganshina.. hundreds of people were sent there as if they were able to fight the titans, they didn't care if they were kids or elders- my grandfather went in my place, i know it wouldn't have made much of a difference but" He made a pause to try making his breathing go back to normal and hold back his tears, leaving just a small trace under his eyes "But he raised me, he gave me a name.. and i simply let him go straight to his death- i didn't make any effort to tell him i would go because i was scared.." You had to lean closer to listen clearly to what he was saying since he didn't want to drag anyone's attention besides yours "Sometimes i wonder what kind of things must have he felt when he realised he'd die alone..? I want to become a soldier to keep that from happening again, even though i'm just one it'd make a difference if only i.. wasn't such a weak coward" As he spoke you could almost feel the weight of his guilt resting on your shoulders for a moment, had he always been hiding in a shell? Ever since he was a child? A tear sprouted from the corner of your eye imagining how many times he suffered silently. You put your finger to your lower lip as you analyzed what your next move should be, after all it was Armin you were talking about, not all words would have effect on him "Strenght... physical strenght is not the only important thing, YES it is important in a soldier but the mind also matters! I can't lie, you get scared easily but so do i!. What about the snake from the other day? Someone had to remove it from your leg after you paralyzed but you were brave enough to not kick or scream in panic" Let's accept it you sucked at motivational speeches, your attempts usuallly ended up making him chuckle but it was some progress taking in mind you had no idea how to comfort him at the beggining. This time was no exception, he grew a tender smile but it faded away in matter of seconds "Come on Armin, you may be a little slim but what you don't have here-" Your hands abruptly dropped on his arms specifying you refered to muscles, then, your middle finger poked his forehead making him flinch "You have it here" "..What was that f-" He was cut off by your finger presisng against his lips "Shush- you are smart, incredibly smart you just have to see it! We all fall on our butts and feel scared of small things sometimes but that is what makes us humans, if we didn't feel fear or anything at all we'd be just like the titans!" You felt impressed of your own words, the look on his face made it clear he echoed the feeling. You wathed him move with his hands towards you before pulling you into one of the warmest hugs you've ever experienced; he held you so close and tightly you could feel his heart beating against you. "Thank you." His head rested on the crook of your neck, the gold strings of his beatiful hair falling over his face and tickling your nape slightly. You corresponded the gesture by eveloping him into your arms, slowly moving your palm up and down on his back "No problem....... Christa-"

Oof! That was long, congratulations if you read the whole thing!

#attack on titan #armin x reader #aot fanfiction #armin arlet x reader #armin arlert

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roselen-mylady · 4 years

Text

In Another Life

Bucky Barnes x reader ° part six

Summary: Waiting 88 years to find your soulmate? It was cruel. But it was a cruel fate Bucky would have to face whether he accepted it or not. Bucky was a tortured man all his life and he wasn't even granted the solace of having his soulmate at his side. All he had was the promise of one in another life. They were separated by two different times.

But the pain in their lives were connected.

Y/n had been alone ever since she could remember. All she could depend on was the soulmate that was destined to be at her side. Yet when the snap occured she lost him.

And Bucky never got to meet her.

2014

"What was it like meeting Fury?"

Maria glanced up from her paperwork, piecing together what Y/n had meant by the simple question. Like many children her age, Y/n was curious about meeting her soulmate and what it might feel like. Maria was once like Y/n and she smiled kindly, setting down the papers.

"Did he tell you?" Her unspoken question was easily understood by the young girl and Y/n shook her head, looking back down at her own papers. The blueprints of the Helicarriers had finally been granted to her and she found it made it easier to operate when she was able to get a better look at the inside without walking the length of the giant machinery.

"I figured it out on my own. But then again, he didn't try too hard to deny it." Y/n shrugged. Maria's smile lingered as she nodded absentmindedly.

"Nick has always been a smart man. He must've known trying to lie to you would be a difficult feat." She replied, earning a proud giggle from the young girl.

"Well, that's one way to look at it. I think he's just pissy that I owned his ass in training last week." Y/n smirked, stealing a glance at Maria as the woman laughed. "How did you feel, knowing that the most paranoid and dangerous man on the planet was your soulmate?"

Maria thought over Y/n's question this time, knowing that getting her to dismiss it would be pointless and impossible. It was a question Maria never had to answer before. No one had ever asked her how it felt to be Fury's soulmate because nobody really knew. Fury couldn't risk someone coming after her because of it and she quickly found that it went both ways. They protected each other and slowly built a bond that went deeper than being partners. They were companions and on the rare chance that Fury decided to open up, it was always to her.

"I felt like I had known him forever. It was like meeting an old friend and it felt familiar and safe." Maria answered carefully. "Of course, it took some time to gain his trust but then again he didn't exactly have mine either. Once there was trust, we were each other's greatest allies and have been ever since."

Y/n listened intently with a childish amazement. Though Maria's explanation wasn't exactly romantic, Y/n had grown up listening to the fairy tale of her parents' meeting and she couldn't help but imagine a happy ending like in the stories.

The mere thought of having that with someone brought a stupid grin to her face and she let herself fall into the fantasy of meeting him. What if he was one of the older boys at her old high school? They were funny, handsome and always kind to her despite her age. Would they have a cliche reunion when they were older like in the movies?

Or was he someone she had never met before? Was he thinking about her? Did he wish just as badly to meet her? Would he hold her and kiss her as passionately as the guys on TV did? Her poor 15 year old cheeks flushed at the idea and Maria laughed quietly as she watched Y/n get lost in her thoughts.

"I can't wait to have that with someone." Y/n confessed, wanting desperately to have someone to share her life with. She already wanted to tell him everything but she still had at least three years before getting her countdown and however long after that to wait. Waiting was never something she enjoyed but for him she decided it couldn't be too bad.

"You will. You just have to be patient." Maria told her. Y/n nodded silently, glancing back at her papers as her mind drifted back to her plans for the Helicarriers.

He'd be worth the wait.

•••

1992

"Sir." A younger agent called, catching the attention of the older man. "His countdown…"

Bucky sat before them, expressionless in his chair as the aftermath of the wiping buzzed through every nerve in his brain. His chest heaved in steady yet painful breaths, his dark locks clinging to his forehead as sweat drenched him and his uniform.

The older man watched him with a stony gaze, his focus never tearing away from the broken assassin. "What of it?" He replied, agitated as the younger agent fidgeted beside him. Bucky's condition didn't sit as well with him as it had with the others. His young mind still clung to what was right and what was wrong, untainted by the concept of loyalty and duty. He pitied the Soldier and whoever he was destined to.

"What are you going to do about his soulmate?" The young man asked cautiously. He feared the backlash of his words but he couldn't stop them from coming out. No one seemed to have the Soldier's interests at heart and while he knew that was the point of brainwashing him, the young agent believed there was still a part of the Soldier left. One that craved his soulmate like everyone else.

"He will handle it like every other threat. His soulmate has no place in this world or with him and will be dealt with accordingly." The older man answered without missing a beat. There was no remorse in his voice, sending a sick feeling to the younger agent's stomach.

Bucky hadn't even moved at the mention of his soulmate, his freshly erased mind unable to recognize just how important the discussion was. It was unable to comprehend that he was going to be the death of his own soulmate, let alone object to it. All he could do was obey.

The agent's eyes fell from the Soldier, repenting his choice to join HYDRA. They spoke of the future and creating a world willing to give up their freedom for safety but this wasn't right. The tortured man before him was enough proof to show HYDRA was no longer standing for any cause. They just wanted the world to burn.

And they fully intended to make Bucky light the match.

•••

Y/n hated how terribly familiar it felt, standing there in the compound while the man she had come to know as Scott rambled on about the Quantum Realm. It reminded her of being an agent, the youngest person in the room but still the brightest. The way she would lay out mission plans and listen to Fury explain them the very next day to the other agents. She was a good agent, a hero, Fury had once told her. But that was behind her. She couldn't go back to fighting for the greater good.

She wasn't built for it.

The Quantum Realm was always a topic that piqued her interest. The bizarre nature of the other realm was complex but she felt an obligation to understand it the best she could. Her incisive mind would never rest without something to contemplate and whenever she felt herself growing bored she'd come back to the science around the Quantum Realm. There was so much about it that they still didn't know which meant it's possibilities were as infinite as the realm itself.

But what Scott was talking about was just unbelievable.

Stuck in the Quantum Realm for five years? Trapped in a void of infinite time and space for all that time without any way to tell exactly how much time has passed, she wondered how he didn't go mad. His later explanation of five years only feeling like a short span of five hours, cleared up her most pressing question but she still had a million more to take its place.

How did he get to the Quantum Realm? How'd he get stuck? How did he navigate himself out? Why did he only get out now? How did he find them?

Her mind was buzzing with so many unknowns. But she could hardly hear her own thoughts as one voice screamed from her subconscious.

Run.

"I really don't think I should be here." Y/n mumbled, starting to step away from the three. Her doubt and fear began to overpower any curiosity she had about the Quantum Realm and she fought the urge to just leave without an explanation. She owed Steve an explanation. He trusted her enough to have her there and she couldn't even explain why she couldn't stay. Why anything involving heroes filled her with such guilt and terror that she avoided it at all costs. Until she met him.

The group's focus shifted to her as she backtracked, hesitantly trying to make her escape before it was too late. Yet all hopes of leaving quickly diminished as Steve called her name, his desperation clearer than the windows around them.

"Please. You can help us." He pleaded. Nat reached out to reason with him but he stayed firm in his request. His eyes were fixated on Y/n and she struggled to remain unwavering.

"How, Steve? I'm not like you guys. I'm not an Avenger." Y/n told him. The sentence soured in her mouth but she was insistent, hoping maybe if they believed it she would too. Nat stared at her with an unreadable expression making the frantic beating of Y/n's heart only double.

Y/n was a good liar. A trait she supposed came with her intelligence. Fury found this trait as a skill he could use, morph to make her into a better agent. But as she stared at Steve and Nat she couldn't help the disappointed frown that had formed. Lying to them was all she had done. And once they found out, she would lose them.

Steve's eyes fell to the floor, considering Y/n's argument with a grave expression. He wanted to respect her wishes and let her go. She had a normal life and ever since he entered it, there was a feeling of guilt that hovered over him like a dark cloud. The thought of anything happening to her because of him was crushing but he couldn't bring himself to leave her.

Y/n represented the only piece of normal he had left. For 80 he was treated as a symbol, an idol for people to look up to and while for years that what he had wanted and accepted was his life, he still craved the normal life he never got. A life with his soulmate where he wasn't Captain America, where he had a normal home and normal friends.

Y/n was normal to him even if she was strangely smart at times or she seemed to be hiding a loss in her past that he never got close enough to ask about. Despite her secrets she gave him normalcy and all of the questions he had for her faded away. Even her hesitance toward their friendship was forgotten because she was kind and he never felt the anger of his failure from her. With her he could forget it all, and go back to a time things were better, a time he once lived with Bucky.

He just couldn't let her walk out the door, especially with Scott there. His presence meant there was a change in the air and for the first time in 5 years, he was hopeful. There might actually be a way to undo what Thanos had done and he wanted Y/n there every step of the way. To keep him grounded.

"You are to me." Steve confessed, his soft frown silently begging her to stay.

Y/n watched his eyes search hers, looking for any tell that might give him his answer. She desperately wanted to say no. Run away like she had been all this time and forever regret getting so close to a hero when she had promised herself to never go back.

But all that came to mind was a smaller but more compelling thought. She was a coward. The once correct decision she believed she had committed by leaving her past behind her wasn't protecting those around her. She was fearful and senseless and by running away she wasn't saving anyone but herself.

In that moment, whether she stayed or not was her chance to do something with herself. The same dream she had as a child of being something more was still there, unrelenting in the back of her mind and this time she wouldn't let failure ruin her. She had felt the loss of everyone she'd ever cared about and by joining Steve she ran the risk of it again. But she wouldn't. Not this time.

"Okay. I'll help however I can." Y/n offered a small smile, trying to force away the worry that sprouted in her heart. For years her work with helping those after the snap had satisfied her need to put her skills to good use but now she could do more. Like Fury had wanted her to.

"Wait, what's your power? I get really small, I mean, obviously, Ant-Man. And sometimes I can get big too but I try not to anymore." Scott ranted, the excitement obvious in his wide eyes and rapid words. Y/n gave Scott a lasting stare, a little thrown off by his polar attitude towards the emotional moment.

"I read minds." She joked, hoping he'd catch on to her sarcasm. But the poor man was too thrilled with her supposed superpower to realize he'd been fooled.

"Whoa, that's so cool. What am I thinking?" He asked almost instantly, childlike in his manner as he stared at her intently. Her face deadpanned, sending a quizzical look to Steve and Nat. This was the man they were listening to? Steve shrugged in return before both their gazes fell back on Scott.

"You're thinking about eating that sandwich." Y/n answered finally, a glimpse of disbelief flashing across his features. It didn't exactly take a mind reader to know, she had noticed him staring at it since he entered the room. But that didn't occur to him and no one wasted any more time explaining it to him as he stole half the sandwich.

