#there is no peaceful solution there’s only what you Chose to do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sttoru · 1 month

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER II: you smuggle the wounded man into your dorm room and nurse him back to health in secret. a fragile bond forms between you and the stranger - whose name you learn is toji - as you spend your first night together.

word count. 6.6k-ish

tags. assassin!toji fushiguro x college student!female reader. sfw. bits of angst. mentions of blood, knives, murder. reader gets called 'woman'. general warnings: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's). chapter one here

Three. Two. One.

You accept your miserable fate with a gulp. You prepare yourself for the unbearable pain that awaits your body until the last breath leaves your lungs. You hope the anguish lasts for a second or two before your vision turns pitch black. Before your soul meets its maker. Or before it gets lost somewhere more peaceful than this life you've led.

Closing your eyes, waiting for the impact, and uttering your final words in your head felt like eternity. Maybe the man is playing with your emotions before he decides to make an end to your life. Perhaps he is such a nasty psycho. And you can’t believe that out of all people who could’ve met him tonight on the street, you did.

You sniff. Life is unfair. Even at your final moments, you couldn’t help but feel you got the short end of the stick. You wait and wait, but your death doesn’t arrive. You sigh and ask whoever can hear your thoughts to make it quick.

“Shit,” Your ‘murderer’ coughs. It sounds like a painful cough, one that came out the back of his throat. You hear metal clattering on wet concrete not a second later. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise, your vision instantly filling with a frightening sight. You watch as the injured man starts to cough up blood. He’s unable to lift a finger in that state of his.

This is your chance to make a run for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you to move and get yourself to safety. It’s a perfect opportunity to get help. But something inside of you is urging you to stay.

Any normal person would have escaped by now.

‘I must be out of my mind,’ you silently think. You don’t loosen the grip you have on your scarf, the one pressed against the man’s open wound. Your body is yelling at you—begging you to move away—yet your heart is pleading to stay put. There is no way your body wins over the strong will of your heart. Your soul, that’s strangely connected to his, a man that threatened to kill you without hesitation.

You surely have lost your mind.

“Sir, oh my god,” you panic. You chose to stay, however have no clue what to do. You’re trying your best to think of a solution to all of this. Your eyes catch a glimpse of your now wet phone laying in a puddle of rain. You hope it still works. Well, even if it does, you surely can’t call an ambulance for the man. He had stated that he didn’t want any help.

If you consider the possibility of him being a murderer, you’d understand that he wouldn’t want an ambulance to be involved. You shake your head as your body desperately tries to continue fighting against your heart’s desires. ‘Sympathizing with a possible murderer. God I really must have gone insane,’ you curse yourself out in your head.

The sound of heavy breathing brings you back into the current moment. You catch the way the bloodied man is trying to regain his strength. You try to coax him into staying still, “sir, please don’t move. It could worsen your injury.”

You voicing your worries only causes the man to try and push you away. Despite his weakened state, the little push he gives you is enough to make you lose the grip on your crimson stained scarf. You watch in pure horror as more blood pours down his black shirt, onto his white pants.

“No, please. Please listen to me,” you don’t know why you’re begging a grown man, a killer, to listen to you for his own sake. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be back in your dorm room, in your cozy bed, watching a series while it pours outside. You shouldn’t be playing the hero to a stranger.

You think quickly. The only option you have aside from an ambulance, is to try and help him out to your best ability. You don’t have anything with you that could help, but you do have some rubbing alcohol in your dorm. That could work as a disinfectant. Stitching his wound up is the real challenge.

“Okay, uhm,” you try to think of a way to do this as smoothly as possible. You quickly grab the knife from the ground and shiver at the sight of the blood on the handle. Time is ticking and it won’t be long until the man in front of you loses his consciousness and possibly… dies.

You take off your coat, making haste to do so. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is stammering. You hiss as you tear apart the material of your coat using the sharp knife. The leather should help slow down the bleeding. Even if it’s only for a little bit. That’s all you really need.

“Here,” you quickly replace the scarf with the cut piece of your coat. You wrap it around his waist and fasten it, making sure it doesn’t slip off. The man does not say a word nor does he fight you off. All the resistance is gone from his weary body. That should tell you enough; he’s barely holding on. His heavy yet faint breathing is the only sign that reassures you that he’s not fallen unconscious.

You collect your bag and all the other things scattered on the dirty ground of the alleyway. You don’t want to leave any evidence of you being here, helping an alleged killer with getting away. Your heart tells you it’s fine, but your body is telling you that you’ll regret all of it. Time will tell which is the truth.

You stand up. Barely. Your knees are nearly giving out on you because of the stress and anxiety, though the adrenaline pumping through your blood is helping you stay composed. Your eyes follow the flow of the man’s blood as it mixes with the rainwater on the concrete. You can’t clean that up. The only thing you can do about it is pray—pray that the rain will wash all of it away. Down the drains.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, checking in on the stranger. He doesn’t answer. You crouch down in front of him, a worried expression on your face as you carefully move the hair from his eyes. They’re closed. You freak out and your initial reaction is to gently tap his cheek for any sign of life, “sir? Sir? Don’t tell me he’s—"

“Shut up,” his gruff voice echoes in your ears. It seems like he still wants you gone, though is not trying to actively shoo you away anymore. Not like he can in the awful state he is in.

The stranger coughs again, his eyelids opening just halfway before closing again. You sigh in relief and move next to him. You lift his arm so that it loosely sits on your shoulders. You grunt softly—the muscles in them makes it a tough job. You try asking him for his compliance, “I’ll help you stand up, okay?”

As expected, you’re met with silence. You take it as an agreement and use all the strength left in your limbs to get up on your feet. It’s a struggle, with you nearly toppling over thrice, but you eventually get the co-operation you’re looking for. The bloodied stranger slowly but surely manages to stand up straight with your aid.

You’re shocked by his large stature. He was intimidating enough when seated, but now that he’s towering over you, his aura is reaching high levels of unsettling. You hope he’s got enough drive left to move his feet. You can’t expect your frail arms to half carry a six-foot-something man.

“Hang in there,” you mutter, trying to cover the anxiety you’re internally facing. You look ahead and move forward in small strides, the steps you’re making are wobbly, as are his. You look up and try to gauge the man’s reactions, though his eyes are once again covered by his wet bangs. All you can make out is the slight twitch of his scarred lips. He’s in pain.

You manage to escape that damned back alley. Your bag is soaked, as are your clothes. You take one quick glance back before you turn the corner and once again pray that the rain washes the blood away. You take the quietest and fastest route back to your dorm.

A couple people pass you by. They don’t look at you funny nor do they bat an eye to the man you’re helping keep balance. They have their own lives that they need to take care of first. The pouring rain makes it harder for them to concentrate on anything else as well. Besides, the material of your coat wrapped around the man’s waist covers up most of the blood. It’s not visible to others.

If someone were to describe the image of the stranger and you from an outsider’s perspective, they’d think you’re just helping your drunk partner back home. It’s not an uncommon sight in the busy streets of Tokyo, especially in the evening.

“Where...” The stranger speaks up, his deep voice hoarser than before. He unexpectedly grips your shoulder. His meaty fingers digging into your flesh makes you wince. He’s only using a small bit of his actual strength and you’re already in pain. You push through and continue helping him forward. “Fuck,” He cusses. He’s starting to become deluded due to the blood loss and pain, “where ‘re—”

The tall man coughs, interrupting himself. You cringe at the sound of that excruciating sound. You could see the lights in the distance. The ones you’re used to seeing when coming back to campus after a night out with your friend. Now, you’re coming back with an unknown man. An alleged killer that you’re bringing into the building. You don’t even want to think about all the lives you could potentially put in danger.

You try to avert your attention. Now is not the time for that. Your gut feeling says so. You need to figure out a way to sneak this man inside your room without anyone finding out. Not the security guards, hall monitors or students: No one can know. You answer his question with clear doubt in your voice, not knowing if you’ll both even make it, “safety. To safety.”

All the thoughts about your poor life decisions get pushed to the side. You grunt and try to increase your speed, having difficulty dragging the man with you. You’re sweating. The amount of strength you need to put in to take only one step is severely draining. You remember that there is one path that doesn’t have much surveillance cameras hanging around. It’s the one you and a couple others use to sneak back into your dorms very late at night.

“Almost,” you try to encourage the stranger, who’s silent is quite eerie. You hope he’s holding on. The way he’s dragging his feet over the bricks tells you that he’s trying to keep conscious. You hurry up and get to the hidden exit at the back.

It’s locked on some days, so you let out a breath of relief when you manage to push it open. That spares you the trouble of having to go through the main entrance and risk getting caught. Plus, you don’t have to use and show your student card now that you’ve infiltrated the building. You hope that there aren’t many people around this side, praying that they’re all eating dinner somewhere.

The creaking of the door is ten times louder than it is usually. Or it could be the fear in your body restructuring your thoughts. Luckily, your dorm room is only one flight of stairs up. You can’t take the elevator because of the cameras in it. You look over at the man leaning against your shoulder, his head tilting to the side in exhaustion.

“Christ,” The stranger grunts. His head sways a little closer to yours unintentionally and your breath hitches. For a split second, he rests the side of his head against yours, too tired to move away. It makes your heart stammer for a moment. To have this coldhearted man lean on you, depend on you, and lay his life in your hands.

You’re filled with another rush of adrenaline. “Are you still holding up okay?” your quiet voice snaps the man out of his disoriented state. He only then realizes that he’s leaning his heavy weight on your small stature. He grumbles and tilts his head the other way again, away from yours. He clearly hates to be vulnerable. Especially around a random girl he does not have any business with.

Without getting an answer back, you carefully make haste to your dorm room. Your room is the first one in the entire row, located the surveillance camera's dead zone, which works out in your favor again.

You hold in your breath and try to fish the keys out of your pocket. Your fingers move the old and now wet receipts and garbage to the sides, pulling the desired object out from between them. You fumble with the keys, your fingers trembling as you try to grab the right one.

The intimidating stranger looks down at your hand through a blurry vision. You’re in a hurry to open the door and avoid being caught. Someone could turn the corner right now and you’d be busted. He huffs in annoyance, though voices no audible complaints. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows you’re helping him and that you have zero ill intent.

“Sorry,” you whimper before finally unlocking your door. You hurriedly get in an shut it behind you. It feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Figuratively in this case, since you still have a whole man leaning on you. You help him over to your bed and carefully assist him down.

You’re ignoring your own boundaries for the nth time. The ones you are so adamant to follow in any other situation. You would never let someone sit on your bed with their outside clothes still on, especially not if they’re dirtied and wet. You’re tolerating it for now. All for this man that you have a sudden, unfathomable attraction to.

You don’t have time to think. You rush to your wardrobe and pull the drawer open. You search for a first aid kit. You had it laying somewhere—though never used. Your parents had given you it in case of an emergency. Which is right now.

You find a whole bunch of gauze rolls and a bottle of antiseptic liquid along with bandages, scissors, and pain killers. You have zero clue on how to treat a wound. You only saw such stuff in action movies and cartoons. You grab a needle and thread that you had laying around. A towel and a tissue box as well. Just anything that’s redeemed relevant for the situation.

You drop everything on your bed and fiddle around on what to use first. You’re tempted to grab your phone and look up some instructions on the internet, but you quickly get interrupted by a bloody hand reaching out for the disinfectant. You watch with worry as the man gets to work—not expecting any help from an oblivious girl like you. He’s gone through this before.

“Get some water.” The man huffs, undoing the coat around his waist slowly. You only have a few seconds to act. You look around frantically and find an old water bottle on your nightstand. You hand it to him, and he nearly yanks it from your hand, still showing that stubborn reluctance around you. There’s not a thank you in sight as he gets to work.

You can tell that the stranger has stitched up his own wounds many times before. It makes you think back to your initial thoughts. The thoughts about his occupation. His skills would be self-explanatory if he were to be an actual murderer. Having to deal with these types of wounds would be an everyday experience.

Yet, instead of being alarmed at the possibility, you manage to feel bad for his situation. You helplessly watch as he pours nearly the entire bottle on his wound, getting rid of any debris that’s got on it. He clearly does not care about the wet stains it’s created on your sheets. They’re messy anyway. “Give me that,” the injured man comments and nods at the needle and thread with his head.

You do as told, staying silent as you let the professional do what he knows is best. He cleans the needle with the antiseptic fluid and prepares the wound some more. You want to advise him to at least use some pain killers before he goes to work on it, however they’d take too long to take effect. There is no time to do all of that.

“Ah,” you hiss, like you’re the one experiencing the pain, as you notice how he’s starting the suture near the edge of his wound. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to the side, not wanting to witness the gruesome scene. A few occasional grunts and groans sounding from the man leave you nauseous. You can’t imagine what he’s going through at the moment, cleaning and stitching up his own injury. He seemed to know what he was doing, so you don’t comment on it any further.

After a couple seconds pass, you hear another pained hiss. You can’t stand it. You’re just sitting at the edge of your bed, hoping for the best. Hoping that he could make use of all that you provided him with. “Can I help somehow?” You breathlessly ask, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Yeah, by shutting up,” The older man answers bluntly. He’s fixated on healing his wound the best he could, and your voice is disrupting that focus. He’s made some progress with the suture. It isn’t done under perfect circumstances, but he’s used to it. His body has been through enough since childhood to have built up a resilience to most things. The pain and discomfort are nothing he isn’t familiar with.

You bite your lip and apologize for asking him something, “sorry.” His deep voice makes you shiver. It only reminds you of the fact that you have a grown man in your room. A possible killer on the loose. You don’t push your luck and just remain silent. You don’t want to end up as another victim.

