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remwrites · 2 years

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*slides into your inbox with a rose between my teeth* hii. i'm asking you to consider: scarian, but one of them is some kind of a fucked up creature and the other is Just Some Guy learning many new things about themselves (*cough*monsterfucker*coughcough*). can be either people-eating vex Scar or biblically accurate Grian, both are fun in their own ways :3c

(don't feel obliged to write anything if it's not your thing, im just sharing my brainworms with u)

tripped and fell and wrote 3.5k. and there's probably gonna be more. whoops.

welcome to rem and szad's monsterfucker au. i told myself the whole time i was writing this that it wasn't going to be called that. here we are.

[]

Grian was never great at running.

He didn't have any shoes. His feet slipped, hands scraping the ground while his heart punched his chest in earnest. He just needed to be fast enough to get away, it didn't matter where, everywhere was better than here. He couldn't take the Watchers anymore, he couldn't take--

The heavy shackle on his ankle suddenly yanked taunt, and it was too late. He was pinned, dragged, and despite his struggles and screams brought back into the very place he was trying to escape.

"Traitors don’t get to leave.” The Watcher holding him said, serene.

Grian spit in their face.

It didn't seem to even faze them. “We tried so hard to rehabilitate you.”

Grian recognized where they were going and his heart dropped like a dead weight. Instead of continuing to struggle, he clamped his mouth shut and breathed heavily through his nose. If he screamed the whole way down, the monster would know he was coming.

This seemed to amuse the Watcher, who pulled Grian by his bound wrists and brought him to the pit. It was covered in cross-hatched metal, a small latch to drop the food down.

Grian was the food.

"Please." Grian said, a terrified whisper. "Don't."

"Will you cooperate now?"

“No.”

“Then you are no use to us.”

Fear pounded louder than his heart and against all sense he tried to flee one last time. Only to be wrenched immediately when the Watcher yanked the chain on his ankle, swinging him down with a stomach-swoop of momentum into the pit.

Grian landed face first into the dirt, teeth splitting his lip. A broken cry, curling around his bound hands that cut into his stomach. The latch shut with a resounding clang of metal, echoing in a haunting repetition. The Watcher mercilessly strode away and left Grian to his fate.

Silence. All Grian could hear was the pounding of his own heart and his ragged breath. Somewhere within the dark was the Vex. They kept him to dispose of any bodies, but there hadn't been any for a while. Here was his next meal, dribbling blood into the dirt.

Grian was so fucked. He pushed up on his aching hands, raising his head. No visible signs. Just dirt and the geometric squares cut from the only light source above. He dragged himself to the nearest wall, for the fallacy of protection, pulling his knees up and burying his face in his knees and waited for death.

Shivering. Quiet. Death didn't come. The pain and ache of leftover adrenaline. Grian raised his head, looking into the darkness of the pit. There was nothing.

He trembled, struggling for air, and his heart skipped a beat, then redoubled in fervour. On the opposite side of the pit, in the shroud of darkness, a pair of white eyes stared at him.

"I'm sorry to disturb you." Grian said, delirious, terrified. "Please don't eat me. I promise I'm not tasty."

A piercing white stare, not even so much as a blink. The hairs on the back of Grian's neck stood up.

"I'll just stay over here, and you'll stay over there, and we won't bother each other. Okay?" Grian said, slow, voice fabricating calm.

The eerie glowing eyes didn't move.

"Great." Grian hid his face back in his knees.

The silence almost seemed to reverberate around him, motionless airwaves prickling and pushing against his skin. There was a flood of blood down his chin from his lip, stinging with the dirt from his fall. Even if Grian wanted to do something about it, his hands were bound and there was a fucking Vex watching him from the other side of the pit.

The reminder restarted his panic. Grian looked up again and the eyes were gone. That was somehow worse. He frantically looked around but didn't see anything.

"Where did you go?" Grian put a voice to his panic, because he talked when he was nervous. It was a terrible habit and it was imminently going to get him killed.

Then white eyes appeared, directly across from him in the darkness. Grian swallowed a cry, and said, "Hey, you're not going to eat me, right?"

The heavy silence remained. Then, slow and purposeful, the white eyes blinked.

Grian had never heard the Watchers refer to the Vex as anything but a mindless monster. However, Grian found that he did not agree with them on most things. Maybe this was just another thing.

"They suck, huh?" Grian said, bravely, pointed up through the metal grate. "They treated me like shit too. I'm sorry they've locked you in this pit, it's not very nice."

The white eyes didn't blink again. But Grian was on a roll, and he pretty much always figured he'd die running his mouth anyway.

He continued, "I'm not gonna tell you what to do, but they want you to kill me. So if you hate them like I do, I'd suggest not killing me. Then maybe we can see if there's a way to break out of here instead. Sound like a plan?"

That horrible, compressing silence. Grian bore it with as much grace as he could muster, pretending to be a lot more confident than he was. After an eon, the white eyes blinked again.

"Brilliant." Grian smiled, wobbly. "My name's Grian, what's yours?"

The white eyes vanished. Grian's heart dropped, but he didn't react, licking his lips and tasting pennies. Feeling cold from the drain of adrenaline, heart stuck in an uneven cadence.

A whisper beside him. Grian jumped, despite trying to keep his cool, and almost fell over in surprise.

The Vex was big. He was almost spectral, translucent, an ephemeral electric blue except for his white eyes, a heavy collar around his neck, and off-coloured scars intersecting over his form. His shape was mostly vague, with claws sharp like knives and more teeth than a mouth should fit.

"Hello." Grian said, tight, terror woven into his bones. "You're awfully close. I like my personal space."

The Vex hovered a moment, then moved back just a touch.

Hope sparked in Grian's chest. That meant something. He said, "Thank you, I appreciate it."

The Vex raised a giant hand and pointed to a large noticeable scar on his own face.

Grian stared at him, the point of his claw, mind not quite keeping up. He was still focused on the 'not being eaten' thing.

Then the Vex mouthed a word. No sound, but the faint attempt of showing a spectral tongue on the roof of his mouth. It could've been 'name'. Then he pointed to the scar again.

Everything about the situation became rapidly very different than what Grian had been thinking. He was not dealing with a mindless monster. He was dealing with someone who had a name, and that name was Scar.

"Your name is Scar." Grian said, with a touch of wonder.

Both white eyes shut. It took Grian a moment to realize the Vex was attempting a smile.

"Hello Scar." Grian said. "You understand me?"

A careful nod. Keeping a safe distance away.

"Can you speak?"

Scar shook his head. Those huge claws touched the collar around his throat.

"Oh no, that's awful." Grian leaned forward on his bound hands to look closer in the darkness. "What have they done to you?"

A visible hesitation, then that razor sharp claw reached towards him, half-curled, and pointed at Grian lip.

"Oh." Grian tried to wipe away the blood on his chin, using his wrist since his hands were still bound. "I pissed them off. I was trying to get away. Didn't work, obviously."

The Vex made a breathy noise and turned away. He floated along, disappearing into the darkness, but a moment later the white eyes flashed in waiting. That same breathy noise, like a summon.

Grian figured he had little to lose at this point. He struggled to his feet, the chain on his ankle dragging on the ground as he limped forward. He followed the Vex into the darkness, where his eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light. In the corner the pit was more like a cave, with a running source of water pooling and draining out into the small cracks in the rock.

But it was running water. Grian knelt beside it and drank, throat dry and coated in copper. Then he tried to wash off all the blood from his face and clean his lip. It hurt like hell, stinging, and his bound hands didn't make it easy.

He had an audience of one, the two pricks of white watching him. He tried to shake his self-consciousness, reminding himself over and over that he had to stay calm. He had been given no reason to be afraid.

Scar came closer, and it was hard to stand beside the Vex because his presence was much larger, even when not solid. Grian felt his breath clog his throat, the ephemeral shape of a hand reaching towards his.

"What's up?" Grian asked, as the claws touched his wrist, pulling just a little. "Oh, okay."

He held his bound wrists out. Scar barely twitched his sharp claw and the ropes shredded, the bits falling to the floor.

Grian rubbed his red-ringed skin and looked at the destroyed rope, a little ill and intimidated. The Vex was that powerful, claws that sharp.

"Thank you." Grian said, carefully. "Do you want me to see if I can get your collar off?"

Scar didn't reply, but didn't move away either. Grian carefully reached up to pull on the metal, finding no visible seam. He frowned and muttered, "They must've got it on somehow."

Scar made a motion, like turning a key in a lock. Grian found the keyhole on the back of his neck and sighed.

"Sorry, I can't be more help." Grian said. "If only I had tools. I'm a great lockpick."

A low sound that Grian couldn't determine was good or bad. He stepped back from his inspection of the collar and gave Scar space, instead kneeling to inspect the chain around his own ankle. There was little they could do for that either, and Grian suspected it had tracking magic imbued in it -- the only reason he could think that they caught him leaving so quickly. If they were to attempt an escape a second time, he'd need it off first, just like they needed Scar's collar off.

"Let me think." Grian announced, and began to pace. He inspected the corners of the pit, looking at the narrow corners, the only exit being the overhead heavy metal grate. He stood underneath and stared up, heart drumming his carotid artery as he considered how fucking ridiculous the situation was. Then he walked to the other side, where Scar had been watching him initially. There was a corner, shadowed in darkness. And the dirt and rock were covered in discarded clothes -- blood stained and ripped.

Grian knew that they were from bodies Scar would've consumed and he chose to ignore that for his own sanity at the moment. Since it was the only other thing inside the pit, he began to rifle through the nest, picking up the socks and jackets to see if they had anything helpful in the pockets.

Scar appeared at his side again, a small growl.

Grian had a death wish, apparently. He held both hands up and said, "Sorry, should've asked before I just started going through your stuff. I'm just looking for anything that can help us escape. I want both of us to get out of here, okay?"

The sharpness in the white eyes backed off a little. Scar turned his head away, huffing.

"I appreciate it." Grian told him. Then returned to his task.

There was nothing useful in the pockets, they were mostly shredded beyond usefulness. He almost gave up before he found a jacket that had its sleeve held together by pins.

"Perfect." Grian breathed, a light of hope in his chest.

Grian separated the pins and kinked the metal into a more useful shape. He stuck a couple extras in his mouth and said around them, "I can try and get that off for you."

Scar didn't move. Grian climbed out of the nest and approached, the chain on his ankle dragging as he moved.

"I'm not sure if it'll work." Grian told him, holding up the pins, spitting the rest from his mouth into his hand to show. "But I'm reasonably confident I can try. Okay?"

White eyes stared. Grian had no idea what the Vex was thinking -- if this would be the moment he'd decide to turn on him, or if it was just a lack of trust. That was understandable, he didn't know Grian.

But he could pick a lock better than anyone. He waved the pins, raising an eyebrow, offering. Scar finally turned around and let Grian access the back of his collar.

It wasn't an easy lock. It was tiny, and Scar was tall so he had to reach up to work on it.

"Could you get lower for me?" Grian said, when he couldn't get the angle he needed.

Scar cast a look at him over his shoulder, glowing white, a long contemplative pause. Then his spectral figure knelt on the floor.

It was very helpful. Grian had a much better approach to the lock, and with three different pins jabbed into the collar as he worked the tumblers, he managed to pick it open. There was a hissed release, the metal thudding against the dirt.

"Yes!" Grian cheered, stomach flipping with success. He said, "Is that better?"

The Vex was still kneeling. A long, clawed finger reached out to touch the collar split on the floor. A breathy sound, almost like a laugh. Then the light surrounding him faded, and his figure solidified.

Grian's throat caught in surprise, taking a step back. The shaped glow softened into tattered wings on his back, becoming a tall man with bluish grey skin and hair. Eyes still snow-white, but now fanned with lashes and eye crinkles. Pointed ears, teeth still sharp, nails pointed to claws, but otherwise Scar had a real form, one might mistake for a person if you were dumb enough to ignore all the signs that he was incredibly dangerous.

Still on his knees, Scar raised his chin to Grian and said in a very unused rasp, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Grian replied, dumbfounded. He hadn't been expecting that. He watched the long whip tail flicker. The same scars crossing his face in the spectral form carried over to the flesh one.

"You should get that off too." Scar said, pointing to the shackle on Grian's ankle.

"Yeah, right. Of course." Grian gathered up all the pins he'd dropped, forgetting entirely that Scar wasn't the only one trapped. "You were stuck like that?"

"Mhm." Scar stood, stretching with a long pull, like a very big dangerous cat. The tattered wings expanded to their full wingspan and it just about took Grian's breath away.

"How long?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Longer than I'd like to admit." Scar said, and turned to give Grian a smile with his many teeth. "You're an angel."

"Pleasure." Grian replied, throat dry. Oh no, he had a deathly good charm. He ducked his reddening face to focus on trying to accomplish the same feat for himself.

Scar stalked the length of the pit while Grian worked. He stood underneath the grate and stared up into the light, a frown on his face, tail flicking irritably behind him.

"Are they going to come back for you?" Scar asked.

"They were hoping you'd kill me." Grian reminded him.

"They usually just drop dead bodies in here. And I eat them because it's not like they're getting any deader. But I wasn't going to attack you if you weren't a threat." Scar told him, cavalier.

"They think you're a monster so they will assume I'm dead."

"I am a monster." Scar smiled, all his horrible teeth on display. "But not the kind they want. What did they do to you?"

Grian thought about the cell he'd been locked in, the problems he'd caused himself, the disciplines and punishments and gaslighting over long periods. The chilled smiles and bruises around his wrist. He said, "What didn't they do?"

"I'll kill them for you." Scar offered.

Grian dropped the pin he was trying to hold. He said, "I don't need you to do that. I just want to get out of here."

"We can do that." Scar said.

It was stupid, but Grian's hands were shaking and he couldn't manage to get his own shackle off. He exhaled, mind running a mile ahead of him, and placed the pins on the floor for a minute to calm down.