"Scott, what were you talking about?" Steve sighed, dragging Scott's distracted mind back to his plan. The frenzied man swallowed thickly, forcing his words through the peanut butter that stuck before starting to pace.

"What I'm saying is, time works differently in the Quantum Realm. The only problem is right now, we don't have a way to navigate it. But what if we did? I can't stop thinking about it. What if we could somehow control the chaos and we could navigate it? What if there was a way to enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time but then exit at another point in time? Like-like before Thanos." Scott described.

"Wait, are you talking about a time machine?" Steve questioned in disbelief. Y/n looked to Nat, the slight flick of her eyes conveying her skepticism. Scott stopped pausing to shake his head with a scoff, offended that his masterful plan had been compared to the object of most fictional media.

"No. No, of course not. No, not a time machine. It's more like a…" Uncertain, his voice trailed off. "Yeah, a time machine. I know it's crazy." Scott admitted, unable to find another word for his idea. Y/n shook her head, stepping forward.

"Yeah, you're right it's insane." She agreed. Steve's brow furrowed and he crossed his arms turning to her.

"What do you know about this?" He inquired, wondering if his request for her to stay had been justified. Y/n bit her tongue, unsure how much to tell him. She'd have to find a way to explain how helpful she could be without dredging up her past.

With a short sigh, she ran a forceful hand through her hair, grateful when her fingers didn't snag. What they were talking about was impossible. Sure there were theories on uses of the Quantum Realm, many of which she researched yet none were proven. The sheer fact that it was so outlandish was one of the reasons that had steered her in it's direction.

"In college I went to practically every science related class I could. This scientist, Bill Foster, came to my college and did a short class on it for like a month. I thought it was cool so I kept coming back but this isn't an exact science, the Quantum Realm is infinite in time and space." Her excuse was vague, vague enough to not get any more questions.

Once during her years at college she would stay up countless nights letting her mind run rampant about the topic. It was fun to see if she could figure out a way to use the Quantum Realm like Scott talked about it, but the main reason it was fun was because she never expected to actually have to make a working theory.

"Hey, I met that guy." Scott announced, rather amused as Y/n gave him an exasperated look.

"Then you should know that finding a certain point in time is the equivalent of finding a needle in a haystack but the haystack is infinite and time means nothing." It was frustrating not being able to be of more help since she was in fact a genius but the science was too unreliable, practically everything was just hypothetical.

"So, can you find a magnet?" Steve asked. Y/n looked to him recognizing the desperation in his eyes. The simple action made her heart clench in her chest. Steve had a way of making those around him share his passion toward anything and she hated how easily she fell victim. It was impossible not to get wrapped up in the righteousness of things especially when her best friend was the face of America.

It was his passion that had kept her around him, unable to distance herself like she had from so many others. Something in Steve was reassuring and she never feared losing him to anything but her secrets, but that was easy, right? She could keep a secret.

Y/n rubbed her arm, briefly catching sight of her countdown. The numbers sent a chill through her and she froze for a moment, her eyes calm and calculated as she thought over the situation.

An interesting idea came to mind looking down at the numbers on her wrist. Was this what her countdown was leading her to? A time machine? It made sense since her countdown had been just as curious as the Quantum Realm itself. Did her countdown mean time travel was real?

She tugged down her sleeve, not catching Steve's eyes peering down at it, trying to catch a glimpse but to no avail.

"I might be able to get you started but it'd take a genius to even know where to go from there." Y/n offered, unaware of Nat's narrowing eyes. Steve turned his gaze to the floor, a certain man coming to mind. There was a slim chance he might help. The guilt Steve felt was the same in Tony and it might be enough to get him to join their crazy mission.

"I can't stop thinking about it. There's gotta be some way... There's gotta be...some w... it's crazy." Scott mumbled. Y/n crossed her arms looking over at Steve. She remembered a time when even being friends with him was crazy to her but she quickly grew used to the feeling. But now she was questioning everything.

In what world would she ever run back to her past. In what world would she set aside her fear to help the Avengers, a team she was once groomed to replace. In what world could she forget about her mistakes and help revive the world if their plan worked.

"I get emails from a raccoon, so nothing sounds crazy anymore." Nat let out a sigh, annoyed by her own mention of said raccoon. Y/n's head unconsciously whipped around to her, confusion creasing through her brow.

Maybe in a world where raccoons talk?

"So who do we talk to about this?" Scott questioned, shifting his stare between the three. Nat and Steve shared a look knowing who they'd have to visit and that he'd probably not be too easy to persuade.

Y/n stared dazed at Nat, only deciding to speak up when it became apparent that Nat wouldn't explain further. "Wait, a raccoon?"

•••

A song Y/n didn't recognize hummed in the background, just audible over the rough sound of the road.

Reluctantly Y/n had gone with Steve and the others to Fairburn, Georgia, heading somewhere she hadn't thought to ask. Now she drove a rental car a couple car links behind Nat as she led them outside the city.

Steve hadn't said a word the entire ride, instead shifting silently in his seat. His mind was too jumbled with the time machine and his best friend's sudden knowledge in the Quantum Realm to really make any type of conversation. All the secrets he knew she'd been hiding were beginning to weigh on him and he didn't know if he could afford to allow her to keep them any longer. If it meant bringing back half the population, so many of his friends included, was he prepared to out her?

Deciding the silence was too much to bare, Y/n spoke what had been on her mind. "Is it him again?"

Her eyes were fixated on the road and she intended to keep them there, in fear that looking at Steve might break her resolve. She was going to get answers.

"Who?" Steve asked, wondering if somehow she had figured out where they were going.

"Bucky." She answered, catching him off guard.

It was no secret, Y/n's subtle resentment. A lot of people still held onto the acts of the Winter Soldier and while Steve couldn't blame them, he also couldn't blame Bucky. It was a horrible thing done to him but for the life of him, Bucky couldn't seem to receive forgiveness.

But what had surprised Steve was the way his name sounded from her mouth. It was bitter but so defeated as if her anger tired her. He wondered why she would mention him at all if that were the case.

"How did you forgive him? For all the lives he took, for all the people he hurt?"

There it was. The reason. The question he'd hope to never be asked by her. It meant she hadn't forgiven him. It meant that she wouldn't.

"What do you mean?" Steve questioned, almost in denial of what she had said.

It had been years since he had tried to prove his best friend's innocence to someone and it hurt that he had to do it now with someone who had become as dear to him as Bucky. "He wasn't himself, Y/n. You know that."

"How wasn't he himself?" She pressed as gently as she felt she could manage. She couldn't risk making Steve close further into himself but she wanted to know, more than anything in the world.

"How could he have not made the conscious choice to be a killer?" She asked. 70 years was a long time, but not long enough to become a completely different person. There was more to it. That secret being kept from her.

"The Winter Soldier wasn't him." Steve pleaded.

Y/n paused. He was holding onto that delusion by a thread and she was on the verge of snapping it.

Guilt flooded her and she bit her cheek, not daring to speak another word. It wasn't fair to demand answers from him. She knew that. But she couldn't do it anymore.

She was way past asking for an apology, all she asked for was closure. She'd accepted her own role in her misfortune, realizing that she played a part within it. She accepted the guilt that came with it, accepted that it was because of her ambitions that she was left with this trauma.

All she wanted to know was why he had done it. Why would he mindlessly try to kill a 15 year old and then claim that wasn't him in the next moment? And the only man that could truly tell her what he was thinking while choking the life from her was gone.

"I'm sorry, Steve." She spoke quietly, trying to force the quiver from her voice. "It's just, I never knew the Bucky you remember."

Steve didn't reply. It was like he was trying to protect the truth. Protect it for himself or for Bucky's memory, she couldn't tell but she knew she hadn't yet earned the truth from him. Not unless he knew hers.

"The first I ever heard of him was when I was fifteen. I was living in Washington when he killed a man in the street." She told him, leaving out the part where the Winter Soldier then turned his attack toward her. "I was nearby that day, I saw him blow up that man's SUV."

Steve was stunned by what she told him. She had never told him that she'd actually seen the Winter Soldier. Never revealed that her resentment came from a personal place.

"The Winter Soldier hurt people, he destroyed lives. I saw him do that, you can't just tell me it wasn't him." Y/n swallowed thickly. It was difficult to hide her stinging eyes, eyes that wanted so badly to cry from frustration.

For years she had listened to his stories. And yet he kept the most important one from her.

Steve knew she was right. Bucky's full story was never released to the public. There was no way she knew anything other than what she'd seen and the horrible things the media remembered him for.

Nobody would ever hear his story and come to forgive him. He was gone and his truth had been buried with him.

But here Y/n was, pleading to hear that very story. She was desperate to move on and while Steve didn't completely understand why, he wondered if maybe this was his chance to make amends on Bucky's behalf. To ease Y/n's obvious pain just a little.

"In 1945 Bucky was taken by HYDRA after I left him for dead. It's my fault that they got him. I couldn't save him." Steve's regret bubbled rapidly up his throat.

Y/n listened silently, surprised yet grateful that he'd spoken.

She listened as he explained what HYDRA called the Winter Soldier project. He told her in detail how they'd use him to carry out political assassinations against his will and Cryo-Freeze him away for years whenever they were done with him.

All of this she knew from her own research. What she hadn't known, however, was perhaps the most disturbing part of the tale. The answer to the question she'd been asking for years.

How had such a kind man like James Barnes become a ruthless killer?

"The Bucky I knew would never do those things willingly. I knew-" Steve's voice cracked as he tried to get out the hardest part of a story he hated telling. He hated even thinking about what they'd done to his friend and coming to terms with it seemed like something he'd never accomplished.

"I knew they had to have done something terrible to him to make that happen. And I was right." Steve frowned.

Y/n held her breath as his next words came, unsure if she could handle what she would hear. Once he told her, she would have to make a choice, a choice she feared she might not be able to make.

Would she forgive, putting all the blame onto her own mistakes? Or would she hold onto her resentment, allowing the Winter soldier to continue to serve as a scapegoat for the day that ruined her life?

Unfortunately, the choice was made for her.

"For 70 years they brainwashed him using this memory suppressing machine. I saw it, Y/n. In Serbia, where they kept him. It was a chair in a dark room that they strap him into and use to erase who he was." Steve confessed, releasing the truth Y/n had been so adamant about hearing.

Now she wished she hadn't.

Ignorance was bliss, right?

"They used electroshock. Not only did it erase all of his memories from before he was the Winter Soldier, it literally damaged his brain. He couldn't make a single choice for himself, couldn't object or fight back." Steve bit his lip, turning to face his friend. "Y/n, you have to believe me when I tell you, the Bucky I know would've rather died than do the things he was forced to."

Y/n froze, her gaze falling on his pleading expression only for a moment. It was all she could bear.

She felt sick, trying to process what he told her.

So that's why Steve was firm in his belief that James Barnes wasn't the Winter Soldier.

Mentally he wasn't.

"Brainwashing?" The word rolled off her tongue with a sting. All this time she'd resented a brainwashed man, a man who physically couldn't make decisions of his own. He never had any motive to hurt her, he merely did what he was told.

Guilt rose in her throat and she gagged feeling bile rise along with it.

Everything she'd ever convinced herself crumbled around her, the only thing left standing being her pity for James Barnes. For years she pitied him. Pitied the man that had fallen so far from the symbol of altruism to a heartless assassin.

Now she pitied him for so many reasons she couldn't begin to list them. In fact it wasn't even pity anymore. Now it was simply sorrow. She mourned the man that had disappeared just when he was beginning to take control over his life again.

It was hard to convince herself that the Winter Soldier still warranted that hatred she wanted so desperately to direct away from herself. Maybe that was why Steve thought of them as separate people.

She couldn't resent James Barnes.

But the man he was once forced to be still terrified her.

The knot in her stomach tightened but she kept her face neutral as they turned off the busy road, driving off in a more vacant area. Trees were beginning to spot around them and Y/n tried to focus on admiring them rather than the sickening tale Steve had told her.

While the man she feared had been brainwashed into doing the horrible things he did, she had ruined her life with the promise of making things better. She had a choice while he hadn't. Was she the monster?

•••

Part seven

Taglist

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#bucky barnes #marvel #avengers #endgame #steverogers #buckybarnes #infinitywar #tonystark #first avenger #iron man #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan #soulmate au #soulmate #bucky x reader #x reader

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Killer Combo - Ch 4 Finding the Groove

Marinette felt awkward, walking up the steps of the gangway connecting the péniche to the bank. Luka was nowhere in sight, and she stood in the middle of the narrow ramp, a hand on each rail and her index finger tapping lightly. She was already a little rattled from anxiety over the project she’d been working on at home, from arguing with herself over whether it was weird or too much, and now coming here and not knowing what to do was getting to her a little bit. Luka hadn’t given her any instructions except the location of the boat, and it wasn’t as if she could just ring the doorbell, so…

“Are you going to stand there all day, lass?” a booming, accented, female voice demanded, and Marinette jumped, looking around frantically for a moment before spotting the woman standing on the cluttered deck, two fists on her hips and her feet firmly planted. Imposing as her figure was, the expression on her face was friendly amusement and, like Luka, she had gentle eyes behind her round glasses.