Though you have a feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. Where that feeling came from, you have no idea. It could be your delusions, however you’re sure he wouldn’t harm a hair on your head. Maybe it’s due to that little moment of vulnerability he showed in the halls moments ago. Your body warms up at the memory of how his head laid against yours for a split second.

The man finishes off the suture with a firm surgeon knot. He cleans the remaining blood with the tissues he’s drowned in disinfectant. You look his way again when you hear him shifting in his place. Your baffled as you notice how he’s trying to stand up. You don’t know much about wounds, but you know for certain that someone cannot stand up after getting an injury stitched. It could reopen the wound.

Your hand moves on its own. You firmly grab the man’s wrist and tug him back down on your bed. The stranger lets out a surprised grunt and instinctively slaps your hand away. He wants to leave.

To him, it’s nothing serious. This is just another day in his life. He’s used to ignoring his body’s pleas for rest. Vulnerability does not look good on him. He hates it.

The older man parts his lips to defend himself, yet quickly decides on the opposite. He shuts his mouth once his eyes met your pretty ones. They’re glimmering with tears. He does not realize why you’re suddenly so upset. Nor does he actually care... He thinks.

He just wants to leave before you ask too many questions. It’s best to act like you two have never met. For his sake and yours.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. The silence creates an undeniable tension between you both. You don’t exchange words, though you think he knows what you mean with that look you’re giving him. You’re indirectly begging him to stay still and rest. You know he needs it. He secretly knows he needs it as well, though does not want to acknowledge that weakness.

The stranger sighs in frustration. He looks down at the wound he’s worked hard to patch up. His head hurts. His eyelids are heavy. His limbs are unresponsive. He has no other choice but to lay back. He promises himself that he’d leave after an hour or two. He wants to have nothing to do with you.

A college girl helping him. Who would’ve thought that day would come. Did he become that weak? He has always refused the help of others, so what would make this any different? He can leave and deal with the consequences of that poor decision on his own. However, his body doesn’t move an inch.

The man frowns as he realizes that his cold and distant attitude would get him nowhere this time. His body is actively resisting the urges to leave.

You cautiously ascertain his reactions. You notice the way he slumps back against your pillows with a curse word leaving his lips. You can’t help but feel relieved. You don’t know why, but you’re happy that he’s staying with you. Even if it’s just for a little longer. You want to make sure he’s going to be fine.

You nod silently and don’t say a word for a good while. You don’t want to annoy the man more than you already have. You get up, knees buckling as the adrenaline wears you down. You’re glad you haven’t been caught and that the man you saved didn’t die. You’re tired from everything that went down in the last hour or so.

Though, you cannot rest.

You clean up the mess around your bed. The used, bloody tissues. The rain that’s dripped down your clothes and onto the floor, making small puddles on the surface. The piece of leather you had used as a temporary solution for the stranger’s bleeding. After you’ve gotten rid of all that, you finally take off your coat and shoes. You want to take a bath as soon as possible. And dry your hair.

You don’t take your eyes off the man on your bed. He’s starting to stir again, which could mean one of two things. He’s either trying to escape or trying to change his position. To your surprise, you catch him pull his shirt over his head. The older man’s ripped physique comes into view. Faint veins run down his beefy arms, his abs are perfectly defined, and his waist compliments his bulky stature.

You’re staring. You only realize it when your eyes catch the way he’s attempting to wrap some gauze around his lower abdomen. You can tell that he’s struggling, but he does not ask for help. Nor does he even look your way—acting like it’s just him in the room. It’s easy to conclude that he’s never depended on anyone in his life. It saddens you.

You walk over to your bed and sit down at the edge. You wordlessly reach out to grab the roll of gauze from his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm while you do so, and you can feel the rough calluses on his skin. You don’t comment on it but make a mental note of your discovery.

You carefully wrap the gauze around his waist once. You’re as cautious as you could be, not wanting to inflict any more discomfort on the stranger. He doesn’t resist. He’s too tired to do so. Alhough, that doesn’t stop him from showing his complaints about the situation through his distant body language. His eyes are staring at the nearby wall, his expression as stoic as ever.

You go around with the roll of gauze once more. You lean a bit closer to his torso to properly do your job. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit embarrassed by your proximity. Neither of you says anything about it. He doesn’t move away, and you take that as a sign to continue tending to him.

The older man can’t help but feel that urging desire to push you away and leave. He doesn’t want to be involved in any of this. You weren’t supposed to find him. You weren’t supposed to help him. You weren’t supposed to bring him back here. He hates the idea of letting someone – you - get close to him. He hates letting others in his personal space.

“What’s your name, sir?” Your soothing voice breaks the silence. You’re still visibly nervous, but also a lot less panicky. He finally looks down at you, seeing you put the gauze in place before grabbing a roll of bandages. He hates your touch.

The stranger clenches his jaw. He had to have scared you away in that back alley. He couldn’t and that’s what got him in such a predicament. One that triggers his many internal issues and struggles. He hates having to talk about himself to others. That’s how most bonds form.

“None of your damn business, girl,” The older man growls. His tone is harsh and cold, but you don’t back away nor even flinch. That only serves to irk him more. You’re meant to cower in fear, leave him alone and never turn back, but you do the complete opposite. You don’t know him and yet still choose to take care of him.

You nod, not pushing the matter any further. The injured stranger narrows his eyes for a second. Nothing seems to work on you. His intention is to scare you off, though the more he tries, the more you seem to get closer. It’s got the total opposite effect and he despises it.

He hates it all. Your closeness, your need to help him, your eyes that stare up at him with such worry, your hands bandaging him up. He promised himself, the day his wife died a couple years ago, that he’ll never involve himself with people if it isn’t for business related matters.

He’s managed to live all by himself for all those years and reached a level of independence that others could only dream of. Now it’s shattered. It feels like he’s back to square one because of your choice today. The choice to help a total random stranger.

The older man closes his eyes for a second and sighs deeply. It’s foolish of him to think of such unimportant matters. He’ll just use this to his advantage. He’ll use you, your kindness and everything you have to offer for his own sake. He’ll exploit you like he’s done to many other women before. That’s the way he’s used to treating others.

He’ll indulge your need to help him and try to act nice to satisfy those innocent wishes of yours. Just for his sake and his sake only, he promises himself.

The older man eventually speaks up again after you managed to bandage him up properly, “…Toji.”

You raise your eyebrows. You guess that that’s his name. Your lips curl up into a faint smile, feeling thankful that Toji decided to reveal that little detail about him. You grab his bloodied shirt and put it with the rest of your clothes that you need to wash. Your eyes wander over his exposed upper body for a split second, looking for any other possible injuries, only to find none. You nod in satisfaction as you grab a washcloth and wet it with some water, “that’s a nice name.”

That’s a first. Toji didn’t see the significance of complimenting someone’s name. Everyone has one, it’s not special, so why would you tell him it’s nice? Maybe he just doesn’t understand sentimental stuff like that. He’s not made out for such things. “Hm,” he lets out a small hum in acknowledgement and that’s all you get.

You walk towards him again and brush his bangs to the side. Toji holds himself back from moving away from your touch, but then remembers the decision he made mentally just moments ago. He’ll use that kindness of yours to his advantage until he’s all healed up. Then he’ll leave for good.

You place the cold cloth on his forehead. You know he’ll have a fever throughout the night because of the wound he’s suffered. You’re simply preparing him for that. You grab the painkillers that are scattered around the bed and place them on your nightstand, along with the water bottle. If he needs it, he’ll grab it, you think.

“Ah, sorry,” You snap out of it and realise that you haven’t introduced yourself properly. You might as well, considering you’ll be having Toji as your roommate for a couple days. Or at least you hope he stays that long until he’s all healed up. You continue, “my name is..”

“I already know.” Toji cuts you off before you’re able to reveal your name. You’re dumbfounded for a second. What does he mean by ‘he knows’? You tilt your head in confusion. You try to figure out how he could’ve possibly learnt your name but are unable to make any assumptions.

Toji easily notices your bewilderment. He admits that that could’ve come over as extremely creepy. He looks at the nearby wall and points at the decorations with his chin. You follow his gaze and instantly recognize what he’s staring at. It’s a picture with your friends that you have framed. They gifted it to you some time back and had engraved your name in the frame.

Toji must have cautiously examined his new surroundings whilst you were busy finalizing the treatment for his injury. You understand the need for that. Anyone would be wary in a new environment. “Hehe. Right,” he’s quite observant, you think to yourself.

You look outside of your window and close the tiny gap between your curtains. Even if you’re on the second floor, you don’t want to risk anyone finding out about what you did tonight. It still hasn’t properly processed in your brain; the fact that you have smuggled an alleged killer into your dorm. Maybe it will hit once you sleep and wake up tomorrow.

You look down at Toji with great concern. Even if the wound has been taken care of, you’re unsure if it’s even enough. A doctor would’ve been the safest option. But seeing how great Toji is handling the pain, you guess that it’ll be just fine. You glance at your hands. They have some dried blood on them. You also reek of the rain since you’re still uncomfortably soaked from before.

You decide to go take a shower. Before that, you make sure Toji has everything he needs. You give him a towel to dry himself off and make sure he can reach the first aid kit if needed. You stare at the pile of bloodied and wet clothes in the corner of your room. Both his and yours. You’ll take them to the laundry mat tomorrow.

You avert your attention back to Toji. He’s lying on his back, head turned away to the wall so he wouldn’t have to see you or look you in the eyes. It’s like he’s in his own world. You speak up again, this time a little louder, “are you gonna be alright now?”

Silence again. Toji doesn’t face you and keeps his eyes closed for some peace of mind. He sounds indifferent and distant as he answers you, “who knows.”

The ambiguous answer certainly doesn’t help ease your anxiety. You don’t want the older man to regress back to a state of near unconsciousness again. Despite your wishes, you can’t do much about it. Calling an ambulance or asking for help from others is a big no-no. For you as well, since you’ll be dragged into a big mess if anyone were to find out you gave shelter to a murderer.

“Uhm, all right. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” You announce quietly, not expecting a response. You would’ve preferred it if Toji did respond so you could leave your room for a couple minutes in peace. Without worrying about his condition. You know that you’re annoying him with the constant questions and comments, but you can’t help it. You’re worried. Even if he hates the attention and would love to have as less interaction with you as possible.

“D-Don’t move, ‘kay? I’ll be back.” You add quickly. You take a few steps towards the exit and place your hand on the door handle. Your limbs won’t take another step forward. You’re worried sick that Toji’s going to grab his chance and leave the moment you’re gone. You don’t want him to go. On one hand, it’s selfish of you, but on the other hand, it’s out of consideration for his situation.

You turn your head and glance at his still figure on your bed. His bulky stature nearly took up the entirety of it. You can’t help but ramble about your worries to him, hoping it’d convince him to stay, “If they find you, I’ll get in trouble and god knows what will happen to yo—”

“Just go, woman.” Toji’s deep voice rings through your ears. It’s the second time he’s cut you off. You’re pissing him off, clearly. You immediately zip it and do as told. You decide to put your trust in him and believe that he won’t take the opportunity to leave behind your back.

Without another word, you sneak out of your dorm room, making sure to close your door behind you. You act normal in case anyone walks by and finds your behaviour suspicious. You make a beeline towards the communal showers with your toiletry bag and pyjamas in hand.

Meanwhile, Toji is finally experiencing some real peace. He empties his mind, though cannot seem to get rid of your voice. He still can’t comprehend why somebody would be this worried for him. A college student who’d be at risk of being expelled if found out. You’re taking such great risks for a man like him? He doesn’t understand.

Toji rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and groans in aggravation, “unbelievable.” Why he’s thinking it through is also something he cannot grasp. The man decides to enjoy the quiet atmosphere for now. He’s still somewhat disheveled from the entire ordeal and if he were to keep his brain running, he’d lose his mind completely. He drapes an arm over his eyes and lies there silently on the soft mattress.

A couple minutes pass. You feel like you’ve taken the quickest shower ever. You avoid as many students as possible while you make your way back to your dorm. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. You open the door and peek through the crack. It’s pitch dark in the room. The sun had fully set a while back and your curtains cover any light from outside.

You lock your door and step forward carefully. You squint and wait for your vision to accommodate to the darkness. You approach your bed and finally let out that breath you’ve been holding in. He’s still there. Toji’s still where you left him. His chest is slowly moving up and down, his breathing steady as he rests.

You quietly turn on the nightlamp in your room. It casts a faint shadow over Toji’s face. He seems to be asleep. You can’t quite tell for sure since his bicep is nearly covering the entirety of his face, but you judge based on his breathing patterns. You sit on the edge of your bed and feel tired yourself after that eventful evening. You’re sleepy. The adrenaline has worn off and exhausted you to no end.

You glance down at the bandage around his torso. You’d have to change that for him tomorrow. For now, you’re content with the outcome of it all. You shift in your seat, which causes your hand to brush against Toji’s on the bed. You feel the warmth creep up to your head. His veiny hands still had stains of blood on the skin.

Now that Toji’s asleep, he won’t refuse your help. You grab a spare washcloth from your wardrobe and wet it with some water. You carefully lift Toji’s left hand. His palm touches yours and you find yourself enjoying the physical contact. His hand is heavy—bigger and rougher than yours. There are faint scars on his fingers which reminds you of his unknown identity.

All you’ve discovered until now is his name. His background is a mystery, and you have the feeling that it’s going to stay a mystery. You’ve realized by now that Toji does not open up to just anyone. You diligently clean the crimson stains from his left hand and move to do the same for the right one. You’re as careful as you can be, not wanting to wake the injured man from his well-deserved rest.

