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risuola · 8 months

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Please hear me out!

i’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I wanted to write it myself but I can’t write for shit 😭 Here’s my idea, reader (she/her) is close friends with Satoru and Suguru. She takes Suguru’s place instead, and Suguru ends up not going insane, and decides to stick around in Jujutsu High. But because the reader takes his place in this story, she spirals and abandons the idea of being morally good. (She’s a sensitive softie at heart 🥹 the cruel reality of being a sorcerer really took a toll on her). She commits so many crimes that the higher ups urge the strongest duo to finally execute her after dismissing her for nearly a decade. She dies in their hands, and doesn’t get a proper burial. Kenjaku takes her body and uses it as vessel. When Shibuya arc finally unfolds, she shows up right in front of Satoru and Suguru, alive and well. Soon reveals that it’s Kenjaku who has full control of her body. Of course their guilts eats them alive, and the reader (more like kenjaku) rubs salt on their wounds by taunting them about how she’s a great vessel and also a waste that she had to die so soon.

LOST CAUSE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU + GETO SUGURU, but there’s no romance whatsoever, guest appearance of Kenjaku

cw: an au where SatoSugu have another close friend; spoilers for Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arc and the very beginning of Shibuya arc, so much angst and the usual that comes with JJK – blood, hurt, tears and depression : D also, possibly inaccurate references to the original plot, reader's death — 5,5k words

a/n: I’m hearing you out dear! Thank you for the conception, it certainly fulfilled my need to write long and angsty <3

It was stupid. All of it was stupid. Why? Which decisions led you to where you now stood, all of your mind and body filled with devastation as you stilled in time – above the piles of little corpses, disfigured and permanently contorted in a grimace of dread and suffering. A stench of blood and burned bodies irritated your nostrils, your eyes were teary from all the smoke that still was filling the air and as you looked down at your hands, they were covered in blood and purple goo. Sticky. Repulsive. And the screams. In the dead silence of your surroundings, your head was still filled with an echo of those, who were now dead at your feet. Those, who you were unable to save. The imagery of them running, begging, dying carved itself into your mind. Why were you here, again?

* * *

“Hey, y/n, you’ve lost some weight. Are you alright?”, Satoru asked, playing with pencil that just a moment ago he asked you to throw at him. A showcase of his new skills, the techniques he’s been perfecting for the last year after encountering Toji Fushiguro. You forced a smile, squinting from the blinding sun of the summer at its peak.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, patting Suguru’s shoulder, because his attentive eyes were scanning you already for any sign of disorder; you could hear his analytic brain cranking up, his golden pupils drilling holes in your head. “I’m good, it’s just too hot you know?”

“Wanna go grab some ice cream later?”

“Always.” No, you didn’t wanna go grab ice cream with them. You didn’t wanna grab anything with anyone for that matter and already you had come up with some half-baked excuse to sell later to your two best friends.

You, Shoko, Gojo and Geto were all in the same year in Jujutsu high. You joined them a little late, but quickly found yourself inside the love triangle with the two boys. You called it love, but it truly was nothing more than just a bonding friendship that you wished will last forever; a really close one and you couldn’t imagine your world without their chaos. They were like brothers to you, the ones you’ve never had and Ieiri was like a sister, but she was smart enough to keep her distance from the mess of SatoSugu. You were not as bright in that matter, but for two years, you couldn’t appreciate enough the yin and yang that they created, the casual bickers and deep talks late at night, the cuddles and pinches, the pats and smacks, the tears and laughs, sleepovers, sleepless nights and everything between. You loved them, you couldn’t think of your future without them.

That’s until not that long ago. Few months, maybe. You felt like you’ve been spiraling slowly into something that could only be named depression, because if not that, then what else? Why would you randomly tear up nowadays, zoning out completely in the midst of sentences. Why would you spend nights, blankly staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, isolating yourself from your friends more and more? And why would you still hear that? The screams, the pleads of hysteric, the soul-tearing sounds of pain and frighten that you’ve been carrying inside your brain since that one mission.

Everything went wrong then, and you were alone. Shoko stayed at the campus, working her way towards becoming a doctor and you, Satoru and Suguru were assigned only to solo missions since the plasma vessel failure. You were strong, it was stated that your year was exceptional, that all of you have a chance to become special grades soon, but you hated that. Being strong came with a burden that you were not ready to take, and when you realized that, most of it was already heaving on your shoulders.

When you got to that school, it was already too late and it wasn’t your fault. You rushed there as soon as you were assigned with the job, but when you dropped the curtain and looked at the building, there was already smoke coming from the window holes, that some time earlier had glass in them. And when you kicked your way inside the little indoor sports arena, the view struck you in ways you couldn’t possibly prepare yourself for and certainly, you couldn’t process it as well. The school was primary, those people were just kids, but the curses pay no mind to age of their victims. This one was particularly playful – or rather, eagerly violent – spreading hellfire around, burning these children alive one by one, causing chaos, suffering and bloodshed. When you finished exorcising it, it was over. For the curse, for your job and for the lives of all of those children. None survived. Not even one.

Not always we can save everyone, Suguru always told you, rationalizing the sacrifices sorcerers have to make and you tried to repeat that in your head when you got out. You tried to play it over the screams, but eventually, the soft tone of your friend’s voice got lost in the catastrophic cacophony of sorrow, sizzling skin and burning death. And that, maybe wouldn’t be enough for you to lose your mind. Maybe you could recover from that, but soon after the incident you witnessed the group of people that stood behind the assault. A band of grown humans, men and women, who were convinced some of those children were possessed by devils or some other shit, so in all hypocrisy known to race, they hired a curse user to fight fire with fire. Quite literally. Those people were so blinded by their fear of unknown that they sacrificed lives of dozens of little children, they shattered so many innocent lives only because they believed in something absurd. And then, they tried to push the blame on you, on sorcerers despite the fact they hired one to do the dirty job. And then, they killed the user, fearing him too. When you’ve got to see the body of a sorcerer that you’ve never got to meet, or at least you thought so, you realized that probably, you wouldn’t recognize him anyway. You’ve seen corpses barely reminiscing of humans, twisted and broken as curses often chose the most petrifying, violent ways of killing, but this? This was something you’ve never seen before – a cruel, ruthless exhibition of pure hate, evidence of deliberate torture, the picture painted in stabs, burns and bruises. All of which, caused by people, who frankly, showed no remorse nor regret as their faces were painted in pride, origin of which you failed to notice.

Those humans. Used jujutsu to commit mass murder only to blame it on your people and kill them. Animals. No. Worse. Much worse.

“Y/n, please, let’s talk it through,” Suguru tried to reason, as you stood up against the two of your friends, in the middle of Shibuya’s scramble crossing. People were passing next to the three of you, unbothered by the way your worlds were colliding right here, in the busiest part of Tokyo. People didn’t care of others, they wouldn’t react if someone next to them would get stabbed to death, only caring about their own shoes to not get them stained in the dirt of blood.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not who you are,” Satoru raised his tone, but all you felt was nothing. The emotions you’ve seen on his face were real, you knew it. Satoru wears his heart on his shoulder, he pours everything he feels into the words he aims at people that are close to his soul, and you were no exception, but at this moment, you felt nothing. “I know you couldn’t do that.”

“Couldn’t I?”, you asked, thinking back on the last Friday, during which you executed those same people that used jujutsu sorcerers to wipe the floors of that primary school. To wipe the blood and burned bodies. You remember how they knelt before you, how the women cried begging for their lives, yelping that they have children, families and yet, those same children and families were nowhere in their mind when they ordered a mass murder in the primary school. “And why would that be exactly? Because you two think so?”

“Y/n, I get it,” Geto stepped forward, but stopped as you glanced at him. “I really do. You know me, we talked about it. It was hard for me too after Riko, I know what you’re going through.”

“I know Suguru.”

“I thought you keep his side, y/n,” Gojo threw his hands in the air, helplessly trying to find the words to dress his mind with. “I thought you believe in doing good with your powers. That people won’t understand so we shouldn’t look at them and just do what we do. Wasn’t that what you’ve told me?”

“I did, yes,” you gave it a nod and exhaled. “But it changed. Yes, they won’t understand. Anything that they can’t comprehend is pure evil for them and yet they believe in such absurd like gods. They will use us to do their dirty works and then blame us for it, because they cannot understand a single thing. And then, they will kill us, one by one and we, the strongest, cannot do nothing about it. We’ll have to go through life through the corpses of our friends. People don’t deserve what we do for them.”

“Y/n, please, let’s talk about it. Let’s get back to school-“ Geto tried, but you cut him off.

“You two, get back to school. I know I have a sentence already, there’s no point for me to get back there only to get executed. And frankly, I don’t want to get back there, to take part in what they teach us is right when we die for those people. We give our lives for them and they have no idea,” you said, taking a step back. You could tell the lights will soon switch. “Look around, Satoru, Suguru. They crawl around us unaware of our sacrifice and yet, even if they are so fragile a single blow can kill them, they think we deserve to be killed. I’m not gonna take part in this anymore. I’m sorry.”

“We can’t let you go, you know that, we-“

“Then attack me. I’m sure any of you can take me down. I’d rather die by your hands, than on a job of protecting them.”

You turned your back on them, and Satoru raised his hand, pointing at your silhouette, blue already on his mind as his cursed energy gathered in front of his fingers. Suguru’s curses sprawled out of their dimension, but none of them pursued with the attack, unable to do that. They couldn’t kill you. You were too dear to them. They loved you too much to take your life like this. So they let you go, and soon enough, they lost the sight of you in the crowd.

* * *

Nine years. It's been almost a decade and many things changed. You changed your ways completely, making a point of protecting sorcerers from people, even if that meant killing them, but care for humans was something you’ve lost many years ago, having it slowly replaced by disgust. Your once soft heart turned hard and dark and all the good in you vanished as you time after time solidified your beliefs that humans are simply not worth saving, therefore there was no need to keep them alive the moment they became useless. Over those years, you used those people to your benefit, raising money and gathering intel and then, the second their use to you has become nonexistent, so were them. Blood burned permanent stains on your hands but screams of hurt didn’t phase you at all. Have you become a monster? You might have. But for the lives of sorcerers, it was worth it.

It’s been almost a decade since you’ve been dismissed from jujutsu community for crimes, that over those years piled up rapidly and during this time, both Satoru and Suguru tried to stay out of this, whilst Yaga turned a blind eye to the corrupted path one of his students went down by. The now principal felt responsible for not doing enough, for not saying enough, for not noticing soon enough and though the rest of his students, now teachers in Jujutsu high told him that some things were inevitable, it wasn’t that easy to switch off the thinking. Same went for both the strongest, but for years, they waited in hopes for something to change.

That was until you killed someone seemingly important. A politician of sorts, high government pawn that you learned was funding a unit of so-called sorcerer killers, ones that modelled after Toji Fushiguro in cold blood were meant to take down a menace that jujutsu users were, as if it was them who were the ones to fear. Opposite to little no-one’s deaths, this one was loud, this one was medial and this one, Yaga couldn’t let slip. So, an order was given.

Kill on sight.

Almost ten years, and yet Satoru still couldn’t believe what happened. Whilst young, the three of you were almost inseparable and you, out of the whole group, were the most sensitive person he knew. You were soft and full of smiles, kind above all else and yet, you were strong enough to hold back the tears he knew were threatening to roll down your cheeks on many occasions. You were soothing, an oasis that was easily able to turn any darkness into light, and what Satoru couldn’t forgive himself was that once that same darkness started devouring you, he didn’t notice. Too focused on his own missions, on lighthearted shenanigans, on perfecting his usage of limitless and six eyes, he had no idea about your state of mind and when he realized, you have already been sentenced. Suguru didn’t notice either. Or maybe didn’t want to notice, because you talked through many nights about the doubts you both had. He knew about the utter devastation that was slowly consuming your soul but hoped you’ll overcome it, because you always were a sunshine, and a sunshine couldn’t die down to shadows. Turned out, this shadow was pitch black and no light made its way through it.

“Y/n,” they called you and the beautiful music that their voices created brought back memories of your youth. Ten years, almost, had passed since you’ve seen your best friends the last time, and with curiosity sparkling through your system, you turned to face them.

“Satoru, Suguru,” addressing them, your lips curved up slightly in a manner of soft joy. Your heart fluttered at the sight; your pulse raised just as it would for person who’s just seen the love of their life. “Long time no see.”

“It’s not as pleasurable as we would like it to be, y/n,” Suguru sighed and you took a moment to absorb the view.

Both of them changed. Suguru, still tall and broad, seemingly even buffier than he was before stood there with his hair now longer and partially knotted and partially left loose on his back. His facial features sharpened, jaw got more edge to it, eyes turned more narrow and focused, but still, some softness remained from what you remembered and probably he would seem even more familiar if not for the tough expression he had going on. Satoru, right next to him, became even taller. His white hair was now pointing up, kept by a white wrap that completely covered his eyes – something that he probably adapted during the time of usage of his six eyes. Not much of his face you could see, but with ease you noticed his features matured. Both were dressed in uniforms that you could only tie to their unbreakable bond with Jujutsu high.

“You’re now teachers, the two of you, huh?”, you asked, smiling softly, but keeping their moves in mind. “I’ve heard this year’s students are exceptional, now it makes sense. Good they have such amazing senseis.”

“You could have been one of the teachers too,” Gojo snapped.

“How could I teach anyone something I don’t believe in?” a chuckle rumbled deep in your chest as you thought of the image. Abstraction of it made you amused. “How’s Shoko? Is she a doctor now?

“She is,” Geto muttered, unsure why is he answering your questions. “Yaga is the principal.”

“Oh, is he? Look at him, climbing up that ladder,” you laughed, “so, it’s on his orders that you two are here?”

“You killed a fucking politician, y/n,” Satoru spoke, sounding calm but you could tell his blood was boiling. Both of his hands hidden in his pockets were visibly clenched in fists and even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew his brows were furrowed. “Almost a decade we allowed you to do whatever you tried to do, but this time, higher ups stepped in. The sentence is decided, we cannot let you pursue your goals further.”

“And why are you both here? I’m sure just one amazing special grade would be enough,” there was a certain amount of poison in your words, though it wasn’t directed at your friends and both of them knew it. “Are the higher ups so desperate to get me off the board because it’s them who give green lights to those assholes that kill us? Did you know that that pathetic politician I’ve killed was in midst of creating an army of little Toji Fushiguros? How do you think he even knew about the dude, huh?”

“An army of Toji?”

“Yeah, remember that guy, that cut both of you into slices? Yea, that one. And who’s giving away the cursed tools to said army? Well, it’s not me and I assume not any of you as well.”

“Y/n,” Suguru made his way to the side in what seemed like an attempt on surrounding you, because in that same moment, Satoru began shifting to the other side. “I agree with you. People don’t deserve what we do. But no one else can do it. You’re killing those whom we swore to protect.”

“Tell me, Suguru… how many bodies of our friends did Shoko cut open?” you asked and the question made the dark-haired man tsk. It was the truth that hurt the most, he hated how precisely it hit the spot. “How many of our allies were spread across her metal table after Haibara was there? Well, half of Haibara?”

“That’s not the point,” Satoru scoffed and with an exhale, he raised his hand up to loosen up the bandages around his eyes. “We die just as people die. Sorcerers are not above death. You know that, right?”

“We’re not above that, but we are above people and we risk our lives, which we just like them have only one of, for them. And they fuckingstep on it. If I have to pick who’s gonna die from a curse, why would I pick a sorcerer, when a loss of a mere human will be much less tangible than the loss of one of us?”

“Because they cannot protect themselves from curses, and we can.” Geto replied and in a whiff, you felt the appearance of his curses around him. Both him and Gojo were getting ready for a fight, so you had to get ready as well.

“But can we really protect ourselves from them?”, you glared back at him; your tone calm but laced with icicles that pierced through Suguru’s mind as he struggled to see you inside of you.