“Oh, I—I wasn’t sure how to—I mean, I’m here to see Luka? I guess I thought, uh…” Marinette’s shoulders hunched slightly, her eyes taking in the flowered headband and thick chunky jewelry and the amp cord necklace.

“Ah, yes, he mentioned he had company coming over today. So you’re the lass from the tournament, eh? I’m Luka’s mother and the captain of this little floating paradise. Name’s Anarka, or Captain Anarka if you can’t stomach anything else. Don’t call me Madam and we’ll get along fine.”

“O-okay, M—uh, Captain,” Marinette said quickly.

The grey-haired woman smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges, and jerked her head. “Well come aboard, lass. Luka’s playing on the upper deck, I’m sure he lost track of time or he’d have been down here to meet you. Those stairs, right there. Watch your step; clutter’s a way of life around here.” Anarka pointed, and Marinette came carefully onto the boat, picking her way across the deck towards the stairs.

Anarka made no move to follow her, so Marinette just went on up the stairs, hoping Luka would be easy to find. She didn’t even register the music playing until she got to the top of the stairs, though it was probably audible from the bank even; she’d just had other things on her mind.

At least Luka was easy to find sitting half-reclined in a deck chair, one boot planted on a crate and an electric guitar in his lap, a pair of electric blue mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes and flashing in the bright sun as he bobbed his head in time to the music coming from both his amp beside him and the stereo speakers behind him. The track playing was the album cut, but Luka was playing over it, his guitar blending in beautifully with the existing instrumentation and giving it a bit more edge and a more complex sound. It sounded really cool, actually. Nino would love it, Marinette thought absently.

Then Luka opened his mouth and that smooth voice that had always been so soft and gentle rang out strong and clear as he sang along with the track, body swaying to the music, hands still moving over the guitar. “They tell me think with my head, not that thing in my chest, they got their hands at my neck this time. But you’re the one that I want, if that’s really so wrong, then you don’t know what that feeling is like.”

She thought his eyes must have been closed behind his sunglasses because he didn’t react to her at all until she called his name.

“Oh, hey,” he said, pulling off his shades to blink at her. “Crap, sorry, I—” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time, and then grinned sheepishly at her. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay,” Marinette smiled. “It sounded good.”

Luka’s face lit up. “Yeah, you liked it?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, tucking a strand of hair back. “You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, putting both feet on the deck and straightening up. “Hang on, we’re all set up, just let me turn this off and we can get started. I was just killing time, but I didn’t realize how much I guess. I get into the zone and—” He gestured vaguely. “Well. You probably know how it is.”

“I do,” Marinette smiled. “I’m not in a hurry.” Marinette watched as he turned off the sound system and put his guitar back in the case with practiced care. “I made sure I had the whole afternoon free. How long have you been playing? Guitar, I mean, not UMS.”

“Practically all my life,” he told her as he zipped up the case. “Learned from my mom, she was a rock guitarist back in the day. I was just messing around, though. If I really wanted to practice I’d go down on the stage and hook up the big amp.”

Marinette’s eyebrows raised. “You have an entire stage whenever you just feel like practicing?”

Luka shrugged and gave her that roguish grin and wink that made her knees weak. “Welcome to the Liberty. Everything we do here is dramatic and over the top.”

“That...doesn’t sound like you at all, actually,” Marinette giggled.

Luka chuckled. “Well, you don’t actually know me all that well. You’ve never seen me perform. Or get angry.”

Marinette smirked. “I wouldn’t like you when you’re angry?”

Luka’s laugh rang out, and here in his home, in the open air, it was loud and unrestrained, and Marinette had to smile. “You’re funny,” he said, shaking his head as he straightened up and motioned for her to follow him. “Come on, I love the sun myself but I figured you might not want to fry out here so I set us up in the shade where the glare isn’t so bad.”

Marinette followed him around the wheelhouse to an area shaded with a tarp, with two deck chairs in front of a TV strapped to a crate with bungee cords. The crate itself was similarly strapped to the rail. “Sorry it’s not exactly a high tech setup,” he said, picking up a pair of controllers out of the chair and handing one to her.

“I like it, actually,” Marinette replied, taking the controller and sitting down in one of the chairs. “It’s comfortable.”

“Way better than those damn pods,” Luka agreed with a grin. “You’d think they could at least put a chair in the stupid things. I hate playing standing up.”

Marinette giggled as he turned on the TV and started up the game. A piece of paper taped to the side of the TV fluttered in the breeze and she leaned to the side. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I forgot that was there,” Luka said, reaching around to pull off the paper. “I guess you could call it my goal poster. Not as fancy or as detailed as yours, but…” He shook his head slightly, handing her an ad from a music store with a picture of an electric guitar. “That’s my dream girl.”

“Wow,” Marinette said rather blankly.

Luka chuckled as he took it back from her. “I know it probably doesn’t look like much to you, but trust me, she’s worth it. They’re going to start throwing me out of the shop if I don’t buy her soon, I’ve been in there playing the demo so often. She’s just got such a sleek body and a great sound, she’s absolutely gorgeous.”

Marinette couldn’t contain her giggles any longer. “I’m sorry,” she laughed. “I don’t mean to make fun of you, it’s just the way you talk about it is funny to me. I’m not belittling your passion, I promise. Did you buy that one the last time?” She nodded toward the case he’d set aside when she arrived.

“Ah, no, that one’s actually my mom’s,” Luka said, sticking the paper back onto the side of the TV. “My mom never gets rid of anything, least of all an instrument, so she’s got a bunch of different models she lets me use, but...” He sighed, his lips tightening slightly. “It’s not the same as having my own. It’s...hard to explain.”

“I think I get it, sort of,” Marinette shrugged slightly. “Different machines have a different feel even when they’re all doing the same stitch. You find one you’re comfortable with, you stick with it. It’s probably even more true with instruments, I imagine.” She blushed and brushed back some stray hair that the breeze was whipping into her face. “I mean, I’m not a musician, so maybe I should just shut up.”

“No,” Luka smiled, and her heart fluttered at the softness in it. “It’s okay. Even if you don’t quite get it, it means a lot that you try to understand.” He threw himself back in his chair and gave her a lopsided grin that was more guarded. “So do you hate me now that you know you’re trying to fund your dream and I’m just trying to do what I love?”

“Of course not,” Marinette said in surprise. “If you’re a better player than me, you should win. It’s not about deciding whose intentions for the prize money are the most worthy. It’s a game, not a grant application. I’ll make my dreams happen another way. Winning just makes it easier.” She dared a wink of her own and felt a thrill of satisfaction when a more genuine grin took over and his shoulders lowered slightly. She hadn’t realized he was tense until that moment, but he was visibly more relaxed now. Feeling brave, she quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re thinking small, though. Surely you don’t need the whole prize pot to pay for one guitar. I hope you’ve got plans for the rest.”

“I do,” he said simply, and Marinette felt a stab of guilt as he tensed up again. Now that she knew what to look for it was easy to see. She shouldn’t have said that. She remembered how she’d felt when he pressed her about her plans. It had felt invasive and intimidating, even though she had nothing to be ashamed of. She fell back on what had always worked to deflect the deeper conversations.

“Well, whatever your plans are, I’m sure they’ll be great,” she said brightly, and then smirked at him. “Or they would have been, if it weren’t for me. You’re still going down, Viperion.”

That worked, as he grinned back at her. “We’ll see, Ladybug,” he said, sitting back into his chair. “Well. For now we’re on the same side, so—ready to kick some ass or what?”

Marinette grinned. “I’m always ready.”

They were definitely better this time than they had been the last, more in sync. They discussed and made adjustments and Marinette was feeling very encouraged at their prospects when Luka threw his arms up with his victory whoop at a particularly difficult victory, and the familiar sound of tearing fabric hit her ears.

Luka’s tired old hoodie, it seemed, had finally had enough. He cursed softly, inspecting the damage along one shoulder. It was a pretty bad tear on a seam that was clearly already weak. “I guess it had to go sometime…” Luka sighed. “I was really hoping I’d get a little more wear out of it—” Marinette snorted, as it looked like he’d gotten plenty of wear out of it to her, but Luka ignored her. “I got it in Scotland when we were visiting family,” he continued. “It’s my favorite.”

“By the looks of it you’ve worn it every day since,” Marinette observed dryly, folding her arms.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Luka said reluctantly, pulling the hoodie off and regarding it with sad, fond affection that both tugged at her heart and made her want to laugh. “I guess it’s paid its dues.”

Marinette sighed and dropped her head back, rolling her eyes. “Oh my God, fine, stop with the kicked puppy look, give it here.”

“Huh?” Luka looked up at her.

“Give it to me, I’ll fix it,” Marinette said, with a wry smile. “You big baby.”

Luka’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Really, you think you can fix it? I’d hate to give it up, I’ve had it forever.”

“Obviously,” Marinette snorted as he handed over the hoodie. She examined the torn seam, and then the other seams. “All of these need reinforcement,” she commented, and saw Luka’s face fall as she looked up. “It’s okay, I can do it,” she said, with some amusement. “If you trust your beloved pile of rags to my possession. I don’t deny the urge to chuck it overboard is strong. Do you want the repairs to show or should I try to hide them?”

“I don’t mind if it shows,” Luka said, ruffling his hair. “But whichever is faster. I know how to sew a button back on but that’s it so whatever you say works for me. Are you sure you want to do it now? We’re supposed to be practicing and I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

“It won’t take that long and we’re due for a break anyway,” Marinette shrugged. She draped the hoodie over her shoulder and picked up her purse, pulling out a small (well...smallish) plastic box and handing it to him. “Pick a color.”

“Wow, you carry this stuff with you all the time?” he asked, opening the box and looking at the neatly arranged contents. He deliberated a moment and then selected a spool.

Marinette took the kit back and pulled out a needle and a pair of folding scissors. “Really?” she said, holding up the spool of bright red thread.

Luka shrugged and grinned. “That way I’ll think of you. I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid, but it’s kind of what you said about putting a piece of yourself in the things you make. If you’re doing that for me, I don’t want it to be invisible.”

Marinette’s face turned as red as the thread in her hand, she was certain, and she was equally certain that Luka saw, with the way his grin widened and he averted his eyes, trying to pretend that he wasn’t holding back laughter. Marinette’s eyes narrowed slightly in both annoyance and sudden suspicion. “When did I say that?”

Luka froze—just an instant, but Marinette caught it. “Ah—on your instagram,” he replied in a way that would have sounded completely casual if she hadn’t seen that quick moment of...whatever. “Your business instagram was on your poster,” he added, shrugging one shoulder. “I told you I love your team gear, so I checked it out on the subway ride home. Just for something to do.”

Marinette hummed an affirmative, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

Luka glanced at her. “Your work is really amazing, actually. I didn’t have time to look through very much but I loved what I saw.”

Marinette flashed him a quick smile, trying not to let on how many butterflies it felt like she’d swallowed in the last two minutes. “Thanks.”

The pause that followed was slightly awkward as Luka ran his finger through his turquoise locks and added, “Anyway, I owe you big, thanks for doing this. Above and beyond, even for a teammate.”

“Please, you’re already helping me out, this is the least I can do,” she snorted, and then she dared to dart a smile at him. “Play for me while I work and we’ll call it even,” she added as she sat down and arranged the hoodie in her lap.

“Really, you want me too?” He sounded so happy, Marinette was afraid to look at him. She firmly told the butterflies to settle down and waited until she was sure her voice would be steady before she answered. “Yeah, I’d love to hear it. You sounded really good before.” She shrugged one shoulder. “A little bit of you for a little bit of me, right?”

“Well all right then,” he said, still grinning as he went to get his guitar. “Sounds like a fair trade to me.”

Instead of going back to his perch in the sunshine he sat down in the deck chair next to her, and true to his word, he played while she sewed, occasionally asking if she had a preference, but she just shook her head. “You pick,” she said around the needle clamped between her lips as she unspooled and cut a length of thread.

She glanced to the right only once and nearly stabbed herself with her needle at the sight of Luka’s bare arms moving as he played Stairway to Heaven, too absorbed in the music to notice her choking on her own spit, thankfully. Penchant for video games aside, Luka clearly led an active lifestyle and his arms were toned and defined without having the bulk of somebody who worked at getting that way, and that subtle swell of muscle was more than enough to send her thoughts scattering to the wind. She’d managed to keep her eyes on the game when he’d been in her room, but now, with nothing but her sewing to distract herself, and Luka absorbed in his music...Marinette sighed. As if she needed him to be any more attractive.

Fortunately Marinette was more than capable of sewing with only half of her brain online. She fixed her eyes on the fabric and resolved not to look at Luka again. She failed only once, glancing up as he suddenly sang softly, “ooh, it makes me wonder…” She met his eye and the soft look and the crooked smile he gave her as he added, “it really makes me wonder…” made her drop her gaze again, hoping he wouldn’t see the blush rising to her cheeks. He chuckled and fell silent again, focusing on his guitar again.