"Am I scaring you?" Scar asked.

"No. Yes. I'm just having a very long day." Grian rubbed his bruised wrists, feeling every beat of his heart throughout his whole body, but especially his split lip. It was bleeding again, sluggish and slow, and he kept sucking the swollen thing and making it worse.

"Grian, you said your name was?" Scar stopped roving the length of the pit and came to sit beside him. Legs tucked underneath him. He had an old dusty coat and tight pants but no shirt and no shoes. Even with the bluish grey hue, he had a very nice chest. It was currently eye level and Grian made an effort to lift his chin and look Scar in the eye. A ringed white iris pinned back at him, searching his face.

Grian swallowed, "Yeah. Was I right? Scar?"

"That's me." Scar smiled, a little crooked, a peak of fangs, and it was hopelessly endearing.

Grian felt his heart beat harder, and this time the fear entangled with something else incredibly complicated. His mouth was dry. His sense was left somewhere else.

"How'd you end up here?" Scar inquired, picking up the pins off the floor and offering them to Grian, urging him to continue trying to free himself.

Trembling fingers took the pins and he ducked over his leg as he worked, hair covering his face. He said, annoyed, "They took me from my home. I don't know how long ago it was now. They were trying to get me to become one of them. It didn't take. What about you?"

"Wrong place, wrong time, I guess. I was overconfident that I couldn't be caught. They had more power than I considered." Scar said, shooting an annoyed look at the collar discarded on the ground.

"They're annoyingly resourceful." Grian agreed. The pin he was working with broke and he swore. He took a minute to dislodge the broken piece and manipulate a new pin into the right shape. Scar watched him work, eyes tracking, contemplative. Then Grian managed to get that satisfying click and eagerly shook the shackle off.

"But you are more resourceful than them." Scar praised.

Grian helplessly flashed a smile, shaky, and bent over his knee to breathe. He said, "Can I just have a bit to rest before we go? I'm so tired."

Scar shrugged, tattered wings flexing behind his shoulders. "Won't make a difference either way. They think you're dead and they don't visit me."

Grian nodded dazedly and moved to sit in the horrible nest of dead people's clothes, back against the wall and trying to breathe. He hadn't realized how much a weight the shackle was until it was gone, the binding magic disappearing into the air. They couldn't track him anymore. They couldn't contain Scar. A couple metal pins from the people the Watcher's had killed would be the same thing that freed them.

Rest wouldn't be easy with all the jittering adrenaline. He eyed the grate, with the light going pale with the growing night. He said, "They don't visit?"

"They do not." Scar agreed, moving and kicking the shackle idly as he passed, coming to sit beside Grian. "But if today is the day that changes, I will be awake to alert you."

Grian swallowed. He was drained and heavy. He wasn't sure this was a good idea, if he should've just pushed through.

Scar sensed his hesitation and tipped his head towards him. "Grian, you have given me back my voice and my physical form. I will protect you with my life."

That was a solemn vow, a painful one, a dangerous one. To have the favour of a monster.

"Soon we will have our freedom too. But it has been a very long day for you, and you need your strength. Rest and I will keep an eye out for anyone who seeks to harm you." Scar promised, shifting and lifting a leathery wing in offer.

Grian stared at him, unsure, but emboldened by his words. He carefully leaned into Scar's side and let the wing shield him, wrapping him in warmth.

He shut his eyes, body hyperaware, tense and waiting for something. Nothing came. He breathed carefully in and out, as the warmth seeped into his skin, as Scar's watchful eye protected him, and sleep felt like he was giving away something. Something vulnerable and coveted. He would never use the word trust, not after what he'd been through. But there wasn't a better word coming to mind.

Sleep was spotty and uneven, and came with a very distinct feeling of being chased, even if the images didn’t solidify into such. But everytime his mind came to the surface, the secure wrap of the wing around him bathed his mind in reassurance.

...

if/when i finish part 2, i may just post the whole thing to ao3. spirit willing.

#scarian #hermitshipping #fic stuff #rem askbox #scarian monsterfucker au #cheers szad for the prompt and help when i crawled into your dm's trying to figure out vex!scar

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chronicbeans · 1 month

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Hazbin Hotel Rewrite - Abrahamic God

God's going to be a much bigger character in my version of the series. A lot of people, including Charlie, see Him as a villain for His views on redemption and His desire to keep control of the afterlife from the other religions' gods/goddesses. However, He's not necessarily a villain. He's just well aware of the various nuances this afterlife brings and the confusion a change in power may bring.

I've honestly never really liked the idea of villainizing God, more specifically in a show meant to critique some aspects of religion. If it's meant to be a metaphor for another topic in my story, and not a critique on the religion, I don't mind doing it. Not to say you can't do it, but to me it just feels a bit distasteful while I write it, and I much prefer trying to critique the way some people practice the religion (Ex: using it to promote hatred when the religion itself preaches love). I have no problem creating a flawed version of God, though, which I feel can be used to show both sides of the argument.

TW: More In-depth Talk About Religion, Afterlife, Some in Hell see God as Villainous, Mentions of Deist Beliefs (God created the world then stepped back), Me Trying to use capitalized "He" but my Autocorrect might've messed it up Sorry

God is the current controller of the afterlife because Christianity is the most widely practiced religion in the world at the moment (with the bonus of Islam and Judaism also being some of the most practiced, too). If any other religion were to overthrow it, the afterlife would have to change and the power would be given to another religion's religious figures. This process is called The Big Change. God, fearing the absolute chaos that a change of the afterlife would bring with so many souls currently in Heaven and Hell, fears the idea of any of His three religions not being the most commonly practiced. He doesn't want to see any of His children possibly get lost or destroyed in the mayhem.

Whilst many in Hell see him as villainous for keeping a stranglehold on the world, He sees it as the only way to protect His children. He would also heavily approves of Charlie's Hotel, but simply fears that she's taking it too far. Many of the people in Hell are in there for things like mass murder, war crimes, sexual crimes... Things God is afraid they'd simply repeat once they get into Heaven. That's the only real reason why He simply cannot approve her ideas. He sees her as being too optimistic and unaware of the freedoms humans have because she has never been to Earth to watch humans during their life. She's only seen their afterlife, so she thinks that Hell is influencing them to act so poorly. In actuality, God knows that many sinners acted exactly the same in life as they do in Hell.

God is no longer as intertwined with the world as He once was. Whilst He interacted heavily with humanity in Biblical times, He has stepped back to simply watch what happens. He feels that, due to events like the Great Flood, He has caused too much harm to His children and wants them to grow to be more independent while on Earth. In a way, He watches humanity like a parent would watch their children play outside, minus the parent stepping in when they get injured because He is too afraid He'd cause more harm than good. Due to His constant watching, He's more aware than Charlie would ever be of the pain humans can cause one another.

To put it simply, God is not a villain in my version. He is more like a father that's afraid He'd cause pain to His children by interacting with them, so He waits until they enter Heaven to do so.

His fear of interacting with humanity became especially prevalent when humanity began misinterpreting His words to the point where He didn't even remember what He meant by them. There used to be a "right" interpretation of His words, but now He has decided to let humanity choose what they believe He meant. He began to realize that, with free will, His children will always find ways to use His words to do harm, whether they realize it or not. He's ashamed of His inadvertent involvement with historical events like the Crusades, the Witch Trials, and even the demonization of other religions in His name.

It's why He was the one to create the rule that, while the afterlife has a place of punishment and a place of reward, the sins you're judged on will be what you individually believe is right or wrong. Humanity has created so many offshoots of Christianity, Islam, and Judaism, not to mention non-Abrahamic religions, that He'd feel it wrong and unfair to judge someone for not believing the "right" religion. That's what some of His children may be doing, but God isn't so harsh, for He is forgiving. He wants to provide sanctuary for not only all who lived a good life, but for those who suffered at the hands of His overly zealous followers.

He's afraid that redeeming sinners would cause people like war criminals, murderers, and abusers to enter Heaven and re-traumatize their victims. He wants the more tame sinners, like drug addicts, suicide victims, and thieves who stole from necessity to be redeemed, but Charlie's Hotel idea would let any sinner through, no matter what their sin was. His stranglehold on religion is mostly out of His control, but He views it positively not because He wants power over the other religions. Again, it comes down to the fear of losing His children in the chaos of having to reconstruct the afterlife to fit whichever religion gained power over His three (Christianity, Islam, and Judaism). What if one of their souls gets destroyed so badly that it is no longer able to be reincarnated? That has happened before, when Christianity first came into power and caused the afterlife to shift into Heaven and Hell.

When the Gods/Goddesses, and other higher beings of religions first unified to create the world, they had agreed to protect every soul from being destroyed completely. God sees His supremacy as just that. They no longer need to worry about souls being destroyed during The Big Change. While the others may not agree with this, they have no say due to not being in power, and God's fear of His children being lost is too great to sway His opinion. As for His views on the others, they're His friends and colleagues. Much like His children getting harmed by zealot followers of His, He feels ashamed that many of his colleagues have been demonized in order to put His religions on a pedestal, even if He feels the need to keep that pedestal in order to keep the sould safe.

His love doesn't just extend to humanity or his colleagues. He loves His angels, as well. He even loves Lucifer still, despite him trying to overthrow Him. He simply hasn't let Lucifer or the angels who helped him return to Heaven because who would trust someone who tried overthrowing you once to not do it again? He didn't have the heart to destroy Lucifer, so He spared his life by casting him to Hell while crying for him. He let Lucifer live, He let Lucifer build a new life down there, and while it hurts to see one of His beloved angels suffer He can't trust him not to try to overthrow Him once more.

Since God doesn't necessarily have a physical form, and instead presents Himself in many forms according to most religious texts I've seen about the Abrahamic God, I don't believe I'd ever make a design for Him. Much like with the other religious figures, I don't feel comfortable doing so. The one thing is I might have to draw Him because He's a much bigger role in my version of Hazbin than the canon show, so I'd most likely use various designs instead of one. The only similarity between them would be that, when He cries, His tears are gold. They're not ichor, but just actual liquid gold that pours from His eyes, and when He cries it actually rains gold in Heaven.

I feel like my interpretation might open the door to see from both sides. Many rightfully have a sort of fear of Christianity due to how many horrible historical events came about due to people wanting to spread it across the globe, many religions have been demonized to put it on a higher pedestal, and many use it as a shield and way to make themselves seem better than others. However, many also forget that Christianity, Islam, and Judaism share the same God. That, and many forget that the religion, itself, tries to promote love, kindness, and acceptance. While some of the sins stated in the Bible may be outdated, the idea of it being a religion that promotes hatred is one built on the fact many use it as an excuse to hate.

So, my interpretation is meant to act as a critique of both the side that uses Christianity to promote hatred, fear, and anger, as well as the side that is highly against Christianity without acknowledging that it's not the religion in the wrong, but just a select group who use it as a weapon.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel god #hazbin god #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin redesign #hazbin rewrite

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linkspooky · 1 year

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Somehow the connection between Dazai being called "Demon Prodigy" and Fyodor being refered to as a "Demon" like clicked inside my brain but I can't really put a finger on what is it supposed to mean wondering if you've got any thoughts about it?

Sorry for the long wait anon, your question was so good it needed a longer more detailed response. Dazai and Dostoevsky are both referred to as "Demons" because of the shared themes in the literature works the characters are inspired by. Dostoevsky published a book called "Demons" (or the Possessed) and in Dazai's case it's his seminal work No Longer Human. What is a demon, but the opposite of a human being?

The shared theme is that these are both existentialist novels (Dostoevsky's works are existential as a whole). Of course the connection between the two characters is probably inspired by the fact Dazai name drops Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment in No Longer Human. However the use of the word Demon itself to describe both Dostoevsky and Dazai most likely comes from Demons / The Possessed.

Demons is also called "the possessed", because the novel is about nihilism as a political movement moving through Russia at the time. For Dostoevsky the "Demons" in this context refers to the ideas which possess people, especially political ideas and how easily people can become swept up in those political ideas and political movements to the point where they are acting like something else is possessing their bodies.

The reason I waited until this chapter to start working on this meta was this set of panels exactly.

In a desperate move Dostoevsky prepares to be possessed by his ability acting as an evil personality inside of him like a split personality disorder, in order to trick Sigma and regain the advantage against him. He then proceeds to go "Ha ha, fooled you." While I believe that Dostoevsky is not suffering from a split personality (that was the lie) he is in a way possessed by his ideals like how real life author Dostoevsky was discussing in the book demons itself.

Demons was written in response to a young radical Sergey Necahyev and his followers murdered a former comrade Ivan Ivanov. It's a novel specifically written to counter people who are pushed into radical extremes for their ideals. The events of the novel itself depict a revolution Pyotr as the cause of a radical political movement that not only engulfs the town, but ends up killing most of the named characters in the story. Pyotr's biggest action in the novel is to murder a man named Shatov in the hopes of creating a big political storm, and wishes to make one character Stavogrin the face of his revolution, while another character Kirilov the scapegoat he blames the murder of Shatov on. Kirilov himself is a nihilist who seeks to kill himself in order to answer the question of whether god exists or not by becoming god. (This makes sense I promise). In simpler terms because I don't want to analyze the whole novel Kirilov is killing himself in order to prove a philosophical point because he considers taking your own life to be the ultimate expression of his will.

"If God does not exist" according to Kirillov, "then all will is mine, and I am obliged to proclaim self-will."

This is obviously connected to both Dostoevsky and Dazai who's ideals are suicidal in nature, and are willing to become a sacrifice for those ideals. I doubt I need to establish Dazai is suicidal. Did you know Dazai is suicidal he only talks about it constantly. Dostoevsky may be a harder sell because he never mentions it explicitly.

In Chapter 105.5 he refers to Dazai's death trap as a trial sent by god.