All of the softness he had always equated you with dissolved into something he couldn’t quite place. Image of you killing someone just for the sake of killing somehow couldn’t materialize inside his mind and it pained him, breaking his heart to think that he will be the reason of your death. And it’s true that probably, just one of them would be enough for that fight, but there was no way they would be able to chose and no one else could do it. You were the strongest, you grew into a special grade quickly after leaving and your technique proved to have no flaws or holes. You were a threat above abilities of others, stepping down only to the two of your friends, if not being equal to them.

“Let’s do it quickly, Suguru,” Satoru sighed, tucking his wraps into one of his pockets.

“Oh, where’s your playful attitude, Satoru?”, you teased, but somehow it hurt you as well. It was your friend you were talking to. Both of them, that came here to kill you and only way for you to get out of it was to kill them.

And killing them, turned out, you couldn’t do. Even hurting them came with difficulty not physically, but mentally. But you fought them both at the same time, keeping a defensive stance, searching for an opening to vanish. From them, you wished to run away, to not make them take the burden of your death because you could see it in their eyes, you were just as dear to them still, as they were to you. But they left you no opening to run away, so you fought. Using everything you’ve got to immobilize them, because instead of taking their lives, that would give you more time.

The way you stood against them, with your cursed technique of energy manipulation, it gave them the hardest time since Toji, and considering they were both taking part in the fight now, ten years after and significantly stronger, just showed how much work you’ve put into your own development. And with pride you noticed, how strong both of your friends became as well. You countered all of their attacks, slashed away the curses and blocked the blues and reds, albeit it really was a matter of time and you knew that. And so, you pushed through, materializing in your hands weapons made from pure, solidified cursed energy, using swords and needles and creating armor around your body that effectively, shielded you from any attack. Your weapon was different from cursed tools. It was made only from energy, strong and unbendable, changing shapes and forms as you deemed it necessary, allowing you to use it in close combat and on long distances. Any curses Suguru summoned stood no chance against what you wielded, but the sheer amount of them was just short of overwhelming you. On top of that, Satoru’s constant offensive, his fists saturated in limitless abilities, the sheer strength of both bodies that were attacking you, slowly rendered you weaker. And it didn’t surprise you.

The end has come when one of the curses stopped you mid-way, engaging in a fight that distracted you enough for a hollow purple to reach your body. The blast threw you away as your body pierced through three buildings straight, through thick concrete bocks and hard steel reinforcements like it was tearing through wet paper and it’s only thanks to the full body coverage of your cursed technique, that it didn’t kill you on the spot. But it hurt. All of your body felt broken once you finally stopped, back pressed against the wall that still cracked underneath the impact of your frame hitting it. Blood covered your vision and a cough shook your body with painful wave overtaking your entire nervous system.

“So that’s the infamous hollow purple, huh?”, you muttered, leaning your head back against the cold solid behind you. There wasn’t much in your body that wouldn’t be fractured at least, you could tell without a mistake that your heart was still beating only because of the cursed energy that still circled throughout your frame.

Both men appeared in front of you, jumping from above – Suguru coming from one of his flying curses and Satoru, probably just teleported here.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Gojo whispered, squatting in front of you and Geto followed his motion to level his vision with yours.

“’ts alright, ‘toru,” you muttered, feeling the dizziness taking the best of you. After the hit you took, you were certain not even a genius like Shoko could save you. “Sugu… both so strong.”

Exchanging a quick glance, both sorcerers sat down, on your sides, paying no mind to the puddle of blood underneath you. They took your hands, so small in comparison to theirs, now red and wounded severely, but the pain you couldn’t feel much of anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take this mission for you. Back in our days. It was meant to be mine, but I was training,” Satoru confessed, squeezing lightly the fractured bones in your palm, reminiscing of the day that was the beginning of your end. The elementary. That day engraved itself in his memory as one of many days that seemingly mattered nothing. Yaga told him about the issue, the curse and fire in school for the youngest, but he brushed it off, focusing all of his mind on perfecting the last touches of his technique. He still remembers how sensei was mumbling profanities, but couldn’t care less because he was that close from teleporting.

“’ts okay, ‘toru.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there either,” Suguru added, his voice barely a whisper as you leaned your head against his shoulder, desperate to ease the heaviness. What Geto remembered from the day in question was that he had an issue with his own technique. Little difficulty, as he was absorbing one of the special grade curses he just caught. It wasn’t severe, it wasn’t even that important, he could have fix this on another time and take the god damn mission, but instead, he declined. “I thought if I don’t take the job, Satoru will, but turned out, it got to you.”

“Sugu, ‘ts ok.”

“Remember how we used to sneak out the dorms to get ice cream in the middle of the night?”, Satoru changed the topic completely – a defensive mechanism to lighten up the mood, to prevent him from crying. And you hummed in response, lowering your heavy lids.

“And how Satoru got drunk after three sips of a beer? That’s when we all knew he’s the lightest head in the history,” Suguru added and faded images of how Gojo discovered that he cannot drink to save his life rushed to the front of your mind.

You had no idea how long it took, was it few minutes or merely few seconds, but you listened to both men rambling above your head, reminiscing of your school days and everything that you did together. Of every prank you witnessed that they took on poor first years, of every little mischief and menace they performed, following Satoru’s lead, because it’s always him who stood tall in the name of chaos. You were humming softer and softer, quieter and quieter.

Until you were not.

“And then we put those cupcakes in Nanami’s bed and-“

“Satoru,” Geto cut him softly, looking down at your stilled frame. At your frozen chest and softened features, sensing no more heartbeat. And Gojo turned his eyes towards you as well, taking in the last picture of you, who he loved as his little sister, even though there was no age gap between you and him. And then they both cried in silence, spending another hour with your dead body before gathering you and taking home.

* * *

October 31, 2018

21:18

Only word that could describe what was happening in Shibuya at this moment would be chaos. Pure disorder, people frightened and running, some unconscious on the ground and some other hiding from what was happening in the Shibuya station. Most of them couldn’t see it but felt the terror, saw the blood, smelled the death in the middle of which, two men were standing.

Both Satoru and Suguru, when they came down here to fight whatever the hell was attacking people, couldn’t move; their heads void of any logical thoughts as memories rushed to the fronts of their minds. Stunned to the core and frozen, they looked into the eyes of the person in front of them, distrusting their own vision. The person that wore the familiar look of you, the energy of you and what seemed like – the same cursed technique, and voice, and face, and hair, and everything. Not one thing betrayed trickery or deception as there you stood, facing them both with a smile on your face – one of those soft ones that had melted their hearts on the spot a decade before. Your features relaxed, genuine, borderline joyous as you breathed the air around them once again.

“What…?”, Suguru snapped first, forcing his own body to move and smacking his friend’s shoulder. “How?”

“Who the hell are you…?”, Satoru whispered, voice stuck in his throat as all of the information that his senses were receiving contradicted with what his soul was telling him.

“Aah? It’s been few months, but do you not recognize me anymore?”, your voice flew through your mouth, the very same gentle and bright tone they used to fall asleep to. “It’s hurting my feelings.”

“Cut it,” Gojo snapped, now putting more pressure on his vocal cords, a groan escaping his throat in effect. “Cut the bullshit, you’re not her. You cannot be her. Y/n is-“

“Dead? Yeah, that purple really messed me up,” you chuckled, shrugging your shoulders slightly and stepping forward. “I have to admit, restoring the body wasn’t the easiest of all.”

“Reveal yourself,” Geto took the defensive stance, ready to pursue with attack if needed and his curses floating behind him on standby. “You’re not fooling us.”

“Ah, how stubborn,” another laugh brightened your face, only now more menacing, more teasing as your dainty fingers reached up to gather the lose hair out of your forehead, revealing a line of thin stitches across your skin there. “See, you really did me a favor by burying her body oh-so traditionally. Isn’t that the procedure to burn every deceased sorcerer?” your mouth was moving, spilling the words interlaced with taunt as the, what looked like, thread was pulled out of the horizontal line above your eyebrows and soon after, grabbed by the hair, the top of your head was lifted, revealing the terrifying image of a brain. With mouth of its own.

“What did you do to her?!”

“Oh, I just took what you two threw away,” you replied, slowly putting the upper skull part down on its place, matching the lines as the thread went through the holes by itself, securing the head together. “And I have to thank you for your little sentiment. If not for that, I wouldn’t have my perfect vessel. Ah, but it’s sad, isn’t it? Such a young, pretty girl had to die so early, and more so, killed by her own best friends. What a waste to jujutsu community, don’t you think?”

Both the boys stood there in shock, guilt eating them alive as the salt and acid was being rubbed into the wounds that just opened. The scabs of the past were ripped away, revealing the gushing pain and Satoru growled in anger, realizing that once again, he might have been responsible for what happened to you. This time, Suguru kept up with him in terms of fury, feeling his own blood boiling in his veins, unable to watch your body being possessed like this, used like a toy.

“Y/n, I know you’re there-“ Gojo called, but got stopped quickly by another pilfering laugh.

“Oh, but she’s not. Her soul is long gone and dead. You made sure to have her soul dead, and you have to know I nearly teared up reviewing her memories when I took the body. Such a poignant story, oh, so heartbreaking.” The teasing had no end as more and more poisonous venom spilled through your mouth, contradicting the carefree and joyful tone of your voice.

“What makes you believe that even if you take her body, you can win here? We’ve defeated her already,” Suguru narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, you’ve won but that’s because she let you two won. Wasn’t that surprising how easily you finished her? A special grade? How she didn’t even try to dodge the hollow purple, like the little curse that she was fighting with was really that much of a struggle? Oh, don’t be silly, you two. It wouldn’t be that easy if she tried.”

“We won’t let you-“

“You must understand your situation. What you’re standing in is a special grade cursed object. A prison realm, and to say it simply, you’ve already lost,” you pointed at the floor, from where the four corners of a cube stretched into a mass of flesh, with an eye – giant and bleeding, staring at its target, as the next stage of sealing began before either of sorcerers reacted. “And what’s more interesting, the prison realm can seal only one person at the time, but with the incredible technique of my current host, I was able to fuel its capacity to two occupants, by manipulating the cursed energy it used. Marvelous!”

The cursed object began enveloping both men, rendering them helpless and immobile, as their cursed energy became unavailable for their use.

“We’ll save you, y/n, you hear me?”, Satoru yelled in unison with his friend and the lone tear rolled down your face, before your hand reached up wiping it in amusement.

“Gate close.”

810 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

Text

The first bout of whispering, Shiro can ignore. He’s a teacher by trade, after all. Astronaut, sure. Paladin, even. But he always expected to be a teacher, trained for it, and he knows when you put a group of teenagers in a room and expect them to start learning by lecture, there’s going to be some whispering. He’d be concerned if there wasn’t, frankly.

But as it keeps happening, again and again, to the point where it’s almost constant, Shiro begins to lose his patience.

“Lance, Hunk,” he says, catching himself long before then. He tries to smile, gentle but firm. “Everything okay?”

The two boys clam up immediately. Lance even begins to lean slightly away from Hunk, although Shiro’s not sure he notices.

Shiro frowns, puzzled at the reaction. That’s — uncommon. He’s seen embarrassed, seen sheepish, seen unbothered, even seen downright rude, but Lance looks almost… afraid. And Hunk looks at him with a lot more anxiety than the situation calls for, but Shiro is beginning to notice that that’s just Hunk.

The both mutter some semblance of apology, and Shiro moves on quickly, unwilling to dwell on the incident too long.

For the rest of the briefing, he keeps an eye on them. He’s still focused, of course, as their break-in and recon on a nearby Empire warship is not only hugely dangerous, but will also be hugely beneficial, but he lets his notes do a lot of the talking for him. He flits his eyes to the pair every so often, and while Hunk meets his eyes on occasion, smiling slightly, Lance keeps his head down, hunched over his tablet.

Shiro notices that the tablet is powered off. He doesn’t write a single note.

His shoulders are hunched up to his ears.

———

“Alright, kiddo, good job.”

Keith grins, stepping backwards and bowing to finish the fight. Shiro bows back, matching his smile.

“You did great.”

“I know,” Keith says cheekily. “You’re getting easier and easier to beat. Probably because you’re elderly.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Am I.”

His annoying little brother hums, completely unconcerned. He steps off to the side and starts swinging around his training stick, very clearly showing off. “Mhm. It was super easy to fight you. I just went whoosh, smack, bam! —” he punctuates every sound with a swing and slash of the stick — “and every hit just landed. Honestly, I think a punching bag would have been more of a challenge. Adam is a way better spar partner than you. I wish I was shot into space with him.”

Shiro’s eye twitches. It’s a clear goad, he knows it is. Keith isn’t even trying to hide it. He’s a twerp with too much energy and too much experience pressing all of Shiro’s buttons — a favourite button of his, of course, being the bit of…healthy competition Shiro has always had with his boyfriend.

(He’s well aware of the irony. He hears Adam pointing and laughing in his head every time he endures Keith’s complaining about Lance pulling his mullet, so to speak. In fact keeping his mouth shut about the parallels is the only thing keeping him from throwing Keith down the laundry chute. He’s waiting for a moment when the reveal can be well and truly devastating.)

Shiro manages, with herculean strength, to step away from his turd of a brother, putting his training stick away.

“I am leaving,” he says loudly, pointedly turning away. “I said I’d train one hour with you and not a second more.”

He feels Keith’s pout more than sees it. “Coward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro snorts, waving his hand dismissively. He hears swishing sounds, and the clicks of buttons — Keith is starting up his own training. Again. “Don’t be late for dinner or I’ll send Lance after you.”

“Can’t promise I won’t maim him,” Keith mutters. “Sometimes I just want to wring his neck.”

Shiro is very familiar with that feeling. Or at least the raving about it. He used to feel great pleasure in driving Adam to that point, just because he was hot when he was mad. But Shiro values his limbs — or at least what’s left of them — where they are, so he keeps the comments to himself as he makes his way out of the training room, meandering back to his own quarters.

He takes his time showering and redressing, knowing he’s got some time before dinner. He thinks Hunk even managed to wrestle Coran out of the kitchen, which means no food goo. It also means that he’s banned from even breathing near the kitchen until the food is fully cooked and completed — which is a bullshit ban and one based in false accusations — but he’s sure he can help set the table, or something. Stir a pot. He’s good at that.

He towels off his hair, not bothering to style it, and takes his time walking over to the kitchens. The castle floors are cold under his bare feet, he finds himself wishing he had the lion slippers Lance made him. They’re very warm. He never wears them because he’s terrified of ruining them, but it’s so icy in here that he might start having to, or else he’ll freeze.

As he approaches the kitchen, he hears voices. He freezes, quieting his steps and pausing behind the wall to listen. Hopefully no one else walks by, or that will be humiliating.

“— all you have to do is ask, Lance, just casually, it’s not even —”

“— it is even, Hunk, it’s the worst and I’m not doing it, why would I inconvenience —”

“— it isn’t! Not even a little! It’s the smallest tiniest thing!”

“Hunk —”

Hunk throws his hands up in exasperation, spoon going flying and splattering some kind of blue sauce all over the cabinets. Neither of them even blinks at it.

“I am tired of watching you struggle, Leandro! Heaven forbid you ask for help!”

Shiro frowns. That’s not good. That sounds serious.

“I asked for help,” Lance huffs, arms crossed over his chest. “I asked you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t count and you know it,” Hunk says sharply, mirroring him. “I already knew.”

Lance looks away, clenching his jaw. His fingers are tangled in his jacket’s sleeve, tense.

“You don’t have to help anymore if it’s too hard,” he mumbles. “I can handle it myself.”

Hunk softens. “It’s not that, Lance.” He wipes his hands in his apron and pulls Lance to his chest. Lance goes, although he doesn’t move his arms, burying his face in Hunk’s shoulder. “You know it’s not that. If that’s all we have then I’ll keep doing it, damn the consequences.” He pulls back slightly, nudging Lance back so he can look him in the face. “You can just do better, dude. All you gotta do is tell Shiro about your —”

A hand claps over Hunk’s mouth, cutting him off, and Lance squeaks, “Hey, Shiro, hello, hi!”

Shiro startles. He scrambles upright before Hunk turns all the way, so at least he’s only seen crouching by the door like a weirdo by one person.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hi.”