Once done, you put the washcloth away. You yawn and look at the clock. It’s nearly midnight already. You can’t sleep on your bed since it’s occupied, and it doesn’t fit two people. You look down at the soft carpet below your feet. That’ll have to do.

You grab an available pillow and a spare blanket, setting up your own little sleeping bag on the carpet right next to the bed. You lay down and stare at the ceiling. The ticking of your clock and the occasional sound of traffic outside of the building are the only loud sounds that distract your mind from any turbulent thoughts.

All you want is to sleep. What’ll happen tomorrow or the day after that is a problem for later. You’re safe for now. For today, you can relax. Your door is locked and the man you saved hadn’t left just yet. You feel a strange form of comfort having him with you. Even if he may be a bad person, his presence somehow soothes your tired body and mind. You feel like you’re safe with him. No harm shall come your way tonight.

And with that decisive thought, you close your eyes and give in to the slumber. You turn to lay on your side, facing the frame of your bed. Facing Toji.

You smile and utter your final words for the day, “good night, Toji. Sleep well.”

You drift into the land of dreams and discard your eventful reality. Little did you know that the man on your bed had been wide awake the entire time and is now left unable to sleep. . .

to be continued !

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk angst #toji angst #please give it lots of love :)

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sprite-writes-fanfic · 4 months

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Hi, I'm appearing again, if it doesn't bother you I would like to make a request to Leona (you can already see the favoritism) And Jamil, in which the reader, despite having several suitors and admirers, chose them as her boyfriend, please (my boys need to receive love)

Hello, welcome back :} I can do that!

Word Count: 1301

CW: Reader is AFAB but pronouns aren’t really used, as always you are referred to as ‘you’. No warnings, just fluff! :)

Being the only female in an-all boys school, you could say it was rough. Not only did boys pick on you to make you out as ‘weak’, but there were some with a weird hero complex, and some who just wanted you for romantic reasons or worse… You didn’t wanna think about it, but Grim?

Grim could make a profit off of this.

Oh the smart and powerful Grim… He was selling your stuff behind your back such as; old pencils you couldn’t use anymore, old clothes you had thrown out, even your tissues! Who was that obsessed with you to buy it?! You’d be a little surprised. While he was at it, he was also trying to find you a rich boyfriend! When you found out, he’d make up excuses of, “Well we have money now for clothes and food! Aren’t I smart?!” He slept on the couch that night.

Well, remember how I mentioned he was trying to find you a rich boyfriend? Well… The next morning there was a bunch of suitors in front of the Ramshackle, and you nearly wanted to strangle Grim when you realized he was trying to put you through some damn speed-dates!

While Grim was yapping on and on to the ‘contestants’, you managed to slip away out the back window, hurrying off to escape the madness.

So much for a relaxing weekend.

Now you found yourself sitting in the school library, at least you’d find some peace there. As you sat there, a familiar voice would come from behind you…

[Leona Kingscholar]

“Oi, Herbivore.” The familiar gruff voice from Leona came up from behind you, the lazy lion leaning against you a moment, making you look back at him, “Hey Leona, I thought you’d be in your dorm.” You greet with a small smile, making him sigh.

“Ruggie basically chased me out. He wanted me to attend that damned dorm-leader meeting… Such a pain in the ass.” He’d growl, before peering at you, once resting his head on your shoulder, “What about you? You obviously seem to be here for a reason.”

“Grim.” You sigh, “That damned cat, I love him but sometimes he drives me up the damn wall! He’s been selling old stuff of mine to some secret admirers and then he was gonna put me up to speed-dating and bring ‘contestants’ to our dorm.” You rub your temples, “The moment I saw one on our front porch I nearly had a heart-attack. But… Well I’ll leave Grim to deal with them.”

You look over to see Leona’s gaze boring into your’s catching you off guard, he was really listening? You’d think he’d doze off by now… But I guess not. And the way he attentively stared at you, you could help but blush. “Hm…” he hums, thinking, “I have a solution.”

You gave him a look, wanting him to elaborate further, to which he only really leaned closer and nuzzled into you, rubbing his scent onto you. “Leona— What’re you doing?” You ask, face growing red, “Claiming you, no one will come near you if you're already claimed, right?” He asks, glancing up at you. “Leona…?” You furrowed your eyebrows, making him groan in a bit of frustration, “All I’m saying is if you were my mate, then nobody else would try to claim you.” He averted his gaze quickly, his own face slowly growing a bit red.

“Is this your way of asking me out?” You ask, now slightly teasing him. He gave a short glare, “So what if I am?” He grumbled, making you let out a soft chuckle, “Just ask normally.” You reach up and scratch behind his ear, making him melt against you. “But… It’s a yes from me.” You lean up and press your lips against his warm cheek, making a small purr noise come out of him. You giggled softly and couldn’t help but feel all warm inside.

Guess there was something to come out of this weekend, and you didn’t expect it to be a boyfriend.

[Jamil Viper]

“Prefect?” Jamil seemed slightly surprised to see you, “Jamil?” You returned the same confusion and sat up. “What’re you doing here?” He asked now, making you shoot back, “Could ask you the same thing.” You gave him a playful smile, making him roll his eyes at you.

“Well it’s rather simple, to help Kalim pass his next test, I’ve taken the liberty, as always, to help him pass.” He explained, and to be honest, you weren’t surprised, Jamil’s life really does revolve around Kalim after all. “I see.” You say, “I’m just here to escape my damn cat and his stupid plans.” You sigh.

Jamil’s curiosity was spiked and he couldn’t help but ask, “And what was his plan?” You let out a groan and rubbed your temples, “To get me a rich boyfriend so living would be easier, but I have to focus on studying, and plus, I don’t want my love life to be picked out for me.” You vented out your frustrations and sighed. Jamil was silent for a moment, this was his chance to spend more time with you of course…

“You and Kalim have the same class right? History class? You have an upcoming test… Why don’t you come with me and I can help you both study for it?” He offers, and honestly, you were a little surprised he’d offer. Oh well, you did need to study, a little studying never hurt anybody, “Sure.” You stand, “Let’s go study.”

…

A long study session that almost felt torturous, Jamil was a harsh teacher, and he wouldn’t give up on you until you knew the answer. Man, you didn’t expect it at all, but hey, at least you and Kalim felt a little smarter. During a small break in studying, you and Kalim got into talking while Jamil went to grab you guys some snacks.

You were talking to Kalim about the whole Grim finding you a ‘suitor’ situation and Kalim seemed to light up, “Oh! Well you and Jamil like each other, why not date him and tell Grim you already found someone!” You paused, and so did Jamil who was just walking in, both of your faces growing red. “Kalim.” Jamil said sternly, the grip on the tray of snacks and tea growing tighter.

Watching his reaction and quick to not really think about it, as you didn’t want to see Kalim get yelled at, you were quick to say, “Yeah— Maybe we should.”

Silence. Pure silence.

Jamil’s flustered face stared at you for a moment, before Kalim was quick to laugh and stand up, “I’ll leave you two to it!” He says all giddy, dancing his way out of the room, leaving you and Jamil alone.

It took a moment, but finally one of you said something, “So… Is it true?” You ask, “Do you like me too?” Jamil sighs, “Yes, I do.” He says finally, setting down the tray and sitting beside you, “I just… Couldn’t find it in myself to tell you because I am aware that my job with Kalim doesn’t leave me a lot of time to myself.” He says softly, “And I feel like you deserve someone who can give you that time…”

You smile and shake your head, placing your hand on his, “Jamil, you’d know we could always make time for each other, right?” He looked a little unsure and so you’d reassure him, “I know Kalim wouldn’t mind if you took some time off from time to time so we can spend some time together.” You smiled, leaning in, “So how about it? Can we give it a try?”

Jamil was silent for a moment before he leaned his forehead against yours, smiling fondly, “Yeah… I’d like that.”

…

Waaah, sorry guys, Leona’s was a bit shorter, I couldn’t find a whole lot of inspiration with his, but I still feel like becoming a couple would be pretty laidback with him anyways. Also the cute idea of Kalim blurting everything out was too silly to pass up. Hope you enjoyed! Cya next time!

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4ngel-inc · 5 months

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here's the thing about osamu dazai . . . ੭ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

osamu has a lot of love in his heart, and one of his greatest desires is to just feel wanted—it's something he didn't even realize he needed until he met you. it's like there was a gaping hole in his heart before you came into his life, and he was sure there was nothing that could fill the void—oda had told him long ago, you won't find what you're looking for. . . and he'd accepted that. but the least he could do was help people—he felt he was accomplishing that much, or at least working, little by little, toward what his friend's dying wishes were.

but he was still just floating, never quite sure where to turn when his emotions crept up on him, though he tried to press them down for as long as possible—tried to lock them away in a dusty room or at the bottom of a lake, his only friend his approaching shadow as he sank to the bottom, hoping to find peace at last.

if he could't fill the void, he'd escape it entirely.

losing things he loved—people he loved—was always hard for him. he was almost afraid to care for anything, like it was an omen of death placed unfairly upon others.

and when he found you, it was like a weight lifting slowly—his trust first seeping from his soul, before pouring out of his veins like the blood he'd wished he could drain from his body entirely, if only to spare him the pain of another loss—another disappointment in a search that always revealed itself to be fruitless, returning with a hollow soul once again—the same one that make him sick with shame.

the first time you had sex, osamu felt like he was more than his body—this was more than love. you never judged him for wanting to die, never questioned his motives past a surface-level conversation, only reassuring him there were beautiful things to live for all around him, just waiting to be discovered—if only he could see past his misery for a singular moment. if he could stop and breathe, and take it all in.

but if he never did, if he chose to continue living exactly the way he was when you met him—you'd never leave. you promised him that much.

say you'll never leave.

the words were whispered in your ear each time he reached his climax. you wondered if he even realized he was saying them anymore, it was such an everyday occurrence—he was so caught up in the feeling of being close to you—he loved your skin, your hair, your eyes, your perfume. your mind intrigued him, he would never tire of listening to the thoughts and ideas you created in your consciousness, letting them drift and fill the space between you.

your words were a gift. your touch was a treasure to him.

"promise me you'll never leave," the words often tickled your neck as his breathing grew faster and more desperate for release—sparking goosebumps across your skin as he moaned your name.

"don't leave- don't leave- never leave me." tears often threatened to spill from his eyes as he neared his climax—and sometimes they did—the little droplets on your neck only reminding you how real life was, how painful it could be, and only bringing you closer to your release.

the same way he valued you, his heart was your greatest treasure.

"i won't. i'm yours. i'm here."

"fuck-i'm coming." sometimes it sounded like pain, rather than pleasure—a suspended solution of pure bliss at your existence and the dread of how open he was with you, how dangerous it was to have his entire heart in your hands.

his love for you just overflowed each time you held him, every way that you touched him—the way you simply wanted him had his toes curling as he filled you each time, reaching as deep as possible, desperate to keep you close.

he only hoped putting everything on the line for you would be enough to make you stay. he could hide in those moments of closeness with you forever, abandoning anything and everything else for a taste of the happiness he felt with you—whatever it took to make you as happy as you made him, he'd do anything.

he'd cross any line. he'd leave his heart open, bruised, and bleeding for you. anything for you.

⊹ ֗ ꫂ

#— love notes: [dazai] ୧ ‧₊#dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bsd fluff

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mouschiwrites · 8 months

Text

South Park - Main 4 When You Fall Asleep Around Them

First post!! aa I'm nervous >-<

Kyle

You were studying together

Well, you were supposed to be studying together

Kyle was engrossed in a math problem. His eyes darted back and forth from the calculator to the paper; to him, nothing else existed in that moment

"Okay, what did you get for number..."

The words died in his throat when he noticed that you were asleep

He just kinda stared for a minute, blinking

You were hunched over, head resting atop your hands on the table

For a second he considered waking you up, but you looked too peaceful

He watched as your back slowly rose and fell with each breath, and found that it brought him peace too

A small smile graced his lips as he chose to get back to work

He tried to be as quiet as possible while he worked, cursing the clicky buttons on his calculator

He frequently stole glances at you as he went

He was finally compelled to wake you up when a drop of drool threatened to fall onto your homework under you

He had a good laugh at your startled reaction

dw, he made up for it by helping you finish your homework :)

Kenny

You were both laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling and taking turns ranting about whatever came to mind

Kenny had finished just finished his turn ranting

The longer the silence continued, the more concerned he got

He glanced over at you, surprised to find you asleep

“Geez, was I really that boring?”

He had said it loud enough that he hoped you would wake up, but you continued to snooze

He watched you for a minute, hoping for any sign that you were going to wake up

He wanted to keep talking with you!!

But he also didn’t want to disturb your sleep

So he went back to staring at the ceiling, lamenting the loss of company (conscious company, that is)

Eventually he started ranting again, but quietly

Just to fill the silence

When you woke up, you assumed you had only been out for a few minutes, since Kenny was still talking

You sputtered when you noticed it had been over an hour

The noise caught Kenny’s attention

“You’re awake! :D Sleep well?”

Stan

You were on the bus, sitting in the window seat with Stan next to you

You hadn’t said anything since getting on, so Stan tried to strike up some conversation

“Did you see that bug Cartman found in the cafeteria today? It was huge!”

He grinned at you as he said it, but his smile faltered as you remained turned away

He leaned forward a little, trying to see your face

He froze when he saw that you were asleep

Bro lowkey panicked: weren’t you uncomfortable with your head against the window? What if he accidentally woke you up?