"Having said that it is true we were placed in great danger. The trial of the flooding is one fit for a subordinate of god like myself."

Obviously biblical representations are obvious, but referring to a situation where he nearly dies as a "trial" makes his relationship with god that of a martyr suffering for their religion. And Martyrs tend to die.

Dostoevsky also is instantly able to understand Nikolai's desire to commit suicide in order to prove the existence of free will and overcome God.

"Fantastic. You rebel against god and fight a battle to lose yourself."

There's two interpretations for why he spots Nikolai's innermost feelings right away, either he's that good or reading people or he deeply relates to Nikolai. Considering Nikolai calls him his most intimate friends I lean towards the second.

He's also completely non-plussed about Nikolai designing a death game specifically to kill him. Dazai refers to Nikolai as a good friend after finding that out, and Dostoevsky agrees with him

His introductory chapter is him deliberately allowing himself to be captured, isolated, probably even beaten by an executive of the Port Mafia in order to obtain a larger goal of information on the Mafia's secrets. That was running the risk of the Executive simply shooting him in the head to remove him as a threat. His method of killing said executive is to convince him into hanging himself.

The concept of suicide is heavily associated with Dostoevsky as a character. He induces a little girl to commit suicide by pulling the pin out of a grenade hanging from her neck. His original plan for Nikolai his closest friend was to have him commit suicide to frame the agency, which only didn't succeed because Nikolai opted out.

In general Dostoevsky is willing to sacrifice lives for his ideals, but despite him being framed as a manipulative mastermind ruthlessly using others, he's also willing to use himself and sacrifice himself for those same ideals.

If Dazai and Dostoevsky are both "Demons" possessed by ideals, then what better way of ridding yourself of your own humanity then by killing yourself. As Jouno establishes in his fight against Kunikida while the agency flees that no matter what humans will ultimately fall short of ideals.

Others refer to Dostoesvky as a demon, and Dostoevsky refers to himself as a "servant of god" but both of them are equally distanced from humanity. If you take out the "good vs. evil" allignment aspect of them, then gods and demons are the same in that they're both not human.

In Dazai's case it's a bit more obvious, the novel he's based off of is literally called "No Longer Human" or in some translations "Disqualified as a Human Being" or "Failed Human."

Both Dazai and Dostoevsky are characters willing to distance themselves from their own humanity in pursuit of their ideals. They live for ideals, and not people, which is part of what makes them so willing to manipulate others.

Dostoevsky and Dazai make grand statements about humanity, Dos believing them to be foolish and Dazai calls them interesting. These are both said from the perspective of an outsider looking in. Even when Dazai is speaking fondly of humans, he still doesn't consider himself to be among them.

"We thought of over a thousand ingenious schemes and still ended up here in a prison at the end of the earth. The ones who actually make the world turn are those who scream within a storm of uncertainty, and run with flowing blood."

Once again this is drawing from the novel No Longer Human where the main character is continually unable to mesh with the rest of society in a genuine way so he lies and deceives everyone around him.

"In other words, you might say that I still have no understanding of what makes human beings tick. My apprehension on discovering that my concept of happiness seemed to be completely at variance with that of everyone else was so great as to make me toss sleeplessly and groan night after night in my bed."

While Dostoesvky's other novels end on more positive notes, Demons is one of his most tragic. The novel ends with a suicide practically the same way that No Longer Human ends with the main character Yozo's implied suicide with the entire novel forming his suicide note.

In the main canon this Dazai most likely won't kill himself as he is given an ideal to continue living for by Oda, but we already witnessed a version of Dazai in the Beast Au who does commit suicide for an ideal, that being keeping the world he created where Oda lives and is allowed to write his novels alive. Dazai is also still in the pattern of behavior of sacrificing himself to fulfill an ideal, such as his willingness to sacrifice himself for Sigma to help convince him to join the agency and turn against Dostoevsky.

Their willingness to die for ideals does not make them entirely selfless martyrs, though. They are both incredibly manipulative and have a tendency not to treat people like people, as they both work in ideals and not people. Ideas are straight forward and pure, people are messy and unpredictable. Sitting on the outside of the gameboard, and treating everyone like a piece you can continue to keep your distance from other people. Dazai may say he admires those people who are in the thick of things shedding blood to make the world turn around, but he doesn't go out and join them.

Rather than self-sacrificing it might be better to say they are self-negating. They don't see themselves as individuals, and that also applies to others sometimes, especially in cases where they don't respect their individual free will. Atsushi is completely dependent on Dazai to the point of not thinking for himself and hallucinating Dazai to tell him what to do. Akutagawa lives for Dazai's praise which Dazai uses the stick and carrot approach to keep leading him forward. Nikolai himself rebels against Dostoevsky when he realizes his friendship with Dos might be controlling him and therefore his decisions may not have been of his own free will. Then there's you know the way Dos treats Sigma, which is even worse than the way Dazai has treated Atsushi or Akutagawa.

Which connects to the novel Demons as well, when people are possessed by radical ideals other people get hurt. Pyotr murders a man, frames another man for the murder prompting his suicide, and in that starts a frenzy in the town. When possessed by an ideal, you are less accountable for your own actions. If Dazai and Dostoevsky are not human, but rather demons or servants of god pursuing a higher ideal then why should they even have to follow human rules? Why give respect to humans as individuals if they are doing these things for a higher purpose, for the benefit of everyone?

Dazai and Dosteovsky are both striving towards completely opposite ideals. Dazai's ideals are Oda's ideals, if saving or hurting people doesn't make a difference to you then choose to save others because that path is more beautiful. Dostoevsky is also pursuing a more beautiful world, striving towards that same beauty, but in his mind the way to reach it is purifying the world of impurities. He wants to push everyone towards the perfectionism that he believes God intended.

"Me? I'm not doing anything. I just sat here and prayed, and my prayers have reached god. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Even from his introductory chapter, it twists Dostoevsky's actions to show that in his mind he is likely "saving" evil people.

"The crime was thinking. The crime was breathing. He has been liberated from that." (I suddenly understood. Who does evil save?)

When Dostoevsky induces a little girl to commit suicide in Cannibalism, he paradoxically speaks of a better world for children. Dos isn't making a joke or laughing maniacally here he genuinely seems sincere.

"Good fortune for this world. A blessing for children."

Their ideals seem to be opposite, but in a way they're both working towards the ideal of "saving people" and just disagree on what saving them actually entails. Dazai could also easily slip into becoming someone like Dostoevsky, hence why his lowest point and his most violent and abusive self is his mafia era where he's referred to as the "demonic prodigy." Beast gives us a glance at what Dazai would look like in a world where he never met Oda, and he effectively becomes the main villain of that world in place of Dostoevsky. He even uses the book to create his own personal ideal world, which is what we know so far of Dostoevsky's motivation in the main canon.

They are the same and opposite in many ways, including the way they are pictured in the fifth season opening that I used as a banner image for this post. Dazai is standing in the light, Dostoevsky is in the middle of a clouded, dark and stormy sky, the time of day is different but they're still standing in the same place, a ruined demon.

Which is why they are both referred to as demons. They both play at being servants of god, or demons rather than seeing themselves as people. They both are possessed by greater ideas which can lead to their less than savory actions. They're both seen by others and themselves as inhuman, and then use that same thing as an excuse to distance themselves from the people around them.

Most importantly, both characters are painfully human.

#fyodor dostoevsky #osamu dazai #dazai #dazai bsd #fyodor #fyodor bsd #bsd meta #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs meta #bungou stray dogs theory

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cafejulii · 2 months

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How Albert, William, and Louis Reflect The Holy Trinity in Christianity

(a 3 part analysis series that I had made year ago on another social media platform but would like to post here because why not)

P1: Albert

To begin with, Albert represents God the Father, the God of the Old Testament, who was the one responsible for creating the events that would eventually lead to Salvation History (the redemptive act of God within human history that ultimately leads to eternal salvation).

Even though Albert is not the main character in Yuumori, it can be argued that the entirety of the story would have not been possible without him, as he was the one responsible for the series of events that allowed for William gain status among the nobility so that he may later dismantle the class system from within, offering William his authority, status, and wealth - "everything [he would] need to fulfill [his] aspiration." He, of course, had done this will the full intent to eventually die for the sin of his country (aka the creation of the class system in the first place) so that salvation may be brought upon mistreated citizens of Great Britain.

Similarly, God the Father bestowed his power and knowledge onto Christ, so that he may eventually go on to fulfill his role in Salvation History by eventually sending his only son (and technically a part of himself) to die for the sins of humanity, absolving them of the Original Sin of Adam and Eve that plagued each and every soul brought forth since them, preventing them from meeting true unification/salvation with God after the death of the mortal flesh.

Albert is also akin to God the Father as he is the most outwardly rageful character in yuumori, specifically during the very beginning of the story, simply due to the sheer savagery he was witnessing daily from his own family that he was forced to remain complacent in. Despite being a child, he was brutally aware of how his family directly contributed to the mass corruption of Great Britain and how this resulted in strings of violence and mistreatment among the population, especially the poor.

Genesis chapter 6, it is stated "the earth was corrupt before God; and the Earth was filled with violence", an aspect of humanity that led God to loathe how humanity interacted amongst each other, despite the fact it was not long after he had initially created it (chronically speaking in regards to the biblical narrative of course). He too was forced to bear witness to his own creation led itself into destruction, as overt interference would inherently stifle the nature of free will he had promised to humanity at The Beginning.

Due to this, Both Albert and God the Father ordered those responsible to be purged from the earth as they both believed that their actions had gone past the point of any redemption; a cleansing must be done. God had done so by sending the Great Flood, and Albert by killing the members of his family and then setting the estate on fire, however, within their rage they had spared lives of the last remaining human beings who could bring about a new start to the society, a better one. Within the Bible, that was Noah and his family, within Yuumori, this concept is represented by the survival of William and Louis.

Elaborating further, as Yuumori progressed it became rare to see Albert go directly on combat missions in comparison to the rest of the members of the Moriarty plan, as his job was more to gather information on the ranks of Parliament, overseeing information from both the LOC and the rest of society. Albert also tried to keep tabs on William's mental state as best as he could in the moments leading up to the Final Problem.

This is reflective of God the Father, as in the New Testament, he was not as interactive with His people but regardless, he knew of the actions of both the followers of Christ and the Pharisees, as he is both omnipresent and omniscient. God also made sure to keep tabs on Jesus leading up to his death, specifically during the Agony in the Garden.

Looking back at this analysis, I cannot help but wish I had written it after Albert had expressed how truly anguished he was following the events of the tower bridge, as he was forced to be imprisoned before the very place where he witnessed William's "last moments." To my vague memory of one of the gospels, I recall an earthquake happening the very moment that Christ had perished; a tribute to his despair of being forced to witness the murder of his own son through his omniscience/omnipresence. Just another small note I'd like to make.

Anyway that is all for now <3

disclaimer: I am an ex-christian, however, I had been raised in the faith and just happened to keep a large interest in scripture despite the fact I have departed from the church. Do correct me if there is any misinformation.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #mtp #ynm #yuumori #william james moriarty #albert james moriarty #louis james moriarty

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nicosraf · 2 months

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Hi! A while ago I messaged you about Angels Before Man and how much I loved it, and I just finished Angels & Man and wanted to gush about your writing again. I think you did an amazing job with balancing the older plot threads of the first novel (ex: Michael and Lucifer, Rosier and Asmodeus) with the new storyline and characters (Azazel, Samyaza, the humans, etc). It's fairly rare for a sequel to do both successfully, so great job!

I was kinda surprised that this book was about the Watcher's Flood; I think I was expecting it to be like Paradise Lost, but this direction was way more interesting (and Cain's ancestral memories definitely filled in the gaps anyway). I don't know very much about Old Testament mythology, but what I could find seemed to indicate that the Book of Enoch is considered noncanonical in most Jewish and Christian sects. Was there any particular reason you chose to draw inspiration from a noncanonical text?

I loved the exploration of the theme of forgiveness in this novel. The lengths the angels went to seek forgiveness from God, and all the devastation that wrought was really compelling. Rosier and Asmodeus in particular were so poignant; Rosier's complex, partial forgiveness of Asmodeus due to the knowledge that their time is finite (as Lucifer said, they will all burn eventually) was absolutely fascinating. It makes me think that maybe we forgive because we know we don't have forever, and also kinda crystallizes the futility of seeking forgiveness from an immortal, everlasting God. I think Azazel and Samyaza seemed to realize this as well near the end. (by the way, the final lines are absolutely devastating. Thank you and how dare you).

I was also surprised to see the theme of parenting explored through the angels and their giant children, and the demons with Cain, contrasted with the love of God the Father. As monstrous as the Nephilim were, the angels still loved them, and even Cain was still loved by the demons even after he had killed. It was a really clever juxtaposition against the very conditional love that God had for the angels. The way the angels loved their children more than God ever loved them was incredibly heartbreaking. Although I do wonder if their indulgence of the giants' appetites to the point of ecological devastation was maybe not the best move. (First you extincted the dinosaurs with Lucifer, and now you've extincted the other megafauna with the giants. Your mind is brilliant and I am so sorry for all those giant sloths and tigers.)

Anyway in conclusion, your writing is fantastic, I love what you're doing, and I can't wait to read the rest of the series! As a fellow queer writer writing queer things, you're such an inspiration and I hope you have a great day :)

Hello!!! Aaaah thank you so much ! I'm so so happy you think I did good balancing all the plot stuff... that's means a lot to me, seriously. Thank you! It was really tough.

I answered something pretty similar on Insta but the reason I chose the Flood (as opposed to moving from Heaven into Adam and Eve in Eden the way Paradise Lost does) was because I became really interested in thinking about Satan's fall as an apocalypse. In my opinion, the devastation that the creation of sin would've brought to previously "pure" angels is sort of... downplayed in most media depictions. It would have been like a rapture for the angels — some damned forever and some allowed to live in Heaven.