“You’re banned from the kitchen,” Hunk says, muffled. How he looks so mighty and dignified with Lance’s hands still very much pressed to his face is well and truly beyond him. Shiro is frankly awed.

“I just came to help set the table,” he assures, hands held up in surrender. “Promise I’ll stay away from the actual food.”

Hunk narrows his eyes, but must decide he could use the help, because he nods, stepping backwards so Lance’s hands fall back down.

“Alright,” he sighs. “I’m making stew. You can set out utensils if you must but know I’ll judge you heavily for it. Lance, come help me finish up.”

Lance scrambles after him, avoiding Shiro’s gaze like he’s sure he’s going to get yelled at. Shiro watches him go, perplexed.

———

The next few days are, for the most part, manageable. Their mission goes well, Keith is surprisingly mellow — Shiro suspects the little nerd has discovered a library of some kind — and distress calls are minimal. All in all, Shiro should be taking the time as the blessing it is and catching up on some much needed R&R.

Instead, he’s worrying about the Blue Paladin.

Shiro can’t say he knows him well. They’ve hardly been in space a couple of months, after all, and while Shiro must have taught him a couple times — he was in the piloting program so it’s almost impossible that they didn’t cross paths — the Garrison is huge, and Shiro largely teachers younger students. Shiro can’t recall teaching a Lance, anyway.

But he can tell something’s off.

Besides the fact that Hunk keeps looking at Lance with concern, the Cuban seems…withdrawn, almost. He still works hard in training and smokes them in any kind of long distance, but there doesn’t seem to be any joy in it. Even his arguments with Keith seem halfhearted, which Keith will never admit leave him agitated as much as it has Shiro’s eyebrows raising. Shiro is sure, basically, that something is the matter, and surer still that he has to be the one to fix it.

How exactly he should go about it…well, that’s the part he’s struggling with. He knows Lance is kind of star-eyed around him, even though they’re on the same playing field, so Shiro’s not sure just regular talking to him about it is going to do something. And he seemed pretty resistant when Hunk pressed, in the conversation Shiro overheard. He’s just not sure what to do.

Luckily, the situation starts to resolve itself.

“Hey, Shiro, can I talk to you?” Lance mumbles into his breakfast, as everyone else is distracted by Pidge and Keith’s loud argument about cryptids (Shiro has heard it too many times at this point. He’s tuned it out).

Shiro blinks. “Sure,” he says, trying to keep the shock out of his voice. “Now?”

“Uh, after we eat, maybe.”

Shiro tries very hard not to seem over enthusiastic. He sucks at that, so it doesn’t work, and it seems to make Lance more stressed, which only stresses Shiro out more. By the time everyone has finished up and people are starting to file out to various tasks, the tension between them is so thick Shiro feels as if he might suffocate.

Suddenly, as if he propelled himself, Lance springs to his feet, snatching his bowl and Shiro’s and powerwalking towards the kitchen sink. Shiro, startled, follows him.

“You okay?” Shiro asks softly, noticing the whiteness of Lance’s knuckles, clenched around a sponge, and the robotic way he scrubs it across a dirty spoon.

Lance says nothing. He keeps his eyes trained resolutely on the soapy water, spine ramrod straight, nerves bleeding from him in waves.

Hesitantly, Shiro rolls up his sleeves, standing beside him and beginning to dry what he rinses. As Shiro gets close he gets tenser, shoulders hiked up to his ears, but as the minutes drag on, empty kitchen echoing the sound of swishing water and clanking cutlery, he begins to calm down. Shiro watches his face relax, easing its worries twist, and terror fade from his brown eyes.

He hands Shiro the last clean dish to dry, then pulls the plug on the sink, darting over to grab a hand towel and starting to dry.

“Can you write mission plans in pink?”

The words rush out of him, like he’d been holding them between his teeth for God knows how long and they’d finally spilled out. He looks almost nauseous after he says them.

Shiro blinks. That was…not what he’d expected.

“…Why?”

“It’s perfectly okay if you can’t,” Lance continues, as if Shiro had not spoken. “I mean, whatever. I’ll figure it out. I’ve gone without this long, after all, and it’s totally doable. Of course there’s the migraines and the agony but that’s all light work. It’s war, after all. Ha.” He chuckles nervously.

He’s shrunk in on himself, looking almost small. Shiro stares at him with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. Lance doesn’t even notice, eyes focused intensely on the hand towel, breathing worryingly erratic.

“I just swore to Hunk that I’d ask, you know. He said it wouldn’t hurt. And of course it wouldn’t but I don’t need it. It’s just. You know.”

Shiro cannot stress enough how much he doesn’t know. He hasn’t felt this lost in a while.

“Pink makes the letters stick to the page. And I know that sounds stupid as shit and that’s because it is stupid as shit, unfortunately. Dyslexia is the dumbest thing in the world, actually. And who named it that? You know how hard that word is to spell? It’s hard. They should have called it — I dunno, I just mean, it’s whatever. It’s fine. I’ve handled it this long. Uh.” He looks up, finally, and maybe he doesn’t know how to make sense of Shiro’s expression, because he winces, shame overtaking his face. He sets down the towel and gestures vaguely behind him, stepping towards the door. “I’m just gonna — go. Sorry. See you later. Sorry.”

He all but flees out of the room. Shiro barely manages to snag the back of his hoodie, holding him in place.

“Lance. Chill a second. Give me time to respond.”

Lance looks deploringly at the door, then back at Shiro. He looks like he’s accepting his death. Shiro can’t help but feel the teensiest bit offended.

“I’m not going to bite you,” he says, aghast. “Jesus, kid. You’re going to give me a complex.”

To Shiro’s great relief, the remark makes Lance grin. Some of the tension eases from his face.

“You sound like my mother.”

“From what I’ve heard, that’s a compliment,” Shiro says lightly. He pulls out two chairs, orienting them so they’re facing each other. He deliberately takes the one farthest from the door, so Lance doesn’t feel trapped. He gestures to the other one. “Sit.”

Lance does.

“Now. From the beginning and with a little less fear, hopefully. Tell me what’s up, kiddo.”

Lance looks down at his hands, where he’s picking at a scar on his wrist.

“Um. So. I have dyslexia. I can’t read too well.”

Lance cringes as he says it. Shiro wonders who he has to kill for putting the idea that this is something to be ashamed about in his head.

“Cool,” Shiro says, as encouragingly as he can manage. “The main character of my favourite book series as a kid had dyslexia. I was jealous of everyone who had it. I used to pray for it.”

The revelation startles a laugh out of Lance, like Shiro hoped it would. The tension melts right off of him.

“You prayed?”

“Every night,” Shiro affirms, grinning. “I even crossed my eyes and pretended when it didn’t work. My mother didn’t believe me for a second.”

“You’re a dweeb,” Lance says, sounding kind of awed. Like he’s shocked that Shiro, too, is a nerd loser on this castle full of other nerd losers. “Dyslexia sucks.”

Letting his face settle into something more serious, Shiro nods. “I imagine it does.” He reaches over and squeezes Lance’s hand, subtly stopping him from picking at the skin. Keith has the same bad habit. “Writing in pink helps?”

Lance shrugs. “Sorta. Dunno why. But things are less squiggly when they’re written in pink or red. Not perfect, but it’s something. I can hardly read at all when they’re in black; it’s like my eyes are spinning out of my head trying to focus on ‘em. Gives me migraines like you would not imagine.”

“And thus Hunk whispering the plans to you so you don’t have to read them,” Shiro surmises, the whispering during briefings suddenly making sense. Guilt twinges in his belly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Of course not,” Shiro says gently. “I get it now. Sorry for not understanding.” He frowns, remembering something. “I should’ve asked beforehand. Or suspected something, or known better, really. I had a kid a few years back in one of my astronomy courses. Li-something. I marked all his stuff in red for the same reasons.”

Lance makes a very particular face. Warning bells go off in Shiro’s head.

“I appreciated that very much,” Lance says politely.

It takes a moment for it to click.

Shiro considers banging his head against the table.

“Please tell me no,” he begs, ears reddening.

“It was a great honour to be renamed by the Takashi Shirogane,” Lance insists.

“I had you in my class for three years!” Shiro says, aghast. “I — I called you Li all the time! In front of people!”

“I didn’t want to correct you! That’s — embarrassing!”

Shiro cradles his head in his hands. Dear God. He knows he’s not great with names, but — Jesus. To rename a kid. Blatantly. Other teachers must have thought he was some cruel jackass.

“I think there was a Li McKinney ahead of me in roll call,” Lance offers, patting Shiro’s back delicately. “So. Pretty easy to mess up.”

“Did you write your name as Li on tests? And assignments?”

“After the first couple times, yeah. Hunk laughed at me. At a certain point I’d just dug myself too deep, I think.”

Shiro sighs, dragging his hand down his face. It’s still quite hot. He looks up at Lance, who’s mouth is twitching.

“You were short as shit back then,” he observes, trying to picture the kid in his class. “Like, shorter than Pidge.”

Lance scowls. “I was — saving up on growth spurts. Yeah. So. Purge that from your memory.” He smirks. “Like my name.”

Shiro groans. “I’m never hearing the end of that, am I.”

Lance smiles. “Probably not. I didn’t know you were uncool. It’s interesting. I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, but reaches over to mess with Lance’s hair, like he would Keith. Unlike Keith, Lance freaks out way harder, screeching something about hard work and artistic expression.

He smiles. “Glad you came to talk to me, kid.”

Lance sticks out his tongue, but he looks pleased, too. “Yeah, yeah.”

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popquizhot-shot · 10 months

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O my gosh do you think you can do a Miguel x teen reader. Where the reader has been in a depressed mood lately and no one can figure out what's wrong till they reveal that their headphones broke on their last mission and it was the last thing their remaining family member gave to them before they died and they blaime themselves for not being more careful with them.

Headphones-Miguel O’Hara x teen!reader.

As someone who’s emotionally attached to her heradpjones yes I can and will write this. Thank you all so much for the love and support from my last post! I’ll be taking a short break after this and I hope you all like it! Please comment and reblog if you do :D love you<3333

Warnings: Implied Hobie brown x reader; mostly fluff dw, crying.

ART BY THE AMAZING @thattripleabattery

“Is it just me, or is something off about her?” Miles nods towards you who is sitting all alone away from and sipping juice desolately as they all listen to Miguel’s newest monthly goal meeting.

“Something looks off about her, like something’s missing.” Gwen narrows her eyes at your figure.

You just keep nodding at intervals and try to pay attention but all you can think about are the headphones your brother had given you.

You considered them an extension of you, going so far as to even sometimes wear them during light missions while you waited for the threat to show up.

Your last mission had been gruelling, so bad to the point that both Jess and your dad had suggested you take a break from fighting to recuperate.

You were so devastated on the inside, all you did was just nod.

You knew that Miguel knew you were off. It was obvious that you joked less and acted tired. Not to mention the little amount of sleep you got.

It was stupid really, all this drama over a pair of headphones. Yet, they were the last connection you had to your brothers and it felt like you had truly lost your family when they broke into two.

Your mind was literally empty as you nodded at whatever Miguel was saying. You just dipped your juice and kept zoning in and out. It felt wrong that they weren’t there around your neck where they usually were.

Miguel started to notice your constant fidgeting and the way your hands kept rubbing your neck. He had also noticed your dull nature and the way your sweet smile stopped making its way onto your face.

Even to his lamest dad jokes, you’d respond with a huff and small twist of your lips.

As he wrapped up the plan, his eyes flit to yours and he saw you still nodding, your eyes glassy.

He takes a deep breath, “Dismissed, all of you leave. Now.”

The shuffle of chairs fills the room as everyone files out one by one.

He says your name, “Stay back.” And turns around to look at the hologram.

Miles and Gwen look at each other and then at you, who breathes in and nods without a word.

Once everyone has left, he turns back around to find you looking at him with your hands behind your back.

“What happened?” He asks and you sign.

“Nothing.”

“It’s rude to lie.”

“Manners maketh man and all that jazz.” You reply with a roll of your eyes.

“Seriously.” He raises his eyebrow and his hand rests on your shoulder, “You okay?”

“Yeah, god I’m fine! I was just an irresponsible shit and I broke my headphones.”

His eyebrows furrow, “The ones your brother gave you?”

You clench your jaw and nod, eyes smarting as you struggle not to cry at the thought.

He shrugs, “They’re just headphones, kid. You can always get another.”

You just scoffed, “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean, you get it right?”he tips his down to make a point.

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” You smile wryly and turn away so that he can miss the tear forming in your eye, “Cool, I’ll uh catch you later boss man.”

He stares after your retreating figure with remorse, did he say something wrong?

“You dumb idiot.” Lyla pops up.

“What?” He snarls, whirling to look at her.

“She was really attached to those headphones, Miguel.”

“She can always get new ones, Lyla. I’m getting them for her anyway.”

“Miguel it’s as if her brother died all over again.” Lyla replies firmly, “She’s hurting, ans you made her feel worse.”

Miguel hangs his head, “Shit.”

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but after years of shutting himself out, he didn’t understand people’s feelings like he used to, and he wanted with every fibre of his being to cheer you up, and he managed to screw it up.

“You need to go apologise and fix this.” Lyla points towards the doorway.

——————-

“It’s okay. Let it all out.” Hobie’s soothing voice is calming as his hand travels up and down your back to soothe you.

You breathe deeply before letting out another broken sob that only makes you more embarrassed, and in front of Hobie of all people. The guy just oozed absolute “don’t care” energy while still simultaneously being one of the most caring people you’d ever met.

Your apologies are hushed and he takes your face between his hands and wipes your tears from your cheeks, “You look pretty even when you cry.”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

You hug him again, “Thank you.”

“I know what it’s like to lose something like that, and I’m sorry. But I know you will get over it and I salute you for being so brave.” He winks, “I’ve gotta run, catch you later.”

He quickly kisses your forehead and dashes off, leaving you stunned. After a few moments, a smile makes its way onto your puffy face.

“I’m going to kill that kid.” Miguel seethes as he watches from the camera.

———-

You were exhausted after a long day of training and you couldn’t wait to just go and fall asleep in your quarters.

The door swung open easily and your eyes flitted to the shabbily wrapped present on your bed. The bed that was unmade in the morning but was miraculously made and cleaned now.

Your eyes narrow as you tear away the wrapping to find a near identical pair of headphones to the ones that broke and your eyes widen in shock as you hold them up in front of you.

There’s a post-it stuck to the wrapping paper and you read the note that is unmistakably written by Miguel. You can recognise his chicken scratch handwriting.

“Im sorry for hurting your feelings this morning. And I hope this makes up for it. Don’t blame yourself, it was an accident and accidents happen. Im proud that you learnt your mistake and that you act so wise for your age, despite the fact that you decide to go to a weird British punk spider for advice, I am still proud of you. No es tu culpa, none of this is your fault.

Love,

Dad.”

—————-

“She seems to be in a much better mood today.” Gwen nudges Miles.

“She’s smiling and trying to get him to laugh.” Miles grins at your antics.

“Wait her headphones! They were missing, they’re back around her neck, that’s probably why she was in a shitty mood!” Pavitr reasons as Gwen nods in agreement.

“Are the three of you paying attention?” Miguel looks pointedly at the three kids and his glare then falls in Hobie who is seated next to you.

“Everyone dismissed!”

As everyone files out he says yet again, “Hobart, stay back.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #mini miguel<33 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #atsv #atsv x reader

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primordialsoundmeditation · 6 months

Text

In the late 1980s, Lieserl, the daughter of the famous genius, donated 1,400 letters, written by Einstein, to the Hebrew University, with orders not to publish their contents until two decades after his death. This is one of them, for Lieserl Einstein.

…”When I proposed the theory of relativity, very few understood me, and what I will reveal now to transmit to mankind will also collide with the misunderstanding and prejudice in the world.

I ask you to guard the letters as long as necessary, years, decades, until society is advanced enough to accept what I will explain below.

There is an extremely powerful force that, so far, science has not found a formal explanation to. It is a force that includes and governs all others, and is even behind any phenomenon operating in the universe and has not yet been identified by us.