Her foot tapped and her head began to bob along with his as he moved into the more energetic part of the song, and Marinette couldn’t help but think this was nice. It was nice, sewing here while he made music, with the gentle rock of the boat and the open air and fabric in her hands.

A few songs later, he was playing a Jagged Stone song when Marinette caught herself singing along and stopped abruptly, glancing quickly at Luka as she felt her face go hot.

“Don’t stop,” he grinned at her. “You sounded great.”

Marinette snorted. “Would you want to sew one of these seams in front of me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Luka laughed that unrestrained laugh again and she tried not to feel too pleased about it. “Point taken,” he chuckled. “But really, it was good.”

Marinette made a small noise that was neither agreement or disagreement and focused back on her task. Luka played a tune she didn’t know for a while, and Marinette fell back into her easy rhythm with the needle.

“It relaxes you, doesn’t?”

Marinette jumped. “S-sorry?” she said, glancing at Luka for just a moment.

“Sewing relaxes you. Usually, you’re kind of…” He interrupted the calm melody he’d been playing to play something more energetic, more powerful, but also more tense. “But the longer you work on that you get more…” he lapsed back into the calm tune he’d been playing.

“It does,” Marinette admitted. “Simple stuff like this, anyway.” She tried to change the subject. “I don’t know that song. The one you were playing just now.”

“Yeah,” Luka smiled. “Me neither.” Marinette looked at him sharply, frowning. Luka shrugged. “I’m just messing around,” he told her. “Just, being here like this, hanging out with you. This is how it feels. It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed, smiling down at her flashing needle. “It really is.” She reached for her folding scissors but missed, and they clattered to the deck. “Ugh, could you grab those for me?” Marinette sighed as they skittered to a stop by Luka’s foot. When he didn’t answer, she glanced up and found Luka staring at her, much like he had the other day. Marinette raised her eyebrows. “Luka? Could you get my scissors?”

Luka jerked back into motion, setting the guitar aside as he reached down and scooped her scissors up off the deck. “Sorry, guess I spaced out for a second,” he muttered, cheeks pink as Marinette took the scissors and unfolded them to clip the thread. He didn’t quite meet her eyes as he took the hoodie she held out to him.

He looked pleased as he examined it, and Marinette felt a rush of pride. She’d used a slightly decorative stitch since he wanted it to show and it was a neat job if she did say so herself. Luka pulled it on, checked the damaged seam one more time, and then grinned at her.

“You’re the best, seriously. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Yes, you can,” Marinette said, putting her sewing things away. “And you have. So let’s not worry about it any more. Break’s over and we have ass to kick.” She grinned at him and reached for his controller.

Luka laughed, sending another frisson of satisfaction through her, and put his guitar away, grabbing his controller as he sat back down. “Let’s do this.” She glanced over at Luka just in time to catch the roguish grin and wink he sent her way, and she could only pray he looked away before her face went completely red.

The sun was setting again when they finally decided to call it a day, congratulating each other on their mutual progress.

“I think we’re really going to be ready,” Marinette grinned. “Team Lucky Charm coming in hot. It’s going to be epic.”

“No doubt,” Luka chuckled, and they shared a quick fist bump.

“I should go,” Marinette said, glancing at the time and standing up to gather her few things. Luka got to his feet as well as she continued, “I think if we just practice online from here, we’ll—”

“Luka, Maman said—,” called a mellow, rather low feminine voice behind them, much too softly to be Anarka. Luka and Marinette both turned and the speaker, a tall girl with a cascade of black hair and a face that Marinette found familiar despite the years that had passed, faltered. “Oh, sorry. She didn’t tell me you had company.”

“Juleka!” Marinette smiled, turning to face her properly. “It’s so good to see you. Wow, you look amazing! Oh, you—” She bit her lip. “You might not remember me, um, I’m...I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng? We went to school together back at...back at um…”

“I remember,” Juleka said quietly, tilting her head slightly.

“Yeah? That’s great.” Marinette’s conversation with Luka earlier in the week flashed through her mind, and she pursed her lips for a moment, and then plunged. “Um,” she began, fidgeting a little. “We—it doesn’t have to be now, if you don’t want to, but, I, I was hoping maybe we could...talk? I mean I didn’t come here to talk but since I’m here, and...and you’re here, and there’s really some things I feel like I ought to say to you, and I...well...anyway, now’s good for me, but later would be good too, we could go grab a drink, I mean not a drink-drink, like orange juice or something, not if there’s anything wrong with it if you’d like a drink-drink, I just don’t usually—and the places that serve those drinks are so noisy anyway, and—” Marinette jumped as Luka’s hand came down on her shoulder and squeezed gently, and she stared at the deck, stomach churning and cheeks burning for far less pleasant reasons than they had been earlier. She glanced hesitantly up at Juleka.

Juleka’s eyes seemed to flick between the two of them, but Marinette didn’t dare look up to see Luka’s expression. “Now’s good,” Juleka said finally, tilting her head slightly. “Come on, we can talk below.” Her eyes narrowed slightly at her brother. “You stay here.”

“Yes ma’am,” Luka chuckled. “Unless you were going to tell me that Mom wanted you to remind me to fix that hole in the rigging?”

Juleka looked surprised, and then sheepish. “Oh. Right.”

“I’ll get on it,” Luka said, making a shooing motion towards them. “You two go have your talk.”

When Marinette emerged from below the deck nearly an hour later, somewhat tearstained but smiling, Luka was coiling rope on the main deck. He glanced up at her and smiled, even as Marinette raised a self-conscious hand to wipe uselessly at her probably-ruined makeup.

“Good talk?” he asked, and Marinette nodded. “Good. I hope you both feel better with the air cleared.”

“I think we do,” Marinette said, still holding her hand uncertainly over her face. “Thanks for the push. Ugh, I must look a mess, I’m sorry, I should’ve found a mirror...”

Luka shook his head. “You’re fine.” He beckoned her forward, and Marinette went to him. “You’ve got a streak right—” he reached out and wiped at the corner of her eye with his thumb gently. “There, that should be good enough for you to get home.” He added softly, “That was really brave, Marinette. You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.” His fingers brushed her cheek lightly as his hand fell away, making her breath hitch and he turned back to the ropes quickly. “I’ll see you at the tournament in a few days,” he said, looking back to smile at her briefly.

“Y-yeah,” Marinette stammered, backing away, before fleeing across the gangway. She stopped just before she hit the bank and turned back, not wanting to leave on such a frazzled, cowardly note, or she’d never be able to face him at the tournament and all this work would be for nothing and she could not let Max down that way. “Luka.”

He jumped slightly before he looked up again, bringing one hand up to shield his eyes from the sun behind her. “Thanks for the music,” was all she could think of to say, but it was enough to let her smile at him and walk calmly down the steps with her head held high.

Somewhere behind her she heard a soft, “Yeah, sure, anytime,” in a sort of blank voice, and she cringed a bit internally; he probably thought it was weird, after they’d already said goodbye, but it mattered to her, and so she took a deep breath and straightened her back and marched towards home with purpose.

Marinette had a bit of an internal crisis later that evening as she stood over her sewing machine and the project currently in pieces on it, fingering one diamond shaped piece of fabric as she remembered how much he loved his tattered old hoodie. She wondered whether she was overstepping. But, it was kind of too late now. She had to see this through. She couldn’t not finish it, not now. The vision was too clear and there wasn’t any repurposing the work she’d already done. She could always just...not give it to him, she supposed. It was still an option. Either way, though, there was no point quitting halfway through. Licking her lips and taking a deep breath to settle herself, she sat down at the machine, determined to finish what she started and worry about the rest later.

#quickspins #killer combo #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #gamer au #reverse crush #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics

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frivolouslyethereal · 3 years

Text

Loss

ooook so this has been in my notes for way too long. I will seriously run through it tomorrow (and probably delete it lol) so my apologies if it doesn’t properly work and the potential misspellings. i just couldn’t wait any longer :)

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We too often lose our loved ones out of fear. Because we can’t bring ourselves to be true and because lies are infinitely easier to get out of our mouths rather than the truth. The truth is painful and heavy, it costs us energy and willingness to bring it to the surface and it’s risky.

It will achingly hang in the room and it will cost us dozens of dark looks, if we come out as different than the norm.

I wish someone told my younger self that the only thing we can call normal is love, and that knows neither boundaries nor differences.

Love is comfortable and welcoming, and if doesn’t feel so then it isn’t love.

We crave to put people in boxes, so we can label them and reduce their complexity, and see them as a one-way sort of thing.

We give them one light band to avoid acknowledging that they’re in fact a broad spectrum. We categorically refuse to see that each band is equally important, and that by cutting a single one out we are in fact reducing the person.

But in the end, we mistakenly look for simple people that would bring us simple things. I now know that such thing as the label “simple” cannot be attached to a person.

However in that moment, I was refusing to see that what I had with Celia was the most complex and beautifully truthful relationship i had ever embarked myself on. Right then, in that very specific moment where I urgently needed to acknowledge it,I didn’t see it. I couldn’t see it.

I now sound as an experienced and ponderate old lady, with a lot wisdom and a deep and meaningful insight that comes from age, but I learned it all on my skin. I learned it because my heart was ripped out and left bleeding for years, even if I masqueraded it and I showed myself off as a solemnly powerful woman.

That day was my first encounter with the most profound and deeply-rooted pain I had ever felt, the one that would accompany me for days and nights, even when I gulped down so much alcohol that I felt my all body was as light as a silk dress.

I remember that Celia got in the car and started the engine keeping her eyes locked with mine. My hands were violently shaking and I could feel the colour draining from my face.

And then she left.

No matter how hard I try, i cannot remember what happened next. I know that she was in front of me and then she wasn’t anymore.

I was so knocked down from the excruciating pain I was feeling, that I don’t remember how I managed to walk to the house from the driveway.

The next thing I remember is that I was sitting on the floor surrounded by fragments of the crystal flower vases i must have thrown to the ground.

The flowers were splayed across the carpet and while I felt sorry for what I did to them, I was progressively realising that I had ruined it all with my own ends. I tried to break my hands by clasping the carpet as tightly as I could, until I felt the blood draining from them while my knuckles turned white.

I was so busy manipulating everyone around us so that I could keep living up to my pretence, that it hadn’t even cross my mind that I was slowly losing the person I loved the most.

I had ended up being false and hypocrite with the only person who knew who I really was.

My will to constantly feed that glorious image of myself that I had patiently, obstinately and meticulously created, had completely blinded me from seeing that I ultimately let that dirt from our world entrance and contaminate what Celia and I had.

Guilt, pain, remorse and fear were washing over me, hitting steadily like huge waves. And for the first time in my life I felt something inside me crack, not knowing whether I was ever going to be okay again afterwards and leaving me struggling to properly breathe.

I now know that for the first time in my life I was experiencing a panic attack.

My vision was blurry. My heart was beating uncontrollably and I couldn’t think straight. I remember squeezing my eyes shut multiple times in the vain hope of being able to focus again.

I was suffering like I had never before, I knew she had left me and it was ultimate.

I couldn’t believe I had lost control over myself. I was crying so hardly that my sobs were violently pushing out of me and my breathing got so laboured that I thought It was pretty obvious that I was going to die of asphyxia.

I had the woman of my dreams, the only person I truly allowed to be with and in me, and yet I had hidden myself right in front of her.

I had given voice to my feelings in the worst possible way and I had masqueraded myself to try win the argument.

I wanted to win so badly that I didn’t care what came out of my mouth.

I wanted to leave her speechless.

I wanted her to fall on her knees and ultimately surrender admitting she could not live without me. But what I really wanted was her apology and her admittance that I was right.

I wanted her to beg me to stop it.

She was the most precious thing I ever laid my hands on, and yet i didn’t think, not even for one second, that what my words did to her was all but cutting deep through her skin.

But things never turn out the way we picture them in our stupid dreamy heads, and Celia was so much better than I thought her to be and did not submit herself to such shameful behaviour.

I absolutely did not expect that, and when it happened I realised that I had inevitably broken it all and she was gone forever. I had pushed her too far and betrayed her too deeply. She had my body until I deliberately decided to share it with someone else, acting out of self-righteousness.

I thought I had to be fully independent, and that I still needed to prove it that I was known as a free woman who had the power of bending people to satisfy her requests. What I thought was maybe an exciting way of proving my emancipation was instead outrageous and deplorable.

I had spent my life proving people I was the one who deserved things because I had literally worked my way up, but I never quite managed to get rid of such sickening way of acting. Even if Celia knew me and I didn’t need to prove her anything,I still went on following that ordinary procedure.

I deserved to be left like that. Alone and in pain and doubting if my life was ever going to make sense again. I ruined it all because of my hunger for more. More money, more recognition, more admiration and more fame.

I knew I only needed Celia to survive, but I let anger take the lead on me and completely closed myself off to her words. I hadn’t even listened to a single word she said because that voice in the back of my head was busy telling me that she wasn’t understanding me, and she wasn’t ever going to understand me.