And when I started thinking about Lucifer that way, I thought about the other apocalypses in the Bible (the Flood and Revelation) and noticed the angel involvement there too. I decided a trilogy about the different "ends of the world" in the biblical narrative would be interesting. I've said before that I don't really care for non-canon stories, but the interesting thing about Enoch is that the traces of it are still in the canon Bible itself, which you can see in the epigraphs of A&M.

Without the Enoch story, there's very little explanation for the Flood at all (the 2014 Noah movie is notoriously really weird about it — it knows it can't ignore the Watcher story or else the Flood makes no sense, but it also can't commit to Enoch... for some reason (probably religious on the creators' part.))

I'm glad you liked the themes of forgiveness! It was really interesting to write! I think, in my own experience, there's always been pressure to forgive people who've hurt me because of the finite nature of things — like keeping an older abuser in the family because "they're old" and "we should spend the last years we have with them happily." I feel like I can talk about Rosier and Asmodeus forever because there's a central theme in the series about what's forgivable and choosing to accept unforgivable things in life — and Asmodeus and Rosier are that theme taken to the extreme. (Sometimes you don't deserve forgiveness and have to deal with that

In the end, "forgiveness" is just a label though; it's doesn't mean much as long as you can still remember it happened (as the "pure" vs "forgiven" angels at the start of A&M display). Samyaza and Azazel realized this, more so Samyaza, since Azazel had somewhat known it from the start.

Lastly, thank you for liking the parenting thematic things as well! I'm happy you saw the parallel between the Watchers' unconditional love for their monster children vs God's conditional love for angels. It was also really interesting to write! (And the Cain chapter is so important to me, arguably the real reason I wanted to write this book so badly...)

Thank you so so much for the kind words. It means so much to me, seriously. Good luck with writing!! I hope to read and love it some day too :') <3

#thank you thank you #mine #ask

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indigovigilance · 1 year

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Lament of the Metatron

I did not have "become an amateur biblical apocrypha scholar" on my 2023 bingo card, but here we are, and I’m going to make you feel bad for hating the Metatron. No, really. A lot of different ✨clues ✨in S2 lead us to the Book of Enoch, which describes how the Metatron came to be. (If you would like to read what the Books of Enoch have to say about maybe-Crowley and maybe-Aziraphale, read this meta.)

There are three books of Enoch: 1 Enoch, 2 Enoch, and 3 Enoch, and after reading them I’ve concluded that they are almost certainly a major source text for Good Omens, at very least with respect to the Metatron. The translation that I used is 116 pages and quite dense, so there will be multiple metas about it (I should also note that I’ve taken great liberties with reorganizing the source text, for brevity). This one addresses the origin of the Metatron and his likely S1 and S3 motivations.

The Story

To quickly summarize the backstory: after Adam and Eve leave the Garden of Eden, a bunch of angels go to Earth, transgress against God (by having children with humans) and piss Her off. So She decides She must flood the Earth to wipe them and all their children and human associates out.

During this age of angelic iniquity, Enoch, a righteous man, the 7th generation from Adam and great-grandfather of Noah, receives visions of the coming flood.

Later, Enoch is lifted up to Heaven by a whirlwind. He gets an angel-guided tour of Heaven and visits what I will call The Mountain of Souls. He sees a mountain with four chambers and asks what they are for. Raphael states that they are for the souls of the dead, where they will be kept until Judgment Day. Enoch asks why they are separated. Raphael answers:

One for the souls of the righteous

One for the souls of sinners, who are buried in the earth, to await judgment, and on that day they will be punished

One for those who complain to, or petition, God (including Abel, who was slain by Cain)

One for the souls of those who are not righteous, “but their souls will not be killed on the day of judgment, nor will they rise from here.” (so perhaps a permanent purgatory?)

Later in his journey, Enoch sees the Valley of Judgment. Again, Raphael answers Enoch’s questions, describing “this accursed valley, is for those who are cursed for ever… [for] all those who speak with their mouths against the Lord… and here will be their place of Judgment.” Enoch comments that it would be better for the sinners if they had never been born.

Enoch also sees where the righteous will go after Judgment: “And in those days my eyes saw the Place of the Chosen Ones of Righteousness and Faith… And I saw their dwelling, under the Wings of the Lord of Spirits, and all the righteous and chosen shone in front of him, like the light of fire…. There I wished to dwell.”

The Second Parable of 1 Enoch describes how God will open the Book of the Living when the Chosen One arrives, and so Judgment Day will begin.

Enoch is taken before God and violently transformed from a human into the Metatron, a celestial being: “And I fell upon my face, and my whole body melted, and my spirit was transformed; and I cried out in a loud voice, in the spirit of power.” After Enoch is transfigured into Metatron, he is made to write 366 volumes of what I will call the Book of Deeds, wherein he writes the name of all men, everything they have done, and what afterlife they are destined for.

After sixty days spent in Heaven, angels return the Metatron to Earth to dwell with his sons for… and this is where the different books of Enoch seem to disagree whether it was for one year or thirty days, but either way, he goes back to Earth with an explicit time limit to explain to his children everything he has seen and to teach them the ways of righteousness. Which he does. The fifth book of 1 Enoch, the Epistle, describes Enoch badgering his children to be not just pretendy-good but properly good, and advising them to suffer and turn the other cheek, etc., so that they are found righteous before God on Judgment Day. He knows that at the end of this visit, he will return to Heaven, will never speak to his sons or the rest of his family for the rest of their lives, and that a Great Flood is coming to wipe out everyone on Earth except for his great-grandson Noah and Noah’s three sons, and that whatever is written in the books by then is what his other sons and grandsons and great-grandsons will be judged by on Judgment Day.

It is worth noting here that a separate scholarly analysis points out that once Enoch is transformed into Metatron, he never eats again: “Since the time when the Lord anointed me with the ointment of his glory, food has not come into me, and earthly pleasure my soul does not remember…” This is meant to show how his journey from human to celestial is opposite that of Adam and Eve, who were nourished by celestial food until they left the Garden, and from then on had to sate themselves with “nourishment for the beasts.”

At the end of this visit to Earth, he issues a final warning to his children and neighbors about the coming Judgment Day, then ascends to Heaven to rule over all the angels and to keep the Book of Deeds.

So what should we take from this?

Enoch, a good man, God’s favorite, is given visions of the destruction of Earth, abducted and taken to Heaven where he is shown the Mountain of Souls, the Valley of Damnation, and the Place of the Chosen Ones of Righteousness, he is transformed into an angel so that he may never enjoy Earthly delights again, he is told that everyone he knows, including all of his children and their children, except for one great-grandson and three great-great-grandsons, will die, and that he has limited time to coach them on how to avoid being punished, tortured, and destroyed forever, and even if he succeeds, they will be trapped in the Mountain of Souls until Judgment Day, and then he is taken from them, and given the responsibility of maintaining the records by which souls will be judged.

So let's talk about motivation.

Here we find an incredibly powerful, incredibly lonely human-turned-angel (because the other angels are both afraid and disrespectful of him), whose entire family was destroyed before his eyes and who are as of right now, as they have been for *checks watch* 5,000 years, trapped in a celestial mountain of purgatory, and the only way he can ever see them again is to bring about the Second Coming, for only on Judgment Day may they be released from the Mountain of Souls and join him before the Throne of Glory, if they heeded his warnings and are found worthy in the sight of God.

This is a highly motivated, highly traumatized anti-villain. Which is possibly the worst thing to happen to Aziraphale because if Azi has a soft spot for anyone, it’s someone whose children were taken from them by God.

******************************

For evidence of why we can selectively ignore/reinterpret Neil's statement re: the Metatron's human past, please read this meta

I read the Book of Enoch from front to back, twice, but if you want to check my work (or write a response meta!) you can find the source material here and here.

If you would like to read what the Books of Enoch have to say about maybe-Crowley and maybe-Aziraphale, read this meta.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #metatron #book of enoch #book of life #the metatron #ascent of enoch #ivoc

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softness-and-shattering · 1 year

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So what does it mean that johns soul has been enmeshing into alecto's for 10k years? Does his soul weigh more in the balance than any of the other billions of earth souls? Does it matter that he couldnt fully combine with her (therefore stuffed what was left into a body)? Theres that Tazmuir quote about how if a soul is a happy meal, Harrow ate like, Gideons cheeseburger but not her chips and toy, what does it all mean?

How does Harrows soul balance with the other 200 children of the Ninth? (And I still want to know why no other children were born after her. It seems almost like all those kids and all their parents died because theres no one between Ortus and the great aunts. Where did the parents generation go?)

The line about Paul coming to a conclusion neither Cam nor Pal would have, is that what their consensus would have been or something else completely? Paul has two sets of memories, but can we say for sure that 1+1= well, not 2. I guess Im saying, is it a neat mixing of a puzzle or is it a roiling boiling soup?

How does it WORK what does it MEAN. Are Nona's top and bottom thoughts different soul-pieces or soul-people?

One more thing, about John wanting to start over. "Put this first draft dream to bed...empty is the same as clean". The River. The biblical flood, except hes not the noah figure hes the divine wrath bringing the flood. I think its going to pattern after the biblical flood. Maybe the tower in the river is the arc (or maaaaybe the tower of babel?). Idk. I just see the pieces lining up.

#turning em around in a microwave #waiting for that ping #tlt spoilers #tlt meta #tug spoilers #alecto predictions #alecto the ninth #the unwanted guest #the unwanted guest spoilers #the locked tomb #alecto #paul tlt #mine

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emberfrostlovesloki · 1 year

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Melancholia [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Right (@optimistic-nihilist) Center (@vivienvalentino) sent to me via my love (@sadgirlzluvdilfs) Right (@citronplume)

Prompt: Characters both duck for cover under the same tiny storefront when it starts pouring, aka, how the reader met Aaron. Also, the reader is feeling down due to the seasonal changes, and Aaron is there to give her some love and support.

Category: Hurt/comfort/fluff

Word Count: 6.7K

Content Warnings: Mentions of mental health (depression and seasonal depression), mention of eating (reader has missed some meals), light drinking, minor language

A/N: This is another one-shot inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute Writing Challenge and this one is actually a meet-cute! The reader is also a non-BAU member. I’ve been having the seasonal sads, so this is sort of based on my feelings a bit. Given that World Mental Health Day was earlier this week I just want to say that you matter! You are loved, and I am so happy you are here. There is not shame in getting help or just talking to someone. I’m very grateful for my friends on here and my messages are always open. If you liked this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I hope you have a great rest of your week - Levi.

List with all stories

y/n = your name

_y/f/b_ = your favorite book

_y/e/c_ = your eye color

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/b/f_ = your best friend

_y/b/f’s/n_ = your best friends name

_y/f/a_ = your favorite artist

_y/c/f_ = your comfort food.

y/n checked the weather diligently every morning before she got ready for the day. As someone who had a penchant for keeping up with her favorite aesthetic look, knowing what the weather was going to be for the day was a must. y/n had not planned for a total and utter flood to come down from a sky that was promised to be ‘clear and sunny’ all day. It had started out as just a few drops, but soon it was an unrelenting pelting of water on the pavement. The street offered little cover, and y/n moved more quickly down the road looking for any relief. Finally, she saw it in the small awning of a local bookstore she liked. There was just one small issue, there was already someone standing under the protected space. ‘What the hell,’ y/n thought. She would rather be uncomfortably close to a stranger than continue to get soaked through. At this point the outfit she had picked for the day was a bust anyway, so why not lose a little dignity while she was at it. Thankfully the tall man saw her coming and moved as far to the side as the space allowed. Even with this being the case when y/n slipped under the awning the two of them were standing with their shoulders essentially pressed together.

They avoided looking at each other for a moment due to the awkwardness of their close quarters. However, the feeling passed and the man said in a low tenor voice, “This is some storm we’re having here.” At hearing the man’s smooth, even voice, y/n turned her head his way and actually looked him over for the first time. He was tall, as she had seen before, but now that she was next to him, his height was more noticeable. He was more prepared for the weather than y/n had been, but he was still pretty soggy with his shot hair sticking to his forehead slightly. The man was also fit. y/n could tell from the way his nice clothes sat on his body. The stranger might have been wet, but he was also warm. Standing this close to him, y/n could feel the warmth coming off of him in waves. For a moment _y/n_ wondered if the man was sick, but he didn’t look pale or flushed; he looked perfectly fine as a matter of fact. More than just fine. y/n internally berated herself for thinking that a total stranger was attractive, but she couldn’t help herself. It took y/n a second to realize that she hadn’t yet responded to the man’s comment about the storm and quickly said, “Oh yeah. This is like Biblical or something. Do you think we should start building an arc?” y/n meant to make a joke, and she cringed at her own choice of words even as they came out of her mouth. Thankfully the man made what sounded like a small chuckle or laugh, though in all honestly, it might have just been him letting out a breath. Either way y/n didn’t want to think about it too hard out of embarrassment.

Hotch watched the young woman move down the soaked sidewalks, her eyes looking for a place to land that wouldn’t mean a bucket of water being poured repeatedly on one's head over and over again like being in the open was. There really only was one place for her to go, and that was next to him under the awning of the bookstore he had hoped to stop in on before heading to Morgan’s. The team was celebrating Emily’s birthday, and even though he had a gift and card for Prentiss, both of which he hoped weren’t ruined by the rain, he had wanted to get her something extra. Prentiss had been going through a lot the last couple of months and he wanted to support her in the little ways he could. The book he had wanted to buy was taunting him from the illuminated window. It was Zadie Smith’s new novel, The Fraud. He had also been hoping to get Jack a new book to read to him at bedtime as well. As much as Aaron liked The Little Prince and the few other stories he often read to Jack before bed, he had to admit that he was slightly sick of them. However, the bookstore had been closed, ‘Due to a family emergency’ the sign on the front door had read.