This universal force is LOVE.

When scientists looked for a unified theory of the universe they forgot the most powerful unseen force.

Love is Light, that enlightens those who give and receive it.

Love is gravity, because it makes some people feel attracted to others.

Love is power, because it multiplies the best we have, and allows humanity not to be extinguished in their blind selfishness. Love unfolds and reveals.

For love we live and die.

Love is God and God is Love.

This force explains everything and gives meaning to life. This is the variable that we have ignored for too long, maybe because we are afraid of love because it is the only energy in the universe that man has not learned to drive at will.

To give visibility to love, I made a simple substitution in my most famous equation.

If instead of E = mc2, we accept that the energy to heal the world can be obtained through love multiplied by the speed of light squared, we arrive at the conclusion that love is the most powerful force there is, because it has no limits.

After the failure of humanity in the use and control of the other forces of the universe that have turned against us, it is urgent that we nourish ourselves with another kind of energy…

If we want our species to survive, if we are to find meaning in life, if we want to save the world and every sentient being that inhabits it, love is the one and only answer.

Perhaps we are not yet ready to make a bomb of love, a device powerful enough to entirely destroy the hate, selfishness and greed that devastate the planet.

However, each individual carries within them a small but powerful generator of love whose energy is waiting to be released.

When we learn to give and receive this universal energy, dear Lieserl, we will have affirmed that love conquers all, is able to transcend everything and anything, because love is the quintessence of life.

I deeply regret not having been able to express what is in my heart, which has quietly beaten for you all my life. Maybe it’s too late to apologize, but as time is relative, I need to tell you that I love you and thanks to you I have reached the ultimate answer! “.

Your father Albert Einstein

Nicole Wilts

Leslie Bing

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poetry-protest-pornography · 8 months

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Okay, okay. I can't stop thinking about Kang and his approval seeking.

He plays a part to maintain his grandma's adoration, he tries so hard to do things that his dad will be proud of only to have the man shoot down every attempt.

And then, there's Sailom.

Even when he was actively bullying him, he was mostly angry that Sailom wasn't reacting the way he wanted him to. Sailom wasn't afraid of him, he wasn't giving in, he wasn't even properly mad. Sailom didn't give Kang a good grade in bullying him.

And now that they're... Whatever they are, Kang has rapidly shifted to wanting Sailom's positive attention and approval.

They do the money dance again when Kang leaves Sailom's house, only this time, Kang frames it as an almost apology:

When Sailom insists he won't keep the money unless Kang accepts his tutoring, Kang has a whole little moral crisis about standing him up (after carefully smiling and laughing off the comments from Max about how much he enjoys his own hot tutor), Kang shows up to the library hours late, and (after a fortifying breath) actually apologizes:

And then, when Sailom assures him that he wasn't waiting on him, Kang asks to dive into studying with this face:

After completing his assessments, we get this:

Look at those pleading eyes. Please please please tell me I did good.

And when Sailom's first reaction is confirmation? Look at how happy Kang is? Look at how he lights up!:

And then, the reveal:

He failed to get Sailom's approval, and he's devastated.

But it's more than that, too. He's realizing -- a little bit, at least, and it really comes together for him later with his dad -- that the way he's skating through life, the way he's letting his dad's lack of expectation and faith in him turn him into someone without direction, someone who can't meet simple expectations, even when they really want to, is making him miserable. The lack of effort has put him at a real disadvantage, he is woefully behind in school.

And for someone who puts a lot of work into coming off as the smartest, coolest, most in control guy in the room, he is at a loss. And all that wrong-footedness gets all wrapped up in his getting about Sailom. So first, he runs, and then, he doubles down on needing Sailom ('s approval).

We get the renewed commitment for tutoring when he shows up early. We get "let me drive you home", complete with "hold on tight " and both of them looking unbearably soft while the other can't see them. We get the dinner date with extra takeaway to share with Saifah. We get ... This:

And then later, after so much vulnerability and a whole ass chase, and a disaster of a surprise party, there's this:

Kang, getting a taste of what Sailom's attention feels like, of what meeting his expectations might gain him, and looking absolutely lost about it.

Kang has been trying to do well to prove himself to his dad, and his dad just constantly undercuts his efforts, and we see him give up, even after spending this whole episode fighting against the apathy and associated failures and disappointments that that has gotten him so far. But Sailom won't let him.

Sailom literally fights him in order to get him to keep going, to keep trying. Sailom sets himself as the motivation, as Kang's reason to keep going (Sailom took a very long pause when Kang asked "Do you want me to say I want you to be proud of me?" and let that particular word problem start working itself out in the background, and the answer came out "Yes" sometime thereafter).

And Kang is overwhelmed by the prospect of having someone's expectations, of being able to earn someone's approval.

And Sailom is overwhelmed by all the things he's feeling for this boy he literally spit on last week, but has now discovered is a whole mess, and also soft sad-boy under all that (I am on the fence as to whether he knew Kang was Umbrella Boy before he saw the picture).

They are both feeling so many things, and half of them are confusion, and I am also feeling many things.

#dangerous romance the series #dangerous romance #kangsailom #sailomkang

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natjennie · 6 months

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so like obviously we the audience couldn't have known about the ghosts' deaths before the show introduced them to us, largely via alison as an audience surrogate. but the way they're presented so often means that they are mysteries to the ghosts themselves. some of them are pretty unmistakable and obviously the ghosts that were there when it happened know, but even then. it seems like they just don't talk about it.

for example, when fanny opens up about being pushed by george and thomas says "I did know that, I was there" but like. you never brought it up before? in the couple hundred years of knowing her, you never mentioned it. and in the thomas thorne affair, which is all about the ghosts having different perspectives on thomas' death, the information each of them reveal is like. new to the other ghosts. which implies that they've never really talked about it together before.

which is fascinating because it could read either as like. being respectful of their privacy. which is sweet. or you can believe the sadder version which is that they just didn't talk to each other. hundreds of years together and they never asked. they never said "do you want to talk about it?" they never offered comfort on a death day. never shared the details of their own deaths. this read is corroborated pretty solidly by the bone plot and pineapple day.

and then there's also the aspect of the order the deaths are revealed making perfect sense with each of the ghosts' personalities and openness as people.

pat is an open book, trusting and genuine, and his cause of death is unmistakable. and his death day flashback is the earliest in the series. humphrey's cause of death is obvious but the circumstances are not, but when asked he's willing to share. and then most of the ghosts stop listening when they think he's a hero. hesitant to initiate conversation because it was so drilled into him by sophie's disinterest, and forgotten as soon as he's not important. thomas believes in the most romantic version of his own story, editorializing and glamorizing his betrayal to alison and being devastated when the truth is pieced together, mirroring his constant attempt to make things more idealized than they are, and his rare and poignant moments of sincerity. kitty's naivety and optimism made her truly believe she just fell asleep, never bothering to question the details of her death, and the ghosts knew just enough about eleanor's bullying to suspect her, but would never confront kitty about it directly. her episode comes late in the series and has a lot of intrigue and staging for a very mundane truth. and the captain!!! the last death reveal of the show, holding on to his attempted deception and secrecy until the very end, trying to bolster his image as a leader to the other ghosts and only succeeding in looking silly, being made to perform a role he isn't very good at for the chance of acceptance. and oh, look at that, that's exactly how he died.

anyway, this post got away from me but like. the utter craft that went into this show astounds me it's all so perfect. are you hearing this.

#everyone watch bbc ghosts right now #maybe this should be two different posts #but i just love when the logistics of the show match the subject matter #THEMES! PARALLELS! IMAGERY! SYMBOLISM!#yknow!!!#bbc ghosts #ghost5 #ghosts s5 #ghosts spoilers

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koshkamartell · 2 months

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No One But Me

masterlist

*chapter warnings* - talk of rape, sexual harassment

You didn't reveal what had happened to Oscar, or to anyone else. You kept your word to Joel and did not speak about it. You were still afraid of what he was capable of doing if you did tell someone, if he somehow found out that you told the truth. You felt ashamed and dirty, as if you were deserving of Joel's wrath, that what he did was justified. Maybe you shouldn't have been dancing and drinking so much that night, maybe Joel was right about the men at the bar and their lecherous intentions. After all, you had to defer to Joel's knowledge and extensive life experience when certain subjects were concerned, and this time seemed to be no exception.

Ellie and her happiness were also at the forefront of your mind. You knew that she would be devastated if she discovered how Joel had treated you; the security of her world and a happy family life would be shattered and her heart broken. You couldn't do that to Ellie. Not when you could see so much of yourself reflected in her, that same yearning for a stable and loving family.

Yes, you still loved him, and perhaps a small part of you always will. But he has broken something inside you and you know it can never be repaired or compensated for in any way. Joel had pushed you too far for you to be able to forgive and forget. A bridge has been crossed and there's no returning to how things once were. Where do you go from here? Do you leave him? Joel hadn't accepted that the first time you tried to leave him - would he relent this time?

You tried not to show the inner turmoil you were facing when around others. Working at the school proved to be a good distraction from your thoughts; the young faces of the children, their innocence and wonder at the world, always managed to motivate you to be collected and calm.

However the library shifts proved to be more challenging at times. You were alone more often than not, only the occasional visitor popping in to seek out material on a specialist subject or children wanting to peruse the comics and picture books. Left alone with the whirlwind of introspection inside your head could be tormenting.

Does he really even love me?

What if he does it again?

He's been so sweet and loving lately, maybe he's changed?

Maybe he's realised how much I mean to him?

This fruitless cycle of thoughts was interrupted by the surprise appearance of Oscar at the door, a grin on his face as the bell jingled above him. You felt startled, like you had been caught doing something you weren't supposed to, but you quickly composed yourself.

"Is it weird that I miss that sound?" He chuckled.

"Hey stranger," you greeted him, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes . "Didn't expect to see you here. How can I help you?"

Oscar smiled at you, his clean shaven face boyish and handsome, and you suddenly felt warmth spread all over your cheeks. Surely you weren't blushing because of Oscar?

He walked to the counter where you stood and plopped his satchel on the counter top. "Mhm. It's lunchtime, so I figured I'd stop by for a visit and we could pretend it's like old times - us eating together, hanging out. What do you say?"

"Oscar, are you sure you wanna spend your work break with me?" You asked dubiously, making a face at him.

"You're kidding me, right?" Oscar arched a thick eyebrow in question. "As far as I'm concerned you're the only person I wanna eat lunch with."

He didn't wait for you to speak any further before he flipped open his satchel and took out some sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and a few pieces of fruit. You looked away from him bashfully and shuffled your feet. You could definitely feel your cheeks glowing now.

"Oh Oscar," you murmur, sighing a little. "I don't deserve this."

"Don't deserve to eat lunch? C'mon," he scoffed.

"No, you know what I mean," you said while smoothing your hands over your skirt, still unable to look at Oscar. "You coming here specially for me."

Oscar proped his elbows ontop of the counter and leaned forward so that his head was craning closer to you, tilting his head in an attempt to catch your gaze.

"Hey, look at me," Oscar implored softly.

You obeyed his request and slowly raised your head up to face him. He was gazing at you with a mixture of confusion and pity on his features.

"Why do you think so little of yourself, when others think so much of you?" Oscar asked quietly.

The question is too raw for you to actually answer. It makes you feel bare, like your insides are being dissected. How can you possibly explain to Oscar that you've carried this low self worth all your life, that it has been rooted into your very core since your parents died, left to pullulate and fester like a disease?

Somehow, you believe Oscar already knows that he isn't actually asking for an answer.

All you can do is shrug awkwardly and look away from him. Oscar sighs and extends his arm over the counter to take hold of your wrist. "Honey, what is it going to take for you to believe just how important you are?" His thumb begins to stroke the fragile spot where your pulse and veins intertwine under the thin layer of skin.

You close your eyes and savour the sensation of his soft hand wrapped around your wrist. "Important to who?" You murmur.

"The children at school. Ellie. Me." Oscar whispers silkily. "Look at me."

You raise your head once more to gaze back at Oscar. He studies your face, his eyes roaming over your features longingly. The tip of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. "You're a beautiful person, and I'm lucky to have you in my life."

The the lilt of his voice and the passion in his gaze penetrate your heart and send electric like shivers up and down your limbs. "T-thank you, Oscar." You stammer.

He smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He gently releases your wrist and stands back upright. "Now, enough of this nonsense. I'm hungry and I want you to tell me everything that's been going on here since I left. Didja finish Bug Science? What about that paperback that old man stole and refuses to give back?"

You can't help but laugh at Oscar's light hearted way of breaking the tension in the room. When he sees you finally smile genuinely, he smiles back with a mix of relief and adoration.

After you finish eating and Oscar has to go back to work, you both agree to a regular lunch date at the lunch every week.

That night you were pacing around Joel's kitchen preparing dinner for when Ellie arrived. She was making a dedicated effort to spend more time with Joel without making him feel awkward; you had suggested that regular dinners together were an uncomplicated way to achieve this, and so naturally Ellie had invited herself over.

You alternate between stirring the pot of stew on the stove and shuffling to the dining room to set the table. You carefully arrange the bowls and cutlery in their places, mindful to give Joel a slightly bigger bowl than you and Ellie, knowing that his appetite was more voracious than either of you, especially after a patrol shift.

The setting reminded you of a tale you had loved as a child - a papa bear, a mamma bear, and a baby bear, all with porridge bowls and furniture corresponding to their sizes. Three bears, a happy family with food and a comfy house. Until an intruder comes and disrupts their carefree life.

What was it again? Ah, yes. Goldilocks and The Three Bears.

Silly stories and fairytales created to entertain and teach children morals and valuable lessons. You only vaguely remember some of them from your childhood. Just like the innocence and curious wonderment of youth, your happy memories had been destroyed by the end of the world, shattered to smithereens.

You want Ellie to be able to experience the things that had been so brutally ripped away from you. You know she's suffered her own share of trauma and horrors in her life, things she hasn't shared with anyone but Joel. You know their bond is what has given them both reason to endure and survive for so long. But Ellie was still young, and now she was safe from whatever was still left in the wild of the world. She deserved her own fairytale.

You know you will have to try your best to mask your melancholy for the upcoming evening. You are about to turn off the stove when you hear the front door rattle open, then the sound of boots stamping at the door. It seems Joel and Ellie have arrived home at the same time.

"Good evening!" Ellie trills as she floats into the kitchen. "What did you make? It smells fucking amazing!"

Your heart lights up to see her bound over to the stove and lean over the pot to take a big whiff of its aroma. She lets out an exaggerated sigh and rolls her eyes.

"I'm sooooo hungry!" Ellie groans. "Work sucked today."

You chuckle and pull her into a hug, brushing a little snow flake from her head. "The goats giving you trouble again?"

Ellie was assigned as a farmhand for her work duties and tended to the goats, chickens and sheep. "It was the sheep this time, lazy fuckers wouldn't listen."

"Didn't do what they were told, huh?" Joel chimes, walking into the kitchen with a smug smile tugging at his mouth.

"You callin' me a sheep, old man?" Ellie pretends to square up into a boxer's stance and raises her fists. You watch the interaction with your fingertips pressed to your lips, hiding your smile. No matter how low you were feeling, being immersed in the domesticity of Ellie's and Joel's company was always entertaining.

"You know what insolent means?"

"Uh, nope," Ellie says with a crinkle of her nose. "Why, that what you're callin' me?"

"Damn right."

Ellie punches his shoulder playfully and then begins a hasty exposition on just why her job is so taxing and why Joel should shut up. You shake your head at her theatrics and slip on some oven mitts before carrying the pot of stew out to the kitchen table.

"And if you actually let me go on patrol I could show those assholes just how badass I am," she laments as she follows behind you and Joel.

"No." He takes his seat at the table. "Too dangerous outside the gate."

Ellie just scoffs loudly and flops down onto her chair. You ladle the stew into the bowls and hand them to Ellie and Joel before serving yourself.

"You gotta teach me how to make this," Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of stew. "Tastes amazing, dude."

You settle into your seat and dip your spoon into the bowl. "Yeah, I can do that."

"How'd you learn how to cook?" Ellie asks between another slurp.