I profoundly loved making movies to see the extent of my fascination on people and the effect of powerfully using my body, bending it do whatever I needed in order to achieve what I wanted.

But it was nothing compared to what Celia did to me.

I loved that people scrutinised me on and off the screen, trying to grasp about me and my life as much as they could because I knew that I had something hidden and that living on the verge thrilled me. But it was nothing compared to lying down next to a person who knew every single freckle on my skin and loved each and every single scar I had.

It was nothing compared to drifting into sleep with her in my arms at night, and waking up to her gentle and soft hold in the morning.

It was nothing compared to touching her while being touched by her.

It was nothing compared to the profundity of being listened to like she did to me, with her eyes wide open brightly shining while imagining what I was talking about.

It was nothing because to love and being loved like that is the thing we all desperately look for from the moment we become aware that love exists.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I felt the burning need to see her and tell her I got it all wrong. I would spend the nights knocking at her door begging her to take me back because I needed her like I need air in my lungs and I couldn’t live knowing that she was alive somewhere but wasn’t sharing her life with me anymore.

So I miraculously got up from the floor.

#the seven husbands of evelyn hugo #my writing #fanfic #my fanfic writing

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santaclausdeadindian · 3 years

Text

Sorry for doing it this way, I think OP deleted their post or blocked me like a mature, balanced person would, so I have to tag you in

@mr-laugh

Oh boy, lot to unpack here.

So you didn’t even know there were that many subgenres of fantasy, one of the most popular classifications of fiction on the planet... And you think you know enough to tell ANYBODY what classic fantasy is?

And where exactly I attempted to do that, huh?

If you don’t even know the most common subgenres of this vast pool of fiction, why are you jumping into this discussion? You just admitted you don’t know anything!

There is no discussion, there is a stupid ass post. Don't flatter yourself, you don't know jack shit.

Me not knowing what exactly are the precize subgenres of a genre of literature, which, btw, are completely arbitrary and for your information, sword&magic is a legitimate category, has absolutely nothing to do with what that post you were so keen on agreeing with above. It was you who said pretty much any classic fantasy is like that: some poorly written, self-indulgent and borderline racist.

Did ya read the link, buddy? Howard talked about knowing what burning black man smelled like. He was quite approving of these things! And the books are pretty racist, it’s not hard to see, unless you ain’t looking.

Yes, I started reading and by the end of the first paragraph I was convinced he was ahorribly racist man. And? Still doesn't change the fact, that for my 12 year old self, there was nothing racist about it. I definetly wasn't looking for it, that much you got right. If I'd read it again, I'm sure I'd catch on to it now, that I know what kind of asshole he was. So the implied racism would be there. You got a point for that.

Rugged individualism? It always amuses me how that argument always pops out of the mouths of guys who are aping what they’ve heard their buddies say. If ten thousand mouths shout “rugged individualism”, how individualistic are they?

Then you should amuse yourself by looking up why this thing crops up as of late. It's coming from certain, supremely racist yet unaware of it publications that claim ridiculous shit like "rugged individualism" is a hallmark of white supremacy, among other, equally laughable things, like punctuality. It's a joke.

Again, I will give Howard to you, if someone that racist writes a black man saving the hero of the story, I bet there was something else still there to make it wrong.

Conan’s not some avatar of rugged individualism.

Uhm, yeah, he pretty much all that.

He’s as unreal and unrealistic as the dragons are,

It's called fantasy for a reason, buddy.

but more dangerous because White Men model their ideas of reality on Big Man Heroes like him;

Glad you are totally not racist, yo!!! It's such a relief that White Men are the only ones with this terrible behavior of looking up to larger than life, mythic superpeople and nobody else. Imagine what it would be like, if we would have some asshole from say, hindu indian literature massacering demons called Rakshassas, by the tens of thousands, or some bullshit japanese warlord would snatch out arrows from the air, or a chienese bodyguard would mow down hundreds of barbaric huns without dropping a sweat, or some middle eastern hero would fight literal gods and their magical beasts in some quest for eternal life.

it's a poison that weakens us, distracting us from actually trying to solve the world’s issues, or banding together to deal with shit.

This is what you just said. It's up to the white man, to get their shit together, be not racist and solve the world's problems, because those poor other people's just can't do it. If we would just not be oh, so racist, then China would surely stop with the genocides they are doing now, or blowing more than half the greenhouse emissions into the athmosphere, the muslims would stop throwing their gays from rooftops or ramming trucks into crowds and would just start treating women as equals, India's massive rape problem would be gone, subsaharan African would be magically bereft of the host of atrocities committed there on a daily, yeah, you sure have that nonracism down, buddy!

A rugged individualist would be smart enough to realize that even the most individualistic person needs others; no man’s an island, and a loner is easier to kill.

Individualism doesn't mean at all what you think it means, it's a cluster of widely differeing philosophies that puts the individual ahead of the group or state, it's ranging from anarchism to liberalism and is also has nothing to do with my point.

Central Europe? What, Germany? Because let me tell you, historically they are SUPER concerned about race!

Germany traditionally considered western european, central europe would be the people stuck between them and the russians, to put it very loosely. We are equally nonplussed by the self-flagellating white guilt complex and the woe me victim complex of the west. We did none of the shit those meanie white people did to the nonwhites and suffered everyting any poc ever did and then some. We don't give a shit about your color, we care about what culture you are from and if you respect our values.

I’m an American from a former Confederate state; trust me, race is everything. It always is.

No it really isn't. How old are you? Asking without condescension, genuinly curious, because if you are in your low twenties at most, it's understandable why you think like this.

See that hike? Do you know what happened at that time that made virtually all american media suddenly go all in with racism?

Occupy Wall Street, that's what. It's a brilliant way to sow victimhood and hate and desperation amongst the people who have one common enemy, the powers that be, the banking sector, the politicians, the megacorporations.

Can't really blame you if you are in your early 20's at most, you grew up with this bullshit hammered into you. If you are older, step out of your echochamber please!

If you actually believe, that mankind doesn't progress naturally towards a more accepting society purely on the merit of there being more good people than bad and sharing a similar living with all the hardships in life, seeing that our prejudices inherited by our parents are baseless, that's how we progress, not virtue signalling courses and regressive policies. I was raised as any other kid, I had a deep resentment towards the neighbouring nations, I said vile, racist shit against people who I actually share a lot of genes with, of which fact I was in deep denial about, and then as I gradually got exposed more and more actual people of these groups, I started to realize I was wrong and everybody should be judged by their individual merits. It works throughout the generations, my grandma was thought songs about Hitler and how all jews are evil in school, she legit thought all black people at least in Africa are cannibals and shit, my mother stillsays shit that would get her cancelled in the USA, and I will probably have a mixed race kid as we stand now.

This whole racism is an eternal problem is laughable and disingenuous and I am actually sorry for you that you feel like that.

Moving on. As for Dany, the “noble white girl sold to scary dark foreign man” is a very popular trope, especially in exploitation films, which Martin draws on much more heavily than most authors do.

No, he fucking doesn't. I already wrote a bunch of examples from the books you seeminly ignore willfully. First of all, she is sold to those olive skinned savages by a white man, who is a terrible, increadibly evil man. He want's to fuck the then 11-12 ish Dany so bad, she picks his slave most resembling her and rapes her repeatedly, "until the madness pass." He also maimes children and traines them as disposable slave spies by the hundreds. There is no boundaries colour here, GRRM prtrays all kinds of people as reprehensible, evil and disgusting. Just like you can find plenty of examples to the opposite.

What is he drawing from your exploitation movies exactly? He writes about the human anture, he writes about the human heart at war with itself, that's his central philosophy of writing.

ASOFAI is basically just a porn movie with complicated feudal politics obscuring it, which is probably why it worked so well as an HBO series (up until the last two seasons or so.)

There is no gratuitous sex scene in the books, the rapes are described as rapes, they are horrible, they are very shortly described and usually just alluded to.

The people commiting them are not put into generous lights and one of the single most harrowing stories hidden behind the grand happenings of the plot is a girl named Jeyne Poole, whose suffering although never shown, is very much pointed out, along with the hypocrisy of the people who only fight to try and save her, because they think her a different person.

Honestly, if you actually read the books and they came of to you as porn, you might want to do some soulsearching.Btw, the HBO series was a terrible adaptation, it immedietly started to go further and further from the books with every passing season and the showmakers made it very clear to everybody, that they didn't understand the very much pacifist and humanist themes of Martin. And neither did you.

We also get no indication Essos will eat it when Winter comes; hell, they seem to not know Winter exists, given the way people act, even though that is also unrealistic and weird. Essos was just super badly designed, and Dany is a terribly boring character.

to be continued

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cirocchio · 3 years

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In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? / Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? / Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? / What, if anything, shocks or offends you? / What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? [ imagine Strife asking these straight up adhjhgfd ]

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?

‘I, er...’ He might not like the answer to that question. But well, it shouldn’t surprise him too much either. He’s a Turk. He knows what the company he works for is rumored to do. He might as well be an accomplice. ‘...I don’t really -- th-think about good, and evil... but, ah, there are rumours... the monsters, in the slums, they’ve -- escaped, from Shinra’s labs. They used to be -- normal. It’s s-said they’re caused by experiments -- it’s even said,’ whispered, more like it, by people who she believes harbour very strong sentiments against Shinra; people who are related to her. ‘--that Shinra has been, eh, using humans. To experiment on. If... if that’s true... that’s, very cruel.’ At the least. Cruel doesn’t capture the depth of how disturbed, anxious, frustrated, and horrified that makes her feel.

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

‘...eh. Usually, it would have been my uncle. He’s always been there for me. But, he disappeared, a f-few years ago. If I was really desperate, there’s my father... but he’s not really...’ reliable, she wants to say. And she’d only go there as a last resort; that man has his own life, his own affairs to handle. She knows he would help her -- but more out of guilt than because he cares for her. Ciri can’t stand the expression in his eyes. ‘...He, eh, can only do so much.’

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?

‘... Ha. Th-that’s not really, a fair question.’

Herself, if it means she doesn’t have to fight. Her father, if it doesn’t involve too complex matters, but then she would rather trust herself first. The occasional good Samaritan. But mostly; no one.

What, if anything, shocks or offends you?

‘...Midgar is, eh, a pretty shocking place. There are scary, or up-upsetting things, happening every day.’ She shrugs. As if it doesn’t bother her. But her expression, as ever, is more honest and expressive than her words are. She mostly doesn’t do anything about it -- can’t. The easiest way to handle such emotions -- frustration, sadness, helplessness -- is to keep them at a distance. It’d be easier if she didn’t witness the misery and hunger every day, on top of experiencing it.

‘...Well, what about you? As a Turk, don’t you, eh, see many things like that, too?’

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?

‘...I’m looking for someone. But, ah. Now that I’m here -- I’m... worried, and sometimes wonder if, eh, it wouldn’t be better... If I didn’t find out. There’s... many tales going around. And none of them, are very hopeful...’ Still. If she doesn’t figure out the truth, it will keep haunting her. And it’s not as if she can just -- turn her back on the person who was so important to her.

#( verse: ffvii. )#the first question she just ( sweats loudly )#sighs sadly.... i didnt rlly make ciri very fortunate huh #'who will protecc u' ciri vc: well for the moment u sir u kinda promised me i guess #cavusvitae

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lelitachay · 4 years

Text

Frozen fanfiction: Søsken

Summary: Even though Anna loved her sister-in-law, she couldn’t help but notice there was something peculiar about Elsa. Everything starts to make sense after an accident and a forced family reunion.

Modern AU. Kristanna - Frohana - Kristoff & Elsa BrOTP.

Chapters 1 to 10 - Here

Chapter 11 - Repercussions

Chapter 12 - Time apart

Chapter 13 - Guilt

The way I see it

Elsa woke up startled by the incessant ringing of the telephone. Even if she recognised the sound, it took her some seconds to understand where she was. She was confused by the fact she was waking up in her living room that morning. But she soon realised she must have fallen asleep at some point during the night. Thus, explaining why she was waking up on her couch.

After the initial confusion, she remembered the events the night before. Both girls had returned inside, once Elsa had calmed down, and they had sat down close to the fireplace once again. Elsa hadn't really noticed how cold Anna was until she saw her shivering in front of the fire; and, not thinking twice about it, she offered Anna her room to sleep in. Anna had refused as Elsa had expected her to do, but she had been determined to make the girl sleep in the only warm bedroom in the house. It had taken Elsa some time to convince Anna she didn’t feel the cold like other people did, which led to a conversation about Elsa’s powers and the way she experienced heat.

Elsa didn't quite enjoy talking about her powers since every question reminded her of the multiple questions she had been asked over the years by the nurses and doctors in Romsdal. But she had been patient with Anna and she had explained that, even if she wasn’t affected by cold, she did feel it. It was just a different feeling than what the rest of the people experienced. While for the majority the cold was something uncomfortable, for her the cold had a soothing effect she couldn't really compare to anything else.