At that point, the skies had opened and he found refuge under the small awning. Now the woman was near to him, and in another second she was next to him, pressed close due to the limited space offered by the covering. Hotch moved infinitesimally to the left to give them both a bit of breathing room. There was a slight awkwardness to the closeness of their bodies, and Hotch took that moment to look the woman over. She was younger than him, he assumed, and not dressed for the weather. Neither was he really, but at least he had a jacket. The woman must have been freezing, as she looked soaked to the bone and her bare shoulders kept catching water droplets from the leaky awning. For a moment Hotch had the idea of taking off his jacket and giving it to the woman. And then he had the more outrageous thought that if they stood face to face, there would be more space for them to be dry. Aaron quickly swiped the thoughts out of his brain. Internally Aaron thought, ‘God get a grip Hotchner. You sound like someone from a dime store romance novel.’

Aaron resisted the urge to sigh at his life at the moment. He was attempting, keyword attempting, to put himself out there more. It had been a few months since Hailey had left him, and he had tried his best to process the loss of his best friend and wife. They were still amicable, and hearing it from her side of things helped Aaron make sense of her choice -- even if it still hurt him. Rossi had been supportive of Aaron trying it out with a few women just to see. None of his attempts so far had been very successful. He was on a few apps and when he matched with people he tended to panic. The idea of having to open up to essentially total strangers never sat right with him. What would he say? “Hey I work for the FBI and I can tell when you’re lying, and I work 70+ hours a week, and I’ll be gone a good deal of the time, and I have more classified secrets than you can guess?”

It all felt a bit overwhelming to him. Not only was it overwhelming, but it was demeaning also. Trying to figure out if he liked a woman based on a few photos and a blurb about their life and experiences just didn’t sit right with him. For a moment he let his mind wander. He wished he could just meet someone naturally, but he knew such occurrences were rare in life, particularly for someone his age. Finally, he pulled himself together and bridged the gap between the woman and him to end the silence lingering between them by saying something about the rain. The woman looked up and over him before responding with a joke. He nearly laughed before responding, “I don’t think we have the time or materials. We might be fated to drown.” His reply caused the woman to laugh, and it was a soft sweet sound, like ice being poured into a crystal glass. The sound was quickly muffled by the rain and the sound of an approaching car. The sidewalk with the awning was very near the street and as the car passed it sloshed a large dirty wave up and around the woman’s legs. The woman said, “Eww” as the extra wetness moved over her body. She stepped back a bit as another car came quickly down the street. Aaron, rather protectively, moved his body in front of the woman taking the splash of water himself.

y/n didn’t expect the man to move in front of her and as he positioned his body to get wet instead of her, she raised an arm, ever so briefly touching his back. She was going to say, “You don’t have to do that,” but he had already gotten wet and the car was far down the street before she had the thought. The man turned to face her, and they were so close to each other, just an inch or so apart that she could feel his warm breath on her face. Looking up at the handsome man caused her brain to stutter for a moment, and she didn’t even realize that her pupils were beginning to dilate, and there was a small blush blossoming over her face. However, the man did. When y/n had composed herself, she finally said, “Thank you for doing that. You didn’t have to.” The man gave her a small smile and replied, “It’s my pleasure.” He seemed like he was going to say more, but the ping of his phone made him stop. He pulled his iPhone from the pocket of his shirt and seemed to nod at the screen. The man put the phone back where it had come from and then returned his attention to y/n. He asked, “How far are you going in this storm? I’m assuming you’re not planning on standing here forever?” There was a sort of mirth in his expression that made y/n momentarily be warmed from the inside. Being this close to a stranger would normally make y/n uncomfortable, but there was something about this man that was inherently non-threatening. She answered his question honestly saying, “I actually really need to get a move on. I was trying to make it to the subway station on 19th Street. It’s only three blocks down from here.” The man nodded undid one of the inner zippers of his jacket and pulled out a folded copy of the days New York Times. y/n could see a fancy car pull up near them and stall. For one fleeting moment, she had a bad feeling about this man and a waiting car, but it was only a moment as he extended the paper toward her and said, “Sorry it’s not much. Maybe you could hold it over your head while you walk? I have to run myself, but have a good rest of your day.” And with that, the man turned around and walked into the rain. His shoulders were hunched as the water hit him once more, and he half-jogged to the Corvette on the street. She could just barely hear the start of a conversation as the stranger closed the door of the car. Now that she had just a slight cover, y/n placed the paper over her head and moved back onto the wet sidewalk as well. She gave the car one final wave as she ran down the road.

Rossi pulled up and watched as Aaron stood very close to a woman under an awning taking a beating from the rain. He didn’t have a good chance to see exactly what the woman looked like, but he could tell that she was invested in whatever Aaron was saying to her. Rossi sighed softly. He knew that Hotch often beat himself up about meeting new people. He was also still beating himself up about Hailey. Rossi wished that his friend could see that people, women, were actually interested in him. That they wouldn’t pick apart his every flaw or see the guilt that he felt. Not that the woman Aaron was talking to was ‘the one,’ just that people would care about him if he allowed it to happen. If he was vulnerable. Aaron moved toward the car and opened the door, leaning down to sit in the passenger seat. Rossi turned to Hotch and teasingly said, “Having a nice conversation over there?” Aaron scoffed and said, “It was fine.” Aaron could hear the deeper jesting tone in Rossi’s words, and he was reminded of how many times Dave had been his hype man like he was in his teens going on his first real date. Aaron didn’t mind it as long as he wasn’t being patronized. For now, it was just a reminder of his own personal failings. Hotch didn’t notice, but as he had gotten into the car, there was a tinge of color on his cheeks; Rossi did.

y/n never expected to see the good-looking man from the rainstorm again, but as fortune would have it, she did. y/n was out at the park taking a stroll and doing some reading a few weeks later. The weather was much improved and the crisp air was perfect to spend a few hours outside exploring her new surroundings. She’d just moved into the neighborhood a few months ago, and due to her busy work-life balance, she hadn’t really gotten to know the area yet. A coworker had recommended Theodore Rosevelt Island Park as a nice place to spend the afternoon and had promised that it wasn’t super busy or loud. The coworker had been right. The park was beautiful. The sprawling trails offered a variety of scenery. y/n had picked a simple hilly paved trail to just enjoy the weather and the crisp smell of fall. After around an hour of walking, she settled down on the grass and started reading _y/f/b_. After another hour, y/n felt her eyes growing heavy with sleep, and she sat up to get ready to leave. As she shifted to her feet, a glint of sunlight from the ground caught her attention. She stood and moved three yards over to where she had seen the light coming from. The source was a lost phone whose back-facing camera had caught the light at just the right angle to be seen by y/n.

She picked up the lost item and clicked on the home button. The screen blinked alive. The phone only had ten percent battery left and she wondered if it had been laying out for long or if it being in the sun had drained its power banks. There were five missed calls, three from the same number and two from two separate numbers. y/n assumed that the owner of the phone had gone to separate people in the park and asked to use their phone to call the lost one to see if anyone would pick up. y/n checked and the sound was off, so even that strategy wouldn’t have worked anyway unless someone had found the phone. Otherwise, no one would have heard it go off. As y/n walked back to her spot, trying to think about how to get the lost item back to its owner. While she looking at the little boy who was on the phone’s home screen, it vibrated in her hand with a number with no name attached to it. y/n swiped the answer button and said, “Hello?” There was a small silence on the other side of the line as if whoever had been calling was surprised someone had picked up. Finally, the person, a man, said, “Hey. I lost my phone about a half hour ago and, well you found it. Could I come to you and get it?” The man on the other end sounded slightly breathless. His voice sounded oddly familiar. y/n was sure she had heard it before somewhere but couldn’t place it. y/n responded to the man’s question saying, “I’m on the Drivesdale scenic loop. There’s that big oak tree if you know it. I’m under that tree.” The man replied, “I do know it. I can be there in about ten minutes if you can wait?” y/n nodded and said, “Of course. I’ll be here.” There was an odd silence before _y/n_ heard a muttered reply on the other end of the line before the phone call ended.

y/n knew the man the second he rounded the corner in the bend in the path. It was the guy from the day that it was raining buckets. He was far less soggy now, and he was wearing a black t-shirt and back jogging shorts that highlighted his distinct calf muscles. His shirt also emphasized his forearms which seemed strong. y/n wished she could think about other things other than the physical attributes of the man quickly jogging toward her, except that was all she had to go off of. That and the fact that he knew someone who owned a fancy sports car. y/n stood as the man drew near.

Aaron was highly annoyed at himself for losing his phone. How he hadn’t noticed its weight missing from his pocket baffled him. He wasn’t sure how far he had moved since the phone made its mysterious disappearance. Today was a long run day for him, and he had moved around twelve miles according to his Apple watch. He briefly, sarcastically, thanked god that it wasn’t his work phone that had gone missing. But that would never happen. His FBI-issued phone stayed in a zipped pocket on the inside of his shirt and it stayed on all the time. Aaron had asked a few people if she could use their phones to see if someone had picked up the lost item, and he was close to despair and thinking he would have to go back home and try the ‘find my iPhone app. A wave of relief washed over Aaron as someone picked up for his last attempt at finding the phone while not having to leave the park. He listened to the location of the person who had it and confirmed that he would be right over. He ended the call and thanked the kind elderly woman who had let him use her phone. Hotch set out on a brisk jog, not wanting the woman holding his phone to wait longer than needed.

Hotch had found himself worn out over the last few cases. Not that they were the worst cases he had ever seen, but the continued horrors and depravity he saw on a weekly basis were wearing on his morale. He was also tired. He’d done his normal pre-workout routine, but the energy drink and warm-up didn’t seem to have its normal effects. Hotch blamed both of these emotional blightes for his losing his phone and his not noticing. As he rounded the corner toward the big oak tree, there were very few people around and he saw the woman he was sure he had talked to a few moments before. As he got closer to the woman, it took him a moment to realize that he had seen her before. As he scanned through his memories of the past weeks, he clocked her as the person he had been stranded with under the bookstore awning. She looked lovely and calm as she was clearly scanning the area for him. Hotch had thought she looked good the day he had first met her, with her bright _y/e/c_ eyes standing out on her slightly flushed face. But now that she was dry and more relaxed, Hotch could appreciate her in a more natural environment. Aaron took a sharp breath in as he remembered how close they had been standing next to each other, he looked down at her as the cars passed by, splashing his legs and soaking his socks further. There was also that brief moment as her hand had touched his upper back. Aaron cleared his throat and moved those thoughts somewhere deeper in his mind. Somewhere fantasy could take root if he wasn’t careful. Hotch put on a small smile as he stopped in front of the woman. She was holding out his phone for him, and he reached out for it. After the cool metal was in his left hand, he extended his right hand and said, “Thank you so much for finding this. It’s a pleasure seeing you again. I see you survived the rain.” There was a beat of silence, and then he added, “I’m Aaron, Hotchner by the way.”

y/n smiled up at Aaron and took his hand in hers. He gave it a firm yet steady shake and she said, “I’m y/n, _l/n_. What a surprise to see you again. How have you been?” y/n wasn’t sure why she asked the last questions, but it felt natural. She was also distracted by his scent. He was sweaty, but there was a sort of brine to the scent. Like when one stood next to the seashore at twilight. When Aaron responded, she smiled and said, “I’m glad you’re doing well. I’ve gotta head out, but it was nice to see you again, Aaron. I hope you have a good rest of your weekend.” _y/n_ didn’t particularly have to go anywhere, but she had a sinking feeling that if she stayed around the figure that was Aaron Hotchner, she might say something silly or stupid, and for some reason, she didn’t want to seem like that to him. As she had the first time they met, she gave a small wave and moved down the path. Again, she thought this was the last time that she would see him.

They were destined to meet again three weeks later at the local bar in the neighborhood. Seated at a small table, y/n shared her new life updates with _y/b/f_ who was visiting for the weekend. y/n had just covered the rainstorm incident and she said, “And then on top of that I saw him again later in the month. Let me tell you, if I thought he was handsome in the rain, you should have seen him in his workout clothes!” y/n was speaking openly and candidly given that her inhibitions were down because she had already had three drinks. Her friend who had a similar buzz said, “Okay, wait y/n. I’m going to need you to describe this guy in lots of detail. You always have a way with words, and I need the skinny. He sounds like a dreamboat.” y/n flushed further, above the color of the alcohol that had tinged her cheeks. y/n looked at _y/b/f_, and they had an expectant look on their face. y/n couldn't help but giggle before saying, “Well he’s tall, and he has dark hair. It’s cut short and neat from what I can tell, though both times I’ve seen him it’s been a bit disheveled. He’s fit. I mean, I saw him working out, and the first time I saw him his clothes were pretty much hugging his body. And man what a body he has.