You occupy yourself with slowly stirring your spoon through the vegetables and chunks of lamb floating in your bowl. "I picked up some things from working in the mess hall but I mostly taught myself, through cook books and experimenting. More so experimenting."

"Cool," Ellie says, sounding sincerely impressed. "What's your favourite thing to make?"

"This kind of stew, I guess," you respond quietly, still not meeting her eye. "It's hearty, so it's good for when you're sick. And it reminds me of a dish my mother used to make when I was a kid, so...I find it comforting..." Your voice trails off at the end of your sentence. You never spoke of your mother or father but the words had come rolling from your tongue without thought, leaving you to feel as though you've said too much, been too vulnerable infront of both Ellie and Joel.

"Oh," Ellie murmers. "Well, that's good that's it's good for when you're sick, right? You've been sick alot lately so--"

"Ellie," Joel says low and warning.

A tense silence falls over the dining table. You are sure Joel can read your mind, the automatic internal response that you dare not utter aloud - "I wasn't sick last time, Ellie, I was just hiding my face."

You are thankful when Ellie fills the silence once again and starts talking about her friends and the different adventures she's had lately. You listen but do not talk much, only sometimes expressing a hum of agreement or a noise to indicate your interest. To your surprise, Joel makes an effort to engage with her to ask questions or make comments; it is unusual but refreshing, and you can't help but think Joel is doing it for your sake.

When Ellie excuses herself to go to the bathroom, Joel outstretches his hand to you and tenderly clasps it over yours. He lightly squeezes your small hand in his large one and leaves it there, his thumb making tiny circles over the knuckle of yours, soothing and supplicating. You glance up at Joel but he's staring down at his lap unmoving, and you wonder if it's because he feels too ashamed of himself to look at you.

When Ellie returns to the table Joel doesn't move his hand from yours.

It feels like forever since you've joined the girls for a meal in the mess hall. A few days after Ellies visit, you were greeted by Kate waiting outside the school to surprise you after your shift. Despite being exhausted from the days work her cheeky grin made you laugh.

Truthfully, you hadn't thought much about your friends since the night you had all celebrated Jackson's birthday at the Tipsy Bison. It seemed like the time between then and now had stretched infinitely, the events of that night like a vivid dream that was not real but of which you still could not shake from your memory. Seeing Kate in person and so excited to you makes you feel guilty for not being more involved in your friendship circle.

You sit side by side with Kate and Cassie at one of the dining tables, Rhi and Jess opposite you. You have little to no appetite and even the delicious dinner menu doesn't inspire any hunger from you; you mostly move your spoon aimlessly around your plate, only occasionally taking small bites of food. Rhi has lowered her voice and is recounting a recent incident between her and the blonde ranger she has been pining for.

"Can you believe it? He actually stuck his hand up my skirt right then and there!" She hisses with disgust. "Without even kissing me!"

The four of instantly you scrunch up your noses in revulsion.

"Gross!" Jess gags.

"Who the hell does he think he is?!" Cassie fumes.

"What did you do? Did you slap him?" Kate grumbles. "God, please tell me you slapped him!"

"Ofcourse I did!" Rhi answers haughtily, primly running her fingers through her hair. "No bastard touches me like that without my say so."

"He's was cute but boy, did he turn out to be an asshole," Cassie tuts, then adds sympathetically, "I'm sorry, Rhi. I know you liked him for a long time."

Rhi shrugs dismissively. "Eh, better I find out now than after six months of dating and wasting my time."

"Very true," Jess chimes in. "You deserve better than that shit."

"Ofcourse I do! I'm staying out of the dating game for a while, men are so not worth it." Rhi concedes, scooping up some potato and carrot with her spoon.

You watch the airy way Rhi speaks, how the words spill so confidently from her mouth. She's so self assured - in her capabilities, in her worth, in her beauty. You are simply in awe of her. You have often found yourself wishing you were more like Rhi; someone more bold, stronger willed.

You're sick of being timid. You're tired of never standing up for yourself. You're exhausted with hating yourself.

It was becoming more and more difficult for Joel to ignore the fact that he was in love with you. Obviously he knew you belonged to him, but he hadn't really examined just how deeply his own attachment to you ran. The concept of romantic love was something so foreign to Joel that during his pursuit to conquer you he hadn't even recognised how much he loved you.

It hit him when he returned to his house after a gruelling double patrol shift while you were still at work. The inside of the house was still and lifeless and seemed so much bigger and colder than usual. Not a trace of your pretty fragrance or your soft voice to greet him. Joel hated it.

It was you who Joel wanted to see when he ambled through the door after work, aching and weary and hungry. It was your face that he wanted to see when he opened his eyes every morning. And it was your lips that he wanted to kiss goodnight before each time he went to sleep. Joel needed you as close as possible, so it was a natural conclusion that you start the process of living together.

It wasn't part of Joel's plan - he hadn't expected things to have progressed so quickly, but then again he couldn't deny just how much he needed you. So for the first time since living in Jackson he had decided to follow his heart.

One night after his patrol shift, a week and a half after Jackson's birthday celebration, Joel slipped through your front door and toed off his boots.

"I been thinkin' about somethin'," Joel calls out as he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the hook by the door. "I want you to come stay at my place. Got plenty of space for your things. Can even turn one of the spare rooms into a library for your books."

When you didn't answer him he turned around and stepped into the living room. You were sitting on the couch with your feet tucked under you, staring down at your hands as they fidgeted with a loose thread on the cuff of your sweater. Joel put his hands of his hips and clears his throat.

"Baby, you hear me? What do you think?" He asks with a tilt of his head.

He was trying to temper the irritation that was pricking at the base of his neck, but when he properly looks at you it quickly disappears. He clocks the despondent slouch of your shoulders and the pensive expression on your features.

You sigh softly and then tilt your head up to meet his gaze. You look tired, and the tears swimming in your eyes alarmed Joel enough for him to stride over to the couch and sit down beside you.

"What's goin' on?' He asks with genuine concern, his soulful brown eyes darting up and down your form.

Joel had seen you cry many times before, and it was he who was the reason for your tears more often than not. It usually did not perturb him or discourage him. He knew from the beginning that you were sensitive and soft hearted, the opposite of himself. But something about this instance was totally different.

You swipe the sleeve of your sweater across your eyes to brush away the tears that have spilled over.

"Nothing," you mumble, downcasting your eyes back to the loose thread on your cuff as your fingers toy with it. "Just lonely...missing my parents alot today."

Joel hums and smooths his hand over the back of your head tenderly. "Come to my place, babydoll, stay at my house. You'll never feel lonely there."

"Like, live there forever?"

"Well, not just yet." Joel smirks as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "We can move your belongings gradually."

"What do you mean?" You question him with a side eye glance.

Joel leans into you and nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck. One of his arms snakes around your middle and he effortlessly drags you closer to his body like a scolded kitten tugged by its scruff.

"You can move into my place permanently later, aint no rush. But for now I want you close by, always. In my bed waitin' for me after work. Sittin' pretty on my lap while you read." He inhales your scent and places a soft kiss on your neck. His breath is hot against your skin and his whiskers tickle you. It makes shivers crawl up your spine.

"I don't know Joel," you whisper hesitantly. "I don't think I'm ready for that."

Joel's body immediately tenses at your words. He slowly draws his face away from you and loosens his arm from your waist. Your first instinct is to cower away from Joel and curl into yourself, to distance yourself from any potential outburst of wrath that he might choose to rain down upon you.

"What d'you mean?' Joel asks in a low, dangerous tone.

"I just...want to stay here, I don't want to go anywhere," you mumble, not meeting his gaze but still feeling the heat of his scathing glower nonetheless.

"Don't wanna go?" Joel growls harshly. "Look at me when I'm talkin' to you."

You cannot control the automatic reaction that his sharp tone commands from you; your head whips up to look at him obediantly. You feel small and vulnerable under Joel's glare.

"You don't wanna live with me in my house?" He hisses. "I thought that's what you wanted."

You sigh helplessly as you feel the tears begin to well in your eyes once again.

It is what I wanted. But now I'm not so sure.

"I'm ready to give you everythin' and now you wanna throw it away?" Joel spits bitterly, scowling. There is an inflection of dejection in his words, and the disbelief and hurt reflected in his glistening eyes causes a small stab of guilt in your chest.

"I just...don't think it's the right time," you explain with slow deliberation. "I'm not ready for that."

Joel takes a sharp inhale and scoffs. "So you changed your mind? Just like that, you changed your goddamn mind?"

"Joel," you speak calmly in order to placate him. "I want to keep my place. I don't want to live at your house."

"Why the hell not?"

The pressurised anxiety and woe that has been gradually constricting around your organs finally explodes, rapidly surging through your veins and your limbs and up into your skull.

"Because you raped me!" You snap suddenly, your voice hoarse and choked with emotion. You haul yourself off the couch and storm to the other side of the living room. "Because you hurt me worse than you ever did before!"

The word rape hangs heavily in the air, shocking and weighted in the way it tears from your throat. Joel's mouth falls open and shut, like he's too shocked to form a response.

And truthfully he is. He's speechless at your outburst, at seeing you so impassioned that you have raised your voice at him for the first time in your relationship. He wonders where this argumentative side of you has come from so suddenly. This kind of back chat and disrespect would usually warrant a punishment, but the near hysteria of your demeanour has thrown Joel off completely.

And then it clicks. He really did hurt you. He hurt you so much so that you are expressing anger at him for the first time, aswell as rejecting him. His throat feels dry. Joel swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing.

There had been times in the QZ when the women Joel fucked had been desperate enough to acquire something he smuggled in that they let Joel use their bodies however he wanted. He had readily accepted the trade conditions but had never taken any woman unwillingly before, had never forced himself upon a woman or abused her. He openly despised the men that did - the FEDRA officers, the perverted assholes that roamed the streets, the raiders on the outside that thought nothing of gang raping a girl and leaving her bloodied and broken for the infected and wild animals to devour.

But when it came to you, Joel seemed to lose his sense of morality and rationality. He was blinded by the intrinsic need to dominate and possess you from the moment he saw you. It was something feral and biological inside his brain, his heart, his loins. You were his, you belonged to him, and he had to assert ownership over you in any way possible in order to never lose you. That included having to punish you at times to remind you of your place beside him.

Joel knows he's been rough at times. But rape?

Rape. A disgusting and violent violation used to assert control and cause one of the worst kinds of pain possible.

And that's what he did to you. He hadn't stopped once to think exactly what he had done, but now you've said it outloud he has to acknowledge it. He raped you.

Joel heaves himself from the couch and steps towards you but you flinch, wrapping your arms tightly around your waist and shrinking into the corner.

"I...I know what I did wasn't right. I just got carried away." Joel confesses. "Got so angry I wasn't thinkin' straight."

"Angry for what?" You sob, glaring directly at him. "For having fun with my friends like every other person in town?"

"I don't want my woman behavin' like that," Joel declares while shaking his head firmly, his mouth downturned in a scowl. "Not when she belongs to me."

"So you call me a whore and rape me?" You cry with exasperation, the tears pouring down your face.

Joel sighs and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "I told ya I didn't mean to go that far, but you know I got a temper."

"That doesn't give you the right!" You argue back, secretly thrilled by your surge of self confidence in confronting Joel. "Imagine if someone did that to Ellie, what would--"

"Don't." Joel grits fiercely, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching. "Don't you dare mention her."

"Why not?" You ball your trembling hands into fists and stare him down. You can see the anger simmering just beneath the surface of Joel's restrained exterior, the mannerisms that signify an imminent danger. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your stomach feels sick with trepidation but you won't back down. Not now. "So it's okay if you do it to me but if it's El--"

In a flash Joel storms toward you, his boots thundering heavily on the floor boards. He grabs a tight hold of your wrist and yanks you to him. You squeak with fear and collide into his chest. His eyes bore down into yours with steely reproach.

"Better listen to what I say, little girl," Joel warns lowly. "Mind your fuckin' manners."

You stare back up at Joel, tears of outrage and hurt stinging your eyes. Neither of you move during the tense stand off and time seems to stand still. There's a loaded intensity emanating between you two that is intoxicating, like both your souls are being forcefully pulled together despite fighting tooth and nail to resist. Amidst the anger and pain is something primal, a kind of hunger that is magnetic and electrifying. You can see it burning in Joel's orbs as his gaze flits between your lips and your own eyes.

Before you do something you'll regret, like kiss him or slap him, you try to pull away, but Joel effortlessly keeps you pinned to him. You shake your head despairingly and a sob escapes from your lips.

"I l-loved you," you whisper brokenly. "S-so much. And you have d-done nothing but hurt me."

Joel's expression softens and his grip on your wrist looses a tiny bit. The hardness leaves his dark eyes and is replaced by a helpless kind of sorrow. He blinks and clears his throat.

"That ain't true," he whispers back. "I been tryin', you know that, don't you? Been tryin' to show you how I feel and make it up to you."

"You broke my heart, Joel," you confess in a barely audible whisper.

Joel appears almost pained when the words leave your mouth; his brows furrow and his eyes shut tightly for a second. Then he releases his grip around your wrist and instead cradles your hand in his rough palm. The gentle way his paw engulfs yours is beseeching, as though your very being is the elixir that sustains him, something vital to his life yet is also so fragile. It brings you no comfort and instead makes the situation feel even more gut wrenching. Why can't you always be like this? You want to scream at him. Why now, when it's so late?

"I'll fix it," he says definitively. "Lemme fix it."

"I don't know if it can be fixed," you whisper truthfully.

You move to pull away from Joel again but his other arm wraps around your waist and holds you firmly against him. His emotive puppy dog eyes search yours beneath the heavy frown of his brow.

"Please," he whispers.

You shut your eyes and your breath hitches in your throat. You are so empty that you cannot evoke any words to describe the maelstrom of emotion inside you. Your legs feel weak and you feel like sleeping. Without speaking a word, you feel Joel dip down and lift you up into his arms like a child, and then carries you to bed.

Joel lays you carefully on the mattress, placing your head delicately on the pillow. You pull your knees up to your chest and curl up into yourself, wanting nothing more than to drift off and dream of alternate realities that you had read of in your favourite books, of imaginary places and people that you longed to visit. Joel climbs over your legs and plonks down behind you with a grunt.

"Baby," he whispers in your ear. Joel slips his thick arm around your waist and presses his front flush against your back. You hate yourself for the way your body has become conditioned to crave the heat of his body, how you still relish the sensation of his skin on yours even after he's defiled you.

"I'm nothing more than a whore for you, aren't I?" You whisper back wetly.

"What?" Joel breathes. "What? N-no, God, no." He props himself up with an elbow and uses his other arm to flip you onto your back. You stare up at the ceiling ans blink away the tears threatening to pool in your eyes.

"You said that," you warble.

"I know," he says with a sigh. "I didn't mean it." Joel splays his large hand over your belly and leans down to press his forehead to yours. "I'm sorry," he whispers. The two simple words stun you - it is the first time he's ever apologised.

Joel nuzzles his nose against your cheek tenderly, his eyes falling shut.

"I ain't lettin' you go," he whispers against your lips. "I'll prove myself to you. You'll see. You're mine, babydoll. I love you. You only belong to me. No one but me."

taglist - @@sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy @anoverwhelmingdin @unknownsuser101 @shesarealcarpentersdream @sheeeeeppp @uncassettodiricordi @axshadows @puduvallee

#joel miller dark #joel miller x reader #dark! joel miller #joel miller dark fic #joel miller #dddne

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sourb0i · 6 months

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This one is a little late, but I finished reading Feet of Clay a few days ago so here are my fermented thoughts:

This one was a bit harder for me to get into bc it's the 3rd novel in the City Watch series, so all the main characters were established but I, a fool who is reading Discworld at random, was not as familiar with them

That said, it was super easy to pick up who's who, and I very quickly picked out my favorites (Cheri, Angua, Vimes)

Cheri my beloved <3

There 👏 is 👏 More 👏 Than 👏 One👏 Gender (Female Dwarf Rights 2k23!)