Elsa had then stayed in the living room, after Anna had accepted her offer. She had stayed awake thinking about her family, Anna and everything that had happened in the last three weeks.

The phone rang for the fifth time forcing her to stop thinking about the events the previous night, and get up. And, even if she wasn’t in the mood to talk so early in the morning, she smiled when she heard the voice of her mother on the other side...

Anna, on the other hand, had woken up earlier that it was usual for her that morning. The conversation with Elsa the previous day kept replaying in her head and she couldn’t help but feel bad for the older girl. There were many things she had wanted to ask Elsa, since it was obvious she had years of pain bottled up inside of her chest, and Anna suspected she suffered from anxiety and depression. But she knew she had to be patient and thankful that Elsa was at least willing to accept her in her life after everything that had happened.

In a twisted way, Anna had been right about the truth. It could be considered a good thing. Her parents had finally come clean about their past; and Elsa had the chance to use the truth as an inflection point in her life. Whatever had happened to her in her childhood had left an open wound, which was still in the process of healing. And Anna thought this could be her opportunity to heal.

Anna heard Elsa pick up the phone and start a conversation in the other room, and thought it was a good opportunity to get up, use the bathroom and start her day. She thought she could prepare breakfast for Elsa, as a thank you for letting her stay and use her bed.

When Anna left the bathroom, she waved a silent morning greeting to Elsa who was still speaking on the phone. The older girl just smiled in return, as she continued her conversation. Anna didn’t want to overhear, but the word hospital had called her attention when walked by Elsa’s side. She knew it was probably just another doctor appointment, but she heard Elsa’s discomfort about the idea of going to the hospital once again. She was really curious to know the reason behind Elsa’s fear of hospitals, but she thought it was best to wait for Elsa to tell her on her own.

Once inside the kitchen, Anna focused all her energy in her task at hand. She checked the fridge and she picked some milk, eggs and butter; and began cooking. A couple of minutes later, Elsa entered the room, and sat down in front of Anna, who was setting the table by that time.

"Morning. Did the phone wake you up too?" asked Elsa, worried she had disturbed Anna in her sleep.

"Morning,” answered Anna with a smile. “Not really. I was awake before it started ringing." Anna got everything she had prepared to the table and offered, "coffee?"

"You didn't need to make breakfast."

"Of course I did. It was the least I could do since you let me stay and not freeze to death outside…” She gave Elsa a big smile and showed her the coffee pot. “So, coffee?"

Elsa chuckled as she handed her the empty cup. The idea of anyone letting someone like Anna outside in that weather was ridiculous to Elsa, but she guessed she could accept the girl’s gratitude and enjoy breakfast.

Anna sat down, and only then she noticed the books piled up on one of the corners of the table. She had been so focused on breakfast, she hadn’t really seen them before. She smiled when she realised they were coursebooks and a worn out notebook. Asking Elsa for permission, she opened the notebook to pay a look.

“I’ve been trying to study on my own,” explained Elsa when Anna began reading what was written in it.

As she turned the pages, Anna saw Elsa had been practicing her calligraphy, together with some math problems. There were some notes about nature, which she guessed were part of Elsa’s curiosity of how things in the world worked. It was fascinating for Anna to see Elsa's hard work and determination to learn. There were a lot of things she needed to improve, but the amount of work she had done on her own in the last few weeks was impressive.

“You’ve done a lot of work,” said Anna. She couldn’t help but feel proud of Elsa.

"I've been trying. But I'm not doing really good."

"I think you’re doing great,” said Anna as she turned a few more pages. “I'm sure you are learning a lot on your own."

"I don't think so.” Elsa extended her hand asking for the notebook. Once Anna gave it to her, she began turning the pages, looking at all the exercises she had done wrong. “I try but I don't understand a thing. It was easier with you," she confessed.

Anna smiled at her, but something told her Elsa was not just being nice. She actually looked frustrated. It was then Anna picked the math book that was on the pile in the corner. She read its title and she was surprised to see it was a book of a higher level than she originally imagined. She showed Elsa a sympathetic smile and said, “no wonder you think things were easier with me. Elsa, look at these…” She opened the math book and showed her some exercises. “They are too complex for you right now.”

“I don’t have a lot of books.” She sighed. It didn’t matter how much she tried, she always found a way to make things more complicated than it was necessary. “I thought Kristoff’s old books could work.”

“They could be useful in the future, but right now I wouldn’t recommend them.”

“What books can I use then?”

"Well, my books could help... I'm still available if you want to continue studying.” She wanted to let Elsa know she was more than willing to help her. “I know things have been weird these last few weeks, but my offer to help you earn your diplomas stands. I could come here on weekends to teach you, and you could practice on your own during the week.”

“You would do that for me?” Elsa was surprised to hear Anna’s offer. One thing was to teach her when they spent almost everyday together, and another was to take the time to travel every weekend just for her.

“Of course! If you want me to, that is."

Elsa played with the napkin in front of her while she thought about her options. She really wanted to study and do something with her life, but on the other hand, she didn’t want Anna to sacrifice her weekends just to help her. “Why are you so nice to me?” she asked after a moment.

Anna put her hand over Elsa’s to make sure she payed attention to her words. “Because you are a good person and everyone deserves a chance to study. It’s unfair you didn’t get yours when you were a kid.” Anna stopped for a moment when she noticed how cold Elsa’s hand was. It was obvious she was nervous, but that didn’t stop Anna from saying what she wanted to say. “I want to help you. That’s what family do.”

Elsa opened her eyes in surprise at that. She still had mixed feelings about the idea of the two of them being family. She didn’t feel comfortable accepting Agdar and Idunn into her life after everything she had gone through. However, Anna’s help and comforting presence was something she could accept.

"Anna, I-” She began to say but since she found no words to explain the way she felt, she thought it was better to let the comment slip and simply be thankful for Anna’s offer. “Thank you.”

Anna hold her hand a little tighter, glad to feel it was a bit warmer than before. “So, that’s a yes, right?”

A chuckle and a nod gave her the confirmation she was waiting for.

After talking with her daughter on the phone, Gerda began arranging things in the house for Elsa’s stay that weekend. She was making a list of the things she needed to buy, when she heard knocks on the front door. Curious to know who would visit on a Saturday morning, she stopped what she was doing and opened the door.

To say she was surprised to see Idunn and Agdar at her door was an understatement. The last thing she expected was for them to show up at their house after Kristoff had practically kicked them out a couple of weeks before. She hadn’t heard anything about them in the past weeks; but if she had to be honest, she hadn’t really given the couple much thought. Her main concern had been Elsa, and how she was coping with the news. She had wondered about Anna and how the sweet girl was dealing with everything too, but she hadn’t seen her since that day either.

Making sure not to show the way she felt, Gerda greeted her guests and invited them in. Years of working with people had taught her how to keep a gentle expression, and to treat each person equally. There was nothing she wanted more than to give the younger couple a piece of her mind for showing up in Elsa's life the way they had, but she thought it was better to have a civilised conversation instead.

"How can I help you?" she asked, as she sat in the armchair in front of them.

Agdar and Idunn looked at each other, trying to come to an agreement about who was going to speak. They knew their chances to get closer to Elsa, and to know more about her life depended on how that conversation played out. Making them feel more nervous than they already were.

Agdar took the initiative and said, "first of all, we wanted to say we are sorry for any problem our presence may have caused in your household. It was wrong to overstep your boundaries and come into your house claiming to be Elsa's parents. We didn't stop to think before acting, and for that we apologise." He tried to be as methodical as possible. The last thing he wanted was to disrespect the Bjorgmans after everything they have caused. "We also wanted to talk with you and Kai, if that's possible."

Gerda smoothed the wrinkles on the cushion she was holding, as she tried to come up with a respectful answer. "I'm not going to lie and say everything is okay," she began. "I wish you could have been more careful in the way you delivered the news to Elsa, but there's no point in discussing that now. What's done is done." Not waiting for an answer, she left the room to call her husband, who was in the garage. He had been preparing the car to travel to the North mountain and pick Elsa up.

Kai stopped his work when Gerda explained to him Agdar's request, and soon joined them inside. He knew there was a good reason for their sudden visit, and he wanted to be present. Any topic that involved Kristoff or Elsa, was top priority to him. He also knew his wife was still struggling with the news, and he wanted to make sure she didn't say something she could regret. Agdar and Idunn were Kristoff's in-laws and, even if it pained him to admit it, they were Elsa's biological parents. The least they could do was have a good-natured relationship.

"What can we do for you?" he asked once he greeted them both. He sat on a chair by his wife's side, and patiently waited for them to speak.

Agdar waited no time, and soon began explaining what they were doing there. “Ever since we saw Elsa at our house, we haven’t stopped thinking about her. About who she is, who she has become. We were wondering if you could help us get in touch with her again.”

“We know Elsa has all the right in the world not to forgive us if that’s what she wants,” said Idunn joining her husband’s explanation. “But we would like a chance to talk to her. At least once. To tell her how sorry we are. To let her know why we did what we did.”

“Let me get this straight,” replied Gerda. “You want us to convince our daughter to give you a chance?”

Agdar nodded. If he put it simple, that was exactly what they wanted.

“I know it’s a big favour to ask,” continued Idunn. “But we don’t know what to do. Seeing Elsa after so many years was a shock to us. We would really like a chance to see her.”

“I don't think she is ready to meet you yet. So, no,” she answered, cutting to the chase. Even if she felt some pity for the couple, Gerda was not going to go against her daughter’s wishes. “I won’t force her to listen to you if she doesn’t want to.”

“We understand,” interjected Agdar. “but, please, try to see things from our perspective. How would you feel if you found your daughter after over twenty years? Wouldn’t you like the chance to talk to her?”

“I would certainly do,” she said honestly. “Nonetheless, I would be aware I gave up the right to be part of her life the moment I abandoned her.”

“Gerda, please,” interrupted Kai, not wanting her wife to start an argument.

Looking at her husband she said, “No. I'm sorry. I'm not going to pretend this okay, Kai.” She turned to the younger couple again and explained, “I understand this must have been a shock for you. But the way I see it, Elsa is not your daughter anymore. You can’t see her if she doesn’t want to.”

The remark about Elsa not being their daughter angered Agdar. He knew it was true to some extent, but the truth hurt him more than he had imagined. “Even if the circumstances are not what one would call ideal, she is our daughter. We can't just be erased from her life.”

“Of course you can,” said Gerda raising her voice. “You abandoned her. You were the ones who walked away from her first. It’s only logical she doesn’t want to reach out to you now. Have you ever stopped to think about her feelings?”

“You don't understand,” cut in Idunn. She felt terribly guilty for her past decisions and she needed a chance to talk with Elsa. “We had our reasons. We-”

“We all have reasons for our actions.” Gerda was not willing to sit and hear excuses. “It’s important you remember that there are reasons and then there are consequences.”

“We are aware of the damage we have caused.” Agdar tried to explain. He knew it was going to be difficult to change Gerda’s opinion, but he needed to try.

“No, you are not.” She was not going to let them act as if they knew what Elsa had been through. “You left Elsa to face the world alone. A world that casts aside those who are different. Did you really think she was going to be okay on her own?” Part of her wanted to listen them, to give them a chance. But she couldn’t. She had promised to do everything in her power to protect Elsa’s best interest when she adopted her.

“We did what we thought was best for her,” said Idunn, blinking away her tears. “We loved her.”

“Well, you made a mistake.”

“Gerda, please, stop. I’m sure they know they made a huge mistake,” interrupted Kai once again. “Look,” he said, calling the Arendelles’ attention. “Elsa’s childhood wasn’t conventional, and she’s only now finding out she could have been spared the pain if only you didn’t abandoned her.” He was not okay with the way Gerda was addressing the topic, but he agreed with her. “All we are trying to do is respect her wishes.” He looked at his watch and thought it was better to end the conversation there. “Now, if you could excuse us. We need to go pick Elsa up for a doctor’s appointment. Can we discuss this some other time?”

Agdar nodded and stood up. He knew there was no reason to keep insisting. He had to be thankful Kai was willing to discuss the matter in the future. Maybe it was best to respect their opinion now and give Elsa some more time too.

As they were leaving the house, Idunn tried her luck and asked them for one last favour. She held Gerda's hands in hers and said, "please, I beg you, at least tell her we tried. Let her know we tried to get her back. We just couldn’t find her."

Gerda noticed the pain in her eyes and, feeling bad for the woman, she thought she could agree to her request. She was about to answer, when Kai stepped in and asked, "what do you mean by that?"

Hearing Kai's interest, Agdar walked back to the door and explained, "Idunn and I, we searched every orphanage when we had enough money to take care of her. We wanted to do the right thing, but we couldn’t find her."

"Is that true?" asked Gerda, suddenly feeling bad for the couple.

Idunn nodded. "Would you mind telling us were she was? Where did you find Elsa?" She had been wondering about that since she found out Elsa had been living with the Bjorgmans.

Gerda looked at her husband, silently asking if it was okay to tell them.