Well, he had a solution to one of those concerns

He pulled out a spare beanie from his backpack and carefully placed it between your head and the window

He was still super nervous though

He kept his eyes locked on you, waiting for the slightest sign that you were about to wake up and praying that you’d just stay asleep

Cartman and Kyle tried to tease him, but he shushed them aggressively

When your stop finally came, he just about threw up as he gently shook your arm

He really wanted to let you sleep, but also knew that you wouldn’t want to miss your stop

He could hardly speak from being so nauseous, so when you finally roused he just pointed to the front of the bus

Thankfully he did not end up throwing up

Cartman

You were over at Cartman’s, watching a movie

“This movie sucks.”

He awaited your response: he was used to you either agreeing with his commentary or starting an argument over it

But when nothing came, he elbowed you

Well, he tried, but you had slumped over against the arm of the couch, so you were out of reach

He saw an opportunity and took it

Took a kajillion pictures and videos, most of him poking you or making you do stupid poses/faces, but some just of you being peaceful

All for “blackmail material,” of course

Totally not because you looked sweet when you slept

Eventually he got bored of messing with you

He could have gone back to watching the movie, but he needed someone to make fun of it with him

So he kicked you 💀

You woke up with a start, shooting a glare at a cackling Cartman as you rubbed your shin where he kicked you

Your glare then shifted to the TV

“This movie sucks.”

“That’s what I said!”

Thank you for reading!!

(divider by saradika)

#south park #south park headcanons #south park x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mcormick headcanons #kenny mcormick x reader #stan marsh #stan marsh headcanons #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski headcanons #kyle broflovski x reader #eric cartman #eric cartman headcanons #eric cartman x reader

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pastel-peach-writes · 8 months

Note

Caitvi x reader who just goes along with things and doesn't state their opinion or how they feel,but they do get quiet or tense when they're uncomfortable or pick their nails. But if your alright with angst maybe they get overwhelmed or hurt or both,but still refuse,so they force it out of them,and they're hurt like "why didn't you tell us?.." or something,it's comfort.if it's a little to dark I'll ask something else😭 sorry if it is

Hi! It's not too dark at all. To let it be known, I'm fine with writing angst! If you're curious about how much is too much, you can simply message me! I hope y'all enjoy the fic.

"You Can Tell Us." | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: In the household where you grew up, expressing your opinion wasn't tolerated. Hell, expressing your emotions wasn't tolerated either. To keep the peace, you learned to not say anything in stressful situations, even if that means sacrificing your well-being.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Yelling, Co-Workers Being Assholes, Name Calling, Hurt/Comfort(?), Pet Names, Cursing, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

A/N: I HOPE THIS IS WHAT YOU ASKED FOR. THIS KINDA GOT AWAY FROM ME LMAO

Your whole life you were the person who kept the peace. You were someone who bit their tongue to avoid getting yelled at or offered solutions to problems that had nothing to do with you. If there was a solution to a problem or a way to avoid conflict, you were the person who chose those options.

So, why did this have to happen to you?

At your place of work, you were minding your business. You finished some paperwork earlier than planned and decided to take an early break. Then, four of your team members rushed into the break room.

"Do you think you can sit here and have us do all the work?" "You have some nerve making us look like the bad guys." "You're a lazy piece of shit. I don't know how you even made it this far."

The words pierced your skin and heart like darts to a board. You didn't dare to say anything back. Stunned in the moment, you took a sip of your water. Your eyes focused on the plain wall behind your teammates.

"And look, now they're spacing out like we're not even here," a co-worker buzzed. He scoffed. He leaned down in front of you and waved his hand in your face. "Hello? Anyone home?"

When he didn't get a response, he knocked on your skull.

You gave them nothing. Tears stung in your eyes.

"Wow, shocker! No one's home," he laughed. The rest of the team followed. Fulfilled, the man hummed. "Guess that's what happens when you hire an airhead who's probably having relations with the boss." the man put his hand on the table, cornering you in.

Your eyes remained on the wall. You weren't having an affair with the boss, but you didn't feel the need to say anything.

He shifted himself into your eyesight. A sinister smirk tugged on the corner of his lips. He took the tip of his finger and tipped the bottom of your cup. The cup fell over, the clear liquid soaking through your shirt and lap.

The laughter roared.

"Oops!" he feigned a gasp. He pulled away from you, his hand on his chest. "Guess you should've been more careful. It's okay," the man gave a fake smile, "holding cups is hard."

A cackle ripped through him as he leaned his head back. He shoved his hands in his pockets then turned around and left. The others flocked after him like ducklings to a parent.

Hot tears ran down your cheeks when they were out of sight. You forced yourself out of your chair and dragged your feet towards the paper towels.

Sobs scratched your throat at your pathetic attempt to dry your shirt. You were drenched through and it was cold out. Only six more hours left.

Home and on the couch, you stared at the wall to calm yourself down. With your nervous system still on the rocks, chews on your lips and nails, and an unfocused gaze, the attempt was a failure.

"Vi, that was completely inappropriate and not needed!" Caitlyn scolded as the two of them walked into the house. In the right mindset, you would greet them and ask how their day was, but because of today's earlier events, you didn't hear them come in.

"Oh, come on, Cupcake," Vi spoke. A chuckle followed her sentence. "All I did was curse him out a little and threaten him." the pinkette threw off her boots. Caitlyn carefully slipped her feet out of her own. "Don't act like you didn't like it," her tone was sing-songy.

The bluenette's cheeks were dusted pink. She put her hands on her hips, watching Vi's smirk grow as they kept eye contact. "I-It... It was fine, but it wasn't needed."

"Come on!" Vi threw her hands up. She hopped and spun on the balls of her feet as she entered the living room. "Muffin," Vi gave you a playful pout. She sat beside you on the couch, her arm resting on your shoulder. She gave you her signature puppy eyes. "Am I the bad guy for telling one of Caitlyn's employees to get their shit together or else their job is on the line?"

"That is not what you said," Caitlyn rebutted. She found her place on your other side.

Vi hummed, shrugging. "So, maybe I paraphrased a lil'. What's the harm?"

"The harm is you're trying to sweeten up your side of the story to be more appealing," Caitlyn narrowed her eyes toward Vi. Vi only grinned in response.

Vi put her gaze back on you. "Is it workin', Muffin?"

You're far gone. You haven't moved and the chewing on your nails got worse. You haven't blinked in so long, your eyes were producing tears to regain moisture.

"Muffin?" Vi leaned closer to your face. The tears now slid down your cheeks and your chest heaved up and down. Vi glanced to Caitlyn who was already scanning you to see if there was something physically wrong.

When she couldn't find anything, Caitlyn shook her head to reassure Vi of your physical safety.

Nothing was wrong physically which meant something emotionally or mentally was bothering you. Vi frowned. She placed a hand on your shoulder. "Muffin. Hey." Her voice was clear and firm. She was sure her voice had no hint of sadness to not push you over the edge. However, if you looked into her eyes, you would find them glassy with dilated pupils.

Caitlyn's eyes were similar. Her blue irises darkened in concern, fear, and anxiety; all the words she could use to describe how disheveled she was feeling.

Not seeing you move, Vi shook your shoulder. "Muffin. Snap out of it. What's going on?"

Caitlyn brought a hand to your thigh. She gave your thigh a gentle squeeze.

With another squeeze to your thigh from Caitlyn and a squeeze on your shoulder from Vi, you finally blinked. The moisture in your eyes made a reappearance. You looked between the two of them, pulling your nail out of your mouth. "Huh?"

"You've been staring at the wall. Cait and I came home a while ago and you haven't said a word," Vi whispered. Her grip on your shoulder turned into comforting rubs.

"Oh, I'm fine," you force a smile. Caitlyn deadpanned. She pulled her gaze to Vi who wore the same unphased face.

"You're not fine. It's okay to not be fine, dear," Caitlyn stroked your thigh. Her eyes were filled with sadness, the same with Vi's grey eyes.

"I promise, I'm fine."

"Bullshit!" scoffed Vi.

"Violet."

"No, they're not fine. That's obvious!" Vi removed her hand from your shoulder. Instead, she got up from the couch to resume her sentence. "I should've known you weren't okay. You didn't do that cute greeting of yours when your face lights up and you squeeze us like you haven't seen us in years."

You shifted in your seat, a frog in your throat. Tears well up in your eyes again, but this time, these tears are from sadness. You scratched your palm with your nails.

Caitlyn sighed. "I, too, should've noticed the change in your behavior. I guess we were too wrapped up in our own drama to notice," Caitlyn took a glimpse of Vi's expression.

Her eyebrows were furrowed, the skin between them creased. She'd squeeze her hands into fists and then let go repeatedly as a fidget.

Caitlyn took Vi's anger as a sign she should resume speaking. "We're not trying to force you into telling us, but if you're not okay, you can. We're here to comfort you, be your rock when you can't be your own." Caitlyn shuffled to squat in front of you. She doesn't force you to look at her, but you can see her worried eyes in your peripheral vision.

"Being with the two of you taught me it's okay to depend on others," Caitlyn admitted. "I want to be the person who can have anything under control and can come off as collected, but keeping all my frustrations inside or innermost thoughts can be challenging."

Vi calmed herself down enough to sit on the floor. She rested her head on your knee and put a hand on Caitlyn's leg.

Gaining comfortability, you slid down the couch. You sat between them with your back resting on the couch's edge. Vi's head repositioned itself to your shoulder and Caitlyn's moved to your other knee.

With her sitting adjustment, Caitlyn continued. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be the strong one. I don't want you to feel like you can't be vulnerable with us or even disagree with us."

"Yeah, Muffin," Vi's voice broke as she spoke. "Disagree or angry, we're going to love you the same. Confrontation comes with life." Vi dragged her hand down her face. "It's shit sometimes, but you gotta work your way through it, yanno?"

A heavy sigh escaped your body. You threw your head back onto the cushions and covered your face. You sobbed behind your hands. Your heart sank; your chest tightened. That frog in your throat grew into a toad. You babbled about this morning's events and how helpless you felt.

Anyone who wasn't familiar with you wouldn't be able to decipher what you muttered behind your hands. Luckily for you, your girlfriends know you inside and out. Even if it takes them a bit to notice when something's off.

The two of them pulled you in a tight embrace. They didn't speak or make efforts to shush you as you spilled your guts to them. Vi made a conscious decision not to let her anger get the best of her.

Although, those guys had no clue what was in store for them tomorrow morning.

Caitlyn also thought about making a visit to the office, but to complain to HR about the events. Not to find the culprits and make them pay. She was sure Vi had that handled. (Caitlyn would also have to handle her later.)

When your sobs calmed and your breathing evened, Vi spoke first. "They're a couple of dicks."

Caitlyn didn't feel the need to scold her.

"They should know how to treat a human being. Guess you can't do that when you're a shitty human, huh?" Vi chuckled to lighten the mood, but there was no joy behind her laugh. Only pure rage. "I'll fuck them up for you, don't worry." Vi placed a tender kiss on the side of your head. "I'll run you a bath, mkay? You should wash the day off of you."

"What about you and Cait's argument or whatever?" You peeled your head off the cushion to look at them. Everything was blurry behind your tears, but you could make out their frames and silhouettes. "Don't you need help?"

"Taking care of you is much more important than some silly fight," Caitlyn whispered. She smoothed the area on top of your head. Her delicate fingers brushed against your ear lobe as she brought them down. Her polished fingernails carefully traced the outside of your lobe. "Vi and I are big girls. I'm sure we can figure it out."

Vi grinned. "Hey, what fight?" she winked at the both of you.

A sad chuckle left your body. For a moment, relief washed over you. Once your chuckle finished though, the heaviness came back.

"Hey," Caitlyn's hand ran down your cheek. She wiped your tears with her thumb, Vi copied. "How about we get food from your favorite restaurant? I can go pick it up while Vi prepares your bath."

"I think that's a great idea," Vi used the back of her hand to soothe the skin on your cheek. "What do you think? Does that sound good, Muffin?"

You gave them a meek shrug.

"That looks like a maybe." Caitlyn giggled. "What if I add in dessert? would it be a yes then?"

"Oh, Muffin, say yes! Say yes! She's offering dessert!" Vi grabbed onto your arm. She shook you like a kid begging their parent for ice cream.

A genuine laugh came from your throat. Finally, all the pain is released from you. You don't know what made it leave. Maybe the sound of dessert or Vi's childlike begging. Or maybe it was the fact that Caitlyn and Vi cared for you enough to sit down and work through whatever problem you were facing.

For the first time in your life, you felt safe. Truly safe. You felt as if you could freely speak your mind without the underlying fear of rejection. You could say what you want.

"Okay," you gave the both of them a slight smile. "I think that sounds nice."

"Oh, yes! I love you, I love you, I love you!" Vi wrapped her arms around your body and pulled you on top of her. She gave you a bone-crushing squeeze.

"Vi!" you laughed.

Caitlyn laughed as well. She stood up and went to put her shoes and coat on. "Don't hurt them, Vi."

"Could never, Cupcake," Vi said from under you. "Now, hurry on and fetch us our dinner, woman! Mama's hungry."

Caitlyn scoffed, smiling. "Mama? Woman? Who are you talking to right now?"

"Oop," you muttered, grinning at Vi. "You're in trouble," you taunted in a whisper.

Vi playfully narrowed her eyes at you. She glanced at Caitlyn with an innocent and playful grin. "The tallest, cutest Cupcake in the world?"

"Right," Caitlyn dragged out the word. She opened the door. "I'll be back soon. You two stay out of trouble." and with another laugh, Caitlyn left the house.

Vi hummed. "I think she secretly liked being called 'Mama'."

You perked a brow. "Sure, she did, babe... Can we go draw my bath now?"

"Can I join you?"