I wasn't a super huge fan of Nobs or Colon; Nobs bc that particular type of character just isn't my jam and Colon bc he didn't really seem to do anything? But again I may be missing some crucial personality details established in earlier books

I loved the murder mystery aspect of the plot, especially how Vimes handles it

However, I thought the whole 'conspiracy to make Nobs the King' bit felt a little over complicated. Maybe Dragon was a bigger villain in previous books but he felt a little out of nowhere, and I think he could've been built up more before the reveal (even tho it was kinda obvious he was a Bad Guy right at the beginning)

The whole plot with the Golems was fantastic, and honestly the book could've just been about that without the whole Secret Conspiracy bit

I also once again laud Pratchett for his masterful use of allegory; everyone attacking the golems even though they hadn't done anything was very poignant

I would Die for Dorfl

I very much hope the next book deals more with Angua's issues re: being a werewolf...perhaps this is another allegory of some kind

The prose itself (dialogue, descriptions of things) is, as always, excellent; witty, humorous, devastating when it needs to be

Hey, maybe leave in the comments which Discworld I should read next! Besides FoC, I've already read Monstrous Regiment, Wyrd Sisters, Small Gods, and Sourcery

#sour speaks #sour reads Discworld #books #discworld #gnu terry pratchett

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rinbowaman · 6 months

Text

ↀOUBLE IIROUBLE - CHAPTER TWELVE

For once, there isn't any smut....HOWEVER.....

Warnings: mentions of murder, implications of gruesome torture, collection of body parts/organs, secret family history, intentions of murder, restraint, forcefully restraining y/n, some hints of conspiracy, conspiring others to hold a secret, cursing...think that's it. I really do feel bad for y/n in this one….This also isn't proofread....sorry. -___-

Next chapter is series finale! Be ready y’all!

It had been two days since Danny confronted you and the boys, revealing his knowledge of your hidden love affair and unexpected pregnancy. You bit your nails out of anxiety, staring out the window and watched as each drop of rain trails down the glass. You became so overwhelmed and nervous, you feared the worst and furthermore, despite his claims of not informing your mother, you wondered if Danny had divulged the details of what you had been doing with your twin stepbrothers for the last nine months, ever since she and Danny tied the knot. Was it too late to abort everything and start over? You considered restarting the entire avenue of how things came to be, you couldn’t deny that you’ve thought about it, yet the idea of abandoning the two men you had fallen for, regardless that it was forced and the nature of your love was more than likely due to Stolkholm Syndrome, was all unbearable. How could you leave them? Not only did you return their affection, but there was no way the boys would ever let you leave or go in peace. Surely, they would have haunted you and taken drastic measures to bring you back, you’ve already seen a hint of their ugliness with all the training and punishments they pushed on you. Aside from their obsessive nature, you have found yourself unable to imagine a world without them; you needed and depended on them so much for the last six months, how were you able to function without their generous consideration and devotion, especially now that you’ve not only gotten used to it, but embraced it. And then there was the baby…your baby, their baby…no doubt the thing was no bigger than the size of a pea, but the thought of you erasing it from your memory, knowing full well that you would have created something beautiful became ultra devastating. You couldn’t do it, you won’t.

The only resolution you could accept was that your mother would find out about you and the twins, and that a huge debacle would unravel between you three and the parents, but it was a love worth fighting for. Your rational sense, well, if you can call it rational among everything that’s happened, told you of the legalities in this situation. It wasn’t illegal to have a consensual love affair between three people, minus the fact that no one would ever know that the relationship did not start out that way, but that didn’t matter to you anymore. You became theirs, and they were yours, it didn’t matter if it was all forced through struggles, pain, and a training process; you had already come so far and done so much, there was no looking back. You weren’t related to them, so really, was there anything genuinely wrong with what was going down? Could your mother be at all mad? Disagreeable, perhaps. You’re quite certain that she would have never thought that her daughter would be one to grow and indulge in such a sinful relationship that involved two men, yet it happened. Maybe…just maybe, this would all bend out through argument and tears. Or, it could end in a different way, one that had not crossed your mind…until Heeseung came into the room.

“Aww, are you crying? What for? I told you everything is going to be fine, come here.” He walks into the room, gently closing the door behind as he smiles gracefully upon seeing the tear stains on your cheeks. He pats on his thigh as most dog owners would do, not that he treated you as one, he just knew that you liked it when he was gentle and soft. Getting up, you walk over and hug him tightly, and he returns the embrace. HIs nose duffles into your thatch of hair and inhales the scent, remarking how lovely you smelled.

“God I love your scent…I dont think there’s anything in this world that looks or smells as good as you.”

“W-where’s Heejeong.”

Heeseungs eyes slowly open as his nose and mouth remain buried into your scalp. A pause of silence fills the air before he finally answers.

“Heejeong is handling the matter of our parents.”

You look up, breaking the contact of his inhaling act as you look at him somewhat confused. “He’s going to see our parents?” You softly inquired, before continuing on as you watched him stare blankly at you. “Why didn't he take us? What is he going to say?”

Sighing out, Heeseung grips your waist tightly, his fingers pinching your skin as he answers. “There won’t be much talking, that’s why you're here and' I’m keeping an eye on you.”

Your eyes widened as you watched the shine of his eye disappear, becoming soulless and empty, matte as black velvet. “N….no…..no…..don’t….Heeseung no!”

“Shhh…”

Attempting to calm you down, Heeseung restrains your movements as you burst out into sobs and made every effort to break free from his grasp to call Heejeong, how could they do this behind your back and eradicate the situation by doing the unthinkable towards Danny and your mother?

“No! Not my mother! Heeseung please! Please call him! Please! She wont do anything to us! I promise! Please don’t do anything to her!”

Your cries fell on deaf ears as Heeseung pins your arms securely to your sides, and brings you down on the floor where he wrapped his lengthy limbs to further secure you. “Shhh its okay baby…I promise everything is going to be okay. We’re going to be free from everyone and we’ll be together forever. The three of us.”

Screaming, crying, and kicking, you nearly fainted upon feeling the extreme fatigue hit you as you were being forced to remain steady. Doing your best, you fought as hard as you could to break free from his grasp and prevent Heejeong from carrying out a deed that you did not approve of, yet with Heeseung burying his nose back into your head, he continues to inhale your scent, smiling maliciously as he pets your cheek and flawlessly keeps you steady in a trapped embrace, wiping away the fresh tears that spilled on your face. “Shhh, there….that’s a good girl. Be still and quiet, take a nap and I’ll wake you when Heejeong gets back.”

……………………

Perhaps it was the way his tight hold around your arms and waist suffocated you, or maybe it was the exhaustion taking its effect, whatever it was, it bowed to Heeseung’s command and you undoubtedly felt yourself drifting off into a soundless doze while he hums a fruitful tune, as if he lullabied you to sleep. Within minutes, you were done, but not without the warm streams that coated your cheeks, and the image of your mother’s face being the last thing you think of before it became pitch black under closed eyes.

……………………….

‘And so the young maiden ventures into a world that reeked of death,

Unknowingly, she strays into a marriage with a bachelor intending to take her last breath.

Though she may not have strayed in blindly, not knowing of what lies behind Bluebeard's closet,

The pitiful, curious maiden will unveil the truth behind the rumors of her bethrothe’s torment.’

……………………….

Strategically parking the car aways, Heejeong calmly makes his way up the driveway of his father’s estate. Greeted by the familiar faces of his father’s guards and surveillance team, he flawlessly enters without being detected, after all, who would ever have thought that the young man, donning all black, would have any murderous intentions to carry out, especially against his own parents. Never minding the aftermath, he came more than prepared to carry out the deed and to pay off the guardsmen with stock bonds of his father’s corporation. Easily, it was an offer that no man or woman would refuse, especially if it meant they could retire at a prime age to any destination they wanted. The buyout is so generous, it even guaranteed a passport with one way tickets to a place of their choice, all they needed to do was to erase the footage, and speak of his presence and arrival to no one.

Entering, he is greeted by the still silence that haunts the massive foyer. WIth a light on at a distance, Heejeong walks delicately through the narrow corridors that lead to the main room. The presence of his parents was lacking, yet he saw their vehicles and knew they had to be home. With his arms crossed, he takes a lingering stroll through the massive room, admiring the moon as it lays nudely in the center of the dark blue sky. The light illuminates his silver strands, and tones his olive complexion into a more pale color while the black cap shadows the darkness that lies beneath those matte black eyes. With cargo pants strapped with tactical knives, a kbar at his hip, and a small bundle of five-fifty cord, the image behind those items is hard to swallow for anyone who would be witness to what he intended to do, and yet…

“Are you here for your father?”

Turning around calmly, he stays composed and steady with an emotionless tone in his features. His arms remained crossed, with the sleeves of his black long sleeve rolled up, revealing the strength behind those veins that graced his forearms.

“I’m actually here for you…and him.”

He doesn’t make any sudden movements, and his eyes remained hidden under the bill of his hat, yet your mother spoke without any timidness in her voice. It was almost as if…

“I figured…I guess you’re here to talk to us?...Or maybe you’re here for something else…”

She knew.

“By the sound of your voice, I’m guessing he already told you about his little visit last week?” Heejeong smirks in a condescending manner. Unsheathing the kbar from its leather cover, he flashes the lengthy blade as he taps the flat, shined edge of the knife against his chin. “Well now, since you already know about the baby, and by the sound of your voice it seems like you already know why I’m here.” Taking note of the woman’s lack of expression upon seeing the kbar made it easy to dictate that she knew of his reason for visit, yet the moment he mentioned the pregnancy, he was slightly shocked to find her eyes reacting, though he didn’t show any inclination of his confusion, at least not yet.

“Y/n is….pregnant?”

“You mean he didn’t tell you? Hmph…fucking aye.”

Your mother shakes her head, looking down at the floor beneath her swarovski shoes. Her brows furrowed as tears began to welp up in the ducts of her eyes.

“You don’t really need to cry, for you, I’ll make it quick.” Heejeong scoffs as he adjusts his grip, equipping the kbar for its intended use.

“I’m not crying because I’m afraid of what you will do…Heejeong…”

He had to be quite honest with himself, he was somewhat stunned at hearing her words, yet, the moment she appeared in the room, her reaction was anything but normal. She had already seemed to be aware of why he was here, and she didn’t seem to be so concerned about seeing the young man before her, dressed all in black while holding a large knife, seemingly flaring off a subtle threat, yet her tears weren’t because of that?

“So enlighten me, why are you crying? Is it because you’re going to miss your daughter? Don’t worry, she’s with me and Heeseung, and we will take good care of her.”

Your mother lifts her head and gives a chuckle that further confuses the man, it was a scoffing sense of laughter that only lasted for a split second before the look of fear and sadness drowned her face once more. “I know she has you both…I saw it in your…and Heeseung’s eyes the moment you both first met her….I saw the way you both looked at my daughter.”

Furrowing his brows, Heejeong blinked before adjusting the expression to a more ruthless countenance. “Wait…so you’re telling me you know?”

“Ha…Heejeong…a woman my age…I can tell when a man is smitten by love and obsession…let alone two.”

The air fell silent and Heejeong merely stared at her, squinting his eyes with a fierce look, demanding an explanation.

“I also knew…that my daughter probably didn’t have a choice when she moved in with you and your brother…am I correct on that?”

Shifting his gaze on the marble tile, he emits small nods before giving off another malicious smirk her way. “Does that bother you? I can assure you, it was all done with good intentions. I love that girl, and so does Heeseung. We both cherish her, protect her, and have both become the father of the baby she carries. We are family, and all she will ever need is us.” Slowly, he takes his steps forward, closing in on the woman, yet came to a breaching halt the moment she spoke up, with a different kind of smile on her face.

“I know…and I hope that you know how glad I am to hear it…especially when you say the word ‘protect’.”

Furrowing his brows once more, Heejeong’s combat boots scuffs the tile as he abruptly stops mid way. “What the fuck is your deal? You knew about us practically kidnapping her, restraining her and holding her damn near hostage, the only thing you didn’t know about was the pregnancy yet…you don't seem to be bothered by that. What? Are you merely being supportive to save your own life? Or are you just a freak with a kink…that can understand the type of love we have for y/n?”

Your mother sobs out, a burst of tears break free yet she laughs laconically, it almost appeared as if she went insane for a second. “Yes! Yes I understand that love you have for her and if the circumstances were different…maybe I wouldn’t have approved but the fact of the matter is…Heejeong…I need you and Heeseong to never leave my daughter. I need you both to keep her and take her far away from this place, as far as possible. I can’t tell you how delighted I was to hear when she ‘moved’ in with you both…yet I wasn’t as happy when I heard about what happened to Jeff…after hearing from her about all those terrible things he used to say…”

Heejeong was beyond all lost. Was she truly just like them? Or was there something that she wasn’t telling, that caused this encouragement to dispel from her? She wasn’t at all concerned about you being with the twins, it seemed like she was concerned about something else. Heejeong was smart enough to sense that, yet he was having a hard time in fully cracking the code. “So…what you’re saying is…you’re okay with me and Heeseung being with y/n, despite the fact that you pretty much guessed…correctly I might add…that we are beyond in love with her…but have also tortured others and brutally killed for that love?” Raising a brow, Heejeong flashes the blade as he takes a couple more steps forward. “Don’t lie to me and try to save yourself now, that’s not going to end well. Nobody…and I mean nobody…is going to take Y/n away from us. Not you, your family, or my father.”

Your mother breaks down once again, her knees meet the cold tile as she buries her face into her palms, kneeling before the man as she eludes a mixture of sobs and laughter. “Good…good…never….never break that promise….”

Looking up, she notes the extreme confusion on the man’s face. Before he could say anything, she beat him to the punch. “Heejeong…I have to show you something…”

………………..

‘Before emitting his travels, where he would be gone till morning,

Bluebeard gives the young maiden a single word of warning.

“Stay away and do not open this door.” he tells her forcefully,

Yet the maiden emits a false promise, her curiosity grows shamefully.

…………………

Leading him to the study room, one that was grand and expelled the unique language of luxury, your mother maneuvers a hack, debunking the security system as she inputs the secret code that she found out during her stay in the mansion.

“No one must know what I’m about to show you…” Looking back at Heejeong for reassurance, she receives it in a single nod as he huffs out a prolonged sigh, expressing a sense of irritation from whatever it was the woman was harboring in secret. “Just hurry up and show me already. If if you keep draggin this further I’m going to make it more painful than you will like…trust me. I have a dark side.”

“One that was developed after meeting my daughter, I’m assuming?” with a snappy response, your mother looked back at Heejeong with a raised brow. “Trust me…you need to know the truth.”

“The truth about what, woman?” Heejeong grows tired of your mother taking far too long in opening the door, after the security system accepts the code, Heejeong shoves your mother aside as he pushes the door wide open. “Okay, what is it?”

Your mother makes her way toward the massive line of wall closets, each door in fine mahogany wood under protected lacquer gel paint. The golden brass handles were slim, yet elegantly decorated with engravings of peacock feathers. “Here…” Opening one of the skinny doors, she leaves it wide open for Heejeong to closely inspect. From afar, he could see the plastering of polaroid photos that were pinned on the inside of the door, with delicate crystal jars and lids, neatly organized on the shelves. “So…you wanted to show me my father’s locker?”

Nodding her head, your mother encourages him to come closer. “Take a closer look…”

Giving a harsh side eye, Heejeong glares at the woman before fully making his way in front of the locker’s interior…and there…

“What….is this?....What the fuck is this?”

……………………..

‘With the young maiden’s curiosity at its peak,

She takes the golden key and inserts it without taking a second blink.

Upon opening the closet door, there she stood in gruesome horror as she looks,

The bodies of Bluebeard's missing wives, all hanging, bloodied and butchered on steel hooks.

Quickly, she closes the door, and removes the key from the lock,

Only to find that the blood red dye on the golden metal became her doomsday clock.

Permanently remaining, no matter how much she scrubbed and soaked,

Unfolding her lack of honesty, this was the trickery under Bluebeard's cloak.’