Kai shook his head and answered for his wife, "we adopted Elsa under special circumstances. All I can say is she was not living in a proper institution, if that’s what you are asking."

"What?"

Kai looked at his watch once again and thought it wasn't the right time or place for that conversation. "I'm sorry. We really need to go."

Taking a card out of his wallet, Agdar said, "Here. This is my number. Please call me whenever you are available. We would really like to know where she was. It would help us understand a lot of things. Trust our word when we say we tried to find her."

"Or call if Elsa changes her mind and she wants to meet us," interrupted Idunn. "All we want to do is apologise and make amends."

Kai picked the card and nodded. He didn’t mention it, but he was already thinking meeting them again was going to be necessary. "We will," he promised.

The weather outside and Elsa’s limited movement didn’t give the girls much options on what to do while they waited for Elsa’s parents to come and pick them up. It was for that reason that they found themselves slouched on Elsa’s couch talking about life.

Elsa had told Anna about her appointment in the hospital, and how she hoped for the cast to be removed that day. She was eager to start moving more freely and return to the way things were before the accident once again. They had then talked about Elsa’s plan for the future, and what she wanted to do once her leg healed.

It was through this conversation that Anna found out Elsa’s work wasn’t just limited to the winter season like Anna had imagined. The mountain gave her and the rest of the people working there the chance to earn good money from winter sports almost all year long. Experienced skiers paid good money to those willing to show them the best natural slopes at the top of the mountain; and Elsa was one of the most trusted for that kind of work. The bad thing was the trails were too dangerous if you couldn’t trust your body, and her leg needed to be in the best shape possible to be able to accompany experienced skiers.

Anna was surprised to find out Elsa knew the mountain like the back of her hand, and that she was - together with Marshall - one of the few who regularly climbed to the different mountain shelters to supply them with essential goods too.

“I had no idea you did something like that!” exclaimed Anna, surprised to find out Elsa was more adventurous than she had imagined. “So, you climb up there even during the winter?”

Elsa leaned forward and left the photo album she had been showing Anna on the coffee table. It had a few pictures of her and Marshall in the different shelters, and one of the first time she had reached the summit of the North mountain.

“We try to provide the shelters with everything they need before winter sets in. Marshall and I are experienced enough to climb in case something happens to those living in the shelters, but we avoid climbing during the coldest months. It’s too dangerous.”

“What about the people living there? Isn’t it dangerous for them too?”

“They don’t come out much during winter. Only if there’s an emergency.” Seeing Anna’s confused expression she explained, “I know it sounds like they are risking their lives unnecessarily, but someone has to be up there in case something happens to hikers and skiers.”

“Have you ever stayed in a shelter?” Anna was still amazed by the life the girl had chosen, and she wanted to know more about it.

“No, I haven’t.” She looked out the window in the direction of the highest peak. “I’d like to, but you need to live with someone for at least three months. I’ve never trusted my powers enough to do something like that.”

“No one knows about your powers here?”

She shook her head. “No. Only my family, together with some policemen and doctors know. And now you, of course,” she said smiling. “As far as I know, that’s everyone.”

“Policemen and doctors?” Anna thought it was logical someone besides her immediate family knew, but it was strange to think some policemen were involved.

“It’s a long story. It has to do with how I came to live with the Bjorgmans,” she answered. She didn’t elaborate showing it was something she didn’t want to discuss at the moment.

The younger girl understood her request and asked a different question, “What about Marshall? He looks like someone you trust.”

Elsa smiled, she knew some question about the mountaineer was coming. She had, after all, told Anna some things about the times they’d climbed together. “I do trust him. We both know we can count on the other out there. But I’m afraid he wouldn’t look at me the same way if I tell him.” She looked at her hands for a moment and confessed, “the same happened with you. I wanted to stop lying and show you before, but the idea of people being afraid paralyses me. I’m still amazed you feel at ease around me.”

“Well,” she said, patting her hand. “I see the person you are. Not the powers.” Anna then scratched her chin as she thought about Elsa’s powers. “To be honest, I wish you could show me what you can do. You’ve only used them once in front of me.”

“I told you I don’t feel comfortable. And technically, I used them twice in front of you,” clarified Elsa.

To this Anna opened her eyes in amazement. How Elsa had been able to use her powers in front of her and get away with it was a mystery to Anna.

Seeing her expression, she explained, “you didn’t see me, but I used my powers to cushion the fall that day in the slope. I didn’t anticipated there was going to be a massive rock in the place I landed though.”

“Are you serious?”

She nodded. She had to admit it felt nice to tell Anna the truth about that day. She was always careful not to talk to much about the accident in fear of revealing something.

“Elsa…” Anna was astonished. She was finding out she could really have been dead if not for Elsa. “You really saved my life that day.”

“I was going to use my powers as a last resource if I didn’t get to you on time. Even if I freaked you out in the process.” Elsa smiled sheepishly. “I know it sounds crazy, but there was something that pushed me to the limit that day. I couldn’t have let you fall.”

Both girls stayed in silence for a couple of minutes. Anna was still processing what Elsa had just confessed. She couldn’t believe she had done something so brave that day, she chose to save her even if she knew she was putting her life - or her secret - at risk. A tender smile plastered on her face. “It’s like you knew we were family from the start.”

“What?”

“You said something pushed you to your limits. Don’t you think that’s it?” The idea was exciting to Anna. She had to admit she had felt a strange connection with Elsa from the start, and maybe the fact they were related could explain that feeling.

Not daring look at her, Elsa fixed her eyes on the table in front of her. “No, I- I don’t think that’s it.”

“Why?” Anna’s smile dropped.

Elsa glanced at Anna for a second before turning her attention to the table in front of her. She didn’t know how to explain she still found it hard to accept they were related. She liked Anna and she enjoyed her company, but she couldn’t find in her heart to accept Anna’s family as her own. “I told you last night, I don’t consider Agdar and Idunn my parents. As far as I am concerned, we are not part of the same family.”

Anna tried not to take her words to heart, but it hurt to hear her say that. “You don’t have to forgive our parents, but you have to accept we are family. What’s the point of denying it?”

Suddenly standing up, Elsa picked the photo album from the table and crutched her way to the bookshelf on the opposite wall. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We’ll need to address this at some point, Elsa.” She wanted to help Elsa overcome her problems, but she thought the least she needed to do to begin healing was accept who she was. “Are you listening?” she asked, when she noticed Elsa was giving her the cold shoulder. Anna sighed, annoyed by Elsa’s attitude, and focused her attention on the magazine in front of her. If Elsa wanted to ignore her, then so be it.

For the next minutes, both girls spent their time in complete silence. Anna reading the oldest and most boring magazine she had ever seen, while Elsa ordered and rearranged the books in her bookshelf. Anna glimpsed Elsa’s back from time to time, trying to read what the girl was thinking, but it was useless.

Anna had no problem in keeping herself busy, but the silence was something she couldn’t really stand. So after some time, she dared ask, “mind if I turn on the radio?”

“Be my guest,” came Elsa’s reply. She didn’t sound angry or annoyed. But it was clear she still didn’t want to talk.

Anna walked the room until she found the radio on the other side, opposite to where Elsa was standing. She had some trouble finding something good to listen to, but after a while she was able to tune in a radio with soft rock music playing. She returned to her place on the couch and continued reading. The music changed from an acoustic guitar melody to a different song after a while, and she soon felt drawn to the rhythm and the voice of the singer.

How much of my mother has my mother left in me?

How much of my love will be insane to some degree?

And what about this feeling that I'm never good enough?

Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

She noticed Elsa drop a book, sigh in frustration and then struggle to pick it up as the first verse played. She was about to stand up and offer her some help, when Elsa reached it and in a sudden movement, she straightened up and threw the book directly at the radio. The song continued playing even after the book struck it and it fell to the ground.

Startled by what had just happened, Anna stood up in an instant. She couldn’t believe Elsa had done something like that completely out of the blue. She raised her hands in front of her in case Elsa chose her as her next target. “Hey, what are you doing?” she asked, still astounded.

“I- I can’t- It’s that stupid song!” replied Elsa. She looked angered, frustrated. She rested her back on the bookshelf and let herself slide to the floor. She put her head in her hands as she explained, “it’s been on repeat for a week already. I can’t stand it!”

Not knowing what to say or do, Anna walked to the radio and picked it up, putting it back on its table. She turned the volume down enough for only her to hear, and she continued listening.

How much like my brothers, do my brothers wanna be?

Does a broken home become another broken family?

Or will we be there for each other, like nobody ever could?

Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

I can feel love the I want, I can feel the love I need

But it's never gonna come the way I am-

She turned the music down, and walked back to where Elsa was sitting. Anna believed she understood why Elsa didn’t particularly liked the song. The lyrics did seem to be mocking her in a way. Nevertheless, she thought it was ridiculous to lash out on the poor radio like that. Whatever was going on in her head was not going to solve in that way. She sat on the coffee table, resting her arms on her knees and leaned in closer to Elsa. “It’s just a song, Elsa.”

“I know,” she admitted in defeat. She let go of her head and looked at Anna in the eyes. “How can it have such an effect on me? I hate feeling like this.”

Anna noticed then Elsa looked a lot more tired. Almost defeated. Gone was the composed girl she had been talking to mere minutes before. Anna’s heart ached for whatever had gone through her head in such a short period of time. Trying to make Elsa see the good side of the song, she tried, “that’s the beauty of music, isn’t it? It allows us to feel things. Even when we want to ignore our feelings.”

“It messes with my head.” She let a tired breath escape her lips, and hid her face in her hands once again.

“Maybe it messes with your head,” she poked Elsa’s head to stress her point, “because you are not letting yourself talk about the way you feel.”

Elsa stayed silent for some time trying to make sense of what Anna was telling her. She wondered if it was possible to feel better if she just let herself talk about her worries. She looked at Anna and noticed she was patiently waiting for her to say something. “I’m afraid my family won’t see me the same way anymore,” she confessed. “I fear I may lose my family now that your parents showed up.”

“Why would that happen?” Even if she tried, Anna couldn’t make sense of what Elsa was saying.

She built up her courage and said, “I’ve been nothing but trouble for Kai and Gerda since they took me in. Maybe they’ll follow your parents’ example, and see they are better off without me.”

“Elsa…”

“And I can’t trust your parents,” she interrupted. She didn’t want to stop now that she had finally voiced her fear. “Not the way I trust Kai and Gerda... What if I end up alone again?”

Anna hurried to answer her question before Elsa’s brain jumped to another absurd conclusion. “Finding out who you are - and where you come from - shouldn’t change anything, Elsa. It doesn’t work that way." She took her hand in hers and said, "you won’t end up alone. They love you.”

Elsa didn’t meet Anna’s eyes, letting her see she didn’t believe that to be true.

“Hey,” said Anna kneeling in front of her. “Listen to me. They do. Right now they are worrying they may lose you. Kristoff said so to me the other day.”

“Why?”

“Because you won’t talk to them. And they don’t know what’s going on in here.” She poked her forehead once again. “You’re just so frightened of losing your family, you keep pushing them away; and me too. You won’t heal if you keep hiding from everyone who’s ready to help you.”

She built up her courage and looked at Anna once again. “I really don’t want to push you away. But I can’t call you my sister yet. I’m sorry.”

Anna smiled at her comment. She could see the guilt written on her face, like she was actually trying to change the way she saw her. She felt she had been a little unfair with Elsa by trying to push her on that matter. Thinking it was best to just accept her friendship for the time being, she replied, “don’t worry about it.” She moved and sat down, resting her back on the bookshelf next to her.

After some minutes in silence, Elsa thought it was only fair to ask Anna how she was feeling. She had been so focused on her pain she hadn’t stopped to think about her. “Aren’t you afraid your family won’t ever be the same after this?”

Anna, being caught by surprise, thought her answer for some time. Things had seemed bleak for Anna too. However, even if she had cried herself to sleep, and she had blamed her parents for the lies; she hadn't let her fears control her life. She had simply chosen to make everything in her power to keep her family together.

She thought the best thing to do was be sincere with Elsa. "No, I’m not," she smiling. "Deep down I know that if we can overcome this, then we’ll become stronger. I trust in my parents."

"They lied to you." Elsa didn't want to remind Anna of her parents’ mistakes, but her trust was something she couldn't comprehend.

"Yes, they did," she agreed. "But I think they did it to protect me in some way… So, I trust their word when they say they loved you and they tried to do the right thing."

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust your parents.”

She found Elsa's eyes once again and said, "you don’t have to trust them. But I will, okay? For both of us."

On their way to the North mountain, Gerda noticed Kai was more distracted than usual. He wasn’t really paying attention to their conversation. He seemed to be only focused on the road, and whatever was in his mind. It called her attention since he rarely got lost in his thoughts like that.

“Kai, are you okay?” she asked when she saw him frown for the third time. “You’ve been quiet since we left home.”

“Do you think it’s true?”

“What?”

“What Agdar and Idunn said…” He looked at Gerda. “Do you think they tried to find Elsa?”