WC: 2,285

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themattress · 8 months

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Fire Emblem Observation

So, it's often said the decision to have White Clouds be followed by Crimson Flower rather than Silver Snow is you making the choice to "side with Edelgard and the Empire over Rhea and the Church of Seiros". But, looking at the above screens....is that really what happens?

In actuality, the choice you have Byleth make is to agree to kill Edelgard at Rhea's behest or step between her and Rhea in order to protect Edelgard. If you didn't unlock the choice, then Byleth's only response besides "I must kill Edelgard" is total silence, meaning they aren't willing to kill Edelgard but neither do they want to outright make a move to protect her (totally understandable, given that Edelgard is the Flame Emperor who thus has some connection to Jeralt's death, tenuous as it may be, plus the Church of Seiros is Byleth's patron and their mercenary mindset to not make a move against the one who pays you may still be in effect).

Point being is that when Byleth makes the Crimson Flower-inducing choice to protect Edelgard, they aren't saying they completely agree with Edelgard, or that they want to leave the Church and side with the Empire to fight a war against it, or that they want to kill Rhea. Byleth is simply saying "Y'know what, Rhea? Demanding immediate execution without a fair trial is fucked up. Edelgard deserves a chance to speak her side of things." Byleth joining the side that starts the war is, ironically enough, because they chose the non-violent option: to protect someone and be willing to hear them out rather than kill first and ask questions later. Rhea is the one who betrays Byleth, not the other way around, because rather than listen to Byleth's resolve and try coming to a peaceful solution, she immediately deems them a traitor who must also be executed ASAP. And yes, she's got a solid Freudian Excuse for this behavior with the whole Nemesis ordeal, but the other characters shouldn't be expected to know that when she isn't willing to tell them about it. It ultimately wasn't Byleth's choice that made Crimson Flower transpire, it was Rhea's reaction to that choice. When your enemy is someone that insists all dissidents be executed without any due process, then war against them becomes that much easier to justify. So if you hate Crimson Flower? Blame Rhea.

#Fire Emblem #Three Houses #Byleth #Rhea #Edelgard #Analysis #Defense #Truthbomb #This has been a PSA

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pessimisticpigeonsworld · 4 days

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The Demonizing of Change

A trend I've noticed in modern media is that many stories have the message of "protect the status quo". Whether it's a Marvel movie or a fantasy book, the fact that so often the villains are the only ones who fight to change society remains the same.

We all know the story: they were hurt by the system's flaw(s) and so they rose up to destroy that harmful system and in the process destroyed themselves. I'm not saying that this character type is wrong or bad (definitely overused imo), but the framing of the narrative and the protagonists is the issue.

The narrative typically shows the villain's first wrong doing to be the act of rebelling against the system. From the moment the person chose to reject the harmful system, they were in the wrong, or so the narrative frames it. Meanwhile, the protagonist may question and see injustice but they never fight it; it's just accepted and blindly defended. What's worse is the audience chooses to completely accept this telling and sides with the harmful regime the protagonist defends.

I find that some of the most drastic examples of these issues are Daenerys in GOT and the Darkling in the Grishaverse/SaB.

Daenerys Targaryen

One thing I want to specify before I go into this is that Dany's GOT ending is purely bad writing. It's not foreshadowed or justified in any way, so I'll be addressing how D&D tried to frame her past after S8e6 aired and how her antis interpret her.

According to D&D, we should see the beginning of Dany's "madness arc" from the very first season. Namely how she reacted to Viserys' death. While this isn't Dany rejecting a harmful system, her choosing to not defend Viserys (why would she??) is also her choosing to leave behind the cycle of abuse of her early life. It also sets the precedent of Dany killing/allowing the deaths of evil men.

Speaking of evil men, D&D also tried to paint Dany's campaign against slavery as a sign of her "megalomania and madness". This is where we get to the actual fighting against the system. Dany is leading a slave revolt and forcefully overthrowing the masters and the oppressive governments.

The way D&D tried to spin it was that Dany was wrong for using violence, and Tyrion's peaceful method was more successful. Except Dany did try peace in Meereen, it didn't work. She made concessions, she made agreements, she locked up her dragons and they weren't working. That's the whole point of her last chapter in ADWD.

However, the show chose to make it so Dany was failing because she was "too violent" and ultimately made the freedmen hate her. This choice, a clear deviation from the book, is the beginning of them trying to make Dany fall into the trope of "as bad as those you're fighting". In her fight to end slavery, she becomes as oppressive as the masters.

Which is just blatantly wrong. We see in the show that the freedmen are still free, they sit in her councils, they can come to her with their complaints and she listens. Dany is a queen, not a master. The show was already trying to gaslight its audience into believing the opposite of what they wrote. The same goes for her supposed violence. The violence she exerts is almost always towards the slavers, except when she executed Mossador for murder. That was her carrying out justice, why that was portrayed as a bad thing is beyond me.

The implications of the choices D&D made in adapting Dany's Meereen arc are very disturbing. They're basically saying that systematic and centuries old oppression should never be addressed with violence. The people who actively fight oppression are just as bad as the oppressors. If you can't magically fix a system that's been flawed for centuries immediately, you're a tyrant.

The choice to resolve the arc by having Tyrion come in with some great peaceful solution was plain stupid and sexist. We have seen in history that trying to unobtrusively phase out slavery doesn't work. By leaving the elite slave owners in peace, they are allowed to simply find ways to get around or wear down the changes. We see that in ADWD in Meereen by the way. Also the whole idea that a wise man had to come and fix the irrational woman's problem is so gross.

So basically: D&D took an arc about fighting oppression and learning that concessions only continue the cycle of violence and made it into a story about how violence is bad and you can actually just reason with slavers.

The disgusting ideas continue in season eight, where Dany torches KL for no reason and is put down like a rabid dog. Dany is the only character who wants to end oppression in this show. She's the only person to see and experience the suffering of the oppressed and chooses to do something about it. Season seven is full of her talking about leaving the world a better place and breaking the wheel. But in season eight "breaking the wheel" is turned into th deranged battle cry of her desired empire.

Let me restate that: the one character who fought to end systematic oppression is turned into the "true oppressor". Dany's desire to tear down the system that the entire show established as being unjust and awful is made into a sign of madness. Even in season seven, people were rolling their eyes at her talking about breaking the wheel.

Meanwhile, the protagonists of the show end it benefitting from the same system that tortured them the whole time. Westerosi society is shit, but the show ends glorifying the sexist, homophobic, classist, and feudalist kingdoms. They even laugh at Samwell Tarly when he suggests destroying the monarchy. All this sends the message that embracing the system is good, rebellion bad, and shut the fuck up if you're not happy.

Dany was reduced to a cautionary tale against fighting the system. I've seen people frame it as "seeking power is bad", but that doesn't make sense, as characters like Sansa actively seek power and are rewarded by the narrative. Dany's mistake was trying to change the world, rather than supporting it as it is.

The Darkling

The Darkling is a very different character from Dany; he's an actual villain. Aleksander is someone who has already reached the "become what you hate most" part of the trope, so he spends the whole story committing atrocities. The issue with his portrayal is the fact that the narrative and protagonists never address his very real reasons for fighting in the first place.

The grisha as a group are persecuted all throughout Ravka, they have been for centuries. The whole reason Aleksander begins his fight was to protect his people. By the time the series begins, the grisha are more protected, though only because they have become weapons of the state. That was only through Aleksander's mechanisations.

Aleksander became a villain in his attempts to save his people, making him a tragic character. So he has perfectly fallen into the trope, and, unfortunately, so do the protagonists. Alina and her allies all have seen and suffered under the cruelty of the Ravkan monarchy, however, they quickly dismiss just how awful it is. By the end of the story, the Darkling has become, in their eyes, the sole perpetrator of evil in Ravka.

There are no attempts made to rectify the constant damage done by the Apparat, in fact he's left to run free. Alexander Lanstov and Tatiana Grimjer are simply shipped off to a private island where they never are made to pay for the awful things they have done. There are no political reforms done to ensure the safety of grisha in the future; they're basically relying on the goodwill Zoya and Alina have bought with the people.

So basically, the minor villains who all had no reason to be completely atrocious receive basically no punishment from the narrative. Meanwhile, Aleksander, who had very valid reasons for wanting to overthrow the government, is ultimately given a fate worse than death. All his reasons for hating the Ravkan government and the power it has are ignored, even though the story set up that he's not wrong. The resolution of the story leaves the grisha just as, if not more, vulnerable to the prejudice and hatred of the world than they were before.

The narrative is communicating that Aleksander rising up for his people is worse than the centuries of corrupt Lanstovs. Aleksander is worse than the man who stirs up religious fanaticism and exploits the people through it. Yes, Aleksander did horrible things, but so did every other antagonist in the series, but he's somehow the worst because...well, he's grisha.

That's the only other difference between him and the others, aside from his motives. So either Bardugo is supporting the in-universe prejudice against grisha or she's saying rising up against an oppressive system is wrong. I don't expect her or any other author to have complex political and social commentaries in her story. However, she chose to create a world containing those elements and a main character who suffers from them. She chose to make the issues with the system have a prominent place in the story. And she chose to ignore them in the end.

Aleksander did awful things in the name of a just cause, this creates a complex moral issue that the story just never addresses. The established injustices and sanctioned atrocities by the Lanstovs are all ignored in favor of bringing down the dangerous rebel. That kind of message is pretty fucked up. Yes, Nikolai is a better man than his father, but what about his descendants? The propaganda of the Apparat and his church are extremely strong, it's only a matter of time before that propaganda once again starts turning people against grisha. The hatred of grisha is still embedded into Ravkan society.

Aleksander was the only character who was actually set on protecting and bettering the lives of the grisha. His original mission was still extremely important, no matter what he devolved to. The fact that the protagonists just blatantly dismissed just how dangerous Ravka still is for grisha is frustrating.

The treatment of both Dany and Aleksander by their writers and narratives show a hatred/mistrust of rebellion against the status quo, no matter how atrocious it is. The message of the trope is that people who fight against a system are worse than the system itself. I'm not saying that was Bardugo's intention (D&D I'm much less sure about though), but the way both the Darkling and Dany were written combined with the endings of the stories support that idea.

#daenerys targaryen #aleksander morozova #the darkling #pro daenerys #pro darkling #anti d&d #anti got #anti leigh bardugo #asoiaf #grishaverse #the grisha trilogy

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nobodyfamousposts · 6 months

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Felix July - Tragic

Yes, I know this is years late. I hope it's worth it.

Follow up to the Betrayal prompt and an aftermath of Party Crasher:

*Click*

With that, the call ended. Felix gave a small sigh of relief.

At least that whole mess was over with. Mostly.

He looked up at the multitude of girls appearing all too pleased.

“I expect you’ll be having quite a few tokens of appeasement waiting for you come Monday. Maybe sooner.” He stated, returning his phone to his pocket.

“Thank you, Felix.” Alya said, sounding almost downright pleasant towards him for once.

“Don’t you think that was a bit mean?” Marinette asked. “I mean, they were doing it for Adrien.”

“The problem isn’t the party for Adrien, it’s that they lied to us about it and left us with all this work to handle by ourselves in the process.” Alya countered.

Mylene nodded. “It took a lot of planning to set this whole thing up and having most of the male portion of the city duck out at the last minute for a party they just set up that day is downright rude.” She looked away, pouting and muttering something about no kisses for a week.

Marinette felt a hand on her shoulder, drawing her gaze up to Felix. “They knew they would likely cause problems by doing this and chose to do so anyway. And so they decided to lie to try to avoid being caught. Whatever happens is a direct result of their actions, regardless of the supposed goodness of their reasons.”

“You’re saying that because they left you to nearly get your eyes clawed out.” Marinette pointed out.

His eye twitched. “But am I wrong?”

Well, he really wasn’t…

“Still…” She remained uncertain.

“They could have just invited Adrien and his bodyguard to help out here rather than start a party.” Rose pointed out.

“And leave all the work for us.” Alya added—because yes, she was still bitter about that.

“I still say we should use them as fertilizer.” Alix grumbled.

“Girls, this is a community project, meant to be for the community, not made up of the community.” Mylene reasoned.

“Even if they deserve it.” Juleka snarked, also still miffed and unwilling to let it go.

Rose smiled, beaming. “Still, that girls’ party sounds like a good idea.”

“It’d be a nice reward after all this.” Mylene agreed.

“Not to mention a nice petty revenge at the boys.” Alix said with a grin.

Marinette laughed, seeming relieved with the peaceful solution. “Better than killing them, at any rate.”

Felix clapped his hands, seemingly nonchalant.

“Well then, I hope you all have fun.” And with that, he turned to walk away.

Only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder and a smiling Alya.

…he did not like that smile. Not one bit.

The increasing grip on his being only added to his trepidation.

Alya, naturally, had no concern for this.

“Don’t say that, Felix! You’re coming too.”

A pause.

“What?”

____________

The week passed in relative normalcy. Emphasis on “relative” as it did still involve the drama of half of his classmates cowering and/or groveling before the other half. As well as much bemoaning, harrumphing, occasional begging, and the daily occurrence of walking into the classroom to be greeted by the sight of an array of flowers, candy, and gift baskets on the desks of one or more of the girls in the class each time he entered.

But it was surprisingly akuma-free, so Felix would consider it normal. An odd sort of normal, but normal nonetheless. It was nice. Peaceful, even.

…if not for the sense of impending doom he could feel creeping on him the more of the week that passed and the closer they got to the weekend—and the time of the planned “party”.

Felix knew that going to the party would be a bad idea. And not just because it was a girls’ slumber party. Or one that the girls in his class were throwing out of sheer spite due to the impromptu party the boys had thrown without them when they were supposed to be working together on that community project. Or because the girls in question had previously threatened his eyes. It was partly due to those things, certainly, but not solely.