………………………

“This….is your father’s work.” Your mother solemnly tells him, cradling her own arms, she issues fresh tears of sympathy as Heejeong takes in the note of her words, and recognizes the photos of the various young women. “Aren’t these the girls from the news? The ones that have been missing?”

Shaking her head, your mother clarifies. “Not missing…not anymore. A lot of them had been found…in pieces and without a single breath in their body. The ones that the police haven’t found…trust me…they’re out there in ruin…your father is a monster.”

Trailing his sight down, one particular photo catches his eye. “What is my mother’s picture doing here?” Taking the polaroid, he shifts a demanding glare over to her as he pinches the photo of his mother, with him and Heeseung as children by her side. Your mother quietly sobs. “Heejeong…I am so…so sorry….for you and your brother.”

Heejeong’s heart skips a beat. He crumbles the photo in hand, though he instantly regrets it as the lone surviving memory of his mother crinkles in his palm. He didn’t need, nor did he want for her to clarify. He wouldn’t have been able to swallow it down had he heard it. He already knew what this had meant, all those times when he and Heeseung constantly questioned their father or their mother’s whereabouts, only to be told that she left due to the constant arguing and bickering. For years, he and his brother had thought their father drove their mother away, with his constant philandering habits with the younger women, and his abusive authority, it had only made sense that she would leave…yet the one thing he could never make sense out of, was why she had left without saying anything to him or his brother? Why did she never come back to see them?

“She never left…at least…not by her choice….”

Your mother’s words shatters Heejeong’s state of mind, as the anger drives up from his chest and into his brain. Gulping a hard swallow, he couldn’t even find it within himself to grow teary eyed, the rage took over and prevented him from feeling anything else. Lifting his sights, he inadvertently takes in a close sight of what was contained within those crystal jars. The delicate grooves of the container's decoration obscured the details, yet it wasn’t hard for him to see that within those fine jars, were ‘tokens’ of his father’s victims. Fingers, hands, eyeballs, hair, and even internal organs. Everything was sickening, even for someone like him. Sure, he and Heeseung were murderers, technically, yet they only did what they deemed necessary in order for them to keep you. No one was going to separate you three, and they were willing to do anything to keep it that way. But never in a million years would they resort to murder out of pure pleasure, unless it was for your safety and comfort, despite you not seeing it that way.

As heartless it may have sounded, Heejeong cared less about the murdered women, so long as you were not a part of that list. He was not at all thrilled about finding out his own mother was a part of that statistic, yet she was no more than a distant memory, you were the only thing he and his brother cared about now, however, it went without saying that his father’s actions against his beloved mother deserved only one punishment that he deemed worthy, death.

“So how long have you known this about my father?” Heejeong coldly states as he stares at the jars before him, even taking a moment to delicately remove one of the lids, only to gently shut it back up once the pungent scent of formaldehyde kicked in.

“...It was before the wedding…”

Heejeong’s eyes grew wide as he tilted his head. “You knew for that long and didn’t say anything?” Clenching his teeth, he grew furious as the concept of your mother keeping the truth of his mother a secret for so long enraged him more, yet what made him even more angry was the fact that she knew, and yet never said anything, knowing full well that you could have been a potential victim, considering you were a young woman, pretty, and too gentle nature for your own good, much like all the victims that were targeted.

“Did you ever consider that y/n would be at risk? Look at these women! Y/n is ten times the woman than any of these girls…and you not only kept silent, but married him? I should fucking kill you right now.” Shooting his hand forward, he grips your mother’s neck as he shoves her against the wall. “I’ll fucking slit your throat, cut you to pieces and place you in jars for him to come home to.”

“I….it was for y/n’s safety that I married your father.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Confused, yet still enraged, Heejeong’s grip tightens as he chokes your mother out, before releasing and allowing her to catch her breath. “Fucking explain and get to the damn point.”

“Y…your father…” coughing, your mother chokes up as she quietly sobs in between her words. “Your father admitted….shortly after meeting him….when I met him at the event….I wasn’t alone. I was with my nieces…y/n’s cousins….he was…he was going after them. So he came and greeted us….he was going to eventually get their information and over time….they would have ended up just like these girls….but….but….” her eyes welded up as she sobbed hysterically. “He saw y/n’s photo on my phone screensaver….he saw her and immediately dropped everything….once he found out that she was my daughter….he pretended to love me….he asked me to marry him…and I accepted…but then….one night…..” your mother’s sobs calmed down, as she kneels back down on to the floor, barely able to function as she recollects the discovery of Danny’s unusually gruesome habit.

“One night…he came home…bloodied and just….I could see it wasn't him bleeding…he was covered in some else's blood…he didn’t know I was awake….so when I saw him….he just laughed…..and he told me…..he….he told me…..”

……………….

“Well…since we’re having a moment of honesty, I think it’s appropriate for you to know that I am only marrying you to get closer to y/n….she is so lovely. Oh but don’t worry, she won’t be added to the jars like the rest of them…no…she’s far too beautiful for that. I am going to marry her. Now, if you want to live, I have no intention of wasting my time or my shiny tools on you, but I will…if I have to….if you want to live…and if you want your daughter to keep living, then I suggest you stay silent. After some time, we’ll get a quickie divorce, you go away and I will marry y/n. During the meantime, you will convince her to agree to the marriage, just….tell her how good in bed I am, that should help out. Right?”

……………….

Danny’s laughter following his tasteless joke was all your mother could remember. She explained to Heejeong, that she had been secretly trying to find a way to escape, along with Y/n, away from Danny. Yet there was no plan that was sound enough for her to carry out….until.

“When you both met y/n….and I saw the look of obsession that overtook you both during dinner that night…I knew…I knew that was y/n’s way out of this….you two are what was going to protect her….while I find a way out. I-I….I could never let him have y/n…I feigned loyalty to him all for the sake of keeping him from doing anything behind my back. So yes…I stayed silent and acted the part….but by doing so, I bought you both time to take her…bring her to your home….love her…impregnate her…and now…I am buying you time to take her away and do what you need to do with Danny.”

Shutting his eyelids halfway, Heejeong gives a seldom glare as your mother grovels at his feet. “Please…please take her away. I don’t care if you take her away from me, just please….keep her safe…keep her away from Danny…do what you have to do….Heejeong…don’t let that man near her!”

“Where is my father?” Heejeong calmly states as it dawned on him that Danny had been absent the entire night.

“He went on a trip over night….he comes back tomorrow morning. He….I think he went to find a clinic….at first I didn’t know what it was for but….when you said earlier that y/n was pregnant….I think he is finding a way to get her institutionalized….so he can keep her away from you two.”

Turning his head once more, he stares at the crystal jars before kneeling down on one knee. Sheathing his kbar, an eerie smirk develops, one that he displayed before he did away with Jeff.

“Well, I suggest that you pack your bags and leave town…leave the country even.”

Standing back up, with no sense of sympathy in his expression or tone, Heejeong takes his phone out, and hands it to your mother. Looking at the screen, she shifts a wide eye stare back to Heejeong after noticing that his banking app was open.

“Put your account information in there, and type in a number. I don’t care what or how high, type in any number you want with as many zeroes you can fit in. Once it transfers to your account, get your stuff and leave.”

Your mother graciously holds the phone in both palms, yet refrains from typing anything in. “If…if I leave…wiill…will I ever get to see y/n again?”

Crossing his arms, Heejeong’s lids grow heavier. “Why would you? She has me and Heeseung, she doesn’t need you. We are all she’ll ever have and need, mother or not, if I were you….I’d stay away. I’m not going to show you the same clemency as tonight…you come near her, I’ll finish what I came to do.”

Your mother flared a saddened smile, before handing the phone back. “I don’t need your money. Danny left his safe open, he never worried about me taking anything and leaving because he knew that with y/n here, I was forced to be trapped and play along. But now that you know the truth…I don’t need to play anymore….will I?

…………………………

“Fearing for her life, the young maiden sends one of the servants away with a horse and message in hand.

“Fetch my brothers! Tell them what is bound to happen to me, for they love me more than any man can!”

Desperate, the young maiden waits, not knowing if she will remain living come morning.

Bluebeard makes his way back home, where the young maiden awaits, each hour nearing his foreboding. “

Authors notes: the motha-f*cking plot twist!!!

Taglist: @hoyeonheeseung , @yohanabanana , @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry@honeysjae; @crackedcameraa; @stinkmonkey ; @baekxo07@raishaii @yangjungwon33 @lhspeachie ; @differentchildwombat ; @prettykia ; @kimsseonu ; @stvrryhee ; @en-thralled ; @hoonzdzbl ; @yuppppp ; @jinniespuppy ; @browsehnnie @prettykia @lprww @they2luv1naia @ellixqz @mimimovv @stvrryhee @moonmoongi @seungjiseyo @csmicvrse @yohanabanana , @heeshees@yumii0828 , @lprww, @mariji , @silcry @cutiejseong ; @lol6sposts @heeseung-min @heesquared ; @jaeneohee

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xarniae · 2 years

Text

☁︎ ᴇᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ⋆⁺₊⋆(2)

a/n: sorry for the delay! also thank you all so much for you love on part 1 it really means a lot!!!! synapsis: after you left the dreaming Morpheus was devastated, he couldn't bare to see you and distanced himself. (it has a happy ending i swear) warnings: not proofread.... taglist: @wt-fxck @buckywenal24 @thewhitewolfmarvel @mata0-0mata @naiveable @p3nny4urth0ught5 @xixxala @sardonic-courtney @poemfreak360 @khaleesihavilliard @elraeeee @ace-27749 pt1

☆.｡.:*

The nights after you awoke were cold, empty, and endless. You weren’t gifted the blessing of a fulfilled sleep. Your closed eyes were greeted by the pitch black of your eyelids and a blank dream. You wished to once again be greeted by the Lord of Dreams, but he never came. He seemed to have abandoned you. The man was fragile and petty, you had no desire to leave him alone in the dreaming but the waking world was calling you and you could not decline. He seemed to be punishing you, you assumed that was the case. The plush hospital bed felt as if it was sucking you in, trapping you. Your mind was begging you to get up and walk, it had been weeks since you woke from your coma. But your heart was pleading with you to stay in bed, hoping that sleep would finally come and you would see your love. A sigh left your sickly chapped lips and you stood out of bed. It was freeing, you were in control. Not the doctors, not your family, nobody watching you. Telling you that you can’t wander. Your legs shakily took steps towards the large framed door. With a heavy tough the door opens revealing the bustling hospital. Even at night, it was awake, the bright lights shined in your eyes. Freedom. You walked around, waving at any person who perceived you. It was lovely, you felt like you were overseeing your happiness. As you enjoy your night walk around the hospital the nurse assigned to your room took notice of your fragile and ill state roaming the halls, A light yet heavy voice calls for you, your head turns around to the sound and see your nurse,

“Shouldn’t you be in your bed?” A small smile perched on his charming face, With a tilt in your head, you noticed he looked somewhat like Edmund from the childhood classic Narnia series. How funny, how odd? You swore you were watching that movie earlier in the morning.

“I was just going on a small walk.” You voice answers

“Well, you should be resting.”He walks towards you and gently holds your forearm, leading you away with care and caution.

“I wish to stretch my legs-” You snatch your weak arm back from the black-haired man,

“Is that too much to ask.”

A harsh silence takes over the pair, you could see his eyes were calculating how to deal with you,

“In your condition, it would be much better for you to rest in your bed.”

“After being asleep for years I would have assumed that t would be better for me to stretch my legs and walk.?”

“Not being this sickly as you are-” He pauses and huffs, rubbing his hand across his face in frustration

“You should focus on eating and resting then and only then-” he points an accusatory finger

“ You start standing on your own.”

No more words left your mouth as you silently followed him to your room, you didn’t want to but you did. It was fun while it lasted, that glimpse of self-sufficiency felt so pleasing. Walking alone felt so liberating. But here you were once again. Stuck. And when the unnamed nurse left you were alone. Your head fell against the fluffy white pillow. Your body felt fluttery and light. Then you awoke. You hear the door click closed and hear your parents mutter your name with joy. lately, they were the only ones to visit. One of your parents held a round frosted cake while the other carried sweet camelia flowers. Even with the sweet gestures and the hugs and kisses, you looked so empty and hollow. Like a part of you was missing, your parents were perplexed by this. What changed you? What gave you so much happiness and love that when it was taken away you were so solemn? They would never know about your lover, The Lord Of Dreams. And when they leave, you close your eyes begging for sleep to overtake you. Begging to see him once again.

Morpheus wasn't trying to cause you pain and emptiness. he was only grieving and couldn't find it in his heart to see you again. He didn’t despise you on the contrary he loved you more than the earth loves it sky, more than the night loves its moon. So even when he knew he could see you again, it hurt. You were in the mortal world again, you were mortal again, you were no longer his other half. Morpheus couldn’t bring himself to be near you. He feared that if he touched you he wouldn’t be able to control himself from taking you back to the dreaming.

“Lord Morpheus” Luciannes soft voice breaks him from his deep thoughts

“What is on your mind.” Her words are laced with concern, After he doesn’t respond she continues,

“Staring at the palace doors isn’t going to bring them back.” Her tone had changed, All Morpheus does was slowly turn his head to face her, his eyes swirled with rage and anguish. He knew that Lucciane was being realistic, but he wanted to be delusional, he wanted to wish that you would return back to his realm.

With a heavy sigh, Lucciane put a hand on the Lord of Dreams' shoulder and says her piece, the piece that had been heavy on her heart.

“You do understand that by distancing yourself you are not only harming yourself but your lover as well.”

He knows, he can feel it. Every time sleep creeps up and silently overtakes you on that hospital bed. He can feel your misery. Every time a piece of his heart is broken, each time his pain only grows.

“Lucianne I am firmly aware of what I am doing-”

“But are you?” Lucienne butts in,

“Are you really aware of what damage you are causing to them?” Her voice increases

Ever so calmly Morpheus rises from his throne, no malice or menace in his stance,

“It is necessary.”

Luccianne scoffs at his idocacy,

“Necessary? Don’t fool yourself.” “Lucianne.” His words come out like a solemn whisper,

“You are such a child Morpheus, a delusional pathetic child!”

“Lucianne,” he repeats but she is having none of it,

“Don’t ‘Lucianne’ me Morpheus,” She hisses looking at him dead in the eye, he had never seen her so enraged,

“You have no right to act as if you are making a righteous sacrifice by pushing yourself away from one of the limited amounts of people who love you and see you for who you are. You have no right to do that to them.”

He knows she is right, she always is.

“You promised that you would try to do better, do you remember that Morpheus?”

“Yes.” The mirage he created slowly disappeared, he remembered the day he crafted Gault into a dream. How he promised to listen.

“Then do better” Luciannes voice softens

“How would I do that?” he sounds so hopeless, he sits on the floor, rejecting his throne.

“First, just apologize.” She crouches to his level,

“Then say whatever words are locked in your heart, find the air in your lungs and let them go.”

“Thank you Lucianne.” His words laced with the utmost gratitude towards his friend

“Thank me after you make amends Lord Morpheus.” She stands up and leaves, Her words ringing in his ears. The Lord of Dreams was finally awake.

That night, when the moon was at its full Morpheus decided to visit you. You were lying in your bed, as usual, your eyes pinned at the ceiling unmoving, usually, at this time Morpheus would have unknowingly put you into a dissatisfactory slumber. But today he revealed himself from the shadows. His serene voice wafts in your ears making your head snap in his direction. You were frazzled, a few slaps to your face reminded you that this was in fact reality,

“Morpheus.” You whisper, your voice cracks. Your legs shift to try to get up but Morpheus stops you.

“You do not need to strain your legs for me.” He steps closer to you a rests his palm on your knees. He watched as you hurried back to your spot, propped up by the wall behind you.

“Come sit then.” Your hand pats the empty space next to you, He sits hesitantly and stiff. A soft silence fall over the pair, it is not until you finally speak that the silence is broken,

“Do you not love me anymore Morpheus.” His heart aches at your words,

“My dear you will never understand the extent of my love and passion towards you.”

“Then why did you never visit me.” Your voice quivered, tears welling up in your eyes. You had tried to be composed, but seeing him here like this made your emotions go haywire.