“I don’t know,” answered Gerda, thinking about what the couple had said at their place. “I hope it is. It’d mean they actually cared.” She thought it was weird he was worried for something like that. “Why?”

“At first, I thought they hadn’t tried to contact Elsa since the day they abandoned her.” He began explaining. “But, what if what they claim is true? What if they did try to find her? Wouldn’t that prove that Weselton purposely made Elsa go missing?”

“Kai…” said Gerda in a warning tone. She remembered a promised he had made long ago. “After Weselton’s sentence you promised you were not going to work on his case anymore.” She remembered clearly Kai sitting down to talk with Elsa. “What’s more important, you promised Elsa it was all over.”

“I know what I promised,” he knew she was not going to like what he was thinking. It was the main reason he had been so quiet. “But at the time I didn’t imagine her parents were alive. This changes everything.” He looked at the road to make sure it was safe, before looking at Gerda once again. “If we can prove the Arendelles were looking for her, then Weselton’s defence won’t make any sense.”

“Kai, enough,” she begged.

Suddenly feeling exasperated, he said, “Elsa didn’t found justice in that trial. He was convicted for his medical crimes, yes. But the justice didn’t even consider Elsa’s case.”

“We already went through this. There was a reason why we followed the prosecutor’s advice and we didn’t get Elsa involved years ago. It was for her own good, remember?”

He did remember, and he knew it had been for the best at the time. But now they had more information about Elsa’s past. Maybe they could find a way of helping Elsa find justice and closure. He needed to talk with Agdar and Idunn about Elsa’s childhood and find out if they knew more about Weselton than just his name. After all, they had mentioned his name the night Elsa lost control of her powers.

Gerda noticed the expression on his face, and realised he was still thinking about digging into the past. Hoping he was going to listen to her, she said, “Elsa’s been trying to bury the past. This won’t help her.”

“I won’t get Elsa involved in any of this. I promise.”

Gerda dropped the subject when she noticed they had reached the base of the mountain. In a few minutes they were going to meet Elsa, and she didn’t want to be discussing when they did. She made a mental note to talk with Kai once they were on their own again.

The song lyrics belong to John Mayer – “In the blood”

Tagging: @melody-fox, @kristoffxannafanatic, @kristannafictionals, @neptrabbit, @skneez, @ellacarter13, @wondering-in-life, @who-i-am-8, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @815-allisnotlost, @khartx, @joannevixxon, @betweenthedreams, @lilrann, @burbobah, @rileysfs, @zutonium, @earlvessalius, @blood-jewel, @disneydreamer8901, @the-sky-is-awake, @disneyfan103, @the-magic-one-is-you, @anamaria8garcia, @welovefrozenfanfiction, @bigfrozenfan-archive, @bigfrozenfan, @frozen-snips @deisymendoza @zackhaikal123 @cornstarch @roostercrowedatmidnight @wandering-bard-from-the-id, @showurselfelsa @fuzzyelsalikeiduna @when-dawn-arrives @drafteedragon @snowycrocus @tare8chan @localarendellian @wabitham @roostercrowedatmidnight @aries1708 @tare8chan, @just-your-local-history-nerd, @dontrunintofirexoxo @daphmckinnon @poketin I hope I tagged all of you! Thank you all so much for your comments and reviews. And thanks to those who took the time to answer if I should explore Elsa’s past in more detail. This chapter is a transition one, but it was necessary to explain a bit more what is going to happen.

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tibbinswrites · 4 years

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Yi! I am the anon who requested 16 and 77. You could do angst but with a happy ending?

Hi Anon! I did it! Finally xD sorry you had to wait so long. I might have more time on my hands but that doesn’t mean I always spend it wisely, or that my brain wants to cooperate when I tell it to make a story.

Man, I really love this prompt. You picked a gooden. I won’t officially pair it with prompt 16 because I’ve already used that number (though I did add a kiss in it for you ;))

Warning for mentions of suicide (no one named, no details, just mentioned).

I hope you like it ^_^

I’ve now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #77, #78, #170 and #502

I also have 3 prompts waiting for: #20, #33 and an addition to #170 so if you send me a new one in be prepared to wait a while!

77. You just stood there and held me, then you started dancin’ slow. And as I pulled you tighter I swore I’d never let you go. (Point Blank)

Sam and Dean had been gone for almost two weeks now. Cas wasn’t worried, they checked in on a daily basis with updates and requests for lore and questions about how Jack was settling back in so he knew they were okay. They were hunting something with some kind of mind altering tendencies, whether a djinn, wraith, witch or something else was yet to be determined but it had killed six people. The victims had complained of nightmares a few days before their deaths. Suicides, all of them, and not clean. The thing was proving difficult to track down, it didn’t seem to have a preference of victims, man or woman, old or young. Different ethnicities and social circles, there didn’t seem to be anything that linked them. Cas could sense their frustration, but no, he wasn’t worried.

He did miss them however, especially Dean. Jack was good company; they played board games and Cas taught him some of the basics of fighting with a blade, just in case he was ever faced with an enemy while he couldn’t use his powers. They watched Netflix together, the brightly-coloured modern cartoons that Sam and Dean scoffed at and Jack asked him questions about angels and monsters and lore of all kinds, but there was always a certain level of separation to it, in the way he understood that there had to be between parents and their children and there were less jokes than when the Winchesters were around, less laughter. Cas wasn’t very good at jokes. His dry humour would sometimes get a snort or a small chuckle, but that was the extent of it. He didn’t have Dean’s ability to goof around and act the fool, nor did he have Sam’s quick tact in knowing where to poke to cause a laugh rather than offence. Jack wasn’t very good at jokes either though, so they rubbed along quite well together.

It was on the twelfth morning that Sam called for the second time that day and when Cas looked at the phone he knew something had gone wrong.

“What happened?” He demanded without preamble.

“Dean had a nightmare.” Sam’s voice was tight and worried, “A bad one.”

Cas frowned. “That’s not too unusual. Unless you think…”

“The thing got him. Yeah.”

“So you have… what? Less than two days until he becomes a suicide risk?”

“Yeah.”

Cas clenched his jaw, reached his free hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“You’re not far away, I can be there-”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “I don’t want Jack anywhere near this thing and you can’t leave him alone right now. You need to stay where you are. We’ll figure this out.”

“But-”

“I know,” Sam said, and he really did sound apologetic. “Trust me, I’d rather have you here too. But we have Jack to look after and I’m not actually sure you coming here would help Dean. I mentioned you before and he just kind of… froze up.”

“He did?” Cas frowned at the far wall, that didn’t make any sense.

“Yeah. And he got this look… I think his nightmare was about you, or had you in it or something. Of course, I don’t know because he won’t talk to me but… It might be best you stay away for now. I’ll keep you posted.”

Cas sighed, biting down on his instinct to run to the garage and grab a set of keys. With his failing grace there was no guarantee he’d be able to do something so complex as break a curse or purge a venom or completely undo a biological reaction#. There were certain intricacies involved and he wasn’t certain he had the strength. The brothers could still fix this on their own, they still had time.

“Alright.” He conceded. “I’ll give you forty-eight hours. But after that I’m coming to meet you. I can’t just sit here and wait for that call.” His voice wobbled a little at the end as his imagination ran wild. But it wasn’t just the thought of Dean taking his own life that terrified him… selfishly it was the idea that Cas needed to see him again, that he couldn’t let the last memory he had of Dean be one where he’d walked away.

“That’s fair.” Sam agreed, and Cas could picture him running a hand through his hair, the way he did when he was stressed and worried. “But it won’t be needed. We’ll fix this. We’ll kill the thing and it’ll be fine.”

“Get Dean to make a list of everyone he met or bumped into yesterday,” Cas said in lieu of something reassuring. He had complete faith in the brothers, knew that they were more than capable hunters, that Sam at least would do whatever it took to save Dean, but there was still a tiny kernel in his brain that whispered what if he can’t this time, and Cas knew that it wouldn’t go away until the danger had passed.

The rest of the phone call was tense and perfunctory, but once he hung up, not being able to hear Sam’s concern actually alleviated his own. The danger wasn’t immediate yet and he trusted them to find a solution fast.

Xxx

It took them until the next morning. Cas was sitting with Jack and they were talking over bowls of cereal with the kind of sugar content that always made Sam purse his lips. Jack hadn’t seemed overly concerned about Dean when Cas told him what had happened; apparently he had the same confidence in the Winchesters that Cas did, and his surety was comforting.

The phone rang and even though Cas was sure nothing was wrong, that this was just Sam’s daily update on the situation, his spoon went clattering back into the bowl, splattering milk everywhere as he jumped to answer it.

“Sam?” He said. His voice did not tremble.

“We got it.” Sam’s voice was pure relief. “Witch. We’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Cas sighed heavy and cleansing. The expression on his face must have told Jack everything he needed to know because he smiled, gave a thumbs up and went back to his cereal.

“I’m glad,” Cas said. “Dean’s alright?”

“Yeah, the curse has broken.” Sam hesitated then, and his voice dropped like Dean was close by and he didn’t want him to overhear. “But it was real tough on him. Sent him into some kind of waking nightmare. Screaming fit, something. So he might not want to celebrate or anything when we get back.”

Which was code for ‘don’t be offended if Dean locks himself in his room for the next three days.’

“Of course. It’ll just be good to have you home. See you soon, Sam.”

“Bye, Cas.”

Cas placed the phone down and smiled as Jack munched on his cereal.

“They’re heading back. They should be here by noon.”

“Cool,” Jack said around his spoon. “I’m glad Dean’s okay.”

“Me too,” Cas agreed.

“I mean… I wasn’t exactly worried,” Jack continued, a slight furrow in his brow. “Is that wrong? I don’t know if it’s because of my soul or if I just knew they’d make it back.”

“The Winchesters do have an excellent record for making it through these kinds of situations,” Cas said carefully. “It’s not wrong to expect them to always make it back. It’s easy to feel like the danger isn’t real when we have all faced so much worse than a rogue witch. But many experienced hunters get killed on routine cases. The danger is always real, sometimes it’s just a matter of luck.”

“Or a matter of having your lives written out by God,” Jack said, a slight quirk to his mouth that Cas couldn’t help but mirror.

“Yes. I suppose knowing that Chuck has a specific plan for them makes it easier,” he said. “Knowing Him, if Sam or Dean dies on an ordinary case He’ll just resurrect them until they can play out His story. Or at least, their own story. They’ve never been good at following rules.”

Xxx

It had just gone midday when the door of the bunker clanged loudly, indicating the return of the brothers. Cas hurried to the war room to meet them. It was silly perhaps but he wanted to see Dean for himself, to make sure that he was alright. Dean shuffled behind Sam, his head down. He looked pale and wan, like he often did after the kind of nightmare that drew Cas into his room to try and soothe away. Clearly, whatever the witch had done to him was going to take more than a gas station burrito and a drive in the impala to get over. Sam looked like he needed a hot shower and a long nap. He nodded to Cas as he passed, clapping him on the shoulder. When Dean caught sight of him though he stopped halfway through a step. He seemed to forget that he was walking and began to tip forwards. Concerned, Cas stepped in to catch him and found himself with Dean’s arms around his neck and Dean’s smell in his nose and Dean’s mouth on his and his whole existence narrowed to just Dean, Dean, Dean.

Thoroughly overwhelmed by the whole situation, Cas decided that his best course of action was not to move so he stood there stiffly until Dean pulled back, only to bury his face in Cas’ shoulder instead and, in a move more terrifying than the wrath of God, began to sob.

“I killed you.” Dean’s voice was tiny and broken, barely audible, even to his ears. “I killed you and you let me and I had to burn you all over again.”

Cas didn’t know what to say. What would be the point in telling Dean that it was just a bad dream brought on by a curse? That it wasn’t real? Dean knew that, just as Cas had known that the room full of Deans that Naomi had made him kill weren’t real. That didn’t make the guilt any easier to carry. So instead he said nothing, raising his arms to fold them around Dean’s back, pulling him closer.

“I felt it,” Dean muttered against his neck. “It was so real. I had to, I just knew that I had to. But I don’t know why, and it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what happens, I know that I can’t do that again. I don’t care if the world burns.”

“I love you.” Cas whispered back, because for the first time it needed to be said. It had existed in the in-between spaces of their lives, of course, their love. Cas knew that Dean felt it too, knew it probably before Dean himself had accepted it. But Cas had let it exist without acknowledgement. He didn’t need a declaration and Dean wasn’t ready to make one. The feeling was enough.

Dean didn’t say it back, but Cas felt it in the way he clung on tighter, his fingers digging into his shoulder blades even through his trenchcoat and shirt. So Cas said it again, and again, his words the song forever playing in his mind, a symphony of feeling. So he began to rock Dean along to the sound, soothing and slow, patient and endless, and it was almost dancing, he thought, tightening his own hold. And as he did so, he knew that be it forty more years or four more minutes, Castiel would be content if he got to spend them holding Dean.

#prompts #prompt #supernatural #Destiel fanfic #spn fanfic #suicide mention cw #writing #TibbinsWrites #fanfiction

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