He simply did not want to go. Period.

But like with many things in his life, Felix‘s feelings weren’t so much overlooked as they were completely disregarded.

Going to a party for the girls was not something Felix had any interest in. He wasn’t a people person in the first place and a slumber party with a number of teenage females was far from his idea of a good time, regardless of what his peers may believe. Furthermore, he was sure there were rules—or were SUPPOSED to be rules concerning the presence of boys at such things.

But apparently this was his punishment for his part in Lahiffe’s plot. Despite the fact he’d had no interest or involvement in that either. And had even been the one to explain what was going on.

Truly life was cruel.

Or maybe it was just Cesaire trying to make him miserable.

...considering the gleeful smirk on her face when she informed him of this decision, he was inclined to believe the latter.

“Don’t worry, Felix! It’ll be fun!” Assured Adrien Agreste, who was apparently either completely ignorant of what was to come or was simply a masochist.

And no, the fact that he would not be suffering this torment alone was no comfort.

“I’m so excited!” Agreste squeed—actually squeed the way the boy’s own fangirls did. Felix wanted to die from embarrassment on his behalf.

“I know! I can’t wait!” Agreed Whayhem Marot, whom Felix was sure would enjoy the event regardless simply as long as Agreste was there.

Felix twitched.

Why was he the only one who recognized it as the punishment it was? Even the other males in the class seemed to see this as a desirable or dare he even say enviable circumstance.

“Felix. Bro. We got to talk.”

Case in point: Nino Lahiffe as he grabbed Felix and dragged him across the courtyard to some impromptu meeting with the other idiotic males of the class. And Couffaine.

This was his life now, apparently.

“What is it?” Felix demanded. Demanded quite reasonably, in his opinion—given the grabbing and the forced interaction.

“Dude. While you’re there, don’t be looking at my girl.” Lahiffe warned him. Backed by the other relationship-bound males in the class whom were also giving him stern looks and nodding in agreement in defense of their respective girlfriends and girl friends.

Not that Felix had any interest in observing any of the aforementioned females in states of undress. And again, didn’t want to be there to begin with.

“But get pictures. We need pics, man!”

He wasn’t sure he would be able to be able to take pictures at all with the girls watching him. Much less take pictures of anyone when he wasn’t allowed to look at them.

“And details!”

“Yeah!”

More to the point...

Felix raised a hand in exasperation. “There are two problems with this. The first being that I don’t know anything about slumber parties.”

“It’s…y’know. Slumber. And parties.” Lahiffe frowned before turning to the others. “Guys, back me up!”

“I have compiled a list of top activities that tend to take place at slumber parties, along with their detailed explanations for your purposes.” Kante offered, holding out a ream of papers clipped together that could practically be its own book.

Felix shoved it back to the shorter boy with a glare.

“The second problem is that I don’t care.”

“Man, seriously?” Le Chien demanded, as if the reason Felix should want to go was supposed to be obvious. “This is a party! With girls!”

A pause.

Felix raised an eyebrow.

“...And?”

Le Chien scratched his head. “That’s…kind of supposed to be the reason.”

He turned away. “And I’m done here.”

Frustratingly, Lahiffe blocked his way.

“Come on, Felix! Adrien is going! Would you really let Adrien go to a girls’ party all alone?”

“Yes.” He replied without even the slightest hesitation.

If it was his choice, who was Felix to interfere? Or be needed to put himself at risk? Because that was the difference—Agreste actually WANTED to go and possibly meet death. A brutal, painful, burning, scarring death.

“Dude! You’re really just going to leave Adrien on his own?”

“I fail to see how that would be my problem.”

Or why they weren’t bugging Agreste about getting these desired ‘pics’.

“Besides, Marot is going so he won’t be ‘alone’, as you say.” Felix stated, even going so far as to make ‘quotation’ gestures for emphasis.

Lahiffe coughed. “Wayhem is…cool and all. But he’s a fanboy! And about as innocent as Adrien is!”

“Then they can learn together. Starting with why adolescent males should not be at slumber parties with adolescent females.”

“Oh come on, do you really think those two would do anything?” Le Chien questioned.

He said that like anyone would think Agreste and Marot would be the ones to worry about instead of the victims.

Felix expected that there would be bodybags.

…he expected one of those bags to be his own.

But on that note…

“Why isn’t Couffaine going?” He asked, gesturing to the musician who had apparently stopped by to drop off a delivery for the girls that likely had to do with the party in question.

Because surely, surely he of all people wouldn’t have earned the girls’ ire.

“Because Luka joined the guys’ party.”

Felix shot Luka a withering look.

“You disappoint me.”

Luka smiled, nervous and apologetic. “Sorry.”

“Make no mistake.” Felix stated, turning back to the others. “If I had any say in the matter, I would not be going to this party. At all.”

“Too bad you don’t have a choice!” Cesaire chirped, coming upon the group with a vicious smirk that made the other males scramble away like the dirty cowards they were. “We’ll be set for the night and you’re not allowed to run. Or we will know.”

Felix sighed.

How they had gotten his mother on board with this, he had no idea.

“This is a punishment, isn’t it?“

“What?” Cesaire fake gasped. “You’re going to be spending the night with a bunch of pretty girls, eating plenty of junk food and baked goods, and having tons of fun! How is that a punishment?“ She asked, fluttering her eyes at him.

Felix glared at her, unimpressed.

“I despise fun.”

“Careful Felix.” She said all too sweetly. “I would almost think you were rejecting our kind offer.“

Ah, yes. The “kind offer“ to not claw out his eyes at the low cost of one night of humiliation and degradation that would no doubt be used to haunt him for the rest of his life.

...he could learn Braille.

________________

The night of the party came, and at late afternoon, Felix was “escorted” to Le Grand Paris.

And by “escorted”, he meant “kidnapped”.

Not that his mother cared.

“Goodbye, Felix!” She called out, waving happily while seemingly ignoring the fact that he was literally being dragged away. “I’ll see you in the morning! Have fun!”

Evil woman. Evil vile woman.

“Come on, Felix! You don’t want to be late!” Cesaire said, all too cheerfully.

“I could just not go.” He muttered. He could very well hide out under a bridge. That would be unpleasant for the night, but still better than what was to come.

“How cute! He thinks he has a choice!” Cesaire cooed as she and Kubdel each stood on either side of him—likely to prevent him from escaping.

He gave her a flat glare. “Die. Die and come back as something pleasant.”

Cesaire just grinned smugly. Kubdel, for her part, rolled her eyes but went along with Cesaire.

It was clear there would be no avoiding this. All Felix could do was accept his fate and begrudgingly walk with the girls to the car that would be taking them to the party.

The only good thing to come of this was that Rossi would not be in attendance as she had not helped out with the volunteer project either.

Though Felix suspected that was just the official excuse so as to prevent discord during the night between Dupain-Cheng and Rossi…

…as well as prevent him from following through on his threat to jump out the first window available, regardless of relative distance to the ground.

You win this round, gravity.

“Hi, Felix!” Agreste greeted as Felix and his “escorts” entered the car.

Felix merely grunted in acknowledgment as the doors closed and his moving tomb started to head towards their destination.

Somehow, though for the life of him he would never understand precisely how, the girls had managed to convince Agreste’s anal-retentive father to consent to his son going to an all-girls’ slumber party.

Which would quite frankly be a miracle in and of itself. Felix has heard enough of the man over the years to know that this should have been an impossible feat. Even if Gabriel Agreste was the sort of man to believe in something as asinine as “fun”, no sensible parent would want to allow males at a sleepover comprising mostly of teenage daughters. And while Felix did question Mr. Agreste’s precise position on the line between “sensible” and “idiotic”, he had been sure that even that man would know better—if only to protect his slowly dying business from the scandal of his son spending a night with a bunch of girls.

Felix suspected some form of blackmail may have been involved.

Or mind control.

Agreste was clearly excited, practically bouncing in his seat. “This will be my first sleepover!”

“Mine too!” Merot chimed in.

It would be Felix’s as well, but that hardly meant it was a life goal and for the life of him, Felix didn’t understand why anyone would think it should be.

As the others continued chatting, Felix was contemplating the pros and cons of jumping out of a moving vehicle. They weren’t going too quickly. Maybe if he ducked and rolled? Or waited until it came to a complete stop?

Either fortunately or not, his contemplations were cut short as they had rather quickly arrived at the destination.

The Grand Hotel.

“It was really nice of Chloe’s Dad to let us have the party here!” Adrien said cheerfully.

Alya smiled.

Felix did not trust that smile. At all.

While none of the girls explained how they had gotten permission to use the hotel main event room for this party, Felix highly suspected that Mayor Bourgeois’s unusual acquiesce to their request had less to do with any good will than it did the very real threat that the girls involved were classmates of his daughter and could easily tell her that he had gone to that party at the mansion.

Adrien’s mansion.

Adrien. Her “best friend”.

A party SHE was not invited to.

To say she would be furious would be an understatement. And the fact that he had managed to keep his involvement secret from her was impressive in its own right. And maybe it would have worked out for him if Cesaire wasn’t involved and looking for vengeance.

Felix sympathized somewhat with the man. Only somewhat because….well…a grown man—and an easily recognizable politician at that? Going to that party was still an incredibly stupid thing to do. Not to mention somewhat creepy.

Andre Bourgeois seemed to think Felix was a kindred spirit as he smiled shakily at the boy, as if looking for some sympathy.

Or perhaps silently praying for him.

Felix would take the latter. He’d need all the help he could get to make it through this night.

The event room in question where the sleepover would be taking place was one of the hotel’s executive suites. There was a central room as well as two side bedrooms and a separate kitchen area. Not that Felix expected there to be much cooking if the laptop Haprele was opening up to the selection of a nearby pizzeria was any indication.

Lavillant and the younger Couffaine were already present and arranging the food and plates. Kubdel seemed to be setting up the television for various video games and movies.

Which left…

“Sorry I’m late!” Dupain-Cheng’s arrival was announced with an apology and a bang as she tried to open the door while holding several boxed of what he reasonably assumed were various pastries.

And with that, the gang was all here.

“Oh, let me help you with that, Marinette!” Agreste offered.

Felix prepared to step in himself. Knowing that girl’s crush, him coming closer to her would make her more likely to drop her cargo than help.

But he hadn’t needed to.

“No worries! I’ve got it!” Came a cheerful voice as another girl came in from behind her. She had tan skin and short red hair. And she seemed muscled, so the multitude of packages alongside her own bags were no trouble to her.

“Thanks, Odine!” Dupain-Cheng said, looking relieved.

Oh right. He remembered now. That girl was Le Chein’s girlfriend, Odine Soares. But why was she there?

As if sensing his confusion, Cesaire smirked. “Odine was invited to our party since she was also left out of the boys’.”

Soares settled the cartons on the table with a huff. “That was a real jerk move of the boys to make excuses to bail on their commitment, and I didn’t appreciate Kim using our swim sessions as a part of their excuse.” She turned to the others with a smile. “I do appreciate the invite though.”

Felix held up his hand. “Well, if this counts as an additional person for a party with limited room, it would be remiss of me to not give my place to someone more deserving—”

Cesaire grabbed his sleeve to keep him from his less than casual move for the door. Thankfully not his arm or they would likely have had a problem. “Oh come on, Felix!” She said, her grin a bit too wide to be innocent. “There’s no need for that!”

“I beg to differ. You just have fun and—”

The door closed behind him. The slam as clear as his own death knell.

“We insist.” Cesaire stated, her words clearly a warning.

Felix sighed and reluctantly moved to place his bags in the side room designated for the boys. When he returned, he found the girls in a discussion over horror movies or video games. With little option and wanting to open himself up to as little drama as possible, he chose to sit next to Agreste and Merot on the couch. His only allies for this mess of a night.

“This is going to be fun!”

“I know, right?”

…

…it seemed his allies had already fallen.

Felix was on his own.

___________________

The sleepover started simply enough.

Pizza was ordered. Soda was poured. Popcorn was popped and promptly somehow simultaneously fought over and used as ammo. Candy was shared.

They started with some Mecha Strike which all of them played—except for Dupain-Cheng, who was apparently banned due to her “mad skillz”. They played in teams that eventually came out with Lavillant and Felix as the winners—which he wasn’t at all smug about no matter Cesiare’s claim.

Then the girls insisted on a dance game. Felix, understandably, chose to sit out. To his surprise, Dupain-Cheng chose to sit out with him as well.

Or maybe it wasn’t that much of a surprise, given her natural clumsiness. No doubt it would be exacerbated due to the presence of her crush.

Still, that she chose to keep him company in his “dark and dreary” corner of the room (Cesaire’s words, not his) was…kind.

“Enjoying yourself?” She asked, polite and considerate and everything he absolutely did not need right now.

He looked away, irritated. Seeing his expression, she frowned and sat next to him.

“I’m sorry you were dragged into this.” She said quietly. “I know this isn’t your idea of a good time.”

She wasn’t wrong. Felix’s idea of a good time was probably the exact opposite of the current situation. Somewhere quiet and alone. Likely his room with a book and some tea.

It was nice that someone at least recognized that. Not that it made a difference.

“I don’t blame you.” He assured her, insomuch that at least it wasn’t her he blamed. She could probably tell that much from the glare he sent towards Cesaire at her place on the couch and cheering on Agreste and Merot’s tag team in the dance game.

Oh yes, HER, he did blame.

As if feeling his glare on her, she turned to look at him and wagged her eyebrows in his direction.

He resisted the urge to make a profane gesture.