Apart from his name, and his looks, I don’t have that much more to go off of. When I found his phone there was a picture of a little boy on his lock screen. For all I know he might be married or in a serious relationship. That doesn’t mean that I don’t find him attractive, but I’d never do something with a man who was committed.” If y/n was being honest with herself, she’d probably never do anything with the man ever? What could she possibly say if she even saw him again? The world was small, but not that small. y/n had relegated him to a small dreamlike crush to think back on every now and then. y/n took another sip of her cocktail to try and hide her blush from her friend. The door to the small bar opened and her friend, who was facing the door, looked at the large group that was entering the establishment. The final person to enter the bar caught y/n’s friend's eye, and they said, “I think your man just came in here.” y/n incredulously said, “Oh please, _y/b/f_, don’t tease me like that. It’s bad enough that I haven’t dated anyone seriously in years.” _y/b/f_ sobered slightly and said, “No y/n, I’m being serious. The last guy that just came in kind of matches the description you just gave.”

y/n rolled her eyes but looked behind her anyway and low and behold, it was Aaron who had walked through the door. He was with a group of six people, and he was congenially chatting with an older man and a very pretty brunette-haired woman. y/n hadn’t yet seen the man so at ease, but it looked good on him. It fit. The intense blush on y/n’s face told her best friend that she had pointed out the correct figure and they said, “Damn, He is hot. He must live in the neighborhood or something if you keep running into him unplanned like this.” y/n nodded along in agreement, and _y/b/f_ continued, “You should give him your number or buy him a drink or something while he’s here. Who knows when the next time is that you’ll see him?” At the suggestion, y/n shook her head in embarrassment and said, “I don’t know _y/b/f’s/n_. What if he’s not interested?” _y/b/f_ sighed and placed a hand on y/n’s shoulder saying, “Oh come on y/n. Nothing gambled, nothing gained, and all that. After all, what’s the worst that can happen? He says no, or that he’s married and then you run into him at the supermarket and it’s awkward and you move past each other in the cheese aisle? Would you just give it a chance?”

y/n thought about the cost-benefit of actually making a move on Aaron and found that, as her friend had said, the cost side of the equation was pretty low. After a long silence filled by the ambient hum of the noise inside the bar, y/n said, “Okay, fine. But I’m going to wait for him to have a drink first and make sure he’s not overly attached to anyone in his party, and that will give me time to sober up a bit. I might be taking a risk on my behalf, but I’m sure as hell not doing it drunk.” y/n moved to the bar and got herself and her friend some water. While she was waiting, the pretty brunette and the older man whom Aaron had been speaking to when the group had walked in moved next to her at the bar. As y/n overheard the woman saying, “I don’t know Rossi. He looks sad to me sometimes. Like when he thinks no one is looking? I’m kind of worried for him.” The older man, Rossi, nodded and said, “I see it too. But you see it, and I see it, but Hotch? I don’t know, and I don’t think he would really appreciate us cornering him in his office and asking him about his mental health, do you?” The woman laughed and said, “That’s a big fat no from me. But you know how he gets. I’d just like to see him happy.” As the woman finished the statement, y/n got her water and gave the two she had been eavesdropping on a small smile before heading back to her own table.

About a half hour later y/n felt more in control of her faculties. Aaron had had two drinks and y/n subtly watched him. He didn’t seem to flirting or attached to any of the women or men he was with; he also wasn’t wearing a ring which was a good start. y/n moved to the bathroom to make sure she looked alright before she made her move. y/n reapplied some mascara and lipstick, but she knew she was just stalling at this point. She took a deep breath and whispered, “You can do this,” as she walked out of the ladies' room. Fortunately from y/n, Aaron was at the bar getting a drink for himself, Morgan, and JJ. y/n idled up to him and said, “Hey Aaron, fancy seeing you here. Can I get you a drink?” Hotch turned and looked down at y/n. He was a bit tipsy given that he had two drinks in a pretty fast period. Hotch looked over the woman who kept appearing in his life and said, “Hey again y/n. We can’t seem to escape each other.” He looked over her face and saw the tells of attraction. He took a steadying breath as he realized that he was also attracted to y/n. He cleared his throat before saying “And you can buy me a drink if you like.” y/n beamed. She had fully expected him to say no, and she asked, “What’ll it be?” Hotch thought for a moment and said, “Margarita on the rocks please.” When the bartender came over y/n ordered two margaritas on the rocks. y/n Aaron chatted while they waited for the drinks and at the of the night, in a moment of inebriation and a bit of teasing from Morgan, Aaron had given his number to y/n.

In a small moment of vulnerability for both of them, they had started texting on and off. Then they had had their first date and it had gone well. Then they had a second, and a third, and Aaron realized that y/n was steady, calm, and kind. She wasn’t bothered by his extended absences, or him having to change their plans often because of a case. y/n had slowly started meeting the important people in his life. It had been Morgan first. That happened kind of by accident. Then there was Rossi and Em, and Jack of course. By all means their relationship should be growing, and they would have their rocky moments, but happiness and care should be blooming, but for y/n it simply wasn’t. A sadness was tugging at her soul like a millstone.

She was lying in bed; she had been all day. It was 11:00 a.m. The day outside looked pretty as the leaves fell and soft light came through the window. She had barely had the will to open the blinds. She had been crying a few minutes earlier but had managed to stop the flow of tears eventually. All y/n had wanted to do over the past few days was sleep. Sleep and cry. She had managed to keep up her hygiene a bit because she had to look and dress professionally for work, but if that wasn’t the case, she knew she wouldn’t have done any of her normal care routines. Her hair was on its last legs with dry shampoo, and she could feel it getting greasy and gross on the pillow. A sound at the door caught y/n’s attention. ‘Aaron,’ she thought. She had forgotten that he was coming over today. She tried to find the will to get up, but she was embarrassed about her current state both mentally and physically. She turned her back to her bedroom door and sniffled. Maybe if she didn’t answer he would leave? There was a second of silence and then there was a ping of her phone. y/n was sure that it was Aaron asking if she was okay. Then after that, there was a call and she could hear Aaron’s voice from outside saying, “y/n are you in there? Are you okay?” There was worry in Aaron’s voice and she cringed because it was so silly to be sad right now. She thought it was too early in their relationship for him to see her so sad.

Aaron stood outside y/n’s door. There was a small panic rising in him. He had texted and called with no response from y/n. There was an eerie quiet outside her door. Normally at this time, she’d have her vinyl playing _y/f/a_ and making some coffee or reading. Hotch could picture it and it made him feel warm for a moment. But he didn’t feel that warmth now. He sensed that something was wrong, and he called out saying, “y/n if you’re in there I’m coming in, okay.” Aaron punched in y/n’s seven-digit code, and the door clicked open. There was no one in the kitchen or living area and the lights were off. He checked the bathroom and it was also empty. Aaron called for y/n saying, “y/n are you here?” More softly he said, “God, please be here.” Hotch moved to the bedroom door and gave a hesitant knock saying her name again. There was a soft sound from inside and, fearing the worst, he opened the door. When his eyes fell on y/n's form under a bundle of sheets and blankets, he let out a momentary sigh of relief.

He stepped into the semi-dark room and approached the bed saying gently, “y/n, are you alright?” y/n was facing away from him and said, “I’m sorry, Aaron. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be alright.” She spoke so softly that Aaron almost didn’t hear her. There was a sadness in her voice that pulled at his heart, and his concern for her only grew. Hotch sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her upper arm asking, “Honey, would you please look at me. I need to see you.” Hotch needed to know if she was alright. Sluggishly y/n moved from her side and onto her stomach. She turned her face toward Aaron, and he assessed her. It was clear to him right away that she had been crying. Her tear streaks marked her face and her eyes were red and bloodshot. Aaron rested a hand on her cheek and said, “Sweetheart please tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been crying.” y/n sniffled and said, “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” At hearing y/n say this, Aaron turned to face her more directly and sincerely said, “Whatever it is, it’s not stupid to me. I wanna know why you’re sad.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. There was silence as y/n thought about what to say. Finally, she responded with, “I’m just sad, Aaron, and I have no right to be. I have everything I could want. I have a job I like. I’m finally stable in my life. I have you and Jack, and I’m still so fucking sad, over nothing.” While she spoke the tears started falling again.

Aaron listened and his heart ached for the pain y/n was feeling. He brushed his hand down her cheek and then moved his thumb to wipe away the tears falling on her face. Tenderly he said, “Darling, I’m so sorry. You’re allowed to feel sad, even if there’s no reason. And you’re allowed to be sad near me; it’s not embarrassing.” y/n made a small sound as she pressed her forehead to his thigh. Aaron wondered if this was an attempt to hide from him. He looked down at her and asked, “May I hold you, y/n” y/n sniffled but nodded yes to his request. Aaron leaned down and undid the laces of his loafer and kicked them both off with his other foot. He slipped his jacket off and moved to the other side of the bed. He pushed up the covers and lay down. When he was settled a bit, he pulled y/n close to his body. When she was cradled close to him, he could feel her relax. Aaron ran a hand up and down her side as he asked, “Have you felt this way before? Have you spoken to your therapist about these feelings?”

y/n felt better being close to Aaron. She responded to his question saying, “I have sometimes. When the weather starts changing and the days get shorter it can get really bad. I’ve been okay for the last year or so, but now it’s back. I haven’t told my therapist yet. I was going to in our next session. I had kind of hoped that it would just go away, but it hasn’t obviously.” Aaron hummed and moved his hand to her stomach, rubbing soft circles over the flesh there. Next, he asked, “And you’re still taking your medication?” At this, y/n actually chuckled and said, “I have. I know what happens when I stop taking those and it’s not pretty.” Aaron felt a tiny bit better hearing her laugh and make a joke. The feeling in the room lightened slightly. The silence lingered for a few minutes and Aaron broke it saying, “Would you like to stay here for a little bit?” In his arms, y/n sighed and said, “Yes please.” Aaron shifted in the bed so his head was resting near her neck, and he circled his arms around her protectively. He planted a few kisses on the nape of y/n’s neck and then stilled his movements as she quickly fell asleep. Aaron looked her over. He was glad that she found comfort in him. His embrace. He would have to do more research on seasonal depression because although he knew it was a type of depression, he didn’t know much about it. The only person that he maybe knew had issues like that was Spencer, as his younger agent had once told him that he had worse thoughts during the winter. But for now, he would just be there to support y/n. Her health and happiness were paramount to him, and he was going to do everything he could to make her feel alright.

After an hour, Aaron and y/n woke and Aaron thought of something. He asked, “When is the last time you’ve eaten, darling?” The moment it took for her to answer told Aaron what he needed to know. When y/n replied, “It was yesterday at breakfast.” Aaron frowned at the answer and said, “Alright. Well, how about we get some food? We could make something here or I could order something for us?” y/n thought and said, “There’s not much in the fridge. Maybe we could order some _y/c/f_ ?” Aaron replied and said, “Of course, I’ll place the order now.” Aaron pulled out his phone and opened Uber Eats to get the food. After this, they both moved to the living area. Aaron opened some blinds to let some light into the room but chose not to turn on any of the overhead lighting to create a calm environment. He turned on the TV and put on Seinfeld putting the volume on low to give them some ambient noise. y/n sat on the couch and Aaron pulled her into his arms while they waited for the food to arrive. Aaron moved to stroke her hair, and as he started, she cringed slightly. He stopped his movements and asked, “What is it, y/n?”y/n felt the shame rise in her again as she said, “It’s dirty. My hair. I haven’t washed it in three days.” Aaron nodded and said, “It’s okay, y/n. I don’t mind.” y/n softly said, “Okay.” She believed him and rested her head against his chest again. Aaron started gently combing through her hair with his hands. y/n listened to the steady thumping of his heart near her ear, and her hands found a place on his stomach. When he sat, Aaron had a little tummy that hid the muscles of his torso. It was actually one of the favorite parts of his body. They hadn’t been undressed in front of the other yet, but when they were, she looked forward to paying that area extra attention. y/n knew that just being with Aaron wasn’t going to fix her mental health problems. She would have to face the emotions and it might hurt, but it was worth it. For now, Aaron was a balm and a light, and she looked forward to moving forward with him in life. She knew that with Aaron by her side, better days were coming. That the sun would shine a bit brighter than it had before.

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glitterypin · 8 months

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Good Omens 30 Day Challenge! (x)

Day 3: Favourite Aziraphale & Crowley historical era

Land of Uz, 2500 BC

This was not an easy choice to make, because I am very fond of most eras for a variety of reasons.

1941 would be an easy choice to make because it feels like the beginning of the last stage, where their friendship finally solidified into what we know in the present time of the story.

Similarly, I could also choose the Garden of Eden, because in this first interaction you can see the origins of their story, how they are supposed to be mortal enemies and yet are standing side by side conversing politely and even with great honesty.

537 AD (the Knights era) is hilarious and the French Revolution is borderline romantic and the Flood and the Crucifixion are very pointed in a philosophical way.

But in the end, I had to go with 2500 BC, The Land of Uz. It's one of my favourite sequences in the whole show because it combines a lot of my favourite things: it's a biblical story (and I love how Good Omens deals with those), Aziraphale and Crowley actually work together despite not yet considering themselves allies and the fact that they like each other is already quite obvious. We get the origin story of Aziraphale trying food for the first time, we get the ABSOLUTELY MAGNIFICENT Jemimah "I made this pot" daughter of Job and the conclusion is beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. Oh, and it's also hilarious at so many points. Apart from the terrible angst of the Last Fifteen, this sequence might have been my favourite part of Season 2.

#good omens #go30dc #good omens 30 day challenge #michael sheen #david tennant #aziraphale #crowley

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merik72-blog · 19 days

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What if Furina wasn't a girlfailure for 500 years? (Shorteneder Version (still long))

Off the top, I'm not a lore expert. If this doesn't make sense lore-wise, feel free to tell me all about it. Expect it, even. I just wanted to write this down because after experiencing her story, (when it dropped months ago in version 4) this idea just never got out of my head. I process media in a way where I'm constantly thinking on the level of "why did the authors make these specific decisions?", and I couldn't shake the feeling that the authors lacked a bit of imagination when considering just how long 5 centuries is. I have like over a thousand words of why I think this which includes a discussion of historicity and biblical allusion. I cut it all -- nobody wants to read that.

That being said, this is somewhere between a rewrite and like a notes document. In this, Furina is still fundamentally the same character. Her personality and mannerisms should be basically identical, even if she's more competent. This rewrite hopes to preserve the main beats of her arc: The confrontation by Arlecchino, the disaster which causes people to doubt her godliness, the trial, and a backstory which makes you pity her. I'm going to lay these out in chronological order, rather than plot order.