“I’m sorry my love, I never wished to harm you like this. “

“I had your love all of the time and when you left my kingdom I felt like I couldn't have all of your love. I was scared. I was greedy for you. I need you all of the time, I need you to be with me..” His arm moves to wipe the hot tears falling from your eyes,

“Please don’t shed any tears for me-” He softly kisses your eyelid,

“I don’t deserve it.”

You wrap your arms around him in a hug, It was secure. He could feel your love flowing from your body. He could feel your body quake and shiver, He could feel your hot tears soak his clothing. What has he done? After a few moments, you pull away and look him dead in the eyes,

“I love you.”

“I love you as well.”

“No you don't understand-” Your frail arms grip his shoulders,

“ I. love. you” You repeat slowly, enunciating each word. It came out a bit menacing and it delighted Morpheus.

“And I. love .you. as .well.” He mimics

Morpheus gifts you with a long kiss on the lips, one that makes up for the weeks without him. One that makes your heart soar. You would never return to the Dreaming until your death a few years later, but there would never be a day where Morpheus doesn’t visit you, whether it is in your dreams or in your waking life. He was by your side for eternity.

{end}

#morpheus x you #the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #morpheus x reader smut #morpheus x y/n #netflix the sandman #the sandman x you #lord morpheus #morpheous

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fanofstuff02 · 5 days

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Ii… Know I said I’ll post the next chapter of Adamsapple x Chaggie yesterday but I remembered one idea I had and worked on it. I’m sorry :< I’ll post it I promise.

The thing I worked on on the other hand… It’s an one shot inspired from this ask on @rius-cave ‘s account (read it from here) where an anon suggested the idea of Lucifer and Adam fighting so bad that Adam ends up in Angel’s room crying.

Enjoy! (Also would you mind if I tagged you @things-arent-what-they-seem66 and @talesfromawannabejournalist ?)

Angel was getting ready to sleep when he heard a slight knock on his door, like the person behind it was doubting their decision to come here.

“I don’t know who you are but you better have a good fucking reason to be here this late.” He said to the door.

“Angel? Can I come in?” Someone spoke with a shaky voice.

Adam.

He opened the door, only to be met with a devastated sight of his friend. He looked like someone stole something from him. Heck, he must’ve been seriously off, he wasn’t even hiding his third eye on his forehead.

“Woah, what happened big guy?”

I was wondering if I could stay here tonight.?”

“Sure, but why?” Angel said, letting him in.

“Lucifer can’t come here unless you allow him to right?” He leaned against a wall, taking his head in his hands.

“Yeah, I guess..” So he did something…

“Let’s get you a beanbag..” He muttered to himself, walked to his closet but stopped when he heard a sob coming behind him.

The sinner, curled up in a ball with his wings wrapped around him, was crying silently. He sat down beside him quickly and began rubbing circles to his back.

“Hey… It’s okay. You don’t have to hide yourself. Let it out.”

“I-I can’t cry..” He was shaking. Fucking shaking.

“What?! Of course you can, everyone can!”

“Not me! I’m the man, not the pussy!” His wings revealed him, he was trying desperately to end the tears with wiping them violently. “I can’t let feelings-“

“Hey.” He held his wrists and hugged him. “I told you to let it out.”

That did it. He didn’t care anymore. He cried loudly to his chest. His tears were colder than anyone could ever have.

They stayed in the same position for a while, Angel awkwardly patting his back as he thought of what to do. Sure, he could try to comfort him, but it’d probably make him feel worse. Maybe this’d be enough for the sinner?

Who the fuck was he kidding? He needed someone to do it properly. And he knew just who it was. He whistled quietly, and took his pet in his hands. Adam let go of the hug and looked at who came.

“As much as I’d like to make you feel better, I suck at it Ad. But, I have someone else. Would you like to hug Nuggets?” He held him to Adam, and the upset demon took him. He licked his face softly, getting a chuckle and a hiccup from him. He hugged him tightly. He seemed a bit calmer but there were still lots of tears coming out of his eyes. Angel put a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened, but if you want to, I’m here.”

———

Lucifer walked down at the hallway, going to Angel Dust’s room. He was looking for a certain demon, and Charlie suggested he should go and check Angel Dust’s room. The spider and him had some sort of a friendship after all.

He needed to apologize. No, more than apologize, he probably needed to get him his favorite meal, take him to a rock concert and shit like that. He could do those later, but first he needed to see if he was okay and talk the things he said out.

There he was, standing at the doorstep. He knocked it softly, hoping he wasn’t waking the pornstar up.

A tired Angel opened the door, but his attitude completely changed when he saw the King of Hell. He was looking at him with ice-cold eyes, and they also held a little bit… Anger?

“What can I do for you Your Highness?” He said simply, wanting the King to go away. Adam didn’t need him at this moment.

“Uhh, Is Adam here?” He said, trying to look inside the room. But Angel just spawned two extra arms to block the view, standing infront of the short guy.

“Yes he is. But he is sleeping. I suggest you to come at the morning. It’s the middle of the night right now.”

“I see, but can I please at least see hi-“

“No. No you can’t.”

“But you just told me he was-?”

“Yes, he is. He fell asleep while crying because of you. And I doubt that he wants the person, who made him pour his fucking heart to me, near him even if he is sleeping. So why don't you just leave him alone, like everyone else did. After all,” He placed his finger on Lucifer’s chest, near his heart. That's what he deserves, right Your Highness?”

“Come on Angel, I didn’t mean it! I wasn’t thinking when I-”

“That’s always what they say.” He hmphed. “If you seriously want the better of him, then go the fuck away. And come back, when you see him more than a toy or a pet you can play around and threw away when you get bored. Good night, Lucifer.” He shut the door in his face.

Lucifer backed away, looking at the door shocked.

Adam, who hated crying and showing ‘girly’ emotions, poured his heart out to another demon, because of what he said?

This wasn’t right. Right, they were having an argument, and sure, maybe it got a little out of hand, but… But it couldn’t hurt Adam that much.

Right?

—

Angel leaned against the door. God, he wasn’t going to deny he was quite surprised how he could find the courage to do this, but he knew Lucifer wouldn’t dare hurt Charlie’s clients.

Well, he is the wrong one after all. He peeked at his bed, where the demon he wanted to see was. Fat Nuggets was lying and probably sleeping near him, like he wanted to be there just in case he’d wake up crying again. Sometimes Angel could swore he was a literal angel.

He groaned, he needed a few things or atleast a glass of water, but he also didn’t wanted to leave Adam alone.

It’ll be quick. Just five minutes. He got up and opened the door, checking for Lucifer. When he couldn’t see him, he rushed to the kitchen.

Lucifer waited for him to dissapear from the curtain he was hiding in, and sneaked to his room. He hoped the magic wouldn’t work since Angel wasn’t in his room.

It didn’t.

Oh but how much Lucifer would want it to do.

Adam was there, in Angel’s bed, sleeping with the pig-pet near him. Looking horrible. His cheeks were puffy red, and still wet. His hair was messed up, his other eye wasn’t hidden like it mostly was, one of his horns looked like it had a missing piece, and so many few more details formed the broken man infront of him. But worst of all, even though he was sleeping, he looked more like he just passed out.

He was hurt.

He was hurt because of him.

He did this.

He absentmindedly tried to placed a hand on his, but his hand stopped when he heard someone behind.

“Ahem. I believe I told you to, GO. THE. FUCK. AWAY.” Angel Dust whisper-yelled, as Lucifer refused to let go of Adam’s side.

“I can’t leave him like thi-“

“Oh but you said you should, right? THEN DO IT! I am not allowing you here!”

The king felt the command grip his throat. He walked out of the room and stood at the entrance. The sinner was now straight up angry, and he didn’t seemed to care Lucifer was superior to him.

“Angel, I-” He faced a door again, the spider didn’t even had something to say to him.

He sat down at the entrance. If he had to wait for the morning then he’d do it.

He needed to clean up his own mess.

————

This was supposed to be a little one shot help-

Should I make a sequel?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin angel dust #holydust #guitarduck #adamsapple

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lady-of-endless · 1 year

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“I stand with you” (Ramattra x Reader)

Author’s Note: So I found another muse and I’m obsessed. Here is a nice little angsty fic (with a happy end). As usual, please excuse any grammar mistake, I’m not a native speaker.

Word count: 1743

Edit: here’s a new fic that can be read separately https://www.tumblr.com/lady-of-endless/710235615367692288/flashbacks-and-height-differences-ramattra-x?source=share

What should be done when someone despises you for who you are?

Your answer was to leave that individual alone and try not to bother him as much as possible, minding your business. It was supposed to be simple, not the complicated task it turned out to be.

Even if you went on with your daily duties at the peaceful monastery in Nepal, he kept on testing you. Slowing you down with his ravenous vortex, blocking your way with his void barrier, whatever it took to reveal your true colors and prove to his brother the hideous truth about human nature. It become a routine whenever he visited.

It all started when Zenyatta announced his brother's first visit to Nepal. Despite your excitement to meet him, your mentor had to briefly explain Ramattra's principles. Before even trying to find a solution, he already arrived.

You could recall how shivers ran down your spine when your chin was lifted by his staff to look up at him.

"Your name, human."

His voice was a shadow compared to the light of Zenyatta's tone. Ramattra spoke harshly, demanding. He could have ended you then and there but instead he gifted you mercy.

So, since then, there were only two kinds of days in Nepal. Calm days and days in which Ramattra visited and interfered with whatever you tried to do. However, with each of the latter, you started to learn more about the vengeful omnic and his devastating story. Unconsciously, Ramattra also discovered more about you. As sickening as it was initially to watch you get along with every omnic from the monastery, he started to get more curious. As trust does not blossom overnight, his visits started to get more frequent. Gradually, his daily torments stopped but even so, you still felt his gaze on you.

One day, Zenyatta decided to visit another monastery in Nepal with Genji. He left you and his dear brother responsible for the sacred place, much to Ramattra's displeasure who was not supposed to be there.

The night was so quiet, a serene snowing night, that could not anticipate such an unfortunate event.

Pacing aimlessly in your room with a late-night cup of tea, you accidentally saw from the window the terrible image of an omnic trapped under a fallen statue that decorated the court of the monastery. Gasping, you dropped the cup instantly, leaving your room in a desperate hurry but knowing exactly who could help.

His name echoed through the halls as you ran barefoot and called for him.

Arriving at his door, you started to bash your fists against the wood repeatedly, not caring about his recharging state at that late hour.

He heard your voice from the first call and sighed deeply, looking at the door but not moving yet.

"Ramattra, please! It's an emergency! An omnic!" You explained in a breathless voice. "Is injured, please, help."

Finally, the door was opened swiftly, his tall figure towering over you.

"Take me there."

You nodded and started running again, with him by your side this time.

"If you have anything to do with this, human, I will not hesitate to-"

"A statue fell over because of the weather." You stated hastily.

It was only then he realized it was indeed horrible weather outside, and even worse for something so weak as a human. Yet, there you were, running in a flimsy impractical outfit. He could not throw a remark because you both arrived at the scene.

A broken and incredibly heavy statue kept the poor monk injured and trapped in place. His pleas to help him panicked you even more. Ramattra wasted no time changing to his nemesis form to lift the stone from the omnic.

After that, when he reversed his transformation to his omnic form, you felt that it was your turn to act. Almost bumping into Ramattra who also wanted to look at the injuries, you both analyzed the damage fast.

It was critical. Ramattra got solemnly quiet and you were quick to notice it.

"No, don't even think about it, there must be something we can do."

He slowly shook his head, he has seen too many injured omics not to predict the outcome.

"I think...I can try to heal him." You continued in a small unsure voice.

Ramattra froze in place remembering that his brother explained how you were studying ways to use your healing ability the first time he saw you at the monastery.

"You think? Are you this unsure of your abilities?" He asked more sharply than he intended.

"I have never done this before... Healing an omnic." You explained in a whisper so that the one in pain could not hear.

Ramattra was speechless once again. Before he could demand explanations, you already started.

"Just describe to me how those components look when they're in perfect shape."

After voicing your idea, you pleaded to the injured omnic to stay with you, cupping his face gently. That gesture of human warmth should have infuriated Ramattra but not this time. "Please hurry, let us do it, Ramattra." You said daring to grip his hand tightly.

He was baffled by everything and especially by the hope in your eyes when looking at him. Why were you this motivated to save an omnic? How dare you care for one of his people when you were just a human? Leaving his wonder behind, Ramattra cleared his throat and started to help you.

Now, with your hands on the cold metal of those broken components you were trying to focus while Ramattra explained how each circuit should be in a stern voice. As you took in his words and concentrated, the damage started to slowly reverse under your touch. He looked in wonder at the omnic and then closely at your face.

After what seemed to be so many moments of an intense healing process, the injured omnic could finally get up from the ground alone. Happiness flowed in his tone when he thanked both you and Ramattra for saving his life. You were smiling weakly in return, something still felt off.

"Thank you for your crucial explanations. You saved another one." You said to Ramattra while both of you looked at the omnic who was walking back to his room in safety.

Ramattra only shook his head and started walking away from you already. This event got him too confused. He had to encounter the joy of keeping another omnic safe with caution and also sort his thoughts alone.

"Maybe you should study more since you are even staying at a place full of us omnics, don't you think?" He commented preparing for one of your comebacks.

However, no answer was heard from you this time, no response, no calm voice.

If Ramattra could have frowned, he would do it right then. Instead, he stopped and dared to be curious about your condition, taking a look over his shoulder. He saw you crashed on the ground, in the thin layer of cold snow.

...He stopped in place.

This is probably a false alarm, he thought. But he convinced himself that you had no intention of testing him.

...He took a step closer.

Maybe you wanted to pay him back for all of his torments. But you never seemed that upset or bitter about it.

...He walked closer to your static figure.

"Get up, human." His voice was as sharp as the wind.

A thought of using his staff to touch you flashed across his circuits but he kneeled next to your body instead. You were still breathing but shivering. Unintentionally, he remembered his brother's explanations again. What you also tried to learn from Zenyatta was how to handle energy loss after healing someone. You needed to rest, but logically not outside in that freezing weather.

Ramattra called your name. For the first time, he did not call you "human", "human pet", or "nuisance", he called the name that tormented his thoughts for days.

Hearing it, made you weakly open your eyes just to close them back.

"Get up now, or your vitals will drop!" He repeated, slightly nervous.

No reaction.

You knew that healing an omnic was different from what you knew you could do and something probably draining, yet you did it with no hesitation.

What was the reason?

Defeated, Ramattra looked around for any other omnic in sight but there was none. He sighed and embraced your body clumsily.

For years, he only knew how to harm a human, not protect it. He had no idea how to hold a body like yours, how to keep it close, safe. Yet, he had to do it. No, he started to want to do it. He did not care how fast the color from the human faces can drain because of low temperatures before, now, it started to worry him.

With the help of his nemesis form, he could put his scarf around your shoulders without letting your body out of his unfamiliar embrace.

"You forgot what I am?" You whispered in a shiver, feeling what he was doing.

There was never a moment in which he would forget what you were. A human that got on his nerves with your affection and care for the ones of his kind (without being a deception, he discovered). A human, different from those oppressors who took away the ones close to him and he killed in return. How could he forget when your face haunted him in his tries to meditate or make plans lately?

"Shut it or I will leave you where I found you." He said instead of everything else. "Save your energy and hold onto me."

So, yes, he knew what you were and who you were. The one that saved an omnic, the one that likes to interact all the time with ones of his kind, the one that wants to learn more.

Your name did not sound like a bad omen anymore.

Was this what Mondatta preached about? Was this what Zenyatta tried to explain about you? A flashback of his lectures at Shambali made Ramattra feel a pressure in his chest, right where he thought he had a blade instead of a heart.

Suddenly, a cold gust of wind hit. Still advancing through it, Ramattra looked down at your peaceful expression and carefully placed a hand on the side of your face to shield you.

"You are safe with me."

#ramattra #ramattra x reader #overwatch 2 #overwatch scenario #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fic #ow2 #ow2 x reader #ow2 fic #ramattra fanfic #ramattra fic

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