“Honestly, I think they’re just trying to stick it to the other boys for ditching us to throw a party where we’re specifically not invited.” Dupain-Cheng explained.

It wasn’t necessary for her to try to explain it away. Maybe she could convince someone who didn’t know better, but Felix knew full well that this was more than vengeance against the rest of their male classmates. Cesaire was taking full advantage of the opportunity to vex him as well.

But he would be magnanimous and refrain from pointing that out because she sounded a bit miffed about the whole prior incident and he wasn’t about to try and deny her her right to her fury over the matter.

Dupain-Cheng continued, smiling at him. “Since you at least stuck to your word and told us the truth about what was going on, this is kind of a reward.”

“But for whom? Because from my perspective, this is simply a punishment all around.” He bit out.

Marinette smiled. “But Nino and the guys won’t see it that way.”

Ah, yes. The adolescent male mind would no doubt see entry into this event as a privilege and something to envy.

That’s because they didn’t know better.

No doubt they simply thought of it as scantily clad girls sleeping together or whatever else their hormone-driven brains could imagine.

The truth was that it would be more embarrassing and aggravating than anything. Humiliating. Potentially traumatizing. And may very well end in death—most likely his own.

Felix wondered if letting the other males keep that foolish image would make this night worth it.

…it wouldn’t. He knew it wouldn’t. But he would still keep quiet about it because he blamed them almost as much as he blamed Cesaire since they started this mess in the first place.

And Felix deserved something today.

In his ruminations, Dupain-Cheng had left him to his thoughts, though only for a short time. A little while later, she had returned with some hot herbal tea.

It didn’t make him feel better about what this night would bring.

But it helped.

___________________

It wasn’t long before the group had gotten worn out from the more active video games and had turned to less active and more personal time.

The girls had sat in a circle, back to front. For…simultaneous hair-styling, apparently. They had a number of hairbands, clips, head pieces, and decorations with which to adorn each other while they talked and gossiped. Agreste and Merot excitedly joined them in the circle as well.

“Felix! You should join!” Agreste invited.

“Yeah,” Cesaire said with what could only be an evil smirk. “There’s a spot for your right here!” She patted the space in front of her.

Felix gave her a dry glare. “You’re not subtle, Cesaire. I know better than to trust you anywhere near my hair.”

She pouted but turned to Dupain-Cheng instead.

Felix watched in some limited amusement at the mixture of decent styles and outright monstrosities that were born of the styling circle. Agreste ended up with his hair covered in pink clips by an overly enthusiastic Lavillant. Merot ended up with wild streaks from Kubdel and…wow, he was glad he didn’t join. He hadn’t thought they’d bring hair dye.

Cesaire, much to his vindication, ended up with her hair looking somewhat akin to a hydra after Merot separated her hair into a number of separate mismatched asymmetrical ponytails and then used hair spray to keep them in place. Whatever hairstyle the boy had been going for had failed atrociously, but they seemed to get a good laugh out of it…and only convinced Felix all the more that he was right to avoid it altogether.

If only he would be able to avoid the next activity.

Because then came THE game. The one Felix knew was coming. The one he dreaded.

“Truth or Dare~!”

Was it too late to jump out the window?

He glanced over, seriously considering it. They were only a few floors off the ground. Just 10 or 12. It wasn’t that much, right? He could make it.

Or he would fall into the sweet, sweet embrace of death and never have to experience another night like this.

Unfortunately, Kubdel and Lavillant blocked the path to the window—likely the former knowing more of his plan than the latter, who just smiled at him innocently and asked if he wanted to sit next to her for the game.

“Of course he would!”

Before he could even speak, Cesaire had reached an arm around his shoulders and “guided” him to the circle where everyone was now facing the center and preparing to play.

“I can escape.” He hissed to her. “Don’t think I wouldn’t.”

“Oh sure, you could.” She whispered back in agreement. Then she smirked. “And what a shame that would be. Marinette would be disappointed. I guess this would leave me with no choice but to distract her from your absence and use this opportunity to continue Operation Adrinette and all of us would be free to ask Adrien so many questions about who he likes.”

Something about that struck him as more distasteful than remaining at the party and taking part in the game.

And given the way she was looking at him, Cesaire knew it, too.

“Plus you’ll have to go home sooner or later.” She added with a smirk. “And your mother is going to want all the details of her son’s ‘first sleepover’. Imagine her disappointment if she finds out you ditched us?”

…vile girl.

“Fine.” He hissed, moving to join the ‘Circle of Friendship’.

Most of the group seem elated as he sat among them. Kubdel was snickering. Lavillant looked on the verge of squealing. Agreste and Merot smiled at him with their ignorant, oblivious, innocent eyes.

Dupain-Cheng looked nervous. Understandable, given the nature of the game they were about to play and her history of embarrassment at the hands of her so-called ‘friends’. Something that a game like this would only open her up for in spades.

If nothing else, he supposed he could at least try to help spare her the death of embarrassment. If only to spare himself the same.

The first rounds were simple, silly things.

“What was your worst akuma?”

“I dare you to impersonate Hawk Moth!”

“Try to pun like Chat Noir!”

At least Cesaire was keeping to her word with him there, as she had yet to try any of her silly matchmaking shenanigans. And the other girls seemed to be following her lead, as none of them did anything of the sort either.

Then of course, came the inevitable…

“Felix! Truth or Dare?” Lavillant asked cheerfully.

He immediately felt his back straighten.

She was cheerful. And out of all the classmates, the girl was the most kind—seemingly. But also the most naive and impressionable. Cesaire could have put her up to something.

But she wouldn’t willingly make him do anything she knew would hurt him, right?

He felt a grin from the side and resolutely chose to not look at Cesaire.

“Dare.” He said. Against all better judgement.

“I dare you…” Lavillant said, drawing it out as she seemed to be trying to think of something.

“To style Juleka’s hair!”

He blinked.

“Come again?”

“You didn’t get to take part in the hairstyle circle so it’s only fair!” She insisted.

“Yeah!”

“Style something for us, Felix!”

“Use your modeling skills!”

…well, that wasn’t so bad, at least.

“Fine.” He agreed, rolling up his sleeves. All the better to get this over with quickly. And with as little fuss as possible.

“You okay with this, Felix?” Dupain-Cheng asked. At least she was kind enough to have some concern for his comfort. He wasn't fond of touching people, after all.

He shrugged.

“It could be worse. They could have me shirtless and serving them drinks.”

A pause.

A long pause.

“Can I change my dare?”

“No.” He replied immediately.

#ml fic #felix culpa #felix july #felix month 2019 #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #in which alya is evil #and having too much fun #adrien is obivious #only felix understands #and suffers #felix suffers

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riseofamoonycake · 3 months

Text

Healing Heart

Chapter 2 ⁓ Sacrifice

🪷Pairing: Shiva x Fem!human reader

🪷Warnings: mention of illness, wounds, blood, death, angst.

🪷Chapter 2 of 3. Here chapter 1. Here chapter 3

🪷Setting: Post Ragnarok

🪷

«And after this, don’t say that I don’t listen to humans, eh…»

Not even an hour ago, Shiva tried: yes, he really tried to appear harsh and cruel, to not leave room for even a breath of mercy, to impose his will without listening to you; but when the dawn began to paint the clouds pink and the god saw you wake up suddenly and sit up, check that the flowers were still with you and immediately prepare to leave, he shook his head and understood that with you there is no possibility of avoiding an argument, nor of instilling enough fear in you to bend your soul to obedience. Once again, your desperation sent an electric shock to his heart; once again, the strength with which you put aside the tiredness to not wait even a moment longer and immediately return to your village made him sense that nothing could stop you. And, at least this time, he let you win. You will pay for everything later.

«Tell me which direction we need to go.»

Your gaze fell on his darkened face, dark and terrible in the anger flowing beneath his skin, and you pointed north; Shiva sighed, then nodded sharply. «Gather all your things, we’ll leave right away», he murmured, ignoring the light of gratitude that lit up your big (e/c) eyes and waiting; after a few moments, when you approached, his hands instinctively adjusted the cloak around your body, wrapping you tightly inside it, then they grabbed you and your precious bag and lifted you, pressing you against the chest of the Lord of the Dance. He tucked your head under his chin, and when he spoke, the sound of his heart almost prevented you from hearing. «Now be quiet and don’t even dare to speak, unless I ask you questions. You are still weak, you must rest if you want to be of any help. Do I always have to continue north?»

«Yes… to the North, towards the great rivers. Then, past these, we will find the road that leads to the village.»

«Understood.» His curt response silenced your voice, and you obeyed his command, leaving in peace the cold morning and everything it brought. You closed your eyes, breathing softly, and let yourself go into his warmth. If it could, it would have bitten you, it seems to have grown even more compared to yesterday; and you understood that the divinity is more than angry at what you did, he is offended. Hurt. «I know I made a mistake… and that is fine, if this mistake is the solution we’re looking for», you murmured.

«I told you not to talk.» Shiva sighed, then watched for a moment. One of his hands gripped both of your wrists as if to stop you from even thinking about escaping, his grip firm but not so ironclad that it hurt. «… Your body heals slowly, even with my blood. The journey and the illness have tested you, yet you still have the courage to try to lay down the law.» The god was silent for a moment. «Why did you decide to travel alone? Did no one from the village want to accompany their healer? Or are you the only one left strong enough?»

«I… in truth, I wanted to do everything alone. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, and I chose to accomplish this feat without anyone’s help. I’m the one who takes care of them, the difficult task falls to me.»

Shiva grimaced. «And are you old enough to really understand what you’re saying?»

«I am old enough to take responsibility for what I do.»

«I hope so. Remember that your life belongs to me. Don’t hope for any mercy.»

You nodded slowly, without even an objection. «Do what you have to, now and later.»

The Lord of the Dance didn’t comment, but his hands held you just a little tighter. You didn’t reply anymore and your eyes stopped on the sky, and even if you didn’t want to, a sudden weakness came over your mind: Shiva’s rhythmic step, his heat, the hold that, strangely, conveyed you security, they did not help you in your attempts to stay awake, and in the end you could only give in to sleep and remain motionless in the arms of the god.

He glanced at you, then shook his head. «Stubborn and brave like all the crazy people…», he commented, and then got lost in his thoughts while the kilometers flew and still fly under his divine steps and he continued to follow the direction that will take you to the village long before you can believe. «And after this, don’t say that I don’t listen to humans, eh.»

Nothing and no one disturbed your journey anymore…

Until now, when the smell of illness hits you so hard that it forces you to wake up and you jump, involuntarily clinging to the chest of Shiva, who has slowed his pace to get used to the unhealthy environment. «Here we are…», you murmur, already fully active, while you fidget.

The god gives you a tighter grip, to control your movements and remind you that everything depends on him, then he stares at you sternly. «Keep calm, I’ll put you down now.» He places you delicately on the ground, then his eyes widen when he sees you suddenly run forward and can only follow you. «Stay close to me. We don’t know what we’ll find ourselves in front of, and don’t forget that you’ve been gone for days…»

You don’t look at his face, but your gaze is full of determination. «It does not matter. I will not turn my attention elsewhere.»

Shiva grabs you with all four arms, stopping and forcing you to look at him, and his eyes turn hard as his words come out merciless. «You could be the only inhabitant left alive, and everything you did would have been in vain. Are you really ready to endure such a reality?»

You remain calm, but your eyes become even more fearless. «I’m not afraid of dealing with death. It is my duty to take care of the people of this village… no matter what state I find them in, I will not leave them alone. So please, let’s go.»

The god looks at you, struck once again by your perseverance and won by it, and without replying he lets you go, following you as you start running and pass the first houses of the village. The silence and immobility that fill the environment like fog are desolating, but among the walls and buildings he can still hear the faint breathing of people too attached to life to leave without a fight, and a subtle smile. If everyone in this village is like you, the place is a furnace of warriors, and maybe, maybe, there is hope for all of you.

For some time, Shiva remains still, simply watching you go from one home to another and listening to your words; as you progress, he does the same, until, out of curiosity or perhaps driven by an underground, mysterious reason that escapes even the leader of the Hindu Pantheon, he looks out of some house, observing the situation and meeting the gaze of tired faces that can hardly see anything anymore, trembling bodies that don’t recognize what or who they have in front of them, some even with their eyes closed, and… children.

Shiva stops suddenly on the threshold of a house, his eyes widening as they dart into the dim light and his mouth tightening so as not to let out a roar of anger and dismay, and he clearly feels his fists clenching with the effort to control himself. The children. Small creatures, little bigger than tiger cubs, curled up next to their parents or grandparents, with empty eyes and pale skin, the carefreeness and energy of childhood destroyed by the hand of the disease, now as exhausted as everything that still lives in this place. The most horrible image the god could imagine encountering, and unfortunately not the fruit of a nightmare. “Of course, the disease didn’t spare them either. How stupid to even imagine otherwise…”, thinks Shiva as he finally finds the strength to look away and turns completely, closing the door and leaning against the wall of the house while biting his lips and bowing his head. He doesn’t know how long he stays in this state, but he snaps out of it when he hears the sound of your footsteps approaching again, and your eyes meet his. He stares at them for a few moments, that only sign of energy and strength he can find, and his brow furrows. «How is the situation?»

You sigh, but do not hide anything: «No more serious than when I left these people. Some didn’t make it… but I already knew that. Now, the first thing to do is move the dead bodies and bury them far from here, if we don’t want an epidemic to break out: no one has the strength to do it anymore, it’s up to us. After that, we get to work with the flowers.»

The God of Destruction nods slowly. «Your assistants?»