Backstory

Focalors told Furina the prophecy, leaving her terrified and overwhelmed. All the people of Fontaine will drown, and she will be left alone, crying on her throne. Despite her horror, some rebellious gumption rose up in her soul and allows her to steel herself. Much like Focalors before her, despite being handed a doomed situation, Furina decided that there was nothing she couldn't fight back against, even fate. Knowing that there's a flood coming, she put together a plan.

Furina decided that she would hold grand competitions every decade, gathering the greatest tinkerers, engineers, architects, anyone with interesting ideas in her nation to show off their most creative inventions, no matter what those inventions did. She would call these competitions Fontaine's Utopique Rendezvous for Industrie Nouvelleté, et Audacé* (FURINA). As their god, Fontainian culture was her privilege and responsibility to shape, so innovation and technological advancement would be placed at the core. With great patience, she would lead Fontaine from the Medieval age to the Industrial revolution. During FURINAs, as she strolled through the streets of Fontaine, the entrants displayed and described their creations to her to each would be personally judged by her. There is not a maximum or minimum of winners, there are only those who do and do not catch the eye of the Hydro Archon. At the end of the competition, she rewards the winners with her patronage to sponsor them and their ideas. These winners would come to be informally known as FURINA Scholars. She created these patron relationships usually with the goal of creating or improving a public infrastructure project or taking a particularly fascinating or promising invention from an impractical novelty to mass producible technology that anyone could use. FURINA Scholars had a hard time limit of 10 years, being required to present their progress publicly at the next FURINA by the latest. The results of these varied from practical, aesthetic, to insanely niche novelty toys you'd expect a French aristocrat to buy.

A lot of real kings and queens can't dedicate themselves to advancement in this way because their bureaucracy, the power structure beneath them, know that they don't have to be beholden to them forever. Each bureaucrat knows there will be another younger ruler eventually who would could be manipulated into giving more to them and less to the people. Not so with Furina. She would use the royal coffers however she wanted to, and nobody could speak out against her, lest they be hit with the combination blasphemy-treason from the judgement of the Oratrice Mechanique d'Analyse Cardinale.

(*This is intentionally butchered French, in line with the Oratrice Mechanique d'Analyse Cardinale. If you can't read it, it's basically Fontaine's Utopian Conference for Industry, Novelty, and Audacity. It's a funny acronym, and a bit on the nose in multiple ways, but I think it would be something she would come up with. I imagine that Furina would never call it FURINA, but over time people would start calling it "the FURINA" and eventually "the FURINA de Fontaine" in the way that people always start butchering acronyms when they become normal words.)

Every day, Furina's free time between these FURINAs was spent studying, learning, testing, and inventing in her study. If Fontaine was to be flooded by rising waters, she herself would be dedicated to finding a way to allow Fontaine to survive any flood. Out of the public eye, she found ways to spend every spare moment honing her skills and iterating her designs. She quickly learned to dismiss attendants that came to her with some spurious legislative work whenever she left the Opera Epiclese. Go to Neuvillette! She had a duty which so obviously rendered such things spurious. Paperwork? When Fontaine could be drowned any year now?

(Just as in the real story, it's implied that Neuvillette is vaguely aware that she must be working incredibly hard, but she deliberately hides her toil from everyone, including him.)

Obsessively, tirelessly, she toiled single-mindedly towards in designing super-structures capable of diverting, pumping, or otherwise controlling vast amounts of water. As she would sketch mockups of grand designs, she was thinking of public excuses for doing this rather than just using her "archon powers." It would make her seem more benevolent to say something like "I cannot be everywhere at once, and I need to be sure that the people of Fontaine shall not suffer a disaster under my rule, even out from under my watchful gaze." It was even true, in a way. Over the centuries, she carried out plans for every major Fontaine settlement's coastline and the entire capitol city to be protected by works of engineering which were equally intricate and gargantuan. At the same time, they balanced preserving the beauty of coastlines and consistency in aesthetic that is paramount for France. She directed the creations of these superstructures over generations with clarity and consistency in intent. She eventually became capable of concocting ideas that were not possible with currently invented technology, her innovation outdoing the rate of technological advancement. That meant she was not nearly finished. Waiting for technology to catch up with her ideas was always a good opportunity to update the physical build of her superstructures.

Despite her having already gathered vast and unmatched generational knowledge after her first full century of study, she still continued FURINAs to find the best and brightest minds of each generation. (If it must be done for Genshin's thematic consistency or ideology, these can all even be vision holders). These inventors who all grew up in the context of Furina's unparalleled genius had the privilege of standing on the shoulders of a giant. Innovations begot innovations, forming a virtuous loop which drove unprecedented progress in industrialization leading to evolutions in technology especially in civil engineering and hydrodynamics. As Furina's knowledge and mastery over engineering slowly but surely surpassed mortal limits, FURINAs seemed to be more and more judged based on eccentric, incomprehensible whims. With relative frequency, participants would watch seemingly impressive inventions be passed over, meanwhile random toys that just made her giggle and applaud would win. She would say "I just find these trinkets so charming!" but in truth, she saw potential in central conceits in inventions that had the chance to change the underpinnings of Fontaine's infrastructure. Or she just genuinely found them charming.

As time passed, Furina's structures continually improved to a point that they did not just avoid, but very publicly Dominated countless floods and storms that would have been disastrous otherwise. These creations legitimized her godhood and won her adoration in the eyes of the people, who wove countless folktales over the ages telling the tales of Furina's power - herding hurricanes and subjugating tsunamis. At the same time, this made her prodigious skill for the dramatic arts even more impressive through the plurality of her talents. This resulted in many full circle moments, where Furina would play herself in epics about her overcoming disasters, not that she wrote, of course. These would sometimes exaggerate her powers, like giving her omniscience or visions of the future, the perfect designs flowing freely and naturally from her hands, as though they were as effortless as breathing.

Of course, she was not truly invincible. Slowly, she started to fray. As new innovations became more difficult, technology caught up to her designs. After the superstructure renovations commemorating the 4th century of her rule, she was distraught. This was the first time she had updated her superstructures without the plan for the next one at least partially completed. She needed to spend more of her energy pondering, as just her "free" time was insufficient. This led to her to becoming more absentminded during official duties, having forgone sleep or being still caught up ruminating on how to optimize designs, improve existing technology, or apply them in a novel way, but for some reason nothing was coming to her after a few years of different experiments and trials. Even in discussions with her FURINA Scholars, they stopped having new ideas in hydrodynamic engineering projects, being drawn towards other directions where they wouldn't need to compete with god. As she crossed the 450-year mark, she was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that her designs weren't nearly enough to protect the entire country and even further from perfect. For the better part of the last century, any improvement had been like trying to squeeze water from a stone. In the last ten years, she has probably improved her latest flood barriers by less than a liter of water. 30 more years restarting from scratch over and over with her current knowledge, no meaningful improvement.

For the 48th FURINA, she decided out of desperation to hold a hydro-themed FURINA. As she walked the streets of Fontaine, talking to each inventor as they presented their work, she was distraught. A marked decrease meaningful innovation. Worse than this, she noticed that inventors were less interested in creating submissions for this FURINA. The sentiment she was picking up on was that they felt futility in even trying. What was the point of trying to innovate in a field that they can hardly understand? The cutting edge of hydro-related innovation was driven so far by Furina that they felt mortals need not apply. Who could even be given the privilege of becoming the decade's FURINA Scholars from such a lackluster field...? As always, she found a way to get out of a dismaying situation. She crowned herself as the winner, made a grandiose speech about who she was still unmatched in the domain of Hydro, and unveiled her side project of the Aquabus.

At the end of the hydro-FURINA, Furina had never felt so alone. For the first time since her first decade, she had not the faintest idea of what to do from here. Nobody did. She had already pushed to and past limit of her knowledge, of her peoples' knowledge, and the limits of material possibility in Teyvat. All of these centuries had passed her by, all these sleepless nights, all her evolutions in the design of Fontaine to fortify it, for what? A worm, wriggling on a stone, drying out in the sun. If she failed to prevent the flood now, what would any of that time mean?

Furina found herself standing in her study, towering alone above the room crowded with her innovations, blueprints, experiments. Her gaze floated over each page; her life's work surrounded her. Broken mechanisms, meaningless scribbles, trials without results. Countless wasted mines of materials, countless wasted gallons of ink, and countless wasted centuries of labor by her precious hardworking people. Not realizing she was fully sobbing, she slumped to the floor, picking up the blueprint of one of her latest redesigns. She couldn't see anything aside from bodies floating in the water. Her mind replayed the faces of every person whom she's ever worked with or learned from, whose families she met, and every child of Fontaine whom she watched grow. They died all the same. Her vision started to swirl as their faces closed in around her. They rose up all around her from the waters in her blueprints. She grasped at them desperately, begging them to stay with her. On her side, shaking, sobbing, with a bundle of ripped and crumbled papers clutched against her. For the first time since she was told the prophecy, she felt truly helpless. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mirror. She scrambled through a carpet of papers, trinkets, and tools to touch her forehead to the glass.

"Mirror me, I-I've been doing everything I can. Our people have been trying, too! They worked so very hard, and they've built my all of designs beautifully."

Silence.

"Please, tell me you know something, anything that I can do now. I need to know. I can't let it end like this."

Silence.

"I never imagined that... that we'd even make it this far, mirror me." Furina was sitting now. With a smile on her face, she still couldn't stop the tears as she leaned against the mirror. "They truly are my pride and joy." Barely more than a whisper, an "I'm sorry" escaped her lips.

She had been doing her best for so long, but she had certainty now. Her best would not be enough.

A real Archon would be able to overcome this. On her own strength.

Furina cursed her inadequacy, mourning the people of Fontaine in her heart. It was torture. Every day, her job was to look at all the wonderful people that she was failing every day, people whom she was dooming through her weakness. During trials, she entirely lost the ability to focus on what's happening in front of her, her comments in the Opera becoming nonsensical and detached. More often, she handed off interpretations directly to Neuvillette, and tears sometimes leaked through when doing her fan meetups. Somehow, she still managed to hide her turmoil with audacious bravado as always. She felt more internally frantic as more years came and went. It was like desperately treading treacherous waters as she needed more and more effort to simply maintain surface appearances. The 49th and 50th FURINAs were brief respites from the gloom. Despite all of the stress in her life, the silly novelties of her people could still bring her joy. But when she returned to her private abode, she found that sometimes, not every time, she didn't want to work anymore. Instead, she would lay in her bed. Stillness without rest.

Her dead eyes blinked slowly, making no tears. She pondered, "How long has it been?" When she stared down at her hands, she could still see the souls of every Fontanian leaking through her fingers. The harder she tried to hold onto them, the further they'd splatter away. If only she had more time. Time, as always, passed anyway.

Plot time

Now, this is when the incident happens. Furina just hit rock bottom as the Traveler comes to town. Everything in the plot that played out in the main story happens mostly the same. This retroactively explains why all of Furina's arguments in the Mysterious Disappearances trials are so weak. Sure, she has a lot of experience presiding over trials, and it may be a top priority for her since this Furina is also excited about the opportunity for a Grand Trial that Focalors told her about, but she is so far from being on the top of her game right now.

Over centuries, Furina built this idea of infallibility, weaving a narrative to reaffirm her godhood. Fontainians believed that because each design was crafted by Furina directly, she made sure that none of them could ever fail using her uniquely intimate knowledge of the Hydro element. When Arlecchino called for an audience with Furina about the impending incident of unprecedented scale in Poisson, Furina was not just small or helpless with no excuse. Furina imposed upon Arlecchino as a god in her own land. There was to be absolute faith in her creations. Her power over hydro would never allow a Fontainian to come to harm.

"What does a puny rat like you think you know? I've thrown out socks that were older than you. Smarter, too."

Like a true god, she gaslit Arlecchino about what information Arlecchino had regarding the flood coming to Poisson. As the Regina of All Waters, not only did she have access to more information through her national information network, she also simply understood Hydro in a way that mortals couldn't comprehend. This is one of the only times that Arlecchino would seem even a little shaken by anything.

Furina didn't refuse to take precautions because she's a depressed NEET; Furina placed herself in this position where she simply could not possibly even suggest taking precautions. That would imply to Arlecchino and by extent the people of Fontaine that there was a weakness in her absolute power over Hydro and, by proxy, her status as archon. In previous centuries, she had only ever commanded upgrades to earlier designs as technology advanced to allow her to better realize her intended designs.

This made it all the more world-shattering for Fontainians when the symbols of their god, their faith in her power, warped and bursted under the immense pressure of more water than seemingly possible in nature (this flood is mega buffed in this plotline). The damage was horrific, but would be much much worse if not for the efforts of Arlecchino and the Spina di Rosula. This was the first time that anyone has doubted her as god, and nobody who doubted even wanted to because they've had faith for so long.

The trial proceeds nearly exactly as in the game, with the additional wrinkle that her centuries of age needs to be a hint as to how she could be such a genius of engineering without being the Hydro Archon.

After the trial

After her liberation, much of Furina's story is the same. She is so incredibly burnt out after finally being free that she has the same despondent attitude as she does in the game. She doesn't really invent in her free time, as she's a bit traumatized by the memory and sensation of using those tools. Even picking up a screwdriver reminds her of hundreds of years of sleepless nights experimenting desperately with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

The only real things that would change after the Archon quest would be -

In her character quest, Furina surprises everyone by proudly declaring her return to the stage on her own, having thoroughly enjoyed her time with the ragtag troupe. After a handful of lifetimes of endless labor with a dash of theatre, having the opportunity to do theatre full time sounds like great fun. The reason that she wouldn't have started before this quest is because of her burnout and exhaustion buildup ofc.

In Roses and Muskets, just take out all the times where Furina's trauma is played for laughs, or times where she's outwardly timid in a public conversation, especially when directing. Furina's reaction to imposing in public situations should be so well trained after playing archon should be instinctual after 500 years that she never gets caught slipping by an unfortunate circumstance. In private, she can still of course be her quirky self.