From the silence that follows his words, he understands the fate that has seized the only barrier that remained in your absence; and at that point, the god detaches himself from the wall behind him, without hesitation anymore. «I’ll take care of the corpses. You wash your hands, get a mortar and pestle and start grinding the flowers into powder.»

«What about the blood?»

«A few drops will be enough, no more. And your hands must always be clean.»

You agree without replying, but hesitate when the Lord of the Dance grabs your arm and pulls you towards him until your noses can touch. «A few drops.»

You stare into the god’s eyes, transmitting to him everything you feel in this moment, your desires and the turmoil that stirs inside you; he sighs slightly, then, for the first time since you met him, his expression softens a bit, and a hand rests on your cheek in a sort of caress. «You will not be spared your punishment, you already know this. However… however, not even the darkest soul deserves to see their people die like this. And you’re not the worst I’ve ever met on my path.»

You find the strength to smile slightly, then watch as Shiva removes his hand from your face and walks away to begin his task, the roaring heat of his skin following him like a shadow.

«Thank you…», you murmur in a soft voice, staring at his back and feeling the tension mix with a bit of relief, and then moving your gaze to the flowers already clutched in your hands. «At least I won’t be going through this alone.»

🪷

The days following your return fly by so quickly and are so intense that, at nightfall, when Shiva forces you to rest and threatens to tie you up to make you still, you almost struggle to remember what happened in the hours of light; but your body bears all the signs, without forgetting even one. Your feet are red and swollen from standing for long hours; knees and back ache from the time you spend kneeling next to the bedside of the sick or bent over them, the eyes are irritated and the head heavy from the effects of the disease that still remain in your body and because, despite the words of the God, you can’t rest like you should; and the hands are covered in blisters from using the pestle, putting all the energy and desperation you have into it.

And the disease struggles to leave people. Even though you follow the orders of the Lord of Destruction to the letter and he himself helps you, the healing is slow, much more than expected, and sometimes it doesn’t even start, as if not even the Sacred Lotus was effective; and a subtle dismay, followed by a deeper lack of hope, is taking over the regions of your heart day after day.

Shiva uses his divine nature to carry out feats that you would never imagine doing with your own strength, as well as to lighten your workload and allow you to dedicate yourself solely to your people: in a short time he frees the village of corpses and buries them in places far from the inhabited area, in a single day he builds a structure large enough to contain all the patients and separates those who have already received treatment or show signs of healing from those who still need to be treated, cleans the houses, grinds flowers to dust and, more than anything, keeps an eye on you all the time. It is he who cuts the small wounds, little more than scratches, on your body and from which he draws the blood necessary for the treatment, because he knows well that you would go too far in your eagerness to help everyone as soon as possible; and it is always him who washes and checks them, while he doesn’t take his eyes off the tired expression that crosses your face every time you stare at the horizon, when the day dies and what you feel is only anguish. He can see how disheartened you are in the face of what seems to be yet another defeat; and even if he doesn’t reveal it, he knows how much you are suffering.

«There is something we are still missing, but I can’t understand what it is. Not even the Sacred Lotus can cure us… you don’t have an answer, do you, Great Shiva»

Everytime, he stays watching you for a moment while you fidget restlessly under the covers and stare at the fire that warms the night with an imploring expression, as if it could suggest the remedy you need, then he crosses his arms on his chest and his eyes soften as they glide through your hair. “You’ve been sick for too long, Y/N; this disease is not something that can pass quickly, even with such a powerful cure. You yourself are still weak, even though I used my own blood to heal you. Have patience and trust.»

You would like to believe his words, there is nothing else you would want more; and yet, you are unable to make them penetrate inside you, to be quieted by them even partially. The uncertainty of the fate that awaits you slowly destroys you, and the god notices how much you are fading away. And all this after having fought so strenuously…

«I don’t know what else we can do. I don’t know… what else to try.» You close your eyes and leave the flames, the entire world, outside of you, closing yourself in the darkness and abandoning yourself to it more and more every night. «Maybe it’s just the way it has to be, and we’re all destined to disappear. Maybe I’m just wasting the last of my strength in uselessness.»

«Y/N…»

«Maybe… maybe all this is still not enough, and I―»

"That’s enough. Rest now and don’t think about anything else. Nothing is lost, you just have to rely on time.»

You obey because you can’t do anything else, curling up on yourself. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, but not a sound leaves your mouth and you slowly let yourself fall into an unrefreshing sleep, while Shiva watches over you and the whole village until the first dawn; and in the silence of the place, in the sadness that also envelops his mind and overcomes even his abilities, he finds himself hoping in turn, even if he knows that it is not enough, now.

Especially when the disease comes back to visit you.

Shiva is silent when, on a morning that seems like many others, you open your eyes later than usual and he sees the light of fever shining in them; he remains almost breathless, and so do you, who don’t even try to move and immediately lower your eyelids, now totally resigned. «Save my people», you murmur with a parched throat and a peace that you haven’t felt in your heart for a long time, the one that follows the inevitable end, «you can, you will make it. I entrust it all to you…»

The god turns his gaze away from you, then sighs; and you can hear the angry cry that fills him to the last edge of his flesh, even if you don’t know why. Then, his voice lowers until it becomes almost threatening as he looks back at you and approaches you, kneels at your side and takes you in his arms, hugging you to his chest so tightly that it takes your breath away: «And do you think that I will let you go? We have a pact, you and me. And if you don’t want to suffer consequences worse than death, you will respect that. Don’t even try to think about dying, Y/N; do it, and I’ll come and get you wherever you are.»

You stare at the Lord of Destruction with sadness in your eyes, then fever mixes with your tears. «I… I can’t even move anymore…»

Shiva is silent for a moment, then closes his eyes. His lips are hot as soon as they land on your forehead and you shiver, but he doesn’t pull away and leaves the marks of a long, delicate kiss on your skin. «Sleep, Y/N…», he murmurs now, much more softly than before, «relax and don’t be afraid. Soon you and I will see each other again. I promise you this.»

You hesitate and Shiva stares at you, without severity but firmly; and perhaps because you are overcome by tiredness, perhaps because you decide to entrust the last fragment of hope you have to the god, you do what he says and lower your eyelids. Sleep comes immediately, it was only waiting for this; but, before falling into unconsciousness, you perceive the advent of an even deeper rest, cold and endless, veiled in fog and solitude. His hands are already stretched out towards your body and his straight and merciless mouth murmurs persuasive words in your ear, eyes as white as void stare at you… but before all this can grab you, something, someone, tears it away from you.

In your mind and even outside of you, you feel a furious battle arising; sounds you have never heard before, roars and thunders fill your ears, hot blood flows into your throat, together with the pungent smell of the Sacred Lotus, and you want to scream and struggle and cry again and feel terror, but you don’t have the strength and so you stand still, unable to react, staring at the storm with your eyes closed, unable to feel anything. Immobility doesn’t give you pain and, instead, brings with it more and more silence, which conquers and cancels everything, which takes worries away from you and makes you slip into an unconsciousness where nothing and no one can reach.

When darkness finally arrives, there is only peace around you, and above you all the immensity of a sky full of stars.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #snv #ror shiva #snv shiva #record of ragnarok shiva #shiva record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie shiva #shiva ror #shiva snv

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moonspirit · 28 days

Note

hello, i’m back, i was just wondering what you think eren said to the others in the paths. we saw armins and mikasas but not the other scouts/warriors. you’re pretty much the only writer on tumblr that doesn’t intimidate me so i asked you 👍 (your wife needs to be tied to a tree)

Hello again behyuu xD But please! Don't fear clouds, she's just a smol smol! Go befriend her!

But this is a really interesting question; I've thought about it a few times, and more along the likes of: "what is the kind of relationship Eren shares with these people?"

(Edit; this became incredibly long 🥲)

I think there are people Eren would and wouldn't have talked to, really. In the latter category falls Levi, imo. But that takes off on another tangent entirely, so for now we'll stick to the rest.

To Reiner, I like to believe Eren would've shown him an alternate reality of what happened in Liberio, perhaps one where he doesn't transform, and instead has a long conversation with him where both of them are offered something akin to "forgiveness" by one another.

These two are parallels to each other in that mutual sense of crippling guilt that came with carrying out the destruction of each other's homelands, not out of hatred, but simply because they needed to do it, in order to achieve something bigger. Reiner, because he wanted to fix his family and become an honorary Marleyan to rid himself of the shame. Eren, because his "peaceful world" for lack of a better word, was turned upside down and trampled upon - though in the end, it was just his selfish and violent nature that set him off on this path. Reiner and Eren understand each other in a way that others don't - neither wanted to do what they did. But they did do it, and that sin will simply be too massive to contain. But Reiner lives despite not wanting to, and Eren dies despite not wanting to, and they are split into two different worlds by the end.

Tl;dr - They talk about how, in another world, where maybe there aren't titans, Eren would've continued to admire Reiner as he did before Trost. And Reiner would cry. End of story.

With Pieck, I hc that the conversation would've been short. Pieck is a very interesting character, imo, because she's literally the most grounded of all the scouts and warriors. She owes no allegiance to Marley, nor Paradis, doesn't have an ulterior motive and is basically stuck watching the doomed world from the ground. There is no solution for her - she as an Eldian will be used by Marley and killed in Paradis - she's literally the only character who understands this from the very beginning. That said, her impression of Eren is, simply put, that of an immature child running riot (incidentally, this is also what Levi probably thinks). If we take into account the fact that her first meeting with Eren was one where she tried to fool him by channelling her (fake) solidarity with Paradis and rejecting her Marleyan upbringing, what lies between these two characters is the anger of being born on different sides of the wall. Eren's actions also resulted in Pieck losing pretty much everybody she knows. As such, I believe what could've transpired between them in the paths, would've been an apology from Eren for destroying Liberio, for killing Udo and Zofia, and telling her maybe, that had these suffocating walls between them never existed, perhaps they would've been peaceful strangers, passing by on the streets now and then.

With Jean and Connie, the conversation would've been very difficult. Sasha. How do you talk about Sasha and forgiveness in the same sentence? So Eren was tortured by his fate, by having to see everything play out as he'd seen it, without any change, and Sasha's death was one of the many terrible consequences - doesn't negate the fact that it still happened only because he "chose" this path. All the people in the 104th truly have an incredibly tight bond - it is what makes it all the more painful knowing that Eren drifted away until he had to be killed by the very same group of people. I like to imagine Jean and Connie beat him up, really. Among the many female characters in SnK, Sasha was someone with an incredibly pure soul - she cared about people and food and fun - and her death was catastrophic. Eren's selfishness caused it, there's no other way to put it. There's also the dynamic between Jean and Eren - that love-hate rivalry that was so sad to see end. And so I want to believe Jean and Connie just keep pummeling him until they're all tired and they stare at the sunset, reminiscing on all the times Eren was a reckless piece of shit.

Falco and Gabi then. The former will honestly carry the guilt of ferrying Mr. Kruger's letters to and fro, during Eren's homeless era. In this respect, I like to think that Eren will tell him not to carry it, to blame it all on him, because he's the one that lied and made him do it. What can possibly be worse than willingly inflicting guilt on a child as young as he once was? Let Eren be cool for once, and offer this reassurance. How Falco deals with it as he grows up, is another story. As for Gabi - the textbook example of brainwashing, she is a splitting image of Eren in so many ways. Eren however, did not allow himself to find the acceptance that Gabi did. And so perhaps what he tells her, is that he's glad. Glad that she joined the alliance to stop him. It's enough that there's one Eren in the world.

Who's left?

Ah. Annie.

This is honestly very interesting to me because, first of all, I just know that the minute Eren opens his mouth in Paths, Annie's knee is going to dislocate his jaw. She has not one iota of sympathy for this pathetic loser causing so much trouble, making her fight when she didn't want to, but because he dragged his dearest friend (and her future husband ffs) into the chaos. He wasn't. Letting. Her. Be. In. Peace. Oh she's going to snap a few bones and put them in a blender, I know it, I know it!

But jokes aside! Annie and Eren are also, a bit similar in some respects. Both are selfish, incredibly so, it's only that their end goals are vastly different in scale. At the same time, they are also both people who care for their loved ones, even if they don't openly show it. They see themselves as monsters, but are loved by the people around them nevertheless. Annie never really had anything like a real childhood, and the concept of having friends was something unnecessary and foreign in her terrible upbringing. I really think that it was only in Paradis that she found comfort, some warmth, what food tastes like when shared with people that treated her more or less the same as anybody else, and so learned to open up (very slightly). But still having a wall around her to keep potential threats at bay and to conserve her energy, it must've felt quite special when Eren appreciated her fighting skills and even took them to heart, making an effort to learn for himself. At a time when she probably prided herself on her strength and fighting prowess alone and nothing else, that could've been incredibly validating.

She didn't hate Eren. She thought of him as a moron, but she didn't hate him. She didn't really hate anybody, the way Eren also never "truly" hated anybody. They were just forced at each other's throats by his choice. We have to remember that Eren also didn't find it easy to accept that Annie was the FT. He did really look up to her and admire her.

I like to think he understood her dedication to sticking to her mission, not as being loyal to Marley, but for a reason more personal (not sure if he could've known about her father, post gaining his future memories..?) and that, that in itself, isn't wrong. Eren's selfishness also stems from an incredibly personal desire after all.

So what would they talk about? Maybe he'd tell her she should continue to be selfish. Because her desires, unlike his own, are harmless. And also drop hints about how his, um, his best friend Armin, is very smart and also very hot and maybe she'd like to... Um... Idk? <3

Whew 🥲

Edit2: I forgot Historia. Idk, considering she'd just given birth and was probably conked out with exhaustion, it's nice to think he'd have just watched her holding her baby, sadly, whispered "You're free" and then disappeared.

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