At the end of Roses and Muskets, she's not awkward about receiving the trophy. She's really happy, overjoyed even, having not been able to participate in any competitions herself in Archon era.

During Lantern Rite, Furina is on Cloud 9, going crazy and stupid finally leaving the country. She is positively giggly being charmed and intrigued by every single little thing in Liyue which is different from Fontaine. She walks around the street asking people about ridiculous and mundane things, like "What wood is this fence made out of?", "Do all your boats really need sails? Where are their engines?", "What techniques were employed to build villages on all these hills?", "Where is the toilet in this establishment?... oh Me... running hydro? DO YOU NOT HAVE ANY PLUMBING-", and various other questions about architecture, technology, and everything else she'd notice as someone otherwise incredibly knowledgeable who'd been stuck in one country for centuries.

Anyway, as a thanks for reading my yap, here are some drawings of tinkerer Furina loving life

#Tinkerina #genshin fanart #rewrite #character redesign #au idea #genshin #i love furina #maybe i should repost these drawings separately for anyone who doesn't want to read several thousand words of yapping #don't expect much more of this #i meant to give her a teardrop shaped gold pocket watch but i forgot to add it #in this essay i will #essay #how to stop my yap #first post #so yeah #if i don't post this now i'll never finish anything ever #furina #i want to yap about every decision i made when designing her too but like this is long enough so . 3.

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meguwumibear · 1 year

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Let Not the Lord be Angry

Summary: Nai contemplates the bible. A human interrupts his quiet contemplation.

Word Count: 1,200

Warning: minor character injury (mentions of blood), knives (obviously), egregious and probably inaccurate biblical references, nai and his homicidal ideation, i think that’s everything but let me know if i missed something!

Notes: Pre-July incident. Implied future unhealthy Nai x reader relationship. Experimented a bit stylistically with this.

Nai’s reading the bible again. The one that woman gave him. The one he used to read on the ship.

He favors the book of Genesis. The beginning. Creation. Let there be light. And there was light. Let there be people, forged in the image of their creator, who shall have dominion over the sea, the land, the air. They may eat from every tree but one. They know they are naked. Have they eaten from the tree? Send them forth. Drive them out. Protect the plants.

Now command a great flood to wash away the humans for their crimes against both the heavens and the earth. Rain for forty days and rain for forty nights. When the humans can settle again, confound their speech so they can do nothing but babel.

Two angels sent to Sodom and Gomorrah. There are not ten righteous people in these lands. Destruction by fire. Destruction by brimstone. She who turns back turns to salt.

And, here, now, a human, standing before him. An ugly thing made uglier by their journey. Sunburned and sweating. Panting like a bitch in heat.

He summons his knives.

“That a threat?” the human spits, throat hoarse with thirst. “Think I’ve never seen a blade before?”

“I think you’ve never seen something like me before.”

“I’ve seen you before. A face like yours is hard to forget. You stole from my town, so I followed you here. I am not afraid.”

That’s amusing. A human? Unafraid? You are surely a liar. A liar, or a pissant who’s yet to fully grasp their own cosmic insignificance.

Before he kills you, he will become your teacher. Your master. Your guide. You will learn your limits. You will taste the fruits forbidden. Come let him show you. Let him open your eyes. Learn what becomes of women who look back and bite off more than they can chew.

A pathetic little human who couldn’t even survive without leeching off his brethren, who would die without the nourishment they provide. Feeble and weak. Fragile as a flower. Wilting and withering away without the water your kind oh so desperately needs. Petals falling one by one. Stem sagging. Roots rotting. You were not meant for his new Eden. You could not survive there.

Yet you survived here on the inhospitable planet Gunsmoke. For days you lived on. Without proper food and drink. Without shelter from the sun. Flesh burning. Skin reddening. You persisted. You searched. And finally, you found.

What will you do now?

“What are you doing with the plants?” you demand. There’s a ferocious look in your eyes. Something feral and beastly. Pure anger. Pure animal. Nothing human in them at all.

“I doubt a stupid thing like you could understand.”

“You underestimate humans. That will be the death of you. My mortality makes me privy to things beyond your comprehension.”

A sound. Quick and sharp. Then pain. Quiet and stinging. On your left cheek. Just below your eye. You lift a finger to the wound and it comes away bloody. He cut you. With one of his knives. Split your flesh and bled you. When you look up into his eyes you see not a monster, but a boy, frightened and alone.

“What set you against us?”

“Corruption and cruelty. You are ravenous little beasts. Your sins exceedingly grievous. Your kind stole knowledge of good from the garden of Eden and still choose to be anything but.”

You stare at him. Unflinching. Even as ribbons of crimson unfurl across your face. “My people cultivated this land. We built something from nothing. Churches and orphanages and homes. In elementary school my class learned to make paint from the elements. We painted a mural on the wall of our school. It’s still there today. By taking our plant you’ve doomed both the righteous and the wicked alike.”

“All of that you did at the breast of my kin!”

“Has no one ever helped you? Surely you did not enter this world alone.”

He thinks of his mother. He thinks of Rem Savrem. He thinks of the snake in the garden of Eden. Mother Rem. Mother snake. Rem the mother. Rem the snake. Mother seductress. Mother temptress. Enchanting. Enticing. Beguiling serpent. Bewitching snake.

He thinks he understands Vash a bit more now.

His ticket to the future is supposed to be blank. His future is supposed to be waiting there for him. That’s what that wicked woman always promised him. Something next. Something still to come. Was Eve’s future blank or was it always written that she’d be driven out of that paradise? Was her story always meant to end that way? Cast out from the garden. Cursed with a womb. Could she ever have been something more?

Could you?

Humans die so terribly. No matter how they go. Plummeting out of the sky as their spaceship crashes to the earth. Struck down by a torrent of blades. He’s never seen one die of natural causes before. Never seen one succumb to starvation or thirst. He imagines somehow that of all the ways to die, naturally is the worst.

A sick part of him wants kill you this way. Or, rather, he wants to watch you die this way. He wants to watch your fat and muscle slough off the bone. Wants to watch as your belly bloats with air. There’d be so little to you he could count all of your ribs. They’d be so brittle he could break one off for himself.

He doubts you’re going to last much longer.

You’re well past your expiration date.

You’ll die without him.

Your eyes widen. He’s said that last thought aloud. Those beastly eyes of yours are frustratingly unreadable. He expects fear but is met by fears distant cousin. Acceptance maybe. Or understanding. You know you’re a dead girl walking. This was a suicide mission.

There’s no pleasure in beating a dead corpse. How cruel would it be if you were to live? Crueler still if you were kept alive by his murderous hands. The thing about Nai is he’s good at being cruel. It’s familiar to him. And, yes, how cruel it would be for him to let you live. To sit you in his lap and force food down your throat. To punish you when you bite fruitlessly at his fingers. To shove his fingers deeper into your gaping mouth.

He thinks of Tesla. The first. The lab rat. He thinks of all the poking and prodding the humans subjected them to. Pumped full of poison. Pickled and preserved. All that’s left: an arm, a brain, some eyes. Not feeling. Not thinking. Not seeing. Hidden away, but not discarded. Rem’s dirty little secret. The team’s guiltiest pleasure.

What could your body handle? Just how long could it go without food? Without water? Without air? What if he gave you just enough to keep you going? What if he forced bite after agonizing bite down your throat? What if he wrapped his fingers around your neck and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed?

What if he used you all up? What if he sucked you dry?

What if you learned what it was like to be a plant?

#nai x reader #millions knives x reader #trigun x reader #nai x you #millions knives x you #trigun x you #nai x y/n #millions knives x y/n #trigun x y/n #trigun imagines #nai imagines #millions knives imagines

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hamlets-ak · 1 year

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synopsis: regulus is gone forever and you can’t believe it

for a more painful experience read his last letter first

Death is said to be the great equalizer. Laying low the rich, the poor, the chaste, and the glutenous. Yet in the end, it is not the one who dies that feels the most sorrow, but rather those around him. The ones who loved, and were loved, the ones that stayed behind.

It wasn’t a bang, an apocalypse, or some biblical disaster that ended your world, but some sloppily written words on a crumpled paper.

It's so cold here and I can’t stop remembering. My heart has no pity on me.

I love you forever.

R.A.B.

Your lips twitched still looking at the paper, forehead slowly creasing as you brought the paper close to your mouth until it touched your lips. It was his damn scent, his damn handwriting, his damn words.

« Is... », you pressed your eyes shut for a second and then lightly shook your head, glancing at the Elf that was standing right in front of you, frozen like a small statue. « Is this some kind of sick joke? » His eyes fell to the ground at the sound of your voice. What could the poor thing say to console you when he could barely console himself?

Kreacher chose not to reply. Words didn't matter anymore.

The last words that mattered were his, and he had spoken them.

You sealed your mouth, biting hard your upper lip as if trying to rip off your skin.

« Kreacher, » you held your tears inside, "this isn’t funny." Your body felt hot, yet you were shivering. You were paralyzed, yet your jaw was trembling.

You were utterly shocked, unable to understand the words that were written on that paper. The world was crumbling around you and you were the last one standing.

The Elf breathed out and shook his head. You leaned yours trying to catch his stare and forced a small smile that fell immediately.

« This isn’t funny, » your voice cracked pressing your mouth hard.

Kreacher slightly raised his gaze only for your glossy eyes to meet his cold orbs. Your lips separated studying carefully his features. Puffy cheeks stained with droplets, a long hooked nose colored in a red shade all enlarged from crying, pinkish thin lips. You locked eyes, but he couldn’t keep looking at you with that minimal shadow of hope you were still carrying in your heart. The grief was too heavy for him and was pulling his weak body down.

« Please, tell me this is a joke. »

« Master would never joke about something like that, Miss. »

« Then where is he, Kreacher? », your brows knitted together trying to comfort each other. « He was supposed to be here. He promised to be here. »

You wished you could’ve misinterpreted the silence of the creature, but even if you did, nothing was going to change that didn't that slipped from his mouth seconds ago.

Nothing was going to bring him back.

« Why isn’t he here? », your eyes were sparkling from the boiling water beneath them, floods concealing behind the painful expression of loss. Kreacher breathed out heavily looking at your stare.

« Y/N... », he spoke softly.

« Where is Regulus? », you asked tears slowly streaming down your hot cheeks as you squeezed your eyes to stop them.

« Y/N... », Kreacher repeated giving you a pleading look.

« No ! », you cried loudly.

« Master Regulus won’t come, » his stare fell to the ground.

At these words, you gradually took a shaky breath, pulling up your nostrils. Your expression deformed, giving place to anger and the rage of a Maenad. Your eyes turned hard and flinty, glaring tightly at the Elf, which took a step back, his face questioning your look.

« Where is Regulus ? », you asked clenching your jaw to control your voice. Kreacher shook his head.

« I-I can’t say, » he glanced at you horrified. Kreacher swore that he saw flames coming out of your eyes that night. You were terrifying to look at, like something written by Edgar Allan Poe. « He wouldn’t want you to know. »

« Where is Regulus ? » Every word came out with a small pause as you walked forward to approach him. The poor Elf had never seen you like this, no one had. He shook his head.

« I promised- »

« Where the fuck is Regulus ? », you yelled loudly. Without getting a response, your hands fumbled on your clothes bringing forward your wand. « I swear, Kreacher, if you don’t tell me where Regulus is... I will fucking kill you. »

« Y/N, Regulus- Regulus is gone. » Your eyes twitched and your hand trembled uncontrollably, pointing at the Elf.

« Don’t say that ! », you cried. « Tell me where is he or I’ll kill you ! »

« Regulus is dead ! », poor Kreacher cried back. You had to hear it and accept it. Besides, he didn't really care about his life anymore, not without his Master, his friend. You pressed your lips into a hard expression and blinded by pain and sorrow you spoke.

« Avada Kedav- »

You didn’t finish your sentence.

You couldn’t finish your sentence.

You threw your wand away and fell to the ground sent into spasms filled with kneeing grief. Devastated and enraged you burst into tears.

No one could understand the pain you felt. It wasn’t the one with the screams, tears, and sobs. It was the other one; the one with the welled eyes and sobs that were coming up to your throat, and you would rather bite your lips and let the painful tears choke you, break your heart in pieces, than allow them to get out for the world to see.

And as you stayed there, curled to the ground, away from the world and everything that was alive, with Kreacher’s shaky hand on your shoulder and his last letter pressed against your chest, murmuring over and over those same words, he promised to be here, like a prayer coming out of your lips, his scent traveling from the paper to the world, you felt the memories that once warmed you, tearing your bones apart.

And as your hand slipped to the dewy grass, you wondered how could the Earth allow this to happen. Of all the times, the Earth decided to take him at that specific moment, when the branches were blooming and the spring was painting the ground.

Oh, Regulus, you thought, can you listen to me from up there ?

Without knowing it, you were with him, always on his mind. You were the only reason he had doubts about what he was going to do. He thought about returning so many times he had lost count along the way. But that was him keeping his promise. Being good and doing the right thing.

Regulus was sitting on the ground. It was so cold, colder than his house, colder than any place he had ever been to. So cold, that was spreading shivers to every part of his body. His breath was coming out along with salty tears traveling all the way down to his neck.

It was cold, dark and there was water.

He stood up. It was time.

Tears were still stained in his eyes, but he didn’t plan to wipe them because they were for you and he wanted something of you to be with him in his last moments, to somehow have you by his side and feel less lonely in that pitch black abyss of a cave.

He tried to smile thinking that you might be watching him from a corner and laughing at his expression. He didn’t want to look like a coward in your eyes.

Regulus took a deep breath.

The only thing that was comforting him was that in the distant future, you would meet again one day, and then all the nights, all the stars, all the songs, would be yours.

Without much thinking, he walked into the cave.

It was even colder, ever darker and water was everywhere.

And just so you know, his last thought was you. And his last breath was your name.

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